#and any of you who may take interest in this

[hoshifighting]

Salt, Sugar and Everything Us

Synopsis: What do you get when the guy who literally threw salt in your dessert during a Michelin star competition 11 years ago, waltzes up to the door of your NGO like he didn’t ruin your entire life plan back in the day?

WC: 22k

WARNINGS: jihoon and children to heal our souls <3, angst, fluff, references to professional betrayal and its lingering effects, throwing up due to emotional discomfort, moments that may bring up past trauma especially related to rejection or failure, power imbalance.

SMUT WARNINGS: explicit language, penetrative sex, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, semi-public setting, mutual desperation, body fluids (cum)

Manoir = Mansion in french.

NGO = Nonprofit organization that operates independently of any government.

Monsieur = Sir

— // December 2013 // — 

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the bright lights overhead, your heart pounding so hard you swear it’s echoing off the marble countertops. The smell of sugar and chocolate floats in the air. You glance over at Jihoon, who’s methodically working on his plate. There’s no denying the guy’s a genius, but damn, does he have to be such an ass about it?

You flash him a shy smile—just a small one. Yeah, it’s a competition, and yeah, only one of you is gonna win and run the four Michelin-star restaurant in Switzerland—the prize of the contest. But like, after this, you’ll still all be chefs. You’ll still work together. You’d all end up in the same world soon enough, working in the same circles, maybe even crossing paths in some fancy kitchen.

Nothing. He doesn’t even look your way.

Fred, the tutor-slash-guardian angel for this trip, the one who dragged you halfway across the world to this kitchen in Europe, warned you. “Jihoon’s tutor hates you,” he had said, voice low like he was telling you some big secret. “It’s ‘cause you’re the only one who can match him. Maybe even beat him.” He had laughed, but it didn’t feel like a joke.

You shake your head and focus on your dessert. Your mousse sits on the plate, the top glistening perfectly under the lights, just the right amount of shine. The swirl of raspberry coulis looks like something out of a cooking magazine. You’re proud of it. Hell, you’re damn proud of it. You step back to admire it, and even the renowned chef standing in front of you—some big-shot Michelin-star guy whose name you can’t even pronounce—gives you a smile. But not a friendly one. More like a don’t get too cocky kind of smile.

And then he tastes it.

His face shifts so fast, your stomach drops. One second, he’s blank, and the next, he’s frowning, like really frowning, staring down at the plate like it face-to-face harmed him. He spits it out, not dramatically, just like he doesn’t wanna cause a scene. The whole kitchen goes quiet. Even the sound of knives chopping stops. You feel the heat crawling up your neck, spreading across your cheeks.

This can’t be happening.

“Did you taste this before serving it?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

Your throat is dry. You swallow, shaking your head slowly. “Uh… no, I—”

“Taste it,” he snaps, holding the spoon out toward you.

Your hands shake as you take the spoon, and before you can think twice, you taste it. The second it hits your tongue, you freeze. 

Salt. Way too much salt. 

It’s fucking disgusting. 

You almost gag, but you force yourself to swallow, blinking fast as your brain tries to process what the hell just happened.

You glance over at Jihoon. He’s standing there, completely expressionless, not even pretending to be interested in the drama unfolding. But you remember. You remember when you left the mousse to rest, just for a minute, and Jihoon had passed by your station. Just a quick brush past, nothing suspicious. Nothing out of place.

Except now, all you can taste is salt.

The chef crosses his arms, still staring at you like he’s waiting for an explanation. You open your mouth, but no words come out. What are you supposed to say? That Jihoon sabotaged your dessert? That you think he did? You glance at him again, and for a split second, his eyes meet yours, and there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Just enough for you to see, before it’s gone.

“Do you have anything to say?” the chef asks, his tone icy.

You swallow again, shaking your head. “No, chef.”

This is it. The final round. Eliminatory. And you’re standing here with a plate of salted mousse because you trusted the wrong person for one damn second. You close your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a breath. You can feel the tension rolling off everyone in the room, and it takes everything in you not to scream.

You watch the chef walk over to Jihoon’s station, his expression already softening. Jihoon’s smiling now—this smug, self-assured grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t just screwed you over minutes ago. His dessert does look good, though. Annoyingly good. Neat, precise, and probably just sweet enough to charm the hell out of the chef.

The chef takes a bite, nodding as if Jihoon’s dessert just confirmed every expectation. Then, just like that, he moves on, walking away without a second glance at you.

[...]

“Y/N, you’re eliminated. Please leave your apron on the station.”

The words slam into you like a punch, and your stomach twists. You don’t even know how you manage to stay upright, every muscle screaming at you to just collapse. You hear the gasps from the others behind you—your friends, competitors, but friends nonetheless—just as shocked as you are.

“What the fuck?” someone mutters.

“There’s no way…” another voice says, incredulous.

You don’t even turn around. You can’t. Instead, you glance at Fred in the back, your lifeline in this whole chaotic mess. He’s shaking his head, this look of defeat in his eyes that he’s trying so hard to hide. Like even he knew it was over the second Jihoon pulled that bullshit with your dessert.

Fred mouths, That’s it. Let’s go. But his sad eyes tell you everything you need to know. It wasn’t fair. And he knew it. You both knew it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force yourself to walk up to the chef. Your hands are shaking, and you clench your fists, trying to keep it together as you shake his hand. He’s stiff, formal, but you can’t help but notice the faint hint of pity in his eyes.

You avoid it.

When you turn back to your station, the weight of the moment crashes down on you. The stupid fucking apron you worked so hard to wear now feels like it’s burning a hole in your chest. As you reach up to untie it, your chin starts to quiver. You fight it—God, you fight it so hard—but the tears are already pooling in your eyes. This is it. The dream…gone.

Because of salt. Fucking salt.

You fold the apron, mechanical, like maybe if you take your time, this won’t feel so real. But it is. The apron sits on the counter in front of you, this symbol of everything you’ve lost, and you walk away before anyone can see you break.

As soon as you’re backstage, the tears come. Hot and heavy, spilling down your cheeks as you crumble into the arms of one of the friends you’d made here. They’re hugging you tight, whispering things like, “It’s not fair, you didn’t deserve this,” and “You were so close.” Their voice cracks too, sad that they didn’t win either, but it’s different for them. They weren’t robbed. They were sure you had it in the bag.

And then, after what feels like hours, you spot Jihoon again, his face glowing under the lights, a damn set of keys in his hand. The keys to the restaurant. Your restaurant. It should’ve been yours.

You blink through your tears, watching as he basks in the victory. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can take this sting away. This moment is etched into your brain, and you’re certain you’ll never forget it. No matter how much time passes, nothing will make you recover from this.

Leaving Europe had felt like defeat. It wasn’t just a loss on some cooking show—it was like watching a dream you’d nurtured since you were a kid slowly crumple and fade. Back then, you were so young, so full of ambition that your heart couldn’t even contain it all. Every time you thought of that moment, standing in that bright, sterile kitchen as Jihoon held those damn restaurant keys, it was like hearing your inner child sobbing hurtfully inside your eardrums. And that hurt more than you ever expected.

For the longest time, it felt like nothing could fill the void that salty mousse had left behind.

— // A decade later // — 

But life has this weird way of surprising you when you least expect it. Turns out, there were plans far better than Michelin stars waiting for you. Plans you never even imagined, but ones that would heal you in ways a fancy restaurant never could.

It’s the little hands tugging at your apron now that remind you of just how far you’ve come. You’re not standing in some high-end kitchen with a sous-chef barking orders at you, or sweating over the chance to impress another judge. No, you’re standing in a small room, the walls plastered with drawings and messy crayon sketches of cupcakes, pizza slices, and lopsided bowls of spaghetti. Your apron’s a little stained, flour dusting the front of it, but you couldn’t care less.

“Why do you mix it like that?” A curious voice pipes up from below, and you glance down to find a pair of wide, sparkling eyes staring up at you. The flour and eggs in the bowl swirl together under your whisk, creating a soft, smooth batter. The kid—couldn’t be more than six—watches your hands like you’re performing magic.

“Because that’s how you make it fluffy,” you say, smiling as they nod, fascinated. A moment later, you feel tiny arms wrap around your leg, a small hug that makes your heart swell in ways that no standing ovation ever could. It’s innocent, pure, like they’re just happy to be near you, to learn from you.

Another voice chimes in, “How do you know when it’s ready?”

You chuckle, wiping a bit of flour from your forehead with your wrist. “You just know. It feels right.”

They tilt their head, brow furrowing like you’ve just told them some impossible riddle. You laugh softly and let them feel the batter between their fingers, watch as they giggle, amazed at how something so simple can be so right. There’s something about these moments, the curiosity in their eyes, the way they look at you with trust, like you’re some kind of culinary wizard. You weren’t Jihoon with his restaurant keys, and honestly, that’s never been more okay.

Because in these moments, surrounded by kids full of wonder, asking question after question, you realize that no Michelin star could pay for this feeling. There’s a joy here that runs deeper than prestige or recognition. A joy that healed something broken in you.

Your inner child, the one who cried in that cold European kitchen all those years ago, quieted here. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was laughing, learning how to mix flour with eggs, feeling the batter with her hands, like it was something new and wonderful. All those tears you shed for a dream that wasn’t meant for you? They were worth it, because they brought you here—to this.

It’s funny, really. Back then, you thought that only a shining career could fill the emptiness left behind by that loss. But here you are, standing in a room full of kids who look up to you like you’re a hero. And that? That’s priceless.

You’d started this nonprofit, an NGO for kids who didn’t have much, but who had the biggest imaginations you’d ever seen. You taught them to cook, sure, but it wasn’t just about food. It was about creating something with their hands, feeling proud of themselves, and finding a space to be themselves in a world that often made them feel small. Just like how you’d once felt—small, unworthy, like a failure. But now, every smile, every curious question they asked, it stitched up another tear in your heart.

It’s poetic, really. You thought you’d heal by chasing after the dream that slipped through your fingers in that European kitchen. But instead, you found healing in the hands of children, in their endless curiosity, in the way they saw the world full of possibilities. And in doing so, you healed the child inside of you—the one who had dreamed big but didn’t know how to handle disappointment when the dream didn’t come true.

Good things, they say, come to those who wait. And yeah, after everything you’d been through, you could finally see it—really see it. Your name, once tied to that one bitter loss back in 2013, now stood on its own, bold and bright in the culinary world. You weren’t just the kid who lost in Europe anymore. You were someone people sought after, someone who made a difference. The buzz around your NGO had grown so much that, by now, it felt like a new interview request hit your inbox every other day.

It was the fifth time this week you sat down for one.

"Tell us about your journey,” the interviewer smiled, setting the recorder between you both like they were about to hear some untold story. But by now, the story of your journey had become almost second nature. You leaned back in your chair, looking around the space—the walls adorned with photos of smiling kids, famous chefs who had come through your doors, all here to support the cause. This place, this NGO, had become something bigger than you ever imagined.

“Well," you started, a small smile tugging at your lips, “I guess it started with failure.”

That’s how you always began. Not shying away from what happened all those years ago but embracing it, wearing it like a badge of honor. Because, hell, if it hadn’t been for that loss, none of this would exist. Not the kitchen full of kids eager to learn. Not the world-class chefs flying in from every corner of the globe to share their wisdom with them. And certainly not the donations that had been pouring in, enough to keep this place thriving for years.

You ran a hand through your hair, glancing at a nearby photo. It was of you and a group of kids, all in their mini hats, standing next to one of the chefs from some Michelin-starred restaurant. They’d come to volunteer for a day, to give these kids a taste of their future—what could be theirs if they kept going.

“Back then, when I lost, I thought it was the end. But now…” You paused, looking around at the faces of the kids, at the excitement in their eyes as they tried to get their dough just right or figure out the balance between sweet and savory. “Now, I can’t imagine it going any other way. This is where I was meant to be.”

The interviewer nodded, clearly trying to keep up, but you could tell they hadn’t expected the story to take this turn. They probably thought you’d talk about how the loss fueled some revenge arc, a rise to the top, something a bit more dramatic. But the truth? The truth was softer than that, more human.

At this point, most of the world’s top chefs had been here at some point or another. Either they’d come to run a class, spend a day with the kids, or drop by to donate supplies. There was something magical about seeing their eyes light up when they walked through the doors, like they were stepping back into the beginning of their own journey.

“That’s amazing,” the interviewer said, scribbling something down. “You’ve had some huge names come here. What’s it like working alongside these big chefs now?”

You shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s surreal sometimes. You know, these are people I looked up to, the same ones I’d watch on TV or read about when I was younger, just starting out. And now they’re here, in my kitchen, helping my kids.”

[...]

You were just finishing up, wiping your hands on the towel after the last batch of cookies came out of the oven, when you saw Fred practically running into the kitchen. The grin on his face said it all before he even opened his mouth.

“Fifty grand!” he shouted, stopping just short of knocking over a jar of flour in his excitement.

“Fifty what?” you blinked, thinking you must’ve misheard. Fifty thousand dollars? That was… huge. Massive. Your mind raced, trying to figure out how that could even be possible.

“Yep,” Fred beamed, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Just got the news from the accountant. Some company called Lee Gastronomy—never heard of ‘em—but they sent the check and a little note saying they’re excited to support the house. Something about moving back to town soon and wanting to visit.”

You felt your heart race as you tugged your apron off, suddenly needing to see the paperwork for yourself. Fifty thousand dollars? That was enough to cover months of supplies, repairs, upgrades—hell, you could finally get that new oven you’d been dreaming about for the kitchen. “Lee?” you frowned, trying to jog your memory. “I don’t know any Lee.”

Fred shrugged, still grinning. “Me either. But who cares, right? We just got fifty grand!”

Even though the number hung in the air like a golden ticket, something felt strange. You didn’t know any Lee. You’d worked in this field long enough to know all the big players—chefs, donors, restaurant owners, food critics—but no one named Lee had ever crossed your path.

The next few days passed, Fred had started spreading the word about the donation, and suddenly, you found yourself knee-deep in logistics. Checking with the accountant, verifying the donation, making sure everything was legit. And yeah, it was. The company’s registration number checked out, the money had cleared, and everything seemed on the up and up. But that name… Lee Gastronomy. It still didn’t ring any bells.

Every time you mentioned it to someone—colleagues, friends, even the chefs who had been visiting the voluntary organization—they’d shake their heads too. No one had ever heard of them. You tried not to dwell on it too much; after all, it was a lot of money, and you had kids to take care of, projects to fund, and kitchens to keep running.

But then, more donations started rolling in.

First, another $10,000 from a small local bakery, then $15,000 from a chef’s association you’d partnered with in the past. Then $25,000 from an anonymous donor who didn’t leave any contact information—just a note saying they loved what you were doing and wanted to help. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and suddenly, people everywhere wanted to support your cause.

Each time, the donations brought a wave of gratitude and hope. The organization was growing faster than you’d ever imagined, and the possibilities felt endless. You could expand the programs, bring in more kids, offer more hands-on experiences with top chefs. And you did just that. You started upgrading the kitchen, organizing new field trips for the kids, even partnering with local schools to expand the reach of your work.

But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind never quite went away.

“Fred,” you said one afternoon as you both sat in the office, going over the latest set of donations, “Do you think it’s weird that all this is happening right after Lee Gastronomy showed up?”

Fred paused, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, maybe a little? But honestly, I just think word is spreading. People are seeing what we’re doing, and they want to help.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, but your gut told you there was more to it.

The next week, another $30,000 came in. The donation slip was clean, but again, no name. No big donor stepping out of the shadows to claim credit for it. Just money pouring into your NGO like it was destined for you, and yet, you couldn’t figure out why it was all happening now.

[...]

The early morning air was cool as you bent down, adjusting the vases of flowers in front of the organization beautiful entrance. The kids wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and this was your moment of calm. A moment to breathe before the chaos of the day began. Today, your mind was occupied with the meeting you’d been anticipating for weeks.

Lee Gastronomy.

Whoever this mysterious benefactor was, they were finally coming to visit. You’d replayed the moment in your head a hundred times—meeting them, shaking their hand, expressing your endless gratitude. You wanted to make a good impression, show them what their generous donations had been doing. You straightened up, brushing off your pants, when the sound of footsteps on the pavement caught your attention. Two pairs of Gucci shoes appeared in your view, black leather, polished, expensive. The kind of shoes that had power written all over them.

You lifted your head, the best smile already set on your face. "Oh, you must be Lee! I—" The words stuck in your throat.

The face staring back at you wasn’t some stranger. It was him.

Jihoon. Lee? Lee Jihoon?

Your breath tied, and for a second, everything around you disappeared. It was like time rewound itself to that kitchen in Europe, to the sharp look in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitched into that subtle, knowing smirk. He was older now, more mature. His face had lost some of its softness, replaced with sharper angles, and yet… the eyes. You’d never forget those eyes. You couldn’t.

“Jihoon?” You muttered, like saying his name would break the reality in front of you.

Jihoon’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Fred, who had been standing beside you, froze. You could feel his tension, the silent question hanging in the air. He had no idea how you’d react. Hell, you didn’t even know how you’d react.

Everything came flooding back.

The way Jihoon had smirked as you stood there, staring down at your ruined dessert in disbelief. The way his fingers had curled around the restaurant’s keys, how he’d accepted his victory without so much as a glance your way. That little mole near his eye, the one you’d stared at for hours during the competition, watching it crinkle when he frowned or smiled—always at your expense.

You felt it then. The taste. That same, cursed taste of salt rising in the back of your throat. Your body tensed, memories crashing into you with such force it made you dizzy. You felt sick. So, so sick, that you feel like you are about to—

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were rushing inside the house, pushing past Fred, not even sparing a glance back at Jihoon. The nausea was enormous, the weight of the past pulling at your gut, twisting it into knots. You barely made it to the bathroom, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet, just in time for everything to spill out of you.

Fred was right behind you, voice panicked. “Y/N! Hey, hey, it's okay, I’m here.” He knelt beside you, gently pulling your hair back, trying to keep you steady as your body trembled.

You could hear the distant sound of Jihoon’s shoes shifting in the doorway. He hadn’t followed you in. He didn’t move. He just stood there. Watching.

Jihoon stood, frozen at the threshold, his sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as Fred’s frantic voice echoed from inside. His assistant, standing beside him, looked equally stunned.

Were you this disgusted by him? To the point of throwing up? Jihoon wondered. He didn’t speak. He didn’t call out to you. Instead, he just stared at the open door, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for something but couldn’t figure out what. The sound of you retching filled the air, and for a moment, he felt it too—a strange, bitter taste creeping up the back of his own throat.

This wasn’t how he imagined seeing you again.

Fred’s voice was soft behind you, concern threaded through his words. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

You shook your head, still gripping the edge of the sink like it could anchor you back to reality. “No. Just... give me a few minutes.”

He didn’t argue. You heard his footsteps fade as he hurried to welcome Jihoon and his assistant. You stayed there for another few seconds, staring at your own reflection. Your face had fallen so fast, drained of all that confidence you’d tried to wear this morning. You brushed your teeth with shaky hands, telling yourself to calm down, to just be serene.

Just get through this. You took a deep breath and headed to the waiting room.

Jihoon and his assistant were seated, quiet, as if they hadn’t said much since Fred greeted them. You couldn’t bring yourself to shake his hand, so you bowed politely instead, keeping your hands clasped behind your back. You felt Jihoon’s eyes on you, but you didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. 

His assistant, a bright-eyed young man who didn’t seem to sense the tension in the air, smiled warmly. “It’s such an honor to finally meet you in person. Jihoon has told me a lot about the great work you're doing here,” he said, looking genuinely impressed.

You forced a smile, keeping your tone professional. “Thank you. We’re really grateful for all the donations, it’s made a huge difference. The kids... they’ve benefited so much.”

Jihoon’s assistant continued, eyes flicking between you and Fred, clearly excited to be there. “And it’s amazing how far you’ve come since your days in the competition. It must’ve been so tough, especially considering how—”

The room froze. You felt Fred tense beside you, his polite smile flickering, your breath catching in your throat. Even Jihoon’s expression shifted, his face hardening as he quickly looked away, avoiding your gaze entirely.

His assistant, oblivious, continued. “I mean, you two were so competitive back then, huh? And to think, all of this came from that one event—”

Fred cleared his throat sharply, cutting him off, but the damage was already done, his assistant clearly didn't know how Jihoon won. How much does he know? Does he even realize what he’s saying?

“Ah, well—” Fred began.

Jihoon cut him off, voice tight and low. “It’s… a long story.”

Before anyone could say more, the sound of laughter and tiny footsteps echoed down the hallway, saving you from the suffocating silence. The children had arrived.

Fred turned to greet them, and you stepped aside, watching as they rushed into the room, immediately diffusing the tension. They swarmed around you, bright-eyed and smiling, some of the little ones immediately latching onto your legs, asking if they could help in the kitchen today. You smiled softly, crouching down to ruffle their hair.

But then, some of them turned their attention to Jihoon.

Two of the kids, a boy and a girl, who couldn’t have been older than five, ran straight for him, hugging his legs like they’d known him forever. Jihoon stiffened at first, unsure how to respond, but the shock quickly melted as he crouched down, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. You noticed how different it looked from the smirk that used to haunt you.

"Who’s this?" one of the kids asked, looking up at Jihoon with wide, curious eyes.

You exhaled softly, your hands clenching and unclenching behind your back as you felt Fred’s eyes on you. You forced yourself to speak, turning to the kids, your voice softening, sweeter for them. “He’s a really good chef,” you explained, keeping it simple. “He has a biiiig restaurant in Switzerland.”

The younger ones gasped in awe, their faces lighting up as they hugged him tighter. "Wooooow," one of them breathed, eyes wide. “Is Switzerland far?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, it’s pretty far,” you said with a small scoff. It was cute how they clung to him without knowing anything about the man he was. How they immediately trusted him just because you said he was a chef, because in their world, chefs were superheroes who made magic with food.

But you didn’t miss the sound of the older kids behind you. Some of the pre-teens had recognized him. Their whispers were loud enough for you to catch, little gasps of “That’s Jihoon!” and “Oh my god, isn’t he, like, super famous?”

One of the girls, barely fourteen, looked at you with shining eyes. “You know Jihoon? Like, Jihoon Jihoon?”

You managed a nod, the tight smile still on your lips. “Yeah, I know him.”

Jihoon, standing there with the kids hugging him, stayed silent, his eyes drifting to you every now and then but never lasting. He looked uncomfortable. Maybe even lost. You wondered if he’d thought about this moment before—if he’d imagined what it would be like to see you again after all these years. Or if, like you, he hadn’t been ready at all.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “Alright, kids, let’s give our guest some space,” you said gently, guiding them away from Jihoon’s legs. “We’ve got a lot of work to do today, and I’m sure Chef Jihoon is going to want to take a look around.”

The younger ones reluctantly let go, giggling as they scampered off to join their friends. 

You smiled softly when you saw Jihoon’s assistant already in the thick of it, playing with the kids like he'd been there for weeks. His laughter mixed with theirs, easy and carefree. 

But then you turned, eyes flicking to Jihoon, who was still standing awkwardly at the edge of the room, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. You called his name quietly, over your shoulder, “Jihoon, come on.”

He dawdled but followed. As he walked toward you, you tied the apron behind your back like you had eyes on your hands, the kids gathering around the kitchen counter, their eyes wide with interest. Jihoon stayed a few steps behind, unsure of how to approach this situation—teaching kids was never something he'd done. Hell, it wasn’t even in his plans for the day.

But he remembered being the kid, the one sitting in front of a chef, hungry for knowledge and desperate to learn everything.

You leaned against the counter, your arms crossed as you gave him a sideways glance. “Do you guys know what Chef Jihoon is going to teach us today?”

The kids chorused a loud, excited “Noooo!” bouncing on their heels.

You turned fully to him, holding his gaze. He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like the spotlight was burning on him.

“I’ll let Chef Jihoon tell you then,” you said, challenging, like you were throwing him into the deep end on purpose. You wanted to see him squirm, maybe just a little.

Jihoon glanced at the eager faces in front of him, then back to you. His throat felt dry as he tried to come up with something to say, but for a second, all he could hear was the hum of his own nerves. The last time he had been in a kitchen like this, it wasn’t full of small hands and bright eyes—it was full of pressure, competition, and an entirely different energy.

But he wasn’t about to let you see him hesitate. He cleared his throat and stepped up to the counter, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Well,” he started, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I think today... we’ll be learning how to make something really special. Something I first learned when I was just starting out.”

He shot a quick look at you, and you could tell from the flicker in his eyes that he was stepping back into habitat. You smirked, leaning back against the counter as he continued.

“Let's make risotto… How's that sound?”

​​The kids’ faces immediately dropped, little frowns forming as they shook their heads. “We already know that one!” one of them piped up, crossing his arms, indignant. “Chef Y/N taught us already!”

You couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped, filling the room, and Jihoon shot you a sidelong look, his own lips twitching like he was fighting not to falter. Of course they already knew risotto. You’d practically burned through every recipe in the book with them.

Jihoon looked at the kids again, genuinely surprised. “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “You already know how to make risotto?”

They nodded, several of them bouncing with pride. “Chef Y/N is really good!” a little girl said.

Jihoon’s expression softened, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes as he took it in. He took a breath, thinking, before a sudden idea sparked across his face. “Alright, then. What about soufflé?”

The kids’ eyes widened, jaws dropping as they exchanged glances. “A soufflé?” one of the older kids asked, almost disbelieving. “Like the one in movies?”

Jihoon nodded, his face a little smug. “Yeah. It’s tricky, but I think you guys are up for it.”

One of the kids tugged at your sleeve, whispering, “Chef Y/N, do you think we can really make soufflés?”

You smiled, glancing at Jihoon. “With a chef like Jihoon teaching you? I think you can do anything.”

You and Jihoon began laying out the ingredients on the counter. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs—every item carefully arranged in neat little bowls. Then, stepping back, you let the kids gather around as Jihoon took his place at the front, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You’re not going to help me?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall behind the children. “Nope. I’m here to learn too.”

He let out a scoff, but his eyes were amused. Reaching for a whisk, Jihoon’s fingers stopped as he noticed the brightly-colored utensils on the countertop—handles painted in cheerful blues, yellows, and pinks, completely different from the pristine silver ones he’d grown so used to in the rigid, professional kitchens. 

His brow twitched, a bit thrown off, but he picked up a neon pink whisk, holding it up almost in disbelief before he finally began mixing, putting on the best show of professionalism he could manage with a grin sneaking in.

The kids were entranced as he worked. He answered each of their questions, even the simple ones—What’s this do? Why are eggs so runny? Is soufflé really magic? He gave patient answers, a spark in his eyes as he watched their faces light up with each response.

When he was done, a perfect, puffy soufflé stood in the middle of the counter. Golden, light, and exactly what you’d expect from someone with his skill. The kids were practically bouncing in excitement.

“Alright, your turn,” Jihoon said, stepping back and motioning for them to take over.

You paired up with a small boy, who looked completely intimidated by the fluffy soufflé sitting next to him. “I can’t make it like that,” he whispered to you.

You knelt down next to him, helping him break the eggs with careful hands, showing him how to separate the whites, then guiding his little hand as he whisked. “Doesn’t matter if it’s perfect,” you told him with a warm smile. “Just give it your best shot.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon crouched down beside a little girl who was struggling to mix the eggs. Her arm had started to tremble, the bowl wobbling in her hands.

“Here, I’ll help you,” he said, holding the bowl steady with one hand while he took the whisk with the other. “Let’s mix it together.”

The smile that spread across Jihoon’s face as he watched her efforts, a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in years, softened something in—No. Hell no. Back to the recipe.

When the kids finally placed their soufflés in the oven, the results were… varied. Some soufflés rose tall and proud, while others sagged or deflated at the edges. One came out a bit lopsided, and another had been forgotten for a moment, the top a little browned, but that didn’t matter. They each wore their own version of pride on their faces, and you couldn’t help but feel it too.

Jihoon looked at the table, and shook his head, smiling. “They’re perfect,” he murmured, glancing at the children with an approval nod. 

As the kids eagerly dug into their soufflés, one of the smaller boys took a big spoonful, his eyes lighting up at first. But then his face scrunched, his little nose wrinkling as he swallowed. He put his spoon down, looking directly at you with a distressed expression.

“Did I… put salt instead of sugar?” His lip started to tremble as he looked between you and Jihoon, mortified.

You froze. But before you could say anything, Jihoon, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, looked up, his eyes darting from the kid’s teary face to your stiff expression. The moment seemed to snap him to life, and he quickly sprang forward, kneeling down beside the boy, hands shaking in a mad rush.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Jihoon said. He took the boy’s tiny hand in his. “There are tons of salty soufflés! I actually make one all the time. In my restaurant, it’s super fancy, with cheese and herbs, just like this one.”

The boy looked up, sniffling, his tears slowing a little. “Really? There’s… supposed to be salt?”

Jihoon nodded enthusiastically, glancing back at you as if asking for backup. “Absolutely! Chef Y/N could tell you all about it.” He shot you a look, almost saying like: What do I do now?

Taking a shaky breath, you knelt down beside the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s a great first try.” You ruffled his hair, seeing him perk up a bit.

Jihoon took a spoonful of the soufflé and tasted it, giving an exaggerated nodl. “Mm! It's really good!” He winked at the boy, who finally cracked a shy smile. 

You watched with a small smile as each kid left with a bit of your heart in tow, feeling the echo of their laughter around you even as the room began to empty.

Fred lingered by the door, chatting with Jihoon’s assistant, while you and Jihoon moved to the side, staying silent, as if words would disturb whatever fragile peace had been built between you during the day. It felt strange, standing there beside him without the buffer of the kids to fill in the pauses.

Jihoon broke the silence first, clearing his throat softly. “I wanted to talk to you… I think my team and I would really love to support your organization long-term… Make it official, if you’d be interested. We could even bring some of the chefs, host classes, give the kids more to look forward to.”

“I appreciate the donation,” you began carefully measured. “I really do. But I need to be honest, Jihoon. I don’t want this house to lose what makes it special, what makes it ours. I don’t want it to turn into some… shiny project to impress donors or pull in crowds. It’s supposed to feel like us, like the kids. Not some big production.”

After a pause, he let out a soft hum, tilting his head slightly. “And what’s wrong with improving things? Giving the kids access to better resources, better… training?”

There it was—his tone wasn’t outright disdainful or insulting, but there was a bite to it, something faintly snobbish that made your stomach churn. You could feel Fred tense slightly beside you, the way his shoulders shifted like he wanted to step in but wasn’t sure if he should. Jihoon’s assistant, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by his boss’s words.

You scoffed. “Better training?” you repeated, folding your arms. “Is that what you think this is about? You think just because this isn’t the fancy kitchen you grew up in—or whatever perfect, silver-lined school taught you—you have the right to waltz in here and act like this isn’t good enough?”

Jihoon opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak. The floodgates were open now, the words spilling out of you like they’d been waiting years. “I learned to cook in a place like this,” you said firmly, jabbing a finger toward the counters, the bright utensils, the slightly battered cutting boards. “And guess what? It brought me to the same competition as you. So don’t stand there and act like these kids need some ‘upgrade’ to be worthy of your world.” 

Fred's face went pale as he looked at you.

“You’re too busy chasing Michelin stars to see what really makes cooking special.” You spat.

Jihoon’s assistant visibly winced, and Fred looked at you with wide eyess. 

Jihoon, though, didn’t react right away. He just stood there, his hands clenching slightly at his sides. “Is that what you think? That I came here just to… what? Smudge this in your face?”

It wasn’t until Fred gently touched your elbow that you realized how tense you were, your hands clenched your crossed arms. You took a breath.

“I don’t know why you came here,” you admitted finally, your voice softer now but no less firm. “But if you’re here to help, then help. Don’t stand there and tell me what this place is lacking. Because it’s got something no five-star kitchen could ever give you.”

He just nodded once. His assistant looked like he wanted to crawl into the floor, and Fred let out a low sigh, clearly debating whether to step in again.

Finally, Jihoon spoke, “I’m not here to tear this place down,” he said. “But if I’m going to help, I need to know how. You think I don’t understand what makes this place special? Fine. Show me then.”

Fred cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping in to break the silence. “Maybe we should, uh, pick this up another day?” he suggested, glancing between you and Jihoon. Neither of you responded. Enough for now.

You watched Jihoon step into the car, the heavy door closing with a muffled thud. From the front window, you could see him lean back against the seat, his face partially obscured by the tinted glass. His assistant was halfway to the car when he stopped, paused mid-step, and turned back toward you.He turned slow, really slow, like he’d been debating this for a while and finally made up his mind.

You raised an eyebrow as he approached, his blond hair catching the light “Chef Y/N,” he began, his voice sweet, with a thick French accent. His hands reached out to clasp yours—oddly personal. “I hope you’ll excuse me for interrupting, but… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything today.”

His words took you off guard, and your brow furrowed slightly. 

He sighed, the kind of long, exasperated exhale that suggested he’d had this conversation—or at least a version of it—with Jihoon before.

“Monsieur Lee,” he said carefully, “was truly excited to visit your NGO. It has been all he talks about since we first began planning this trip. But, you know him… he doesn’t always measure his words. He means well, but he can come off as—how do you say it?—impolite.”

You huffed a small, mirthless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

The assistant smiled faintly, “I hope you don’t let it affect your view of his intentions. He genuinely respects what you have built here. I’ll make sure to put some sense into his head, I promise. But please, don’t forget about our offer. It’s a good one, and I think… deep down, Monsieur Lee truly believes in what you’re doing here. Even if he doesn’t always know how to say it.”

You held his gaze, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity, but found none. He was genuine, you could tell. After a moment, you gave his hands a light squeeze and nodded. “I’ll think about it,” you said softly. “But this place… it’s not just about the offer. It’s personal to me. If I do decide to work with you all, it has to be on my terms.”

“Of course!” he said immediately, his smile growing. “And that is as it should be. Thank you for considering it.”

With that, he let go of your hands and returned to the car, leaving you standing there in the fading light. Jihoon didn’t look up as the car pulled away, while you looked until it disappeared down the road.

The days after Jihoon’s visit were surprisingly quiet, almost too quiet. You’d half-expected a deluge of follow-ups or more awkward exchanges, but instead, you found yourself with space to think. The children, as always, were a welcome distraction. They filled the kitchen with their laughter and the occasional misstep, their joy a constant reminder of why you’d built this house in the first place.

Still, Jihoon lingered in the back of your mind. His presence at the NGO had stirred up so many old emotions. Every time you thought about his assistant’s words, you felt a strange knot of uncertainty in your chest. Was it possible that Jihoon’s intentions weren’t as cold as they’d seemed? Could you trust him to help without losing the heart of what you’d created?

One evening, Fred found you sitting at your desk, staring blankly at a stack of donation forms. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

You shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About Jihoon?”

You shot him a look, and he grinned. “Come on,” he said. “You’ve been quiet since he left. I can tell he got under your skin.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “It’s just… complicated. He said some things that really pissed me off, but his assistant made a good point. I don’t know, Fred. I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

Fred crossed his arms, considering your words. “Look, I don’t know Jihoon like you do. But from what I’ve seen, he’s not the same guy he was back then. Maybe give him a chance to prove that.”

A week later, Jihoon showed up again, this time without his assistant. You spotted him standing awkwardly at the front gate, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked out of place, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Back so soon?” you called out, walking toward him.

He turned, his eyes meeting yours. “I wanted to talk. Without the… entourage.”

You raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to follow you inside. The two of you sat in the empty kitchen, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Jihoon placed the bag on the counter and pulled out a small box. “I brought something for the kids,” he said, opening it to reveal a set of beautifully crafted utensils, each one colorful and child-sized.

You blinked in surprise, your defenses momentarily lowering. “These are… amazing.”

“I thought they might like them,” he said, his voice quieter now. “And I thought maybe I could help more, if you’ll let me.”

You hesitated, studying his expression. There was no trace of the condescension you’d seen before.

[...]

The sound of running water filled the quiet kitchen, punctuated by the clink of dishes being handed off between you and Jihoon. The day had been long, the kind of long that left you too tired to think straight but restless enough to keep moving. You focused on scrubbing the edges of a baking dish, the suds thick around your fingers, and handed it to Jihoon without a glance. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, pausing more than he should. You pulled back instinctively, grabbing the next plate before he could say anything.

Jihoon sighed, turning toward the wide window above the sink. The last light of the day was fading, casting a soft orange glow over the room. He dried the dish slowly, as if trying to draw out the moment. 

“You’ll never forgive me, will you?”

The question stopped you in your tracks. You placed the plate you were washing back into the sink and leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter. The bubbles clung to your hands, foam dripping down to the marble. You stared at the suds for a moment, your mind swirling, before you turned your head slightly toward him.

“I never heard a sorry leave your mouth, Jihoon.” Your gaze shifted to the window, avoiding his reflection.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” he admitted. “I thought… what’s the point? Saying sorry wouldn’t change anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You thought what? You think you can just show up here, give donations, play nice with the kids, and everything gets wonderful well?”

Jihoon’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” You crossed your arms, still feeling the slickness of the detergent on your skin. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you trying to fix something without actually addressing the damage you caused.”

You opened your mouth to continur, but he cut you off. “What am I supposed to do, huh? Go back in time? Undo it? All I can do is try to make up for it now, and if that’s not good enough for you, then tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

The frustration in his voice caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it show. “You don’t get to decide how or when I forgive you, Jihoon. That’s not how this works. And for the record, no, you can’t undo it. You can’t take back the way you made me feel that day.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t look away. “I know. I know I can’t.”

You shook your head. “And yet here you are, acting like showing up and playing nice will fix it all. Like you can just… sweep it under the rug.”

“I’m not trying to sweep it under the rug. I’m trying to be better. To show you that I’ve changed.”

You go back to the dishes. The water ran over your hands as you scrubbed a stubborn stain on the bottom of a pot, the bubbles swirling down the drain. Jihoon stood beside you, methodically drying the dishes and placing them on the counter without a word.

But something twisted in your gut, you swallowed hard, the weight of the past pressing on your chest. Your voice, when it finally came out, was quiet, and more fragile than you wanted to sound.

“Why the salt?”

Jihoon froze mid-motion, the towel in his hands slipping slightly. You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed on the pot as if it held all the answers you’d been seeking.

“Why did you do this to me Jihoon?”

He exhaled shakily, his knuckles white as he gripped the counter. It wasn’t just your question—it was the way you’d asked, like a small, innocent version of yourself had reached through the years to speak, like spiritually, your inner child canalized her voice to his ears. Jihoon felt it deep in his chest, an ache that mirrored yours. It was as though the girl you’d been when you first started chasing this dream was standing there, demanding an explanation he’d never given. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“I…” he started but faltered, running a hand through his hair, his voice dropped. “I didn’t… mean for it to be like that.”

You set the pot down, water dripping from your hands as you turned to him. Your eyes searched his face, looking for something—remorse, understanding, anything. “Then why? Why did you do it? Was it just… some sick joke to you?” Your voice wavered, and you blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Do you know what that did to me? What it felt like to watch—” You stopped, your words catching in your throat.

Jihoon closed his eyes, pressing his palms flat against the counter as if steadying himself. He felt sick, the kind of sickness that sat heavy in his chest and made it hard to breathe. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t my idea,” he said finally, his voice strained.

You frowned, your confusion evident. “What do you mean it wasn’t your idea?”

He turned to you then, his expression torn, guilt scripted all over his face. “It was my tutor’s idea,” he admitted, his words tumbling out like they’d been locked up for too long. “He… he told me to do it. Said it would make me stand out, give me an edge. He thought sabotaging someone else would make me look stronger. And I was—” He broke off, running a hand over his face. “I was stupid enough to listen.”

Your stomach churned, the twist in your gut tightening. “Your tutor?” you repeated, the disbelief clear in your voice.

Jihoon nodded, his eyes, pained. “He was more than just a tutor. He became my business partner after the competition. He was the one who pushed me toward the restaurant, who built me up to be this… this thing I didn’t even recognize anymore.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now…I can’t stand him. He’s why I’m back here. I couldn’t take it anymore. The way he runs things, the way he manipulates people—it was eating me alive.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. “So you’re saying… you did it because he told you to?”

“Yes.. But I chose to do it. I could’ve said no. I should’ve said no. I was just so… desperate to prove myself, to win, to be the best.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And I didn’t care who I hurt along the way.”

The importance of his confession lolled in the air. You turned your back to the sink. “I kept asking myself, What did I do wrong? And all the while, it was you.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how weak you sounded.

“I know, I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. Seeing you crying that day… it still haunts me. And when I saw you throw up when I came here, I realized just how deeply I’d hurt you. I…” He trailed off, his eyes glistening. “I can’t undo it. I know I can’t. But I’m trying to make it right. I just want you to know… I’m sorry. For everything. And I’ll keep saying it until it means something.”

“So…” you started, leaning back against the counter as you dried your hands on a towel. “You left a Michelin-starred restaurant behind? All of it?”

Jihoon nodded, like a weight had been partially lifted.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And now that you don’t have it, you want this to be yours too? The house?”

He let out a scoff, but it wasn’t sharp like before, it was straight funny. “You could’ve had both,” he countered, tilting his head. “A Michelin-starred restaurant and this. I could never.”

You couldn’t help but hold back a small smile, shaking your head. 

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a small, genuine smile. Then he extended his hand, palm open, toward you. “Come on,” he said softly.

You glanced at his hand, then back at his face, narrowing your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Offering a truce,” he replied. “Come on. You can’t make me stand here forever.”

For a second, you hesitated, looking at his hand again. With a resigned sigh, you dried your hands fully, reaching out to take his. Your grip was firm.

But you couldn’t help it. “You sure you want to start here? With that hair?” You gestured to his slightly mussed locks, which looked more chaotic than usual after hours in the kitchen. “You’ve been running from Michelin stars, but your hair looks like it’s been running from a comb.”

Jihoon froze for a second, then let out a genuine laugh, his head tilting back slightly. It was the first time you’d heard it that day, and it made something inside you soften.

“Don’t think the kids haven’t noticed. One of them asked if you were cosplaying as a hedgehog earlier.”

Jihoon smiled wide, almost beaming, though he tried to downplay it by scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. I get it. Point taken. But you know, I think they like me.”

“They tolerate you,” you corrected, smirking. “Big difference. You’re still on trial here, Jihoon.”

He pressed his free hand dramatically to his chest. “Tolerate me? That hurts, Y/N. I thought I had charm.”

“You’ve got something,” you teased, releasing his hand to grab another dish towel. “I’ll let you know what it is once I figure it out.”

Jihoon leaned against the counter, his eyes softening as he watched you. “You’ll let me know, huh? That sounds fair.”

Jihoon’s attempts to help with the house didn’t feel like an intrusion anymore.

A few days later, Jihoon was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a group of kids, trying to teach them a few basic culinary techniques. His patience was better than you’d expected, though he still had moments where he looked at you like: How do you deal with this every day?

“Chef Jihoon, is this how you hold the whisk?” one of the smaller kids asked, holding it in a fist like a sword.

“No, not unless you’re planning to fight your eggs,” Jihoon replied, gently adjusting the child’s grip. “Like this. Light, but firm.”

You stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. Fred sidled up beside you, nodding toward Jihoon. “He’s really trying, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He is.”

As the session wrapped up, Jihoon caught your eye from across the room. He raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking for your approval. You pretended to consider, then gave a small nod. His lips twitched upward, satisfied.

Jihoon had never considered himself great with kids.

He wasn’t the type of uncle who could entertain nieces and nephews for hours without breaking a sweat, like his friend Seungkwan. Yet, here he was, surrounded by giggling children who hung on his every word—and he had to admit, it wasn’t as terrifying as he’d thought. 

He’d found himself loving this. The chaos, the noise, the silly little moments. The kids, with their endless energy and bright smiles, were teaching him things he never thought he would learn. They were curing him in ways he never imagined.

Jihoon couldn’t hide the change in his mood when the kids started leaving for the day. They’d crowded around the door, each of them getting picked up by their parents, giving their final hugs, running out of the kitchen, their little hands waving goodbye. Jihoon stood in the doorway, watching them, his gaze soft. He didn’t admit it out loud, but there was something about seeing the kids leave that made him feel a little emptier inside. Maybe it was because he could feel the bond forming between them even though they’d only spent a short time together.

“Are you really sulking now?” you asked, walking past him to grab the last dish from the counter.

He didn’t turn around, but you could see the slight pout on his lips. “No,” he mumbled, hands stuffed in the pockets of his apron. “I just... I’m not used to saying goodbye. Even if I’m going to see them again tomorrow.”

You chuckled, watching him—you've found yourself in this situation multiple times at the beginning. “It’s fine, Jihoon. You’re just getting attached.”

He shot you a side-eye, as if daring you to make fun of him. “I’m not attached.” he muttered, crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder as you moved to the other side of the kitchen to help clean up. “You’ve become one of them now. A softie.”

[...]

The kitchen had never felt more alive than it does today. Jihoon, who had never been particularly fond of chaos, was smiling—almost laughing—while keeping his eyes on the counter. It was supposed to be a “friendly” competition between the boys and girls, but honestly, it was just an excuse to see how much you and Jihoon could handle before the chaos completely overtook you. And right now, it was clear neither of you were winning.

You stood on the boys’ side of the kitchen, trying to keep them from getting too rowdy as they threw flour at each other in some misguided attempt to "season" their dishes. On the other side, Jihoon was managing the girls, who, much to his dismay, were doing exactly what you expected them to do.

Jihoon stood there in your pink apron, his now short hair practically glistening with glittering accessories—tiny scrunchies, little clips holding stray locks back—making him look like the type of man who should’ve been anywhere but in a kitchen with a bunch of kids.

One of the girls tugged at Jihoon’s sleeve. “Chef Jihoon, can you stir this? It’s too heavy!” she whined, her small hands gripping the bowl.

“Of course,” Jihoon said, crouching slightly to be at her level, but not before side-eyeing you. “Unlike someone,” he said with mock emphasis, “I don’t leave my team hanging.”

You gasped dramatically from across the kitchen. “Excuse me, Chef Lee, but my boys are doing just fine, thank you very much!”

Jihoon smirked as he whisked the batter.

A few minutes later, the competition was in full swing, and the teasing between the kids was relentless. Every now and then, you had to intervene.

“Chef Y/N, Chef Jihoon’s team says our cookies will burn!” one of the boys pouted, pointing accusingly at Jihoon’s side of the kitchen.

You shot Jihoon a glare. “Chef Lee, are you sabotaging my team’s confidence?”

Jihoon feigned innocence, holding up his hands. “Sabotage? I would never,” he said, though his smirk betrayed him.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, narrowing your eyes. You crouched to whisper conspiratorially to the boys, loud enough for Jihoon to hear. “Don’t worry, kids. His cookies will taste like his personality—bitter.”

At one point, Jihoon crossed behind you to grab a pan, but instead of taking the wide-open space on the other side, he chose to squeeze behind you in the narrow gap between the counters.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, voice low and entirely unnecessary given the proximity. His hand brushed your waist as he reached past you, and you stiffened, gripping the spoon in your hand tighter.

“There’s a whole kitchen, Jihoon,” you scolded, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why are you in my personal space?”

He bit his bottom lip, as he moved away, holding the pan. “Just testing the waters. Seems warm.”

You huffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Go test the waters on your side of the kitchen before I throw you in the sink.”

He laughed, a soft, melodic sound that you hated how much you were starting to like. “Alright, alright. Don’t get flustered, Chef Y/N. I’ll behave.”

Later, you decided to up the teasing as revenge. Jihoon was bent over, helping one of the girls pour batter into a mold. You leaned close to him, hand on his back, making his back stiff under your hand. 

You scoff, your breath tickling his ear. “Careful, Chef Lee. Don’t spill. That would ruin your team’s reputation.”

Jihoon fumbled with the mold, nearly spilling the batter as he straightened up abruptly. He shot you a look, his cheeks faintly pink. “Very funny.” he muttered, grabbing the whisk with a little too much force, the batter splattering slightly.

The kids were oblivious to the Chef's bickering, fully focused on their creations. The teasing continued until the final moments, each team plating their cookies and presenting them proudly.

By the end of the competition, the kids were giggling and cheering as Fred and Jihoon’s assistant judged the dishes. Jihoon stood beside you, both of you wiping flour off your hands as the verdict was announced: a tie.

You stood beside Jihoon as the kids debated whose cookies looked better. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You know, you’re lucky there’s no actual judging panel. My team would wipe the floor with yours.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Keep dreaming, Lee.”

When the kids weren’t looking, he nudged you lightly with his elbow. You elbowed him back, harder, earning a stifled laugh.

[...]

You sat slumped at your desk, your face buried in your hands as Fred paced back and forth in front of you, rattling off potential solutions. The stress of the upcoming fundraiser gala was weighing on you like a damn cast-iron skillet. 

The shelves in the stockroom were stacked with ingredients that you weren’t even sure you’d be able to use now that the catering service had ghosted you. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Fred sighed dramatically, flopping down in the chair across from you. “Alright, boss, what’s the game plan? Do we, like, call another service or… just throw in the towel and serve chips and soda?”

You groaned, peeking at him through your fingers. “Fred, I swear to God, if you bring up chips one more time—”

“Okay, okay, chill,” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “But for real, though. We gotta figure this out. You know how fancy these people are. One whiff of ‘homemade’ and they’re gonna start asking if we milked the cows ourselves.”

You let out a dry laugh, leaning back in your chair and staring at the ceiling. “I should’ve just canceled the gala altogether. Who even does this every year? I’m not Beyoncé.”

Fred smirked. “True, but you’re like… Beyoncé of the kitchen. That counts for something, right?”

“Fred,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes at him. “That is not helpful.”

You were mid-spiral, staring at your disheveled desk, when a knock pulled you out of your chaos. Turning sharply, you found Jihoon leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to look casual—but you could tell he was hesitant, maybe even nervous.

What the hell did he want now? You thought he already headed home.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes darting between you and Fred, who was sprawled across the chair forehead red from how stressed he got.

Fred’s head shot up like a meerkat. “Not at all! Actually, perfect timing—”

You shot Fred a glare sharp enough to make him frown. “Fred. Shut. Up.” Then you turned to Jihoon, crossing your arms. “What do you want?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “Heard about the cancellation. Thought you might need a hand.”

Fred couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “She needs more than a hand. She needs, like, divine intervention at this point.”

“Fred!” you hissed, your face heating up. Fred waved you off, muttering something about grabbing coffee, and practically bolted out of the room, leaving you alone with Jihoon.

You sighed and turned your full attention to him. “Alright, so what’s this about? Because unless you have a whole-ass catering team hiding in your back pocket, I don’t think you can magically fix this.”

Jihoon tilted his head, his lips twitching into that insufferable smirk you hated so much. “Well, I don’t have one in my pocket, but I do have a team. Or did you forget I used to run a restaurant?”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, straightening up a bit. “I can bring my team in. We’ll handle the food. You focus on… whatever else needs doing. Win-win.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was actually being helpful or just showing off. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly. “I just want the kids to have a good night. And… maybe—prove to you that I’m not as useless as you think.”

You let out a groan, rubbing your temples. “God, you’re so smug.”

“Smug, but capable,” he quipped.

It wasn’t like you had a long list of alternatives, and time was running out. You were about to say no—hell, you even opened your mouth to shut him down—but the words didn’t come. You were stuck, and deep down, you knew it.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms even tighter. “But if your team screws this up, Jihoon, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

His smirk widened into a full grin. “Deal.”

He turned to leave, and you couldn’t resist one last jab. “And don’t think this means I trust you or anything!”

Jihoon glanced back, his smirk back to its usual lazy self. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Chef.”

Fred found you in the kitchen later, supervising a delivery of more ingredients that just reminded you how overwhelming this whole gala was going to be. “So, you really letting Jihoon handle the food?”

“Not like I have a choice,” you muttered, signing off on a receipt. “It’s either him or I start calling catering companies and praying someone says yes for this weekend.”

Fred snickered, nudging you with his elbow. “You’re playing with fire, boss. You know that, right?”

“I know...” you sighed. 

You bit your lip, your eyes fixed on Jihoon across the room as your thoughts tangled themselves into knots. He was chatting with his assistant, leaning slightly against the counter in that laid-back way of his. But then, a small hand tugged at his pant leg—a boy from the younger group, arms stretched high in the universal signal to pick me up, as he closed and opened his hands.

Jihoon hesitated for half a second, glancing down, but the moment the kid grinned up at him, Jihoon’s expression softened into something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. He crouched to the boy’s level, picking him up with ease, and the little guy immediately started chattering about… something. Jihoon nodded along like it was the most important thing he’d ever heard, even giving a small laugh that made your stomach twist.

“Y/N.” Fred’s voice brought you back, and you turned to see him giving you that I’m onto you look.

“What?” you whispered sharply, leaning closer.

Fred smirked. “I said, you’re really letting Jihoon handle this? Big leap of faith.”

You sighed, dropping your voice even lower so no one else could hear. “Do you think he’s gonna mess everything up again?”

Fred tilted his head, watching Jihoon over your shoulder. “Mess up? Nah. He’s too proud for that. He’d rather break his back making this perfect than give you more ammo to throw at him.”

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “You’re awfully optimistic.”

Fred leaned closer, his voice lowering to match yours. “Look, I know he’s got a reputation—believe me, I’ve heard all about it—but people change. I’ve been watching him. He’s trying, Y/N. He really is.”

You glanced back at Jihoon, just in time to see him toss the boy lightly into the air and catch him, earning a giggle loud enough to echo through the room. Jihoon smiled, genuinely, and you caught yourself blinking like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Fred nudged you. “See what I mean? That’s not the same guy who showed up on day one, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t screw this up,” you muttered, your fingers tightening around the clipboard you were holding.

Fred gave you a look that bordered on exasperation. “You’re allowed to doubt, boss, but at least give him credit for showing up. He’s not just phoning it in. Look at him.”

You did. Jihoon had set the boy down and was now crouching as a small group of kids swarmed him, waving drawings in his face. He listened intently, nodding as one of the girls pointed out the details of her masterpiece. Even from a distance, you could see the way his lips twitched into a small smile.

“See?” Fred whispered, his tone softer now. “He’s trying to be here, to be part of this. Maybe he’s not perfect, but none of us are. Don’t punish the guy for trying.”

You bit your lip again, uncertainty clawing at you. “It’s not just about trying, Fred. It’s about doing it.”

“And he’s doing,” Fred countered gently. “Every single day, in his own way.”

You stayed quiet, watching Jihoon stand up and ruffle one of the boy’s hair before turning back to his assistant. As if sensing your gaze, he glanced up, meeting your eyes for a fleeting moment. 

Fred patted your shoulder, snapping you out of it. “Look, I’m not saying you have to trust him blindly. But maybe, you can let him prove himself.”

You exhaled sharply, the weight of everything pressing against your chest. “Fine. But if he screws this up, I’m not holding back.”

Fred grinned.

Jihoon, still watching from across the room, gave you a slight nod before turning back to his conversation. The boy at his feet clung to his leg like a koala, and Jihoon, didn’t seem to mind.

— // One day before the Fundraiser Gala // —

The sound of heels and boots against the tile floor echoed through the kitchen, direct contradiction to the usual patter of children’s sneakers and laughter. Jihoon’s team had arrived, and damn, they looked like they meant business. Clad in immaculate white chef coats and black pants, they marched in like some kind of culinary SWAT team, their faces serious as their eyes scanned the colorful cabinets, the shelves stacked with bright utensils, and the whimsical decorations scattered around.

For a second, you thought they might’ve walked into the wrong place. This wasn’t their sleek with its stainless steel everything and clinical vibes.

One of the chefs—a woman probably in her late thirties, with warm brown eyes and a bright smile—broke away from the group. Her crisp chef’s hat stood out even more because of the colorful butterfly pinned to the front. She approached you with her hands clasped in front of her, her energy immediately softening the sharpness of the arrival.

“You must be Chef Y/N,” she saidt. “It’s such an honor to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work. My daughter used to come here a few years ago before we moved away.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her warmth. Then your lips curved into a genuine smile as you reached out to clasp her outstretched hand. “Oh, really? That’s amazing! What’s her name?”

“Ellie,” she said, her smile widening. “She loved it here—always talked about the classes and how kind you were. You really made an impact on her.”

Your chest tightened with pride as you squeezed her hands lightly. “That means so much to me. Thank you for sharing that.”

Jihoon’s voice broke through the moment, sharp but not unkind, as he began directing his team like a seasoned general. “You, start unpacking the equipment and setting up the stations. Over there,” he pointed toward the far counters, “clear the area for plating tomorrow. We’ll use this section for prep. Let’s move efficiently; we don’t have all day.”

The chefs snapped into action, moving in sync as they carried crates of supplies and ingredients to the designated areas. Some paused briefly to take in the kitchen's playful décor—bright red mixing bowls, pink spatulas, even a small chalkboard where the kids had drawn messy pictures of cookies and cakes.

A younger chef paused at the chalkboard and tilted his head, squinting at a crookedly drawn cake. “What’s this supposed to be?”

You smirked, stepping closer. “That’s a birthday cake. Pretty sure it was done by a five-year-old last week.”

He grinned sheepishly and quickly got back to work.

As the flurry of activity settled into a rhythm, Jihoon finally approached you, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms dusted with flour—intimidating or approachable? you couldn't name it. 

“So,” he said, nodding toward his team bustling behind him, “what do you think?”

You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You brought an army.”

Jihoon smirked, his dimple flashing. “You said you were stressed about the gala. I figured I’d bring reinforcements.”

“I didn’t think reinforcements would look like... this.” You gestured toward the scene unfolding behind him—chefs moving almost mechanically, unpacking boxes of spices, knives, and tools that looked way too fancy for your humble kitchen. “They’re terrifyingly efficient.”

Jihoon’s smirk widened. “It’s what we do.”

You shook your head, pleasedly. “I’m not used to this many people in here. Usually, it’s just me, Fred, and the kids. Maybe a volunteer or two. This is... Geez.”

Jihoon’s expression softened just slightly. “It’ll be fine. They’re good at what they do, and they’re here to help.” He tilted his head toward the woman with the butterfly pin, who was busy organizing a shelf of ingredients. “And they’re not all bad, see? You’ve already made a fan.”

You let out a small laugh, glancing over at her. “She seems sweet. But you—” you pointed at him, mock serious, “—better not let this whole operation steamroll what we’ve got here. I don’t want this place feeling like some high-end restaurant. It’s not what we’re about.”

Jihoon held up his hands, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Noted, Chef. No steamrolling.”

“Good,” you said, though it was a simple conversation, it left your stomach flipping a little.

Fred appeared at your side, raising an eyebrow at the scene. “Well, this is new. You two... not bickering?”

Jihoon let out a low laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

Fred snorted. “Noted.”

As the three of you stood there, Jihoon’s team settled further into their work. And for the first time in days, you let yourself feel a tiny spark of hope. Maybe  this fundraiser wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

The faint pop of balloons filled the air as you stood outside the big house, pointing toward the arch being assembled. The guy on the ladder adjusted the last few balloons based on your direction. “Yeah, a little to the left. No, too much—back a bit. Perfect!” you called, stepping back to admire the colorful display. Satisfied, you headed inside to check on the lobby.

The scene was coming together beautifully. Soft string lights cascaded down the walls, tables draped in crisp white cloths were adorned with modest floral arrangements, and a few colorful drawings from the kids had been framed and placed strategically to keep the spirit of the NGO alive. You smiled, exhaustion creeping in.

The kitchen door swung open briefly, the sound of movement spilling out. Jihoon’s voice rang clear as he called out commands. Curious, you moved closer, the faint smell of roasted vegetables and fresh herbs making your stomach grumble.

“Should we add the asparagus to the risotto?” one of the chefs asked Jihoon.

You peeked in to see Jihoon standing near the counter, frowning at the question. His arms were crossed as he considered the dish. “No. Substitute it with something the kids will like better. Maybe peas or sweet corn—something familiar.” His tone was sharp but thoughtful, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He’s got this.

With the decoration finished, you looked around the lobby one last time, hands on your hips, your legs were starting to feel the long day. Just as you were about to head upstairs for a quick break, Jihoon’s voice called out.

“Chef Y/N! Come to the kitchen for a second!”

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes but heading toward the kitchen anyway. The team had gathered around the main counter, dishes from the menu arranged neatly in front of them. Jihoon stood in the center, sleeves rolled up, looking completely in his element. When you stepped in, he placed a firm hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to the counter.

“Alright, Chef,” he said with a small smirk. “You’re the boss—taste and let us know if anything needs adjusting.”

You set your clipboard down by the edge of the counter, glancing at the team. Their expressions ranged from curious to tense, some with hands clasped nervously in front of them, others holding their breath. The way they watched you reminded you of the kids during class, eagerly awaiting your feedback with shiny, hopeful eyes. It was a window straight to their inner child, and it warmed you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You picked up the first dish—a delicate risotto plated beautifully with fresh herbs—and took a bite. The creamy texture melted on your tongue, and you couldn’t help but nod in approval. The team collectively exhaled, and a few shared quiet smiles.

Moving to the next dish, a roasted chicken breast with a honey glaze, you chewed thoughtfully before nodding again. Your eyebrows raised as you flipped to a fresh page on your clipboard and started writing.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a few of them shifting nervously, trying to sneak a peek at what you were jotting down. You heard someone’s breath hitch, and you fought back a grin. Their curiosity bubbling over like kids at a science fair.

Finally, you set the pen down and looked up at the group with a big smile. “Everything is excellent,” you said warmly, your tone full of genuine praise. The room erupted into quiet sighs of relief and soft laughter as they exchanged congratulatory nods.

Jihoon stood at your side, his eyes on you, but you didn’t miss the curiosity there, too. You ripped the page from your clipboard and handed it to him. “Here,” you said. “See you all tomorrow—get some rest. You’ve earned it!”

As you left the kitchen, you could feel their eyes lingering on you, their whispers audible even as you stepped into the hallway.

“What did she write?” someone asked, unable to contain their curiosity.

Jihoon unfolded the note, and for a moment, his face was unclear. Then he scoffed softly, a smile breaking across his face as he shook his head.

“What is it, Chef?”

Jihoon chuckled and held up the paper for them to see. Written in bold letters, surrounded by a big smiley face, were the words:

"You have the best team ever, Jihoon-ah! (P.S. Don’t mess it up, or I’ll switch the risotto for instant noodles tomorrow.)"

The room blast into laughter, the tension evaporating in an instant. Jihoon rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

— // The day of the Fundraiser Gala // —

The afternoon stretched lazily into evening. You were on autopilot, clipboard in hand, mentally running through the checklist one last time.

You didn’t even notice Jihoon’s team gathered in a loose circle near the kitchen, stifling laughter as they watched you stride past, completely oblivious. Jihoon, standing at the center, tried to hold it together, his lips twitching and his cheeks dangerously close to full-on pink.

When you finally looked up, feeling the weight of their stares, you froze. Jihoon caught your gaze, his face crumpling into silent laughter as he pointed at your head.

You blinked, confused, before your hand flew up and landed on the pink rollers still perched on your head. Your cheeks flamed instantly. “Oh my God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Not a word!” you warned, glaring at Jihoon, who was practically doubled over, biting his fist to keep from cackling.

“Come on,” he teased, still grinning. “It’s a look!”

You huffed, trying to keep your composure as you giggled despite yourself. Jihoon straightened, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no judgment. But seriously…” His tone softened slightly, and his eyes swept over you. “You’ve been running around all day. Go get ready—we’ll take care of the rest from here.”

You smiled tiredly, feeling the faint brush of his fingers against your shoulder as he winked. The touch lingered, even as you turned to head upstairs.

In your office, the mirror reflected someone entirely different from your usual self. The rollers were gone, replaced by soft waves cascading around your face. The long dress hugged your waist and flared subtly at your hips. It was nothing like the practical aprons or flour-dusted chef hats you wore every day. For the first time in a while, you felt glamorous.

A knock sounded at your door, and Fred poked his head in. “You look…” He sniffed loudly, dramatically. “...so good. Do you even know how to walk in heels?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Shut up, Fred.” The hard texture of his tuxedo jacket pressed against your palm, a memo that tonight wasn’t just another day in the kitchen.

The lobby was alive when you descended the stairs. Guests filled the space—reporters, actors, chefs with Michelin stars under their belts, the kids’ parents, and longtime supporters of the organization. Some children were already laughing and playing with the monitors, their joy cutting through the formal atmosphere in the most perfect way.

You greeted guests warmly, flashing your practiced smile as cameras clicked and people extended hands to shake yours. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jihoon.

He stood near one of the round tables, his pristine white chef’s coat gleaming under the lights. Unlike the standard uniforms, his was sharp and sophisticated, accented with a brooch showcasing his achievements. His short hair was perfectly styled, and the smell of his soap lingered faintly in the air—jihoon always smelled like a fresh bath.

Jihoon was mid-conversation with a Michelin-starred chef, but his attention kept drifting. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved through the crowd. When your gaze met his, he subtly adjusted the collar of his coat, looking flustered.

He raised his hand, beckoning you over.

“Y/N,” he called, a bit more breathless than usual.

You walked over, smiling as he introduced you. “This is Chef Park. I had classes with him when I was just starting out.”

Chef Park extended a hand warmly, and you shook it, your voice full of charm as you exchanged pleasantries. Jihoon tried to stay focused on the conversation, but his gaze kept sliding back to you.

The dress—damn, the dress. The way it emphasized the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, the subtle swell of your chest—Jihoon felt his mouth go dry.

While you chatted animatedly with Chef Park, Jihoon fought to keep himself together. His eyes darted downward for a split second, landing on your ass before quickly snapping back up.

Fred sidled up next to Jihoon, smirking. “She cleans up nice, huh?”

Jihoon shot him a sharp look, cheeks pink. “Shut up.”

Fred grinned wider, nudging him with an elbow. “Bet you’re regretting all those jokes about her rollers now.”

Jihoon groaned quietly, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “You have no idea.”

When the conversation with Chef Park ended, you turned back to Jihoon, your smile soft. “So? Everything on track?”

Jihoon swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. All good. Just… don’t trip in those heels, okay?” he teased lightly, though his voice was a little hoarse.

You smirked, leaning in slightly. “Don’t burn the risotto, Jihoon-ah.”

Fred’s laugh from behind was loud enough to draw attention, but you were already slipping away, leaving Jihoon standing there, flustered and very much not focused on risotto anymore.

Everywhere you turned, there were people—donors, parents, fancy celebs holding glasses of wine like it was part of their outfits. The kind of people who looked too perfect. 

Back in the kitchen, you caught glimpses of Jihoon barking orders—well, not barking, but you know, his stern-but-not-rude tone that somehow made you think, damn, is it hot in here, or is it just him? His uniform was doing wonders, too. That brooch on his chest? Fancy as hell. The sharp cut of his chef coat? Not fair. The dude was practically glowing, commanding his team with this quiet authority that made you wanna—well, your ego didn’t wanted to finish that thought.

But it wasn’t just his looks. Watching him orchestrate everything like a culinary conductor, was making your knees go weak—It just hit different. He made plating look like an Olympic sport—it was sexy in a he’s-too-distracted-to-realize-how-hot-he-is kinda way.

You tried not to linger in the kitchen doorway like some creep, but your feet betrayed you. You found yourself lingering by the double doors leading into the kitchen way more than necessary, just to sneak a peek. And when Jihoon glanced up mid-sentence—probably to tell someone to stop over-salting the soup, the devil on your shoulder moaned in the most slutty and mockingly way in your ear.

He had this stupid air about him tonight, like a general in a Michelin-starred army, his pristine chef’s jacket glowing under the lights.

Honestly, it was hot. Too hot.

Every detail mattered to him tonight, like he was pouring himself into every dish for the house—and for you.

Meanwhile, Jihoon… He felt you. He swore he could feel you every damn time you entered the kitchen. He didn’t even have to turn around to know you were standing there, clipboard probably in hand, lips pressed together as you analyzed everything.

At one point, as he was giving instructions about caramelizing the chiken, his assistant caught him mid-stutter. Jihoon blinked, realizing he’d glanced at the door when he didn’t even mean to. Sure enough, there you were, leaning slightly against the doorframe, watching him.

“Chef?” his assistant asked, clearly amused.

Jihoon shook his head, trying to focus. But god, how could he when you were out there looking like that? The memory of your dress earlier—was burned into his mind, everytime he finished a plate.

And you weren’t just standing around, either. You were networking like crazy, charming the big donors with your natural warmth. Jihoon kept overhearing snippets of your conversations, catching the soft laughs you’d coax out of the crowd. His chest tightened every time. How the hell were you this good at everything?

The main event started in the salon, where guests gathered around tables adorned with delicate flower arrangements. A massive screen hung at the front of the room, flashing photos of the NGO’s achievements, kids smiling and laughing, and heartfelt thank-you messages from families.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much—your attention was split between schmoozing the guests and keeping tabs on Jihoon. He entered the room with his team in tow, their white jackets contrasting beautifully with the dark, sleek space. His presence shifted the entire mood, drawing eyes like a magnet.

As the night went on, donations started rolling in. The screen showed the numbers climbing higher and higher, names of donors flashing beside each amount. You clapped along with everyone else, heart swelling every time the digits jumped. But then a new name appeared: Lee Jihoon. His real name by the side of the donation, not his professional one.

Your breath caught. The amount wasn’t just generous; it was enormous. Enough to make an audible gasp ripple through the crowd.

Fred’s hands landed on your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. You didn’t respond, eyes fixed on Jihoon as he stood near the back of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn’t looking at the screen. Instead, his gaze was on you.

Later, after the gala dinner had been served and the kids had performed their adorable little skit, Jihoon’s team gathered in the salon, celebrating their successful service. Jihoon found you again, his hand brushing yours as he handed you a flute of champagne, making you abandon your clipboard once for the night, before heading to the kitchen. Cute.

Minutes later Jihoon saw you coming towards his team direction, and he stepped aside, making room for you in the circle. His hand brushed against your back lightly, making your skin shiver under the pads of his fingers.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” you replied, glancing at him. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

He gave a small smile, but it didn’t quite hide the way his chest puffed up a little at your praise.

One of the chefs leaned forward, clearly curious. “So… what’d you think of the risotto?”

You laughed softly, remembering the dish you’d tasted earlier. “Honestly? It was flawless. You guys knocked it out of the park.”

The team broke into wide smiles, their pride radiating through the room. Jihoon stood quietly beside you, but you could feel the satisfaction rolling off him.

“You really do have the best team, Jihoon-ah,” you said quietly, just for him to hear.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know. But don’t tell them that—they’ll get cocky.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed.

[...]

The house was a ghost town now, silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The laughter of the kids and clinking of glasses had faded into memories, and the night felt heavy in the best way—like it had been full.

You stretched your legs out on the rest room couch, head lolling back. The long dress you’d cursed earlier now felt like salvation, hiding how much you wanted to just kick your heels off and sprawl indecently. Fred and Jihoon’s assistant sat across from you, chatting nonstop like they hadn’t just survived the most exhausting night of their lives.

Jihoon, was quiet, his head tilted back against the wall, arms crossed, looking done. You wanted to tell him to take a break, but you knew better—he’d earned the silence.

Still, your throat felt dry, and you sat up suddenly, pushing yourself off the couch. “I need another drink. Back in a sec.”

Fred shot you a look. “Champagne? Or vodka this time?”

“Champagne.” you fflip him off with a tired grin as you headed for the kitchen.

The kitchen was spotless, not a single dish out of place. You stared at the counters, blinking in disbelief.

“No way,” you murmured under your breath, tugging a fresh bottle of champagne from the cooler. “Even the dishes?”

A low voice startled you. “Even the dishes.”

You jumped, nearly dropping the bottle, and spun around. Jihoon was leaning against the doorway, his jacket draped over one arm, his hair slightly mussed like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. He smirked softly at your reaction.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, grabbing a second glass for him. You poured the champagne and handed him one.

“Cheers,” you said, raising your glass.

He clinked his against yours with a quiet chuckle, the sound of the glasses meeting delicate in the silence.

You sat on the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you sipped. Jihoon moved to lean against the counter beside you, his thigh brushing your knee as he turned his glass in his hand.

“You proved me wrong tonight,” you said suddenly, catching his eye.

He tilted his head, curious. “Oh yeah? About what?”

You smiled, a little softer this time. “About whether you really cared about this place. About the kids. About any of it. I thought you were just here because…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Because you had to be.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed, no defensiveness in his voice when he said, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care, Y/N. You know that.”

“I do now,” you admitted, setting your glass beside you. “I see it in how you are with the kids. How you talk to them, listen to them. Even tonight, bowing to every single parent...”

Jihoon’s face softened. “They’re… incredible. Every single one of them. I’m not gonna lie—I thought I wasn’t great with kids. But these kids? I love them, Y/N. Like… it’s different. They’re different. They remind me why I even started doing all this in the first place.”

You leaned back slightly, studying him, your chest tightening at how genuine he looked.

“You’re a sap,” you said, grinning.

“And you’re not?” he shot back, smirking.

You nudged his leg with your knee. “Don’t deflect. I’m being serious. You’ve come so far since you got here. And honestly? The house wouldn’t be what it is tonight without you.”

Jihoon stared at you for a long moment, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but then he just took a final sip of his champagne and placed the glass beside yours.

You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until he shifted, slotting himself between your legs with a smoothness that should’ve been illegal. His hands found the counter on either side of your thighs, and he leaned in close.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he murmured. “This place is you. Every inch of it. I’m just… lucky to be part of it.”

Your breath hitched as you met his eyes, the proximity making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Jihoon…”

“Hmm?” His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“You’re… a lot.”

“And you’re not?”

Jihoon stood close enough for you to notice how the soft cotton of his t-shirt clung to him underneath the chef’s coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Without thinking, your hand lifted, fingers brushing against the collar of the shirt.

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His gaze stayed locked on you, soft and curious.

You cleared your throat, keeping your voice steady. “So… you staying in town? Or are you disappearing again?”

Jihoon tilted his head, smiling softly. “I’m staying.”

“Good,” you said with a small nod, your fingers lingering for a second longer before dropping back to your lap. “In that case… want to make it official?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Official?”

You grinned, your tired eyes sparkling. “I mean, if you want to be part of our team. Contract and everything. Full-on chef Jihoon at the NGO.”

Jihoon blinked at you, the surprise written all over his face. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied. “At this point, if you leave, the kids are gonna cry for days.”

He scoffed, shaking his head with a laugh. “The kids? I’d probably cry.”

You laughed with him, the sound soft and genuine. “Would you?”

“Definitely,” he said, then glanced at you with a smirk. “Would you cry?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little as you place your palms behind you. “Please. I’ve already cried plenty because of you.”

Jihoon groaned, throwing his head back in defeat. “Don’t bring that up,” he whined.

You softened, nudging his arm. “I’m kidding.”

He sighed, resting his head on your shoulder like he was trying to hide from your teasing. “I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s real.”

You didn’t know if he meant the apology or the gratitude, but the way his hand lifted from the counter to rest on your leg through the slit of your dress made your back arch a bit. His palm was warm against your skin, his touch featherlight as he squeezed gently.

He straightened just slightly, his face close enough now that you could see the faint flush creeping along his cheekbones. “What if,” he said quietly, “I made you cry with something good instead?”

Your lips parted, the question taking you off guard. Jihoon didn’t pull back, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth like he was waiting for an answer. His eyebrows furrowing as if he was doing a really big effort to not kiss you.

“I—” You swallowed, your voice catching as his thumb began to trace slow circles against your leg.

His other hand brushed the edge of the counter beside you, steadying himself as he leaned just a fraction closer. “Would you let me?” he asked softly.

Your breath hitched as Jihoon’s hand slid higher up your thigh, his palm warm and firm. The tiniest, unintentional sound escaped your lips—breathy and needy—and the way his smirk curved made your panties sticky almst instantly. He leaned in, close enough for a soft, teasing peck. Merely there. Then he pulled back just enough to catch your reaction, his smirk deepening at the horny look in your eyes.

“Ji,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his shirt before he could get smug. Your lips found his, no uncertainty at all this time, your tongue slipping between his parted lips. 

His lips were impossibly soft, moving against yours with a rhythm that left your mind spinning. His tongue met yours, sweeping against it in a way that made you clutch his shirt tighter, pulling him closer. His hands abandoned your thigh, traveling upward, his palms smoothing over your hips, then the curve of your ass, before they settled on your waist.

Jihoon kissed like he worked in the kitchen—passionately, hard. Every movement was like he knew what would make you wetter, his lips pressing into yours harder, hungrier, as though he was savoring you. His thumbs brushed the edges of your ribs, fingers splaying as he drew you closer, swallowing the quiet moans that slipped out against his lips.

He broke away for a moment, sucking gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a soft pop. His lips lingered, warm and swollen, against your skin as he caught his breath. You felt his breath fan against your jaw before his mouth trailed kisses to the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. The press of his lips there was wetter, slower, his tongue just grazing enough to make your head tilt back.

His lips were plush, his tongue warm as it laved over the skin just below your ear. The sensation was maddening—gentle nips and soothing licks. He kissed lower, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, finding the pulse point that fluttered beneath his tongue. His tongue darted out, hot and slick, tasting the salt of your skin before he pulled it back in to suck lightly.

You felt your pussy expulsing more honey right after an agonizing tug on your lower belly. You rolled your hipstrying to find his heat down there too. “Hey—Jihoon,” you murmured, hardly able to get his name out as his mouth kept working, your mind slurred, weak and the faint.

And then, just as his hand slid higher, brushing along your ribcage toward your chest, reality hit you like a slap in the face.

The kitchen.

You froze for a second, pulling back with a shaky laugh as you pressed a hand to his chest. “We can’t… here,” you whispered, your cheeks flaming. “This is literally where the kids cook.”

“You’re right. God, you’re right. Im sorry.” Jihoon said, voice muffled against your skin as he let out a shy laugh. “I know. I just…” He pulled back slightly, looking at you like he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. You’re just…”

“Just what?” you teased, arching a brow even as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“...So hot,” he admitted, his lips curving into a sheepish smile that only made you hornier. 

You were about to respond—maybe tease him, maybe kiss him again—when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you both snap out of it like a couple of guilty teenagers caught sneaking around.

Standing in the doorway were Fred and Jihoon’s assistant, their jaws practically on the floor. Fred looked like he’d seen a ghost—or maybe his entire worldview shatter—while Jihoon’s assistant was holding a tray of neatly plated desserts, now slightly tilted as they both froze in place.

“Um…” Fred finally managed. “Are we… interrupting… something?”

You and Jihoon pulled apart instantly—well, as much as you could with him still standing between your legs and his hands still firmly on your waist.

“No!” you both blurted in unison, your voices hitting slightly different octaves, which only made the situation even more awkward.

Fred squinted at the two of you, his gaze darting between your flushed face, Jihoon’s equally guilty expression, and the very obvious fact that you were still sitting on the counter with Jihoon standing way too close.

“Uh-huh,” Fred said slowly, folding his arms. “Because it looks like I just walked into a scene straight out of a porno.”

Jihoon’s assistant, meanwhile, was trying—and failing—to hold back laughter, his shoulders shaking as he set the tray down on a nearby table, grinning like he’d just uncovered the gossip of the century. “Should we give you two a minute? Or, like… ten?”

“Okay, stop,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands as you tried to will the floor to swallow you whole. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks like you were—”

“Fred!” you snapped, cutting him off before he could finish that sentence.

Jihoon, to his credit, was doing his best to look professional again, straightening his shirt and stepping back slightly, though his ears were burning red and his black pants were almost exploding with the hard bulge poking the zipper. “I mean… we were just… talking,” he said, his voice awkwardly high-pitched. “Right, Y/N?”

“Totally.” you said, nodding way too quickly. 

Fred looked like he was physically restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that totally explains why Jihoon’s lips were practically glued to your neck.”

Jihoon’s assistant let out a snort, finally losing it as he doubled over laughing. “This is so much better than I imagined,” he said between giggles. “I knew something was up between you two, but this? Oh, this is gold.”

“Can we not?” Jihoon mumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he leaned against the counter beside you. “Seriously, just… forget this happened, okay?”

Fred crossed his arms, looking suspiciously amused. “Oh, no chance. This is going in the house history books.”

Jihoon groaned. “You’re literally the worst.”

“Yeah, and yet you’re the one making out in the kitchen,” Fred shot back, smirking. “So who’s really winning here?”

You sighed, hopping off the counter and smoothing your dress as you tried to regain some semblance of dignity. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we move on now?”

Fred shrugged, still grinning as he followed Jihoon’s assistant out of the room. “Oh, sure. But just so you know, I’m never letting you live this down.”

As they disappeared around the corner, Jihoon let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. His face softened as he caught your eye, and he let out a quiet laugh.

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “Could be worse.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon asked, stepping closer again, his voice reducing slightly. “Like what?”

You didn’t answer, but the look you gave him said everything.

[...]

The NGO was officially closed for a week after the fundraiser gala—a well-deserved break for everyone involved. You had practically collapsed in exhaustion the night after the event, but now, as the week began, your nerves were alive again for a completely different reason: Jihoon was coming over.

Your house, modest and cozy, suddenly felt inadequate in your eyes. It wasn’t that it wasn’t clean or comfortable—it was—but compared to whatever sleek, high-tech penthouse you imagined Jihoon lived in, with modern furniture, and probably some state-of-the-art espresso machine that greeted him in the morning with a personalized message, you felt like your space might seem a little too... quaint.

Still, you’d spent the morning scrubbing your house from top to bottom. The counters were wiped down three times, the couch cushions fluffed and rearranged, and the tiny plant by the window watered, even though it definitely didn’t need it. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror for what had to be the fiftieth time, smoothing down the soft pink fabric of your loose dress. It wasn’t too dressy, but it was cute and casual enough to not feel overdone. The fabric swayed lightly as you moved, and you liked how it made you look pretty. Enough to say, “I’m not trying too hard, but also please notice I’m cute.”

Why are you acting like this is a date? you scolded yourself. It’s just Jihoon. He’s coming here for work.

To top it off, you’d spent way too long picking out a perfume that smelled sweet but subtle enough to not overpower him. You’d made sure you didn’t smell like cake batter or frosting—not that it would’ve been bad.

When the knock finally came, you nearly tripped over your own feet rushing to the door. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your dress one last time and opened it, trying not to look like you’d been anxiously waiting there for twenty minutes.

Jihoon stood on your porch, casual but polished in a black crewneck and jeans, his hair perfectly messy in that way that looked completely effortless. He smiled softly, holding up a notebook and a small bag of groceries. “I come bearing snacks and bad handwriting,” he said.

You laughed, stepping aside to let him in. “Well, the snacks can stay. We’ll see about the handwriting.”

Jihoon looked around, his eyes scanning the cozy space. “This is nice,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “Way more personality than my place.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really? I thought you’d be used to… like… manoir vibes.”

“Manoirs don’t feel like this,” he said, glancing at the soft lighting and the framed photos on your shelves. “This feels like someone actually lives here.”

He smirked, stepping into the living room and setting his bag down. “So, what’s the big plan for this super important work meeting?”

Ah, yes. The “work.” You’d convinced yourself that this was about finalizing the “Culinary Educational Outreach Program” you’d both been brainstorming for the organization. Jihoon called it “CEOP,” pronounced like “sip,” which made Fred gag every time he said it.

“First,” you said, trying to ignore how nice Jihoon looked standing in your living room, “we sit down and outline the goals for CEOP. Then, we cook.”

“Cook?” Jihoon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Are you just using this as an excuse to put me to work in your kitchen?”

You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to follow you to the dining table. “Shut up and sit down. We’ve got notes to take.”

The two of you sat across from each other, your knees brushing occasionally under the table. Jihoon’s handwriting was frustratingly neat for someone who claimed he didn’t care about stationary aesthetics, and for someone who claimed to have atrocious handwriting.

“So,” you started, tapping your pen against the page, “we want to make the cooking classes accessible, fun, and educational, right?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon said, jotting something down. “But we also need to keep the budget in mind. Like, how much can we actually afford to spend on those tiny aprons the kids keep asking for?”

You snorted. “You’re still salty about the aprons?”

“They’re expensive!” he argued, eyes narrowing at you. “And they’re just gonna get covered in flour and icing.”

“That’s the point, Jihoon. Let them be messy. It’s part of the fun.”

Jihoon shook his head, but you caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Fine. Tiny aprons. But if the kids start demanding personalized chef hats, that’s on you.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly as you scribbled down some ideas. Jihoon’s gaze flickered to your neckline watching how your boobs moved as you breathe for a split second before he snapped back to his notebook, clearing his throat.

The plan transitioned seamlessly into the kitchen—almost seamlessly. You’d barely gotten past measuring the ingredients when Jihoon leaned over to adjust your grip on a whisk, his hand brushing yours.

“You’re holding it like you’re trying to stab the dough,” he teased.

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jihoon just laughed, stepping back to watch as you mixed the batter. His eyes wandered—innocently at first, but when you shifted your weight and the neckline of your dress dipped slightly, he had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to… focus.

“Okay, my turn,” he said, taking the whisk from you.

As he worked, you found yourself leaning in closer, watching the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the way his jaw clenched slightly in concentration. You didn’t even realize how close you were until Jihoon dipped his finger into the icing sugar and smudged a line across your cheek, careful to not mess your pretty make up or accidentally spot your dress.

“Hey!” you gasped, stepping back, your eyes wide.

Jihoon grinned, holding up his hands. “What? It’s a kitchen. You’re supposed to get messy, remember?”

You frowned, sulking slightly as you wiped at your cheek. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, not… attack me with sugar.”

Jihoon leaned back just enough to meet your flustered gaze, his smirk downright unsafe. He tilted his head, pretending to be shocked, one hand pressed to his chest in mock disbelief.

“Oh,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “So you want me to kiss you?”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I didn’t—”

“Mm-mm.” Jihoon shook his head, cutting you off as he stepped closer, crowding your space. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been looking at me like that all dayy. And now this pout?” His eyes flicked to your lips, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “If you do that again, I might just have to—”

You couldn’t look at him. The pressure of his gaze was too much, and you turned your head to the side, lips pressed into a tight line. Jihoon wasn’t having it.

His hand reached up, fingers gently guiding your chin until you were looking at him again. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher, like he was restraining himself from jumping on you. “That pout.” His smile widened, and he took a small step between your legs, his hands finding your hips and squeezing lightly. “C’mere.”

His lips brushed yours—insufficiently, like a mock. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the yearn already forming between your legs, but it was enough to make you almost moan. And Jihoon noticed.

He grinned against your mouth, taking his time as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, bumping your tits in the process. “You’re gonna have to ask me properly, like the good girl you are,” he whispered, the tip of his nose grazing yours.

“Please?” you breathed, but it was all he longed for.

His lips captured yours fully this time, devastatingly thorough. He didn’t rush, every moment spent tasting your lips was something he savored. His tongue flicked out, tracing the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and when you let him in, he took.

His tongue hungrily claimed yours, his tongue sliding against yours in deep, lazy strokes that made your knees weak. His other hand slipped around to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer, so close you could feel the heat of him through his shirt.

He tilted his head, angling the kiss to deepen it further. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging lightly before his tongue followed, soothing the slight sting. The contrast made you whimper, your hands clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright even though the kitchen counter was supporting your back.

“God, you sound so pretty,” Jihoon murmured against your lips. He pressed his hips into yours just enough for you to feel his cock growing inside his pants, making you frown desperately, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

His hand drifted lower, squeezing your waist before trailing over the curve of your ass. When he pulled back, just slightly, his lips were plum, slick and swollen. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot that he tasted and teased days before.

Your head fell back as his lips traveled lower, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin of your neck. He sucked lightly, and you knew that it was enough to leave a redspot without even look at it.

Your hand slid between your bodies, and the second your palm made contact with the unyielding weight of his cock, Jihoon’s reaction was instant. His hips stuttered forward, a whiny, almost helpless sound escaping his lips as his forehead dropped against your shoulder. “Oh, fuck—you can’t just—” He cut himself off with a breathy laugh that turned into a moan, his hands gripping your hips to steady himself.

You couldn’t help but grin while rolling your eyes lightly, fingers curling around him to get a better feel. He felt big, so thick that your fingers barely wrapped halfway around the length of him. You gave an experimental squeeze, and his mouth fell open, his breath hitching as he muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive,” you teased, sliding your hand along him slowly, feeling the heat of him through the fabric. His hips jerked involuntarily, grinding into your palm, and you gasped at the weight of his phallus.

He lifted his head, his face flushed, lips shiny and parted. “Sensitive?” He let out a shaky laugh, biting his bottom lip before grinning wickedly. “You’re over here squeezing me, and you wanna talk about me being sensitive?”

You squeezed him again, just to see what he’d do, and he cursed loudly, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck—okay, okay, you’re insane.” His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you still as he started to grind against your palm, his cock twitching under your touch.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, and he opened his eyes, his pupils broad as he looked at you.

“What?” he rasped with voice strained but, his hips never losing their rhythm against your hand.

“You’re literally humping my hand right now,” you pointed out, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

“And?” His mouth curved into a smirk, though his voice wavered as you tightened your grip on him. “You think I’m just gonna sit here all chill while you touch me like that?” He let out another moan, his head falling back slightly before his gaze locked on you again.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his ear. “Feels good, huh?” You pressed your palm harder against him, your fingers teasing along his length. His response was immediate—his hips bucked, and a whiny “shit” escaped his lips, his face scrunching up in pleasure.

Jihoon smirked, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours. “Keep playing, and see what happens,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, your fingers brushing against the tip of him, and he groaned, the pads of your fingers starting to get sticky with the precum already jutting through his pants. 

He exhaled sharply, and suddenly, his body pressed against yours so firmly that you couldn’t move. The breath hitched in your throat as his hips pushed yours into the counter. Jihoon’s eyes flicked down, and that’s when he froze.

Your dress straps had slipped from your shoulder, the fabric falling just enough to expose the curve of your chest. The neckline dipped precariously low, your tits all but spilling out. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship or devour you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth before smirking. “Hiding all that under an apron, hm? How dare you?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a tiny, playful shake, but the motion only made things worse. Jihoon’s pupils dilated as his eyes flicked between the slight bounce and your face.

Without waiting another second, he hooked his fingers under the neckline of your dress and tugged it down, the fabric pooling at your feet in record time. He muttered something incoherent under his breath, hands already fumbling with the clasp of your bra, his desperation so endearing it made you giggle.

“You good?” you teased as he struggled with the hooks.

“Do not laugh at me right now,” he grumbled. Finally, the clasp came undone, and he yanked the straps down your arms like his life counted on it.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, his hands immediately cupping you, warm and firm. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you feel like jelly in his hands, your skin not even covering the shivering. “You’re actually perfect. Like, what the hell?”

You were about to retort when he leaned forward and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast, and whatever witty comment you had died on your tongue.

Jihoon pulled back just enough to look at you. “Counter,” he rasped, already moving to lift you.

But the universe had other plans. His elbow knocked into a mixing bowl on the counter, sending it clattering to the floor with a loud metallic crash. Both of you froze, eyes wide like kids caught sneaking snacks.

“Shit,” Jihoon whispered, glancing down at the bowl before meeting your eyes. A laugh bubbled out of him, breathy and slightly unhinged. “Okay, yeah. This is cursed. New location.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, as he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bathroom like it was some grand escape.

The bathroom light flicked on, and Jihoon speeded, it was the next room. He turned to you, his hands sliding up your sides, fingers brushing over the straps still hanging limply on your forearms. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less heated.

Instead of rushing, he dipped his head, his lips trailing down your shoulder as he pushed the straps down. The fabric fell away entirely, and his hands followed the motion, sliding down your body.

When you reached for his shirt, Jihoon smirked, pulling back just slightly. “Oh, you wanna do the honors?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you tugged the hem of his shirt up. He raised his arms, letting you peel it off him, the fabric catching on his mess of dark hair before dropping to the floor. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles as he watched you.

When it came to his pants, though, he grabbed your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his grin widening. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and drawers and pushed them down himself.

Your eyes dropped, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open slightly. “Wow,” you whispered, and he laughed, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours again.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Wait ‘til I’m inside you.”

You didn’t even try to stifle the shameless moan that ripped from your throat, loud and unrestricted. It sounded like something straight out of a porno, and Jihoon had the nerve to smirk. “Damn, we’re not even there yet… You like it when I talk with you like this?”

You nodded quickly, disoriented in the sense to say anything coherent. Jihoon smirked, leaning in to nip at your jawline before pulling back just enough to hook a finger into the waistband of your panties.

“Come nearer,” he whispered, tugging you forward by the elastic until your chest clashed against his. His nails grazed the skin just above the fabric, teasing the sensitive area before his hand dipped lower. He let the material slide over your hips, his knuckles brushing your skin as he pushed it down. When the panties reached your thighs, he let gravity do the rest, the fabric pooling around your ankles.

Jihoon’s hands immediately found your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing and setting you on the cool marble of the bathroom sink. The contrast between the chill of the counter and the heat of his body made you shiver, your legs instinctively closing.

“Uh-uh,” Jihoon said, his voice a frolicsome warning. His hands gripped your knees, spreading them apart again, wider this time. His gaze dropped, and his breath audibly caught as the light from the mirror illuminated you perfectly—your thighs trembling, your folds glistening, and the way your body clenched and unclenched in forethought.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his thumb brushing the inside of your thigh as if to test if you were real. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty down here. Like, actually unreal.”

Your face burned at his words, but before you could respond, his hand was back. His index finger dragged lightly through your folds, collecting your slick before circling your clit with a featherlight touch. Your eyes squeezed shut as your turned your head to the side, as if the sight of him would make you weaker.

“Jihoon,” you whined, your voice high-pitched and needy.

He grinned at that, his other hand bracing your hip to keep you from squirming away. “Patience.” he murmured. 

His finger pressed more firmly against your clit now, rubbing infinite motions that made you rest your back on the mirror, instantly melting. Just as you felt the stimulus start to build, he stopped.

Your head snapped up, a frustrated groan leaving your lips. Jihoon only laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before pulling back again.

“What’s the rush?” he teased, his finger sliding lower to brush against your entrance but never pushing in. “We’ve got all night.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking toward his hand. His smirk widened, and he slid his finger back up, tapping lightly against your clit like he was testing how much more you could take.

“Jihoon! N-no!” you practically sobbed, your thighs trembling as you clenched around nothing.

“No…,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I want you shaking for me.”

He alternated his technique, sometimes circling your clit in lazy patterns, other times tapping. Each time you came close to your orgasm, he pulled back, leaving you swaying on the border.

Your breaths came out in short, shallow pants, and your hands gripped the counter so hard your knuckles started to hurt. “Please,” you begged, your voice breaking.

Jihoon leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “Just one more time.”

This time, he used two fingers, sliding them in a v-shape around your clit and moving them side to side in quick, ribbing motions. The sensation was unlike anything you’d felt before, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

“Shes so puffy already,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your cunt as he worked you over. “I can feel you shaking, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

You nodded desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yes—please, Jihoon, I can’t—”

Jihoon pulled his hand away, and you sobbed. Your chest heaved as frustration and desperation coiled tight inside you, tears welling in your eyes.

“Aww, baby,” Jihoon cooed, his voice a mocking singsong that somehow felt like a soothing balm and fuel to your fire at the same time. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing a stray tear that slid down. “Look at you. So needy. You’re so wet already, and you think you’re ready for this?”

Your breath caught as he grabbed his cock, thick and glistening at the tip with precum, and let it rest heavy on your stomach. He tapped it against your skin, each tap leaving a sticky, wet line that trailed down to your bellybutton.

“See this?” Jihoon asked, his tone low but tinged with teasing. He shifted his hips, dragging the head of his cock up your stomach so you could feel its full length. “How do you think this is gonna fit, huh? You can’t even take my fingers without cumming. What makes you think this cock’s gonna slide right in?”

You blinked down at him, the weight of his cock against your belly making your head spin. It reached your bellybutton, almost too far, the swollen head ruddy and glistening like it was mocking you, daring you to try.

Jihoon’s gaze softened for a second as he caught the wobble in your lip and the glossy sheen of your tear-filled eyes. “God, you’re too cute,” he muttered, before his hand was back between your legs. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, cooing again as he pressed the pad of his finger to your entrance. “Guess I gotta get you nice and stretched out for me, hmm?”

You felt the slow, steady push of his finger as it slid inside you, every nerve brightening at the intrusion. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, and Jihoon let out a quiet groan.

“There we go,” He slid his finger in deeper, curling it slightly to press against your front wall. Your hips bucked at the sensation, and Jihoon smirked. “Right there, huh? You like that?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your hands scrambling for purchase on the cool marble.

His finger pulled back almost completely before sliding in again, this time with a second one alongside it. The stretch was immediate, but your body welcomed it, pulsing around him. Jihoon wasted no time, curling his fingers and dragging them against your walls in a way that made you see stars.

“God, you’re so tight,” he muttered, his free hand resting on your trembling thigh to keep you steady. “You’re squeezing me so good. Can’t wait to feel you clench like this around my cock.”

His fingers picked up a rhythm, alternating between deep, curling strokes and quick, shallow thrusts that kept you guessing. He started adding little motions that made your head spin—scissoring his fingers to stretch you further, pressing his thumb firmly against your clit while his fingers stayed inside, or twisting his wrist slightly to drag his fingertips over new spots.

“You like that?” he asked, after noticing your hand chasing his fingers. “Of course you do. Look at how you’re dripping for me. You’re making such a mess, baby.”

“Jihoon—o-oh my god,” you whimpered, your back arching off the counter as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.

“Yeah? Right there?” Jihoon grinned, adjusting his angle to hit it again, harder this time. Your breath hitched, and he chuckled. “That’s it. So good for me.”

You couldn’t help it—the words tumbled out of your mouth in a whispered chant, your voice trembling with every syllable. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Jihoon smiled fondly at you, his cock twitching visibly against his stomach. “You’re so sweet when you beg,” he said, pulling his fingers out momentarily just to slide them back in with a delicious stretch. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

This time, he focused on your clit with his thumb, rubbing quick, tight circles as his fingers curled inside you. He replaced fast stimulation and sudden, devastating stops.

“Ngh—Please,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you gripped his forearm.

“You’re so close, hmm?” 

He slowed his movements again, dragging his fingers out just enough to feel the way you clenched around him, desperate to keep him inside. His thumb moved in teasing patterns over your clit, never quite enough pressure to satisfy.

“I need it,” you choked out, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he said, his tone softening again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before his fingers resumed their relentless pace, curling and pressing against that sweet spot again. “But you’re doing so good for me. Just a little more, okay?”

The coil in your stomach tightened impossibly further, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. Jihoon seemed to sense it too. His fingers curling like they were made to be inside you, massaging your g’spot with a rhythm that felt borderline illegal. His thumb merely rubbed your clit now, just enough to make you twitch, and the devilish smirk on his face said he was doing it on purpose. His other hand gripped your waist, steadying you like he knew you’d collapse if he let go.

“Um—thats why your strawberry mille-feuille is so good,” you suddenly gasped out.

Jihoon blinked, momentarily confused before realization dawned on him. His lips curled into that sly, cocky grin. “Wait—are you thinking about my dessert skills right now? While I’m two knuckles deep inside you?”

You whined, too far gone to deny it. “You’re too good with your hands!”

He chuckled, curling his fingers harder until your knees buckled. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m versatile then, hm?” His tone was light, but his fingers? Ruthless. He angled his wrist slightly, hitting that spot with pinpoint correctness, and you swore your vision went static for a second.

Your body jerked, your clit grinding against the heel of his palm as he shifted his thumb to flick at it—just once, but it sent sparks shooting down your back. His fingers pushed deeper, scissoring slightly, then dragging out achingly slow. “Jihoon, please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his wrist.

“Please what, baby? Want me to keep going? Or stop again?” he teased, his thumb pressing down on your clit just to lift off a second later, leaving you sobbing into his shoulder.

You wanted to slap him and beg him all at once. Instead, you cried out, “Don’t stop—oh my god—Jihoon!”

His smirk faltered for a second when your walls clamped down hard around his fingers, and a rush of wetness coated them. His hips grinding involuntarily into nothing, his cock throbbing visibly. “Greedy little thing.”

You couldnt form words anymore, your head falling back as your whole body spasmed. you chanted his name, completely gone, tears stinging your eyes as the coil in your stomach snapped hard, the force of your orgasm smashing you.

Jihoon didn’t stop. His fingers worked you through every wave, his thumb pressing firm, messy circles on your overstimulated clit until you physically had to push at his chest. “Too much” you croaked, but your legs trembled so bad you knew you couldn’t get far if he decided to keep going.

“Too much?” he repeated. He slowly slid his fingers out, holding them up for both of you to see, glistening and soaked. 

Jihoon still breathed heavily like he was the one being stimulated, giving you time to catch your breath, but you weren’t letting go. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck as you pulled him in, your lips pressing to his. His tongue slid against yours, massaging it in a way that sent heat straight to your sopping pussy. The sound of wet, sticky smacks echoed in the bathroom.

This kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was soft, and so heartbreakingly sweet. Jihoon’s hands roamed over your waist, and as much as he loved the way you tasted—loved the faint hint of the wine you’d shared earlier, the lingering sweetness that seemed to pour from your lips—there was something deeper about it.

Jihoon knew tastes. He knew them better than most people ever could.

He knew the tang of citrus, the buttery richness of a perfectly baked croissant, the smoky depth of roasted meat, and the way sugar could melt on your tongue like magic. He’d spent years chasing after flavors, crafting them into stories on a plate. But none of it, none of it, had ever come close to the taste of you.

It wasn’t just your lips or your skin—it was the whole experience of you. The warmth of your arms wrapped around him, the faint floral scent that clung to your hair, the way your body felt like home against his. If someone ever asked him, in an interview or at some fancy gala, what his favorite taste was, he already knew he’d be in trouble. Because he’d want to say “you.” And how could he not? You weren’t just a flavor; you were comfort food, the kind that nourished your soul in a way no recipe could replicate.

He pressed closer to you, losing himself in the feel of your lips, of your tongue stroking his with an intoxicating rhythm. You were both so caught up in each other that you didn’t even notice when he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. It wasn’t until the head of it nudged inside that you broke the kiss, gasping sharply as your chin fell forward, your moan feeling hot against his mouth.

“Jihoon—” you choked, and it made his stomach twist. He grinned against your lips, nasty and triumphant, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tilted his head back slightly to look at your face.

“You didn’t even notice, hm? So focused on kissing me good, you didn’t feel me slip in?”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head tilting back as another moan escaped you. Jihoon’s grin only grew wider, so big it almost felt boyish, but there was nothing innocent about the way his hips pressed forward, inch by inch.

Your walls clenched instinctively and then gave way, molding around his girth. You tilted your head down just enough to catch a glimpse, and the sight alone made your stomach tense.

The thin, glossy skin of your folds was stretched taut around him, clinging desperately as if your body didn’t want to let go. The contrast was stark, almost hypnotizing: the way your wetness coated him, leaving a shiny trail that dripped down, pooling at the base where your pussy tried to hug. He followed your gaze to glance down between you, his lips parting in disbelief.

“Goddamn, you’re taking me so well..” He shifted slightly, pressing a little deeper, and yyour vision blurred.

Your head fell back against the mirror as you moaned, your chest heaving. 

He cut you off with a slow roll of his hips, his cock pushing further, stretching you impossibly more. You gasped, your nails dragging down his shoulders as your body tried to adjust. “That’s my girl. Thought you could handle it.”

The slick sounds between you were filthy, echoing in the shadowy bathroom. You couldn’t stop the way your hips shifted, trying to meet him halfway despite the stretch. The movement made him groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he pressed you back against the marble sink.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he said, his voice almost a whine as his eyes flicked to where your bodies were joined. “You’re gonna ruin this counter... the floor..”

Your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper, and the motion earned a sharp intake of breath from Jihoon. 

His cock pulsed inside you, the wet heat of your walls squeezing him like a vice, clenching around every inch he gave you. His teeth caught his bottom lip as he pulled back just slightly, dragging against your sensitive core before thrusting back in. He wanted to watch you unravel, to hear every desperate sound spilling from your lips.

His hands slid from your hips to your thighs, pushing your legs wider to take him deeper. He paused to glance between you again, mesmerized by the way you swallowed him whole. “Can’t believe this tight little pussy’s taking all of me.”

You whimpered at his words, the sound shamelessly loud in the quiet bathroom, and it sent a quiver down his back. He smiled satisfied, as he leaned in, his lips brushing over your ear. “You like it when I talk to you like that, hm?” he teased, his tongue flicking over your earlobe before he nipped it lightly. “Tell me. Tell me how much you like it.”

“I—fuck—I love it,” you stammered. Your nails scraped down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake. “Love when you—when you talk to me like that. Love—oh my god—love when you’re inside me.”

“Yeah?” His thrusts slowed again, almost unbearably so, the head of his cock pressing against your g’spot with each measured roll of his hips. He let his forehead drop to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he grinned. He changed his angle slightly, shifting his hips just enough to hit a spot that sent fireworks exploding behind your eyes. The slick, wet sound of his cock moving in and out of you filled the room, mingling with the gasps and moans you couldn’t hold back. 

Your head fell back, hitting the mirror with a soft thud, and Jihoon chuckled, his lips brushing over the curve of your jaw.

“Careful, baby,” he said, massaging your scalp with a care that made you lean on it. “Can’t have you breaking the mirror just ‘cause I’m fucking you so good.”

Your laugh came out breathless, cut off by a sharp gasp as he suddenly pressed harder on your clit. “Jihoon, please—”

“Please, what?” His thrusts slowed again, torturously so, and he pulled back just enough to make you whine in protest. His fingers tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he watched you with dark, hooded eyes. Your hands slid to his neck, clinging to him desperately. “Please, gonna cum.”

“You want me to fuck you harder? You want me to make you cum all over my cock, baby? Say it..”

“Want you to fuck me—ngh,” you rolled your eyes.  “Want you to fuck me harder. Make me cum, Jihoon. Please.”

“So wet. God, I could fuck you all night. Don’t think I’d ever get enough of you.” Your walls clenched around him, and he cursed under his breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he struggled to keep his pace steady. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing it.”

“Then cum,” you whispered insistent. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your lips brushed over his ear. “Cum for me, Jihoon.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing faster, rougher that you thought that your sink wouldnt handle it. But even as he pushed you closer to the edge, his focus never wavered. “I—shit—I need to make you come first. I have to, baby.”

You shook your head violently, your own orgasm already clawing at the edge of your sanity. “No—no, I’m so close, Jihoon,” you gaspedr. “Just—just keep going, don’t stop—please—”

His hips jerked at your words, his cock twitching deep inside you as his body teetered on the brink of losing control. His thrusts slowed further, unsteady and disjointed as his thumb continued to draw tight, firm circles on your swollen clit.

“You feel so fucking good,” your voice sounded sultry and wrecked, your eyes locking onto his. “So deep—so fucking thick. Jihoon, I can feel you in my stomach. You’re so big, you’re gonna ruin me, baby. Do it. Come inside me. Fill me up.”

That did it.

The sound Jihoon let out wasn’t even human—a choked, strangled mix of a moan and a curse that hit its peak as his body shuddered violently. “Oh—shit—ah, fuck, fuck—!” His cock pulsed hard, the first spurt of his cum hitting so deep inside you that you felt it bloom with warmth against your cervix. You swore you could feel each throb as he came, his hips snapping forward instinctively to bury himself even further, his moans blending into desperate gasps. “Ah—hah—baby—!”

The heat, the pressure, the way his orgasm filled every inch of you—it all tipped you over the edge, dragging you into your own release. Your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as you cried out, “Jihoon—fuck—yes—!”

You arched into him, your hips lifting slightly off the counter to grind against his cock, riding the quakes as your climax ruptured through you. The movement made Jihoon gasp, his hands flying to your hips to still you. “A-ah—fuck—stop—baby, stop—hah—ah, shit—!” His voice cracked as he groaned, overstimulation evident in the way he hissed through gritted teeth. “T-too much—oh my god—aw, fuck—!”

Jihoon’s laughter broke through his moans, a breathless, disbelieving chuckle that melted into another string of curses as he shuddered beneath you.

Finally, you stilled, your body collapsing into his as your head dropped to his shoulder. Both of you were trembling, your breaths ragged and uneven, your hearts pounding in sync.

The room settled into a quiet purr after the chaos. The bathroom was small, its muted light casting soft shadows on the tiles. But in this moment, it might as well have been the biggest place in the world, holding all the unsaid things between you, the weight of your shared history pressing down like a furry coat.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Jihoon asked suddenly, his voice soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to dig this deep. He looked at you then, his eyes more serious, like he was searching for something in your face.

You laughed, a small, shaky sound. “You mean when you accused me of stealing your recipe for strawberry shortcake at the first days of competition? Yeah, hard to forget.”

His lips quirked up, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “God, I was such an asshole,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t even taste it. Just saw your name on the board and thought, ‘Oh, great. Another rich kid with connections, swooping in to take what I’ve worked my whole life for.’”

You frowned, your fingers twitching where they rested on his chest. “You really thought that?”

“I didn’t know you,” he admitted, his tone apologetic. “I was so used to fighting for every little thing, you know? Scholarships, internships, a spot on the team—hell, even a secondhand stand mixer. And then you walked in, all… pretty and shiny. I just assumed you’d never struggled for anything in your life.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. Because yeah, he wasn’t wrong—you hadn’t grown up worrying about money or how you’d pay for school. But you’d struggled in other ways, ways that people like Jihoon—driven, hyper-focused, and painfully independent—might not have seen.

“That’s not fair,” you said softly. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Just because I didn’t have to fight for a secondhand mixer doesn’t mean I haven’t fought for other things.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know that now.”

The quiet between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… cogitative. Like you were both sifting through the memories, pulling them out one by one to examine under the bathroom light.

“The NGO,” you said suddenly, your voice intruding upon the silence. “That’s when everything changed.”

Jihoon nodded, his hands still on your waist, his fingers tightening slightly. “Yeah. When I saw what you were doing—what the competition money was for—I felt like shit. Here I was, thinking you were just some spoiled kid looking for another trophy to add to the shelf, and you were… Something that important.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “It wasn’t just me. It was all of us—Fred, the kids, you. God, Jihoon, you don’t even realize how much you’ve done for this place.”

He shook his head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know about that. I just… I wanted to help. And honestly, it was selfish at first. I needed a job, and you offered one. But then…”

“Then you fell in love with it.” The journey from strangers to colleagues to whatever this was had been anything but smooth. It had been messy and painful but it had also been beautiful in its own way. “I hated you, you know,” you said suddenly. “At the beginning, I mean. You were so… cold. And I thought, ‘How the hell am I supposed to work with someone who looks like he’d rather set the kitchen on fire than have a conversation with me?’”

He laughed, a genuine sound that softened the strain in the room. “Yeah, I hated you too. Thought you were this privileged, clueless brat who’d never survive a day in a real kitchen.”

“And now?”

“And now…” he bit his lip, analyzing your face as he tilts his head. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Jihoon…”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “You’re… you’re my favorite taste, you know? Out of everything I’ve ever made, ever eaten, ever dreamed of tasting—you’re the one thing I’ll never get enough of.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your heart swelling in your chest. “That’s cheesy as hell.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, his lips quirking up into a small, shy smile. “Sometimes the truth is cheesy.”

Jihoon’s smile faltered just a bit. “Sometimes, though… I wonder if you really forgave me. Like, deep in your heart.”

You blinked, stunned by the sudden shift, and searched his face for more. His brows were slightly furrowed, his jaw tight, like the weight of the question had been pressing on him for longer than he cared to confess.

“Forgave you?” 

“For the way I acted back then,” he said, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “The way I doubted you. The things I said, the things I did, the things I thought. I mean… I know we’ve moved past it. But deep down, I’ve always wondered if there’s a part of you that still holds onto it. That maybe you… couldn’t fully forgive me.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I did,” you said firmly. “I forgave you, Jihoon.”

He tilted his head, skepticism flickering across his features. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I don’t blame you for it anymore,” you said, leaning into him slightly, needing him to understand. “At that time, I had this picture in my head of what my life was supposed to look like. The glamorous Michelin-starred restaurant, the prestige, the accolades… It was all I wanted.”

“And I ruined it.”

“No,” you said firmly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything. If anything, you gave me something better.”

His eyes searched yours, still unconvinced. “But what if… what if I hadn’t? What if I hadn’t been so bitter, so determined to take you down? What if your dessert had won anyway?”

You paused, the weight of the question settling between you. “Or what if I’d won, Jihoon? What if I’d walked away with the title and the prestige and never thought about anything else? What if the organization never existed because I was too busy chasing some dream that wasn’t even mine anymore?”

He frowned at that, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You think… things were meant to happen this way?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But I’d rather believe that they were. That everything—every fight, every misstep, every moment we wanted to strangle each other—led us here. To this.”

Jihoon let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You always were the optimistic one.”

“Not always,” you said with a small smile. “But I am about this. About us. About what we’ve built together.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to where his hands rested on your hips. “You know… I think about it sometimes. The restaurant, I mean. How it’s under new management now. How I used to dream about a place like that—sleek, modern, perfect. And then I look at what we’ve done with the organization, and it’s… messy and chaotic, but so beautifull. Like it actually matters.”

“It does matter… And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the restaurant was never supposed to be our story. Maybe this is.”

He looked at you then, something shining in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said, your lips curving into a gentle smile. “Because if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have the kids, the bakery, the messes we can’t clean up without three people and a prayer.”

He chuckled at that. “The messes are your fault, you know. You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to teach a bunch of middle schoolers how to make éclairs.”

You grinned, leaning into him. “And you’re the one who decided to teach them soufflés.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft. “Well played.”

As you looked at him—messy hair, tired eyes, and a softness in his expression that you rarely saw—you felt something settle in your chest.

“Jihoon,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

— // Two Years Later // —

The NGO was quieter than usual. You noticed it the moment you stepped inside. Normally, the kitchen buzzed with the chaos of kids laughing, mixing ingredients, and occasionally bickering over who got to use the electric mixer. But today, there was an eerie calm.

“Hello?” you called out, setting your bag down on the counter. The faint scent of something baking lingered in the air, but it wasn’t enough to mask the odd tension. “Where is everyone?”

You wandered into the main hall, expecting to see at least Jihoon with his clipboard, corralling the kids into some elaborate baking lesson. Instead, the room was empty save for a lone piece of paper taped to the center of one of the tables.

“Come to the garden.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The garden? The small plot out back that you and Jihoon had transformed into a herb and flower garden over countless weekends?

Curious, you made your way outside, the warm sunlight spilling over the neatly trimmed rows of basil and lavender. At first glance, the garden seemed empty too, until you heard the faint giggle of one of the kids.

“Okay, who’s hiding?” you called out, scanning the area.

Suddenly, the kids burst out from behind the hedges, each holding a small bouquet of flowers, their faces lit with excitement. “Surprise!” they shouted in unison, running toward you and handing you the mismatched bundles.

“What is this?” you asked, laughing as you tried to catch all the flowers being shoved into your arms.

But before anyone could answer, Jihoon appeared at the edge of the garden, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He was dressed neatly, his usually casual outfit swapped for a crisp white shirt and a pair of dark slacks. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his lips quirked up in a nervous smile as he approached.

“Jihoon?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

The kids scrambled to the side, forming a small semi-circle as Jihoon stepped closer. He stopped just in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“You always said this garden was your favorite place,” he began. “You said it’s where you felt the most at peace, where everything feels real. So I thought it was the perfect place to do this.”

Your heart raced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Yah… What are you doing Jihoon-ah?,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He dropped to one knee, the kids giggling in soft gasps and excited murmurs. “I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how I got so lucky. How someone as stubborn and chaotic as me ended up with someone as kind and brilliant as you. And honestly? I still don’t know.”

You laughed softly, tears already welling in your eyes.

“But what I do know… is that I don’t want to spend another day without you. You changed my life, and you keep changing it, every single day. So…” He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring with a big, oval, sparkling diamond. “Will you marry me?”

The kids broke out into cheers before you could even process what was happening. Your hands flew to your mouth as you nodded quickly, too swamped to speak. Jihoon’s grin spread wide as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yes,” you finally managed to say, your voice muffled against his buff chest. “Of course, yes.”

The kids swarmed around you both, cheering and hugging as Jihoon pressed a kiss to your temple. “I had a lot of help,” he admitted with a soft laugh, gesturing toward the group. “They’re surprisingly good at keeping secrets.”

“Well, I can’t believe you pulled this off,” you said, laughing through your tears as you looked down at the ring.

“I had to,” Jihoon said, his voice soft and sincere. “Because I wanted to give you a moment as perfect as you’ve made my life.”

The kids had prepared cupcakes with little fondant hearts on top, and the staff brought out bottles of sparkling cider to toast the two of you. Jihoon never left your side, his hand warm and steady in yours, his smile never fading.

As the sun set over the garden, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you leaned into Jihoon’s side, the ring catching the last rays of light.

He tilted his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “You know, I was thinking,” he started, “when we’re, like, seventy or something, do you think we’ll still be able to handle all the chaos the kids bring?”

You snorted a laugh, turning to face him fully. “Seventy? Jihoon, I’m not even sure we’re handling it well now.”

He laughed with you. “What happens when we’re too old to keep up with their energy? You know they’re just going to keep multiplying, right? They bring their friends, their siblings, their cousins… It’s like a never-ending kid buffet in there.”

You shook your head, leaning into his side. “First of all, let’s not talk about being seventy when we just got engaged. Can I at least have a honeymoon phase before we’re planning for wheelchairs and dentures?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that naughty smirk. “Honeymoon~?” he drawled.

You rolled your eyes, biting back the grin tugging at your lips. 

“And you’re stuck with me now,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows before leaning back, the smirk still firmly in place. “So, where are we going for this so-called honeymoon? Somewhere romantic? Tropical? Or do you just want to stay in and let me make you dinner—while wearing nothing but an apron?”

fanfic inspiration by @thepoopdokyeomtouched thank you for giving me the motivation to write this fic! you're the sweetener to my blog's flavor. wishing you all the best this holiday season!

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

La Squadra x reader: How They Flirt

Yikes. They’re trying-

Content: casual flings, slight suggestiveness, creepy Melone, different relationship depending on character

Characters: all La Squadra (-Sorbet and Gelato)

Style: quick headcanons

-Formaggio: Very casual flirt, tends to walk that line that makes you wonder if he’s actually flirting with you or just being nice. And he’ll flirt with any cute thing that catches his eye, doesn’t mean he’s looking for anything serious, but giving him attention back will make him hover around a bit more. He wants to see what will happen.

He’ll offer to buy you a drink at the bar, asking if the seat next to you was taken, and if not he’ll playfully wonder out loud why. You really don’t have a sweetheart? Well he’s nobody’s first choice but if you want some company for the night, he’s a pretty good conversationalist~

He’s a natural, much more socially aware than most of his squad mates. He knows leaning forward while you talk will make you feel heard, and asking you questions about yourself will make him seem genuinely interested in you. By the end of the night, his hand’s on the back of your chair and you’re sharing drinks and laughing together. Maybe you’ve even given him your number. But don’t take it personally when the second you turn around suddenly he’s chatting it up with the next cute thing he spotted. He’s not even trying to make you jealous, he’s just having a good time, and there’s plenty of him to share. If you do actually want to get somewhere with him, make it obvious…he likes that and he’ll be willing to give you more attention for bold behavior.

-Illuso: God, he is BORING. His body language doesn’t even convey any particular interest in you, and he doesn’t even ask about you, just starts listing his appealing traits to try to convince you he’s a good time and worth spending an evening with. You suspect he just wants money from you, but he’s just not very good at flirting. He really does want you to let him take you out on the town for the night, but he’s too prideful to ask outright…it feels like begging to him. You’d be better off just asking him yourself if he wants to spend the evening with you. He has some nerve acting like he wasn’t trying for that when he says: “Well, if you insist~”

-Prosciutto: He’s extraordinarily blunt but…when you’re as handsome and serious as he is it honestly works.

Don’t try to play coy with him if he decides to approach you, he wants some companionship tonight and he’s not gonna work that hard for it. You only get one chance with him before he decides if he does or doesn’t want to spend an evening with you, so be assertive back if you think he’s someone you wanna play with.

“You want a drink on me or not?” he asks, resting his elbow on the bar and gazing at you with those intense eyes. He won’t ask again. It’s yes or no. And if you say yes he’s gonna order you whatever he thinks you want.

He’s a horribly grumpy and audacious companion…but once you get used to it he doesn’t have ill-intentions. He just wants a good time tonight, like most people who go out alone to a bar on the weekend.

-Pesci: One word. AWKWARD. He does Not know much about flirting, beyond the basics. But knowing the basics doesn’t mean he knows how to put them all together. People like compliments…but also confidence and devil may care attitudes…and how is he even supposed to know what you like…?

He didn’t mean to just. Sit there and stare at you from across the restaurant. He didn’t realize he was even doing that until your eyes meet and you awkwardly wave him over, since clearly he wants something from you.

He settles for the only thing he can think to do as he awkwardly shuffles over to your table. He tells you he likes your shoes. It makes you laugh and you ask him his name and invite him to sit with you, willing to see where this might go. You end up giving him your number, since you couldn’t deny a bit of curiosity towards him.

-Melone: He walks by your table at a restaurant and not so subtly tosses a cocktail napkin in front of you, with something written on it:

“Nice thighs~”

Signed with his number and his name with a heart next to it.

Gross, what the hell…?

It doesn’t take long for you to catch his eye, and you shake your head and glare at him disapprovingly. He just tilts his head at you, his eyes narrowing as his lips turn up into a smirk and he blows you a kiss.

GROSS. What the HELL?

You have no idea if he’s just being confident, stupid, or straight-up a creep.

You subtly text one of your friends to come pick you up so you don’t have to walk home alone tonight.

You have No idea what that guy was Expecting to get out of that interaction, but he can forget it until he improves his flirting game, if that’s even what that was-

-Ghiaccio: He is NOT the type to humiliate himself by flirting with random people. He finds it desperate, and he’s not much of a quick fling or even “romantic relationships” person anyways. If he does end up attempting to flirt with you, it’s because he’s known you for a while and truly has some sort of mind-consuming crush on you. If it didn’t literally keep him up at night, he’d probably never ask you out and just bottle it up forever.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him stomp over to you, that signature intenseness permeating his body language. Despite how naturally cold his body was, his face looks warm and he speaks especially loudly while trying to give you a kind compliment. He doesn’t beat around the bush for very long. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN ME FOR DINNER?!” he screams at you, unintentionally. Say yes and he’ll tell you he’ll pick you up at 6:30 exactly and then hurry off in a huff of embarrassment. Say no and he’ll activate White Album and escape as fast as possible and avoid you for the rest of the day, ending the evening with an apology text and insisting you both just forget he ever said anything. Please. He will DIE if you mention it again after rejecting him-

-Risotto Nero: He’s very much like Ghiaccio in the sense that he’s not interested in some sort of quick and casual thing, or relationships in general. He’s got a job to do, he doesn’t have time for dating. But if he’s known you for a while and enjoys your company…there’s a slim chance he’ll attempt to flirt, with the intent of inviting you on a date. It’s a bit awkward, and you really can’t tell what he’s going for at first when he mentions a nice, secluded spot for a private stroll. It honestly kinda sounds like a threat when he words it like that, though you’re sure that’s not his intent. But being direct with him will make him more direct with you.

Ask if he’s inviting you on a date and he’ll say yeah, that was the intention…only if you aren’t busy and actually wish to spend some time with him.

You’re sure it’ll be a bit quiet and awkward at first but…you’re flattered to be invited, and don’t have any plans that night so…may as well.

[kindaasrikal]

Slapping the ninja with hobbies that aren’t just ninja-ing or the already clearly stated ones because they desperately need lives

Cole seriously likes arts and crafts. He’s got his own little area in his room thats just filled with arts and crafts supplies. Glue, glitter, fabric, ribbons, sticks, gems, you name it. He creates ribbon roses, makes his own birthday cards, creates cute little designs almost all the time and gives them to all of the ninja in random little areas.

Zane actually likes taking small random items and fixing them. Nothing big like how three certain somebodies (Cough nya jay and pixal cough) do but just little things everyone owns and can’t fix. Kai accidentally broke a massive candle in a har and he ran off to find Zane to fix it, a bracelet Nya owns broke so she immediately hands it off to Zane, Lloyd breaks a tea cup and presents it to Zane with a ‘please help me.’

Jay really likes any sort of skating. Roller skating, ice skating, skateboarding, you name it he knows it and much better than you do. He takes pride in knowing the most complicated of tricks and moves, and may or may not have used his ninja training to cheat a little but we all would do that let’s be real. He sometimes starts skateboarding in the monastery and Wu may or may not have snatched it from under his feet multiple times but Jay has no proof.

Kai, after having everyone constantly talk to him about how ‘fun’ it was, got hooked onto adventure books. he reads them all, he knows all the big authors, he knows every character and every piece of lore and if he's obsessed enough he WILL buy the entire series. A guilty pleasure he got hooked onto right after was fanfiction. He reads it all.

Nya, strangely enough, got hooked onto flowers. She loves making bouquets and giving them to anyone and everyone who wants them. She’s memorised every meaning each flower has been given, and soon enough she got interested in other plants too, especially ones under water. She takes care of them like her babies and if they die she will be found sobbing in a corner holding the pot or whatever it was in.

Lloyd tripped his way into making clothes. He learnt how to sow from Misako, who was used to altering clothes for Garmadon and Wu. Lloyd specifically likes making designs on shirts and hoodies and the such, usually working with Cole on that front. You could usually find him hunched over anywhere dimly lit with a needle, a shirt, a bunch of thread and a will to make something cool. He could use the machines, but he once accidentally shoved his finger right underneath and he’s held a grudge ever since.

Bonus:

Skylor loves to write, and write she does with that uncompleted 200k original story she’s afraid no one will like, and keeps procrastinating so much that she even writes fanfiction of stuff she hasn’t been into for years. The reader named ‘redhotshot204’ keeps leaving comments though, so she supposes she should keep updating.

Morro is unashamedly good at ballet. He first learnt it for his ninja business, but he became so good at it he couldn’t let it go. He’s graceful with every step he takes and never makes any mistakes every twirl and spin and whatever and he will kick people in the face. Hard. He honestly hates tutus so he will try strangling people with it if forced to wear one, but he absolutely loves ballet shoes. Spinning around in his tip toes became an instinctual habit after a bit.

Harumi likes making jewellery, and makes them as heavy and as sharp as possible. Shes capable of making earrings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, whatever. It mainly started because she couldn’t find the type of jewellery she wanted during her SoG years, so she began making it by herself. She even glued the spikes of her gi on herself.

Echo got interested in cars, specifically toy cars, and making them functional as actual cars. Not the most normal of hobbies but knowing who he’s related to its to be expected. He once accidentally made an evil toy car and it kept hitting everyone’s heels and ankles the entire day. Harumi ‘accidentally’ pushed Cole onto it so it would break. They had to perform a funeral because Echo was going to actually arrest them for murder if they didn’t.

Pixal got into painting. Sometimes shes slapping paint onto a canvas and then calling it a day, other times shes making something that rivals the Mona Lisa. Landscapes are what she prefers the most, often drawing the scenes they all see when going on big missions, with bright colours to show the beauty they saw. They love hanging it all up around the monastery.

[epickiya722]

Okay, I read what I can from the epilogue and I just want to put out that I'm not saying I'm right about anything I say here because it's not an official release and I read from fan translations.

『Also refer to this post and this one!』

So, again, I was right about Ozawa meeting Yuji again and they have a little heart to heart.

Talking about snow, what they're doing in the same place, bit about Shibuya, it was cute.

But the ending of it was more open ended (which isn't something I hate to be honest).

Before anyone goes "Oh, they pulled a MHA 431, it's so homophobic", I get that it might feel that way but... in no way did Yuji express anything romantic to Ozawa, let alone any kind of feelings for her. Like, let's take a step back FOR ONCE and analyze what's up here. Here, take my hand. Come on and follow along with me.

If anything, from his side, he thinks she is a cool girl. However, he still barely knows her and I doubt him if confessed to he would be like "Oh, I like you like that, too, Ozawa! Let's date!" She's, at best, an acquaintance. Someone in passing, someone he did go to middle school with.

So, her epilogue isn't even homophobic. At best, it's once again just Ozawa being all starry eyed over Yuji who doesn't know how she feels.

It's actually sad when you think about it.

In no way is her feelings are mutual. If Yuko was looking for love, Yuji may not be that person for it. I get it, sometimes you'll have feelings for the one person who was nice to you, but that doesn't mean it will be the only person.

Yuko being too busy hung up on Yuji may have missed a person who likes in the way she likes Yuji. What if there was someone else who did pay attention to the way she writes? Who did meet her at some point and got to know her and liked her for who she was?

And if not that, Yuko should have took Yuji's words to heart and realized how great she is and learn to love herself a little more.

The thing about the middle school flashback I feel, isn't just a flashback about her, but also to show the kind of person he is.

It shows that he's attentive and thoughtful. But also that his actions tend to be swayed by other people, even forcefully. Which happens often for Yuji. He told those boys he didn't like anybody and when asked again if he had to choose, he choose someone who he thought was a neat person. Those boys forced Yuji to give another answer despite him saying he didn't like anybody the first time.

If anything, that flashback serves as a more gentle example of who Yuji contrasting to Rin, another person who knew Yuji when he was a middle schooler (Rin is actually older than Yuji). In Rin's flashback, we see Yuji defend a kid that was being picked on.

Yuji was being attentive, he didn't ignore a kid being bullied. He stepped up and told them to leave him alone and when they didn't and decided to charge at Yuji, he was then forced to act violently. In turn, Rin was left with the impression he had of Yuji, just as Yuko was.

Bringing up the snow bit, it was cute. I liked it! Yuji being compared to snow. But this is not the first time someone has came across Yuji and thought of snow.

What was the incident they bring up this chapter? The Shibuya Incident, right. And who did Yuji have to fight and had cowering by the end of it? Mahito, yes, him. And other than a wolf, what else did Mahito imagine when he became fearful of Yuji? SNOW!

So like with Rin, Mahito's perception of Yuji is opposite of Yuko's. She got to experience a gentle side which she admires. Rin and Mahito got his violent side, which they feared.

With all that being said, even with this epilogue ending the way it did, it doesn't smell "canon" to me. Especially, on Yuji's end of things.

Yuji may have a type of girl he likes, but he is also someone who doesn't express romantic interest in anybody.

While this is Yuko's epilogue, I do feel like she is also just another character to showcase the kind of person Yuji can be. She being present shows a gentle side of him while characters like Rin and Mahito shows his violent side.

And no, again, I don't think this means they're canon. So I beg, certain shippers who like the same ship I do, don't jump on Yuko, Yuji or Akutami for thinking this is some homophobic chapter when the romance between a girl and a boy here once again went nowhere.

It really didn't feel like Akutami-sensei was really trying to make them canon. And given the track record of F/M ships in this series? Yeah... no...

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Caracalla in a relationship - sfw/nsfw

Caracalla x younger!reader

warning : smutish (not too graphic), cuddling, kissing, tiny comfort, Caracalla is his own tiny warning

info : Caracalla as sweet as he is is a double-edged sword on the one hand gentle and playful on the other obsessive and possessive now i hope you enjoy reading ;) There will be also one with an older!reader

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SFW

°From the moment it became clear that he and his brother needed an heir, Caracalla also had to choose a wife, a bride from the surrounding areas, one that made the most political sense. Even though his interests lay elsewhere and he had gotten into arguments with his brother, even in his lucid moments he had to realize that Geta was right, ,,Then help me find my wife, brother” he had asked him, let go of Dundus and knew that even his madness could not last forever, that in the moments when he was in charge, he had to take responsibility, as awful as it may seem.

A responsibility he searched through for weeks, from mosaic pictures to written letters to the day they had parties organized and invited all the princesses and daughters who had royal blood to show, ,,We've been sitting here for hours now, are you even paying attention?” he hardly noticed his brother's question. Hours had passed since the party and everything still seemed to have made no progress until the blue eyes found something furry in the crowd, rising wordlessly the blond walked through the crowd with a curious look. Ignoring the guests, almost shoving them aside, he found himself in the room with her, pretty and delicate, a look of joy and on her lap a tiger cub, ,,What's his name?” Caracalla wanted to know and knelt down to her.

°With this question, two animals and coins flowing, the emperor had apparently found his wife. Although only a little younger, this seemed to suit the emperor more, the joy and energy he had during his fits seemed to be well controlled by his wife, ,,Sometimes he's a playful, brutal child just to be my husband again, but I love him just the way he is, believe me Geta,” she assured her brother-in-law. She knew how important his brother was to Geta and tried to fulfill this role as best she could, starting with the morning make-up, which usually ended in a laughing embrace and Caracalla giving her a kiss on the cheek.

°Especially the cuddling and the short kisses seemed to calm Caracalla down when something didn't go the way he wanted it to. Whether it was during a defeat in the Colosseum, at a party when the music wasn't right or even when Dundus didn't listen to him, ,,We'll manage, I promise," she always said and her hand slid to his, her smile lighting him up before he gave her a short but heartfelt kiss, giggling when his make-up stuck to her skin only to wipe it away somewhat clumsily with his toga. But as long as he smiled and she had him, they would manage any of his fits together.

°His hand wouldn't leave hers, no matter if it was at breakfast, where they often played with the food and fed Dundus, which Geta let pass with a small smile. ,,I have a surprise today at the Coloseum,” Caracalla said, sharing her joy and curiosity as they entered the Coloseum together, the inhabitants celebrating the empress and sharing her love of animal fights. A fight in which she clung to Caracalla who clung to her as they let tigers into the ring, ,,You will win my pretty cats!” she shouted and not only Caracalla but also the spectators joined in as the feline predators attacked the gladiators. There were little surprises of new collars for her pet or she gave Caracalla a little new dress for Dundus it was a level on which the two got along by day as well as by night...

NSFW

°They loved each other that was out of the question, above all the how, when and where was something that set Caracalla apart from his brother. As much as he lost himself in his mind, lost himself too much in the madness, the more he needed his wife with him, on him and above all in his bedchamber. When torches illuminate the two of them, Caracalla not only wants to be entertained, he also wants to enjoy earthly pleasures together with his wife. With sweet grapes and a little wine, which is all just a little hesitation of the big picture before his hands lay on her and the first thing he does is to undress her, ,,You're even more beautiful without it!" he chuckled and looked at her body in front of him as if spellbound.

°Even though she was only a little younger than him, he took his role and especially his power seriously on nights like this, ,,Trust your emperor, it'll be fun,” he promised before kissing his way down her body, even though there was always a smile on his lips, there was a look of lust in his eyes, a silent desire for her and no one else. She was his and not his brother's, she was his alone and no one else's, a thing he made clear to her with every kiss that turned into a little bite, every little bite marring her skin and turning him on more and more when he saw what he had done to her.

°Caracalla is someone who needs entertainment, whether it's new games in the coloseum or new methods in the bedroom, everything that amuses the blond needs to be played out. He won't stop in the bedroom either, demanding to try it out rather than responding to his wife, ,,You'll look beautiful with the rope like my prey,” he announced, holding out the rope and showing her the parchments with various pictures and instructions. Whether of ropes his blue eyes looked fascinated as her body was wrapped with it, as the marks remained on her skin and he kissed her, knowing that he could always push her a little further because in the end he was still the Emperor of Rome and she his wife.

°Up to daggers and blood, he would try anything. Watching the blade press against her naked body a little harder and harder, watching her skin break slightly as her hips pushed harder against hers, “Beautiful!“ he groaned and her whimpers were drowned in his licking as he experienced his coloseum tears, the desire finally soothing, finally feeling the blood on his hands as he stroked the wounds, as he bit her and heard her sweet sounds, it was like music to his ears, the best concert, the best entertainment his beloved wife could give him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @qardasngan , @somepallings , @songbirdmunson , @sweeteststing

[sirenesolace]

SOLAR RETURN CHART 2024!!

Solar return charts usually last until your next one BUT because the year is almost over, i wanted to look at some of the predictions my chart indicated😸 some of them were WILD so hold on tight!!

DISCLAIMER: I am NOT a professional astrologer and these are just OBSERVATIONS I am doing purely for having fun!! My aspects or placements may not turn out like yours so don’t worry 💕 These observations were made thanks to several already written posts on here about solar return charts, my personal experience and some researches😽

HAPPY HOLIDAY ❄️☃️

————————————————☆★!!

VIRGO RISING: starting with the rising sign. I read on here (I’ll try my best to tag the creators), that the year you have Virgo rising on your solar return chart, will one of your busiest years, and BOY WAS I BUSY. I started college (as indicated with my packed 9th house) and every time I thought I could relax there was a new assignment to do or notes to take for a class. I was practically drowning in homework.

SATURN + NEPTUNE 7TH HOUSE: because I was so busy all the time, i barely had time to really form any romantic relationship even tho I daydreamed about it a lot (Neptune). I was rejecting people + dates left and right, because I was busy but also I am very inexperienced with relationships: so I was sorta scared of diving into them. (Saturn representing blockage and fears in the house of relationships). Another interesting point was me manifesting and visualizing a relationship with a specific man (Neptune)

9TH HOUSE STELLIUM: I not only started college this year, but I also traveled a lot! A lot of my travels were done by plane this year. I went to a whole new country, and visited some family in another country.

4TH HOUSE LORD IN THE 9TH: the 4th house sign is Jupiter, and it’s placed in the 9th house; because I am going to college in a new country, I moved away from my home country. I’m already settled in and I absolutely LOVE the city I’m studying in😸! The people there are so freaking sweet and nice!

SUN + VENUS IN 11th HOUSE: I made sooo much friends this year and I’ve gotten so much compliments 🤭 I also became so confident this year, and that reflected in my reality. Compliments from strangers were so common this year. People would literally walk up to me and tell me the most unique compliments. It wouldn’t be the 11th house if i didn’t talk about social media. I started posting so much more on my socials (which is funny because before my solar return I took a social media break). I gained so much followers and overall focus on posting + creating content. Also I took manifesting seriously this year and gotten so much of my desires.

CHIRON 8TH HOUSE: I avoided having intimate relationships so much this year💀 Not necessarily a bad thing for me, but it’s very paradoxical knowing that I was wishing to have it so bad. I honestly was very avoidant and kinda scared to be intimate because I never experienced it AND before I can be intimate, I have to truly love someone intensely. That didn’t happen so I’m actually glad I wasn’t intimate with anyone. The solar return chart will run all the way to 2025 until my birthday (July 12th) so who knows 😛

JUNO 21°, 1ST HOUSE: I kid you not, a stranger that saw me at my hotel (while on vacation in a foreign country) asked my mom for my hand in marriage 😭😭 my mom speaks little English so he google translated what he needed to say to my mom💀 Juno in the 21st degree makes it interesting because it’s linked to Sagittarius: languages, foreign countries and long distance .

MOON 5°, 1ST HOUSE: I read on here (pls help me tag the creator) that planets at a 5° signify change. The moon is linked to menstrual cycles and because 2024 was a leap year, there was a change in my cycle. I also became better at regulating my emotions (I started meditating, doing breath work and Yoga) and became better at transmuting them so I could persist in my manifestation instead of having break downs about my reality.

LEO MERCURY IN 12TH HOUSE: I DID ACTING!! One of the things I manifested for myself. I did theatre and I had so much fun playing the character. The ugly side was that I was extremely drained from doing homework, coming late from rehearsal and I was barely sleeping + eating (literally had a breakdown multiple time and I was hopping they would kick me out the show). One of the directors (FUCK THAT BITCH) literally didn’t care fr and acted like she did. It’s a relief my mom came to visit the week before the big show and stayed with me till now. I was well fed and had so much energy because of it. Show went extremely well and my cast members kept mentioning how much the audience always were more responsive when I was on stage, so that made me so happy that they loved it🥹 One thing is that I’m never joining the theatre club again. It’s extremely demanding with my time and as much as I enjoyed acting, what I went through wasn’t worth my sanity😭 The next time I will be acting, I know it will be film acting instead because i didn’t enjoy theatre acting that much.

VIRGO AURA CONJUNCT ASC: this one was super interesting. People kept telling me you give off the vibe of someone who’s super intelligent, organized, confident and focused on her study. The word “aura” at the moment is very well known to mean “someone who radiates a lot of power/confidence” and people have told me I do radiate that; because of it I’ve gained a lot of suitors and admires (men and women).

PLUTO 5TH HOUSE: This one is gonna be a STRETCH but, I think Pluto here kinda explains me feeling burnt out about theatre 😭 the 5th house does govern this so I think it makes sense. 5th house also governs crushes and casual relationships, and i tried to avoid these as much as possible this year. I will say that I did have at least 1 crush this year which was super exciting knowing that I haven’t had one for 3 years. He acted like a “know it all”, was not a gentleman, did nicotine (one of my biggest turn offs) and when I finally did want to make time for him/ tried to reciprocate his feelings (because he literally loved me from the first time we met💀), he kept giving me mixed signals. I take a mixed signals as a “No” so I immediately stopped giving him any attention after that.

I hope you guys had as much fun reading as I had fun making this😽

[kurishiri]

Alfons Sylvatica ┊ Chaotic Night

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— happy christmas, friends! i present to you...a halloween story lmao this is alfons' story from the chaotic night collection event (featuring will and nica)!

— cw: some suggestiveness, but no portrayed smut.

Due to having ingested the Queen of the Night flower, the Cursed ones’ appearances have changed——

And pulling my hand, Alfons brought me to his room.

Kate: Why did you bring me to your room?

Alfons: You’re asking me that in earnest? There are brutes, all with their Curses amplified, riddled about, you know?

A: With you around, why you’d be gobbled right up.

Kate: But, everyone’s appearance has changed and there may have been changes in their condition... I would think there’s quite a bit of inconvenience.

K: I’m not affected by this, though, so I figured there was something I could do to help or take care of those around me...

Alfons: I do understand the sentiment of wanting to take care of others, but you may end up worrying too much.

A: Just like the ‘Queen of the Night,’ our sins have also amplified...

A: So I would imagine everyone is trying their hardest to hold in the impulses smoldering in their chests.

A: It would be in our best interest to lay low then.

(He does have a point there...)

Kate: ...Alright then, I’ll stay here quietly.

Alfons: Oh, but if your soft and good heart stirs so much and you want to look after someone so much you can hardly bear it, then do take care of me.

A: See, dear me, Alfons’ appearance has changed as well, and what a dire situation he is in, yes?

...was what he said, as I once again looked over his body.

(For some reason, he’s wrapped around in gauze...)

(He’s not wearing a costume, and he’s looked like this since he ingested the queen of the night extract, right...?)

As gauze was not meant to be put on and removed by one’s own volition, even if he lightly pulled on it, it wouldn’t come off.

Kate: With that look... are you hurt anywhere, or did you go through any pain and whatnot?

Alfons: Hardly. My whole body from head to toe — oh, and this place too — is thriving.

(‘This place’...?)

Kate: Umm... if that’s the case, then it’s fine for now.

K: But, now that I’m looking at it again, it’s kind of strange... why do you look like that?

Alfons: In fact, that was exactly what I wanted to ask you, Kate.

A: You would be the one to know why I’m taking on such a form.

A: After all, whatever appearance I take on is a reflection of your desires.

Kate: Your appearance reflects my desires...? What do you mean?

Alfons: Up until now, I have been showing others illusions.

A: And so, if the extract amplified such an ability...

A: Then, even without touching the back of the other’s neck, I would be able to show them what they wish to see, perhaps?

A: ...Besides that, it was when you laid your eyes on me that I changed appearance.

Kate: B-but I don’t ever want you hurt in the slightest!

Alfons: That is the least I can tell, even without your passionate declaration.

A: You are hardly the type to wish harm on me.

Kate: Then why...

Alfons: Hmm, well...

A: ...Ahh, I have an inkling. This is Japonisme, isn’t it?

Kate: Japonisme... you mean how the culture and art from a country called Japan became a trend?

Alfons: Exactly that. In Japan, there is a type of clothing called a kimono, you see...

A: And within that is a part called the obi [1], in which all will be laid bare with one flourish... was a part of their culture.

A: Oh, and by the way, when it’s been removed, the wearer would shout, ‘Oh me, oh my!’ while falling upon the bed.

Kate: ...Was that really a thing?

Alfons: Who knows? I, too, have only ever heard it in passing... well, anyhow, what I wanted to say was...

A: You probably wanted to wrap me in bandages before pulling it all off in one go.

Kate: Wh— why would I be into that sort of naughty thing...!?

Alfons: But you could have been influenced by me, no?

Kate: ...It pains me to admit that I can’t completely argue with that.

Alfons: Ahha! I won’t judge no matter how many strange hobbies you hold, you know?

A: How about you try to take them off, just to test the theory?

(Just what desire of mine caused Alfons to take on such an appearance, I wonder...?)

(It’s not as though I particularly like bandages...)

Then, while thinking about my own tastes...

Alfons: Urgh...

Alfons let out a small groan.

Kate: Did something happen!?

Alfons: The bandages around me wrapped even tighter... and it’s become a tad painful.

Kate: Wha...

Alfons: ...Ahh, but worry not. I do feel being bound to your desires like this isn’t so bad...

As Alfons said that, his expression looked a little pale. He was clearly holding it in.

(I need to stop my desire quick, or Alfons will continue to be in pain like this...!)

(Bandages... bondage... just what’s the reason? What in the world am I wishing for...!?)

I continued to mull on it as hard as I could, in hopes of saving Alfons... when it was then I realized.

(Could it be...!)

Kate: Alfons, say, ‘There’s only the two of us in this room’ to me!

Alfons: ...? ‘There’s only the two of us in this room’...

Albeit hesitant, Alfons said those words, and...

Alfons: Ah... the bandages feel more loose.

Kate: Thank goodness... which would mean my guess was right.

Alfons: Care to explain?

Kate: Well... the other day when we went out to eat together, there were a lot of women in the shop...

K: And many of those women seemed pretty taken by you, so...

K: I ended up thinking, ‘If only nobody else could see Alfons...’

Alfons: Hehe... I see now. So that’s what it was.

A: You didn’t want anyone else seeing me, and so by wrapping me all around in bandages, you could hide me away... is that it?

A: In that case, ‘there’s only the two of us in this room’ would make sense.

A: If it’s just the two of us, there is nobody but you to see me, so there would be no need to wrap me up in bandages then.

Kate: So it really was my desire that left you looking like this... I’m really sorry.

Alfons: Why the apology?

A: To see your earnest love manifest in a way that’s easy to understand is rather a good thing, no?

A: Love is an invisible thing, and at times I do question its existence. But... to see it like this, it does put me at ease.

With an amused smile, Alfons kissed me.

The heat and sweetness of those lips melted away my guilt.

Alfons: ...Say, Kate. There is only the two of us in this room, with no one to interrupt.

A: So what would follow then?

Kate: T-that...

I was too embarrassed to form any more words, but it no longer had anything to do with whether I said it or not.

My desire unbound Alfons’ bandages, causing his clothes to become disheveled on its own.

Alfons: ...You’re quite naughty, aren’t you, Kate.

While laughing happily, Alfons pushed me down on the bed.

Each of us consuming a jumbled mess of Curses and love, this Chaotic Night was just getting started.

Fin.

masterlist🪞 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms🤍

NOTES:

[1] The obi refers to the part of the kimono, traditional Japanese clothing, that is a sash. It might look something like this.

[cosmicspark24]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ Pick a card time! ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

☁︎ Collective energies! ☁︎

Hi everyone! It's taken me a fair bit to get this done for you so any shares, likes and comments are appreciated. While reading I found some collective themes you can skip this bit or come back to it if you like it. Collectively there were lots of themes surrounding; new beginnings, new love (lots of romantic offers/new relationships), embracing creativity, investing in yourself, turning pain into power, going after your dreams, mental prisons due to perspective shift being needed, betrayals & travel. I hope you enjoy, I will be keeping these coming in 2025. Please check out my blog if you have a chance and there will be a Youtube channel coming next year. Love ya,

Thando

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 1:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme of the first half of 2025 for you is new beginnings. What a wonderful start to a new year!! I see a few different themes for the people in this pile. We will begin with this theme of work. I feel that some of you have started new jobs, been promoted or are renewing your approach to work. There is an energy here of carefully balancing all the plates in your life, ensuring that you drop not a single one. I see this being something you achieve with relative easy. This does not mean it requires effort. I see some of you being very concerned with the idea of equal give and take. If the company refuses to pay me more, then I reserve the right to do the bare minimum and never agree to their attempts at giving me overtime - type energy. So if you have been thinking about a financial venture and have been feeling like you are not getting as much back as you are receiving, what can you change to facilitate you taking back your own power? I see especially for any masculines or women in their masculine energy/era that making money or juggling the important practical parts of your life is greatly important. I see you putting everything in your power in driving your new beginnings foreward. In that, I see that you are the wind beneath your wings. I am proud of you pile 1. For any masculines in this pile who have been confused about how to proceed with a relationship, I see you making moves towards that. For some of you this is physical travel to the one you love, for others you are taking a metaphorical journey back to your person. This reading is heavily talking about or directed at masculine energies. For women, I see this as you finally receiving clarity from a SP. This is someone you know to already have an interest but it is possible you were being given mixed messages.

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme of the second half of 2025 has to do with either you or a specific person. The theme is showing affection and attention to the one you like. So just take what applies. I feel that any confusion you may have had about a SP were cleared the moment you made the mental decision to stop hiding your own feelings from yourself. I'm seeing the energy of someone writing a message, pressing send, throwing away the phone and hiding under the covers. Then overthinking...well it's all in your head. Remember who the fuck you are in the second half of the year. Remind yourself that anything meant for you will make its way to you with ease. I see also for anyone not in this headspace, that you are focused on yourself. You are focused on treating yourself to whatever you want. You suddenly feel you haven't been socialising enough, and suddenly you have parties booked a few times a month. For the sexual beings, I see you getting yours in the second half of 2025. I see one-night stands, friends with benefits or anything that you like engaging in sexually being done wantonly. I see this self-focus on filling your own cup with dreams pr creativity bringing you immense peace. For those pursuing a SP, your success with this individual will bring you greater peace. Isn't that delicious?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 2:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme for the first half of 2025 is going to be money/business success. I feel that some of you have fully come into adulthood. I'm getting the feeling of 'my brain just fully developed'. The energy of this pile is that of someone who balances their maturity with their inner child needs. I see possibly a new job or a new business venture which came up as well for the previous pile. This new start can cause some confusion or introspection depending on the individual. I sense that you are scared of new beginnings or are used to doing things one sort of way but life has ushered you upon a new path. I see that the answers are within you, but you are too frightened to fully stand in your power and go, 'yes, I knew the last job was literally sucking my soul so it's okay that I have to pivot'. The key to happiness and business success for you is through following your passions. I know, how cliche. Yet you never know how a random talent or hyper-fixation can lead to something real and tangible. Pile 2, I see you moving on from previous heartbreak. You are burying and leaving behind painful memories of love and instead replacing it with passion, creativity and who knows...maybe new love.

2025, 2nd half:

The similarities in the actual cards I drew, is almost an exact replica with pile 1 so you may also relate to that pile. The main theme of the second half of your 2025 is all about renewal. Like a butterfly birthed from a cocoon I see you rise with fervour. You are focused and grinding. You are going so hard for yourself and achieving your dreams. You are being daring about things you've always wanted to try. I see you challenging yourself with hobbies, with thrill seeking activities. I see you achieving professional success and being in the spotlight for those achievements. Embrace it, soak it up. It is meant to be, let this be all the validation you need. There is a couple or two individuals who are aware of their spiritual connection to each other in this pile. You may have been on a break, or travelling or apart for some (necessary) reasons. You will get a sign sometime in this part of the year to connect with this person. So one of you will be reaching out via DM or however you both prefer your communications. I see a masculine in this pile in particular being very vocal about insecurities to do with work/business. I feel that this could be a masculine leaning on his mother through this time period. Just do whatever you need to to process your very valid fears then let it go. I recommend a burning ritual if this applies to you. This doesn't have to be a male person but whoever identifies with coming across at this stage of their lives in a masculine way. I see as a result of these conversations, you will make a decision on how to proceed and take appropriate action toward your new beginning.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 3:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme of the first half of you 2025 surrounds you being unsure how to proceed with a particular situation. I see a masculine energy or that of a person who is charming charismatic and self-assured,  being defensive and on guard with their heart after realising that they've the  love of their life. We always imagine that getting what we want we will immediately accept and embrace it. Instead Pile 3, you meet someone you like and you immediately acknowledge how unique and how distinct the feeling they give you is but you are so determined to ignore it or tell yourself there is something else at play here. Now that I am starting to interpret, I am seeing now that this lack of certainty from you pile 3 could be coming from how unbelievable it is to you to find someone you so strongly want to attach to and immediately want to drag down the isle, lovingly of course. You feel both lucky and scared that this little bit of luck might run away. For some of you I feel that you were already on a lucky streak and have now hit the motherload. I'll be honest and say though this person is the main focus mentally and emotionally, it will not be long between you realising that they mean that much to you and that your attraction for this SP is different, to you making an honest offer. For those already in union, your story looks a little bit different. For those in union, I am seeing an unmarried couple with the man in the planning phase of engagement. You will know if this is you because the masculine in the couple is strong, sexy and self-assured. He also may have been recently defensive about how much he is working. This is because he knows you want a surprise, he knows what you want in a proposal and he is gonna make it happen. The heavens are literally opening up to help you make this deeper commitment come together. Any couples with a wedding date in this half of the year in Pile 3, I see a great wedding and a true realisation that you have done the right thing by being with this person. Any couples already married, you could simply be deepening the bonds of your love. I see this through some sort of recitation of affections or something ceremonial (whatever that means to you)

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme of the second half of your 2025 is health. You may be having some secrets unearthed from your childhood that opens a can of worms for you to now digest. For some of you, you simple know that you have leaned too long into your naivete and have decided to finally do something to facilitate your growth and maturity. This pile is giving growth. With this new journey to explore the depths of yourself, comes gossip. There comes talks and speculation about how you are making so much money. How are you acquiring so many assets or how are you never seeming to struggle financially? Then the chatter goes into your sex life. There could be rumours you are sleeping around for money or you are being particularly sexually free at this time. This may or may not be an accurate representation of what you are doing, but that matters not. You are not defined by people who are not taking the time to know you but instead, speculating like you are spectator sport. If you are being at all promiscuous then please be aware that this can cause more burden or a different sort of trauma to unpack at a later date. By interacting with so many people, you are opening yourself up to microscopic tears to your psyche that will need to be repaired. I see you receiving messages from a SP. The feminine in question is coming through as a confident, sexy and ambitious woman. The man is coming through as ambitious, powerful and sexy. This is not necessarily gender specific so you could be the woman with the qualities of the man I see in this reading. It's not something to get hung up on. There is a sense that you are both defending what you have to the outside world while also drowning in the passion that you clearly have for each other. You're both drowning, willingly.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 4:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme for the first half of your 2025 is gossip and or chatter. Yet despite that being the main theme, the clarifying cards also show me a different secondary main theme which is of material comfortability. The reading has more pentacle cards than anything signalling money and resources, tangible or physical. You are coming through Pile 4 as a confident, successful single. If you are not single, you are certainly someone who feels whole and complete within themselves. This is not at the expense of another, but just an expression of the work you have done on yourself up until now. I feel the need to say Pile 4, you should be so proud of yourself for everything that you've achieved. You. Did. That. I see you being generous with you resources, but also vigilant. I see you making your younger self proud by being able to facilitate your desires materially. You have worked your way into a lucrative job or if not, you have lived a lifestyle well beyond your means and gotten comfortable with watching your savings beef up. If you need a massage you just get it, kinda energy. You don't think well, is there enough in my account, because you are either so financially responsible you know the ins and outs of your funds, or you're not pedantic but you allocate enough funds for everything you need. You run like clockwork even if it's something that you didn't always do. You have gotten to a place where you know which buttons to trigger within to achieve anything you need for different aspects of your life. You are coming across as untouchable, Pile 4. Your aura is extremely attractive right now and you could not look more delectable. You may be giving or receiving an offer of affections. This could be platonic or romantic but I feel for more of you it is romantic than platonic. Though you may have to take a second to think about it, you will consider yourself lucky in this opportunity and take it. You and your new love are happy and materially comfortable, together.

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme for the second half of your 2025 is grief/burdens. Some of the people in this pile, I see you travelling to pursue a new beginning. This could be anywhere to a new country/state. For some you are moving your whole life elsewhere while others you simply have not travelled enough and are off to make this dream a reality. There's something public about your trip. You could be documenting it or you may be very vocal about any struggles you may experience along the way. Struggles with money or logistics. Through the hardship though that you may experience along the way, you find yourself. For some you are finding yourself again, deeper aspects of your iceberg beneath the surface.  You find your own resilience and you are enchanted by it. You may at times punish yourself or self sabotage. You might spend too much on ubereats instead of saving or using sex as a distraction from your life. So long as you are being mindful and checking yourself when you feel those escapist tendencies coming through, you should be fine. A lot the changes you are going through at this time are fated. I see you going on a long journey of self-discovery, especially surrounding betrayals from others or from yourself. Allow yourself to grieve. Allow yourself to go through this period in a messy way because it's through the chaos that greater clarity will come through. It's through the inner conflict that you find that flickering ember of light.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 5:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme of your reading for the first half of 2025 is parents/authority figures. I feel that in this pile someone feels that they have been betrayed or duped by a parental or authority figure. Well I am here to tell you that the instant-karma they are about to receive will make you smile a little on the inside. I see you receiving a message likely through messages/online that this individual in question has been punished. Now this could look different for different people but for some of you I sense jail. Others more like a streak of bad luck or losing something important. I see a couple represented as masculine and feminine but these are energies not actual sexes. Both thinking, separately about their shared future. It's like people who are already seeing each other starting to daydream that they can really make it work. Or this could be friends who are starting to fall for each other. Well, aren't you lucky Pile 5 for the one you want not only wants you, but you are ordained to be together. You will receive the true happiness you have longed for. You forge forward you two lovebirds, leave the dust (parent/authority figure) behind as you hold each other shamelessly into the future.

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme for the second half of your 2025 is that of sexual tension/sexual exploration and for some of you just mental self-flagellation. You take whichever sounds like it resonates. Pile 5, you are becoming more and more self actualised as time goes on. In the second half of the year, you are feeling even more so that you are understanding yourself more and therefore better able to reach your highest potential. You know you are a star, you know you are destined for greatness and you know you have the will to achieve it. You have the tenacity, the staying power and the patience. You may receive heartbreaking news of betrayal in the second half of the year. For some of you this is because the person you were with has been unfaithful in some way (could be cheating or lying or anyway which counts within your own value system). For some this news was so obscure because there was some deceptive energy from the source. Once you speak to your partner, you unearth and realise that it's not your partner that is the problem, but elements outside of your relationship that are trying to cause you confusion and evidently a breakup. Whichever group you belong, I see this being something you will conquer and overcome through your self confidence. Sometimes the best way out is through. I see you refocusing on your foals, creativity, sexuality and therefore returning yourself back to a state of true happiness. You realise that as long as you have yourself and your dreams, everything else is inconsequential.

@cosmicspark24

[foundmars]

Alright time for another dca theory rant at early am... bc im tired of the community sleeping on the dca lore implications and not talking about it.

So today I was playing Security Breach, I recently finished my first run and working on getting afton ending and/princess ending. And being the completionist as i am, i go to all the areas to get all the gifts and bags with notes. But some caught my interest.

I was going underneath the backstage tunnels (the ones where you see the "Freddy you're supposed to be on lockdown" scene with Vanessa) and i found a little ally you need Montys claws for, as i do, i open them and to find a small room filled with twisted looking trees and branches with a projector in the middle of the room to a large screen upon orange tarp covering circular objects. I find it more strange because it first reminded me of the Dredbear games in Help Wanted vr games, then it reminded me of Fall Fest but also of the theater room in the pizzaplex. Weird right? Well the present on top of the projector was a Sun figurine.

Does that count as Sun being more connected with Fall Fest? Far fetch for something of a vague room but it was just odd to put something like that in there.

Then as I got lost adventured along the hallways, I found the area were you get chased by Monty, Chica, and Roxy in those misty hallways near those same tunnels. Well. I found another Monty claw access room where it looked familiar. It was the same or VERY similar layout as the frankinstine mini game in Help Wanted VR where you put the bot pieces together. It was literally the same room. tvs, conveyerbelts and all. And thats where I found the Moon figurine.

And typically you find these character figurines in related areas, like alot of chica stuff will be in the kitchen or her bakery, Roxy stuff in raceway or near any chase sequences. Stuff like that, its relevant, it makes sense. So why put Sun and Moon, one of the most vaguest characters (that has collectable items mind you, i dont see any vanny or music man plushies anywhere) in spots that reference completely something else but also familiar to the player/fanbase?

Also, now knowing what we know now about fall fest? We have seen a lot of references to it at this point and who is the recurring character to show for it? Sun and Moon.

Moon (physically) in carousel games in Help Wanted 2

Sun (as a voice) in first carousel game as announcer in Help Wanted 2

Jack-o-moon in carousel on fire in Help Wanted 2

Jack-o-moon in secret level of Foxy's ride in Help Wanted 2 (and i point this out as like a maybe thing, I know this was in the Plex but i can also see this as a carnival game, but also, why Jack-o-moon? his clothing and look is so vintage, it would be more accurate if it was just moon because he was chasing us through the plex, not this jack-o character)

BB World arcade. It takes place in a carnival as well. And as one of the few playable minigames thats even tucked away and hidden that takes alot of effort to get to, has to mean something. You have the Sun and Moon in the background starting with Sun happy, then goes to Moon whos mischievous and evil looking, then back to Sun who looks mad and so on. Thats also where we make our first impression on Eclipse. Well maybe not so much its Eclipse...

When you follow the glitch line in the BB world minigame, what happens at the end? We found that the creepy looking sun/moon replacement covers the screen and prompts in purple "good night". We deemed this sprite Eclipse. Which fair. Thats what we knew at the time. Look at it again. Please. It does not look like Eclipse. It looks like Jack-o-Moon better. It has the correct coloring compared and even has an odd mouth coloring like who we see in Help Wanted 2 than to the Eclipse we see in Ruined. So the "Eclipse" we see in not Eclipse, it is Jack-o-Moon. Which makes sense because that may the dca was at the time of Fall Fest was.

Everytime we see Fall Fest, its Jack-o-Moon (vise versa).

I hope this made some slight sense or you saw where I was going with this because Im actually loosing my mind.

[deliciouskeys]

Before Christmas, as promised, the last chapter. My holiday gift to people who have been reading this long journey of a fic, thank you so much for taking the time and partaking in my brain's delirious feverdreams.

[If you see errors, typos, annoying word repetition, I apologize in advance-- I self-betaed but... I'm... low on sleep because of work.]

Fic summary below the cut if you don't want to reread to remember what was happening.

Aug 28, 2022

Wherein on the anniversary of Ryan's death, Homelander takes a moment away from grieving to visit Vought Reproductive Labs and first hears about an intriguing solution to his problem

Sept 2&15, 2022

Wherein Homelander visits a super with an ability to reshape flesh and asks to have a very peculiar body modifying surgery

Sept 17, 2022

Wherein Homelander visits Billy Butcher with a very matter-of-fact proposition, delivered with a little more brutality than he intended, but isn't able to achieve his goal.

Sept 18, 2022

Wherein Homelander makes conciliatory gestures towards Billy Butcher and they try again, this time in Homelander's apartment.

Nov 15, 2022

Wherein Billy Butcher finds out that Homelander has achieved his goal and doesn't have any real intentions to leave Vought, and they have a falling out.

Dec 12, 2022

Wherein Homelander pays a visit to Dr. Sonnenberg again and contemplates telling Vought about his condition.

Dec 14, 2022

Wherein Homelander's announcement of his condition falls with a very strange thud in the Vought board room. He realizes they may not have his best interests at heart, and he comes crawling back to Billy Butcher if not for help then at least moral support.

Dec 15 & 24, 2022

Wherein Billy Butcher takes advantage of the rift and arranges for Homelander to cut ties with Vought completely. Homelander is reluctant but has few options. He’s placed under house arrest in Billy Butcher's dingy apartment until the FBI can get a deposition from him about Vought and he adjusts to his new life.

January 24, 2023

Wherein Homelander goes public with his pregnancy announcement, MM is really concerned about Butcher's plan, and Homelander and Billy Butcher continue to look for ways to live together and not strangle each other.

March 2, 2023

Wherein Billy Butcher and Homelander have a blowout fight over Homelander's reluctance to give straightforward testimony about all the abuses he underwent while being raised by Vought and they go to bed not entirely angry but not entirely reconciled either.

March 3, 2023

Wherein Billy Butcher faces the fact that he's grown attached to Homelander and resolves to be more patient and understanding. He and Homelander have a raw heart-to-heart which brings up strong emotions in both, and each of them has a lot of misgivings about how the relationship is really shaping up. Homelander has his first real pregnancy scare and has to break house arrest to tend to it.

March 29, 2023

Wherein Homelander and Billy Butcher are preparing to move into a nicer apartment, Homelander's house arrest ends, Homelander requests a baby shower, and he and Billy Butcher have one last go with his supersuit on before they are required to return it to Vought.

April 14, 2023

Wherein Homelander makes a happy discovery that his baby can see through him, and Billy Butcher brings tidings of a disturbing discovery about Ryan's fate. Something in Homelander snaps and he is newly motivated to fight back against Vought. Billy Butcher records notes for an entirely new deposition with a very different tone.

May 27, 2023

Wherein Billy Butcher's friends and friends-of-friends come over for a baby shower.

July 3-5 2023

Wherein Homelander is overdue and can't wait to give birth, but once the ordeal starts it never seems to end. Homelander goes into a bit of a fugue state before it’s over, but all's well that ends well.

July 8,9,17, 2023

Homelander and Billy Butcher are adjusting to life with a superpowered newborn, and despite difficulties, Homelander makes a concerted effort to return into the public eye and take back control of the narrative from Vought-planted stories about him.

October 18, 2023

Wherein Homelander testifies in a pivotal congressional hearing and fields questions from a hostile group of politicians who don't want to see Vought collapse, but at least Billy Butcher supports him behind the scenes.

August 27, 2025

Wherein Billy's aunt and mum pay a visit to the house in the Catskills where Billy Butcher and Homelander have opted to raise their superpowered toddler in relative seclusion from society, and Homelander has many misgivings about whether he's raising Lena right.

March 19, May 1, 2027

Wherein Billy Butcher contends with anti-supe sentiments and tends to Homelander feeling under the weather during the early days of his second pregnancy. Homelander lays the groundwork for rehabilitating the reputation of superpowered people in the wake of Vought's disintegration and the loss of that support.

October 31, Dec 25, 2027

Wherein Homelander experiences Lena's first trick-or-treating outing and he and Billy Butcher take stock of how they've managed to parent their daughter up until now. With the arrival of the second child, Homelander looks back and considers how grateful he is that his life has taken this sharp turn after a period of horrific grief.

[occasionalsnippets]

I like to know more about Damian and Talia's relationship with fd au reader

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

Talia keeps tabs on her beloved so obviously, she's well aware of when Bruce takes in a new Robin. And with that Robin comes an unexpected variable, his blood sister.

You do not catch her eye, not at first. Not until she finds Jason Todd and dunks him in a Lazarus pit. Not until she finds you being Robin while your little brother rests within the walls of Wayne manor. Not until you become the CEO of the failing Drake Industries.

The first thing of note, Jason Todd recognizes you and your brother. The pits are unpredictable in their effects and even she was uncertain of about much Jason Todd would remember after being taken out. Yet he knew of you. The feelings are vague, ambiguous at best but never malevolent. It is enough to curb some of his anger at being replaced.

It gives him enough stability that she introduces him to Damian.

The one thing that is blatantly obvious is that you care deeply for your brother, for Timothy Drake. The two of you are more affectionate than any other pair of siblings she has seen and certainly closer than she is with any of her own siblings.

The best indicator that you are Robin and not your brother is that you play. Not in some childish innocent way but rather sharply and precisely. You dance around the points you want to make but the meaning is clear nevertheless. She has been very careful to conceal Damian's existence from her beloved but he has not escaped your notice. Yet, you haven’t told Bruce. How curious.

Perhaps it is that curiosity that drives her to meet you as yourself and not as Robin. Her father takes an interest in your brother. She takes an interest in you.

Talia finds herself waiting in your office at Drake Industries on a weekday afternoon. There’s a pleasantly soft melody being played on a CD somewhere. When you enter, there is no surprise, only a slightest trace of amusement.

Without the mask, you are still every bit as sharp and cold as her favourite blades. It's a delight to have a conversation with you.

A thought arises. You would make a lovely sibling for her Damian.

She is under no delusion that Damian will settle nicely with Bruce at first but with you there to ease the transition, it just might work out better than anticipated. She may even introduce him sooner than she had originally planned.

You, on the other hand, have no idea why Talia Al Ghul of all people keeps showing up at your office. You guys don't really do much other than gossip (and occasionally, you fight off the assassins she sends) but it's become something of a routine. It's weird. You take it in stride.

As for Damian, there were several things his mother had told him before she left him on his father's doorstep. The first of which was that you were to become his sister.

There is no reason to doubt his mother's words. You spend most nights at the manor, you attend family dinners and you are very involved with the family's night life. In addition, you hold great influence over the household, enough to block his attempts at claiming his rightful role as Robin.

You are endlessly helpful in integrating him into the family. He is... reluctantly grateful for your assistance. The others are uncertain of what to do with him. Grayson and father coddle him. Todd does not remain within the manor often. Cain and Drake are distrustful. You remain steadfast and steady.

He can see why mother is fond of you. You are an acceptable sibling. Strong willed. Successful. Far better than the other riff raff father keeps around.

Eventually he does come around to everyone else, though he remains jealous of Tim who clearly holds your affection and the position of Robin. You tell him that it’s Tim’s decision whether he’ll pass on the title or not so he does end up somewhat playing nice with him.

You remain near the center of his life. He continues to go to you for advice, he hands you his marked tests and preens when you praise him, you allow him into the Batcave and teach him about the comms system, and so on.

And then, he finds out you do not consider yourself to be family. You call yourself Tim’s sister but not his. Damian’s first emotion is anger, then betrayal, then jealousy.

Are you simply dense? Have the others done something to make you believe you are unworthy? If so, it must be rectified. Immediately.

His mother had said that you were to be his sister and Damian Al Ghul-Wayne won’t accept anything less than what he is due.

[kawaiifacesong]

So, the ABC feedback part.

What else is there to say? Honestly, I struggle to find anymore words around this topic. It's like an old wound. It hurts but at a certain point how many different ways can you say that?

I put what I wrote beneath the cut to spare the poor eyes of those who don't want to spend their Christmas/Christmas eve assaulted by reading. I tried to keep it cheerful.

Anyway, hope everyone has a great holiday.

It’s the holiday season and I don’t want to spend too much time on bitterness. I’ll keep things as cheap and cheerful as I can, which could possibly mean this is quite a short little message. Firstly, merry Christmas and happy holidays. Secondly, I wanted to pass on my thanks to the show for the gift that was Tommy’s character, and Buck’s relationship with him. It’s been said a lot, but I’ll say it again that I thought Tommy was a wonderful addition to the show, that he brought excellent potential to the story, and that I felt a great affinity with the character as an older gay man who has struggled with his sexuality in the past and continues to do so today. I relate to a lot of those aspects of the character and it was lovely to see all those elements on such a popular TV show, even if they weren’t explored as much as I wanted them to be. It was also great to see Buck’s relationship with him. I guess I should explain the reasons why but honestly, I’m not sure what else to say. It made me feel seen, it made me feel hopeful… honestly, it just made me feel happy. They had an intimacy and connection I hope to find myself one day. It shone a light in a world where things look increasingly bleak and dark for marginalized people, particularly LGBT+ people. Whilst I wasn’t happy about the Confessions episode or the way it ended, I won’t belabor that point. I’m happy that we got something, even if I’m not happy that’s all we got. While I hope there may be more to their relationship to come, I’m also not expecting anything more from this show. I can’t imagine any other love interest of Buck’s measuring up and I don’t intend to stick around and watch the show make any attempts to replicate such success. I would be remiss if I failed to mention how beautifully I thought Lou Ferrigno Jr. played the role. I am now a huge fan of his, and plan to follow his career to wherever he goes next, even if that isn’t 9-1-1. If Confessions was his last time on 9-1-1, and subsequently my last time watching the show, I think I can take that as an even trade. That said, I'd be lying if I didn't hope with all my heart that he does return in the new year. And that's why #alliwantforchristmasislou Best of luck and I hope everyone enjoys their Christmas and New Year.

[brodygold]

Darling, I have a bit of a homophobe problem. Some of my male family members believe that you all are corrupting good men and want to turn you into Christians to find good wives and establish proper family values. Can you have them see things your way and maybe recruit them into your...masculine brotherhood?

I'll be glad to help you out, bro. I'll invite your family members over for a quick chat at my house under the guise of getting to know more about their religion. I'm not one to turn down an offer, after all. I'll let you know how it goes.

Your family sure knew how to dress for the occasion. They looked just like a true pair of missionaries! I led the two into my living room, my big Christmas tree casting a perfect backdrop for our conversation. I even wore my favorite suit for the occasion. Wanted to show them I mean business, even if what we call "business" may be different...

I thought it would be a nice dialogue about our different beliefs, but it quickly turned into a lecture about us turning our backs on God and how being gay is a sin and we need to find wives, be fruitful and multiply and all that stuff, blah blah blah. Now it's nothing I haven't heard before, but having it happen when I invited your family over struck a nerve with me.

They continued to lecture me as I snapped my fingers, hypnotizing them to remove their suits. The two never even noticed what was happening, too into talking down to me instead of taking off their jackets, ties, and shirts. The pants came next, being discarded onto the floor as they talked about traditional values and how regular church attendance is vital for any good Christian.

Another quick snap of my fingers and their muscles grew larger, their arms becoming massive and legs becoming huge tree trunks. It's a good thing they took off their suits before. They would have had to come off anyway!

Still mid lecture, I tossed the two their new golden jerseys, glistening in the light of the mid morning. They put them on while talking to me about how they plan on starting a soccer league at their church with their wives. Already it's turning more into a conversation again, I'm finally able to get some words in edgewise and turn it into a real dialogue. My words have some magic laced into them though, and their minds are rewritten right before me.

They're still religious, I'm not going to take that away from anyone, but they're much more liberal in their beliefs. Gone is the idea that being gay is a sin. Instead, the two now want to find husbands of their own! They're dumber too, only really able to think about sports and bros, sports and bros. The order of importance changing depending on their current mood.

The Golden Army is their true home now, with their new golden names worn with pride. It doesn't matter who they were before, right? They're now Marcus and Deshaun, two golden jocks who are proud of their accomplishments and all that God helps them accomplish.

I did leave a few memories intact though, just slightly altered. They still remember you and the rest of the family, so the next family gathering should be quite interesting. Just be careful, bro, or they may try to convert you too. Not that that would be a bad thing...

[goddessofroyalty]

Hey! I binge read all of your Work/Life Balance fic last night and loved it. The way you kept them in character was amazing. For Viktor, I could hear his lines in my head in his voice.

I saw you were still low-key taking prompts for it. An idea came to mind about Viktor's own reaction to finding out he was pregnant? Especially to be about 3 months when he found out?(If I mathed correctly lol) I know you alluded to his whole "testing multiple pregnancy tests" but I think it would be interesting to see his full reaction, coming to terms with it, and potentially his failed attempts to tell Jayce because it wasn't the perfect time?

Prompt Idea: Viktor's reaction to actually finding out he is pregnant and the failed attempts to tell Jayce that you mentioned in Work/Life Balance? Idk, just kinda think it would be cute

Glad you enjoyed the fic! I think I got all the parts of these two prompts.

In the version of the final scene in my head before I wrote it Jayce actually kept going out and getting a new pregnancy test after the previous ones positive. I feel like what I’ve gone with is possibly funnier (and a lot less repetitive to write/read).

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg, thoughts/concerns about miscarriage

-------------

The nurse hands Viktor a pregnancy test with the same amount of enthusiasm as she had the paperwork.

It is the correct amount of enthusiasm given the circumstances.

Nobody actually thinks he is pregnant. The doctors having years ago had the conversation with him about how, with his health, he would very likely be unable to conceive. They had been so gentle with their words and moved the tissue box closer with them despite how little it had actually bothered him. Relationships and children barely worth a thought compared to his work.

Policy dictates that, as he is being sexually active, they must check to be sure before doing any scans that may harm a fetus if he was carrying one.

He’d just lie about it if it wasn’t for how Jayce’s habit of scenting him every opportunity he can means half the time the box is already ticked before he’s even handed the form.

So Viktor takes the cup and the paper-wrapped stick to the bathroom and waits the ten minutes it takes for the little negative sign to appear so the nurse can tick the box on the form that says, yes, they checked, and Viktor can return to his notepad while he waits his turn. His plans for what work he should be able to get done after his appointment is finished well-formed when the results finally show up.

Viktor grabs the piece of plastic and only pauses to look at the thing because it doesn’t seem to be the familiar negative he knows.

Probably just a different brand than they usually get.

He digs the instructions out of the bin just to be sure.

After unfolding and refolding the leaflet so just the bit with what the results mean is on the front he holds the instructions in one hand and test in the other. Comparing the results against which means what.

Pregnant.

The two lines in that exact position apparently mean he’s pregnant.

When they had first started making him take them Viktor had looked up the reliability of them hoping for some argument that they were a waste of everyone’s time. It hadn’t succeeded at his goal at the time but had left him with the knowledge that false positives were basically impossible.

He is, apparently, pregnant.

He returns to the front desk in the reception on autopilot. Standing before the bored-looking receptionist who expects him to tell her that the test was negative as expected and that she can finish checking him in for the scan.

Because he shouldn’t be pregnant.

He can’t be pregnant.

Yes, perhaps, maybe he and Jayce were not as diligent with protection as they could be. Sometimes they got caught up in their excitement of their latest breakthrough and getting the condoms the last thing on their minds. But nothing should have come from it because Viktor’s body had never been healthy enough to even give him a consistent heat schedule.

“I will have to cancel my appointment today,” Viktor says. Only realizing he had brought the test with him when he clenches the hand not holding his cane and feels the plastic dig into his skin.

The receptionist opens her mouth to no doubt ask why he would need to cancel when he’s already there for it. A flash of surprise crosses her face as she no-doubt remembers what she had had him do and the obvious conclusion of the two pieces of information she has before returning to professional friendliness.

“Of course. Let us know if you need to rebook.”

She doesn’t say congratulations or any of the other things you are apparently meant to when somebody informs you they are pregnant, which is good, because Viktor doesn’t know how would respond.

“Yes, of course,” he says with a sharp nod. “Thank you.”

The smile she gives is devoid of any excitement or judgement. The smile of a professional who has been taught that something like this can mean something very different to different patients.

Viktor shuffles out of the clinic, ignoring the bored stares of the others in the waiting room until he is out on the street. The pregnancy test still in hand.

He tosses it into the first bin he finds of course. It is very unhygienic to carry around something that has had his urine on it. Keeping it with him won’t change the situation. If he needs evidence when he tells Jayce he can always take another one.

How is he ever going to tell Jayce?

No.

No he needs to be realistic. False positives are impossible but it may be a case that an embryo was created and implanted before his body rejected it. A reminder that they should stop being lax about the condoms. There no point mentioning it to Jayce if that is the case.

No, first Viktor should book an appointment to test again under doctor’s supervision. By then if it was just a momentary thing the hormones will have cleared from his system and he can forget all about it.

There is no need to get Jayce involved yet.

-----------------

“When was your last heat?” the doctor asks after Viktor returns from peeing on another stick that does not return the expected negative despite it having been long enough since the scan appointment that had it been an immediate miscarriage any residual hormones should have left his system.

“A year ago.” His heats had never been regular so skipping three was hardly a cause for suspicion or concern.

The doctor’s brow furrows because a lack of an obvious heat makes it harder to figure out any kind of timeline of conception.

“Have you experienced any bleeding?”

“No.” Not that it really proved anything from the reading Viktor had done after the initial positive result. If his body had rejected the pregnancy early enough it is easy for even omegas to miss the resulting passing.

“Has there been a single incident of your contraception methods failing?” the doctor asks. “For example, did the condom break during-“

“Eh-“ Viktor grimaces because there wasn’t really a single incident of a condom breaking but rather a common enough occurrence of them forgoing using one entirely.

“Right,” the doctor says, thankfully saving Viktor from having to say it. “In that case I think it is best to arrange an ultrasound to confirm if there is any evidence of pregnancy, and, if there is, how far along.”

Viktor nods as he tries to figure out where to fit another appointment in with the new project. It would be far easier if Jayce was around more instead of being dragged around by councilors and investors in wherever their whims take them.

“I also wouldn’t suggest informing anyone about this,” the doctor continues. “You may be very early into a pregnancy, and, with your other health concerns-“

There is a good chance he still may miscarry. No reason to bring it up with Jayce until they are more certain.

“Of course.”

-------------

“Have you told your alpha yet?” the ultrasound technician asks as she smears gel over Viktor’s exposed stomach.

“No.” there is no point considering it would likely end in miscarriage.

“Well that’s hardly fair to keep all the excitement to yourself,” the technician says as she reaches over for the ultrasound, moving it around his stomach clearly searching for his uterus.

“It is still early. I will tell him once it is far enough along to not be likely to miscarry.”

“You shouldn’t think like that!” the technician says, glancing at him quickly before returning her attention to the screen.

“I am just being realistic.” A pregnancy does not necessarily mean you will end up with a baby. Especially not if one’s health is like Viktor’s.

“So you are just going to keep it to yourself until you’re 3 months along?” the technician asks, her movements less broad. Likely trying to find any evidence of a very early pregnancy.

“Yes.” Things are easier that way.

“In that case you’re gonna’ want to figure out how to tell him,” she says before spinning around the screen so he can see his uterus and the baby-shaped blog within in. “Because three months is about where’d I put you. Congratulations.”

Viktor likely wouldn’t have believed her if he couldn’t see it with his own eyes. Which is probably why she showed him the screen. But, sure enough, there it was. Not a full baby but also not a bundle of cells of a new implantation.

“I haven’t had any symptoms.” Nothing that made him think anything had changed other than his sickness.

“Some people get lucky like that,” the technician says with a shrug. She presses a button on the screen that causes it to pause on the images while she removes the ultrasound from his stomach and offers him a tissue to wipe the gel off. Her hand suddenly resting on his knee. “I’ll arrange for a printout for you at the front desk. Maybe that’ll help you with telling your alpha yeah?”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know if a print out of an ultrasound will actually help him tell Jayce but he supposes it is better to have it and not need it than not have it.

--------------

Viktor stands in front of the mirror in just his boxers staring at the reflection of his still completely flat stomach. His hands running along it feeling for any sign of a swell that could be the baby that was apparently in there and finding nothing.

It always takes longer for omega men to show, the ultrasound technician had said with a laugh like he was stupid for asking how he could possibly be 3 months along without a single outward sign. Your hips hold everything a bit further back. I wouldn’t worry through. Give it a couple weeks and you’ll have a bump for you and your alpha to fall in love with.

It still doesn’t feel real though. Not even with the print out of the scan that shows the very real fetus apparently resting in his uterus.

The door swings open but Jayce immediately turns around when he notices Viktor’s state of undress.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realis you were changing,” Jayce says despite the fact they have both seen each other completely naked. The fact that they had managed to make a baby together, even if Jayce doesn’t know that piece of information yet.

“It is fine,” Viktor says, grabbing his shirt and quickly buttoning it up on himself. It’s ridiculous, if Viktor can’t see any evidence of pregnancy there is no way Jayce will. But the idea of Jayce finding out before Viktor has the chance when it is clear Viktor should know is unpleasant.

Viktor grabs his cane from where he had hung it over the edge of the desk. Shoving the scan printout under some notes as he does.

“You can look now,” Viktor says because Jayce clearly isn’t going to unless he’s told he can.

Jayce turns around immediately. Beaming at Viktor in his fond way.

“Does this mean you’ll be joining the dinner tonight?”

“What? No! I was just-“ trying to see if he could see their baby. Which, if he were to tell Jayce now, would not see the alpha attending the dinner either. And while Viktor does not actually care about stealing Piltover’s Golden Boy from his adoring fans, Jayce’s growing social requirements are an necessary evil for their progress. “It does not matter. I will not be attending.”

“Come on Vik, please, for me,” Jayce says, coming over to wrap his arms around Viktor. He easily slots his head onto Viktor’s shoulder, the pout on his face reflected back on them in the mirror. “You can’t force me to go to another one alone.”

“I think you will find I can,” Viktor says, but leans into the warmth of Jayce’s body. “Anyway, they do not want me there.”

“I want you there.” Jayce’s grip tightens as he nuzzles against Viktor’s neck more like a young pup than the proud alpha he is. “Please Viktor.”

“I-“ could cause a scandal if he really wanted to. Drop the news halfway through the party when the gaggle of over-interested omegas swarm Jayce in the hopes of winning his attention. Have all of Piltover talking by morning. “-have work to do.”

It is hard for Jayce to argue with that. Their work as important to him as it is Viktor.

“It’s unfair you know,” Jayce says as he draws away, fixing his coast in the mirror. He looks every bit the charismatic leader Piltover imagines him to be. “That you get to stay in our lab working while I have to keep listening to the same conversation about the weather all night.”

“That is the price you pay for being the face of progress.”

“Not funny Vik,” Jayce says, but leans down for a quick kiss all the same. “I’ll try and sneak out and join you after the first round of being introduced to everyone.”

“Do not do anything that would have Councilor Kirramman unhappy with you.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll get Cait to cover for me,” Jayce promises before slipping out to head to the event.

--------------

Strong arms wrap around Viktor as he stands in front of the blackboard in their lab. Jayce’s head coming to rest against the top of his as the warmth of the alpha’s body seeps through the back of Viktor’s clothes.

“I missed you,” Jayce mumbles against Viktor’s hair. Nuzzling into it was if it is at all an effective way to pick up someone’s scent so far away from any of the actual scent-glands. “You smell good.”

Viktor tenses at that. Of course the pregnancy would be starting to affect his scent, making him even more appealing to his alpha in a biological attempt to keep their support there for the pregnancy and hopefully beyond. If he was as far along as he apparently was it’s surprising it hadn’t started to change already. And Jayce is not stupid. He will likely realize what could be causing it.

It might work in Viktor’s favor though. Let Jayce figure it out and claim ignorance.

All he has to do is act surprised. He can do that.

“Sorry,” Jayce says, drawing away. “I didn’t mean to break your focus.”

He didn’t think anything of the change in scent then.

“It is fine.” Nothing ground breaking had been happening. “Are you finished for the day?”

Viktor could just tell him about the pregnancy. It is not as if there is anything he cannot pause for the afternoon.

“I wish,” Jayce says with a whine. “I have another meeting in an hour. I just wanted to come check on- ah- our work!”

There will be no telling him today than.

“In that case there is something I wanted your opinion on,” Viktor says because he will take what he can get of Jayce’s mind before he has to hand him back to Piltover’s elites.

---------------

“Jayce do you have a minute?” Viktor asks on what is becoming a rare afternoon where Jayce can just stay in the lab without having to run off to some social engagement or investors meeting. Nothing that he need not be distracted for.

“Yeah, of course,” Jayce says, dropping what he is working on to come over. He leans over Viktor’s shoulders to examine what he is working on, expecting it to be about that. “What do you need?”

“What I need is to tell you something.” Viktor can feel how Jayce almost freezes at it. The alpha’s attention now fully on him.

Viktor wonders what Jayce thinks he’s going to tell him. Likely not that he is pregnant.

Before Viktor can find the words the door to the lab swings open and Mel hurries in with a hustle that is as close as Viktor thinks he’s ever seen her do to running.

“Oh good you’re here – I need you to talk to the new investor.”

“What? Why?” Jayce asks, craning his neck to look over to Mel but not moving from where he is leant over Viktor.

“He has concerns about the safety of the Hexgates and is threatening to pull funding as a result.”

“That is ridiculous. The Gates are perfectly safe!” Heimerdinger wouldn’t have let them go ahead if they weren’t.

“I know that! But he isn’t being convinced by me. I have him in a room and he’s agreed to discuss with you first, but, we do not have much time before he walks.”

“Go,” Viktor says before Jayce can think about refusing. “My news can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The pregnancy isn’t going anywhere but the investor apparently is.

---------------

“You deserve this more than I do,” Jayce says, holding out a drink to Viktor now they have both returned home from the investors meeting where they displayed their latest prototype. An identical glass in his other hand. “You did more of the work than I did.”

“You kept the investors happy.” Viktor would also rather Jayce in the lab with him but somebody has to be the face of their work and Jayce is far better suited for it than Viktor. “And, ah, none for me.”

Alcohol and pregnancy do not mix. Not that Jayce knows about that fact yet. The two barely getting to spend more than a moment together the last few weeks.

“You can take one night off to celebrate,” Jayce says still holding the glass out.

They do have the night off. The project finished and investors and council happy. Nothing that needs to be done that cannot wait until morning. Nothing he might be taking Jayce away from by telling him about the pregnancy.

“It is not that,” Viktor says, meeting Jayce’s eyes and the adorably puzzled expression. “I cannot drink at the moment on account of, eh, being pregnant.”

The surprise that overtakes Jayce’s face is exactly what Viktor expected all the times he thought about telling him.

“What?”

“I am pregnant,” Viktor confirms.

“Really?” Jayce asks, glancing down at Viktor’s stomach which remains completely flat.

“Yes. The doctors are quite sure.” Viktor wouldn’t be telling Jayce if they weren’t.

“The doctors?” Jayce asks before realization crosses his face, because he does actually know of Viktor’s frequent medical appointments – partners and all. “Right. Of course just-“

Jayce puts the two glasses back on the counter and runs a hand through his hair and this is exactly why Viktor hadn’t told him right before he had another obligation. It would be cruel to send him into a council meeting in the level of shock he is in.

“I-“ Jayce starts, before swallowing and nodding, having made up his mind about something. “Wait here.”

“Wait- what?” Viktor asks as Jayce grabs his coat and heads to the door. “Jayce where are you going?”

“I just need to get something. Don’t go anyway!” Jayce says before racing out the door leaving Viktor alone in the apartment.

“Don’t go anyway. Why would I go anywhere?” Viktor asks to nobody but himself. Sighing before making his way over to the couch to sit and wait for Jayce to return. Setting his cane down beside him.

He is sure Jayce will return and not just because it is his apartment Viktor currently is in. Yes, he’s heard stories of Piltover alphas seeming head over heels for an omega in Zaun only to vanish as soon as a pregnancy is in the picture, but Jayce isn’t like that. Their work, at least, is far too important for him to abandon.

“Can you not inherit his recklessness?” Viktor asks his still flat stomach as he leans back on the cushions and waits.

The door swings open at Jayce’s hast when he returns. The alpha not wasting time taking his coat off, instead rushing to where Viktor is and all-but slamming a handful pregnancy tests on the coffee-table.

“I know you said the doctors are sure,” Jayce rambles before Viktor gets the chance to say anything. “But please, for me?”

It makes sense with Jayce being who he is that he would want tangible proof of his own. And, really, it is not that arduous for Viktor to indulge him this.

“Can I have some water first?” Five tests will require a rather high amount of urine from him after all.

[nagis-wife]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

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[mustangbby]

merry christmas!

featuring... tecchou suehiro, jouno saigiku, chuuya nakahara, nikolai gogol, kinich, wriothesley, lyney, kamisato ayato, kaedehara kazuha, boothill.

description... what do you guys do on christmas day??

authors note... MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS GUYS i wanted to write small little things about each of my favs from my three main fandoms lolllll! i hope all of ur guys christmas is going so well so far :)))) quite literally wrote this by alternating between hyaena by travis scott and tyler durden by madison beer so this might be all over the place

*i do take requests by the way!!!!! i'm just writing my own thoughts for now

warnings... none! some do lean towards fem!reader tho

🎧 all i want for christmas is you : mariah carey

tecchou suehiro

really, all the man wants to do is take the day to sleep and hangout with you.

there's some gift exchanging, you both picked out a few little things for each other that you passed over during breakfast. but then it was straight back to bed for both of you. all he wants to do is cuddle you all day. it's so cold out, and when does he ever get to have a day off????

you watch some christmas movies and make a nice dinner in the afternoon. he's mainly just watching, hanging out next to you (and accidentally getting in your way, but that's alright) because seriously, who would trust this man to cook.

to the both of you, it was a very relaxing day. staying inside, drinking tea and hot chocolate while snuggling up to each other. he just wishes he didn't have to get right back on his work schedule tomorrow...

jouno saigiku

he's so used to getting up early, that the day starts at 6:30 in the morning (if you're lucky).

like tecchou, he doesn't go full out with gifts. you've pretty much got everything you need, and he only heard you mention just a few things you've been looking at. so he got that for you.

you both exchanged gifts before you got out of bed. and when you did, you went out for a nice little breakfast and took a walk around the city. it was very pleasant; you got coffee and had walked to look at all the christmas displays (although he may not be able to see them, the most important part of it all was getting to spend his day with you).

dinner isn't very big at all. you were out all day, and you got a nice breakfast, so dinner was just what it could be any regular day.

the night was ended with cuddles to sleep! he's not one for physical intimacy, but sometimes, during times like these, it's nice.

chuuya nakahara

oh, what a lavish christmas you had.

the tree was piled with gifts. all for you. you insisted it was far too much, that what you'd bought him would never amount to this, but he waved it off, taking the gifts you got for him out of your hands and opening them with gratitude.

he made breakfast while you opened the rest of the gifts. a nice set of earrings, a new expensive handbag, you name it. you thanked him with a fat kiss on the lips before digging into breakfast.

it was a pretty chill day. he took you out for a very nice dinner later on, saying it was the "grand finale" to his gift giving. he was sure to order the most expensive red wine on the menu, letting you indulge in whatever you wanted (even though he never looks at the prices).

he ended it off by opening up a wine he treasured and sharing the bottle with you when you both got home. you were curled up on the couch under a fuzzy sherpa blanket, before eventually falling asleep on his shoulder.

nikolai gogol

an interesting christmas, to say the least...

he was so excited! he looked like a kid in a candy store, which made you laugh. he got you gifts that he absolutely knew you'd enjoy, making sure to compare them to things you tend to gravitate to and going from there.

he was also all the more grateful for what you got him, of course.

somehow, it was a more relaxing day. but he was extremely clingy.

when i say extremely, i mean extremely. if you needed to get up to grab something from the kitchen, or you were hungry, or whatever it may have been, he wouldn't let go of your waist, slowly walking with you to wherever it may be you needed to go (besides the bathroom. but he'd still put up a fuss about you leaving him in the "freezing cold").

it kinda stayed like that the whole day. you eventually had dinner, and that felt like the only separation you had from him (which, in the nicest way possible, felt like a breath of fresh air. but you could never be tired of him, right?)

you ended the night with a warm bath, sitting in his lap as he gently washed your hair. gentle was a huge contrast to who he is and what he'd usually do, but it's nice for a change every so often.

kinich

honestly, it felt like a regular day to kinich. he never really got a true christmas when he was younger, so he never viewed it as something he needed to celebrate.

that was until you came along.

all you both wanted to do was sleep in, but there's no way in teyvat ajaw was going to let you. he woke kinich first (because your his favorite human, and he's just there to annoy kinich) and demanded that kinich wake you up.

the day started with gift exchanging, as it usually goes during christmas. you gave your gifts to kinich and ajaw, and ajaw and kinich gave theirs to you. ajaw was seemingly very satisfied with the tiny little green scarf you knitted him.

you made a light breakfast before going into the inner city of natlan and joining in on the small christmas festival that was going on. you met up with mualani and kachina, and ajaw showed off his brand new scarf (a good way to keep him occupied from being a total bitch. you and kinich were very proud when mualani asked you what you changed).

it was like that up until dinner, where you stopped at a small little restraunt on the way home. kinich put ajaw in timeout, so you could have this moment together. the walk home was even more peaceful, and after getting home, it was straight to bed.

wriothesley

if i'm being honest, he probably forgot it was christmas...

he had gifts ready, but being down in the fortress almost every day screws up the sense of time, it seems. that was until you hurried up the stairs to his office, a few boxes in hand. he took the ones he had for you out from under his desk, and you opened the gifts while chatting over tea.

sigewinne came by to wish a merry christmas and handed you two little cards before heading back to work. they were the same cards, just different little messages on the inside (sigewinne is so sweet i love her so much i just had to include her...)

you both went up to the surface and took a walk around fontaine before heading off to have an early dinner. lyney and lynette were having a little christmas special magic show, so you bought tickets, and would see the show after dinner.

dinner was pleasant, and so was the walk to the opera epicles. you both found your seats and intently watched the show, performed by the one and only, lyney and lynette.

after the show was over, it was about time to head home. he normally would have stopped by the fortress once more, but chose not to because he just needed to have the rest of the night with you. there wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and though it was a little chilly, the night ended with a little bit of stargazing.

lyney

he's so excited!! christmas is his favorite holiday, mostly for the fact that it brings all of his family and friends together.

he couldn't wait for today, specifically because he put his blood sweat and tears in finding you the perfect gift. when i say perfect, i mean something that you've mentioned a bunch, while also resembling him in a way.

and when he saw your face after you opened it, full of shock and gratitude, he almost died of a heart attack.

you spent the day with him, lynette, and freminet. you and freminet were making the food for dinner while lyney and lynette were performing little magic gigs in the inner city. it gave you some time to bond with freminet, and he turned out to be quite the help in the kitchen!!

dinner between you four was very pleasant. there was idle chatter, along with some nice jazz music in the background. the food was all devoured with only a few leftovers, which you decided you'd reheat them for lunch tomorrow.

lynette and freminet went back home, leaving you and lyney to yourselves. you cuddled the night away, eventually falling asleep in each others arms.

kamisato ayato

the morning started by sleeping in. he really enjoyed that he was able to allow himself that joy for at least one day.

he didn't go crazy on gifts, just got a couple little things that may be small, but are very luxurious. bracelets, maybe a nice necklace, a hand-made kimono by the one and only chiori (although you wonder how he made that happen).

you both decided to have a slow morning. a little breakfast, then getting ready for the day. you both went into town, simply taking a little walk in order to pass time.

ah, but dinner was very luxurious. you had it with ayaka and thoma. the chefs had worked multiple hours, just for a bunch of food that may not even be eaten... but that's okay. there were so many options, and once you took your pick you sat down next to ayaka.

after dinner was over, you fell asleep almost instantly. you quite literally handed in your empty dish, bid ayaka and thoma a goodnight, and headed to shower. once you got out, you found ayato lying on his side. the night ended when you curled into his chest, shutting your eyes.

kaedehara kazuha

he started your day by waking you up with breakfast in bed, and a fresh cup of tea to go with it. after you finished eating, you both grabbed the presents you had for one another and exchanged gifts. he didn't splurge, he got you something that would be meaningful to you for the rest of your life. he's not one to attempt to buy your love.

you took a long walk. it was very refreshing - the harbor was bustling, and the breeze was cool and crisp, perfect sweater weather in your opinion. you took a break on a cliff, watching the waves, and eventually watching the first part of the sunset before walking back home.

dinner wasn't very big, making smaller portions that you both knew you could eat and going from there. he surprised you with a bottle of nice wine, and you drank that with the steak that was also served.

while cleaning the kitchen, there was christmas music playing in the background, and you both were dancing along a little bit. eventually, a song you both enjoyed came on, and you dropped everything and started to slow dance.

slow dancing ended up laying on top of one another on the couch, your head on his chest. and eventually, you closed your eyes. another successful christmas, you think to yourself.

boothill

this could go two ways. he could absolutely forget the holiday even existed and goes about it on a normal day, or he'd be super excited about it.

if it goes the first way, you'd just continue your day as if it was any normal day. you'd give him a small little gift though, and he'd immediately feel bad because he forgot. please reassure him that the gift isn't the thing that matters the most to you.

he'd take you out to a nice dinner, though. penaconys fanciest restraunt. he thinks it's the least he can do to make up for him being forgetful, and it worked. you completely forgot about the fact that he forgot the gift, and he eventually made it up to you by finding something really worth it and bringing it back to you.

if it went the second way, he'd probably wake you up pretty early to show you your present. you'd be scrambling to grab his and he'd be right up your ass until you saw everything he gave you (who can blame him? he's proud of himself).

he wants to spend all day with you. he also made sure to establish a while ago that there must be a tree. to really get into christmas spirit! you'd make a fire and watch some movies before he has you come with him to a nice dinner.

it's not the nicest place in penacony, but the food is certainly amazing. you chatter over your food, catching up with one another since he had just arrived from a pretty long mission.

the night ends with cuddles, cuddles, and even more cuddles! he hasn't seen you in a while, he's obviously gonna want to be all over you for the time he has with you. he falls asleep immediately, which leads you to slumber, as well.