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mischievousmoony · 2 months

Note

Hiiii!!! i absolutely love your writing and i wonder if you wouldn’t mind writing a james potter x fem!reader thingy. Basically where she is out with some

friends that are absolute dicks and basically they ‘dare’ her to walk home in the dark alone whilst she is drunk and she agrees became se she just wants them to like her but she realises how much of an idiot she is and so she walks to James’ house where he comforts her and stuff.

if not don’t worry

love you!!!!

changed the prompt up a little hope it's okay lovie <3 i also made it a bit long for my definition of a drabble but thats ok hopefully u think the more words the merrier luv u

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 2.3k ⟢ warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, intoxication, social anxiety briefly mentioned, implications of how dangerous the situation was, for some reason i used this as an opportunity to practice writing imagery so sorry if it's too much

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sharp, crisp wind nips at your skin as you walk down the shadowy, deserted London streets, the echo of your heels clicking against the pavement being the only sound that punctures the eerie silence.

A misty breath passes your lips and you hug yourself a little tighter, your hands making futile attempts at smoothing the goosebumps that dot your arms. You mentally curse yourself for listening to your "friends" when they said a jacket would ruin your outfit, wondering if this was their plan all along.

More tears fall as your mind wanders back to the friends you thought you were making and the bitter wind swiftly dries them against your cheeks, leaving your skin tacky with the salty residue.

What was supposed to be an opportunity to forge new friendships with some girls from your class took a devastating turn when they all crammed into a taxi without you, leaving you tipsy and stranded with their parting taunts ringing in your ears.

"Wait, we won't all fit," you had jabbered facetiously, the gravity of the situation not yet apparent to your drunk mind as you clumsily stumbled towards the car, your heel catching on a crack in the pavement.

One of the girls snickered as she wrenched the door of the black cab open, "That's a shame, innit?"

"I suppose you'll have to find another way home," another girl remarked, the others laughing along, barely bothering to suppress their amusement.

The carefree smile you sported faded from your face, feelings of dread and alarm creeping up your chest as you murmured, "My phone is dead, I won't be able to call a car."

"Sounds like you'll be walking home tonight," one of them sneered with a cruel edge.

"W-what?" you stammered, your chest rising and falling with a frantic rhythm as the sobering situation sinks in, "Walking back to my flat would take close to an hour."

The last girl to pile into the car— the one who originally extended the invitation to their night out with warmth and enthusiasm— looked up at you from her seat in the taxi with a mix of feigned sympathy and cruel delight. Her eyes gleamed with sly satisfaction as she leaned out of the car and took the door handle into her grasp.

"Well, then you better start," she declared, her tone punctuated by a mocking laugh and the slam of the car door.

You wish you could say that there was a sudden flip in their behavior the moment the taxi pulled up, but the abrasive way they conducted themselves around you all night should have had you running ages ago. But your naivety and desperation to make friends clouded your judgement, you supposing that it might simply take more than one night for the girls to warm up to you.

The sound of the car screeching away still rings in your ears as you brave the streets alone, trudging in the opposite direction of your flat. The hour walk to your home— more if you walked along the safest path you could think of— was too daunting on your mind. Your desperation to get off the streets steered you to your boyfriend's instead, his flat being half as far as yours.

If it weren't for the overwhelming unease you felt, you might have been too embarrassed to face James tonight. But your nervous edge was enough to send you hastily fleeing to his flat, it being well into the A.M., and you being alone— dressed in an outfit you were only comfortable wearing around a swarm of girls you thought had your back— and barely able to hold your own after medicating your social anxiety with a few too many cocktails.

When you finally arrive at the familiar stoop to James' place, you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you stagger up the stairs, leaning heavily on the iron railing for support.

Your knocking is incessant as you mutter pleas under your breath, desperately hoping James is sleeping lightly tonight. It feels like more time has passed than it actually has by the time the door creaks open.

James appears in the doorway, clearly just out of bed. His hair is tousled more than usual, stray strands sticking out unevenly over his forehead, and his clothes are wrinkled from tossing around in his sleep. He straightens out his glasses that lay crooked over the bridge of his nose as he processes your presence, his face a blend of sleepiness and alarm.

You utter his name weakly, a fragile quiver that reveals your vulnerability and distress. James' heart breaks at the sound and he wordlessly pulls you inside and envelopes his arms around you. You let him pull you in and your hands find the plush cotton of his jumper, gripping onto it like a lifeline.

James' mind races with worry, trying to piece together what could have happened to put you on his doorstep, tearful and distraught, in the middle of the night. He knows that you had gone out for some drinks at some bar downtown. He also knows that you weren't supposed to be alone and that you were supposed to take a taxi home— these being the answers to questions he asked earlier to ensure your safety.

The possibilities of what could have went wrong fill him with a profound sense of dread, and he tries not to let himself get carried away with the nightmares that swirl around in his mind.

Wrapped in his arms, you kick your heels off to the side somewhere. The shoes were killing you, and one more second in them and you might have collapsed into a heap on the floor.

James can feel you tremble against him when you settle, a result of the cold and lingering fear from being outside, inebriated and alone.

"You're freezing," he whispers, his voice hoarse from his recent slumber and edged with worry as his large hands come to rub your arms. He frowns at the iciness of your skin.

It's James' first instinct to break the embrace and tug at his collar, pulling the jumper from his own back to drape its warmth over you instead, leaving him only in his joggers that hang lazily from his hips.

The cotton is still warm with his body heat when it cocoons you and the scent of him on the fabric brings you comfort. You sniffle pathetically when you meet James' large, sorrowful eyes that brim with concern as your head pops free from the jumper's collar. He smoothes the fabric over your body quickly before his hands climb up to your face.

The pads of his thumbs sweep away stray tears as he cups your face, his fingers brushing softly along your jawline as he tilts your head to meet his troubled eyes.

"What happened?" he asks, notes of concern in his voice as his thumbs trace soothing shapes into your cheekbones.

An anguished whimper sounds in your throat and more tears begin to spill. You shake your head, unable to find your voice to explain.

"That's okay," he murmurs, pulling you back into his chest as he cradles your head in his hands, "It's okay, my love, I'm here. You're safe."

He coos tender words of comfort and reassurance in your ear, his voice steady and soothing. One hand lowers to gently rub your back until the tremors in your body gradually subside and you begin to feel a sense of security build back up.

James only pulls away when the rise and fall of your chest slows to a steady rhythm. Brown eyes meet yours and he offers a reassuring smile. He murmurs words of beckoning and leads you deeper into his flat. He doesn't take you far, just to his sofa so he can get you off your feet. You're thankful, the blisters from your heels becoming almost unbearable to stand on.

Your boyfriend sits first, gingerly pulling you down onto his lap, both craving your closeness and understanding just how much you need him right now. You curl up with your legs folded in front of you and your knees drawn close to your chest, your side pressed snugly against his torso. One of his arms wraps around your back for support, while the other rests casually over your legs, his large hand comfortably settling on the back of your thigh.

His head lulls forward until he can nuzzle into your hair, his breath warm against your ear as he softly prompts, "Think you can tell me what happened now?"

You sniffle once, letting your lungs fill with air before you stammer into a hesitant explanation. Still embarrassed over the whole ordeal, everything comes out in a small, quivering voice, starting with the awkward tension at the bar and ending with the way they laughed as they cruelly left you on the curb.

A whirlpool of emotions rages in James' chest. He doesn't understand how anyone could be unkind to his lovely girl, and he certainly doesn't understand how anyone could be so heinous to leave a person alone on the street like that.

James swallows hard, his next question living on the tip of his tongue until he has the strength to ask it. His tone is unwaveringly serious, low and intense in its level of concern, when he finally does.

"Baby, please tell me you walked straight here. No one gave you any trouble?"

"No," you shake your head, "no trouble."

James feels his whole body relax at your words, and a noise hitches in the back of his throat as he releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. The overwhelming flood of relief and emotion threatens to bring him to tears, but he manages to hold them back. His eyes close briefly as he presses closer, his nose smooshing against the side of your head as he presses kisses behind your ear.

Your eyes flutter shut too as you allow James to cradle you in his arms. You think about how you almost tripped a few times, but you know that's not exactly what James is worrying about. Although, you can imagine he'd fuss over that too, checking your knees and palms for scuffs and kissing the skin there just because you could've hurt it.

As you feel the tension drain from his body beneath you, you think about how his fears mirrored your own.

"I was scared there would be," you admit in a small voice.

"I know my darling girl. I'm so sorry," he leans back, tilting his head to the side so he can meet your gaze. You don't miss how his eyes are glassy when they lock onto yours with calming intensity, "You're safe now, I've got you." He presses his lips to your forehead, lingering there as he mumbles, "I'm sorry this happened."

"I thought I was making friends," you choke out, the words cracking with the weight of the betrayal.

James feels his heart break all over again.

"Those girls don't deserve to have you as friend."

"But I want friends. It was so easy in secondary school. I've always had you, and Lily, Sirius, Remus. Everyone."

James listens intently, his sympathetic eyes gazing upon yours once again.

"I'm all alone at uni. And I don't why nobody likes me," you finish in anguish.

James promptly moves his hand from your thigh to cup your cheek, "Listen to me. You're lovely, so lovely. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, alright? You're going to find people who think so too."

"And you have me," he corrects. "You still have all of us. I know things are different now, and I bet you're missing having friends in your classes, yeah? But uni's only just started. You're gonna find your people."

"You think so?"

"I know so, lovely girl," he says, his thumb flicking the tip of your nose endearingly, "I was already a goner the first time I spoke to you. And if I remember correctly, you and Lily were thick as thieves after one day of knowing each other. Right?"

You hum affirmatively, remembering the first days of friendship with the people you now call family.

"See? You're good at making friends. It's 'cause you're amazing, anyone with a brain can see that. Those girls are just bloody idiots." James' features take on a sour look when he thinks about them, but with you in his arms, he can't sustain his irritation for long— especially not with you smiling prettily at his words.

"There's that smile," he mumbles fondly, and your giggle is music to his ears. You stay like that for a moment, trading smiles and tender caresses.

Eventually, James' expression shifts, his brow furrowing as he becomes stern.

"Next time you go out, I'm gonna pick you up. I don't care how late, I don't care who you're with. And I'm buying you a portable charger for that phone."

"Okay, Jamie," you agree softly, recognizing the firmness in his voice that leaves no room for argument, and finding it a bit endearing how fiercely he cares for you.

He relaxes again with a sigh. His hand, which still remains cupping your cheek, pulls you a fraction closer.

"I'm happy you're safe, love. I'm happy you came here." Each of his words is wrapped with sincerity and affection. "I love you," he says earnestly.

"I love you too," you whisper, the same depth of emotion laced in your words.

He guides you even closer, meeting you halfway with a tender kiss to your lips. It's a beautiful blend of sweetness and innocence, a soft brush of lips that envelopes you in a blanket of sweet serenity, making you forget what it was ever like to be scared.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

372 notes · View notes

https-milo · 14 days

Note

Would u mind doing a tamaki amajiki Instagram

my glorious anxious king, yesyesyeysyesy!

DATING TAMAKI AMAJIKI INSTAGRAM!

details!

instagram posts w/ comments while dating Tamaki Amajiki

sunnysidey/n · 15w

1.5k likes Liked by suneater, lemirio, nejirechan

sunnysidey/n me and my fave went to a butterfly garden!! Tamaki my goat (or like octopus, clam, chicken - he's never eaten a goat (I don't think))

Tagged: suneater

suneater it was so fun. it was quiet too. also I've never eaten a goat... sunnysidey/n suneater GAH IKR! It was such a cute little gardennnn ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ I wanted to fall asleep! And I hope you haven't eaten a goat (´∇｀) suneater sunnysidey/n well if you fell asleep, id have to wake you up and you don't usually wake up right away... so we would've been late to fatgum's agency... so I'm glad you stayed away lemirio suneater HMMMMMMM maybeeee its because you liked talking to herrrrrr ★⌒ヽ( ͡° ε ͡°) suneater lemirio well uh you know... sunnysidey/n suneater don't worry, tama!! everyone likes talking to me so obviously!! >3< nejirechan suneater DMSDMSDMSDMS

lemirio Lets gooo!! Tamaki was telling me all about it! He was so excited to take you! sunnysidey/n lemirio I was so excited to go!! Tama is so fun to be around! (´｡✪ω✪｡｀)

INSTAGRAM DIRECT!

lemirio replied to your story: 😏😏😏

sunnysidey/n: he's still gonna deny my attraction 😞😞

nejirechan replied to your story: hmm i wonder who this is about!! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

sunnysidey/n: sighhhh we'll never know ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)و ✧

suneater replied to your story: !!!

suneater: uh who is this about?

suneater: sorry you probably dont want me to know

suneater: I wouldnt want me to know

suneater just forget I said anything

sunnysidey/n: tamaaa what did I say about that (╥_╥)

sunnysidey/n: you can talk to me about anything, and you *dont* need to apologize!! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶

suneater: ok im sorry

sunnysidey/n: -_-

sunnysidey/n: anyways! To answer your question; I think you know who I'm talking about (we're in the same class, after all) you've just gotta admit it to yourself ¯\_(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)_/¯

suneater: ok...

suneater: im not ready for that yet

sunnysidey/n: i know tama! dont worry (っ´▽｀)っ

suneater: (.づ◡﹏◡)づ ⊂(・▽・⊂) sunnysidey/n reacted "❤️" to this message

sunnysidey/n: AHHH ITS LITERALLY US!!

sunnysidey/n · 12w

2.1k likes Liked by lemirio, yuyu.haya, nejirechan, suneater

sunnysidey/n being 18 means we can buy fireworks whenever(▀U ▀-͠) happy random day of school guys!!

Tagged: suneater, yuyu.haya, lemirio, nejirechan

nejirechan the way amajiki is looking at your sparkler in worry ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ) sunnysidey/n nejirechan he does have an anxiety disorder, but I can totally be delusional and think he was looking out for me!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥ suneater sunnysidey/n but I was worried... what if it got in your hair? sunnysidey/n suneater UBIUBREIBVLKSDBLIVUHJB sunnysidey/n suneater I mean!! thanks!! <3 lemirio sunnysidey/n he just blushed and put his face in the wall( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

yuyu.haya me you and nejire need to hang out more. it was super fun being with you today nejirechan yuyu.haya OOOO SHOPPING TRIP SOON?? sunnysidey/n nejirechan IM SO DOWN!! TEHEHEH (≧◡≦)

suneater it was so fun. i'm glad you didn't catch on fire sunnysidey/n suneater did you doubt me o(╥﹏╥) suneater sunnysidey/n only a little. you can be forgetful. I was worried you'd forget it was in your hand then scratch your head T_T sunnysidey/n suneater well then I'm glad you were looking out for me <3

suneater · 8w

302 likes Liked by sunnysidey/n, nejirechan, lemirio

suneater y/n just... barged into my room and is making me watch her favorite movies while she pauses every few seconds to analyze the scene (this is our third movie)

sunnysidey/n YOU?? POSTED?? ME?? OH MY GOSH. YOUR FIRST POST IN TWO YEARS AND ITS ME??? suneater sunnysidey/n well, you're the one who's hanging out with me right now. I thought this was worth posting. sorry if thats weird. I'll go home. sunnysidey/n suneater NO SHHHHH ofc its okay!! Im overjoyed rn!! and you cant go home, i'm in your home =^ v ^=

sunnysidey/n no one else listens to me yap like you. mirio always has his own opinions he wants to say, and Nejire changes the subject SOOOO fast. You just listen (＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾) suneater sunnysidey/n i'm glad you like talking to me lemirio sunnysidey/n thats cute and all, but why are we catching strays -_- sunnysidey/n lemirio IM SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO LIKE INSULT YOU TWO, I WAS JUST SAYING!! I LOVE YOU BOTH VERY VERY VERY MUCH, YOU AND NEJIRE ARE VERY MUCH MY BEST FRIENDS TOO!

INSTAGRAM DIRECT!

You replied to suneater's story: ≧⁰,⁰≦

sunnysidey/n: are you ready?

suneater: i think so...

suneater: im nervous, like more nervous than usual

sunnysidey/n: oh its okay!! i'm super nervous too

sunnysidey/n: we can be nervous together

suneater: okay... can you go first?

sunnysidey/n: ofc

sunnysidey/n: I've liked you since our first year. you just came into my life so naturally I couldn't help it. At first I wanted to tell you right away, but I knew you'd panic and I didn't want to upset you in any way. So I waited and waited until it felt like it was going away, but I guess it never did. I reallyyyyyy like you, Tama.

sunnysidey/n: but are you ready to like me?

suneater: um I've liked you since the autumn semester of our second year... the day you stayed behind with me while everyone went and watched a horror movie because I was too scared. Even though it was a rerun of your favorite... I was so scared to ruin what we had so I didn't say anything.

suneater: this is so embarrassing...

sunnysidey/n: nothing to be embarrassed of ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)و ✧

suneater: you knew I liked you, but you never outright said it... why?

sunnysidey/n: i didn't wanna make you anxious :]

sunnysidey/n: i wanted you to be ready and not have a forced hand in admitting your feelings for me. buttt i couldn't stop myself from posting and admiring you ( ˘ ³˘)♥

suneater: you're effortlessly make me happy without even knowing it... you're so special to me, n/n sunnysidey/n reacted "❤️" to this message

suneater: will you be my girlfriend?

sunnysidey/n: obviously!! <33

suneater: <3

incase I lost the plot: Y/n liked Tamaki first, Y/n knew Tamaki liked her back but didn't say anything, Tamaki knew Y/n liked him but was nervous so he didn't say anything.

alsooo y/n's quirk in this is smth to do with eggs i guess, hence the "sunny side" (cause yk a sunny side up egg) ((im so creative))

182 notes · View notes

thecapricunt1616 · 6 months

Text

Allspice (c.b oneshot)

𝐵𝓁𝓊𝓇𝒷 (𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐵𝒯𝒞): You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly. Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh. “Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :) ♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that.

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog.

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe.

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table.

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they’d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog.

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair.

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks.

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script.

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner.

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod.

“That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded.

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed.

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod.

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section.

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge.

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max.

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head.

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her.

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste.

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate.

“Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused.

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair.

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff.

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note.

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me.

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun.

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes.

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts.

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone.

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head.

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife.

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted.

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review.

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10.

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate.

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated.

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto.

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit.

“It’s not- uh- it’s”

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork.

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit.

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it.

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming.

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods.

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod.

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you.

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile.

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen.

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind.

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed.

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly.

“She does” you smiled a bit.

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about.

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit.

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate.

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name.

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake.

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around.

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand.

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people.

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation.

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now.

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin.

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed.

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned.

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand.

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage.

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.”

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market.

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen.

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way.

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again.

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter.

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words.

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-”

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times.

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic.

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that-

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him.

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed.

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter.

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure.

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh.

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth.

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out.

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink.

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words.

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07.

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it.

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

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3kiripima3 · 6 months

Note

Omg hiii!! I was wondering if youd write Verosika x fem (its ok if gn) reader thats super bitchy w everyone but her?

Verosika x Fem Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Slight Suggestive Implications at Points

A/N: I hope this is good enough for you <3

☆ When she first started dating you, Verosika honestly had no idea why you barely had any friends.

☆ You were so sweet and loving towards her all the time; how could people not like you?

☆ The first time she truly experienced your bitchy side was when you were both hanging out with Verosika's succubi and incubi friends.

☆ You were talking to Verosika when one of her friends accidentally spilt her drink over your dress.

☆ Oh, boy!

☆ I doubt anyone in that room had ever heard so many new curse words at once.

☆ After you'd finished insulting the poor demon, Verosika stared at you, a mixture of impressed and mortified.

☆ If Verosika was being completely honest, your bitchiness kind of turned her on.

☆ Eventually, she got used to the fact that you were like that to most other demons.

☆ She did always try to make sure you weren't bitchy towards her friends though.

☆ Maybe sometimes she wishes you verbally tore her to pieces like you do others. It is kinda hot to her.

☆ The time Verosika was most shocked by you would have to be the time you encountered Blitzø while on the streets.

♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡

"I just don't get why you like the colour pink so much," Verosika said, looking at you mildly confused.

"Hm... yeah... I wonder why that could be?" You responded playfully, looking her up and down in utter adoration.

While Verosika caught onto the implication and was trying to hold herself back from giggling like a love sick teenage girl, a certain imp walked past.

"Ugh, I should have expected that bitch to be here..." Blitzø muttered, intentionally loud enough for both of you to hear.

"You fucking-" Verosika started, but you cut her off with a look, approaching Blitzø.

"Aw~ You must be that short-dicked imp, Blitzø. I've heard ever so much about you!" You said to him in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"You bitch! Mind your fucking business, you-"

"Verosika is my business, prick. Is the little imp upset? Are you an insecure, itty bitty baby?"

"Who do you think you are?! You-"

☆ Verosika was so proud of you, and glad you managed to bring Blitzø's attitude down a bit.

☆ Let's just say... Verosika was so glad she ended up rocking your world that night.

☆ You may be a bitch to everyone but her, but Verosika wouldn't want you any other way.

Hope you enjoyed <3

#verosika x reader #verosika mayday #helluva boss x reader

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haerin1 · 1 year

Note

This is like suuuppeerrrr silly but i just thought about it >.<

Scara with reader thats on her period

her randomly approaching scara and cupping his cheeks, then proceeded to sob about how pretty he is!!

Just wanna know how he would react and how he would calm her down 🥰

Could be modern or canon au‼️‼️

꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE.

note: ty for the req !! i hope its ok that i did afab reader, pls enjoy !! :3

[modern au!scara x afab!reader] super fluffy and cute, scara teases a lot, period is mentioned !!

It's a peaceful Saturday night in Scara's shared dorm with his friend, Heizou. You practically live in their dorm at this point because your clingy boyfriend makes you stay so he can see you all the time.

Heizou and Scara are casually playing video games together in their beds when he picks up a sound coming from the bathroom. Scara puts his phone down and sits up from where he was previously laying down.

He remembers you mentioning you were going to go pee but it's been, what, seven minutes now?

Heizou, not looking up from his phone as Scara starts walking to the washroom, mutters, "Need to take a piss again?" Scara rolls his eyes in response. He runs a hand through his soft but messy, dark indigo hair as his other hand lifts up to knock on the bathroom door.

"Open up, it's been a year already," Scara grumbles.

He leans against the door, pressing his ear to the wood as he waits for a response. Scara hears you approaching the door and he steps away. You open it and his brows raise in surprise at the sight of your teary face and the pout on your lips.

"Scara..."

You cry out and throw yourself against him, tightly clinging onto your bewildered boyfriend as you whine, "Why are you so pretty!? It's so unfair!" You sob out, "You have perfect, soft and clear skin and the most gorgeous eyes ever!" You continue sniffling, your tears staining Scara's sweatshirt.

Scara pauses before chuckling a bit, still visibly confused. "What's up with you, idiot," he mumbles, looking to the side as an embarrassed gesture before looking back at you, where you're now hiding your face in his sweatshirt as you cry.

"You're so perfect... whyyy!?"

You cup Scara's face, bringing him up/down (height neutral) to meet your gaze as you frown, "Promise me you won't ever get plastic surgery or... or, or a buzzcut," you sternly say, furrowing your brows together to show Scara you were dead serious.

Scara scoffs, deadpanning at you as he says, "You know I'll never get a buzzcu-" You pinch his cheeks and grumble, "Just promise me!"

Scara winces in pain and sighs, "Okay, okay... I promise I won't get plastic surgery or a buzzcut. Are you happy now?" You pause, squinting your eyes as you look him up and down before nodding. "Mhm..." You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"You can let go now..." The faintest of pink dusts his fair complexion as he glances elsewhere. Scara hovers his hand over your head before patting your hair as an awkward attempt of comforting you.

"You're on your period, aren't you?"

You just nod against his sweatshirt, sniveling softly. Scara rolls his eyes, before he smirks slightly. "What would you do without me? C'mon," He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, mumbling, "You're ugly when you cry."

You huff, "Shut up." Scara chuckles, "Just for the time being. Let's go to my car, I'll bring you with me to buy you some things from the grocery store." At that, you smile in content and cling to Scara like a puppy to its owner as he leads you to the front door of the dorm.

Heizou sits up in his bed, complaining, "Hey, you better get me buldak noodles!" Scara snarls, "This is not an invitation for free things; Only my (s/o) gets that luxury." And he shuts the front door, bringing you along and leaving Heizou in a ticked off mood.

As Scara drives, he keeps one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other one on your lap as you look out the window. He lent you his favourite Artic Monkeys sweatshirt that he was wearing earlier to warm up your stomach and ease down the cramps. He subtly glances at you every so often.

Scara parks into the lot of the grocery store and unbuckles his seatbelt. Before you know it, he's already at your side, opening the car door for you. Shortly after, Scara's pushing the shopping cart, grabbing random snacks he knows you like and puts them in.

"You like this flavor, right?" Scara mumbles, holding a ice cream tub in his hands and inspecting it. You nod, smiling. As Scara places it in the cart and starts pushing it again, you giggle, "My boyfriend's so cute, I might as well cry again."

Scara hisses, "Not in public. I won't hesitate to act like I don't know you." You know he's joking, but you pout and give him pleading puppy eyes as he brings the cart towards the self checkout area. Scara grimaces before sighing as he starts scanning the items, "Whatever..."

You hum in satisfaction and enjoy the sweet warmth of his sweatshirt as he pays for the things and carries the bag, holding your hand with his free one as the both of you leave the store.

You both stay in the car instead of going back to the dorm, snacking on the food Scara bought for the two of you (mainly you) to enjoy together.

"Feeling any better?"

Mitski's new album plays on the car's speakers as you and him eat Pocky sticks. You nod with a smile, "Mhm. I can't thank you enough, cutie." You give him a quick, but meaningful, kiss on the cheek before continuing to chew on your Pocky stick.

Scara lets his Pocky stick rest in between his teeth as he looks at you for a few moments before asking, "Wanna do the Pocky challenge?" You perk up in surprise from his sudden proposal, but you'd never turn down a bold game like that.

You laugh, "Is this just an excuse to kiss me?"

Scara rolls his eyes, "Even if it was, would it matter?" He places his hand on your cheek and starts biting on his end of the stick. You bite the other end, and this process repeats until finally...

His soft lips gently press against yours, his hands on the back of your neck to close the distance completely.

Mitski's My Love Mine All Mine gets to the chorus at the most perfect timing possible.

You felt like the most loved and treasured person on Earth during this very moment as your (somewhat) sweet boyfriend kissed you in his car without a care in the world. Scara loves you so dearly, even if you cry over the littlest things during your period...

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