#tips for chefs uniform

[8uniform]

Chefs' uniforms hold significant value in the hospitality industry.

The chef's uniform is not merely an outfit; it embodies professionalism, tradition, and the high standards of culinary art. Discover more by reading further.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #8

CH8. Boiling Point | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

You wished the diner was busier. 

You would’ve done anything for more customers to serve. Anything. But Jim’s was quiet, only a few regulars scattered around the tables, only wanting coffees, no refills, scowling if you came too close, blocking the sunlight that fell onto their newspapers. 

Robin and Steve were by the bar, throwing a crumpled napkin between them like a baseball, talking softly about nothing important and you felt too hot as you stood polishing the cutlery, shoving napkins into dispensers with clumsy hands. You could see Eddie through the kitchen hatch, prepping the burger buns for the dinner rush that you hoped would come. His eyes were trying to find yours as he rolled out the dough but you were avoidant, moving around each empty table with your head ducked. 

Eventually, the rolling in your stomach became too much and the sight of Chrissy loitering in the kitchen was making that hot flush creep higher up your neck, across the back of your ears. You slammed a pile of menus down on the coffee bar, ignoring the way Mr Creel grumbled at you, looking at Steve and Robin as if they’d be able to fix the way you were feeling. 

“Did Eddie and Chrissy used to date?” You came right out with it, voice rushed and quiet, speaking low in hopes that your question wouldn’t carry into the kitchen. 

The radio was on, a female voice crooning from the speakers and you hated the way Chrissy was swaying to the beat, powder blue uniform skimming the tops of her thighs as she stood too near Eddie, refilling the salt and pepper shakers. 

“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too, if it happened to you…”

“Chrissy?” Robin wrinkled her nose and looked into the kitchen, too obvious. You tugged at her arm, pleading. “Don’t look.”

Steve snorted, hopping off of the bar to block lean over it instead, knocking his knuckles against yours. “Nah. I mean, I don’t think so?” He squinted at you before he shared a look with Robin and the girl shrugged, confused. “Chrissy just likes to flirt. With like, everyone. Her and Eddie were friendly, I guess?”

“Friendly,” you repeated, swallowing the word with the lump in your throat. 

“It’s not, it’s not like that,” Steve murmured softly. His eyes were searching yours, watching the way they turned glassy. “It’s not like it is with you, trust us, you don’t have to worry about that, okay?”

Robin nodded, reaching out to hold your hand. She squeezed your fingers and smiled. “Yeah, you seriously don’t have to panic. Eddie doesn’t worry about our eating habits,” she grinned when you rolled your eyes. “And can we talk about that hickey yet? ‘Cause, shit…”

You groaned, cheeks warm but your friends had succeeded in quelling the ache in your chest, if only just. You felt like the new kid again with Chrissy around, watching her sit on the stool - your stool - at Eddie’s station, laughing at a joke you couldn’t hear, pocketing tips from the truckers who came in for coffee and cake, asking her how her summer was, if she was still working seasons at the camp a few towns over. 

Chrissy was confident and bright, a bubblegum pink smile and rosy cheeks, a pretty, bouncy thing that made you feel two inches tall and every time you caught her near Eddie, your heart sank a little. She touched him a lot, a delicate hand on his arm, shoving at his shoulder when he made her laugh, brushing a crumb off the lapel of his chef whites after he whisked up a new batter. 

You stayed away from the kitchen, only taking orders that Jonathan handed you from across the hatch and you could see the way Eddie’s brows knitted together every time you turned your back on him but the jealousy was too overwhelming. The uncertainty, the self conscious ache that made your neck feel too hot and you knew you were being ridiculous. 

You did. You knew. 

But it was too soon to be marking your territory and scaring away the boy with questions like, ‘what are we? Have you kissed her? Have you kissed her like you kissed me? Are we more than friends now? Are we more than what you have with her?

“Chicago,” Jonathan’s voice interrupted your pity party. He was pouring a coffee for Mr Creel, the man’s seventh refill of the afternoon. “Chef’s asking for you.”

Your stomach flipped and you grimaced, trying to pull off the expression as a smile. You weren’t sure it worked. You held up the cloth you’d been walking around with for an hour to look preoccupied, shrugging half heartedly. “Busy,” you told the boy. 

“He said he’s made you lunch,” was all Jonathan replied. 

So you sighed and tried not to let his words tug on your heartstrings too much. You smiled and gave in, throwing the cloth onto the workstation by the kitchen door and you didn’t even bother announcing your arrival when the diner was so quiet. Eddie looked up the second you appeared, eyes wide and he was just finishing plating up a stack of pancakes, a bundle of chopped strawberries in a bowl beside them. 

“Hey,” he breathed, wiping his hands on his apron. “Hey. You okay? I’ve not seen you all shift.”

The kitchen was empty, no sign of Chrissy. The stoves were off and only one grill was still sizzling, leftover pancake batter crisping in the corners as it cooled down, a simmer in the quiet. You smiled weakly, unable to stop the wobble in your lip.

Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby. 

You coughed, clearing your throat until the lump there disappeared and you nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, it’s, uh,” you winced as you gesture back to the empty diner. Steve was sleeping in one of the booths, his head against the window. “It’s been… busy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, a frown on his face. It was soft, concerned. “Sit, yeah? Have lunch with me?”

You took a step forward, aching to walk to the boy, to let yourself push your face to his chest and let him smooth his hands over your hair. You got to spend the night into the early morning with him, draped over his lap as you shared triangles of grilled cheese and then kisses after it but you missed the way he felt already. 

Then the fire exit door opened and Chrissy sauntered back in, cooing at the sight of the pancakes on the worktop. Eyes wide, she skipped over, ponytail bouncing like something out of a damn daydream and you didn’t know what to say when she picked up the fork Eddie had laid out for you and speared it through the stack. Her lips were sticky with gloss and maple syrup as she licked them, moaning sweetly as she looked at Eddie.  

“Oh my god, Eds,” Chrissy sounded pornographic. “I missed your cooking so much, you know that?” She turned to you, grinning. Oblivious - maybe. “Does this cutie pie cook you up some food too? I swear, I used to get three meals a day when I worked here full time. Oh my god— Eddie! Remember the triple stacked pizza—?”

You didn’t hear the rest of the story. You really didn’t care to. And as rude as it may have seemed, you walked right past Chrissy and Eddie and the pancakes that were no longer yours. You could feel the tears burning the corner of your eyes and it made your nose itch, your cheeks burn. You weren’t doing this where people could see. 

The door to the walk-in was heavy but you yanked it hard, breath catching in your throat like a hiccup and you were quick to close it behind you, the thud making the shelves inside rattle but it was suddenly quiet as it was cold. The heat of embarrassment faded, the burn crawling up the back of your spine disappeared and you sniffed, gazing up at the ceiling as if that would quell your tears. You stared at the patches of ice, focusing on the goosebumps rising across your bare arms instead. 

It was silly, you thought, to feel such a way. To let someone make you feel that way. But beside Chrissy and her perfectly curled ponytail and her pretty Mary Jane sandals, you felt small. Unimportant. Like you suddenly didn’t belong in the stupid diner with its stupid chequered tables and its broken soda machine. Chrissy hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. It was mean of you to dislike her, with nothing more than a name and her connection to Eddie to fuel your jealousy. 

Feeling petulant, you decided that was enough. You swore, mostly at yourself, and pressed the heels of your palms to your watery eyes. You felt replaced and it was an awful, ugly feeling. As much as you tried to remember what Robin and Steve had told you earlier, you couldn’t get over the way Chrissy looked at Eddie, like she really knew him, like she had some sort of claim on him. It was a very female thing to pick up on, only seeing the subtle signs through the eyes of being a girl. 

The glances, the quick up and down she gave you as you arrived that morning, weighing up the chances of you being competition. The touches on Eddie’s arm, the territorial way she barely left his station, the too sweet smile she gave you as she ate the lunch Eddie made for you. The chit chat that seemed pleasant enough, the not so hidden reminders in her stories that she knew Eddie for longer than you had, better than you did. They had inside jokes, old memories, shared stories. 

There was a knock at the door. 

An odd thing to hear, on the other side of a walk in refrigerator, but you knew there was only one person it could’ve been. So you sniffed again and swiped meanly at your eyes, leaning against the door, ignoring the chill, the way your cheeks were both hot and cold at the same time. 

“I’ll be out in a second,” you called through the steel. “I’m just… trying to find some—” your mind blanked as you looked around the space aimlessly, eyes landing on crates of vegetables. “��some asparagus.”

You made a face, annoyed with yourself for such a lame excuse and you heard a shuffle from outside before a familiar voice came through. “Sweetheart? Can I come in?” Eddie sounded muffled, mainly from the inches of steel and insulation between you but you could still pick up on the concern in his voice. 

You sighed, bottom lip wobbling and you opened the door, the brief wash of warm air hitting your cold face. The fridge didn’t lock. Eddie could’ve bathed in whenever he liked. But there was something about the way he’d asked you that had you giving in easier than you thought you would. You stepped back, arms goosepimpled and crossed over your chest as you made room for the boy inside the walk in. Back against the metal racking, your hip bumped against a pallet of butter, boxes of it stacked high. You didn’t look at Eddie not yet. 

“Why’re you crying?” Eddie asked gently, ducking down and bending slightly at the knees so he could look at your face, so he could try and coax you into meeting his gaze. It was a soft question, not anywhere near an accusation and he said it so sincerely, like he really wanted to know what was upsetting you. 

All you heard was crybabycrybabycrybaby. So you turned your chin and hid your face in your hair, letting the strands stick to your wet cheeks and you swiped at your eyes again, too harsh for Eddie’s liking. Your breath left you in a hiccup, a holding thing that made the boy’s brows pinch together. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie reached out and curled a hand around your wrist, wide and still warmer than your own skin. “Hey, c’mon, c’mere.” The boy pulled you in closer, hands coasting over the apples of your cheeks, tutting softly as he wiped the way the tears there. 

You cringed, embarrassed at being caught in such a state but Eddie pushed his thumb into your cheek until you let him lift your face and your gaze met his. He frowned, eyes big and earnest and he made a noise that was meant to soothe. You couldn’t help but lean into his palm, eyes watering again and you moved away, stumbling over your words, not sure if you should be apologising first or asking the questions you didn’t wanna know the answer to. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you scrunched your face, mortified. “I’m— I don’t know why I’m getting myself like this, m’tired or something.” Before Eddie could respond you pulled back to stare at him, cheeks hot. “Is Chrissy like… did you and Chrissy— are you—?”

Eddie blinked at you, surprised. “I—”

You regretted it immediately, the accusatory way you asked such a personal question. It had been two months, one date, one kiss. You felt so stupid. “I have absolutely no right to ask you that,” you rushed out, eyes wide. Fuck, you felt worse than before. “I’m sorry, that’s— that's none of my business.”

“Sweetheart, you spent the majority of last night with my tongue in your mouth,” Eddie tried to joke, smiling weakly. “I think you’re allowed to ask that question.”

You looked at him, mournful, the lump still stuck in your throat and an awful feeling of unease clinging to you. You shrugged, a little hopeless. “Were you guys like.. a thing? Are you a thing?”

“No,” Eddie answered, soft and sure. “We’re not. We’ve never been— not like that. Chrissy…” Eddie swallowed and pulled at his apron, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Chrissy just likes to be the centre of attention. And well, I guess you could say, uh, I used to have a crush on her?”

Eddie noticed the way your shoulders tensed. “But that was way, way back in high school. Nothin’ happened. Ever. And— and I don’t want anything to happen now.” Eddie grinned, wry, awkward. “She just likes to make sure she’s got everyone’s attention, y’know?”

You did know. 

“You used to make her food too,” you noted sourly and you hated the way your voice came out small, delicate. Moody. “She said she was your favourite.”

“Babe,” Eddie said a little gruffly, fondly. He reached back out, hand catching yours and you let him. He played with your fingers, the ring on your middle one, his touch delicate and comforting. “I’m a cook. I make food for everyone, they just— they just gotta ask me.”

Well, didn’t you feel silly. So you bit a little, heat rising up then back of your neck again, embarrassment tingling, your voice rising. “I don’t know! It could’ve all been part of your— your moves, or something.”

“Moves?” Eddie choked out, incredulous. “Sweetheart, it took me two months to kiss you, you think I’ve got moves?”

You squirmed, embarrassed still. You shrugged, unsure what to say because in your eyes, Eddie had all the moves. You could still remember the way he kissed you, the feel of his hand on your jaw, your waist, in your hair, on your thigh. The way he kissed you between making you your grilled cheese, the bread almost burning as he got too caught up in you, in the way he pressed you back into the counter, dotting kisses over your cheeks, your nose. 

“I don’t know,” you said again and you ducked your chin, hiding.

Eddie tsked but it was a soft sound, sympathetic and he pulled at your hand, tugging you into him until you relented. Your face found his chest, nose pushed to his fresh chef whites and he smelled like his cologne, lemongrass and something sweet like leftover icing sugar. He let you hide there instead, your hands clinging to the front of his apron and you only pressed closer when his hands smoothed over your shoulders, climbing down your sides until he could hold you to him. His lips were on your hairline, a little hesitant, because all of this was so new, because you were clearly upset, because he didn’t know what this was yet, how this worked. 

“What can I do, hm?” Eddie asked you softly, voice a low murmur. The walk in didn’t seem as cold with the way his nose was pressed to your temple. “What can I do to make you feel better, tell me.”

That hopeless feeling melted away with each pass of Eddie’s hand up and down your back, fingers trailing over the curve of your spine. You mumbled something intelligible, shrugging your shoulders again and hoping that Eddie couldn’t feel the heat that radiated from you. “I dunno,” you whispered. You swallowed, throat tight. You didn't know what to ask for too much, not so soon. “I don't want to— I’m not trying to—”

“Breathe, sweetheart.” You could hear the frown in his voice. 

“Last night meant something, right?” You didn’t ask for the world. No labels, not yet. Nothing too scary. Nothing too deep. “That wasn’t just a, uh, one off or whatever?”

Eddie laughed, the sound softened by the way he buried his face in your hair and the arms he’d wrapped around you tightened, squeezing, affectionate. “I have absolutely every intention of doing that with you again…” he murmured, coaxing you out of hiding only to cup your jaw, thumb pushed to your cheek. He grinned down at you, all flirt and charm. “And again and again and again. If you’ll let me.”

It was unnerving, what those words did to you. The tilt of his lips, the pretty cadence of his voice. Eddie’s thumb coasted over the apple of your cheek and suddenly you forgot all about the other waitress who was no doubt still outside in the kitchen. “That sounds nice, yeah.” You nodded, warm all over again, all for the right reasons. 

“You gonna let me take you out too?” Eddie asked and he leaned back against the racks, the cold metal doing nothing to deter him as he spread his legs a bit, pulling you between them by the tie of your apron until you were framed by his thighs. Closer, closer. “A proper date this time, please. A movie, some dinner, a walk somewhere real nice so I can kiss you goodnight and all that stuff?”

You grinned, cheeks aching, surprising yourself with the suddenness of it because now? Right then? Nothing else mattered but Eddie. “That sounds even nicer,” you told him and your eyes crinkled with the brightness of your smile. “Please.”

“Can I kiss you now? Been wantin’ to kiss you for ages,” Eddie murmured and his eyes were on your mouth, thumb moving closer to your chin, the tip of it ghosting the curve of your bottom lip and you nodded, eager in a way that should’ve been embarrassing but you pushed yourself to your toes and clung to him a little tighter.

A soft kiss, much, much softer than the ones shared the night before but still not appropriate for the workplace. Especially not a walk-in that was cold enough to make your toes ache. Not that you cared. But Eddie didn’t seem to either, humming in appreciation when you pressed yourself against him, face tilting to the side for him to deepen the kiss a little, lips moving a little more urgently against your own. 

“Need to stop,” he breathed as he pulled away, grudgingly, giving in again to press a peck to the corner of your mouth and then another to your cheek. His palms smoothed over your jaw, up across your temples to swipe away the baby hairs there. “Gonna get carried away.”

You felt dizzy, miles and miles away from the kitchen, from that awful feeling, from Chrissy. You knew exactly what he meant. 

“Can I make you some food now?” Eddie nosed at your cheek, arms winding around your waist and you felt so adored, the affection pouring from him by the bucket full. “You’ve not eaten all day.”

“Because someone ate my pancakes,” you said sourly and you regretted it immediately. You didn’t want to be the jealous girl, the insecure girl, the petty girl. But Eddie made it very hard to want to share. “Sorry, that was rude.”

Eddie snorted and just kissed your head, a touch so casual it made your heart jump. “C’mon,” was all he said. “Get your butt out of here before you freeze.”

It was easier to shuffle out of the walk-in when Eddie was leading you, his hand holding yours, the burning embarrassment you’d once felt fading to a shameful simmer. Chrissy was still at the boy’s station, picking out pieces of strawberry from the bowl, the plate of pancakes now empty. Steve was placing a bucket of dirty coffee cups into the sink and he looked up as the two of you appeared. 

“Oh hey,” he frowned in concern at your red rimmed eyes. “I wondered where you’d gone to, you ok—?” 

“Couldn’t reach the top shelf,” Eddie interrupted, smiling as if nothing had happened. He sent Steve a look and Chrissy watched, sucking fruit juice and sugar from her fingers. Eddie grinned at you, squeezing past you and the counter, his hands on your hips as he passed. “Had to lend a helping hand, didn’t I? Short stack.” 

Your heart ached, your chest feeling too full with the kindness, the affection. So you could only nod, looking sheepish and even if Steve didn’t believe Eddie, he stole a knowing glance at Chrissy and nodded. The kitchen was filled with the kind of tension that had made you run off in the first place, but the feeling of being out of place disappeared when Steve asked Eddie:

“I’m going for a smoke, you comin’?”

Eddie shook his head and busied himself with pulling an old stool out from Argyle’s prep station. It had one wobbly leg, but you didn’t care. Not when Eddie took your hand and helped you hop onto it, the chair closer to him than the stool Chrissy was sitting on. 

“Nah, man,” Eddie said. “M’gonna make my girl some food.”

[kyu-piddy]

Hello! Can I ask for a part 2 of the mother-in-law hcs exept it's with Azul, Trey and Idia this time?

The Mother in Law II

Thank you for your request. Apologies for taking so long, but life has been quite hectic these past few months. I hope you enjoy this drabble collection.

Gn reader x Azul, Trey, Idia

Tw: None

1.8k words

Mama Shroud

Mama Shroud is an extremely intelligent woman and an affectionate mother, a genius in both her work and her affectionate ways.

You had only heard about her through her feats, her son sometimes commenting that the “head engineer” had made something, who you later realized was his mother.

You always had been curious about meeting his parents, but Idia always seemed reticent about it, quickly changing subjects.

One day, you went to visit him in his dorm after class.

The door to his room was opened slightly, letting you in through the small crack.

“Hi, ___! Did you come to play games with us?” asked Ortho, the one that had opened the door.

Idia was sitting in front of his pc, concentrated in a gaming session.

“I just came by to check on you both. How is it going?”

You chatted with Ortho for a bit, the angry clacking of Idia’s keyboard almost like white noise.

Suddenly, the light on Idia’s screen became brighter, the voice of a woman echoing through the room and startling all its occupants.

“Idy, pick up! It’s mamma!” repeated the voice over and over again.

The tip of Idia’s hair turned pink, as he muttered under his breath how he was sure he had blocked the voice features.

Ortho's eyes glimmered.

“___, you can meet our mom!”

He sprung from his spot on Idia’s bed, and before his brother could stop him, accepted the video call.

“Oru! How are you doing, dear?”

“I’m doing fine!”

“That’s great! And where’s Idy?”

Idia (with a little shove from Ortho) rolled his gaming chair into view of his mother.

“Hi, mom.”

His face was stuck in a strange expression, like he had sucked on a particularly sour lemon.

“Oh Idy, mamas so happy to see you. My little boy is all grown, getting himself a partner. It’s almost like it was yesterday that you were still in diapers.”

The blue in Idia’s hair was gone, replaced by a bright pink, mirrored in his cheeks.

“Mom! How do you know that?!”

“A mothers intuition never fails, sweetie.”

Ortho giggled, giving you a gentle push forward.

You stood at Idia’s side, and put your hand on his shoulder.

“Hello, Mrs. Shroud. I’m ___, Idia’s partner. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You can call me mama, sweetheart. My, you’re quite lovely! Don’t you think so too, Idy?”

Mrs Shroud seemed oblivious to her son’s embarrassment, his face disappearing from the image as he sank into his chair, his hands hiding his face.

“…yeah.”

Mama Shroud kept the conversation going, asking you and Idia about every detail in your relationship, but seeing as her son couldn’t even look at the camera straight, you ended up answering most of them as he wallowed in shame.

“It has been lovely talking to you, my dears. But mama has to leave now. I’ll call again later. Bye bye!”

You and Ortho both waved goodbye as she ended the call.

Idia was still on the spot at the bottom of the chair, curled into himself.

“Your mom is quite lovely. I really liked her!” you assured him.

He peeked at you from the space in between his fingers.

“And Idy is quite a cute nickname.”

Idia groaned, and went back to hiding his face, as you and Ortho giggled.

Mrs Clover

Mrs Clover is a simple woman. She wears her pastry chef uniform most of the time, a hard worker who never seems to quite leave the kitchen, flour and sugar always decorating her garments and sometimes even face and nose.

Trey’s family is his pride and joy, and so is the bakery they own. As such, he wanted to take you there so you could meet them and have a taste of their recipes.

Entering through the door of Patisserie Clover made a little jingling noise echo in the pastel shop, cakes and tarts and biscuits and anything and everything sweet laying on platers, the aroma of even more sweets being made entering your nostrils and sticking to your body.

The shop was open, with many patrons lining up to purchase goodies or seating on the plush chairs while snacking and chatting.

One of Trey’s little sisters immediately spotted you, a tray of freshly made biscuits in her hand and a shocked look on her face.

She dropped the tray on the counter and turned tail, running towards the back while whisper-yelling “MOOOOOOOOM!”.

Trey chuckled under his breath.

“Let us follow her, before she gets into trouble.”

On your way to the back of the bakery, Trey hastily greeted several customers, many seemingly knowing him for many years, probably regulars that had seen him in the spot that his sister now was in.

The closer you got to the back, the warmer it got, and the stronger the smell of sugar and flour was.

“Hattie, you can’t scream like that while we have customers.” said a warm but stern voice from behind a door to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“But mooooom, Trey is here! And he was holding hands with someone!”

Trey kept on chuckling, opening the door to greet the people inside.

“Hi, mom. Hi, Hattie. Do you need some help?”

Both Hattie and his mom turned to him, bright smiles on their faces.

Hattie threw herself at her brother, giving him (at least trying to) a crushing hug.

Mrs Clover wiped her hands on her apron, giving her son a quick hug before turning to you.

“It’s very nice to meet you. You must be __, right? Trey has told us a lot about you.”

Heat crept up to your cheeks, and you mentally blamed it on the oven.

“Trey, you should have told us you were bringing your special friend over. We would have made time for them!”

She lightly scolded her son, but it was obvious she wasn’t actually mad, smearing some flour on his nose as a punishment.

“I didn’t want to disturb you too much. I know this time of the year is rather busy, so we aren’t staying for long.”

That got him a pair of saddened faces, both his sisters and mothers face dropping like melted chocolate.

“Oh…”

They didn't protest or object, but their sad faces made you feel like you had just committed a horrible act, akin to kicking a puppy.

You exchanged a look with Trey, who merely sighed.

“Maybe we can stay a little longer? If that is okay with you, of course.” you asked tentatively.

Their faces perked right up, and Hattie started dragging her brother out of the kitchen, saying how she had “the best spot for love-birds!”

Mrs Clover smiled maternally, wiping her hands on her apron even though they were already clean.

“Thank you for coming,__. Our Trey has been so happy lately, we thought you might even steal him away from us!” she chuckled at her own joke, moving forward to hold your hands in her calloused ones.

“I hope you enjoy our sweets.”

Smiling back at her, you answered.

“I already do.”

Mrs Ashengrotto

Mrs Ashengrotto is a plump and beautiful woman, exuding confidence and charm everywhere she goes, always the perfect picture of composure.

Her son respects her, even modeling himself in part to her image, but even so he seemed to be quite apprehensive of you meeting her.

She had been the one to request to meet you, curious about the one that had captured her son's heart.

Initially Azul had tried to expertly change topics, discouraging such a meeting, but his mother was not one to be outsmarted, and kept insisting.

Eventually he relented to a meeting at the Mostro lounge, but Mrs Ahengrotto insisted on a meeting in “neutral ground.”

And that’s how you ended up in a quaint hole in a wall near NRC, sitting side by side with your boyfriend.

Azul didn’t explicitly say it, always keeping his composure and a suave smile, but you could see it in his eyes, apprehension building up. He was truly out of his depth.

Mrs Ashengrotto waltzed to your table as soon as she got in, her presence captivating just by the way she walked and smiled.

She wore confidence and charm like one wears a precious piece of real jewelry, flaunting with taste and not an inch of malice.

She sat across from you, and gave you both a delicate smile.

It was nearly identical to Azul’s business smile, but while his felt too perfect to be sincere, hers felt genuine, and if it weren’t for your nerves gnawing at your stomach, you would be sure to have fallen for her charms immediately.

“Good afternoon. I hope you didn’t have to wait long for me. The traffic in the mirror was rather cumbersome today.”

“Not at all, mother. Waiting for you is never a strenuous activity.”

They gave each other their trademark polite smile, one you weren’t keen enough to understand if it was mere practice or a natural born talent, at least to the woman in front of you.

She turned to you, her smile just as bright.

“And who might you be?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs Ashengrotto. I’m your son's significant other. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You gave your best attempt at a polite speech, having practiced it beforehand, but it sounded stiff and soulless.

Mrs Ashengrotto didn’t seem to mind, a knowing glint in her eye.

Azul gave your thigh a quick squeeze under the table.

Eventually the server came to get your orders and the meal went on without a hitch.

Azul’s mother was a skilled conversationalist, there never seemingly being a stop in interesting conversation topics.

By the end of the meal, you were completely relaxed, as if you had known this woman your whole life.

When it came time to pay for the meal, she pulled out her wallet.

“Do not worry, mother. I will pay.”

“Oh dear, I was the one that invited you both. It would be inconsiderate of me to not pay.”

Their eyes locked, a battle of minds, until the mother eventually bowed to her son.

“My, you have grown so much, Zuzu. I’m so proud of your initiative.”

Azul’s face turned a light shade of pink, immediately getting up.

“Then I shall go get the bill.”

Alone with his mother at the table, she watched her son walk away before returning to you.

“My dear, it has been a pleasure meeting you. Please take care of my son. He can be rather excessive with his work, and I'd like for him to enjoy his youth.”

You smiled at her.

“Of course. I won’t let him be swept away by the current.”

She smiled at your use of a Coral Sea expression.

“I apologize if my return brought an end to an enjoyable conversation.” said Azul, returning with fast steps, but not quick enough to be improper.

“It was a delightful conversation indeed. But we have more pressing matters.”

She gave you a conspiratory look.

“Such as, when will you visit our restaurant in the coral sea? I’d say someone with a refined palate as yours would much prefer our establishment over this one .”

You smiled at her, Azul’s eyes widening at your words.

“I’d love it if Zuzu took me there.”

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

I really liked that one ask from before where the MC paired up with an NRC boy to do the flour baby project, could I ask for a repeat of that but with Silver, Vil, Floyd, Idia, and Ortho?

Floyd Leech:

You cannot leave your flour baby alone with Floyd as it will be in harm's way; he convinced you of this even more when he began talking about survival of the fittest, and his other siblings that never made it through the gauntlet. It practically feels like Floyd is the one you’re really looking after, especially when your attention leaves him for even a second as you tried to focus on the baby. You think the teacher must hold a grudge against you to put you in this situation but you’re determined to turn him into a father figure (and you might die trying).

Idia Shroud:

Idia wished the school would get with the times and just give a game simulation type project rather than making him lug around a flour sack in a diaper all day. It was like a Magikarp holding an Everstone, doomed to stay in its useless state forever. It almost led him to an existential crisis as he had a nightmare of himself turning in a bag of flour, never able to enjoy trolling online or flexing how much smarter he was when it came to technology ever again. You do help ground him (and perhaps add a different stress) by being closer with him, this surprise event giving him the perfect excuse to spend time with you despite the flour sack in the room.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t get the point of the assignment as the sack of flour could never properly simulate taking care of a real child. He’s excited to do this project with you thought, listing off every parenting tip he could find until you practically thought you were in a reality where you were pregnant (regardless of how capable of that you really were). He’s fiercely protective of his flour baby, glaring (and nearly vaporizing) an innocent school chef who mistook his baby as a misplaced bag of flour. Ortho even offered up a tearful goodbye, keeping his fond memories of raising his baby with you locked away somewhere safe where he’d never forget.

Silver:

Silver takes the project seriously, but his sleep prone habits leave you a little worried your sweet flour child may be kidnapped by a group of birds and never seen again. He dutifully keeps it strapped to him while patrolling, sometimes even forgetting it's there as he questions why everyone keeps looking at him. This project is your first glance at the sweeter side of Silver, leaving you enamored with a man who showed genuine kindness and care to even an inanimate object.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil loathed the thought of lugging flour around all day, not thrilled with the concept it might dirty his uniform at some point. He’s not about to get a failing grade either, showing a determination to glam his baby up. You mostly follow his lead on this one for the sake of his happiness and your sanity, knowing he wouldn’t go too far. You almost found the small dog outfits he put on your flour sack child cute. It’s like they were having their own father/child bonding time, with Vil even showing them his favorite films to share a little moment together (before he felt entirely too stupid and tried to forget about it).

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

lin-kuei trio x chef! reader

pre-events of the mk1 cinematic; mostly with tomas that can be seen as platonic or romantic

ooc-ish? this is just my interpretation on how it would’ve been like before things got bad for the lin kuei

1.5k

You slide the plate of food onto the wooden lazy susan, quickly warning your guests not to touch the plate. Almost immediately, Kuai Liang decides to place his fingers on the plate’s underside.

You step back, unimpressed.

“With all due respect, Kuai Liang. Seriously?”

“You call this hot?”

Kuai Liang’s good-natured smile is useless against you, because yes, you call this hot; you had to carry it the entire way from the kitchen yourself because the Lin Kuei eat with in absolute privacy, and you also did not have FIRE POWERS. So yes, it was hot. You pointedly place one of two bowls of rice you brought before Tomas, who gleefully rubs his chopsticks together.

“Cease your antics, brother.” Kuai Liang chuckles at Bi Han’s almost embarrassed seething.

“Thank you, Bi Han. You get rice.”

The second bowl is (gingerly) placed before him. You would slam it down too for effect, but you would rather not be frozen alive for having bad manners with the new Grandmaster Of The Lin Kuei.

You internally roll your eyes at the title. Whatever, Bi Han was Bi Han at the end of the day. The brothers had come to the teahouse enough times for you to know that if you gave him food, he would be grateful and shut up to eat it- unless he was on another-

Bi Han pushes the bowl to Kuai Liang with a small motion before picking up his chopsticks.

“You’re on another diet.” You exclaim.

Kuai Liang accepts the bowl with a sigh, likely sharing the same sentiment. Tomas takes a morsel of the stir fry and hurriedly shoves it in his mouth to share his piece, but the food is too hot, and he makes a show of cooling his mouth. Bi Han’ sigh mirrors Kuai Liang’s prior one.

These brothers. It was like a chain reaction, where each one of them were disappointed in each other’s behaviour.

“The Grandmaster needs to be in tip-top shape to fit his grandmaster uniform.” Tomas chides. “So that his arms look good in- ACK!”

His statement is cut off by a small mound of rice being shoved into his mouth, courtesy of Kuai Liang. Whatever he meant to say was replaced by yelps of “Hot!” and whining. He eventually turns to you with an expectant look, like he was hoping you would come to his defence.

You shrug. What were you supposed to do? Scold a ninja-extraordinaire for lovingly feeding his brother? No, seriously. Your relationship with these people was extremely conditional, and there was no doubt they would put you in your place if you ever tried to boss them around.

Except Tomas. There was some leeway bossing Tomas around.

“Is there anything you want to eat today- not you Tomas.” You physically push away the cheeky man’s face to maintain your eye contact with Bi Han. “Since you three cleared out the place, my treat.”

Bi Han looked at his empty plate for a moment, as if he suddenly had forgotten every meal he’s ever enjoyed. You kissed your teeth, immediately understanding. You yourself were the oldest child, so you knew how it felt to suddenly be asked what you specifically wanted. Either that, or if he was considering cheating on his diet just to eat your fried pork.

“The sweet pork. That you made last time.”

Yeah, okay. It just was never as emotionally complicated as you expected it to be with him. Well, it was terribly flattering that he’d take up the precious calories to eat what you cooked- though it did make you question Bi Han’s resolve; you had never seen him in battle, so you couldn’t gauge his self-control other than him crumbling at the promise of your cooking.

Either way, you gave him a thumbs up and an appreciative grimace.

“Right away, boss.”

You scuttle back into the teahouse kitchen, where you thankfully had all the ingredients available. Thank God, there was no emergency calling Kung Lao for the delivery of flour or vinegar. What would that phone call sound like, even?

Hey bestie! Hope you’re not too busy harvesting cabbages because I need you to bring me a cup of sugar to make a meal for the grandmaster of an organised family! Yeah Grandmaster! Yeah, ‘family’! Hope to hear back from you soon!

Just as you’d gotten the oil up and frying, the jammed kitchen door tries to open with a groan. You settle the breaded pork into the ladle, throwing it into the bubbling oil with a satisfying sizzle. The door tries to open again, and it gets a little further before inevitably getting stuck once more.

You roll your eyes. With a single outstretched kick, you manage to send the damp wooden door to swing open like it was brand new, leaving Tomas standing there like a kid caught with his hand in the jam pots.

“Maybe we should recruit you into the Lin Kuei.” The silver-haired man allows himself into your kitchen, carefully side-stepping a hemp sack of flour then once again to avoid a crate of bok choy that toppled earlier in the day.

The kitchen was messy, but when there’s only one person to handle a mountain of orders you learn to improvise. It was a strategic layout that only you needed to understand.

“Nice of you to let yourself into my kitchen.”

“Thought I’d keep you company.” A lie. He just wanted to spend some time away from Kuai Liang and Bi Han, an understandable sentiment. The three of them probably spent too much time together leading the Lin Kuei, and Bi Han was insufferably stuffy to share meals with.

You whisked vinegar and sugar in a bowl, but arms worked in autopilot as you stared at Tomas making himself comfortable on the stool near you cooking station. It was comical, watching the tall man fold himself like origami paper to fit perfectly on such a small surface, tucking his knees to his chest and peering up at you like a child.

This stool wasn’t just any old chair, though. After a couple years, people like Tomas and Kung Lao had turned it into the taste tester’s throne since it was convenient for You to just raise your arm and feed them little bits.

As much as you wanted to be a stronger woman, his grey eyes and boyish smile did make your heart clench. He looked so much like San Bing, the stray dog that you fed in the village- they even begged for scraps the same way.

“You do the same thing as Kung Lao.” Tomas huffed at the comparison, resting his chin on the nearby counter’s greasy surface and blinking with his light glittery eyes.

“But cuter, right?”

You balked, almost letting missing your ladle’s handle and gripping scalding metal in shock. How ridiculous did this man get? At his grown age, acting cute just to gain you favour, all in the name for some bits and pieces? Seriously, if these were the values that the Lin Kuei taught, the world was in grave danger.

A tender piece of pork is pulled out the oil and dipped in the sauce, and then shoved in front of Tomas’ face in the effort to stop him from continuing whatever it was he was doing.

“Do that again, and I will ban you from coming in every again.” You gravely state, and it’s funny how quickly Tomas straightens his posture and nods. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

Tomas is also remarkably like San Bing with how he snatches the food into his mouth, chewing loudly in attempt to cool the food down as he eats it. You continue to fix up the rest of the portion while Tomas watches you, sitting obediently on the stool.

Once it’s on a medium-sized dish, Tomas beats you to picking it up.

“This isn’t just for you, greedy.”

“But the plates are hot, right? I’ll bring it over, don’t worry.”

Tomas smiles, nose wrinkling in a way that makes you want to pinch him. You thank him with a pat on the shoulder and helps him open the kitchen door and watch him walk over to his table. You then pretend not to see him slam the dish onto the table and frantically rub his probably burning fingers on Bi Han’s cold arms.

You bite back the growing grin on your face.

As much as you would’ve liked to hang around the three as they ate their meal, you still had an entire kitchen to clean (to the best of your ability) before the teahouse opened again for the dinner rush. You settle for occasionally peeking at the solely occupied table through the kitchen pick-up area, wholeheartedly laughing when Kuai Liang gives you a thumbs up after taking a bite of the pork. Bi Han gives you a nod, which you assume is as close to kissing him on the mouth as it gets. 

Just as you focus fully on preparing your produce, you miss Tomas waving his chopsticks in the air, but hear him enthusiastically call out your name. This time, you let yourself smile fully as you chop away at some carrots.

[thefandomdirtymind]

Opla!sanji and a siren/mermaid???

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi anon ! Thank you for your request, as a big fan or mermaid/siren I was so thrill by the idea ! I had tried many things here and I hope you will like it !

The Mermaid Dream

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering - NSFW The Small Favor

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

---

The notorious floating restaurant The Baratie was, like every other night, completely full. At every table of the large dining room were sat the most famous and wanted Pirates. Adding to the hubbub of their conversation and squeaking of their utensils against their plates, the waiters, in a urge to offer the perfect service and then earn their tips, looked like a swarm of bees dancing around elegant honeycombs. 

The kitchen wasn't any more quiet. In every corner or the overheated room, the crew of cooks was running to prepare the many dishes ordered. Only stopping a millisecond to put the plates under the warming light and watch with nervous eyes if Zeff, the renowned chef and owner of the place, was preparing himself to punish somebody, hoping there wasn’t them.

Even the opened mouth of this unusual boat establishment, occupied by a respectable bar, was crowded and noisy. 

Nervously standing behind the luxurious burgundy velvet curtain, your palm sweaty, you briefly closed your eyes, trying to hear the sound of the wave crashing against the ship hull. It wasn't the first time you were performing for the Baratie. But, you knew that each time was risky. The mermaid folks weren’t still welcome everywhere, most of the population were scared of being bewitched by your voices and the others had used your people to commit crimes and atrocities.

It was why you always wore a long gown covering your temporary legs and politely declined any trace of liquid they would offer you. It only takes a drop of water or a stubborn scale and your life would be in immediate danger. Of course Zeff was aware of what you are and would never let nothing happen to you. But, you couldn’t only count on him to protect you, you had to be cautious.

“ Miss Y/N it’s time, everythings is okay ?“ A polite waiter asked you, the golden cord in his hand,ready to unveil you to the loaded room. Nodding of your head, opening your eyes, you let the noise of the water calm your last knocked nerve before lifting your head to face your public.

The first note of your song, played by the musicians behind you, starts to fill the now quiet hall. It was mostly for you a faceless audience, only a few were really counting : like his. 

Still dressed in his cook uniform, his back against the wall, arm crossed against his chest, Sanji was smiling, waiting for you to operate your tour de force. As you know, the blond sous chef had, so far, never missed one of your performances, even if it had meant being punished by his mentor.

Signing your song, your voice flowing like the water of a peaceful river to finish in a waterfall. You open your eyes under a thunder of applause. Still in his corner, Sanji was clapping his hand with fervor, his face radiant of joy like if he had just discovered a new method of cooking. 

Later that night, as you emerged yourself in the oversize bathtub of your personal dressing room, your fins resting on the copper border and the last scales on your breast taking his place. You smiled. You knew that you shouldn’t think of him, loving a human when you couldn’t keep a pair of legs longer than a few hours was ridiculous. However, you couldn’t stop yourself. Aside from Zeff, he was the only one knowing your secret and never made you feel uncomfortable about it.

Three knocks at the door extracted you from your thoughts followed by the sound of the key in the keyhole. You aren’t kept captive in the Baratie, but for your safety, Zeff had a long time ago asked you to lock the door, preventing anyone to simply walk on you as you were unable to freely move, stuck like a fish in a tank. Usually, your only visitor at these hours was the old chef coming to thank you for the show and often tell you stories about his time of piracy. 

But, it was Sanji who entered the room, this time dressed in a navy suit, a tray in his hand. 

“ Good evening Madam, I thought you should be famished after such an enchanting show “

“ I’m not really a Madam you know Sanji “ You smiled, amused even if the fact that you truly aren’t a human woman stung your heart a little.” I’m indeed hungry, thank you”  

“ Nonsense. You are more a lady than many that I had served in this crappy restaurant “ He replied, approaching the coffee table of the bath to put your plate and silverwares as he pulled himself a chair '' Salmon with his creamy lemon sauce, I prepared it myself with caution. “ 

“ It smells fantastique “ You smiled, lifting your upper body enough to be able to eat. “ Hmm, that's delicious, I truly had nothing like this in the whole sea” 

Here again, that proud smile was plastered on his face, making you regret your own nature as he looked at you eating his own kind of tour de force. The vicious cramps traveling your fins,was another. Trying to keep your expression blank, you couldn’t sadly stop the moan of pain you let escape after a particular strong one. 

“ What happened Miss Y/N, something wrong ?!” A concerned Sanji asked, his hand cripping the side of the tube, ready to take action and extract you of the water if needed. 

“ It's nothing, the side effect of being too long on two legs instead of…fins.” You confessed, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “ It takes me a lot of energy and control to keep the form of my legs, i’m just exhausted, it will be over  when I will leave after the closing of the restaurant” You reassured him, touched by his worried tone. 

“ I see, then why are you pushing yourself to do those shows if it’s hurt you afterward ? Does Zeff know ? “ 

Eating your dinner, you slowly nod of the head, remembering the first time the old man discovered you crying of pain in the tube. He had at first, like Sanji, been worried,but, hearring you out he had finally accepted the fact that he couldn’t make you change your mind.  

“ It’s worth it. For the moment I can’t, people aren’t ready yet, but one day, I want to sit on this stage in this form. I want people to know that they don’t have to be afraid of us. We can sing without bewitching them, we don’t chase them if they fall in the water. when we shed tears, it’s from pain, not to make a profit of their medicinal effect. That’s my dream, that one day I will be able to show people that we are good, not monsters. “

“ It’s an admirable dream “ Sanji smiled, a tenderness in his eyes.” If somebody is capable of such a thing it’s you.  After all you didn’t have to talk or sing, I had been spellbound the minute I saw you and I'm sure that the audience could say the same. “

Looking at his sincere face, you felt the warm sensation of hope blooming in your scaly chest. 

“ I would never use my magic on you, you know Sanji aren’t you ? “ You replied, wishing you had not misunderstood his words. 

“ I know, Madam. The things I feel every time I'm near you aren't an illusion, no lies could be that strong…” 

Your heart racing like if you were hunted by a shark, you gently placed your hand on his, tangling them affectionately. 

“ Sanji, would you walk me to the deck tonight…” You demanded. The walk, situated at the tail of the building, wasn’t very long, but it would let you spend a lot of time in his company before having to go back in the water. 

“As you wish Y/N “ He promised, watching your tangled hand. “ I should go, the restaurant will close soon and the old man will probably look out for me.”

“ See you later, I will wait for you outside, near your usual smoking place” You confirm, gripping the side of the tub in excitement. 

“ I will be there, see you later “ He replied before going out, leaving you alone to realize what just happened.

--

The half moon was high when Sanji got out of the closed Baratie.Without realizing it, he had replayed in his head every of your smile and phrases during your conversation, still amazed that you returned his affection.  But as he arrived at the meeting spot, his heart missed a beat. 

A hand against your mouth, flanked by two customers previously kicked out, you were fighting for your life, your fragile leg giving up under you as you tried to get yourself free.

“ Let her go now” He ordered, rage filling his veins. How could they dare touch your perfection and try to steal you from him.

“ Mate, go back inside mind your own business !” One of the pirates replied, trying to move you.  

“ I say, let her go. “ Sanji repeated, taking his fighting stance. The men were larger and heavier than him, but with his training and under your terrified gaze, he couldn’t lose. 

It didn’t take long to put them down. Sadly, you join them when your knees buckle due to the loss of energy. 

“ Y/N are you okay ? “ The blond jumped, catching you.

“ Yes I…need the water...I…I’m sorry” You said, tears filling your eyes. “ They said somebody saw me coming out of the water, they were waiting for me, Sanji…I can’t sing here anymore…” 

“ I will inform the old man, he will find the person and you will be able to sing here as long as you want.” He promised, caressing the side of your face. “ Let me put you in the water, your skin is cold and you shake of exhaustion  “ 

“ No wait I wanted...I wanted to…never mind” You said, avoiding his gaze as your legs disappeared. 

“ What ? Tell me  “ He insisted. 

“ I wanted to kiss you…during the time I have legs…like a normal girl but…they're gone…I’m sorry it’s stupid.”  You sigh, embarrassed. 

“ A normal girl…Madam, don’t lower yourself to that, you’re fantastic as you are and I would never want anything else. Now if you let me “ He reassured you, lifting you in his arms in a bridal style before gently putting his lips against yours.  

Kissing him was like breathing underwater :soft,warm and perfect. As he gently retreated his mouth, you could still see that something was in this thought. 

“ You can sing here as much as you want but…I think I have a proposition for you. Yesterday a guy offered me a place in his crew, the Old man pushed me to go for it…find the All blue.  Please, come with me…You could show people like you wanted that you not what they thought, I will protect you and these crew seem really good” 

The offer takes you by surprise, you never could imagine The Baratie without him. In fact, you couldn’t imagine yourself singing there anymore if he wasn’t even there to watch you perform, nor could you think of your life without him in it. 

“ Okay, if they accept me I will follow you” 

—

The straw hat crew didn’t just accept you, you became a member of the group. 

Swimming  along the boat, signaling at Sanji to be ready,you take some speed and jump grabbing the dangling rope, letting you perform Luffy's favorite number : The flying mermaid.

Helped by your previous momentum, you rise above the lower deck and fall in the arm of Sanji, always waiting to catch his precious mermaid.

[badwritinghabit]

Wins and Losses | Chef Luca x Reader

A sort of prequel to Hello and Goodbye

No warnings for this one! Just cute flirty coworker vibes.

Summary: Luca helps you survive in a new kitchen and then takes you out to celebrate your recent success.

Word count: 1,859

Day two at Ever. 

Your first day started off well, Chef Terry had welcomed you and introduced you to all of the staff. Everyone seemed friendly and you were eager to get started. 

But you were nervous. And it showed. 

Your hands shook throughout prep. Carmen Berzatto, the chef that had started training you, was stern and intense. He wasn’t going to be training you for long, thankfully. He was taking over for someone who was out for the day. 

Your first day ended with Carmen sending you to clean, seemingly sending you out of everyone’s way. You were scared they’d fire you before you got a chance to really prove yourself. 

Your second day would be better. You got a half-caf coffee on your way, hoping less caffeine would make you less jittery. You knew you were good. You could do all of this in your sleep. You just needed to focus. You took a deep breath and walked in. 

Charles, another line chef who had been there for over a month greeted you with a smile. “Went to Forward? That’s my favorite coffee spot too.” 

You responded with a grin. “I’m still figuring out the area, good to know I picked the right one.” 

He eagerly responded with some recommendations and you felt relieved, at least not everyone was angry with you. 

You were assigned pea duty. You had to split the pea pods, leaving all of the peas on one half of the pod as a garnish for a gazpacho dish. It should have been easy, you’d shelled plenty of peas. And you’d always been skilled at intricate knifework. You liked small details and making things pretty. But the nerves had come back the second you felt Carmen watching over your shoulder. Your hand shook but you kept your head down and did the work. You slipped the tip of the knife into the seam, carefully sliced down without cutting any of the peas inside, twisted it around, and continued to cut a clean line down the other side. 

“Good. But pick up the pace,” Carmen said brusquely before stepping away. You did as he said. 

He kept coming by, counting, comparing you to the other line chefs. Your hands kept shaking, your nerves fraying. 

You were skilled. You knew what you were doing. You wiped away some sweat from your brow with your sleeve and then kept going. 

Slice, twist, set down. Only a few left. 

Carmen walked by again. “Faster!” 

“Yes, chef.” You kept working as he walked off. Only 9 more to go. 

8 more. 

Your thumb slipped a fraction of a centimeter and a pea rolled out of the pod and onto the floor. You set the pod down shakily, feeling tears build behind your eyes. 

You bent and picked up the pea that rolled away. As you stood, grabbing the ruined pod to put to the side, you heard someone ask, “do you know what we call a pea that fell on the ground?”

The voice was light but your heart was pounding too fast, anxiety spiking at being caught. “What?” you asked, tense, still feeling panicky from your mistake and unsure who this new person was. You turned to look at him and had to look up. He was tall, dressed in the same white uniform and apron as the rest of the team. To your surprise, a kind smile was on his lips. 

“An escapee.” 

You blinked. 

“Escape-pea,” he repeated, his smile getting the tiniest bit wider. 

You exhaled a small, shaky laugh, realizing he was joking. Your shoulders slumped in relief. 

“I’m Luca. Sorry I wasn’t here for your first day. But I’ve heard you are off to a good start.” You shot him a slightly suspicious look and he grinned. “You’re doing fine, really.” 

“You should have finished this by now,” Carmen interrupted, walking over. “We have more to prep.” 

“Give us another minute, we’ll be done soon,” Luca responded calmly. Something in his calmness gave you confidence so you grabbed another pea pod and got back to work. 

“Thanks,” you said to him, quietly, glancing over. 

“Any time,” he responded, grabbing one of the pods and helping you finish. 

And he meant it. He became your rock, buffering you from Carmen, teaching you but also interrupting your panicking with soft words and little jokes. You had never met anyone quite as warm and genuine. 

You’d developed a tiny crush. But you tried to put it out of your mind. He was – while not your boss exactly– still a sort of mentor. Your coworker at the very least. And dating in the kitchen was a well known bad decision. Besides, he was so kind and talented, you figured he must be in a relationship. Even though he never spoke of anyone. 

You kept reminding yourself he was too important for you to risk losing. He was a fantastic mentor. You’d learned more with him in three weeks than the year and a half you’d spent at your last job. 

His mentorship had helped. You’d had a dish accepted as part of a temporary menu. Chef Terry had all of the chefs, of every level, submit a dish and yours had been picked. Luca had cheered, seeming even more excited than you were. Then he cajoled you into going to the bar with him after work. To celebrate. 

He had lifted you in a hug as soon as you left the kitchen and you laughed along with him. He talked excitedly about your dish as you walked to the bar. 

“Just you two?” the bartender asked. You usually went with a small crew from the restaurant once or twice a week. 

“Just us today,” Luca agreed before regaling the bartender with your accomplishment. And then he ordered your favorite drink for you before you could ask. You blushed and fiddled with the little foam coaster nervously. You met Luca’s eyes and smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The bar was loud, you usually avoided Friday nights to not have to deal with the commotion. But you appreciated it that night. Luca sat close to you, the warm smell of his laundry detergent reaching your nose as he leaned closer to speak into your ear. He’d reached an arm around the back of your chair and his thumb had started stroking up and down your arm. Your brain had slowed, your thoughts brought back to the gentle drag of his warm hand against you. You fought off a shiver and blinked up at him, realizing you missed a question. You forced yourself to focus on the conversation at hand. 

He smiled when you asked him to repeat himself but before he could, you jumped as you felt arms wrap around you from behind. 

“I thought we’d find you here!” Kit said, pulling back from the hug and sitting in the seat next to you. Charles followed after him, claiming the last seat at the table.  

“You two disappeared before I could ask where we were going to celebrate,” Kit continued as he took off his jacket and smiled at the bartender who walked up to take their orders. 

“We never go out on Fridays,” you say to defend yourself. “It was a little sudden.”

He hummed with a smile. “Well we need to do a toast at least. You won!”

“I’m really surprised to be honest. Your soup was so good. The sweetness with the spice. I wanted a bucket full,” you complimented Kit. 

Kit laughed and Charles rolled his eyes. “I haven’t heard a single comment about my dish.”

“Because it tasted like ass.” 

Charles shoved him and the two broke out into laughter. You laughed along but looked back to Luca, realizing his arm had left the back of the chair. The temperature seemed to drop with the realization. He was facing away, looking behind the bar. You took a moment to admire his profile, the arch of his eyebrow, the ridge of his nose, his lips. You blinked and inched your foot forward, kicking his foot gently. He turned to look at you and you smiled, rolling your eyes teasingly and nodding towards your new companions. His smile returned. 

Charles produced a pack of cards and you groaned but were convinced to join. The distraction from Luca was probably good as well, you told yourself. It was too easy to lean into him when he was close. To hope for more when his arm was wrapped around you.

Poker was a good diversion. 

The night ended after a few hands of poker. You were tired. You’d spent most of the night before anxiously making and re-making your dish. You bemoaned your lack of sleep and after you finished your drink, you hopped off the stool. Luca stood as well, saying he’d walk you home. He’d started doing that at the very beginning of your groups' nights out, even though you lived just next door. It was sweet. 

He was sweet. 

He stood at the bottom of your stoop as you climbed one step and then turned back with a small smile. 

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, quietly. “It meant a lot.”

“Your dish deserved to be chosen. You made the best food today.” His decisive compliment warmed your heart. You smiled. 

“You helped me. I’ve only improved so much because of you.” 

“I’m glad you think I’ve helped. But today was all you.” His voice seemed to get lower. The stair put you at almost the same height so you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He seemed to freeze for a second but then responded, his arms coming around your waist and holding you to him. 

“Thank you,” you murmured into his shoulder. 

“No more thanking me.” He pulled away with his familiar grin. His hands still gripped your shoulders. “It’s my job.”

Something about that reminder felt heavy in your stomach. You forced a smile. He seemed to realize something was off and quickly added, “I don’t spend time with you because of work though. We’re friends too.” 

“Yeah, friends!” The tension was still there and you jumped in to break it. “I’m just tired. I should head up,” you pointed your thumb behind you and stepped up another step. 

He nodded, hands sliding into his pockets and shifting on his feet. “Good night,” he said. Your name a soft ending to the sentence, always sounding warm in his accent.

“Good night, Luca,” you said with a short wave, before turning and closing the door behind you. 

“You absolute prat,” Luca muttered to himself, heel of his hand pressed to his brow. He took out his phone as he walked towards his apartment and clicked open his messages, scrolling to your thread. Your picture was one he took with both of you sitting outside the restaurant. You were holding one of his desserts, half-eaten, and smiling for the camera. He opened the text chain, staring at it, debating. Then he sighed and closed it.

He would see you tomorrow.

[oneshotnewbie]

What if Marina x daughter!reader are chillin at home together when Maya gets called to a 5alarm fire. Reader has major anxiety when Maya goes to big fires. Carina tries to calm her down, but gets called in to help with patients being sent to GreySloan from the fire. Reader has to come with Carina to the hospital and sees some of those injured in the ER before making it to Carinas office. Reader begins to follow all the news alert from the fire and starts to panic and worry for Maya. She’s in the midst of a full panic attack by the time Carina can check on her. Maya comes to the hospital with the last of the patients and goes to Carinas office and only then does reader begin to calm down, surrounded by her mothers.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Dusk fell over the city as Maya, Carina and you decided to spend a cozy evening at home, cooking together and enjoying the free time as a family. The atmosphere was one of heartwarming laughter and the familiar smell of delicious ingredients.

Maya had taken the evening off to spend more time with you. Her job as a firefighter often involved unpredictable events and long working days, which is why such evenings together were particularly precious for your little family. The three of you worked in sync in the kitchen as the sound of happy chatter and laughter permeated the walls. You helped prepare the ingredients while the blonde prepared the aromatic lasagna sauce and made plans for after dinner.

A colorful sight spread across the airy kitchen. Fresh vegetables, fragrant herbs and a variety of spices covered the work surface. The food processor whirred while the Italian woman prepared the dough for fresh pasta. You, stood behind her to look over your mother's shoulder with curious eyes and pick up some tips.

“It smells so good!” You whispered enthusiastically and the two smiled at you, Carina briefly pulling you close to place a kiss on your temple. "It'll taste really good too, Bella."

The smell of garlic, onions and fresh tomatoes filled the kitchen and mixed with the pleasant atmosphere as you and Maya started to set the dining table. Time seemed to stand still as you sat down a short while later and approached the home-made meal that was filled with love. "You really have a talent for the kitchen, y/n. Maybe you should think about becoming a chef." Carina said, clearly proud of you, and you laughed. "Maybe I will. Or I'll become a firefighter. Or at least a surgeon.."

But before everyone could take the first forkful of lasagna, the shrill sound of Maya's radio pierced the harmonious silence. All three froze for a moment before the blonde looked around apologetically, narrowing her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I have to check this. It's an emergency call," she explained as she stood up and hastily searched for the device that was lying on the living room table. "A serious fire in a high-rise building requires 19 to be present immediately."

The joy in the air seemed to fade as the reality of Maya's responsibilities as a firefighter became present again. You looked over at her worriedly as she hurried into the bedroom and put on her firefighter uniform before saying goodbye to you with a quick kiss on the forehead to face the unknown of the new mission. "I love you guys. I'll be back as soon as possible."

With a final, determined look, she left the house, leaving you with a fearful heart. The laughter stopped and the kitchen, which had previously been filled with joy, now seemed quiet and deserted.

For the next minutes, your home became enveloped in nervous tension. You could already see the images of the blazing flames and the sound of the sirens in your mind, unable to get them out of your head. Your fear seemed to grow stronger with each emergency call. The idea of your mother having to fight fire in dangerous situations put you in a constant state of fear and panic.

Carina clearly sensed your fear and tried to calm you down with all her care. She would often sit with you and talk about the importance of Maya's job and how she was well trained and experienced. But your thoughts weren't so easy to calm down. Your fears enveloped you like a thick fog that made your heart feel heavy. "Amore mio, I promise you, Maya knows her job very well. She is strong and has the right training. You have to trust her."

You nodded, but the look of pure panic remained in your eyes as your heart pounded wildly in your chest and your body began to tremble. You couldn't keep your mind off your mother. Every time Maya was called to a new mission, your heart clenched with worry and you could hardly breathe. The persistent fear that permeated you overshadowed the present.

"She'll be back safely. You don't have to worry, okay? The safety of the team members at Station 19 is the top priority for everyone involved," she tried again, trying to ease the uncertainty in your eyes and complete the dinner. "Mom is a professional at what she does."

The smells of the now cold dish disappeared and your mind continued to wander when another beeper rang. This time it was Carina's. It was another emergency call that forced your other mother to come to work in the emergency room.

"I have to go to the hospital, sweetheart. The patients affected by the fire are being taken to Grey Sloan. I'm needed," she explained softly, her brow furrowing as she placed a hand on your shoulder. The words triggered another wave of panic in you that you could no longer suppress. "Please, not you too. Please stay here. I'm so scared. Please!"

“Hey, hey, hey,” she spoke carefully and stood up, pulling you into a tight hug. The gentle sway of her arms barely stopped your running tears, your body trembling in her arms. "If it calms you down, you can come with me and read some books in my office. I don't want to leave you alone with your fears."

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sun had already set when you and Carina rushed into the busy emergency room at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. The panic in your eyes reflected the constant fear for your mother. Carina held your hand tightly, trying to calm you down as she navigated you down the hallway.

The atmosphere in the emergency room was intense. Doctors and nurses rushed from one patient room to the next while paramedics carried in the injured. The smell of disinfectant and the muffled murmur of conversation filled the air. You could feel the knotting tension inside you, getting worse by the second as you walked past the beds filled with people with burns and serious injuries. The image of Maya and the chance of her also ending up in the hospital injured like the rest of the people crept into your mind and your heart began to ache with fear once more.

Your mother led you to her office on the top floor, which was shielded from any hectic activity. "You can safely wait here, love. I'll see what's going on and make sure mom comes upstairs to you as soon as she returns from her mission."

You nodded and slowly walked into the room. Carina gently squeezed your shoulder again before leaving the office and heading back to the emergency room, leaving you alone.

Sitting on the chair next to the door, you tried to organize your thoughts. The images of the injured people in the emergency room were burned into your memory. A tingling sensation ran through your body and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The hum of muffled conversation filtered through the closed door as you watched the time and waited for your mothers. The scenes played out in your head of your mom fighting the flames and your mother caring for the injured. The thought of your mothers operating in this chaos increased your fears.

The time in the hospital crept by slowly, and your thoughts continued to revolve around your parents, especially Maya. You couldn't suppress the worry inside you, so you began meticulously monitoring the messages on your phone as you paced around the room. As the first reports of the fire came to you, you felt your fear building at a rapid pace.

With every word you read, another tidal wave of panic seemed to build. The images of fire and smoke described on the news hit you like a blow. You could literally feel the burning intensity of the flames burning your skin.

Your heart was racing, your hands were shaking, and your breathing was becoming shallower. The news reports seemed to confirm your worst fears, and the idea that your mom, Maya, was in the middle of a dangerous inferno almost made you lose your mind. But then the door opened and Carina stepped in. Her expression was serious, but the change in your features made her rush to you immediately. "Y/n, Bella. What happened?"

You could barely find your words as you turned over your phone to see the newscaster exclaiming about the terrible news. "Mom's still in there. She's in danger."

Carina tried to stay calm herself to stabilize you. She hugged herself tightly and walked with you to her desk, your eyes fixed on the closed door, hoping that Maya would soon be at your side as the relentless clock continued to tick. "Mi amore, the media often tends to be more dramatic in its reporting. Let's wait for official news before drawing conclusions, okay? If something had happened to her, Andy or Jack would have already called."

The brunette's words barely reached your frightened soul. The dark panic attacked and overwhelmed you with full force, and you felt the world around you begin to spin. Your chest felt tight and the world blurred before your eyes.

You sat on a chair, surrounded by white walls that, in your agitated state, looked like the shadowy scene of a nightmare. The brightness of the hospital lights seemed ominous, and the silence of the room was overshadowed by the deafening sounds of your own fears.

Thoughts of Maya's possible danger lost all reason. Every time you tried to breathe deeper, the air seemed to disappear like a scarce resource, and the flames of fear only flickered higher. Your gaze was blank and frozen, caught in a whirlpool of terror and worry.

Carina reacted immediately and pushed you into her desk chair. She tried to calm you down while you were overwhelmed. "Breathe with me, sweetheart. Inhale deeply and exhale slowly. I'm here, love." she whispered softly.

The panic attack was reaching its peak, but with each calming touch and empathetic word, the wave seemed to slowly subside. The Italian kneeled down in front of you and placed her hands gently on your knees. "Y/n, listen to me. We can do this together. We will erase this fear together." The words were difficult to reach you, but she didn't let go of it. She tried to calm you down with slow breaths. You gasped for air, but gradually, the control of your breathing returned.

Time stretched, and with every breath you fought your way out of the shackles of panic. The cries of fear became quieter and your vision gradually cleared. Carina held you tightly as the last remnants of fear coursed through you.

While your mother slowly got you back to normal breathing, Maya entered the emergency room exhausted, accompanied by the last patients of her risky fire mission. The experiences of today's fight against the flames had left them scarred.

The sounds of the emergency room came through the front door as she pushed herself through the crowd. She felt the exhaustion in her bones, but the thought of seeing her daughter and her wife again was the only bright spot after the tiring hours. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, she soon entered her wife's office. You both looked up as the door opened suddenly, a relieved smile lighting up your features. "Mom, you're back!"

Maya nodded tiredly, her uniform marked by smoke and ash as you rushed into her arms. "How are you doing?" She asked you, but you didn't answer and instead snuggled closer to her. A questioning look rushed over her face and she pressed her lips together before looking at Carina, who stood up and immediately walked up to her. "She had a severe panic attack when news of the fire first surfaced. I calmed her down, but she was very worried about you."

Her heart clenched and she pulled away from you. Not hesitating for a second, she placed her fingers under your chin and forced you to look up at her. Your eyes were bloodshot and your cheeks were still wet from crying. "I'm here, y/n. Everything's fine, see?"

You sobbed quietly, the tears trapped in your panic now flowing with a sense of relief as you took a deep breath. The pent-up tension slowly let go. "I was so scared, mom. The news... I thought you..."

Maya held you closer to her. The three of you stood close together, soaked in the warmth of reunion. The flames of fear in your heart were extinguished, and in that moment you found comfort and support in her arms. "I'm here, and I'm safe. You don't have to worry."

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe’ part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 v. plated perfection 】

summary: now that yuu was better, they still had nothing to do. that is, until they heard the cheerful tune of a certain white haired maid floating down the halls… maybe they should go see what kalim is up to.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: kalim’s part !! i really wanted to do the whole shoujo manga cliche w/ this one so i hope you enjoy ^^

[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]

There wasn't much left to do for Yuu when they finally got permission to start working again. (That was an arduous process on its own.) It appeared that Azul, Jade, Riddle, and even Jamil had pitched in to take care of any last-minute preparations.

Now that everything was decided, the previously fast-approaching ball seemed to approach at a snail's pace. On top of that, Yuu had even more free time than usual because the Duke had taken over their work to "give them more time to plan". They did come up with an idea for something special at the Debutante, but it was undergoing some final review from the head butler, so it was a waiting game.

That was why they were strolling the halls, looking for something that they could do. A cheerful tune floated down the halls catching Yuu's ear. They instantly recognized the singer's voice, approaching the open door carefully.

Inside the grand room was Kalim, silverware and dishes spread out in front of him. The silver haired maid looked more put together than usual, his short skirt fluttering over stockinged legs as he spun. A white and gold bandana laid over his silvery hair, ribbons trailing down his neck.

"A whole new– Master?!"

Yuu suppressed a laugh when Kalim finally noticed them, "Hello Kalim, that was a nice song you were singing."

"Oh, I think so too! It's a classical ballad from Scalding Sands. But, Master," The maid blinked, his earrings clinking when he tilted his head. "What brings you here?"

"I was bored." And wasn't that the truth? It was easy to be a little more unfiltered with Kalim. Red eyes sparkled knowingly at their words.

"Hmm, then Master," Kalim very gently grabbed a plate. "What do you think about this plate?"

The plate was...shiny. So shiny, in fact, that Yuu felt a bit dazed, "Er, why did you pick that one out?"

"Well," Kalim set the plate aside. "Jamil and Azul told me to pick something perfect. It's Master's debutante after all!

Kalim started listing on his fingers, "They said, 'pick something that shows off the dukedom's opulence, elegance,' and..."

"Humility?" If it was those two that gave Kalim advice, they would know a thing or two about not going overboard on the flair. 

"Yes! Something like that," Kalim pouted. "But it seems that this set isn't to Master's liking." They could see the metaphorical puppy ears droop as he picked up the plate, going back to the display cases.

"It's only a little bit too shiny," Yuu said quickly, trying to soothe Kalim's mood. "There are plenty of other options."

"Theb how about this one?" Kalim picked up a dish with flowery vines adorning its rim. The gold tipped edge made it look all that elegant. "I think it's very pretty."

"Hmm, but I don't think it would fit with the interior decor of the ball," Yuu offered. "It would be very nice to use for the gardens area, but the plates should be uniform."

A thoughtful look crossed Kalim's face, "How about using it as serving plates? It would also make it easier for the chefs if they knew which plates would go to the hall and which will go to the garden."

"That's very thoughtful of you," Yuu said, and Kalim all but beamed at the compliment.

"I heard Jamil complaining about it before," Kalim said, taking out some serving plates. "One of the times that he was helping out at a party my Baba held, the servants weren't given clear instructions on which food was for which hall and it was a mess."

"Okay, now we have some flowery serving plates and trays!" Kalim dusted off his skirts. "Do you have any suggestions, Master?"

"How about choosing something with Night Raven colors?" Yuu took a seat on the bench beside the tray of plates.

Kalim perked up at that, "That's a great idea! The grey plates are somewhere on this shelf..." The silver-haired maid crouched, reaching for another plate, "This one seems very Night Raven colors." The plates had a grey base, and symmetric white lines crisscrossing to create an intricate pattern.

It was certainly an elegant choice, "That's a bit..."

"...too serious," Kalim concluded, sliding the plate back to its spot. "I guess I'll look at the top shelves."

They watched as Kalim dragged a rolling wooden ladder toward the shelf, "Don't forget, to lock the wheels." Yuu stood up, approaching the shelf as Kalim started climbing the ladder. He made it to the platform, opening the doors to the cabinet.

"It's alright Master, I've been doing this all morning," Kalim called out, as Yuu braced an arm against the ladder. Suddenly, Kalim shouted, "Oh! I found the perfect one!"

Kalim spun in his excitement and that was when it happened. Yuu could do nothing but watch as Kalim's body tilted unnaturally to the right, and—

Yuu lunged forward.

It was instinct, and they could barely think before their back was hitting the ground. A burst of pain hit their shoulder as they rolled before finally coming to a stop.

Their chest rose and fell, the blood rushing in their ears. Kalim's weight was keenly on top of them. That much they could figure out. Yuu pried open their eyes, their chest feeling stifled when—

Oh. Kalim's eyes were such a startling shade of red. Yuu had never seen his eyes that close before. The maid's head jerked back, his earrings chimed at the action. His ribbon brushed against their neck. The sensation was strange. A little ticklish, making them huff out a short breath.

Kalim blinked, his mouth falling open. He reeled backward with a shout and they winced as they heard another thump. Yuu sat up, gingerly touching their shoulder. Kalim was still lying on the ground, his skirts in disarray, still seemingly shocked.

And then Kalim shot up, hands clasping their own, "Master! This– I'm so– this maid apologizes for such a blunder, the ladder was— I-I should've been more careful, but— Oh, the others will kill me if they—"

“The others won't find out," Yuu reassured, glancing at the spotless floor. "None of the plates are broken, and we are both fine, save for our clothes."

"But—" Kalim seemed to sputter, hands gesturing wildly. "But Master, you—"

"Instead of arguing, why don't you show me the plate you found?" Yuu stood, dragging Kalim with them.

Kalim looked conflicted, his stare swinging between the cabinet and them, "Still, you... Master shouldn't do anything dangerous like that again. Promise?”

“I promise,” Yuu nodded toward the shelf. “Let’s see the plate that made you so excited.”

Kalim climbed up the ladder— but not before double-checking all of the wheels to the ladder— before returning with a white plate, with grey flowers and gold patterns lining the border, “Isn’t it perfect?”

“It is,” Yuu agreed, taking the plate into their hands. “You found the perfect plate.” Kalim pumped his fists in the air, before going back to grab the rest of the set. They grinned at Kalim’s quite antics, nodding along to the happy tune he was humming as he placed the plates onto the cart. 

“Should we go have a treat to celebrate?” Yuu suggested, and Kalim’s eyes grew even more shinier than before, his previous mood forgotten.

“Oh! Jamil was cooking up some tester desserts last night!” Kalim gushed, grabbing their hand. “Let’s go and ask him for the rest!” Yuu laughed as they were hurriedly led down the hallway. They had all but abandoned the plates there, but oh well. Maybe having fun and letting loose with Kalim was exactly what they needed before the debutante. (And sweets. Sweets made everyone’s days feel better, right?)

thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !

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[chronicbeans]

Dead Plate (Haunted AU) x Reader (Part 1)

Training time!

Prologue, Part 1

TW: None

You wake up in a cold sweat. You don't remember it, but you are pretty sure you had a nightmare of some kind. You look to your clock, seeing that it's 3 in the morning. You sigh shakily, knowing that you don't have any time to try to go back to sleep. You beat your alarm by a whole hour, but you know that if you fall asleep again, you'd probably sleep through it.

You quickly take a small shower, before having some cheap cereal for breakfast. Then, you brush your hair and put on a nice outfit. You may not have the best first impression of your boss, but you want to make a good first impression on him! Plus, you don't have your uniform, yet... so, you might as well dress nice to give yourself some confidence.

After getting dressed, you hear the harsh noise of your alarm, screaming at you that it's 4. Sighing in disdain, you realize that you're stuck waiting for thirty minutes with nothing to do. You've already gone through your morning routine... though, you should set your alarm for 3:30 next time, since it took you longer than expected.

Looking out your window, you see that it's still dark out, as to be expected. It's not only early in the morning, but it's also winter... Man, you really don't like driving in the winter. Screw it, you're heading to work early, just so you don't have to spend thirty minutes dreading the drive. You put on a light coat, which is your only coat, then head to your car.

You arrive around 4:30, only for you to be hit with the sudden realization that you might've arrived too early. What if the doors are still locked? Heading out of your car, you march on up to the doors of La Gueule De Saturne, ready to knock on the doors-

You yelp, startled as they open before you can even knock on them. Looking up, you see a ghostly pale man with black hair and tired eyes. He looks expressionless, or as close as you've seen to expressionless on somebody before, at least. His eyes are locked onto you, as he speaks in a familiar voice.

"You're rather early... You must be the new waiter I hired." "Oh! Um... yes! I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." "Come in, then. Since you're early, we can start your training early." Damn it. You hoped he'd give you some time to rest... then again, this is a job. You follow him inside, looking around the main area.

It looks very lavish, if not a bit bleak. Greys, beiges, and white make the main colors of the dining area, with splashes of red velvet here and there. There's four tables with two seats each, two booths with four seats, and... two tables with one seat? You've never seen any restaurants with tables for one, before. Maybe a few cafés, but not full-blown restaurants.

Suddenly, Vincent points to a wall of the dining room, speaking in a slightly stern voice. "There is the partition window. When customers orders are ready, they'll be set on the counter there. Grab them and serve them to the correct guests." You follow where he's pointing, quickly spotting the partition window. Before you can comment on it, he points to the register. Wait... you're going to be working everything out front, aren't you?! You didn't sigh up for this!

"You're going to also seat the guests, as well as collect the money they pay for there meals. You'll earn tips. Make sure the customers like you, because they'll tip you higher. That, and you're the only waiter here." You stammer a bit at that, looking more than a little shocked. You don't argue, though. You want this job... You need this job. You aren't going to risk it. "Alright, Chef Charbonneau."

You turns to face you, again... He then crosses his arms, looking at you with a serious expression. "You better be good at your job. You are already making a better impression than the last waiter, but that doesn't mean you won't be able to let me down. I'm very strict, and have high standards."

You nod, looking back to him. There's an awkward silence, before he sighs and looks to the side. "You know you can talk to me, right? I may be strict, but I'm not a drill sergeant." You quickly nod, again, stammering. "Oh, yes! I just uh... I'm not the best at making conversation." He chuckles halfheartedly, before sighing.

Smiling, you are about to continue, before he cuts you off. "If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen. The doors to the kitchen are over there." Vincent then points behind him, before continuing. "You can talk to me whenever you need something."

You look to the kitchen doors... seeing a small tuft of orange hair peeking from behind the circular window. It's probably one of the chefs. You look back to Vincent, nodding again. "Alright, Chef Charbonneau. What should I do while I wait for the bistro to open?"

His dark, tired eyes trail up to a clock nearby, causing your own (E/C) ones to follow. It's 5, now, so you have an hour. "Familiarize yourself with this room until then. I'm going to go get you your uniform." "Yes, Chef Charbonneau!" Then, the strange chef disappears into the kitchen.

You get to work, walking around the dining area and observing everything. There's a gray carpet, as well as a red one by the check-in area... this is actually pretty boring. You're basically just walking in circles around the room. The most exciting thing is when you saw a young lady walk by the window outside.

You hear the door to the kitchen open, as a lesser chef walks over to you and hands you your waiter's outfit. They then rush you to a restroom to get changed, handing you a bag to put your clothes into after you get the uniform on.

You walk out back to the dining room right in time to start working. 6 o'clock has hit. You see a few guests come in, finally giving you something to do. Quickly running over, you sit them down at a table for four. Writing down their requests on a notepad, you walk over to the partition window and hand the kitchen their orders.

As you do so, you notice something peculiar... none of the cooks have orange, or even ginger hair. They all have dark hair, with one person having blonde hair. That, and Vincent is staring at you like a hawk. You try to pay no mind to it... maybe the guy with orange hair is just out of view from the window? Either way, it's not important. You have to continue work.

The rest of the day goes by without any problems. Collecting your tips, you count them out to being around a hundred or so dollars. You help with closing, sweeping the floors and cleaning the tables, before looking to Vincent as you leave. "Have a nice night, Chef Charbonneau."

He looks to you, looking slightly shocked, like you had knocked him out of some odd daze. He slowly nods, before waving in return. "You, as well. Be sure to get here on time, tomorrow." "I got here early, so I'm sure I'll be on time, tomorrow." "The last waiter came in late on his second day... Just be on time." "... Okay..." That man is weird.

You nod in acknowledgement, then begin walking to the exit. The day has ended, and quite honestly, you need some rest... That, and you want to get to sleep early, just to spite you boss by being early two days in a row.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Maid To Be Yours

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Maid-Sama meets Touya Todoroki because that fucker would die to see you in a maid outfit. (Part 2)

Warnings: Smut, slight public-sex, language, vaginal fingering, the title tbh, Dabi too he gets his own warning

Word Count: 2.7k

“Behind,” you muttered, slipping past the chef and into the main seating area.

The room was abuzz with soft music and the smell of nostalgia. Girls in a similar uniform to yours were presenting some steaming dish or cheerfully chatting with their customers.

Your own, a pair of teenage boys who were probably just here for a cheap look at the servers, were laughing heartily about something unimportant as you walked over.

As long as they tipped well, you didn’t really care.

With a polite smile, you passed them their checks. “Thank you so much for dining with us. Please come again!”

And with a small bow, you were gone, weaving around the tables toward the quiet sanctuary that the locker room provided.

It was fairly busy for a Wednesday night, which meant more money, but also meant more people to deal with.

The constant activity of a full house made it difficult to not become overwhelmed. And while you dealt with an overload of alarming tasks on a daily basis, it did become tiring after a while.

Your mind felt drained from the constant employment of a likable persona, your limbs heavy under the weight of fatigue from hours of carrying over-sized drinks.

Thankfully, the flow of customers had finally begun to trickle to a slow, allowing you the sweet relief of a well deserved break. The charming guise cracked as you slumped over a bench, allowing a weary sigh to slip through the fracture.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” You looked up, meeting eyes with your manager. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

It had been quite the night, keeping you out well over two in the morning. Unfortunately, your last minute decision to take some overtime had you waking up a mere six hours later.

In hindsight, a horrible choice.

Flashing a grin, she shot you a thumbs up. “Well, you’re doing great! Thanks again for picking up all these extra shifts.”

Your manager was a kind woman, although you silently wondered whether or not the enjoyment she found in this line of work was exactly warranted. Regardless, she was lenient and in no way condescending, a trait you had seen in many of the other bosses you’d had the pleasure of working under.

She took a step into her office, pausing for a moment in thought before turning back in your direction. "Actually, I know you're about to go on break in a few minutes. Would you mind tossing the trash out real quick?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She gushed. "Remind me to tell you about the new hire tomorrow, yeah?"

Another thing about your manager was that she was, for want of a better term, very communicative.

Seeing as you and the other waitresses were relatively close in age to her, she seemed to show great interest in your personal lives, which resulted in a good amount of friendly gossip among your coworkers.

This also produced some unwanted questions and comments. She thoroughly enjoyed the standard 'you're too pretty to be single,' or a good old petition to set you up with a friend or neighbor.

Thankfully, you were quick to come up with excuses or some other lie that would quell her curiosity until it was placed upon some other unsuspecting victim.

However, you wondered what she would say if she caught wind of those hidden aspects of your life.

Of course, it wasn’t as if she would actually come close to finding out about any of them.

No one would ever guess a member of the infamous League of Villains would be working as a waitress in a maid cafe.

Being a criminal didn’t pay the bills. It gave you a place to stay, even when if that place was a small room a few floors above a musty bar, but it didn’t give much leeway financially. There were still other utilities and items that required money, hence your need to find another job.

Obviously, this hasn’t been your first choice.

Public service was not for the faint of heart, even for someone who associated with killers and other psychotic individuals on the regular. Not to mention the dress code, which had you rethinking your life choices upon inspection.

Regardless, the pay was a lot better than many deserving workers in the restaurant industry received and the hours were flexible, a necessary benefit for someone like you.

The cafe was also fairly far away from both the League’s hideout and your own living area, giving you peace of mind that no one would ever find out about your embarrassing side-gig.

Another thing you had come to find about workers as a criminal was that a lot of your colleagues were assholes. This wasn't surprising, seeing as they killed people on the regular, but it definitely gave you ample reason to keep your personal life private, even if a particular blonde teenager vehemently voiced her disapproval of your attempted reservedness.

That was a can of beans you had no intentions of opening.

You tied the top of the trash bag, hauling it over your shoulder and nudging the back door open with your knee. It opened into an alleyway, secluded from the busy streets and surprisingly clean.

The dumpster lifted open with a creak. It threatened to fall closed, but you propped it up with the bottom of your palm, slipping the bag through and taking a quiet exhale of victory.

"No fucking way."

Tensing at the unforeseen voice, you spun around with your hands up and ready for any trouble. Your heart slowed slightly upon recognizing the familiar face, only to pick up a moment later in panic.

Out of everyone in the League, Dabi was most definitely the last person you wanted finding out about this. His cocky attitude and overall lack of empathy for those around him had you extra weary about what you let slide concerning your personal life.

The fact that you had taken a slight attraction to the man also might have been of influence.

Exactly why, you weren't sure, especially since he had seemed to have recently found entertainment in the pastime of getting under your skin.

Maybe you were just a masochist.

You fumbled in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but the damage had already been done.

His surprised expression brightened considerably as he watched a plethora of emotions wash over you in sick glee. "So, this is your other job?"

"What are you doing here?" You avoided his question, tugging on the ruffles of your skirt and internally cringing when the fabric barely covered the highest part of your thigh.

Crossing his arms, Dabi leaned back on the brick. "There was a situation on fifth. The police should be here in twenty minutes, so I would watch out for that."

You sighed in annoyance, but the cops were honestly the least of your worries right now. "Shouldn't you... ya know, get out of here then?"

"Eh, later. I'm enjoying this." He shrugged, almost like an arrest paled in comparison to his new discovery.

Dabi pushed off the wall and began walking over to you. With every step forward, you took one back, avoiding his advance until your own shoulders hit the building behind you.

Turquoise eyes unabashedly scanned your frame and you unintentionally shifted under the strength of his gaze. He must have noticed, a tip of smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Who knew you were so cute?"

Blinking back in surprise, you shot him a glare that only made him laugh. "Don't call me that."

"Aww, is someone getting shy?"

"Pissed off, maybe," you muttered, trying to push past him and back inside the cafe, any place where you could sit and steep in your embarrassment alone.

Unfortunately, Dabi wasn't having it. He slipped an arm around yours, pulling you back around to face him.

"Oh, come on, doll." He tapped your nose with his finger, having it smacked away a moment later. "I think flustered is a great look on you. Do a little twirl for me, yeah?"

"I will kick your teeth out."

He gasped, the sound brimming in false hurt. "So harsh. Didn't you take this job for a chance to be nice to people? But if it was for the dress, I wouldn't judge either."

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously not, asshole. Shigaraki doesn't pay my bills."

"You know I have money, right?"

"And you'd be so generous to share?" You scoffed.

"In that little number," he cocked his head, a wicked grin flashing over his expression. "I'm sure we could work something out."

Heat bloomed up your neck at his insinuation, another insult getting caught in your throat.

Raising a hand to your temple, you let out an exasperated sigh in a meager attempt to regain your verbal footing. You had just about calmed down when you heard the shutter of a camera.

Your eyes shot up, heart dropping when you saw the phone in his hand pointing in your direction. "What are you doing?"

"Insurance policy." He inspected the photo for a moment. "There's no way anyone's gonna believe this without something some sort of proof."

"Dabi."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His eyes flashed up to yours, faux innocence washing over his features at the anger evident in yours. "Oh, did you want this?"

Your fingernails bit into the palms of your hands, leaving tiny crescents behind that were evident of your vexation.

He loomed over you, eyes gleaming in sinful amusement. "You're gonna have to ask nicely then."

"Fuck you."

"Darn. Ya know, that's not the answer I was looking for." He swiveled on his heels, giving you an unbothered wave with his free arm. "See you later, doll."

You lunged forward, but he was quicker, not to mention taller.

With a surprising reaction time, he dodged your advance, lifting the phone until it was suspended just a few feet above your head. Every time you made a grab for it, he would straighten up just a few inches, making sure that the device was always centimeters from your grasp.

"Just give it!"

Dabi took hold of your elbow and pulled. You fell forward with a yelp, surprised at how easily he maneuvered your body against the wall. With your back pushing into the brick and his arms caging you in on both sides, there was nothing to do but succumb to his hold.

"You're telling me what to do?" The laugh he let out shot heat straight between your legs. "Sorry, doll, but I don't think you're not the one supposed to be giving orders here."

It was almost alarming how easily he was able to over power you, even more so how you barely even minded. Every suggestive sentence permeated your train of thought, thwarting any attempts you might have once had at preserving your pride.

His hands snaked down to your waist as he leaned forward, breath tickling the tip of your ear. "Now, I wanna hear it in that pretty, little customer service voice how much you want to keep this between us."

The movement sent a shiver down your spine. It was obvious that Dabi was an intimidating individual, but never like this. His presence was overpowering, the mocking tone of his voice a mere whisper of the intensity within his sharp features.

"Please keep this between us," you muttered, trying to push as much audible annoyance into the sentence as possible.

With a satisfied hum, he drew back and turned his phone off before slipping it in his pocket. "See how easy that was?"

"But you didn't delete it," you protested.

"Relax, sweetheart, I'm not gonna show anyone." His gaze raked over your form, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm the only one who gets to see you looking like that."

The hand still holding your hips began to trail lower, gently grasping the top of your thighs.

Your eyes widened at the feeling. "What are you doing?"

Cerulean irises flashed up to yours as his movements came to an abrupt halt. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you breathed, far too quickly for your liking.

A smirk cracked over his features. "That's what I thought."

And his lips crashed against yours, hands moving to cup your face in a gentle ardor you didn't know he possessed.

He lifted his knee, nudging it between your thighs and drawing a sigh from you. He took advantage of your surprise, slipping his tongue forward to meet yours.

The kiss turned desperate. It trailed down toward your jaw and right above your neckline, creating marks that you could only hope to be able to hide.

Lust began to cloud your senses, fogging over your mind until rational thought became unnoticed. You unconsciously began to roll your hips over his thigh, desperate for friction in whatever form possible.

With squeeze he gave your ass, and the way he grinned into your neck, it was evident that he noticed.

"Do you know how long I've thought about you like this?" His voice was coarse against your neck.

"In a maid outfit?" You breathed, earning a short laugh.

"Desperate for me to fuck you stupid, but that's good too."

Dabi sneaked a hand under your skirt, nudging the fabric of your underwear to the side. He ran a finger across your slit, examining the wetness that followed it with pure satisfaction. "Shit, I've barely even done anything yet."

Your body stiffened as his thumb brushed over your clit, slowing rolling over the nub until your hips followed each rotation.

Satisfaction flashed in his features at the way your body reacted to his touch. “That's right. Show me how needy you are for me."

“Plea-” the rest of the word fizzled into a sigh as he pushed a finger into you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” The encouraging statement reeked of mocking amusement. His hand curled into you, eyes brightening with every gasp and whine he pulled from you.

You grabbed onto his shoulder, legs weakening into jelly. "Fuck, Dabi, please!"

"There you go, doll." He slipped another finger inside and a moan slipped past your lips. The pace of each push increased steadily, following the wordless pleas that you gave.

Pleasure coursed through you with each one, his thumb still trained over your oversensitive clit. Your surroundings faded away into a mindless afterthought in the midst of euphoria.

It was only a few minutes before you were melting in his arms, falling apart in a mess of ecstasy.

“So pretty.” He muttered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen askew behind your ear.

The world was quiet, bathed in a gentle glow that the setting sun provided. Shadows grew within the corners, a physical hint to the ever passing time.

Still, you could've stayed there forever, resting in the bright cerulean that admired your shaking form like it was a work of art.

Of course, it would have been surprising if you were granted that luxury.

Sirens sounded in the distance, a sound that you were more than familiar with, but one that had never been as unwanted as it was now.

Dabi seemed to share a similar sentiment.

“You've got to be kidding,” he groaned, drawing back and taking a look down the alleyway. Annoyance flashed over his expression, taking the place of worry that any rationally thinking individual would experience.

You cleared your throat. "Uh, you should probably get going then."

His gaze turned back to meet yours, softening a bit under the fading sun. Regardless, that shit-eating had returned, much to your dismay.

"How sweet of you to worry," He teased, earning an eye roll. Coming forward once more, he brought his lips to yours again before moving to leave. “See you later, doll. I'll make sure to fuck you properly then.”

You could only imagine what a mess you looked like, breathless and slumped against a wall behind your cafe. The brick supported your body as you saw Dabi's come to a pause, like a passing train of thought had overtaken his path.

Face still warm from his lewd comment, you watched him turn slightly, voice echoing off your surroundings in one final statement.

“Make sure to bring the outfit.”

[cal-writes]

some more immortal/reincarnation au. ive had some brainworms the last few days

“You look like you could use a good meal.” Law looks up from the cradle of his hands. A man in a chef's uniform looks down at him, holding a deep plate of some kind of rice dish. His chef’s coat is unbuttoned at the top, hanging open to reveal a stained white shirt. Bright blonde hair covers one eye.

Law reaches out to grab the plate. “Thanks, what do I owe you?” He asks as he puts the plate down, patting himself down for the wad of cash Zoro threw at him. The cook waves him off.

“As long as you don’t mind that I smoke.” He says and sits down, taking a cigarette out from behind his ear. 

Law actually hates the smell of cigarettes but it would be rude to refuse at this point so he just digs in.  The moment the first spoonful hits his tongue he realizes how ravenous he feels.

The cook stretches out his legs, crossing them at the ankles and lights his cigarette with a cheap looking plastic lighter that has a company logo printed on the side. He takes the first slow drag, savoring the taste of it and letting the smoke drift into the air slowly.

“So, what’s got you so worried?” The cook asks nonchalant, looking out into the pier.

Law chews slowly, sighing after he swallows. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.” The cook says, winking at him when Law gives him a raised brow. “I’m a cook in the middle of the ocean. I’ve heard all kinds of things before.”

Law looks down at his plate. He’s dug through to the other side, the white porcelain of the place peeking out through the grains.

“Okay.” He inhales deeply. “I met a guy at the museum a week ago, he broke into my apartment a few days later armed with three swords and said he was immortal and wanted me to fix that because apparently I did that to him. I sure did not do that but I felt bad so I looked for more information about how to help him, found a lead and told him about it but then the cops showed up and shot at his boat and we had to take off and now I’m in the middle of nowhere and he told me to go back home.” Law finishes his tirade by stuffing a spoonful of food in his mouth.

The cook’s cigarette has half its size in ash hanging from the tip as the man blinks. “Huh.” He says before taking the cigarette out from between his lips and flicking the ash into a tray on the table. “You got me.” He snorts. “That’s a new one. Usually I’m just talking people out of cheating on their wives.”

Law ducks his head, stabbing his spoon into the rice. “You asked.” He says, pulling his shoulders up.

“And you believe that he’s immortal?” The cook asks.

Law glances up with a sigh, eyes losing focus. “He made me stab him and it healed immediately. So, yeah.”

“He made you stab him?” The cook must have a remarkable threshold for bullshit because he sounds entirely sincere as he asks.

“Yep.” Law replies, lifting his hands to gesture and abandoning it halfway through. “He thought me doing it would- kill him. I guess.”

“Because you cursed him. Or your ancestor or whatever.” The cook asks, pointing at him with the cigarette between his fingers. Law nods and makes a vague affirmative noise causing the cook to snort again. “Pretty stupid idea.”

“He’s-“ Law shrugs and looks down at the table, the wood grain is puffy from moisture, former straight planks warped until they leave large gaps between each other. “He seemed pretty desperate.”

The cook hums and looks out ahead. “Must be lonely. Being immortal and all that.” He ponders.

Law hums and drags a hand over his face. 

“And now you’re headed home?” He asks.

“I should.” Law says. “I barely know this guy and who knows what else I run into if I follow him.”

The cook blows out smoke.  “True, what else is real now?” He glances at Law from the corner of his eye. “You don’t want to go home?”

“I do.” Law groans and rakes a hand through his hair.

“You’re not responsible for the guy, you know. He’s immortal, he’s going to be fine.”

“Well yes but-“ Law digs his nails into the wood. “Here’s the thing.” He says and turns to the cook. “I’ve had this dream. Even before I met this guy. And it was about something he told me about from his past. And maybe it’s just my brain playing tricks on me but what if I’m really that guy that did this to him? And then I go home and start remembering something that could help him and he’s fuck knows where?”

The cook nods thoughtfully, his eyebrows creased with sympathy. “I see.” He says, scratching his chin. He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Well, do you have anything at home that won’t wait for you?”

Law frowns. “What do you mean?”

“A partner, a parent that’s about to die, dream job?” The cook asks. “Because you can always go home.”

“You think I should go with him?”

“I think you should finish your meal.” The cook says, finishing his cigarette. He extinguishes the last glimmering stump in the ashtray. “But if you want to get home, fastest way is taking a ferry to Stopover, sea train will take you anywhere.” He stands, stretching his hands over his head. Law inhales deeply. Closes his eyes. Lets the breeze and the noise of the Baratie market wash over him. “Next time you come back here you should tell me how that whole immortality thing turned out.” The cook adds with a smirk and Law sighs in defeat.

He’s already made his decision.

[janicekao]

Control

(Joel McHale & Jeremy Allen White x Black OC)

Pairing: NYC Head Chef x Black OC

(dark smut)

Carmen Berzatto x Black OC

(fluff)

Summary: NYC Head Chef enjoys degrading

his chef apprentices.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, degradation, very large age gap, painful sex, violence, breeding, crying, dark romance, hate sex, toxic, etc.

6099 words

(she’s long but hopefully worth it)

Wattpad link:

Author’s Note:

First tumblr post! (Idk what I’m doing) My friend and I were talking about The Bear (2022) and how absolutely crazy that one minute cameo of Joel McHale (Head Chef character) when he was absolutely tearing a brand new hole into Jeremy Allen White (Carmen Berzatto character) in the "NYC flashback scene" because it was just awful and intense!!!!

Here is the scene, and there isn't any show spoilers:

We agreed that the way Joel was yelling at him, had a bit of tension to it and it lowkey seems like Joel's character is the type to get off on being a complete dick.🤣

So I then had an epiphany LOL!

Joel McHale is literally 6'4 and lowkey beekeeping age level of hot, his character is constantly yelling and making people feel like shit! So this would make a great oneshot story for the readers with a degradation kink.

Enjoy my babies <3

———

Prim realizes that it's now the fourth time that Chef Carmen has told her that she's broken the sauce...

The Head Chef has finally taken notice.

He hovers close by her as he watches the mistakes continue to happen.

She begins to gulp with fear as she tries to earn space between her and Head Chef Joel.

"Chef, I-I appreciate your input, but I-I'm getting approval from Chef Carm—"

"And now you're getting approval from me, stir the fucking sauce, Chef." He immediately interrupts her stuttered plea.

She begins to stir the butter sauce quickly.

Mixing it with a metal spoon isn't how it is done, and she knows this. However with her nerves being racked, she stirs with the first thing that comes to mind, a goddamn spoon.

He grabs her wrist.

"Are you fucking dumb? You'll ruin the sauce, where's your fucking whisk?"

"Right—fuck.. what was I thinking?"

Chef Prim beats herself up with thoughts over her simple and dumb mistake.

Pressed behind her against her left hip and ass cheek, Chef Joel enjoys the gyrating of her thick frame as she whisks frantically into the sauce pan.

His cock begins to ache as it stiffens into a full erection...

Hard enough for her to notice it pressed against her uniform if she weren't being shouted at and quickly approaching an anxiety attack.

The tears streaming down her face only makes Chef Joel want to smile, aroused and concealing the devious grin peeling at the corners of his lips.

He continues to sternly whisper over the young girl, causing her to panic and hardly be able to focus as the massive man invades her space and continues to distract her with his harsh criticism.

"I swear to god Prim, you're already heavy handed with salt... if those salty fucking tears drop into this pan you're fucking out of here. Suck, it, up."

She sniffs her tears back, gently whining and wanting the torture to end.

God, he loves her sweet sobs.

Joel shuts his eyes as they roll into the back of his skull. He quietly gulps back his pleasure as a bead of precum leaks out of the tip of his erection.

Wrecking her is the best thing he's ever done.

He could lick the tears streaming down her reddened cheeks, he'd even inhale the bratty whines that spill from her tongue.

"STIR THE SAUCE, CHEF!!!" Joel shouts louder in her ear, her friend from Culinary school, Carmen Berzatto wants to stand up for her... but instead he keeps his eyes down, and continues his own job.

Standing up for another chef is something that you just can't do in gourmet cuisine... Speaking up could put both of your asses on the line being that all chefs have to do their jobs perfectly.

"You're terrible at this. You're no good at it.

Keep going faster. Why are you so slow? Why are you so fucking slow?" He continues his verbal abuse towards Prim as her only friend Carmy, continues to ignore what is happening.

Prim frantically whisks so hard that she nearly throws out a hip. Little does she know, Chef Joel doesn't actually care how hard she stirs, he just wants to feel her wiggle a bit harder on his cock.

As much as she worries about stirring, she completely forgets to lower the heat.

The butter caramelizes far too dark and becomes burnt.

"Shit!"

Prim has an outburst from her own disappointment.

Sadly, cursing in a fancy restaurant like this is highly looked down upon... another reason for Joel to bitch at her.

"Burnt the sauce and now you lack hospitality and respect!"

Joel lets her have it.

"What are you doing here? You are absolutely shit at everything! A pathetic sack of shit."

She tosses the smoking sauce pan into the sink and the other apprentices begin to laugh at her being that now the kitchen smells of burnt butter.

With eyes full of tears, Prim looks up at her boss once more.

He can't even stand her sight. "Go."

"Hands!"

Chef Joel yells for the attention of each of his workers.

"Everyone, take your half hour before the dinner rush.

When you get back, someone better be able to make me a fucking herb-butter sauce for the Lamb Chops on tonight's House Special, or I'm going to blow my own fucking brains out! Move people!"

The chefs are able to breathe again.

Finally, their thirty minute break that they only receive because it's legally obligated.

Carmy usually would take this thirty minute break to stupidly gobble down some garbage microwaveable dinner, knowing that he's one of the best cooks the world will ever see.

He also enjoys to take this time to get a few puffs off of a calming cigarette, but today he puts his lunch and cig to the side for a talk with his friend Primrose Dodson instead.

Knowing that Prim has been a bit of a crybaby since their days back in Culinary school, he knows that he can probably find her sobbing outside somewhere near the dumpsters.

Carmy takes his chef jacket off placing it in his locker before he begins his search for Prim outside, soon enough finding her exactly where he thought she'd be.

"Primmy." He gently coos as he lights a cigarette anyways.

"Come on, you've gotta do better than this.

We are big time now, you can't start to cry when things get tough."

"Carmy, come on!" She wipes frantically at her tears.

"It's not like that! You act like I cry over nothing!

Don't you see how that asshole talks to me?!?"

He sighs.

"Prim he talks to everyone like that...

We endure a few months of his torture and maybe one day we will get to be as big time as he is.

Maybe snag a few of those awards, huh?

That would be nice, right?"

Carmen gets her to smile gently.

"I guess." She shrugs.

"It's just that fucking sauce!

I-I don't know where my brain's at today! I've made that sauce hundreds of times...

In our career Carmy, we can't make mistakes.

Everything has to be perfect! Honestly, I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you're so perfect."

Hearing Prim call him 'perfect' immediately warms his heart...

He nearly blushes a violent red, being that compliments from Prim overwhelms him ever since he realized how bad he crushes on her.

"Ahhh, shut up!"

He teases, gently bending over her and wiping the tears from her stunningly soft features.

"You and I graduated from the same class.

If I'm perfect, then what are you?"

"Trash."

She continues to speak down on herself.

He watches upon her, feeling his heart beat loudly for her.

Carmy kisses the side of her cheek.

"Not even close."

He pulls her up from the dirty gravel as she brushes off her pants.

"Listen." Carmy continues.

"We are going to get back in there after break, and you will speak to Head Chef—"

Prim interrupts."But Carmy!—"

"Shhh." He hushes gently.

"Let him know how determined you are.

You are not one day of bad sauce-making, you are a million days of an incredible chef!

Don't give up Prim, you belong here."

...

Prim softly absorbs Carmy's positivity and support...

"Okay, fine.. I'll do it."

"Atta-girl!" He grins softly.

"You'll be just fine. Hey listen, enjoy break, but I'm going to get back inside and check on the schedule and meal prep.

You got this Prim, I believe in you sweetie."

———

As Prim pulls herself together, preparing to ask the boss for a second chance, Carmen gets back to work... Getting ahead of the game with a few other overachieving chefs.

As Carmy works, he gets a surprise visit from Head Chef Joel.

"Why do you hire fucking idiots?"

Joel frightens Carmy as he sneaks up behind him.

"Excuse me, Chef?" Carmy continues to work.

"You heard me right." Joel continues.

"When I'm not around, I expect you as leading chef apprentice to get rid of the fucking trash, why has it taken you so long to fire Primrose Dodson?"

Carmy gulps.

"Chef, I do believe in her talent Chef Joel.

I believe she may be having a rough day, but I have seen what she can do. She is an extremely talented chef."

"You've seen what she can do."

Joel begins to chuckle as he repeats his words back at him.

"What can she do Carmy? Suck a mean cock? Fuck you real good? Why else would you be chasing behind her and kissing her cheek by the dumpsters?"

Carmy's eyes widen in shock.

Head Chef watched them, meaning that he also heard Carmy and Prim call him an 'asshole.'

But what should Chef Joel care for? He knows that he's a prick, he knows how he treats people and he loves it.

"No sir." Carmy continues.

"It's nothing like that at all. Just friendly support.

See, Primrose and I went to culinary school together.

I know for a fact that she is one of the best bakers, dessert artists, and gourmet cooks one could ever meet. She has a way with exploring the sweetness and tartness of fresh fruit like something you've never seen before."

"Cut the bullshit Carmen." Joel presses.

"She has you choked up every time she bats her eyelashes at you. Don't act like you haven't noticed how her ass sits in the uniform... Clearly bought a size too small to fit her like a glove and make you lose focus of her careless mistakes."

"SHE IS NOT A CHEF, CARMEN."

Joel begins to shout.

"You can send her into my office all that you want...

I don't give a fuck that she can bake sweets in an EasyBake oven, I'm looking for chefs!

Not soft eyes and big titties.

I expect more from you, stop disappointing me."

———

Break winds down to only fifteen minutes left and Prim finally finds the courage to enter Chef Joel's office.

Carmy watches in the distance...

But strange enough, his sad puppy-dog eyes don't give her the reassurance that she needs...

Poor thing has no idea how this is going to go...

As she enters into the tiny broom-closet shaped office, she begins to see why Joel is such an asshole. His office sucks!

"Chef Joel?"

She gulps, noticing his glasses off and clearly trying to relax for the last few minutes of break.

"Oh... I apologize, maybe I can come back?"

"No." He clears his throat.

"Good, come in, I was meaning to speak with you."

Prim smiles with hope.

"That's great to hear actually, you see, I was hoping that—"

Joel immediately interrupts her, uninterested in what she has to say and already having his mind made up.

"I'm moving you to the front of the house.

Waitress aprons are in the supply closet down the hall and to your left."

Prim's heart instantly breaks.

"What?" She frowns.

"I'm not moving to the front of the house! I'm a chef!"

"You're really not." Joel sighs.

"You can either go to the front of the house or go home.

You've been such a fuck up, I was just going to kick you out, but your boy Berzatto asked graciously for me to give you a second chance.

"So do that!" Prim continues to explode.

"Then give me another chance!"

"YOU ARE NOT A CHEF."

Joel stands abruptly from his desk and his shouting begins to frighten Prim as his tone rains down upon her.

"You're a whining little fucking baby who can't take the heat of the kitchen. Now take off that fucking uniform!

Try wearing a low top blouse, it'll up your chances to earn better tips. You are not tough, you are bullshit, you are talentless."

Not being able to take another day of being yelled at by him, Prim slams her fists against his chest, sending Chef Joel back a few steps to give her the space she's been wanting all day. "I HATE YOU!"

Noticing that she just put hands on her boss and has washed her dream career down the drain, Prim's eyes widen as she gasps.

She clutches her hand against her mouth in disbelief of what she's done. But, Joel isn't the type to back down from an altercation... most of the time, he's the one who starts them.

Joel grabs her, easily manhandling her fight as he painfully pins her wrists over her head and against the door.

Her anxiety worsens.

Oh, what a terrible feeling it is to not be in control.

"I read your stupid fucking resume.."

Joel begins to grit his words through his tightened jaw and grinding teeth as his anger peaks at an all time high.

"The only thing decent that you can make are desserts.

Everything else, you ranked mediocre scores in Culinary School. I sat at that panel and crossed you off of the list immediately because I knew you had no fucking business getting one of the twenty spots here at this apprenticeship.

You never have deserved your spot here."

"Chef! Get off of me!"

Prim fights as tears stain her cheeks and his large body begins to crush and suffocate her against the door.

"Ms. Betty fucking Crocker."

He begins to chase her eyes each time she turns away from him and his glare. Joel laughs deviously at her sure displeasure. "Why are you even here little girl?

Could have easily had yourself a little rat infested bakery in Harlem, but you actually thought that you were better than that... So let me be the first to tell you, you're not.

You're nothing. You'll never work gourmet and you'll never be an executive chef."

His words puncture her like a knife...

If it weren't for the amount of force keeping her up by her wrists, Prim's knees would've buckled by now as she'd sob to the ground.

...

"Please let me go."

Her fight is over, she loses the headstrong battle and completely drowns herself in tears.

"I-I'll tell HR what you've done to me, I will write a report on you!"

"HR?" Joel laughs.

"I am HR, I am everything here.

This is my restaurant and everything in it belongs to me... Even you."

Prim finally relaxes enough to notice that it isn't her pens and note pad stabbing her in her pockets. It's Joel's throbbing hard-on pressed flushed against her heat.

Releasing one of her wrists, Joel forces his hand inside the front of her white uniform pants.

Moving too quickly, he misses the opportunity to enter through the waistband of her panties, but that doesn't stop him from tearing them to the side and grabbing her sex inside of her pants.

She squeals as the seams from the bed of her panties tear and pop on her skin. Torn in the perfect place, leaving her pussy bare and in the palm of her boss's hand, Prim gasps at the sudden surprise.

Fingers rolling through her slick folds, she watches up at Joel in disbelief.

His pupils have burst... He's hardly even there mentally.

Hungry for her reaction and hatred for him, Joel's mouth waters as he watches her doe eyes fear him.

"A-Assault!" Prim stutters.

"Sexual Assault and Abuse!"

"I'm not even doing anything, Prim."

Joel's voice darkens into baritoned groans.

"You're the one fucking my hand."

Confusion dazes her mind.

Prim looks down at her hand holding his wrist for more of a support than a fight... She also notices the rolling in her hips, clearly getting relief as she rides the fingers of his hand.

She hadn't even realized...

Poor girl fighting the disagreement between her mind and body more than her actual fight with Joel.

But God, his hand feels good.

Long digits, cleanly short trimmed nails, a wide palm, and slightly callused skin...

A hand that has made the finest cuisine for royalty and famous public figures for the last twenty years.

A hand that is constantly talked about in every culinary magazine known to man.

A hand that is insured, and worth more than the lives of the entire kitchen staff!

... And here it is edging Prim, bringing her to a well deserved cum after another long day of pure hell.

She tightly wraps her arms around Joel's neck as the two part lips and share each other's moans in an aggressive tongue kiss.

Joel pushes from her tongue kiss, listening to her mewl with needy desire. He places his now soaked fingers into his mouth as he would taste a sample of his chef's cooking.

He absorbs it on the tastebuds of his tongue, scowling in thought as if he were coming up with opinions of what ingredients it may need.

"God you're sweet, Strawberry Shortcake."

He teases once more at Prim's love for baking dessert.

"Take all of your clothes off, I don't even want to see a hair-tie on you, understand?"

Joel takes a seat in his desk chair, manspreading his lap as it soon appears to be a yummy seat of bent long legs for Prim to sit on.

"Yes, Chef." She immediately obliges as every article of clothing leaves her flesh.

"Lock the door."

Joel gives his demands in a daringly hush tone.

Prim turns around, turning the lock and jiggling the handle to be sure of no surprises later on.

As she turns back around, she notices Joel's pants and briefs halfway down his legs, fisting his erection as he watches her with devious intentions.

Prim quietly watches at a distance...

She knows that being six-foot-four, Joel is the tallest man in the kitchen... most of the time, the tallest man in any situation.

She figured that he would be well endowed, but what she didn't expect was to see his erection being the same girth of her own wrists...

Gorgeously tanned and long with an already moist rose colored tip, but far too large for what she can take.

"Come 'ere."

Joel softly commands her to come back to him as he notices her frozen stare while clinging near the door in fear.

Continuing to tug on his cock, he pauses to feel on the soft young flesh now infront of him. His erection continues to stand tall, flush against his abdomen where his navel would be under his chef's shirt.

Joel's large hands nearly eat up her waist, almost doubling over as his fingers wrap around her.

He bites his lip as he watches the way his strong fingertips dimple her soft flesh.

He loves the gentle pudge of her belly and the roundness of her childbearing hips.

Prim's breasts are full, perky, and sit up with puffy brown areolas and pointy nipples of aroused buds...

Pretty like the appearance of his world famous almond-butter blossom cookies topped with Hershey kisses.

A million dollar baby.

She's so feminine it kills him inside, he finds her to be extremely malleable... Wanting to make her his, and have her as his sex-pet.

Better yet, let her have him as whatever she wants.

Used to the boring sex and cold bones of NYC's Fashion Week models that he constantly gives on the house martini's to, he absolutely can't wait to devour all of Prim's rich warmth.

He knows how beautiful she is as his heart beats wildly out of his chest for her, but will he ever tell her that? No.

He's rather far more excited to call her his slut as he watches his cock bulge through her stomach.

"You're thinking I could easily tear you into two, aren't you?" Joel's lips gently part as he takes a nipple into his mouth with a gentle kiss.

Prim trembles at the feeling of his mouth on her, softly placing her fingers on his shoulder for stamina.

"Oh?" He thinks to himself. "Someone isn't touching this body the way they are supposed to."

"I should split you into two, shouldn't I?"

Joel's eyes stalk up at her as he gives the same treatment to her other breast.

"For being such a fuck up? Hm?

What do you think Primrose?"

A hot tear graces down her cheek as she closes her eyes, trying her best to fight the enjoyment of Joel's gentle kisses now coming down the skin of her belly.

Joel's right hand leaves her hip and winds back to violently leave a smack on her ass.

The recoiling bounce of her round ass cheeks makes his cock twinge with desire.

"You haven't answered me once."

Prim yelps at the sudden sting, she presses her other hand onto his shoulder and depends on him fully to keep her standing.

"No Joel!" She sobs.

"Who?" Joel frowns at the sudden use of his name.

"Chef!" Prim corrects herself.

"I-I don't want you to split me into two."

"Say that you're a fuck up, Prim."

He continues to get his pleasure from degrading her down to a pulp of mush.

"Admit to it. You're a fuck up, and you're a whore."

Her eyes dart open, glossed over with tears.

"I'm not a whor—"

Joel immediately stands from his chair, towering over her as he forces out her submission.

"I swear to god, I'll fuck you right now without any mercy." Joel threatens her with an injuring grasp to both of her arms.

"No!" Prim weeps, stuttering what he wants to hear her say in vast embarrassment.

"I'm a fuck up, and I-I'm a whore..."

The shame burns her face, however, she's glad that he has sat back down.

"Good, baby."

Joel coos as he pulls her back to him.

"Now I'll take care of you. Work you open a bit, hm?"

Hearing him use the term 'baby' to refer to her, makes Prim melt. She likes when Joel is nice to her, but maybe she likes when he is mean too.... How else did she end up here with soaked thighs?

As he notices her nod, Joel gently lifts her onto the edge of his desk.

He places her legs on his shoulder blades, and between her thighs open widely for him... Kinda like looking down at a dinner plate of gourmet cooking.

He notices Prim's entire body trembling and he loves every second of it. Kissing her ankles on each side of his face, Joel bends his face closer to his desk as his wide tongue swipes through her cunt.

The feeling turns her arms into putty and Prim quickly catches herself as her elbows slam keys down on his computer's keyboard.

Joel finds her clit.

Licking the bud and slurping it into his mouth as it pulls from her flesh.

Prim shouts a desperate moan, attempting to push his head away from her.

Her clit already swollen and toyed with from each time she'd squeeze her thighs together for sexual relief.

Joel tossses her hand out of his way, however allowing her to run her fingers through his hair because he likes the feel of it.

His slurping and swallowing is lewd and far from gentle, as if he were trying to devour her completely.

His tongue presses at her entrance and begins to probe as far as it can go inside of her.

Warming her to the coming fuck, Joel places a finger inside and realizes how tight she actually is when he struggles with adding the second one.

"M'fuck! Chef, please let me up!"

Prim nearly hyperventilates as a spring painfully tightens in the midst of her stomach.

"I feel like I'm going to pee! Let me go!"

He forces in a third finger instead, it's uncomfortable, but it also brings her closer to her cum. Joel's fingers spasm upwards, knuckles curling and knocking on the walls of her g-spot.

"Joel!"

She complains, now prying his fingers from out of her cunt and his lips from the kisses at her clit.

"I-I can't hold it!"

Joel knows from the way her pussy is collapsing around his fingers that she's almost there, however watching Prim worry that she'll piss herself gives him the ultimate amount of joy.

Her breath hitches inside of her throat, as she gasps for air once more. Her pussy soaks the desk and between her thighs as she finally squirts for him.

Wanting to shout from the exhausting orgasm however she can't, inaudible due to it stealing her adorable raspy voice.

Pussy numb and worked through, Joel can't wait to find his nut in the depths of her womb.

Devious thoughts of keeping Prim here, swollen and fat with his baby as he watches her work his kitchen, crying obnoxiously and tired, makes him so horny.

The man is truly awful... So terribly mean that he doesn't even know if he likes her or hates her.

But to him, there isn't a difference.

Prim's eyes hang almost shut as her full lips are parted, clearly tired while still coming down from her high.

He snatches her off of the desk and into his lap like a rag doll. His cock painfully rock hard and balls blue from being so patient with her.

"Please.." Prim begs softly.

"I can't, I need a break.

I-I can give you head but Joel, please I'm numb."

"Don't want your mouth." Joel refuses as he prepares to fuck her dumb. "I've had enough of that all day today."

He lets Prim lean against his body, chest to chest in the office chair as she lays her head tiredly against his shoulder.

"But I won't talk back again."

Prim continues to plead mercilessly.

"I promise Chef Joel."

"Hush now, Prim."

His mouth marks her with love-bruises as he sucks rounded red and purple hickies on her flesh.

He wants the world to see who she belongs to, he wants Carmy to see who she belongs to.

"Save your promises for something you'll actually keep.

I know that a brat like you will always talk back."

Lifting her off of his lap, Joel lines his cock with her entrance. Only gliding it once through her slickness for lubricant, he then sets Prim all the way down, slowly having her take his every inch of impalement.

"Fucking, shit." Joel hisses, tightly shutting his eyes at how nicely her insides hug him.

"Ahh, I'm not lasting long in this shit."

"M'Joel!!!"

Prim whines, arms wrapped around his neck as he lifts her underneath her thighs and lowers her continuously back onto his cock.

"I know baby." He gulps. "Fuck— I know."

Checking his watch, he realizes the restaurant is soon to reopen for the dinner crowd.

He isn't very worried, confident that a warm cunt like this will have him cumming in under a minute.

Joel sets Prim down on the entirety of his erection, pressing his hand over the prominent tummy bulge and the cushiony flesh of her cervix.

"Fuck that's good." He mewls.

"Listen to me." He begins.

Prim silently hangs her head in the crook of his neck.

He snatches her face into his view, strong fingers cupping her soft cheeks and puckering her lips.

"Who are you fucking?"

Joel grunts with each thrust into her, suddenly becoming furious if anyone else has had this pussy.

"No one."

Prim's warm cinnamon scented breath warms his face, he knows that she's been sneaking cinnamon streusels out from the desserts tray prepped for tonight. He can smell it.

Joel could yell, but the sweet warmly scented breath causes a web of his jizz to paint her insides.

He calms himself before he cums too quickly and erupts.

"Prim, I'm not fucking around."

Joel presses on, watching his newest love be bounced on his cock, tired and near drooling.

"I told you to take off your clothes and they instantly fell to the floor. Who else do you get this fucking slutty for?

And don't fucking lie to me."

He strums her clit like a guitar string to wake her out of her sex-daze.

"Just you!" She bursts truthfully...

Determined to gatekeep the new jewel that he has found, he is forced to trust her words.

But Prim is no liar.

What chef apprentice has time for a sex life during their terribly busy schedule?

The best enjoyment Prim gets at home is from a vibrator that never gets her where she needs to be... just helps her sleep.

And other than a few finger-happy frat boys in college, she can't remember the last time she's been touched by anyone but herself.

Pausing with his hips flushed against her ass, and cock still buried deep inside of her, Joel looks at the girl with thoughts of having something more with her...

He shakes the thought from his head...

No. He'll never be that fucking nice.

"I won't be your boyfriend, I won't be your man, and I won't be your fucking friend."

He begins with stern determination.

"But god knows that I am going to fuck you like this every day because you are mine.

If I find out you're giving this pussy away to anyone else I swear I will ruin your name in every worthy restaurant in the entire world. I will have you slinging Big Macs for the rest of your pathetic little life, understand me?"

Joel threatens his young apprentice, but he knows because he is starting to care for her, he'd never actually jeopardize her future.

Prim gently caresses the sides of his stubbles face as she begins to smile lightly.

"Smiling?" Joel thinks to himself.

"Why the fuck is she smiling? Such a pretty smile, but what? Does she think I'm pussy or something?

That she's won?"

"Don't fucking smile at me..." Joel gulps, continuously throbbing in the pit of her pussy.

Prim lowers her eyes into something intoxicating and soul stirring. She begins to arch her back, slowly bucking her hips against him as he watches her come alive and fuck him back.

"I think you like me, Joel.."

"Are you fucking stupid? What did I tell you to call me?"

He gulps.

Prim sweetly nibbles at his earlobe, enticing him with a whisper. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

A caught breath chokes him.

Joel has to catch her hips before her grinding makes him cum.

Daddy?

God he loved that.

"Chef."

He corrects her in a gulp as the muscles in his entire body begins to tighten.

Receiving a kiss from her doesn't help...

He wants to feel these kisses every morning that he wakes up.

Only insulting her can help with the way that he feels right now, so that's what he does.

"You're a terrible chef, a weak woman who cries too much, hardheaded, ill tempered, pathetic, and your sweat stinks."

He lies, her sweat smells as if someone were baking cookies.

"I stink?" She coyly taunts.

"Maybe I should get up then."

Prim attempts to get up and Joel refuses.

"No!"

Sounding desperate, he tugs her back down into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as he embraces her and inhales the smell of her sweet smelling perspiration.

Prim laughs at him as she softly brushes her fingers through his hair. "I thought so."

He's losing...

Losing this battle terribly.

"I despise you." He ups it a notch.

"You think you're winning but you'll be nothing but a toy to me."

"And you'll be nothing but a wet mouth to me."

Prim contends. 

Annoyed with her back talk, Joel grabs her arms, pressing them against her sides.

"You are such a b—"

"Bitch?" Prim interrupts, making the Head Chef's eyes widen. "Yeah, I'll be that bitch. The only bitch that can make you cum during this pitifully short lunch break."

He sucks his teeth, nostrils flaring as if angered steam could come out any second now.

Instead of arguing with the pragmatic girl any longer, Joel puts his words to action...

He stands up from the chair, carrying Prim with her legs wrapped around his waist...

He shows her exactly what he means about becoming his toy.

Joel's eyes darken and jawline tightens.

He begins to thrash Prim onto his cock and thrusting upwards into her with an awful attitude of pure rage.

Even Prim, the woman he's determined to have, can't change the ways of an impossible control freak like Chef Joel.

He will have what he wants his way, and no other way is acceptable. Hopefully Prim knows what she has gotten herself into with him.

Arms wrapped around Joel's neck and being fucked into like a whore, Prim sees what he means about being his toy.

He holds her tiny waist and violates her like his personal cock sleeve.

Fucking her with no importance as if she were a fleshlight that he'll throw under his bed when he's finished.

Her eyes widen and the hot stream of her tears hit his back, making Joel grin deviously knowing that she can't take the rough fuck from him any longer.

He huffs and grunts so eager and focused on his finish that he ignores Prim's complaints about his uncomfortable jabs.

A final orgasm consumes her, making Prim once again putty in his arms, hoarse, and unable to complain.

Her nails dig into the skin of his back as she closes her eyes tightly from the shamefully lewd sounds of their bodies slapping together.

Her cunt drips with nectar for him every second and she hates that she has no control over it.

Her pussy clenches in overstimulated waves of shock and Joel's cock spasms as he continues to get squeezed. Jamming his cock in her as far as he can, he releases his hot cum... filling the girl's womb without a thought to pullout.

"Jesus— fuck, you can take cock."

His words are again harsh, however for some reason, they feel even more cruel than before.

As his balls are completely drained and milked, Joel places Prim into his office chair.

Unsure of what just happened, she closes her trembling legs shut.

She gasps as Joel prys them back apart again to watch his seed drip out of her.

Prim's innocent eyes watch up at him as she stares in disbelief... Joel chuckles and licks his lips at the sight of the oozing cum.

She now realizes that possessiveness has nothing to do with genuinely liking someone...

She is exactly as he said, just his toy.

Tucking his cock back into his briefs, the timer for dinner rush goes off on his desk.

As he turns the alarm off, Joel tosses Prim's clothes at her.

"Get dressed." He demands, without a care of her body still being sore and needing rest.

"Get back in the kitchen, and this time don't break the fucking sauce. If I ever see you flirt with Carmen Berzatto again, I'll fire your ass at a drop of a dime, understand?"

Prim sniffles back her tears...

Although her mind is full of confusion about where her and her boss stand at this point, at least she has her second chance to get back into the kitchen.

She wipes her fallen tears, redressing her sex-battered body still dripping of his semen into her uniform...

She gulps. "Yes, Chef."

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Heyy, I’ve been reading your wonderful one piece works for a while — and I couldn’t stop wondering how are you actually doing those magnificent headers?

Like… hello? The great quality, with additional 3D-alike details I could catch by my eyes? I got only Ibis Paint X on mobile, since I’m only a young man that literally two months ago went on a life-time ‘adventure’ of living alone in a small apartment.

In short — I got no money to pay for additional graphics/drawing programs, not yet at least

Hello!

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my writing - I'm curious to know what's your favorite piece / part? Also I'm so happy you like my headers? Makes it feel worth it to spend time on them! :D

I have excellent news for you, I used a mix of Canva and Photopea. They're both FREE!

I'll be explaining the process for making these two kinda? The full tutorial is below the cut, to be courteous to the other folks, hope you don't mind?

Though I am hearing that Canva has given people some grief. But Photopea is just *chefs kiss*

If you've ever used photoshop, Photopea is essentially a free photoshop, and it even has the automation tools! An absolute lifesaver when you have multiple layers you want to export (but that's for larger projects not this)

I'm going to assume you have basic knowledge of layers in digital drawing programs for this. If anything isn't clear: ask me, I'll clarify!

//-------------------------------------------------

My General Process is:

Search for official art / images

bring it into canva / photopea

crop / arrange images to match the dimensions

select a thematic color that is associated with the character

separate the foreground from the background

mess around and test things until they work

//--------------------------------------------------

Given "Louder than Words" is the latest one I've made, I'll start with the process for it.

Dimensions: 3000 x 1055 px dpi: 96

//-------------------------------------------

Let's Get Crackin'

Alright let's grab some official art so we're not using any fanart without the artist's permission

I try to pick images that feel relevant enough to what I'm trying to make. For example: the image for the Matching banner shows the ASCE tattoo which is super important in that fic

2. Let's arrange them onto a banner where each individual image has the same/similar dimensions to the rest

That's probably part of why you like these. To a certain extent they have similar dimensions, so they have a uniformity that's pleasing to the eye! (It's not perfect because I threw perfectionism to the wind because this is tumblr not my portfolio) Tip: if you have 3 images and only 2 that have similar dimensions, and the 3rd one can't be cropped logically: but the one that's a different aspect ratio in the middle!

3. lets arrange them in such a way that the borders all feel like they're the same/equal width/thickness

you might find that you have to shrink some images for this, that's fine.

ALTERNATIVELY: if you're going with one image crop it so it's just the relevant info and it matches the dimensions (3000 x 1055 px)

We have our base! Now let's add some color, and direct the viewer's eye together!

4. pick out a color that you think matches your character / vibe - that color is going to be your background Given I'm making an Ace banner: orange is the color I'm going with

I went and named my layers for this lol. The numbers represent the opacity, and they aren't important. I just kept changing the opacity until I liked the way things looks. But here's the secret to the 3D feel:

Motionblur (+ moving it about)

Separating the foreground and background and dulling out the background.

I'm going to show you my process so you can see the effects, but first let's give you some quick skills:

//------------------------------------

SKILLS / THINGS I THINK ARE HELPFUL

//------- Select Similar

magic wand -> select something -> right-click -> select similar This works best when you have high contrast images (like manga panels that are black and white). You can select the black or the white areas. Depending on what works better for you. TIP! Invert selections with ctrl + i Say you know that you want to select everything but Ace's face in the second panel. Select his face with the magic wand then ctrl + i, and that's the only thing NOT selected

TIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please, please, please, duplicate your original image and work on the duplicate layer. This helps you SO much. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIP! Check your selection tolerance! This could be why too little, or too much is being selected.

//------- The Move Tool

Shortcut key: v While the move tool is active, you can nudge the stuff on whatever layer with your arrow keys Shift + arrow key = 10 px move (generally)

//------- Layer Locking

1- Layer Blending Mode (see Overlay vs Multiply vs Normal) for how this can affect results) 2- Opacity: how see through it is / isn't 3- Lock Transparency (it's the little checker board) 4- Lock Layer (looks like a lock) 5- Lock icon that appears when anything on the layer has been locked More on 3 Lock Transparency: You can only paint on / modify what's on that layer. You CANNOT add anything to any area that is already transparent Here's a demo of what you can do with this power:

Here's the original Image - notice how it's just the lineart with a transparent background.

It's powerful: abuse it

//------- Overlay vs Multiply vs Normal

I think seeing this is the best way to visualize how different modes can affect the color.

//--------------------------------

Back to the Tutorial

!!I IMPORTANT NOTE !!

Please play around with the opacity slider to figure out what opacity works best for you on the multiple different layers we're about to make / work with. It's up to your own style to figure this out. Next: please feel free to not follow all of it. Add more layers, add less layers, take the base principles and go wild! :D

5. Separate the lineart from the background and save it as a new layer 6. Duplicate it and set it to overlay, or set it to overlay immediately

7. Duplicate that lineart layer twice and set the blending mode to overlay 8. lock transparency on the top one and change it to be a dark grey 9. Apply motion blur to both:

Main menu bar -> Filter -> Motion Blur I made it so that the grey layer was blurrier than the black layer

10. More them around a little to give it a "3D effect" as you called it.

It creates shadows under the lines - I was aiming for an effect similar to chromatic aberration (chromatic aberration is a valid way to add punch to your stuff too!)

So this is what things look like now - painful, but let's keep going

11. Duplicate the ORIGINAL / BASE lineart layer, that you DID not apply motion blur to -> set the blend mode to multiply (reduce opacity for it to actually take effect)

okay that's less painful here's what the layers look like right now:

let's bring more focus to Ace's face, and push the background farther away:

12. Use the magic wand tool to quickly select large areas of the faces / focal area / foreground and the lasso tool to refine things

TIP! Hold shift + click -> add to selection Hold Alt + click -> subtract from selection

13. On a new layer with blending mode -> lighten, fill that selection to be white

If you look at it, you'll notice that it is ALREADY starting to draw our attention to his face, but the background is kinda aggressive, so let's dim that down

TIP! Right-click on the gradient tool to find the paint-bucket tool

TIP! Sample All Layers: Turning this option off makes it so that you only work with the content on THAT specific layer. Turning it on makes it so that it is working while taking all other layers into consideration.

14. ctrl + click on the "white foreground" layer to select the contents of that specific layer (pink thing is your mouse)

15. ctrl + i to invert selection and ON A NEW LAYER (layer mode -> multiply) fill that with a complementary color

16. I did one last thing where I took the original base (before we separated the lineart) and added it to the very top and played with the opacity to get something less in your face (layer blend mode was set to NORMAL)

And that's it!

More considerations that I take:

I want the banner to be "thin" or not square, so it doesn't take up too much screen real estate on people's devices

I don't want readers having to scroll too much to get to my writing (which is the whole point of the post, let's not waste their time making them look for things)

I want the banner content to be relevant enough?

ie: with Matching: I wanted the ASCE tattoo to be visible. With matching I wanted Ace to not look too happy in some of them.

I'm also trying to avoid spoilers, I hated getting things spoiled, so I'm trying to be careful that the images I pick don't spoil anything really.

Congrats on starting life on your own! I did that whole living by myself thing too! Tip: keep the pantry stocked with lentils, beans, pastas, baking essentials, rice. They really come in a clutch when you're hungry.

[capobegone]

Kny Character as Sea Slugs Pt. 3

Part 1: Tanjiro and Hashira

Part 2: Muzan and Upper Moons

We’re back with more!! My tumblr has been glitching recently so hopefully this one shows up in the tags. Part 3 will include the rest of Tanjiro’s squad and a few of my other favorites!!

Agatsuma Zenitsu

-This one is called a Sea Lemon! My awesome lab partner and I did a presentation about these bad boys hehe

-It looks exactly like him. I can’t take this dhshsj

Hashibira Inosuke

-We’ve got the dark blue of his uniform AND the fluffy brown fur

-The white tips kinda look like tusks too!!

Shinazugawa Genya

-It has the 2-tone of his little haori (???) on it!

-Also kinda reminds me of his wild hair

Kamado Nezuko

-Just look at this little chunk of a slug!! It’s so cute!!

-The pink and black works well for her I think

Tsuyuri Kanao

-So pretty and so butterfly-esque

-It reminds me of her personality tbh I feel like this is a very sweet and quiet slug

Kaigaku

-The blue and gold brings out his accessories

-Would electrocute you if it could

Ubuyashiki Kagaya

-I think this man deserves an ethereal looking slug

-The light purple?? The subtle glow?? Beautiful wonderful incredible it looks very calm

Enmu

-I can’t lie I’m not really that much of an Enmu fan but this is a COOL slug and it is perfect for him

-The pink and the turquoise with the pale skin is *chef’s kiss*

Tamayo

-I like the way it’s looking at me

-The subtle red is like her kimono

Yushiro

-It looks like it’s judging me which is very him

-The ombré and little purple details look like his hair and eyes I think

Anyway that’s all for part 3!! Hopefully this one shows up in the tags, my tumblr has been weird as of late :0 If I’m still missing your favorite character, hit up the ask box and they shall be sluggified!