#and I just started working at a restaurant today and the chef made us a new dish and it was so fucking good

[crickwater]

i dont think I'll work in the food industry for the rest of my life, I think longterm I'm gonna find it really unsatisfactory and draining and my chronic pain makes it also just not a v good idea. all that being said I'm gonna miss getting incredible free food so bad

[thebearer]

PLEASEEEE write about carmy trying to put a baby in reader 🙏🙏🙏

minors dni 18+ also i'm doing two versions of this, this is just the first one since i had another ask for this lol

Carmen barely looked up, seeing you walk through the swinging doors back into the restaurant. Normally, he'd be worried that you were here, coming in unannounced before the dinner rush, his mind would race and tell him something was wrong. Today he knew better, he knew exactly why you were here.

"Hey, Sydney." Carmen muttered, scraping the prepped vegetables into the container, his eyes locking with yours. "I need you to cover for me, Chef."

"Ok..." Sydney muttered, looking from you and Carmen. "Are you good, Chef?"

"What? Yeah, no, yeah. I-I'm good. I just... Gotta order some stuff, and-and I just got a lot of office stuff I need to do." Carmen rambled, cheeks heating with each stammered word.

Sydney was suspect, especially with the way you were looking at each other, but she shrugged it off. "I got it, Chef." She nodded, checking off his prep on her clipboard.

"Good. Uh, if you need me just uh, knock and I'll come out." Carmen nodded, ignoring how her face contorted into disgust, practically sprinting to his office.

You were already waiting inside, dropping your purse on the couch, eyeing Carmen hungrily when he shut the door, twisting the lock behind him. "We don't have long." Carmen muttered, tearing off his apron.

"I don't need long." You hummed, pushing your shorts to the ground, letting them puddle around your ankles.

"You gotta be quiet, baby." Carmen looked at you, eyes glued on your puffy lips, drooling and teasing him when you bent over the couch, nose practically touching the wall.

"I can't promise that." You grinned, looking over your shoulder at him. "Hurry up, Berzatto. Before they need you. I need you."

Carmen snorted, palming himself through his boxers, shuffled steps over towards you with one last look over his shoulder. "I got ya, honey." He muttered, pulling himself out and stroking his length. "You sure this is supposed to work?"

"They said as much as possible when you're ovulating." You huffed, wiggling impatiently. You and Carmen had decided to try for a baby, ditching your birth control only last month. Truthfully, you were using the baby making as an excuse to fuck as much as possible, not that you needed much of one when you were ovulating.

"Never thought I'd hear you complain about having sex." You grinned.

Carmen snorted lightly, letting the head of his cock glide between your folds. "Not complaining." He muttered, teasing your entrance gently. "Never complain, baby."

You started to reply, a sharp, witty reply on the tip of your tongue, cut short by him sinking inside you, pushing into you with one long stroke, stretching you out for him. You gasped, pushing your head into your hands, hopeful to muffle the sound coming out of you.

Carmen's hand sunk into your waist, gripping the fat of your hip to bring you back to him, hips rocking slow and steady against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin one he hoped was muffled through the thick walls.

"Fuck, baby, you feel good. So fuckin' good." Carmen grunted lowly, fingers curling around your hip, jaw clenched to keep himself from groaning.

"Oh! That's the spot, Carm, fuck." You whined, back arching further at one particularly hard thrust, jamming that sweet spot inside of you that had your vision blurring, mind blanking in pleasure.

"Shh, be quiet, baby." Carmen hushed, leaning forward, one hand propped on the wall beside you. "Gotta be quiet. Can't let them- shit- can't let them know what we're doin'."

Carmen's hands curled around your waist, cradling your lower belly, feeling the way it flexed when you clenched around him. He could see it, see you all swollen and big with the baby- his baby. The baby he put inside you. It made Carmen's teeth grit, fucking you harder and harder with a new found vigor, a free hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries.

"Can't let them know I'm fuckin' a baby into you." Carmen rasped, hot breath tickling your ear, leaving you shivering. "Gonna put a baby right in here, hm? That's what you want right?"

"Yes." You whined, tears pricking your eyes. He was making you feel so good.

"You want a baby? Want me to give you a baby, huh?" Carmen growled, his hips snapping further and further, pinning you against the couch.

"Please, Carm. Please gimme a baby." You cried, letting your head fall back against his.

"Since you asked so nicely." Carmen smirked, hips snapping up into yours. "Shit, I- you close? You close, baby?"

You nodded, reaching to move his hand, pushing it further until it was cupping your mound. Carmen got the hint, pinching and rolling your clit until you were gasping and writhing in pleasure, his free hand cupping your mouth while his thrusts got sloppier around you.

Carmen pulled you back, pressing on your spine so you were face first into the couch, ass up and high for him while he pounded into you, chest pressed to your spine, until he was spilling inside of you. Pressed so he was flush to your ass, Carmen emptied his load, hot and filling deep inside of you.

"Hang on, hold on," Carmen muttered when you started to move, hands pressing softly to your side. "I didn't... Fuck, we didn't think this one through. You gotta put your legs up, right?"

You nodded, eyes still glossy, skin still flushed and glowing. Carmen snatched the pillow from the other side, setting it in front of you. "Ok, I'm gonna pull out, and I'm gonna catch it, ok? You just, you lay down. Hips on the pillow."

Carmen pulled out slow, pointer and middle finger catching any dribbling release, pushing them back inside you. You whimpered at the sensation, still sensitive, while you moved to lie on the pillow, his fingers still inside you, propping your legs up on the edge of the couch.

"Shit, I forgot a towel. Fuck, let me just, uh, let me go grab one-"

"-'s alright, Carmen." You hummed, looking at him through fluttering lashes that made his heart skip. "I'll just keep it in. The longer the better."

Carmen tried not to gawk, but he knew he was given away by the rise in his cheeks, heat flushing his skin. His groin ached, a dull throb that had him twitching with heat at the idea. "O-Ok." Carmen muttered, pulling his pants up fastening his jeans.

"Let me grab your clothes, baby, I'll put them on for you." Carmen muttered sweetly, gently putting your panties and shorts on, trying to keep your body as still as possible.

Later, the two of you were walking hand in hand into family, giggly and touchy- you could feel him leaking out of you with every step. It made your tummy trill with heat.

"This smells good." You grinned, eyes batting up at Carmen.

"Yeah? I'll get you a plate. Don't worry 'bout it." Carmen muttered, nodding towards a seat for you.

The room had stilled, eyes on the two of you, suspicious and a little questioning. Carmen looked around, blue eyes darting furiously.

"Oh no fuckin' way." Richie cackled, breaking the silence in the room. "Cousin, no way-"

"What? What are you-"

"-Look at you! Both of you!" Richie leaned back, clapping his hands in laughter. "You're sick, cousin. Sick!"

You blushed, the snickers from Fak and Sweeps, the knowing glances from the others. Carmen blushed furiously, glaring at Richie fiercely. Tina smirked, shrugging when she looked at you.

"I'm sure this building's seen worse with Mikey." She muttered.

"That obvious?" You mumbled, looking around the room, shrinking into your seat.

"A little. You got the glow, honey. At least that's a good thing." Tina grinned, nudging you gently.

When you announced your pregnancy three months later, the entire staff swore baby Berzatto was conceived in the office. "Right there, on that fuckin' couch, cousin!"

[sweetiesicheng]

s.coups - slice of our lives

word count : 1,932

happy birthday to our handsome s.coups ~

-

"finally," you mutter as you sit down on a stack of wooden pallets. you just finished cleaning for the night at the restaurant you work at, but you couldn't help but think about the mistakes you had made earlier during tonight's service.

you dig through your backpack for a bit before opening one of the pockets. you take a box of cigarettes out and open the box to see your lighter and two cigarettes left. you take a cigarette out and light it up.

as you sit in the silence of the alley behind the restaurant, you try to calm down before going home for the night. you don't want to go home still thinking about the service since you have work tomorrow as well.

when you're done smoking the first cigarette, you drop the end onto the ground and reach down to smash it with your foot. the back door to the kitchen suddenly opens, and you see the expeditor walking out.

"hey," seungcheol greets when he notices you.

"hey," you greet back and light the second cigarette.

"you look beat," he comments as he takes his jacket off.

"cause i am," you reply. "we were slammed tonight."

"front of house messed up a lot since myungho’s out sick. we already chewed them out for it,” he mentions. he walks over to you and stands in front of you. "need a ride home?" he offers.

you shake your head, "no. i live pretty far. i'm going to leave after i'm done," you say to him.

"can i stay to make sure you get on your way safely?" he asks, "my mother would kill me if she somehow found out i left one of my coworkers by herself in this crusty alley."

you crack a smile, a first for the night. then, you nod your head. "yea, you can keep me company," you say to him. "i'd offer you a cigarette but i'm out."

he shakes his head, "i don't smoke, not anymore at least."

"better than me," you manage a laugh out. then you sigh, feeling emotions starting to bust out again, but you try to suppress them in front of your coworker.

"you okay?" seungcheol asks you. "hey, look at me. y/n, look at me."

you look down at the ground and watch your falling tears hit the pallet. seungcheol reaches over to take the cigarette away from your hand.

"hey, listen," seungcheol says to you and crouches down in front of you, enough to where he is in your view. "tonight was rough, for everyone. front of house was a mess, and chef shouldn't have taken you off of your station. you're a rockstar in there. no one else can work the desserts better than you."

you start to smile as you listen to him. then you chuckle, "yea, no one better than chef," you say.

"oh whatever. when we had family dinner that one time and you two had your little competition. everyone knew you were the best, even chef. if you hadn't beaten him, then you would have never stepped foot in that kitchen again. you're in that kitchen with all of us for a reason," seungcheol says to you. he reaches in and wipes some of your tears away. "need another pack?" he asks, noticing the empty box next to you.

you shake your head, "i’ll buy one another time," you say to him. "um, thanks. sorry you had to see that," you say to him and wipe the remaining tears with your sleeve.

"no worries. take it easy on yourself," seungcheol replies.

—

"y/n?"

you look over your shoulder and have to do a double take when you see seungcheol.

"oh, hey," you greet and look back at the mixer. "give me a second," you say to him.

"no, you're good. just wanted to tell you that i left something for you in your bag. keep it up," he says before walking away.

you smile and continue working. there are two desserts for tonight's service, but they're the ones you usually go with. with one of the line cooks helping you out today, the two of you finish preparing everything.

eventually, service begins and you help prep ingredients for the next day since you'll have to wait a bit until people want to eat their desserts.

"y/n, i'll love you forever if you save me a piece of cake. i want to bring my girlfriend something yummy from work," one of the line cooks says to you as she passes by.

"you should bring her here," you say to her. "i'll pack you two if we have any leftover," you say and continue prepping ingredients while she goes back to her station.

once some more time passes during service, you start making the desserts for customers as you hear orders called out.

"coming through. watch your feet," you hear someone say as they walk through with a tray.

"shoot, we need more strawberries," the line cook with you says. "i thought we had enough," he mumbles while finishing off making a dessert.

"i can grab more. finish these for me," you say to your coworker before leaving your station. you quickly go into the walk-in fridge and grab more strawberries before leaving. you quickly walk back, trying to avoid being in the way of the other chefs and employees. "here you go," you say to your coworker.

"thanks," he replies before finishing the desserts and bringing them to the pass.

the rest of service goes smoothly, much better than the past few shifts where you had been more stressed out. after you finish cleaning for the night, you grab your stuff and notice something in your bag, a new box of cigarettes. there's a note attached to it with a phone number and a smiley face drawn onto it.

you smile and pack up your things before leaving. you put your headphones on and start walking to the subway station.

—

[ y/n ]

you trying to keep me

hooked?

[ seungcheol ]

just trying to save you a trip.

did not mean to supply to

your habit.

my apologies. my apologies. 🙇🏻‍♂️

[ y/n ]

haha all good

thanks

[ seungcheol ]

no problem. get home safe.

—

the door to the condo slams open, "am i late?" seungcheol asks as he hurries in, all while holding a pizza box.

"you have three minutes. come on, sit. i'm hungry," you say to him as you crack open two beer cans.

"the pilot better not follow her again," seungcheol says as he throws his jacket onto the arm of the couch. he sits down next to you and pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so you two can reach easier.

"do you think she'll give a rose to him?" you ask as the show starts. "oh, not him!" you shout when you see an eliminated contestant back on the screen. “what is he doing?”

"geez...that's embarrassing," seungcheol comments.

the two of you watch the newest episode of "the bachelorette" together. both of you mentioned how you wanted to hang out, so you two eventually set up a date on one of the days that the restaurant is closed.

"that is way too embarrassing," seungcheol comments again as you two watch what is happening. "and what he said to her was even more embarrassing."

"yea, he's kind of aloof about all of this," you say as you grab a slice of pizza. "i'm surprised he hasn't gotten out yet. i bet he's just in this still cause he's cute," you add on as you watch the episode.

"you think he's cute?" seungcheol asks you. you look over at him.

you shrug, "i mean, yea. he's cute, but he's all over the place," you reply.

seungcheol leans back, putting his arm on the back of the couch. he tilts his head as he looks at you. "what about me?" he asks.

"huh?"

"am i cute?”

you stare at him, pizza in hand. you can feel yourself blushing from his words, knowing that your answer is in your face.

"you're cute. did you know that?" seungcheol asks.

"we're supposed to be watching "the bachelorette" right now," you say to him, trying to calm down internally at the same time.

he grins, "alright. let's watch," he says to you before looking at the tv screen again.

you look forward, eating a bit of pizza and trying to focus on the latest episode. you finish your slice and finish off the beer too. the episode continues on with a few dates and a jaw dropping moment happening.

you sit back on the couch with a second beer in hand. while watching, you feel seungcheol move his arm to be on your shoulders. since you want to be comfortable, you eventually lean against seungcheol as you two watch the episode together.

"damn, i should've bought flowers..." seungcheol mutters while the bachelorette starts handing roses to certain people. you look at seungcheol again. "you didn't hear that."

"uh huh," you start and look at the tv screen, "right." you chuckle while you hear seungcheol sigh. "you can give me some next time i come over," you say to him.

"next time? you're giving me a next time?" seungcheol asks.

you look at him again and smile, "you're cute too, choi seungcheol."

—

"stop! i'm testing new flavors!" you whine at seungcheol, who is trying to snag another piece of cake from the counter. "seungcheol! just wait like five more minutes."

"it's just one cake, y/n. you have a bunch of them. i'm sure it's great," seungcheol says to you, finally standing away from the table. with no cake in hand, he crosses his arms and leans against a counter while watching you decorate the cakes and put little details on top of them. "you going to make this for tomorrow's service?"

"yea. i've been thinking about making new stuff lately," you mention. "i think it'll be good for a change," you say and pick up a plate. "okay, taste test please," you say to seungcheol and hand him the plate.

he grabs the plate with one hand and opens a drawer next to him to take a fork out. he cuts into the dessert and takes a bite. you watch his expression change into a smile.

"oh, that's really good, babe," he says to you and continues eating. "i think this is better than the chocolate mousse."

"let me try," you request. seungcheol feeds you a piece. "i think it needs something on top," you state your opinion. "maybe just something for color."

you open the fridge and start looking for something to garnish the dessert before opening the freezer as well.

"what about this?" seungcheol points to something in the freezer.

"you think?" you ask.

"you have more of them, so it can't hurt to try," seungcheol says to you.

you make more desserts with little modifications to them, trying to determine which one is the best. seungcheol gives his opinions, which helps you a lot as both of you taste everything.

"this one is the best," you say to him, pointing at one of the cakes.

seungcheol nods, "yea, that one is really good. i like this one a lot too."

"hmm...maybe i should just wait until next week. i'll need to ask mingyu to order some ingredients at the restaurant," you say to him.

"you have plenty of time," seungcheol says to you. "you did a great job," he adds with a smile.

"thanks for helping me out."

"of course, babe."

[bodyhopper-files]

Body Hopper Files: Mateo

My stomach churned and my mind spun as I found myself in a new body. Again. It was a familiar feeling, but it never got any less disorienting. I had no control over these spontaneous jumps from one person's life to another's. For the past two months, I had been living as a quiet college professor. But now, who was I? Where was I?

I took in my surroundings with a quick glance: a busy kitchen filled with people moving all around. I felt young, definitely younger than the professor. How young, though? Looking at my hands, I saw light brown skin and some tattoos on my arms. My uniform was black and stained with food, an apron tied around my waist. In my pocket, I found a phone that unlocked with my new face as the ID. I switched quickly to the camera and saw myself for the first time; a cute face with full lips and scruffy facial hair greeted me. Probably around 19 years old. Not bad, not bad at all.

Putting the phone away, my next instinct was to feel myself up through the fabric of my uniform. A nice long and thick surprise awaited me in between my legs - a big new sausage to play with. It was quite the contrast from the professor's more modest middle-aged penis (not that I'm complaining! I've grown to appreciate all types of genitalia during these random body switches).

Suddenly, a stern voice called out behind me - Mateo's boss, probably. "Mateo! Get back to work! And stop taking selfies!"

Shit, I was about to get this kid in trouble if I didn't start pretending to be him real soon.

I quickly straightened up and turned to face my boss, trying to play it cool. "Sorry sir, just checking the time," I said with a sheepish smile. I figured I was young enough I could still play it cute and get away things like that.

He grunted in response and turned his attention back to the food he was preparing. With a developed skilled I’d picked up from so many random body hops, I returned seamlessly to Mateo’s daily work, navigating the busy kitchen with ease, knowing exactly what needed to be done and when. It was clear that he was well-liked by his coworkers, who joked and laughed with him throughout the shift. Despite the long hours and physical demands, Mateo loved his job, and before long I felt the same youthful passion as I helped the line cooks out, bussed tables, and flirted with the waitresses. It was all in a night’s work for Mateo.

Before I knew it, closing time neared and the orders slowed. I untied my apron, wiped sweat from my brow and headed to the break room for a much-needed rest before the restaurant closed. Sinking into a plastic chair, I pulled out Mateo's phone again. There were dozens of notifications - mostly messages from friends and family wondering how he was doing in the big city. But I was more interested in his dating profiles.

As I scrolled through the apps, I couldn't help but chuckle at some of the messages he'd been receiving. There were dirty one-liners, shirtless selfies, and even a few invitations to kinky encounters. Mateo clearly had a way with the guys! I responded to a few messages, using his usual flirty tone, all the while feeling that big new sausage throbbing underneath Mateo’s dirty workwear. It wasn’t likely that I’d be spending the night alone, given how some of the men I’d messaged in Mateo’s apps had responded.

"Good work today, Mateo," the head chef called out as he walked by, giving me a friendly pat on the back. I smiled and nodded, trying my best to act natural and turn attention away from my raging boner.

The restaurant finally closed for the night and everyone began to clock out. I made sure to say goodbye and thank all of Mateo's coworkers, who were all too eager to invite me out for drinks. It was tempting, but I had bigger plans for my first night in this new body.

I made my way to the locker room, quickly changing out of my sweaty work clothes along with all the other restaurant staff and into street clothes for a night out. Mateo's phone buzzed with another notification - it was one of the guys I'd been messaging earlier. He wanted to meet up at a nearby bar.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, I headed out into the city streets and made my way towards the bar. As I walked, I couldn't help but soak in the feeling of being young and carefree again. It had been so long since I had felt this way, as most of my recent host bodies had been older men with their own set ways and responsibilities. But as Mateo, I could be whoever I wanted to be - a young, attractive guy, new to the city with his whole life ahead of him.

I arrived at the bar and spotted my date sitting at a booth in the corner. He looked just as good as in his pictures; an attractive young man about Mateo’s age but with a larger, more dominant physique. He waved me over eagerly as I approached, giving me an appreciative once-over.

"Hey there, Mateo," he said with a grin as we awkwardly hugged hello.

"Hey," I replied with a flirty smile that came naturally in this body.

We settled into our seats and ordered drinks, chatting about our lives and interests as I delved into Mateo’s memories and personaltiy. As we talked, he reached across the table to brush his hand against mine, sending shivers down my spine. His touch was electric against Mateo's skin.

The conversation eventually turned more flirtatious as our drinks continued to flow. My hands trembled slightly as I leaned in closer to his, my heart racing with anticipation.

“Mateo, do you want to come home with me?”

Finally, it was time for me to give into the urges of the body I now possessed. I smiled seductively and said "I'd love to."

We quickly paid our tab and headed out into the night, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. As we walked, I could feel Mateo's young, toned body tingling with excitement at the prospect of what was to come.

When we arrived at his apartment, he led me straight to the bedroom, kissing me passionately as we tumbled onto the bed. I eagerly returned his kisses, reveling in the feeling of stubble against Mateo's soft skin.

We had a wonderful evening together, fucking again and again with seemingly unlimited stamina, and then laughing and talking late into the night. I felt comfortable and at ease in Mateo's body, like I could truly be myself, even though I knew I was just a pretender. As it got later, we cuddled up close and fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, sunshine streamed in through the window as I slowly awoke. For a moment, I had forgotten I was in Mateo's body. As I looked around the unfamiliar room, the memories of the night before came flooding back. I smiled thinking about the fun we'd had.

I couldn't help but think my time as Mateo was going to be great. As long as was him, I'd have an easy job that he absolutely loves and hook up with hot men every single night! ----- ----- -----

Original story and AI Illustration by @bodyhopper-files

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Azul Ashengrotto - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Azul Version ～Let's Make Rice Croquette 1～

Ghost Chef: Alright, today we'll have you make "rice croquettes."

Azul: Rice croquettes, hm. The ristorante my mother manages serves them, so I have tasted them before.

Azul: If I recall, the crisp shell on the outside and the soft risotto on the inside, as well as the different possible combinations of ingredients within it, make for a fantastic dish.

Ghost Chef: Your family runs a ristorante? Then you must be very knowledgeable in the kitchen. This course may be too easy for you.

Azul: Oh no, not at all. I appreciate all the guidance and encouragement you can give me.

Ghost Chef: Come now～ Don't be so modest! Alright, time to start cooking.

Ghost Chef: First, you'll make the risotto. Mince the onion and fry it in the pan.

Azul: Mince the onion, right. …Just in case, I will go over the proper procedure once. Could I ask you to confirm if what I say is correct?

Ghost Chef: Absolutely. It's good that you don't try to breeze past the basics.

Azul: After cutting the onion in half lengthwise, place the cross-section face down on the board. While leaving the root intact, make cuts at even intervals from the edge to the center.

Azul: Then, turn that onion 90 degrees and cut perpendicular to the previously made cuts… Does that sound correct?

Ghost Chef: Yep, that's perfect. Make sure to cut them in 3 to 4mm intervals so they're big enough to taste and use for forming the balls.

Azul: Understood. Now then, I hold the knife in my dominant hand, hold the onion with my other hand, and slice with the knife vertically…

[slip! roll…]

Azul: …Pardon me. It seems I didn't have a tight grip on it.

Azul: …Now then, I'll try that once more―

[slip! roll…]

Ghost Chef/Azul: …

Ghost Chef: Uhhh… Azul-kun, by any chance… Do you not have much experience in cooking?

Azul: That's correct. I am hoping to improve myself in this regard slightly through this Master Chef curriculum.

Ghost Chef: So, when you said you'd appreciate my guidance and encouragement, you really meant it!?

Azul: Indeed. Is something the matter?

Ghost Chef: You were carrying yourself with the confidence of a seasoned chef… So I completely assumed you were already skilled in the art of cooking.

Azul: I am able to discern the difference between something tasting good or bad, but cooking is outside of my wheelhouse.

Azul: And thus, I enrolled in Master Chef, as I believed that since this course is geared towards those unfamiliar with cooking, it would be a perfect way to start gaining experience.

Ghost Chef: I see… I find your approach commendable, Azul-kun. You're completely different from the owner of the restaurant I worked at back when I was alive!

Azul: The owner of the restaurant from when you were alive? …Could you perhaps elaborate a little more on them?

Ghost Chef: That owner couldn't cook anything at all, but would always find something to complain about my dishes.

Ghost Chef: Every time they tried to lecture me, I'd fume and think, "They're all talk, they don't know a thing about the amount of effort I had to put into this!"

Azul: …I think I understand. Just the other day, one of the staff members of the Mostro Lounge said something similar to me.

Azul: Something along the lines of… "MAAAN, AZUL, ALL YOU DO IS YAP YAP YAP EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T KNOW SQUAT 'BOUT COOKING～"

Ghost Chef: Is that so? Then… Is that the reason why you decided to try to gain cooking experience?

Azul: Indeed. Although, I wouldn't say I'm quite so immature as to take such an emotional outburst that seriously…

Azul: But I find it vexing to even be told such a thing, so if someone believes I lack experience, then I should work at it to mitigate that. Thus, I've come here.

Ghost Chef: Good for you, Azul-kun, listening to what your staff has to say and putting yourself in their shoes.

Ghost Chef: Hearing that situation, I'll make sure to do my best and explain everything to you from a chef's point of view.

Azul: I can't possibly imagine that there would be any similarities in the point of view between the temperamental guy from my dorm and a chef that worked at a five-star restaurant…

Azul: But this should surely be a good experience. I am fully open to your instruction.

Ghost Chef: Sure! If you ever have any questions, you're always free to ask me anything.

Azul: Thank you.

[sizzle, sizzle…]

Ghost Chef: Looks like the onions are cooked. Time to add the rice into the frying pan.

Azul: Understood.

[rice pours into the pan]

Ghost Chef: If you stir too much, you can damage the rice. The key here is to gently cook it over low heat.

Azul: Chef, what constitutes low heat?

Ghost Chef: You'll want to set it to about where the tips of the flames aren't touching the bottom of the pan.

Azul: I see. I'll lower the heat slightly, then.

[click…]

Azul: Perfect. Now I just need to stir the wooden spatula slowly so the rice doesn’t get dama… HUH!?

[cracking sounds]

Azul: In the short amount of time that I took to adjust the heat, the rice started sticking to the pan…!

Azul: If I were to try to forcibly peel it off, the rice could be damaged and there is a risk that the quality of the dish would be lowered.

Azul: However, if I were to factor in the cost of the ingredients and the time until judging, I won't be able to remake this from scratch…

Azul: Chef, is there a way to recover my progress when the rice has stuck to the frying pan?

Ghost Chef: Yep. Just add a bit of the bouillon we were going to add later, and slowly peel it with your spatula.

[sizzle!]

Azul: It came off so cleanly…! Even in the face of a mistake, you can quickly turn things around… As expected of a pro chef.

Ghost Chef: Ahaha, you must be exaggerating! Although I can't say I dislike your compliment.

Azul: Not at all, this was very eye-opening for me. Please, let us continue.

[Kitchen]

Master Chef―Azul Version ～Let's Make Rice Croquette 2～

Ghost Chef: ―While the risotto cools, why don't you select what you want to put inside the croquettes?

Ghost Chef: Just like you said earlier, part of this dish's fun is the different combinations of texture and flavor that can be made from the chosen ingredients.

Azul: I can absolutely do that. Fufu… I should be more capable of this process.

Azul: For this dish, there will be 3 croquettes on 1 plate. …With that in mind, I would want to create some kind of theme to bring them together.

Azul: My chosen theme will be… "A Subtle Surprise."

Azul: The risotto has a simple tomato-based flavor… Therefore, with these standard ingredients, the results could go either way.

Azul: I'll have to weave everything together and consider good texture, how fulfilling it is, and that hint of surprise― All while not deviating from the recipe…

Azul: …Alright, I'LL GO WITH THESE!

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Silver: …Something smells good.

Silver: I do hope I can live up to what's expected of a Master Chef judge…

Azul: Pardon me. I have brought your dish... Oh, I see, so the person who ordered this was Silver-san.

Silver: So, you're the chef, Azul? I'm looking forward to tasting it.

Azul: I, too, look forward to your tasting it. Here are the rice croquettes that you've ordered.

Azul: These have just finished cooking, so the insides will be hot. Please take caution when eating them.

Silver: Got it. Then… I'll try them now.

Silver: [blows on croquette]

[bite, chew, chew…]

Silver: Oh… There's cheese inside of this one. Delicious.

Silver: This one… There's shrimp. This is also delicious.

Silver: Finally, the third one… I see it has quail egg inside. Right, all three were delicious.

Azul: …Huh, are those your only thoughts?

Silver: Yes. It's was very good.

Azul: Please think a little harder. Isn't there anything else, like comments on specific ingredients you liked, or certain surprising flavors?

Silver: Specific ingredients I liked…? That would be the quail egg.

Silver: It was nice to see the meal I chose was not only filling, but filled with highly nutritional eggs.

Azul: YOUR MAIN TAKEAWAY WAS HOW FILLING IT WAS!? …Ahem, pardon.

Azul: Perhaps I should ask this differently. How did it taste?

Azul: The first one you tried was filled with cheese. I mixed basil into it to help its compatibility with the tomato-based risotto.

Azul: For the shrimp one, I added fried garlic chips to it to give it a little flavorful kick.

Azul: Finally, the boiled quail eggs. I flavored it with a tad bit of ketchup to add a bit of extra favor.

Azul: With that added moisture, it should have softened the flakiness egg yolk slightly, and make for a more enjoyable flavor…

Silver: I see, you put a lot of thought into it.

Silver: Even after your explanation, I still don't really get it at all, but everything truly was delicious.

Azul: YOU DIDN'T GET IT AT ALL!? That's absurd…

Azul: If the judge himself doesn't understand, then all of the extra efforts and ingredients that I put forth into it will have all been for naught!

Ghost Chef: Come now, Silver-kun is saying it's delicious, so I don't think it was all for naught at all.

Azul: However, if my efforts truly couldn't be conveyed… Did I not use enough basil, garlic, or ketchup?

Ghost Chef: I feel like you wouldn't want to put too much in it, either… It can be difficult because everyone's tastes are different.

Silver: My apologies. Perhaps if your judge had been anyone else, they would have been able to fully taste the efforts you put into it the flavor.

Ghost Chef: But you thought it was delicious, right, Silver-kun? That means that Azul-kun's flavoring was still spot on.

Azul: Right… That's right. Putting aside any improvements needed for the cost in time and ingredients, I was able to actually put together a dish that someone considered delicious.

Azul: If I can keep improving my cooking skills little by little, then I won't ever have to hear someone say I'm just "yapping" ever again!

Ghost Chef: Ahaha… Even though you said you wouldn't take something like that seriously… Looks like those words really did have a hold on you.

Requested by Anonymous.

[cwritesforfun]

Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Your Dad's Biggest Fan (Request)

Ginger = Your Name L/N = Your Last Name *** I do not own any of the Bear characters or plot***

Masterlist

Your POV - The Meet Cute

You write lifestyle reviews for Chicago in the Chicago Times and you often get to visit really cool events in the city that you love. You get to attend music festivals, visit new hotels, and just enjoy the city for pay. However, your favorite part is getting to try different kinds of cuisine in the city and you love to shout out places that you truly enjoy visiting because they all deserve success for their hard work. You've always enjoyed food and writing, so this felt like the perfect job for you.

Your father is an amazing cook with restaurants and Michelin stars to prove it. You're used to people using that information against you or for their personal benefit, so you stopped telling people about him. You even started going by your mother's maiden name, so nobody connected you to your father. Your work knows who your father is and you host the annual holiday party at one of his restaurants, which is fine to mix work and family once a year. Your friends like your father, but they don't use you to get to him, which is nice to have people who truly care about you. It's why you find it hard to date because people seek to use you at every turn.

Your work brings you joy and you love doing it. So getting an email from one of the chefs asking you to meet at their restaurant to talk terrifies you. You went to the Bear, a new restaurant that had once been a sandwich shop called the Beef. Your father liked their sandwiches and would often get them when he was on that side of Chicago. The Bear had just opened with a new menu and they hosted a press night where reviewers in the city came to discover more about the restaurant. You were sent by your newspaper company. You met up with other reviewers that were attending the event and you had a blast. The staff was courteous and kind, they also knew what you needed before you needed it. The food was hot and tasty and melted in your mouth. The bathrooms and space were clean. The wine selection matched perfectly with the meal. The Head Chef, Carmen Berzatto even came out of the kitchen to thank everyone. He was young and cute, and he seemed passionate about his place. You commended the event as one of your favorites and talked up the staff in your article. You even mentioned going to the Beef before it became the Bear. You showed your support, so you were confused about why you were being invited back for a chat. It worried you.

You get off the metro train and make your way over to the Bear. You show up outside and notice they're not even open. This makes you even more confused. You open the front door, step in, and see the staff all sitting at the tables eating lunch from what it looks like. They all turn to face you and you exclaim, 'Hi, I'm Ginger from the Chicago Times. I was told to meet Chef Carmen Berzatto here for a meeting now." The guy you recognize as the chef, Carmen Berzatto, looks up and says, "Oh wow you're on time." You reply, "Yes sir, I recognize that we all have a lot going on, so being punctual is always something I strive for. I usually am 10 minutes early to events, but the metro here was packed." A girl sitting at the table says, "I get that, I hate the metro. My name is Sydney. Nice to meet you, Ginger." You reply, "Nice to meet you, Sydney." You see a man near Camen Berzatto ask, "What made you get into reviews? Oh, and I'm Richie." You answer, "Hi Richie. Well I love writing and I love food, so I wanted to combine them for my job. My mom has always told me to work hard to succeed and that's what I did. Chicago Times liked some of my pieces for college and I started as an intern before I became the full-time lifestyle reviewer I am today. It's great." Richie asks, "And you've been to the Bear before opening?" You answer, "My father used to take me here growing up when I was a kid. And whenever I was on this side of town after college, I always returned to the Beef. You all were always packed and everyone was always friendly." Carmen Berzatto asks, "So you weren't lying in your article, that was all real?" You answer, "Yes sir. I am always completely open and honest about my experiences even if they're being paid for by the company. I never want to lie to readers or companies about what I feel." Carmen Berzatto replies, "Your article helped us a lot after you visited. People kept coming in mentioning the Chicago Times article and your support for us. We just wanted to see if you would sign some copies for us to keep." OH MY GOSH!!! Why am I going to cry?!?! You reply, "Oh my! I would be so happy too. That makes me so happy. I truly think you all deserve so much success. You can tell each of you has worked so hard to get to this point and you're all passionate about food. I am a happy supporter of The Bear." You sign copies of the newspaper, get a slice of cake to go, and you say goodbye to the staff. They encourage you to come back and they will push everyone out of the way to serve you, which you thank them for.

As you leave, you start walking down the street until you hear your name. You turn and see Carmen Berzatto running after you. You start walking back towards him and he stops running. You ask, "What's up?" He answers, "I just regret not telling you this one-on-one. I really did appreciate what you said and how you mentioned that I seemed so passionate even just from my small speech to everyone. It was nice to see that people could tell from one moment and it made me feel hopeful." You reply, "No problem, Carmen Berzatto. I can tell you'll do great things with the Bear." He smiles and says, "Please call me Carmy." You reply, "Ok then thank you Carmy." He smiles even wider and says, "I don't normally do this, but you seem so bright and happy. I just think if I don't ask then I'll never see you again and I want to see you again, so would you want to go out on a date?" You answer, "Sure. I'd love to. You already have my number, so just text me. I know you have a crazy schedule and I'm pretty open this month, so let me know when you want to go out." He nods and says, "Ok I will. You got it. Well, have a great rest of your day." You reply, "You too, Carmy."

That was the start of your relationship with Carmy.

Your POV - Telling Your Dad

You smile as Carmy texts you during your family dinner and your father asks, "Ginger, what are you smiling about? Surely it's the roast and potatoes, right? Or is there something you want to tell us?" Your father was honest like you, so there was no way to hide this any longer than you have been. You answer, "I have a boyfriend and we've been dating for 6 months. He is taking a 15-minute break at work right now, so he was texting me. He's a chef and his name is Carmy. He used to work at the Beef, but now it's the Bear." Your father says, "No way, I loved the Beef. I'd love to go sometime to the new restaurant, can you ask for his availability on Wednesdays? I'm always off on Wednesdays and you, your mom, and I can go eat there one day or night. It doesn't have to be next week, but by the end of the month would be cool. I'd love to meet your boyfriend." You reply, "Sure Dad. I can ask." He replies, "Good good. Now tell me more about him and his food." You laugh and talk with your family.

Your POV - Telling Your Boyfriend

You did the nice thing and told your boyfriend about your family wanting to eat at his restaurant on a Wednesday day or night. Carmy was excited and he was able to find a table 2 weeks after that you could sit at for a lunch service. Carmy even told you that lunches are calmer, so he could stop by for his break to talk to your family. Richie would be working as your server, which you liked because Richie could talk and your father loved to ask questions.

It's one week away and Carmy is cooking you both dinner. He always takes off at least one night a week to have a normal night with you and you love it. It's always nice and his food is amazing.

After dinner, you turn on the TV and it's your dad's cooking show. Carmy hands you a glass of wine and your box of cookies before you ask, "How do you feel about cooking shows?" Carmy sits next to you on the couch and answers, "You know how I feel about them. They're just ways for chefs to promote themselves and their businesses, which is nice. But usually, they do it because you get paid a lot. Why?" You answer, "Oh uh well Chef L/N's cooking show was on. I just wondered how you felt about his show." He replies, "I admire the he** out of him. He's inspirational. The way he compliments each drink from appetizer to dinner to dessert on his menu is next-level genius. His staff are also brilliant at transforming the guest experience. I want the Bear to have that level of success. And..." Carmy then goes on a whole monologue about your father and how he loves him. You smile and say, "Ok well let's just say he is my dad and you're meeting him next week. He'd probably love to hear that from you." Carmy gasps and asks, "What are you talking about?" You answer, "I don't ever tell people about my dad because they use me... but you're meeting him next week and I think you should know who he is before then. The last name I've been using for the last 6 months is my mother's maiden name." He replies, "Holy sh**!!! And he's going to be at my restaurant next week! He's been to the Beef several times." You reply, "Oh don't bring that up. He misses the Beef like crazy." He laughs and replies, "Okay. Wow, let's not watch his cooking show right now. I think I'll go crazy." You laugh and turn on a movie.

NEXT WEEK ~ YOUR POV

You spent the night with Carmy and at 5 am as he is getting ready, you hand him your coffee and exclaim, "I'll see you at noon baby." He gasps and says, "Oh sh** I am cooking for my idol today. I need my lucky knife and my lucky shirt." He then starts running around frantically and you rub your eyes. Is he freaking out? Is it too early for this? You are tired. You move in front of Carmy as he walks and you place your hands on either side of his arms. You say, "Please, don't freak out. Treat today like a normal day. Be calm and you've got this. My father is just a normal human at the end of the day. Remember that." He replies, "Yeah yeah. I'm going to tell my staff beforehand because this is big." You reply, "Okay. Well, goodbye and good luck." You send him out with a kiss on his lips.

Hours later, you show up at your house and are driving to the Bear with your parents. You park nearby and walk to the restaurant.

As you walk there, you ask, "Hey Dad, can I tell you something?" Your father answers, "What's up sweetie?" You answer, "Carmy is a huge fan of yours and nearly freaked out this morning. He was calm when I first told him, but today was bad. He couldn't find his lucky shirt and he said his lucky knife was at work. I just want you to go easy on him because I really care about him." Your father replies, "No problem, sweetheart."

You arrive and Neil Fak greets you happily. He shows you to the table and Richie immediately pops up. Richie's jaw drops a little at seeing my father, but he quickly recovers. Richie introduces the Bear and the menu then leaves to get the wine my father chose.

My father exclaims, "I like this place. The people are friendly." My mother adds, "And their service is fast." You reply, "Carmy told them that Dad was going to be here. I think they're all nervous and excited." My mother replies, "I bet they are. Poor things. We should invite them over. Are they ever closed?" You answer, "Mondays. They sometimes are unloading and restocking stock though, so they go in for half the day. You should ask Carmy for the specifics." Your father replies, "Oh I have a few things to ask ole Carmy boy now." You reply sternly, "Dad." He replies, "Ok fine. It's nothing bad. Don't worry."

Richie returns and you're all served. You three eat up the food and it's delicious as always. Dessert shows up and you notice Carmy walking your way. You notice his hands are a little shaky and you stand up. You hug him as soon as he reaches you and he presses a kiss to your cheek before you whisper, "He's just a person. It's all fine." You kiss his lips gently before introducing him to your parents. He slides into the seat next to you as you three talk over dessert. Conversation flows and is going well.

My father asks, "So, I hear you really like my daughter and she really likes you." Carmy smiles and says, "Yes sir. I really like your daughter." My father asks, "And what are your intentions with her?" Carmy answers, "Well sir... uh... I really like her and I'm falling in love with her. She's always supportive and kind. She lights up every room she walks in and people like her. I find her to be the person in my life that I look to for cheering up. I also think I cheer her up. You'd have to ask her though. I just think she's the most perfect and amazing that a person can be... and she has you as her father. Sir, I've looked up to you for a while. I think your work ethic and your drive set you apart from other chefs. Your show doesn't feel like a money grab and it's clear to me you love your family, which is great." My father smiles and says, "Well I appreciate it, son. Now do you think your staff would be free on Monday afternoon? Ginger says you have to unload stock, but I assume you get hungry doing all that heavy lifting. I'd love to treat your staff to some lunch at mine." Carmy replies, "Sure sir. That sounds amazing. We're usually done by 2 pm, but then we'll have to drive there. I'm not sure how long it takes, but I'm sure no later than 3:00 is fine for us." My mother replies, "Great, we cannot wait to host. We'll have Ginger give you the address and times. You can give her the number of staff that will show up, so we can plan accordingly." Carmy nods and my father asks, "Can I say thank you to your staff? I noticed they kept trying to get a glimpse of me from the kitchen. I just want to thank them and you. I really did have a lovely time this afternoon and would love to come again." Carmy answers, "Yeah haha they'd really love to hear it. I better get back to work. I'll see you all soon then." He kisses you, hugs your parents, and goes back to the kitchen.

Your father goes in after him and you watch through the window at your father giving some big speech. You see the smiles on everyone's faces and you're happy for them all. You notice your father pat Carmy on the back and you laugh. Carmy is going to freak out. HAHA!

NEXT WEEK on Monday ~ YOUR POV

You had asked for a half day at work and you were still at work at 2:00 pm in a meeting. It finished, you quickly packed up, sent your last emails, and dashed to the metro. You hopped on and went to your family home.

As you walk your way down your street, you see cars parked out front of your house. I guess everyone from the Bear is already there. Hopefully, your father has kept the questioning Carmy to a minimum. Carmy told you last week that it was so exciting to have him there and meet my family. He also said his staff couldn't stop talking about the meal at your parent's place.

You knock and your mother opens it. She pulls you into a hug and says, "Oh hi sweetie. I thought you would be here earlier." You reply, "I tried to leave, Mom. But I didn't want to leave in the middle of the meeting." She replies, "You're just like your father... Speaking of, your boyfriend has been helping him this afternoon and they seem to be getting along. You should grab him and get him to eat. He's only been eating little snacks with your father." You laugh and say, "Ok Mom." She replies, "You look lovely sweetie. You in business casual make us all look lame." You laugh and say, "I was actually going to change up in my room real quick before I say hi to people." She nods and she lets you go. You finish changing in your bathroom and jump when you see Carmy in your bedroom looking around. You exclaim, "Hey Carmy. What are you doing up here?" He sees you and smiles. You kiss him and he answers, "Your mom said you had to talk to me. You were in the bathroom, so I just waited out here." You reply, "My mom thinks you've been working too hard today. She said you started helping him when you got here and she wanted you to have lunch. She wanted you to see me so she knew you were being looked after. It's a mom thing." He replies, "Oh that's really sweet of her. I can take a break and eat with my lovely girlfriend." You reply, "I almost thought you said eat your lovely girlfriend." He gasps and replies, "Babe, we're at your family home. Oh speaking of it, your mom did show your baby album to everyone. Everyone loved it. You were so cute." You reply, "We're making a pit stop to talk to my mom first then we can eat." He laughs then follows you.

You make a plate of food and find space on a couch next to Sydney. Carmy slides next to you and puts an arm around your waist. Everyone starts asking you about your baby photos. Oh gosh... this is great. Richie seems to like this one where you resemble a gremlin and everyone suddenly thinks you need bangs again.

Your father pulls a chair up and so does your mom. Everyone talks, laughs, and enjoys the day.

Masterlist

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 4]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

You were half asleep on Seonghwa's shoulder, on the way to the restaurant. Jongho was the designated driver for today, going around to pick everyone up before going to the restaurant.

"So, did you have fun last night? Getting to know the owner?" Wooyoung turned around from the passenger seat with a teasing smile. You shot him a weird look while Seonghwa kicked the back of his seat.

"I know you're older, hyung. But I will kick you out if you do that to my car again." Jongho threatened as he drove.

"We're here." He parked the car. You got out, pulling your hood up tiredly. Seonghwa quietly strolled beside you, his arms tucked into his coat pockets.

"Yunho gave me the passcode." You yawned and keyed in the passcode.

"He's not coming?" Seonghwa asked.

"Not this early. He looked tired yesterday and stressed out after trying to help me with the prep. Anyway, it'll be much faster with just 4 of us doing the prep and baking." You shrugged, opening the door.

"What did you guys make yesterday?" Wooyoung tilted his head while Jongho turned the lights on.

"Blackberry apple tuile in the dehydrator, made the shortcrust pastry for the tartlets and marinated the pork medalions for dinner service." You informed. All of you hung your coats up in the small storage room and got to work right away. With aprons on and tools laid out, you all knew what to do immediately.

"State what you're taking on so we can keep track of things." You called out, a sharpie in hand and a piece of paper in front of you.

"I'll get started on the red velvet cake batter so we can get it in the ovens and cooled in time for icing." Jongho said, heading into the walk in with a big bowl to gather ingredients.

"Guess that leaves me on the palmiers first." Wooyoung pulled his sleeves up.

"Shall I do the cheesecake?" Seonghwa asked. You nodded and crossed out the item on the list.

"I'll continue with the tartlets then. Speak up if you need help." You retrieved the base dough from the fridge and the mini tart shells to begin blind baking them.

When Yunho came in, about an hour after you, with Mingi, Hongjoong, Yeosang and San, they were all greeted with the amazing smell of sugar, butter and vanilla filling up the restaurant space.

"Damn, I'm hungry." Mingi said.

"I need them to sign the contracts." Yunho walked in with the manila folder tucked under his arm. The boys, except Hongjoong, curiously followed behind him, wanting to catch a glimpse of the crew that was behind the amazing smells.

"Good morning!" Yunho smiled. All 4 of you turned to the group at the door with acknowledging nods before focusing back on your own tasks in front of you.

"Sorry to interrupt. I have the contracts for all of you to sign." He cleared his throat.

"Sure." You all stopped momentarily to gather.

There was a moment of silence as the 4 of you read through the contract that Yunho gave out. Meanwhile, the other boys with Yunho were staring at you, the way you exuded coolness.

"Here's a pen." Yunho held out the pen to you. You were the first to sign. After that, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho followed suit.

Just like that, you handed the contracts back to Yunho and broke apart to your own areas of the kitchen.

"Yunho." You stopped the owner in his tracks. You nodded over to the main prep table in the middle and he walked over, tilting his head curiously. The other boys stood behind him. There was a tray that you brought over, with some red-purplish stuff on it. You lifted a piece to Yunho.

"Thank you but what is this?" He bowed his head gratefully but was still confused. You gestured for him to take a bite. He did and his eyes widened with excitement.

"Is this what we made yesterday?!" He beamed.

"Yes. Blackberry, apple tuile with thyme." You said. Yunho held the small piece between his fingers, like it was a piece of gold.

"Wow. I helped make this." He said in awe. You hummed, amused at how stunned Yunho was.

Yunho took your appearance in. You weren't just wearing an apron like yesterday, there were tweezers sticking out of pockets, a timer clipped to your sleeve and two towels hanging on the string.

"I'm (y/n). That's Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho." You suddenly spoke, pointing to each person on your team that was busy.

"I'm Mingi. This is San and Yeosang." The other tall guy introduced. You figured they would be the wait staff.

"Excuse me. Hot tray coming through." Wooyoung said, taking a tray of palmiers out from the oven. The boys shrunk back behind Yunho, jumping out of the way. You turned back to focus on your tartlets, making the custard that will go under the strawberries.

"We'll be out of your way." Yunho quickly said, ushering his friends out. They were disappointed they were not offered any samples of food like Yunho was.

"My cakes are still in the oven but shall I start on the madeleines? We'll put them in once we have oven space." Jongho asked.

"Yes. Are you done with the cheesecakes, Hwa?"

"They're in the oven. I'm open now, do you need help with the tartlet assembly?" He walked over, drying his hands. You nodded and he laid everything out for you.

"Make the gelatin glaze?" You requested. It will be tart shell, with a thin layer of strawberry jam at the bottom, then vanilla custard over the top and a mix of fresh strawberries and basil on the top.

"Last batch of palmiers in." Wooyoung announced.

"Get started on the yuzu loaves please. We need them cooled for the drizzle." You replied. He gave a thumbs up. Meanwhile, San and Mingi have been peeking in, they were both mesmerised by the way you worked with your team. Mingi's parents owned a restaurant but he had never seen people who this way in a kitchen before.

"You two! We need to start setting up before opening." Hongjoong grabbed them by the back of their necks to drag them to the front counter where Yunho was.

"I'll be on coffee." Mingi said.

"I'll help you with that." San raised his hand. Hongjoong would be managing the cashier while Yeosang will serve customers.

"Yunho should float, introduce yourself as the owern." Hongjoong suggested. The others nodded in agreement and Yunho hummed. Soon, the doors will be open and people will be here.

"Sorry to interrupt but we've decided not to serve this first yuzu loaf since it is a little lopsided." You said.

"What she means is, you guys can have it for breakfast before opening." Seonghwa clarified. The 5 boys immediately bowed.

"It smells so good." Mingi said in awe.

"Enjoy." You and Seonghwa went back to the kitchen to continue. The 5 boys crowded the yuzu loaf like vultures, digging into it with forks. They didn't even bother cutting into it to portion out, they went straight for it.

"Oh my god... It's so good." San melted.

"Where did you find these people? This is amazing!" Yeosang said, eyes wide in surprise on the taste.

"Not me, Hongjoong hyung." Yunho chewed his food. Hongjoong smirked proudly. They didn't realise that you were watching them in amusement, especially when they fought over the last piece.

"What are you watching?" Jongho tilted his head when he saw you loitering at the kitchen entrance.

"They're fighting for the last bit of Wooyoung's yuzu loaf. Like seagulls fighting for the last shrimp." You chuckled.

"You look like you're watching television." Wooyoung laughed.

"It feels like I am." You replied. You walked away to continue your task. Once the fresh strawberries were mixed with basil, you spooned them over the custard layer.

"Done. You can jelly glaze them." You told Seonghwa. He nodded and brushed over the gelatin mixture which will make the fruits look shiny and glossy. When each item was done, you put one piece of each item on a plate to bring it out. Most importantly, you wanted Yunho to try them to get his opinion.

"This is a piece of each item. You've had the yuzu loaf. This is lemon poppy seed madeleines, strawberry basil tartlets and palmiers. For the cakes, New York cheesecake and red velvet." You explained.

"The yuzu loaf was super good, by the way." San smiled.

"I'll be sure to tell Wooyoung." You gave a nod. After that, you retreated back to the kitchen.

"Wait, strawberry basil? Like the thing on pizza?" Mingi blinked, realising one of the treats that you had just brought out to them. This time, Yeosang cut up each item.

"Oh my... Okay, this is my new favourite." Hongjoong covered his mouth as he chewed, pointing at the red velvet cake.

"This seashell cake things would go so well with coffee." Yunho said as he took a bite.

"Ah! Okay, let's quickly finish up and clear the counter. We're opening in 30 minutes." Yunho panicked, realising the time. His heart suddenly lurched and his stomach churned uncomfortably, he was getting too nervous and anxious.

"Let's do a final sweep." Yeosang and San grabbed the brooms to clean the floors while Mingi and Hongjoong went around to wipe the tables and chairs.

"I'm going to... get stuff." Yunho said to his friends and walked away. From the corner of your eye, you watched him cross the kitchen and enter the walk in fridge, closing the door behind him.

"Nervous?" Yunho jumped when you appeared. Your arms crossed and your eyebrows raised.

"Yeah... It's finally happening... And I just don't want it to fail." He hung his head down, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why do you think it will fail?" You cocked your head to the side. The stoic look on your face made Yunho confused on whether you were asking a rhetoric or not.

"It's my first time doing this, clearly I've not been the efficient restaurant owner. I was supposed to do this with my grandmother. This was her dream. And if I waste it, I'll never forgive myself." He shook his head. There was a silence in the walk in fridge until Yunho heard you let out a soft sigh.

"You've said it yourself. This is your first time. It's a learning process and you'll still continue to learn. Your grandmother must have believed in you to give your this opportunity." You said.

"All that you have done, it is not a waste. What is a waste is you panicking here in the walk in when the place hasn't even opened yet."

"You're right..." Yunho nodded.

"Don't scare yourself with the negatives of what can go wrong. Go in with a fresh, open mind, be excited for what can happen and the positives." You advised.

"Thank you, (y/n)! I'll go out now and open." Yunho grinned happily and ran out. You walked out.

"What?" You blinked, seeing the 3 boys staring at you.

"Naughty (y/n). With the boss? On day 1? In the walk in?!" Wooyoung teased with gasps. You rolled your eyes, throwing your tea towel at him as you went back to your station.

"Are you good?" Seonghwa asked softly, coming to stand next to you. You looked up at him and nodded. He pulled you in to gently stroke your head. You all finished up the rest of the cafe confectionaries, getting some extras ready in case they sell out.

"Take a small break everyone. Get a drink, we can observe the cafe opening. Then we'll start cleaning and discuss dinner service." You instructed.

"Okay." The 3 replied, putting all their used dishes together to clean later on. Wooyoung and Jongho went out to get coffee at the front of the house, where Mingi and San were.

"Want a drink that's not coffee? They have ades." You laughed.

"Sure." Seonghwa walked out with you. You were just in time to see Yunho open the doors and flip the sign to open.

You watched with a small smile, Yunho grinned as he greeted the first customer that was already in the queue. There wasn't a large queue but people must have been curious seeing the posters around.

"Here." Jongho handed you a coffee.

"Thank you." You received it and took a sip. The boys went back into the kitchen first while you continued to linger around.

"Sorry, can I make a drink for Seonghwa? He doesn't drink coffee." You asked.

"Of course. Want us to make something?" San offered. You shook your head, grabbing a glass and whatever you needed. You didn't want to break their momentum when orders were already starting to come in from customers. After mixing a drink for Seonghwa, you moved out of their way.

"Here, Hwa. I mixed the tropical fruits and topped it up with soda." You handed the glass to him.

"Thanks." He patted your head and took a sip before continuing his cleaning. There were two sinks so you all just took turns cleaning up. While waiting your turn, you wiped down your station.

"I'm craving a reuben." Seonghwa said.

"Reuben? Nah, monte cristo for me." Wooyoung laughed.

"What's with both of you craving sandwiches all of a sudden?" You scoffed while rolling your eyes.

"Basically they want to make ham and salt beef for our next cooking get together." Jongho spoke, going to keep the leftover ingredients in the walk in.

"It has been so long since we've made those two things... I don't know if I remember how to..." You scratched your head.

"Liar." All 3 boys coughed.

"You know what? You make your own ham and you, make your own salt beef." You glared at them. Wooyoung dried his hands while laughing, coming over to hug your arm.

"My precious (y/n), you've made things so many things more complex than ham and salt beef that you saying you've forgotten how to make it is a joke. You aren't fooling anyone, especially any one of us." Wooyoung pinched your cheeks.

You swatted his hands away and went out to see how the cafe was doing. Most of the tables were filled, with customers enjoying the drinks and food.

"Oh, (y/n)!" Yunho jumped when he turned around and almost bumped into you.

"I didn't think so many people would show up." He said. You hummed, nodding your head as you continued to look around.

"The confectionaries are moving fast. Everyone likes all of them." He blurted out with a big grin. Honestly, Yunho had to urge to hug you and thank you for helping him at the start, in the walk in.

"Told you. Worried for nothing." You looked up at him but your face didn't show that you were teasing or making fun of him for his nerves earlier.

"You were right." He nodded in agreement with a shy smile.

"Umm, excuse me." A customer stood at the counter and you nodded over for Yunho to go. He went to attend to the customer while you went back into the kitchen.

"Ah! I need a break." Mingi complained as he entered after you.

"It's only been an hour." Jongho stated.

"Let's discuss our dinner menu and break for the day." You said as the 3 gathered around you at the kitchen island, ignoring Mingi. But Mingi stuck around, curious to listen in.

"Let's do the pork tenderloin medallions with cherry madeira sauce. I'm not sure how the crowd will be so let's not accompany it with the risotto this time since those are cooked to order. We'll do a parsnip puree as the starch component. Then a roast chicken with gochujang butter under the skin." You said.

"What's the starch for the chicken?" Seonghwa asked.

"We should do mixed roast vegetables. They can sit under the chicken as the trivet and they'll roast in the chicken fat- butter mixture." Wooyoung suggested.

"For seafood, we'll do a cioppino with crusty bread? We got some shellfish and we'll cook that with the monkfish." You said.

"I think we should have a pasta option." Jongho voiced out.

"Let's do miso butter tagliatelle with mixed mushrooms and borttarga." Seonghwa decided. The rest of you nodded then discussed some simple appetisers to make.

"Two desserts. One light, one heavy." You told them,

"I would say we do something simple. Panna cotta with raspberry coolis. Then bukkumi with makgeolli ice cream." Jongho suggested.

"That's a good idea. One western and one korean dessert." Wooyoung agreed. You hummed and wrote it down on the paper. Mingi quietly left the kitchen.

"What's with that look?" Hongjoong asked him when he came out.

"I just listened in on the kitchen team plan tonight's dinner menu. Like wow, I want one of everything they're preparing. It all sounds so good and amazing." Mingi said, star stuck like he had just witnessed greatness or a celebrity.

"Get back to work. There are customers that need service." Yeosang waved everyone back to their stations. Wooyoung came out.

"Yunho? Do you have time for us to quickly discuss the dinner menu before we leave for the afternoon?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Yunho nodded and left Hongjoong to the cashier as he entered the kitchen. When he entered, he immediately noticed you weren't there. He wanted to ask where you went.

"This is what our team discussed earlier." Jongho handed Yunho the paper where you had been scribbling on earlier with sharpie.

"Sorry, you might need to explain all this to me." He apologised with a sheepish smile.

"Sure." Wooyoung, Jongho and Seonghwa explained all the dishes to him, the components, how they will be cooked, etc. However, Yunho was slightly distracted by where you were.

You were actually standing outside in the cold, taking in some fresh air. After a stint of cooking, you usually wanted to get some fresh air on your own with peace and quiet, away from the busy kitchen. That's why the 3 usually let you be and gave you the space that you wanted, for as long as you needed.

He wondered if you were okay. But if your friends were not worried, Yunho shouldn't be.

"I'm ready. Let's go when you're done." You poked your head in to tell the boys and left without acknowledging Yunho. To be honest, you didn't even see him.

"Thank you for coming in so early. I'll see you all tonight." Yunho bowed to them.

"No problem." Seonghwa smiled.

"See you." Wooyoung said and the 3 bowed before exiting the restaurant. Yunho watched from the window as you waited for them by Jongho's car. Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you.

"I'm tired." You leaned against him, mumbling like a grumpy toddler.

"Yes, let's all get some sleep. We have a long dinner service ahead of us." Seonghwa chuckled and ushered all of you into the car.

~

Series masterlist

[albaricomics]

Who do you think proposed, nacha or Francis? And what do you think the wedding was like?

BTW AHHH I LOVE UR ART U ARE THE BEST TNMN ARTIST AND ARE OUR QUEEN😭🙏♥️

OHGOSH THE PROPOSAL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

I think they had gone on for at least two years, but honestly, Francis knew Nacha was the one from the first 2 seconds he glanced at her. He was on his knees for her since 💘

He was never the type to do big extravagant things or gifts for anyone (unlike Izaack), Nacha knew this since their first anniversary was just walking out, watching a movie and having the entire day for them, simple date, and she was fine with it

But for the proposal my DUDE worked his a$$ out to get the shiniest, most pretty-looking ring, and a very unique one because if it was hit by the sun, the reflections would show the colors of Nacha's eyes

Such a pretty ring you'd get lost in if you stared for too long, just like he got lost in her eyes all the time

So there she was, sitting at a table of the restaurant where they met; (1941) she used to work there as one of the chefs, the man in charge of receiving food and supplies didn't show up, so Nacha was assigned to do that too (besides all the cooking, ugh yk). A knock on the door made her rush to open and just get done with this delivery already, or else her soup will boil up. Door opened, and a "mmm, hello-" just stop abruptly, and somehow the very visibly tired man's eyes managed to widen, focused on Nacha's. Francis was used to just have a man pick up the milk bottles into the place and be done in just a couple minutes, so this was a very... pleasant shocking surprise. She also forgot how irritated she was just seconds ago, being honest it was nice to see someone closer to her age around here. And so it all started.

(1943) After some minutes of Nacha making circles at the top of her wine glass with her hand, Francis arrived... different. He wasn't in his usual half-asleep mood, he looked very much awake, happy to see her and even a bit nervous. She had to ask what's up with him, they were just having dinner, right? He was up to something, holding himself from letting whatever the secret was slip, and just said he ordered for both and it should arrive anytime. I the meantime, trying to calm things (and himself) down, they chatted on all the wonderful things they've happened to live together, what they've learned from each other, and before they could go on with thinking about the future, a waiter stopped the music machine to turn on the radio; a familiar voice was reading this very specific, romantic poem that was read to Nacha, in one of her dates with Francis...

As she realized, she turned to Francis, who was on one knee already, and now exposing a big flower bouquet he'd hidden in his back; words coming out of his mouth were just revealing how pure his feelings for her really were. As he was done and getting to say "today, I have something very special to ask you...", same waiter came with a silver platter, she took off the lid, and an opened little box with a diamond ring was there, along with a note that said:

"My sun,

... would you marry me?"

The excitement she felt was undescribable, a frantic YES!! was all she could say through her tears and excited jumps, immediately hugging/kissing him (which was a very moving scene for anyone who was there, clapping and cheering filled the place.

The wedding, ooh! Just as beautiful as you can imagine, her dress was pure white with a long tail, golden hour sunlight framing their first husband/wife kiss perfectly 🧡💕

[cerisefait]

Food Critic

sanji x reader

[2.4k words] [I'm working on the second part!! stay tuned]

a/n: hii! this is my first sanji fiction, hope you enjoy it. I would love to hear your thoughts about it and my reqs are open. there aren't any trigger or spoiler warnings on this fic.

summary: food critic reader goes to Baratie to enjoy a nice evening and analyze the restaurant without knowing what awaits her; a couple of romantic moments with the sous chef of the restaurant. 'apologies madam' scene included with slight changes and much more...

‘I’m going to be the greatest food critic of all time!’

The phrase echoed in your head as you stood outside the restaurant on water, otherwise known as ‘Baratie’. Ever since you were a little kid, you had one particular dream: To become one of the most respected food critics alive.

In a world full of pirates and bounty hunters, some may say your goal was boring, ordinary. Rather than fighting sea creatures and thieves, you were going from one restaurant to another, tasting all of their signature dishes; taking notes about the flavors in your mouth and the emotions each dish has brought you.

Don’t they say to follow your passion? Food has always been yours. You never saw it as a ‘boring’ task, you were enthusiastic about it.

It all started when you were a little kid; you sat there in the kitchen, watching your grandmother cook delicious smelling meals. To you, those were the best times of your childhood. Watching her skilfully chop up the vegetables, hearing the simmering pots, seeing the baked goods rise in the oven…

All of it brought you a sense of comfort. As you grew older, she allowed you to help her in the kitchen, teaching you each spice and many knife tricks.

When she sadly passed away, you were only 12. Needless to say she was your favorite relative, you made her a promise at her funeral, to learn the dishes all across the four seas.

It was her dream but when she started a family, she had to quit pursuing her goal. So you took it upon you and made her a vow in which you don't intend on breaking.

***

Once you stepped into the restaurant, you found yourself admiring the interior. Baratie’s ambiance was astonishing. You’ve been in many restaurants overseas but this place was nothing like you’ve ever seen before.

The open floor plan made the place look elegant. The choices of colors maroon, beige and wooden brown added more to the elegant look as well as the wrought iron handrails on the balconies of the second floor. The lightning was dim and there wasn’t much sunlight due to the lack of windows; it made the restaurant more alluring and mysterious.

While you were busy observing the interior, one of the hosts of the restaurant greeted you, saying

‘Welcome to Baratie, how can I help you?’

‘I would like to have a seat.’ you said, looking kindly at the man.

‘Do you have a reservation ma’am?’ He said, looking at you then directing his attention to the line behind you that had just been formed.

‘No, I don’t have one. Would it be a problem?’ You asked, batting your eyelashes. You weren’t the most experienced critic considering your age but you knew how to use your charm to get what you wanted.

He quickly looked down at the tables, searching for an available spot. There were some empty tables but looking at his attitude, you can tell that the restaurant didn’t want just any customer: Especially the ones who who looked like they could easily stir some trouble up. Lucky for you, you knew how to clean up nicely.

‘Normally, we’re very full today but we’ll be making an exception for you ma’am. If you’ll follow me...’

You followed him down the stairs just like he asked you to and he led you to your table. When you sat down, you sank into the velvety cushion of the dark red booth.

‘Here is the menu. Your waiter will be with you shortly.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

You began to wait for your waiter, as you were told. The antique table lamp’s soft yellow light reflected on your face while you listened to the background noise: Classy jazz, waiters rushing in and out of the kitchen, customers’ enjoying their dishes while chatting and clinking their glasses of wine…

Everything seemed peaceful until you heard the yelling noise coming from the kitchen. You directed your gaze towards the kitchen door, curious about what’s happening inside. Seconds after that, you saw a tall blonde man get out of the kitchen, looking annoyed as he quickly wore his jacket.

He stopped by a table full of appetizers and got a plate in his hand, holding it up to carry it around the tables.

Just as he was making his way to a nearby table, a fight seemed to occur right in front of him. Two guys were fighting over the table, the one already sitting at the table claiming it is his right to sit on the table, the other telling the opposite.

They began to talk more aggressively and one of them threw a plate of food that was sitting on the table as the blonde man stopped in front of them flashing a smile, saying

‘Now now, gentleman. You know the rules here, we don’t waste food. And there’s no fighting at Baratie.’

They didn’t seem to care about the blonde as they continued their bickering. He offered to pour them each a glass of Ithürzburger Stein, free of charge in hopes of stopping the chaos which was disturbing the other customers.

They seemed to like the idea at first, but that didn’t stop one of them from pulling his gun out only a few seconds later. The blonde was quick, just as he saw the gun he kicked the guy’s hand and sent it flying straight to the floor. He blew a few more kicks and in a blink of an eye, the two customers were laying on the ground.

After the fast paced sequence, he didn’t change his calm and -more so- annoyed attitude one bit. He took his appetizer plate back in his hand, let out a sigh and proceeded to walk away exclaiming

‘No cause for alarm, folks. Please enjoy your meals.’

Then, he walked straight to your table while being busy eyeing other tables. Without paying attention to your face or your figure, the words fell quickly from his lips.

‘Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji, what can I get for you?’

‘Shitty ambiance? I couldn't take my eyes off of it ever since I came here.’

Hearing the sound of your voice, he swiftly turned his gaze on you. His expression of annoyance left its place to a more loving, soft look. He ever so slightly tilted his head to the left and put on a little smirk on his face.

‘Apologies madam, didn’t see you there.’

The tone of irritation in his voice was completely gone and now it was much more... suave.

‘You’re liking the ambiance eh? Can’t say the same about the second part ‘cuz you’ll be the only thing I can’t take my eyes off of tonight.’

You did not expect the bold flirtatious act nor the quick word play from him. Given that he caught you off guard, you were thankful for the dim lights as you felt your cheeks getting warmer. As you remained silent, he continued

‘Will you care for an aperitif to start? Or maybe a beverage. We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock…’

‘Actually, I would love to have a glass of Umeshu.’

‘I should’ve figured. Y’know, something sweet for.. someone sweet.’ He winked as he said the last part. He was shamelessly flirting with you. You turned your head sideways to avoid staring at his eyes for a second.

Normally, it would give you the ick but when he did it, you surprisingly enjoyed it. Say whatever you want; whether it’s his amazing kicking abilities, how he looks in his suit or his flirtatious personality, you can’t stop yourself from having butterflies in your stomach.

‘Anything else, madam?’

‘I also would like to order every one of your special dishes, could you do that for me?’

‘...Anything for you. Coming right away.’ He flashed you a smile before returning to the kitchen.

***

When he came back with the plates, you were starving. All of them looked amazing as he put them in front of you in a professional manner.

The waiter who greeted you didn’t lie when it came to the restaurant being busy. There were new customers coming in and out every other minute and it looked like they were short on staff tonight.

Just as he was going to strike up a conversation with you, one of the customers from a nearby table called him up. Sanji told you to enjoy your meal, excused himself and cursed to himself under his breath, hating that the precious time you could’ve spent together was going to be wasted.

When Sanji left, you started with one of the most appealing dishes: It was a buttery seafood sauté with complimentary herbs, garlic and spices. The way the flavors danced on your tongue left you speechless.

In order to note it all down in your notebook, your eyes searched for the restroom. While you were looking around, you locked eyes with Sanji.

He immediately flashed you a genuine, warm smile. You returned his smile by squinting your eyes slightly and smiling back at him, before mouthing the words ‘Where’s the restroom?’

He couldn’t (or maybe wanted to make it seem like he couldn’t) understand what you just said as he put the plates on one of the tables he was attending and made his way up to you.

When you saw him coming, you stood up and went up to him with your small bag in hand. You met in the middle and as he saw you standing, he couldn’t help but check you out from head to toe, taking his sweet time. His warm smile turned into an arrogant grin which meant he enjoyed the sight.

‘Yes madam?’ he asked, leaning slightly towards you.

‘Where can I find the restroom?’

‘Oh it’s right this way… Can I?’ He swiftly gestured to your arm. You nodded, eyes wider than usual, as he took your arm with one of his hands, lightly touched your shoulder with his other hand and turned you around.

Your breath hitched in your throat, his intoxicating smell filling up your nose as he stood right behind you. He was being careful, not to step on any boundaries.

‘So, you go straight ahead. Then turn to your left, first door to the right.’ He pointed out.

You turned your head towards him, only to realize there are a few inches between your faces. Looking up at him, you stared at his gorgeous features. At that moment, everything around you seemed to slow down. When his gaze finally met yours, you were mesmerized.

His blue eyes were shining, the way his lips curled upwards to form his pretty smile was stunning. Feeling the heat his body radiated was enough to drive you over the edge… But you were here to pursue your goal.

In order to continue the task at hand, you whispered him a thank you and went flying to the restroom. Luckily there was a table with decorations in between the sinks, giving you a place to write your notes down on.

***

Time seemed to pass by quickly as you were going back and forth between your table and the restroom. You were trying to be smooth with it but you weren't exactly acting like a professional.

Not that you were being clumsy or carefree, you were a bit amateur. Considering your age, it was understandable.

Plus, the blonde who was gazing at you all night didn't help at all. It was fun though, catching his glances every now and then, seeing his little smirk form up every time you made eye contact (occasionally with a wink), made you feel things.

You couldn't help but to think that you didn't want the night to end here. You wanted more than secret glances and formal discussions…

Just as you finished taking notes about the last dish and made your way back to your table, Sanji stopped you in your tracks, pulling you flush against his chest and moving you both to a near dark corner, trapping your body against his and the wall behind you.

Taking a step back, he looked you in the eyes, searching for a sign of distress or unwillingness.

Upon seeing the pure shock on your face turn into a more relieved look, he leaned towards you, a hand pressed against the wall over your shoulder, right next to your head.

'You a food critic?' He questioned, leaning over.

'Why do you care, waiter boy?' He put his hand on his heart, grimacing his face upon hearing your words.

'I am the sous chef of this restaurant.'‘

‘It didn't seem like it.’

‘Don't try to change the subject now, love.’ He looked deeply in your eyes, it was evident that he was growing impatient.

‘Fine, I am… but you can't tell anyone about it.’

‘Why not? You don't seem to care as you made it pretty obvious.’

‘I want to remain anonymous to be respected. Also, I don't think anyone other than you’ve noticed.’

‘Told you that I wasn't going to be able to take my eyes off of you tonight… I am a man of my word.’

And with that, both of you were laughing. It was a moment of pure sweetness. After a few seconds of the sound of your laughter filling up the empty corner, you continued with a serious tone:

‘Just… promise not to tell anyone.’

‘How about we make a deal, eh? I’ll keep your secret and we’ll have dinner tomorrow.’

‘...It’s not like I have another choice. Right?’

‘C’mon, we both know you want it as bad as I do.’

‘Keep dreaming.’ You said, making your way back to your table.

He didn’t expect you to react this way, when he saw you leaving his side he turned around, looking at you like a lost puppy. You wanted to shock him for a little bit, make him chase after you.

As you sat down, you drank your last sip of wine and took your sweet time before calling Sanji to pay the bill. He immediately went to get the bill and put it in front of you, still shaken. You checked it out, put the money in and thanked him for his service.

He was standing still in front of you as you gathered your things and got up off of the booth. Then, he hesitantly offered you his hand to give your hand a quick goodbye kiss.

You put your hand in his and said:

‘Meet me up at 7?’

He changed his posture, he was more confident now than heartbroken and gave your hand a swift kiss before telling:

‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.  

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.” You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

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[nolita-fairytale]

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter two: friday

summary: big announcements are made at the james beard house dinner, and carmy tells you how much you mean to him.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking

word count: 4.6k

listen to: in transit - albert hammond jr. | nightswimming - r.e.m | friday i'm in love (cover) - phoebe bridgers (playlist here)

a/n: remember when i accidentally posted this earlier today at the start of the american work day? that was weird. anyways...

read: chapter one | bonus smut scene

Friday

The way that the four of you flow together is like a symphony – each one of you so committed to your craft – to excellence – and the feeling you get sends chills down your spine. It’s a sign of how far you all have come, which is what the menu is all about this evening. It was Syd and Carmy’s idea: each dish presented this evening would embody a part of The Bear’s story. You’d even worked with Marcus on elevating his signature chocolate cake, wanting to keep the heart and soul of it, even if it had to lean a little more towards the fine dining side of things.

Never in a million years would Carmy have thought that, on his first day at The Beef, that you’d all end up here. After all the chaos, all the swimming upstream, it felt near-impossible that something so disorganized and broken could become something so beautiful. 

He’s near-shaking at the idea of what he has to do next, but he also knows that this is a story he has to tell. It’s not really something he’s spoken about – at least publicly – and not to the food world. 

But he can’t tell the story of The Bear without Michael. 

He feels like he’s sweating through his chef whites, but you remind him that he’s going to be great. It’s a huge step in his healing journey and after a long talk about it, Carmy had decided it was something he felt he wanted to do. 

“Before we wrap up the evening, we have one more dish before dessert,” Carmy says, earning the attention of the dining room full of people. 

He hopes his voice isn’t shaking too much, and he nervously fidgets with a spoon he’s holding in his hands while you and Sydney stand behind him as literal and emotional support.

His face feels hot. He feels like he wants to throw up and cry at the same time, and he looks back at you for reassurance. 

You nod your head in his direction, a comforting smile on your face, as Sydney grabs your hand. You’re both nervous for him. 

You can do it, Bear. Let it rip. 

“As some of you may know, three years ago I left New York to go back home and take over the family restaurant – the restaurant that would eventually become The Bear,” he explains.

“This dish is uh… it’s really special to me,” he says, trying his best not to let his voice break as he continues.

“It’s an ode to my late brother: a play on the braciole he used to make for me and my sister every Sunday.” 

The dining room gets quiet, each person hanging onto every single word that Carmy says, his vulnerability palpable. 

Carmy suddenly feels emotionally exposed, but he knows there’s no turning back now. He can practically hear Mikey’s voice in his head, encouraging him, pushing him to let it rip. Knowing that he’s got you and Sydney behind him gives Carmy the extra boost of confidence he needs to get through this speech. 

As he explains each component of the dish, it becomes easier to fake it: fake some confidence, fake that he’s not crumbling inside. Carmy knows how to talk about food so he leans into it, even if it feels like his voice is caught in his throat. It feels like second nature -- like falling into an old pattern he's practiced a thousand times -- as he hides behind his tough, calculating, diligent exterior. But he feels as if he’s just put his open, bleeding heart on a plate, and it's impossible for him not to feel.

Carmy clears his throat before concluding his presentation with, “So thank you again for dining with us this evening. Uh… Chef Sydney has some news she’d uh… we’d like to share with everyone.” 

He thanks the gods that he made it through.

He can’t wait to get out of the spotlight. 

Carmy moves aside, letting Sydney take center stage, and he can feel the blood rush through his head – an almost dizzy-feeling. As he stands next to you, you bump up against his shoulder, giving him some comforting touch, in an effort to ground him.

“Thank you, chef,” Sydney begins, glancing back at Carmy. “And thank you for sharing this dish with us. I know that it’s something you hold close to your heart and our story of The Bear wouldn’t be complete without it.”

The dining room full of people begins clapping once again and it gives Carmy a moment to zip himself back up emotionally. He only reminds himself that he has a few moments left of being in front of people. While he may be an expert at fooling everyone else with his stoic exterior, you can see he’s struggling to hold it together.

“And thank you again to everyone for coming out tonight. We have some really exciting news to share. After putting our heart and soul into The Bear, we are at a point in its journey where we can expand,” Sydney begins, earning a few excited whispers from the room.

“We felt tonight would be the perfect time to announce that we will be opening up a second restaurant – a separate concept that I will be leading as CDC in Chicago. I’m really excited to have this opportunity to develop my own concept with my business partner, Carmen Berzatto, and to lead my own kitchen.”

The entire room erupts with applause once again as the wait staff begin to bring out Carmy’s perfectly plated beef dish. Carmy nods as a signal to you and Syd and you both follow him back into the kitchen. 

“Stay. I’ll go help Marcus,” Sydney says to you, reassuringly.

She rubs a sympathetic hand over Carmy’s upper back before saying, “Good work, chef.”

Sydney hurries over into the prep kitchen to help Marcus plate dessert, while you hang back with Carmy in the hallway. He’s avoiding your gaze and you can tell he’s trying his best not to lose it right then and there. His body is still – frozen in a moment of time. There’s a tension that runs across his chest and into his shoulders that hadn’t been there at the start of the night. He looks like he hasn’t taken a breath since his speech began either. 

“That was really beautiful, Bear,” you say softly. He still won’t look at you, but you understand why.

“Thanks,” he nods curtly. 

There’s a silent tension between the two of you and you know what you need to do next. 

“What do you need?” you ask. 

“Think I uh-, just need a little fresh air,” he mumbles, his voice breaking a little, before clearing his throat again. 

“‘Course. Marcus, Syd and I have got this,” you encourage him. 

You wait as Carmy slips out back for a break, before making your way back into the kitchen. Loving Carmy through his grief sometimes looked different. Some days he’d need space. Other times he’d need you – crawling into your arms and allowing you to care for him. Together, you’ve had to learn how to ask, and he’s had to learn how to tell you what he needs. 

“How’s Carmy?” Sydney asks with a concerned look on her face, causing Marcus to look up from the plate he’s working on. 

“He’s okay. Just needs a break,” you answer. You’re not worried about him. You know how painful that was for Carmy, and you’re more than happy to give him the space he needs to sit with it. 

“What can I do?”

And then Marcus is handing you a few extra plates, asking you to double check his previous count to ensure that every single plate went out in a timely manner. 

Carmy returns about ten minutes later, ready to jump back in. He’d just needed a timeout – a moment to feel the enormous swell of emotions that had come up when talking about Michael to a dining room of eighty people. Soon enough, he’s helping plate the tiny chocolate layer cakes, with an olive oil ice cream, and a tahini caramel drizzled over the top. 

Dessert is the last dish to be brought out, and as Marcus presents, the four of you receive a standing ovation at the James Beard House. It’s like for the first time in a week, Carmy can breathe again. He feels like a one hundred pound weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and his heart swells with pride over how the night’s gone. Everyone’s liked the food, you all have worked so beautifully as a team this evening, and he can’t believe he got through his fucking speech without crying in front of everyone. 

Entirely exhausted yet filled with a grand sense of accomplishment, the four of you drag yourselves out of the James Beard House and back out onto the streets of NYC. You’re not sure who suggests it, but you’re grateful the idea has been brought up as you’re carrying pizzas you picked up on the way back to the hotel. Piled onto the two full beds in Marcus and Sydney’s room, the four of you can finally celebrate a job well done. 

“Yo, I think I like the Sicilian slice better,” Marcus says, polishing off another piece of the pepperoni and mushroom. 

“Oof,” Carmy sounds, watching your face for your reaction. “You’re playing with fire, Marcus.”

Sydney snorts, “Fuck. We’re finally able to relax. No one kill each other, please.”

“What? We’ve already had the Chicago vs New York pizza debate,” Marcus says, throwing up his hands as if he’s innocent. I know what I’m getting myself into! I’m just sayin’ the Scilian slice is giving mad Chicago vibes and it’s dope.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, while Carmy playfully nudges you. 

“Okay, while pepperoni and mushroom is a classic and you know I have mad respect that, as a New Yorker… hard disagree on your style of pizza, chef,” you say back, starting on a new slice of one of the remaining NY Style pies. 

“You know what’s fucking fire? Pepperoni and jalapenos – pickled, not fresh,” Sydney chimes in and you all reply in a chorus of agreement. 

“Hundred percent,” Carmy says. 

“Never fresh. The sour tangy brine is key,” you add. “At least we can all agree on something. 

“You know what’s fucking wild?” Marcus begins, looking across the three of you. “We made this whole fancy ass meal, yet we’re eating pizza in a hotel room at the end of the night.” 

Carmy laughs dryly, “Yeah, man. It’s kinda par for the course.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Seriously!” Sydney exclaims.

“Speaking of, how was your stage at per se?” you inquire, curious to hear about his experience in the fine dining kitchen. “We barely had time to catch up this morning about it.” 

Truthfully, you’d all been so focused on tonight going well that no one had really talked about it. 

“Man,” Marcus sighs. “It was cool. But like. Now I know what you guys are talking about when you say a chef only let you zest lemons for three months.”

You laugh in response, thinking back to the time blood orange juice caused you an existential crisis. That existential crisis – the one that led you to quitting your job, leaving fine dining behind for good. 

“And it’s like… the whole staff works as a machine. Kitchen’s more like a science lab than a kitchen. I got lucky, huh?” Marcus continues and Carmy shakes his head. 

“Yeah, per se’s a lot like where we used to work,” Carmy says with a shrug. 

“Should’ve seen Alinea. It’s very… science lab meets art school,” Sydney adds. “Inspiring… but cold.” 

“Damn,” Marcus shakes his head, feeling luckier than ever that he got to learn from the three of you instead. 

“Wait. Syd, how was your supper club?” you ask, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had a chance to tell any of you yet. She had, after all, gotten home late last night, only to get up early to go with Carmy to Chelsea Market. 

“Oh my god,” she gloats. “So fucking cool. Like unreal. You guys have to come with me next time.” 

“I uh-,” she starts again, as if she has a secret. “They actually asked me to come back and do a pop-up dinner, especially with the new restaurant opening. I mean, they want to do a collab with me!”

“Okay, I see you,” Marcus calls out, proud of his friend. 

“Of course they do!” you cheer her on. 

“What do you think, chef?” she asks Carmy, searching for approval in the way his face changes as he hears the news. 

“I think… you’d be silly not to. We’ll work out a time for you to come back up here once we get the new restaurant up and running,” Carmy reassures, respect and pride in his eyes as he exchanges a look with Sydney. 

“And of course, I want you guys back here with me. Like… are we the fuckin’ dream team, or are we the fuckin’ dream team?” Sydney celebrates, reliving the memories of this evening. 

Tonight has been so incredible and Sydney wonders if this is what it feels like to be at the top of your career. She wants to savor the moments of this weekend, replaying them over and over again in her head. 

“Oh 100%,” Marcus confirms with confidence.

“Absolutely,” you promise.

A temporary quiet settles between the four of you as you reflect on the evening. Carmy is quiet again, caught up in his head as he’s filled with a deep sense of gratitude: for all of your hard work, for how well the evening went, for his team. 

You all are his people. 

And he’s never had people before. 

Not until now. 

“Thank you guys. For tonight,” he says, his tone serious. “You guys were rockstars, and... I couldn’t have done it – any of this – without you.” 

“Aw, Carmy,” Sydney smiles, savoring this rare tender moment with Carmy. 

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Marcus reinforces.

“Of course,” you smile proudly. 

You each take a moment to feel it all: accomplishment, the gratitude, the love and genuine respect you all have for each other.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything,” you begin, half apologetically. “If anyone’s up for more fun food debates tomorrow, Carmy and I have a fun little tradition I’d love to share you guys.” 

You and Carmy exchange glances and it’s as if he can read your mind. 

“Walking dumpling tour?” he questions. 

You confirm with a nod. 

“What’s the-?” Marcus begins to ask as Sydney finishes his question with, “... the walking dumpling tour?”

“A fun little thing we used to when we still lived here,” you reply. “Hit up as many dumpling spots as we can in search of the best pork dumplings that Chinatown can offer. Hell, I’ll make up a scorecard and we can rate them.”

“Sounds fun. I’m in,” Marcus says. 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Sydney agrees. 

Carmy checks the time on his phone. 

“Yo, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably head to bed,” Carmy says to you. 

“Oh shit. It’s almost midnight?” Sydney asks, seeing the time on the hotel room clock. 

“Yeah. Guys, this has been fun. Seriously, great work tonight. I’ve missed this so much,” you sigh, totally satiated. 

“You know there’s always room for you at The Bear,” Marcus says genuinely, before adding, in a more teasing tone, “You can send me your resume and I’ll take a look. Nah I’m just playin’!”

You laugh, playfully rolling your eyes, “Okay, it is definitely bed time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, goodnight you guys,” Marcus replies.

“Goodnight.”

As you and Carmy leave Sydney and Marcus’ room, it dawns on you that you’re not quite ready to go to bed. While you’re exhausted, and should be in a carb-induced sleepy pizza-coma, you’re wired from the adrenaline of being back in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Carm?” you ask, stopping him as he fumbles with the room key. 

“What’s up?” he asks back. 

You pause for a moment, and as you speak, there’s a certain hesitance in your voice, like it’s the first time you’re asking someone out on a date.

“Do you want a drink?”

He’s caught off guard by your tone of voice, curious to know where this is going. 

“Now?” he asks back with a half-smile plastered to his face.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I-, I don’t know if I’m ready to go to bed yet.” 

You can see the hesitation on his face as he thinks it through. While Carmy knows there are plenty of bars still open in NYC right now, he’s not sure he wants to leave the hotel. 

And neither do you. 

You offer your hand to him, “C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”

*

“I don’t know if we’re supposed to be here,” Carmy states nervously, looking around the empty room. 

He’s bouncing his knee up and down as he sits on a bar stool, alternating between watching you behind the bar, and looking around to check for anyone who may catch you. The bar itself is poorly lit, save for the pool lights outside, that come flooding in through the large floor to ceiling windows. 

“We’re not,” you reply, without a care in the world.

He lowers his voice before asking, “What if we get caught?”

You giggle, “You are such a baby, Carmen.” 

He rolls his eyes as you search for what you need, pouring the appropriate combination of liquors into an old fashioned glass.

Gin. Campari. Vermouth

After stirring them together over ice, you reach for an orange and y-peeler that the bar is stocked with, shaving off a piece of the orange peel. 

“Besides, isn’t that the fun part?” you ask, a glimmer of mischief flashing across your face. 

Carmy shakes his head, averting his eyes as he brings his hand up to his mouth, “You’re a bad influence on me.” 

You snort in response and it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him. 

“And you love it, my little rule-follower.”

“Relax, Carm. I’m gonna leave $40 behind the bar for what we took and we can go back to the room when I’m done if you’re so worried about it,” you offer as a compromise, the tone of your voice still a rebellious one. 

He has to admit that he finds your devil may care attitude incredibly sexy. Carmy’s not sure whether he’s anxious or turned on right now. 

 “Yes chef,” he finally agrees, cheekily. 

“Lighter, please,” you request.

Carmy pulls his lighter from his pocket, tossing it to you. You catch it, immediately flicking it on, using the flame to torch the orange slice. 

Just a spritz of the orange, and then the rest of the peel for garnish.

You hand Carmy the drink from across the bar, before working on your second one.

He looks down at the deep red colored liquid before saying, “Sweetheart, you know I hate gin.” 

But you’re one step ahead of him. 

Only moments later, you’re stepping around the bar with a second glass of whiskey on the rocks prepared for him. You trade glasses with him, and he can’t take his eyes off of you as you finally say:

“Cheers.” 

Clink. 

“Cheers.”

You both take your respective first sips, making sure to hold eye contact with him as you do. He looks at you, and you’re not sure if he’s more surprised that you haven’t gotten caught or that he’s willfully watched you break into the hotel pool bar. 

“Thought you said we could take these back to the room,” he challenges. 

You smirk, even though your heart is filled with pure adoration for the man standing across from you. 

“Yes, chef.”

It’s an easy choice to take your drinks back to the room, opening the french doors that lead to the terrace. You pull a spare blanket from the hotel room closet, curling up with it outside. You drape the blanket over both you and Carmy as you settle down on his lap. He’s brought his lighter and a cigarette out with you, so you close the french doors behind you so that he can light one up. 

You haven’t stayed up this late with Carmy in a while. It feels good – spontaneous and a little rebellious – like anything could happen at any given moment. New York City always seems to bring this side out in you. 

It’s home. 

But Carmy is also your home. 

Having the two of them here all at once is an indescribable feeling. You enjoy the bitter taste of your negroni, the cool spring air kissing your skin as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap. Carmy enjoys his cigarette, his whiskey sitting on the patio table in front of the two of you, as he exhales the smoke away from you. 

“Does being back here feel… I don’t know. Weird to you?” Carmy asks, breaking the quiet between the two of you. 

It’s like he can read your mind, again.

“Yeah,” you answer. “But it’s a good weird. I think maybe because we have all these memories here, you know?”

He takes another drag off the cigarette and it’s your turn to ask him a question. 

“I wonder what would’ve happened if you hadn’t spilled your drink on me that night. You think we still would’ve become friends?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks about it. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, answering honestly. 

You let out a small laugh. 

“Hell of a way to get a girl’s attention.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Bullshit.”

He’s telling the truth – sort of. He hadn’t been trying to get your attention, though he had spent most of the night racking his brain for any kind of conversation starter – get out of his own fuckin’ head. But he’d spent most of the night overthinking and coming up with reasons not to. He had sort of been your boss back then, after all.

He waits a beat before admitting, “And maybe the only way I would’ve even talked to you that night.”

You hum in response, taking another sip of your negroni. 

“Even then I thought I’d fully fuckin’ blown it.”

“You didn’t,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Uh… yeah I did,” he smiles, shooting you a ‘c’mon’ kind of look. “The first time you ever actually talked to me and… you’re fuckin’ furious. I was terrified.”

You can remember your first real conversation with Carmy fondly – even if it hadn’t been the fondest experience at the time.

“Baby, you ruined my shirt!” you exclaim with a laugh. “I had every right to be mad at you.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d see another day after that,” Carmy recalls, shaking his head. 

“Also. Who drinks a soda the night they get the biggest promotion of their career?” you add, referring to the coke he’d spilled all over you the night he’d gotten promoted to CDC. 

“Pop,” he corrects you. “... is a perfectly normal thing to drink at a bar.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “It’s not. But I love you anyway.”

The staff of the restaurant had wanted to go out and celebrate Carmy’s new position, only Carmy hadn’t seemed like he was in much of a mood for celebrating as he’d refused shots all night. He’d been so nervous to talk to you all night, the recently hired pastry chef, and you’d assumed he hated you considering his cold and stoic demeanor at work seemed to translate to you outside of it as well. He thought for sure he’d blown any chance of getting to talk to you that night, when you accidentally bumped into him and he’d spilled his soda all over you. Your shirt was soaked through, and your friends had rushed in with a spare t-shirt for you to change into. You’d come to find days later that it was Carmy’s shirt that he’d had in his bag.

That soda – and his chivalry that evening –  had set it all in motion.

“After all that, think we’d be here?” he asks, his eyes more like a sad, sweet puppy than ever before.

“No,” you answer honestly with a half smile. “But once I got to know you, I hoped maybe we could get here.”

He sighs, searching for the right words to tell you how he feels. The love you have together is more than he ever thought was possible for himself, and being back here with you has brought up so many memories of not feeling like enough. 

“It kinda feels…” he begins to say, choosing his words carefully. He wants to get it right. “...like. I don’t know. Kinda like we’re going backwards and forwards at the exact same time, you know?” 

You take another sip of your drink, processing what he’s said. He’s nailed it and you just need a moment to sit with his words.

“Yeah,” you sigh, like he’s finally named that thing you hadn’t been able to. “Like our past and our present are colliding or something.”

Carmy nods in agreement, “Yeah.”

You sit together in your comfortable quiet, listening to the sounds of the city below you: sirens, car horns, music from the bodega across the street. 

“I don’t know if I ever told you… how much your friendship meant to me back then. I wasn’t… well, I wasn’t in a great place,” Carmy admits, his eyes piercing and honest with his words. There’s a sadness to him and you wonder if this has been weighing on him over the last few days on top of everything else. 

“I know, sweetheart,” you reply empathetically. 

“I know we’ve talked about…” he trails off, searching for what he wants to say. “... how much we mean to each other now. But you meant so much to me back then too. I don’t-, I don’t know if I ever told you.” 

“Carmy,” you say, your heart swelling with love for the sad mess of a man whose arms you’re wrapped up in. “You didn’t need to. I-, I knew because… because you meant so much to me back then too.” 

He pauses, wondering if he should keep going, and coming to the conclusion that he wants to – not for your sake, but for his. 

Because he wants to tell you. 

“When we met… I wasn’t… planning on letting anyone in,” he continues. 

“Hmmm, didn’t notice,” you joke with him. 

He gives your hips a squeeze, causing you to giggle as you snuggle a little closer to him, hugging the blanket around the both of you. 

“I thought for sure I didn’t need anyone. Sure as hell didn’t want anyone. Had gone so long without someone to-. It just didn’t make sense for me anymore.”

You listen quietly, wanting him to give him the space to say what he needs to say. 

“You know, my sister used to say, she used to tell me that one day I’d wake up and I’d need someone. Someone other than Mikey and his friends – the kids I grew up with. And I didn’t believe her. And then he cut me out and-. And I got really fuckin’ good at it. At the food. At being alone….”

And then you came along.

“But you didn’t push me… you didn’t ask me to be anyone that I-. You just… let me be me… even if I didn’t give you much to work with at first. I think… Sugar was right. I needed a friend back then… and you were always a friend. Are always… It’s why I love you.” 

You’re grinning, and you’re also so, so proud of him – how far he’s come – to be able to tell you all of this. 

You lean over to set your drink down on the patio table. You only have one thing to say him, as you hold his head between both of your hands:

“I’m so in love with you, Bear.”

*

read: chapter three

a/n: the above first conversation/meeting that carmy x reader talk about WILL be written for my 'make my heart surrender' prequel everyone buckle up for the will-they-won't-they bc we all know THEY WILL

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[gauloiseblue]

Gaz x cook!reader. We all can tell army food is shit but dam can you make a bowl of mush taste like heaven. And it seems your skills have gotten through the belly and to the heart of the 141's pretty boi leaving him head over heels for your adorable form. Dressed in a head scarf, to keep hair out of your face, and an adorable apron brought from home all he wants is that pretty smile directed at him.

A/N: I noticed that cook!reader has become a trend in this fandom nowadays? Not that I'm complaining. Also, *crack my knuckles* it's time to write a jealous boy

The first time he tasted the food at the new base, he thought his tastebud was playing trick on him. Because there's no was a mere rice could taste this good.

But his confusion only lasted for a second, because he saw his friends made the same expression.

"Bloody hell," His captain grunted, "I don't mind gettin' tough missions if I get to eat this food everyday."

"Cheers to that." He chuckled as he scooped a spoonful of rice.

At that time, he didn't know who were the cooks yet, but he's determined to find out.

The kitchen in the military base isn't as strict as restaurant's one, so people can come in and out of the room. He uses that opportunity to pay a 'visit' to where you're stationed.

Judging by your uniform, you're not the head of the chef. But the one who runs around, checking each of the stations is you. He spots a few soldiers who stand at a distance (he soon found out that it's for hygienic reason, to minimize the contamination in the kitchen) while trying to talk with you. Unlike a cold-faced chef who hates distractions, you politely respond to them, while focusing on your job at the same time.

That sparks something in him, as he finds himself wanting to get to know you. But he knows better than disturbing you in your working hour.

Those soldiers might be lucky to get your attention for now, but he's confident that he'll get thrice as much sooner or later.

The kitchen's busy at the time when the soldiers are on the break, but when it's time for training, you and the other chefs would get the time to rest. So he, as a member of the special force, gets the privilege to arrange his schedule.

He starts his training earlier, so by the time he finishes, he'll get the time to visit the kitchen. The chefs like to hang out at the break room, but when he walks in, he finds that you're not there, so he goes to the second location.

In the back of the kitchen, there's a pantry where the food ingredients are stored. He had a feeling that you'd be there, so he went there.

And he's right.

You had just checked the tomatoes when he knocked on the door. The sound makes you jump, as you look at the open door with wide eyes.

"Sorry," He raises his hand to calm you down, "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh." You clear your throat, "It's fine. I just… didn't notice you there. Do you need anything?"

"No." He smiles, "I came to say that I loved today's lunch. It's the most delicious food that I've had all week."

You blush upon hearing his words, "You flatter me, thank you."

"So what are you cooking for tonight?"

"I was thinking about making beef goulash, but I noticed that we still have chickpeas, so," You hum as you think, "It's either of the two."

"You're making Moroccan beef stew?" He raises his brow at you, and you nod.

"That's what I'm planning to. I haven't decided yet." You said, "What do you think?"

"You know which one I'd pick." He grinned as he picked the paprika, "You have enough cilantros?"

"Of course." You giggle as you take the veggie from him, "It's settled then."

Since that day, it becomes a habit of him to visit the kitchen and talk to you for an hour or two. You're shy at first, but once you're comfortable with him, you become a lovely chatterbox. You'd talk to him about foods, kitchen operations, and plans for dinner. Breakfast and lunch menus are already handled by the head chef, since they require not much of a job. But the dinner is entirely your responsibility, since it's the most varied meal of the day.

"What do you think is the most important asset for a cook to have?"

"I don't know. Hands?"

You shake your head, "Try again."

"Hmm, let me think." He closes his eyes, while pretending to ponder on, "Brain?"

"Wrong." You laughed.

"What is it then?"

"Tongue." You replied as you pointed at our mouth, "You won't have any idea how good your food is if you can't taste it."

"Is it really?" He chuckled, "Then what about knife skills? Or time management?"

"They're also important to have, but at the end of the day, taste is all that matters." You tilt your head, "Right?"

"Can't argue with that."

One day, he's caught by Price when he's about to leave after training.

"You've been leaving awfully soon these days," He stops at his track as he feels his captain's gaze on him, "Does it have something to do with the cook?"

He sheepishly grins, as he turns to his mentor, "Maybe."

Price studies his face, before letting a long sigh, "You're dismissed. But—" He interjected before he could leave, "You better tell her to make shepherd's pie."

He chuckles at the request, "Not tonight, Cap. Maybe tomorrow."

When he arrives at the kitchen that day, he sees you already in your apron. You're about to put your hair in the head scarf when you notice him standing at the door, with his mouth slightly open.

"Hi." You greeted him as you smoothed out your hair, "I need to do a little bit of prep, so I start earlier."

"Oh… I see."

"You can stay, though." You shot him a smile, as you fixed your headband, "I could use some company."

"Don't mind me then."

He takes the seat near your counter, watching you as you bring up the large pan.

"Need a hand?"

"No." You said with a grin, "I'm pretty strong, you know."

He snorts in amusement when you show him the muscles in your arm, which is clearly less defined than his, or even any private's.

"I know, but I'm sure you could use some help."

"I'm fine." You told him, "Besides, I don't have any spare aprons."

"What a shame." He feigned a frown, so bad that it made you laugh.

"Well," You spoke as you started to chop the onions, "Entertain me then. Tell me about your training."

There's not much to talk about, since his training was meant to be watched, not described. He doesn't tell much, but he mentioned the little chat that he had with the Captain.

"He wants cottage pie?" You raise your brows with curiosity, "I can make that, but we gotta wait until we get the right meat."

He mutters a small response, as he watches you cut the chickens into four pieces. You show such a focused expression, that he can't help but think if you're gonna make that face when you're making the shepherd's pie.

All of the sudden, the little remark that his Captain made isn't as nice as it sounded before.

"Why'd you stop?" You looked at him when you noticed that he's been quiet for a while.

"Nothing." He replied, "I just remembered that I don't like meat pie."

"That's too bad." You frowned, "Don't worry though, cottage pie isn't really a meat pie."

He stares at you, and thinks about his Captain's request. He wouldn't say that he's being generous, but in this case, he was.

"I know, but I like your stew better."

"You're so sweet." He saw your eyes crinkled as you chuckled, "We'll make that Moroccan stew again, yeah? Or do you want something else?"

He felt his chest swell when you asked him the question. You offered to cook for him, you'd cook what he wants.

Perhaps you had asked that question to someone else—someone who has visited your kitchen longer than him—but he didn't care.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't feel like sharing.

[demonslayedher]

Things that ran through my head while watching this episode:

--Not as much to say in my write-up today, because I would really just like to bask in this episode. The way that flashback of the Tokito Twins unfolds is an example of why I am so hooked on anime. That is some good angst, and it's made even better with that lighting, pacing, and vocal direction. I love the subtle changes in expressions, and the pause as Muichiro and Yuichiro just find themselves looking at each other in the silence of the night before the violence explodes. Ufotable was on their A-game. But also, none of this is original--they just read all the elements of the manga panels very mindfully, right down to all the ginkgo leaves.

--Like, seriously, seeing this episode animated just got me so much more emotionally invested in this back story than just seeing it unfold in manga panels. It took Yuichiro from "background character" to "character I feel deep regret for." He's not just crabby, he's a grieving kid who rightfully feels abandoned and desperate to hang on to what he has left, and that desperation leaves him no room to be kind or gentle--despite how deeply he cares.

--Irony time! Muichiro's favorite food is furofuki daikon--it's usually made with daikon cut into rounds like Yuichiro cut at that angry moment, and they already had a pot simmering in the background. Despite his irritated exterior, was Yuichiro nonetheless making a dish he knows Muichiro likes? In the way he talks about Amane just being out to use them because they're helpless children, it feels like a protective parent forbidding a child who dreams of being an actor from being targeted by talent scouts. It's heartbreaking that the fallout in their relationship comes from a place of love.

--I said after watching this episode before that I want an AU in which Muichiro grows up to be a sushi chef. Nah. Gyokko can the sushi artisan, and Muichiro can open a dinky takoyaki cart right outside his fancy restaurant and be way more popular.

--I love how Muichiro, powered by the desire to save Kotetsu and therefore able to free himself from the water pot, suddenly sounds more like his old little-brother self. Part of that--a lot of that--is due to being in a bad state due to the attacks he's endured. Of course you don't feel good, little dude, that's a bunch of Upper Moon Five poison in you. Not to mention you're severely injured. Still, it's so sweet to hear him sound more like little Muichiro instead of Yuichiro in his tone and cadence, especially as he recalls more about his dad.

--Another shout out to Kotetsu and Kanamori for being such troopers. Once again, I am confounded by Kanamori's timeline of when Tanjiro would have asked him to be understanding of Muichiro, Kanamori looking up Tetsuido's way of smithing Muichiro's sword because Tanjiro asked him this, and Kanamori having started and completed Muichiro's sword. The only way it works is if Kanamori works at the speed of sound and somehow the steel keeps pace with him as he smiths, or if Tanjiro for whatever reason asked him very far in advance to be understanding of Muichiro (well before Tanjiro and Muichiro had the Yoriichi Type Zero incident), or if Kanamori did not present the order of events or the cause and effect exactly as they happened. Perhaps he looked at Tetsuido's records first, and was finishing the sword when he mentioned being nervous about it to Tanjiro, and then with Tanjiro's encouragement, he got deeper inspiration from Tetsuido's notes while making the extra effort to understanding Muichiro. Whatever case, it's heartwarming that even though Muichiro & Kotetsu friendship gets more attention, Kanamori was indeed laying the foundation to be a very supportive part of Muichiro's life--this not only would put Tetsuido at rest, but it would cement how reliant swordsmen are on their swordsmiths. Also, it would simply be very nice and sweet to see Kanamori being a caring, sturdy presence in Muichiro's life.

--Also worth noting again, Kotetsu pleads with Muichiro to save Haganezuka, in order to save that sword.

--RIP for now, Kotetsu

--Gyokko is actually fun and I love how expressive he is with this unique body language, like how his little hands go to his neck once he's been cut. He acts like his pants have fallen down.

--Haganezuka is indeed very cool and handsome and no I don't think he'd have noticed if Kanamori got killed.

--This was an episode with no Tanjiro. I think the last time this happened was... the Rengoku special???

--He's there in the Taisho Secret, though, because this aired around Mitsuroi-chan's birthday! The Kamado siblings are so star-struck they really do just spend all these Taisho Secret time they can get with her. (Meanwhile, Tanjiro's only impressions of Muichiro are "He's right but he's a meanie! Though maybe he doesn't mean to be mean? Also, wow, he's impressive. Haha, he grabbed my nose! ...Uh, did he notice Chachamaru or something... is he... okay? Oh, he's flying----" so of course Tanjiro is going to be confused when Muichiro is suddenly a huge fan of him and thanking him for stuff he didn't even do.) Anyway, I happened to have just finishing eating omuraisu (omelette rice) when I watched this Taisho Secret, so tee hee, ya~y

--As usual, I had a lot to say.

--I'll just state again, THAT FLASHBACK IS SO GOOD. LIKE, DANG.

[fandomwritingbit]

Caught out pt.2

William afton x fem reader x henry emily

A/n: Hiii, this is a part two of this fic I did a while ago. It's really long ngl over 7,000 words. To the person that requested a part two to this that focused more on the relationship between Henry and Will, I took some inspiration from that so thank you very muchly. I hope this reads well, I'll be editing it over the next few days because writer's block is shagging me hard rn.

Warnings: smut, oral, unprotected sex, inappropriate relationships, sexual tension between henry and william, y/n is absolute filth.

The day after Henry had debased himself, started off pretty shit. The restaurant was fully booked all day and it felt like there were over a million kids tearing through the building and creating havoc, along with many other reasons for the two co-owners to stay back after hours. They were so understaffed, two waiters and an entertainer had called in sick, forcing Henry and Will to step up a bit. Well, Henry stepped up, running plates, hosting, the works; William, though he was present, just cracked the whip on the employees that were there. Both had contemplated getting you out of the security office to help out, but the plethora of legal challenges they’d seen in the previous few weeks dissuaded them.

“Who’s fault is this?” William caught Henry’s arm, his expression as fumingly stoic as it had been so far all day. It was this side of William that initially drove Henry into merging with him, the no-nonsense, no-bullshit, pragmatic approach that he was too nice to use. When they were newly joined, grabbing his arm like this would have made Henry shit scared, just the sheer height of the man alone would’ve done it; now though, Henry just looked from his hand to Will’s face, scoffing. 

“Tiff was on bookings, I’m gonna have a word with her.” He pulled his arm free, “You do know, William, that we can’t have high numbers and easy service.”  

William sniggered, slightly surprised by Henry’s attitude, “Functional service would be nice, though.” 

~

All shit hit the fan about midday. 

And it hit the fan big time. A party of thirty and one of seventeen at the same time had all hands on deck, waiters sweating making sure patrons had everything they needed, bar staff making so many drinks that there wasn’t a gap left on the bar, and Henry and William were trying to cope with everything in between. Namely, trying to keep kids out of staff-only areas or from running full pelt into the servers carrying food and drinks, and keeping feuding chefs calm in the kitchen. The latter Henry’s domain, for obvious reasons. So when the shifty looking fellow slipped inside the building, it went unnoticed. 

“Excuse me?” a woman’s shrill voice called to William, obligating him to approach the table. He didn’t smile at her because the look on her face said this wasn’t a ‘compliments to the chef’ kind of thing. 

“Yes, ma’am?” 

“There’s plastic in my son’s pizza.” She pointed a thickly painted nail at the slice, showing the cling film sticking out underneath. Fuck’s sake.

He nodded, “Right. I’ll get you a new one.” As he spoke, he picked up the plate and the one with the rest of the pizza on it, cursing this whole fucking operation. 

“Got anything that doesn’t come out of a freezer?” she snapped, looking at him with such disapproval he felt a kid again. 

He just laughed at her. God, it was a £5 meal, she’s lucky they even heated it up for that. Neglecting to answer her, he gave a half-arsed apology and went towards the back kitchen to sort her out. 

Whilst this took place, a man with black gloves waited for the boy on the till to leave before wrenching the till open, shoving his hand inside to grab a fist-full of today’s earnings. The staff were too distracted to cop on, and alarm was only raised when the thief knocked into a server. 

“Hey what are you-” shoving her out the way, the figure moved towards the exit. The young lady got the attention of other staff who called out to the man but didn’t physically intervene, forcing the waitress to run to the kitchen and drag William out by his arm, babbling about what was happening.

He gave chase, following the thief out of the swinging doorway while the staff and patrons watched on in awe. It was at this point Henry burst out the kitchen as well, his face a mask of exasperation as he asked around to try and figure out what was going on. It seemed like no one really knew anything. No one knew where the day security guard was or how much money the thief had grabbed before bolting. 

“Fucking useless.” He mumbled under his breath, immediately kicking himself for how much he sounded like William.

It must have only been a couple of minutes before William walked back in, though it felt much longer. Henry looked to catch Will’s eye, quickly realising that he’d failed in the pursuit both the thief and the money by the slouching of his posture and the cut above his brow. He dabbed it with the side of his hand, smearing blood on his forehead. It was a sight and a half.

“You didn’t get him?” he kept his voice cautious, not wanting to send William over the edge.

He laughed, “Course I did. Fucker hit me and jumped in a car. I will say, he were well organised.” William winced again as he touched his cut, a streak of stark red trailing down the side of his face. Henry watched the movement thoughtfully, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen William like this, though usually he wasn’t sober. There was just something about it that made him feel deeply troubled and guilty. William Afton was powerful and scary. Handsome as the devil, everyone said it and the blood on his face tickled a part of Henry that he kept close to his chest and had done for years. 

Henry sighed, “You alright?” it’s asked nonchalantly but there is a tint of kindness on it. 

“Yeah. It’s going to keep bleeding though, you know what cuts to the face are like.” He again wiped the gash, the blood darkly pretty on his fingers. 

“No, no I don’t.” He shakes his head, he had too much sense to go about getting into fights. William just laughed, Henry's judgement always amused him. But his laughter died when Henry bluntly asked, “Don’t suppose you got a licence plate or anything?”

William’s face went stony, “Shit.” he muttered, feeling a little stupid but in fairness he was busy trying to catch the guy. The two were silent for a moment, the quiet awkward between them. Thankfully, it was broken when William again spoke, the idea hitting him out of nowhere, “The cameras. It wasn’t too far from the back doors, we might be able to get the plate on them.” 

Henry nodded, “Yeah I’ll go and check with y/n.” An odd weighty feeling fills the air at the mention of your name, a bizarre and new-found knowledge on the former’s part and gross pride on the other’s. He turns but stops still, “You should uh try and see how much they took. You know, look at the tickets and-”

“Yeah, I know how to do it, mate. Jesus.” he sniggers, not moving an inch out of principle, since when the fuck did Henry give him orders.

Exhaling through his nose, the sensible owner decides not to pursue what he’d asked him to do, hoping he’d comply without an argument, though what was more likely is that Henry would have to do that himself. He heads out the main restaurant and down the staff corridor, a growing feeling of anticipation at seeing you. He’s sure neither you or William know what he did, but the fear of discovery made him tense. 

Outside the security office door, he takes a breath before knocking, hating himself for being like this, if anyone should be ashamed it’s William, but as always he’s the one compensating. 

You open the door and are greeted by the pensive expression of Mr Emily, you knew exactly what he was going to ask and had been reviewing the footage yourself already. 

“Uh hey, y/n, can you show me the footage of the incident?” You step aside and let him into the cramped space, it’s a horrible office really, no windows and the monitor casting a grainy artificial light against the viewer. He would rather have you serving on the front but you insisted this was better because you, quote, ‘don’t want to deal with all the shit out there.’ End quote. 

“Yeah, sure. I had a look…” you speak whilst getting up the recording of the robbery, “but the fella has a hood up, you can’t see anything uh identifiable.” He glances at your face and is surprised to see you smiling, as you wind it back and play the recording for him. 

Your grin is pretty contagious and makes it hard to focus on the footage, “You find this funny?” His brow is narrowed, it’s not asked nastily more curiously. 

“The thieving? No, sir.” You try to disguise your snigger as you skip it forward a few seconds, to show William pulling the waitress off his arm and booking it out the door. “It’s uh that I find funny.”

He snickers himself, god this was a shit show. “Yes, I can see why.” 

“When I clip it for the police, I’ll leave that bit out… might be hard to explain what he was trying to do there.” You watch your boss nod his approval, an understanding between you to try and keep William out of the copper’s eye-lines.  

Henry then recalls what he said about the outside footage. “What about outside? William said that we might be able to see something on the cameras round the back.” 

“Ah yeah, good idea.” You go off the restaurant recordings, and on to the outside ones. They record a little differently in blocks of footage that display in a huge camera roll, you go to the section he means but scroll down too far, clicking on the wrong block. The two of you are met with yesterday’s footage of the bins and it takes you a fair few seconds to realise. 

“Oh this is yesterday’s.” Henry says the moment he clocks on and you blink trying to read the time and date stamp. 

“Oh sorry.” you rush to go back off that recording, hitting the wrong button and instead going to the rear interior cameras in the same block. The intake of breath from Mr Emily, makes you jump. 

“Ah- no. That’s ah-” The time it takes him to speak is enough for you to gauge the reason for his reaction. Though the footage isn't brilliant you can tell it’s him standing just outside William’s office, his back to the wall. It’s too grainy to see precisely but the movement is clear and pitifully familiar to you. You look at Henry for a moment, lips pursed in confusion, then it occurs to you to look at the timestamp: yesterday around 1:30pm, you were on your ‘lunch break’ then with Will- oh sweet lord. 

“Oh my God.” you say out loud, and Henry swears that this must be what a heart attack feels like. The dawning realisation on your face left him no room to lie his way out of it, sure it was muddy but shit, you can still tell he’s wanking. A disturbed and defeated noise escaped from his throat, “Mr Emily, is that-”

“God, just turn it off.” He speaks hoarsely, a little blunter than he meant, but when he pulls the courage to look at you he sees blatant amusement on your face. 

“Like Hell I will. You saw me and Will- Mr Afton in his office yesterday?” you enquire, smirk not budging an inch. 

“Yes.'' His voice is small as his eyes flicker between you and the footage, which is now reaching its literal and metaphorical climax. Your eyes go wide as you take it in, how he bites on his hand his back lifting off the wall, fucking his fist and letting himself spill on the floor.

“And you uh-”

“Yes.” Now he looks at you, his face red before he tries to grab the mouse, futile really, you’d already seen everything. The whole vile, carnal activity. Something so beneath him, it had been on his mind all day. He internally interrogated himself as to how he didn't think about the cameras, the stupid horny bastard he was. Couldn’t wait to get back to the privacy of his office- no he didn’t want to because the sounds of his co-worker and employee screwing was what was getting him off. 

You move it out of his grasp, your eyes sharp scrutiny on his shame. “God, Mr Emily.” you giggle, a sudden giddiness surging through your veins. If you had known that he was there he could have come in and gotten a better view, the mere thought of that made arousal twitch between your legs. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you finally speak again. 

Confusion again twists his features, “What?” He looks handsome like that, you muse. 

“Do you… fancy me, Mr Emily?” A flash of something foreign crosses his face, he just looks at you until you prompt him again, “Well?”

He scoffs, “I- well, you’re attractive, yes. What do you want me to say?” His tone is tinged with disbelief, he can’t believe you’re still in here with him, talking to him, not running into the restaurant to tell William, disgust etched on your face. 

You beam, he really did, it was written on his face. Circumstantial or not, the idea of having two fit older men interested in you, burned your blood. “Then you could’ve said something… I feel guilty if you felt, you know, left out.” 

He’s so speechless he might as well be a statue, so you fill the silence again, “It’s good to know.” He’s just mesmerised by your reaction, you’re almost flirting with him, unperturbed by that god-awful footage, no, engaged by it.

“I’m sorry.” He manages finally, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from his hands. 

“Don’t be.” You shake your head, still smiling. “I’ll sort the recordings. Check for a number plate and clip it for a report.” You slowly place a hand on his arm, stroking up and down, captivated by the effect you were having on him, you felt powerful almost. “So you don’t have to worry. You can go.” 

And he does. He leaves the room without saying a word, shell-shocked into silence. Your reaction wasn’t what he would have thought, but it still scared him because he knew he was going to be the next topic of conversation between you and William, and if he were to confront him, that heart attack probably would materialise. God, if you only knew the half of who he fancied.

~

The next time you see William, is again during your contracted hours, this time leaving the door purposely open despite his protests, a secret hope that Henry might again come down the corridor, no pun intended. You’d rode William to oblivion in his office chair, taking exactly what you wanted from the man in the form of his huge cock stretching your little hole open. 

Now you remain sat on his lap, watching his hand toy with the mess both of you had made between your legs, his fingers pushing his release back inside, thinking to himself how pretty you looked fuck open like that, full of him just how you wanted. 

“I want to talk to you.” You say through a grin, pulling his hand away and towards your lips, where you suck the mixture of the two of you from his fingers, your tongue swirling reminding him of something else you’re more than good at. A low noise from his chest at the sight makes you smile again. 

He smirks, “This is the bit where you ask me for something, huh?” 

“Nothing you won’t like.” You bite the tips of his fingers, holding them for just a moment between your teeth, making him groan. “Do you know about Mr Emily?” The second you ask it he pulls his hand away, cupping under your jaw. 

“What about him?” 

“He saw us the other day. You know on your desk.” You don’t need to jog his memory, he recalls that in explicit detail. 

“Yeah, got quite the eyeful I imagine. Looked mortified.”

“Oh my god, He didn’t tell you.” You laugh, “Not that I blame him.” adjusting yourself before sliding from his knee. You pull up your panties and then the trousers you were wearing, scanning the room for wherever the hell your shoes have gone. When you look back to him, his brow is furrowed. 

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart, what’s this about?” You can tell that despite the casualness of his tone he really wants to know and your cocky expression was grating on him already. Clearly you talking about Henry was of great interest to him. 

So you smile, taking a moment to enjoy the look on his face before giving him the story, in as much detail as you can. You describe the footage you’d found, how even through the pixels you could tell he touched himself desperately, his pace rushed either due to fear of discovery or simple greediness. You tell him how his coworker was so thoughtless as to let his release fall on the floor, and dirty enough to leave it there. 

William looked at you with a grin, he could taste the second-hand embarrassment on his partner's behalf, thinking to himself that Henry must feel like shit right now. When you finish with some clear glee on your face he chuckles, “Dirty bastard.” He paused, an expression flashing across his face that you’d never seen before. “...Did he delete the footage?”

You laugh, “Why? You want to see it?” You half expected his face to fall at that accusation but a grin just cut wide on his face. “I deleted it.” you shoot him down.

“Well then, that’s a wasted opportunity. You never know when that kind of thing can be of use.” He spoke whilst standing up, pulling the lever under his chair up to return it to the height he needed it, not the one you did to ride him. He moved to begin sorting his desk out but his hands stuttered, not sure where to even begin with how behind on work he was. 

“Cold, Afton.” You grin. “You didn’t actually let me finish.” That caught his attention again and he turned to face you, leaning back on his desk before gesturing at you to continue. 

“I said I deleted it. Only fair, I wouldn’t want Mr Emily to feel… slighted.” You sigh, watching him look at you expectantly. You make him wait a fair while before you dig in your back pocket and clack a USB down on the desk next to him. The blooming smile on his face motivates you to ask him for a ‘favour’. 

Clearly there is something of a tension between the two co-owners. And that can be toxic to a business’ success. Though that’s probably not the real reason for you wanting to relieve it.

William moves to pick it up, but you quickly snatch it from the table, holding it between two fingers you drag it up under his chin. “You can have it… for whatever pervers reasons you really want it.”

“But?”

The saccharine look on your face as you speak is like hypnotism at its finest. “I like the idea of two men wanting me. Like I really like it.” you draw out your words for maximum effect.

He tilts his head back in laughter, “Of course you do.”

You’re not entirely happy with the implications of that. “Hey, at least I’m brave enough to ask for what I want.” 

“And you want to fuck him?” The words are quick and harsh off his tongue. “And you’re what, asking for my permission?” 

A short laugh escapes you. “No. But I do want to fuck him. But I don’t want to make you jealous, so maybe there’s a middle ground. If you get me?” He evidently does, judging by that delicious pinch between his brows. For a moment you think you’ve pushed things a little too far, maybe hit a nerve even, so you just blink at him prettily, hoping that that will nudge him in the direction you want. 

Finally, he sniggers, “... You’re asking me… If I will tag-team you. With a bloke I've known for nearly twenty years?” He laughs incredulously before running his tongue over his teeth. The emphasis of the last part makes you resign yourself to the no, you think you’re about to hear.

“Uh yeah..?” Your tone is as cautious as you can make it, whilst your eyes rake over his face for some read of his opinion on the matter. 

But he just leaves you hanging, sniggering away. Clearly he’s made a decision and you won’t get to know until he thinks you need to. 

~

Later that evening after grabbing his old and dusty but trusty jacket off the hook in his office, Henry checks the pocket for his car keys and wallet. Sighing as the events of the day caught up to him, he finally clocks off just after 11pm, and he’s more than ready to fall into bed. 

He pokes his head around the door of William’s office just to give him the polite goodnight that was expected but is greeted by pitch black emptiness. He tries not to be pissed off that the bastard has gone home already and left him working away without a word exchanged. But it's largely unsuccessful, and he finds himself huffing and puffing as he goes to the front of the building to check everythings been locked up properly.

The restaurant always hits different after hours, an unacquainted person would probably find it creepy what with the children’s play area all shrouded in darkness and the curtains drawn on the stage blowing just a little from the ventilation. Hell, he was beginning to find it unnerving himself. 

The interior doors were locked and bolted and the shutters were down, making this whole thing a little pointless, but if he hadn’t checked he’d be halfway home itching with uncertainty. Especially with the robbery that just happened. 

“You know you could have just checked from outside?” A voice says in the dark of the restaurant, making Henry turn like a gunshot towards it. It takes him a minute in his surprise to clap his eyes on William sitting in a corner booth with his feet on the table. In the complete fucking dark. 

“Jesus, William.” He snaps, moving to the wall to flick the lights back on. When he does, the lurker winces in the bright artificial light. “What are you doing?” 

In response, he slides a bottle of whiskey across the table, one that he’d drunk nearly half of already. “Drinking.” His words are a little slurred so he clears his throat. “Drink with me, Henry.” 

Henry scoffs, “Drinking alone in the dark. New low, even for you.” 

Cackling, William puts his hand over his heart, “Ouch. Well, I'm not alone now, am I? Sit down.” He gestures in line with his words, nodding towards the other side of the booth. 

“It’s late, I should-” He begins his protest but is immediately cut off by an overexaggerated reaction from his counterpart. 

“Oh for the love of god, man. Fucking sit down.” He rolls his eyes, still not moving his feet from the table, even when Henry obeys and sits down opposite him. In Henry’s experience it’s best not to argue with William when he’s half-cut, the man could be persuasive, bordering on naggy.  

It’s only when he’s already sat down that he realises the drunk has only got one glass, he pours it for Henry and then takes a swig directly from the bottle. 

“Thought you were saving this for a special occasion?” He asks, twisting the bottle to read the label and humming approval to himself that this was good shit. Truth be told he hasn’t drunk with William for what must be a couple of years, so this proposal mixed with his posh whiskey stank of an ulterior motive. 

“I’m sick of looking at it.” He answered, slowly leaning his head backwards to rest it against the wall and close his eyes. Henry watched the movement over the brim of his glass. He spent many years working with this man, but it only dawned on him once in a while how handsome he was. Not a hallmark prince kind of handsome, but in a rugged, sleazy, scary sort of way, no wonder you’d trotted so happily to bed with him- or rather to his office on your lunch break. He almost laughed as that thought occurred to him. God, he was jealous, and he hated himself for it. 

Suddenly, William shook his head and sat up straighter. “Fuck, I’m nearly mortal.” He snickered, before taking another swig from the bottle, then pouring more in Henry's glass. "Away, mate. You've got catching up to do." 

Although he tried, Henry would have needed another bottle to make it to William’s level of pissed. Still though, a little over an hour later his head was swimming and even just sitting in this booth was testing his balance. 

He shifts in his place, instantly regretting it “Shit. God… I need to stop. Gonna fucki-” He felt like he was going to hit the deck, yet William seemed to have gone the other way, leaning with his head in his hands giggling at nothing. 

“Language, Emily!” He chastised, “Never known you to have such a dirty mouth.” Looking over at the other man, William could tell he’d drunk well too much. He never could handle it that well, it showed immediately in his eyes, that kind of glassy look that was undeniably due to intoxication; many times the two of them had gotten denied service from pubs for exactly that reason. 

His words made Henry look up properly, a bit taken aback by his coworker. Obviously, he was joking, hardly a sentence from William could go by without some flavour of profanity, but that ‘dirty mouth’ comment was like ice down his spine. He said something like that to you when he eavesdropped on the two of you, in such a darkly aroused way that it stuck with him, practically haunting him. “Just shut up, man.” He mumbled, unhappy with the half a smile crossing his face.

William scoffed, leaning forward across the table to snatch the glasses off Henry’s face. He tried to grab them back, but as always, Will was too quick. 

“What the hell are you-”

He laughed, putting the glasses on himself and blinking quickly in pantomime, “God, you’re really fucking blind, huh?” 

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Henry leans to again try and take them back. He's met with William tilting his head to allow him to pluck them from his face, chuckling like a schoolboy. 

Henry feels his face heat up more than he would have liked. “Yeah, that’s why I wear them. Fuck’s sake.” 

“I forgot you’re so moody on the drink, lighten up, dickhead.”

For a moment Henry just laughed in disbelief, thinking to himself that he can’t be serious. “At least it’s only when I’m drinking, you’re a stormy bastard all the time.” Will’s eyebrows raised in response, he didn’t have a lot to say to that, largely because it’s true. His mood could sway the whole staff’s, his bad day was everyone’s problem, most of all Henry’s. 

William hummed for a beat, taking the time to think if he really wanted to say what he was about to. Your words from earlier echoing in his mind. “You’re right, you know.” He smirked then, a proper conniving expression that almost bordered on sinister. “I’ll have to make it up to you then… Call in on me tomorrow. I have something for you.” 

~

And now is the waiting game. Your shift went relatively quickly and painlessly. Bookings have been strictly limited after yesterday's fiasco that led to the thief digging around the cash register, so it was almost quiet. And now you sit on your boss’s very familiar knee, practically vibrating with excitement. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder, slowly grinding your hips back and forth on his lap, knowing how much it wound him up. 

“You really can’t wait, can you?” His voice is low and teasing like always, but you don’t miss the way his fingers tap against the top of the desk: he’s nervous. 

You smile, “What? I’m excited.” You roll your hip particularly hard, pleasure jolts through your system when you feel that William is pretty excited himself. “I can’t believe he agreed to this. I’ve always wanted to have two blokes fight over me.” You punctuate your point by pressing your lips against the underside of his jaw. 

He snickers from just above you, “Can I tell you something?” A large hand comes up from your ribs to grab a handful of your breast which you arch your back into. “He didn’t exactly agree.” The second the sentence leaves him, you sit upright, turning to face him. 

Your eyes narrow. “What are you saying?” 

“I told him I have something for him, not that-” Your scoffing cuts him off .

“You- he doesn’t know that I’m here to… You’re such a fucking arsehole!” You could almost hit him, if Henry has no idea what this is all about, it’s not going to happen is it? Disappointment courses through you. “I can’t believe you-” You go to stand and grab your shit and leave, but he catches your hips and pulls you back down on top of him. 

He holds you firm, just grinning at the angry line between your brows. “Calm down, sweetheart. Alright? Just bat your eyes at him like you’re so good at and you’ll get what you want.”

Just as you open your mouth to give Will your grievances, the two of you hear polite knocking from the office door which then slowly cracks open showing a tentative looking Henry. 

The second he claps eyes on not only William but you too, the man feels anxiety prickle all over him as a million thoughts cross his mind. Seriously, what the fuck is this? Some kind of gang up on Henry, make him feel like shit for what he did the other day, situation? Fuck, the shame around him was not only tangible but so thick it was practically visible. 

But not wanting to draw attention to his hallway activity, he elects for a “Oh hey, y/n.” Before he focuses his gaze on William, “What is this then?” 

He laughs, “I said I had something for you…” William then takes his hands off your hips, freeing you to move as you’d like. But before you do, he whispers something unintelligible to Henry in your ear. Something that makes the hard line of your mouth soften considerably. 

“Well, love. You still want to play?” The words caress your skin and it dawns on you that you do. Fuck, you really want to play. And you’ve already gone to all this effort… it would be a shame to waste such an opportunity. You nod at William and slide off his lap, then walking over to Henry who still stood awkwardly a pace away from the door. 

You walk right up to him, standing a little too close to him, so close he feels an automatic blush spread across his cheeks. “I uh…” you begin but falter immediately. The confusion on his face was crystal clear. “I can’t get that image of you out of my head. You know, the footage?... I think I enjoyed that more than a normal person should. I thought maybe we could have some fun- if that’s what you want, obviously.” You keep your voice down instinctively, maybe hoping internally it’d be out of William’s earshot. 

He killed that thought with, “Careful, y/n. His glasses will steam up.” The cockiness coating the words made the other man scowl, which in turn just made Will laugh. 

“Shut it, Will.” You interject, your eyes not moving from Henry as you read him for reaction. 

“...This really isn’t a good idea.” He speaks slowly, voice cracking on the first word, making him have to clear his throat to continue. This was baffling, and he couldn’t tell if it was some sick joke between you and William, something designed to cripple him emotionally. But looking closer, from your small smile to his set jaw made him think that maybe, maybe this was a real proposal. 

“Respectfully,” you take another step forward, so close to Henry that you could smell his aftershave. “I disagree.” Your hand rises up to rest on his chest, a finger prying under the lapel of his jacket.  

He chuckles in complete disbelief, flicking his eyes over to William, who still sat cock-sure as hell in his office chair.  “Don’t look at me, mate. This is all her.” He waves a calculatedly dismissive hand as he speaks, trying to disguise the tension he was wrapped in.   

“Yeah but…” The words fail Henry when you continue touching him, stroking his chest in just the right way to get the physical reaction from him that you wanted. “If I do something, are you going to rough me up?” He attempts some level of nonchalance, but it doesn’t carry at all. 

William sniggers then, “I think she’ll do a good enough job of that on her own.” You giggle, curling your fingers under the lapel and pulling Henry so close that your lips are only an inch away from his making him groan slightly. 

“So what do you say, Henry?” You breathe, already knowing the answer but wanting to make sure that this is something that he wanted. He doesn’t respond verbally, only closing the gap between the two of you with a surprisingly firm kiss. You reciprocate, excitement bubbling in your core, this was insane, not only was it two handsome men here with you at once, but both your bosses, this was certainly going to bollocks up your professional relationships. 

You take both Henry’s hands and place them on your hips, giving him all the cues to deepen this kiss, which he does by sliding his tongue into your mouth and twirling it alongside yours. You let out a light moan, if he kept hitting you with all these surprises this was going to be even more fun than you initially thought. When you press yourself flush against him, it strikes him out of nowhere that this is real, you, pretty little you, were kissing him, pressing against him hungrily, eager for him. It excites him enough for his hands to rake over you, one cupping your tit and the other pinching your arse in such a way that makes you briefly rise to your toes. 

You mouth the word ‘fuck’ against his lips before he puls away slightly and buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing along your skin until he found your sweet spot. Your hand tangles itself in his hair, encouraging him to keep pulling these cute noises from you. One particularly pretty gasp for you makes him look up, instantly catching William’s eye, his stomach twisting when he sees him chuckling and shaking his head. You grab under his chin, forcing him to put his attention back on you. 

You look over your shoulder, “Have you got a confused jealousy boner, Will?” 

He laughs at your meanness, “If I have to watch, at least put on a show.” You grin before turning back to Henry, intending to follow his advice. You lightly push Henry back until his back catches a side table, there you trail your hand down his body before taking the tent in his trousers in your hand, making him groan again, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

You begin to stroke him slowly over the fabric, grinning up at him, “Fuck, that security footage was so hot, Henry.” You bite your bottom lip and he swears he’s going to melt. “Will you show me in person?”

You feel his cock twitch and it spurs on the wetness now seeping between your legs and collecting in your panties. His hands replace yours, moving to slowly undo his belt, the clinking sound all too revealing, then his fly underneath. You dive in then, helping him pull his trousers down. Flicking your gaze between his eyes and his cock, you trail your finger over the bulge, stopping just at the waistband of his boxers and making him wait in anticipation before you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull them down, letting his hardness spring between your bodies. 

The look on your face is so damn dirty, your pupils so huge that he just blinks at you, gasping when you grab hold of him, feeling his length. He’s thick and you just know he’s going to feel so fucking right inside you. Spitting in your hand, you start a slow pace of stroking him, all teasing, really making him feel every little thing you give him, his twisting expression motivating you to keep it nice and easy. 

“This enough of a show for you?” You say to William, and Henry turns to look at him like he forgot he’s there. 

“Please, sweetheart. I know you can do better than that.” He makes a point of looking the two of you up and down before glancing at Henry and flashing the most wolfish smirk going, making his stomach twist with something absolutely filthy. 

William watches as you grin, his hand taking hold of himself over his trousers. You look such a pretty thing sliding down to your knees, still pumping Henry, though now it was becoming a more substantial pace. His breath audibly hitched when he looked down at the sight of you stroking his cock like that, looking so needy for it. You open your mouth, placing the head of his cock on your tongue for a moment before wrapping your lips around him. You suck him just as tantalisingly, hollowing your cheeks to take as much of him as you could, working your tongue perfectly on the underside of his length. His head was completely empty, soft grunts escaping him when you took him deep in your throat. How the fuck was this even happening? How the fuck was William okay with it? 

From across the room, you both hear the shifting of him standing up, your eyes move to what you could see of him in your peripheral but you don’t stop, if anything you start bobbing your head with more gusto, your hands taking his base and softly stroking him to your rhythm. Henry just stares at William, his hands white knuckling against the table in an effort not to cry out- god, you’re too fucking good at this. No wonder he’s so fond of you. 

William stands behind you, his frame casting an imposing shadow over you on the floor, you can’t help but smile- well, smile as much as you can. He looks between the two of you, watching you give Henry probably the best blowjob of his life, before looking back to Henry’s reddened face, he could tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, which makes him snigger. He grabs hold of your hair, taking a firm grip of it and following your movement. 

Henry moans and the shame that accompanies it is almost instant. What the hell was he doing? His scrutiny was fucking awful and maybe would’ve made him want to stop, if you weren’t taking him so well. 

“She’s such a good girl, huh?” His voice makes your skin pucker with goosebumps, fuck he sounds so good when he’s horny. 

Henry would have agreed, but all words are absent when Will uses your hair to control your movement. A sudden emerging urge to hear what kind of sounds Henry can make taking over him. You moan, hand reaching in reflex around his wrist, though you let him do as he wishes. He pushed your head further down on Henry’s cock, making tears spring at the corners of your eyes. And then moves you back and forth, forcing you to keep up with it. Something about it is so dirty you can’t help but shift your position so your pussy is rubbing against your heel, the small sensation absolute bliss.   

William catches on quickly and pulls your head back so Henry’s cock pops lewdly from your mouth. You speak immediately, your voice breathy, “Feeling left out?” 

Henry watches in something close to awe as William tilts your head all the way back so you’re looking up at him, his finger rubbing over your lips, the smirk on his face mean. “I agreed to share, not witness.” He leans down and pulls your shirt up, somehow managing to manoeuvre it over your head easily, despite the carnage. He waits, unsure of what to do, his cock glistening with your spit when he takes it in his hand, looking to see your bra being unhooked and the sight of your perfect tits. 

William hooks under your arms and lifts you up, in quite the show of strength, onto the side table. You giggle, “You’re not very good at sharing then.” as you look between the two men, your legs spreading automatically to let William pull your trousers off, your wet panties exposed, he runs his fingers over the damp fabric eliciting a pleased sound from both you and Henry who now touched himself at the view in front of him. 

“You really liked sucking his dick, didn’t you?” His tone is all mocking, though you pick up on a hint of something else. You just nod and lift your hips up against his hand, he obeys your silent ask, quickly sliding your knickers down to your knees and placing his thumb on that needy clit of yours. He gives you just what you need, drawing circles over your bundle of nerves, glancing at Henry whilst he does so, catching his gaze as it flicks from somewhere else, embarrassment written on his face.   

He shakes his head at him before placing his hands on your thighs to keep you open for him as he bends down and replaces the stimulation with his tongue. You grab him instantly, and your want for him makes Henry stroke his cock again, he almost wants to laugh at this attempt to show off, but there’s no denying the look on your face as you roll your hips against him, incoherent moans fleeing your lips. Clearly, William is good at that because when he adjusts his position to press his fingers inside you, you cry out, the sound insanely pornographic. He presses his digits inside you just right, playing you like a fucking violin and you’re close, just the sight of Henry watching could have got you there, but the angle of his fingers pressed against the part of you that made coming undone inevitable. 

William grunts into your pussy, when your hand in his hair lets him know you’re going to cum. You’re a bad one for that, grabbing onto him in your fretful wave, when you’re scared he’s not going to let you get there, his back is covered in scratches from you for precisely that reason. He grabs at himself, palming his erection to the rhythm of your noises and not entirely succeeding. Henry notices immediately, unable to decide what he wants to watch more, you gagging for it, begging to cum, or Will getting off on it.

“Fuck. Will, please.” You choke out, the fucking of his fingers shoving you closer and closer to your end, so quick its near unbearable. He doesn’t stop, curling his fingers more to get you there, still sucking mercilessly on your clit. It hits you hard, your back arching as you cum, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers, fluttering in such a way that it makes it impossible not to bust inside you.

William pulls away from you when your waves begin to die out, to enjoy the sight of you, grinning when he sees Henry looking ragged. 

You see it too, the furrowed brow, sweat lingering on his forehead showing that he’d enjoyed that nearly as much as you had, edging himself helplessly to your pleasure. You can see the precum leaking from his tip and even though you’ve just cum you want more. You want to make him cry. 

“Henry…” The second you say his name he quivers, he remembers your voice sounding like that from before, but the glazed over, fucked out look on your face is new. “Can you fuck me?” You’re sitting up on the table as you speak, your cunt flushed and shining. And you certainly don’t need to ask twice. 

You stand and push him down so he’s sitting in William’s chair, not missing the pissed off look on Will’s face that screams ‘what about me?’.

You straddle Henry facing out towards William, blinking pretty at him whilst rubbing your slick pussy against the other’s cock. Hoping he gets the practicality of this position. Reading your mind, he steps forward, taking your chin in his grip as his foot reaches under the chair to push the lever up, causing you and Henry to drop down roughly to a much more useful height. Henry moans, the jolting movement making him drag against your cunt in the most desperate way. 

It’s not long before you’re lost in the obliteration of two fellas at once. Henry’s thick cock deep inside you, stretching you around him. His hands cup under your behind to give him the space he needs to fuck up into you. You’re whining from it, loving the feeling of his pace, or you would be, if not for your lips being wrapped around William’s cock stifling the sound.

If anyone was outside the door in the former's previous position, they might fall victim to the same impulse he did. The lewd sounds of one using your mouth like his fucktoy and the other fucking out your dripping pussy, no doubt very obvious. As is the mixture of grunts and moans. You can't help but be so thankful for coming across that footage.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 5

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, probably won't)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, but he is a naughty-minded flirt 😉

Word Count: exactly 3200 for this chapter

A/N: And we're back! Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying this story so far, and please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my others!

(Thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider she made for me!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle

Ugh, this is ridiculous, you thought to yourself the next morning as you tossed yet another rejected outfit onto your bed.  You had been torn between wanting to dress professionally since you were technically working and wearing something more casual since you knew you would be watching Chef Murdock cook and didn't want to accidentally ruin one of your nicer outfits, and had ransacked your closet in order to find something in-between. It's not like it actually matters what I wear anyway.

Finally you pulled on a pair of jeans and a cute-but-casual top then hurriedly finished getting ready before heading towards Daredevil.

You sucked in a breath as you spotted Chef Murdock waiting for you outside of the restaurant. Goddamn, even dressed casually he's sexy as all hell.

He was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans today, paired with black sneakers and a comfortably-worn-looking brown leather jacket.

His head turned towards you as you approached. "Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Hi," you replied. "How'd you know it was me?"

"You slowed down as you approached me," Chef Murdock replied. "If it hadn't been you you more than likely wouldn't have changed your pace, so I made an educated guess."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that makes sense." You shook your head. "I guess you kinda have to pay extra attention to your surroundings, huh?"

Chef Murdock nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had to learn to utilize my remaining senses to adapt to the environment around me.”

He held a to-go cup of coffee out towards you. "Here, I picked up some coffee for you. I wasn't exactly sure what you'd want so I got you something based on what you were drinking at the Bulletin the other day."

Your eyebrows raised. To you your coffee always smelled like, well, coffee, but Chef Murdock was trained in the culinary arts -- he could probably tell what sweeteners and syrups were in a cup of coffee just from the scent alone.

You took a sip then nodded in approval. "This is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Chef Murdock took a sip of his own coffee. "So since any culinary dish starts with its ingredients, I thought we'd begin our cooking demo at the farmer's market this morning."

You nodded. "Okay, yeah, that sounds great. Do you mind if I record our conversation while we walk? Sometimes something will jump out in casual conversation that's good for my article."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Not at all."

"Great, thanks." You took your phone out of your pocket and started recording, once again stating your name, the date, and the time. "Interview of Chef Matthew Murdock, part 2."

Chef Murdock gestured down the sidewalk. "Shall we, then?"

"Sure."

You headed down the sidewalk together, the gentle tapping of Chef Murdock's cane against the pavement creating a rhythm with your steps.

"So, um, how was dinner service last night?" you asked. 

"It was… okay," Chef Murdock replied. "Not quite what I'd hoped for in terms of customers, but we're still finding our footing."

You nodded. "Well, hopefully my profile of you for the Bulletin will help get the word out."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Fingers crossed. So what about you? How was your evening? Have any big Friday night plans?"

You shook your head with a light laugh. "Not unless you counted a date with my Netflix account."

Chef Murdock chuckled. "That actually sounds really nice."

"I would ask if you got to do anything after the restaurant closed, but I'm sure you probably just went home and rested."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Actually, I have after-hours access to a gym near my apartment, so I frequently go there to work off my energy from service before heading home."

I wonder what kind of workouts he does to gain those biceps of his , you thought as you glanced over at his arms.

"Boxing." 

You looked up at Chef Murdock's face, which was sporting a small smirk. Shit, did I say that out loud? "Pardon?"

"I said I box," Chef Murdock repeated. "It helps me blow off steam after service and focus when I'm stuck on a recipe."

"Ah, okay. So did your dad teach you how to fight?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, he didn't want me to be part of that world, said he wanted better for me than to come home with bruises and broken ribs every night like he did. He encouraged me to focus on my education, said he didn’t want to see me have to struggle in life like he did."

You looked up at him as the two of you paused at a crosswalk. "I think he would be proud of you, you know."

Chef Murdock sighed. "I would hope so. Not sure he'd be too proud of the way I treated you when we first met the other day though."

You shook your head. "It’s okay, really. We all have our off days. And speaking of off days, do you get any time off to relax and do anything fun?"

Chef Murdock nodded. "I take Sunday after brunch service to relax and unwind. Sometimes Mondays too, but most Mondays I'm at the restaurant testing and perfecting new recipes."

"Like your apology tiramisu?"

Chef Murdock chuckled. "Yeah, but I'm also working on a few other recipes as well right now, appetizers and main dishes and such." 

You continued on as the crosswalk sign switched from 'stop' to 'walk'. "How long have you been at the Bulletin ?" Chef Murdock asked. 

"Five years," you replied. "I was at the Bugle for a little while before that, but the editor was only interested in unsubstantiated gossip and wouldn't let me write the kind of pieces I wanted to write."

"Which are human-interest stories?"

You nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I like to dig into a good investigative assignment just as much as the next journalist, but my stories don't always have to be hard-hitting exposés -- I want our readers to connect to the people I write about."

Chef Murdock looked contemplative. "That's admirable. So what made you want to be a journalist?"

"I've always loved listening to people talk about their lives and hearing about their hopes and dreams. One day I decided I wanted to be able to share their stories with the world and since I always had a knack for writing, I decided to become a journalist."

"Where did you go to school?"

You huffed out a light laugh. "Hey, who's interviewing who here?"

Chef Murdock grinned, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. "Sorry."

You shook your head. "It's fine, I'm totally kidding. I just didn't think you'd want to hear me ramble on about myself."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, it's fine, I uh… Actually I really like your voice." 

Your face heated. "Oh."

Chef Murdock shrugged, suddenly looking a bit shy. "I mean, I can't recognize people by their looks, obviously, so I pay a lot of attention to people's voices. Yours sounds nice."

Your heart fluttered again. Chill out, he's not flirting with you. "Thank you. I, um, I went to Columbia, by the way."

Chef Murdock nodded. "I considered going there -- thought about being a lawyer for a while, but I ultimately decided to go to culinary school instead."

You could picture Chef Murdock in a business suit, arguing a case in front of a captivated jury. He certainly could sway my opinion. "Oh, wow, that's… quite a different career path."

"Yeah, I thought that was what my dad would have wanted me to do but I eventually realized that what he really would have wanted was for me to be happy and do what I love."

"Which is cooking."

Chef Murdock smiled. "Yeah, cooking really is my passion. I love taking different ingredients and putting them together in order to create something for people to enjoy."

"That's really nice."

The two of you slowed down as you reached the lot where the farmer's market was held. "Here we are," Chef Murdock said.

You looked at the expanse of booths. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking… how do you know which vendors are where?"

Chef Murdock smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all. The vendors all have assigned spaces, so I've learned to map out who is located where. Plus Foggy comes with me most of the time to help out, or Karen will if Foggy's not available."

"Oh, okay."

The two of you began walking down the first row of vendors. "So, what are we looking for?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "We're just going to browse and see what we can find."

He slowed as you reached a booth featuring baskets of farm-fresh eggs. "We'll definitely need some eggs though."

You nodded. "Okay."

The two of you stopped at the booth.

"Good morning, Chef," the vendor said. "How can I help you today?"

"Morning, Oscar," Chef Murdock replied. "We'd like a dozen eggs, please."

"Of course." The vendor waved a hand at the baskets of eggs. "Take your pick."

Chef Murdock reached out and felt the eggs in one of the baskets. "We'll take these."

The vendor nodded. "Alrighty then."

He took the eggs out of the basket and set them in a cardboard carton. "That'll be $5."

Chef Murdock took his wallet out of his pocket and opened it before taking out a $5 bill and handing it to the vendor.

The vendor took it then handed Chef Murdock the carton of eggs. "Here you go, Chef. See you next week."

Matt gave the vendor a slight nod. "Thanks, Oscar. See ya."

The two of you continued on, stopping occasionally to chat with different vendors and purchase various fruits and vegetables. You watched in fascination as Chef Murdock took his time choosing each one, squeezing and smelling each individual item before deciding whether or not it was worth purchasing.

Finally you asked, "how can you tell if something is ripe or not?"

"Each individual fruit and vegetable has a distinct firmness and smell to them," Chef Murdock replied as the two of you stopped at a booth that was selling mangos. "I've learned to determine at what point they're at their ripest."

He picked up a mango. "Like mangos, for instance."

He took your hand and placed the mango in it. "Feel how firm this one is?"

You nodded, trying to focus on the fruit in your hand and not how Chef Murdock's touch was making your heart start to race. "Uh huh."

"Now smell it."

You held the mango up to your nose. "I don't smell anything."

"That means it's not quite ripe yet." Chef Murdock took the mango and set another one in your hand. "On the other hand, this one is a bit overripe."

You squeezed the mango, this one much softer than the other. "Okay."

Chef Murdock held a third mango up to your nose. "Smell this one."

You inhaled, a slightly mango-y scent filling your nostrils. "It smells like mango."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Exactly."

He swapped the mango currently in your hand with the one in his. "Now feel it."

You squeezed. It had more give than the first one but less than the second. "Okay, yeah, I can tell the difference."

"This one is perfectly ripe." Chef Murdock took the mango back, his fingertips slowly grazing your palm as he did so.

You swallowed. You couldn't deny that Chef Murdock was extremely attractive, but you were there to do your job, not lust after the man. Keep it professional.

You waited as he selected a few more mangos and paid the vendor before moving on. 

You reached the last row of booths and stopped in front of one called Claire-romatherapy.

The vendor walked over to the two of you with a smile on her face. "Morning, Matt."

Chef Murdock grinned. "Morning, Claire."

He turned to introduce the two of you. "Claire helps run the community garden near my apartment," he explained. "I grow herbs there."

"Ah, okay," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Claire said. "So what brings you two by today?"

Matt adjusted the bag he was carrying on his shoulder. "Actually, I'm almost out of that lemon soap and I was wondering if you had any in stock."

Claire nodded. "Actually, yeah, let me grab some for you. How many did you need today?"

"I'll take two. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

You picked up a soy-based candle and gave it a sniff, the subtle scent of coconut and mahogany filling your nose. "Mmm. How much are your candles?"

Claire glanced over at you from where she was sorting through a bin of various soaps. "Six for the smaller ones, ten for the large."

You nodded and went to dig your wallet out of your purse. 

Chef Murdock placed a hand on your arm. "I've got it."

You shook your head. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly --"

"No, I insist." Chef Murdock smiled at you. "Considering I'm the one who dragged you out here at 8 AM on a Saturday it's the least I can do."

You bit your lip, then sighed as you put your wallet away. "Okay then. Thank you."

"Alright," Claire said, returning with Chef Murdock's soap. "Total comes to sixteen dollars."

Chef Murdock handed her some cash. "I'll see you next week, Claire."

"Okay. Take care, Matt." Claire turned towards you. "And it was very nice to meet you." 

"You too," you replied.

"Alright, I think that's everything," Chef Murdock said as the two of you walked back towards the entrance. "Let's get back to the restaurant."

You nodded as you headed down the sidewalk together, excited to find out what sort of culinary creation Chef Murdock had in mind.

"Okay," Matt said half an hour later as he set a plate of crepes topped with fresh fruit, honey, and whipped cream in front of where you sat at the prep counter in the kitchen at Daredevil.

After finishing up at the farmer's market the two of you had gone back to the restaurant, where you had watched Matt prepare breakfast.

Matt had admittedly shown off his skills a bit, making perfectly cooked crepes and slicing the fruit with culinary precision before making freshly whipped cream.

"Oh my gosh, this looks amazing," you said.

Matt smiled as he set his own plate down across from you. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks then."

He waited as you cut a piece and took a bite. He knew every ingredient was exactly as it should be but was still nervous about your reaction.

You let out a moan. "Ohmigod ."

Matt sucked in a breath, his mind wandering to other sorts of situations in which he could get you to make those pleased sounds for him. He knew you were attracted to him -- all of the physiological signs he had picked up on had pointed to such -- and the more he had gotten to know you over the past several days, the more attracted he found himself becoming towards you in return. 

He cleared his throat, fighting to keep his thoughts professional.  "Good?"

You made a sound of affirmation as you took another bite. "Please tell me that your crepes are on the Sunday brunch menu."

Matt chuckled as he took a bite of his own crepes. "As a matter of fact, they are."

You took a sip of the freshly-squeezed orange juice Matt had also prepared. "Mmm, good, because now I know what I'm doing tomorrow morning."

Come home with me tonight and I'll make you all the crepes you want. 

Matt could imagine himself in his apartment's kitchen, making breakfast as you sat at his kitchen island wearing nothing but one of his shirts after a night of passionate lovemaking.

He mentally shook his head. He would definitely need to blow off some steam at the gym after service tonight. "I'm glad you like them."

You made another pleased sound. "These are amazing, honestly."

The two of you continued eating in comfortable silence. Once you were finished, you set your fork onto your plate. "That was so good."

Matt smiled. "Thanks."

He picked up your plates and brought them to the sink to wash them later, then turned towards the receiving door as the bell rang. "Oh, excuse me one second."

He walked over and answered it, the smell of motor oil and fresh blood filling his nostrils. "Hey, Frank."

"Hiya, Red," Frank replied. "I've got your delivery for today."

Matt nodded. "Come on in."

Frank wheeled the cooler with the fresh meat Matt had ordered into the kitchen, pausing when he saw you. "I didn't realize you had company. I could've come later."

Matt shook his head before introducing you. "She's doing a profile on me for the Bulletin. "

He gestured back to Frank. "This is Frank Castle. He's our meat supplier for the restaurant."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

"Likewise, ma'am," Frank replied.

Matt took the clipboard Frank handed him, feeling for the sticky flag he needed to sign by. "Give me just a second to take care of this."

"Actually, I should get going," you said. "I'm sure you have to start prepping for service soon and I don't want to be in the way."

As much as Matt didn't want you to have to go, you were right. He nodded. "Give me just a second and I'll walk you out."

"Okay."

He finished signing off on the meat order and handed the clipboard back to Frank. "Thanks, Frank."

Frank shook his hand. "No problem, Red, see ya Tuesday. Ma'am."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

Matt waited until the rumble of Frank's truck faded off into the distance before turning back to you. "By the way, if you're ever looking for someone interesting to profile, Frank's your guy."

"Oh?" you replied curiously as he escorted you towards the front door.

Matt nodded. "He's a former military veteran who was shot in the head while overseas then lost his wife and kids in a shootout between two rival gangs."

You sucked in a breath. "Oh my gosh, that's awful."

"He became a rancher in order to help with the PTSD and is now one of the biggest beef suppliers in New York."

"I'll definitely keep him in mind then. Thanks."

You both paused as you reached the door. 

"I… I had a really nice time today, Chef Murdock," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

"No problem." Matt rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Um, you know… you can call me Matt if you'd like."

"Okay," you said, a smile in your voice. "Thanks… Matt."

Matt smiled at the way his first name rolled off your tongue. "You're welcome."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Matt nodded. "Have Karen let me know that you're here and I'll come say hi."

"I will."

Matt unlocked the door. "See you tomorrow."

He sighed as he let you out then locked the door behind you. It was getting more and more difficult to fight the mutual attraction between you… and honestly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to keep fighting it.

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

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Work to achieve your dreams, they say. But what they don't tell you is that even if you work hard, some dreams won't come true. But for tonight, you will believe that your dreams will come true.

"Table six has been ordering the dish for half an hour. You know how these rich people are. If you don't want to lose your job, learn to walk faster." Your supervisor speaks almost shouting at you. It even seems like you're the only one who is a waitress in this restaurant. Five stars, my ass. Obviously at the moment, you can't respond back saying that the service is terrible because half the staff is busy waiting for the big celebrity who is coming to dinner here tonight.

"Yes, chef. I'll walk faster." You rush back with the last two orders you were in charge of taking. You were supposed to be dismissed almost two hours ago but we can't leave until the big star of the night comes. Pedro Pascal.

The man of the moment. Probably the face you've seen the most all year. They're coming to dinner at the restaurant where you work that night, they made a reservation for four. Everyone is speculating that he will bring some romantic interest.

Your manager has simply spent the last three hours warning you that any mistakes today will be resolved with a dismissal. You just can't imagine a worse time.

You almost trip when you're finishing serving the couple who ordered duck in white sauce. The restaurant is in chaos and thanks to that, your manager didn't fire you. You then decide to go outside to get some air, which might help you stay on your feet for the next few hours.

You're breathing chaotically, without any rhythm. You want to escape from this almost claustrophobic restaurant. In your haste, you don't see anything in front of you. You just feel that you bumped into another person's body. Your body was almost thrown to the ground with the impact. And when you looked up, you saw him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." You say it as soon as you realize what you did. An interesting fact is that Mr. Pascal held you tight with his arms so that you don't fall to the ground. If anyone saw from a distance they would think you were hugging each other. You immediately walk away, thinking that if your boss sees this, you're fucked up.

"Are you well? Your forehead is bleeding." He asks, touching his forehead lightly as if he were more worried about that than hiding. I bet he came through the back to avoid commotion.

"That was nothing, Mr. Pascal. You can follow me and I'll take you to your table calmly." You say, ignoring the burning in your head. What's a hurt next to losing this opportunity.

"Are you sure?" Pedro Pascal himself talks to you almost as if you were an alien because you don't allow your pain to show.

"Yes, sir. You don't need to worry about that, worse things have happened to me." You try to improve your expression so that Mr. Pascal can finally enter the restaurant. That's when you notice that you are being watched, by noises from what you imagine are paparazzi. You then take an unprofessional action. You push Mr. Pascal into the restaurant using his body as a shield so that the paparazzi cannot identify him.

"Is this how you treat your customers?" Pascal speaks as you lock the back door. Embarrassed, you turn to face Mr. Pascal after pushing him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm terribly sorry. But I suspect there are photographers out there. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience." You say almost as if asking for mercy.

"Alright, miss. If you'll take me to my table, I promise to forget about this pushing." Mr. Pascal speaks as he watches you. You feel awkward, but you nod your head positively and lead him to his table.