#chef AU

[f14fun]

my own pastry (!baker x op81)

synopsis: in which case y/n meets the infamous racecar driver oscar piastri as she works in her family-owned pastry shop, and she pretends not to know him. little does he know, she's idolized him for the longest time.

smau + prose (2.9K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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yourusername

liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 58 others

yourusername: the feminine urge to own a bakery

view comments:

yourbff1: alright no need to brag, you were blessed with an amazing family business and i'm here stuck with a desk job

yourusername: you laugh at me everytime i come home with flour stuck on my face.

yourbff1: well...😁😁

user1: wait this is so aesthetic

user2: drop the location of the bakery now! i wanna visit 🫶🏽

yourusername: 5512 streetname, monte carlo monaco!

user2: thx babes you will be seeing me in the next week

yourbff2: so we are not going to talk about the mystery guest that showed up at the bakery today...

yourusername: HE COULD BE LURKING. STAY ALERT. DO NOT MENTION HIM.

yourbff1: you mean osc*r p**str*?? 😝😝🥳

yourusername: ASKJAKJEJAE HE'S GOING TO FIND ME NOOO

yourusername: pls delete your comment i BEG.

yourbff2: @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri

yourbff1: @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri

user3: oh my, bless her poor soul 😭

yourusername: DELETE YOURSELF OH GOD

yourusername: I FEEL A SINISTER PRESENCE COMING

oscarpiastri: my presence was called upon?

yourbff1: LMFAO POINT AND LAUGH 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

yourusername: hey-y-y oscar... 🥹

oscarpiastri: did you just stutter over a comment 💀

yourusername: i can explain!! 😁

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To be frank, it's honestly quite difficult to explain the series of events that happened about twelve hours earlier.

6:58 AM ~ l'orchidée bakery shop

It was right before opening. Maman had entrusted me with opening shop and making sure it was running smoothly, and knowing that the fate of our family bakery was in my hands today was especially important to me.

It was 6:58 AM, and since business was typically slow in the first half hour of shop opening, employees showed up half an hour after opening. So there it was me all by myself, until 7:30 AM.

I showed up at the bakery much earlier than normal, at around 3 AM, prepping for the day. The first task was to turn on the ovens, letting them reach the perfect baking temperature.

While the ovens heated up, I took out the baguette and croissant doughs that had been proofing overnight. The doughs were soft and slightly cool to the touch, with a subtle yeasty aroma that promised delicious results. I placed the doughs on the floured countertop, feeling their smooth texture as I gave them one last gentle knead, coaxing out any remaining air bubbles.

Shaping the doughs into their final forms was almost meditative. The baguette dough stretched and folded under my hands, forming into long, slender loaves with tapered ends. The croissant dough was rolled and folded into layers, ready to be cut and shaped into crescents. With each turn and fold, I could feel the anticipation of the final baked product growing.

Next, I mixed batters for cakes, muffins, and other pastries, carefully measuring each ingredient to ensure consistency and quality. The rhythmic motions of stirring and mixing were comforting, grounding me in the early morning quiet of the bakery.

With the ovens now hot, I slid in the first trays of bread and pastries. The smell of baking bread began to fill the bakery, a comforting scent that promised a successful day.

On and on I went prepping, while simultaneously listening to music. One thing about L'Orchidée Bakery, is that our surround sound system that covers every square foot of the little coffee shop, works its magic everyday. It is very difficult to hear many outside noises at that.

So imagine my suprise when I'm singing "Slut!" by Taylor Swift on full volume and I turn around, to only find myself face to face (well, behind a sheet of glass) with none other than Oscar Piastri.

"But if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us, and if they call me a SLU AHH!-"

I screamed slut, as I spun around and ended up making obnoxiously close eye contact with a boy in a black hoodie and unruly brown hair.

The broom in my hand that I was using to sweep the floor crashed to the floor, a one, big, sweeping motion. Scaring myself, and the boy, we both aggressively lurched back.

This is when I got to take a closer look, and I had just realized that Oscar Piastri had just scared the shit out of both of us.

And I was even more embarrassed to see that poor little Oscar was just trying to look at the bakery's menu, only to get a terrible birds eye view of my horrid singing and dancing.

He started to chuckle, his hand brushing against the faint stubble of hair that was growing across his chin. Sheepishly knocking on one side of the glass that separated us, I gestured for him to come in.

A customer is a customer! (even if he does happen to be the Formula 1 driver I absolutely idolize, and on any given normal day, I would be too shy to even make eye contact with him)

Running to the front entrance of the shop, I reach in my pocket to pull out the plethora of keys that dangle from my measly keychain. Fumbling with a golden key with the letters LB engraved on the key's front, I unlock the door.

"Hi, hello! Welcome to L'orchidée Bakery, so sorry for the little jumpscare you got there," I timidly trailed off.

"You mean the singing, dancing, or both," he joked back. Immediately, my discomfort shifted, as the environment had turned playful. Smiling, I responded.

"Hahaha, you think your funny," I rolled my eyes, as we made our way to the register.

"What can I say, I might just be a stand-up-comedian in disguise," he joked, arms crossed, and his eyes crinkled into a vibrant eye smile.

"Well, are you?" I asked, pretending to genuinely not know his occupation.

"Are what?" He nervously chuckled.

"Are you actually a stand-up-comedian?" I asked.

"Wait, are you serious?" His eyes bulged out, not able to hide his surprise, he fumbled with his phone.

"A hundred percent," I replied, playing the game. Trying to make it believable, I put up a mask of utter confusion. "What's your job?"

"Oh, um, I drive?" He lowly said, he voice trailing off, confused.

"You think you drive of you know you drive?" I barked out a laugh, finding it funny that he ended the sentence in a questioning tone.

"Oh yes, I definitely drive," He nodded his head vigorously.

"So like, Uber, Lift, valet services?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, something like that, yup," Oscar replied. It took everything in me to not burst out laughing from his god-awful acting. This boy couldn't lie for shit, his eyebrows and eyes immediately betrayed him.

Pretending to believe him, I continued our conversation.

"So...do you liked driving around everywhere?" I asked. If this boy kept on lying, I just knew the conversation would get so funny.

"Yeah, it's pretty fun, you know? Getting to meet different people, seeing new places," he said, trying to keep up the charade.

"Interesting! Must be quite an adventure. Any memorable rides?" I prodded, enjoying the playful banter.

"Oh, definitely. Had a guy once who insisted on singing Taylor Swift songs at the top of his lungs," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Holding a laugh in, I'm not sure whether he was referring to me, Lando, or Daniel.

"Really? What a coincidence," I said, smirking. "Sounds like my kind of passenger."

We both laughed, the initial awkwardness completely dissolved. It was surreal, chatting casually with Oscar Piastri, as if he were just another customer and not the famous Formula 1 driver I admired.

"So, what can I get for you today?" I asked, ready to actually do my job.

"Surprise me," he said, leaning on the counter. "I'm in the mood for something new."

"Coming right up," I said, turning to grab a fresh-baked strawberry-chocolate croissant and a steaming cup of coffee. As I handed it to him, I couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. Today was already shaping up to be unforgettable.

Looking around, there didn't seem to be anyone approaching the bakery, so as he sat down at the breakfast bar and asked whether I wanted to sit next to him, I immediately took his offer. (I mean seriously, who would not take the offer?)

"So, what brings you to this little bakery?" I asked, curious.

"Well, I heard a lot of good things about this place. Plus, I'm always on the lookout for a good pastry," he replied. "Figured I'd check it out myself."

"Glad you did," I said warmly. "We do our best to keep the reputation up. And hey, if you ever need more Taylor Swift serenades, you know where to find me."

"Good to know," he said with a laugh. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

The playful banter made me forget, if only for a moment, that I was talking to a celebrity. It was just a normal conversation, easy and light-hearted.

"So, where do you usually drive?" I asked, pretending to be completely unaware of his true profession.

"Oh, you know, here and there," he said, trying to be vague. "Mostly around the city, sometimes longer trips."

"Must be fun, getting to see different places and meet different people," I said, keeping up the act.

"Yeah, it's interesting for sure," he agreed. "And sometimes you get to witness some pretty crazy stuff."

"I bet," I replied. "Like what?"

"Well, there was this one time I drove a bunch of guys to a music festival. They were already half-drunk and started a karaoke session in the backseat. It was wild," he said with a laugh.

"Sounds like a blast," I said, laughing along. This definitely felt like a recounting of a true story, probably along the lines of something that Yuki or Lando would do.

We continued the conversation, laughing and chatting, flirting here and there for the next half hour until my coworkers arrived. When they did, it gave Oscar and I quite a fright, as we both were mid-conversation when the front door swung open.

My coworker gave us morning blessings, and a blush blossomed across Oscar's cheeks, shy, that he got caught. Crumbling up his paper cup and paper wrap that held what used-to-be a croissant, we both knew it was time for him to leave.

"Wait," I said laughing, "We just had a whole conversation and I still don't know your name," I said, still playing into the role.

"Oscar," he said, genuine, and for a second I felt bad for lying to him. But then again, not really, he played into the banter as well.

"Will I see you here again, Oscar?" I asked.

"You might just have to wait and see," he winked. As I held the door open for him as he left, his hand brushed against mine, and goosebumps rippled across my arm. I felt a swirl of butterflies in my stomach when he smiled and wished me a heartfelt goodbye. Oh, brother.

This is not going to end well.

Snapping me awake from my daydream, my coworker whisper shouted. "You do know that was just Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, right girl? You definitely know who he is."

"Oh of course," I laughed, speaking at a normal volume. "But he doesn't know that I know that," I replied.

"Oh good God, this might end horribly, or become an extremely funny story that one tells at family dinner," my coworker said.

"Do you think the next time he comes he will sign my Oscar Piastri poster hanging in the janitorial closet?" I jokingly asked.

"Y/N!!!" my coworker scolded.

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourbff1, user1 and 303,199 others

oscarpiastri: special treat, special day

view comments:

user1: i hate this cryptic ass caption-

user1: OSCAR WHAT DOES IT MEAN

user2: alright we get it oscar, you had some good food and your big backedness made you have a good day

user3: wait... this pastry shop looks so good i might check it out

user4: oscar giving a bakery a free shoutout, absolutely unheard of

user5: the bakery is called L'Orchidée Bakery, and they are based in monaco! hope this helps 🧁💗

liked by oscarpiastri

user6: wait imagine if oscar's sneaky link worked there, that would be hella funny

user7: ainnoway that man pulls 🧍🏻

user8: honestly, you never know 😭

landonorris: we get it, you would not stop yapping about your amazing strawberry chocolate croissant this morning

landonorris: and how amazing, stunning, and beautiful that one girl was-

logansargeant: you forgot to mention that he was practically drooling everytime he spoke of her

landonorris: and he didn't even get her name 😝🫵🏻

logansargeant: what an absolute LOSER 💀

oscarpiastri: DELETE THIS.

oscarpiastri: DELETE THIS NOW.

oscarpiastri: i am not a loser. i very much win in life.

oscarpiastri: PLEASE DELETE THIS.

this comment thread has been deleted

user9: SKSKKSKSREJAJA did you guys see the deleted comment thread omg

user10: that is not real omg, oscar rizzing finally??!

user7: @/user6 i'm so sorry you were so right 😭😭

user6: i just know he pulls hella bitches

user6: you guys are just unfamiliar with his game (awkward white boy rizz)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff1 and 101 others

yourusername: la dolce vita (he bought me books and flowers, and baked for me)

view comments

yourbff1: yada yada yada, no need to rub it in you bagged your longtime bae

user1: WAIT THATS HER NEW BOYFIE??

yourbff2: what in the soft launch, CALL ME NOW-

yourbff2: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

oscarpiastri: no can do cuz 🥳😝📢

oscarpiastri: i fear she's cuddling with her man right now

yourbff2: YOU STOLE MY GIRL, you GIRL STEALER 🫵🏿

yourbff1: out of context that sounds so, so wrong 💀

user2: babe, your new boyfie is oscar mf piastri. 🧍🏻‍♀️

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: so sad that you lied to me when we first met

oscarpiastri: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏 yeah👍 mama🤰say it’s my👧😣fault🥺😢 my fault😭😞 i wear my heart💝 on my sleeve👕

yourusername: SO SO SO SORRY BABE XX

user3: she's just a girl, oscar 🙄

oscarpiastri: i hope the date was amazing, you cutie patootie

yourusername: of course it was, my hubby bubby

oscarpiastri: ugh, my teddy bear honey bee is so cute in this

yourusername: you're definitely cuter sugar plum baby bear

yourbff1: YOU DIGUST ME

yourbff1: GET TS OUT OF THE COMMENT SECTION

user4: ^^ and INTO the bedroom

liked by oscarpiastri

yourbff2: @/user4 @/oscarpiastri aw HELL NO ❌❌👈🏿

yourbff2: she is my ROOMATE and the walls are THIN 🧍🏿‍♀️

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, yourbff1 and 487,120 others

oscarpiastri: i just got wined and dined

view comments:

user1: two posts of the same bakery in a row?! yeah, somethings up

user2: the jig is up oscar! reveal your girlfriend

landonorris: ohhh, so that's why you were gone for dinner

logansargaent: L to you, because i knew where he was the whole time

landonorris: not fair @/oscarpiastri, not fair 📢📢

charles_leclerc: who is this lovely woman oscar?

charles_leclerc: hello?? do not ignore me

user3: LMFAO oscar ANSWER UR FATHER

charles_leclerc: it says that you are active on instagram, i see you

charles_leclerc: i just want to know who my son's girlfriend is

user4: girlfriend?!?!? what have i missed omg, i just left insta for a week

user5: oscar's soft launch era 💀 LMAO, we think he's dating a girl who works at a bakery

user5: he thinks he is being sneaky and subtle but he's really NOT.

user6: wait guys i think i found her @, its yourusername i think

user7: wait it totally is, in one of her posts, she's wearing that exact same white shirt

user8: and the bakery looks EXACTLY the same in both of their posts

user9: SKMSJEOAMSKK SHE'S IN THE LIKES YOU GUYS YOURUSERNAME IS IN THE LIKES

user10: @/yourusername girl stop lurking in the comments i know your reading them 🧐🤨

liked by yourusername

user10: SJEHLSHEILA SEE I TOLD YOU SO

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 28,991 others

yourusername: dinner with a side of formula one pic creds: my boyfie ofc 💗

view comments:

yourusername: chat, i blew up so much omg

yourusername: in my famous era i guess

user1: you mean your WAG era ofc...

liked by oscarpiastri

yourbff1: i'm single, and my fist is ready to mingle in your face

landonorris: so this is the girl, huh, she's pretty

oscarpiastri: HOWDIDYOUFINDHER

oscarpiastri: she's MINE to call pretty btw. 🤬😡💢

landonorris: stole ur phone hehe

yourbff2: rip my ass for having to take all these lovey dovey disgusting pics of them.

yourbff2: DO NOT BREAK HER HEART OSCAH 🍴🍴🍴

yourusername: DO NOT THREATEN HIM PLEASE 😭 (ty for taking these pics omg tysm)

oscarpiastri: I PROMISE I PROMISE TO LOVE MY SUGAR PLUM FAIRY SO VERY MUCH

yourusername: awww, i love you too my honey bear bee

yourbff1: and they're back.

charles_leclerc: omg guys i found her instagram @/logansargeant @/georgerussel63 @/lewishamilton

oscarpiastri: PLEAASEEE NOOOOO

yourusername: what, afraid to show your girlfriend off 🤨🫵🏽

oscarpiastri: whatttt, nooo

georgerussel63: i like you @/yourusername, you make oscar scared

yourusername: awww, thx george <33

oscarpiastri: not funny george

oscarpiastri: are we still ignoring the fact that you lied to me when we first met 🤬🧐

yourusername: are we still ignoring that you ALSO lied to me?!

charles_leclerc: kids, kids, get along please!

oscarpiastri: yes, father

yourusername: yes, father-in-law

yourusername and oscarpiastri

liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,220,151 others

yourusername and oscarpiastri: hard launches, only.

comments are disabled

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

[batneko]

have some chef AU!

[iamgonnagetyouback]

chef!sirius black x reader who is terrible at cooking

The kitchen smelled like a battlefield. Smoke wafted from the stove, and you stared at the pot with a mix of betrayal and confusion. How could cider betray you like this? It was just cider!

Sirius walked in, his black apron already tied around his waist, looking effortlessly in control as always. His hair was in a messy bun, sleeves rolled up, and his eyes scanned the room. The minute he saw the pot, he froze.

“Oh no… What happened here?”

You waved a wooden spoon, attempting to explain. "It just… I don’t know! I followed the recipe! It was literally two ingredients."

Sirius crossed his arms, raising a brow. “Two ingredients, huh? And somehow, you’ve managed to turn it into this.”

“It’s not that bad!”

He sauntered over, peering into the pot. His face twisted as if he'd just seen something truly horrifying. “Not that bad? There’s charcoal at the bottom of this. How do you burn cider? It’s literally two ingredients.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks—not from the stove but from the embarrassment of being caught in yet another kitchen disaster. "Okay, it got away from me!"

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, dramatically sighing. “Got away from you? Cider doesn’t just escape. It’s not some wild racoon running loose in the kitchen.”

You huffed. "If you’re going to be all bossy and smug about it, then maybe I should just let it burn."

He smirked, stepping in behind you, his arms reaching around to take over. “Sorry, love. But lucky for you, I’m here to rescue your—whatever this is.”

You leaned into his presence, the warmth of him taking over the room as he quickly switched off the burner. "You didn’t even let me finish my masterpiece!"

“Sweetheart,” he said, laughing softly, “if this is what your ‘masterpiece’ looks like, I’m filing a restraining order against your cooking.”

You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “You’re such a dictator.”

“And you,” he poked your nose with the wooden spoon, leaving a bit of cider residue, “are a menace.”

You wiped your nose with a grin, grabbing a towel to clean off the mess. “Fine, Gordon Ramsay, what’s the verdict?”

He pulled you in by the waist, a playful glint in his eye. “The verdict is that you’re never touching cider again. In fact, stay away from all things stove-related unless you want to burn this place down."

“But I wanted to make something for us! Something cute and tasty-ish,” you pouted.

Sirius kissed your forehead, giving in as he always did when you pulled that look. “How about this: you handle the decorations and leave the cooking to me?”

You feigned offense, gasping dramatically. “Are you saying I’m only good for setting the table?”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I’m saying I’ll handle the food, and you can handle being cute.”

You burst out laughing, shoving him lightly. “Oh, you think you’re cute?”

He winked, grabbing an apple from the counter. “I know I’m cute.”

"Bossy and smug. I swear, you’d think this kitchen was your kingdom."

Sirius took a bite of the apple, leaning against the counter, watching you with amusement. “It is my kingdom. And in this kingdom, we don’t burn food, especially cider.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, Chef Black. You win this round.”

He pointed to the scorched pot. “This isn’t just a win. It’s an intervention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again as he started preparing a new batch of cider, expertly slicing the apples and cinnamon sticks. His hands moved with such ease that it almost made you envious—until you remembered the last time you tried to chop an onion and nearly sliced your thumb off.

“Just watch and learn, love,” Sirius teased, catching your eye as he worked. “One day, you’ll master boiling water.”

You tossed a kitchen towel at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

"And that too very happily."

got the inspiration of chef!sirius from @ellecdc

[sysakiddo]

Max is the youngest Dutch chef with three michelin stars and is seen as the world’s best cook by most of the relevant people. Buuut the word gets out that he doesn’t treat his cooks very nicely and then one time, someone he had fired said Max got physical in several instances. Max thinks it’s all bullshit and doesn’t listen to the buzz, he wants his food to speak for him. So what if he raises his voice sometimes? They are not in kindergarten, for fuck’s sake. 

The restaurant’s marketing team is not thrilled. They make a plan to salvage his reputation. Basically, they make him be the judge for one of those Masterchef VIP things, where he needs to comment on horrible food made by some celebrities who are usually too dumb to read the script. He says he will do one season, unfiltered, and then never walk out of his restaurant ever again. He doesn’t care about his reputation in the tabloids, he only cares about his stars. 

Daniel just won his third WDC. He’s also there. Cooking. His marketing teams think this is a beautiful opportunity to milk the American market. And Daniel is like, you want me to cook now? Okay. He is on top of the world, he doesn’t give a shit. 

His opinion changes drastically during the first challenge.

They are supposed to make a food they would cook for a friend. To balance Max out, the other judge is Charles. With one Michelin star. Max tries not to make himself look too smug about it. 

“So, what is this pasta situation?” Charles asks Daniel, who is currently failing to drain the pasta water without getting rid of half the pasta down the drain. 

“Um, I’m making pasta and chicken,” Daniel smiles and points at the charred chicken breast served on the table. He puts a bit of pasta next to it unceremoniously, “There it is! I’m done.”

Max narrows his eyes. “With sixty minutes on the clock, you are done after twenty?” he asks. 

Daniel giggles, “Yeah, I drive fast cars for a living.” 

“Your girlfriend must not be thrilled about your performance.”

Daniel laughs nervously. Max doesn’t join him. Charles bites his lip so as not to snort out, and points at the selection of spices Daniel hasn’t touched once during the cooking. 

“Maybe you could play with the seasoning now,” he says to soften the blow that came from his co-judge. Max moves on to another contestant without saying anything else. 

When Daniel brings them his final dish, Charles says, “It’s bland,” while Max looks him straight into eyes and says, “The chicken is so overcooked I feel like it had been killed years before I was born.” 

Daniel’s palms are sweaty, his jaw keeps ticking. He still laughs, loud, too fake. He sees Max visibly cringe. Even worse, the judges pick the contestants into their teams after that. Max picks him into his blue team as the second-to-last. 

They finish rolling and Daniel practically runs to the changing rooms, speed dialling the head of his marketing team.

[ohmygraves]

thinking about chef au

you were new, wanted to work in a restaurant and learned that one of the famous italian restaurants in town was looking for a new employee. you applied, of course, and after a little test and interview, you got accepted to work there. it seems like the owner chef, john price, took a liking to you.

still, the real challenge came from afterwards. everyone looked down on you in the kitchen, as you were new to the industry. you earned yourself the nickname "bambino/bambina" in the kitchen, "bambi" for short, because not only that you were new, you kept making so many rookie mistakes.

working in the kitchen was hellish. hell, everyone called it a battlefield. you didn't even have breaks the first few days, crouching down near the stove eating the employee's lunch in a hurry before continuing to prepare some ingredients. you were exhausted, beyond stressed, and not to mention pissed off with your supervisor, if you could even call him that.

ghost was the one in charge for the pasta section, and you were placed under him. he never let you near the stove, simply barking orders at you to prepare him all the things he needed.

"bambi! did you de-shell the shrimps!?"

"almost done!"

"hurry the fuck up!"

"bene!"

he pissed you off, truthfully. but you can't lie that he's really good at his job. you tasted some of his cooking, he made staff meals a few times, and his food was amazing. even when he's making mistakes, it didn't faze him, simply going back to work.

he's a pro.

some of the chefs said that he's been working there for a long time, and he was really hard to hang out with. he eats with the owner, doesn't want to go out and meet the customers when they ask to see the chef (which actually happened once, he told you to go see the guests on behalf of him). he sometimes could be seen hanging out with the fan favorite wait staff, johnny, and the antipasto chef, kyle.

there was one time when the front staff didn't have enough, too many people were calling off work, and you had to go help outside of the kitchen. price said that it could be a good opportunity to learn, and everyone who is the current kitchen staff used to work in the front as a waitress for about a year before working in the kitchen. you hated it.

sometimes customers picked on you, though johnny helped a lot. he told you how he was here originally to be a chef too, but many regulars came in just to visit him. he didn't leave for the kitchen, staying to entertain the guests. surprisingly, he didn't mind one bit.

"are you always flirting with the guests every single time?"

"jealous, bonnie?"

"hell no."

johnny did flirt with you a few times. he was the only one who didn't call you bambi.

kyle helped you get settled in, since you're both close in age. he was patient and kind, as close to a friend as you could have in the hellish workplace. there was one time you hurt yourself so badly that you were bleeding all over the place. you insisted on working, but he yelled at you, telling you to go to the hospital. he couldn't leave his post, but he got the dishwasher boy to take you there. you ended up going back to work afterwards, wearing many gloves to cover up the bandages.

"sure you're fine?"

"took painkillers... 'm fine..."

"okay, careful with it. don't want blood on the guests' plates."

you didn't meet könig after a while, until that one time while working up front johnny had you go to the dolce section to get more bread. könig was the only one working there, basically a small room at the back of the kitchen, making bread and sweets by himself. you've never seen him, but it's probably because he always eats by himself during break. he's a recluse, awkward with others, but he's damn good when making sweets.

"you work here by yourself?"

"yeah."

"that's amazing. you're so good at making dolce. everyone liked it!"

he didn't say anything afterwards, but there was a faint smile behind his mask as he rolled out some dough to make bread. you made a note to eat with him sometime in the back, if he wanted to that is.

[astyrial]

ogling over onigiri osamu miya x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: osamu is short staffed and luckily for him, atsumu knows someone who can cook word count: 1.4k warnings: mentions of food and cooking masterlist | requests are open

   "this is my kitchen, and i don't know her. so unless you have some magical thing that'll convince me to let her work in my kitchen, then no," osamu throws a hand towel over his shoulder, hands moving to rest on his hips.

  atsumu leans against the entrance of onigiri miya's kitchen, arms crossed. the kitchen is practically empty due to half of the people calling out sick. people are lining up outside due to a tweet that atsumu regrettably sent out advertising a new dish and his appearance. however, none of that happens to be the magic thing that'll convince osamu to let someone into his kitchen on an early saturday morning. 

  atsumu looks back at the curtained windows, all of the legs behind it. despite his squabbles with his brother, he doesn't want to be the one who helps tank his business. "well, i know someone who used to be a sous chef. she cooked for the team some meal plans sometimes. i think she could have the day off-"

  "you're going to call some woman on her day off and ask her to cook for my business? you can't just do that!"

  "she loves to cook, really, she'll be here in no time. trust me, she's the best chef out there right now. plus you need another cook, and i don't think you want me helping," atsumu stands up straight, reaching for his phone in his back jean pocket. 

  osamu purses his lips while rolling his eyes. of course he needs the help, he has the past few days. but to request someone to come work on such a busy day feels wrong, inappropriate. "just tell her that she absolutely doesn't need to, and we're okay if she doesn't want to. i don't want you pressuring anyone," osamu was always stubborn, but even more so when he's affecting someone he hardly knows. 

  before a sudden realization that this is completely wrong and he shouldn't be doing this, his brother is already in the other room on the phone with you. osamu certainly can't hear your end of the phone call. however, he can hear the 'thank you's' leaving atsumu's lips. meaning that some random chef that he has never met likely took atsumu up on his offer.

  "she's getting ready now, you have twenty more minutes til you open. so, i'll let her through the back door while you work," atsumu stuffs his phone back into his pocket, looking over at his brother.

  it's hard for the two to get along, usually they'd be fighting tooth and nail right now. however, there's something in the air causing a civil conversation. the two immediately start getting the kitchen prepped (which means atsumu cracking jokes while osamu has one of the cashier workers help). 

  osamu starts up some rice on a zojirushi machine, washing and cutting up some vegetables. time was ticking down as atsumu gave you the address, telling you that the shop would open in five minutes. he looks back at atsumu, not knowing what he would do if you couldn't make it. a part of him feels bad for taking you away from your day off, but the rest of him is just happy to have a helping hand.

  luckily for him, this helping hand knocked on the back door, the sound feeling like music to osamu's ears. "i got it!" atsumu announces over the noise of people entering the front of the shop. 

  the sound of someone opening the back door and saying hello to atsumu brings his head up. he sets his knife down, hands on the prepping station. you come walking into the kitchen, atsumu quickly following behind. his eyes meet yours and for a second the world stops. every ounce of anxiety from the day washes away as you give him a soft smile. 

  "you must be osamu? well miya, if you're more comfortable with that. my name is l/n y/n, if atsumu hasn't told you already," you reach out your hand to shake his, only to move it back quickly once you realize that you need to wash your hands. 

  osamu's mouth hangs slightly open, just so that you could see the bottom of his top row of teeth. he's mesmerized, even if he won't admit it himself, "he hasn't- and osamu's fine. it's nice to meet you l/n, i'm sorry for pulling you out here on your day off. it's completely unacceptable and if i could repay somehow with dinner or something-"

  you shake your head, looking around the room for a second before finding the sink. as you're turned around, making sure that you're ready to make food, atsumu is slapping his brother's shoulder. he raises his eyebrows a couple times, giving him a quick wink. before you could turn around, atsumu whispers something about dinner.

  "did you say something?" you ponder, turning your attention to the brothers as you dry your hands.

  "he was just asking if you knew how to make certain types of onigiri, because of your experience," osamu gives his brother a glare, trying to hide it as he looks back at you. 

  you grab an apron off of his wall and begin tying it around yourself. "yes, known since i was ten. i used to make them for the team with brown rice and miso beef, because of the digestive health benefits. however, white or jasmine are always preferable," an even warming smile spreads across your lips, making your way over to the workstation beside osamu.

  before either of you could say anything else, the first order has come through. it's oyakodon, a rice meal with chicken and egg. you've made it hundreds of times as a sous chef and it's a fairly easy process once you get the hang of it. a screen displays the food choice in front of you, leaving you to look over at osamu, a little nervous.

  "i assume you store your chicken in the fridge?" 

  "yeah- sorry, usually people are stationed in different areas to work on certain things but with everyone out-"

  "it's fine, i've worked in stickier situations before," you take a look around the room and start off towards the fridge, eyes peering for the stovetop next.

  osamu looks off at you, heart beating quickly. he takes in a deep breath and watches as the next order comes through. it's an onigiri, salmon in the middle, a rather simple recipe. despite his wandering eyes to where you're prepping your food, he attempts to keep his mind set on the food in front of him.

  the first few orders were rather simple for osamu, mostly onigiri and sushi. your oyakodon being the most complicated thing of that morning. it's clear your good at what you do, even if your working in a completely different environment. 

  he peaks over at you as you let out a slight hum in your voice to the music playing over the speakers. you're swaying a little as you add part of the egg mixture to the pan. if it weren't for the circumstances, a part of osamu knows that he'd ask about dinner again. he'd lean against some counter and cross his arms in front of his chest, give you a soft smile that you can't say no to.

  "osamu, you almost done with that?" 

  he looks up from you, over to one of the cashiers staring him down, "yeah, finishing up now!"

  after that, he begins to focus more on his work. only looking over at you as he waits for another order to come in. sometimes you'll inquire about something, where something may be or what spices to add. you're a harder worker than he could've expected from someone he's never met (especially someone that atsumu is so close with). the way you get things accomplished making him even more attracted. 

  "l/n, you're doing great, thanks for helping today," osamu mentions as the lunch rush dies down to just a few people, atsumu's influence having ended.

  you look over at him, wiping your hands against the apron, a soft smile lining your lips. even after working hours in a hot, stuffy kitchen, there's a beauty to you that osamu's never seen. "well, if i'm calling you osamu, then it's only fair you call me y/n. plus, i'd love dinner if your request was genuine," you place on hand on your hip, eyebrows raised.

  osamu nods, "well- y/n, it most definitely was genuine. what do you feel like eating?"

  "i think onigiri would be delicious for dinner."

[joshth647]

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CHEFS (CHEF AU) - MASTERPOST + BOUNDARIES

"Welcome to the kitchen, superstars! Here you'll learn to make the most delicious meals of the century, and appeal to our dear customers!"

We've all watched shows where chefs have contests where they try to make the most delicious and appealing meal to please their customers [or something like that] (*cough* Master Chef *cough*)... so why not take the cast of The Amazing Digital Circus and have them be chefs! That's what this AU basically is.

CHARACTER LINEUP:

CHARACTER CARDS:

SILLY STUFF:

THE LAMB SAUCE!! Drawing Dumps

COMICS:

The Kitchen The Lament Kinger's Problem

Small Q&A/FAQ:

Q: Are OCs allowed? A: Very much so! Please tag me in your OC's post so I can see your work! Q: Can I make fanart? A: Why, of course! If the fanart is NSFW then use the appropriate CW/TW for your safety! Q: Can I make fanfics? A: Eeyup! Go wild with your writing skills — and PLEASE TAG ME WHEHSHHDHDJDJSJS,,, Q: Can we ship what characters we want? A: Well, where do I start... you can ship anyone with each other as long as it doesn't include either Pomni or Caine (GEHEHEHEHE SHOWTIME RGRHRHEHDHHDHD)! So Ragatha x Jax or Jax x Gangle is allowed, but not Pomni x Jax or Kinger x Caine... please keep that in mind! (Taking a cue from @/sm-baby's Carnival AU here because I am a big Showtime shipper just like them)

Feel free to ask other questions about this AU!

BIG THANK YOU TO @endomentendo FOR INSPIRING ME ON MAKING THIS AU (they made a post on AU ideas)!

[togrowoldinv]

Chef

Natasha Romanoff x Chef!Reader

You’re the head chef at a popular restaurant where Natasha acts as a hostess, bartender, and subject of your flirtation all at once

Note: This is based on the movie Chef! It’s just a short little something to explore this variant of Natasha hehe. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Being a chef has always been your dream. From the day you were born, your parents often joke, you were meant to be in the kitchen.

Your affinity from cooking was only made more intense as you grew up and explored cooking as a real career. You can draw inspiration from almost anywhere and come up with amazing dishes that have no parallel.

At least that’s how it used to be. You started working at fancier restaurants in a new city and somewhere along the way, you lost the freedom to cook what you wanted.

You’re instructing your staff how to prepare for the day when the door opens.

“Y/n,” the voice that you usually enjoy hearing calls out to you. But you can tell she means business and immediate stress washes over you. “Bruce is here.”

“I cannot deal with that right now,” you say. There’s a hint of anger in your tone, but she knows it’s not directed at her.

“I’ll try to delay him, but be ready for him to come back here.”

“Thank you, Nat,” you say as she leaves the kitchen.

It’s a few moments later when you hear the voice of your dreaded boss.

"We’ve got a full house tonight, Chef. You’re making the usual, right?” Bruce asks you. His tone is a bit snarky.

“Actually I was thinking I’d try something-“

"That next word better not be new. You’ll make the menu that works. End of discussion!” Bruce fires back. He’s beginning to get angry, or as you say ‘turn green.’

“The big critic is coming and we can impress him with-“

“This is my restaurant! Not yours! Cook the fucking original menu,” Bruce leaves no room for argument.

"Fine,” you say with a sigh. He smiles at your defeat and you shake your head.

A friendly hand comes to your shoulder. “One of these days, y/n. They’ll see how good your food is,” your colleague and close friend, Wanda, says.

“Thanks Max,” you say genuinely.

You spend the next few minutes briefing the staff on the menu for tonight. It’s the same as always and your staff isn’t any happier then you are about it.

“And for wine pairings please see Natasha,” you finish your instructions. She gives you a soft look as you head back to the kitchen.

The first part of the night goes pretty smoothly. But when a food critic shows up, you grumble again about having to make the same menu.

“It’s alright, y/n,” Wanda says. “We’ll make the best molten lava cake for this jackass.”

You laugh at her and plate the food for the critic as per usual. Your trusty server, Peter, takes the food out to Tony the critic.

Watching from the kitchen, you shake your head at the way he reacts. You can’t tell exactly what he says, but you know it’s no good.

“Peter, come here,” you call for the young man. “What did he say?”

“He- um- he asked why it’s the same food as usual,” Peter says.

“Fucking Bruce,” you say, turning back to the kitchen.

Natasha catches the way you hang your head in defeat. She leaves the host table in Monica’s hands and slips into the kitchen.

“Hey there,” Natasha says, she leans softly into your arm. “You alright?”

“Not really,” you mumble as you keep chopping peppers.

“One more hour and then you’re free,” she says.

You look at her finally and she’s wearing a smirk on her face. You and Nat have made a little bit of a habit of going home together. Nothing tends to happen. You cook her dinner and she enjoys it with some flirting, but nothing more.

“My place?” You ask her quietly.

“Definitely,” she replies.

With that, she leaves you in the kitchen to finish cooking the meal for Tony that you know he’s going to rip into you about in the review article.

By closing time, you’re exhausted. Natasha helps you clean up the kitchen before you go.

Your phone dings and you dread looking at it.

“Let me see it,” Natasha says, holding her hand out. You’re reluctant. “Come on. Rip off the bandaid.”

You hand her your phone and her eyes scan the article while you grab your keys and lock up.

“So, how was it?” You ask her once you’re walking to your car together.

“Not great,” Nat says honestly. You sigh and open the door for her. She slides into the passenger side. “But don’t worry,” she adds once you’re in the car as well.

“I always worry,” you say, leaning your head back on the seat.

“I know,” Natasha says. A frown forms on her beautiful lips. “You know what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m starving,” she says.

You smile and start the car. “I can do something about that.”

At some point during the drive, Natasha’s hand comes to your thigh. Something about tonight feels different.

She makes herself comfortable at the bar across from you as you cook her one of your signature meals.

“Here you are, my lady,” you say, placing the plate in front of her.

Natasha takes a bite and as per usual she loves it.

“Good?”

“Great,” she says, a certain breathiness to her voice that threatens to make you kiss her right then and there. “Join me.”

You sit next to her and enjoy your own serving.

“This is the kind of stuff I want to cook at the restaurant,” you tell her. “Not that stuffy menu Bruce requires.”

“He doesn’t know shit about restaurants,” Nat adds.

“One day I’m going to do it. I’m going to walk in there and make my menu,” you say. Nat watches you with an amused smirk. “To hell with him.”

You catch her smirking at you and feel a heat creep up your neck.

“You’re really adorable when you get to ranting like this,” Natasha says.

“Oh, thanks,” you reply shyly.

Nat turns to you and her hands take each side of your face. She leans in.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks. Her voice is raspy and you can smell her perfume.

“Please,” you say.

She closes the distance and her lips find yours. It starts out slow but quickly she’s deepening the kiss, the result of all of the pining for each other.

“Natasha,” you whisper against her lips, breathless from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she says.

“Me too,” you say.

You kiss her this time, taking your time to feel her against you.

“Take me to bed, chef?” She asks.

You grin at her and she pulls you off the stool and towards your bedroom.

As long as you have Natasha on your side, it doesn’t matter what any critic in the world says. And she will always be on your side.

[firenati0n]

several sentence sunday <3 :)

hello my friends <3 thank you to @thinkof-england @littlemisskittentoes @porcelainmortal @magicandarchery @msmarvelouswinchester @getmehighonmagic @piratefalls @itsmaybitheway @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @nocoastposts @theprinceandagcd @dragonflylady77 @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 @priincebutt @captainjunglegym for the tags :) :) early birds dangggg!!

here's a snip from my au of the bear but it's a character study on alex (spoke about it a bit during a wip game here). this is chef alex aka carmy!alex:

Alex dices and slices and chops and juliennes, the top edge of the knife digging into his index finger and leaving a deep pink indent—physical proof of his hard work. Something tangible to hold on to, as real as the vegetables neatly stacked in front of him, as true as the erratic pulse he can feel in his fingertips. He leans into the sharp pain, his wrist aching and finger throbbing from the speed. His back is curled into himself, crowding his body over the kitchen counter, errant curls falling into his eyes as his knife moves at lighting speed, struggling to keep up with his racing thoughts. "You gotta come home, Alex." Alex's knife picks up at a punishing pace.  “Mom needs you. I need you.” Everybody wants something. He's not sure how much he has left to give, to slice off of his heart and serve up. Ugly presentation.

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags under the cut and open tag as always <3 please tag me if you use, i want to see :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @14carrotghoul @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @nontoxic-writes @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bigassbowlingballhead @alasse9 @ships-to-sail @kiwiana-writes @wordsofhoneydew @indestructibleheart @tailsbeth-writes @suseagull04 @rmd-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @adreamareads

[siriuslylost]

okay guys….i’m going to branch out and introduce my fic to you all bc i need motivation to keep writing it and when i talk about it i feel like i can write again

so it’s a muggle au in which sirius is a chef and has severe OCD (it’s from his perspective so his compulsions are kind of floating around everywhere as the story takes place)

sirius is a classically trained french chef that has a nasty reputation…they call him ‘the dog’ because of a very hushed event that happened in his kitchen once

remus lupin is a much feared food critic with far too much sway in the restaurant industry…who shows up completely unannounced and asks sirius to join him for a glass of wine before he’ll taste his food

sirius hate him…because damnit he’s so beautiful….

also noteworthy: background jegulus, rosekiller, and pandalily yippee yippee

fic: dance with your ghost (in the kitchen) ~ thedorkfish

i have edited post and added the link for those asking!

[batneko]

once again these two completely fail to keep a proper work-life balance.

[rest of the chef AU can be found here!]

[qedart]

So I came up with a new AU idea at work today (always the last convenient place to get struck by inspiration - but there you go): Restaurant AU. 

Mav and Ice are chefs, Goose (who lives) and Slider are waiters. 

Mav likes to experiment and come up with new dishes on the fly. Doesn’t like sticking to a set menu, leans into the whole ‘I’m serving an experience, not a recipe’ style of cooking. 

Ice sticks strictly to the recipes. His idea of mastery is nailing a dish, no flaws, no mistakes - just perfection. 

Naturally their philosophies crash. 

Ice feels that Mav will run customers out the door if they consistently order a dish and get some different spin on it (or, something barely resembling it) each time. On the other hand. Mav feels that Ice’s way will see them stagnating and getting frozen in time. 

“Do you want to turn into the place pensioners go because ‘it’s the same dinner I ordered 10, 20, 30 years ago!’. 

Unfortunately neither of them can bring themselves to just straight up quit because even if they clash constantly, no other chef has pushed either of them harder to improve than they have each other. (And also, the thought of not getting to compete/see/spend time with each other just doesn’t feel right in the slightest). 

I can’t decide whether they’re both running a kitchen of a struggling restaurant, trying to push it to greater heights - or they’ve both been recruited to Viper’s high-end restaurant and have just found themselves thrown together. 

Either way, the whole idea has been bouncing about my head all day and I wanted to get it out haha

[partyanimal167]

Stubborn as a Bull- Doflamingo x F!Reader

I have so many ideas for Doffy. It's crazy I haven't really written anything about him in almost a year. (I want to explore my dilfs more this year lol) I also want more chef/restaurant related fics because I have no concept of work-life balance and will indulge in my career-related fantasies. This will be a quickie

cw: modern au(?), fem reader, stubborn reader, rich af Doflamingo, mdni

You had never met a many so annoying yet tempting as the one before you. However, your stubbornness was a strength, so you knew you could play that game.

You had received an array of gifts and praises for your culinary feats. You had awards, interviews, glowing reviews in multiple restaurants. You were sent wines, knives, and books.

You stayed humble as you knew some celebs and politicians on a first-name basis since they were regulars and knew that the attention could bring both good and bad.

You had expected your ego to come and slap you in the face. All people tried to lure you in and trap you. It'd be a normal descent from success.

Instead, after service that you thought was normal, one Doflamingo Donquixote was asking for your number offering a job in the private sector as well as inviting you on a date. You graciously declined. You thought that'd be it.

It was not.

Because even though there was a three month wait list for your restaurant, you went out to a nearly-deserted dining room where only Doflamingo sat glancing at the menu and sipping the priciest wine.

"I thought that work had been your excuse. I can take you somewhere far from this, and you won't have to worry about the finances of your business." He was a mad man. A rich one, your business partner corrected, but you ignored him again.

Doflamingo bought the restaurant out for a week, and when you stopped going to the dining room after day three, he was shocked at where he found you.

You were all smiles and rainbows serving the less-fortunate at a local soup kitchen. You laughed when you saw the filthy rich man decked out in suits and jewelry standing in the less than stellar facilities. When you were done, he asked you why you were there instead of resting at home or something. "I live to feed people." was all you said.

Doflamingo stopped buying out the restaurant, but still floated in and around before and after business hours. You ignored him while you directed your cooks and tested recipes. Doflamingo admired the structure silently and wondered how far you would have ended up if you were in the corporate world. The skills were definitely transferrable.

You nearly lost it when the man bumped into your china--shattering it again--and brushed it off with a check. You knew replacements would be there by morning, but that wasn't the point. "Stop being so wasteful." So to get him out of your space, you let him take you out. You could hold up against fancy meals and shopping sprees.

You were not expecting an intimate setting in one of his homes where he cooked you his mother's favorite meal--the only thing he could make. You knew about the man's harshness, how he ran businesses. And while the food was delicious, you would never admit it.

"Too much salt." was all you said even after you cleaned your plate. You were stubborn to say things like him, but if he noticed that you stopped by his place to cook and gave him basic lessons, then he never said anything either.

You just ended up with a rich man ready for your call--a partner--but he wouldn't exactly say his feelings either.

Guess he was stubborn too.

~~~

Cheesy, yes but I will indulge! I was thinking about how chef people cook to feed others because we definitely don't get a luxurious paycheck from it. I wondered how Doffy would go about that difficultness.

I will write him more! Thanks for stopping by!

[dpr-stay]

The Moon | YT22

Chef Au! Yuki Tsunoda x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, i think a few swears, the feels, i don't think i referred to gender.

WC: ~5.1k

Did i do this instead of course work? Maybe Do I regret it? Maybe Anyways, Yuki's so acts of service coded. I may have read a little too much 'the bear' fanfic whoops. also i only listened to winter cafe by lamp while writing this so bam. i'm a mobile user anyway.

The restaurant had been closed for a few hours at this point, the full-moon well having claimed the spot of the sun, the darkness of night taking over for a few hours till the early morning sunrise peaked over the horizon and you woke again.

You would probably have to get a taxi, you thought to yourself as you peeked through the gap between the kitchen and the empty dining area through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, you wouldn’t be able to walk home tonight.

You lived in a very safe place, so you weren’t necessarily scared of being kidnapped or the like. You just hated the dark. You’d always hated the dark, you didn’t fear the things in it or the possibilities it held, just the feeling of not being able to see. That feeling had always unsettled you, even as a baby.

Your mum had always told stories of you not being able to sleep anywhere but her side during your primary years. She always brought it up for a laugh over tea with the other ladies in the small town where you grew up, their fake laughter resounding through your ears as you sat at the end of one of the ladies ornate couches and sipped quietly from your cup, taking up as little space as possible. 

Those tea parties were always the worst, sitting in a stuffy room of grown-up’s who could only tell stories of their past, too afraid of the future. You were always the youngest as well, the older children looking down on you when you tried to play with them. 

Your only respite was the pastries eventually served sometime during their get-together. You’d come back in from one of the ladies' backyards, your fill of solitarily walking around her yard ten times sufficiently achieved, and you’d see the most lovely pastries piled high on tables you couldn’t quite reach.

A little stumbling and you’d finally reach the table, climbing on the chairs to be able to grab them, their intricate shapes, different colours, and varying textures meaning you tried every variation of every sweet you could find. This always prompted laughter among the older ladies, you being dubbed the ‘Sweet Thief’. You were not sure if this was meant to be affectionate or insulting, but your mother’s sharp gaze when you got back into the car after the party clued you in to the latter.

The opening of the office door snapped you out of your reverie and you looked back to see your boss exit the small room, where he had been doing paperwork. He barely glanced at you as he grabbed a sponge and started to wipe down the steel work benches, muttering under his breath. 

You moved from your spot of being perched on your tiptoes to look through the serving gap and shuffled into the office to grab soap from under the sink, quickly pouring a measuring cups worth into the mop bucket before filling the bucket up the rest of the way with water. A quick twist of the mop head in the bucket mixed the soapy water before you shuffled back out of the office, dragging the bucket with your feet.

You moved in silence, him wiping down the benches with his sponge, cloth, and spray kit and you mopping the floor, trailing after him as to not make him stand on the wet floor. When you finished mopping you pushed the bucket out the backdoor before crouching down and tipping the dirty water down the drain installed in the middle of the concrete patio.

While the water drained, you looked up and absorbed your surroundings. The moon shone down onto the landscape, hundreds of green paddies stretching as far as the eye could see, paths between the patches appearing to resemble snakes the further the eye looked. You could occasionally see the headlights of cars flash on roads that wound along the mountains that enclosed the large valley, people with their own lives hurrying to make it somewhere. Anywhere. 

One car caught your attention and you found yourself speculating. Maybe it was an important businessman being driven by his chauffeur? Could it be a runaway child being driven back to his parents? You watched until the car disappeared, it’s fading lights causing you to squint against the harsh light shining down on you.

You looked up at the lightbulb that Yuki had installed quietly after you’d told him of your fear of the dark and cursed. Darn the thing for being so bright! Your head snapped back down and you started rapidly blinking, scrunching your face as you blinked. 

When you got your vision back, you stood up and grabbed the bucket, lugging it back into the building. The door opened when you nudged it with your foot and you quickly put the mop back in its place before moving back to the kitchen. 

A quick look at Yuki confirmed that he was nearly done with his clean up routine and you moved to the small employee area, where you grabbed your phone and keys from a small pigeon-hole before grabbing your jacket from a hook and making your way back to the kitchen, trying to put on your coat as you walked.

Yuki looked at the sound of the door opening and a small smile came onto his face as he saw you, holding all of your items with one hand and struggling to put your jacket on. He dropped the cloth he was holding, wiping the residue away onto his apron, before he walked over to you and taking your jacket off your floundering form. He held it out so that you could weave your free hand into the sleeve before you swapped your stuff to your other hand and he held out the other sleeve for you to put your arm through. He nodded at you when he was done and power-walked back to his station, cleaning with vigor.

“Are you leaving yet?” He asked with his back turned. You nodded, paused, then began speaking. “Oh! Yeah, I think I’ll just wait till a taxi comes around and then I’ll go.” You said and he shot a curious glance back at you which you returned with a smile. He continued wiping down, his pace increased.

“That could take hours, y’know.” He said after a second and you sighed, leaning back against one of the benches. You were lucky he was turned around, not prepared to cop the brunt of his ‘are you serious, I just cleaned that’ glare. 

“Hopefully it won’t, I might still be here when you come for opening.” He released a small laugh and you both descended into a comfortable silence. You grabbed your phone to see you had 0 notifications, a pleased sigh releasing from your throat.

Opening the taxi app for your area, you saw that the expected time for a taxi was indeed a couple hours and you groaned. You didn’t see Yuki’s shoulders tense at your sound, too absorbed in your phone.

“You were right.” You half-whined to your boss, too tired to care. He chuckled and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t stay back so late.” He murmured, before turning around and beginning to take off his apron. You didn’t comment on his arm muscles as he undid the knot. He moved around you to place his apron on a hook before looking at you.

“I could drive you home, you know.” He said, almost hesitantly, and you paused, stunned. You and Yuki were pretty close, very good friends out of work and you worked insanely well together during work, but you’d never progressed past meeting outside of work.

It was a line you both hadn’t crossed yet though sometimes you wished you had. Clearing the thought from your mind, you cleared your throat, leaning back and eventually nodding, hoping you covered your shock. 

“Uh y-yeah. That sounds good, thanks.” You said and he nodded, going to step away before pausing and turning back to you. You watched curiously as he leaned forward, feeling heat rush to your cheeks the closer he got. He reached out a hand and slowly wiped away a stray hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, clearing your vision and giving you a pristine look at the man.

He had been one of the boys from your hometown, his family always seemingly on the outside. They had had money, something that most of your town envied, and Yuki had always seemed to get what he wanted, being able to race karts and have his parents attend his races, something that you always envied.

However, when his parents found out that he didn’t want to follow in their footsteps of leading their company and wanted to become a chef, they left him. They cut off all support, financial and emotional, and left him with his grandma. You only knew this because you’d seen him working tirelessly at his grandma’s bakery everyday on your way back from your school, trying to raise enough to eventually put himself through culinary school. 

He’d vanished when you were both around two years out from getting your certificate, briefly being a trending topic among the townsfolk before being promptly forgotten. You’d only remembered him when you’d walked into the building you were in now, your resume in hand and a strong need to work radiating from you.

Somehow he had managed to buy the shop and had been running it since he’d left your hometown. It wasn’t hugely successful, it was in the middle of farmland of course, but it was a popular spot among students, who often rode their bikes past on their way home from school, and for locals to have a nice warm meal. Yuki had made his own way in the world.

You’d never asked him about what happened with his parents, where they went or if he talked to them now, it wasn’t your place. You were curious, of course, about all aspects of your boss. He was a quiet but kind man, one you couldn’t believe hired you, considering your forte was pastry making and his shop was more traditional cuisine. His hiring you wasn’t exactly surprising though once you got to know him, considering his main characteristic was being extremely thoughtful.

He’d often leave out water and treats for stray cats and would give a kid a free meal if they looked like they needed one. You didn’t question it when he asked if you were afraid of the dark, seeing the way you always left the shop with your phone light in one hand and your flashlight keyring turned on in the other, only to find later that week that he’d installed outdoor sensor lights which kept the dark away while you performed your duties outside and eventually walked away from the shop.

The light touch of his pinky against your eyebrow brought you back to the present and you jolted as you snapped back. He quickly drew away from you, retreating and hiding his hand away in his pocket. You both stood there awkwardly for a second before he cleared his throat.

“Wait outside, yeah? I’ll just be a second.” He said and then walked briskly back into the office, closing the door and immediately slumping against it. You couldn’t see him do this, but the creaking door pressing into the doorframe hinted it to you anyway. You quickly turned away before you let yourself speculate why.

Walking through the door to the dining area, your shoes clacked on the tiles as you made the small venture to the front door. The place wasn’t exactly classy, it was more homely, but it had charm. The laminated menu items stuck to the front window (something you’d seen his grandmother hang up, unaware of the way he shot you an exasperated glance at the decor) didn’t stop moonlight from shining onto the small two person laminate-wood tables.

The white and orange leaf-pattern plastic chairs also reflected the moonlight and you thought back to when you’d suggested buying them as a joke only to watch Yuki speculate for a moment before placing an order for them, even though they clashed heavily against the whole aesthetic. 

The small service counter in front of the wall with the service window was missing your coworker, her having gone home hours ago. You walked diverted to the desk and bent over the top of it, quickly checking that everything was locked up and in place, before hopping down and walking to open the front door.

The sound of cicadas and the refreshing smell of clean air greeted you as you walked through the glass door, the tiny tinkling of a bell sounding in your ears. The light flicked on and you surveyed the small road in front of the shop, the dust having settled since the last car drove on it. The gravel was in contrast to the lush greeness that spanned in front of you, the front of the shop having practically the same view as the back, except from here you could see a small town.

That was where you, and to the best of your knowledge, Yuki lived. It was also where a large amount of your customers lived, them mostly dropping in during the day. You don’t know why the shop was built so far away from the town, maybe it used to be exclusively a place where farmers would have their breaks during the day, but it was doing ok so far.

The moon was blocked by the shop when you turned around and you frowned. You’d seen it earlier, it hadn’t moved that fast had it? That was when you noticed something you’d never seen before, a ladder. A ladder was tilted against the side of the shop and, after a quick glance through the windows to see no movement, you figured a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. You scampered over to the ladder and shook it to see if it was steady or not. No movement later and you had climbed the ladder, to stand cautiously on the concrete roof. 

You looked up and, at that exact moment, the sensor light turned off, revealing the stars and the moon to you in all their unfiltered glory. A gasp left your lips, the pure beauty of the scene you were watching captivating you. You sat down, still staring up at the night sky, no thought about capturing the moment with your phone camera in your mind. 

The sensor light turned on and you heard the tinkling of the bell, signifying that Yuki had left the shop, a concerned call of your name leaving his lips after a few seconds. 

“Up here!” You called, moving to look over the side of the building down the ladder. Yuki appeared at the bottom of the ladder and fixed you a concerned look.

“Are you ok? It might be dangerous up there…” He said and you shook your head.

“Yuki.” Your call of his first name made him snap to attention, staring at you, an expression you didn’t recognise covering his face. 

“Come up here and watch with me.” You said softly and he took a second before nodding, you reaching over to hold the top of the ladder steady as he made his way up. He clambered over the edge of the roof and moved to sit beside you after making sure the ladder would stay standing.

He sat down beside you with a huff, a little closer than you had been expecting. He must’ve realised how close he sat as well, a small sound leaving his throat before he slightly shifted away from you. You looked away as your cheeks burned.

You heard his head tilt back to look at the sky and a small approving hum leave his lips that had you turning to look at him. 

“You ever come up here before?” You asked quietly and he shook his head. “I just had the ladder out for repairs.” He mused to the sky and you gently elbowed him, him overdramatically hissing in response. You rolled your eyes in jest.

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve helped you.” Your words made him quiet down and he shook his head. The moment sat for a second before you turned back to the sky. The silence stretched as did the night sky before you both. You wondered if he was, at any point, into the stars as a kid. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You quietly mused as you stared at the floating orb. 

“It is quite.” Yuki said, inhaling and turning to look at you as he replied. You pondered that before turning to make eye contact with him.

“Did you ever want to be an astronaut?” He looked a bit put-out by your words before laughing wrly. 

“Uhh I guess. But hasn’t every kid wanted to be an astronaut?” He said and turned back to the sky. You shrugged.

“I didn’t.” He looked shocked by your reply.

“Really? You never wanted to leave everything behind and go into space?” He asked and you just shook your head after a second.

“No, I always knew what I wanted to do. I always wanted to cook.” You said and he sighed, sounding almost mournful.

“Don’t lie.” He quietly murmured, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“You always wanted to bake.”

The distinction was important. Your heart clenched at the truth in his words and the unfamiliar look in his eyes. You tried to diffuse the newly made tension with a small joke, hoping you could get back the relaxed feeling you had when staring at the sky.

“I don’t know Yuki, I’ve gotten pretty good at plating salmon.” He scoffed at your poor attempt of a joke and you smiled lightly at the sound. Both of you turned to look back at the sky, the stars continuing to shine. 

After a minute or two, Yuki uttered your name and you drew your eyes away but his remained locked on the sky.

“You don’t have to stay here forever. You could go somewhere else you know?” His words struck you in the chest. He had thought about this before, you could tell by his tone, he wasn’t saying this carelessly. He had planned this. You laughed awkwardly.

“Is this your way of firing me?” You joked but he didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the sky. Your heart dropped. 

“Yuki?” 

“I met a guy in culinary school, his name’s Pierre.” He started and every consecutive word felt like a knife to the heart.

“He runs a bakery in France called La Kika. It’s quite popular, you may have heard of it. He’s willing to take you as a student. You could go there and you could learn how to bake and everything. You’ve always wanted this. You could go there and learn and then open your own bakery.” He said, speaking as though he had it all planned out in his head.

You could only look at his form despairingly. The knowledge that he had arranged for you to go to France, to become someone's student, with no input from you as though he expected you to say yes instantly, deeply hurting you. Did he think you would leave as soon as you could?

“You aren’t meant to stay here, you aren’t meant for this.” He finally said and he refused to move his eyes from the sky, not seeing the hurt in yours. His words had exposed how he truly felt about you. While you thought you had been as close as two people could get without explicitly stating anything, he was just looking for the next person to pawn you off to.

“What, you’d think I’d just say yes?” You asked, your voice husky as you tried not to show your hurt through tears. He turned to you, surprise evident on his features.

“Well… yeah.” He said after a second and you inhaled through your nose, turning your head away from him.

“You think I’d leave the shop because I can’t bake a croissant or two?” Your words left out the ‘leave you’ you so desperately wanted to say. He remained silent and you took a deep breath before standing up, walking across the rooftop and beginning to climb down the ladder. 

He gently murmured your name but you ignored him as the sensor light flashed on. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you turned the flashlight on before setting out along the dark path away from the shop. It was only a 15 minute walk, so you could handle it.

You heard Yuki call your name as you walked, the sound of him climbing down the ladder and fidgeting with his keys in order to lock up the shop echoing over the empty land. Halfway down the road to the main road leading back to the town was how far you made it before the sound of Yuki’s car starting up echoed in your ears. You ignored it as the sound got louder and louder until he pulled up beside you in his car, slowly matching your pace and winding the window down.

“Come on, stop it. We’ll talk about it on the drive back.” He said, almost if he was placating a child. That fact caused you to walk faster, Yuki having to press down further on the gas pedal to match your stride. 

“No.” You replied deliberately childishly and he sighed, annoyed. 

“Don’t be an idiot, you’re going to get hurt walking down the road.” You just ignored him and he groaned before rolling his window up and stopping his car. It almost hurt you how easily he gave up before his car started again and he drove into line behind you as you turned onto the highway to walk back to the town. 

It was a large road and the lack of streetlights started to make his car look like a more inviting environment between the dark and his avoidance of the bigger issue. You walked along the highway for a few seconds before a click sounded and his car lights turned on. Turning back to glare at him, you blinded yourself again.

This time you didn’t let yourself lick your wounds, you just turned around and kept walking. You were eventually able to turn your phone off, relying on his car. You half-expected him to suddenly turn off the lights, no matter how out of character it would be, as revenge for making him do this, but the lights never turned off. 

He drove behind you slowly the whole 15 minute walk down the highway, guiding your path as you followed the road. You were secretly thankful, as you’d walked down the road in the night before and it was not something that you ever wanted to do voluntarily. The cars speeding by always frightened you and the ominous noises coming from the fields on either side of the road also unsettled you.

The town eventually came into view, the lights from bus stops and convenience stores beacons as to where the village started. You arrived at one of the bus stops and stepped under the cover, watching his car come to a stop. He made eye contact with you through the window and gestured your hand in a wave, as though telling him to leave. 

He rolled his eyes before unbuckling his seat belt and opening his car door, getting out. He trudged over to you and opened the car door on your side before gesturing to it as if telling you to get in. You only stone-faced him so he sighed and opened his mouth.

“Please, at least let me drive you back to your house so I don’t have to follow you through the town like that. It’s the least you could do at 1:30 in the morning.” He said exhaustedly and his tone made your resolve waver. His eyes seemed tired and, as much as you were angry at him, you still felt bad. So, you got in the car.

You buckled in as he walked around the front of the car, his figure being lit up by the lights. The many years he’d spent perfecting his craft and lugging around sacks of flour and rice was reflected perfectly in his build and he was built well. His arms flexed as he buckled himself in, your wandering eye catching the way he tapped his fingers against his thigh as he pulled back onto the road. 

It was hardly the time to be thinking such things, after he’d tried to make you go to France and you’d pulled a temper tantrum. You were still mad, but even you could acknowledge that what you did was ridiculous. God, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?

Maybe, you thought regretfully, that was his plan. Get you to try and avoid him so that you’d leave on your own. His voice interrupted your thoughts.

“I meant what I said, you know.” And you groaned, feeling annoyance spread across you. You bumped your head against the window of his car, staring up into the sky and at the moon in blatant refusal to look at him.

“Let me finish, I’ve had plenty of time to think over what I’d like to say.” He finally said his tone sharper than you’ve ever heard it, the dig at your actions being well deserved.

“What I meant to say was that you have a lot of talent.” You took your head off the window to look at him as he stared straight ahead and continued speaking.

“Cooking is not your passion, baking is. You would enjoy being able to bake more than what you’re doing right now.” He said and you opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off.

“I know you’ll refuse that, but I promise you, when you find that one thing you’re passionate about, you should always pursue it. Never give up on it. I’ve got an opportunity for you to do better things, go better places, meet better people.” You could only stare at him, seeing him become more worked up as he continued speaking. You don’t think you’d ever seen him say something this meaningful or something this related to the both of you.

“I want that for you. I knew that when I hired you, you’d eventually move on to something else. I didn’t expect for other things to develop but I don’t want you to feel as though you should stay here with me because of what I feel for you.” Shock flooded through your body at his words, feelings that have always been there but you never thought you could act on coming to the forefront of your body. You watched as he clenched the steering wheel, the light from streetlights glaring onto his pale skin as he continued.

“I’ve accepted it, you’re not meant to stay with me. You’re meant for better things. So if I can’t be those better things, I’d like to at least give you the opportunity to find them.” Yuki could only take shaky breaths after his speech, not daring to look at you. It was silent for a few seconds before he heard you quietly speak.

“Pull over.” He felt his heart sink, tears forming in his eyes that he tried to field away at the rejection. He knew it was coming. He slowly turned his indicator on and pulled over on the side of the road. The sound of your seatbelt becoming undone and your door opening and closing filled his ears, causing him to drop his head.

He may have just lost you completely, convinced you to follow your dreams at the cost his. It was a fever dream anyway, he’d known since childhood there was no chance of you feeling anything back for him.

The first time he’d seen you stand precariously on a chair to trial all of his grandma’s sweets was the day he became infatuated with you. He was sitting on the couch, squished between his mother and his grandma, as he watched you slowly walk to the chair and taste the pastries, your reaction to each one making him want to be able to bake his own.

Everyday he’d watch you walk past his grandma’s bakery, hoping that you didn’t think of him differently since his parents had left him and he dropped out of school. Their disownment of him had left such a large hole in his sense of self, his confidence and trust completely shattered. He couldn’t walk anywhere through the town without people looking at him with sad eyes or muttering pitifully about ‘that poor boy!’. He’d left because he couldn’t stand being an outsider any longer, briefly mourning the unrequited love he’d felt for you that was overshadowed by his loss. 

And then, when you’d walked into his barely new shop, resume poised and you almost itching to get your hands on any form of food creation, how could he say no? You were a good person and a good chef, the extended periods of time he was forced to spend with you made his feelings come back at full force.

But he knew that it wasn’t the best for you. You would always be wanting something more, something that he couldn’t give you in a run-down shop that was falling apart at the seams. Pierre was more than happy to give you a small course and set you up with employment, all it took was one stellar review from Yuki and you’d pretty much had the job.

He was glad that, even if he felt as though his heart was ripped from his chest, you were able to finally fulfill your childhood passion.

And then his car door opened.

He barely had time to turn to you before you’d grabbed his collar and drawn him into a kiss. His body melted, the tears in his eyes disappearing as he took in how soft your lips felt. He recovered from his shock quickly and unbuckled his seat belt, letting his hands then run to the back of your neck.

He pulled away and couldn’t say anything before you were staring at him, as though he was the moon himself, with stars from the sky sparkling in your eyes and you spoke.

“What do you say we open a pastry menu?”

she should be edited, but we'll see. anyways this may be my favourite thing i've written idk. through the years may beat it out *shrug* also i got a banger lewis idea while writing this so watch out for that.

[ohmygraves]

i don't usually have ideas for könig, but chef!könig seems like just the sweetest guy at work.

i imagine he's a very quiet guy, and doesn't leave his little room a lot. he works alone at the back, churning out sweets and bread for the restaurant so he gets really, really busy. he likes it though being alone, it gives him some sense of control over his works and it made things easier to keep track of things.

he deals with sweets, and baking is precise science. even with his anxiety, his hands are very steady. i feel like if he fancies you, he would make you a very beautiful dolce, with pretty flowers made with sugar crafting. perhaps even make an entire menu all together in honor of you.

although he might not like it when the dish he made in honor of you got put into the menu for everyone to taste. he'd like you to be the only one to taste his creation that he dedicated for you. he'll keep it a secret from the head chef.

[pickledpascal]

Meat & Candy

Chapter Three

Warnings: innuendos, sibling teasing, dean being nervous, swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

Meat & Candy Masterlist

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Before Castiel left the restaurant, he and Dean exchanged numbers to work out a time for Dean’s “lesson.” Castiel couldn’t help but feel excited about it.

Not only because Dean was an attractive man but because he loved food and he loved seeing the process of a professional chef. The way they moved around in a busy kitchen, how they prepared for the upcoming day, the precise hand of how they plated a dish—it all interested him. And told Castiel a lot about a chef. Would Dean be one of those hot-headed chefs who screamed at his staff when a plate came to the pass raw and ultimately pushed his chefs to be better? Or was Dean more calm, collected, and gently pushed until he’d talk with one of his chefs about their performance?

Castiel hoped it was the latter.

As Dean’s eyes followed Castiel through the windows, Sam snickered behind him. Dean turned, rolling his eyes. “Spit it out, Sammy.”

“‘Would you like to come back tomorrow?’ So we can kiss on the mouth?” Sammy mocked in a deeper voice, imitating Dean. “You’re so obvious sometimes, Dean. I’m surprised Castiel didn’t just kiss you goodbye.”

Dean titled his head. “What?” He felt dizzy. Did Castiel like him? Well, Dean knew he could be charming and he knew his looks were enough to make anyone fall for him but he’s had…. Issues. Enough issues where he still got surprised that people found him attractive and liked him for who he was. Yeah, that still got him. 

“You’re so fucking oblivious sometimes, I can’t believe you.” Sam let out a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. 

“Or maybe you’re just seeing things.” Dean pointed out, trying to push away the fluttering feeling in his chest.

The last time Dean had a relationship was nearly sixteen years ago when Emma was born. He had this on-and-off thing with Benny but Dean wouldn’t call that a relationship. More like friends with benefits. Plus, he cut that off a while ago. Now, they were just friends. Benny met a girl named Andrea and they were engaged. Dean was happy for him. 

And Dean, for a while, was completely fine with being alone. 

Lately, Emma hasn't been fine with it. 

Did she want Dean to go home with just anyone? Absolutely not. But she wanted him to get out there. And Sam couldn't help but agree. Hell, everyone in Dean's life agreed. 

And Dean…. Well, he didn't know what to do with that. 

“What're you gonna do tomorrow anyway?” Sam asked, leaning up against the table he was working at. 

Dean pursed his lips. “The classics? Maybe something else. I've been cooking up some stuff in my head.” He joked, snapping his finger and winking at Sam. 

“You suck.” Sam wasn't impressed.

He had to deal with Dean's coping mechanisms for most of his life. Sam knew he was still affected by everything that happened to them when they were kids. Dean remembered most, if not all, of what happened to them. Sam, not so much, simply because he was younger and his early years were a little fuzzy. 

“And you swallow.” Dean countered.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh as he rubbed his forehead. “Get the fuck outta here and get the shit for our tasting session.” 

Dean laughed and nodded. “Gotcha. See in a few.” He went to the front door. “And by a few, I mean hours.” He waved as he exited. 

One of Dean's favorite things to do as a chef is to walk around the alleyway markets, checking out the produce, talking to a few vendors, and simply taking the time to slow down. He knew a lot of chefs thrived on adrenaline and the heat of the kitchen. Not Dean. He thrived for these moments. Quiet ones. Calm ones. Don't get him wrong, he loved being in the kitchen and he loved the feeling of camaraderie among his cooks when they completed a service but he cherished his time off just as much. 

“Hey, Donna!” Dean greeted her with a wide smile. He'd known Donna for a while.

She returned the smile. “Heya, Dean. What can I do ya for?”

“I’ll take five bunches of parsley, five pounds of tomatoes, two of apricots, and,” Dean grabbed one of the granny smith apples that sat in Donna's crates and tossed it into the air. “Three pounds of apples.” 

Donna nodded and began to bag everything for Dean. She'd get one of her workers to deliver it to the restaurant. “You seen Jody yet today?” 

“No, why?” Dean cocked an eyebrow. Jody was Dean's butcher of choice and she usually came in the afternoons to drop off whatever order he made in the morning.

“She has something special for ya.” Donna winked. 

Dean chuckled softly and finished up, paying for all the things he got. He went to a few other vendors, talking and laughing as he paid for stuff. Some things he thought Emma would like. For instance, he got a citrus and herbal candle—Emma had a nice candle collection going and some of her favorite smells were citrus and floral. 

When Dean came back from the markets, Emma sat at one of the tables doing her homework. He ruffled her hair when he got close. She shot him an annoyed, but affectionate, look. 

“Math still suck ass?” He asked with an easy smile.

Emma let out a sigh as she looked down at her notebook that had scribbles she didn’t understand even though she was the one that wrote them down. “Yeah.” 

“Want a distraction?” Dean leaned in closer to Emma, a hand on the back of her chair. 

Emma glanced at her father from her work and thought it over. Dean was usually good at distractions but also good at reminding her to finish her work afterward. She stood and motioned for Dean to enter the kitchen.

Dean’s smile widened as he opened the kitchen door for her and watched as she interacted with Sam, Benny, and the other chefs—Lee, Garth, Jack, and Charlie. 

To be fair, they were family to Emma before they were Dean’s employees. 

“What should we have her on?” Lee rubbed his chin, looking at the youngest in their brigade, Jack. “Think she can handle searing off the meats?” He teased.

Jack laughed nervously, not sure if he should answer at all. “Well, uh….”

Benny rolled his eyes and punched Jack’s shoulder gently. “Don’t answer that. Lee’s just messin’ with ya.” He glanced at Emma who was glaring at them. “She could probably get every station done on time and still have time to do homework.” He winked.

Dean put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Must run in the family.” 

“No. Uncle Sammy sucks in the kitchen.” Emma shuddered. Sam rolled his eyes.

The room burst into laughter. “Well, it runs in my blood.” Dean rephrased. “Anyway, c’mon,” His voice shifted to the one he usually used when he had to work, yelling orders over to pass to make sure his cooks heard him. “We’re gonna do a quick spread of each dish we will be serving, the correct portioning, so take small bites to make sure it tastes how it’s supposed to. Sam,” He looked at his behemoth of a brother, “Do not take bigger bites than you’re supposed to. You’ll be leaving scraps for Jack.”

———

After the interview, Castiel got some good work done on the article at the office. Sure, he could just write down the questions and Dean’s responses but where’s the fun in that? He wanted to make it more of a “character study” than an interview. He always felt normal interview articles lacked a certain soul. They never treated the person they were interviewing as a person. 

“Hey, Cassie!” Castiel heard the familiar voice of his brother as he entered his house. And he could sense the scent of cooking wine.

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greeted, seeing Claire sitting at the kitchen island as she watched Gabriel in the kitchen. Something in his heart squeezed. 

Gabriel was no Masterchef—like Castiel would assume Dean would be—but he was less helpless in the kitchen than Castiel and helped him out a lot when he worked long days and wanted to make sure Claire ate something for dinner other than Wendy’s or some other fast food restaurant. 

“How was that interview with Mr. Winchester?” Gabe asked with a suggestive tone.

Castiel tilted his head, turning to Claire. “Did you tell him?” 

Claire shrugged and shook her head. “No. I mean I told him you were interviewing someone but I didn’t remember his name.” 

Castiel looked from Claire to Gabriel with curious eyes. 

His brother shifted slightly, his smug smirk never left his lips. “I sold that spot to Mr. Winchester. His house too. And occasionally we just talk for fun.” He shrugged. 

Castiel's eyebrows raised. He had a connection to Dean? “How long have you known him?” He couldn't help but ask.

Gabriel's eyes squinted a little at him. “A while. We met while he was still in New York for culinary school.”

Castiel noted the fact that Dean went to culinary school in New York in the back of his head. He became more intrigued. Gabriel lived in New York over a decade ago. Castiel was mostly surprised he'd never heard of Dean before now. But then again, Gabriel could be the type to forget to let people know things.

He and Castiel were different that way. It was a wonder how they were related. They were very different but seemed to work well together.

“What…. Was he like?” Castiel asked, his heart pounding faster.

Gabriel shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. “Hot. That hasn't changed much. And a little skinnier.” He laughed softly. “Now that changed. He put on some muscle. The man became a proper dilf.”

Claire tilted her head, suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation. Maybe that was part of the reason why the rumors of the restaurant were circulating around her school. 

A hot head chef with a kid? It didn't even matter if he was single or not. Say hello to daddy issues.

———

Dean couldn't keep Castiel out of his head. He was buzzing around up there like a gnat—no, more like a bee. Gnats were far more annoying than bees. Bees were more important, too. They contributed to pollen dispersal and made honey. Honey was good. As far as Dean knew, gnats simply existed to annoy the hell out of people.

He leaned up against one of the counters in the kitchen and rubbed at his temples. He hadn't felt this kind of nervousness since he and Cassie were a thing. That thought made his heart sink. 

Cassie was the last person Dean had been in a relationship with. The last person that meant something to him. In more than just a familial or friendly way. 

And, shit, he was cooking for Cas. Cooking like this was intimate for Dean. It wasn't as meaningful when he was behind a wall, cooking for tables of people but Cas would actually be able to see the work and care he put into everything. 

Wait, when did he become Cas?

Dean shook his head and took a deep breath. He tried to remember what his therapist told him. Those breathing exercises. 

In. One, two, three. Hold. Out. One, two, three. Repeat three more times to make it an even four.

His heart slowed. Dean ran a hand through his hair before he noticed Benny standing near the back of the kitchen. He stood straighter.

“Did you, uh, watch all that?” Dean asked nervously. 

Benny nodded as he approached slowly. “No worries, man. I get it. You like him. And….” He paused to try and find the right words. “It's been a while since you felt like that. Like something real might happen.” 

Dean didn't want to look Benny in the eyes because he was exactly right. Why did Dean have to surround himself with people who could see right through him? Oh, right, because he wanted to hire people who he could trust and anticipate his needs before he asked for something. 

“I'm proud of you.” Benny eventually said, eyes softening as he looked at Dean. “You deserve something nice. Someone nice.” 

Dean closed his eyes at the praise. He felt like he didn't deserve it. He still wasn't used to it, even with as much praise Ellen and Bobby had given him over the years, the feeling didn't change much from his younger years. Dads sucked like that. 

Benny pulled Dean into a hug, surprising him. Dean simply let it happen, holding onto him. 

“You're such a good dad, y'know that?” Benny pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. He just wanted to be there for his friend. “I see the way Emma looks at you. Like you hung the damn moon, just for her. You're doing good, don't forget that.” 

Dean took in another deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, man.” He leaned back against the counters. “I, um, I needed that.” He admitted.

“I knew you did.” Benny said softly. “Just… Do something for yourself for once, hm?” 

With that, Benny was gone. He had retreated through the back door to give Dean some privacy. 

Cooking could be intimate with the right person after all. 

Or it could be hell.

Dean has felt his fair share of both in his forty or so years of being alive. 

“Hello?” Castiel poked his head through the door to the kitchen, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on Dean. He had a notebook in his hands with a pen clipped on the cover. 

He looked like a nerd. With his trench coat and tie combo. It made Dean smile.

“Um, Sam just let me in. I know I'm early. Is that okay? Or do you need more time to prepare?” Castiel asked shyly, playing with the edges of his notebook. 

Dean's smile widened a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He quickly wiped the look off his face as he took a breath, “No, you're fine. Don't worry.” 

He clapped his hands together before he motioned for Castiel to come closer. “Take a look around. Feel free to ask me any questions while I'm cooking, I can multitask pretty well.” Dean smirked and winked at the other man, not missing the way Sam looked at him through the window between the kitchen and the dining room.

Castiel hummed a little as he eagerly looked at the pre-portioned ingredients. It seemed like he was trying to figure out what Dean was going to do with them before he started.

He had no idea.

Less than a few minutes passed before the two dishes Dean made were finished. And Castiel's mouth was watering just looking at them.

Dean slid the first dish to Castiel. “This is my version of a classic breakfast. At least, what I assume is a classic breakfast.” He flushed a little as he looked down at the dish. “Egg's benedict with bacon on top and diced roasted potatoes.”

Castiel almost didn't want to take a fork and bite into it. The hollandaise was so fluffy and perfect looking with the way it dripped down the sides of the eggs and English muffin. And those potatoes? Seasoned to perfection and so golden. 

“Is the… Is the English muffin homemade?” Castiel shook his head to try and focus. 

Dean shook his head. “Charlie's a good baker but no. We get them locally though. A friend, Cassie, owns a bakery down the street.” 

Castiel took a quick note. Dean sources his ingredients locally. And then he cut into the dish. And, shit, the egg was poached to perfection. The yolk ran out elegantly. He wasn't sure how else to describe it. He wanted to drink it like water. When he finally put a piece of it in his mouth, he let out a small sigh. 

Castiel has had the pleasure of eating at some of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago and across the US because of his job but this… this felt like he got transported to Heaven and was cooked a meal by God himself. 

He wished the meal could last forever. Alas, he ate the dish in a mere minute or two. 

Dean let out a small laugh. “Hungry?”

“I barely ate today.” Castiel admitted. Maybe that was why it tasted better than anything he'd ever tasted before. But, at the same time, perhaps Dean was just that good of a chef. 

Dean's eyes softened with a glint of sadness, sliding over dish number two. “Well, I'm glad you could fill up.” He scratched his eyebrow for a second. “This is, uh, homemade spaghetti with garlic, parsley, bacon bits—because I gotta put bacon in nearly everything—red pepper flakes for some spice. And I tossed it in some tomato sauce.” 

Castiel looked at this dish carefully. It had some nice color with some red, green, and yellow and it didn't hurt that the bottom of the bowl wasn't dripping in sauce. Which was nice. However, he wasn't the biggest fan of bacon in pasta dishes. 

“Why lightly toss the pasta?” He asked, curious. Surely it wasn't just for aesthetic reasons.

Dean chuckled a little at the question before he leaned against the countertop. “Gives the dish a nice color plus I want to save most of the sauce for other dishes. And I didn't want to overpower the dish. The red sauce I make can be….” He tried to find the right words. “Very flavorful in large amounts.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at that before he swirled his fork in the pasta and took a bite. Well, shit. Those bacon bits worked pretty well in this dish. And he could understand what Dean was saying about the sauce. It was wonderful in this small amount but he wondered what it'd taste like if he had a pitcher that he could drink from. 

He scribbled down a few more notes in a frenzy. Mostly just flavors and the composition of the dish.

“And, uh, who do you staff here? Professional chefs like you? Or are you open to anyone?” Castiel asked after a few minutes of other questions. 

Dean pursed his lips for a second before his lips broke out into a smile. “I hire friends, mostly. Formal education or not. If I know you're good enough to work for me, then you're good enough.” He explained softly. “Like my best friend Benny, he's my sous, he used to work in New Orleans making lobster rolls and shrimp at little hole-in-the-wall places. Or, uh, Charlie, my pastry chef. She'd always make cakes for my birthday and they were incredible.”

Castiel chuckled softly. That would be a dream, getting to hire all your friends to work for you… Half his coworkers sucked. 

“I try to make a positive environment for my chefs. And my waiters. And my stage, Sam.” Dean smiled softly. “I know a lot of kitchens can get heated. I don't want that. My daughter comes into the kitchen a lot to help and I don't want her seeing me throwing a pan at someone.” He quickly added, “I mean, I wouldn't do that to begin with but… I've seen it happen.”

“Don't worry. I get it.” Castiel smiled at Dean, glancing up from the counters to his face. He tilted his head. “You mentioned you had a daughter twice. Once yesterday. Is that why you wanted to do this? Give her something… to have later on?”

Dean licked his lips and shook his head. “My daughter… she pushed me to do this. To have something I could call my own that I didn't have to share with anyone. Sam helped me a lot, sure, but this is my restaurant. I don't have a partner or co-owner. It's… it's mine.” He took a deep breath, rubbing a hand up his face for a second. “I haven't had something like that in a while.”

Castiel nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at Dean. He made Castiel think of his own daughter. Maybe he was being too selfish and tried to focus too hard on advancing his career instead of Claire.

She deserved more. 

“How… How do you think you did? As a parent?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean let out a soft laugh. “I don't know. Emma would say I'm the best dad ever but I'm not sure. There were times I struggled to pay bills but… but we always ate dinner together.” He loved those times, as much as they sucked.

Emma was such a wonderful child that Dean wasn't sure if that was his nurture or her nature. She always wanted to help in the kitchen. Perhaps it's because he liked it so much and she wanted to know why.

With grease stains on his shirts, oil scars on his hands, and a towel on his shoulder to pick up hot things. All Dean remembered was her smiling face biting into one of his burgers, with one of her front teeth missing. It's like he could see the memory shifting before his eyes. To Emma just a few days ago doing the exact same thing.

Fuck, Dean loved her with all his heart. 

———

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