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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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God’s Menu (one-shot)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: Language, and some mentions of smut

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU

Word Count: 9K

Summary: Y/N is a critically-acclaimed chef at New York’s premier five-star restaurant, The JYP Organic Cafeteria. However, when a new restaurant across the street begins attracting attention (and paying customers) because of it’s young and handsome head chef, Seo Changbin, Y/N grows furious at her dwindling reviews. When she confronts this new chef, she’s appalled to realize that he’s nothing short of arrogant, and they both engage in a fierce competition to determine who the best chef really is in NY.

A/N: I wrote this in one day, such a crazy experience, and it’s all thanks to Changbin. Also, why not, I’ll dedicate this to @lordseochangbin, the biggest Changbin Stan I know on this site.

The art of cooking involved a delicate sensibility that I had taken great pride in perfecting, especially after I graduated from culinary school. Thereafter, I worked tirelessly as an assistant for some of the greatest chefs in New York City, and I had the pleasure of working next to them under their great tutelage. Subsequently, their talents and well-intended advice shaped my own style of cooking, and my finely-tuned skills helped catapult me to the very top of our industry.

Likewise, I gained instant fame when I became the head chef at JYP’s Organic Cafeteria in the heart of New York City. People from all over the state came to my restaurant to try my cooking, and word spread fast about my immediate rise to stardom. As such, I started modeling for cooking magazines while receiving warm reviews from even the staunchest food critics, and I had a legion of fans in the form of paying customers who often lined the sidewalk outside of the restaurant to wait for an available table.

I also had some of the most promising chefs working directly under me. For example, my sous-chef, Bang Chan, was a very skilled man when it came to experimenting with some of our more expensive offerings. He had a natural talent for measuring ingredients, even without the assistance of a recipe, and his taste was nothing short of exquisite. His assistant, Felix, was a captivating presence among the staff, and he moved around the kitchen like he had been born to cook for the hungry masses. Felix also had a knack for cutting with his impressive collection of knives and cutlery, and he enjoyed trying the recipes that Chan and I worked tirelessly to perfect.

There was also Han Jisung, our kitchen’s pastry chef, whose delicious cakes and sweets were touted as some of the finest cuisine in North America. He prided himself on making the best cheesecakes, and our customers enjoyed a variety of unique flavors that could satisfy even the pickiest of palates. Jisung also never hesitated to include fun and interesting additions to our menu, even if that meant he had to stay up all night to prepare the ingredients.

Finally, our saucier, Jeongin, brought a degree of youthful exuberance into the kitchen, and he was adept at evolving his soup recipes and incorporating the freshest ingredients from the local marketplaces. He was always smiling, despite the recurring dinner rush, and he was quick and efficient with his hands, especially when handling our ingredients.

Together, we formed an intimidating team, and I was excited to continue growing our successful restaurant while bringing our talents out of state and to the rest of the world. Of course, it was important to perfect ourselves at this stage in our evolution, and tonight would be another step in the right direction. As such, when I glanced out the window overlooking the main dining room, I immediately spotted the important food critic talking pleasantly with one of our waiters. “Jeongin!” I shouted to attract the younger’s attention.

“Yes, Chef,” he returned, pausing next to me at the revolving doors.

“Tell everyone that the critic is here,” I said. “And make sure that I cook her order.”

“Of course, chef,” Jeongin agreed, and he addressed the rest of the kitchen with a commanding presence that made me feel proud because he had once been too shy to elevate his voice.

In the meantime, I started to prepare my station, ensuring that everything was clean. “Felix,” I said, turning to the silver-haired chef as he tossed up a pan of vegetables. “Get me the best ingredients and tools.”

Felix smirked, returning the plan to the stove before bowing slightly. “Right away, chef.”

Meanwhile, I carefully adjusted the sleeves of my apron, pulling them high above my elbows. For the most part, I was fairly consistent with my cooking, but I always put in extra effort when it came to potential reviews that would show-up in distinguished magazines. It was a well-known fact throughout the city that, in our competitive line of work, those reviews meant everything to the clientele we targeted. Thus, whenever a critic came into the restaurant, I liked to handle their meal preparation myself with the utmost attention.

“The order from the critic, chef,” Jeogin announced, following Felix with a bright smile.

I took it from him with a long exhale. “Garlic butter chicken,” I read. “I could do this blindfolded.”

However, I was somewhat relieved about the order because chicken happened to be a specialty of mine that I often took extra care in preparing. It was the first dish that I ever perfected in culinary school, and it often earned me the most acclaim when I was nothing more than an apprentice. And I’m sure the critic in question expected something truly mouth-watering, which is why I started immediately with every ounce of my concentration focused on the task at hand.

The first step was to clean the chicken thoroughly, and I usually requested that Jeongin wash the ingredients, but I was serious about preparing this dish myself. Next, I seasoned the chicken with an appropriate mixture of salt and pepper before allowing it to simmer on the stove while the butter melted in a separate skillet over medium heat. The familiarity of my movements was both exhilarating and reassuring.

Yet, despite just starting the early stages of the dish’s preparation, sweat was perspiring against my forehead, falling in long rivulets down the sides of my temples. It was a mixture of the kitchen’s oppressive warmth and my own nervous anxiety that combined together to create a fascinating effect on my person. But I was undeterred by any obstacle.

Instead, I turned to the sauce, recounting the ingredients inside my head: garlic, red pepper flakes, and hot sauce (a special invention of mine). Afterward, I had to sauté the heady mixture for 30 seconds until the garlic became aromatic. I grinned triumphantly because the smell was nothing short of delectable, and I could practically taste it on my tongue as the flavors excited all five of my senses. Finally, I deglazed the skillet with the chicken broth and brought it to a much lower simmer. “Stand back,” I said, throwing the ingredients together inside a separate pan and tossing it above the heat to ensure that every piece of chicken was evenly coated with the delectable sauce. “Jeongin, it’s time for plating.”

“Yes, chef,” Jeongin said, hustling to the surrounding shelves of our finest decorative serving dishes, assisting me next to my station as we carefully plated the chicken specialty. I watched as the delicate lines of steam rose from the top before requesting that our waiter bring the food to the awaiting critic.

With a steady exhale, I joined the rest of the chefs as watched the waiter disappear out the revolving door before we all crowded together to observe the critic’s reaction from the window. “She looks impressed,” Jisung remarked, and I smiled at his comment.

In the proceeding moments, the critic unfolded her napkin over her lap and reached for her fork and knife, studying the dish with close scrutiny. I swallowed hard when she lifted a bite to her awaiting mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she appraised my offering. Thankfully, I knew that it was successful when her eyes lit with a familiar warm glow, looking down at her plate with evident pleasure. As if on cue, everyone around me started clapping at once, and their shouts of praise and encouragement certainly fed my ego while we watched the critic enjoy the remainder of her meal.

It was another successful evening.

In the mornings, I often walked to the restaurant because the weather was nice this time of year, and I was left alone with the company of my thoughts. However, after such a grueling night of dinner prep, I was also excited to see the fruits of my labors in the form of a new review that might appear at any moment courtesy of the satisfied critic who left the restaurant with a grateful salutation. My stomach was practically doing somersaults just thinking about it, and I was in a fairly good mood when I saw the JYP sign shimmering up ahead in the distance.

However, as I grew closer, I realized that there was also another sign for the previously empty building across the street, and it stood a little taller in comparison. Consequently, I paused outside the recently renovated space, peeking in through the glass window to discover a restaurant set-up waiting inside. “When did this get here?” I wondered, taking a step back to appraise the building. The enormous banner across the front spelled out the name of the establishment. “Dwekki.”

I released an exhausted sigh because I wasn’t ready to process the implications of what this might mean for JYP’s business. However, I was caught off-guard by the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps. “Doesn’t open for another hour, sweetheart,” came an unfamiliar voice.

I turned around to confront the man whose attitude clearly exposed his underlying arrogance. “Excuse, me?”

He smirked, and it made him look even more handsome. In contradiction to his dark-colored eyes, his blue-tinted hair glowed beneath the sunlight, and his arms crossed over his broad chest to experiment with the limits of his thin t-shirt. “We don’t start serving lunch until 11:00.”

“I’m not interested in eating here!” I glowered.

“That’s a shame,” he replied, and I was taken aback by his flirtatious tone, watching as his eyes appraised me.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted an autograph, then you should’ve just asked,” he replied, and I instantly recoiled.

“I work over there,” I said, jutting my thumb behind me. “I’m the head chef for JYP.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, and his eyes reflected a newfound interest. “I’ll be more formal, then. My name is Seo Changbin, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” I said. “I’m Y/N.”

Changbin chuckled. “It sounds like you don’t like me, Y/N, which doesn't seem right since we just met.”

“Well,” I huffed. “I always like to keep an eye on potential competition.”

“Competition?” Changbin snorted. “Sweetheart, there won’t be any competition when they taste my food.”

I bristled at the challenge. “Is that so?”

“I have the best cuisine,” Changbin said. “I’ve been told that my food is the best in New York City.”

I gasped at the insinuation. “Listen here, Changbin, I have the credentials to back up my food! I’ve been voted Food Critic Magazine’s most promising chef for three years in a row.”

“Well, it was a good streak while it lasted,” Changbin said, and he seemed amused by my inability to offer some kind of witty comeback in return.

“Fine!” I managed. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart,” Changbin replied, and I held my breath when I pivoted around, storming away from the horrible man with a new purpose guiding my steps.

Graciously, I found Chan waiting outside of JYP, looking up at me with a bright smile that disappeared when he realized that I wasn’t happy. “What happened?”

“There’s a new restaurant opening across the street and its chef is a complete asshole!” I shouted, fumbling with the restaurant keys in my hand. “He thinks he can say those things to me? Nobody’s food is better than ours!”

Chan blinked twice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a war, Mr. Bang!” I declared passionately, holding the door wide open. “We’re going to prove that man wrong!”

Chan sighed because he was already used to my dramatics. However, what he didn’t realize was that I was serious about the declaration, and I had no intention of holding up the white flag of surrender anytime soon!

Of course, despite my initial confidence, it was hard to maintain my earlier enthusiasm when, after a week of operation, I had started to notice that more people were wandering into Changbin’s restaurant and ignoring JYP. “His food must be killer,” Jisung remarked off-handedly one day, wincing when I slapped him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“He’s the competition,” I seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the open window at the front of the restaurant. “It’s just because he opened recently and people are curious.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jisung huffed, rubbing his head with a pout.

“We’ll just have to keep a lookout,” I insisted, and I knew that I sounded mad when Jisung hesitantly took a step back away from me.

“Aren’t you taking this too far, Y/N?”

“Too far?”

“Woah! You know that I’m just kidding!” Jisung chirped, anxiously power-walking his way back into the kitchen while I continued to maintain my post as JYP’s head chef and silent guardian.

Eventually, I returned to the kitchen since I was expecting the usual dinner rush to commence. However, the longer that I spent chopping way too many carrots without a ticket request for our finest appetizer soups, the more I began to realize that something was amiss. I reached for Felix’s arm and drug him away from the others. “Why aren’t we getting any ticket requests? Is the waitstaff missing people?”

“Not exactly,” Felix said, and his eyes darted back and forth as if he was withholding valuable information.

“Well?” I insisted. “What’s happening?”

“There’s not many people tonight,” Felix said, and he quickly tried to reassure me when he noticed my sharp intake of breath. “It’s Monday, Y/N, and most people don’t like to eat out when they have work the next day...”

But I ignored Felix’s attempts at rationality, leaving the kitchen with heavy steps to instigate some preemptive sleuthing of my own. “What the hell?” I grumbled, crossing my arms when I noticed that there was some sort of commotion going on outside. Yet, when I stood in front of the window, I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What’s wrong with these people!” I exclaimed, watching as the line outside of Changbin’s restaurant continued to grow even longer.

“I heard it’s good,” Han offered unhelpfully, and I didn’t even notice his approach because I was too distracted by the horror-show playing right in front of me. My literal worst nightmare coming to life with one preemptive swoop!

“This is terrible!” I said. “We’re losing business t-to them!”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Jisung said, laying one hand on my shoulder. “Most of our regulars are here.”

“It’s not okay!” I said, shaking off his hand aggressively. “We need to get to the bottom of this!”

Jisung flinched when I turned around sharply on my heel, finding my way back to the kitchen where I clapped my hands together loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “Listen up, people!” I started. “The place across the street has just become enemy number one. That means we need to investigate! We have to infiltrate the restaurant and figure out what the hell is going on!”

“Y/N,” Chan sighed. “Is this necessary?”

“Oh, it's completely necessary! We’re going undercover,” I said, pointing between Felix and Chan. “You two are coming with me.”

Chan shook his head. “Y/N, do we really have to do this?”

“Yeah,” Felix whined. “You’re just gonna do something embarrassing again.”

I offered them both a glare. “Do you like working here?”

“Yes, chef!” Felix immediately shouted, holding up his hand to his forehead in a military salute.

Chan rolled his eyes. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“We’re losing customers, Chan,” I said. “We need to figure out why.”

“But do we really have to go over there?”

“Can’t Jisung go instead of me?” Felix asked, jutting out his bottom lip like it might garner him some kind of sympathy.

However, I was completely set on my resolution. “You’re coming, Felix, and we’re going to get justice for JYP!”

“Justice for JYP!” Jeongin shouted while raising his fist in the air to demonstrate his solidarity with my outrageous claim.

In the meantime, I had removed my apron, dusting the flour from my jeans while grabbing my purse from the backroom. “Now!” I said, dragging a reluctant Chan and Felix behind me as we exited the restaurant through the back door.

I had never been more determined in my entire life!

“How many are in your party?” the hostess asked when we stepped inside Dwekki for the very first time.

“Three,” I replied while scrutinizing every feature of the interior.

“One moment please,” the hostess said, leaving her podium stand to enter the dining room. I stood on my toes to look inside, but I only caught a faint glimpse of an overhanging chandelier before the doors closed again.

“Fancy,” Felix remarked, but I ignored him while observing the main lobby.

“How pretentious,” I muttered, taking in the elegantly tiled marble floors and freshly painted white walls.

“Says the person who charges 30 dollars for chicken,” Chan retorted.

“Whose side are you on?” I asked him, but a potential argument was quickly interrupted by the hostess who re-emerged from the dining room.

“Right this way,” she said, grabbing three menus before encouraging us to enter the literal lion’s den.

Immediately, I decided that I didn’t like Dwekki. It screamed money and finesse, and I wasn’t impressed with the elegant set-up, disregarding the shimmering fountain and the open kitchen that revealed dozens of chefs working tirelessly to prepare their dishes.

“Thank you,” Felix said politely when our hostess brought us to a small table near the kitchen’s entrance, offering us our menus before returning to her post outside the dining room. “You guys, it smells like chocolate in here,” Felix said, whining when I reached over to whack his arm with my menu.

“It smells like desperation to me,” I said. “Look at all this unnecessary decor. Who the hell needs a water fountain in the middle of their restaurant?”

“I think it’s nice,” Chan said with a sarcastic attitude on clear display.

“You’re the worst sous-chef,” I told him.

“But what would you do without me?”

“I’d put another ad in the paper,” I said, and he gasped in dramatic fashion that was clearly meant to mock me.

Meanwhile, I had barely noticed the arrival of our waiter until his voice interrupted my playful banter with Chan. “Good evening, folks, welcome to Dwekki, my name is Hyunjin and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to start off with an appetizer.”

“What do you recommend?” I asked, taking note of Hyunjin’s taller stature and the way he tied back his long hair into a neat style.

“Our chef’s choice is the scallops,” Hyunjin replied, and I inwardly groaned at the mention of the restaurant’s chef.

“Yes, that’s fine,” I said, and Hyunjin had barely left the table before Felix was opening his mouth again.

“He has literal angels working for him, Y/N,” Felix said.

“Do you really have to say that?” I asked.

“He certainly has class,” Chan added, and I felt their betrayal deep inside the center of my chest. “Do you think he might recommend his decorator?”

“Our restaurant is more family-oriented,” I said, bringing my water glass to my lips because I was suddenly parched.

“He’s coming back,” Felix whispered, and I was taken aback by Hynjin’s reappearance, holding a bottle of wine in his hands.

“This is for you,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Pinot noir!” Felix gasped, snatching the bottle from Hyunjin who barely flinched.

“Compliments of the chef,” Hyunjin explained, and I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder to see Changbin watching us from the kitchen’s entrance. I returned my gaze to the table, fanning my flushed skin. “He also insisted that you should try tonight’s house specialty.”

“That’s fine,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally left us alone.

“Does he know who you are?” Felix asked curiously.

“I ran into him the other day,” I said.

“She nearly had a heart attack,” Chan said. “It was the day we declared war or something on this place.”

“Like battleship?” Felix asked, and I actually regretted not listening to his plea from earlier to have brought Jisung along instead. At least my pastry chef was entertaining.

“The food is probably mediocre,” I said. “Nobody can have an ego that big unless they’re compensating for something.”

“Y/N,” Felix teased, raising his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” I said, wincing at the idea. “Look, I know that you both think this whole thing is stupid, but the restaurant is really important to me, and I care when our customers start eating somewhere else.”

“Is it really about the customers or your pride?” Chan asked, and I hated it when his questions turned philosophical.

I tossed my menu in his direction. “Study the dishes, Chan. We’re here to gather important intel.”

Chan smirked, but obeyed my command, browsing quietly while Felix took his job too seriously and started capturing screenshots using his cellphone. Meanwhile, I leaned back in my chair with a heavy heart because it was starting to look like we were hopelessly outmatched. I mean, just the interior of the dining room itself was far more impressive than our cafeteria-style, and I was actually envious of that stupid fountain because it looked magical underneath the stupid chandelier.

Thankfully, the arrival of our food temporarily paused my morbid thoughts, and the smell of our appetizer scallops actually had my stomach grumbling. Felix and Chan immediately grabbed a scallop for themselves, and I forced myself to take one of the delicious smelling rations. My mouth started watering when I brought a small bite closer, and when I chewed against the tender meat, my entire facade cracked because it was absolutely wonderful.

Of course, to make matters even worse, the head chef had decided to leave the kitchen and gloat before I could even swallow my food. “What do we have here?” Changbin asked, and I trembled at his approach. “It can’t be the head chef of JYP! I’m honored.”

“Why are you out here?” I hissed.

“I saw you come inside,” Changbin replied. “I figured I should be nice to our new neighbors.”

I watched as Changbin took a step to the side, crooking a finger, and Hyunjin joined our table once more with the entrees. “The veal,” he said, placing a portion in front of the three of us.

“It’s one of my most popular dishes,” Changbin said with a tone laced with his smugness.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, stuffing a bite into my mouth and immediately regretting the way that my body reacted positively to the food. Like I was suddenly back home and enjoying my mother’s home-cooked meals.

“Do you like it?” Changbin asked.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed the dish away from me. “It’s okay,” I said, sighing when I noticed that Chan and Felix were practically devouring their dishes.

“You see that critic over there?” Changbin asked, and I followed his gaze to a strikingly familiar face. Because it was the same woman who had just eaten at our restaurant several nights ago, and she looked way too pleased with her current meal. “She told me that my chicken was the best she had ever tasted.”

I held my tongue to keep myself from retorting. “That’s impossible,” Felix said over a mouthful of his veal. “Y/N has the best chicken dish in New York.”

“Really?” Changbin asked, leaning down so that he was speaking right into my ear. “Maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a food competition this weekend on Good Morning, New York,” Changbin said.

“I love that show!” Felix said, and I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary observation.

“They’re inviting local chefs to participate,” Changbin said. “I already reserved my spot, but maybe Y/N could try her luck as well.”

I slammed my fork down against the table. “You’re on, Seo. I haven’t lost a food competition since culinary school.”

“May the best chef win,” Changbin said with a pleased smile. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, forcing another bite of veal into my mouth because I was growing more and more frustrated with my impending crisis.

The next morning, I walked inside the restaurant to see a group of my chefs crowded around one of the tables. “What’s going on?” I asked, and they immediately began to disperse. “Hold on!” I said, jogging over to grab Felix’s apron sleeve. “What are you holding?”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung squealed from further away, but I still jerked the magazine away from Felix’s hands. It was a copy of the Food Critic Monthly magazine, and they published reviews of the most popular restaurants in New York City.

“Y/N,” Felix said, and his voice was unusually deep. “It’s one person’s opinion.”

I shook my head as I opened the magazine, flipping through the pages until I found our restaurant’s name in the heading. “JYP remains consistent, although they could certainly benefit from a change in their normal menu. I’ll give them a score of 9 out of 10,” I read aloud, fuming when I realized that Dwekki’s review was on the next page. “This hot new restaurant has some of the finest cuisine that I’ve ever tasted, and its head chef holds the potential to be the greatest in New York. My rating is a solid 10 out of 10.”

The room was quiet when I finished. “Y/N?” Jeongin tentatively inquired. “It doesn’t matter, we can impress them next time.”

“Next time?” I repeated with barely constrained rage. “It’s the opinion of one of the biggest food critics in the city!” I retorted. “Of course, it matters.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to center myself. “Y/N?” Jisung said. “What are you gonna do?”

I looked at him with newfound determination. “Someone needs to schedule me for that Good Morning, New York show. I’m gonna beat him in front of the entire city!”

Jeongin nodded his head quickly. “I’ll make the call, Y/N.”

I rolled back my shoulders, pausing when I noticed that Chan had stopped in front of me. “You’re going too far this time, Y/N.”

“I need this, Chan,” I said, shoving my way past him. “I also need freaking break from this place!”

That afternoon, I sat behind the restaurant with a cigarette in hand, puffing smoke into the surrounding space. Unfortunately, whenever I felt particularly stressed, I turned to the nasty habit that I had trouble completely dismissing from my life. It was truly disgusting, but sometimes these situations forced me to do things that I normally wouldn’t even consider.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

I held the cancer stick up to my lips. “Why the hell do you care?”

“Maybe I think you’re too beautiful for bad lungs,” Changbin said, and I finally met his gaze from across the alley.

“What do you want?”

“To show off?” He shrugged, resuming a business-like demeanor when he walked in my direction.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, watching him as he took a seat next to me.

“Look at this,” Changbin said, holding up a black folder. “We have reservations scheduled for the next month.”

“A month?” I spluttered, taking the folder from him. Sure enough, I ran my finger down the list of names occupying time slots that filled the remainder of June. As a result, I let my head fall back against the brick wall of my restaurant. “This is private property, you know.”

“Oh?” Changbin chuckled. “Look, Y/N, whatever I’ve done to offend you, I want to apologize.”

“Really?” I said. “It doesn’t feel like you care.”

“Actually, I really admire your work,” Changbin said. “I read some of your reviews when I had just graduated school, and I even based one of my dishes from your Parmesan.”

“Fuck that makes me feel old,” I complained, but there was no way that I was more than a few years older than Changbin.

“You might feel younger if you stop with these things,” Changbin said, and I only frowned when he took the cigarette from me.

“I booked myself on that show,” I said. “I hope I don’t offend you when I kick your ass.”

Changbin smirked, leaning in closer with a dangerous smile that somehow managed to send my heart fluttering inside my chest. “I look forward to it.”

Unsurprisingly, Jeongin was a cheerful presence even when the sun hadn’t quite risen above the New York City skyscrapers. He had previously agreed to come with me to the show as a support system, and I could use his infectious energy when it came to my biggest challenge to date. “I even made you a sign,” he said as I drove us along the crowded streets.

I laughed. “I don’t think you can bring those inside the studio.”

“I’ll still cheer the loudest!” he said, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap him into a secure hug.

However, I also had to resist the softer side that Jeongin always tended to bring out in me because I needed to focus solely on this competition. My entire reputation was hanging by a thread, and this show offered me the chance to redeem my dwindling reviews.

Graciously, upon my arrival, I noticed that most of the other competitors weren’t nearly as intimidating, and I offered them polite greetings while doing my best to ignore Changbin and the ridiculous smile that he sent in my direction when I entered the studio. “Keep talking to me,” I instructed Jeongin. “Maybe that will keep Satan away.”

Jeongin nodded his head. “I believe in you, Y/N.”

“There’s a great evil threatening our existence,” I said solemnly. “I just need to focus.”

“Woah!” Jeongin suddenly cheered. “They have soft batch cookies.”

“Hey!” I said. “Are you really letting that distract you?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, bowing respectfully when the Good Morning hosts approached us.

“We’re excited to have you here, Y/N. It’s been a while since you’ve participated in something like this.”

“Well, I need a change every once in a while,” I told them.

“We’ve assigned your station next to Seo Changbin’s,” they said. “You two are the best in the kitchen, and our viewers will love it!”

“I bet they will,” I said, smiling sweetly while pulling Jeongin along next to me. “Let’s make sure it’s spotless,” I instructed him, and we both started cleaning the station with prompt attention.

“Oh, Y/N,” Changbin said from his station next to me. “I saw a comment on social media this morning. Someone said that I shouldn’t even bother wearing anything under my apron. What do you think?”

“Pervert,” I muttered under my breath, wiping down the counter with far more aggression than necessary considering how the surface was practically glimmering.

“Alright, everyone!” a producer suddenly announced. “The show starts in five minutes.”

However, I was unprepared for the way that my stomach twisted uncomfortably because I had never felt this nervous before in my entire life. “I can’t breathe,” I told Jeongin, and he immediately started fanning my overheated skin with one of the frying pans.

“You can do it, Y/N,” he said, and I only nodded in response while I watched him join the crowd gathered behind the cameras.

“3...2...1...action!”

Fuck, why was it so hot in here?

“Good morning, New York City!” one of the hosts began, holding out her arms in grandiose fashion. “We have six of New York’s hottest young chefs ready to cook for us this morning.”

“That’s right, Kathy, and when we get back from our commercial break, we’ll determine the best of the best in a fierce competition. Let’s introduce today’s chefs.”

Kathy smiled in our direction, holding up the microphone as she spoke briefly with each chef in turn, coming closer and closer in my direction. “Mr. Seo,” she said. “You’ve scored tremendous reviews with some of the city’s toughest critics! What inspires you to create such gourmet dishes?”

“Well, recently, I’ve been inspired by someone who managed to capture my heart,” he said, sending a discreet wink in my direction.

I scowled at his blatant sarcasm. “Oh, she must be a lucky lady, then,” Kathy said, taking a long stride to stand next to me at my station. “What about you, Y/N? You’ve been at the top of New York’s finest chef’s list for years!”

I found Jeongin at the back of the room whose sweet smile managed to lend me some semblance of confidence. “I’ve always been competitive,” I said, and the answer summoned a chuckle from Changbin.

“Well, I guess we get to see for ourselves right after these brief words from our sponsors!”

“Cut!” the producer yelled, and I sighed in relief.

But it was a short-lived reprieve, and Changbin leaned in closer to shorten the space separating our stations. “I don’t want to embarrass you, sweetheart,” Changbin grinned, and it took everything I had to resist the temptation to hit that perfect face.

“Shut the hell up,” I muttered, briefly glancing up to see Jeongin offering me a cheesy thumbs up from behind the camera.

Tragically, this time I didn’t feel any reassurance from his warm presence. Instead, I anxiously waited in profound expectation until the recording lights started to flash green, and I put on my best poker face for the camera. “Chefs, today you’ll be making your best dish to impress our judges! We’ll be looking at three categories: taste, presentation, and creativity. You have twenty minutes to finish your dish.”

Twenty minutes?! I was freaking out, running over my best chicken recipe inside my head while the hosts started a vicious countdown that slowly destroyed my resolve. “Go!”

I immediately launched myself into action, running to the fridge to pull out a package of freshly cut chicken. I was relying on years of experience to guide my actions, resorting to my most basic cooking instincts when I cleaned and seasoned the chicken while blocking out the commentary in the background.

Sauté, sauté, sauté, I chanted inside my head while I heated the olive oil and tossed in the chicken strips to cook over the warm stove. Since I had such limited time, I gave each side exactly four minutes to cook before I was moving on to the next step, glancing over at Changbin’s station to watch him slice several ingredients with precision.

Jesus, he looked really hot doing that!

“Stop it, Y/N,” I whispered to myself, rolling up my sleeves while I grabbed my mixing bowl to prepare the honey and balsamic vinegar base for the sauce that I planned to glaze on top of the chicken. I added some garlic to my chicken skillet before stirring in the stock that would elevate the chicken’s natural flavoring.

“Ten minutes, chefs!”

My heart was pounding against my breastbone, and I decided to add rice at the last minute, even though it was a risk since it might not cook thoroughly in time. However, I also knew that it would add some color to the dish, and I was ready to pull out all the risks to reap the benefits.

The kitchen was loud with the sound of sizzling skillets and boiling pots, and I was overheated and flushed because of the rising steam. The smells of intermingling dishes were overwhelming, and I resisted the urge to check on Changbin’s dish because I couldn't handle that pressure.

“Five...four...three...two...one...stop!”

With a long exhale, I threw up my hands and retreated away from my plate. My nerves were still sending trembles along my spine, and I was pretty sure that I could pass out from exhaustion at any moment. Yet, beneath it all, I was also exhilarated from the challenge, and I couldn’t help but smile proudly at my dish sitting at the edge of the counter.

“We’ll let our judges decide,” Kathy said, and several assistants came to collect our plates, bringing them to the panel sitting somewhere off-screen.

I watched their reactions greedily, noting how they maintained neutral expressions for every dish with a certain degree of professionalism. “It was very close,” one of the judges said. “However, we made a decision.”

“The top three,” another continued. “Third place goes to Mr. Lee for his delicious pasta!”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or not, watching one of the hosts place a shiny bronze medal around the young chef’s neck. Surely, that meant Changbin and I were taking the top two positions, but I was desperate to hear them call out my name above his.

“We’ll announce first place,” the judge began, and I was practically hanging from the edge of the counter. “Seo Changbin!”

Unfortunately, there were no words to describe the way my shoulders instantly deflated, and a feeling of existential dread gripped tightly to my heart because of my failure. “Second place goes to Y/N.”

I was shaking, but it wasn’t out of anger for once. I pretended to smile, accepting the medal with a bile taste at the back of my throat. I managed to hold myself together until the show went off air, and I slowly removed my apron while trying my best not to reveal just how affected I was by everything that had happened. “Hey, Y/N,” Changbin said, and I turned around with a sigh.

“Save it, Changbin,” I said. “I don’t need you to rub it in.”

“I’m not,” he said, sweeping his bangs away from his eyes. “Will you just look at me?”

I offered him my full attention. “Well?”

“It was really close,” he said. “You did a good job, and your dish was amazing.”

His words were earnest, and I saw the honesty in his expression. Yet, my pride was still wounded, and I wanted to creep away into the remote corners of my lonely apartment and lick my wounds. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Not everything has to be a competition, Y/N,” he said, giving me a meaningful look that I couldn’t quite understand.

However, if the competition could be considered another step towards my total demise, then I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the next day’s issue of a popular magazine. “Food Critic Daily,” I screamed, snatching the magazine from a sheepish Jeongin. My eyes grew wider when I saw that Changbin had the privilege of gracing the front cover. “This reviewer insists that you listen to everyone who tells you that Seo Changbin’s dishes are some of the finest cuisine in New York City. Perhaps nobody can compare.”

I dramatically fell back against the counter because it was too much for me to handle. I took a deep breath, channeling that emotion into anger as I grabbed the magazine from the top, ripping it slowly in half while my chefs looked on with barely disguised horror. “The insanity stops now!”

“Are you sure about that?” Jisung asked.

“We just have to try something different,” I said, looking around at my gathered chefs.

“Maybe not right now, Y/N,” came Felix’s gentle response.

“Why?”

“Changbin’s here,” Felix whispered, pointing at the kitchen door.

“What?” I growled, immediately turning around to face my kitchen staff. “Listen up! We have to be on our best game tonight!” I pointed at Felix who immediately froze to the spot. “I’m cooking his meal. Send his order to me.”

Felix nodded, relaying the instructions to our waiter while I approached my station with malice. “Y/N,” Chan said softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grunted. “I can do this.”

“I didn’t say that I doubted you,” Chan said. “But I’m worried that you’re pushing yourself too much.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, reaching for my discarded apron.

“Here’s the order,” Felix said, returning promptly. “He asked for the garlic butter chicken.”

I snorted. “Of course he did.”

Nevertheless, I cracked my fingers and got to work, arranging the pots and ingredients across my station. I quietly sharpened my knife, glaring at the revolving kitchen door where I knew that Changbin waited outside in the dining room. Despite the repeated blows to my self-confidence, I was determined to impress him tonight.

After I had sent off Changbin’s order, I returned to the back office to try and rest after pushing myself to the limit. I resisted the familiar urge to grab a cigarette from my bag, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to distract my mind. However, my efforts were in vain because Jeongin eventually started knocking on the door, looking at me with wide eyes. “Changbin said that he wanted to speak to the chef.”

I huffed an annoyed sigh. “That isn’t surprising.”

I slowly lifted myself from the chair, following Jeongin back into the kitchen. I was aware that the other chefs were watching me like I was some kind of wild animal ready to pounce. “Stay here,” I said to Jeongin, pushing my way through the revolving door to enter the dining room.

It wasn’t hard to find him, sitting with his waiter, Hyunjin, at one of the tables near the front entrance. I lowered my head when I started for his section, aware of the weight of his gaze on me the entire time. “You asked for me,” I said, looking down at Changbin with my eyes narrowed.

“My compliments to the chef,” Changbin said. “The food was surprisingly good.”

I chose not to react to his passive-aggressive comment. “Will there be anything else?”

“Just a moment,” Changbin said, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a folded card. “What do you think?”

I snatched it from him ungracefully, smoothing out the surface before I caught the unforgettable name of Kim Seungmin listed across the card. “The Kim Seungmin?” I asked, and I didn’t bother to hide my excitement.

“I can get you an interview with him,” Changbin said. “What do you think?”

I frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Changbin laughed. “Maybe I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

His smile was gone, replaced by a look that I could only describe as sobering. “You should go on a date with me, Y/N.”

It only took me a moment to start laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Changbin sighed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” I replied, watching him as he stood from the table.

“I don’t want you to see me as a competitor,” Changbin said. “I think you’re amazing, and we would be so much better as partners.”

Regardless of his kind words, it still felt like he was mocking me, even if his tone suggested otherwise, and I couldn’t swallow down my pride and bruised ego long enough to acknowledge the truth. Instead, I hardened my gaze, looking at him as someone who continued to ruin our business each day I prepared our menu selections in the kitchen. “I think you should leave.”

“Y/N-”

I took a step back, bowing in front of him before I returned to the kitchen with his eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.

After our regular closing hours, I lingered behind in the kitchen office, staring at the blank computer screen. I couldn’t stop thinking about Changbin, and that was a problem. It was his fault that I was feeling so defeated, and I couldn’t imagine allowing him access to my personal life.

Thankfully, the familiar tone of my cell phone forced my attention elsewhere, and I answered the call with a distracted greeting. “Y/N!” an excited voice announced from the other end. “It’s Jeongin!”

“I have caller ID.”

“Oh, r-right,” he stuttered. “Anyway, I just got off the phone with one of my friends, and he said that his company was looking for a place to host their anniversary dinner this weekend. I mentioned our restaurant because I think the attention might help bring some interest back to JYP!”

I listened intently, feeling a familiar spark of hope. “What company?”

“It’s a huge TV network! The same one that programs Good Morning, New York!”

“How many people?”

“Uh, maybe like a couple hundred?”

I hesitated because I knew how difficult it would be to handle that many guests at one time, but I also knew that Jeongin had been right when he suggested that the publicity could be the push that we desperately required. “Tell them we would be more than happy to host.”

I hung up the phone with a loud exhale. What the hell was I doing?

The weekend approached fast, and I was slowly experiencing the numbing effects of panic when I realized that several of my chefs would be unable to help with dinner preparations for the party that we were hosting. “It might be pushing our limits, Y/N,” Chan said, and he stood next to me while I examined our depleted numbers.

“We can do it,” I said. “Everyone, let’s start preparing the main dishes!”

“Yes, chef!

I took a deep breath because we wouldn’t have a single moment of reprieve to accommodate the orders. But I had convinced myself that enough early preparation would help counter our severe lack of help in the kitchen. Subsequently, I was working my ass off to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly.

“Y/N,” Jeongin said. “People have started to arrive.”

“We can start serving soon,” I said. “Tell the waitstaff to get themselves ready.”

Jeongin nodded, but I could tell that he was nervous, and his lack of confidence was noticeably debilitating. Nevertheless, I encouraged everyone to work harder, trying to pay less attention to the accumulating orders. “Y/N, table eight has been waiting for twenty minutes on an appetizer.”

“I got it!” I shouted back, approaching the front counter with the shrimp plate in question.

“Y/N, what about the crab cakes?”

My heart was skyrocketing inside my chest. “It’s coming!”

“We need the chicken for table six!”

“Y/N, people are starting to ask me about the soup?”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck,” I cursed, trying to settle my breathing because there were dark spots building in my peripheral vision.

Chan graciously reached out for my arm, holding me steady with his strong hold. “We’re understaffed, Y/N, and Felix is crying in the bathroom!”

“Just hold on one second,” I said, pacing back and forth nervously across the kitchen floor.

“Y/N,” Chan said, shaking my shoulders. “We have to call Changbin for help.”

“Changbin!” I yelled, gripping the counter. “Are you serious?”

“We need extra hands,” Chan said. “Changbin told me the other night that he really wanted to support the restaurant.”

“He said that?”

“Call him,” Chan insisted, shoving the kitchen phone into my hand. “Please.”

I released a defeated sigh as I dialed his number, finding it listed in the phone book that we kept in the office. “Hello?” a gruff voice greeted me.

“Changbin,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s Y/N.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” Changbin’s smooth voice responded from the other end. “Did you change your mind about our date, Y/N?”

I groaned. “No, but I actually have something to ask you.”

“Really?” Changbin said, and his tone was playful. “It’s always hard to resist you.”

“I need your help Changbin,” I said, but there was a nasty taste left in my mouth after the words had already come out. “I’m hosting an important party at the restaurant, but my staff can’t keep up.”

I held my breath, waiting impatiently when I heard nothing from the other man. “Give me ten minutes,” he replied before I was greeted with the sound of the dial tone.

Changbin’s arrival was, for once, a breath of fresh air, and I ushered him into the kitchen with eager hands. He had also brought half a dozen of his own chefs, and they fell into order with my staff like a well-oiled machine. It was reassuring, and I felt myself grow lighter on my feet as I moved through the kitchen, filling orders at a much faster speed.

“Let me handle that one,” I said, grabbing one of the tickets from Jisung before rushing back to my station. I started cutting vegetables with a speed that I hadn’t seen since my early culinary school days.

“You look sexy doing that,” Changbin remarked from next to me.

I grinned because the comment was strangely endearing. “You’re just saying that.”

“I really mean it,” Changbin said, and his presence was somewhat intoxicating.

“Focus on your work,” I said, but I could feel that I was blushing.

“That’s cute, Y/N,” he said, reaching out to poke a finger against my cheek.

“Hands to yourself,” I added, and Changbin laughed before he grabbed the handle of his skillet to toss the contents of his dish.

“I think we’re finally caught up,” Jisung announced from the front of the kitchen and there was an audible sigh from my staff in the kitchen.

“What, is this a regular thing, Y/N?” Changbin asked. “How have you survived without me for all these years?”

“Perseverance,” I responded, turning up the heat on my grill and enjoying the accompanying sound of the chicken frying in the sauce mixture.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said, and I couldn’t help but shiver while I tried to figure out if he was talking about me or the dish.

Eventually, serving hours were completed, and most of the chefs had started to clean the mess that we had made of our dwindling supplies. Meanwhile, I studied the satisfied patrons from behind the revolving doors, and I felt proud of everything that had been accomplished. Even if that meant finding help in an unlikely ally who was engaged in polite conversation with Chan and Felix.

“Jeongin,” I said, drawing the younger’s attention.

“Yes, chef!” he saluted, and I bit back a smile.

“Find us some champagne from the back,” I said. “Bring glasses for everyone.”

“I’m on it!” he declared, and I watched him hurry to the back while I took one last look at the lingering party guests.

I wandered through the kitchen, occasionally offering to help clean one of the stations. At the same time, I couldn’t resist a persistent desire to glance at Changbin, watching him from the corner of my eye. For the first time since we had met, my attention wasn’t focused completely on the restaurant.

“I think it was a huge success, Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my musings when he returned from the dining hall. “I spoke to the CEO, and he said they would definitely consider us again as a future host!”

“Hopefully, we’ll have more help,” I said, reaching over to pat Jisung on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Are you sick, Y/N?”

“No,” I laughed, and my gaze immediately locked with Changbin’s. “I’m just grateful.”

Thereafter, Jeongin returned with a bottle of wine and several glasses. I quietly instructed him to give everyone some of the champagne. “Make sure the restaurant clears out,” I instructed Jisung who nodded obediently.

Meanwhile, I watched Jeongin flitter between the kitchen staff, holding out glasses and filling them to the very top with delicate bubbles. “Are we celebrating, Y/N?” Chan asked, pausing next to me.

I smiled. “I think everyone deserves it.”

Finally, Jisung made his return after sorting everything out with the CEO, carefully assisting our waitstaff in sorting out the evening’s conclusion. Thus, I held up a glass of champagne since the restaurant had finally cleared out, waiting patiently while the chefs gathered together for a short celebration. “Thank you,” I said. “To everyone because I was really in over my head.”

“That’s an understatement,” Chan snorted.

“Also, I’m glad that Changbin and his staff were able to help us,” I said. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Cheers!” Jisung shouted, and I brought my glass to my lips to enjoy the cooling effects of the alcohol as it slid down my parched throat.

It was late when I started to send most of the chefs home. I made sure to thank everyone again, smiling brightly because I was incredibly proud of their efforts. “We’re almost done with clean-up, Y/N,” Jeongin said, approaching me with an exhausted yawn.

“I’ll clean the rest,” I told Jeongin. “Everyone else can go home.”

Jeongin nodded, looking up at me with sleepy eyes. I grinned as he trudged out of the kitchen, and I took his place at the counter to wipe down the surface until it was spotlessly clean. “This is very dedicated of you, Y/N.”

I smirked at Changbin’s comment. “It’s the least I can do after tonight.”

“Well, you seem like a very ambitious person,” Changbin said, and I could feel him behind me.

“It’s just...been hard lately.”

“Why?”

I closed my eyes. “Honestly? I was a little worked up because we were losing a lot of business to your restaurant. It hurt my pride.”

“The novelty will wear off,” Changbin said. “People enjoy new things, but they always eventually look for what they really like again.”

“Are you trying to be wise?”

“Maybe I’m still trying to impress you,” he said, and the deep tenor of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

“What?”

“I really like you, Y/N,” he said, and I felt his lips right next to my ear and the warm sensation of his gentle breathing.

His hands smoothed down the fabric of my apron, holding my waist with an unrelenting grip. I shivered when his lips found the sensitive skin of my throat, placing teasing kisses wherever he could find space. He eventually turned me around in his arms, and I was lost in the endless pools of his eyes.

“Are you going to push me away?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” I replied, and it was nothing short of satisfying when he finally kissed me, and I could feel my head spin while my mind tried to process everything that was happening.

I could feel the counter digging into my lower back, and I hopped onto the clean surface while keeping our lips firmly attached. I also grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him between my legs to sear our lips together in a passionate display that stole every bit of oxygen from my burning lungs. He moaned when I let one hand tease the front of his dress pants through the fabric of his jeans and chef’s apron. “Does this mean I can have my date?”

I smiled, curling my fingers into his hair. “Whatever you want.”

“I just want you,” he said, and I seared our solemn declaration with another heart-fluttering kiss.

One Year Later

I had been dreaming, but there was one person who could always summon me from the clutches of my REM cycle. “Sweetheart,” his gentle voice whispered into my ear.

I groaned in protest, rolling over onto my side to avoid Changbin’s persistent wake-up call. However, it was hard to ignore him when I could feel him pull back the covers to settle between my legs. “Don’t do that,” I whined.

“What?”

“You’re trying to convince me to wake-up,” I said. “Let’s sleep longer.”

“Are we gonna skip the opening tonight?” Changbin asked with a husky chuckle.

I sighed, looking up at him with barely-opened eyes. “It’s still so far away.”

“That’s why I’m doing this,” he said, running his hands along my thighs, creeping past the barrier of my shirt.

“Binnie...”

“Y/N,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck this little pussy, and then we’re getting dressed for tonight.”

My eyes shot open immediately. “You better keep that promise.”

Changbin growled low in his chest, pressing a kiss to the front of my panties, and I curled my fingers into his hair because I wouldn’t be able to walk when he was finished with me.

Needless to say, it was a beautiful day for a grand opening, and I studied the front of our new restaurant with pride. It had been a while since the incident that brought us all together, but I enjoyed every day that I spent with Changbin by my side. I had also met so many interesting new people, and our staff finally felt like one giant family. Therefore, we had agreed to open a place together, equipped with a combination of our best staff and servers, and I was excited to welcome tonight’s guests.

“Y/N, should we start kitchen prep?” Jeongin asked, looking at me from inside the front entrance.

“Sure,” I told him with a nod. He clapped his hands together rapidly, disappearing behind the door with my favorite smile.

“Are you not going to help them?”

His teasing voice only brightened my mood, and I felt his arms wrap around me from behind. “I just wanted to see everything before we opened.”

“What do you think?” Changbin asked, looking at me for approval.

I nodded my head with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

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