#stupid snow puns

[sumju]

[blorbologist]

Oh, the roads are salted, and winter tires are required.

Sometimes freezing rain happens, or a melt and quick refreeze, and the roads just become completely devoid of traction. And it takes a bit of time for salting to occur, especially during peak traffic (on top of downtown MTL being a hellscape of one-ways with hills); if the snow/freezing happened overnight or in the evening usually this can be avoided, but if the salters and snowploughs can't do their job? Gravity and no traction means even the best snow tires mean little. I've driven down steep country roads right after freezing rain, but you can't get me to drive in Montreal.

(But also Montrealers are notoriously aggressive and terrible drivers. Road salt is a yes, sense? Not necessarily.)

[pearlcigs]

⋆ waking up on christmas morning ft. ellie, abby, and vi — tlou discord server

the air is cold, snow sticking to the cloudy window. the sky outside was pure, the wind sneaking into the cracks of the window. ELLIE kept you close, hands wrapped around your waist with your back pressed against her chest. the blanket wrapped around both of your frames to shield you from the barren cold. you both know there's presents to be opened but neither of you really find it in you to care. they'll still be there later. you stay there for an hour or so, with her soft kisses along the back of your neck and her stupid christmas puns.

"hey babe," she snickers before she can even start the joke. "what do you call people who have a fear of santa?" she grins widely, laughing to herself knowing she had been planning on telling you this joke for weeks now. you laugh at her silliness, shaking your head, imagining the stupid grin she had on her face. "what?" you inquire. "claustrophobic." she tells eagerly, waiting for your reaction. "god, that's— that's stupid." your laughs beginning to mix with hers.

small snowflakes fell down from the sky, painting the ground white. the sun had just barely rose when you stirred awake, excitement immediately flowing through your veins. the covers are thrown off you by your own accord, the chilly air nipping at your skin. you couldn't help yourself, pulling the blankets off ABBY just as you had done to yourself. she groaned, pulling you against her in an attempt to keep herself warm with no blanket. you giggled in her ear, kissing her cheek with too much energy for her liking.

"wake up, wake up." you kiss her cheek between each word. "what time is it?" she questions, face still pressed against her pillow. "who cares, it's christmas!" you exclaim, pulling on her arm to get her up. "it's time for presents— ooh! i know exactly which one i want you to open first." you continue to pull on her. "alright, alright, i'm coming..." she lets out a small 'oomph' as she sits up, pulling you into her lap. "merry christmas, my love." she gets sweet and sappy for a moment, kissing your forehead. "we're making coffee first." she demands and you just roll your eyes.

the fire crackles, blankets askew on the floor, barely covering both of your bodies. you slept in front of the fire place, VI insisting she just had to stay up all night to catch santa. you couldn't recall when you both fell asleep, only knowing you felt safe in her arms the night before. vi was the first to wake, eyes wondering to the tree that she was just sleeping 10 feet from. presents littered the skirt of the tree, a smile forming on her face as her eyes flickered between your sleeping form and the presents.

"santa came!" she shook you awake, eliciting a groan from your sleep deprived lips. she wore a toothy smile on her face, knowing it wasn't really santa who put those presents under the tree, but you. "come onnnn. these presents better be opened by 7 am on the dot." she threatened emptily. she leaned down, kissing your face, your shoulders, your stomach, anywhere she could. with each kiss, the grogginess vanished just a little. you had to admit, seeing her this excited made your heart warmer than hot cocoa.

finished this at 10:53pm 😅 better late than never i suppose..

[polydamnory]

Xavier in the Poly!D.A.M.N. Crew Headcanons

Did I finish writing this five days ago but wait to specifically post it on the 31st just to be a dick? Maybe so. 

While he doesn’t know how to take a genuine compliment and is very prone to getting flustered by them (he can and will respond to anything nice said to him with “no u”), he isn’t actually all that affected by flirting. Dear and Gavin have now made it a competition to see who can get him to break first strictly via come ons and pickup lines. 

He is constantly making stupid ice/snow puns, sometimes even subconsciously, and it drives Damien nuts. 

He and Lasko like teaming up to plan elaborate dates/vacations for the group and he’s gotten pretty good at preemptively preventing Lasko from spinning out about some small innocuous detail (e.g. ice, mahogany, rolls, etc.). 

Has always been on the tall side, so while he does think it’s cute when someone is shorter/smaller than him (cough cough Lasko), he thinks it’s really hot when someone is taller/bigger than him (cough cough HUXLEY). 

He’s pretty prone to dry skin so Dear - who is a skincare snob, you cannot convince me otherwise - has helped him curate a routine to help with that and is much more on top of making sure he actually keeps up with it. If that sometimes means helping apply moisturizer to his face and hands when he’s too sleepy to do it himself in the morning (he is not a morning person), that’s a sacrifice they’re willing to make. 

Just like with Damien during the winter, Lasko and Freelancer can and will cling to him during the summer to keep cool. Thankfully he and Damien are just like “affection from my partners? Who am I to complain?” and more than welcome it (although Damien is a bit more tsundere about it). 

Insert obligatory he helps cool Damien off when he gets too hot hc - you cannot use the excuse that you’re too hot to be hugged anymore, Damien, your boyfriend won’t let you get away with that anymore! 

Similar to their E&E display, Freelancer has gotten pretty into making random little things with their magic just to see what they can do, and Xavier wants all of them. They mess up and are about to destroy/throw out a failed attempt at creating some little glass tchotchke? Noooooo, let him keep it! He loves seeing them experiment with their magic and wants to witness and keep as much of their progress as they’ll let him (certified mom friend/boyfriend). 

Gavin is consistently trying to convince Xavier of new ways they could incorporate his ice into the bedroom. It doesn’t take much convincing. 

We know for a fact that mans has money and he is 100% down to splurge on his partners. He knows that most of them (if not all) wouldn’t want him to spend too much on them, so he does it a bit more strategically so they don’t feel like he’s “wasting it” on them. For example, if they all were to decide they want to go to a rollarcoaster park or something, he knows that his partners won’t just let him pay for all their tickets, but they will fight a little less harder on him splurging to get them all fast passes or something of the like. 

Exact order of him falling for the group is unclear, but make no mistake, he definitely had a crush on Huxley first, even when he didn’t know him all that well before becoming team captain.

[lettucing]

okay here r all of my thoughts on a very 1999 christmas!!!

first of all the album is a 10/10, absolutely fan fucking tastic he knocked that shit outta the PARK!!!!!!! i’m absolutely startstruck. and his vibrato???? are u kidding me??? how he still has the nerve to say he can’t sing i have no idea

let it snow

- that “grab me tight” ad lib, no pun intended, has me gripped by the throat. dear god.

- amazing pick for the first track of the album

baby it’s cold outside

- three words: creamed my pants… who said that

- i have too much to say so i will say nothing at all

white christmas

- dear LORDDDD his vocals on this one are SO insanely smooth and soft and beautiful…

- one of if not the best track on the album. haven’t decided yet tho

the christmas song

- smooooooooooooooth. makes me think of slow dancing in the kitchen while making cookies …. <3

santa claus is coming to town

- jazzy n fun!!! i love it, i feel like i can hear his lil smirk while he’s singing

have yourself a merry little christmas

- SO DREAMY… makes me feel like i need a hot chocolate by the fire

- i know his stupid ass was grinning when he had to sing make the yuletide GAY

happy holidays

- THIS ONE IS SO FUN!!!! it reminds me of hanging out in the living room with family while decorating the tree and now i’m just imagining schlatt decorating… cute

- the riffs on the second “upon his back” and the last “coming down the chimney down�� ARE SO SMOOTH.

it’s the most wonderful time of the year

- CLASSIC. he hit that shit. so fun

- the drawn out lower notes with the vibrato oh my lordddddd.

[the-moon-files]

Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain! :)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (ur here!)

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader!

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Scenarios?

Stars: Wind, Wild, Sage, C*urage, K*ridai

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: i included the link from K*oridai (faces of evil), and the brunette Link from that old cartoon tv show,

& Trigger Warnings: none known.

☆

Wind (Wind Waker):

Misses being a big brother

LMAOOO I CAME FOR UR THROAT HAHAAA

ok chill chill he's doing okay

He's just not used to being the youngest in any given group, he used to be the oldest kid in charge of the younger ones and his little sister too

But dont get him wrong! He rlly does love the advantages that come with it,

and when he's feeling down abt not being older u usually cheer him up by reminding him he can be the biggest little shit he wants and every single Link will forgive him once he pulls out his baby seal eyes lmao

Ur the easiest to rope into horse playing/goofing off and he's very happy abt that

The others can be too serious for too long so he appreciates how u and him lighten them up by trying to give each other noogies (he loses most of the time)

As soon as Wind found out the others could play instruments, he immediately demanded they do campfire songs every night lol

(Most of the time one person caves, even just to idly play smth)

Likes inventing weird new games to play that'll convince as many other people to particpate, he used to do it back home too, like finding the prettiest rock on the island, that way his grandma and even adults could play too :)

Needs to sleep beside someone at night, bc he secretly likes it, back on his adventure going to sleep all by himself (unlike living with his grandma/sister) always was a little hard for him

Very hard to wake up in the morning, sleeps in the latest out of all the Links

("I'm a growing boy? Ofc i need my sleep, whats ur excuse??" @ the other Links who sleep in late lol)

Likes to sew! He's still learning, but his grandma used to teach him how so he could help her keep up with his growth spurts/recklessness tearing his clothes up

Idolizes u forever if you embroider, and will watch u like those videos of someone's cat who's fascinated by watching owner craft smth lol (like this ⚫️v⚫️)

Enjoys making stoic people crack their persona and laugh

Also has the wheeziest laugh youve ever heard, it makes u laugh every time, even when he started laughing over a dumb pun

Oh yeah, makes a foul amount of dad jokes for someone whos only like 14 💀

(He once managed to break Time and Legend, which then broke Wars and Twi, and it just continued down the Chain until everyone was crying or on the ground, he wears that shit like a badge and it literally made his confidence go 📈 puffed his chest out and everything lol)

Wild (Breath of the Wild):

U already know everything there is to know abt him??

I dont even have to say it, and it shows when ur around him lol

Like he'll go to do smth stupid like shield surf down death mountain in a unknown Hyrule, and before anyone can even realize thats what he's planning to do you've caught and stopped him and made a compromise to shield surf down some snow bluffs later instead

Or when u know he's gotten new ingredients in some other Link's Hyrule and is going to try and cook with them tonight, so u help him make a regular meal of smth else along with so the boys dont suffer stomaches

Like u can absolutely predict his bullshit all the time, just imagine the most adrenaline junkie thing he could do in that moment with the combination of things around him and you always know what tf he's up to, ur always right lol

Ur the only one who can get him to stop the chaos (besides maybe Time, weirdly enough Sky/Hyrule/Four bc they are the least likely to tell him to stop, so when they do, its usually a very, very bad idea)

Likes hair ornaments, he's got long hair for a reason after all

Likes u to style his hair, and esp if u teach him how to braid or do diff styles <333

He loves that u help cook/at least prep, and u make sure another Link helps too, bc thats a lot of ppl to make food for with little to no help 💀

(Makes u ur fav foods at even the slightest mention of them, like u wont even have to say ur craving Link's already whipped the pan out best housewife fr)

One of the few Links who's adventurous with his clothing, and trying new stuff

Wild was worried abt his Champion tunic getting messed up but was sad he couldn't wear it as much anymore

So u handmade him a new shirt that imitates the old one but with some new designs to represent the Chain! :)

He started crying.

He either hugs so lightly he seems like he's not enjoying it (no true, he's just trying to be polite)

Or he squeezes so hard be pops ur back and nearly breaks a rib

U got the latter for that shirt lol

Any new thing he doesnt remember how to deal with, like how to sew (he knows 1 stitch help), how to wash clothes (dont mix whites and blacks, and colors), how to soothe headaches/muscle aches etc.

He just wanders pitifully over to ur side and looks pitiful lol

Like he's a confused and saddened puppy

And just holds up whatever mess he's made like, "im so sorry, i dont know how to do this pls"

Bc he trusts u to know (the other Links may be hit or miss too tbh lmao)

And ur the least likely to clown him for it too, at least nothing he doesnt also find funny

Sage (Tears of the Kingdom):

So sue me, i enjoy this stupid-definitely-not-canon-unhinged-Link thats done with everyones bullshit and wants to be a hermit

SUEEE MEE ABT ITTTTT✨️

The first time u saw his hair nest and immediately clapped ur hand over u mouth in shock and tried to take a brush to it on sight

He fucking hissed at you.

Feral bitch.

Sage isnt like that all the time, but he was certainly the most distrustful and prickly out of all the Links

(U could smell it was like a defense mechanism from his adventure/past from a mile away, and knew with time that it'd fade away into his true self... like how u just knew Wild that well too)

U are the only person allowed to casually touch him, he shys away from the other Links, let alone strangers,and the first he allowed to help him with his hair

Tbh after u washed it out and got tangles and mats out and cut split ends off etc.

He almost teared up, and was extremely confused why

Def the type to not have realized he felt insecure lowkey abt it until it was fixed (he also was embarrassed to say he didnt rlly know how to take care of it)

Energy of a stray feral cat that leaves dead birds on ur doorstep without fail every morning and u leave a food bowl out in hopes he'll actually be your cat 💀

Extremely protective of you, and eventually the Chain, to the point where he might set someone's hair on fire or use runes on them

Like not enough to seriously injure but enough to scare tf out of ppl and have them running for their lives

(Did he literally growl at someone when they tried to flirt with you?? ... why is Twi encouraging him.)

Was unnerved by Wild at first but slowly got used to him and often butts into whatever private convo u two are having

Like just casually struts up and plops his head on ur shoulder and waits for attention, may complain loudly depending on how grumpy he is that day

(Wild's not getting jealous and constantly hogging u for cooking to get even more time with you what-)

Okay but unfortunately

Once those 2 got comfy with each other, they started tag teaming everyone

Like u can now bet that if an explosion happens in the distance, Sage definitely caused it, and if he's there, then Wild's there making him the explosives

(Same for if Wild's there, then Sage's there)

Def the Link that likes showing the most skin, he "gets overheated easily" - local half naked man justifies his nakedness

(coughtotallynototherreasonslikebeingshirtlessaroundyouallthetimecough)

Absolutely grievous clowning on the other Links, like its getting into bullyinggg 😭

His words are E rated for Everyone, no ones safe not even you

Sage: "wait, all those rings and nobody's ever put one on you? And you've never put on one someone else??🤔🤔"

Legend: ...😦

The rest of the Chain: 💀😭😶

Time, trying to hide he's choking on laughter so hard he's abt to fall into the firepit

Will occasionally team up with Wild to make a protective little border on either side of you while in towns/new Hyrules

U once offered to sing/hum for him after a nightmare while it was ur turn on watch (he sleeps up trees btw) and after u switched off w/other Link, u both went to edge of camp to sleep next to each other and he had the best sleep of his life like that

Now demands begs u to sing him to sleep every night, wont take "i dont sound that good tho" for an answer

Courage (The Legend of Zelda, 1989 Cartoon TV show):

Yeah... he's here too.

Just dont read this tbh

Enjoys being ✨️special✨️ by being the only hero twink out here with brunette hair

Was insecure abt it being curly/wavy until u slowly built his confidence

Bc he's got the most confidence in his strength, but not in much else tbh 😭

Actually will randomly have moments of responsibility or capability you didnt expect out of him bc he can be so silly and jokey all the time

Youll be lost as hell and he just "hey its ok the stars look like this so we go this way" and it works

Like the type of person u sort of avoid relying on bc he's like a playful jock type and then they randomly show theyre the captain of the team for a reason

Dont ask why, but hes good at knitting, shhhh no, no, no explanation he just secretly is he wont even tell u why or how or when he learned this he just "hehe, wouldnt u like to know princeyyy/princesssss/your majestyyyy"

Hyrule, and rest of Chain standing by, went to talk to one of the Great Fairies in a Hyrule once to try and get some info abt where to camp tonight or where nearest town was and before he could get close enough to ask,

Courage was already yelling like "YOOOO BIGGEST FAIRY WHATS UP?! u mind giving some poor lost fellas like us somewhere to go with ourselves tonight??"

They kept talking super casually and she laughed so hard that she let u guys stay near her that night to camp and be under fairy protection like no fairy boy Link needed 💀

Everyone was shocked, and thats how u all found out Courage is rlly good with fairies/their best friend no matter the Hyrule

Every time u guys learn smth new abt him it feels so unexpected, like out of left field or smth

It just never seems to fit his usual persona, or at least not what youd expect from him

So needless to say the first time u guys learned he could talk to magical objects that were powerful enough (like the fucking triforce)-

(this was apparently so normal he literally lived with a piece of it just in his room all the time????)

Has weird mixture of country boy vs. royal prince sensibilities?

It alarmed several Links. 💀

He can talk to Fi.

(Sky and you nearly cried)

Like he lived in the castle alongside Zelda so he inherited some spoiled/etiquette stuff, but he still would absolutely go splash in mud puddles in the rain

Would literally do fucking anything if it meant youd give him a kiss on the cheek

Likes to hug you a lot too, with his huge ass arms lifting u up (no he does not care how much u weigh ur going UP) and spinning u around

Its his favorite, almost as much as kisses

No but he's slay fucking Majora to get a kiss, like it's actually unbelievable and kinda endearing how excited he gets if u promise him one lmao

Koridai (Link: The Faces of Evil):

Omg not them putting Link's name in the title of the gameee i didnt know that 😭😭

Geezzz,, i dont know what im on

But ig heres that other silly ass Link if anyone feels like reading it

Will also fight any god, including Hylia, for a kiss

Actually astoundingly good at strategizing

Like after a few times in heat of battle him organizing Links, Time and Wars practically jumped him to include him in planning shit

He was similar to Courage to in that he just was cracking jokes all the time u didnt expect it, also he's significantly more sarcastic than Courage

U introduced him to dark humor and the laugh he laughed practically burst out of him, he looked shocked by his own laugh lmao

So he also now has a streak of dark humor he shows when u talk for while/sees someone also enjoys it

Its like his not-so-guilty-pleasure

Really good at baking? He apparently learned a lot of miscellaneous skills to better court someone and he now uses them fully to seduce you,

thru gift giving mostly, its is love language besides acts of service :)

(All Links do some amount of acts of service tho <3)

Rlly good at styling hair surprisingly, and at shield surfing??? What

Actually down to try Wild's experimental dishes...

And by that i mean he pranks the rest of you by sneaking the inedible bits into ur food

U may or may not have nearly choked him out for it and now he doesnt do it to you, and even was trying to act all pitiful abt it like "sorry lovely, but i just wanted to tease u bc ur so cute!! 🥺👉👈"

Like,, stfu u little shit 💀

He has the energy of a male orange cat, dont ask why he just is, and specifically the orange cat getting on top of the fridge or stuck between the the screen door and glasss door comically or smth 😭

Hes also loud as hell

One of the worst at stealth unless he just keeps his mouth shut completely, like his whispering is loud

He proclaims his affections very loudly too, like gettin u flowers and chatting ur ear off with what he likes abt u lol

No, like he can go for 20 minutes or more if u let him, u better stop him before he gets into the personality based compliments

Bc those sound wayyy too personal to be aired out in public ngl, like its so soft and domestic itll kill u lol

And he means every word too 👀

☆

I HATE THIS NEW FEATURE OR FUNCTION I SWEAR THIS DIDNT HAPPEN BEFOREEE!!!

😭😭 U ABSOLUTELY KNOW WHAT IT IS BY NOW, IT FUCKING POSTED MY DRAFT BEFORE IT WAS READY TO GO

God fuck this hellsite stop doing this meee

Thats it im just do what i do for the other blog and write it smwhere else and then copy paste onto the post this is ridiculoussss 😒😒

Well anyway, i hope if u read this before i updated and actually FINISHED THIS u come back and read it again!! :(

Sorry guys, but blame tumblr pls before u blame me 😔

(Yeah theres a lot of emojis leave me alone i feel strongly abt this)

Peace out,

🐤 Peep

I think ill start signing off my name ig, unless u guys wanna call me Moon that works too

[kingofbodyrolls]

Doughn’t Go Baking My Heart (m) | ksj

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

this Christmas season, you’re back in the kitchen, whisk in hand and determination in your heart, entering the annual holiday baking competition once again. The goal? Finally beat your long-time rival, the infuriatingly talented Kim Seokjin. But as the ovens warm and the ingredients come together, you realize it might not be just the doughs rising this year… Will the holiday spirit bring you closer, or will the heat of competition drive you further apart? 😜

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (female) → AUs: baking!au, competition!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: enemies to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 16.4k → Warnings + triggers: an insane amount of stupid and bad jokes with sexual undertones (like it borders on cringey), tension and a lot of it, sexual frustration, pettiness (briefly), jealousy (briefly), baking jokes turned sexual (I’m sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex in the form of oral (female and male receiving), missionary and very vanilla sex, kissing, tender but also a tiny bit rough (not really, lol), big dick Seokjin, nipple play, nipple sucking, breast play, creampie, multiple orgasms, mention of aftercare (but not described), other sexual encounters that aren’t described in detail. → Author’s note: hiiiii!! Hello! Long time no see! I was in a Christmasy mood (written in the end of October lol), and I’ve written this cute and tension filled Christmas love story for my dear friend @allie-in-the-moon 💜 Thank you so much for always reading, commenting and loving my work so much; it means the world to me!!! 😭 So I hope that this story shows my deep gratitude for you—I hope you, and everyone else enjoys it ✨ Please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think with a comment, reblog and even an ask. I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if it’s just you spamming the keyboard or lots of emojis. There’s a lot of bad jokes and puns in this and you get bonus points if you know what song inspired this pun of a title! 😂 (also, I did not proofread this, I know there’s some mistakes, but I’m too lazy to fix them lol). → Read on AO3? [link] 

With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you tread the frosted path from the bus stop to the towering silhouette of the grand castle—the heart of the annual Great Christmas Bake-Off. The castle looms before you, its turrets crowned with glistening snow, twinkling lights casting a soft glow in the winter twilight. For three years now, you’ve returned to this place, yet this time, the air feels different, charged with a deeper longing. You clench your hands inside your pockets, the icy wind biting through the fabric of your jacket, as if the cold itself is testing your resolve. If only this could be the year—if only you could finally claim victory, or at least break into the top three.

But as your thoughts drift toward victory, a familiar dread settles in your chest. Kim Seokjin. Your long-time rival, the thorn in your side, always there to ruin your focus with his relentless, groan-worthy jokes. Of course, he’ll be attending again, as smug as ever. A sigh escapes your lips. Can you endure four more weeks of his puns? The mere thought grates at your nerves like a dull knife. Still, you take solace in the fact that there are other contestants—ten, to be exact. Perhaps you can avoid him altogether this year, lose yourself in the company of kinder souls. The thought lifts your spirits, and before you know it, you’re humming a soft tune to the melody of a Christmas song that drifts on the edge of memory—its name lost to the blur of countless holiday seasons, but its warmth still familiar.

Footsteps crunch behind you, but you pay them no mind, your gaze fixed on the castle doors. You can only hope that this time, luck will favor you with a decent room—not like the first year, where you were stuck in a damp, windowless chamber that smelled of mold. This year, everything must be better. Especially now that the world will be watching, with the competition broadcast live on national television. You can’t help but smile, a flicker of excitement mixing with your breath in the cold air, as the castle draws closer.

This time, you tell yourself, things will be different.

The castle stands as a relic of a bygone era, its weathered stones whispering tales of the past, likely from the 1800s or older—though you’re not quite sure. Normally, this place serves as a museum, preserving its history, but every December, it transforms into something magical. As the first of the month dawns, the grand structure becomes home to the Great Christmas Bake-Off, and its ancient walls are filled with the warmth of ovens and the thrill of competition. Surrounding the castle is a scene straight out of a holiday dream: towering evergreens, their branches heavy with snow, stretch towards the sky; a silver stream winds through the rolling hills, and the fields spread wide, blanketed in pristine white. It’s a vision of Christmas perfection, and you can’t help but love it, the landscape glowing with the enchantment of winter.

At last, you make your way up the gravel-strewn path, each step crunching beneath your boots, until you reach the enormous wooden doors of the castle. They are old and heavy, carved with intricate designs, and it takes all your strength to push them open. Inside, a familiar warmth greets you. The space is draped in festive splendor—rich red and gold hues, a plush crimson carpet underfoot, and ancient paintings adorning the white walls, their gilded frames thick with history. You step up to the reception desk, where a handsome blond man stands, his name tag reading ‘Park’. His eyes, a warm hazelnut brown, twinkle with mischief as he catches your smile. “Hi, I’m here for my room key. I’m part of the competition,” you say, offering him a smile that becomes even brighter when you sense the shadow looming behind you. You know exactly who it is without turning around. Determined not to give him any attention, you focus on Park, your smile sweetening as you push aside thoughts of the man behind you.

Park’s lips curl into a grin as he hands you a key. For a brief second, your fingers brush his, and the warmth of his touch is a small comfort against the cold that lingers in your hands. “I’ve given you the best room,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes, “the perfect room for someone as lovely as you.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, and you chuckle softly. Oh, he’s sweet, and trouble, you think. But you feel a surge of relief—finally, you won’t be stuck in the dreaded moldy room. Behind you, a familiar scoff cuts through the air, and you roll your eyes. You don’t need to look to know who it is, and you breeze past him, a skip in your step as you make your way to your room.

Finding it easily, you unlock the door and step inside. It’s small, yes, but far more comfortable than your first year here. A single bed sits in the center of the room, draped in dark green linens that match the heavy curtains cascading down from the tall window. The pillows, a deep crimson, add a touch of festive warmth to the space. Exhausted, you drop your duffel bag to the floor and fall onto the bed with a contented sigh, your eyes slipping shut. Tomorrow, the competition begins, and you know you’ll need every ounce of rest you can get.

When you wake, your muscles ache from the journey, and your face feels puffy from sleep. Groaning softly, you gather your things and shuffle down the hallway toward the showers, your fluffy slippers barely making a sound against the cold stone floor. The warm spray of the shower jolts you awake, and by the time you’re dressed, with fresh makeup and a clear mind, you feel ready for the day ahead. With a steady heart and your baking utensils in hand, you descend the grand staircase toward the great hall, where the scent of cinnamon and sugar will soon fill the air. The competition calls, and this time, you’re determined to make your mark.

The main hall is vast, its high ceilings echoing with the murmur of anticipation. Twelve baking stations stand neatly in two rows, six on each side, gleaming under the soft glow of hidden lights. The air hums with energy as cameras are discreetly tucked in the corners, their lenses poised to capture every moment, while the judges’ table—grand and imposing—commands attention at the front. A producer, dressed in black with a headset and microphone, guides you to your station, and you carefully set your supplies on the smooth surface. The shelves beneath the counter provide just enough space to stow away your ingredients and tools, your hands moving methodically as you prepare for what’s to come.

But then, your heart sinks as you catch sight of him—Kim Seokjin. To your horror, the producers direct him to the station right next to yours. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach as he flashes you that signature smile, all too sweet and saccharine, with the familiar mischief sparkling in his crinkling brown eyes. “Fancy seeing you here,” he quips, as he ties his apron around his slender waist, his movements annoyingly graceful. “Back to get your ass kicked again?” His chuckle is low, smug, a sound that makes your blood boil beneath your skin. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to inhale slowly. Calm. You need to stay calm to bake well, you remind yourself, even as the heat of irritation rises within you. “Yeah,” you grunt back, your voice low with restrained anger. “I plan on wiping the floor with your face.” Why, of all people, do you two have the front row benches?

Around you, the hall grows busier. Cameramen move quietly through the room, adjusting angles, capturing every nervous glance and confident grin. The judges have arrived—Yun Christina, a legend in the baking world, with her sharp eyes and warm smile, and Kim Taehyung, whose playful charm hides a discerning palate. At the side stands the commentator, Jeon Jungkook. His tall frame is hard to ignore, built like an athlete with a face so soft it seems to contradict the sleeve of tattoos he wears with pride. There’s something effortlessly captivating about him, and his smile draws as much attention as his ink.

“We’re live in 10 minutes!” a producer announces, and the familiar flutter of anxiety churns in your stomach. No matter how many times you’ve done this competition, the nerves never quite fade—especially with the weight of live television hanging over you. The thought of making a mistake, of becoming a viral meme or the subject of a Reddit thread, haunts the edges of your mind. Seokjin knows this pressure all too well—he’s practically an online legend. His Instagram is filled with stunning images of his creations, each post a curated masterpiece, and he even has a subreddit dedicated to his handsome face and corny jokes. ‘Don’t get Jinxed,’ they call it. You’ve definitely never visited the site, but the stories of his fandom are everywhere, impossible to ignore.

The judges step forward, their presence commanding immediate attention. Christina beams at the group, her hands clasped in excitement, while Taehyung grins with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Welcome, everyone,” he begins, his deep voice resonating through the hall. “Today, we’ll start off easy. Your challenge is to create regular buns, but with the sweet taste of Christmas in them.” His smile broadens, and he pauses dramatically. “You’ll have one and a half hours to present Christina and me with six perfect buns. Let the magic of Christmas guide you.”

Christina claps her hands together, her joy infectious. “We can’t wait to taste what you create! Ready. Set,” she says, her voice lifting the room, and then— “Bake!”

The word slices through the air, and the competition springs to life. Your heart pounds as your hands move instinctively, the ingredients becoming your allies in this battle of skill and precision. Seokjin hums beside you, the sound grating against your nerves, but you push him from your mind. There’s no time for distractions—not today. Today, you’re here to prove yourself, to create something more than just buns. You’re here to craft a masterpiece, with the essence of Christmas baked into every bite.

In a flurry of motion, you gather everything you might need at your station—the gleaming kitchen machine ready to knead the dough, bowls stacked high, the flour, sugar, and baking powder measured with care. Your mind races as you dash to the refrigerators at the back, the cool air biting your cheeks as you grab fresh yeast. Spices linger nearby, their rich aromas filling the air, and you make a swift decision—cinnamon and apples. The sweet warmth of cinnamon paired with the crisp, tart apples is a classic, a comforting blend that whispers of holiday mornings by the fire. With practiced hands, you quickly dissolve the yeast in lukewarm water, watching the delicate bubbles rise before adding it to the flour and oil. The kitchen machine hums to life, its rhythmic kneading a soothing counterpoint to the buzz of the room. Time is your greatest adversary—dough needs to rest before it can rise into perfection, and every second counts. While the machine works, you gather crisp apples, their skins glistening under the lights, and grate them roughly, the scent of fresh fruit mingling with the warm spices around you.

As you’re focused on the task at hand, Jungkook appears beside you, his presence radiating calm curiosity. “What are you making?” he asks, his voice smooth, as the camera zooms in on your hands, catching every careful movement. You glance up, giving him a soft smile, though your mind is racing. “Apple cinnamon buns,” you reply, juggling ingredients with a steady hand. His smile broadens. “A classic combo,” he says approvingly before moving to Seokjin’s station.

Your heart sinks as you hear Seokjin’s voice, his tone confident and infuriatingly charming. “I’m making pumpkin buns with cinnamon sugar on top,” he announces, and you can almost hear the smug grin in his words as he adds that he’ll be shaping them like pumpkins. Like pumpkins are even a Christmas thing? You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling as the camera lingers on him far longer than it did on you. It’s not that you’re jealous—not exactly—but it’s hard not to notice how much more attention he gets, how the spotlight seems to favor him, casting everyone else into the shadows.

Returning to your dough, you add the shredded apples to the mix, the machine whirring gently as it blends them in. When the dough is ready, you pull it from the machine, feeling the weight of it in your hands. There’s something grounding about working the dough with your fingers, shaping it, molding it—your hands know the rhythm of this dance well. You sprinkle flour across the table, working the dough slowly, savoring the texture, your hands moving in steady, practiced motions.

“Careful with that dough,” Seokjin pipes up from beside you, a playful glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t want you to get too kneady.” His pun hangs in the air, and you cringe, resisting the urge to groan as the cameraman swoops in, once again capturing his every move.

“That was so bad,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes as you divide the dough into six even portions. Each piece is dusted with flour, your hands working quickly, forming the dough into perfect rounds. A glance over at Seokjin reveals that he’s somehow ahead of you—some of his buns already resting, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knows exactly how much this irks you.

He chuckles, his voice low as he works his dough with casual ease. “You should watch yourself,” he teases, “or you’ll end up spread out like this dough.”

You stifle a groan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you grab a baking tray, your movements quick and efficient as you line it with parchment paper. Carefully, you place your apple cinnamon buns down, spacing them out before covering them with a cloth, allowing the yeast to work its magic as they rise and puff up. Your eyes dart back to Seokjin’s station, and you can’t help but notice how far ahead he still is—his bench already wiped clean, his buns resting, as if he’s been playing this game for far too long.

But you remind yourself—it’s not about speed. It’s about the buns. And yours will be nothing short of perfect.

You glance at Seokjin again, feeling the weight of his presence beside you, and rush to clean your bench with hurried hands. His voice cuts through the noise, playful and sharp, “You keep staring at me like that, and I might think you’ve forgotten what we’re actually baking here,” he says, his laugh spilling out in waves—full-bodied and obnoxious, like a windshield wiper squeaking through a storm. God, how you hate it. That laugh grates on your nerves, scraping at the last of your patience.

With your bench spotless, there’s nothing left to do but wait. You cross your arms, eyes wandering, trying to ignore the anticipation that hums in the air. Jungkook is moving through the room, his voice soft but firm as he interviews the other contestants. You tune out Seokjin’s interview, determined not to let him rattle you, focusing instead on calming your breath. When it’s your turn, you speak with a quiet passion about your love for baking—how each year you come back, driven by the dream to win, just once, to finally claim the prize that has always been just out of reach.

The minutes trickle by, and after what feels like forever, you lift the cloth to reveal your buns, risen and perfect, their golden promise waiting to be fulfilled. Seokjin pulls the cloth off his buns at the same time, his voice dripping with mischief as he grins your way. “You really know how to get a rise out of me... or is that just the yeast talking?” His laughter fills the room again, and this time, it spreads like wildfire. You hear the other contestants chuckling behind you, and your stomach tightens with frustration. So lame. The joke was painfully lame, and yet they laugh as if he’s a comedy genius. You push forward, determined not to let him get under your skin. Brushing your buns with a delicate layer of egg wash, you sprinkle chunky sugar over the tops, watching it glisten in the light. The oven waits, hot and ready, and with practiced ease, you slide your tray inside. For a moment, you linger there, sitting in front of the oven like a camper before a flickering fire, watching as the buns slowly turn golden. You know this process well, the way the dough will puff and brown in exactly eleven minutes, and you double-check the timer, feeling a quiet confidence bloom in your chest.

When the timer beeps, you pull the buns from the oven, their perfect golden sheen filling you with a rush of pride. They look beautiful, warm and inviting, just as you’d imagined. To your right, Seokjin is already plating his buns with a flourish, his hands moving with an ease that makes you grit your teeth. You rush to do the same, arranging your apple and cinnamon creations with care, each one a testament to your skill.

The competition timer rings, and the tension in the room snaps like a wire pulled too tight. One by one, the contestants are called to present their work. When Seokjin’s turn comes, you can barely contain the roll of your eyes as the judges swoon over his pumpkin-shaped buns, praising his technique, his creativity. He stands there, soaking in their compliments with a smile so smug you can almost feel it radiating across the room. He eats it all up, every word, while you silently seethe, waiting for your moment.

And then, it’s your turn. You walk to the front, presenting your apple cinnamon buns with steady hands, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Christina and Taehyung inspect your work, and you hold your breath, but to your relief, their expressions soften into smiles. Compliments flow your way—no critique, no hesitation. They love the warmth, the balance of flavors. Satisfaction warms your chest, but you keep it inside, holding your victory close, knowing there’s still a long road ahead.

At the end of the round, a contestant is eliminated—a guy named Kwon, whose face you barely remember. Only eleven remain now. Ten more to beat.

The cameras finally stop rolling, the tension in the room easing as everyone begins to disperse. You head toward your room, eager to review your baking books, one of them authored by none other than Kim Taehyung himself. But just as you’re about to retreat into the quiet of your thoughts, you feel a hand on your arm. You turn, and there’s Seokjin, his smile sharper than before, his eyes glinting with something like challenge.

“Good luck tomorrow,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “Just remember, there’s only room for one winner here. But...” he pauses, his tone growing sweeter than honey, “I might let you take a bite of my victory… if you ask nicely.”

You clench your fists, resisting the urge to respond with the fire burning behind your eyes. Instead, you offer him a tight-lipped smile, letting your silence speak for you. You won’t let him win—not this time. Tomorrow, the real competition begins.

A good night’s sleep can cure almost anything—but not, it seems, the stubborn ache in your back. The new room may be a small upgrade from the first year, but the bed springs creak like old bones, refusing to offer even a whisper of comfort. You sigh, stretching your stiff limbs, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. 

Yesterday’s competition left a flurry of emotions behind, but instead of retreating to your room, you spent time mingling with the other contestants, laughing, chatting, doing your best to dodge the dark-haired Seokjin whose presence you’ve come to despise. There are so many fresh faces this year, and a few familiar ones from the past—some that carry the weight of past victories. You’ve even found yourself thinking, more than once, that there should be a rule: once you win first place, you shouldn’t be allowed to enter again. Let someone else have a shot. Let you have a shot. It’s a wish that flickered through your conversations with the other women, murmured over cups of tea and shared frustrations. But rules are rules, and here you are—still in the shadow of Kim Seokjin. 

But not for long.

With newfound determination swelling in your chest, you stride down the grand staircase, each step echoing your resolve. The camera crew is already in place, their lenses trained and waiting for the drama to unfold. Not today. Today you won’t be sent home. You can feel it in your bones. You glide to your station, pointedly ignoring Seokjin’s casual wave and sugary smile—he won’t distract you, not this time. You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep your focus sharp. Today, you’re here for one thing, and it’s not his attention.

The judges enter with a quiet authority that pulls everyone’s gaze. Taehyung, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, claps his hands together and greets the room in that deep, melodic voice of his. “Good morning, everyone! Today’s challenge is another easy one, yeah. We’re keeping it simple—cookies.”

Cheers ripple through the room from contestants behind you, their excitement palpable. But you know better. Cookies aren’t just cookies. There’s an art to simplicity, and you can’t afford to underestimate it. As Taehyung speaks, Christina steps forward, her voice soft but full of warmth. “You’ll be making two varieties of cookies. Six of each, so twelve in total. The flavors are up to you, but they need to complement each other,” she says with a gentle smile, her eyes scanning the room, lingering on the possibilities. 

Off to the side, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook—tall, tattooed, and sharp-eyed—ready to start the competition with his usual flair. Before he even has a chance to utter the word “bake,” your mind is already alive with ideas. Chocolate, orange zest, cinnamon, almonds—flavors begin to swirl together in your thoughts like sugar in a mixing bowl. Your hands itch to begin, your mind races, and your heart pounds with the thrill of creation.

This is your moment. You’ll make it count.

Before your mind has fully settled on a plan, your hands are already in motion—grabbing bowls, spoons, and flour the moment Jungkook’s voice announces the start. The familiar rhythm takes over, and you quickly turn the oven’s dial, ensuring it will be heated just in time for your dough’s transformation. Under the bench, you find a block of chocolate, its dark richness calling to you. With swift, practiced motions, you chop it into large, satisfying chunks, the knife’s steady rhythm keeping pace with your heartbeat. Chocolate chip cookies—simple, but timeless. Your grandmother’s recipe is legendary, the kind that lingers in memory, and you know it will speak for itself on the judges’ tongues.

Adding chopped almonds for texture, you blend the sticky dough, your hands moving as though by instinct. Soon, the dough is portioned out in neat mounds on parchment, each one promising gooey perfection. Into the oven they go, disappearing behind the hot glass, and already your mind is leaping ahead to the next batch. Orange zest, you decide—a bright, citrusy contrast to the chocolate, something both bold and nostalgic.

As you stir the second dough, the spoon moving lazily through the thickening batter, you catch sight of Jungkook and two cameramen gliding over to Jin’s station. You roll your eyes, already anticipating the onslaught of Reddit posts, memes, and fangirls swooning over whatever nonsense Jin is about to spout. No doubt, he’s ready to charm the cameras.

“So, Seokjin, what kind of cookies are you making? Just from the batter, they look really delicious,” Jungkook says, trying to sneak a taste from Jin’s mixing bowl like a kid caught in a cookie jar.

“I’m making candy cane cookies with vanilla, and a batch of chocolate peppermint crunch,” Seokjin replies smoothly, his voice practically dripping with the satisfaction of knowing all eyes are on him.

“Amazing! Can’t wait to taste,” Jungkook beams, while Seokjin slides his tray into the oven with a showman’s flourish. A burst of steam escapes as he shuts the door, and he turns to the cameras with that signature smirk of his. “Is it hot in here, or is it just the oven? Or maybe…” He pauses, eyebrows raised suggestively. “Maybe it’s just you?” 

You scoff, even though your gaze lingers on the scene longer than it should. That was painfully predictable, but no doubt, the fangirls will swoon. You shake your head, refusing to admit you’ve ever spent a moment browsing through Jin’s subreddit—no, not you.

Jungkook, ever the charmer, saunters over to your station just as you pull the first tray of cookies from the oven. The golden-brown chocolate chip beauties rest on the tray, and the smell of warm, melted chocolate fills the air. His eyes widen in anticipation, practically salivating. He reaches for one, but you gently swat his hand away, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “Careful,” you warn, “they’re hot—and there’s only six.”

Jungkook pouts, his lips forming a playful smile. “They look incredible,” he admits, his gaze still fixed on the cookies as though they were treasures freshly unearthed.

Before you can respond, Seokjin’s voice cuts through the moment from your right. “Looks like your cookies aren’t the only thing heating up in here,” he quips, his deep laugh filling the room—rich, unrestrained, and annoyingly confident.

You grit your teeth, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, unsure whether it’s from the oven’s warmth or Seokjin’s infuriating presence. His words swirl around in your mind, making your blood simmer, but you refuse to look his way. Not today. You won’t let him distract you. Not now.

Christina and Taehyung appear beside your bench like a pair of deities, their presence as magnetic as it is intimidating. Up close, Taehyung’s beauty is striking—flawless skin, eyes that seem to hold secrets, and a calm that makes your pulse race. You can feel beads of sweat gathering at your temples, heat rising not just from the oven, but from the thrill of standing before this legend. “What kind of texture are you aiming for in your cookies?” he asks, his voice rich and velvety as he watches you deftly portion the orange zest dough before sliding it into the oven.

You swallow, trying to steady your voice. “I’m going for crisp on the outside, soft and sweet in the center,” you say, cheeks warming under his intense gaze. Damn it. Get it together. You silently pray the blush on your face isn’t betraying you on national TV, even with the camera zoomed in on your every move.

A sudden, familiar laugh breaks your concentration—Seokjin. You glance over, and there he is, obnoxiously close, standing at your bench as though he owns the space. His broad shoulder nudges yours, his smirk devilish. And of course, he can’t resist. With a wink at the camera, he adds, “That’s just how I like my women.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his audacity. Is he really doing this right now? In front of the judges, in front of Taehyung? He’s hijacking your moment, stealing the spotlight you’ve worked so hard for—and making a joke at your expense. Your blood simmers.

“Go away, you jerk,” you mutter, shoving him back towards his own station, but the damage is done. You catch Taehyung and Christina exchanging glances—subtle, but there. You let out a sigh, feeling your frustration simmer just beneath the surface. Tackling Seokjin to the floor and giving him a piece of your mind sounds so tempting, but no. You rein yourself in, forcing a smile instead.

Seokjin, ever the provocateur, throws a wink at the camera and grins. “Impressed, Y/N. Not everyone can handle this much heat. Guess I’ll have to turn it up,” he says, his voice light but layered with something more. And as if to punctuate his words, you watch him out of the corner of your eye—he’s actually turning the heat on his oven higher. What on earth is he playing at? The hall feels warmer, sweat prickling your skin as the competition wears on. Is he talking about the ovens? The tension between you? Or the way he’s managed to catch up to you despite the chaos?

The cookies are nearly done, and you wipe your brow, wishing you’d made both batches at once instead of one after the other. Jin’s smugness only deepens when you realize he’s managed to bake both varieties simultaneously, and now, somehow, he’s neck-and-neck with you. Damn him.

With the final timer ringing out, you pull your cookies from the oven—golden, perfect. You carefully plate them, arranging them with precision. The judges make their way through the line of bakers, and soon it’s your turn. Walking up to the front, your heart pounds, but the praise that follows is worth every ounce of effort. Even if they’re ‘simple’ as Christina put it, the execution is flawless. You let out a quiet breath of relief, but before you can celebrate, Jungkook swoops in and steals a cookie right from Taehyung’s hand. The whole room erupts in laughter, and for a moment, the tension breaks.

Seokjin, of course, gets his perfect feedback too. Not that you’re surprised. The two of you are safe for another day, though as the announcement rings out, your heart sinks a little—Eun, one of the kind women you chatted with yesterday, is the one sent home. As she leaves, the weight of the competition presses down on you. Eight more people stand between you and victory, and among them, the one person you refuse to lose to—Seokjin.

The next two days blur together, a whirlwind of meringues and bread dough, flour dusting every surface like snow, batter splattered across your bench. Somehow, by grace or sheer luck, you’ve managed to hold your place in the competition. Now it’s the second week, day five, and the pressure is palpable—only seven of you remain, each step closer to the edge, and everyone is fighting harder, knowing the next misstep could mean elimination.

As you descend the grand staircase, the tension in the air feels heavier than before. You’re the last to arrive, the others already poised at their stations, judges watching with eagle-eyed precision. When you reach your bench, something catches your eye—a sprig of mistletoe hangs conspicuously in the center aisle, like a trap waiting to spring. You make a mental note to steer clear of that festive lure, no time for distractions, no matter how innocent.

Christina’s voice rings out, warm and inviting. “Today, you’ll be baking pies! Crisp edges, soft centers, and a filling that sings of the season.” Her smile is comforting, but Taehyung’s nod is all business, his eyes gleaming with expectation. “The filling is your choice, sweet or savory, but it must be in line with the spirit of Christmas,” he adds, his deep voice resonating in the hall like the toll of a bell.

You nod, the vision of your pie already clear in your mind—a memory-laden apple-pear lattice pie, passed down from your grandmother. The tart bite of apples softened by the sweetness of ripe pears, all tucked beneath a delicate lattice crust dusted with sugar. Nostalgia and tradition baked into every bite. You know this pie by heart—it’s your connection to the holidays, the warmth of home wrapped in pastry.

As soon as Jungkook announces the start, your hands move with purpose. You reach for the flour, the butter, the cold water—crafting the crust that will hold your memories together. Focused, you’re already mixing the dough when Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air. “Notice anything new?” he chuckles, pointing to the mistletoe overhead, “A little extra something to trip you up—or maybe bring you some luck!”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his playful tease. You didn’t come here for kisses or games. Your eyes flick to Seokjin, who’s snickering under his breath, ever the one to play along. But you push the sound of his laughter away, focus sharpening like a knife’s edge. He won’t trip you up this time—not with jokes, not with smiles. Your hands work swiftly, shaping the dough into something beautiful, knowing that every moment counts in this relentless competition.

No matter what mischief brews beneath the mistletoe, your eyes are on the prize.

As Jungkook drifts behind you, interviewing the contestants in low, animated tones, you’re relieved for the momentary quiet, allowing you to pour your full attention into the pie crust. This is where it all begins—the delicate balance between flour, butter, and water must be perfect. The crust is the foundation, the soul of the pie. You flick on the oven, feeling the heat radiate in waves, and start toward the supply table to grab a mold. But before you make it halfway down the aisle, you slam right into a solid wall of warmth. Seokjin.

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You sidestep to go around him, but Seokjin clears his throat, and you feel the annoyance bubble up inside you. You glance up at him, your lips tight. “What?” The word slips out sharper than you intended, but your patience is wearing thin.

He doesn’t respond at first, just raises a finger to point above your heads. You follow his gaze—mistletoe. Of course. The sight drains the color from your face. The mistletoe hangs above you like a mischievous sprite, and your heart drops into your stomach. No. Not with Seokjin.

“I’m not kissing you,” you hiss, crossing your arms defensively, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. The growing number of cameramen hovering around doesn’t help. You can practically feel their lenses zooming in, capturing every moment of your horror.

Seokjin’s smirk grows, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s tradition,” he says, his tone infuriatingly playful. “Don’t you believe in tradition?” His eyebrow quirks, daring you.

Damn Seokjin and his ridiculous smirk. You grit your teeth, a storm brewing in your chest. “Fine!” you snap, voice tight with frustration. With a huff, you step up onto your tiptoes, grab his annoyingly perfect face with flour-dusted hands, and plant a quick, perfunctory kiss on his lips. A fleeting touch—just enough to meet the demands of tradition, nothing more, nothing less. But the moment your lips brush against his, something stirs inside you, unbidden and unexpected. You pull away like you’ve been burned, cheeks blazing scarlet, heart racing as if you’d sprinted a mile. The cameras catch it all, zooming in on the moment—your moment with Seokjin, under the damn mistletoe. Your mother is probably watching this unfold, and you already dread the mountain of messages awaiting you back in your room. And Seokjin’s subreddit? You can only imagine the wildfire of jealousy that’ll sweep through it.

Mortified, you dart past him, heading for the pie mold like it’s the only lifeline left. Behind you, Seokjin chuckles, completely unaffected, while you feel like the floor might as well swallow you whole.

You slam the mold down on your bench, your body still buzzing with the embarrassment of it all. In a haze of frustration, you glance over at Seokjin’s bench. The idea forms before you even register what you’re doing. With a swift motion, you turn the dial on his oven a notch higher, a small, petty act of vengeance. Maybe that’ll teach him to stop messing with you.

“If you wanted me under the mistletoe, you didn’t have to bump into me, you know,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, teasing, unbothered. Before he gets back to his station, you’re already back to yours as if nothing happened.

Your fingers move automatically, rolling out the dough with steady precision despite the flutter of irritation still coursing through you. You lay the crust in the pie tin, pressing it gently into place, trying to focus on the task at hand. As you slide it into the oven for a quick pre-bake, your gaze drifts to Seokjin. He’s melting chocolate at his bench, completely at ease, while you’re still trying to get your heart to stop racing.

What the hell is he baking? You wonder, shaking your head. But whatever it is, it better not be good enough to outshine your pie.

Taehyung and Christina make their way around the room, their presence like an elegant breeze passing through the charged atmosphere. When they reach Seokjin’s station, Taehyung flashes his signature boxy smile, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “So, what are you baking today, Seokjin?” he asks, voice smooth as velvet.

Seokjin grins, the kind of smile that holds a touch of mischief. “I’m making a Mississippi Mud Pie,” he declares proudly, his tone thick with confidence, as if he’s already envisioning the applause.

“Interesting choice,” Taehyung remarks, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “I hope you manage to keep that pudding silky smooth.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in playful encouragement.

Seokjin nods with a flash of determination before turning back to his task, while you continue preparing the glaze for your apples and pears, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he’s making something as bold and obnoxious as a Mississippi Mud Pie. Always grandiose, always showy. You stifle a smirk and push forward, focused on your own pie. 

With nimble fingers, you weave the lattice atop your tart, dusting it generously with chunky sugar crystals before sliding it into the oven. The warmth of baking apples and pears is already beginning to dance in the air, a comforting scent that feels like Christmas itself. You glance over just as Seokjin slides his pie into his oven, and the question tickles the back of your mind—did he even notice the temperature? 

“I thought Christmas was all about giving,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, snapping you from your thoughts. “How about giving me a break and stop staring like that?” There’s a teasing edge in his tone, and for a moment, you falter. Had you been staring? Damn it. You avert your eyes quickly, but the truth is, you’re curious to see what havoc that tampered oven might wreak on his precious pie.

Time slips by, and as you clean your station, a faint smell begins to curl through the air—something acrid, something burnt. You can’t help the small, wicked smile tugging at your lips. It’s coming from his bench.

Before you can enjoy the moment, Jungkook materializes in front of Seokjin, all wide-eyed and concerned. ��Uh, Seokjin... I think your oven might be burning something.”

Seokjin waves him off with the casual arrogance of someone who never second-guesses his skills. “No, no, it’s fine,” he says confidently, but Jungkook pushes further.

“Just check it, mate.”

Finally, Seokjin opens the oven door, and a thick cloud of scorching hot air bursts forth, like an accusation made of smoke. His expression falters. “Shit!” he exclaims as he rushes to pull out the pie, his face darkening with frustration. It’s burnt—not ruined entirely, but the edges are crisped more than they should be. You bite back a laugh, wishing it had turned to charcoal.

His gaze snaps toward you, sharp and piercing, like he knows exactly who’s behind this little mishap. “Well, well,” he smirks, eyes glinting. “Looks like someone’s been naughty instead of nice, messing with my oven temperature just to throw me off.”

You blink innocently, batting your eyelashes as you offer him your best impression of sincerity. “I’m so sorry,” you say, voice dripping with faux sweetness. Both of you know the truth—it’s anything but an apology—but you can’t help but find this moment deliciously funny.

Seokjin chuckles, the sound rich and unbothered as he begins to assemble the other components of his pie. “Oh, I get it now. Sabotage me, burn my pie, and then you try to sweet-talk your way out of it?” His words are playful, but there’s an undercurrent of challenge beneath his voice.

You turn back to your own creation just in time to pull your pie from the oven, golden and perfect. The scent of apples and pears wafts toward you, warm and inviting, and you feel a surge of pride. Perfect. 

Seokjin isn’t done yet. “Nice try, though,” he says, not missing a beat. “Your little ‘sabotage’ just makes me want to beat you even more.” Then, with a glint in his eye and a smirk playing on his lips, he leans in slightly. “Maybe even taste what you’ve got cooking.”

Your breath catches for just a second, heart skipping a beat at the unexpected flirtation. Did he just say what you think he did? 

You quickly shake it off, focusing back on your flawless pie, hoping that his burnt crust might just seal his fate. But fate isn’t that kind, and as the day’s competition ends, Seokjin survives. Someone else, with a pie more disastrous than his, is sent home. You’re both safe for another day, and as you walk back to your bench, you can’t help but feel both triumphant and a little unnerved. 

This isn’t over.

It’s the third week, the seventh day, and you’re already halfway through the competition. You stand at your bench, hands clasped gently in front of you, fingertips brushing and fidgeting, a small effort to calm your jittering nerves. Why you’re nervous is beyond you—yet there it is, that flutter, pressing into your chest. 

Across the room, Taehyung, Christina, and Jungkook step up to the judges’ bench, their faces alight with matching mischievous grins. An ominous spark flickers in their eyes, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. Whatever’s coming won’t be easy. Jungkook claps his hands together, a low, resonant sound that carries across the hall, his eyes sweeping over each of you.

“Good morning, everyone!” he greets, his voice cheerful and commanding. “I hope you’ve all rested well, because today, you’ll be making—sourdough bread!”

The words hit you like a chill down your spine. Sourdough, of all things! Your breath catches in a gasp; you’ve made sourdough before, but never with a timer breathing down your neck. The very essence of sourdough is its patience, its slow, careful fermentation. 

Before the panic can take hold, Jungkook flashes a grin, his bunny teeth peeking out as he adds, “Luckily for you all, Taehyung has prepared a batch of sourdough starter so you can skip the fermentation process.”

Relief trickles through you, the tension easing in your shoulders. A starter made by the Kim Taehyung himself—a legendary boost if ever there was one.

“All you need to do is turn it into a flavorful bread of your own design,” Christina chimes in with her warm, encouraging smile.

Taehyung nods, his voice soft yet firm. “But don’t forget—this is a Christmas competition. Bring those holiday flavors to life.”

With the judges’ call to begin, you spring into action, finding the precious sourdough starter tucked neatly under your bench. As you run through flavor ideas, one combination settles in your mind—walnuts and cinnamon. Yes, you think, a spiced walnut bread sounds just right. Your hands move almost of their own accord, gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, oil, walnuts. You fire up the mixer, combining everything with precision, your gaze flickering momentarily to your right. Seokjin, just as focused, seems to be neck-and-neck with you. You quickly turn away, determined to keep your attention on your dough. Yet as you slide the mix out of the bowl and start kneading, a creeping dread begins to gnaw at you. The dough doesn’t feel right; instead of that soft, slightly sticky texture, it’s dense and tough, refusing to yield beneath your palms. 

Your heart skips a beat. Damn. Something’s off. You must have slipped up somewhere with the ratios. You press on, kneading harder, trying to bring life to this obstinate mass, hoping a little coaxing will do the trick. 

But then you hear a soft chuckle from beside you. Seokjin, watching with a gleam in his eye, can’t resist the jab. “I hope you’re better at making out than you are at making dough,” he quips, his tone light yet cutting. “Because, judging by that disaster, you’ll need something to make up for it.”

Your blood boils, cheeks flushed with irritation. He has no idea what kind of kiss he missed under that mistletoe, when he only got a peak. His smirk grows as he turns back to his own bread, perfectly unbothered, and you clench your teeth. If he thinks he’s seen the last of your kitchen skills, he’s in for a surprise.

Focus, you tell yourself, hands pressing into the dough with renewed intensity. If anything, his teasing will only push you to rise—just like this stubborn dough is about to.

You knead the dough with an intensity that borders on frustration, each push and twist a quiet vent for the anger bubbling beneath the surface. The dough yields under your hands as you work it harder, almost punching it into shape. Suddenly, Jungkook appears by your bench, his brows furrowed as he takes in your struggle.

“Trouble?” he asks softly, voice edged with concern. You’re too caught up, too irritated to even answer, so you only grunt in response, lifting the stubborn dough and shoving it back into the mixer. A splash of water might save it, you hope, and you watch the machine turn, willing it to obey.

Jungkook and the camera crew linger a moment longer, their lenses capturing every sigh and furrowed brow, then slowly drift down the line toward Seokjin. The camera’s absence leaves a little more space to breathe, but as you finally check the dough, your heart sinks. It’s too sticky now, clinging uncomfortably to your fingers, almost mocking your efforts. Damn it. 

With no time to start over, you grab the flour, dusting it like a lifeline as you fold and press, trying to bring it back from the brink. Gradually, with each turn of the dough, it begins to take on the consistency you need. Relief washes over you as you shape it, finally, into the pan and slip it into the oven. You bend and arch your back to set it carefully on the rack, breathing out a sigh, satisfied at last.  

“Damn, Y/N—if you’re trying to turn me on, you’re doing a better job than the oven right now.” Seokjin’s voice floats from your right, low and casual, but with a playful glint.

Your mouth drops open before you can stop it, caught off guard as his words settle over you. Did he really just make a sexual comment about my body—right here, on national TV? Anger mixes with embarrassment, but with the cameras still lurking, you only manage a scowl and a sharp roll of your eyes. He grins in response, clearly enjoying your reaction.

When the oven timer finally dings, you take a steadying breath and pull the bread from the heat. It’s risen beautifully, with a golden crust that promises all the flavor and fluff you’d hoped for. But the moment you start to slice into it, dread tugs at you. The knife cuts clean through with too much resistance—too easily. You pull the loaf apart, and your stomach drops. No airy holes, no soft webbing—just a dense, compact mass. 

Damn it all. 

Your heart sinks as you stare at the thick slice, the reality settling in.

Fuck.

You let the knife slip from your fingers, a dull clatter as it meets the tabletop, and you sink to the floor, unable to hold back the weight that’s been pressing on you all day. Tears blur your vision, slipping down your cheeks as silent sobs shake you, and you curse the cameras that have flocked to capture every moment of your breaking. You hate that they’re filming this—that you’ve sacrificed an entire December, each day on display, competing beside someone you’d rather avoid. 

Just then, a gentle hand rests on your back, tracing soft, steady circles that ease the storm a little. Surprised, you look up to see Seokjin crouched beside you, his face soft with a kindness you didn’t expect.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his gaze moving from your dismal bread to meet your tear-streaked face. “I’m sure it still tastes good. And remember—that’s what matters most.”

You blink up at him, catching his eyes for what feels like the first time. Have they always been this warm, this deep? Rich shades of caramel that seem to melt right through you, gentle but somehow grounding. Your chest tightens as something new stirs, fragile and unfamiliar, even as you brush the tears from your cheeks. He doesn’t crack a joke, doesn’t tease, just holds you there in the quiet of his presence.

Your heart hitches, and you take a deep, unsteady breath. He’s right. Taste is what matters most, you tell yourself, though you know the truth—that texture, that mouthfeel, plays an equal role. But he seems so sure, and you let that comfort settle in for a moment before he gives you a last reassuring nod and returns to his station. You rise, still shaken, hoping someone else fumbled more than you did. In the end, it’s Leah who leaves, but that close call leaves a tremor in your chest that keeps you restless long after the day ends.

Sleep evades you that night, leaving you tossing beneath the weight of everything that happened. You can’t stop replaying that disaster on national TV, the sourdough fiasco, your tears on display. Dread tightens your stomach, the idea of what Instagram or Reddit might be saying about your meltdown twisting your mind in knots. You don’t want to know what people think, how foolish you looked. And then there’s Seokjin, adding to the confusion.

You’ve been avoiding him ever since that kiss under the mistletoe, as fleeting as it was. His lips were warm, soft as clouds, and that one moment had left you breathless. And yesterday, instead of pushing you with his usual banter, he was gentle, almost... tender. It’s left your heart skipping, the memory of his face, his touch, stirring something unnamed and unsettling.

Is he just being nice, or is there something more? Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. Maybe this is just his tactic, trying to throw you off your game, to make you lose your focus so he can swoop in and claim victory. But as you lie there in the dark, his kindness replays over and over, leaving you uncertain. Something’s shifting inside you, something you can’t quite grasp yet—and whatever it is, you can’t afford to acknowledge it now. Not when you still have a competition to win. 

Exhausted but determined, you stand at your bench on this eighth day of the competition, avoiding even a glance in Seokjin’s direction. Just the thought of him, of how good he must look, sends your stomach into a whirl.

“Boy, have we got something special for you today!” Jungkook announces, his grin wide and electric. Taehyung chuckles, adding, “It’s team challenge day!”

Your heart sinks. You’ve dreaded this day since the start, hoping for the luck of a decent partner, as you had in past seasons. But as the names are read off, fate delivers the unexpected.

“You and Seokjin,” Christina calls, her voice carrying a mischievous note as your eyes meet Seokjin’s. There he stands, dark hair framing a face that’s far too perfect. He smiles, and your heartbeat quickens, rebelling against every ounce of sense you’re trying to hold on to.

“Do you want to know what you’ll be making today?” Christina beams.

The room’s voices echo in eager agreement—all except yours. You’re rooted to the spot, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Seokjin’s shoulder, aware of every traitorous thump of your heart.

“You’ll be making gingerbread houses!” Taehyung laughs, a spark of holiday pride lighting up his face. “We can’t wait to see your creativity—and bring that warm, familiar taste of home to life.”

The start bell chimes, and you and Seokjin exchange a nod before quickly settling on your plan: simple but elegant. As he dives into mixing the dough, you turn your focus to the sugar glaze and icings, choosing Christmas colors—red, green, and white. You work side by side, silent but close, the unspoken tension filling every touch and glance. Whenever your shoulders brush, heat flares up your neck, and you can only hope the cameras don’t catch it.

Then, in a moment of calculated ease, he leans in close, his shoulder pressing against yours. “See, I don’t need mistletoe to get you right where I want you,” he murmurs, voice low and warm.

You’re not sure if he’s talking about the gingerbread or something else entirely, but your cheeks flush, and the world narrows down to the steady beat of your pulse. Words escape you, leaving you flustered, almost dizzy, as you help him press the dough into shape, trying desperately to calm the storm he’s stirring within you.

He turns his head just enough to lean closer, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending an electric shiver down your spine. His voice, low and edged with something you can’t quite decipher, murmurs, “I can’t tell if this tension is from the competition… or just from you being this close.”

A hard swallow catches in your throat, and suddenly the room feels far too warm. Damn him for making you lose focus like this.

You manage to cut the dough into its final shapes, sliding them into the oven to bake. As they brown, you check on the icing, spooning through the white, glossy peaks to make sure it’s the right consistency.

“What do you think of this texture?” you ask, holding the spoon high as the icing drips, thick and slow.

His gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long. “Thick and creamy, just how we like it,” he replies, a smirk pulling at his lips. A wink flashes your way, and your face flushes hot. Thick and creamy. You banish the unbidden images forming in your mind, inwardly scolding yourself to get back on track.

When the cookies finish baking, you and Seokjin move in tandem, retrieving the trays and setting the cookies on racks to cool. Golden brown and perfectly crisp, they gleam in the warm light. “They look perfect,” you say, smiling, and Seokjin nods in agreement, arranging the pieces with careful precision.

With the cooling underway, he whips up a fresh batch of icing, the new bowl of white peaks tempting you. “Mind if I taste it?” you ask, reaching toward the bowl. “Just to make sure the sugar’s balanced?”

He raises an eyebrow, offering the spoon. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, tone laced with mischief. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you find yourself craving more.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air, and your pulse races, a current of anticipation tightening your chest. You take a taste, licking the spoon, but a little too quickly; icing slips over your lip and trails down your chin.

His eyes darken as he watches. “I must say,” he says softly, his smile curling with intrigue, “you look pretty with liquid dripping down your chin.”

Your cheeks burn, and something inside you clenches unexpectedly. The heat rising within you is almost too much to bear, and for a second, all you want to do is escape his gaze, escape this overwhelming feeling—run, hide, anything. But no, you won’t back down now. Not today.

Why the fuck are you getting turned on right now?

You shove your dirty thoughts aside, convincing yourself he couldn’t have meant anything suggestive. This is the competition, after all—focus. You set to icing the cookies, carefully piping along the edges as Seokjin holds each piece of the gingerbread house steady.

“You’ve got a real talent with that icing…” he murmurs, voice thick with suggestion. He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want to see how good I am at licking it off?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your voice escapes in a half-choked laugh, “No!” Yet you’re left wondering—did he really mean just the cookies? Your heart races, and by now, you must be as red as a ripe apple.

Seokjin leans in, his shoulder brushing yours, eyes glinting playfully. “Better let me handle this,” he whispers, “unless… you’d rather things get a bit messy.”

The closeness is dizzying, and a startled cough escapes you just as Jungkook wanders over, asking if you’re alright. You manage a nod, praying for the day to end so you can escape this charged atmosphere, your flustered nerves, and his honey-laced teasing.

You glance up to find Seokjin’s gaze locked on you, his eyes dark and glinting. “Keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs low, “and I might just let you have a taste of my frosting.”

A jolt shivers down your spine, heat pooling in your cheeks—and elsewhere, much to your horror. You exhale shakily, fingers trembling as you finish icing the final wall of the gingerbread house, praying for the cameras to cut so you can flee.

Finally, the house stands complete, a festive masterpiece that brings a surge of pride and relief. With a quiet thank-you to the heavens that you’ve made it through the day, you’re spared elimination. The moment filming ends, you bolt from the hall, the steady beat of your heart pounding like a drum in your ears.

Reaching your room, you swing the door open, craving solitude. But just as you go to close it, a hand stops the door, and a familiar foot wedges into the gap, preventing your escape. Seokjin appears in the doorway, his presence filling the room as he nudges the door open. You turn, surprised, meeting his gaze as he scans your face, concern softening his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low and gentle, and you catch a hint of genuine worry. 

“Y-yeah,” you manage, feeling your pulse skip. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in this moment. He steps forward, his gaze drifting around your room, but you instinctively retreat until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of your legs. Caught between him and your own mounting desire, you feel strangely exhilarated, breaths uneven as anticipation rushes through you.

“You just seem…” His voice trails off as he draws nearer, his eyes tracing your features, “a bit… out of sorts.”

You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but his intuition sees right through you. “I’m… I—” You start to speak, but words falter. Say the truth, or shield it?

His eyes narrow slightly, his voice dipping into a whisper. “You’re a little… wet, aren’t you?” The question drips with suggestion, and heat floods your cheeks. Your breath catches, and he smiles knowingly—Seokjin has never been one to miss a tell. 

He’s so close now, his scent, warm and intoxicating, fills your senses. His lashes flutter as he leans in, and for a breathless second, your eyes lock. Without thought, driven by the longing pounding in your chest, you reach for his face, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss that’s anything but tentative. It’s intense, melting away whatever barriers you held, a wordless confession pressed from your lips to his. You lean into him, drawn, tethered by an undeniable need.

When you finally part, his dark eyes are fixed on you, filled with astonished heat. “Princess,” he murmurs, voice husky, “do you really want this?” He searches your face, looking for any hint of hesitation.

“I do,” you whisper, your voice raw with desire, “I don’t know why… but I need you, right now.” Your own need sounds urgent in the quiet of the room, and his gaze flickers, a grin tugging at his lips as he pulls you close once more. 

You pull him close, kissing him deeply, wanting nothing more than to feel him everywhere, his warmth mingling with yours. Your hands trace the lines of his body, and he lets out a soft, knowing chuckle. “Well, princess is in a rush,” he murmurs, a teasing smile playing on his lips. You can’t help but giggle—he’s always had that look, one that riles and draws you in. His beauty, so effortless, had once made him feel like a thorn in your side. His charms seemed unfair, his confidence so maddening. But now, in his arms, all of that melts away; there’s no room for anything but this want, this anticipation.

“Call me that again,” you say, breathless. “I like it.”

“Princess,” he breathes, voice low and laced with desire. Your hands glide lower, feeling him pressed against you, hard and wanting. You bite your lip as you savor his reaction, and he smirks, lifting a hand to brush your cheek, before leaning close to press a kiss on your forehead, soft and unexpectedly tender.

“Let me taste your cream,” he whispers, eyes dark with mischief and longing.

A laugh bubbles up from you. “Really, Seokjin? Is that your best line?”

He chuckles, his gaze unwavering. “I’m serious. I’ve wanted you since we set foot in this castle.”

The admission catches you off-guard, your heart skipping as you meet his gaze, feeling that familiar, disarming warmth. “Wait… Since the start of the competition?”

He shakes his head, voice dipping to a whisper. “No. Since the moment I first saw you.”

His eyes, rich with longing, hold you captive. Corny as it is, it’s so him, and there’s something so undeniably real in the way he looks at you that you’re left breathless. 

“You mean it?” you murmur, still stunned, but unable to resist his pull.

He answers only by lowering you back onto the bed, his touch gentle, yet urgent, and you sink into the softness beneath, wondering if somehow, in his presence, everything feels warmer, softer, more alive.

Seokjin gazes down at you, his eyes twinkling with that familiar, infuriating smirk. “Oh, I know you’ve felt this too. The way you look at me says it all.”

Your lips curl in defiance, though your pulse betrays you, hammering under his gaze. “I looked because I thought you were ridiculous—and infuriating,” you murmur, heart skipping as he leans closer, closing the last sliver of space. 

“Yet here we are, and still… you want me,” he breathes, his words brushing your lips just before they meet. His kiss is deep, a slow surrender, and you moan softly, hands curling over his broad shoulders as though anchoring him there. Your kiss is hungry, desperate, as though he might vanish, and when he pulls back, you laugh breathlessly, “Yes, alright, I want you—even if you’ve been an ass.”

He grins, all smug satisfaction. “I do have a good ass, and so do you might I add.” His gaze glints mischievously as he traces a line down your body, catching the edge of your pants and slipping them down your legs. “Let’s take a proper look, shall we?”

The fabric slides away, leaving you in a sliver of lace. He inhales sharply, admiring the delicate pink, and you can feel his gaze linger as he teases, “Pretty soaked for someone who’s supposedly annoyed with me.” His hand hovers, like he’s savoring the moment, his voice low. “What would I find, I wonder?” 

Breathless, you lift your hips, letting him pull the last barrier away. His smile softens as he takes you in. “Oh, princess,” he murmurs, voice thick with appreciation, “you’re glistening. Like a rare gem.”

Heat pools in your cheeks, heart pounding at his words. No one’s ever looked at you like this, and he senses your shy retreat, gently catching your arm before you can shield your face. “Don’t hide from me now,” he whispers, pressing a warm kiss to your wrist. “It’s just you being beautiful. Let me see you.”

Then he’s there, lips trailing down the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving a fire in their wake. You feel your body hum in anticipation, every nerve aware, waiting.

“Don’t tease me,” you murmur, fingers threading into his soft hair, tugging gently. 

He looks up, a satisfied glint in his eye, the corner of his lips lifting. “Oh, but I’m going to. Because this moment, with you… I want to savor it.”

Slowly, he draws closer, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, his gaze heavy with intention. The first ghost of his lips on your pussy sends a shiver through you, drawing out a helpless moan. Instinctively, you arch toward him, craving more, but his hands are there, steadying your hips, holding you in place with gentle strength.

Then, his mouth descends, and the first touch of his tongue on your clit sends you spiraling. He moves with a softness and rhythm that leaves you breathless, and when he begins to press his tongue in slow, unyielding circles, a molten heat spreads through you, curling your toes. Each movement feels like a practiced art, his mouth relentless as he savors you, tasting every bit of your arousal with unhurried devotion. The pressure builds inside you, your breaths quickening, pulse pounding.

Your fingers clench in his hair as you gasp, “God, I’m already so close… How are you this good?”

He says nothing, only hums in response, and the low vibration nearly sends you over the edge. He keeps working, drinking you in, savoring every quiver and moan that slips from your lips. You can feel yourself cresting, a torrent of sensation washing over you as you tighten your grip, and he knows—you’re almost there, and he’s right there with you, groaning in satisfaction as he tastes every pulse of pleasure.

The release is all-consuming, a rush that lifts you, dizzies you, blurs the edges of the world. You’re floating, flying, a haze of pure sensation that fades only when you’re utterly spent.

You meet his gaze, dazed, and whisper, “Let me taste you too.” He smiles, standing to pull down his pants and underwear, and you sit up, eyes widening as he’s revealed, long and thick, every inch of him somehow as beautiful as the rest. You slide to your knees, your palms pressing into his hips as you look up at him, your lips parting. With one hand, you wrap around him, earning a sharp hiss as you bring your mouth to him. You start with the barest of kisses at his tip, savoring the salt and warmth of him, a hum of pleasure escaping your lips. His moan deepens, and you smile, swirling your tongue over him with languid strokes, focusing on every place that draws out his breaths and soft curses.

His eyes darken, his breathing growing ragged, and you feel the tension between you deepen, pulsing in rhythm with every touch. You want to make him feel everything he just gave you, and as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you know that the night is only beginning.

He’s breathless now, each exhale a shiver against your skin as you take him deeper, letting his pleasure guide your every move. His fingers rest in your hair, gentle but firm, grounding him as he struggles to hold back a moan. His voice is rough, ragged as he stutters, “Engh—princess…so good with that tongue.”

You glance up, catching his gaze, and hold it with a mischievous spark. In that moment, you give him a slow, deep pull that has his eyes fluttering shut, a strangled groan slipping free. Encouraged, your hand finds its way to his balls, caressing, and you revel in every new sound he makes—each one sending warmth surging through you, building your own need.

But just as he seems ready to let go, he stills your movements, framing your cheeks with both hands as he catches his breath. His thumb traces your skin, his eyes darkened with desire, and he breathes, “You’re incredible, princess, but…I need to be inside you.” 

He hesitates, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “I don’t have a condom—do you?”

You pull back, a glistening thread connecting you for a moment before you smile, whispering, “It’s okay. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” A small laugh escapes you as you add, “Besides, this wasn’t exactly on my itinerary for tonight.”

Relief softens his features, and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further as he laughs with you. “Same here. And I’m clean too.” Then, without another word, he gently lifts the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until it catches briefly in your hair, pulling you both into a shared, breathless laugh as it’s tossed to the floor.

For a moment, he just gazes at you, taking in every curve, every rise and fall of your breath. His hands slide behind you, unhooking your bra, and as it slips away, his gaze drinks you in. “You’re…beautiful,” he murmurs, voice soft with reverence, as though seeing you like this has stripped him of words.

You arch into him, and he cups you, his hands warm and reverent, kneading your skin with a tenderness that has your heart thudding. His fingers trace slow, teasing lines down to the soft, sensitive peaks, barely grazing them, sending delicious shivers racing through you. A moan slips past your lips, urging him on, and you feel his lips close over one, hot and soft, his tongue swirling in ways that leave you trembling. He alternates, his other hand grazing, then gently pinching, teasing out sparks of pleasure that arch through your body.

“Jin—oh god, it’s…” you gasp, but words fail as his mouth closes over your other peak, his hand tenderly attending to the first, each touch adding fuel to the fire raging between you.

He lifts his head, lips parting with a quiet sound as he whispers, “Good?”

“More than good,” you breathe, feeling yourself melt under his touch.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, so close it’s dizzying—but just as you reach for it, he pulls away. A fleeting pout crosses your face, only to be replaced by awe as he sheds his shirt, and god, he looks like a masterpiece. The warm glow of his skin, rich and golden, calls to you; the strong line of his shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist, and below that, his cock—full, hard, and yours to claim. The thought alone makes your pulse race. Every bit of him leaves you breathless, and suddenly, there’s nothing you want more than to feel all of him.

He leans over, guiding you down, covering you in gentle, feverish kisses that send giggles tumbling out between your sighs. His body presses against yours, skin to skin, his dick grazing against your thigh, and your pussy throbs in answer, sending shivers radiating out from your core.

“I want you, Jin,” you whisper, offering yourself to him, fully and freely.

“Oh, I want you too, princess,” he murmurs back, the words a caress against your collarbone as he trails his lips up to your cheek. Slowly, he guides himself to your entrance, positioning himself carefully. His voice softens, “Ready?”

You bite your lip and nod, heart pounding, as he begins to ease into you. You feel every inch as he stretches you, filling you so deeply that it borders on overwhelming. You hadn’t prepared yourself, a detail you remember only now, and for a moment, you squeeze your eyes shut. He pauses, his brow furrowing in concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asks gently, searching your face.

You chuckle, half-apologetic, “I forgot to prep. It’s…been a while, but keep going.” Despite his hesitation, you nod reassuringly, opening yourself to him fully. He holds your gaze for a heartbeat, and with a final glance for confirmation, he presses deeper, sliding into you with a controlled tenderness. The ache as he stretches you only heightens the pleasure, a sensation that grounds you in the here and now, and you find yourself craving even more, wanting him to lose himself with you.

“You’re so tight,” he rasps, still pressing in, his breathing labored.

A shaky laugh escapes you. “I did say it’s been a while. You’re so big—I think you’re almost splitting me in two.”

A chuckle slips from his lips as he strains to control himself, stilling inside you. “Oh? Now you’re joking?” he asks, amusement lighting his eyes.

“Maybe a little,” you whisper, breathless, “but it does feel incredible.” 

Finally, he’s fully seated within you, filling you completely. He takes a moment, his breathing uneven as he absorbs the sensation, and then he begins to move, a slow, intoxicating rhythm that has you clutching at his shoulders. Each glide ignites sparks that streak down your spine, stars already dancing before your eyes. Your toes curl, and that familiar knot tightens low in your stomach, winding tighter with every thrust, unraveling your senses until you’re completely, blissfully lost in him.

His whispered, “Fuck,” is thick with pleasure, a low groan as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the dim light. He hovers over you, breath warm against your skin, hands planted firmly on either side of your head, grounding you in his intensity. He moves slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, unhurried, yet powerful, the rhythm coaxing cries of pleasure from deep within you as his body presses into yours.

“Seokjin,” you pant, voice trembling, each syllable tangled with need.

“Princess,” he echoes, a rough murmur that makes your body pulse in response, clenching around him. He falters, groaning at the sensation, and his eyes darken as he slides his hand beneath your thigh, lifting it to rest over his shoulder. The change is immediate; he fills you even deeper, his movements reaching an intensity that makes every nerve sing. The new angle has you gasping, clinging to him as he strikes that perfect spot, driving you toward the edge with relentless precision.

“Right there!” you cry, vision spotting, as he picks up the pace, his breaths sharp and stuttering. Your whole body is alight, toes curling, heart pounding, the pleasure mounting too quickly to contain. He grins as he watches your desperation, his hand dipping between you to find your swollen clit, fingers circling and pressing, amplifying every sensation. You’re drenched, his fingers slipping over you easily, driving you higher as your breath hitches, your body shuddering, head thrown back as the climax crashes over you. His name escapes your lips, a cry filled with release, as you feel yourself clench tight around him.

You open your eyes to his face, gorgeous and utterly captivated, his gaze locked onto you, stunned and transfixed. “You…damn, that was beautiful,” he rasps, still circling your sensitive flesh as your body trembles in the aftermath. His own body tightens, breaths quickening, and he leans closer, groaning your name as he thrusts deep, finding his own release. A final shudder ripples through him, and he lets out a sound of your name you’ll remember, deep and raw, filling you with warmth.

As he pulls back, breath heavy, he reaches to sweep a damp hand through his hair. “That…that was amazing,” he murmurs, grinning, his face flushed and bright.

You can’t help but smile back, a quiet chuckle escaping, “I agree.”

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he whispers, tenderly withdrawing as he reaches for a cloth, gentle as his hands linger. You lie there, chest heaving, slowly returning from the edge, the two of you savoring the haze of satisfaction between you. You’d just shared something unforgettable with Seokjin, the man you once called an enemy—but now, that feels like another lifetime away.

Morning’s first light glows softly against the frost-covered castle walls as you step outside with a steaming cup of tea, hoping the chill might clear your mind. The steam from your cup swirls like a small, fleeting cloud in the crisp winter air, mingling with your breath as you stroll along the snow-dusted path. Massive evergreens stand cloaked in fresh powder, their branches heavy with snow, while the castle behind you sparkles with delicate strands of Christmas lights that flicker with a nostalgic warmth. The decor, the quiet beauty—it all fills the air with a festive, dreamy charm.

You wrap your hands tighter around the cup, its warmth spreading into your palms as your thoughts drift back to last night. Seokjin had come to your room, and the memories of the intensity between you still linger, bringing a flush to your cheeks. You can’t help the way your stomach flutters when you remember his touch, the way he melted through every wall you’d built around yourself. There’s no denying it anymore—you like him. Maybe you always have. Maybe all that tension you held against him was just your heart speaking the only way it knew how, because acknowledging these feelings felt too risky. But now it feels even messier. What are you supposed to do with this, with him, here, in the midst of a competition where every moment counts?

Lost in thought, you don’t even hear footsteps approaching until a familiar voice murmurs behind you, “Having regrets?”

You turn, surprised, and meet Seokjin’s steady gaze. He’s watching you intently, something unreadable in his expression, but the glint in his eyes makes your heart skip. Regrets? Not a chance. “No… Never,” you say honestly, the answer flowing out of you without a second thought. The surprise in his face softens, and he steps closer, his brow furrowing as he studies you.

“Then what’s on your mind?” he asks, voice low as if he’s afraid to break the quiet between you.

You hesitate, blowing gently on your tea as you gather your words. “I… like you. I like you a lot. But I don’t know what that means here, now, while we’re both still in this competition. I just don’t want to mess things up.”

Seokjin nods, a small, understanding smile spreading across his lips. “Well, I like you too,” he says simply, and his sincerity warms you even more than the tea in your hands. “We don’t have to make it complicated. Why don’t we just take things as they come? Let’s be in this moment, here together, and not let it get in the way of anything.”

You consider his words and feel a sense of ease settle over you. His simplicity, his kindness—they’re exactly what you need. “That sounds perfect,” you whisper, heart lightening.

He grins, reaching forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, and the moment feels as close to magical as the glittering snow around you.

For a while, you simply stand there together, absorbing the quiet. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but determined. “I’d better go in and get ready for the semi-finals. Coming?”

You nod, catching one last look at the snowy landscape before following him, feeling strangely certain that whatever happens, this memory, this moment with him, is yours to keep.

Inside the grand, echoing hall, the atmosphere thrums with anticipation—third week and it’s the semi-finals, and only four contestants remain. It’s another sourdough challenge, and the thought knots your stomach; but this time, you feel armed with everything you’ve learned, determined to redeem yourself from the last round’s missteps. You’ve reviewed every ratio, every technique, certain you won’t make the same mistakes twice.

Across the room, Seokjin catches your eye, flashing a small wink your way that sends warmth rushing to your cheeks. You look down quickly, hoping the cameras miss your blush. You can already imagine the uproar if anyone notices the subtle shifts between you and Seokjin. His fans would be livid, and part of you shivers at the thought. But another part is thrilled—glowing, even—that his glance lingers on you alone.

Taehyung’s voice cuts through the quiet as he announces the start. You reach for your premade starter, blending it with flour, water, salt, and crushed walnuts. A familiar recipe—but this time, perfected. As the machine kneads, you steal a glance at Seokjin, working at his own station. He looks over and smirks, nodding to the dough in your hands. “If you keep kneading it like that,” he murmurs with a glint of amusement, “I might have to admit I’m a little jealous of it.”

Your cheeks flush deeper, and you stifle a laugh, hoping the cameraman didn’t catch the exchange. You’ll knead him later, if he’s lucky. The thought amuses you, and you bury your smile, adjusting your focus as you work the dough in your hands until it reaches that perfect, silken elasticity.

Moving through the contestants, Jungkook stops by Seokjin. “That’s a beautiful dough,” he says, nodding approvingly.

Seokjin grins, a mischievous spark in his eye. “Thanks. I know this is a baking competition, but you can stop flouring me with compliments every time.”

Jungkook’s laugh echoes through the hall, and the room feels warmer somehow, each exchange brimming with camaraderie and friendly rivalry. You cover your dough to let it rest, feeling a swell of satisfaction as the texture is just right. Wiping down your station, you shift your focus to the next challenge—cupcakes, of course, because the semi-finals wouldn’t be complete without multiple recipes in one day.

You dive into the batter, drawing on the festive mood with a blend of cinnamon and shredded carrot for a Christmas touch, and creamy frosting chilled in the fridge, each detail meticulously planned. Into the oven go the cupcake molds, filling the hall with a warm, spiced aroma, blending with the yeasty scent of sourdough proofing.

Across the bench, Seokjin is working with a similar quickness, his gaze drifting to you with a gentle intensity that you can’t help but return. As you work side by side, sharing the small glances that carry more meaning than words, you feel a strange harmony, both within yourself and with him. You’re in the competition—but in these moments, everything feels like a rhythm, an unspoken bond both fierce and gentle, pushing you toward something extraordinary.

In goes the frosting to chill, waiting patiently in its piping bag, and now it’s back to the sourdough. You uncover the dough, marveling at its perfect rise, feeling a surge of confidence and—well, maybe a touch of mischief. Glancing over at Seokjin, you call out, voice low and playful, “You know, the only thing that should be rising faster than this dough is the tension between us.”

He lets out a deep, warm laugh, a sound that wraps around you and settles deep in your stomach, stirring something close to admiration—maybe even more. “Touché, Y/N!” he grins, pulling the cloth from his own dough with a wink. “Though, this dough isn’t the only thing that’s rising around here…” His words hang in the air as your mouth falls open. You give him a quick look, half-worried he’s serious, but you don’t find him popping a boner and instead find him grinning, reveling in his joke. The mischievous glint in his eye is impossible to resist, and you can’t help but laugh, enjoying the banter you two have woven between the flour and dough.

Focused, you place your dough on a baking tray, score a precise line along the length with a sharp knife, dust it lightly with flour, and slide it into the oven alongside your baking cupcakes. You’re quick to pull them out once they’re golden and perfect, setting them on a rack to cool as time dwindles. The kitchen hums with activity, everyone moving at a near-frantic pace, yet somehow you feel steady with Seokjin beside you. You glance at the clock—just fifteen minutes remain. The bread has to finish, and the cupcakes still need their frosting. Seokjin catches your anxious glance and gives you a reassuring smile, dashing to the fridge for his frosting. His calm steadiness eases the pulse of worry in your chest, and you follow suit, gathering your frosting bag and applying smooth, swirled peaks to each cupcake, finishing them with a sprinkle of walnuts.

As you pull your sourdough from the oven, the loaf is everything you hoped for—golden, hearty, the cut expanding beautifully along its edge. With a sense of quiet pride, you plate everything just in time, arranging the warm, rustic loaf and delicately frosted cupcakes into a small but satisfying spread. Relief washes over you when the round ends without either you or Seokjin being eliminated—though the victory feels bittersweet as Kevin packs up his station.

Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Seokjin retreat to your room to unwind, sharing stories and laughter until words give way to the kind of silence only the two of you can understand. And as the evening stretches on, he leaves you breathless in new ways, your bond deepening with every heartbeat shared between laughter and tantalizing touch.

With each passing day since the competition began winding down, you and Seokjin have become tangled in each other’s warmth, his presence as comforting as the scent of baked bread. But today—today is the final. Just the two of you remain, locked in a dance of rivalry and something deeper, unspoken. It’s week four, and the pressure sits heavy in your chest. You’re here to win, driven as ever—but some part of you almost wants him to take the victory, too. How strange, this tug of ambition and affection, both pushing you forward and grounding you at once.

The vast hall feels somehow larger with only two stations now, each of you taking your place under the blinding lights. Cameras linger, catching every nervous inhale, every flicker of emotion, and you steel yourself as Christina addresses you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Today is the finale, and we can’t wait to see what you’ll make. We’re asking you to prepare three distinct Christmas desserts.”

Your heart skips a beat. This isn’t just any bake—it’s a final act, a moment to define the entire journey. Taehyung steps forward with his trademark grin, “You’ll be baking the same desserts, so we can judge them side by side. They are: a chocolate raspberry roulade, a traditional Christmas pudding trifle, and finally, profiteroles.” 

Profiteroles. You feel a pang of dread—choux pastry, your nemesis. But there’s no time to overthink it. You exhale deeply, eyes darting to Seokjin, who meets your gaze with a soft, reassuring smile, and you offer one back, letting that silent exchange ground you. Whoever wins, it won’t be for lack of trying.

“Bake!” Taehyung shouts, clapping his hands, and the clock starts ticking. You dive in, gathering ingredients, organizing every move in your mind like a well-choreographed routine. Pudding layers, roulade filling—everything goes into the fridge and blast chiller to set, and you work swiftly, feeling beads of sweat prickling on your brow. Seokjin keeps pace beside you, and you can’t help but catch the gentle gleam of his focus. As you fumble with a pat of stubborn butter, Seokjin’s voice lilts beside you, “You think you’re so tough, but I bet you’d melt faster than butter in my kitchen.” His teasing catches you off guard, and you laugh, cheeks flushed, just as a cameraman swoops in to capture the moment.

Then, a murmur fills the hall—a door opens, and suddenly a chorus of voices drifts through. You pause, glancing up, and your heart stumbles as you see them: your mother, sister, nieces, and nephews, all holding balloons, flags and waving, their faces beaming. Behind them, an older couple you recognize from photos as Seokjin’s parents stand with pride lighting up their faces. More familiar faces follow—the eliminated contestants, cheering, their hands clapping, adding an electric energy to the air.

The crowd reminds you of what brought you here and what’s at stake, and it fills you with a quiet determination. It’s down to the two of you, and you intend to give it everything, heart and soul, even if it’s the final push in more ways than one.

“Welcome, everyone!” Jungkook calls out, his voice brimming with excitement. “We’ve prepared seating just over here, so you can sit, relax, and enjoy watching the grand finale.”

Your heart pounds as the realization settles in—you’d forgotten about this moment, the pressure of having every pair of eyes on you in the throes of your work. You’ve never reached the finale before, and the weight of the audience—family, friends, past contestants—is suddenly heavy, a slight quiver of doubt creeping into your hands. But before you can spiral, Seokjin darts over to your bench, leaning close enough for his warmth to steady you. “Take it easy,” he murmurs, his voice a balm to your nerves. “You’re doing great. But who would’ve thought baking with you could feel this... intense? Not that I’m complaining—I’ve always liked a challenge.” He throws you a wink before returning to his station, leaving you with a small, fluttering smile. Seokjin’s usual banter never fails to ground you, even if he’s technically still the competition, both of you eyeing that coveted trophy and the hundred-thousand-dollar prize. A part of you can’t help but think, though, that he’s won enough already—why should he get this one too?

Returning to your tasks, you finish mixing the batter and pour it onto a tray, sliding it into the oven just as the judges approach, their expressions curious and bright. “How’s it going, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, his familiar warmth and calm demeanor making you smile despite your nerves. “Pretty good,” you answer, focusing on the profiteroles. “I just need to pipe the choux and bake it, and then it’s on to assembly. Just hoping to finally beat Seokjin for once,” you add with a sheepish laugh. It’s no secret—he’s always been the one to catch, and your admiration, even begrudging, is genuine.

“Think I’m playing hard to get, do you?” Seokjin’s voice calls out from his station, his tone teasing, playful, earning a burst of laughter from the audience. “Princess, I’m just giving you a taste of what’s coming.” At the word ‘princess,’ your breath hitches, a warm flush creeping over your cheeks. You chance a look toward him, and his eyes meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing in them. Thankfully, no one else seems to catch the slip, and you focus back on your profiteroles, steadying your hands and your thoughts.

As you start piping the choux, you toss a look back his way. “Well, Seokjin, I’ll have you know I’ve got a secret ingredient in my roulade this time—I’m feeling pretty good about taking first place.” 

He chuckles, your exchange laced with that familiar, easy banter you’ve shared a thousand times, though now it simmers with something deeper, something unspoken. “Oh, a secret ingredient, huh? Cute,” he replies, amusement thick in his voice. “But I already know your weakness, princess…,” he pauses for effect, the words rich with mischief as he slides his profiteroles into the oven. “Me.” 

The words strike a chord you weren’t prepared for, and your hands still, feeling exposed as his eyes flicker with a knowing gleam. He’s right—damn it, he’s right. He is your weakness, more than you’re ready to admit.

“For someone who talks a big game, you sure seem distracted by me,” he laughs, returning to his work. The sound pulls you back to reality, and you move to your next step, hoping the blush has faded enough to go unnoticed. Glancing toward the crowd, you catch sight of your mom’s watchful eyes, and you can only pray that neither she nor the cameras caught the moment.

You slide the roulade from the oven, transferring it to cool on a fresh tray, each step a carefully orchestrated dance of urgency and precision. Raspberries glisten in their bowl, their color vivid against the creamy filling you grab from the fridge, and you can’t help but smile—chocolate and raspberry, a classic match. I hope it’s perfect, you think as you roll the delicate sponge, sealing it with care before tucking it away in the fridge.

The hours slip by in fragments, your family’s cheers a soft echo at the edges of your concentration. Nearly everything is done: the roulade chilled, the profiteroles cooling on the tray, the trifle assembly is next with a bit of hope and a dash of doubt. You’re so close. You portion the trifle into gleaming glasses, slipping them into the fridge, then temper the final swirl of chocolate for your profiteroles, adding a whisper of orange zest for flair. Each element comes together like pieces in a puzzle, one you hope will capture the hearts of the judges.

Finally, you and Seokjin finish almost in sync, both of your creations plated to perfection. The judges, standing at their table with anticipation, gesture for you to present your roulade first, then Seokjin’s. Side by side, your roulades look like echoes of each other—his, perhaps a bit more precise, but the judges praise the flavors of yours, and you breathe a little easier. When it comes time to present the trifles, nerves flutter in your chest. Pudding has always been your challenge, and it shows. Taehyung’s gentle apology about its grainy texture confirms what you feared, and you nod, feeling the sting despite the kindness in his voice. It’s not over yet, though. The final moment comes down to the profiteroles. Watching the judges savor each bite, their expressions inscrutable, feels like holding your breath underwater. Did you get the texture just right? Are the flavors enough? You can’t tell if they favor yours or Seokjin’s, but the judges step back to confer, and the wait stretches on. Seokjin catches your eye, and the slight squeeze of his hand around yours is like a wordless reminder: Whatever happens, you made it this far. The audience hushes as the judges return, smiles lighting their faces.

“Seokjin is the winner,” they announce, and the room erupts in cheers, the joy swelling around you even as your heart sinks. You give a soft smile, watching as his family rushes to his side, while yours gathers around you, their hugs and warmth softening the ache of coming so close.

Taehyung clears his throat, addressing the crowd. “Honestly, Y/N, it was such small details that set you apart—mostly the pudding texture and the choux consistency.” You nod, grateful for the explanation even as disappointment lingers, a reminder of how hard you tried to make this win your own.

As your mom wraps you in a warm embrace, she whispers, “It’s alright—second place is still something to be proud of,” her voice gentle but consoling. You can’t help the small eye roll, even as you know her heart’s in the right place.

Suddenly, there’s a familiar arm around your waist, steady and reassuring. Seokjin pulls you close, leaning his head onto your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to your neck. “How are you feeling, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and meant just for you. 

But the entire room seems to freeze. Conversations fade, and a hush spreads as everyone looks on, your mom’s jaw slack in surprise, cameras hovering so close they might capture the racing pulse at your throat.

You let out a breath, half-laughing as you shrug. “Honestly… a bit deflated,” you admit, feeling his warmth steadying you, “but I’ll survive.” You lean into his embrace, letting it soften the lingering ache of the moment.

Then he turns you toward him, his gaze intent, before he kisses you—fully, deeply, with a confidence that leaves you breathless. A soft sigh escapes, and you can hear whispers ripple through the room, a wave of disbelief from everyone watching. They had no idea that this quiet affection had been growing in secret all this time.

Seokjin pulls back, his eyes shining as he holds your gaze. “It’s okay. You can beat me next year,” he teases, a hint of laughter in his voice.

You pout, rolling your eyes with playful sass. “Oh, I plan on beating your ass next year,” you reply, certain and unflinching.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his words a soft thrill against your lips. Then he pulls back, a sudden tenderness in his expression. “But… there’s something I want to ask you first.”

Curious, you tilt your head, waiting. “How would you feel about going on a date with me and spending Christmas together? Maybe somewhere special—a resort in the mountains, all-inclusive?” His words tumble out, eager, a little nervous.

“Trying to buy my love, are you?” you tease, grinning as you hear your sister muttering behind you, “Go! It’s all-inclusive!”

Seokjin stammers, his eyes widening in flustered surprise. “What? No, princess, I just—” 

You press your hands against his chest, silencing him with a soft smile. “I’m joking. Yes, I’d love to. To date you, officially. And spend Christmas with you. I like you. Might even love you a little,” you add, pinching your fingers close to show just a little, even though you know it’s more than that.

The smile that lights up his face is nothing short of radiant. His arms tighten around your waist, and he lifts you, spinning you in an impromptu waltz that has you laughing breathlessly as he plants a quick kiss on your forehead. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he says, his voice low and thrilled against your ear, his warmth filling you from head to toe. You hum in agreement, already lost in the certainty of it.

Seokjin may have claimed the trophy, but with him by your side, you know you’ve won something even better. And as the room erupts in applause, you realize this Christmas will be the start of something unforgettable.

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→ Author’s endnote: what did you think??? Please let me know. This one was so fun to write and I laughed multiple times. I hope you had fun reading too 🥰

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[sociopathicartist]

Breakfast Combo (sans one shot part 2)

“What did you plan on doing when you got up to the surface?” You looked at Sans, seeing his side profile clearly as he was busy staring up at the night sky.

Sans took a deep breath. “i didn’t think about it too much. when i was younger i wanted to come up here and get a nice house with papyrus. go back to college and get a higher degree, maybe become a professor.”

You raised an eyebrow, your gaze matching up with his when he looked over to you. “You? Sans, the laziest man I know, a professor?”

He laughed softly, his gloved hands moving to rest over his ribcage. “yeaaahhhh, i know. i guess things just changed.”

That was one way to sum up the long cycle of his dreams getting killed. The two of you stared at each other in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Sans?”

“hmm?”

You paused for a minute, looking away from him and back to the night sky, the stars almost twinkling. “I don’t want things to change.”

Sans didn’t respond for a moment. He took a deep breath, ready to joke about how deep that was or make a stupid pun, but he stopped himself. Now wasn’t the right time. “really?”

“Really. Do you think it’s selfish of me to hope that things never change between us?”

Between the two of you.

Best friends, platonically, for the rest of your days, never wanting any more. That’s what you wanted, right?

You held back the urge to say something more. To finally put it out there.

“nah, s’ not selfish.” He trailed off, his voice getting a bit quieter. “i don’t want things to change either.”

You woke up.

The light was shining through the car window, small bumps from the road shaking the car a bit. You must have fallen asleep during the drive to the ski lodge.

Your lips curled down a bit at the dream. It was an old memory of you and Sans. You weren’t sure if he even remembered it himself, it was really long ago.

“honey, we’re here.” Stretch flicked you on the forehead, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him, yawning and stretching out with what room you could in the car. “Alright… I’m up.”

The snow was heavy and almost fluorescent white when you stepped out of the car after everyone else, wandering on back to see everyone grabbing their luggage as the wind beat against you, feeling like small needle pricks to your skin. Is Fell’s gym bag seriously shaped like a mustard packet?

“DO YOU NEED ANY HELP WITH-“

“I’VE GOT IT. GO AHEAD AND CHECK INTO THE LODGE, BLUE.” Papyrus quickly cut Blue off, grabbing your suitcase and handing it to you.

Blue meandered off with the rest of the crew, leaving you and Papyrus to trail behind with your things. You liked the one-on-one time with him.

“Thanks, Papyrus. You’re way stronger than I am.” You smiled at Papyrus, seeing that his gaze was focused on the path ahead of you.

“I DO NOT HAVE ANY MUSCLES, BUT THANK YOU, HUMAN.”

You laughed, finding it a bit endearing with how blunt he was. “I know you

don’t have any. Are you excited to ski?”

“YES!” Papyrus answered quickly, a proud look on his face when he glanced down at you. “THOSE SLIPPERY SLOPES WILL NOT EVEN THINK TO QUESTION WHO IS ABSOLUTELY SHREDDING THEM.”

Well, alright then. Both of you chatted until you got caught up with the group inside, seeing everyone making small bicker out in the common area.

“can’t believe we paid a fuck-ton for these rooms and we can’t even get to them with an elevator,” Fell complained, a bit of an annoyed expression as he glared at the carpeted stairs.

“YOU NEED THE EXTRA STEPS IN YOU, BIG BONES.” Blue jabbed, his tone a bit demeaning to Fell.

“where the fuck did that come from?”

“WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP.”

Here they go again. You looked around your group, seeing Edge and Papyrus chatting away, and Stretch monitoring Blue and Fell’s little quarrel.

Where was Sans?

“wanna head upstairs?” His voice rang out, on cue with your thoughts.

You jumped, turning around to see Sans who had conveniently snuck behind you, his voice still ringing solid throughout your ears. “Yes. I’m not sure why we’re all standing in the middle of the common lounge.”

Sans adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, holding out his hand to you. “come on, you know you wanna grab it.”

You gave a quick glance to your friends, all of them occupied. They wouldn’t notice if you left for a bit if you and Sans left. You looked back at him, your hand reaching out to fold over his white mitten.

With a weird, sinking feeling that you had become familiar with, and a flash of black before the world around you faded back in, you were upstairs. The hallway merged into a balcony that overlooked the common room, your friends still down there conversing. You both started to make your way off the balcony and into the carpeted hallway.

“You got a room next to mine, right?” You asked, following after Sans as you walked down the hallway, glancing at the door numbers and some of the images hung on the wall.

“yep.” His voice echoed down the hallway. “you practically begged me to get one next to yours, remember?”

You frowned. You totally did do that. “I did not.”

“please please please get a room next to mine so that i’m not alone in the dark, scary ski lodge stuck next to some other random weirdos that i live with and i definitely don’t talk to every day.” He mocked you in a silly voice, his hands over each other to make a pleading sign. “i’ll be so sad and alone in my comfortable bed.”

You rolled your eyes, not listening to his over-dramatization of you. “The accuracy. It burns.”

“scary dark room.”

“Stop it.” You stopped outside the door to his room, slowly backing away to yours as he stared up at you.

“gonna come ski with me in a bit?” Sans asked you, cocking his head to the side a bit.

You pretended to ponder for a bit, already knowing what you’d say. “Not sure. You’ll push me down into the snow.”

Sans scoffed, shaking his skull ‘no’. “i would never do that to you… probably.”

“I’m going to get changed into proper clothes for skiing.” You opened up the door to your room, dragging your suitcase behind you. “I’ll come ski with you in a bit.”

“time waits for snowmen-“

You closed your door, silencing his words before he could finish the punchline for his joke. Successfully cut off.

The room you were staying in was way nicer than the one at the hotel, your eyes scanning over everything as you set your suitcase on your bed, unpacking the clothes you needed. The mere thought of getting to stay in this ski lodge for an entire week with your friends was exciting. All of you needed a vacation.

Your phone buzzed and you took it out of your pocket, looking down to see the text message.

tall skeleton #1 - WHERE DID YOU GO?

Ah. You should probably get ready then.

“For the last time Edge, the ski-lift will not fall.” You tried your best to console your friend, pulling him to sit down on the ski-life as it lifted the both of you into the air.

He gripped onto the sidebars, worried the seat would fall down and off the line. “THIS IS A HORRIBLE WAY OF GETTING BACK UP. WHY COULDN’T HAVE WE JUST WALKED?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. “Go on, try walking next time. See how well that goes for you.”

When you hopped off the lift, you held out your hand for him to grab. It was a bit funny seeing him so worried about something considering how bold and confident he was. “WE SHOULD GO SKI DOWN AGAIN, THAT WAS FUN.”

You shook your head and stretched out a bit. “Thanks, but I’m gonna take a break for a bit. My legs hurt, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Edge shook his head and scoffed. “IMAGINE.”

Stupid skeletons and their lack of muscles.

You slowly made your way back inside the lodge, the waves of laughter from outside dying out to almost nothing but the crackles of the warm fireplace. You had been out skiing for a long while already, and the sky outside was turning to dusk. You didn’t plan on going back out and skiing again tonight, instead wanting to relax and soothe your muscles. You shuffled your way back up to your room, not wasting any time to change into some pyjamas. You walked over to your window to peek outside, wanting to check out the nighttime snowy view.

Was someone in the hot tub?

You leaned a bit closer to the glass, trying to see who the hell was out here when it was this cold outside and was almost pitch black.

Oh my god.

You scurried out of your room, down the hall and stairs, and rushed out of the lodge, coming to a stop when you finally reached your way up to the hot tub. He was sitting in there, relaxing with his eye sockets closed. You stood with your feet by the water, standing on the damp concrete border.

“Sans? What are you doing out here?”

Sans opened his eye-sockets, looking up to you. He had the same permanent grin, but his expression looked a bit different. “jus’ felt like sitting in the hot water. there a problem?”

You shook your head. Why did you feel nervous all of a sudden? It was just Sans. “No… No problem.”

“you didn’t ski with me.” Sans remarked, calling you out. “i thought you wanted to hang out with me?”

You pursed your lips, slowly crouching down. “I mean, we have the whole week.”

He tilted his head a bit to the side. “i was worried you’d get cold or hurt. you got all these squishy warm bits to you.”

“That was an extremely weird way of phrasing that.” You looked down at the water, watching it bubble up from the little jacuzzi blowers. You slowly dipped your legs in the water, going to sit down on the smooth ledge, getting your pyjamas all wet.

“I’m sorry. I was in a bit of a funk and everyone else kept grabbing me to ski with them.” You apologized, feeling a bit guilty for skimming out on him.

Sans watched as you got in the hot tub, tilting his skull to the side in slight confusion. “water you hoppin’ in for?”

You shrugged, swaying your feet against the grind of the bubbles. “It’s warmer in here, and my legs hurt bad from skiing all day. I want to sit down.”

Sans snorted. “pfft. imagine.”

“All of you have said that same thing to me today but in different forms.” It was almost like you were being made fun of for being a human, which was an odd reversal.

“well, we are the same people in different fonts, so i’m not surprised.” He shrugged, swirling his hand around in the water.

You didn’t answer, staring at him in silence. It was dark outside now, and the blue light from the hot tub was illuminating him from the bottom angle. You felt a weird twinge the longer that you looked at him. He looked different right now for some reason. He looked extremely attractive.

You nudged yourself to slide closer to him, sitting up next to him with your arms touching. Sans glanced over at you, taking a moment or two to think over his words.

“that letter you wrote for me a while back,” Sans started, his voice a bit quieter than usual. “i still uh, have it. i read it sometimes when i’m not feeling well.”

“Really?” You asked. “That was a few years ago. I didn’t think you still had it.”

Sans shrugged again, a few water droplets rolling off his shoulder blades. “i dunno. i didn’t bring it up back then when you gave it to me. i really should have, i wish i had. nobody- nobody ever…”

He paused. Nobody had ever treated him like you did, let alone give him a heartfelt letter that he re-reads a lot more than he’d like to admit. Nobody ever paid close attention to him. Not until you.

“you just… i know i’m not good at sentimental stuff, but you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.” He stared down at the water, watching it bubble and swirl around.

God, it was really cold outside.

You smiled softly, reaching your hand under the water to grab onto his, your fingers tightly intertwining with his phalanges. “I’m really happy I met you, Sans.”

He finally stopped avoiding your gaze, looking at you with wide and wobbly pinpricks. “yeah?”

“Yeah…” You felt a weird swirl in your stomach again.

Say it.

Say something before the moment gets ruined so that you won’t linger in regret when your time passes. Regret that you never said anything. Regret when he finds someone else.

You dragged his hand off to his side, still holding onto it tightly as you scooted up, sliding yourself onto his lap to face him.

Sans faltered, his expression going from relaxed and content to shocked. “whoa buddy- you’re awful, uh, close there.”

“Am I?” You stared down at him, a small smile on your face. “I didn’t notice. Maybe this hot tub is too small for us.”

“yeah,” Sans snorted, looking away for a few seconds before looking back to you, his freehand going to wrap around your waist to pull you in closer. “not my fault i’m big-boned, hehe.”

“Maybe it’s time to lay off on the ketchup.” You laughed, the mood between you two becoming comfortable again.

Sans stared up at you in silence, the area under his eye sockets tinted a light blue that was barely noticeable unless you were close like you were to him. “there really isn’t anyone like you, y/n.”

The small space between you two closed off, your lips pressing against his teeth.

It was uh… a unique experience, that's for sure. You weren’t expecting a normal kiss considering the fact that he literally had no lips at all, and his smile never moved or faltered unless he got hurt, but instead, a nice, almost tingly feeling rushed through you. It was good. It was kind of intoxicating.

You had to pull away first, the kiss being held for so long that you were almost convinced he was not going to pull away at all.

“Check it, now you can tell all your friends at work that you finally got some action.” You joked.

Sans’ gaze on you was loving, and he didn’t respond for a little bit. “uh, yeah. hehe.”

You cocked your head to the side a bit, not sure if he understood what you just said. “Hanging in there okay?”

He nodded, letting go of your hand so that he could trace his phalanges along your jawline before resting to cup the side of your face. “yeah, just thinking. we have the whole week here left. when are we gonna tell everyone?”

“Tell everyone?” You paused, not realizing the repercussions of the situation. “We should probably wait until we get home. I don’t want them to get any weird ideas while we are all out skiing.”

“that’s probably a good idea.” He leaned in again, giving you another quick kiss. “so… we’re a thing? what do you humans call it? datemates?”

“So close. That’s what you guys call it, but good try.” You leaned into his hand, finding it to be a bit warm for some reason. “But yes. Datemates is nice.”

Sans chuckled, finding it a bit odd at how you leaned into his hand. He had never done this before with anyone. “cool.”

You both sat there in each other's arms for a while, talking and giggling over random things with several kisses in between words, some for the moment, others to make up for how long you went without being able to give that sort of affection. The problem of telling everyone else would wait for later. Both of you were happy right now.

Hello! Sorry it took so long to come out, but tysm for reading!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for lieing about my country of origin?

🇨🇦🥶 <- so I know it's me!

This is kinda stupid but a friend said it will start a bad habit of lieing, I'm taking advantage of the fact that because I'm white passing I don't get offensive immigrant questions and I just shouldn't have so let's see.

About a year ago I (24nb metis aka white and first nations canadian. Also native American but it's blurry. Its important later.) and my partner (24f white) went to walmart for groceries. I love the cold, have been raised in the cold temps of the Midwest my whole life and I have a autoimmune disorder which makes me much warmer than everyone else so despite it being 32° outside, I was in shorts and a t-shirt. My partner thinks I'm crazy and I have a bad habit of freezing her out but we compromise.

Obviously wearing a T-shirt and shorts when it's snowing outside gets some attention and this elderly white couple playfully asked how I wasn't frozen solid as some sweet small talk but I'm socially anxious and just blurted out that I was from Canada and this was nothing. They just laughed in surprise and nodded and went on. That was a lie and my partner playfully chided me for it. No, I'm not a Canadian immigrant and I was born in America but as you can see, my family has deep ties to Canada and my grandmother is a Canadian immigrant. Should I of lied? No but it was harmless, I panicked and I didnt want to explain a disorder or get too deep into conversation with strangers so I just said it and moved on. No harm done.

Flash forward to today where I, my partner and a mutual friend (23 ftm, white but reconnecting to his distant Cuban and carribean heritage. He identifies as "spicy white".) were talking in a group call about our families histories. One side of my friends family immigrated to America about 4+5 generations back from Cuba with the other from Scotland and Ireland and my partners family history is blurry but she knows they came from Scotland and Germany. My partner playfully brought up my lie from a year ago and the whole tone shifted. My friend got mad at me and brought up how his great great grandmother struggled in America because she wasn't white passing, she immigrated from a non-white country and people treated her horribly. I tried to bring up that both my grandmothers were natives and my immigrant grandmother also struggled with racism due to being first nations but he kept interrupting me saying that because I'm white passing and I picked Canada as a place I fake-immigrated from, I'm taking advantage of the fact that white old couple would treat me better than Mexican immigrants or middle Eastern immigrants.

Eventually the call ended and we side stepped the topic but tension is still present and I don't know how to feel now. Obviously I respect immigrants and i have a high amount of immigrant people in my family, not just Canadian/first nations but married in from Poland and Mexico. I know I shouldn't of lied but I feel like my friend is just being a bit chronically online right now and acting like I don't respect any immigrants. Ever since he started reconnecting, he's gotten more and more trigger happy with racist jokes, calling people racist for no reason and just all around... off. I totally get generational trauma and the pain of discovering your history around colonization and genocide but its getting weird. My partner says she didn't see the harm in my little, no pun intended, white lie but doesn't wanna be involved because she's white and this issue has some racist undertones. I don't know if this is just a symptom of his discovery surrounding himself and being in some very overly sensitive groups or I was truely being insensitive to even being passively racist towards other POC.

So, was I the asshole for lieing to some strangers that I'm from Canada just to not have to get too deep into why I wanna wear shorts in the snow like a weirdo?

What are these acronyms?

[purpleprincessonfyre]

Liane Pissing Off Ji-Hoon and Vice Versa 🔥❄

A tale of two frenemies, featuring @calmbeforezero and cameos from @ask-missparker

WARNING: May contain ice puns, snow jokes and general frenemy fuckery. And mild threat.

Ji-Hoon: This stupid game! How do you keep winning?

Liane: Years of practice...no seriously years.

Ji-Hoon: Dammit!

Liane: Hey Ji...

Ji-Hoon: Don't you dare...

Liane: You could always just...Let it Go...

Ji-Hoon: *leaps up* That's it! I will turn that smiling face into an ice sculpture!

Liane: *runs away laughing*

🔥

❄

*Ji-Hoon showing off a potential new suit*

Liane: You look really stupid.

Ji-Hoon: *grumbles* I feel it.

Mia: He doesn't.

Liane: You look like an absolute tool.

Ji-Hoon: Mia will you tell her?

Mia: Stop it, Felton.

Liane: You look like one of The Incredibles..

Ji-Hoon: *sighs*

Liane: Frozone!

Ji-Hoon: Right if you make one more comment about me in these suits, or just about me in general- listen to me! I am taking those shiny Louboutain heels- you hear me, and I will shove them up your ass! Okay?

Liane: *goes silent*

Mia: Yeah it's just a case of tweaking it here, lengthening the sleeve here, we'll do that of course.

Ji-Hoon: Yeah. It's not bad, is it?

Liane: Yeah it isn't actually. *pause* Jack Frost.

Ji-Hoon: Right c'mere!

Liane: *squeals, running away*

❄

🔥

Mia: Dinner's ready. Liane go get Ji-Hoon from his room- oh wait no-

Liane: Too late! *runs to his door* Ji-Hoon? *knocks five times rhythmically* Do you wanna build a Snow- *gets hit in the face with a lot of snow*

Ji-Hoon: *smiles through the door* Now what did you actually come to say?

Liane: *her eyes glow purple through the snow, melting the snow to vapour with her fire* Dinner's ready...

Ji-Hoon: Excellent.

Mia: *from the kitchen* WHY IS THE SMOKE ALARM GOING OFF!?

Ji-Hoon: She started it.

Liane: Ooh you-

🔥

❄

Ji-Hoon: See, the problem is, Liane, you’re playing 3D chess. I’m playing 4D.

Liane: I’m playing checkers. I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing.

❄

🔥

Liane: We should normalize not loving family members.

Ji-Hoon: You can just say: “I hate my dumb fuck brother” or whatever. Talk like a normal person!

🔥

❄

Ji-Hoon: Are you alright?

Liane: Short answer or long answer?

Ji-Hoon: Short?

Liane: No.

Ji-Hoon: Long?

Liane: Nooooooo.

Ji-Hoon: You skipped therapy again, didn't you?

Liane: I- ugh!

❄

🔥

Ji-Hoon: I think you're still suffering the effects of the party last night.

Liane: All I drank was Redbull!

Ji-Hoon: How many?

Liane: Eighteen.

Ji-Hoon: I will freeze you if I have to.

🔥

❄

*Ji-Hoon and Liane are texting*

Ji-Hoon: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone.

Liane: What did they change my name to?

Ji-Hoon: Chosen One.

Liane: Don’t change it back.

Ji-Hoon: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?!

Liane: I’m the chosen one.

❄

🔥

Ji-Hoon: What the hell is wrong with you?

Liane: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

Ji-Hoon: Pretty sure that's genetic...

🔥

❄

Liane: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Ji-Hoon: ...

Liane: Oh, right. The lying.

Ji-Hoon: And the incessant teasing, the inflated ego, the...pinkness.

Liane: Alright! Geez, just give me the cold shoulder already.

Ji-Hoon: *glares*

Liane: *beams* You love me really.

❄

🔥

Liane: *venting endlessly to Ji-Hoon about their week*

Ji-Hoon, every once in a while: *in a monotone* Wow, that is so wild.

Liane: Are you even listening?

Ji-Hoon, deadpan: Absolutely.

Liane: Okay good. So anyway-

Ji-Hoon: *puts in earphones*

🔥

❄

Liane: *playing Into The Unknown over JARVIS speakers, singing along*

Ji-Hoon: Could you be anymore annoying?

Liane: Yes.

Ji-Hoon: Ask a stupid question...

❄

🔥

Liane: Hey, can you do me a favor?

Ji-Hoon: Sorry, I have to go do literally anything other than this.

Liane: You don’t even have a legitimate reason?

Ji-Hoon: Oh, no, I do.

Liane: Well, what is it?

Ji-Hoon: You see, I simply don’t give a fuck.

Liane: Dammit!

🔥

❄

Ji-Hoon: I'm going to say this very slowly in the hopes you understand. Felton, you can't do this without supervision.

Liane: I am a responsible adult!

Ji-Hoon: *raises brow*

Liane: I am an adult.

Ji-Hoon: You are a problem.

Liane: I'm your problem. For the next forty-eight hours.

Ji-Hoon: Right.

❄

🔥

Liane: *softly singing Frosty The Snowman*

Ji-Hoon: Enough! How dare you mock me in such a manner!?

Liane: Well. How would you like me to mock you? I take requests.

Ji-Hoon: No references to Elsa, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman, Frozone or The Snow Queen.

Liane: Well, dammit.

🔥

❄

Liane, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Ji-Hoon: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Liane: Do you think you're cool when you act all brooding and snarky?

Ji-Hoon: Yes I do.

❄

🔥

Liane, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day?

Ji-Hoon: …

Ji-Hoon: What’s in the box?

Liane: What woul-

Ji-Hoon: Liane, what’s in the box?

Liane: I think you know.

Ji-Hoon: Felton! You are not a childless cat lady!

Liane: I could be!

🔥

❄

Liane: No, this is not a mess. You know what I consider a mess?

Ji-Hoon: Your life?

Liane: I- well yes, but- shut up!

🔥

❄

Ji-Hoon: Are you tall enough to play basketball though?

Liane: Are you calling me short?

Ji-Hoon: I'm calling you vertically challenged.

Liane: Bite me, Elsa.

Ji-Hoon: Oh you're going down.

❄

🔥

Liane: Good morning!

Ji-Hoon, checking their watch: Barely.

Liane: It's morning somewhere.

🔥

❄

(Liane and Ji-Hoon go undercover)

Ji-Hoon: This is Liane, she's… not my assistant, some other word.

Liane, smirking: I’m his carer.

Ji-Hoon: Yeah, my carer. She cares so I don’t have to.

❄

🔥

Ji-Hoon: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense.

Liane: I’ve got plenty of common sense!

Liane: I just choose to ignore it.

Ji-Hoon: That's the most coherent and honest remark you've ever made.

Liane: Aww thanks! *hugs him*

Ji-Hoon: I hate you.

Liane: I know.

🔥

❄

Hope you enjoyed! And yes the long one is an adapted version of a scene from Britcom Gavin and Stacey.

Tags: @askstevella @ask-starrk @marvelsfavoriteuncle @ms-tiana-xoxo @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @wizzzardofoz @ethan-lensherr @elzabeth-stark @afterhours-witheli @therealdaydreamstark @spotted-ac-richards @sadiesadieagentlady @trulysummersprivate @jackiequick @gcthvile @blueboirick @aidanxsophxoxo @meiramel @thechoooooosenone

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent calendar 19: Maternity

Warnings: pregnancy, mention of children mortality, implication of offscreen sex (most shippy scene I wrote in a long time, but it's still entirely SFW), old couple being flirty, a linguistic pun which Tolkien would probably hate, and weird characters names (for a reason, but is this a good reason?). Also, the setting is also further from mainstream Silm than in the others. It is still canon compatible, it's just one of the empty spaces on the margins of the central story

Once there was a couple who could not have a child. So the wife went to a fire and asked for a child. But Psta was not this wife, even though she kept the fire lit at every place they settled into, because the mountains were cold.

Once, there was a couple who could not have a child, so the wife took in a wolf cub and raised it as her own. But Psta was not this wife, even though she would gladly take another’s child to raise, but each orphan had someone closer in the family than her.

Once, there was a couple who could not have a child, so Psta sat in a clearing, in the warm sun, and cried. It was not the worst thing that could happen— they were healthy and had food, and the mountains grew safer with each move westward. And the forest would grow, the world would live on regardless of what happens to her family. And yet, she cried. The pines sang in the wind.

Her people were probably a strange sight for the trees— traveling from far away, they have changed their language a couple times since her ancestors started the journey, borrowing words from other tribes and from the woodland spirits. The spirits told them to go West, even if they themselves did not. Psta felt that it was stupid, but what would she know? She was just an old, sad woman.

The sun went west too, and the sun surely knew what she was doing —  that’s what the healer said. But for Psta it would make more sense to go east, back home, because that was where the sun came from. It was easier to meet with someone when going in the opposite direction, wasn’t it? She wondered how the sun came back east every night, but she had no idea. She was just a simple wife. So, when the chief and the healer said that in the west would be their home, she followed. They also said that the sun first came from the west and that back east there was shadow. They were wise people, even though young.

So she would follow west and not complain about the empty house, where just she and Cern and the dogs lived. But now she cried and the trees lulled her to sleep.

She came to the clearing quite often in the summer and the trees seemed to like it. It was a happy thought: when she’d be gone, the pines would remain. And the woodland spirits, impossible to spot when they did not want it.

One day she dreamed of a boy, but it was not as happy a dream as she would expect. She awoke and— why not? She was old, she didn’t care for people laughing anymore.

She found Cern mending an axe.

“Let’s have a child.”

He laughed. “We are old, wife. Have you talked to the woodland spirits, or bonfires?”

“I dreamed. There is no fault in trying.”

“I could surely use a rest from this rusty thing… but do not hope for much.”

“How will you stop me from hoping?” She laughed like a girl and pretended to run away from him.

A season later, when the first snow came, she cooked her grandmother’s best soup, with honey and garlic.

“What happened? Did your niece get engaged?”

She laughed. “ Not, and I doubt that’s going to happen. But the moon has gone and came and gone again, and my moon has not.”

Cern avoided her eyes. “You are old. Your hair is turning silver. It’s just winter, not anything else.”

“Maybe. Even so, the trees will grow and the world will be glad.”

“You are just as strange as when we were young,” he said tenderly and started eating the soup.

In the spring her belly was unmistakably the shape of the full moon, and everyone in the village whispered that Psta had traded with the woodland spirits— or worse. She did not care.

“I will name him pine forest,” she said to Cern and all the distant family, as they were taking a break from planting.

All the women, and many men, gave her horrified looks. How could she name a child before it was even born — and not with a humble enough name. But they moved settlements every ten or so years, why would they not move everything else? She was old and did not care, and the pines seemed to like it.

“If it’s even a him,” said her sister condescendingly. She did not say ‘and if he even lives’ but she did not have to. Everyone knew how it was with children.

“I’m sure it’s a him. And that he will be a good man.”

(explanation for non-Polish-nor-Czech people)

(explanation for people not interested in niche Silm characters)

[crimsonxcloverr]

i cackle knowing dale probably ate shit or almost did during the winter months LMAOOOO i’m sure ruth’s driveway was literal hell (no pun intended), covered in ice/black ice 😭 or ruth throwing a snow shovel at him, making him shovel her driveway in his robe, which i’m also convinced is her’s cause it’s so short on him ☠️

idk, so silly stupid, but the thought of dale doing mundane stuff makes me laugh.

[spotaus]

Stuck at work rn so here's some DustedAfterdeath Thoughts :)

Under the cut tho because I'm not a monster.

So, I've mentioned this, but I've always thought that Geno and Reaper are already in a committed relationship before they meet Dust. And I've said before that Reaper is the one to meet Dust. What I haven't expanded on is Dust's initial view of the two.

First thing? He gets glimpses of Reaper at first. A fleeting shadow after he shattered some souls, the feeling of being watched when he enters an au with the gang, and a cold breath on his neck every once in a while. At first he blames Killer, and Horror can vouch that it's not him. Then he ignores it, thinking Papyrus is fucking with him. But that's just not it.

One mission, Dust isn't quite fast enough. Blue gets a solid shot in on him, and Dust goes *sprawling*. Back buried in cold snow, twenty yards into the treeline, fighting noises in the distance but he can't brink himself to stand up, his body just won't move. And as he's staring up at the trees, he gets that feeling of getting watched. Then a few more seconds and there's someone standing over him, black cloak just barely obscuring the skull of what he's sure is a Sans. One holding a giant scythe, it reminds him of a shitty Halloween decoration when he thinks back on it. In the moment? His mind draws a blank.

And this skeleton looks him over, before a knife goes flying between him and Dust and the cloaked figure whisks away. Killer to the rescue, sorta. He's dragging Dust back to his feet, then carrying him when he almost topples again. That skeleton was gone, but the feeling of being watched didn't fade until they were through Night's portal. That was Dust's first sight of Reaper.

Reaper follows him more openly after the second time Dust nearly dies on a mission. Dust can catch sight of his cloak slipping in and out of reality, an extra set of footprints in the trees, the glint of a scythe. And when he's alone? Chuckles. Sometimes a pun. Then eventually smalltalk. Dust tried not to engage at first, but once he lured Reaper into the open, shot a bone at him. It tore a piece of his cloak before he whicked away, and Dust grabbed it. Held it. Reaper wasn't a hallucination or a ghost, he was a real person. Whether that made him want to kill Reaper more or less he wasn't sure. He pocketed the piece of fabric, and it stayed in his jacket pocket.

It took a bit after that for Reaper to try again at speaking, but he was nothing if not persistent. It was idle curiosity, and Dust (after careful research after asking Night a few pointed questions) determined that Reaper wasn't any sort of threat to him or the gang. He, after a while, started entertaining the questions as he went along with his duties. He'd split from the gang just to talk with Reaper, to listen to stories about the multiverse, to talk about what stupid shit Killer was up to (and hear laughter instead of a grating voice), to rave about Horror's food or Cross' improvements in training (to hear a happy voice rather than hatred and jealousy). And he liked listening to Reaper too. Reaper told stories about folks who'd died hundreds of years ago. People who'd died recently. How many people Dust had killed in comparison to Killer or Horror. Reaper was *nice* to him.

Then Dust, without realizing it, was nice back. He saved some of Horror's cooking and smuggled it out on a mission insisting that Reaper try it. He started *asking* how Reaper was doing, rather than making the cloaked skeleton bring it up on his own. Once they just laid in waterfall together when he asked Cross to cover for him on a mission for "personal reasons". They grew comfortable, and Dust is rarely comfortable.

Then there was a mission when he finished extremely early, and Reaper asked for Dust to come with him. He swore Nightmare wouldn't notice. Dust agreed. That was when Reaper had him meet Geno.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

coily,

i’m disappointed you didn’t get the civil war joke “unconditional surrender grant”, though not surprised, as you are a brit. i probably should have seen that coming. i need help with more puns i can make of your name(s).

you know what i don’t get? when, in fiction, the incarnation of Death goes by one name. i certainly don’t. how can such a natural, inevitable, endless phenomenon be limited to one alias? in American Horror Story season 2, Frances Conroy plays the angel of Death, it’s one of my favorite portrayals of Death ever, but she has an actual name, and that pisses me off. Death doesn’t have a name, Death is just Death. i am nothing, everything, and all that lies in between. limiting The Vast Quiet to one- or even a limited amount of names is stupid.

last time we spoke, i mentioned the fact that i did in fact try the mouthwash. you seemed disturbed by this, so i would just like to assure you, it will not happen again. i will be lucky if i never see a bottle of that shit EVER again. i will most definitely, but you get the point. salt the earth behind me and spit on the ground. BURN that shit, i don’t care if it’s flammable. let it BURN.

although as i say this, i see an empty bottle in the corner, near the vent, i don’t think you can see it from where you’re at. if i could interact with minor physical objects, i would huck it across the room just to prove a point, well i guess multiple points. who even put that there?

did you know that big swan’s playlist is mostly tracks from clubs he would go to when he was younger? he had moves. if you’ve seen him dancing around this ship, you’d know what i mean. he had a perm back then.

the 50th anniversary show of Saturday Night Live aired very recently, there’s a clip where john belushi laments over his dead friends in a cemetery, it’s shot to mimic an old film, he’s walking in the snow, wearing an amazing outfit, reminiscing about the times he had on this job. and then at the end he hits an absolutely killer groove. i liked that sketch a lot.

did you know the cryopods are so junky that they displayed wrong information even before the crash? the little screens next to them where you turn them on have said that the cargo has been breached for years, im almost certain you’ve noticed this, but i though it was funny. shitty things. who knows if they would work now.

you know what else? the cockpit SMELLS. it smells like a guy got baked in there, not in a cool way. i wonder what would happened if someone lit up in there? jim probably knows. that room is the unsung hero of hotboxing.

🖤

Coily?

Hm? That was a joke? About... the Civil War? Must've missed that one. Sorry.

Guess I never thought about it. Yeah, guess that'd get annoying. So... wait, I'm not sure I understand. Do you have just the one name as Death? Or... infinite names...?

Yeah, I've still not come around to the idea that anyone's drinking that crap. Glad we're in agreement there.

Nope. Can't see it. Again, though, I agree.

He had a what? Oh, c'mon. You must be messing with me. Pfft.

50th? We're pretty far past that, yeah? Glad you enjoyed it though.

Everything's fucking broken in that room, huh. Anyways, maybe that'll help us get less pay deducted for breaching the cargo bay...? Somehow?

Well, yeah, a guy got baked in there. It was me. I was the guy. It was not remotely cool. Very unpleasant, if I'm being real. ...Oh, you meant— Nope. Don't think Jim does know. Smoking on a spaceship is pretty frowned upon.

[noobettes-little-box]

yay not quite as long block tales review this time yippee

this time is chapter one!!!!

i was gonna say how cool but it's the snow chapter and i don't want to make a pun even if accident

stuff below the cut

Summary!

you start in a cave right after you entered it at the end of the prologue

a little ways into the cave you meet terry, who wants to grab a card but can't because he's a stupid short loser and has small flippers

he then tells you that your ball is bouncy can grab it! and it works!

terry then says that the ball can also break windows and stuff, though that's not very important right now

a while through going through the caves you meet Supreme Ant, the most forgettable boss in the whole game!

after killing her you leave the caves and get to road town

kevin tells you that the ice dagger might've been stolen and that it's responsible for all the ice and snow here. he then tells you that if you want to get out you should go talk to the mayor of road town, so he can give you an ID to leave the town.

Monty agrees to give you an ID, as long as you go check on Jim, his accountant, who was overseeing a mining operation over in the blackrock mountains.

eventually you get to blackrock castle, but there's no way to get in, so you have to go a different way

upon going a different way you run into the banished knight, saying he's going to stop you to gain the blackrock kings trust back

he dies in 2 hits

continuing on you run into spiky kill bot

it can only be killed by bombs. luckily there's a convenient stand that sells exclusively bombs right next to it, so it's not that hard and more of just a way to extend the time.

Eventually you do find him, along with dynamite

you can choose to not free him but if you don't i will find where you live

anyways you can blow up certain rocks now!

you can also use it in battle now!! yay!!!!

anyways you can now bomb your way into the castle now so you gotta go do that

upon entering the castle you'll eventually find the first puzzle of the game

the codes always the same though so if you memorize it you don't need to do the puzzle

you can also blow up the sleeping guy if you want

eventually you find this

new boss fight sentient statue

really not that hard

you then enter the courtyard of the castle, and break a window to get through to the next area

then this happens

you drop a chandelier on then

a little later you get into the kitchen, where the chef tries to have you help cook food

you give him the wrong thing and blow up the kitchen and he yells at you

but you get the ability to shrink at will though

also terry kills him

eventually you get to Cruel king. he says there's a voice that tells him that Blackrock won't exist in the future and how he's going to use the ice dagger to save the kingdom

he fails and fucking dies

REVIEW

overall it's alright. it feels like there's a lot of empty space, and useless time wasting like spiky kill bot and the barricading knights. it also doesn't have the most memorable bosses. it's fine on a first play through but is pretty boring on other play throughs. with the rest of the game being as good as it is the flaws of this chapter stand out a lot more. luckily there's other chapters have more going on.

[negative-speedforce]

Caitlin Snow and EoWells for the character thing? <3333

Caitlin

How I feel about this character

Love her. Wish she had more autonomy as a character. Should have been canon aroace.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

MAYBE Iris, but emphasis on the 'maybe'.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

HER AND CISCO are just *chef's kiss*

My unpopular opinion about this character

She would have been more interesting if they stopped giving her stupid love interests and only focusing on that.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

She should have been canon aroace. Maybe I'm just a sucker for the "not actually icy heart" metaphor but having a subversion of that trope would have been so cool (pun intended). Like, yeah, the character with ice powers is aroace, but she loves her friends and family and stuff.

Eowells

How I feel about this character

BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK-

I am so feral about him. So very feral.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Barry, Hartley, and Cisco

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Him and Nora West-Allen. I don't see them as romantic at all, but their dynamic is so interesting.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Eobard isn't a psychopath. In fact, I'd argue that he's quite the opposite. He has feelings, and it seems he feels deeper than some people, he just sucks at emotional regulations, and unfortunately, his go-to coping mechanism for those emotions is homicide.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Address the dude's trauma! Canon was absolutely terrible at addressing trauma in general, but I'd love to see canon deal with the fact that Eobard is an absolutely terrible person and he's also a deeply traumatized individual.