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peaches & creampuffs

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Min Yoongi looked good. 

Even as an egotistical, penguin-waddling backstabber who shat on his creampuffs, he looked good, and this irritated Seokjin beyond comprehension. Yoongi was a traitor, printed across thousands of copies and soon-to-be read by millions, so Seokjin shouldn’t - he really shouldn’t - be so attracted. 

“Seokjin.” Yoongi drawled and it was unintentional, the way his name spilled from his lips. Low, rumbling - dark.

He swallowed hard. When he didn’t respond, Yoongi repeated, “Seokjin,” with a hint of a whine, an impatient lilt, and Seokjin emitted a soft growl. 

“Seokjin -” And his name shouldn’t sound so good coming from someone he hated. 

Seokjin grabbed Yoongi’s shirt and crashed their lips together, unable to withstand it any longer. This was Yoongi - his rival, Min Yoongi - and he’s not supposed to lust after pouty, kissable lips of his sworn enemy, but when Yoongi’s arms wrap around his neck and the kiss deepened - 

Seokjin’s head spun like a record when his back hit the door closed. Between Yoongi licking across his bottom lip and Seokjin taking him in, he had a single, coherent thought: How the fuck did he find himself here?




In Seokjin’s defense, he’s had a very long year. 

Between dealing with back-to-back weddings, ridiculous dietary restrictions (they’re dietary restrictions, not personal preferences), and rebuilding his tattered reputation, the thin lines of fabric holding Seokjin together were as brittle as a stroopwafel. 

So while he should’ve preened at the horde of people at his booth, exhaustion clung to his frame instead. Namjoon and Taehyung’s bucket hats stood out like mushroom tops above the crowd. He sighed at the prospect of joining them soon. 

“It’s not worth it.” Someone grumbled beside him. 

Seokjin jumped at the sudden presence. He took a glance over his shoulder with a hope that another body would appear, but nope - the stranger was definitely talking to him. Cool.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“If you’re planning to get the cream puffs, they aren’t worth it.” The man flicked his gaze towards him, eyes dark like ganache, and Seokjin’s chest tightened. 

“Oh.” He forced his voice level, because surely, this must be a misunderstanding. Everyone in the wedding industry knew who he was. There’s no way someone at a wedding expo would be stupid enough to say that to his face. With as much politeness he could muster, he said, “I’m not sure if I’m understanding.” 

“The creampuffs? The Peaches & Creampuffs everyone keeps raving about?” He gestured towards his booth. “I’ve tried them and they aren’t worth the wait.” 

Seokjin stared at him. “Aren’t worth...the wait.” He repeated. 


Those creampuffs.” Seokjin pointed at his booth. “Chef Kim Seokjin’s signature Peaches & Creampuffs? The envy of all pâtisseries across the globe? Hundreds of copycat recipes across social media? Those creampuffs?” 

The man’s brows furrowed. “Uh, yes?” 

Seokjin’s lips pressed into a thin line. He crossed his arms. “And what makes you think that?” 

“They weren’t...bad or anything.” The man said carefully, looking very much uncomfortable with the blatant anger radiating off of Seokjin’s body. “I just would’ve expected more from someone who used to be the Head Chef of ADORA.” 

Whatever sad excuse of spun sugar keeping Seokjin’s molecules together broke apart at that very moment.

“Well, my sincerest apologies for not living up to your expectations.” He snapped. 

“What?” The man went rigid. 

“I’ll have you know I’m the best wedding caterer in the country and you should consider yourself blessed to be anywhere near my cooking. Meanwhile you,” Seokjin gave him a disdained once-over, “won’t even come close to an inch of my success, even if you tried.”

The man’s face switched from confusion to mortification to shock. Then, it settled into something indignant - resentful. If possible, his eyes turned even darker. 

“We’ll see about that, asshole.” He hissed back. 

“Whatever.” Seokjin huffed. “If you excuse me, I have overhyped creampuffs to sell and clients to fill the rest of my year with. Peace out, hater.” 

He blew him a kiss, turning it into the finger as he stalked off. The man scoffed. 

“Hyung, where have you been?” Taehyung whined as he slipped into the booth. “We’re dying over here!” 

Seokjin ignored him and went straight for a creampuff. The flavor of peaches, custard, whipped cream, and the sweet cookie crumble of the pastry filled his senses. He licked his lips. Some fans screamed. 

Fuck that guy. 

His creampuffs were divine. 




hey guys :( we’re struggling so much trying to find a good caterer for our wedding and honeymoon catering is wayyyyy out of our budget! does anyone have any recommendations?? im not trying to serve lowtier buffet food at my wedding (barf) 

girlinwhite [+517; -17]

lol even if you could afford honeymoon, they won’t be available for another year 

straw_berry_12_ [+421; -152]

i wouldn’t go with honeymoon anyways. they were good in the beginning (cream puffs so fucking good), but i went to a catered wedding from them recently and the quality went down by a lotttttttttt. such a disappointment 

goblinwife02 [+512; -74] 

i recommend daechwita catering! they’re new to the game but my friend had their engagement party catered by them and i CANNOT stop thinking about their pasta oh my GOD! plus their staff is pretty easy on the eyes lmao 



The slam of the spatula against the counter forced Taehyung and Namjoon’s shoulders to jump to their ears. Caramel bubbled in the pot noisily, only overshadowed by the strained, labored panting of its creator. 

“What did you just say?” Seokjin growled.

Taehyung fiddled with his sleeves. He stuttered, “U-Uh, Jo Jungsuk’s manager called and said they were going to go with a different catering company for his son’s first birthday party.” 

Seokjin considered himself a level-headed person. Of course he was, because how else would he have survived in the wedding business if he didn’t know how to deal with Bridezillas and demanding in-laws? Just a week ago, he was mediating a nasty sesame seed disaster (He sent out dietary restriction forms for a reason people!) that left a relative with an EpiPen in his thigh. 

But now, he was shaking as he hissed, “Which catering company?” 

The caramel was burning. Seokjin could smell it. Taehyung looked anywhere but his increasingly red face. He knew. Oh, he already fucking knew. 

“... DAECHWITA.” Taehyung whimpered. “It was DAECHWITA.” 


Namjoon’s scream drowned his own as smoke billowed from the pot. 

Five times. That fucker stole a client from his roster five times. 

In a fucking month. 

“How does he keep doing this?” His chest heaved as he walked away from Namjoon’s garbled panicked sounds. “What kind of connections does this man have?! He was a nobody! A no one! Now he’s stealing clients from me?! I’m going to call Jo Jungsuk’s manager.” 

“Uh, chef. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Taehyung said. Behind them, Namjoon threw a smoking pot into the sink. 

“Jo Jungsuk and I had an agreement when I won on Please Take Care of My Refrigerator. I catered his wedding, they loved it, and they promised to use our services again! Are you calling the Jo Jungsuk a liar?” 

Taehyung blinked. “No?” 

“There must be another reason why he went with that company.” Seokjin made a face of disgust. “Ugh, I can’t even say it.” 

“Chef, why do you hate that company so much?” Namjoon asked. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes just as Seokjin shouted, “Because he thinks my creampuffs aren’t worth it!” 

“It’s been a year, hyung. You’re still on that?” Taehyung dropped the chef formalities, switching back to whiny younger brother. 

“Of course I’m still on that! This man shits on my creampuffs and dares to steal my clients? This is basically a declaration of war!” 

Taehyung sighed. “It’s not like losing a few clients here and there is going to hurt us. Plus, you’re not in the kitchen much anyways. You weren’t even there the last few weddings. Maybe this is a good thing.” 

A good thing? Taehyung must’ve breathed in too many kitchen fumes. Yeah, maybe Seokjin’s been spending more time shaking hands with television people than actually cooking, but he’s still a chef with a reputation to hold. He’ll be damned if he loses the title of Best Wedding Caterer this year. 

“There must be something he’s doing.” Seokjin ignored his brother whose expression fell into exasperation. “But what? What are they possibly doing that people like Jo Jungsuk are being tricked? Is he sleeping with clients? I mean, I get it, because he does look -” 

He caught the uncomfortable look Namjoon and Taehyung shared and closed his mouth. 

“Nevermind. Forget it.” 

“Maybe they’re just a good catering service.” Namjoon suggested. 

“Don’t be daft, Joonie. You’re supposed to be the one with brains around here.” 

Namjoon joined Taehyung in exasperation. 

Seokjin needed to figure out what was going on. Min Yoongi, a name he begrudgingly learned, was stealing clients from him. Former Head Chef of ADORA and named " Best Wedding Caterer" by Insider Wedding for two years running. He even trended on Navar after his appearance on Please Take Care of My Refrigerator for his good looks.

Meanwhile, Min Yoongi was...He was… 

Eyes as dark as coffee beans. Sharp eyes. Soft features.  

Well, anyway. 

Seokjin needed a plan. If only he had someone inside, someone who could tell him exactly what kind of immortal tricks that tasteless man pulled behind the scenes… 

He had an idea. 

“Oh god, he has an idea.” 

“Shut up Namjoon.” 



“Why did you post this old photo of us on Instagram?” Namjoon scrunched up his nose as he scrolled through the comments. He flustered. “O-Oh.” 

“Did someone just try to hit on you in the comments?” Taehyung teased. 

“I think he had a stroke.” Namjoon squinted. 

“I posted to fake our alibi.” Seokjin showed them DAECHWITA’s Instagram post. “You see that background? We’ve worked at this venue before, so they’re probably catering a wedding there.” 

Taehyung and Namjoon leaned in close. “Oh you’re right. How did you even notice that?” 

“Hyung,” Taehyung frowned. “Why do you have this photo bookmarked?” 

Namjoon tapped the phone. “Oh you have this selfie of him bookmarked too. And this one. And even this one?” 

Seokjin yanked the phone to his body. His sous chefs gave him a knowing look. “S-Shut up! It was for research.” 

“Research.” Namjoon mouthed with a snicker and Taehyung giggled, moving his fist back and forth as if he was - 

“Gross! Taehyung, I’m your brother!” 

Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows. “So you’re not going to deny it?” 

Seokjin was not going to dignify that question with a response. 

Min Yoongi was a corrupt, immortal individual, and he won’t entertain an association between that man and his dick -

He cleared his throat. 

“Anyway, since we’ve worked at the venue before, it’ll be easy for us to sneak in.” If his memory served him correctly, there should be a faulty side door they can slip through. 

“You want commit a crime?” Namjoon questioned. 

“It’s not a crime. It’s research.” 

“You are telling us to trespass into a building. This is very much a crime.” 

Seokjin groaned. “Namjoon, why are you only smart when it inconveniences me?” 

“I think it sounds fun.” Taehyung nudged Namjoon with a grin. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t been arrested before.” 

Namjoon went rigid. “We agreed not to talk about that!” 

Seokjin sighed. 

There’s no time to go down memory lane when there was a wedding to crash. 



As it turns out, the venue never did fix that faulty side door. 

“That is so concerning and unsafe.” Namjoon muttered as they ushered inside. 

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Taehyung asked. 

“We’re collecting information. I want to know everything: what the guests think, what kind of food he’s serving, what he’s doing that’s so different. We eat, we talk, we keep a low profile, and we bounce before anyone notices.” Seokjin explained. 

“And if we get caught?” Namjoon squeaked. 

“Then we run.” Seokjin and Taehyung said without missing a beat. Namjoon looked like he needed his inhaler. 

They slipped into the wedding with ease, having catered to tens of these events prior. Guests mingled with each other as servers passed around appetizers and champagne flutes. Seokjin took a flute himself and grabbed what appeared to be a shot glass of tomato-bisque. A wedge of grilled cheese topped the glass. 

He took a sip and frowned. When he bit into the sandwich, he frowned even further. 

Creative, quirky, and delicious. That fucker. 

Everything looked immaculate. The dessert table, the cocktail bar, and even the food. He caught Taehyung grabbing a tuna-tartare appetizer, eyes widening at the first bite. Seokjin seethed. 

Near the buffet, Namjoon chatted with one of DAECHWITA’s sous chefs. Some boy with Bambi eyes and a youthful complexion that Seokjin was not jealous of whatsoever. Namjoon accidentally knocked a server’s appetizer plate to the ground. Bambi giggled behind his hand. 

Useless. Utterly useless. No wonder they got arrested. 

Still, Seokjin wasn’t convinced this was all DAECHWITA had to offer. There had to be something they were doing to steal high-end clients from him. He eyed the swinging doors to the kitchen. 

He downed the rest of his flute with determination. 

When he entered the kitchen, the space was empty of chefs and servers. His stomach grumbled as he ventured deeper. What was that amazing smell? He peered into a pot and was that - was that kimchi carbonara? God, that Min Yoongi, he must be some sort of genius -

And that’s when he saw it. The tower of choux creams sitting on the counter, decorated with ribbons and flowers to create a wedding cake. Made of creampuffs. His heart raced.

Creampuffs were practically his brand, his trademarked identity, what put him back on the map, and here he was, staring at an irreproachable tower of it. Min Yoongi had outdone him.

“Can I help you?” 

Seokjin squeaked and spun on his heel. His hip slammed into the table. He was met with Yoongi’s surprised look as he gasped, “Kim Seokjin?” 

He didn’t have the chance to respond, because something cracked behind him. He held his breath, glancing over his shoulder. 

Oh no. 

The creampuff tower tilted dangerously to the side. Seokjin outstretched a futile arm. Yoongi shouted behind him. But it was too late. 

In his next breath, creampuffs fell to the ground, some of them splattering in an array of different-colored custards. (Not only were they choux creams, but they were different flavors as well? Give him a break!) Seokjin’s jaw hung open as the tower toppled. He became vaguely aware of the growing murderous cloud encroaching him as he turned - he gulped. 

If Namjoon and Taehyung got jailed once, then surely he can survive it as well? 

Yoongi's face turned dangerous as a creampuff rolled to his feet. His hands balled into fists.

“Chef,” Yoongi growled and Seokjin inappropriately found it endearing that the man still used formalities with him despite just ruining his creampuff wedding tower, “What are you doing here?” 

Yoongi looked better in-person than he did through his phone screen. Seokjin lifted his chin to prove he was above such a useless observation and crossed his arms as if he didn’t trespass into another man’s kitchen and destroy the most important part of a wedding. 

“I think the better question is why you’re stealing my creampuffs.” 

Wow, if looks could kill. 

“Chef, I am going to ask you one more time.” Yoongi scowled. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to sabotage me?” 

“No, I’m not trying to sabotage you. You’re the one sabotaging me.” Seokjin accused. “And if you think creampuffs are so terrible, then why do you have a whole tower of them in your kitchen! You’re obviously stealing my clients by offering them ripoff towered versions of my signature!” 

What are you even talking about!” Oddly enough, Yoongi didn’t raise his voice. He just spoke with more intensity, slipping into a frustrated tone. “I’m not trying to steal your clients and you don’t own the idea of creampuffs! Maybe you would know that if you didn’t spend so much time jacking off to your own face!” 

“I’ll have you know I have a wonderful face to masturbate to.” 

“Oh my god.” Yoongi muffled a groan in his hands. “I don’t have time for this right now.” 

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “The reception just started. You have plenty of time to bake some cake and slap some flowers on it.” 

“Well maybe I’m not like you.” Yoongi shot at him. “Maybe I actually care about the food I serve to people.” 

What the - “Is that what you tell people to tarnish my reputation?” Seokjin huffed. 

Yoongi opened his mouth. Hesitated. Pressed his lips together. He shook his head. 

“No wonder why ADORA had you fired.” 

The words poured over him like liquid nitrogen. 

“Just leave.” Yoongi sighed. “I don’t care about whatever the fuck you think is happening here. I just need you out of my kitchen.” 

He crouched down to pick up the mess. Seokjin couldn’t move. He breathed shallowly, taking in the scene before him. This was his fault. Like with most things, it was always his fault. 

“You’re not going to leave?” Yoongi glared. 

And like with most things, his ego and pride got the best of him. 

Seokjin left the kitchen with his head held high and without a second glance.



“You’re firing me?” 

Park Soohyun, owner of ADORA, nodded. She looked genuinely saddened by the fact. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I just don’t think this is a good fit anymore.” 

The clock behind her read 5 PM. It’s almost time for the dinner rush. He needed to make sure they had enough pollack ready to go and if Namjoon remembered to brush the puff pastries with egg wash mid-bake. He swallowed and his throat constricted from the dryness of it. 


Soohyun bit on her lip and this wasn’t like her. She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t look apprehensive. Yet, this was what she showed him and more.

“Seokjin, I hired you because you were magical in the kitchen. You were doing things I’ve never would’ve thought of. I mean, Kimchi Pancake nacho chips, with melted cheese and pork belly? Sweet Coconut Corn Sticky Rice, steamed in banana leaves? Where do you even come up with these ideas?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m still not understanding what’s happening here.” Seokjin rubbed his temples.  “You’re firing me because I’m good at my job?”

“No Seokjin.” Soohyun frowned. “I’m firing you because you stopped being magical.”

There’s a process in baking called lamination. Layers of dough and butter are rolled out, folded, rolled out again, a rinse and repeat process, until you get perfect, flaky layers in your pastry. 

As Soohyun continued to talk, her words blending, Seokjin felt an ugly, awful feeling being spread over him. He stretched, got pressed down, the feeling building and building in layers. He shot up in his seat, stopping Soohyun mid-sentence. 

“I understand. Thank you for the past 3 years.” He sputtered out. 

“Seokjin -” 

He stormed out the room and bypassed kitchen staff. 

“Chef - what do we do about this menu item?” “Chef, we’re running low on miso, should I get more?” “Chef, are you okay?” 

That last question came from Namjoon. He stopped Seokjin in his tracks, hands on his shoulders. 

“Chef -” Namjoon stopped. “Hyung?” He whispered, concerned. 

Seokjin threw Namjoon’s hold off him and left the restaurant without turning back. 

Apparently, this act was one of the few things he stayed consistently good at. 



Lim Youngjae    


Had really high expectations for Honeymoon Catering after learning it was run by the former chef at ADORA. Wife and I had the best meals together at that restaurant and thought our wedding should be catered by the same dude. Huge waste of money. 

Is it me or did the quality of food go down? I still dream about ADORA’s salt-and-gochu fried chicken though. 


fuck kim seokjin 

Fuck Kim Seokjin. Former fiance and I met with his team to cater our wedding. 

She left me to try to pursue him. DO NOT GIVE THIS HOMEWRECKER YOUR MONEY. 


chef kim seokjin if you see this, call me


Big fan of Chef Kim Seokjin. I thought he was wonderful (and so handsome!). Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford his services, so I hired Chef Min Yoongi instead. I just came to give five stars as payment for his face alone. Phew.



Seokjin rarely had weekend offs. 

It was the nature of the wedding industry to never see a free weekend for the rest of your working days. He learned this rule didn’t apply to caterers with increasingly bad online reviews and a rival caterer hell bent on ruining everyone’s careers. He threw his phone to the side and rolled over until he was face down on his pillow. 

Kim Seokjin, former successful chef and once Ranked #1 “Chef You Want To Cook A Meal With” among college students, found dead in a pool of his own drool and despair. 

He was halfway through imagining his own funeral when his phone buzzed. 

“Hello?” He answered, voice muffled into cotton plush. 

“Sorry, I thought this was my brother. Please continue with your eternal rest, Mummy-nim.” 

Seokjin flipped over. “Taehyung, what do you want.” 

“You’re moping.” 

“No I’m not. I just hiked Achasan.” 

“Do you even know what a mountain looks like?” 

“Taehyung.” Seokjin whined. “What do you want.” 

“Seojoon bailed on me for the wedding. Want to be my plus 1?” 

“You are asking a wedding caterer if they’d like to go to a wedding on one of their few weekends off?” 



“Ah, hyung, hyung, wait! I heard Min Yoongi is going to be there!” 

Seokjin slowly brought the phone back to his ear. “What?” 

DAECHWITA’s Instagram has been suspiciously quiet ever since The Incident. Not that Seokjin knows the frequency of Yoongi’s posting or how it’s been 17 days since he last posted a selfie. Not like he’s been bedridden with guilt and thinking about him. Psh. As if. 

“Min Yoongi is going to be there. I’m not sure if he’s catering the event or whatever, but…” Taehyung sighed as if he really didn’t want to disclose this information. “Jung Hoseok is getting married. This is his wedding.” 

Seokjin shot up in bed so fast, he saw dots. “Excuse me?! The famous wedding planner, Jung Hoseok? The dude I’ve been trying to network my way into his roster for the past year? You’re going to his wedding and you didn’t think to tell me?” 

Taehyung made a disgusted noise. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’d just turn another one of my fun things into work.” 

“Tae!” Seokjin growled. “This is a huge opportunity!” 

“To have fun!” Taehyung argued. “Not to network or charm businessmen, but actually have fun! Eat good food and drink alcohol and flirt with the bridal party!” 

Seokjin stopped listening. He was already getting out his suit - the nice Armani one - and shimmying out of his pajamas. Taehyung should’ve told him about this weeks ago! And Min Yoongi, his rival, was going to be there too? He wasn’t going to let that annoyingly attractive man get ahead of him - apology owed or not!

“Hyung, are you listening? I just want you to relax for once.” 

“I am the most relaxed person I know.” Seokjin snorted, pulling on a blazer. “I don’t have a single wrinkle on my face. That’s how relaxed I am.” 

“No, that’s because mom made a deal with a demon before she birthed you.” 

“You sound jealous.” 

“Not really. I still have the bigger dick.” 

“Kim Taehyung!” Seokjin barked. 

Taehyung hung up before Seokjin could say anything more. Fucking brat. 

He fixed his cuffs and ran some gel through his hair until his bangs were slicked back. He was bringing out the forehead for this one, which meant serious business. 

Seokjin looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what Taehyung was talking about. 

His big dick energy? 




“Ew, you brought out your forehead for this?” Taehyung gagged. 

He approached Taehyung outside the venue, surprised to see the newly done perm and pearl earrings. Last time he left his little brother, he was pimply-faced and had straw hair sticking out in crazy directions. 

“Don’t say anything.” Taehyung glowered. “I know I look good and I’m upset Seojoon can’t see any of this eye candy. Fucking appendicitis.” 

Seokjin raised a brow and Taehyung waved him off. “His brother will live.”

“Well listen Girl with a Pearl Earring, the only thing that matters to me right now is that Jung Hoseok is inside that building and I’m trying to get on his Wedding Spreadsheet of Miracles by the end of the night.” Seokjin snaked his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders, leading them inside. 

Taehyung protested. “Hyung, I told you to not think about work.” 

“This isn’t work! This is just networking.” Seokjin made sure to write his name down in the guestbook. Taehyung pouted. 

“How did you get invited to this wedding anyways? You don’t know Jung Hoseok.” 

Taehyung kept his voice tight. “I have a friend.” 

“A friend.” 


Seokjin waited for his brother to elaborate. He made an unimportant comment about how pretty the centerpieces were. Seokjin narrowed his eyes. 

“Taehyung, what are you not telling me?” 

“Hm?” Taehyung scratched his ear. “What do you mean?” 

“Taetae,” Seokjin lowered his voice, “Who is this friend that got you into Jung Hoseok’s wedding?” 

Finally, Taehyung relented with an exasperated sigh. 

“His fiance.” 


“Hyung, shush!” Taehyung clamped a hand over his mouth. “Can you chill for a freaking minute?” 

Seokjin took Taehyung’s hand off. “You’re friends with Jung Hoseok’s fiance? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, your older brother with a wedding business, would be interested in meeting the country’s best wedding planner?!” 

“Ugh, I just didn’t want this to turn into work.” 

“My work doesn’t mean your work!” Seokjin argued. “You’re the one who decided to help me with the business. You don’t even like cooking!” 

“And do you, hyung?” Taehyung countered. 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do!” 

“Really? Because ever since you turned cooking into work, you’ve been doing less and less of it. I don’t want you to ruin friendships the same way you ruined cooking for yourself!” 

Taehyung’s words struck him like a rough hit of dough to the counter. He quickly deflated, reaching out with a quiet, “Wait, hyung, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m just upset Seojoon couldn’t make it today.” 

Seokjin let himself get pulled into a hug, but the air still felt knocked out of his lungs. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin said, distant. “Yeah, I’m fine. I know you didn’t mean it. Don’t worry, Tae.” Taehyung looked so guilty, he started to feel bad. “Taehyung, seriously, it’s okay. We’re not kids anymore. We’re good - I promise.” He attempted a short laugh. “I mean, you don’t have any more surprises you’re keeping from me, right?” 

As he looked at Taehyung’s face, his smile tapered off. 



“Everyone, please take your seats!” The wedding host announced. 

Taehyung stopped speaking, motioning for them to sit instead. Romantic piano melodies floated through the venue as conversation quieted down. Seokjin nudged his brother with a knee. “Hey, what were you going to say?” He whispered. 

Taehyung shushed him. Seokjin rolled his eyes. “Taehyung.” His brother shook his head. “Taehyung, what is it?” 

The doors opened behind them and everyone stood up to welcome the bridal party. Seokjin clapped along as they filtered down the aisle. He whispered, “Are you really not going to tell me?” 

Taehyung sighed. “Hyung, look.” 

He followed his gaze to the altar where the bridal party stood. 

Seokjin blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Rubbed his eyes for good measure.

Min Yoongi stood as the Best Man, looking devastatingly handsome in his red suit. Seokjin barely processed Taehyung’s whisper. 

“Min Yoongi is Jung Hoseok’s Best Man.” 



Everything suddenly made so much sense. 

With Jung Hoseok's endorsement, you'd practically have all of South Korea begging to cater their wedding. It's no wonder his clients were being stolen. 

But as Seokjin walked down the line of food being served, he couldn't help but feel that wasn't the whole story. None of the menu items were the same as the last wedding. Bulgogi Summer Rolls, Deep Fried Flat Dumplings, and Kimchi Sticky Rice steamed in lotus leaves. A dessert station making fresh, hotteok-inspired crepes. 

It was brilliant and exciting. 


"Deciding which dish to destroy next?" 

Seokjin spilled a bit of his cocktail on himself. "Shit! Make some noise, will you?" 

Yoongi offered some napkins. He grabbed them with a huff. 

"You startle easily." He stated. 

"Yeah, no shit." Seokjin dabbed his shirt. "And no, I'm just making sure you haven't plagiarized any of my other ideas." 

Yoongi scoffed. "As if you have any ideas worth plagiarizing nowadays."

"You know what, fuck you -" Seokjin didn't get a chance to finish his insult, because Yoongi grabbed his wrist and pulled them out to the balcony. He shook out of Yoongi's grip with a hiss. "What the hell, man?" 

Yoongi glanced inside and Seokjin followed his gaze, where he caught the happy couple toasting at a table nearby. Their cheeks were red, eyes dripping with honey as they gazed at each other. Taehyung sounded in his ears. Maybe he was a little selfish for trying to turn Hoseok's wedding into another "work thing."

"Listen, I don't know what you're doing here, but I won't have any of your crazy antics at my best friend's wedding." Yoongi threatened. 

Seokjin knew he deserved the (frankly offensive and presumptuous) suspicion, but that didn't stop him from bristling with a scowl. "Jung Hoseok is your best friend, huh? Makes a lot of sense why my clientele is settling for sloppy seconds." 

Yoongi looked absolutely sick of him. "Yes, I am a wedding catering con-artist. Watch out brides: I'm coming for you one nepotistic booking at a time. Are you happy now? Can you leave?" 

"No, I'm not going to leave! I didn't crash this wedding - I'm Taehyung's plus 1, asshole." 

"Oh, excuse me." Yoongi faked a bow. "Apologies for not giving you the benefit of the doubt after intruding into my kitchen and destroying my food." 

"Maybe if you made some noise when you walked that wouldn't have happened!" 

Yoongi ran a frustrated hand through his hair, which was a shame, because his honey-toned highlights accentuated his features perfectly and he was going to mess it up. "What is wrong with you! Is all of this worth it? Over a comment I made about creampuffs a year ago?" 

"You're obviously trying to tank my career by taking away my clients!" Seokjin countered.

Yoongi groaned. "Holy fuck, you're self-obsessed. I'm not trying to ruin your career!" 

"Then explain Jo Jungsuk -" 

"- He liked my food -" 

"- five times in a month -" 

"- that's not my fault -" 

"- spent years building my reputation back up again and I won't have your slander -" 

"- what slander? Why would I even want to do that to someone -" 

"- especially not when I'm this close to winning Best Wedding Caterer -" 

"- who was the reason I became a chef in the first place!" 

Seokjin stopped. They stood there, panting. He stepped back, hands up as his mind tried to process Yoongi's words. "- wait, wait, wait. Hold on. What did you just say?" 

Yoongi's grimace softened into something timid. Seokjin couldn't tell if it was the lighting or Yoongi's blush that made his face red.

"You're -" Yoongi conflicted over his next words, like he couldn't believe he was going to say them. "You're the reason why I became a chef." 

Fax noises. That's the sound his brain made trying to understand that sentence. Seokjin stuttered, "B-But last year at the wedding expo a-and the creampuffs, you..." 

Yoongi looked off to the side. The wind gently blew at his bangs. As if it wasn't enough Seokjin was already feeling insecure about his career, his rival just had to have a perfect profile. 

"I didn't know what you looked like then. I heard the former Head Chef of ADORA was going to be there, so I took a bus from Daegu to Seoul just to meet you. Everyone was raving about your creampuffs and maybe they've been sitting out for too long or something - I don't know. It just didn't taste like the cooking you made at ADORA. I would know. I went there all the time." 

Seokjin was a broken record. "You took a bus...from Daegu to Seoul to meet me." Yoongi nodded. "Me?" Yoongi turned redder - so definitely not the lighting then. "And I'm the reason why you became a chef?" 

"Yeah," His voice lost its edge, warming into something else. "I dropped out of college and didn't know what to do with my life. My brother wanted to cheer me up one day by taking me to Seoul's most talked-about restaurant. I thought the entire thing was stupid. You had stuff on the menu like Truffle Black Bean Noodles and Pork-ing Belly Bao." 

"You didn't appreciate Pork-ing Belly Bao? You know, like Peking but Pork-ing?"

Yoongi gave him a blank stare. 

“Sorry, deflecting. Continue.”

"I complained to him the whole time, wondering why he would bring me to such a stupid place, and how we could've stayed home instead. Then the food came, I had my first bite, and...the next day I took to the kitchen and I never left. So yeah. Your cooking kind of changed my life." 

Yoongi had no business looking so sincere. Slowly, something in Seokjin's chest rose like a souffle. 

He stared. He stared for so long, Yoongi got visibly uncomfortable. 

"Was that too much?"

"No," He lied, because he didn’t know how to say that everything was too much: his business, the reviews, how Yoongi turned his entire life upside down in less than a paragraph, how he had a bad habit of absorbing compliments the same way he did burdens. “I just don’t know what to say.” 

Yoongi's eyes were always so dark. Dark chocolate ganache, roasted coffee beans, black sesame paste, charcoal ice cream. He didn't like the way Yoongi looked at him, as if he knew exactly what Seokjin was thinking underneath all his lamination. 

"You can start with an apology." 

Seokjin burst into a surprised snort. Something smart balanced on his tongue, but somehow he couldn't find it in himself to argue. The wedding was painfully beautiful. The food smelled irritatingly delicious. Taehyung's words occupied his mind. If he's being completely honest, Min Yoongi was starting to take up a large portion of it too. 

"I get personal about my food and my business." was the best he could do, because, you know - it's him. Then as an addendum, "And Hoseok wouldn't recommend anyone he didn't believe in."

There was a short upturn of Yoongi's lips. He placed a hand over his chest. "Kim Seokjin, are you giving your mortal enemy a compliment?"

"I'll throw you off this balcony." 

He caught a flash of a gummy smile before forcing himself to look away. He had just been ready to punch the man in the jugular minutes ago, but now, tension fizzled out between them like sad morning glory sparkler. Left behind was a discomfited awkwardness and Seokjin hated awkwardness. He glanced at the dance floor inside. 

"Do you dance?" Seokjin asked.

"What the fuck? No."

"Thank god. Neither do I." Seokjin motioned towards the door. "So do you want to get out of here instead?”

Yoongi kept his face perfectly guarded as he said, “...Sure.” 

“Cool.” Seokjin grinned. “I have an idea.”



“...I like to do it a little rough, but there’s no rules here.” 

They were inside Seokjin’s apartment. His arms strained from the effort. It's been a while since he's done this.

“Preparation is a bitch, but it’s always worth it.”

Yoongi coughed. “Uh, Chef?”


“This is what you meant when you asked if we wanted to get out of here?” Yoongi asked.

They were both wearing aprons. The counter was littered with flour. Two blocks of dough sat in front of them. Seokjin was mid-fold in his lamination process. He also didn’t understand why Yoongi was looking at him like that.

“Yeah? I felt like making egg tarts.” Seokjin handed him a rolling pin. “Why? What did you think we were gonna -”

Yoongi grabbed the pin with a quick, “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Seokjin sprinkled more flour on the counter. “Did you want to do something else?” As he worked the dough, he felt Yoongi’s eyes on him. He lifted a brow. “Yoongi, I asked you a question.” 

Yoongi blinked. “No. Egg tarts are fine.”

“Good, because these egg tarts are going to be amazing.” Seokjin pressed the dough down. “The night you came to ADORA, I was supposed to serve egg tarts for dessert, but my idiot sous chef Namjoon accidentally spilled the whole pot of custard. So technically, you had an incomplete meal at ADORA and I’m going to finish the job.” 

“Oh.” Yoongi looked flustered. “You don’t have to do that.” 

Seokjin waved a hand. “You’re fine. Besides, I spent weeks trying to emulate these egg tarts I had in San Francisco. They were from this small, hole-in-the-wall bakery that’s run by three old ladies, and oh my god.” Seokjin moaned, “It was so good. I would beg to have it in my mouth again -” 

“Is this dough good, chef?” Yoongi interrupted, looking a bit red. Seokjin should turn on the AC. The oven was probably making it stuffy in here. 

“Oh yeah, that looks good. We can put that in the freezer and work on the custard.” As Yoongi walked to the refrigerator, he called, “Do you mind getting the milk and eggs from the fridge?”

Yoongi’s grunt was his response. Seokjin took it as a “Yes, Chef, I’d love to.” 

Everything from there on was methodical and silent, but not uncomfortably so. Yoongi worked on the custard and Seokjin rolled out the dough in tart molds. As the oven pre-heated, Seokjin poured them both a high-ball. 

His gaze moved across the table, where Yoongi cracked eggs single-handed. His touch was delicate and smooth. Long, pretty fingers. Veins that moved as he worked. Yoongi’s hand stopped. Seokjin faltered, eyes moving up until he hit obsidian. 

“What?” Yoongi’s voice was gentle. 

“Nothing.” Seokjin mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. 

They worked in silence more. Seokjin poured custard into the mold. They shared a small smile when the tarts went into the oven, a quiet celebration. He checked the time - it was nearly midnight. His shoulders ached and there was flour, batter, and cream staining his suit. 

It’s then that Seokjin realized it’s been a long time since he last cooked. 

When the egg tarts finished baking, he held his breath as Yoongi took a bite. 

“Woah.” Yoongi said, looking at the tart and back at Seokjin, as if he couldn’t correlate the two concepts together. 

Seokjin laughed. “Don’t look so surprised, asshole.” 

“This is really good.” Yoongi took another bite. He licked his lips. Seokjin followed the motion. “Like really good.” 

“Magical?” Seokjin tried to joke, coming off a bit too vulnerable. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi smiled. Gums showing, eyes crinkled. “Magical.” 

A warm, gooey feeling melted in his chest like chocolate lava cake. 

Seokjin had forgotten how much he loved cooking. 



If anyone were to ask Kim Seokjin what he thought of his egg tart rendezvous with his sworn rival, Min Yoongi, he would’ve told them it was simply a consequence of circumstances. 

A one time occurrence, a custard-filled fever dream - nothing more or less. 

So when Yoongi invited him over to his apartment, he didn't quite know what to say. 

Seokjin frowned. He looked at the Caller ID on his phone, then brought it back to his ear. “Min Yoongi?” 

“...Yes? This is Kim Seokjin, right? I got the number from your brother.” 

That fucking troll. “Yeah, it’s me, but…” Seokjin tried to put his words lightly. “You’re asking me if I want to come over to make mochi egg tarts?” 

“Yeah. I’m staring at a box of sweet rice flour right now and I think it’ll work.” 

“Together? In one dessert?” 


Holy shit. Min Yoongi was a genius. 

Regardless, Seokjin hesitated. He was still processing the fact that Min Yoongi called him, on his own free will, and yes, they made egg tarts together (1) time, and yes, Seokjin found himself thinking about Yoongi’s hands more often than not, but - 

“Okay, text me your address. I’m on my way.” 

“Awesome, see you then.” The call ended. 

And if anyone were to ask, Kim Seokjin did not smile to himself the entire ride to his rival’s apartment.



Seokjin thought mochi egg tarts would be the end of it.

Then, Yoongi texted him, "Hear me out: sweet potato halaya."

After Seokjin finished a whole tray of halaya, he caught sight of the marinating galbi in his fridge. He didn't know what possessed him to take out his phone and type, "Bun Cha Gio, but with galbi? "

Yoongi sent back, "🤯." What a nerd.

In one disastrous incident, they made poutine with kimchi gravy. It was so disgusting, Seokjin burst out laughing at the first bite. For a whole week after, all Yoongi did was send him photos of potatoes, just so Seokjin could send back, "🤢🤢🤢."

If he once rammed into a wall because he was too busy texting, Taehyung and Namjoon didn't say anything about it.

For today's experiment, Seokjin pitched the idea of cheese buldak empanadas.

"I know you made me swear to never talk about poutine again, but I think we missed the mark. Maybe we should've used gochujang instead." Yoongi suggested as they piled groceries on his kitchen island.

"Poutine is a dish already doomed for failure." Seokjin countered. "We should've never touched it in the first place."

“Canada just gasped.”

“Whatever. They know it’s deserved.”

Seokjin opened Yoongi's pantry where he stored his countertop vegetables. He was mid-way through sorting them, when he paused. He knew where Yoongi stored his vegetables? If he really thought about it, he also knew where his spices were and how his drawers were organized. How Yoongi always had a fridge stocked with seltzers and pickled radish. He frowned.

Before he could dwell on it more, a loud voice shouted from the front door:

“Yoooongi! We bought meat and we know you have the good wine!”

Yoongi's eyes grew wide. “Shit, that’s Hoseok. I forgot I gave him keys to my apartment.”

"You give people keys to your apartment?" Seokjin made a face.

Another voice chirped, “Hyuuuung! We know you’re home! Your shoes are here - did you forget to take the tags off?”

Yoongi groaned, “Oh god, he brought Jimin too. Sorry, I didn’t think I’d get company today.”

It's no big deal, was what Seokjin wanted to say. They were just cooking - nothing more and nothing less - so why would it matter if Hoseok or Jimin saw them, together in Yoongi's kitchen, unpacking groceries they bought together, with Seokjin organizing his pantry like he owned the damn place, and -

Seokjin panicked.

He slammed the pantry door shut, trapping himself inside. His heart raced and his ears felt hot. 

Someone said, "Oh perfect! You were about to make dinner?" 

"Uh...yeah." Yoongi stammered. "Empanadas."

“Sounds yummy.” Someone else commented. “You know, I think Taehyung was telling me Honeymoon was experimenting with Latin food. What a coincidence.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. Fucking Taehyung - their menu was supposed to be confidential!

“Right.” Yoongi coughed. “Small world, I guess.”

“Let’s get the grill going! I’m starving.” 

“Is this where you keep your wine?” 

Footsteps got closer. Seokjin held his breath as the doorknob turned. Hey guys, oops! Somehow stumbled into enemy territory and made myself at home in his pantry aha, beautiful wedding by the way.  

“They’re at the bar cart!” Yoongi nearly shrieked. “I got it, Hobi.” 

“Oh okay.” 

The footsteps went away. Seokjin silently slipped to the ground with a sigh of relief. 

“Speaking of Honeymoon, are you still at odds with the chef from that catering company?”

“I’m. I’m not quite sure what you mean.” Yoongi’s voice sounded strained.

“You know, the famous wedding caterer? The one you say is stupid hot with a bad attitude and tortures you for days on end?”

Seokjin’s head snapped towards the door. He's - what ?

“Actually!” Yoongi suddenly yelled. “That reminds me. I have a meeting with a client soon, so I’m going to need you guys to leave. Immediately. Right now.”

They whined. “What! But I checked our schedules and our next meeting isn’t in two days.”

“Well, I guess you need to reevaluate your attention to detail as my employee then. Anyways, thanks for coming and get out. Seriously - leave.”

“Yikes, alright! You don’t have to push us. We’re leaving.”

“Let us know if you ever make amends with Chef Daddy Big Dic -”


Giggles echoed through the door. “Bye bye, hyung!”

The front door closed. Slow footsteps shuffled back into the kitchen. Seokjin’s mouth hung open, but as the pantry door opened, he forced an indifferent expression. Yoongi stood there, a sheepish hand on the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at him.

It was tense for a long time.

Then: “So...I’m stupid hot, huh?”

Yoongi choked. Seokjin smirked.

“What…” Yoongi wiped at his nose, where his cheeks reddened. “What else did you hear?”

“Nothing much after that.” Seokjin hummed, stepping out of the pantry.

Yoongi didn’t respond. They soon fell into their typical routine of prepping ingredients. Yoongi didn't ask about why he decided to hide and Seokjin should've returned the same favor of silence, but - he bit down on his bottom lip to stop a grin from breaking out on his face.

“Hey Seokjin? Did we forget to buy cilantro?” ... “Seokjin?” ... “Hello! I’m talking to you!”

Seokjin exaggerated his shock when he met Yoongi’s irritated expression.

“Oh sorry. I prefer to be called by my formal chef name, Chef Daddy Big Dic -”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“Wait, no, no! I’m just kidding! Yoongi, stop pushing me! Yooooongi!”



Seokjin shouldn’t be on his phone during work meetings, but considering he owned the damn business, he thought he could be given a pass.



did you purposefully mislabel my spices

why would you even do something like that

you called paprika spicy salt?


Seokjin smiled at his phone. Namjoon was going over inventory. He’s sure the man got it under control.



got bored when you went on a lecture about sourdough starters

had to do something so i wouldn’t fall asleep



just finished a gig? it’s late.


yeah, wrapping up inventory stuff

groom threw a fit bc we didnt serve a specific kind of water


i’ve been there

call later?


Seokjin snorted at Yoongi’s text.

“We have a wedding on Wednesday, then one on Saturday. As long as the shipments come on time, we should have enough inventory to get through the week.”

“Uh huh.” Seokjin tapped at his phone.

“Oh, the Saturday wedding specifically requested for a ‘creampuff tower.’ Do we do those?”


“And before I forget: How is stroking Min Yoongi’s dick?”

“Good.” As soon as he said it, he sent Namjoon a mean glare. The man responded with a smirk. "Piss off. I'm not doing anything with Min Yoongi's dick."

“Of course you’re not. You just naturally smile dopey at your phone.”

“You don’t know me.” Seokjin scoffed. “I could be watching videos of baby farm animals.”

“If you were, you’d be crying, hyung.”

Fucking Namjoon, being big-brained and all-knowing when Seokjin needed it the least.

“Honestly, I think it’s great.” Namjoon continued. “Chef Yoongi seems to be a good influence on you. We’re changing up our menu again and it’s nice to see you back in the kitchen. We needed that, considering the food DAECHWITA served at Jung Hoseok’s wedding.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “How do you know what kind of food was served at Jung Hoseok’s wedding? Were you there?”

Namjoon spluttered, “What? Oh, I, uh, I’m -”

His sous chef was saved by Taehyung stumbling into the kitchen, looking a bit wide-eyed. In his hands was a magazine, which he slammed on the table in front of them.

“Hyung,” Taehyung sounded apprehensive, “Have you read Insider Wedding’s latest chef feature?”

“I don’t think I have.” Seokjin replied. If he's being honest, he completely forgot about the press.

“You should.” Taehyung slid the magazine to him. “This month’s feature is Chef Min Yoongi.”



Kim Seokjin slammed through glass doors with murder in his eyes. 

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him - an endless mantra went through his head as he striked his palm against the elevator button, giving it an extra punch, because fuck this place for housing scum like him!  

Seokjin knew exactly what floor number to press, which corners to turn, and it made him sick to his stomach he knew such information. He’s been down these hallways more times than he would like to admit and by the time he’s at his door, he’s absolutely livid. 

How dare he! He rammed his fist against the door. After everything they’ve done together, just when he thought that maybe - maybe - he might even l-lik

Seokjin landed a rough kick before he could finish the thought. 

Min Yoongi!” He shouted. “You egotistical, penguin-waddling excuse of a man! Open the fucking door!” 

There was a single click and the door opened. 

Yoongi scowled. “Seokjin, what the fuck.” 

Seokjin’s response was to push his knuckle-white grip on a magazine in Yoongi’s face. 

“You want to explain this?” He growled. 

“It’s a magazine.” 

Oh, Seokjin was going to commit murder tonight. 

“Of course it’s a fucking magazine. In fact, it’s the magazine! The one everyone references for their wedding fantasies - the Holy Bible of wedding planning. Celebrities, office workers, dog groomers - they all read this fucking magazine for their wedding. And you, you,” Seokjin gritted, face hot and voice strained, “just shat on my Peaches & Creampuffs in front of the entire world!” 

Yoongi stared at him. Seokjin’s chest was heaving and all Yoongi did was stare at him. 

Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“So you’re telling me,” Yoongi said slowly, “the reason why you’re screaming bloody murder in front of my apartment is because I ‘shat’,” He did air quotes, “on your creampuffs in a magazine interview.” 

Seokjin didn’t appreciate the connotation that his signature creampuffs weren’t worth going to war over. 


“It’s almost midnight.” 

A pause. 

“On a weekday.” 

Still, Seokjin didn’t see a problem. 

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything bad about your creampuffs in that interview.” 

Yoongi crossed his arms and when he did, Seokjin noticed how his pajamas draped loosely over his frame. His hair was damp and tousled. The dip of his shirt showed a slight sheen on his chest, likely fresh out of a shower. Seokjin’s breathing still labored, but now, he wasn’t sure from what. 

Yoongi raised a brow and fuck. 

Min Yoongi looked good. 

Even as an egotistical, penguin-waddling backstabber who shat on his creampuffs, he looked good, and this irritated Seokjin beyond comprehension. Yoongi was a traitor, printed across thousands of copies and soon-to-be read by millions, so Seokjin shouldn’t - he really shouldn’t - be so attracted. 

“Seokjin.” Yoongi drawled and it was unintentional, the way his name spilled from his lips. Low, rumbling - dark.

He swallowed hard. When he didn’t respond, Yoongi repeated, “Seokjin,” with a hint of a whine, an impatient lilt, and Seokjin emitted a soft growl. 

“Seokjin -” And his name shouldn’t sound so good coming from someone he hated. 

Seokjin grabbed Yoongi’s shirt and crashed their lips together, unable to withstand it any longer. This was Yoongi - his rival, Min Yoongi - and he’s not supposed to lust after pouty, kissable lips of his sworn enemy, but when Yoongi’s arms wrap around his neck and the kiss deepened - 

Seokjin’s head spun like a record when his back hit the door closed. Between Yoongi licking across his bottom lip and Seokjin taking him in, he had a single, coherent thought: How the fuck did he find himself here?

Something wet slid across his bottom lip and whatever coherency got lost. Yoongi bit there urgently - Seokjin parted his lips with a gasp. Yoongi traced inside his mouth, everything warm, smooth, and increasingly wet. Yoongi’s hand tugged at his hair and Seokjin still had the good sense to pull away before he did something embarrassing - like whine.

"I can't believe you would," Seokjin panted, "say that in an interview." Yoongi licked a long stripe up his neck. Fuck. 

"I'm so," His head hit the back of the wall when Yoongi sucked on a sensitive spot, "Shit, I'm so mad at you right now."

"I didn't say anything bad about you." Yoongi growled, nipping at his ear lobe. Seokjin shuddered. "Whatever the magazine printed, they're wrong."

"So you didn't," Could Yoongi please not grip his hips like that when he's trying to talk - "say my creampuffs proved that," Yoongi kissed him again, "my abilities got pigeon-holed into," A hand cupped his jaw, pulling him into another open-mouthed kiss, "a crowd-pleasing chef with no creativity?"

Yoongi was breathless. "They took that way out of context."

"But you said it?” 

Yoongi made a frustrated sound. "Seriously?"

“Yes, seriously.” Yoongi swallowed the rest of his words by pushing his tongue across the roof of his mouth. He started walking them into the apartment, mouth on him the entire time. Seokjin fell back on the couch and broke their kiss. "What do you have to say for yourself?" 

Yoongi dropped down to his knees. Oh. He unbuckled his pants, slapping his thigh to get him to lift up his hips. His pants pooled around his knees and oh

A tongue glided against the underside of his cock and Seokjin grasped at the cushion's edge. "Oh f-fuck, okay. I was expecting more of an apolo - gy!" His voice went high as the plush wetness of Yoongi's mouth wrapped around his cock head. 

"If you think I'll be pacified via blowjob, you're severely," Yoongi took him in deeper, cheeks hollowing as he sucked Seokjin's dick in a tight mess, “mistaken." He gasped out, dizzy.

Yoongi gripped the base where his mouth couldn’t reach and Seokjin shivered. His hand followed his lips as he slid from base to tip. Yoongi sucked on his head and his toes curled. 

“I’m still waiting for an answer.” Seokjin moaned, hips snapping off the couch. If there’s one thing Seokjin was, it’s difficult.

Yoongi made an annoyed sound and he groaned from vibrations of it. His lips slid off his cock, a thin line of spit dropping from his tip to Yoongi’s swollen bottom lip. Seokjin blacked out a little. If he could somehow bookmark this image as well - 

“I am doing my best work,” Yoongi emphasized this with a slow stroke, the slick making the glide smooth and sensitive, “and you decide to be obnoxious? Really?” 

“Oh please,” Seokjin huffed, muscles tensing from the pleasure building. This was probably the best blowjob he’s ever gotten, but he would never tell Yoongi that. “Like you haven’t been begging to get Chef Daddy Big Dick in your mou -” 

Yoongi swallowed him down again. Seokjin choked. It turned out Yoongi indeed knew how to take him all in. His cock hit the back of his throat. If he whined, he wouldn't admit it. Yoongi’s throat closed around him, wet and tight. His dick throbbed heavily on Yoongi’s tongue. 

It felt so good, it almost made Seokjin mad. His hand buried in Yoongi’s hair and his leg hiked up to the couch, hips bucking as he cried out. Fuck, fuck. He didn’t come here to get blown into the next century, he came here to discuss treachery and - 

“Fuck,” Seokjin hissed, “Ah, Yoongi -” 

Yoongi moaned around his cock. That sound, along with the obscene squelch of Yoongi's mouth, filled the room. Seokjin was not going to last long, but he also was not about to give Min Yoongi the satisfaction that him taking his cock down to his hilt, hand and tongue working him, his second hand coming to squeeze at his balls and press against his taint was going to make him - "Coming," Seokjin choked out, back arching as Yoongi pressed against his slit. 

A pathetic noise crawled it's way out of his throat as he spilled. Yoongi coaxed him through it with gentle rolls on his tongue.  When he realized Yoongi swallowed, he somehow found the last strand of dignity in him to hold back a high-pitched sound. That would've been humiliating. 

“Sorry,” Yoongi wiped his mouth. His chin was wet with drool, lips plump, and hair tousled. There was an obvious tent in his pants. “What were you saying before?”  

Seokjin, even through his come down, still found it in himself to shoot him a glare. Smug, sexy bastard. He pulled his pants up and stalked to the kitchen, ignoring how his body tingled with post-orgasm bliss. He'd show Yoongi he's not the only one capable of giving out life-altering orgasms.

He open the drawer where he knew Yoongi had - “Aha! I knew you kept the lube with the wine opener.” 

“It’s convenient.” came Yoongi’s whisper as Seokjin went back to the couch, squeezing lube on his fingers. 

He didn’t realize how petite Yoongi was, until he saw how his body eclipsed over him on the couch. At this angle, Yoongi had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. His neck stretched, a long expanse of powdered sugar skin. Seokjin felt his blood rush. 

“Off.” He said, tugging on Yoongi’s pants. He was hard. From just sucking dick, he was this hard. Fuck, Min Yoongi was hellbent on making him suffer. 

Seokjin learned everything about Yoongi was delicate: the soft butterfly of his lashes and the crease on his eyelids. His voice when he whined soft little ah, ah’s

“Seokjin.” Yoongi was nearly voiceless. Seokjin sucked a dark spot on his neck. 

Seokjin worked his way up to two fingers inside of him, noting with amazement and a little bit of loathing, that he was cottony and tight. Jesus. 

But he wasn't going to get side-tracked. “I’m still not over what you said.” Seokjin’s voice came out hoarse. 

Yoongi panted against the cushion, hands gripping the edge. This time, he was on his knees, one hand on Yoongi’s thigh to spread him apart, and the other, working inside plush walls. His dick was taut and wet on his stomach. 

“After cooking together all this time?” Seokjin crooked his fingers. He hit something soft and fleshy - Yoongi keened. “I thought we were making amends.”

Yoongi made a sad, frustrated noise. “We did - I wouldn’t - ah, ah,” Yoongi cried when Seokjin pressed in small circles against that gland.

“Everyone is going to read what you said.” Seokjin didn’t let up. Yoongi sobbed. He wondered briefly if he could make Yoongi cry tears. “And now I’m not going to win Best Wedding Caterer of the year.” 

Yoongi choked out, “Is that what t-this is about?” He looked absolutely debauched. 

“I would be the only caterer in history to win that title three years running.” Seokjin defended.

“Oh my lord, you conceited piece of sh - '' Seokjin pressed in deeper, went faster. Yoongi went rigid and moaned, “H-Hyung.” 

Oh, so Seokjin was a hyung now? He wasn’t paid that same respect when he talked to the national press about his creampuffs. 

Of course, Yoongi would sound like sin. Lube dripped all the way down to his wrist. He wondered what it would look like if it was his own cum instead, his fingers pushing it back into Yoongi's willing hole - Seokjin swallowed down something animalistic from that image. Nope. Not today. As he worked his prostate, Yoongi’s insides swelled and Seokjin almost got hard from imagining how it would feel to push his cock into that pillowy flesh. 

Min Yoongi might as well tell him he could come from his prostate alone, just to really make sure Seokjin was fucked -

“Close,” Yoongi’s back curved. “Gonna come, please, please.” 

Seokjin blinked. “I haven’t even touched you.” Yoongi whimpered. “Are you really that sensitive?” 

Just to call Yoongi’s bluff, he let go of his thigh to stroke his dick in a wet upstroke, pressing against his thumb against his frenulum and thrusting hard against his gland. Yoongi couldn’t possibly - just from - ?

Yoongi came. Honest to god, just from Seokjin’s fingers alone, he came. He looked good as hell doing it too, head thrown back and wanton. Holy fuck. Seokjin's jaw went slack. As Yoongi came down, Seokjin rinsed his hands in the kitchen and brought Yoongi a dampened towel. 

Seokjin was half-hard. He was screwed. 

Just as Seokjin opened his mouth to say something, Yoongi’s hand came to smack his arm. 

“Ow! What was that for!” 

“Do you ever shut up?” Yoongi growled, glaring at him like he wasn’t desperate and needy seconds prior. “Who fingers someone and talks about catering?” 

Seokjin bristled. “Well, it obviously did wonders for you.” 

“Not because of the speaking -” Yoongi curled his lip. “Nevermind.” He went to put on his pants. “I don’t know what Insider Wedding published, but I didn’t speak badly of you. They asked me a question and I answered it.” 

“What kind of question could possibly warrant that answer?” Seokjin found the magazine discarded on the floor. “How could you call me a crowd-pleasing chef with no creativity?” 

“What?” Yoongi grabbed the magazine out of his hand. He scanned the passage and groaned. “I didn’t just say that. There was so much more.” 

Seokjin glared and Yoongi pleaded, “Can we please not fight? We literally just got each other off. Don’t do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“Where you try to antagonize everything I say.” 

“Who could read that and not feel antagonized?” 

Yoongi sighed, exasperated. “They asked me what I thought about you as a chef and I told them -” 

That? You told them that?” Seokjin uttered. Memories of Yoongi at the balcony and all of the time they spent in the kitchen, crashed into him. “So you’ve been lying to me this entire time?” 

“Seokjin, you didn’t let me finish -” 

“ - oh, I think I clearly let you finish.” 

“Seokjin, please!” Yoongi barked. “Can you stop deflecting and just listen to me for once?”

This was starting to get ahead of him now, but he couldn’t stop himself. If he absorbed compliments like burdens, then he took in criticisms like - “Do you think I’m a good chef?” 

“Of course I think you’re a good chef. Seokjin, you’re the reason why I became one.” 

Yoongi's face was flushed, lips red and plump and kissable. Would it be that hard for Seokjin to yield - to just let this go? He thought of Soohyun, the stars next to his business depleting, and Yoongi's smile when he said his cooking was magical. Seokjin felt like he was boiling over. 

“Then why did you say this?” 

Yoongi sucked on his lips. “...well, isn’t it a little true?” 

His breath halted. “What?” 

“I’ve seen what you can create. Just look at the food at ADORA and the recipes we’ve made together. But I don’t see that in your menus. You make the same dishes, over and over again, and...Peaches & Creampuffs? That’s what you decided to be a signature?” Yoongi rubbed his neck. “I don’t know. You’re better than that. I don’t care how many people love it. I just think you could do more. You can do more.” 

It’s not often Seokjin’s left speechless. 

“You’re just like everyone else.” He whispered. “All anyone does is set these expectations and toss me aside when I don’t meet them.” 

Passion turned to pressure. A beloved hobby to grueling work. Opinions, newspaper features, blog posts, online reviews. Just when he started to love cooking again, being able to make dishes like he used to, no menus to be created, no waitlist to impress… 

Layers upon layers. Suffocating. 

“Seokjin…” He really hated how overwhelming Yoongi’s eyes were. 

“I’m going to go.” Seokjin walked past him, snatching the print out of his hands. 

“Seokjin, wait. Please, hyung, let’s just figure this out. Seokjin -” 

He left the apartment before he could hear the rest of his words. 

Seokjin trashed the magazine on his way out. 



They don’t cook together after that. 

In fact, they don’t talk to each other at all. 

He ignored Yoongi’s texts and calls. He focused on work and met with businessmen, interested in turning Honeymoon commercial. Happy Together gave him a call for a chef special. He declined. 

When Insider Wedding announced Best Wedding Caterer of the year, he didn’t bother showing up to the ceremony. He knew he wasn’t going to win. 

Min Yoongi won instead. 

“Hyung, are you alright?” Taehyung asked him as he scrolled through the news on his phone. He paused at DAECHWITA’s new IG post, celebrating the win. 

“I’m fine.” Seokjin tapped on the profile and unfollowed them. 

Taehyung’s arms wrapped around his waist. He rested his head on his shoulder. “I still think you’re the best cook in the world. I don’t care about dumb rankings. You shouldn’t either.” 

Seokjin melted in his brother’s embrace. “Thanks, Taetae.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

One evening, when Seokjin felt sick of take-out and convenience store food, he opened his fridge to find he’s on his last bit of gochujang. He had nothing but scallions and two bottles of soju. His stomach flipped as an idea drifted to him and before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his keys and stormed out the door.

He can’t believe he's even considering this. Usually when he's emotionally compromised, he contemplates getting another sugar glider, not rampaging through a grocery store with a vengeance. He grabbed a basket and headed straight to the produce section. He swore he was never going to make this again and here he was, collecting ingredients, and unable to get the thought of gummy smiles and soft lips out of his mind -


Seokjin stumbled, dropping his basket. Produce spilled on the ground. 

“Will you stop doing that!” He yelped. 

Yoongi mumbled an apology as they both crouched down to pick up the mess. Seokjin focused on the floor, only catching glimpses of Yoongi’s hands as they piled produce into the basket. Pretty as always. 

“So...potatoes, huh?” 

Seokjin flushed. “None of your business.” 

“You’re trying to make poutine again.” Yoongi stated this like he knew he was correct. 

He didn’t respond, worried what his voice might tell. They both got up and still, Seokjin couldn’t look at him. In Yoongi’s basket was ginger, lemon, and energy drinks. He jerked his head up. 

“Are you sick?” Seokjin took in Yoongi’s pale complexion. His cheeks were red. He breathed heavy, like it was difficult for him. 

“Just a bit of a cold.” Yoongi shrugged. He coughed - congested. 

“For how long?” 

Yoongi hesitated. “About a week.” 

“A week?!” Seokjin spluttered. This wouldn’t do. No one has a cold for a week. Fuck the poutine, cursed dish - he put the potatoes back. “Do you have chicken at home?”

Yoongi shook his head and Seokjin probed, “Then what do you have at home?” He didn’t respond. Seokjin gaped, “You’re not eating? You’re a chef! That’s like part of our job: to eat.” 

“I don’t have an appetite.” Yoongi mumbled petulantly, like a child. He shivered. They were still in the chill of the produce section. 

Seokjin acted on impulse. “Wait for me outside. I won’t be long.” 

He bought what he needed and met Yoongi at the storefront. Yoongi opened his mouth, but Seokjin was quicker: “What kind of grown man doesn’t know how to take care of himself when he’s sick? You’ve been taking medicine?” Yoongi nodded. “Regularly?” Yoongi looked at his feet. “Of course you haven’t.” 

This continued the entire way to Yoongi’s apartment. “And you’ve been surviving on what? Energy drinks?” Yoongi fumbled with his keys. Seokjin yanked them out of his hand and opened the door himself. “You don’t even have the strength to handle keys, my god.” 

He dumped the groceries on the counter. He took out a pot, cutting board, and knife. 

“Do you need help -” 

“Why are you not lying in bed?” Seokjin tutted. 

Yoongi took a step like he was going to help. Seokjin clicked his tongue. He pouted and slinked to his room. When he tried to turn back, Seokjin growled, “Yoongi, rest.” Finally the man obeyed and disappeared out of sight.

Stubborn bastard. He prepared chicken jook with a huff. He could already picture how Yoongi got here: between the booked wedding schedule, and probably more interviews than he expected from his win, it’s no wonder the man got sick. Seokjin went through the same thing years ago, when the media got whiff of him coming back to the scene. 

He brought the jook into the room, noting how he’s never been inside of Yoongi’s room before. He somehow accumulated Yoongi’s orgasm-face and how his moans sounded, but he didn’t know Yoongi’s sheets were black and he had a framed photo of a toy poodle on his bedside. Cute. 

Seokjin put the bowl down. Yoongi’s brows were furrowed as he slept. Something protective and tender filled him. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. He was definitely running a fever. 

“Hey idiot,” He pushed gently, “Wake up. I bring aliment.” 

Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re still here?” He croaked. 

“Someone has to make sure you eat.” 

Yoongi got up and eyed the jook. Seokjin said, “I’m not going to feed you if that’s what you’re thinking.” Somehow, Yoongi flushed further. 

“I wasn’t thinking that.” 

Seokjin hid a smile. Liar. 

Yoongi took a small bite and his brows ticked up. “This is good.” He took a bigger bite the second time. 

Seokjin watched, amused. “Thought you said you didn’t have an appetite?” 

“If my idol cooked for me everyday, I’d probably eat more.” 

Seokjin’s blush took him by surprise. God damn it. Min Yoongi and his freaking sincerity with everything. 

“Means a lot coming from the best wedding caterer of the year.” He murmured, petty. 

Yoongi stopped mid-bite. “Seokjin…” There was that look again, always so all-consuming. “I...I didn’t know they would twist my words like that. I wasn’t trying to ruin your reputation, I just meant I know what you can do and what you’re capable of.” 

Seokjin didn’t want to talk about this. In general, he didn’t like divulging conversations, uncomfortable with dictographs too close to his heart. But Yoongi’s eyes were always so intense and whether Seokjin wanted to or not, he always found himself unraveled. 

“I know I can do more. Sometimes, I want to do more.” He forced out. “But eventually, you start doing things people don’t like. Experiments that are too out there. Flavors that are too complex. Then, the reviews come in and the articles and the fucking influencers. And I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.” He braved a glance at him. “Because that’s the whole point of cooking, isn’t it? To make food other people like?” 

He ended up sticking with what he knew would work - what he knew people would enjoy. He scoffed out a laugh. Look at where that got him: fired from ADORA and losing clients. The irony. 

“If there’s one thing wedding catering taught me,” Yoongi said, “It’s that people have shit opinions on food. Why even try to impress them? I mean, do rankings really matter? Other people’s opinions - are they that important? What do you want to do, Seokjin?” 

Truth be told, Seokjin just wanted to cook. Fuck around in the kitchen with Namjoon. Tell commercial businessmen and online reviewers to get lost. Maybe kiss Yoongi senseless over the kitchen island. 

“I want to make poutine.” Seokjin said, voice small. 

Yoongi smiled, all gums and teeth and eyes in half-moons. “Then make poutine. Do whatever the hell you want. Make the most disgusting poutine to ever exist. I’m sorry I came off as another asshole reviewer, but even if I was...who cares?” 

Seokjin sucked in a breath. He felt sloppy and sentimental, melted ice cream over a warm fudge brownie. Who cares? The words echoed, vibrating through his bones. Who fucking cares? A smile found it's way to his lips.

“I kind of want to kiss you.” He voiced. 

Yoongi’s smile dropped. “Oh. I’m sick though.” 

Seokjin scooted closer. “I have a strong immune system.” 

“So does my sous chef, but I got him sick too.” Yoongi leaned back. 

Seokjin shrugged, nearly crowding over the man now. “I’ll take my chances.” 

“And you’re not going to run off again?” 

This made him pause. “No, I’m not.” He cupped Yoongi’s cheek. “Plus, I wouldn’t leave a man to die alone in his own sick.” 

“Ugh, it’s just a cold -” 

Seokjin took his lips in his, tasting ginger and scallions. He pulled away with a laugh, “Bleh, you taste like jook.” 

Yoongi pulled him down for another kiss, swallowing his laugh with a perfectly-crafted swipe into his mouth. They kissed until Yoongi broke away with a short cough into his elbow and Seokjin snorted. 

“Finish the rest of the jook, chef. We can’t make out if you’re dead.” 



Seokjin sneezed into his elbow, eyes watering from the force of it. 

“Oh no, are you sick?” Taehyung stepped away from him, wielding a pot lid. 

“I might,” Seokjin sneezed again, “have a little bit of a cold.” 

“Yeah, I think something’s been going around. Jimin told me Chef Yoongi is down with something too. He even gave it to Jungkook.” 

“Who is Jung - achoo!” Seokjin sniffled. Fuck, he can’t be in a kitchen right now. 

“Chef Yoongi’s other sous chef. He’s a cute one. Got real big eyes.” Taehyung reached into the cupboard for disinfectant. He pointed it at Seokjin. “Don’t make any sudden moves or I’ll shoot.” 

“Oh, you mean Bambi?” Seokjin wiped his nose. 

Namjoon walked into the kitchen, breathing through his mouth. He sounded clogged when he greeted, “Morning Chef. Hi Taehyung.” 

Seokjin and Taehyung watched Namjoon take off a scarf. Then a jacket. Then another layer. And another. He sniffled, congested and full of snot. He paused when he noticed them staring. 

“You’re sick too?” Taehyung asked. 

Namjoon cleared his throat with a grimace. “Yeah, I think I came down with a cold.” 

Taehyung’s eyes went from Seokjin to Namjoon, back and forth, until Seokjin got dizzy. “No...nonono!” He suddenly screamed. “Are you guys fucking?!” 

Namjoon blanched and Seokjin gagged. They both shrieked at Taehyung: “What!” “No!” “Never! Why would you think I would even - !” “Yuck! Don’t ever say that!” Then, they both looked at each other, affronted. 

“Excuse me?” Seokjin coughed. “You would be so lucky to bang me!” 

Namjoon lurched. “No offense, hyung, but the last thing I want to hear is your sex voice.” 

“Bold words! How does unemployment sound?” 

“Then why are you guys both sick, but I’m not? God, between DAECHWITA and us, we could fill up a hospital ward...” The cogs worked in Taehyung’s head. Seokjin and Namjoon blushed. 

“Oh my god!” Taehyung dropped the disinfectant to cover his mouth with a shout. “You’re fucking Chef Yoongi!” He pointed at Seokjin. “And you’re fucking Chef Yoongi’s sous chef!” He pointed at Namjoon. “How could this happen! How am I the single one between all of us? I am never going to recover from this!” 

“You’re so dramatic.” Seokjin rolled his eyes. 

“You helped raise me, asshole!” 

“Oh, you want to get sick so bad? Little baby feeling left out?” Seokjin made kissy faces as he reached out to his brother. “C’mere.” 

“GROSS! GET AWAY FROM ME! MOM! MOOOOOM!” Taehyung shouted as Seokjin chased him around the counter. 

Namjoon coughed violently in his shirt. He waved a lazy arm. “You know what, I’m going to take the day off. See you when I’m better.” 

Three days later, Seokjin got a long, insufferable lecture from their mom about “maturity” and “being grown adult men” and “how could you purposefully get your brother sick!” He coughed as his mom shouted. 

Yoongi pushed away the sweaty fringe from his forehead. He sat on the bed, covered in blankets. Yoongi stifled a laugh as he could hear every word his mom shouted. 

Seokjin covered the receiver. “It was worth it.” He whispered with a giggle. 

Yoongi shut him up by sticking a spoonful of jook in his mouth. 



That’s how you guys got arrested? You broke into ADORA’s kitchen and ransacked it?” Jungkook’s mouth fell open, eyes somehow growing wider. 

Taehyung giggled. “We put all the knives in a bucket of water and stuck them in the freezer.” 

“Hid boiled eggs in everyone’s aprons and around the corners.” Namjoon grinned. 

“Relabeled all of their spices.” Seokjin lifted his chin up proudly. "Just like how I taught them." 

“You guys are so cool.” Jimin breathed out in awe. 

“It’s not so cool when you’re being handcuffed against a police car.” Namjoon frowned. Taehyung hummed, “Oh yeah that part wasn’t fun.” 

“No hyung.” Jungkook got uncomfortably close to Namjoon’s face beside him, until he went cross eyed. “That’s so hot. I can’t believe I’m engaged to a criminal.” 

“I can’t believe you’re engaged in general.” Hoseok peered at their engagement rings. “Doesn't your mom schedule your dentist appointments, darling?” 

“At least my teeth aren't yellow.” Jungkook stuck out his tongue. 

“That’s my husband you’re talking about!” Jimin warned.

Seokjin noticed they were running low on wine, so he stood up from the table to head to the kitchen. It was strange walking through the empty restaurant when it was packed just hours before. He decided to close the place early so they could have Namjoon and Jungkook’s engagement party - they both wanted it to be a quiet and intimate affair, much like the couple themselves.

In the kitchen, Yoongi dusted cocoa powder on tiramisu, the chosen dessert for the night. Seokjin’s chest fluttered at the sight of him. 

“I love a man who knows how to handle a sieve.” Seokjin kissed Yoongi’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“If you make me mess this up, I’ll kill you.” 

Seokjin sighed dreamily. “You’re so romantic sometimes.” 

“Did you come back for something?” 

“Yeah, I wanted to get more wine.” 

“It’s in the -” 

“It’s my restaurant, Yoongichi. I know where the wine is.” Seokjin removed himself from his boyfriend with a scoff. He nearly danced over to the wine cooler, still feeling giddy from being able to say the words “my restaurant” even after being open for more than a year. 

He stopped doing catering and opened up Honey + Moon, where a line waited outside his restaurant every time they opened shop. Namjoon told him the press was calling them “the new ADORA” and “the push Seoul’s culinary scene needed.” 

Quite frankly, Seokjin could care less. He just wanted to cook. 

(Once, a newspaper called his cooking “foolish” and “child’s play.” 

“God, who cares?” Seokjin shucked the print out of bed. “Sorry, where were we?” 

Yoongi could hardly look at him. “Seokjin, I swear to god, if you don’t move.” 

“Oh right.” And he thrust back in.) 

He opened the wine and poured a glass for both him and Yoongi. They shared a kiss when they clinked glasses. The others could wait a little bit longer. 

“I’ll give them five.” Seokjin cocked his head towards the door. 

Yoongi raised a brow. “Months? That’s what you said a year ago when you found out Namjoon and Jungkook were dating.” 

“No.” Seokjin shook his head. “Lifetimes.” 

Yoongi hummed in agreement. “That boy does look at him like he hung the stars.” 

“Yeah, I know. Namjoon’s so in love.” 

Yoongi looked at him. “I was talking about Jungkook.” 


They met each other’s gaze and broke out in laughter. Seokjin pulled Yoongi in close, his free hand tracing against Yoongi’s cheekbone. “Who would’ve thought I would be standing in my own kitchen, laughing with my arch nemesis in my arms?” 

“I had a feeling you were into me when you accidentally liked my old selfie from 2015. This was before you knocked over my creampuff tower, by the way." 

Seokjin gasped. “What! No I didn’t.” 

“The notification came in at 1 AM.” 

“Oh god.” 

Yoongi peered at him through his eyelashes, suggestive. “So what were you doing looking at my selfies at 1 AM, huh?” 

Somehow, Taehyung came to mind, which was the worst thing to imagine for a question like that. “I was doing research. Scoping out the enemy.” Seokjin supplied. “Plenty of people accidentally tap like. I could’ve been asleep and rolled over on my phone.” 

“Mhm.” Yoongi buried his face in his neck. “Keep making excuses.” 

Seokjin’s hand settled down to his waist. He never would’ve pegged Yoongi as a cuddler, but he always came to him like he was touch-starved. It was maddening, how domestic and charmed he felt to have Yoongi in his arms. 

“That’s going to be my wedding speech someday.” He sighed, a little wine drunk and sleepy. “A plot twist no one could’ve expected: I, the great Kim Seokjin, married to my arch nemesis.” He laughed at the irony, cheek resting atop Yoongi's head as they hugged. Yoongi stayed quiet. His shoulders tensed. Seokjin hummed, "What's wrong, Yoongichi? Did I say something -" Oh god. Oh god

He jerked awake. "Oh, I didn't. I didn't mean -" 

“You’re okay.” Yoongi mumbled from his chest. Seokjin couldn’t see Yoongi’s expression - was he mortified? “I’m not freaking out.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“I said I’m not freaking out.” 




“Listen, I just say things sometimes and -” 

“Seokjin,” Yoongi pressed their lips together. “We’re fine. I’m fine. We’re dating. Sometimes people talk about marriage when they date. It’s not a big deal. Stop thinking so much.” 

Seokjin frowned. “How dare you. I’ve never had a thought in my entire life.” 

Yoongi fell back into his chest with a tired sigh, mumbling, “Let’s serve the tiramisu soon so we can go home and sleep. ‘m tired.” 

It was quiet between them for some time as they melted back into each other’s embrace. Seokjin’s heart still raced a bit too quickly for his liking. Maybe he should talk to Yoongi about this when they get home, just to make sure he didn’t feel pressured. 

“No creampuffs at our wedding though.” Yoongi suddenly said. 

Seokjin blinked. Processed the words. Swelled up a little. Fell deeper in love. Then, he burst out into a laugh. 

“Fuck you.” He grinned as Yoongi smiled against his neck. 

“My creampuffs are divine.”