#chef AU

[batneko]

have some chef AU!

#we don't observe april fools day in my house this is just a normal comic #chef au #food #bowuigi #luigi #bowser #super mario bros #luwser #bowigi #green shell #iggy koopa #wendy o koopa #my art

[ohmygraves]

thinking about chef au

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

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

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

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

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

"almost done!"

"hurry the fuck up!"

"bene!"

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

he's a pro.

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

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

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

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

"jealous, bonnie?"

"hell no."

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

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

"sure you're fine?"

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

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

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

"you work here by yourself?"

"yeah."

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

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

#HEAVILY inspired by bambino manga btw #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty headcanon #cod headcanon #chef au

[astyrial]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "osamu, you almost done with that?" 

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

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

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

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

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

  "i think onigiri would be delicious for dinner."

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #chef au

[togrowoldinv]

Chef

Natasha Romanoff x Chef!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks Max,” you say genuinely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My place?” You ask her quietly.

“Definitely,” she replies.

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

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

Your phone dings and you dread looking at it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

“I’m starving,” she says.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?”

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

You sit next to her and enjoy your own serving.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, thanks,” you reply shyly.

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

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

“Please,” you say.

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

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

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

“Me too,” you say.

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

“Take me to bed, chef?” She asks.

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

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

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff #chef au #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #wanda maximoff #tony stark #bruce banner

[firenati0n]

several sentence sunday <3 :)

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

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

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

xoxo roop

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

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

#roop writes #rwrb fic #fics #several sentence sunday #chef au #rwrb #fic: carmy!alex #this hurts me to write bc it is so personal #it's not just a character study on alex #but almost on me as well #so #hope you like it because i do be crying while writing ajfsdkljflasdf #the words have not been coming easy these past few weeks so thank you for being patient and sticking around #idk what's going on in the noggin but it is Not Great #hope to get this lil guy out soon though #or maybe not! time is fake :)

[qedart]

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

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

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

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

Naturally their philosophies crash. 

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

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

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

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

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

#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #ron slider kerner #icemav #well sorta #in the future #top gun #restaurant au #chef au #art

[dpr-stay]

The Moon | YT22

Chef Au! Yuki Tsunoda x Reader

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

WC: ~5.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always wanted to bake.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuki?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then his car door opened.

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

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

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

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

#Yuki tsunoda x reader #f1 x reader #Yuki tsunoda x you #Yuki x reader #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #Yuki tsunoda fanfic #Yuki tsunoda one shot #YOU CAN COPY PASTE TAGS??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? #chef au #let yuki open a restaurant #f1 imagine #f1 reaction #formula one imagine #nighty night #Spotify

[partyanimal167]

Stubborn as a Bull- Doflamingo x F!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guess he was stubborn too.

~~~

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

I will write him more! Thanks for stopping by!

#one piece #one piece x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #modern au #chef au #fem reader #partyanimal167

[pickledpascal]

Meat & Candy

Chapter Three

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

Word Count: 3.6k

Meat & Candy Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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

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

Castiel hoped it was the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lately, Emma hasn't been fine with it. 

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

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

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

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

“You suck.” Sam wasn't impressed.

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

“And you swallow.” Dean countered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Castiel looked from Claire to Gabriel with curious eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

Wait, when did he become Cas?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cooking could be intimate with the right person after all. 

Or it could be hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had no idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean let out a small laugh. “Hungry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserved more. 

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

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

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

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

Fuck, Dean loved her with all his heart. 

———

taglist: @nexus-my-beloved

#jensen ackles #supernatural #transgender #spn #queer #destiel #deancas #dean and cas #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x castiel #castiel #sam winchester #trans!dean x castiel #castiel novak #benny lafitte #charlie bradbury #cassie robinson #misha collins #jack kline #lee webb #chef au #journalism #chef

[camthesolemnone]

We need the mercs put up against one another in one of those dramatic cooking competition shows. Demo nearly blows up the entire set, Sniper and Spy are aggressively insult-flirting from opposite sides of the kitchen, Pyro whips out a huge cookbook with generations worth of family recipes, Scout gets disqualified for trying to sabotage the others, Soldier locks himself in the walk in freezer, Medic takes the challenge way too seriously and Heavy has to carry him home in a death grip so he doesn’t kill one of the judges after being eliminated, and Engineer takes home the cash prize with some good ol Southern BBQ.

#tf2 #chef au #sniperspy #heavymedic #the sillies

[batneko]

Things are heating up in the chef AU!

I apologize for nothing.

previous comic. This is probably like, Friday, so it's a good thing Wendy didn't take that bet.

#bowuigi #luigi #bowser #super mario bros #luwser #bowigi #green shell #my art #chef au

[ohmygraves]

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

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

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

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

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanon #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #chef au

[jvngkook97]

Suga and Spice

pairing; chef!yoongi x female!reader

genre; fluff, humor, smut, established relationship, domestic au, chef au

warnings; mainly just wholesome fluffy content with a sprinkle of spice in the form of shower sex

rating; 21+ MINORS DNI

w/c; 3,588

a/n; missing my other bias and wanted to give him some lurv so here ya go. like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback is always appreciated and helps keep this writer motivated. <3

networks; @ficscafe, @thebtswritersclub, @kflixnet

Your head was tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth gaping like a fish out of water. A moan that was on the borderline of being a whimper could be heard within the silence of the room as your partner gave out a sigh of content and on the verge of begging for more—

—he shoves another spoonful of the delicious and perfectly cooked food into your mouth to silence your whining that he knew was coming.

“You’re ridiculous, y/n.”

You opened your eyes to gaze into those of your lover’s and gave him a loopy Cheshire grin.

“How are you even real? Are you secretly AI? Is that how you’re so indescribably good at cooking?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head with mock annoyance, though the slight quirk of the corner of his upper lip said he was thoroughly amused by your shenanigans.

“You know what you should do, Yoongs?”

Dropping his hand to land flat on the table, he gives you his full undivided attention.

“What’s that, y/n?”

“You should marry me.”

He gave you a deadpan expression, and wordlessly grabbed your left hand with one of his own, holding it in front of you with your fingers splayed and used his other hand’s pointer finger to emphasize on the dainty but custom made engagement ring he slipped on your finger only two weeks ago on your birthday.

“Well I’ll be! Would you look at that?”

You leaned over the short distance to give him a chaste kiss on the lips, one he returned in kind without a thought, the action now second nature to the male. Never one to express his inner feelings, he only hopes that through his gestures and actions alone you’re able to feel what he might never say out loud.

Which you do, of course. Especially when you taste his delectable foods that he puts his entire heart and soul into.

“Did you still want to bake tonight? If not, we can just watch a movie or whatever.” He placed his hand over yours on top of the table, thumb mindlessly running over the groves of your knuckles as he asked, his eyes not once leaving yours.

Another thing you loved about Yoongi, that with you, he always maintained eye contact whenever possible. More of his love language coming out for you only.

“Sure! What did you have in mind for tonight, Chef Yoongi?”

He snorted at the formal words that inwardly made him swell with pride when you were the one saying them.

“Let’s make eclair’s. It’s considered a romantic dessert with the added bonus of it uses a lot of eggs so I can go through the extra carton you bought.”

“It was an accident! This is why I tell you it’s better if we shop together for groceries!” You whined childishly, making him crack a grin.

“I was only joking, y/n. But the recipe does call for quite a bit of eggs so it works out.”

Good enough for you. You’ve never made eclairs before, so Yoongi teaches you the ropes. This kind of pastry dough requires near constant mixing, so you trade off when your arms get tired. You eye his strong, toned arms dubiously as he mixes with a serious look of concentration when it’s his turn yet again.

“Do you even need to switch?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just enjoy watching you work.”

You don’t miss the little smirk he gives as he says this and you narrow your eyes at his when he gives the whisk back to you. He leans on the counter next to you in what is clearly meant to be a seductive pose. He blatantly rakes his eyes over your figure as you painstakingly begin whisking again.

Deciding to give him a show, your own form of revenge to his snide remark from earlier, you lift the whisk out of the bowl and lick it as seductively as you can. This actually gets Yoongi to break, of all things.

“Gross! You’re still using that!”

“What? Afraid of a little bodily fluid?”

You’re talking about saliva and you both know it, but he’s never one to back down from an innuendo. So, he resumes his prior sexy stance and waggles his eyebrows.

“You know I’m not. The more, the merrier.”

It’s so absurd, yet true when it comes to him and his kinks that you can’t decide whether you want to laugh or jump his bones right then and there. Your thighs unconsciously rub together as your mind shifts from the innocence of baking, to one’s not so innocent.

Eventually, all the eggs are incorporated into the dough, so it’s ready for the oven. Just moments after the oven door is shut and a timer is set, you hear a loud crunch followed by something wet and cold on the top of your head.

“Oopsie.”

You gasp with wide eyed disbelief.

“You did not just crack an egg on my head, Min Yoongi!”

“I didn’t.” He shrugged off casually, before continuing smartly. “I specifically smashed an egg on your head – there’s a difference. My way includes egg shells.”

You feel some egg white drip on the shell of your ear and your body shivers involuntarily. You can’t help yourself any longer. You leap after him but he shrieks with laughter and dodges out of your grasp. The sound is like music to your ears with how rare it occurs.

Filled with a wild frenzy, you chase Yoongi all over the kitchen and into the living room when he flees there. He’s quick, and no matter how fast you run he always seems to be just out of your reach.

Instead, you go for a different approach. Scooping some of the egg from your hair, you hurl it at him. It lands square in his neck with a satisfying wet plop and you let out a whoop of victory.

“What? Is that all you got?” He taunts you, not phased in the least bit when he wipes the egg white onto his shirt without a care. Now he’s in competition mode, but so are you.

“Not even close.”

You take another scoop and rub the eggy mess between your hands until they’re nice and gooey. Then, you reach your arms out towards him in a signature zombie pose.

He laughs, eyes crinkling and gummy smile on full display as he maneuvers back into the kitchen. Using the farther side of the kitchen island as a barrier between you two, he stares you down, both hands splayed on the marble countertop trying to predict your next move.

Your eyes zero in on the egg carton placed dangerously close to him that was left wide open when he used one against you; that was your mistake. He follows your line of sight and instantly snatches the carton into his hands, holding it in a vice grip.

“I don’t think so, hon—.”

In an impulsive move, you juke him to the left but run around to the right, barely managing to corner him between the fridge and one of the counters. Yes! You plant your still grimy hands on either side of his shoulders boxing him and the egg carton in.

You’re completely out of breath, and as you realize this, you see Yoongi’s eyes dart to your lips and back. You mimick his line of sight and notice he’s panting just as heavily. Belatedly, you realize – you are incredibly turned on. Judging from the look on Yoongi’s face and the way he’s currently licking his lips, so is he.

In an instant your arms are wrapped around him and you’re kissing, the nearly empty egg carton dropping between you both and only making a slight mess on the white flooring, not that either of you really cared at the moment. His hands roamed the curve of your spine before landing underneath the curve of your ass instead. The kiss becomes more heated and intense, the bulge pressed against your lower stomach let’s you know exactly how into this your lover is, the fact only turning you on more.

It’s amazing. It’s blissful. And it’s hot as hell.

And then it’s ruined by you feeling yet another glob of egg drop from your hair and this time into your neck, the mucus like consistency makes your whole body cringe into the kiss and makes Yoongi reluctantly pull away from your impromptu make out session early.

“You okay?” His words are low, and you can hear the amount of desire he still feels for you in his voice. The tapping of his fingers on your ass let’s you know that he’s also clearly impatient and wants to continue.

“Yeah. Just, you know. Covered in egg is all.”

“And? So is the floor? Doesn’t seem to mind that we’ll just be cle–,” Yoongi pauses, considers something with a faraway look on his face, and then a devilish glint passes through his eyes. “You know, I may just have a solution for that.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

“It’s obvious we could each use a shower, a good cleaning. And guess whose shower is big enough for two people?”

The idea sends a thrill through your entire body, and you wordlessly take Yoongi’s hand and lead you both to his master bathroom’s shower.

Not wanting to waste any time, Yoongi let’s go of your hand to make himself busy with turning on the water. While it’s warming up, both of your clothes come off in haphazard piles on the floor only a few feet away from the entrance to the shower. You barely even think about it, mind too consumed with the idea of what’s about to happen, but when you catch sight of Yoongi you have to pause.

You’re absolutely breathless.

His naked body is strong and taut, and even under the fluorescent bathroom lights he’s absolutely breathtaking. For a moment, you think back to the first day you two met, and it brings a warmth into your chest when you see just how far you two have come from that fateful day. You don’t know how you got so lucky to find a man like him, but you know you’ll never take him or what you two have for granted.

When he notices you staring, he gives you a sultry smirk.

“See anything you like?”

“Not sure. I need to look a little more.”

He takes a step closer to your now nude form and grabs your hand in his, gesturing for you to take a little twirl of your own so he can soak in the beauty that is your own body in all it’s perfectly imperfect glory, and you do, with a small giggle passing through your lips.

A woman is a mystery a man just can’t understand. But he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to figure out the mystery on how you somehow chose him of all people to spend the rest of your life with. His heart yearns to always be by your side and his soul wants nothing but to please you and give you a life you deserve.

To him? You’re his soulmate. His forever.

“You’re quite the treat yourself, you know? Dare I say, even more mouth watering than the eclairs.”

He gives you a loving forehead kiss, knowing those are one of your favorites, and steps closer to you to reach around you and feel if the temperature of the water was good. As he leans against you, you can’t help but run your fingers down his chest, nails only lightly scraping the unblemished skin you’re so envious of, the action making his chest rumble underneath your hands as he lets out a low growl. The sound shoots straight to your core.

Deeming the water good enough, he leads you into the shower and underneath the ridiculously large rainfall shower head that at this moment, your body is grateful for as it sags in euphoric relief. Yoongi chuckles at your reaction and realizes it’s better to actually get cleaned up before your little shower sex session.

So, first things first, you both make quick work of cleaning the egg off of each of your bodies. You take turns dunking your heads under the water, scrubbing at your hair with shampoo and conditioner, and neck with soap as you do. Yoongi does the same.

After you’ve rinsed your hair out for the last time, do Yoongi’s arms snake around you. Though, more importantly, you feel his body flush against your front, the contact of your now hardened nipples against his chest only spurs both of you on even more.

Feeling handsy, you grasp his butt, his hips, and then ever so slowly you trail your fingertips down his ‘V’ line. You hear his breath spike as your hand finds it’s place between his legs.

His own hands roam across your body and down until his hand slips between your legs and you can’t help but groan at the contact. Your eyes have maintained contact this whole time so you’ve been fortunate to witness the steady progression of the hunger that’s deep within as it makes its way to the surface.

Then, his mouth is on yours and you’re all in. The water runs over your bodies as you hold each other under the stream. You brace yourself against the shower wall and the tile is cool under your palm, your leg is wrapped around his waist and you’re basically standing on your tip toes with your other foot to accommodate him. You let out a low whine when you feel the tip of his cock tease your opening, your eyes falling closed reflexively from the simple amount of pleasure it brought you.

Yoongi is focused on your face the entire time when he fully sheathes himself inside of you and lets out his own little grunt of content. He gives you a moment to adjust before you’re tapping his ass with the heel of your foot to signal the go ahead. Then, his body is moving and you’re meeting him with each thrust of your own hips, the sound of wet skin slapping against one another reverberates within the enclosed space along with the rhythmic pattern of the water still falling on the shower floor around you.

Opening your eyes, knowing that Yoongi yearns for it, especially during sex, you have to bite your lip and will them not to close again when he does a particularly sharp thrust that has you parting your lips to reward him with a loud moan. The water has plastered his hair to his forehead, so you push it away, eyes locking in a deep gaze. They’re wild with desire and you know that yours aren’t any different.

His breathing is starting to get heavier, and you can feel him tensing under your hands. He forces himself to slow down his pace in order to prolong his release long enough to give you yours first, an unspoken rule that he’s created for himself, you being none the wiser.

With one hand holding himself up from crushing you against the wall, he holds his other hand underneath the stream of water around him for a second, and before you have time to register what he’s going to do, his expert fingers are already slithering their way down your stomach and finding a new purpose on your swollen bud. Your entire body arches into his from the unexpected contact that has your mind reeling with a few colorful words, some falling from your lips in a low chant that soon get quieted by Yoongi’s own words of praise.

“Does that feel good, baby?” A rapid nod of your head is all you can give in the current moment, eyes still locked with his. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?”

Your back arches, boobs pushing into his chest even more, with your hips picking up their own brutal pace against his as you chase your release with a fervor. He knows when your thrusts start stuttering and slowing down that you’re getting very close.

“That’s it. You’re doing so good. You’re almost there.” He dips his head into the crook of your neck to whisper the words into your ear, feeling your walls clench around him in a vice. He gives a moan of his own and it’s all you need as you let out a cry of relief once you reach your starry orgasm.

With a few more quick and deep thrusts it doesn’t take him long himself to find his own as his hips still against yours, his whole body weight leaning into yours has you squished between him and the wall with a breathy whine coming from you – both from the sudden weight and you still coming down from your high.

With what little strength he has left, he slowly lowers your leg so you’re standing on both, but makes sure he has an arm secure around your waist just incase you needed a moment to collect yourself and regain your own strength to stand on your own as he pulls his weight off of you.

“Sorry, needed a minute. Are you okay?”

His worried eyes flicker between your half lidded ones as you let out a breathy laugh at his question, though internally your heart swelled at his immediate need to make sure you were okay.

“I’m more than okay, actually. That was fucking amazing. Ten out of ten, would definitely recommend doing again.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t disagree with you. Pressing a kiss to your awaiting lips, he caresses your cheek before pulling away to turn the water off. Thus, ending your shower session. You detangle from one another to carefully step out into the now very cold air of the bathroom, the steam from within the enclosed shower no longer keeping your bodies warm.

He hands you your favorite robe that he makes sure is always clean incase you need to use it, and you take it with a wide grin, immediately shrugging the fluffy material on your nude body as you snuggle into the collar with a sigh.

He just smiles lovingly at you, and there’s a beautiful moment of post coital silence between you while you dry off, but then—

“Oh, shit. Oh no. No, no, no–,”

He runs from the bathroom, and for a second you’re confused on his rushed behavior, before your eyes widen in realization. The eclairs! Did the timer go off? You didn’t hear it.

Securing the robe around your body tightly, you briskly walk out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. You’re just in time to see Yoongi, stark naked except for a pair of oven mitts, pulling a slightly smoking sheet pan out of the oven. The smoke causes a brief cloud to linger above the kitchen and you hurry over to the kitchen window to open it and let the smoke naturally clear out.

You turn back around as he carefully sets the hot sheet pan onto the grill of the stove, then leans back against the counter next to it with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and a deep sigh emitting from his parted lips.

The corner of your lip quirks up at the sight, and you can’t help but let out a cheeky remark.

“I like this look on you.”

He spares you an affectionate, closed mouth smile as he opens his eyes to give you a mock glare. You walk closer to the male to see the extent of damage your shower sex caused. It wasn’t too bad, you don’t think. But you’re not the expert here. Focusing your attention on Yoongi, you see he’s already looking at you and your body fills with warmth knowing he’s never ashamed of being caught staring at you.

“Are they okay?”

He clicks his tongue, but his expression is neutral.

“A little burnt, but honestly could be worse.”

You nod in response. Okay. Crisis…averted? Mostly. Great!

He leads you back to his master bedroom where he fishes out some of your favorite clothes of his to wear for the night and you take them with a kiss to his lips. In the process, he finds some for him as well and you two get dressed in no time. Checking the clock on his wall, you both come to the conclusion that there’s still time to finish the eclairs.

Once again, you’re back in the kitchen and working on picking out the least burned buns, but other than that it’s pretty painless. Pastry crème in a piping bag, fill the buns, drizzle with chocolate – easy!

You triple check that the oven is off and there’s nothing else you’ve forgotten about, and then you and Yoongi sit down at the kitchen table to enjoy the fruit of your labor. It’s definitely a little over cooked, but who cares? Yoongi is glowing and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful.

The dessert is amazing, but how could it ever compare with the man sharing it with you? The rest of the night passes by in a blur of kisses, cream and chocolate. Then you let yourselves fall asleep in each other’s arms in your shared bed and it’s bliss.

You could definitely get used to this. And you will, considering you had the privilege of the rest of your life to do so.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

a/n; send me an ask if you’re interested in being in a taglist for anything pertaining to this series (if there is one) or all of my future works in general (or if you wish to be removed). be sure to specify when you apply.

taglist; @mwitsmejk

#min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #suga x you #suga x reader #min yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan family #bangtan #bts fic #bts army #bts fluff #domestic au #chef au #bts x female reader #female!reader

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Person A: Yes, yes, I know, I AM aware he commits murder sometimes- Person B: ‘Sometimes’?! Person A: But - hear me out, have you tried his cooking? Like have you? I’m just saying I’m not going back to store bought cake mix and if that decision has a body count…well, thats a price I’m willing to pay.

#mod poss #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt #writerblr #original writing #writing inspiration #story prompt #creative writing #writing ideas #food au #chef au #comedy au #killer au #murder tw

[ex-umbra-art]

sukugo chef au doodles for the amazing 'cherry blossom' by infiniteteal on AO3 <3

#my art #digital art #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen fanart #anime #fanart #satoru gojo #gosuku #sukugo #au #chef au #alternative universe

[furretwaffle]

Day 23: Chef

I have this au where Kaeya and Diluc own a restaurant that also has a coffee shop/bar in front and while Kaeya works in the kitchen, his brother is working at the bar/counter. Also Kaeya gets a little favorite customer and based on my other posts I think you know who that is

#genshin fanart #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #kaevember #kaeya alberich #kaeya #fanart #kaevember2023 #kaebedo #genshin albedo #ragbros #chef #chef au