#fancy another slice?

[pippin-katz]

Official Sequel Announcement!

And Casey said they will be writing it with Matthew, together!! I cannot tell you how excited I am for this!

Without a second book, I was worried about the idea of Matthew making up his own thing because as wonderful of a job he did with this, he did not create Alex and Henry. Casey knows them and their lives because they are their creation, so anything that occurs in the movie will be completely authentic to Alex and Henry even without a second book to base it off of. That means so much to me in ways I can't put into words.

I have so many more thoughts and feelings but it's past midnight here and I'm trembling too much to type, so I'll write more about this tomorrow!

[hannahaki13]

I do fancy another slice actually!!!

Ugh I'm never shutting up about this

[elliss-stuff]

Another one. Pure foundness

For me they could literally be a secret married couple as we read in some fanfiction.

I' M NOT ONE WHO BELIVE THAT. I KNOW THEY ARE NOT A REAL COUPLE AND I DO NOT CARE ABOUT IT.

But they care eachother, they are ok when they are together. Nicholas is so ok and confident and giggling when he is with Taylor.

And Taylor is always ready for a joke but he is caring a lot about Nicholas. And he loves this project sooooo much.

So I'm so happy today about the sequel and about what they are together. And also so happy to be here and celebrate with the Rwrb family. Cheers

❤️🤍💙

[issues4him]

★ — cop!rafe making his dumb girl feel smart after his buddies made fun of her !!

cw: : smut, eighteen plus content, unprotected sex, semi-public, heavy heavy praise, cussing, aftercare

cop!rafe x dumb!reader

you were so excited for this. you’d been talking about it for weeks—“omg, rafey, a fancy dinner? with cops? like, real ones?”—while spinning around your bedroom in three different mini dresses that were all technically inappropriate for a formal event, but rafe didn’t have the heart to stop you. he just sat on your bed, arms crossed over his chest, watching you twirl like a proud, tired boyfriend, biting the inside of his cheek when you landed on the satin pink one that barely reached mid-thigh.

now here you were. strutting into a fully catered police banquet with your hand wrapped tightly around rafe’s arm, hair curled to perfection, sparkly heels clicking with every step. you looked like a barbie doll in a room full of navy blue uniforms and neutral-colored cocktail dresses—and you loved it. you beamed up at your man the whole time, practically bouncing as he led you to the table reserved for officers being honored. the room was full of polished silverware, white tablecloths, and tight smiles. everyone looked… serious. clean. reserved. but you were a little slice of chaos wrapped in pink satin and lip gloss.

“babe,” you whispered excitedly, leaning into his arm as you sat beside him, “i think this bread is, like, free.” you tore a piece off and popped it in your mouth. “that’s, like, so nice of them.” rafe didn’t say anything. just reached under the table to rest a hand on your thigh, giving it a slow squeeze. you smiled at him like he hung the moon, completely oblivious to the looks you were getting from the other end of the table.

one of the wives leaned toward another, whispering something behind her glass of red wine. the two of them giggled, then not-so-subtly looked at your bow-covered purse and bedazzled nails. you didn’t notice. you were too busy trying to figure out if the guy across from you was a sheriff or “like, just a mall cop.”

“wait,” you leaned into rafe again, lowering your voice but still loud enough for the table to hear, “are firefighters invited to this too? or is it, like, just real cops?”

the table went awkwardly quiet. a few people chuckled—but not in a nice way. rafe didn’t laugh. he just reached for his water, jaw tightening, eyes narrowing as they passed over the people across from him. you blinked, confused, and reached for another piece of bread. “this is like, super fancy applebee’s. i love it.”

one of the men scoffed, “don’t,” rafe muttered under his breath, squeezing your thigh harder.

you looked up at him, pouting slightly. “did i say something bad?”

he turned to you, expression unreadable, “no, baby. you’re perfect.” and then he stood, “come with me.”

you blinked. “where’re we—?”

“now.”

you took his hand, confused but obedient, heels clicking against the marble floor as he pulled you away from the table. you kept glancing over your shoulder, giving the others a cute little wave, still not understanding why they weren’t smiling back. he led you down a quiet hallway, past the catering staff, past the restrooms—until he found a private door with no name on it.

the second the lock clicked behind him, rafe had you pinned to the wall. your gasp barely had time to echo before his mouth was on yours—hot, demanding, needy. his hands were everywhere at once, one gripping your thigh and hauling your leg up around his waist, the other wrapped around the back of your neck like he couldn’t stand being even an inch away from you. you whimpered into the kiss, breath already shaky from the sudden shift, your gloss smearing between you.

“rafe?” you giggled, a little breathless. “what’re you doing? we’re gonna get caught…”

“good,” he growled, hand already sliding under your dress, fingers curling around your ass. “let those assholes hear how much you fucking belong to me.”

your heart fluttered at the possessiveness in his voice, your core already aching from the way his hips ground into yours, slow and deliberate. you could feel his erection through his uniform pants, pressing right between your legs. you blinked up at him, eyes wide and dazed. “wait… are you mad?” he didn’t answer with words—just grabbed your waist and spun you toward the desk behind you, bending you over the edge with one firm shove. the satin of your dress rode up instantly, bunching around your hips as you gasped, palms flat on the cool surface. “rafe—!”

“be quiet,” he snapped, already unbuckling his belt, the sound sharp and fast and filthy. “you don’t even know, do you?”

you peeked over your shoulder, lashes fluttering. “know what?”

“why they were laughing at you.”

you blinked, confused. “who was?”

he stepped up behind you, dragging your baby blue thong down with one hard tug and letting it fall around your ankles. his voice dropped, dangerously low, “they were making fun of you.”

you froze for half a second—then softened again, relaxing back into the desk with a pout, “ohhh. why?! what’d i do?!”

rafe clenched his jaw, running his hand up your spine until it wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you gently back down against the wood, “you didn’t even notice,” he muttered, pulling himself free and lining up behind you. “too busy bein’ such a sweetheart. all you wanna do is be good for me, yeah?”

you nodded, face flushed against the desk. “uh-huh…”

out of your line of sight, rafe nodded in agreement before slipping his red tip into your soaked pussy. he bottomed out, pulling you flush against him before gripping your ass cheeks and snapping his hips back and forth. you moaned—loud, needy, your hips instantly rocking back into him like your body had been waiting for this.

“oh my gosh,” you gasped. “you feel so good… rafe, i—fuckk, i think i saw stars for a second—”

“you don’t have to think, baby,” he growled, thrusting hard enough to make the desk creak under you. “i’ll do it for you.” you whimpered, back arching. his grip on your waist was bruising now, pulling you back into each thrust like he wanted to bury himself inside you forever. “they don’t get to talk about you,” he muttered, bending over you, hips slamming into yours with every word. “they don’t get to laugh. don’t even get to fuckin’ look.” your lip gloss was smearing against the desk, your moans turning to helpless little whines. “only i do,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear. “only i get to see you like this. bent over, fuckin’ soakin’ wet—taking me so damn good.”

you nodded, gasping, legs shaking. “y-yeah—only you, only you—”

“that’s right.” his voice dropped to a low murmur, suddenly softer, breath hot against your neck. “you’re so good for me, baby. so sweet. so fucking smart.” you choked on a breath, crying into the desk, “my perfect girl,” he whispered, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder as he rutted into you. “i love you so much.”

your whole body jolted from how deep he was, how slow he moved now—not rough anymore, not punishing—just claiming. deep, grinding thrusts that made your legs shake and your breath hitch with every roll of his hips. his mouth stayed on your skin, trailing slow, open kisses along your shoulder and neck like he couldn’t stop worshipping you even if he tried. “you feel so good, baby,” he breathed, voice shaking with it. “taking me so perfect. you’re always so perfect.” you whimpered, barely able to form words, your head spinning. your lip was caught between your teeth, eyes glossy, mouth parted as you gasped softly every time he pushed back inside.

“i’m not even mad anymore,” he murmured, one hand sliding down the curve of your stomach as his chest pressed flush to your back. “they’re just fuckin’ jealous. so jealous i get to come home to the sweetest, prettiest, smartest little thing they’ve ever seen.”

you let out a broken little moan, blinking back tears as your hips twitched against his, “i’m not smart, rafey,” you mumbled, dazed.

he grabbed your face gently from behind, fingers curled along your jaw as he turned your head to kiss your cheek. “don’t say that.” his voice was soft—but serious. serious in that way that made your chest flutter, “you’re smart where it counts. you know how to love me. how to make me feel like a man. that’s more than any of them could ever do.” you gasped at another slow thrust, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. he followed your reaction with another kiss to your temple, his hand still gently cupping your jaw, “you know how to make me proud.”

you let out a little hiccup, overwhelmed—eyes fluttering shut as your body clenched down around him. he groaned at the feeling. “that’s it, sweetheart. you feel that?” another thrust—deep. “that’s how good you are for me. you’re my perfect girl.” you were unraveling under him, his uniform brushing against your skin, his hand still holding your face as he slowed even more—grinding into you like he was trying to melt into your body, “say it,” he whispered against your ear. “say you’re my perfect girl.”

you sobbed out a soft, whiny, “i’m your perfect girl…” and he melted.

“yeah, you are.” another kiss. a soft groan. his hand slid down to your stomach again, holding you tight while his hips moved with a lazy, desperate rhythm. “my good girl. my smart girl. my fuckin’ baby.” you were trembling now—every part of you raw and worshipped and full. and when you came for him, gasping his name like it was the only thing you remembered, rafe followed right after, pressing his chest to your back and whispering “i’ve got you, baby. i’ve always got you.”

you were still shaking, forehead resting against the desk, soft little whimpers leaving your lips every time your body twitched from aftershocks. your skin was flushed, your legs barely holding you up, and your lip gloss was completely gone. rafe stayed close. one hand still wrapped loosely around your waist, the other trailing down your back—soft, soothing. like he was petting you. like he couldn’t stop touching you even now. “you okay, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing the back of your neck.

you nodded weakly, blinking back the dizzy tears in your lashes. “mhm…”

rafe smiled—soft and real. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the spot between your shoulder blades, then carefully reached for your hips and helped ease you upright. you stumbled a little and caught yourself on his chest. “whoa—hey, i got you.” his arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close as he helped you sit on the edge of the desk. “just breathe, pretty girl. we’re good. you’re okay.”

you blinked up at him, mascara smudged, eyes glossy, lips kiss-bitten and pouty. you looked wrecked—and he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “my legs feel like jell-o…” you mumbled, voice all soft and floaty.

he huffed a little laugh and kissed your forehead. “yeah? that’s ‘cause you took me like a damn champ, baby.”

his hand slid between your thighs, gentle this time, and he cleaned you up with one of the tissues he always kept in his pocket for exactly this kind of chaos. you whined at the sensitivity, and he shushed you sweetly, brushing his nose against your cheek, “you did so good, baby. so, so good for me. i’m so proud of you.”

you smiled dreamily, playing with the collar of his uniform while he adjusted your panties back into place and smoothed your dress down over your thighs. he straightened your straps, fixed your necklace, and wiped the corners of your mouth with the gentlest touch. “do i look pretty still?” you whispered, eyes wide and hopeful.

he tilted your chin up and gave you the softest kiss—slow and loving, the kind that made your heart feel full. “you look beautiful.” he kissed your cheek. “like an angel.” another kiss. “like the smartest, prettiest little thing in this whole damn building.”

you giggled. “even with mascara under my eyes?”

“especially with mascara under your eyes.”

you giggled again, wrapping your arms around his waist like he hadn’t just destroyed your body over a desk. he held you there, big hands sliding down to your hips—then squeezing your ass without warning.

“rafe!” you squealed, although showing to attempt at stopping him.

he smirked, kissing your pout away. “sorry, couldn’t help it. still mine.”

“always yours,” you whispered, hiding your smile in his chest.

he hugged you tighter. “damn right.”

pink bow divider : @bernardsbendystraws  <3

a/n: thank you anon for telling me your dream about cop!rafe hehe

[kashverse]

gojo’s sweet tooth is a menace. you learned that early on when he asked for “a bit” of sugar in his coffee and ended up turning it into something closer to a dessert syrup. so, of course, when you bake a pear and berry pie—already sweet enough, mind you—he sneaks in extra sweetener when he thinks you aren’t looking. he’s not very subtle about it. the first time, you almost missed it, but then you saw his telltale smug grin, a bit too pleased with himself as he “innocently” leaned against the counter.

"toru," you deadpan, arms crossed.

"what? i’m just appreciating your hard work," he says, licking a stray bit of filling off his finger like he's in a commercial.

"you’re ruining my pie."

"nah, i’m improving your pie," he corrects, already reaching for another spoonful.

nanami, on the other hand, is far less chaotic. he keeps things simple—apple pie, nothing fancy. no extra fillings, no surprise ingredients, just a good ol’ classic that never lets him down. it’s his go-to for the weekends, whether he makes it himself (precisely measured, no shortcuts) or picks one up from the bakery he trusts more than some of his coworkers. sometimes, you’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in the middle of rolling out dough with the same focus he has when reading financial reports. if you joke about him being a househusband, he’ll sigh, wipe his hands on a towel, and say, "do you want pie or not?"

toji doesn’t bake. he doesn’t have time, patience, or, honestly, the self-control to wait for something to cool down before eating it. but after a long day, when you casually hand him a slice of pumpkin pie, he takes it without a word. he’s not big on admitting things, so he just eats it, nodding once in approval, like that’s the most gratitude you’re going to get. but the real giveaway is how he never turns it down. ever. even if he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

geto loves pecan pie. no debate. no discussion. no hesitation. the man would probably start a war over it if necessary. you once offered him a slice of something else, and he gave you such a disappointed look that you almost felt guilty.

"you’re really this attached to pecan pie?" you asked, watching as he took slow, deliberate bites like he was savoring each one.

"it’s a masterpiece," he said, as if that explained everything.

choso is all about cherry pie, mostly because he likes the tint it leaves behind. after eating it, he’ll glance in the mirror and smile a little at the way his lips look stained, like a kid who got into something he shouldn’t have. sometimes, he’ll grin at you with his mouth still full just to make you roll your eyes.

"cho, you look like you just drank blood."

"cool, right?"

and then there’s sukuna. you have to physically stop him from turning a normal, innocent chicken pie into something… horrific.

"you can’t put human meat in it."

"why not?"

"it’s a chicken pie."

"so?"

you glare at him. he stares back, unbothered.

"suku, if i turn around and find out you’ve replaced the filling, i swear to god—"

he smirks. "you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"i would. you know why? because i would throw up."

he just laughs, because, really, who needs horror movies when you live with him?

[mcrdvcks]

I Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You're a hacker for The Organization, a secret group that is currently working on dismantling a mutant trafficking ring. You've been working with Logan for months but neither of you have met each other in person and he doesn't even know your real name.

Word Count: 14.7k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: this is something i've wanted to do for a while- playing with the idea that logan can totally fall in love with someone just through their voice (and vice versa). i hope y'all enjoy it!

warnings/tags: reader has a code name, pet name (darling), light violence, mentions of (mutant) trafficking, some uses of y/n

“Bet you look good in that suit.” You say, tapping on your keyboard, hacking into the security cameras of the seedy casino where the deal was taking place.

Logan huffed, covertly adjusting the small earpiece as he blended in with the crowd of the dimly lit casino. His tuxedo felt too tight, but then again, it wasn’t like he was made for fancy suits and shiny shoes.

“Don’t go gettin’ all sentimental, Phantom. This thing barely fits,” he muttered, keeping his voice low and steady. He glanced around, taking in the sight of gamblers, dealers, and a few shifty-looking men gathered near a corner. Probably the ones he was here for.

“Must be hard to hide all those muscles,” you teased through the comm, your voice a steady whisper in his ear. “But I’ll try not to distract you, just this once.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he slipped past a group of laughing tourists. He scanned the room, zeroing in on his target: a short, balding man with an expensive suit and a smug look on his face. Logan’s senses sharpened. He could practically smell the guy’s nervous sweat. This had to be one of the trafficking ring’s major players.

“Any idea where they’re at?” he asked, his tone shifting from playful to serious in an instant.

“Second floor. Private poker room,” you said, enlarging one of the camera feeds to get a better view. “Security’s tighter up there. You’ll need a distraction if you wanna get past those guards.”

Logan glanced at the stairway leading up. Two burly men stood in front, arms crossed, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. “Can’t just slice my way through ‘em,” he grumbled. “What’ve you got for me, Phantom?”

“Patience,” you teased. “Trust me, I’m working on it.” You typed a few more commands, initiating a loop in the security feed of the second-floor hallway. “You’ve got a 30-second window. Move now.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped through the casino floor, dodging between slot machines and card tables until he reached the base of the stairwell. The guards barely glanced his way as he strolled past, looking for all the world like another high-roller with a chip on his shoulder.

“Almost too easy,” he muttered under his breath, taking the steps two at a time.

“I make it look easy,” you corrected, monitoring the shifting feeds as Logan made his way to the second floor. “Just keep moving. The loop’ll hold, but not for long.”

Logan reached the hallway, his eyes narrowing at the closed door leading to the poker room. He slowed his pace, ears straining to pick up any sounds on the other side. “Tell me you’ve got eyes in there.”

“Not yet, working on it,” you said. “This system’s layered, gonna take a sec.”

Logan let out a quiet growl. “Great. No pressure or anything.”

“Hey, if you’re in such a hurry, I could always—”

“Don’t,” he cut in. “Just—stay on it.” He pressed his back to the wall, inching closer to the door, waiting for your go.

There was a pause, and then, “Got it.” Your voice softened, like you were focusing extra hard. “Four guys in there. Three playing cards, one pacing by the window.”

“Let me guess,” Logan grunted. “The bald one’s pacing.”

“Bingo.”

Logan’s fingers flexed, the subtle urge to unsheathe his claws growing. But this was a delicate operation. No bloodshed if it could be helped.

“You’ve got any ideas how to get me in without turnin’ this into a brawl?” he asked, half-expecting you to come up with something clever.

“I’ve got a couple,” you replied, a smile evident in your tone. “But you won’t like them.”

Logan sighed. “Why do I feel like you’re about to mess with me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said sweetly, then paused. “Okay, maybe a little. There’s a closet down the hall to your left. Go there.”

He frowned but did as you instructed, slipping into the darkened space, filled with cleaning supplies and boxes. “Now what?”

“Well, I could trigger a fire alarm, but that’s a little loud and obvious. Or, and hear me out, I could disrupt the air conditioning. Make it so hot in there they’ll be begging for an excuse to step outside.”

Logan chuckled under his breath. “That’s your big plan? Make ‘em sweat?”

“Worked on you, didn’t it?” you teased.

“Funny.” He shook his head, glancing at the vent above him. “Think they’ll all leave?”

“Probably not all at once, but it should get the ball rolling. Just be ready. I’ll handle the rest.” Your fingers flew over the keys again, tapping into the building’s climate control system.

After a moment, you heard Logan’s quiet grunt. “Feels like it’s workin’ already.”

“Yeah, I see the temp rising in their room.” You pulled up the camera feed again, watching as one of the guys at the table tugged at his collar, then another wiped at his brow.

“Ten bucks says Mr. Baldy cracks first,” you said, amused.

Logan smirked. “You’re on.”

Not even a minute passed before the bald man swore, yanked off his suit jacket, and threw it on the back of his chair. “I’m stepping out for some air,” you heard him mutter to the others.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the door, his body tense. “Here we go.”

As the door opened, Logan moved fast. He grabbed the guy, pulling him into the closet before he could make a sound. With a quick, non-lethal chokehold, the guy slumped to the ground unconscious. Logan checked his pulse—alive. Good.

“Nice work,” you whispered in his ear. “Bet he’s not going to wake up happy.”

Logan crouched down, frisking the guy’s pockets. “Let’s hope he’s got something useful on him,” he muttered.

“He’s got a keycard,” you said, watching the screen as Logan pulled out the small plastic card. “That should get you into the back office.”

Logan glanced down at the unconscious man. “You were right. I didn’t like your plan.”

You laughed softly through the comms. “You’ll get over it. Now go, before they notice their friend’s gone.”

Logan straightened up, giving the unconscious man one last look before slipping out of the closet. “You better have a plan for what’s next, Phantom.”

“I always do,” you said, smirking as you pulled up the building’s blueprints. “Just follow my lead. Take the hall to your right. There’s an access door near the end. It’ll get you closer to the office.”

Logan moved quickly, the soft thud of his footsteps barely audible. “You sure about this? That door doesn’t look like it’s meant for guests.”

“I’m sure,” you replied confidently. “It’s an employee access. You’ve got the keycard, remember?”

He grunted in response, holding the card up to the reader. The door unlocked with a faint beep. “You really do make this look easy.”

“I try,” you said, voice laced with amusement. “Now, once you’re inside, there’s a small hallway. You’ll want to hang a left, then a quick right. The office is at the end.”

Logan opened the door, slipping into the narrow hallway. “What’s the deal with this office? Anything I should know?”

“Could be where they’re stashing data on the trafficking network. Either that or it's where they’re counting money.” You were typing again, eyes scanning multiple camera feeds. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“Good feelin’, huh?” Logan muttered, carefully making his way through the corridor. “Hope that feelin’ is worth something.”

“It always is,” you shot back playfully. “You’ve got about a minute before someone notices the guy you knocked out is missin’. So… chop, chop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan growled, reaching the door to the office. “And you said I was the impatient one.”

Before you could respond, he swiped the keycard again and pushed the door open. Inside, the room was dimly lit, filled with filing cabinets, a desk cluttered with paperwork, and a few old-looking computers. Logan’s nose twitched at the faint scent of stale cigarettes and cologne.

“Jackpot,” you whispered in his ear, pulling up the feed of the room. “There should be a terminal near the desk. Get me plugged in, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Logan looked over at the outdated equipment and scowled. “This stuff’s ancient. Hope you can work with it, Phantom.”

“Please, I’ve hacked worse,” you said, brushing off the concern. “Just get me connected.”

Logan knelt down, finding a small port on the side of the computer and pulling out a cable from his gear. As soon as he plugged it in, your fingers danced across the keyboard, breaking through layers of security.

“There we go,” you murmured. “This’ll take a second. How are things on your end?”

Logan stood back up, glancing around the room. “Quiet. For now.”

“Good, because I’ve got eyes on another guy heading your way,” you warned. “He’s probably checking in on his boss. You might wanna handle him before he stumbles on Baldy.”

Logan’s fists clenched. “Great. Any more good news?”

“Depends. You want the good news or the bad news first?” you asked lightly, your tone casual despite the urgency of the situation.

“Just spit it out.”

“Good news? I’m almost done here. Bad news? You’ve got about thirty seconds before that guy reaches you.”

Logan let out a low growl. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” you said thoughtfully, “you could go for subtle and knock him out—again. Or you could do the Logan thing and scare the crap out of him.”

Logan smirked. “And here I thought you were gonna say ‘no bloodshed.’”

“I’m flexible,” you teased. “Your call.”

Logan moved toward the door, listening carefully. The approaching footsteps were getting closer. “I’ll try subtle,” he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, “for you.”

“Aw, how sweet,” you quipped. “I’ll be sure to remember this moment.”

He cracked the door open just as the guy turned the corner. Logan grabbed him by the collar, yanking him into the room before he could shout. A quick punch to the gut, and the guy doubled over, gasping for air. Logan pressed him against the wall, one hand firmly over his mouth.

“Stay quiet, and I won’t hurt you,” Logan growled, his tone low and threatening.

The guy’s eyes widened, and he gave a shaky nod. Logan let him go, and he slumped to the floor, half-conscious.

“Nice work,” you praised, your voice a soft murmur in his ear. “You’ve still got it.”

“Didn’t lose it,” Logan muttered, stepping over the guy and returning to the desk. “You done yet?”

“Just about,” you said. “And… there. I’ve got everything. You’re good to go.”

Logan disconnected the cable, glancing around the room once more. “And you’re sure this’ll help us track the ring?”

“Positive,” you replied confidently. “Now, get out of there before someone else shows up.”

Logan took one last look at the unconscious man on the floor. “You got a clear path for me?”

“Always,” you said, your fingers flying over the keys again. “Head back the way you came. I’ll loop the cameras again. And don’t worry, I’ll keep them busy downstairs.”

Logan smirked as he stepped back into the hallway. “Sometimes I forget how useful you are.”

“Only sometimes?” you teased.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t push your luck, Phantom.”

You smiled to yourself, watching the feeds as Logan made his way through the building. “Whatever you say, Logan. You owe me one.”

“Add it to the list,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Believe me, I am.” You took a bite of your cake, an orange cardamom one you made the other day.

“The hell are you doin’?” Logan asked.

You shrugged, “I’m eatin’. Thought now was a better time than ever. Let’s my fingers have a break. Got a problem, Wolf?” you ask, taking another bite of your cake, your tone teasing through the comm.

Logan’s voice grumbled in your ear, low and irritated. "We're in the middle of a mission, and you’re havin’ dessert?"

"Hey, a girl’s gotta eat," you reply casually, wiping a few crumbs off your keyboard. "I’ve earned it. You’re lucky I’m not eating popcorn with the way this operation’s going. Besides, I’m the one doing the hard work behind the scenes, remember?"

"You’re sittin’ in front of a computer, Phantom," Logan shot back, though you could hear the faintest trace of a smirk in his voice. "Not exactly the front lines."

"Exactly. Where would you be without me?" you retort, savoring another bite of cake. "I’m the reason you’re not punching your way through the entire casino right now."

Logan stayed quiet for a beat. You could imagine him clenching his jaw, trying to decide whether to argue or just let you have your moment. "You done?"

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair. "For now. You make it out of there yet?"

"Almost," Logan muttered, his voice low as he moved through the hall. "Place is still crawling with these scumbags. Any chance you can keep ‘em distracted?"

"Already ahead of you," you said, your fingers flying over the keyboard again. "Looping the feeds, and I’ve got a little surprise coming for the main floor. Keep your eyes open."

Logan grunted in response, his boots making soft thuds as he crept through the back corridors. "Surprise, huh? What kind of surprise?"

"You’ll see," you said cryptically, unable to hide the amusement in your tone.

There was a pause before Logan spoke again, quieter this time. "You always this chatty during missions?"

You tilted your head, curious. "Depends on who I’m working with. Some people are all business, no fun. Others… well, they don’t mind a little conversation. Keeps things from getting too tense."

"Huh," Logan responded, noncommittal. But then, after another beat, he added, "Guess it ain’t so bad."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Was that a compliment? Did Wolverine just say something nice?"

"Don’t push it, Phantom," Logan growled, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

You grinned to yourself, pleased that you’d gotten under his skin a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop before you start getting sentimental on me."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then muttered, "Not much chance of that."

Before you could reply, you heard footsteps in the feed, heading in Logan’s direction. Your tone shifted, all business now. "Logan, hold up. Someone’s coming your way, about twenty feet ahead."

"Great," he grumbled, already moving to the side, pressing himself into the shadows.

You watched the camera feed, tracking the figure’s movement. "Wait… looks like it’s just one guy. Should be easy to handle."

Logan’s low growl rumbled through the comm. "Easy for you to say."

You rolled your eyes, but your focus stayed on the screen. "You’re Wolverine. You’ll be fine. Just make sure he doesn’t see you."

A few seconds passed, and then you heard a soft thud. Logan’s voice came back through the comm, sounding slightly breathless. "Handled."

"See? Told you. Easy," you said smugly.

Logan didn’t respond right away, probably too busy moving again. You kept your eyes on the security feeds, tracking his progress. Finally, you heard his voice, a little softer this time. "Thanks."

Your fingers paused over the keys. "For what?"

"For not gettin’ in the way," he said, almost gruffly, but you could tell he meant it.

You smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "Anytime, Wolf."

There was a brief silence, and then Logan cleared his throat. "So, you gonna tell me what this surprise is, or you just keepin’ me in the dark?"

You leaned forward, grinning. "Oh, right. Almost forgot. Check the main floor in about… five seconds."

Logan didn’t say anything, but you imagined him looking around suspiciously. Then, just as you’d planned, the lights in the main casino flickered before the fire alarms started blaring. You heard Logan’s quiet chuckle through the comm.

"That your idea of subtle?"

"I prefer ‘effective,’" you said, watching as the casino patrons started panicking, scrambling for the exits. "Should give you the distraction you need to get out clean."

Logan let out a low laugh. "I’ll give you that, Phantom. You make one hell of a distraction."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased, though you couldn’t help the slight flush creeping up your neck. "Now hurry up and get out of there before someone starts putting two and two together."

"On it," Logan muttered, the sound of the alarm still faint in the background as he made his way out. "I’m guessin’ you already got us an exit plan?"

You leaned back in your chair, tapping your fingers against the desk. "I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that. Side door, west end of the building. You’ve got about three minutes before the cops show up."

Logan moved swiftly, his footsteps barely audible now. "You really are somethin’ else, y’know that?"

You smirked. "I’ve heard that once or twice."

As Logan slipped through the side door, you watched him disappear from the building’s cameras, your job mostly done. “You’re clear. Ricky wants you to meet him tomorrow morning, 8 sharp for a debrief.”

Logan let out a short grunt. “Ricky, huh? Great. I’ll bring donuts.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “You could at least try to pretend you’re not completely over these meetings.”

Logan’s voice crackled through the comm, rough but with a hint of humor. “I’m over a lotta things, Phantom. Meetin’s just one of ‘em.”

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your arms. “Well, don’t be late. You know how Ricky gets when he’s kept waitin’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered. There was a pause, and then, “What about you? You gonna be there?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. “You think I just show up to these things? I’m the behind-the-scenes tech genius, remember? My job’s done.”

Logan huffed. “Yeah, well… guess I figured after all this time, I’d finally meet the mystery hacker.”

There was something in his voice—something almost like curiosity—but you brushed it off with a light laugh. “Aw, are you saying you miss me already, Wolf?”

“Don’t push it,” Logan shot back, though there was a playful edge to his words. “Just seems weird, is all. Workin’ together this long and never even met you face-to-face.”

You paused for a moment, considering his words. It was weird. You’d been guiding Logan through missions for months now, your voices constantly in each other’s ears, but you had never been in the same room. A part of you liked it that way—it kept things professional, detached. Safer. But another part of you… well, maybe you were curious too.

“Maybe one day,” you said lightly, dodging the subject. “But for now, I think it’s better this way. Keeps the mystery alive, right?”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, real mysterious. You sittin’ there eatin’ cake while I’m out here doin’ the heavy liftin’.”

You smirked. “It’s called multitasking, Logan. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Before he could respond, a soft beep on your computer alerted you that the building’s security systems were coming back online. The loop you’d created was about to end.

“Looks like my window’s closing,” you said, typing a few last commands. “Everything’s going back to normal on their end. You’re officially off the radar.”

“Good. Was gettin’ sick of the place anyway,” Logan muttered. You could hear the sound of traffic now, indicating he was out on the street. “You sure you don’t wanna show up tomorrow?”

“Why?” you asked, amused. “So you can finally see if I really do eat cake during all your missions?”

Logan grumbled something under his breath. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Meeting him in person… it’d be a big step. The dynamics between you two would change. And honestly, you weren’t sure if that was a good idea. But at the same time, a part of you was curious about the man behind the gruff voice and dry humor.

“We’ll see,” you said, keeping your tone light. “But don’t hold your breath, Wolf.”

Logan was quiet for a second before he let out a low chuckle. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. See you around, Phantom.”

With that, the line went dead, and you leaned back in your chair, staring at the screen. You could still hear Logan’s voice in your head, and for a moment, you wondered what it’d be like to finally meet him. But then you shook the thought away, focusing back on your monitors.

It was safer this way. Easier. Less complicated.

But as you closed down your systems for the night, a small, nagging part of you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the chance to see the man behind the voice.

---

The next morning, you found yourself up earlier than usual, sipping coffee and thinking about Logan’s mission. You knew he was already at the debrief with Ricky, probably sitting there with that irritated look on his face. The thought made you smile.

You were in the middle of pulling up some new data on the trafficking ring when your phone buzzed with a message.

Logan: Missin’ you at this meeting. Ricky’s talkin’ my ear off.

You blinked at the screen, surprised. You weren’t expecting a text from Logan, let alone one like that. He wasn’t usually the type to check in.

You: I’m sure you’re handling it like a pro. Should I send donuts as a peace offering?

His reply came almost immediately.

Logan: Yeah, make it two dozen.

You snorted into your coffee, shaking your head.

You: I’ll see what I can do. How’d the debrief go?

There was a pause before Logan replied.

Logan: Fine. Got another mission lined up. They want you back on comms. Same setup.

Your fingers hesitated over the keys before you typed back.

You: Guess that means you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?

Logan: Could be worse.

You smiled to yourself, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. It was a small thing, but the fact that Logan had reached out to you, even if it was just to complain about a meeting, felt like progress.

You: Just let me know when you’re ready for another round, Wolf. I’ll be there.

Logan: Yeah, I know you will.

You stared at the screen for a second longer, feeling something stir in the pit of your stomach. You shook it off, downed the rest of your coffee, and started pulling up the files for the next mission.

There was no time for distractions—not when the stakes were this high.

But still, a small part of you couldn’t help but look forward to hearing Logan’s voice in your ear again.

---

“Why don’t you tell me something ‘bout you?”

You raised an eyebrow at Logan’s question, momentarily pausing your typing before resuming. “I don’t know… don’t want a strange man knowin’ about me, do I?”

There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line. "Strange man, huh? Thought we were past that by now."

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “Well, I guess you’re not that strange, Wolf. But still. Not sure I’m ready to spill all my secrets.”

“I’m not askin’ for all your secrets. Just one.” His voice was rough, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it, like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you. Which was… unexpected.

You tapped your fingers against the keyboard, considering. “Alright. Something about me, huh? Let’s see… I used to hate coffee. Couldn’t stand the taste.”

Logan snorted. “That’s it? C’mon, Phantom, give me somethin’ better than that.”

“Hey, you didn’t specify what kind of fact,” you shot back, a grin creeping onto your face. “But fine, if you want something more interesting… I got kicked out of my computer science class once.”

There was a beat of silence. “You? Miss hacker extraordinaire? What the hell did you do?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you. “Maybe I hacked into the school’s system to change a grade or two. Not mine, though. A friend’s. The professor wasn’t too thrilled about it.”

Logan’s laugh came through the line, deeper this time. “Should’ve known you’d be trouble.”

You smiled, leaning forward again. “Well, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Seems like it,” he muttered, a hint of something in his voice that made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, steering the conversation back on track. “Alright, your turn. Tell me something about you.”

“Not much to tell.” Logan’s voice was gruff, almost dismissive, but you could hear the hesitation.

“Come on, fair’s fair,” you pressed. “You can’t ask me for something and not return the favor.”

He was silent for a moment, and you could almost picture him sitting there, deciding how much he wanted to give away. Logan was driving, he had finished another mission with you on the line like always. Except this time, it ended with a man tied up and unconscious in the trunk for Ricky.

Finally, he sighed. “Alright. You want something about me? I used to be a lumberjack.”

You blinked, thrown off by the admission. “A lumberjack? Like, chopping down trees and all that?”

“Yeah. Chopping down trees, clearing land. It was… quiet. Simple.”

You let that sink in, the image of Logan swinging an axe somehow fitting. “Sounds nice. Bet you looked right at home doing it.”

He huffed a short laugh. “Not sure anyone’s ever ‘at home’ doing that, but yeah, it wasn’t bad. Kept me grounded, I guess.”

There was something unspoken in his voice, something heavy. You knew enough by now to not push too hard, so instead, you kept it light. “So, from chopping trees to chasing bad guys and mutants. Quite the career change.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Logan’s tone shifted, and you could tell he was ready to move on. “Enough ‘bout me. What’s the status on those files? You find anything new?”

You glanced at your screen, where the data on the trafficking ring was slowly coming together. “A few new leads. Cross-referenced some names from the last mission, and there’s definitely a connection between the ring and a shipping company based in Miami. Could be our way in.”

“Good.” Logan’s voice was steady, all business again. “Send me the details when you’re done. Ricky’s gonna want to know.”

You nodded to yourself, already pulling up the files to forward to him. “You got it. And Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to let Ricky drive you too crazy. I’m not sending donuts again.”

Logan snorted. “No promises.”

---

Two days later, you were back at your desk, knee-deep in code, when the comms crackled to life.

“You ready, Phantom?”

You smiled to yourself, hearing Logan’s voice in your ear again. “Always. You good to go?”

“Locked and loaded,” he replied, the sound of a car door shutting in the background. “What’s the target this time?”

You tapped a few keys, bringing up the map. “Warehouse in Miami. Based on the intel we pulled, this is one of their main distribution points. High traffic, lots of movement at night.”

“Security?”

“Pretty tight, but nothing we can’t handle. I’ll be your eyes and ears. You just focus on getting in and out.”

“Like always.” There was a pause, then, “You ever been to Miami?”

You raised an eyebrow at the question. “Once or twice. Why?”

“Just curious. Thought maybe you’d have some recommendations on where to go after all this is over.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “What, planning a vacation already?”

“Maybe. Depends how fast we wrap this up.”

Shaking your head, you brought the focus back to the mission. “Alright, Wolf. Let’s get through this first, then we can talk about your beach plans.”

Logan chuckled, low and rough. “Deal.”

As you guided him through the back streets of Miami, tracking his every move on the security cameras, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of anticipation. Working with Logan had become second nature by now, and yet there was always this underlying tension, this unspoken connection between you two that made every mission just a little more intense.

“Left at the next alley,” you instructed, your eyes flicking between the camera feeds. “You’ll see a door around the corner. Should be unlocked.”

“Got it,” Logan replied, his voice steady. You could hear his footsteps echoing off the alley walls as he approached the warehouse.

“Any movement inside?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

You scanned the interior feeds. “Three guards on the ground floor, two patrolling the upper levels. They’re not on high alert, though. You should be able to slip past them.”

“Easy enough.”

You listened to the sound of him moving, the slight creak of a door opening, then the soft thud of his boots on concrete. You kept your focus on the screens, heart rate picking up as Logan made his way deeper into the building.

“There’s a stairwell to your left,” you whispered, though no one but Logan could hear you. “Take it up. The control room’s on the second floor.”

“On it.”

Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn’t.

“Shit,” Logan muttered, his voice tense. “Got company.”

Your eyes flew to the nearest camera, catching sight of two guards rounding the corner, guns drawn.

“Hang on,” you said quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “I’m looping the camera feed—there, they shouldn’t be able to see you now.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but you heard the scuffle over the line, the sound of fists meeting flesh, followed by a grunt of pain. You held your breath, watching the screens intently.

“Logan? You good?”

There was a beat of silence before his voice came through, breathless but unbothered. “Yeah. Just had to put a couple guys to sleep.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Phantom. I’ve got it under control.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and despite the tension, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, next time, maybe give me a little warning before you go all Rambo on me.”

“No promises,” Logan’s voice crackled through the comms, and you could practically hear the grin in his tone. There was a brief pause before he added, “You still with me, Phantom?”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. “Barely. I swear, you’ll be the death of me one of these days.”

His laugh came low and rough, and for a moment, you let yourself relax a little, the tension from earlier easing. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Yeah, well, I mean it,” you shot back, eyes scanning the multiple screens in front of you. The warehouse was sprawling, but you had a pretty good read on the layout by now. “You’re clear to move. No one else on this floor.”

“Got it.” You heard the soft thud of his boots again as he moved forward.

“So, what’s the next step?” Logan asked, keeping his voice low. “You got me runnin’ around this place, but you haven’t told me what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Patience, Wolf,” you teased, tapping a few more keys to bring up the rest of the building’s security system. “I’m working on it. There’s a secure server room on the north side of the building. That’s where they’re storing the data we need. You’re gonna have to bypass their security to get in.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Funny you mention cake,” you said, grinning to yourself as you tapped into the server’s firewall. “Because after this, I’m thinking you owe me some. Maybe even pie. You’re racking up quite the tab.”

Logan chuckled. “Yeah? We’ll see. First, let’s get through this alive.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

As you worked, your mind drifted for a second, the familiar rhythm of the job taking over. It was almost unsettling how natural it had become to guide Logan through these kinds of missions. You weren’t sure when you’d started looking forward to them—maybe it was the banter, maybe it was the trust you’d built. But either way, it had become a part of your routine.

“Server room’s on the right,” you said after a beat, focusing back on the task at hand. “Two guards outside, but they don’t seem too alert. Shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Logan’s voice was smooth as he replied, “Already ahead of you. On my way.”

You kept your eyes on the screen, watching as he moved through the shadows, blending in with the dark corners of the warehouse. It was impressive, really. The way he worked was so fluid, like he’d done this a thousand times before. And, well, he probably had.

“There’s an override switch on the wall next to the door,” you instructed. “Flip it, and you’ll have access.”

Logan grunted in response, and a moment later, you heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

“Inside,” he muttered. “Now what?”

You were about to respond when a sudden blip on your screen caught your attention. “Wait, hold up,” you said quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “We’ve got movement. Someone’s heading toward your location. Two guards, second floor.”

Logan’s voice was calm, even as he moved into action. “How long do I have?”

“Not long. They’re coming fast.” Your heart pounded as you watched the dots on the map converge on his location. “You need to get out of there, now.”

“Too late for that,” Logan muttered, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing through the comms.

“Logan—”

“Don’t worry, Phantom,” he cut you off, and you could hear the smirk in his voice again. “I’ve got this.”

The next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh, followed by a low grunt of pain. You winced, even though you couldn’t see what was happening.

“Logan? Talk to me.”

More sounds of a struggle came through, and then finally, Logan’s voice, slightly breathless but unbothered. “Two down. Told ya, no problem.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, well, maybe next time don’t wait until the last second to handle it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even though your nerves were still on edge. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he replied, and you could hear the faint rustle of him moving again. “Alright, I’m at the server. How much time do we need?”

“Give me five minutes,” you said, fingers flying across the keyboard as you initiated the download remotely. “I’m pulling the data now. Just stay put until I finish.”

“Five minutes? Thought you were faster than that, Phantom.”

“Don’t push it, Logan,” you shot back, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I’d like to see you hack into a secured server faster.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a shot one of these days,” he muttered, the humor still in his voice. “Bet I’d be a natural.”

“Please. You’d probably smash the computer before you even logged in.”

“Only if it pissed me off.”

You shook your head, focusing back on the task at hand. “Alright, I’m almost done. Just a few more seconds.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, and you could hear Logan shifting in place, his breaths slow and steady.

“You ever think about doin’ this full time?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower now, more serious.

“Hacking?” you replied, thrown off by the question. “I mean, I’m not exactly doing this for the money. Why?”

“Just curious,” Logan said, and you could tell by his tone that he wasn’t pressing the issue. “Seems like you’re good at it. You could make a real difference.”

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys. “I’m already making a difference,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual. “I don’t need to do it full time to feel like it matters.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, you thought maybe the line had cut out. But then Logan spoke again, his voice low and almost… thoughtful.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you didn’t. Instead, you focused on finishing the download, the soft hum of the servers filling the silence between you.

“Got it,” you said finally, leaning back in your chair with a sigh of relief. “Download’s complete. You’re good to go.”

Logan didn’t reply right away, but you could hear the soft sound of him moving, his footsteps heavy against the concrete floor.

“Logan?” you prompted after a moment, the silence starting to make you uneasy.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice a little distant. “I’m on my way out.”

You nodded to yourself, watching his dot move across the map on your screen. “Good. Let’s get you out of there.”

As you guided him back through the warehouse, you couldn’t help but wonder what had changed in his voice during those last few minutes. Something about the way he’d asked that question—about doing this full time—had caught you off guard.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. You had a job to finish, and Logan needed to get out of there safely.

“Alright, you’re clear,” you said once he reached the exit. “No one’s around. Just make sure you don’t—”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan interrupted, and you could hear the smirk in his voice again. “Don’t get shot. You’ve told me a thousand times, Phantom.”

“Then maybe this time you’ll listen,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “No promises.”

And with that, the line went quiet, leaving you alone in the soft glow of your computer screen.

---

"Alright, your change is $2.87. Have a good one.” You handed the change and a paper bag to the customer, smiling politely. After brushing your hands on your pastel blue apron, you turned to the next person in line. "How can I help—”

You paused mid-sentence as you looked up, surprised to see Ricky standing in front of you with a smirk on his face. You let out an exaggerated sigh. “The regular?”

“Always.” Ricky leaned against the counter, watching you with that usual casual attitude. “You know me too well, Phantom.”

You scoffed lightly at the use of your codename in the middle of your bakery. "Could you not call me that here?" You motioned to the line behind him. “I’d prefer not to blow my cover in front of customers.”

Ricky grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax, I’m just messin’ with you. Your secret’s safe with me.”

You shook your head and started prepping his order, grabbing a coffee and a chocolate croissant, which he always got whenever he visited your bakery. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have something better to do than bother me at work?”

“Maybe I just missed my favorite hacker-slash-baker,” Ricky teased, crossing his arms as he watched you work. “Figured I’d stop by and see how you’re holding up.”

You raised an eyebrow, handing him the coffee. “I’m holding up fine. Business as usual.”

“Yeah. This place looks better than before. New paint job?”

��Actually, no. New tables and chairs.” You replied. Computer programming had always been something you enjoyed and loved, but when you started working for a big tech company, you couldn’t help but feel like your talents were going to waste.

You found Ricky, or rather, Ricky found you, and you were recruited into ‘The Organization’ to take down mutant trafficking rings. You still needed money, so you decided to put to use your other skill, baking. You opened a small bakery in New York City and have been running it for close to 2 years now.

Ricky leaned against the counter, eyeing the new setup. “So this is what you do when you’re not saving the world? Whip up some cupcakes?”

You rolled your eyes as you placed the croissant in a bag. “Something like that. Gotta pay the bills, right?”

Ricky took the bag from you, giving you a knowing smirk. “You know, it’s still hard to picture you as a baker. I keep waiting for the day I come in here, and all the pastries are bugged with tiny microphones.”

You snorted. “Please. Like I’d waste good croissants on something like that.”

He laughed, then took a sip of his coffee. “You heard from Logan?”

Your fingers froze for a split second, but you quickly masked it by busying yourself with wiping down the counter. “Why? Did something happen?”

Ricky raised an eyebrow. “No, not that I know of. Just thought he might’ve reached out, is all.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “He’s probably busy. You know how it is.”

“Mhm.” Ricky gave you a look that suggested he wasn’t buying it. “Right. Busy.”

You shot him a glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Nothing, Phantom. Just… you two seem to get along pretty well. That’s all.”

You felt a warmth creeping up the back of your neck and quickly turned away, focusing on the pastries again. “We work well together, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sure, sure,” Ricky said, clearly amused. “Just don’t let ol’ Wolf get too attached. He’s not exactly the sentimental type.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but think back to the last mission. The banter, the small moments where Logan seemed to let his guard down—just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder.

Ricky stood up straight, crumpling the paper bag in his hand. “Alright, Phantom. I’ll leave you to your cupcakes and secret side missions. Just don’t go getting yourself into trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” you grinned. “Never.”

He chuckled, heading for the door. “Catch you later.”

As soon as he was gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Ricky had a way of pushing your buttons just enough to make you think. And now you couldn’t stop replaying your recent conversations with Logan in your head. It was strange—this… thing between you two. He wasn’t like anyone you’d worked with before. And yet, it felt natural, like you’d known each other much longer than a few months.

Your phone buzzed in your apron pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Logan: Got some info for you. When’s your next shift with me?

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keys for a second before you replied.

You: Whenever you need me. What’s the mission?

Logan: I’ll fill you in later. Just be ready.

You: Always am, Wolf.

A short pause, then Logan’s reply came through.

Logan: I know.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. Shaking your head, you shoved the phone back into your pocket. You had a business to run, after all. There was no time to dwell on this… whatever it was between you and Logan.

But as you served the next customer with a practiced smile, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that your next mission with him was going to be different. Maybe it already was.

---

“You ever been to New York City?” Logan asked.

You briefly stopped your typing on the keyboard, “maybe. Maybe not. Why?”

Logan’s voice crackled through the earpiece, low and rough as always. “Just curious. Figured you might’ve wandered through at some point, considering how close we’ve been workin’ together.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the surveillance feed on your screen. “Is this your version of small talk, Wolf? Because I gotta say, you’re not exactly known for that.”

He chuckled. “Nah, just figured it was worth askin’. You ever get outta that basement of yours?”

You leaned back in your chair, smirking to yourself. “I’m not always in a basement, you know. I have other things going on. Like you, sweetie. You focusing on those wires?”

“Sweetie?” Logan’s voice came back with a low growl, amusement lacing his tone. “You know I don’t get distracted easy, darlin’.”

You smirked at the monitor in front of you, watching as he carefully maneuvered through the narrow corridor of the warehouse. “Just making sure. Wouldn’t want to have to bail you out if you trip a wire.”

“Funny,” he muttered. “You’re soundin’ real confident for someone sittin’ comfy at a keyboard.”

“Hey, I’m not comfy,” you shot back, leaning closer to the screen. “I’m on the edge of my seat watching your back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, the sound of a door creaking open in the background. “What do you see up ahead?”

You focused on the different camera feeds, your fingers flying over the keys to switch between views. “Two guards in the hallway to your left. Armed. They’re just patrolling, so if you wait about ten seconds, you should be able to slip by.”

“Copy that.” His breathing slowed, the sound of footsteps faint as he pressed himself against the wall. “Tell me somethin’, Phantom. What do you do when you’re not playin’ babysitter for me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Logan grunted softly, the sound of his claws extending briefly as he took a peek around the corner. “Yeah, kinda. All I get’s that voice of yours—still gotta figure out the face that goes with it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “You’re obsessed, Wolf.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” There was a beat of silence as Logan moved silently down the hallway, bypassing the guards with ease. “But you still didn’t answer me.”

You sighed dramatically, switching to another camera feed that showed a large storage room filled with crates. “What do you think I do? Sit in a dark room, hacking into firewalls all day?”

Logan snorted. “Ain’t that what you’re doin’ now?”

“Touché.” You shifted slightly, watching him take down a lone guard with a quick, precise movement. “But no. I do have a life outside of this, you know.”

“Like what?” He sounded genuinely curious now, and you could almost picture the way his brows would be furrowed in concentration. “You got a family? Friends?”

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Family? Not really. Friends? Also a stretch. But you didn’t feel like sharing that right now. “I’ve got… a business to run.”

Logan was quiet for a moment. “A business, huh? Didn’t think you’d be the type to deal with customers.”

“Why not?” you shot back. “I’m very good with people, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, like the time you almost tore that guy a new one when he questioned your coding?” He chuckled, the sound low and deep in your ear. “Real people person, darlin’.”

“Okay, that was one time.” You rolled your eyes. “And he deserved it. But yeah, I’m pretty good with people—when I want to be.”

“Uh-huh.” There was a rustling noise, like he was checking through one of the crates. “What kinda business?”

You hesitated again. Part of you wanted to keep that piece of your life separate from Logan. But he’d been honest with you about a lot of things—his past, his work, even some of his regrets. It seemed only fair to give a little in return.

“...A bakery,” you finally admitted, almost cringing at how mundane it sounded compared to the world you two operated in.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then—

“A bakery?” Logan repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. “Like… cupcakes and cookies bakery?”

“Yeah, Wolf,” you said dryly, feeling heat creep up your neck. “I bake things. It’s called having a hobby.”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Just tryin’ to picture it, that’s all. Our resident hacker pullin’ cookies out of the oven.”

“Is that so hard to imagine?” You switched to another feed, tracking his progress through the facility. “I bet you’d like my cookies.”

“Yeah?” There was a hint of teasing in his voice now. “You gonna make some for me sometime?”

You bit your lip, surprised at the sudden flutter in your chest at the thought. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

“Darlin’, I’m always good.”

“Debatable,” you shot back quickly, but your smile softened at the edges. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was another pause, and you could hear Logan’s soft exhale through the comms. “You really own a bakery?”

“Yes, really,” you said, feeling oddly defensive now. “I’m not making it up just to sound cute.”

He chuckled again. “I didn’t think that. Just… didn’t see it comin’, is all. Got any specialties?”

You blinked at the sudden change in tone, a mix of genuine curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Well, I make a mean chocolate croissant.”

“Chocolate croissant, huh?” He sounded like he was mulling it over. “Could go for one right now.”

“Focus, Wolf,” you teased, but there was a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the coffee beside you. “Get through this mission, and maybe I’ll let you try one.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” His voice was low, a promise wrapped in that simple statement.

For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. It was strange how easy it felt, talking like this. Like you weren’t two people who only knew each other through voices and screens. Like there was something more.

“Alright, I’m in position,” Logan murmured, breaking the silence. “What’s next?”

You glanced at the feed, spotting the final target. “There’s a control panel just ahead. Shut it down, and we’ll have full access to the data we need.”

“On it.” There was a soft thud as he moved forward, the sound of his claws retracting. “Phantom?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… for keepin’ me company. Makes this kinda work a little less shit.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you struggled to find your voice for a second. “...Anytime, Wolf.”

And you meant it.

---

After 5 months of The Organization searching, the base of the mutant trafficking ring was finally found. It wasn’t just you and Logan, but other’s out on the field searching, and now things were coming to a head.

Ricky had briefed everyone—the field agents and those, like you, behind the computers. Everyone was in position, and tonight, after months of planning, the mutant trafficking ring was finally going to be shut down.

You took a steadying breath, fingers hovering over your keyboard. The screens in front of you were filled with various feeds: security cameras, schematics of the building, comms channels. It was go-time, and as much as you liked to pretend you were calm, there was a knot of tension in your stomach. You knew what was riding on this mission—innocent lives, and for some reason, your thoughts kept circling back to one person in particular.

“Phantom, you there?” Logan’s voice came through your earpiece, low and steady.

“Yeah, Wolf. Right here.” You sat up a little straighter, adjusting the headset. “You good?”

“Never better.” He sounded almost amused. “How ‘bout you? Keepin’ those fingers of yours nimble?”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m ready to go. All feeds are online, and I’ve got eyes on every entrance. You’re at the west side of the building, right?”

“Yep.” He paused, and you heard the faint shuffle of boots against gravel. “What’s your status?”

“Locked and loaded,” you replied, scanning the feeds. “Looks like we’ve got a dozen guards outside, plus more scattered throughout the building. The main target’s in the central office on the second floor. You’ll need to cut through the lower levels to get there.”

“Got it. You got eyes on the others?”

You quickly toggled between the different comms channels, listening in on reports from the other teams. “Everyone’s in position. Team Alpha is covering the south, Bravo’s moving to secure the exit routes. You’re clear to start your approach.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, and you watched on one of the monitors as he started moving through the shadows, staying low and out of sight.

“Be careful, Wolf,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

“Careful’s my middle name,” he drawled back, a hint of that signature cockiness coming through. “You just keep those pretty eyes on the feeds and tell me if someone’s gonna try and sneak up on me.”

“Always do,” you shot back, smiling despite the tension in the air.

There was a pause on his end, and then: “What’s the fastest way to the office from here?”

You glanced at the building’s layout, quickly mapping out a route in your head. “Take the staircase to your right, follow the hallway down two doors, then take a left. You should be able to bypass most of the guards that way. Just… watch for the tripwires.”

“Roger that. Stay on me, Phantom.”

“Like I’m ever not.” You kept your eyes glued to the screen as Logan moved through the facility with practiced ease. Despite the tension thrumming through your veins, there was a strange calmness in listening to his breathing over the comms, knowing you were right there with him, even if it was only in a digital sense.

“How’s it look up ahead?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Two guards at the end of the hall,” you reported, zooming in on one of the feeds. “They’re armed, but they’re not paying attention. You should be able to take them out quietly.”

Logan didn’t respond, but you saw him slip into the corridor, moving like a shadow. A few seconds later, both guards were down, and he was back on the line. “Clear.”

“Nice work, Wolf.” You leaned forward, fingers flying over the keyboard to hack into the security system. “I’m disabling the cameras on the next floor. You should have a clear path to the office, but I’m picking up some chatter—looks like they’re getting suspicious.”

“Let ‘em get suspicious.” There was a low, dangerous edge to his voice now. “I’m ready.”

You couldn’t help but grin a little. “That makes one of us.”

“C’mon, Phantom, you know you love this shit,” he teased, but there was a warmth in his tone that made your heart skip a beat. “All that adrenaline. Gets the blood pumpin’, doesn’t it?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m not the one out there risking my neck. That’s your job.”

“Yeah, well… you’re doin’ a hell of a job keepin’ me from getting my ass shot off.” There was a pause, and then he added, almost softly, “Don’t know what I’d do without you, darlin’.”

You blinked at the screen, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “...Just stay focused, Wolf. I’m not pulling your ass out of this if you get cocky.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. I’m good.” His voice turned serious again as he approached the central office. “I’m at the door. How many inside?”

You quickly cycled through the cameras, counting the figures inside. “Three guards. One unarmed. That’s the target. If you move quick, you should be able to neutralize them before they call for backup.”

“Got it.” Logan’s voice was low, almost a growl. You watched as he shifted his weight, preparing to make his move. It was always a little nerve-wracking, watching him go in like this, but you trusted him. He knew what he was doing.

Your fingers danced over the keyboard, disabling the cameras in the immediate area. “I’m taking out the cameras around the office. You’re clear for entry. Make it fast, Wolf.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on it.” He paused for a beat. “How’s the rest of the team doin’?”

You glanced at the other feeds, tracking the movements of the different teams scattered throughout the building. “Team Alpha just took out the last of the perimeter guards. Bravo’s securing the exits—no one’s getting in or out without us knowing.”

“Good. Let’s end this.” There was a soft click as Logan pushed the door open, slipping inside the office with deadly precision.

The guards barely had time to react. You watched in awe as he took them down with a combination of swift strikes and quick, lethal movements. He was a blur of action, and within seconds, the only people left standing were Logan and the target—an older man who looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Please, don’t—” the man stammered, holding up his hands in a pathetic attempt at self-defense.

“Shut up,” Logan growled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “You’re gonna answer a few questions for me.”

You leaned closer to the screen, keeping an eye on the other guards roaming the hallways. “Careful, Wolf. We don’t know if he’s got any backup on standby.”

“Yeah, I got it.” He gave the man a rough shake. “Who’s runnin’ this operation? Where’s the rest of the mutants you’ve been trafficking?”

The man sputtered, his face pale. “I—I don’t know! I just handle the logistics—transport, security—”

“Bullshit.” Logan’s claws extended with a sharp snikt, and you could hear the man’s terrified gasp even through the comms. “Try again, bub. And don’t lie to me.”

You zoomed in on the screen, checking for any signs of incoming guards. “Logan, I’m picking up movement on the lower levels. It’s not one of ours—looks like reinforcements. You need to hurry.”

“Copy that.” He leaned in closer to the man, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Last chance. Where are the mutants?”

“Storage room—basement level—cage twelve!” The man practically screamed the words, his eyes wide with fear. “Please, I swear, that’s all I know!”

“Storage room, basement level, cage twelve,” you repeated quickly, already pulling up the layout of the basement. “I’m sending the coordinates to Team Bravo now.”

“Good.” Logan released the man, who slumped to the floor, trembling. He stepped back, claws retracting. “Now sit tight. You’re gonna have some company soon.”

The man whimpered but didn’t move as Logan turned and made his way out of the office. You switched your focus back to the basement, watching as Team Bravo moved in to secure the mutants.

“They’re in position,” you reported, keeping your voice calm. “Looks like… ten, no, twelve mutants total. All of them are alive.”

“Alive, huh?” Logan’s voice softened just a fraction. “That’s somethin’, at least.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. After months of hunting down leads, false starts, and dead ends, it was finally coming together. “We did it, Wolf.”

“Not yet, we haven’t.” His tone turned serious again. “We still gotta get ‘em outta here. You got a path?”

“Working on it.” Your fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the building’s blueprints. “Okay, there’s an access tunnel two levels down from where you are. It leads straight to an underground parking garage. If you can get them there, we’ll have transport waiting.”

“Got it. I’ll head down now.” He paused for a moment, then added quietly, “Good work, Phantom.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at the unexpected praise. “Same to you, Wolf. Just… stay safe, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me, darlin’. You just keep doin’ what you do best.”

You stayed on the line, guiding him through the lower levels as he made his way to the basement. The rest of the mission went off like clockwork—Team Bravo secured the mutants, Team Alpha kept the perimeter locked down, and Logan made sure no one got in their way.

By the time it was all over, the mutants were safe, the ring was shut down, and the remaining traffickers were either captured or taken out. It was a resounding success, and yet, as you watched Logan emerge from the building, something inside you felt… off.

“Logan?” you called out softly, your voice hesitant. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” He sounded a little rough around the edges, but that was to be expected after a mission like this. “What about you? You doin’ okay?”

You let out a soft breath, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… glad it’s over, I guess.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause, and then he added, “You did good tonight, Phantom. Real good.”

“Thanks, Wolf.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He grunted softly, the sound almost affectionate. “Bet you say that to all the guys you babysit.”

“Only the ones I like,” you teased, feeling a little bolder now that the mission was over. “But seriously… thanks for trusting me out there. I know it’s not easy.”

“Trust ain’t somethin’ I give lightly,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “But you earned it. Over and over.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you settled for a soft, “...I’m glad.”

There was another beat of silence, and then Logan’s voice came back, a little lighter. “So, when am I gettin’ that chocolate croissant?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Guess you’ll just have to swing by my bakery sometime, huh?”

“Maybe I will.” He sounded thoughtful, like he was considering it for the first time. “Soon as I figure out where the hell it is.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. “But if you do find it… first croissant’s on me.”

“I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.” There was a warm, teasing lilt to his voice now. “Take care, Phantom.”

“You too, Wolf.”

And with that, the line went quiet. You stared at the screen for a moment longer, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—toward something new, something real.

Maybe one day, you’d get to see the look on Logan’s face when he finally tasted one of your croissants.

But for now, this was enough.

---

It had been a few weeks since the mutant trafficking ring was taken down, and since then, things from The Organization had been quiet. You were sure that soon, something would happen, and you’d have a new mission or cause to fight for, but for now, life was… normal. Or, as normal as things could get for you.

During the day, you focused on your bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries filled the small space, the steady hum of business keeping you busy. You didn’t have to think about The Organization or anything outside of kneading dough and serving customers. It was a welcome change of pace, a grounding routine that gave you some much-needed breathing room.

But at night, when the bakery was closed and the streets outside your shop went quiet, your mind wandered back to Logan—and those long conversations over the comms. The teasing back and forth. The gruff but genuine praise. The way he’d been so protective of you, even when you were just a voice in his ear.

You leaned against the counter, wiping your hands on your apron as you glanced around your empty shop. The bell above the door jingled, and you glanced up, expecting to see one of your regulars who’d forgotten to grab something before closing.

But it wasn’t one of your regulars.

It was him.

Logan.

He stood in the doorway, his broad frame almost filling it completely. A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other, and then he stepped inside, his boots making a soft thud against the wooden floor.

“Hey, darlin’.” His voice was the same deep, rough tone you remembered, and yet hearing it in person made your heart skip a beat. He glanced around the bakery, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Figured I’d finally swing by and see if your croissants live up to the hype.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. He was here. Here. In your bakery, standing in front of you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Logan?” You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it. “How—how did you find me?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Did a little diggin’. Asked around. Turns out you’re not as good at hiding as you think.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and… something else. “And you just—decided to show up out of nowhere?”

“Thought you could use some company,” he replied easily, but there was a seriousness in his gaze that told you this wasn’t just a casual visit. “Been too quiet lately. I don’t do quiet well.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Neither can I,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he glanced at the display case filled with pastries. “But since I am… you gonna give me that croissant, or what?”

The corner of your mouth lifted, and you reached behind the counter, pulling out a fresh chocolate croissant. You placed it on a small plate, sliding it across to him. “First one’s on the house, remember?”

Logan took the plate, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. A spark shot through you, but you quickly pulled your hand back, pretending like it hadn’t happened.

He lifted the croissant, inspecting it with a critical eye before taking a bite. You watched, holding your breath as he chewed thoughtfully. Then, he swallowed and nodded.

“Not bad, Phantom. Not bad at all.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, a smile breaking out on your face. “Just ‘not bad?’ I think I’m a little insulted.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Okay, fine. It’s good. Real good.” He took another bite, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t ya?”

“I could say the same about you.” You leaned against the counter, studying him. In the soft light of the bakery, he looked a little more relaxed, less guarded. There was still that roughness to him, but there was something else, too—a quiet sort of contentment. “So, what’s the real reason you’re here, Logan?”

He raised an eyebrow, finishing off the croissant before setting the plate down. “What, a guy can’t visit his favorite hacker?”

“Nice try.” You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “But I know you better than that.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I just wanted to see for myself that you’re okay. That this place is real. That you’re… real.”

You felt something tighten in your chest, your gaze softening. “I’m real, Logan. You know that.”

“Yeah.” He looked around again, as if trying to memorize every detail of your little shop. “But it’s different, seein’ it with my own eyes.”

There was a weight to his words, a sincerity that made your heart ache a little. You’d spent so many nights talking to him, listening to his voice, getting to know him in a way that felt almost… intimate. And now he was here, standing in front of you, and it felt like a dream.

“Do you—” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you want to stay for a bit? I’ve got coffee. Or tea, if that’s more your style.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Coffee sounds good.”

You turned to make a fresh pot, your hands moving on autopilot as your mind raced. What did this mean? Why now? You’d thought maybe, someday, you’d meet Logan in person, but you hadn’t expected it to be like this—so sudden, so… normal.

“So,” Logan drawled, leaning against the counter as he watched you, “what’s next for you? Gonna hang up your hacker hat and just focus on bakin’?”

You glanced over your shoulder, giving him a wry smile. “You think I could actually stay out of trouble for long?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah. Don’t think you’re cut out for the quiet life, darlin’.”

“Guess we have that in common, huh?” You poured the coffee, sliding a mug over to him. “But for now… I’m taking a little break. I think I’ve earned it.”

“Yeah, you have.” He took the mug, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away. “So… what’s the plan now? Just you and the bakery?”

“For now.” You shrugged, looking around the shop. “It’s nice. Calming, even. Keeps me grounded.”

Logan studied you for a long moment, his gaze intent. “You know, I never pictured you like this. With flour on your apron and—what’s that?” He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly against your cheek. “Frostin’ on your face?”

You froze at the contact, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the roughness of his thumb contrasting with the softness of your skin. You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the moment.

“I—uh—” You cleared your throat, feeling your face heat up. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Hmm.” His thumb lingered for a heartbeat longer, then he pulled back, his expression softening. “Guess it suits you.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your racing heart. “What about you? What’s next for the great Wolverine? Gonna go back to the X-Men?”

Logan chuckled, leaning back slightly as he sipped his coffee. “Who said I ever left? Maybe I was doin’ this as my side job.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Oh, so the big bad Wolverine has a side hustle now? Should I be worried you’re going to start making croissants too?”

He smirked. “Nah, I’ll leave the bakin’ to you. But maybe I’ll stick around, see how things go.” His eyes held yours, that familiar teasing edge mixed with something else—a quiet intensity.

“Stick around?” you asked, not entirely sure where he was going with this. “In New York? Thought you weren’t a fan of big cities.”

Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking around your cozy bakery again. “It grows on ya. Plus, I got reasons to hang around now.”

The way he said it, so casual but pointed, made your heart skip a beat. “Reasons, huh?”

He leaned forward, setting his mug down on the counter. “Yeah, Phantom. You think I spent all those nights listenin’ to you talk, gettin’ to know you, just to go back to business as usual?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. You tried to bring things back to normal, to calm your racing heart, but perhaps you only made it worse with his response. “Y- you don’t have to call me that, you know? Or- anymore, at least.”

Logan’s eyes locked onto yours, a spark of curiosity flickering in his gaze. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter. “Oh yeah? So, what should I call ya?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. It was such a simple thing—your real name. Something you’d kept hidden, not out of fear, but because keeping a wall between your real life and Phantom had made things… easier. Safer, even. But you felt safe with him standing in front of you, even if it was the first time meeting face to face.

“Y/N.” You finally said, quietly with a small smile.

Logan’s eyes softened, something shifting in his expression as he repeated your name—almost testing it out. “Y/N, huh? Suits you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the warmth spreading through your chest. “Figured it was time to be on a first-name basis, Wolf.”

His lips twitched into a smirk at the nickname. “Wolf,” he repeated, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “You’ve been callin’ me that for months. Thought you’d drop it once I was standin’ right in front of ya.”

“Why would I do that?” you shot back, your smile growing a little more confident. “It suits you, Wolf.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” He leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Guess I’ll stick with ‘Phantom’ for old times’ sake.”

“‘Y/N’ is fine,” you said softly. “I think we’re past codenames.”

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Y/N, then.” The way he said it—slow and deliberate—made your heart flutter. There was something so personal about it, so… intimate. You’d spent so long hiding behind ‘Phantom’ that hearing your real name in his voice felt almost surreal.

You glanced down at the counter, clearing your throat to break the tension. “So,” you said slowly, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone, “now that you’ve tried my croissants, what’s next on the list? Gonna critique my muffins too?”

Logan’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting. “Oh, I’m definitely stickin’ around long enough to try everything on that menu, darlin’. Gotta make sure it’s all up to snuff.”

“Uh-huh. Just don’t expect me to bake for you every day,” you teased, but there was a warmth in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

“I dunno,” he drawled, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “Kinda like the idea of you makin’ me breakfast.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. You chuckled back at him, putting the towel in your hand over your shoulder, “yeah? Bet you say that to all the women you meet.”

Logan’s smirk grew, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way you’d come to recognize as trouble. “You think I go around findin’ bakeries just to get breakfast from pretty hackers?”

“Pretty hackers?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I was your type, Wolf.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence. “You’re my type if you keep makin’ croissants like that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Nice recovery.”

There was a beat of silence, and Logan’s smirk softened, replaced by a more thoughtful look. His eyes swept around the shop again, taking in the cozy space as if trying to understand something deeper about it—about you.

“This place,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “It’s yours, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a touch of pride in your voice. “Bought it a couple of years ago. Did most of the renovations myself. Not the hacking kind, though.”

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on the shelves lined with baked goods and the flour-dusted counter. “Figured you’d be in some high-tech lab or somethin’. Not… this.”

You smiled, glancing around your bakery. “What? Don’t think I can bake and hack at the same time?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were searching for the right words. “Guess I just never thought about what your life looked like when you weren’t on a mission.”

“Well,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. “This is it. Flour, sugar, and a whole lot of early mornings.”

Logan tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing a whole new side of you. “It suits ya.”

You shrugged, feeling a bit exposed under his gaze. “It’s not as exciting as fighting bad guys, but… it’s mine.”

“Doesn’t have to be exciting all the time,” he murmured. His voice was quieter now, more serious, and it made you pause. “Sometimes… it’s the quiet stuff that matters.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing it did whenever he got unexpectedly sincere. “Yeah, well, quiet doesn’t seem to be your style, Logan.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, guess not. But maybe I’m workin’ on that.”

You gave him a playful smirk. “You? Working on ‘quiet’? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the counter as he looked at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll see it sooner than you think.”

Your teasing smile faltered slightly, your heartbeat picking up again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, something unspoken hanging in the air between you. “Means I’m stickin’ around, Y/N. If you’re okay with that.”

Your breath caught at the way he said your name—your real name, not Phantom. There was a weight to it, like he wasn’t just talking about the bakery or the city. He was talking about you.

“Logan,” you started, your voice a little shaky as you tried to keep it light, “are you saying you want to be a regular customer?”

He smirked, but the seriousness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Somethin’ like that. Thought maybe I’d get to know the person behind the croissants… and the computer screens.”

Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you felt a little breathless. “Well, considering you just showed up without a warning, I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Always liked makin’ an entrance.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, shaking your head, “next time, maybe give a girl a little heads-up.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, though his voice had softened.

You didn’t have a snappy comeback for that, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The bakery felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had paused, leaving just the two of you in this little bubble. You’d known him for months, heard his voice in your ear during some of the craziest situations, but this—standing here in the same room, with him right there—felt different. Real.

“So,” you said after a beat, your voice a little quieter now, “what’s the plan? You just gonna hang out in New York for a while? Or…?”

Logan shrugged, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “Dunno. Figure I’ll stick around, see how things play out. Been on the move too long. Might be time to slow down a bit.”

“Slow down?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

You smiled, leaning against the counter. “Well, if you’re serious about sticking around, you’d better be ready for a lot of early mornings.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the flour on your apron and the slight mess on the counter. “Early mornings, huh? Guess I can handle that. Long as there’s coffee.”

You laughed softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest again. “I think I can manage that.”

There was another pause, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt… nice. Like neither of you were in a rush to fill the space with words.

Finally, Logan straightened up, glancing toward the door. “Guess I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep you too long.”

You felt a flicker of disappointment, but you quickly pushed it down, giving him a smile instead. “You’re always welcome, you know. Next time, I’ll save you a muffin.”

Logan’s smirk returned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.”

He took a step toward the door, but then he paused, glancing back at you. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the way he said your name again.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said softly, his gaze holding yours for just a moment longer before he turned and walked out the door, the bell above it jingling softly in his wake.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the door long after he was gone, your heart still racing.

---

Logan’s unexpected visit left you in a whirlwind. For the next few days, it was hard to focus on the usual routines of the bakery. Each time the bell over the door chimed, your heart leapt a little, thinking maybe, just maybe, it’d be him again. But Logan didn’t show, and you tried to remind yourself not to overthink it. He was just… being Logan. Coming and going as he pleased, without a word or explanation.

But then, one evening, just as you were flipping the Open sign to Closed, you noticed something slipped under the door—a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled across it in a familiar, rugged handwriting.

You picked it up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and opened it.

Got a place in mind. Be ready at 7. —W

No address. No other details. Just a time and a cryptic note.

You found yourself smiling despite your confusion. Of course, he’d pull something like this. He couldn’t just ask you to dinner like a normal person—he had to be all mysterious about it. But then again, it was part of his charm.

The day passed in a blur. By the time you were getting ready, nerves had settled in. What exactly did Logan mean by ‘got a place in mind’? Was this a date? Just… friends hanging out?

You pushed the thoughts away and focused on getting dressed. Something casual, but not too casual. Comfortable, but still showing you’d put in some effort. You settled on a pair of well-fitting jeans and a soft sweater that was flattering but not over-the-top.

Right at 7, there was a soft knock on your door. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and opened it.

Logan stood there, looking the same as always and yet… different. Maybe it was the way he’d traded his usual jacket for a dark button-down, or the fact that he looked a bit unsure himself, his gaze flicking over you in silent appraisal before settling on your eyes.

“You look good,” he said, his voice gruff, but there was an honesty in his tone that made your cheeks warm.

“Not bad yourself, Wolf,” you replied, earning a small, almost shy smile from him.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Ready,” you confirmed, and you stepped outside, locking the door behind you.

---

Logan had borrowed a bike—one of those big, heavy motorcycles that roared to life when he turned the ignition. He tossed you a helmet, then helped you onto the back. Your hands found their way around his waist, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just that—your arms around him, the rumble of the engine beneath you, and the feel of his solid form against you.

“Hold on tight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in a way that made you shiver.

The ride through the city was exhilarating, the cool night air whipping past you as Logan navigated the streets with ease. You had no idea where he was taking you, but you trusted him. You’d always trusted him.

Finally, he pulled up to a secluded spot along the East River, away from the usual tourist traps and bustling crowds. You could see the lights of the city skyline reflected in the water, the soft sounds of the river lapping at the shore creating a serene backdrop. There was a small wooden table set up nearby, with a blanket laid out and a picnic basket resting on top of it.

You blinked in surprise, glancing between the setup and Logan. “Did… did you do this?”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “Yeah, well. Figured we’ve had enough high-stakes meetin’s. Thought you deserved somethin’ different.”

Your heart melted a little at that. He’d gone through the trouble of planning something just for you—a quiet evening, just the two of you, away from the chaos of missions and comms.

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He gave a small nod, visibly relieved by your reaction. “Good. Now c’mon, let’s eat before it gets too cold.”

The two of you settled down at the table, and you couldn’t help but smile as Logan unpacked the basket. It was mostly simple stuff—sandwiches, fruit, a bottle of wine—but there was an almost endearing quality to it, like he’d put in effort but hadn’t tried to overdo it.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I kinda… winged it,” he admitted, glancing at you almost nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you repeated, smiling at him. “And honestly? I’m just happy you’re here.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you in that way that made your stomach flip. “Yeah. Me too.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything and nothing—the bakery, old missions, even random bits about your lives that had never come up before. He was surprisingly open, and you found yourself sharing more than you usually would, the relaxed atmosphere making it easy to let your guard down.

As the evening went on, you found yourself inching closer to him. At some point, the two of you ended up side by side on the blanket, the picnic basket forgotten as you stared out at the lights reflecting on the water.

There was a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. You glanced over at Logan, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. He was looking at you with an expression that was hard to read—soft, almost contemplative.

“What?” you asked softly, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Just thinkin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling. “You’re even prettier in person, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, and you looked away, letting out a soft laugh. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted gently, reaching out to brush your cheek. His touch was light, tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure if it was okay. “Been drivin’ myself crazy, wonderin’ what you’d look like. But seein’ you now… Hell, Y/N, I don’t think I did you justice.”

Your breath caught at the way he said your name, his gaze intense and unwavering. There was something raw and honest in his expression, like he was laying himself bare in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Logan…” you whispered, the words dying on your lips as he leaned in, his face inches from yours.

“I shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he murmured, his voice low and almost regretful. But he didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted closer, his breath brushing against your skin. “But I’ve been wantin’ to since the moment I heard your voice.”

Your heart was pounding, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your own voice trembling.

Logan’s gaze flicked down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. Then, slowly—like he was giving you every chance to pull away—he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses.

It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull back—when you leaned in, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt—something seemed to break. He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you’d been waiting for—slow and sweet, but with an underlying intensity that left you breathless. You melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing left but the feel of his lips on yours and the warmth of his hand against your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing hard, your hearts racing in sync.

“Damn, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Didn’t think it’d feel like that.”

You laughed softly, your own voice a little shaky. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Logan smiled—a real, genuine smile that made your heart ache. “Think we should do it again?”

You grinned up at him, feeling lighter than you had in ages. “Yeah, Wolf. I think we should.”

[ts19009]

A Recipe for Us I Part 1 | KMG

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're in my way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo shot him a knowing look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu smirked. “Didn’t sleep much.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need help.”

“Never said you did.”

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

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

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

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

“The promotion.”

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

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”

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

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

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

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu glanced at her and smirked. “Cold?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Wonwoo. 

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

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

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

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

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

“No promises,” Wonwoo teased before hanging up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is Chwe Vernon?” Mingyu asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It shouldn’t bother him. But it did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, the words stuck with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “No problem,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s Mingyu.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yuna just laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had admired her long before he realized it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grinned. “No promises.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Salt?” he asked, glancing at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously, you’re telling me she just held your hand?” Wonwoo asked, sitting up from his lounging position on the living room couch, his voice laced with disbelief as he stared at Mingyu. He was trying to process what he was hearing.

Mingyu shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a small, smug grin playing at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I offered her my gloves ‘cause it was cold, and she just grabbed my hand instead.”

Wonwoo blinked a couple of times, leaning back against the cushions in stunned silence. His mind was struggling to comprehend the sheer casualness with which Mingyu was telling the story. He knew Mingyu had his charm, but this was another level.

“You really know how to work your magic, huh?” Wonwoo said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I honestly don’t even know how you do it. You just... walk up to a girl and suddenly, you’re holding hands?”

Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his grin widening. “Well, it wasn’t like I planned it. It just kind of... happened. But yeah, she held my hand and, honestly, it felt pretty natural.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Natural? Dude, that sounds like a big deal. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into it?”

Mingyu sighed, his smile faltering slightly as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know, man. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It just felt different with her, you know? Like, I’m not sure how to explain it... but it felt like a step forward. But also, I’m not sure if I’m reading too much into it, either.”

Wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. “It’s not bad to feel like something’s different. But just don’t go overthinking every little thing, okay? Trust your gut. You two have been good friends, so maybe it’s just a matter of it slowly becoming something more. Just don’t rush it.”

Mingyu considered his words, his eyes drifting to the window. “Yeah... maybe. It’s just, with her, everything feels like it could be more. But, like I said, I don’t want to make things weird between us.”

Wonwoo gave him a reassuring grin. “Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t find these kinds of connections every day. Just take it easy. If she’s interested in you, it’ll show. And if she’s not, at least you know you tried.”

Mingyu nodded slowly, the weight of the conversation settling in. “Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Exactly,” Wonwoo said, leaning back again. “Now, how about we take a break from all this emotional drama and order some food? You look like you could use it.”

Mingyu chuckled softly, appreciative of Wonwoo’s ability to effortlessly break the tension. "You know," he said, leaning back into the couch, "you might be onto something there. A break from all this… emotional turmoil wouldn’t hurt."

Wonwoo gave him a knowing look, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Exactly. You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes the simplest solution is to stuff your face and clear your head.”

Mingyu shook his head in amusement but pulled out his phone. “I guess you’re right. I need to step back and let things breathe for a bit. I’ll get us some dinner—something comforting.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Just make sure it's a feast. I can feel your brain overheating from all that pondering.”

A soft laugh escaped Mingyu as he selected their usual takeout. “I’ll make sure it's worth the calories. But for now, we forget about everything else, yeah?"

“Deal.” Wonwoo stretched out lazily, sinking back into the couch. “A little food and mindless conversation—just what the doctor ordered.”

As summer gradually surrendered to the crisp embrace of fall, a subtle shift occurred in the relationship between Y/N and Mingyu. What had once been a cordial camaraderie deepened into something undeniably more affectionate. The air around them, once filled with the usual banter of coworkers, now hummed with a quiet tension, a recognition of the feelings that had begun to unfurl like the autumn leaves surrounding them.

Their glances lingered longer than they used to—words exchanged now held an unspoken weight between them. After long shifts in the kitchen, Mingyu often found himself walking beside Y/N, their footsteps in sync as they navigated the bustling streets. And each time their hands brushed, the contact lingered just a beat too long, enough to send a wave of warmth through both of them.

As the evening air grew cooler, they walked side by side, the hum of the city around them almost forgotten. Mingyu stole a glance at Y/N, his thoughts racing, but he couldn’t quite find the right words. He cleared his throat, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“You know,” he began, his voice casual but laced with something deeper, “I really enjoy these walks with you. More than I expected, honestly.”

Y/N looked over at him, her lips curling into a soft smile. She slowed her pace just slightly, letting the silence settle between them before replying.

“Yeah, me too,” she said quietly, her breath forming tiny clouds in the cool evening air. “It’s nice to unwind after a long shift, having someone to talk to.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. Mingyu glanced down at their hands, which had been brushing together with every other step. He swallowed, the connection between them so simple yet so significant.

“You ever think about how we’ve gone from barely talking to—this?” Mingyu asked, a playful edge in his voice, though his heart beat faster than he wanted to admit.

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes meeting his. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quiet but warm, “it’s funny how things just kind of... shift, without either of us realizing it.”

Their hands brushed again, and this time neither of them pulled away. Y/N didn’t even seem to notice it at first, but when she did, she looked at Mingyu, her heart suddenly feeling like it might burst.

“Are we still just walking home?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper, and Mingyu felt a flush creep up his neck.

“Guess so,” he said, his words hanging in the air between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

And for a long moment, they walked together, the cool breeze brushing against them as the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of their footsteps and the quiet certainty that something had shifted—for the better

"Are you wearing new makeup?" Yuna asked, walking over and lightly tracing her finger over the glossy nude stain on Y/N's lips.

Y/N jumped slightly, swatting her hand away. "No," she lied, quickly glancing in the mirror to make sure the gloss wasn’t smudged.

Yuna leaned in, narrowing her eyes. "You are! I can tell. Why are you wearing new makeup? You don't usually go for this look... I mean, it looks good on you, but I’m kind of confused."

Y/N sighed, giving up the charade as she dug through her purse. She pulled out a larger makeup bag, opening it to reveal the fresh products she'd just picked up earlier that week. "Okay, fine. Yes, it’s new makeup. I don’t know... I just thought it was time for a change. Something different, you know?"

Yuna's eyebrows shot up as she took the bag from Y/N and started rifling through it, clearly intrigued. "A change? Girl, you’re over here talking about change, but look at all this! You went all out! These brands are way fancier than the usual stuff you get."

Y/N shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. "I just wanted to try something new. Maybe freshen up my routine a bit."

Yuna chuckled, pulling out a highlighter. "Freshen up your routine? You went straight for the big leagues. I see you got the good stuff—look at this highlighter! You didn’t even tell me you were planning to glow like this."

"Yuna, stop," Y/N said, her cheeks flushing slightly as she took the highlighter from her and tucked it back into the bag. "It’s not that serious."

"Oh, it’s serious," Yuna teased, shaking her head. "The question is—who’s the lucky guy that’s got you changing up your look? You’ve never been one to put this much effort into your makeup before."

Y/N’s eyes widened as she quickly fumbled for an excuse, her voice quieter than usual. "I’m just trying something new. It’s nothing like that."

Yuna gave her a knowing look, but didn’t push further. Instead, she grabbed a lipstick and held it up to Y/N’s lips. "Well, whether it's for someone or just for you, it’s looking good. I’m just saying, you’ve got that glow now."

Y/N gave her a half-smile, still feeling a bit embarrassed but also somewhat pleased by the compliment. "Thanks, Yuna."

Yuna smirked. "Well, if you won’t tell me who it’s for, at least let me play makeup artist with your new stuff. Come on, let’s see how much more fabulous I can make you."

Y/N shook her head, trying to hold back a laugh. "You’re impossible."

"But you love me," Yuna said, winking as she started applying the lipstick to her friend's lips. "Now spill—it’s either a guy or a new level of self-care. Which one is it?"

Y/N just rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "You’re never gonna let this go, huh?"

"Not a chance," Yuna grinned, already planning her next line of questioning. "Is it Mingyu?" Yuna asked, her voice teasing as she raised an eyebrow, noticing the silence that followed.

Y/N froze for a second, her mind racing. She hadn't intended for this to come up. The blush on her cheeks betrayed her, though, as it spread across her face like wildfire.

Yuna grinned, her smirk widening. "Oh my god, it is him, isn't it?"

Y/N quickly looked away, hoping the flush would subside, but her heart was already pounding in her chest. "I—it's not like that," she stammered, still avoiding Yuna's gaze.

Yuna's laughter filled the room, and she playfully nudged Y/N's shoulder. "Come on, don't try to hide it. I saw the way you were with him the other night, and now you’re changing up your look? He’s definitely got you thinking about him, huh?"

Y/N sighed, her hands instinctively reaching for the makeup bag to distract herself. "It's... complicated," she admitted quietly, biting her lower lip.

Yuna raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Complicated? In what way?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind spinning as she tried to figure out how to explain without giving too much away. "I don't know... we’ve been getting closer. It’s just... different now."

Yuna leaned in closer, her expression softening slightly. "Closer? That sounds like a good thing, Y/N. Maybe it’s time to see where this goes." She paused, a teasing gleam still in her eye. "I mean, he’s a good guy. Plus, you did just get all this new makeup for him, didn’t you?"

Y/N's blush deepened, but she gave a small smile. "Can we not talk about the makeup for him?" she muttered, feeling both flustered and oddly comforted by her friend’s teasing.

Yuna grinned wider, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Alright, alright, but I’m just saying, if you ever need someone to talk to about Mingyu—or about anything else—you know I’m here."

"Thanks, Yuna," Y/N said softly, her heart feeling a little lighter as she finally looked back at her friend.

Yuna winked. "Anytime. Just don’t take too long to figure out what's between you two. You deserve someone who makes you smile, and from what I can see, he might just be the one."

Thanks, Yuna,” Y/N said, meeting her friend’s gaze. “It means a lot to have someone to talk to about all this.”

Yuna grinned, giving her a playful shove. “Anytime. Now, let’s talk about your makeup again, because that’s the real mystery here.”

Y/N was slightly embarrassed that her friend had read her so easily, but a part of her was relieved. It felt good to finally share her thoughts with someone who understood without judgment. She had always been so private, especially when it came to matters of the heart, but Yuna’s lighthearted teasing made it seem less intimidating.

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart felt lighter as she finally relaxed. She could do this. She just had to take things one step at a time.

The dinner rush hit like a storm, the clattering of plates and the ringing of the ticket printer blending into a cacophony of pressure. In the back, the kitchen was a frenzy of heat and noise. The team was already feeling the strain, and it was only getting worse.

Mingyu stood at the stove, his hand moving skillfully over the hot pan as he worked on the scallops. But in his haste to keep up with orders, he misjudged the timing. The scallops, delicate and prone to overcooking, began to blacken along the edges. His heart dropped when he realized his mistake.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the scallops off the heat just in time to stop them from becoming completely ruined. But the damage was done. The scallops had lost their delicate texture and now looked less than appetizing.

Over at the sauce station, Y/N was juggling multiple pans, keeping an eye on each one to ensure nothing burned. But then, as if on cue, the beurre blanc she had been carefully preparing suddenly started bubbling over, splattering across the stove and dripping onto the floor in a disastrous mess.

“Crap!” Y/N cursed, scrambling to grab a towel to stem the flow, but it was too late. The sauce had already scorched the burner and spilled across the kitchen. She wiped her hands frantically on her apron as she tried to contain the damage. “Not now,” she muttered to herself, panic rising in her chest. This wasn’t the time for things to go wrong.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan, who was in charge of the risotto, was experiencing his own crisis. The rice, which was meant to be creamy and tender, had somehow become a mushy, overcooked mess. He was stirring furiously, trying to salvage it, but each stir seemed to make it worse. The dish was supposed to be a signature item for the evening, and now it was quickly turning into a nightmare.

“Dammit!” Jeonghan hissed, shaking his head in frustration. “This is not how tonight was supposed to go.”

Dino, who was assigned to roast vegetables, had just pulled a tray of brussels sprouts out of the oven only to find they were charred black on one side. He quickly shoved them back in, hoping to salvage the other side, but there was no saving that batch. The oven had been on too high, and everything had cooked unevenly.

“Are you kidding me?” Dino groaned. The kitchen was a disaster, and it was clear to everyone that they were losing control.

As the pressure mounted, the kitchen was filled with a symphony of frustration—knives chopping, pans sizzling, and everyone speaking over one another. The orders were piling up, and each mistake felt like a snowball gaining momentum. Mingyu cursed under his breath as he pulled the ruined scallops aside, and Y/N wiped her brow, trying to steady herself as she assessed the damage to her sauce.

But it was when Jeonghan’s risotto began to burn that the atmosphere truly shifted. The heat, the noise, and the sheer chaos of it all seemed to consume the kitchen.

“Guys!” Y/N called over the commotion, her voice louder than it had been all night. “We need to pull it together. NOW.”

She moved quickly to Mingyu’s side, assessing the scallops. "You didn’t burn them completely, just give them a second to rest," she said calmly, despite her own rising panic. "I’ll take over the sauce, you focus on those."

Mingyu nodded, frustration still etched on his face. “I didn’t mean to mess up,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving the burnt edges of the scallops.

“I know, we’ve all had a moment,” she replied, her tone steady. “Let’s fix it. I’ll do the sauce. You do the scallops. We’ve got this.”

She turned to Jeonghan, who was standing frozen in front of the pot of ruined risotto. “Jeonghan, we need more stock. Stir slowly, and don’t panic. It’ll come together.”

Jeonghan met her eyes, nodding gratefully before returning to the pan. The calm in her voice was like a lifeline, and it was enough to snap him out of his daze.

Dino was already back to the vegetables, moving quickly this time, pulling a fresh tray of brussels sprouts from the oven and tossing them back in the oven at a slightly lower temperature. “These are going to be perfect,” he muttered under his breath, determined not to let his earlier mistake define the night.

As the team pulled together, Y/N felt a rush of adrenaline. The clock was ticking, and the orders kept coming in, but her mind had shifted into autopilot. She moved fluidly between stations, taking charge where necessary, offering reassurance where she could.

But just as it seemed they were getting a handle on the chaos, the pressure cooker that was the kitchen had one last surprise in store. The walk-in fridge door, which had been opened and closed multiple times in the midst of the frantic rush, was now jammed. Inside, they had the ingredients they needed to finish off several orders. But no one could get the door to budge.

“Of course,” Y/N muttered under her breath, banging her fist lightly against the door. “Why not?”

“We’ve got no choice,” Mingyu said, his tone resigned. “We’ll have to move fast and get what we need from the front cooler.”

Y/N nodded. “We’ll make it work.”

With Mingyu leading the way, they quickly gathered the necessary ingredients from the front. The frantic energy that had pervaded the kitchen turned into a united determination. They were in this together, and failure wasn’t an option.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the orders were out. Plates of perfectly seared scallops, velvety risotto, and roasted vegetables, all beautifully arranged and delivered. Everyone was covered in sweat, their clothes stained with sauce and oil, but the relief was palpable. The nightmare was over.

Y/N looked around at the team, catching Mingyu’s gaze for a split second. “We did it,” she said, the exhaustion and pride clear in her voice.

Mingyu, his expression tired but satisfied, nodded. “We did.”

Jeonghan, still breathing heavily, leaned against the counter. “That was a disaster,” he chuckled. “But it was a disaster we survived.”

Dino grinned, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, and now it’s time for a drink.”

The tension in the kitchen melted away, replaced by a shared sense of accomplishment. They had survived the storm, stronger as a team than they had ever been before.

In the chaos of the night, they had not only saved the dinner service, but they had learned to lean on one another. They had learned to trust, to adapt, and to push through even the toughest of moments. And as they stood together, catching their breath and sharing small smiles, Y/N knew that this disaster had only made them stronger. 

As the night came to a wrap and Y/N and Mingyu started their walk back to Y/N’s place, the air between them felt different—charged, almost electric. The chill of the evening clung to the air, but neither of them seemed to mind. Their steps were slow, unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

“You really took charge back there,” Mingyu said, shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing at her with something close to admiration. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Jeonghan actually listen to someone in a crisis.”

Y/N huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t give me too much credit. I was just trying to keep us all from setting the place on fire.”

Mingyu chuckled, but he didn’t say anything else right away. Instead, he let the silence settle between them, comfortable but weighted. The city lights flickered against the pavement, casting long shadows as they walked side by side.

At some point, their hands brushed, the contact fleeting but enough to make Y/N’s breath hitch. She didn’t move away, and neither did he. Instead, Mingyu took a slow breath, gathering the courage that had been bubbling inside him all night.

“You’re something else, you know that?” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful.

Y/N turned to look at him, her steps faltering just slightly. “What do you mean?”

Mingyu stopped walking then, and Y/N, caught in the moment, did too. They stood there, just a few steps away from her apartment, the night wrapped around them like a secret.

“I mean,” Mingyu said, lifting a hand as if he was about to reach for her but hesitating at the last second. “You make me nervous, and that doesn’t happen often.” His lips curled into a soft smile, but there was something undeniably sincere in his eyes, something that made Y/N’s heart race in her chest.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, the warmth of his presence pulling her in. “You don’t seem nervous,” she whispered.

Mingyu huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I am,” he admitted. And then, before she could respond, he took the last step that closed the space between them.

Y/N’s breath caught as Mingyu lifted a hand, his fingertips brushing the side of her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was featherlight, hesitant, like he was giving her a chance to step away—but she didn’t.

Instead, she tilted her head just slightly, her gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips and back again. Mingyu swallowed, his pulse hammering as he leaned in, so close now that she could feel his breath ghosting over her skin.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, the sounds of the city fading into the background. It was just them, standing in the dim glow of the streetlamp, hearts racing, breaths mingling, the weight of something unspoken hanging between them—waiting.

As their lips finally met, the world seemed to stop. The cool night air faded into the background, and for a moment, it was just the two of them—Y/N and Mingyu. The space between them that had once felt like an ocean now felt like nothing at all.

Mingyu’s hand found its way to her waist, pulling her slightly closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. Y/N’s breath hitched as she melted into the kiss, unsure where the nervous tension from earlier had gone. She felt the rush of warmth that surged through her, the flicker of something she couldn’t fully describe yet.

Her fingers brushed lightly against his chest, unsure of where to place them, and Mingyu’s other hand found the back of her neck, holding her gently, as though she might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened, slow and searching, as if they were both savoring the newfound closeness.

When they finally broke apart, their faces were so close that their breath mingled in the space between them. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, unsure if she had just dreamt the entire moment. Her hand rested on his chest, feeling the quick rhythm of his heart as well.

Mingyu let out a quiet laugh, but his voice was hushed, almost reverent. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

Y/N smiled, trying to find her words, but she couldn’t quite get them out. She just let out a soft laugh, meeting his eyes. “Me too.”

And just as she thought the moment might slip away, she leaned in again, brushing her lips softly against his, as if asking for more. The kiss was gentle this time, but it carried with it the promise of something deeper, something neither of them were quite ready to define just yet.

It was a simple moment, but it felt like everything.

Mingyu reluctantly pulled away at a particularly harsh breeze and wrapped his arms around Y/N’s frame, “as much as I would like to continue, I can only imagine how cold you must be if I’m shivering.” 

Y/N chuckled and wrapped her arms around his waist as nodded against him. Her place was in eyesight, if they got there soon, maybe they could continue the night and their previous activities. 

Mingyu smiled softly, still holding her close, as if savoring the last bit of warmth from the kiss before reality crept back in. The chill in the air was undeniable, and he could feel the sharp wind cut through their clothes, but having Y/N in his arms made it almost bearable.

"I guess you're right," Y/N said, her voice quiet but warm, her breath mixing with his in the cold air. "We should probably get inside."

Reluctantly, Mingyu pulled back, his hands lingering on her arms for a moment longer, as if he didn’t want to let go just yet. Their eyes met, and for a split second, the weight of the unspoken words hung between them.

Y/N smiled softly, a small but knowing smile, before taking a step back and motioning toward the building. "Come on, we’re almost there."

They walked in comfortable silence, side by side, the occasional brush of their hands reminding them of the kiss they had just shared, still lingering like a sweet aftertaste.

When they reached her apartment, Y/N turned to face him, her fingers tracing the edges of his jacket. "Thanks for walking me home," she said, voice a little softer now, as if the night had shifted something between them.

Mingyu nodded, his thumb gently brushing her hand as it rested against his chest. "Anytime." His words came out more like a promise than anything else, as if he would walk her home every night if it meant he could stay close to her.

There was a pause, a moment of silence where everything felt suspended in time. Y/N glanced up at him, a glimmer of something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite read, but the closeness between them felt electric.

"Well..." she began, trailing off, her gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips.

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, his heart racing. "Well..." he repeated softly, his voice steady despite the rush of emotions he could feel building inside him.

And then, as if the distance between them could no longer be tolerated, Y/N leaned in again, this time with more intent, her lips brushing against his once more. The kiss was soft, but it carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said out loud. The world faded away again, leaving just the two of them—here, in this moment, with nothing but each other.

As their lips met again, Mingyu’s heart seemed to stop for just a moment, and everything else around him blurred. He could feel the warmth of her against him, her breath mingling with his, and he never wanted to let go. Every time their lips met, it felt like something shifted inside him, something he didn’t know he could feel until this moment.

His hand naturally moved to the back of her neck, holding her there, as if trying to pull her closer, as if he could keep her this close forever. The way her lips fit against his felt so right, and he couldn’t quite grasp why he felt so desperate to stay there, to not let the moment slip away. He had never felt this kind of pull before, like everything about him was tethered to her and every inch of space between them seemed unbearable.

It felt too good, too natural—this connection that was quickly becoming something he couldn’t easily walk away from. The cold air seemed irrelevant now, just a distant background to the warmth building between them. Mingyu could feel his pulse racing in his chest, and even though the air bit at his skin, he was lost in the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips.

He didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want this moment to end. But at the same time, there was this hesitation, this fear in the back of his mind—what if this was too much too soon? What if they were both walking too fast, leaning into something they weren’t ready for? Yet, every time he thought about pulling away, his heart screamed at him to stay, to keep feeling this, to keep tasting her lips, just a little longer.

But the world outside—the chilly night, the noise of the city just a few blocks away—eventually crept in. He reluctantly pulled back, not wanting to, but knowing it was probably for the best. The need to breathe, to take a step back, seemed so small in comparison to the overwhelming desire to remain in her arms.

And yet, even as he pulled away, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she made him feel. How easy it was to lose himself in her presence. Mingyu wasn’t sure what this all meant yet, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt too important, too real to just be a fleeting moment.

He just hoped she felt the same way.

“I don’t work tomorrow, but I can still come and walk you home?” He offered, watching her cheeks flush pink. 

“No, that’s okay,” Y/N said with a small smile. “We’ve been pretty attached at the hip lately.”

Mingyu chuckled, tilting his head playfully. “Oh? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “I didn’t say that.”

He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “So, you like having me around?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the warmth creeping up her neck. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, chef. I just meant… a little space isn’t the worst thing.”

Mingyu grinned, stepping back dramatically. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you your space… for now.”

Y/N shook her head, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, even when he teased, he had a way of making her heart race.

“See you later, Chef Y/N,” Mingyu teased, his voice laced with affection. Before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her cheeks instantly warming as he pulled away with that signature smirk of his. “Get inside before you freeze,” he murmured, his hand brushing hers for just a second longer than necessary before he finally stepped back.

She stood there, still caught in the moment, watching him walk away with a giddy feeling blooming in her chest.

“Shut up! You guys kissed?” Yuna shrieked, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads on the street.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she quickly reached out, smacking Yuna’s shoulder in warning. “Can you not announce it to the entire city?” she hissed, glancing around before sighing and nodding. “Yeah… twice.”

“Oh my god!” Yuna clutched her chest dramatically. “Twice? And you’re just telling me this now? When were you planning to share this life-altering information?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile creeping onto her lips. “I don’t know, maybe when you weren’t screaming about it in public?”

Yuna held up a hand, effectively silencing Y/N mid-ramble. "No, no, no—you're not about to brush past this like it's nothing," she said, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Was it like… fireworks? A slow burn? Did he cup your face? Oh my god, did he do the thing where he leans in all intense and makes you forget how to breathe?"

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Yuna, I don’t know. It was—good. Really good. We were both still on edge from the kitchen disaster, emotions were high, and then suddenly… it just happened."

Yuna gasped. "So it was a heat-of-the-moment kiss? Passionate? Unexpected? Please tell me he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world before it happened."

Y/N's face warmed as she crossed her arms. "...Maybe."

Yuna let out a delighted squeal, bouncing on her heels. "Oh, you're doomed. Completely, hopelessly doomed."

Y/n sighed, but didn't say anything else not wanting to draw any more attention.

Yuna, however, was far from done. She grinned, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “So? Are you guys, like… a thing now?”

Y/N sighed, glancing around at the lingering stares from Yuna’s earlier outburst. “Can we not do this here?” she mumbled, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

Yuna smirked but relented, lowering her voice. “Fine, fine. But you owe me details. And don’t think I didn’t notice that dreamy little sigh you just did.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe she was doomed.

Mingyu was stressed. He had been tasked with creating three new dishes for the restaurant—no easy feat. Fish and chips were a classic, but Joshua had insisted on something more refined, pushing him to craft three completely diverse plates: Lobster Bisque, Seared Scallops with Garlic Mashed Potatoes, and Lamb Loin with Smoked Eggplant and Squash Purée.

The kitchen was alive with movement, sizzling pans, and the rhythmic chop of knives against cutting boards. Mingyu moved between stirring a delicate sauce and carefully searing slices of eggplant, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Who started the fire?” Y/N called from across the kitchen, her voice cutting through the controlled chaos.

“Joshua.” Mingyu scoffed, flipping the eggplant with a little more force than necessary. “Decides to throw me into the deep end with no warning.”

Y/N smirked as she walked over, glancing at the plated scallops. “So, how does it feel being a fully initiated chef now?”

Mingyu let out a dry laugh. “Like I’m being hazed. You’d think after months of proving myself, I wouldn’t have to fight for my life every night.”

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching him drizzle sauce over the lamb loin. “It’s a test. He wouldn’t have given you this if he didn’t think you could handle it.”

Mingyu exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I’d like to have a conversation with past me about why I thought this career was a good idea.”

Y/N chuckled. “Because you love it. Even when you’re pissed off and running on fumes, you wouldn’t trade this for anything else.”

Mingyu stilled for a moment before sighing. “Damn it. You’re right.” He glanced at the bisque, giving it one last stir. “I hate when you do that.”

“I know,” Y/N said smugly. “Now, hurry up. Joshua’s coming, and if that bisque isn’t perfect, you’ll be redoing it in your sleep.”

Mingyu chuckled but nodded, focusing back on his work. A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sounds being the soft bubbling of sauces and the rhythmic sizzle from the pan.

After a few moments, Mingyu glanced up, stealing a quick look at Y/N before speaking.

“Why do you love cooking?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

Y/N hesitated for a second, eyes flickering toward the lamb he was carefully plating. “I don’t want to mess up your focus.”

Mingyu smirked, stirring the bisque without missing a beat. “I’m still going. I can multitask.”

“Okay, fine,” Y/N chuckled, shifting her weight slightly as she thought. “I guess... it feels like control. No matter how chaotic things get, if you follow the right steps, you get something good in the end.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, setting down his spoon. “So it’s about control for you?”

She shrugged. “Partly. But it’s also about creating something people actually enjoy. You can put effort into a lot of things in life and never see the payoff, but with food? You know right away if it’s good.”

Mingyu tilted his head, considering her words. “Huh.”

“What?”

He shook his head with a small smile. “Just didn’t expect you to sum it up so perfectly.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What, you think I don’t think deeply about food?”

Mingyu chuckled. “No, I just remember mentioning how much I love the kitchen rush a while back, and you didn’t really say anything. I figured that was your way of saying you weren’t that into it.”

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh. No, that was just me being standoffish.”

Mingyu nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I see. Well, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to open up to me now.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah… I guess you kind of grew on me.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow playfully. “So, I wasn’t instantly charming?”

She smirked. “Not exactly. You were kind of annoying at first.”

Mingyu gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Annoying? I prefer the term ‘irresistibly charismatic.’”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze gave her away. “Call it what you want. But yeah… I do feel more comfortable with you now.”

Mingyu’s expression softened, the teasing fading into something more genuine. “Good. I like this—us just talking like this.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the same unspoken ease settle between them.

“Are you guys flirting?” Jeonghan called out from his station, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Because if so, can you at least do it a little quieter? Some of us are actually working here.”

Laughter rippled through the kitchen, a few chefs throwing knowing glances their way. Y/N rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Mingyu, unfazed, grinned as he tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Jeonghan, if you spent half as much time cooking as you do eavesdropping, maybe you’d finally impress Chef Lee.”

The laughter only grew louder, Jeonghan scoffing as he turned back to his work. The playful banter didn’t break the energy of the kitchen—it only made it feel lighter, more alive.

And maybe, just maybe, Mingyu and Y/N weren’t the only ones who felt the shift between them.

“How’s the extra dishes coming along?” Joshua asked, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder and snapping him out of his little daze.

Mingyu blinked, clearing his throat as he hastily turned back to the stove. “Good. Just, uh—getting down the garlic mashed potatoes,” he replied, stirring a little too intently.

Joshua chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Right. And were you planning to season them with longing stares, or...?”

Mingyu groaned, his cheeks tinged with a telltale blush. “Shut up, hyung,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the pot, as if that would somehow erase the fact that he’d just been caught staring at Y/N—again.

Joshua only smirked, giving Mingyu another pat on the back before walking off. “Just don’t burn anything while you’re busy pinning.”

Mingyu’s head snapped toward Y/N, panic flashing in his eyes as he checked to see if she had heard Joshua’s teasing remark. To his relief, she was too focused on her own station to notice. Still, the mortification settled deep in his chest—if Joshua had caught on, who else had?

“Hyung, don’t say that out loud!” Mingyu hissed under his breath, glaring at Joshua.

Joshua only chuckled, unfazed. “Relax, Romeo. Your secret’s safe with me.” He shot Mingyu a playful wink before casually strolling back to his station.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he turned back to his mashed potatoes. Get it together, man. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: Wow guys! that's the first part! I'm ngl, I'm not done writing this, life has been busy, so it may be a little bit before it's done! But I won' drag it out to multiple parts. I hope everyone likes it ♥

taglist: @fancypeacepersona @lolawlolawlol @syluslittlecrows @alyssa19123456 @christinewithluv

[hannahaki13]

Another lil snippet of the FirstPrince fic I'm writing~

Coming soooon!

Currently at 17.6k words!

[moon-ttokki-x]

♡ ‧₊ ot8!𝗌𝗄𝗓 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌' 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 ‧₊ .ᐟ

pairing: ot8!skz x reader imagines

summary: just a snippet of what i think skz would do for you on valentines' day

genre: pretty cute and sappy, lots of fluff, slight crack, mentions of eating

a/n: yet another year of having no valentine, but at least i can buy chocolate half off

Chan who surprises you and shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers and an outstretched hand. He's in a dark fitted suit, handsome as always, and there's a big smile on his face as he runs off the cheesiest pick up lines, handing you a singular rose as he does. He waits in your living room while you get ready and then offers his arm as you both walk to his car. He takes you to a classic night out, a candlelit dinner in some city restaurant, the lights low and ambient music swirling around your heads. Hushed giggles and feeding each other bites of food are done over intertwined hands.

"You look beautiful under the lights, baby. Here, eat some more..."

♡

Minho who pretends to forget what day it is and leaves you feeling a little downcast. That is, until you're in your office working and the cats walk in, each holding a rose of a different colour; one red, one pink, and one white. He appears at the door with a smirk on his face and strokes your hair as you whine about him pretending to forget. The roses are clutched tightly in your hands as he leads you to the kitchen, where there's a small arrangement of gifts. He isn't one for grand gestures but you're satisfied and cosy, sitting in his lap as you open little trinkets, the cats watching on.

"You're so cute when you whine. You really thought I forgot, huh?"

♡

Changbin who is also a hopeless romantic, who is endlessly in love with you, who shows up to your workplace with a hand full of heart-shaped helium balloons and a big grin on his face. He loudly declared his love for you in front of your coworkers, completely unashamed, and watches with a massive, cute smile on his face as you turn the colour of the balloons he's holding. But the gigantic, warm, though slightly crushing hug he gives you is warmer than your cheeks.

"Happy Valentines Day, bunny! Here- Ah, your face has gone so red..."

♡

Hyunjin who told you to show up at his apartment at exactly six o clock dressed in something classy but comfortable. He blindfolds you as soon as he opens the door and leads you to his living room, where he's set up two canvases opposite each other. There's a platter full of finger food, two glasses and a bottle of some fancy drink he took from the company. He's hung fairy lights around the room and he watches affectionately as you show him your slightly messy impression of the love of your life. His is much better, but he kisses you anyway and says he'll hang it in his room above the bed.

"You're so talented, my love. I'm going to hang it up right away..."

♡

Jisung who pretty much kidnaps you as soon as your shift at work ends, telling you to dress in one of his hoodies. When you come out of his room, he's set up a massive mess of pillows, cushions, and fluffy blankets in front of the TV, which is set up to play a game. He hands you a controller and tells you he's ordered so much food. You know he's done it so you can both spend time together without it ending in the kitchen burning down, but it's appreciated nonetheless. He lets you beat him every time and watches you sit up in victory and cheer at his defeat, your fingers covered in cheesy french fry salt.

"Aww, jagi, you keep beating me. When did you get so good at this?"

♡

Felix who, when you come home, surprises you by setting up a few things in the kitchen so you can both bake and make a few things together. He sets up bowls of chocolate and lets you add the food colouring, turning each bowl pink and red. You both dip strawberries and candied orange slices into the bowls, dripping chocolate over the counter before laying them on a tray to set. You mix the rest of the chocolate together and pour them into heart-shaped molds, marbling the colours together with fingertips stained pink.

"Sunflower, we made such a mess! At least the counter isn't stained pink..."

♡

Seungmin who takes you shopping to the cutest little pop up store, telling you to dress in pink, cream, and white. He meets you at your door and holds your hand as he drives you both there, letting you browse excitedly amongst the shelves for mini figures and plushies. You both come home loaded with a ton of accessories, cuddly toys, and matching items. He then sets up pink lights around your bathroom mirror and takes a whole album's worth of selfies with you.

"I like these necklaces... come on, let's be matching. It'd be cute..."

♡

Jeongin who takes you to the arcade and doesn't even try to let you win. It turns into a competition of who can do the best and he keeps kissing you while you're playing the games so you lose your focus. He teases you each time and promises to let you win the next time. He doesn't, and it's all in good fun until you whine about him being too competitive. He just kisses you again and makes it up to you by taking you for a night-time joyride before stopping at a petrol station, where you both buy convenience store snacks and lie on his car roof, talking about everything.

"Look at all the pretty stars up there. I think you shine way brighter..."

a/n: happy valentines' day to all of my loves ♡ !

[wqnsho]

Can I request frontman x reader(Any gender) Where the frontman meets the reader OUTSIDE of his games, and then realizes he likes them?

(Sorry if I expressed myself a little unclearly)

soju | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after rescuing a stranger late at night. hwang in-ho finds himself sharing soju with the girl he just saved. under the glow of the convenience store, an unexpected bond forms, offering a fleeting escape from his solitude. *.✧ word count: 3.7k *.✧ warnings: happens outside squidgame, attempted crime directed at reader, drinking, mentions of death. don't go drinking with people you don't know alone btw, this is just fiction. *.✧ note: hello to the requestor! hopefully this tickled your fancy :P thought about it earlier so I decided why not? I wrote this in 5 hours, hopefully it suffices. shorter than my past works! also a different writing approach. masterlist | request here

༉‧₊˚. As the overseer of the Squid Games, Hwang In-ho has an insane amount of workload like no other. Setting up the venue, recruiting trusted employees, and scouring for rich sponsors are just a few of the countless tasks he manages every year. ༉‧₊˚. He’s a busy man, constantly on his feet, ensuring everything runs seamlessly. But when his boss, Oh Il-nam, forced him to take a week off, he was left with an unfamiliar emptiness in his schedule, unsure how to fill his time. ༉‧₊˚. Currently, he’s sitting outside a small convenience store, a bottle of soju in hand. It’s nearly midnight—11:58 PM, to be exact—and the streets are eerily quiet. ༉‧₊˚. The air is cool, the weather perfect, and for a moment, it feels peaceful. With no one around, it’s just him and his thoughts. It’s a strangely calming experience, though the loneliness creeps in at the edges. ༉‧₊˚. As the Frontman, he has no companions he can freely invite to moments like this. No friends, no family, and no one to share his burdens. ༉‧₊˚. It’s not a bad thing, he tells himself. After all, solitude means safety. Yet, there’s a part of him that yearns for someone to confide in—someone who wouldn’t judge him for the ruthlessness his position demands.

As In-ho took another shot, the warm burn of soju did little to chase away the emptiness in his chest. The faint hum of neon signs and the soft rustle of leaves were the only sounds accompanying him, a quiet solitude he had come to both expect and resent.

Then a scream shattered the night, sharp and jarring. It pierced through the calm like a knife, slicing his thoughts in two.

He froze, the glass of soju hovering mid-air. For a brief moment, he did nothing, his body stiff with instinctual awareness. But before he could overthink it, his years as a police officer took over. He stood abruptly, scanning the dark street for the source of the commotion.

Down the road, just beyond the glow of the convenience store, two drunk men loomed over a figure, their rough voices slurred with mockery. The figure struggled in vain, her cries muffled by one man’s grip.

In-ho didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. His strides were purposeful, his steps heavy with intent. “Hey!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. “Let her go!”

The drunk men froze, startled by his sudden approach. One of them turned, squinting at him in drunken confusion, before muttering something incoherent. But whatever courage they might have had faltered under the weight of In-ho’s glare, his presence exuding a quiet but dangerous authority. Without another word, they staggered off, stumbling into the shadows.

The figure crumpled to the ground as soon as she was released, her body trembling with shock. In-ho approached cautiously, his gaze softening. “Hey,” he said gently, kneeling down beside her. “Are you hurt?”

There was no response. Her breathing was ragged, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In-ho hesitated, unsure if his presence was more comforting or alarming. Slowly, he shrugged off his coat, its fabric worn but warm, and draped it over her trembling frame.

“Here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “This’ll keep you warm.”

The weight of the coat seemed to ground her, and she finally looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint glow of the convenience store’s sign. Her eyes were wide and glossy, a mixture of fear and gratitude.

With a steady hand, In-ho helped her to her feet. She was light, almost fragile, as if a strong wind could knock her over. “Come on,” he said, guiding her gently back to where he had been sitting.

Once there, he gestured for her to sit, his movements deliberate and unhurried. For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a moment of reprieve, a chance for her to catch her breath.

“Thank you…” she finally said, her voice soft and trembling.

In-ho turned to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s no problem,” he replied, his tone calm but distant. “Just doing my job as a policeman.”

The words felt foreign on his tongue, a ghost of a past he didn’t like to dwell on. But he pushed those thoughts aside. “What are you doing out here at this time anyway?” he asked, his voice softer now.

She hesitated, pulling the coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just came out to grab something from the store,” she said quietly, glancing at the convenience store behind them. “Didn’t expect to run into… that.”

In-ho nodded slowly, studying her. She avoided his gaze, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of his coat. “What were you buying?” he asked, his tone casual, trying to put her at ease.

She blinked, then let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Just snacks. Ramyeon, chips… comfort food, I guess.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Comfort food at midnight? Sounds serious.”

“It’s nothing dramatic,” she replied, shaking her head. “Just one of those nights where you need something to make it feel a little less heavy, you know?”

In-ho’s smile faded, replaced by something more contemplative. He nodded again, his gaze dropping to the half-empty bottle of soju beside him. “I get it,” he said quietly.

The silence returned, but this time it was lighter, less oppressive. After a moment, In-ho reached for the spare cup he had brought earlier, rinsing it with a splash of soju. “You drink?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

She glanced at him, surprised by the question. “Uh… sometimes.”

He tilted his head toward the bottle, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. “Well, since you’ve already had a rough night, might as well join me. One drink won’t hurt.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and the bottle. Then, with a small nod, she said, “Sure. Why not?”

In-ho poured her a drink, the clear liquid catching the dim light as it filled the cup. He handed it to her, their fingers brushing briefly as she accepted it.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

He raised his own cup in a quiet toast, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before they drank. The burn of the soju was familiar, grounding.

For the first time that night, the gnawing loneliness in In-ho’s chest seemed to ease, replaced by the quiet comfort of shared company. There was no need for words—just the soft clink of glasses and the understanding that, sometimes, even the smallest connection could make the night feel a little less heavy.

༉‧₊˚. After three cups, In-ho quickly noticed that she wasn’t handling the alcohol too well. The slight slur in her words and the way she began to lean more heavily on the table after each sip made it clear. ༉‧₊˚. He felt so stupid inviting a girl with low alcohol tolerance to drink, but there was no backing out now. ༉‧₊˚. At first, he was concerned. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel worse because of the soju. But as the conversation continued, he began to notice something else. ༉‧₊˚. The alcohol seemed to help her relax, peeling back the careful guard she had when they first sat down. Her genuine personality emerged, warm and unfiltered, and for the first time that night, she seemed completely at ease.

“Y’know,” she said, words stretching slightly as she rested her chin in her hand, “you’re not as scary as you look.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow, amused. “Scary? Is that how you saw me?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “When you came running over earlier, I thought you were gonna punch them in the face… which, by the way, would’ve been really cool.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”

“Good, ‘cause it was meant to be one,” she replied, pointing at him with a slightly wobbly finger. “You’re like one of those grumpy cats. All intimidating on the outside but probably super soft if you get to know them.”

“That’s quite the comparison,” he said, smirking, unsure whether to be insulted or impressed.

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair, her eyes still bright. “I’m just saying what I see.”

In-ho found himself amused despite himself, the playful jab catching him off guard. “So, what else do you see?” he asked, curiosity creeping in, but keeping his tone casual.

She raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment, then grinned. “I think you’re the type of person who pretends not to care but secretly does. And that makes you kind of a softie.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you come up with that all on your own?”

She nodded, looking proud. “Yep. I’m a great judge of character.”

He shook his head, clearly entertained by her. “Well, I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, her smile softening. “You’re not as serious as you seem,” she said thoughtfully.

In-ho met her gaze, surprised by the shift. “Is that a compliment too?”

“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug. “But it’s true. You’ve got this whole... tough guy thing going on, but I can tell you’re not really like that.”

He let out a small laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You sure know how to read people, huh?”

She smiled, a bit smug now. “I told you, I’m good at this.”

༉‧₊˚. In-ho wasn’t the type to open up to strangers easily, but there was something about this encounter that felt different. ༉‧₊˚. Maybe it was the ease with which she joked, her humor a refreshing change from the weight of his usual silence. Her teasing nature and quick wit chipped away at the walls he usually kept firmly in place. ༉‧₊˚. She wasn’t scared of his tough exterior, and in some strange way, that made him feel… lighter. Her playful comments about him being too serious made him laugh—something he hadn’t done in a long time. ༉‧₊˚. One bottle of soju turned into two, then three, with neither of them really keeping track. The night, which had started off quiet and somber, slowly transformed. The stillness gave way to a lively energy, filled with soft laughter, comfortable silences, and warm conversation. ༉‧₊˚. As the alcohol worked its magic, the distance between them seemed to vanish. It wasn’t just the soju—there was something about her presence that made In-ho forget about the heaviness that often weighed on his mind. ༉‧₊˚. Her words were easy, her tone warm, and she spoke with such ease that it made him feel as though he could let go of all the unspoken burdens. She didn’t push him for anything, didn’t try to draw out his thoughts. She just was, and somehow that made the night feel less lonely.

“I mean, think about it,” she said, her giggles spilling out as she waved her chopsticks for emphasis. “If you weren’t a cop, you could totally be one of those broody action movie guys. You know the type—sharp jawline, mysterious aura…” She trailed off for a second, tilting her head as though she were analyzing him. “Like Lee Byung-hun!"

"You’d totally be the antihero. Do you practice glaring in the mirror, or is it just… natural?” She added, slurring a bit.

In-ho blinked, caught off guard by the question. His first instinct was to brush it off, but something about her teasing made it hard to not play along. “I do not practice glaring,” he said, his voice laced with mock indignation, though the corner of his lips twitched upward.

She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes like she was examining a specimen under a microscope. “Hmm…” she murmured, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know… feels a little too perfect to be unpracticed. You sure you’re not rehearsing in front of the mirror at night?”

He rolled his eyes, but a laugh escaped him despite himself. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

She grinned, unbothered by his apparent defeat. “And yet, here you are, sharing soju with me,” she teased, tapping the rim of her cup with a smug expression as if she had just caught him in a trap. “Must be my charm.”

In-ho snorted at the playful arrogance in her voice. He looked at her—her easy smile, the glint in her eyes—and realized that, despite his usual guarded nature, he didn’t mind this. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. “Well, I guess I couldn’t resist your charm,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, come on,” she said, feigning offense, “You’re telling me the brooding cop is actually soft under all that tough exterior? That’s a plot twist I wasn’t expecting.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “What, you think I’m just some soft guy who lets anyone in?” he asked, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

Her grin widened, a mischievous spark dancing in her eyes. “Maybe,” she said, taking a dramatic pause, “but I think I’ve cracked the code.”

In-ho stared at her for a moment, half-amused, half-caught off guard. There was something about the way she didn’t hold back, how effortlessly she made him feel at ease, that got to him more than he’d like to admit.

“You think you’ve cracked it, huh?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his voice lowered slightly as if testing the waters.

“Maybe,” she said, still grinning, “But you’re not getting off that easy. I’ll need more time to figure you out.”

In-ho chuckled, a genuine sound, free of the usual tension he carried. He looked at her and, for once, didn’t feel the weight of being the brooding guy with a past to hide. She was right about one thing—she was definitely making him feel lighter.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, raising his cup to hers in a silent toast.

She clinked it with a quick grin. “You better,” she said with a wink. “You’re stuck with me now.”

༉‧₊˚. By the time they finished their third bottle, her cheeks were flushed, and she was laughing at every little thing. Her laughter was infectious, bubbling up at the smallest of jokes or even just the awkward silence between them.  ༉‧₊˚. In-ho, who wasn’t much of a drinker himself, found himself laughing along, not so much at the jokes, but at her genuine enjoyment. ༉‧₊˚. He had never been one to let loose, to be this open with anyone, but her easygoing nature was different. It was so refreshing that it caught him off guard in the best way. ༉‧₊˚. He wasn’t used to this—being around someone so unguarded, someone who could just be, without constantly second-guessing every word or action. And it made him realize how long it had been since he’d truly let go of his own reservations. ༉‧₊˚. At one point, as they were talking about something completely random, she started humming a little tune to herself. ༉‧₊˚. The notes were soft, almost silly as if the melody had just popped into her head. It wasn’t a song, just a tune she made up on the spot, and before he knew it, she started singing it aloud, her voice a little off-key but full of life.

“Do you hear that?” she said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “It’s a hit in the making. You should totally record it.”

In-ho’s lips twitched, resisting the urge to chuckle, but he let it slip out anyway. Her randomness was infectious. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but something about this moment made everything feel lighter, almost like he was seeing the world from a different angle.

He watched her for a moment, her laughter still echoing in the quiet night, and a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.

It was rare for him to feel this easy, this unburdened. Normally, there was always something pulling at him—the weight of his responsibilities, the shadows of his past. But with her, everything seemed to fade away.

Her laughter, her carefree spirit, her utter lack of restraint—it was a stark contrast to everything he was used to, and yet, for once, it felt right. It was exactly what he needed.

“So, are we starting a band now?” he teased, leaning back in his chair, his voice light and relaxed.

She looked at him with a wink, clearly pleased with his response. “Well, you’re the tough guy with the brooding stare, so you’re definitely the lead singer,” she replied, pointing at him with a grin.

In-ho shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for singing,” he said, his voice still warm with the aftereffects of their shared drink.

She tilted her head, staring at him for a moment before speaking with a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, no. You’re definitely the lead singer. The whole ‘I don’t care, I’m too cool’ thing. It’s perfect.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not broody,” he protested, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You’re definitely broody,” she teased, winking at him.

In-ho gave her a smile, but when his eyes shifted to his watch, he saw it was already past 3 a.m. His face softened slightly, and he frowned as he set his cup down.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice quieter now as he stood up, the weight of the hour sinking in.

She groaned, leaning back in their chair dramatically, clearly not ready for the night to end. “Already? You’re no fun, Officer,” she complained, the playfulness still in her voice.

In-ho shook his head, half-amused, half-concerned. “And you’re someone who needs to get some sleep,” he replied firmly, holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

She pouted at the suggestion but took his hand anyway, stumbling slightly as they stood up. “Fine, but only because you’re being all responsible and stuff,” she said with a mock pout, though her lips were curled in a smile.

In-ho chuckled, steadying them as she swayed a little. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself enjoying the moment—taking the time to care, to share something lighthearted, even if it was just for a brief while.

༉‧₊˚. On the walk to their apartment, their playful teasing didn’t stop. She nudged him with her shoulder every chance she got, laughing at her own exaggerated guesses about his “dark and mysterious backstory.” ༉‧₊˚. In-ho found himself relaxing more than he thought possible, their carefree energy infectious, filling the air between them with an ease he hadn’t felt in ages. ༉‧₊˚. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the weight of his past, or his responsibilities, or any of the worries that usually clouded his mind. He was just... enjoying the moment.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice light as they neared her building, “you’ve got my name, but I don’t think I ever got yours.”

She stopped in front of the door and turned to face him, giving him that mischievous grin he was beginning to recognize and love. “It’s [Lastname] [Name],” she said, her voice soft but steady, her eyes sparkling with that playful glint.

“[Name],” he repeated, the unfamiliar sound of it rolling off his tongue as if testing it for the first time. He nodded, as if committing it to memory. “I like it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Yup. And don’t forget it.”

He chuckled, a low sound that felt foreign but good. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

She stepped closer, her grin widening. “Thanks for tonight, In-ho,” she said, her voice softening just a little. “You’re a good guy. Like, a really good guy.”

The compliment hit him harder than he expected, and for a brief moment, it made him uneasy. Good guy? His mind flickered back to his role as the Frontman—the games, the deaths he orchestrated, and the weight of the people he’d let down. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be called “good.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, but it wasn’t easy. He rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the warmth rising in his chest, the sense of contradiction gnawing at him. “I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered, a modest shrug masking the inner turmoil. His mind battled with the reality of who he was.

With a deep breath, he focused on her again, the playful spark in her eyes grounding him. “But… you’re welcome,” he said softly, the words coming out more genuine than he expected, despite the turmoil that lingered beneath.

Before he could say anything else, she leaned up, quick and confident, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It was brief, just a fleeting touch of her lips, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. The warmth of the kiss lingered on his skin, and for a moment, he was frozen, caught completely off guard by the simple, sweet gesture.

She pulled back, smiling at him with that same playful glint. “Goodnight, Officer In-ho,” she said with a wink, her voice light and teasing, before stepping into her apartment and disappearing behind the door.

༉‧₊˚. In-ho stood there for a moment, his fingers brushing over the spot where her lips had just been as if trying to hold onto the feeling a little longer.  ༉‧₊˚. A rare, genuine smile spread across his face, one that felt unfamiliar but welcome. He let out a quiet breath, feeling something shift within him—a sense of warmth, of connection, that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. ༉‧₊˚. Turning away, he started walking back towards the direction of his apartment, his steps lighter than they’d been in a long time.  ༉‧₊˚. For once, the weight in his chest felt a little less heavy, and there was a certain peace in the quiet night air. As he walked, he thought, maybe Oh Il-nam wasn’t so bad for forcing me to take a week off after all. ༉‧₊˚. With the memory of her kiss still lingering, he couldn’t help but smile again, the thought of her brightening his steps as he headed back into the night.

[variousqueerthings]

reblogging again about Big Eden made me think about some of the native american/canadian queer cinema (Indigiqueer Cinema) I've enjoyed.

Found a handy dandy Letterboxd List called Queer Native Pride and Beyond that has a whole bunch of movies I haven't seen yet, and below some of the ones I've gotten to experience (three out of four are linked):

Big Eden: a story about a gay man who returns home, because his grandfather gets sick. A sweet, beautiful man (played by Eric Schweig) starts to secretly make him food to help out. it's an amazing slice-of-life/subtly utopian bit of film-making, in that nobody in the town is homophobic, but being gay/shame is still a big part of the exploration within it.

Wildhood: a movie I got to watch at a film festival (always good to go to your local queer film festivals, many surprises to be had) and it blew me away. a roadtrip movie about two brothers who escape their abusive father to reconnect with the elder's mother and Mi'kmaq heritage. letting go of the instilled shame of being indigenous goes hand in hand with letting go of the instilled shame of being queer

Fancy Dance: this movie isn't about being queer, it's about the ongoing murder of indigenous woman and girls, and it's also a beautiful road trip film between an aunt and her niece, the former of whom is sure her sister is dead but unwilling to face it and to destroy her niece's innocence. Lily Gladstone plays the lead, who's also a lesbian, which is just a choice that works really well for the movie even if it's not the focal point (available on Apple+ TV and however you access movies, but would recommend throwing this one some views if you have access to official streaming)

Honey Moccasin: a 1998 movie i watched at another film festival (this time online), it's anarchic, it's a comedy, it's a thriller, it's got musical beats, it weaves in the intricacies of exploring Native identity and Queer identity, it's a surreal story about a few things, one of which include focus on a "closeted drag queen." it's a movie that beats against conventional film-making to create something not beholden to tropes and clichés forced upon narratives about being Native

[fear-is-truth]

THE PERFECT GIRL — patrick bateman x reader

THE CAB HUMS FAINTLY as it cuts through manhattan traffic, the city’s skyline glowing outside the windows. your fiancé sits beside you, immaculately dressed in valentino, his walkman resting on his lap as he adjusts the foam pads of his headphones.

whitney houston’s voice leaks out, bursts of synth breaking through whenever the cab hits a pothole. the air smells of leather and the paul sebastian fine cologne patrick doused himself in before leaving his apartment. you’re pressed into the corner of the backseat, trying to stay out of his way while he stares out the window, the city outside reflected in his glassy eyes like an art exhibit only he can understand.

you’ve spent most of the ride staring out the window, accustomed to his rituals. patrick doesn’t talk much in cabs—usually distracted by his music or staring at his reflection in the window. not exactly a conversationalist unless the subject revolves around himself.

your game of counting homeless people slumped in doorways and subway grates has run its course, leaving you disheartened.

it’s too many. there’s always too many.

bored out of your mind, you sneak a glance at him, taking in his sharp features, the way his full lips part slightly like he’s thinking hard about something. maybe another fancy restaurant he’s dragging you to. maybe a new suit. maybe the font of someone’s business card.

“you okay, patrick?” you ask casually, not really expecting an answer.

but he surprises you.

“we should get married,” he states flatly.

you blink, caught between confusion and disbelief. “what?”

patrick adjusts his headphones like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb into the space between you.

“married, y/n.” he repeats with an air of impatience in his tone.

“it makes sense. people expect it.”

“wait—pat, are you serious?”

“you’re… not terrible,” he mumbles, as if that’s supposed to be some grand compliment. “it would—what’s the word—streamline things.”

you laugh, the sound a little shaky because what else are you supposed to do? “streamline things?” you echo, folding your arms. “that’s your pitch?”

patrick shrugs. “you don’t want a wedding? flowers, rings, cake?” he gestures vaguely, his hand slicing through the air. pantomiming cutting a wedding cake (or someone’s jugular). you’re still trying to process this, trying to figure out if he’s serious or just messing with you.

“well, do you want that, patrick?”

he pauses, the question hanging in the air. for a second, his mouth twitches, like he’s about to say something honest, but instead, he leans back in his seat, pulling his headphones back over his ears.

“…just consider it,” he mutters, closing his eyes as the music drowns you out again.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[artdcnaldson]

daddy cat i have thoughts about newly divorced art and a girl who takes her time getting him hard :( and he feels so loved because he doesn’t have to focus on getting it done as fast as possible to please someone

exactlyyyy exactly mhmm

Thinking that he had a string of failed hookups out at bars where he was trying to fuck in bathrooms or in his car and it just didn't happen because he wanted it but his body wasn't cooperating. He was on the wrong side of drunk or the nerves and pressure was too high, and he ended up getting laughed off by the pretty girl beneath him.

So I think he gets away from hookups he finds in a bar or club for a while. Maybe he meets you at a wedding— one of his young cousins is finally tying the knot, and you're a friend of the bride. Sweet, friendly, gorgeous. He probably looks like a creep, the way he stares at you because he's too nervous to actually say something.

Which is stupid. He won seven slams in his career. He's a tennis superstar, a household name. He bumps into you at the dessert table after they've cut and served the wedding cake— the layer he gets is white cake with raspberry filling. You get a slice of the groom's cake— chocolate with espresso cream.

"Hey... you're Art Donaldson, right?" You ask as you take a tiny bite of the cake. When he nods, you smile. "I thought so, but Kayla— that's my friend from high school— well, she swore you were just some guy. So I googled you, and I was like, no that's definitely him. Anyways, do you want a drink?"

You both have a glass of the bride's signature cocktail (vodka cran), then another, before you're on the dance floor together. It starts off innocent enough, but then there's more drinks flowing, and guests start leaving, and the music gets weirdly better as the night goes on. You're both a little handsy and it's not long before you're stumbling back to his Jeep in the parking lot.

It was a post-divorce impulse buy. An impulse buy with a nice, roomy back seat. Plenty of space to tug you onto his lap, pull down your dress, and mouth at your tits in the backseat.

You reach down, palming him through his fancy suit pants. You pause, blinking a few times, and work the buttons of his pants so you can actually take him into your hands. You try to coax him to full hardness, but he's already flagging. He groans in frustration as his body just won't. fucking. cooperate. He wants you, he knows he wants you, he's just... fuck.

"Sorry," he pants, meeting your gaze with a look that can only be read as sheer mortification. "Shit, it's just... this is... sorry—"

"It's okay," you whisper against his mouth, so his stammered apologies are silenced. You spit into your palm and wrap your hand around his cock again, holding eye contact as you slowly stroke him. "Just relax. We have all night."

You mouth at his throat, his jaw. You trail your lips over the shell of his ear and he melts. He's like putty in your hands as you give him all of your attention— give him the chance to relax and work his way up to it. He moans against your ear and you smile. "That's it," you praise, working your hand faster. "I've got you."

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .

# with roronoa zoro.

when one labored feelings for another, there were a few ways to proceed. to zoro, coaxing you into an aphrodisiac mist was not the worst of ideas.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day twelve. smut (mdni!). aphrodisiacs. corruption kink. edging. virginity!loss. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

he could not quite pinpoint the exact moment in which the trees began to mingle, a mortar of wood, frail vines and leaves that gave him no indication of where he was headed whatsoever. deserted, forest-like islands were not as common in the new world as they were on the grand line, so one for sure could expect the appearance of, at least, ancient beasts and odd plants. venture by oneself was far from the wisest decision, yet it hadn’t been one zoro thought much about beforehand. the perv-cook offered — rather insisted — to be your escort, professing love-coated compliments and promising to be your ever-so-diligent knight. zoro turned on his back and strived towards the first direction he faced right thereafter, lacking the self-restraint not to snap then and there.

that had been twelve hours prior.

according to the witch, the log-pose would take three days to settle their next route. without a closer deadline, zoro doubted they would waste time searching for him — not when that land offered fruits and herbs for re-stocking, as well as served as a hunting ground for their captain. he could handle himself well-enough for the time being, a half-burnt rabbit fed him just as much as those fancy meals the cook prepared and his swords could slice an opponent within the second. he grew quite used to a lonesome state of life, yet the crew undid that decade-crafted tendency, and those wandering hours without company had him quite melancholic.

zoro itched for you, and failed to contain the tendon of jealousy that wrapped itself around his heart. where were you; why haven’t you searched for him? perhaps the cook had you far more entertained than anticipated. the thought had him slicing the large trunk of a tree in four pieces, sheathing wado with a harshness uncommon to the usual treatment he spared to his swords. yet again, not his brightest idea, for he, too, seemed to have sliced an odd plant.

zoro’s nostrils were filled with spores, burning his throat and bringing tears to his eyes. he cursed, trembling fingers wrapped around the wild pulse of his wrist. his flesh grew scalding, sweat trailing down the muscles of his back. he half-expected to crumble, to have his throat constrict and cease the path of air to his lungs. poison. it must have been. he would soon be dead, punished for his own recklessness. his thoughts traveled to you, regretting the fact that he had not confessed. yet, his breathing remained — wild, ragged, there still. and the image of you ensued in greater heat, a pit of molten fire that threatened to ignite every organ; consume every particle of air. his cock was throbbing, aching, and zoro clutched own heart in agony, desperation feeding off his every thought.

the weather was tropical. it had forced you to leave the ship wearing nothing but a bikini-top and pants. zoro grunted at the reminder of those breasts, all but partially covered, frail fabric that he could snap with the simplest touch. he lost himself in his thoughts, tearing the waistband of his pants. spores embraced his aching member, and it was as though he had dipped himself into a sea of lava. zoro fisted himself, although the touch neither soothed nor brought comfort. instead, he fell to his knees, chasing a release that did not find him.

“zoro!” you shouted through the mist. “was that you, cutting through the tree?”

the sound of your voice had him shouting, pleasure coursing through his veins. haze of spores clouding his sights had him struggling to catch on the lines of your figure, lingering outside that clouded nightmare. he yearned for you — had been yearning for as long as memories could tell. yet, whenever he dared muse the prospect of confessing, courage failed him, and he was forced to retreat to his usual corner; to watch as the cook swirled around you.

that urge of pleasure brought by the plant, could it be shared? perhaps if zoro lured you into it, you, too, would burn — for it; for him. he was not the brightest tool in the shed, mind more often than not too slow to wrap itself around certain concepts. if zoro was to call you in, submit you to those spores, no one — perhaps the curly, but he did not care whatsoever — would dare blame him. he’d state he hadn’t noticed; hadn’t known; and in the aftermath of what he planned on doing to you inside that fog, if those feelings were not reciprocal, the pair of you would merely pretend. put the blame on the spores. it was a plan of no honor, but lust clouded his better judgment. the desire for your touch, which would present itself as the cure for the self-inflicted disease; the illness he planned on sharing with you.

“zoro?” you tried again, your voice strained.

he called out your name, straight into the lion’s den. his eyes grew more focused at your approach, ears perking up. you started to cough in sheer shock, yet zoro was conscient of the fact that it was but temporary. once your throat grew used to the burning, the spores would settle and you’d be conditioned to want him — perhaps as much as he wanted you.

“i’m here,” he coarsed, hiding his cock from your sight.

zoro beckoned you in, containing the grunt at your approaching figure. you were such a loyal, preoccupied crewmate, ignoring the warning signs for the sake of his protection. tear-pooled eyes met his wide ones as you caught on the state of him — kneeling, trembling. sweat glued the fabric of his shirt to his chest, and he marveled at the realization of your lust. hardened nipples, hands gripping the fabric of your pants. he could see you trembling, struggling to keep yourself together as you drowned in the sight of his sweat-covered figure. your mouth watered; your fingers fidgeted.

“come,” he told you, his voice coated with a sensuality unusual to him. “need your help.”

a faux plea. an encouragement to have you fall into his well-placed trap. when you grew closer, enough to witness the loose state of his pants, he allowed you to have a glimpse of his cock — tip red and leaking; shaft tortured around his bruising grip. he smirked, feeling it twitch as he shifted and offered you the entire view.

zoro called out your name, and you jumped as though a terrified deer caught in the woods. “yes?”

his self control slipped within the second, yet zoro would not dream to push himself past the boundaries of your consent.

“touch,” he rasped out, grunting as his thumb teased his tip.

you leaned forward, as though intoxicated; eyes dazed, chapped lips coated with your saliva. “it’s so big, zoro. i don’t—”

he threw himself at you, pinning you to the ground. his breathing pattern was ragged, and droplets of his saliva fell from his parted lips to your face. the second his hands wrapped around your wrists, zoro was moaning at the contact, the shared heat enough to cover his vision with black spots.

“shit,” he cursed, rutting his hips forward. you mewled, biting your lip, seeming embarrassed at the sound.

“zoro,” you moaned, squirming under his touch. “i won’t know what to do.”

he stopped, observing you as though you were a free-course meal. zoro licked his lips, daring to drag his nose into your chest, drunk in your scent. he wrapped his teeth around the strap of your bikini, glancing at you through his eyelashes, refusing to relieve the pressure around your wrists. “how so?”

your frustration surfaced; your hips rolling against his own. zoro’s pre-cum stained the fabric of your pants, and you bit down your lower lip, avoiding his gaze. “i’ve never had sex,” you admitted, pressing your cheek against the grass. “it won’t help you.”

his brain short-circuited. zoro trembled, threatening to come undone. the act of luring him to that haze of spores gave him the claim to your innocence, for he would be the one to maculate that inch of your body. he teased the waistband of your pants, drooling at the realization that you had no idea on how to behave whatsoever. the movement of your hips was erratic, inexperienced. your nails scratched against the back of his hands. your legs trembled; fought a losing battle against the weight of his own.

“you’re a virgin,” zoro breathed out in ecstasy, dragging his tongue down your stomach, never once daring to break eye-contact.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, voice broken due to both lust and despair. “i just want this to feel good to you. please, zoro, touch.”

he clicked his tongue, using both hands to lift your bikini top. the plant spores teased your nipples, and the broken sound that escaped past your tortured lips had him twitching. zoro’s tongue swirled around a pert bub, fingers pinching the other one as he used his other hand to force your pants down. he had no time for foreplay whatsoever, much too desperate due to the effects of the plant.

“it will be,” he promised, excited to ruin you.

his eyes glued at the pale-rose, lacy underwear of your panties. when he teased the strap, snapping it against your hip, you moaned. zoro’s own voice betrayed his desire when he tore the fabric and opened your folds with his fingers, exposing your cunt to the effects of the aphrodisiac. you were soaked wet; clit swollen; hole clenching around nothing. your essence dripped down on the grass; coated his nails. zoro refused to believe that had been all from the effect of the spores. you were so sensitive; so easy to arouse. he smirked, reveling in the sight of your disheveled state, forced into the aphrodisiac fog.

“can’t handle it,” he grunted, teasing your entrance with his tip. you teared up with a whimper, and zoro hissed as his cock stretched you out, walls swallowing him whole. “need to move.”

“please,” you begged, squirming. the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach all but exploded, and zoro started to pounce into you, thrusts fast-paced and rough. he slid with abnormal easiness, his tip numb due to the spores.

you struggled under his weight, and zoro snapped his hips as a response, gripping both your wrists with a single hand. his index reached your clit, rough digit drawing hectic, desperate circles. zoro constricted your movements and latched his lips around your breast, ignoring your sounds. he failed to see past the haze of pleasure, ignoring your sounds and squirming. you were but a ragdoll at his mercy, victimized by the restless pace of his thrusts.

“zoro!” you shouted, coughing thereafter for you had inhaled a considerable amount of spores in the process.

he bottomed out without warning, biting your nipple harshly. you followed-in-suit, yet he continued, the orgasm useless to satisfy his hunger. your cum mingled with his own, soaking his still-hardened cock as he persisted, ruthless and rough, his wrist growing numb due to the prolonged movement required to tease your clit. he felt you struggle, back arching and head moving to the sides. the instance thereafter, your hips moved in a failed attempt to match the pace of his thrusts — his chaste, inexperienced crewmate sheepishly baring fangs after the first orgasm.

zoro retreated his head off your breast with a pop, brushing his nose against your chin before biting on your lower lip. the aphrodisiac cloud began to lose its density, and he breathed it in; mouth slack as if to collect most of it before its disappearance.

“open it,” he demanded, collecting saliva during the process needed for your consent. the second the external world cleared, zoro spat on your mouth, forcing you to swallow the remaining spores that lingered on his tongue.

he pumped the previous round of his load inside before busting yet another one unannounced, glaring to where your bodies connected, enamored with the sight of his white-stained tip shoving itself in-and-out. zoro removed his finger from your clit, shoving it inside your mouth.

“cum,” he demanded, fucking his essence deeper, sensitive tip prodding at your walls.

without the aphrodisiacs numbing his flesh, zoro doubted he’d last longer — yet he refused to leave you hanging. your tongue stilled around his finger; a reminder that you had much to learn still. he teased your g-spot, his digit muffling the moan of your high, and zoro bit back a broken whimper when your essence drowned his tip.

zoro lowered his head to regain his breathing, attempting to swallow down the embarrassment at what he had done. the absence of spores, too, had him aware of your compromising position, and he released the grip on your wrists with a clear of his throat, fixing the top of your bikini.

“zoro?” you whispered, placing your hand above his own. “did it feel good?”

he dared face you, reading the lines of both bliss and hesitation in your expression. zoro smiled ever-so-slightly, unable to contain his adoration. “felt amazing.”

you cleared your throat, averting your glance as your fingers toyed with his. zoro was still sheathed inside, fearing the moment he’d need to retreat. he was lost in thought, struggling to find the proper words to convey his feelings. would you fancy an “i love you”? would it be too soon?

“can we do that more often?” you broke the silence, staring at him. “with a kiss next time?”

has he not kissed you yet? zoro softly guided your chin, pressing his lips against yours with a soft, victorious sigh. “can do it as many times as you want.”

you smiled, whimpering the second he removed his soft cock. perhaps a bit of recklessness could sometimes be rewarded.

— 🐈‍⬛ : a bit late today but time is a concept i’m sure it’s the twelfth day somewhere still!

[staryunaa]

spending Valentine’s Day with them! Pt.1

including sunday and aventurine and phainon

a/n - some may be a lil suggestive. i felt so awkward having to search up cute and creative Valentine’s Day dates so yeah….. hope you guys like this! ps can you tell who i like the most

❥sunday calls you “angel” / aventurine calls you “dear” / phainon calls you “wife/wifey”

follows and reblogs appreciated / masterlist

✦𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

ice skating with sunday!

fiancé sunday! who can’t help but smile every time you trip as you enter the rink, trying his very best to hold in a small chuckle as he helps you up — his soft gloved palms still warm in the frosty ice rink.

“forgive me for laughing please… maybe next time let me help you first okay?”

fiancé sunday! who get flustered as you drink from the same hot chocolate cup as him, he can’t but think he’s doing something inappropriate— even though you’ve been engaged and dating for years now. even though it’s an indirect kiss, his wings still flutter at the thought of kissing you.

“are you sure you don’t want me to get you another cup — angel?”

fiancé sunday! who is surprisingly good at ice skating, turns out he took lessons as a kid!

you never knew how good sunday was at ice skating, you watch as sunday practices some spins but then he notices you blankly staring. “angel… do you not enjoy this-?” you quickly shake your head “no! it’s not that at all! it’s just..” you pause, looking up at sunday “i never knew you were this good at ice skating…” he smiles, holding your hand up and hums, taking you along the rink. he spins you around gently, swooping you back in and quickly pecking a kiss on your lips. “im quite glad you think im good at his, but it’s merely anything.” you can’t help but melt a little.. his words carried with a tender tone, you squeeze his hand before pulling on his scarf — effortlessly pulling him down, pecking a kiss on his lips too. “can you teach me then?” he laughs softly, before adjusting his scarf “of course anything for you angel…”

✦𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

a fancy dinner date!

boyfriend aventurine! who loves subtly flustering you, using subtle hints only to chuckle at you as he notice your cheeks turning red.

he pats the spot next to him, looking up to you — “is anything wrong? you ask, tilting your head at him “just need your attention dear.” he turns his body, his hand wrapping around your chin — admiring your eyes.

boyfriend aventurine! who enjoys holding you — keeping you warm as his arm is slung over your shoulder, his head buried in the nape of your neck.

“i don’t mind staying like this for longer…”

boyfriend aventurine! who loves teasing you so much, he even does it in public.

as a waiter places a plate on the table, you notice aventurine staring blankly at you. his gaze showing a loving expression, “aven..?” you call out, he blinks tilting his head smiling. “sorry… just admiring what’s mine.” you can’t help but flush, you know it’s normal since you guys are dating — “u-uh.. thank you?!” he grabs his drink, reaching his hand out for a cheer. you follow him, picking up your glass and joining him for a cheer, quickly taking a sip of your drink. aventurine starts to eat, and you nervously follow. after a few minutes, he cuts you a slice of his steak feeding it to you. his other hand holding your chin. “dear.. say ahh..” you softly open your mouth, “tongue out too dear..” your face turns a little red — hesitantly lolling your tongue out. aventurine smiles, reaching his hand out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and petting your head softly.

✦ 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐍

breakfast in bed!

husband phainon! who loves cooking for you so much, he always makes sure you’re happy with your meal — if you think the meal is a little too salty to your liking, he creates a whole new dish perfected to your taste!

“n-no! it’s okay! i can handle a little salt!” you reach out trying to stop him from taking your plate — phainon wasn’t convinced, “I’ll make you something new, anything for you” a few minutes later, you watch as phainon comes out with a better and bigger dish — you couldn’t help but smile “you’re too good to me hubby…” phainon glanced up, smiling “i just want you to be happy dear…” his voice low and sincere.

husband phainon! who can’t help but get flustered every time you compliment his cooking

“ahh.. phainon this stir-fry is super good!” your eyes lighting up, taking another bite “you’re such a great cook!” phainon couldn’t help but go hot as he looked away, trying his beset to play it cool, “it’s just some simple stir-fry…” he muttered, his voice sounding a little gruff — he can’t help but feel his cheeks burn as you enjoy his cooking, he was used to getting compliments especially from his lovely wife but when it comes to his cooking… “it’s really nothing! i enjoy cooking for you..”

husband phainon! who can’t help but enjoy feeding you his home cooked breakfast.

phainon gently opened the door, a warm smile spreading across his face as he admires the sight of his wife — trying to balance the tray and a warm cup of tea. “good morning wifey!” his voice is soothing yet cheery. you wake up from the scent of something sweet and savory, its eggs benedict and perfectly cooked pancakes topped off with a light whipped cream. “mm…? all this for me? you look up at phainon, rubbing your eyes groggily — “mhm! all for my lovely wife!” he can’t help but grin ear to ear, at your surprised face. if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging and his ears would be pointed up — he pushes your hair out of your face quickly pecking a kiss on your forehead. “try this strawberry! and this blue berry!” after hundreds of bites and taste testing, phainon sighs happily and looks up at you “i love taking care of you…” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, “and i love letting you.”

[luveline]

hello miss jade ily! since you’re feeling the marauders right now, may i request something with any of the boys, pre-relationship and too lovestruck to speak? reader has done something innocuous, or she’s literally just standing there, and he can’t not break and smother her?

hello lovely, thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

modern au 

You let yourself in quietly. Remus can tell without raising his eyes from his laptop that it's you. James would shout hello, Sirius would beeline for the downstairs bathroom. You close the door with care and leave your shoes under the stairs; Remus can picture you turning your head to one side gently, listening for signs of life. 

"James?" you ask.

"Just me," Remus says. 

You come around the doorway, beaming at him like he's the one you were looking for the whole time. "Hey, Remus. Don't suppose you know when James is back? He's going to take me to the garage so they don't rip me off." 

"Uh, no, but– but I could go with you?" he suggests. Remus isn't your boyfriend, but he wishes desperately that he was and he thinks that's a boyfriend's duty to perform, right? "I'd be happy to." 

Your phone dings. You pull it out with a smile. "Oh, it's James," you say, "he's still coming, but he's late. That's fine, I didn't have an appointment or anything. I'd love for you to come if you want, though, baby." 

Remus chokes on nothing, clearing his throat and sitting up to not seem so pathetic. "I'll come." Because baby? Baby?!

"Brilliant. How's you writing?" 

"Uh, it's, you know, happening. Slowly." 

Remus is admittedly much more collected regularly, but your sudden arrival, your smiling, and now your pet name, you've thrown him for a loop. He's doubly thrown when you sit down on the sofa beside him, no polite space, thigh to thigh and close enough to smell the oils in your hair. 

"I'm not looking, I promise," you say. 

Writing is a raw process. Knowing someone else's eyes are on it magnifies the flaws, but he realises with certainty that he doesn't care if you see it, flaws and all. "That's fine. I don't mind so long as it's you." 

"Lucky me," you say. 

You take your phone out. Remus doesn't mean to pry but you're right there, and your phone screen brightness is high. The text thread between you and James is open, your thumbs penning a quick response. 

Hey James, are we still meeting at the house? I'm omw. 2:17PM

yeah of course, remus is there so go have a cup of tea ill be there soon 2:30PM

ok 2:31PM

sorry running late !! Promise I'll be there, have remus make you a scone :) 2:40PM

I like him too much to have him act like my serf, you can buy us both big salted pretzels on the way home to say sorry for wasting his time 2:45PM

I'm sure he's just gutted to spend time with you 2:46PM

Nice one, James, Remus thinks incredulously. That's exactly what Remus needs, more evidence that he fancies you. You don't seem to have noticed either way, swinging a leg over your knee and finishing another text to James. 

I hope not, I love spending time with him 2:48PM

Remus turns to his computer screen, elated and guilty at once. He was not supposed to see that, surely. 

"Your word count is really climbing," you say, tucking your phone away. "A hundred and fifty thousand. I can't imagine writing so much… will you have to cut that down?" 

"Yep. Much more chance of being published if I fit their standard count. It'll need at least forty thousand words shaved off." 

You shake your head. "I can't imagine putting in all that work and then having to put in more work to get rid of it." 

"Think of it like refining, instead," he suggests, his fingertip sliding across the laptop's space bar. "I'm making sure nothing is boring." 

"I doubt it's boring if you're the one writing it." You stand to his surprise and stretch, a slice of your waist appearing as you twist away from him, an audible click emitting from your back as you roll your shoulders. "Can I make a cup of tea, please?" 

You've had a hundred cups of tea in this house. 

"You know you don't have to ask," Remus says. 

"But it's always nice to ask first," you say as you leave. 

He suspects you were talking more to yourself than him as you occasionally do, and he pays little mind to your movements in the kitchen. He has a lot of work to do and not nearly enough time to do it, and editing isn't as simple as cutting away. It's not obvious what needs to go. Remus has to have a deep think. 

He gets distracted. When you return he barely notices, busy rewriting a clunky sentence. It's not until your pinky finger brushes his arm that Remus remembers you're here, emphasis on you, and that he's besotted. 

When he looks up, he doesn't suppose he'll ever forget again. 

You're at his side neatening a plate of biscuits and toasted scones, the very tip of your tongue peaking between your lips in concentration. It's a simple thing, some might even find it unattractive, but you're totally focused on the plate of biscuits, your lovely eyebrows tightly pinched. 

You seem upset, for a moment. 

Then you meet his eye and any trace of unhappiness vanishes. You're smiling again, eyes alight with something he can't name. "I got you a couple of biscuits and stuff, hope that wasn't too forward. You never remember to eat when you're writing." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says unbidden to himself, hands paused at his laptop, "that's not too forward." 

He sets his laptop aside and stands. There's nothing for it, no hold to bar —Remus steps forward to kiss your cheek and squeeze the top of your arm, the kiss swift and the squeeze less so. 

"Don't set up around me," he continues fondly, "we'll go have tea in the kitchen with the window open. You can tell me about your day, please. I should've asked you earlier." 

"Don't worry, there's nothing important to share," you say, and to Remus' delight, you've visibly flustered. 

His hand slides down the length of your arm to your hand, where he holds your fingers in his palm. "If it's about you, it's important. Mm?" 

You stare down at his chest and laugh softly. "Okay." 

It's a credit to his self restraint that he doesn't kiss you then and there.