“Don’t be such a hard-ass,” Shidou says, that signature smirk of his stretching wide across his face. Before you can even respond, he blows a handful of flour directly into your face, giggling like a villain in some slapstick comedy.

Your nose wrinkles as the powder settles, and you cough, glaring at him through the flour cloud. The kitchen looks like it’s been hit by a Christmas-themed hurricane. Flour coats the counters, egg yolks glisten in puddles on the floor, and sugar crunches underfoot like fresh snow.

All you wanted was a simple baking session—some cozy holiday vibes with cookies and cocoa. But with Shidou involved, you should’ve known better. Every attempt to rein him in has been met with chaos.

The flour sticks to your face, your shirt, and even your hair as you focus on salvaging the cookies. Your hands are steady, determined to pipe frosting onto the perfectly baked shapes, but he’s watching, practically waiting for the perfect moment to ruin everything.

He stands behind you, leaning in close. His hands come around you, and the warmth of them presses against your sides as flour smears onto your clothes in messy streaks.

“Always so focused,” he drawls, dragging out the words like they’re part of some inside joke only he gets. “Can’t you have a little fun?”