#mise en place series

[bradshawsbitch]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅸ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 3.2K

× chapter warnings; swearing, see general story warnings, mature content, mentions of food

disclaimer; first of all, thank you!! for being so understanding and amazing about this story. i am so overwhelmed with love for all of you who keep being excited about my surly chef, even after all this time. second of all, i am sorry for it having been an 'all this time' - your support means everything to me. thank you again ❤

this chapter was super hard for me to write, which is why it's a little shorter, and perhaps more of a filler and a thank you to my readers. please be aware that the prose may be a little rusty as i am slowly getting back into writing again ❤

tagging some people who i know have waited; @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @mak-32 @laracrofted @pisupsala @cherrycola27 @gretagerwigsmuse @seresinsweetie @ryebecca @lewmagoo

otherwise you can follow @bradshawsbitch-library and turn on notifications ❤

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Soft little sighs, muffled by muted green sheets fill the room as rays of the morning sun turns harsher the higher it rises in the sky. Noon is approaching, unbeknownst to the two laying still in bed. A Monday, which for many means the start of a new week, gone is the restful weekend and labor is nigh. For the two forms in bed though, the pace of mere mortals were not applicable. A waitress and a chef could sleep in, for their holy day was indeed Monday. Most restaurants were closed, or very slow come Monday - which gave those weary souls a day to rest. 

Turning slowly, the woman burrow deeper into the sheets, a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips as she heard Bradley’s soft, sleepy grunt as his arms tightened around her naked midsection. He hasn’t awoken yet, and neither had you, not fully at least. Sleepy eyes were slow to open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that surrounds the two of you. 

Waking up next to Rooster’s warm form sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Seeing the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips are ever so slightly parted - his cupid’s bow defined so prettily beneath that lovely facial hair of his… the way freckles dot along the bridge of his nose… tan skin so beautiful, ridges, freckles and spots that adorn his skin. Sleepily, you let your finger trace over those shapely shoulders, where, much like the stars the freckles dot all the more frequently. 

“Bambi…” Rooster grunts, voice raspy and breathless - the mere mention of your nickname makes those fluttery wings of butterflies flap helplessly within your chest. His hold on you tightens again, drawing you in towards his chest. One arm embraces your form soothingly, as the other gently tucks your head into his chest, a large thigh suddenly nudging its way in between yours to rest. This position he also adjusts, letting the hand that had rested in its embrace slide slowly down past your bottom, ghosting over your thigh before gripping just above your knee - drawing it up high on his thigh. 

A content sigh leaves his lips as his thumb draws soothing circles on the bare skin that’s still in his firm hold, pleased with how he’s molded you into his form. You fit quite nicely here, he reflects as you start to place small kisses against Bradley’s sternum - he’s warm from sleep, radiating calm and safety as he holds you near. 

“Getting enough air in there, sweets?” he rumbles after a few moments of your face buried in the dip between his pecs, lips ghosting over his sternum every now and then. Nodding, you let out a soft ‘mhm’ in reply as you trace your hands over the ridges of his hips and waist, gently letting yourself explore his adonis belt and lower abdomen. 

Bradley lets out the softest of noises, a choked moan that seems to catch in the back of his throat as his pubic hair tickles the back of your hand as you leave feather light touches closer and closer to where he needs you. His grip on you has tightened, and his nose and lips are pressed tight against your hair where he inhales deeply. His palm is flexing, tensing and kneading where his palm is spread on your thigh - he hesitates for only a short moment before he uses his strength to pull your leg further over his hip.

A small gasp and a pathetic whine slips past your lips as your lower body joins where your hand had been exploring just seconds ago. Drawing your hand back, you feverishly grasp at Bradley’s neck, shuffling to tilt your head back up to catch his lips with yours, your body fluid and ever moving against his large form. Pressing, pushing, pulling– the leg Rooster had pulled closer now draws him in to you, the whole length of your naked body pressed against his sturdy one. 

“Fuck, Bambi…” he groans as you grip the short hair at the nape of his neck before your lips chase his, you whine again as Rooster’s palm slides up to grip the flesh of your ass, kneading and grinding you against his hardening cock. 

“Bradley!” you gasp as you feel his warm, soft skin run along your sensitive clit. Another whimper leaves you, clinging on to his shoulders, drawing him in with all the strength your sore muscles can muster. You need to be closer, need to have him surrounding you in every sense. Bradley hums deep in his chest as his lips stray from yours to leave chaste kisses along your neck, his hot tongue laving over points he discovered you were responsive to yesterday. 

Bradley’s hand drifts from your waist, up to tease at your nipple, pinching, pulling gently before letting his palm envelop your flesh, kneading and drawing out soft little moans from you before he traces his fingers down your stomach, down to where you’re rutting against his upper thigh. 

“What’s my needy little baby want, hm?” his raspy morning voice reverberates in your ears, and as he speaks he lets the rough pad of his index finger press against your clit, slowly drawing languid circles in time with your desperate movements. 

“Need you…” you whine, frustrated that he thought now was a good time to tease you. His soft chuckle in response draws the least intimidating little growl out of you, and Bradley can only smile as he places a soft kiss to your lips 

“Relax,” he whispers “we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart,” as he says this, a single thick finger gently eases back and forth over your slick folds before pushing inside. Bradley slowly moves in and out of you, lips attached to the junction of your neck and shoulder, drawing small moans out of you as he works you open for him. 

If yesterday had been frantic and explosive, today Bradley was savoring you. He wanted to memorize every sound you made, every move of your body as it reacted to his touch, every mewl of his name falling from parted lips. As he worked three fingers into you, he could hear your breathing pick up slightly, your grip on his bicep tightening and loosening rapidly, and he couldn’t help the smirk that grew against your salty skin. 

“You gon’ cum for me, sweet little Bambs?” he muttered, and you could only nod as your moans turned high pitched, Rooster never slowing or altering his movements as your body shook against his own as you tipped over the edge on his fingers. Bradley moaned low at the sight of you. 

“Look like a fuckin’ angel cumming on my fingers…” he murmured “Fuck, darling, you make me so fuckin’ hard.” 

Pulling his fingers out of you, he used your slick to coat his cock, languidly stroking himself as you came down from your first high. Panting, you nudged your nose against his, lips connecting in a fleeting kiss before you felt the nudge of his swollen tip against your puffy entrance. “Please,” you whispered softly against his lips, fleetingly catching a glimpse of those amber eyes. They were so intense, but you couldn’t look away if your life depended on it. 

At that first gentle push, your breath stuttered against Bradley’s parted lips. His cock was slowly inching into you, and even if he’d made a point to carefully prepare you for him, that initial stretch felt otherworldly - had he been this big yesterday too? 

Grunting, Bradley’s eyes fluttered shut. Gripping his bicep, you inhaled sharply, pressing your forehead against his as he stilled. “You alright, baby?” he murmured, his hand moving to soothe up and down your back, making your chest flutter with emotion. 

“Yeah- just… were you this big last night?” you moaned, and Rooster couldn’t help the small laugh that left him, before he reached up to cup your cheek. Moving away a little, he let his adoring gaze roam over your face. The cute scrunch of your nose, the thin sheen of sweat making you glow, eyes alight with lust and… Bradley blinked, taking in the way your chest heaved, the way his body was molded against yours, your warmth and your trust - it made him dizzy. 

“More… please, Bradley,” your voice was soft, and you slowly moved closer to his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck where your lips flitted over the skin of his throat, along the long line that went across it, up to his jaw and back down to gently suckle at the skin near his collarbones. 

Letting his strong arms wrap around you, Bradley moved against you, one hand slowly ghosting over your skin to grip your thigh as his cock slid deeper and deeper into your core, finally bottoming out as he gently pushed at the small of your back to tilt your hips just right. Small little noises reverberated against his warm skin, and he felt your lips leave wet traces as you occupied your mouth with his neck and shoulders. 

“You okay, Cookie?” he murmurs against your ear as he rocks his hips slightly against you. The soft mewl you let out fills his chest with pride, and something like a fierce need to protect you, to make sure you’re taken care of. 

“So good, Roos’” the words were slightly slurred against the naked skin of his shoulder, and he grunted softly as he yet again used his strength to form your body against his. His large palm resumed their hold right above your knee, drawing it upwards as he pressed your bottom down against himself. Almost as if he was rocking your body against his instead of the other way around. 

“Sound so pretty for me, darlin’” Bradley murmured, gently nudging your chin with his nose, lips hovering over your skin - he needed you to look at him. Needed to see the way those sweet eyes betrayed adoration, betrayed lust and need and want and… trust. He needed to see how much you depended upon him - how you’d given yourself to him to cherish. 

As with every other thing, you were so responsive to him. To his voice, touch - it was dizzying, truly. Your glittering eyes held his, and he moaned low in his throat as he felt the way you squeezed him as you caught sight of his face. He could feel his heartrate picking up, could feel the way his breath were coming in shorter bursts, and it fucking turned him on to no end that that drew the softest of little mewls from you - made your brows pinch in that cute little needy fashion he’d noticed only once yesterday. 

“You okay, my little Bambs?” he murmured softly, letting his lips brush against yours lovingly “I’m so okay,” you whispered against him, your hands slowly running across his muscled chest, nails leaving soft little tendrils of pleasure as they went. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Rooster confessed breathlessly, grunting softly at the end as his cock slid, if possible, even deeper into your heat - as your hips started rutting against his movements. The soft moan of his name made him groan, fucking into you more languidly - slow, steady and deep. The hand that wasn’t gripping your thigh, keeping it hitched high over his hip, returned to squeeze and knead at the flesh of your breast. Fuck, he loved your tits. Loved your body, loved– his breath hitched in his throat, heart almost doing fucking double time… 

Blinking, he let out a shuddering breath before letting his mouth leave a wet trail down your throat, before his lips enclosed on your nipple, his tongue teasing and flicking against the nub. At the sensation of Bradley’s hot tongue on your sensitive breasts, you let out a high pitched moan, pushing your chest against Bradley’s face as your hands flew to his curls, gripping tight as you panted wildly. You were so sensitive, and Bradley’s cock was stretching you, pulling and pushing so so slow - and yet he made it feel so fucking good. You could almost feel every ridge and vein as the drag of his cock made wetness drip from your core, down his length, making a mess of his pubic hair… He was fucking you so incredibly, right there in his bed, that you’d both shared that night. 

You cried out his name again, ending almost on a sob as he pushed his cock deep inside just as he let his lips latch on to your flesh, giving it a heady suckle - his facial hair scratching just hard enough to bring tears to your eyes from the pleasurable sensation. That pressure was building again, deep in your core, building and getting more and more tense. He was everywhere, just like you’d wanted. Filling you, tasting you, gripping you… his smell was surrounding you, the feel of his hair, the warmth of his body, his sweat glowing like a halo around his body in the morning sun as the muscles in his back rippled and moved. 

“Bradley!” you sobbed pathetically, clawing and clinging to him, he must have felt how close you were. Your pussy was pulsing around his thick dick, your arousal dripping down his balls at this point. He was grunting and moaning against your flesh, and you desperately tried to rut your hips, needing more, more more– but he kept his slow, deep pace. His cock barely left your cunt before he pushed deep, each stroke of his cock hitting that spot that you hadn’t been sure if it existed or not. 

“That’s it, baby,” Bradley’s voice sounded wrecked and broken as he released your now glistening nipple. “Can feel you squeezing my dick,” he sounded almost smug - you hated that it almost turned you on. His large hand was still palming at your tit as he nipped and kissed gently at your jaw, your hands still tugging desperately on his hair.

“N-need more,” you gasped, pleading with him as you looked down on him. Those amber eyes of his were shadowed by heady lust, and he just smirked softly before shaking his head ever so slightly “No,” he muttered, kissing your chin as you cried out, the tears that had burned behind your lids slowly running down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his cock twitching deep within your pussy “so pretty, darling, crying for more of my cock,” he whispered, you couldn’t do more than nod and keen, letting out small cries and whimpers as you felt your core clench around him harder, chasing that high so desperately. 

“You’ll cum from this, baby.” he rasped “You don’t need more.” he decided- It felt like he was cradling your body in his hands, molding and shaping, pushing, pulling, playing with you as if you were only made for him. And he was right. As he spoke those words, a shocked gasp tore through your throat as you cried and sobbed, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in waves as you shook and shook, convulsing slightly with every thrust that Bradley’s swollen tip hit that sensitive spot deep within your core. 

“Fuck–” Bradley moaned loudly, “atta girl,” he praised, voice breaking slightly as your hips rolled and shook in his hold “Fuck, Bambi- I’m gon’...” his chest rose and fell rapidly, his shoulders and back muscles rippling as he fought to hang on to see you through your high, not sure if he could–

“Cum in me,” you whined softly, needing him. Needing him everywhere. At those words, Bradley shattered. He couldn’t hold on if his life depended upon it. With a long, low moan of your name, his hips stuttered, once twice, stilling deep within you as he gasped and his warm release filled you, over and over as his cock pulsated through his high. 

“Jesus, darling…” Bradley gasped and moaned low as your cunt throbbed around his still hard dick, milking him of the last of his orgasm. “So good… so fuckin’ beautiful… soft ‘n pretty,” he was murmuring now, kissing his pretty words into the skin of your chest. He finally released his grip on your thigh, palms gently smoothing over the area, ghosting over your skin as his strong arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him as you both caught your breaths. 

“Bradley,” you murmured lovingly, nuzzling into his warmth, it was hard to describe how you were feeling - but it felt weird. Good, but a little jarring. You’d never experienced sex in this fashion before - not entirely sure you’d even experienced any other partner giving you two orgasms, let alone while they were actually inside of you. Your heart was fluttering fast and hard, and the tears that had run down your cheeks had all but dried, but it felt as if the high was lingering - clouding your mind and making you feel so utterly vulnerable. 

Perhaps he could sense it, perhaps he could hear it in the smallness of your voice, but slowly he’d ushered you to rest against the broad expanse of his chest as he softly shushed and murmured against your skin. “You’re alright, darlin’ - did so good.” in the fluffy state your mind was in, you hadn’t really gathered that you were whimpering and making noises as Bradley held you. 

“There you are, baby… you’re alright, you’re safe - I’ve got you honey… fuck - that was incredible… you’re incredible,” he let out a small laugh as his strong hands moved up and down your spine, the other gently stroking over your hair as he murmured praise and soft words of encouragement in your ear. Tilting your head back, you took in the tenderness of his brown eyes, and you smiled softly up at him. 

“That’s it, there’s my beautiful Bambi,” Rooster murmured before placing a small kiss on your nose. “Gave unsteady legs a new meanin’ huh?” he rasped, grinning as you swatted at his chest, although you couldn’t help the amused smile that stretched on your lips. 

“Do we have to get up?” you murmured, pouting softly at the thought of leaving this heavenly moment. You didn’t want to walk out into the harshness, the cold, the bitter. You wanted to stay here, in Bradley’s arms where everything was okay, everything was safe and covered in a thick layer of fluffy soft clouds. 

“Not right now,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head “I have to get up to cook you something of substance to eat in a while, but you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that just yet,” he smiled, placing a reassuring kiss against your hair. You smiled softly at the thought, a content sigh making your form rise and fall gently in his hold.

“You never stop working, do you?” you teased.

“Well, hate to break it to ya, Bambs - but people will unfortunately always need to eat,” rolling your eyes, you felt the head chef had earned another light slap against his chest - the only answer was a rumbling sort of laughter that made his chest vibrate slightly against your touch. 

“And cooking for you isn’t a job,” he said casually “it’s something I love doing.”

For some reason, those small words sent a strong wave of emotion through your body, awakening the flutters of butterfly wings again. This time they were not only contained to your stomach, but seemed to flutter and spread warmth and overwhelming, nearly suffocating emotions all through your body. Choked up, you merely squeezed Bradley as tight as your muscles would allow it before offering him the most sincere

“Thank you.”

#mise en place series #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fics #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster imagine

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 9

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You lean on the cart as you roll it towards the door. You limp but the more you move, the less difficult it is. Sonny turns and points at you with his knife.

“Where do you think you're going?” He barks and you freeze. “I told ya to sit your kiester down.”

He drops the knife and comes around the metal island. He takes your arm, not unkindly, and ushers you back to the stool he planted earlier by the sink. You hide your face, ashamed at your helplessness.

“This place will be fine with a bit of mess,” he goes to the door and pushes it open, “big guy, get in here.”

Thor appears and you keep your head down. The glasses on the cart clink as he turns it.

“You doing okay?” He asks.

“I got her. You get back to work. Enough to worry about around here,” Sonny goes back to the counter and washes his hands.

You turn and go back to washing, slipping down to just lean on the stool. Sonny clucks as he chops loudly behind you. The club is already buzzing with noise.

“Fell down some stairs, eh? Musta been some stairs.”

“Yeah,” you shrug and wince, “I told my landlord to fix the railing…”

“Mhmm,” he doesn't seem to believe your story. “Next time you hit those stairs back. Maybe carry pepper spray.”

“Sonny,” you sniff.

“Yeah, yeah, you fell,” he relents.

You sigh. What good would it do to tell the truth? When you did before, no one did anything. No one believed you. They won't this time either.

🦌

Work ends and you grab your bag and jacket from the back room. You make a slow advance through the empty barroom and stop at the top of the stairs. You're just as daunted by the descent as the idea of walking home in the dark.

“Ah, ah, fawn,” Thor startles you as he strides towards you, “you're not going anywhere without me.”

“What? I– I'm fine–”

“I must insist. I can hardly bear to see you this way. Do me a favour and let me get you home safe.”

You sigh but don't protest. You're exhausted and sore and scared. You can try to deny it but you can't stop looking over your shoulder for Johnny.

“Why don't you sit?” Thor makes you flinch again as he draws you back to the present.

You just nod and let him lead you to a stool at the bar. They're tall and you grab onto the bar's edge and step up on the cross bar to get up. Thor helps as he grabs your waist and guides you onto the seat. You wiggle and thank him, slouching down to make yourself smaller.

You lean on the leather trim as Thor sets to his work. You stare at the shelves of bottles and glasses. You just want to lay down and not think.

When he's finished, he pulls on his pale blue coat and checks his watch. You focus on his arm as his strength bulges under the fabric. You are safer with someone like him shadowing you.

He offers his hand to help you down from the stool. You ignore it and try to do it on your own, only to stumble. He catches you and puts you right. You really are pathetic.

The stairs are treacherous and at the bottom you're out of breath and trembling. Thor has his hand on your back as he ushers you outside, bidding a booming farewell to the bouncers. You just shuffle on, intent on your destination.

The walk is slow and quiet and long. Thor tries to chat, asking about your day, then if you have anything exciting going on. You grumble, no and no.

You get to the alley by your place and hug yourself.

“Thanks, I got it from here,” you give a tight-lipped smile.

“I don't mind,” he steps into the alley.

“No, it's fine, really, I can–”

“Come, I'll feel better to know you get through the front door in once piece,” he beckons you onward and you drag your feet.

You try to get ahead of him as you near the door, hoping to hide the broken handle. Before you can, he grabs onto your arm and hauls you back as he stops. He squeezes you tight.

“Your door–” he growls, “someone–”

“The inside one is fine,” you shrug and try to slip free, “it happens. It's a bad neighbourhood.”

“Fawn,” he keeps his iron hold on you, “don't lie to me.”

“Let go,” you plead and jolt your arm, only to make yourself yelp.

“You didn't fall, did you?”

“What?”

“Someone did this to you,” he grits out.

“N-no, I told you–”

“I knew it. When I saw you, I could tell,” he hisses as he turns back to you, making you face him, “why wouldn't you tell me?”

“It's not a big deal,” you whimper as his fingers crush your arms, “you're hurting me.”

He releases you, opening and closing his finger, bunching them to fists as he looks around the alley. You cower and touch the sides of your neck. The anger rolls off of him in waves.

“I'll be okay, I just want to lay down–”

“No, no, you can't,” he blocks you as you try to sidestep him, “what if whoever did this came back? What if they hurt you again?”

“He won't,” you murmur, once more he puts himself between you and the steps.

“He? Who did this?”

You shrug, “I don't know but… they wouldn't come back.”

“You know who did this. You sound so sure.”

“No, I don't--Thor, please, I'm tired and I need sleep.”

“Sleep? You can sleep. At my place.”

“What?”

“I won't leave you here alone. I can't. I wouldn't forgive myself if that menace returned and– how do you know they won't do worse next time?”

“Thor, please, it's not a big–”

“You keep saying that. Well, I'm making it a big deal. You come with me or I stay. Either way, I'm not leaving you alone.”

You huff. You can't argue anymore. You couldn't make him leave if you tried. You throw up your hands and hang your head.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echoes, “why would I want to protect my friend?”

“Why do you care about me?” You scoff and lift your chin, “what do you want from me?”

He's taken aback by the question, an accusation really. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

“Nothing, fawn, nothing but to have you safe and sound. As anyone should want you,” he slowly reaches to touch your shoulder, trailing his fingers down as you wince, “you are worthy, you know that, don't you?”

You pull back and cross your arms. You peer up at the dark windows and shake your head. You don't need to answer that.

“Can I grab a few things?”

#dark thor #dark!thor #thor #thor x reader #series #drabble #mise en place #the club #au #marvel #mcu #avengers

[asirensrage]

PLEASE NOTE: The next part of Mise en Place should be out on Friday! Sorry for the delay. It'll be worth it though.

mise en place tag: @muchadoaboutcj @koiwrites @chrissymunson  @nageill

#fic: mise en place #because of reasons #aka i need to rewrite part of it. or all of it tbh. #part of it being this next part not the entire series

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter six: home

summary: takes place after 'make my heart surrender' ends (so if you haven't read the series, you can do so here). after surprising carmy at the restaurant, he has something really important to tell you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: time jump, fluff, 'i love you', smut (18+ mdni), no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, not proofread -- will probably go back and make some edits

word count: 3.9k

listen to: no such thing - john mayer | you're the best - wet | pancakes for dinner - lizzy mcalpine | want want - maggie rogers

a/n: hi it's me! i'm tired of breaking my own heart are you tired of me breaking your hearts?!! if you're wondering what the heck happened between chapter 5 & 6, make sure to read 'make my heart surrender' or at least, this final chapter!

didn't think you were getting smut with this final chapter?! gotcha!! i had to take some DEEP breaths while writing this. thank you so much for all of the kind comments, external screaming, and dms about this series. i love you all sm. here's is thee much needed and well-deserved fluffy chapter where carmy finally says (redacted).

read: chapter five | masterlist

“God I fuckin’ love you.” 

Your words echo in Carmy’s head all shift, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t said it back yet. 

The restaurant has been slow for lunch, and in every single moment he’s had to think about it, the words felt like they were on the tip of his tongue:

I love you. 

I love you too. 

I love you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. 

But what was he supposed to do? Tell you in the middle of your mise en place? Follow you into the walk-in and tell you there? He almost regrets not just saying it back right then and there – the minute he realized that you and Richie were both pulling a prank on him. Carmy decides that telling you here, at the restaurant just won’t do – just wouldn’t be romantic enough – and he knows you deserve more than that. 

As you finish up your prep for dinner service, you eye Carmy carefully. He looks totally wrapped up in thought, and you can’t imagine what he must be thinking this hard about. You’re here. You can’t believe you’re here. And you could care less about anything else right now.

“How ya doin?” you ask him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He doesn’t know if you can see it on his face – that he’s thinking way too hard about this. 

“Uh, I’m-. Just thinkin’ about strategy… for dinner service,” he lies, trying his best to throw you off his trail. 

“Okay,” you reply, unconvinced. 

But it’s clear that he’s not going to give you much more than that.  

“You should go home,” he blurts out. His response takes you by surprise, and as soon as he realizes it sounds like he doesn’t want you here, his face softens, quick to course correct. 

“I just mean-, you must be tired. From the drive. As much as I appreciate the help…” he trails off. “It’s been slow today anyways. You should take my key and head home. If you want. Get some rest.”

Home. 

You smile in response at the sound of it, knowing that, after today, Chicago is your home. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he insists. “If it stays this slow, I may even be able to get home early.”

You’re sure you have the silliest grin on your face as you hear the word again. 

Because this is your home now. 

Because Carmy is your home now too. 

“Well, if you insist,” you say with a shrug. 

“I do,” he says back, a seriousness in his voice. 

“Okay,” you giggle in response, agreeing to his demand. 

Carmy’s always trying to take care of you. It’s one of the things you love the most about him. Whether he’s asking you if he can make you something or asking to walk you home, you’ve always known that this is how he shows his love. 

You and Carmy both wash your hands, and he follows you towards the locker area, watching you hang up your apron in the locker that will now be yours. He busies himself with finding his apartment keys while you gather your things. 

“I kinda missed this place,” you say, even though you’ve only been gone three weeks. 

“Yeah?” he asks, a light in his eyes as he watches you. 

It feels surreal: seeing you here, knowing that you’ll be at his place when he gets back, that he gets to keep you. 

“Yeah. And maybe even some of the people too,” you smirk, cheekily. 

Carmy blushes, taking a few steps towards you with his keys in hand. 

“Need the address?” he asks. 

“I remember how to get back there,” you reassure him, playfully. 

It hadn’t been that long since you walked home with Carmy the night that changed it all: the night he’d made you his carbonara, the night that feelings were revealed, the night you made love. You’d followed him back to his apartment two nights in a row after that, letting yourself surrender to this thing between you that you’d both spent over two years fighting. And you’d let him take you to bed each night, getting lost in the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way his skin felt against yours. 

You’re still in shock over how much has changed in your life in the last month alone.

It felt like heaven. 

It feels like heaven. 

And you wonder what took you both so fucking long.

At the same time, you know it happened exactly when it was supposed to happen – that anything before this wouldn’t have worked. 

As Carmy hands you his keys, you give him a goodbye kiss, the tension between the two of you palpable. It’s the kind of ‘I can’t wait to get you alone’ tension and you can’t wait till he gets off his shift – your thoughts filled with all the things you want to do with him when you finally do. 

It takes a while to leave the restaurant – everyone wanting to get in their hello or goodbye in – before you’re on your way home to Carmy’s apartment. On the drive there, you laugh to yourself about how the staff of The Bear have been betting on how long it’d take for you to come back. It fills you with a sense of warmth, confirming that this was exactly the move you needed to make. Since it’s close by, and you still have your stupid fucking U-HAUL, it doesn’t take long to get back to Carmy’s apartment. You make a mental note to find a good storage container to rent out so you don’t have to lug this thing around while you look for a place. 

By the time you get into his apartment, suitcase in hand, it’s clear to you that Carmy wasn’t expecting you. His home is messier than you remember it being when you left three weeks ago, but it’s not so intolerable that it’s maddening. 

You put something on the TV in the background, while you unwind, taking a shower then tidying up a little bit around the apartment. You let yourself enjoy the simplest of pleasures: your favorite pair of sweatpants that you can’t believe he’s kept, and a comfy bralette you’ve packed at the top of your suitcase. 

But it all starts to hit you as you start slowing down: after spending the night in Cleveland, you’d driven all morning to Chicago, jumped in on the line for dinner prep. You’ve barely had a moment to slow down and holy shit, are you exhausted. It doesn’t take more than a few episodes of Pasta Grannies for you to pass out on the couch. Carmy’s YouTube playback is set to autoplay, and as your eyelids become progressively heavier, you promise yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few moments… 

“Hi sweetheart,” you hear a voice say, causing you to slowly blink your eyes open. 

“Carm?” you mumble, only half awake. “Is it you? You’re really here?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did I wake you?” he whispers, letting out a small laugh. 

You giggle as Carmy comes into your line of sight. He’s perched on the edge of the couch as you reach for one of his hands so that you can touch him. 

“Yeah, but I’m glad you did. What time is it?” you ask, becoming more and more awake by the minute. 

“Ten-thirty. Business picked up a ton for dinner.”

“Damn.”

“So much for getting off early.” 

You hum in response, sitting up momentarily to grab his hands, pulling him towards. Carmy smiles, laying his body over yours, before leaning in for the softest, gentlest kiss. 

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he smiles back at you, the words just on the tip of his tongue. 

I love you too.

You pull him back in for another kiss, this time deepening it. You laugh again, as Carmy breaks the kiss, an inquisitive look plastered to his face. 

“What?” he questions. 

“Nothing. You smell like hot giardiniera,” you giggle as your lips twist into a smile against his. 

He laughs, “Yeah?’

“Uh huh,” you say. 

“I’ll shower,” he suggests, playfully. 

“No, no it’s okay. I’m kinda into it,” you reply, earning another chuckle from him. 

“It’s okay,” Carmy replies, shaking his head. He places a peck on your lips before sitting up properly, earning a groan from you as he pulls away. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Maybe we can move this to uh… my bedroom?”

“Are you putting the moves on me, Berzatto?” you tease him, shooting him a playful look.

“No! I just meant-, since I know you must be tired-,” he stammers, a blush running across your cheeks. 

You shake your head, sitting up to reassure him with another kiss. 

“I’m kidding,” you say with a chuckle. “And I’m also starving. 

“Yeah?” he sounds. 

“How about this? Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll order us a pizza. I’m sure we can find something to do while we wait for it to get here,” you say suggestively. 

Oh. 

“Sounds great,” he agrees with a quick raise of his eyebrows. 

You watch as Carmy disappears into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling your ears, you scroll around a little for a good pizza spot nearby. You settle on something New York style out of habit, ordering a few things for delivery. 

By the time Carmy gets out of the shower, you’ve curled up with yourself in his bed, scrolling around on your favorite social media app. You let out a whistle as soon as Carmy enters the room with only a towel tied around his waist. You can tell he’s tried his best to dry his hair, running the towel through his perfect curls a few times. You’ve got all this pent up sexual energy, and seeing Carmy like this, all hot, nearly-naked, and wet is really doing it for you. 

Hell, he could be in a full hazmat suit and the man would do it for you. 

You watch as he rummages through his dresser, searching for a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, but there’s no fucking way you’re letting him get dressed. You toss your phone to the side, standing up from where you are on the bed.

As you approach, you snake your arms around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. He cannot believe this is real: that you’re here, in his bed, in the sweatpants that he knows you love. That you’re here to stay. That you’re here and you’re his. 

“Hey,” he says, his lips twisting into a smile as you begin to leave soft kisses across the back of his shoulders. 

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, nipping at the skin you’ve just kissed. 

Carmy hisses at the feel of your teeth, letting out a laugh that seems to rumble in his throat. 

“Can I help you with something?” he teases you. 

He feels your lips curl into a smile against his skin, smirking in response. 

I fucking love you too. 

But before he can say anything, your hands are pushing his towel down past his hips, desperately envious of the way the material clings to him. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “I think you know.”

He lets the towel fall to the floor, and Carmy groans as you wrap your hand around his hard on, hissing as he feels you pump him a few times. 

“Seems like you’ve been thinkin the same thing,” you say again, feeling how hard he already is. 

He bites into his lower lip, his eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he enjoys the way you touch him. 

“Been thinkin’ about this all day, sweetheart.”

“Well…” you trail off. “I’d love to hear more about what’s been on your mind.”

“Yeah?” he croaks out, the pleasure you’re bringing him causing him to short circuit. 

“Yes,” you sigh out, wound up with desire. 

Finally, Carmy turns around, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a passionate, lust-filled kiss. His lips are on yours like he’s been starving, as if nothing would satiate him the way tasting you will. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you feel his tongue slide against yours. Carmy begins backing you up towards the bed, guiding you down to his mattress. 

“Had this on my mind since you left Chicago,” he mumbles, his pupils wide, fully blown out in lust. 

“Me too,” you manage to get out. 

He leans in once more, pressing his lips to yours once more. You drag your teeth against his bottom lip, before he breaks the kiss, his mouth and hands searching for real estate lower. Carmy leaves hot, open mouthed kisses along your breasts, your torso, and you’re practically pulling off your bralette like it’s burning your skin. 

“Been thinkin’ about this. You…” he admits, his voice hoarse. 

You gasp in pleasure as Carmy drags the sweatpants, along with your panties, down over your hips, tossing them who knows where behind him. 

“... tasting you.” 

You moan as he positions himself between your legs, kneeling on the floor, his chest pressed to the bed. Your legs quake with anticipation as you feel his hot breath fan over your core. Every moment he spends making you wait is killing you. 

“Carmy, please,” you beg, as he begins leaving soft kisses along your inner thighs. You can tell he’s making himself wait too, building the anticipation so that when he lets himself have you… 

“Carmen!” you moan. 

He practically groans against you as he uses the tip of his tongue to trace your clit.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he muses, before burying himself between your thighs again. 

His mouth is on you, tracing little shapes with his tongue, licking up and down your progressively wet core, while his hands keep your legs spread wide. 

All for him. 

He continues to eat you out, completely enraptured with the way you taste, the way your moans and gasps sound, the way you say his name, calling out for him and only him. As he slips a finger inside of you, you bury your hands in his hair, your hips thrusting up into his hand and against his mouth. 

“Holy fuck, Carmy,” you gasp, your mind completely taken over with the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He can tell that you’re close, adding another finger, taking note that you seem to like it even more. It’s as if he’s memorized every single thing you loved, everything that seemed to make you tick, and applied it to this time. 

“Carmy, I’m gonna-,” you cry out, your legs shaking as he brings you over the edge. 

You’re gasping, writhing against the bed, your legs still pushed wide by tatted hands as you begin to come down. You look down, tugging Carmy’s hair to bring him back up to you. When he finally looks back up at you, he’s grinning, completely satisfied with the pleasure he’s brought you. He makes his way back up, laying his very naked body over top of yours, leaning in for another kiss. 

You can taste yourself on his lips, and he doesn’t know if it’s possible to get harder than he is. 

“That’s what you were thinking about?” you whispered against his lips, spreading your legs to make room for him. You can feel his hard, aching cock against your wet center, and if you think you’ll die if he’s not inside of you as soon as possible. 

“All day.” 

He kisses you, nipping at your top lip momentarily, before continuing with:

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about it, actually.” 

That and something else. 

Three words he can’t seem to get out. 

Even though they’re begging to be said. 

You reach down, wrapping a hand around him, sliding his thick tip against you so that he can feel how wet and needy you are for him. 

“I can think of a few other things I want,” you beg him, feeling him shudder against you as you drag the tip of his cock over you again and again. 

“And what’s that?” Carmy asks you cheekily. 

Instead of answering, you guide him into you, earning a gasp from the both of you as he splits you open. Carmy takes his time pushing into you, making sure to pause when he’s fully seated inside of you. 

Your eyes are locked with his, allowing yourself to get totally lost inside of the pools of blue. You’re sighing out in pleasure, squeezing around him, your lips so fucking close to touching it’s near-painful. Carmy begins to slide out of you at a dangerously slow pace, thrusting into you, deeper each time. You’re pulling him down to you, and it’s as if you can’t get enough – enough of his mouth on yours, enough of him to hold onto – even though you have all of him. 

You’d let him consume all of you if he wanted to, you think to yourself, as he swallows your moans in his mouth.

It’s tangled legs, and tangled tongues, and whispered pleas. 

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, burying his head in your neck as he speeds up. You can tell the both of you are close – that all the pent up sexual energy means that neither of you will last long. 

But you don’t care. 

You’ve got all the time in the world now. 

“Carmy,” you whine, desperate for him to let you cum.

You know you have his attention, as he raises his head, locking eyes with you again. 

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whisper, desperately. 

“Fuck. That’s so hot,” he groans, his eyes wide.

Unwillingly, he peels his body off of yours, letting you sit up straight. He thinks he may have died and gone to heaven as he watches you turn around, kneeling on all fours over his bed. His hands immediately go to your ass, dragging calloused palms over the curve of it as he kneels behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he gasps, guiding himself back into you. 

He thinks the sight alone may send him to an early grave as you bow your back, your ass still high as you press your chest against the bed. 

“Your ass is fucking incredible,” Carmy says, pulling out slowly, before thrusting back into you with a force that makes you cry out. 

“Carmen,” you whimper, your legs shaking beneath you. 

This feels too good. 

“Hmm?” he asks, his hands smoothing over your low back, following the way your back seems to arch in pleasure. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

He knows he won’t last much longer. His hands hold onto your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he begins to speed up. It feels unreal, incredible, being this deep inside of you. And he gets to watch: watch the way you arch your back, watch your body respond to every single thrust, watch you grasp at the sheets and pillows, searching for something to hold onto. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna last long, baby,” he stutters out, his thrusts becoming more erratic as you beg him to keep going. 

“Please, Carmen. That feels so goddamn good,” you plead with him, face down into his sheets. 

“Shit. Fuck,” he howls, his voice booming against all corners of the room. 

Carmy places the gentlest hand against your low back, as if it to ask you to lay down, laying his body over yours from behind. He pauses, because it just feels too damn good, and he wants to revel in this moment before this ends. Ever so slowly, he begins to drag his cock in and out of you at the most torturously slow pace. His mouth leaves small kisses against your shoulders, nipping at your soft skin as he continues to make love to you. 

“Faster, Carmy. Please. I’m gonna cum,” you pant. 

You’re not sure just how much more patient you can get here. You feel him begin to speed up, and you’re moaning into his mattress against, begging for him to make you cum. He can feel you squeezing around him, and the sight of himself fucking into you really isn’t helping either. 

“Fuck,” he manages to get out, his hips beginning to stutter against your ass. 

“Yes. Whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want,” he repeats, earning the most blissful ‘Carmy’ from your lips he’s ever heard. 

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whine. 

“Yes, me too. Yes. Fuck, I love you,” he calls out, shutting his eyes as he cums. 

He can feel you shuddering around him, as he fucks you through your orgasm too, completely unaware of the words that have flown out of his mouth. 

You’re both panting, breathless from what you’ve just done, as you begin to come down. 

“Holy shit,” he finally says, leaning his forehead against the back of your shoulder. 

“You can say that again,” you chuckle, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can we do this tomorrow? And the day after that?” you ask, playfully, turning your head to kiss him. “And the day after that?”

Carmy smiles, “Absolutely.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get cleaned up and back into comfy clothes. Carmy knows there’s no point in fighting you for your favorite pair of his sweatpants as he picks out another pair, remaining shirtless for your viewing pleasure. The pizza arrives shortly after, and you find yourself in bed, with the man you’ve loved for so long, getting a much-needed refuel break. 

“You know I hate eating in bed,” Carmy points out, watching you get crumbs all over his sheets. 

“Yeah, well I’m getting my own place so… that’s a future problem for you and me,” you answer, without a single care in the world. 

“For when we move in together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters – seeing if that’s something that’s still on your mind. 

“Right,” you confirm, confidently. 

But you’re in. 

You’re all in. 

It seems like you’ve passed whatever test he’s given you as the corners of his lips curl into the softest smile. 

“You know… you live in Chicago now,” he teases, in reference to your choice of pizza. 

You scoff in response, throwing in a playful eye roll for dramatic effect. 

“Oh fuck you.” 

He laughs. 

You eat quietly, enjoying your first night in Chicago as a resident. You watch as Carmy’s face changes, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say what’s on his mind. Instead of asking, you wait, knowing that he’ll bring it up when he finds them. 

“Hey uh…” he starts, hesitantly. “I just want you to know… that I… I meant what I said earlier.”

The more serious tone he uses piques your curiosity as you stare back at him blankly, unsure of what he's referring to.

“What do you mean?” you ask back.

Carmy takes another beat, pausing as he musters up the courage to clarify with:

“That I love you. I didn’t want you to think I just said it because… well you know.”

Because you were naked.

Because he got caught up in the moment.

Because he was inside of you.

He licks his lips, before opening his mouth to say it again: 

“I love you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, his eyes are on you, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

But you’re beaming as you hear them and it all begins to make sense. It was something you’d said earlier, but the fact that he hadn’t said it back hadn’t been on your mind. Is this what he’d been thinking about all day? You just figured he'd say it back when he was ready.

You shake your head, a grin plastered to your face as you reply,

“I know, silly. I love you too.”

Fin. 

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery@strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn @hlkwrites

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #smut sunday

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Single Grain

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel) | Part 10 (ft. Jack and Vil) | Bonus (ft. Grim)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

An octopus concerned with sales and a robot that only recently gained a heart… They’re Gordon Ramsay’s final hurdles to instill a respect for food and cooking in the NRC boys!

Finally, FINALLY I'm done with this shitpost of a series 🤡

Imagine this...

“Gordon-san~”

The master chef shuddered to look up from his station, knowing exactly what was awaiting him. That sickeningly coy, dulcet purr could only belong to a certain sleazy student--but as the instructor, Gordon had an obligation to answer his call. Groaning, a fuck me on the tip of his tongue, he met Azul head-on.

The boy had sidled up, a red-colored clump of risotto in his hands and his lips arranged into an all-too-familiar grin. He had taken care to tuck as much of his silvery hair under a chef's cap, and there was not so much as a stain upon his jacket.

Pristine, just as he wished to be perceived as.

“Is this amount of filling appropriate for the croquettes?” Azul presented his rice ball, indicating the mound of cheese and herbs in the center.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

The blunt response thrown out, Gordon returned to his mise en place—chopping the vegetables for a fried rice. It was clean, precise work. Chop, chop, chop, then the medley of colors tossed into their own bowls. Orange carrots, green broccoli, yellow corn, pink shrimp.

“Gordon-san.”

A twinge of annoyance.

He set down his knife. “What is it now?”

“What do you think of the shape?” Azul had completely formed the sphere, which fit in his palm. The insides were covered up by more rice. “Too large, and it won’t fry thoroughly in the oil. Too little, and it will surely burn.”

Gordon eyed it with a grunt. “It works. Throw it in some breadcrumbs and get to cooking.”

“Certainly, sir!”

Azul retreated.

Gordon sighed.

Peace, he knew, was short lived. A minute or so later, his too-eager pupil began once more.

“Gordon-san, I’d like your opinion on the color,” Azul called. He spooned his rice croquettes from a frying pan. They were a crisp, golden crimson-brown, still sizzling with heat.

"It looks exactly like the photo from the recipe book.”

"Thank you! I’m honored to receive your praise." Azul beamed smugly as he deposited the balls onto a plate. "Now then! What do you make of selling these as an appetizer? I do believe 1500 madol for three is a fair price for the cost of ingredients and labor."

Gordon threw his arms up. "This is the fifth time today, Ashengrotto. Are you going to keep asking me for feedback on your lounge’s menu plans like this?!"

Azul drew back with a gasp, feigning offense. “I’m making small talk! Is it so wrong to try and get to know one’s teacher—who just so happens to be a well-traveled, skilled chef with incredible business acumen?”

The stare Gordon retaliated with could have burned holes into mountains. Azul held his gaze and lightly scoffed.

“From one restauranteur to another… Why, I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity!! You cannot fault a student for wishing to make the most of your wisdom.”

“… Get back to work. This class is for making food, not for cooking up business strategies.” He squinted at Azul’s croquettes. “And this time, try making your own filling.”

“What? My own…?” The octopus pushed his glasses up.

“You’ve already demonstrated you can reproduce the original dish without a problem. This is your chance to get creative with whatever’s in the pantry.” Gordon cocked a brow. “You can do it, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. What do you take me for, an amateur?”

Gordon's senses were as sharp as the blade of his knife.

He didn’t miss the slight stutter in Azul’s voice, a chink in his armor. It was a small glimpse of that unconfident part of himself that the octopus so often shunted away.

He may have grown up in a restaurant, but maybe he hasn’t had much experience cooking himself? Might explain why he clings so closely to what’s written down.

“Ashengrotto—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Azul declared a little louder than he would have liked. “I will be certain to present you with a uniquely delicious filling of my own creation—no, three!”

He fell in line beside a small student in visors, the cut of his clothes blockier and studier than his own. It was of an unnatural origin--manmade, meant to imitate a chef--but the ensemble fit him perfectly.

The young boy flipped a hamburger patty juicy with grease into the air--and it fell in a narrow arc, landing atop a mound of rice. A sunny side egg followed, its golden center wobbling upon impact. With a sprinkle of finely sliced scallions, the dish was done.

He smiled, showing sharp teeth. "Recipe complete. Now proceeding to the judging stage!"

"Already?!" Gordon cried, jaw dropping. "The rice alone should have taken 30 minutes. Everything else is about 15 minutes. Bit fast to be finished now."

"You don't need to worry! My Cooking Gear is outfitted with various tools to help expedite the process."

"You and Idia-san have truly outdone yourselves with this new gear," Azul gushed. "It's quite efficient."

He passed a subtle glance at Ortho's towering hat. Azul had witnessed it pop open earlier, revealing a hidden rice cooking chamber. While the main starch had steamed, Ortho had worked on his other preparations.

"Hehe. Thank you, Azul Ashengrotto-san! I'm sure Nii-san will be pleased to hear about these promising preliminary results."

"Well... You technically didn't use magic for this, so I'll let it go."

"Yay~ That's one step closer to clearing this mission!! All that's left is the tasting."

Gordon, bewildered, watched as the platter of loco moco floated itself over to him. It was a technological marvel of Ortho's own design.

"Please dig it! I have recreated the recipe to 99.9% accuracy, right down to the original chef's technique, so I am confident that it tastes good."

Gordon blinked as he carefully accepted the plate from the air. Prodding a fork into the yolk, it burst and ran down the hamburger and rice in thick, fatty rivulets.

He hesitated in bringing a bite to his mouth.

"Hm? Is something the matter?" Ortho paused. "Oh, if it isn't to your liking, let me know and I can adjust the seasoning to suit your personal preferences. The Cooking Gear may be for everyday kitchen use, but it is also capable of analyzing flavor profiles and generating optimal variants if prompted with a base recipe."

"It's not that. I just don't think I've ever had a class go this smoothly.” Rice drenched in luxurious yolk fell onto Gordon’s tongue. “Usually there's some problem. Students that lack discipline or focus, need extra instruction, have no respect for the recipes or kitchen safety..."

"Wah, it sounds like you've been through some tough times, Gordon Ramsay-san... It seems there is much more to being a chef than just producing dishes."

“You’re right about that, my darling. There’s still a lot for you to learn—things that fancy Cooking Gear can’t teach you, like how to deal with insufferable donkeys and idiot sandwiches.”

“… I’m afraid I don’t compute.”

"Oh, you poor, unfortunate soul," Azul cut in, warbling in agreement. "Why, I've experienced the very same! You wouldn't believe how combative Floyd can be when he's not in the mood for cooking and we have a line of hungry customers lining up.

"Running an eatery is but a team effort, wouldn't you say? As teacher and students,m sharing the same kitchen, we should place more trust in one another."

Not this again.

“There’s truth to what you’re saying, but I get the feeling you’re leading into another business idea,” Gordon grumbled. “And this isn’t the time for that.”

“We can include Ortho-san in our conversation if you’re concerned. It would be wonderful to have the perspective of an underclassman.”

“You want the free child labor,” Gordon guessed.

“Volunteer work,” Azul countered. “It would look good on a resume.”

“If it’s running a simulation of projected sales or something of the like, I’ve got you!”

“No, no, DON’T ‘get’ him!!”

“Aww, but it sounded interesting.”

"Listen here." Gordon set down his fork and set his sights upon his students. "What you have is a good basis, a solid grasp of the fundamentals and how to read a recipe. We can build off of that, but it doesn't have to mean setting up a restaurant or making combinations a computer came up with. Food can be many other things.

"Food is what grounds us, giving us nutrition and energy so that we may survive. Food is an art form, feeding our souls and imaginations. Food is to socialize, shared among friends and family to make memories. Food is a skill, technical and taught. Food is connection and culture, rich with love and history."

And he, tasked with it. Preparing, serving.

That knowledge, Gordon realized, was like rice. A single grain of rice can become an entire field, flushed gold with opportunity. It was grown, harvested, given back to the earth... and the cycle began anew, feeding and nourishing countless.

He nodded resolutely. "Let's cultivate not only your cooking abilities, but also your appreciation for food as a whole."

"... My, my. Spoken like a true Master Chef!" A slow smirk found its way onto Azul's face. "I could ask for no better instructor."

"Azul Ashengrotto-san is right!" Ortho chimed in. "We're so lucky to have a teacher like you to guiding us."

Gordon found his own mouth quirking as he wiped it.

These boys, his rising stars, grains of rice with potential yet to be realized.

"Alright, that's enough of paying lip service. Ashengrotto, your new filling. Shroud, let's see you do the same with your own take on loco moco."

"Yes, Chef!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #Azul Ashengrotto #Ortho Shroud #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Gordon Ramsay #Gordon Ramsay ib Twisted Wonderland

[dramadramallama]

Love Supremacy - brain rot part 1

So I have a problem. I enjoyed the first half of Love for Love's Sake without knowing I would get absolutely bowled over by the second half. I have so much to say holy fuck, I'm all over the place.

Unfortunately for everyone, my brain has been love supremacied, and I'm unable to move on. The show has a high rewatch value. It’s full of details; big, important ones, and small, insignificant ones, but they all add a lot of weight to the story. I need to exorcise my thoughts for my own sake. I guess if I have to intellectualize it somewhat, I really liked the show cause it’s perfectly balanced in terms of structure, and its themes. Judging from the amount of notes I have made on this show on my second watch, it’s safe to say it’s got some substance. It cleverly uses a mise en abyme, “a story within a story (within a story)” to really stack all those layers, and answer an age-old, quite difficult question: “what’s crucial to a happy life?” Dialogues, scenes, characters, and motifs all echo, mirror, and circle back to one another, giving the story enough dimension to avoid banalities.

Simply put, the thesis of the show is surprisingly philosophical, with universal themes. It posits that life is neither fate nor chance, and the answers are in mundane details of life. "Happiness is hidden somewhere in each of our days."

It’s obviously about love; a double love story even. Myung-ha learns to love someone else, and himself too. It's about life, and it's about death, new beginnings, and everything in between. The show made me feel like this, and like this, and like this, and...

▶️1. Mirrors/Symmetry

2. Fate, Free Will, and Happiness

3. Game/Reality

The story structure is very symmetrical. Circular almost. I LOVE IT, I EAT IT UP LIKE A HUNGRY, GRUBBY GOBLIN. Things begin where they end, elements keep repeating themselves like a series of mirrors.

By going through the game, Myung-ha finds himself on the other side of the mirror: he is supposed to find his own happiness, and will to live.

Yeo-woon is introduced to the audience as a sad side character in someone else’s story, victim of his “fate.” He almost perfectly mirrors Myung-ha: his background is eerily similar to his. He was raised by his (recently deceased) grandma, with an absent mother and a dead-beat dad. He’s lonely, unhappy.

When Myung-ha first meets him, Yeo-woon is resolutely standing on top of a building, about to fall or jump, which directly parallels Myung-ha's own suicide. In this new iteration of life, in this “game,” he saves Yeo-woon from hurting himself, which is the start of his own salvation. Saving Yeo-woon, the poor guy who didn’t get his happy ending, is saving himself. Yeo-woon is like a version of him right before he lost control of his life, after his grandma died, and he felt abandoned by all. It’s the core of the game, and the core of the drama, but Myung-ha (and we, the audience) can’t understand it right away.

Several details, in retrospect, show that he is the driving force behind this "game", and that it’s, by lack of a better term, both a test (as in, an exercise, a learning mechanism) and a Test (as in, an exam you don't wanna fail.) Myung-ha’s main, most important mission is to “make Yeo-woon happy.” Which he happily and enthusiastically tackles. He does what we all do: he takes a liking to the character most relatable to him. Time and time again, the way he reacts when presented with someone who struggles the same way he did is very telling.

He provides comfort. The comfort he lacked in his own life. (distant sounds of my heart shattering.)

But Yeo-woon isn’t the only one mirroring elements of Myung-ha’s life. Sang-won is a careless, tough-looking student, who seems slightly directionless. He picks fights easily and has a reputation at school for being “crazy.” He also smokes and rides a motorcycle (both illegal lol). His mom having abandoned Myung-ha, it’s also relevant to note Sang-won doesn’t seem to have a very good relationship with his own mother, and craves her attention. Although, he is your typical badboy, he is overall nice, sensitive, and has good intentions.

Myung-ha himelf appears to have been quite the turbulent student, with his own “mad dog” nickname. He, just like Sang-won, knows a thing or two about school fights, also drives a bike (lmao 100% sure he didn’t wait to have a license to drive though). Although he berates Sang-won for his rebellious side, with the patronizing tone of someone who’s done it all before, he shows genuine care.

Finally, Kyung-hoon. To me, he’s like another facet of Myung-ha’s personality. An absolute sweetheart, without friends, but always ready to help, and open to be befriended. While Myung-ha seems nonchalant about speaking badly of himself, he cannot stand it from others. He makes him his friend on the spot.

Once again, he provides like-minded friends the safe space he probably would have liked as a troubled, most certainly depressed teenager. Of course, it turns out Yeo-woon hates himself the most too (and by extension, dislikes everyone else.) It's the first clue for Myung-ha to realize some self-love might be the answer.

As it will become increasingly clear, Myung-ha has no issues protecting, providing for, and loving others, but fails to realize he should do the same for himself to achieve balance, and maybe, a little bit of happiness. The journey to get there makes him care for someone else the way he should care for himself, love someone else, like he should love himself. 

The last episode does a wonderful job of confirming what seemed to be threaded through the whole show, and explaining very clearly, in no uncertain terms, what it was all about.

However, the interesting aspect of this “mirror world," is that all of them, and Yeo-woon in particular, flip the script, in more ways than one. They all are a reflection of Myung-ha's life, but transcend their condition of “fictional character.” They’re not virtual. Yeo-woon is not made of something unreal, and he’s not a messed up copy of someone else. He has his own needs, desires, and quirks.

I don't think I can name them all here, but one of my favorite circular storytelling moment happens when Yeo-woon parallels Myung-ha by running to "find his fave." That moment in ep 8 counterbalances the one in ep 1.

Nothing is written in stone, and both of them set off to build their own happiness, against fate.

#love for love's sake #lfls #love supremacy zone #love for love's sake meta #the number of rambling sections i had to cut out #i'm feral :( #there's a part 2 and 3 coming too like i need help

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

LOTMF's Masterlist:

(Note: this should go without saying, but I'm not your mother and therefore it's not my responsibility to police what you read, so if you're under 18 I'd appreciate you sticking to the T & under stories.)

(All of my works are cross-posted to AO3 ONLY. If you see them on Wattpad, etc, please report them!)

Salvation (M 🔥, 12 Chapters, ~31,200 words, Complete)

Salvation Chapter 1 - Matt's PoV (T, One-shot, ~3,300 words)

Salvation - 6 Months Later (T, One-Shot, ~2,500 words)

Meet Me in the Aftermath (E 🌶️, One-shot, ~4,000 words)

Angel of God, My Guardian Dear (E 🌶️, NOW COMPLETE!)

A Little Angel (or Devil?) (sequel to AoG)(E 🌶️, ONGOING)

Angel of God -- The St. Agnes Years (T, ONGOING)

Cooking Up Love (T, NOW COMPLETE!)

Mise en Place (sequel to Cooking Up Love) (M 🔥 or E 🌶️, ONGOING)

Sweet on You (Not Yet Rated, ONGOING)

It's Always Been You (Reader's Version) (E 🌶️, One-Shot, ~3,500 words)

It's Always Been You (Michael's Version) (E 🌶️, One-Shot, 5k words)

It's Always Been Us (E 🌶️, ONGOING)

Conversations (E 🌶️, One-Shot, ~2800 words)

Mind the Gap (E, 🌶️, ONGOING)

A Good Read (COMING SOON)

Make My Wish Come True (T, One-Shot, ~2500 words)

Be Mine, Valentine (M🔥, One-Shot, ~2900 words)

Of Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls (T, ONGOING)

Five Times Foggy Almost Confessed His Feelings for You (+ the Time He Actually Did) (COMING SOON)

Untitled Foggy x F!Reader Fic (COMING SOON)

That Summer (M, ONGOING)

Untitled Steven Grant x F!Reader Series (COMING SOON)

#lotmf writes #lotmf's masterlist #matt murdock x reader #michael kinsella x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #foggy nelson x reader #frank castle x reader

[dduane]

This came up for discussion the other week when I was doing a bunch of food-related postings.* ...Then it got kinda buried: mea culpa. :/ ...So where was I?

John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes.

Anybody who reads Sherlock fic and doesn't know Azriona's work ought to be introduced to it. Here's a good place to start.

Mise en Place is succinctly described as "The One Where Sherlock Is Gordon Ramsay." ("I have no shame," the author remarks.) Super intrapersonal business, TV business, restaurant business, a really methodically nasty Moriarty, and a terrific chocolate pie. (Which I no sooner saw than adapted, because I too have no shame.)

Anyway, don't take my word for it: go find out. And remember, de gustibus non disputandum. :)

*I mean, a bunch all at once... :)

#Sherlock #fanfic #fic rec #Azriona #Mise en Place

[edupunkn00b]

Mise Out of Place

Edited photo. Original by Icons8 Team via Unsplash.

mise en place (ˌmē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs) noun Borrowed from French. A culinary process in which ingredients are prepared and organized (as in a restaurant kitchen) before cooking Also : the set of ingredients prepared using this process

Written for @starlocked01 for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange. I hope you enjoy this mix of crack and fluff with some elements unexpectedly made canon by last week's video.

Many thanks to the developmental beta reader, "Some Guy," who provided invaluable assistance and cheerleading with this story. Fluff is hard, y'all.

WC: 2k (okay, almost 2K) - Rated: T for a bit of swearing - CW: fluff, crack, and a hint of Remus-y imagery - [ AO3 ] -

“And… we’re live!”

“Thanks, Freddie,” Roman muttered, just out of earshot of the lavaliere mics pinned to Patton's and Remus' aprons.

“Maybe after his glow up,” Janus murmured, equally quietly.

Patton grinned at the camera, the edge of Janus’ hat fuzzy and barely visible past the glare of the ring light. “Hey there, Kiddos—”

“I’m Remus!” Said Side jumped into the frame, one long arm draped over Patton’s shoulders. Instead of looking at the camera, he stared expectantly at Patton, his grin far, far too wide.

Patton nodded, his own smile still plastered on. “And I’m your Happy Pappy Patton!”

Remus leaned closer and they said in unison, “And welcome to Messers en Place!”

Janus’ hat bobbed on the other side of the camera and Patton’s smile brightened. They’d practiced and practiced—and practiced—their video intro, each time failing to be in sync. Even Patton had begun to fear they’d have to rewrite it. But this time, when it mattered, really mattered, they did it!

“And what are we making today, Pattycake?” Remus prompted him when he failed to say his next line.

“Oh, right! To-daay…” He drew out his words as he looked around the ingredients oh-so-carefully spread out over the countertop. Mise en place, Roman had called it. Logan had tried to hide his surprise behind a little fumble with his glasses, but Patton hadn’t missed the way Logan’s eyes had widened.

“Ahem, well, yes, Roman is correct,” he'd finally managed. Remus bounced on his toes next to Patton, picking up each tiny bowl and sniffing at its contents.

“Careful there, Ro Bro,” he'd cackled. “Nerdy Wolverine’s gonna bust a nut with you knowing things.”

“I am not—”

“Hey, Pattycake, what’s this one?” Winking, Remus pulled him back into the present moment and shoved a bowl of brown spices into his hands.

“Oh, um…” Patton sniffed carefully. “It’s cumin, Remus.”

“Well, if you insist…” he began, reaching for his belt.

“Remus!” Roman cried, bonking his brother's head with the boom mic.

“Muse, not now, boy,” Janus murmured from the other side of the room.

Virgil groaned from his perch at the top of the refrigerator, silently tapping the sides of the fire extinguisher in his lap. “Are we sure having these two do a cooking show was a good idea for the stream?”

“Of course it is!” Remus and Roman said together. 

And it really was a good idea. The twins had blurted out the concept together during a brainstorming session and even Logan had agreed this would be first in their livestream series. He'd even suggested the name.

So here they were, the two of them, about to cook. Together.

They could do this. Patton could do this.

Remus’ smile had grown too wide again, eyebrows arched high.

Right, the cumin.

“We’re making spaghetti and meatballs,” Patton remembered his line and smiled at the camera.

“Balls,” Remus muttered under his breath, shoulders dancing.

Patton gasped and sneezed into the little bowl, spraying cumin up into the air and all over his face.

“Oh, I gotcha, Daddy—”

“Remus!” Roman lowered the boom mic with an offended huff only he could manage to sound princely. 

“Aw, Kiddo!” His catigan sleeves were safely tucked beneath his apron, but he brushed them clean anyway. Remus whipped out a concerningly clean handkerchief from under his sash and dabbed at Patton’s face. 

“It’s sweet,” Patton smiled at Roman just off camera.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Roman muttered.

“You don’t get paid at all, Princey!”

“Need I remind you all we’re still live?” Logan hissed from the hallway.

“It’s fine, Logan, dear,” Janus murmured, tapping the laptop just out of frame. Comments scrolled up the screen faster than they'd ever been. “The viewers are eating it up.”

Logan frowned at the screen for a long moment before shrugging. “He’s right. Okay, carry on."

Face now clean, Patton nodded and carried a big stock pot to the sink. “Right, first step is to start the water. Remus, will you—”

“One step ahead of you, Daddy!” Patton barely made out his words over the rush of the faucet.

And the crash just behind him.

Patton swung around, water sloshing out of the pot and onto the floor. “Remus!”

Remus had shoved all the measured ingredients to the far edge of the counter. Spices and oil spilled over the plate of ground meat and the long loaf of italian bread was broken in half. A wedge of parmesan had impaled the softening butter and the head of garlic had rolled onto the floor. At the center of the counter was a giant neon green air fryer into which Remus had jammed the entire—sealed—box of linguini and a jar of sauce. "Oh, and Merry Christmas, by the way. Thought you could use one of these babies!" he said, slapping the top of the device. "Hm… I wonder if I could fit one of those in here, too…"

“Wait, Remus, no—” Patton dropped the stock pot and reached out as Remus cranked the air fryer up to 500°F and slammed the start button. 

“Well, it was nice having a kitchen,” Virgil muttered and pulled the pin from the extinguisher, nozzle aimed directly at the air fryer.

“No, it’s fine,” Patton said, voice cracking even as he grinned up at Virgil.  “Don’t worry, Kiddo, everything will be—”

The air fryer beeped and the scent of burning paper filled his nose. He rushed toward the counter, hands outstretched to unplug the fryer, but his heel skidded on the wet floor and he slammed into Remus’ back instead.

“Hey, if you wanted to dance, Pattycake…” Remus spun around, catching him before he fell. “You could’ve just said so!”

“Remus!” Patton cried, clinging to his tunic as thick black smoke and the flicker of orange flames erupted out of the appliance. “Fire!”

With the grace of a cat and accompanied by a woosh of extinguisher foam, Virgil jumped down and doused the air fryer, the counter and most of Patton and Remus with the fire retardant. 

A spark caught on the edge of Virgil’s hoodie sleeve and the mic squealed as Roman dropped the boom and rushed over to smother it.

“Princey, I’m fine! Let’s get the rest of this—”

“Shit!” Roman swore as he slipped on the spreading puddle of water and extinguisher foam in the center of the room. Virgil grabbed him by his sash, pulling him to his feet.

“Gotcha, your Highnessness.”

Off camera, Logan slid closer to Janus. “Are we still filming?”

“Mm-hm. Wine?” he asked, offering a large goblet he’d procured from… somewhere.

Eyebrow raised, Logan accepted the glass and took a slow sip. “Out of everything in the kitchen, this is what you chose to save?”

“Why, yes, of course," he murmured before finishing his own glass and refilling it.

“Acceptable.”

~

Long after the livestream ended and the kitchen was—mostly—put back into order, the Sides called it a night and, one-by-one sauntered off to bed.

All the Sides but Remus, at least. Well, and Patton.

Remus had waited until everyone else's room had grown quiet and the lights spilling out from under each Side’s door had clicked off. A flickery bluish glow remained under Virgil’s door, but he typically wouldn’t actually fall asleep for another few hours anyway.

Patton’s door, though… Patton’s door had remained closed tight, without even the usual fairy lights brightening the edges of the door frame. And without the happy little sounds of his bedtime playlist.

Patton hadn’t gone to bed.

Taking more care than usual, Remus slipped off his boots and crept downstairs, skipping the creaky third and fifth steps. The living room, kitchen, and hall were dark, the patio door closed and locked with the blinds drawn tight. The clock on the microwave cast long, faint shadows over the kitchen floor and Remus spotted a bit of movement followed by a tiny sound.

He held his breath and waited. There it was again, a soft sniffle.

Dropping to the floor, Remus peered under the kitchen table. Patton sat hunched in the far corner, sweater-clad arms hugging his knees to his chest.

“Oh, hi, Kiddo,” he mumbled, wiping his cheeks against his forearms. “Can’t sleep?” he asked as though Remus was the one hiding alone in the dark.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing, Pattycake.”

“Oh…” Patton didn’t explain what the fuck he was doing down there, cardigan pulled over his potassium bicarbonate and cumin—ha!—stained apron. He just sort of looked down at his hands and pulled his legs up closer to him. Almost like he was making room.

Remus clambered under the table next to him, not quite touching but close enough to smell the smoke in Patton’s hair and clothes. Remus' own clothes smelled like his experiment upstairs and he inhaled the plasticy, acrid scent of burnt dyes and the forever chemicals from the extinguisher. It was even better than the fires for making s’mores at Thomas’ summer camp as a kid.

Remus wiggled his toes, watching Patton from the corner of his eye. He’d tucked his face close to his knees but his cheeks glimmered with new, silent tears. Remus breathed in again. The kitchen would reek of smoke for a long time after this.

“C-A-M—”

“Maybe later?” Patton sniffled. “I’m just not in the mood to sing right now, Kiddo.”

“You sure about that?” Remus scooted a little closer and bumped their shoulders together. “It’ll help if you just sing along…” He waited, watching Patton tap his foot, toes squelching in his still-sopping shoes. 

“C-A-M-P…” he began again, slower this time.

“F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G song,” Patton sang softly.

“C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G song…” Remus repeated.

A little smile cracked across the other Side’s face, softer and more real than it had been all day. “The C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G song.” Patton took a breath like he was about to jump into the next verse but he frowned, nose scrunched. “It still smells like burnt air fryer in here, huh?”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, nodding his head with a grin. “We made our mark.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, curling over his knees again.

“Aw, Daddy-o,” Remus bumped his shoulder. “Is that why you’re hiding under here? ‘Cause of the fire?”

“Well, yeah,” Patton frowned, staring back at him. “I really wanted to make a great video. I wanted to… you know… make Thomas proud.”

“Fuck, Pattycake, we did! Have you seen the comments?”

Patton just shook his head so Remus sank them both down into his room where he’d left his laptop open to the video page. Views and comments continued to pour in, hours after the stream had ended. “Look!” he demanded, pushing Patton down into a mostly clean chair.

The Moral Side read quietly, eyes growing wider with each scroll. “They… they liked us?”

“Yeah they did!” Remus slapped his back. “So, whaddya say we make Elf Spaghetti next time? We can even add some Crofters to please the nerd.” Patton’s stomach grumbled and Remus’ grin grew. “You know… we never did eat dinner, Pattycake. How about we give it a trial run tonight?”

“Race you to the kitchen!” Patton laughed and sank down through the floor.

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

#sanders sides #ts patton #ts remus #intruality #platonic intruality #sanders sides gift exchange #sanders sides fanfiction #patton sanders #remus sanders #the other sides are all there #it's chaos‚ pure and simple #crack treated seriously #crack and fluff #ts logan #ts janus #ts roman #ts virgil #logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #yes yes yes‚ i know canonically Patton bought Remus an air fryer but I'd already written that Remus created one for Patton #and I'm a stubborn mfer so there #the Daddy bit being made canon did make me smile‚ though

[lewmagoo]

*cracks knuckles* let’s do this

there are SO many good fics in this fandom that it’s hard to narrow it down, so my open letter to all the fic writers is that you are all incredible and continue to blow me away. the talent in the room with us is truly insane and i wish i could name every single one.

1. “and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay” bradley series by @gretagerwigsmuse

- a real, honest, and raw story that dives into the truth of dating a military man and the politics involved. the characters are so fleshed out and the writing is so fluid. the depth and the details always leave me feeling satisfied.

2. “house we share” jake series by @roleycoleyreccenter

- one of my all time favorite jake depictions and it really dove into new aspects of the character that i loved seeing explored. neurodivergent jake was written so so beautifully and it heals all my insecurities of feeling like too much in a relationship. the perfect balance of angst and fluff.

3. “the douchebag jar” by @jupitercomet

- roommate+new girl au, need i say more? soft jake, himbo bradley, bestie fanboy all come together to bring this world to life. a super fun read from the queen of au’s.

4. “mise en place” by @bradshawsbitch

- grumpy chef! grumpy chef! i loved all of alex’s one shots and she is NOT dropping the standard with a full fledged series. a grumpy man that’s soft for his sunshine girl is a trope that will never not make me happy and it’s made all the more relatable set in the restaurant industry that we all know too well.

5. “cruel summer” by @roosterbruiser

- anything from millie is stellar, and this currently in progress series is no exception. it is so unique and well thought out - you can’t help but to guess and theorize, all while thirsting for our favorite pilots in short shorts and crop tops.

6. “same mistakes” by @ofstoriesandstatdust

- one of the first fics i read in this fandom and has stayed one of my favorites. it’s blossomed into such a beautiful series with so much depth and lore whilst exploring the different dynamics between all the daggers/mavdad.

7. “i.r.i.s” by @ohtobeleah

- so! hot! every installment in this universe is so good and i truly think about it all the time. i love rebellious baby mitchell holding hangman in the palm of her hand with a side of himbo bradley being drug unwillingly into the chaos.

8. “always a bridesmaid” by @sugarcoated-lame

- such a fun jake fic! protective big brother bradley, sister-in-law phoenix, and conniving but soft hangman. the champagne kisses top off every girls dream wedding guest scenario.

9. “damn those dog tags” by @horseshoegirl

- one of my current favorite on-going jake series. the protective dagger squad and soft!jake finding redemption in an unlikely family. i get more and more intrigued with every update and the chemistry between the characters is so palpable.

10. “something ‘bout you” by @waklman

- i absolutely adore this series and the way that non-traditional shows of love are not just adequate but celebrated. our main girl is a badass softie that has me questioning if i’m more jealous of her or of rooster. a feel good fic to make your heart soar and fuel the want to babygirl-ify grown men.

again, i wish i could give every single person in this fandom a big ol’ forehead kiss for creating some of the best content and daydream fuel. you all rock🤘🏼

such great mentions!! also love your thought out answers :)

#asks #fic positivity night

[hangmanssunnies]

I know I missed @lewmagoo 's positivity night cut off. Which first of all, Leah thank you so much for doing one. You are wonderful, and seeing mentions in my activity and all the positivity on the dash made me grin. However, there are so many fantastic wonderful people that I feel compelled to shout out! So I wanted to make quick post about it. This fandom is so great and full of kind souls and talent there really too many to name. Here are a few though ...

@bradshawsbitch Alex, is not only an absolutely lovely human but also a fantastic writer. She also puts up with me and my nonsense at all random hours of the day. Chef Rooster in Mise En Place is a complicated dream and I really wish he was mine. Not to mention her fic songbird which is some of my favorite Rooster smut. I haven’t stopped thinking about riding roosters abs since. She also makes very pretty gifs, which have been known to send me into a tizzy.

@top-hhun They just get Jake, he is always sooo well written and interesting. The way they write him is fantastic, line of sight is a particular fav.

@callsignspark I love Elle's writing and even though I am horribly behind on reading and leaving comments, I know their Mar(r)y Me fic is phenomenal, and loved anything for you.

@theharddeck so so so many fics that I could shout out of theirs but honestly my favorite might be their Coyote series. It drove me insane, and the little details they put in their writing is next level.

@wildbornsiren I have proclaimed shelly a queen of writing threesomes and I will do it again now.

@sushiwriterhere someone else I know has written fantastic threesomes, and I really loved all the content that came out to the threesome writing challenge they did.

@libraryofantiquitea I still think about their Jake fic Tell me my name and the two follow up parts they wrote.

@say-al0e it should be illegal to make me fall more in love with Bradley Bradshaw, and yet... they always seem to manage. I love all their fics though for real.

@sugarcoated-lame I love kricket's fics! Their recent Dilf Bradley story has had me particular enamored.

@myfaveficrecs I love their fics, and I love the positivity they spread in the fandom with confession Wednesdays as well as writer spotlights.

There are so so so many fantastic creators I could go on and on and on. Genuinely I love this fandom it's one of the best I've ever been in. Which is why I still am here over a year later some how. I love you all, and if I didn't shout you out, please know I do adore you too.

#I love so many people 🥺 #this is such a wonderful fandom #coley? that's not a person #coley's rambling

[bradshawsbitch]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅷ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 5.1K

× chapter warnings; swearing, see general story warnings, mentions of missed meals

disclaimer; I am basing most of the chefs/waitresses on people I have worked with/encountered. Most of their traits will be as realistic as possible.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

“Fucking piece of shit…”

It seemed as if luck was due to run its course. Clocking out, gathering your things and saying goodbye to the chefs after a very successful service on your part, you had headed out into the ever cooling night air to your car. You weren’t even on closing shift tonight, getting off at 11pm instead of the usual 3am. 

However, as you flung your backpack into your car and turned the ignition… nothing. Car was completely dead. Cursing softly, you got out of the car to lift the hood up. Blinking a few times you muttered “Well, at least I know how to open the hood…” before sighing and grabbing a worn manual from the passenger seat door.

“Hey, chef,” Jake grunted out as they finished up cleaning the kitchen. Bradley’s gaze shot over to his line chef, and followed his line of sight until they landed on a figure outside their window - struggling to get their car started. 

“Stop being a fucking chicken, would you?” Jake looked at Bradley earnestly now, and Bradley licked his lips at the look Jake was leveling him with. Rooster knew then that Jake was more perceptive than he’d originally thought. 

“I don’t– I can’t… do that to her,” he whispered, almost to himself as he again glanced out the window at your sweet form. 

“Man, stop. She’s not like her, nor Michelle, nor Thea. Take a chance. Act like a fucking adult about it this time,” Jake was nothing if not honest. Bradley contemplated for only a moment before giving his co-worker a hesitant look “I’ll fucking close up the kitchen, get going you dumb fuck,” 

And so, Bradley raced up the stairs, changing into the casual t-shirt and jeans combo he’d worn to work, his hair tousled and slightly curled as he shrugged on his shearling lined jean jacket. Approaching you, he’d uttered the words of help to you. 

“Bradley!” your voice was surprised, and he could see that your exposed skin had formed goosebumps. 

“Need a ride?” his voice was soft, apologetic almost as those doe-like eyes took in your surprised face. Nodding, you closed the hood of your car with a finality that seemed somewhat foreshadowing.

Locking your car up, you slowly walked next to Bradley up to his car, brows furrowed as he lended you his hand to help you up the steps to the passenger seat. His skin was warm, and that brief touch alone had your body buzzing with longing for more. 

After making it out on the roads, the silence pressed between you. Rooster had yet to ask for directions to your home, and your breath was coming just a little shorter in anticipation. 

“Can I–” Rooster trailed off for a beat “Would you mind… coming back to my place?” he chanced a glance at you, his voice was uncertain, but soft and low. Smiling softly, you nodded your head;

“I like your place.” you simply said before reaching over to grab a hold of one of Bradley’s hands. It was large, and as you tangled your fingers with his, you were surprised when Bradley squeezed your hand before letting his thumb gently run over your knuckles, seemingly okay with driving one handed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the way Bradley tried to fight a smile, but how he ultimately failed - letting the corners of his lips draw up in the softest of smiles you’d witnessed on his beautiful face. 

Silence stretched between the two of you, his thumb still rubbing soothing circles on your skin. The night sky was starting to darken, and it was soon tinged with the twinkle and shine of stars scattered across it. The moon was still rather new, and sometimes the night sky in all its glory lent you the peace and comfort you felt you needed.

“What’s the deal, Bradley?” you whispered softly, tearing your gaze away from the night sky to look at him. He glanced at you, and you tightened your hold on his hand before he could pull away. Clearing his throat, he once again shifted his attention to the road, squirming a little in his seat.

“How do you mean?” his voice was low, and you could tell he was trying to keep an airy approach, but the crease between his brows gave him away.

“What’s the deal with us? What have I done to make you pull away?” your voice was soft. There was no hint of accusation or hurt - just genuine curiosity. The large car slowly pulled up at Bradley’s driveway, and he was silent as he killed the engine, brown eyes downcast as he pondered how to answer truthfully without making you run to the hills.

“I’m–” he cleared his throat again, glancing at your serene face before continuing “I’m a pretty broken, lonely person, Bambi… and I guess- I guess I didn’t want to break you in the process of trying to become whole again.” it was as close to the truth as he could get. 

Maybe even closer to the truth than he had previously known himself. It felt as if he had laid himself bare for the woman sat before him, had revealed his very core - and had given her the tools to strike him down if she so pleased.

He dared another glance at her pretty face, and the small smile that quirked the corners of her mouth, and the twinkling of all the stars in her eyes… it was overwhelming. She was so beautiful. Inside and out. Sometimes it felt painful for Bradley to look at her for too long, knowing he’d never be good enough for her. 

“Sweet man…” she whispered so softly it touched his very heart, her hand laid gently against his cheek, cradling him softly in her palm “the road isn’t meant to be walked alone.” 

With a final stroke of her thumb across one of his scars, she dropped her hand down to his thigh, soft smile still evident on her lips.

“Should we go inside? It’s getting a little chilly,” her sentence had Bradley stirring again, and he nodded before swiftly hopping out of the car and making his way over to the door she’d just managed to crack open just slightly. Rooster sent her a joking look of disapproval.

“That’s my job, missy.” he smiled down at her form as she now stood before him. “Are you hungry, sweets? Managed to eat anything at work today?” he murmured softly as he leaned down to place his lips on her soft cheek.

She hesitated a moment too long, and now the look of disapproval wasn’t as jestful anymore. “Bambi…” he reprimanded softly, and you shrugged a little, eyes twinkling with delight as he took your hand and led you inside his home.

Bradley swiftly led you to his kitchen after you’d both removed your shoes and jackets, sitting you down in the same spot you’d been in last - when he’d treated you to breakfast and the morning newspaper. 

“You’ve just spent, what, 10 hours of cooking and you think you’re going to make me something now?” you’d managed to snag your fingers into Bradley’s belt loops before he could get moving again, pulling him in between your spread legs. His amber eyes looked down into yours, letting his fingers grace over your jawline, down your neck, as you tilted your head further back to take him all in. 

“12, actually,” he smirked “and I don’t mind. It’s what I love doing.” he shrugged. You didn’t let him leave though “I can have a bowl of cereal,” you murmured, trying to pull him closer. His loud laughter echoed in his homey kitchen “Ain’t no fuckin’ way you’re eating fucking cereal in my house, Bambs!” 

“Could you–” you trailed off, suddenly overcome with shyness again. What if you’d misinterpreted the whole thing? “Could I what, sugar?” Bradley murmured, his palm now cupping your neck in its large expanse. 

“Maybe kiss me first?” you murmured, straightening your back and arching it just slightly, so that you came closer to his chest, closer to reaching his chin. A broad smile stretched on Bradley’s lips before he started leaning down.

“I can manage that, Cookie,” he murmured just before his lips met yours in a soft, warm kiss that had your head spinning, a sharp inhale of air rushing through your nose as you pushed closer to your head chef. 

“Y’almost had me,” Bradley murmured as he broke away from the kiss, gently tapping your nose before moving away from your embrace “almost made me forget to feed you!” he was full on smiling now, and it was a look you wanted to keep on his face for as long as you could. 

“Fuck… forgot to grocery shop yesterday…” Bradley groaned, rubbing his chin as he scanned the contents of his fridge - which still looked quite full to you. In comparison to the condiments and sad cordial bottles in your fridge, it looked like a damn dream. It wasn’t easy to keep a full fridge when you practically lived at work and got fed by professional chefs. 

“This’ll have to do,” he grumbled under his breath as he got to fixing up a stir-fry, complete with eggs and just the right amount of seasoning to have you holding back moans as you ate. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” your comment had Bradley chuckling before he turned to clean, and you thought you could see a hint of red creeping up his neck at your comment. 

“Need any help?” you’d finished your dish quickly, hopping off your stool to place your empty bowl in the sink where Bradley was washing up his knives. Wrapping your arms around his midsection, you let your cheek rest against the warm fabric of his broad back.

“No, sweetheart. That’s alright, you just sit and look pretty. I’ll be done soon,” he smiled softly, secretly relishing in the way your arms felt wrapped around him. Smiling against his back, you placed a chaste kiss there before untangling yourself from him. Glancing towards his living room, you decided on something else.

“Would you mind if I put on some music? Your vinyl collection is superb,” 

“Go ahead, babe. Want a glass of wine?” Bradley asked over his shoulder as you made your way towards his record player, already knowing just the track you wanted to play for him. Crouching down, you flipped through a couple of covers before answering you’d love a glass of red. Hearing Bradley’s soft movements in the kitchen made your body thrum with a pleasant buzz. It felt comforting. As you recognized the cover you wanted, you delicately placed the vinyl disk on the player and expertly chose the right track. 

As Bradley entered the room, two glasses of wine in one hand, and a shot of whiskey in a hobstar glass in the other; the opening tunes of the track you chose rang out, a little crackly, in the soft light of the room. Placing the glasses on his living room table, he licked his lips as he watched you walk towards him slowly. 

“This is one of my favorite songs…” he murmured as you stepped closer to him, guiding his hands so they rested on your waist as you slung yours over his shoulders. “Mine too,” you smiled, letting Bradley hold you closer as you swayed to the music. Bradley found it surprisingly hard not to get overwhelmed by emotion as he held you in his arms and danced to a song he’d seen his parents dance to.

“Are you alright?” he felt your lips move against his chest “Yeah,” he choked out, letting his arms wrap around you just a little tighter. Somehow, you managed to wriggle further away from him to look into his eyes. 

Smiling, you walked him backwards until the back of his legs hit the sofa, and he tumbled down to a sitting position. Slowly, you moved to straddle him, holding his face gently between your hands, holding his stormy gaze steady. 

“Nothing,” you sang softly in time with the record, a small smirk playing on your lips “can be sadder, than a glass of wine alone..” Bradley could only chuckle, placing his large hands on your hips, squeezing softly. 

“Loneliness, loneliness” your gaze roamed over his beautiful features “such a waste of time.” 

As you sang softly along to a song Bradley thought he knew inside and out, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever even listened to the song before. Never before had he payed such attention to the heart wrenching meaning of the song as he did with you, holding him as if he was the most precious thing in the world as you sang to him. 

“You don’t ever have to walk alone,” you leaned forward, letting the tip of your nose slowly rub against his. Rooster let his eyes flutter close, brows pinching in a frown as he tried not to let the burning of the tears welling in his eyes to distract him from your touch and gentle voice. 

He felt the pressure of your thumb against his cheek, the breath you let out as you sang, your lips moving against his own as you uttered the last words you’d sing before connecting your lips to his again;

“Baby, won’t you walk with me?”

Stormy emotions swirled and roared within Bradley’s chest, and he felt he needed to be closer to you. Needed you like the air he breathed. His strong arms circled your waist, pulling you closer to him, his hands gripping at your clothes as his lips chased yours in a needy kiss. 

Your name falling from Bradley’s lips over and over again, mixed with the sound of Cry to Me ringing out around you felt otherworldly. You’d never forget it as long as you lived. Bradley’s gasps, how wrecked he sounded as he voiced your name, the feel of his eager touch, the way he moaned as your lips attached to his neck… the way he let out the most sinful whine as you gently tugged at the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Never before had you felt so aroused, felt so wanted, as you did perched on Bradley’s lap, painfully aware that only the flimsy material of your panties covered your core under your skirt.

“Bradley..” you moaned softly as you tipped your head back, short bursts of air exhaled through parted lips as the skilled chef started to grind your hips down against him. The roughness of his jeans felt incredible as you rolled your hips to create more friction, your grip on his shoulders tightening slightly as he chased you to place his lips all over your exposed neck. 

“So fucking pretty for me, Bambi…” Bradley murmured against your skin, hesitating for only a moment before he gently dipped your upper body away from his chest, his forearm holding you up as the movement pushed you harder against his jean clad hard-on. 

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner?” you smirked as he brought you back up after having nipped and sucked colorful marks into your collarbones and the exposed skin of your chest above your shirt. 

“Nobody.” he grinned back, looking up at you like you were the one that had hung all the stars and the moon in the sky that night. Smiling down at him, you bit your lip, enjoying the crackling of the record player as Roosters hands smoothed down your back. 

“Want to see my room?” Bradley’s lopsided smile hit you like a ton of bricks, and you giggled softly “Honey, I’ve already seen your room,” you reminded him, shooting him a look as he grinned playfully.

“Wanna see it again?” he sounded so eager you couldn’t help but laugh before you nodded. Laughter soon turned into a surprised yelp as Bradley stood up, hoisting you up in his arms before walking towards the stairs that led up to his room. 

Laying you down gently on top of his mattress, Bradley stood back to take in your form as you leaned on your elbows, eyes alight with desire for him as he towered over you. 

“Do you want this, Bambi?” he murmured as he knelt on the bed, slowly leaning over you, trapping you in his frame as he gazed into your eyes. “You say the word and we stop.” he continued earnestly before gently laying you back against his pillows. Being in his room, laid in his bed again, a feeling of safety enveloped you as his scent surrounded your very being.

“I want this.” there wasn’t even a hint of a waver in your voice “I want you, Bradley.” God, the sound of your whole name falling off of his lips would be your undoing. Never had it sounded so reverent as when Bradley whispered it lovingly before pressing his lips and body to yours. 

“I want to be yours,” you breathed out as Bradley’s hands cupped your tits, his lips kissing along your neck and collarbones. Bradley groaned, his large hands palming harder at your words, his kisses turning into nips and suckles against your skin, marking you. 

“Mine.” he grunted as his mouth trailed lower, hands slipping into your shirt from the neckline, grasping your tits over the fabric of your lacy bra before they dipped below that too. The moan you released at the feel of Bradley’s calloused fingertips against the bare skin of your breasts was loud enough that you were sure you might be heard all the way to the restaurant. 

“Fuck, Bambi!” Rooster moaned, forehead resting against your collarbones as he massaged your breasts slowly, every whimper and moan that left your parted lips making him impossibly hard. You were so soft, so pliant, so good. 

Ever so slowly, Bradley nudged the fabric of your shirt and the cup of your bra down to reveal your breast. Moaning softly, he wasted no time on placing kisses and licks across the swell of your tit, letting his tongue glide over your hardened nipple before he sucked it into his warm mouth. 

“Bradley!” you whimpered, hands flying up to tug at his slightly curled hair, gasping with every stroke of his tongue against your nipple, chest heaving and arching to press closer to Bradley’s mouth. The noises he let out were dizzying, and you found yourself moaning in response to them as he rutted the bulge in his jeans against your thigh. 

Satisfied with his work, Bradley let his lips place one final kiss to your skin before taking in the wetness he’d left there, a proud smile on his face as he moved to kiss you again. This time there was nothing sweet about the kiss your chef gave you. It was tongue, teeth and harsh nips, biting down and tugging on bottom lips and frantic movements, before he broke away. 

His hands had wandered to the softness of your bare thighs, reaching up under your skirt to rub gently at the very top of them, before they slowly moved to the inside of your thighs, still squeezing softly before parting them slightly. Sitting back on his heels, he looked at your heaving chest, both tits now spilling out from your top, your skirt bunched high on your thighs as your legs spread for him. He could see the pretty black lace of your panties, and the sight made him groan. 

At his pause, you pushed up, swiftly removing your top and your bra before you laid back down, an easy grin playing on your lips as your hands moved slowly to cup your breasts - moaning softly as you rolled your nipples, eyes never leaving Bradley’s. 

The growl that rumbled deep within Bradley’s chest almost made your eyes roll back into your head, but you settled for squeezing them shut as a whine left you. He swiftly removed the t-shirt he was wearing, before fiddling with his belt buckle. The sound made your eyes snap open again, and a soft gasp tumbled out as you again took in his upper body. 

“God, you’re gorgeous…” you breathed out, fingertips softly gracing his abs. Bradley placed a soft kiss on your lips before he managed to wriggle out of his jeans, reaching to remove your skirt. “Don’t bother,” you whined, trying to pull him closer to you. 

“Need you.” 

“Aw, Bambs,” Bradley smiled, leaning down to place chaste kisses on your lips. “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first,” he murmured, and the implications of his words had you whimpering. His lips on yours were dizzying, the soft press of them combined with the taste of his tongue languidly stroking yours… his hands had skimmed down your sides and were gripping your hips where your skirt had been bunched up before gently guiding your thighs to rest over his. 

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” he rasped out as his fingers traced over the lace of your panties, and you nodded, bottom lip secured between your teeth as you looked up at Bradley. His thumb ran down your clothed slit slowly, before he pressed the pad of it softly against your clit - making you whine out, body tensing at the jolt of pleasure that ran through you.

“That’s it… atta girl, relax honey - I’ll take care of you,” Bradley murmured, drawing gentle circles against your clit, looking down at your heaving chest and pinched brows - looking so sweet for him. 

“Bradley!” you moaned out as his fingers snuck underneath the fabric of your panties, gathering your slick onto his middle fingers. His other hand was palming at your thigh as he sat on his knees between your spread legs. 

“Look so pretty like this, Bambi–” Rooster cooed, a soft smile on his lips as your eyes roamed over his upper body hungrily. The glimpse you’d caught of his bare chest at work had not been anywhere near this good, the soft dusting of chest hair on his sternum, his defined abs and pecs… and the bulge of his biceps as he finally started pumping his fingers slowly into your core was enough to leave you utterly breathless.

Panties pushed to the side, Bradley’s fingers slowly fucking you steadily, you felt surprised that you were already on the verge of an orgasm - the slow flick of his thumb against your clit and the way he curled his fingers just ever so slightly–

“R-Roos–!” your breath caught in your throat as Bradley reached up to pinch at your nipple, whilst plunging his fingers especially deep, had you tumbling over the edge, keening and letting out high pitched moans as your back arched slightly in your euphoria. 

“Good girl, baby… so pretty,” Bradley’s soft voice touches something deep in your chest, and you gasp out another broken moan as he leans down to attach his lips to your neck, fingers pumping slowly to prolong your pleasure as his tongue licks over your damp skin. Trembling fingers reach up to grasp at the hair on the nape of his neck, trying to push him closer - needing him closer to you so bad. 

As he sucks softly on your sensitive skin, you cry out again, his name falling from your lips like a prayer over and over. His fingers have slipped out of you, again holding a steady grip on your hip as you grind down against the hard bulge in his boxers. Desperate moans keep spilling from your lips as Rooster nibbles on your neck, kissing and soothing with his tongue. The hand that had rested on your breast joins the other to grip you hard, guiding you in rolling your hips against his cock, your back arching to reach him with your thighs slung over his hips and thighs as he kneels still. 

His lips move against yours, hot, needy, desperate, as he breathes hard through his nose. The soft grunts and groans he lets out as his cock brushes against your wet core making you keen softly. One hand leaves your hip, and you feel him struggling to push his boxers down to his thighs. Wiggling, you help him free his swollen cock, tip red and leaking precum already. You gaze at him open-mouthed, moaning softly at the sight of him wrapping his fingers around the thick length, languidly stroking himself whilst looking down at you. 

“C’mere, Bambs…” his voice is raspy as he reaches beneath your back, hoisting you upwards with ease so that you’re now upright, straddling him. Your chest pressed tight to his, his warm cock resting between the two of you making you gasp. You whimper softly as you realize the tip reaches far up your abdomen. 

“Condom?” Bradley murmurs against your shoulder, panting hard as he gropes at the globes of your ass. Shaking your head, you inform him of the IUD you’d inserted last year.

“Want to feel all of you, Roos,” you whisper, leaning down to attach your lips to his neck, suckling softly at his pulse point. The long, broken moan Bradley lets out makes you whimper and clench around nothing. 

“Please, Bradley– need you!” you try again, and this time Rooster complies, gripping the base of his cock, his other forearm moving under your ass to lift you up slightly, before letting his tip tease at your entrance, fucking you so shallowly he’s barely inside of you. Licking your lips, you gasp and pant wildly at the feeling of his swollen cockhead dragging slowly against your core. 

“Fuck, Rooster - d’you want me to fucking beg for it or what?” your impatient whine has his chest rumbling with laughter before he kisses you chastely “Wasn’t my plan, but I sure wouldn’t mind,” he smirks.

If that’s how he wants to play. You put on your best pout, brows drawn together as your grip his shoulders, leaning away slightly from his chest to tip your head back slightly. 

“Please, Bradley – need you, please!” you whine and keen “Need your cock so bad, chef, please, please – fuck me,” the last syllable is drawn out in a moan as he sinks a little deeper “Oh, god, yes- fuck, want you to fill me up so bad, Rooster– you feel so good, baby,” you continue, your whines getting more and more high pitched as he lowers you onto his cock. 

“You’ll be the fuckin death of me, Bambi” he growls, biting down hard on your shoulder before he pushes you down so that he’s balls deep. Quiet gasps fall steadily from your lips as he holds you still on his cock. You couldn’t move if you tried, his arms encircling you, your thighs wound around his hips, arms slung over his shoulders, you’re clinging onto him as if your life depends on it. 

“Sweet girl…” Bradley murmurs against your shoulder, relishing in your soft whimper at his voice and the way you clench as he grips your ass, lifting you and fucking you slowly onto his cock, barely letting it leave your warm core before sinking you back down. 

The silence of the room is only disrupted by your soft noises and Bradley’s grunts, your movements slow and languid. Bradley holding your body so reverently in his lap, helping your body move up and down his length, fucking into you ever so slightly with each dip and movement of your hips. His hands are ever moving, stroking your spine, gripping your asscheeks, your thighs, or gripping the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. 

“Bradley… Bradley.. Bradley…” his name is repeatedly falling from your lips, breathlessly, as if it’s the only thing you can think while he’s got you riding his cock. He growls softly at that thought, pushing into you harder, gripping you tighter - and he’s rewarded by high pitched mewls of his name. He can tell you’re close again by how fucking tight your needy cunt is squeezing him, and Bradley can’t remember the last time he fucked someone this good. 

“You gonna cum for me, sweet girl?” he murmurs, looking up at your glossy eyes. Nodding, you can only let out a pathetic “Uh-huh!” in reply. Rooster smirks, pressing his hand against your lower back to cant your hips just so, so that your clit catches against his skin. 

“Cum for me, Bambi, soak my fucking cock with that perfect little pussy of yours,” he grunts, grinding his cock so deep into you he feels a little dizzy himself, his swollen tip repeatedly hitting that sweet spot that makes your entire body spasm slightly, clenching around him so fucking good. He feels when you tip over the edge, and he drinks in your loud moans, the way your eyes roll back and how your brows pinch in pleasure. 

“Fuck, good girl - so fuckin’ good for me… gorgeous…” he grunts, speeding up slightly, palming your ass and grinding you faster down onto his cock. 

“Where can I cum?” he grunts, slowly lowering you onto your back, fucking his cock into you harder now that you’re laid out before him. 

“Tummy, please, Bradley!” you whine, thrashing slightly at the overstimulation of his cock still hitting that spot. Rooster moans, pulling out abruptly to pump his cock in his fist, ropes of cum painting your soft stomach and upper body. He pants slightly as you let out a soft moan at the sight, swirling a finger into his spend to bring it to your lips, gently sucking it into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby…” he groans, reaching up to let his thumb stroke over your cheek, brown eyes roaming over your beautiful body laid out for him, skirt messily rumpled against your hips, his cum painting your skin so beautifully, and your eyes hazy and glossy in the afterglow.

“C’mon, baby…” he whispers softly, and you whine as he gently lifts you off the bed and into his bathroom. There he gently helps you out of your skirt and underwear before guiding you into his shower, where he gently washes your body, leaving soft kisses all over your face, embracing you to his chest as he praises you softly. 

“Did so good for me baby… felt incredible,” he pecks your lips and you keen at his words, leaning heavily against his chest as you place soft, mindless kisses on his sternum.  “My sweet little Bambi…” he murmurs against your hair, and you nod against his chest 

“Your sweet Bambi,” you agree before tilting your head up to meet those amber eyes of his.

“My sweet Rooster?” you ask, voice wavering slightly with uncertainty. His soft, almost mournful smile takes your breath away as he cradles your face in his large palms. “Your sweet Rooster.” he confirms.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw smut #smut #mise en place series #my writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 1

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You place the final sparkling glass on the cart and give a tiny smile at the accomplishment. Your work isn't particularly complicated or glamorous. As eager singles and lively coeds wait outside to invade the downtown club, you work tirelessly to ready the place; clean the dishes, sweep and mop the floors, vacuum the coatroom…

The work is draining but simple. You don't mind it so much. You mostly hide in the shadows and get it done, take your check, and retreat to your singulsr existence. Your co-workers more than make up for your invisibility.

You can hear the booming voice of the bartender as he chats with the other. His voice tends to carry over most other noises, even the music when its thrumming from the subwoofers. You always hear him coming whereas you are ever unnoticed by others.

Sonny, the cook, chops at the cutting board, the air vibrant with the the aromas of his simmering pans. The private rooms are ready for their guests, most of the plates will be sent there. Everything has its place in the club; the burly blond behind the bar, Sonny at the stove, and you wherever a mess arises.

"Glasses," the door swings inward, startling you as you carry the used utensils and bowls from Sonny's station to the sink, "ah, perfect."

Thor, the bartender, strides over, his immense size making the space feel even smaller. Yourself too.

He nears and grabs the handle on the cart. You barely have time to react as he lurches it too sharply. One of the highball glasses slides off and shatters on the floor as he stops. You barely keep several others from following suit.

"Oh, apologies," he grins guiltily at the glass shards.

"Thor, if you're not in here stealing apps, you're trashing the place," Sonny guffaws.

"I didn't mean to," the bartender says defensively, "I'll clean it–"

"I got it," you're quicker than him as you grabs the broom from where you left it, "no worries."

A hum catches in his throat as you return to the cart and slowly roll it towards him. He backs up with your careful advance. He grips the handle and slowly pulls it with him, this time making a show of doing so cautiously.

"No worries," he echoes you, "thank you."

He wheels backward through the door as you turn to sweep up the scattered glass. Sonny grunts as a pan hisses. He tuts as he sprinkles spice into one.

"Bozo, that one is," he chuckles, "makes a mean cocktail despite having the grace of a newborn elephant."

You nod and say nothing. You don't know Thor well, you see him around, like most of the other employees. Bottle girls, servers, bouncers. You only ever see Sonny or the other chef, Enid, often. Neither really seems to mind you and talk more to fill the dearth than make friends.

"Lucky his brother runs the place or he'd be paying for all the nachos. Never knew a man who could eat so much. Good guy but… insatiable."

You listen without response. The crotchety chef is used to that. You almost think he prefers it. He doesn't argue with you like he does the bottle girls or posture as he does around the bouncers. Especially the big one, August.

You scoop up the glass in the dustpan and dumb it in a box formerly used for the ready to serve cans. You set it with the recycle and go back to the task of scouring the dishes. Sonny whistles along to the softly buzzing radio, soon to be replaced with the coursing of modern pop music.

Employees drift in and out; servers bitching, bottle girls grabbing tall bottles, and a shuffle you can't keep order of.

The DJ puts on the first track and signals opening. You put your ear plugs in then, it's a bit too loud for your brain to focus. You linger in the kitchen, you'll sneak out to collect empty glasses once the place is a bit fuller.

Sonny sends his first apps and slips the pack of smokes from his front pocket. He signals that's he's going for his usual break and you nod as you go to peek through the window. Servers take the trays and crumple tickets as you look past them.

The flashing of colored lights reflect off sparkling outfits and add definition to attractive faces. You were never the club type. Never had much of a chance. No school, no parties, just work.

"Goddamn," Thor blusters in, the door bouncing off the metsl corner of the counter, "Loki… always…"

He stops his grumbling as the door shuts and reveals you just on the other side. He gives a sheepish grin and you stand dumbly watching him. You probably should try to look busy.

"Tequila," he declares, "I missed it in inventory."

You quick push away from the counter and beat him to the storage room. You're not sure what kind he needs but you recall an empty one with the gold cap. You grab that and come back to the doorway as he nears. He almost jumps back, as if he didn't expect you.

"Oh, fawn, you scared me," he smiles, his blue eyes gleaming, "ah, you are exactly what I need."

He takes the tequila from you and raises it to read the label.

"Clever," he muses, "perhaps you might do me another favour."

You stare at him. Well, you won't have much to do for a while. You nod.

"It'll only be me tonight," he declares, "so, I need some help. You would only need to be my assistant. Hand me bottles and glasses…"

"Oh, I don't… know if I–"

"You will not get any trouble for it, hm? I will speak to my brother should he try to give any. Besides, I am rather desperate."

He sticks his lip out, just a little, just enough to tweak your heart. It might not be wise to say no to the brother of the owner.

"Just for a little," you permit, "okay?"

#dark thor #thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #series #mise en place #mcu #marvel #avengers

[myfaveficrecs]

Creator Spotlight

@bradshawsbitch has a little bit of something for everyone. @roosterforme nominated their blog for a spotlight and it is rightly deserved. Please go check them out if you haven't already and send some love their way.

A Little Q & A:

1: What is your favorite thing you've written or made? oh gosh, this is such a tough question - but a good one! I think I have some babies, for sure, and I definitely consider my White Christmas fic my baby, not because it became popular but because I absolutely adored writing Bradley sort of inserted into a setting that I myself am so familiar with. It made it feel very homey and special to me! Other than that I think my other sort of special babies are Difficult (Bradley), Best Friend (Bob) and Winter Blues (Rhett)!

2: Top 3 favorite creators you want people to check out? ahhh!! god, it truly is amazing how many incredibly talented writer friends I have!!! readers in this fandom really are lucky to have them! I have to say I've fallen so much for @lewmagoo s writing, absolutely delicious depiction of emotions and plots, they are so incredibly creative. @roosterforme is also a given! the way that woman churns out content, I've literally never seen anything like it. Her readers should consider themselves BLESSED as all hell (sorry, am I allowed to cuss in this interview? jokes hehe)! and of course, my love @roleycoleyficcenter - the way I fucking tore through her masterlist after finishing House We Share was perhaps alarming, and Coley is SO sweet she really just welcomed my incoherent screaming about her characters with such kindness!

3: An idea you have for a future work that people should look out for? Ohhh, well, I am just a little bit notorious for having many ideas but having such a hard time putting it down "on paper" but I do have a little Bradley x flight attendant idea going on, of course, the Vinny oneshot I'm writing in collaboration with Emily, and sometimes soon-ish the next chapter of my Mise en Place series!

Taglist: 

@roosterscock  

@roosterforme  

@bradshawsbitch  

@jupitercomet  

@seresinhangmanjake  

@fandomxpreferences  

@wildbornsiren  

@babyrooster

@ohtobeleah  

@callsign-marlie  

@callsign-milano  

@oncasette  

@topguncortez  

@topgun-imagines  

@roleycoleyreccenter  

@call-sign-shark  

@cherrycola27  

@thedroneranger  

@notroosterbradshaw

@almostgenerallyalways  

@roosterbruiser  

@teacupsandtopgun  

@endofdays56 

@princessphilly 

@wolfmoonmusic 

@phoenix1388 

@wintercap89 

@timbradfordsboot 

@je-suis-prest-rachel 

@adaydreamaway08 

@flowers-and-fichte 

@mak-32 

@greatszu 

#content creator #promote creators #creator spotlight #tgm

[sitp-recs]

The rapid-fire fic recs are entirely delightful, and I would like to request, "mutual." Thank you!!

Thank you anon! I love this rec series too 🥹

A Mutual Inconvenience by @the-fools-errand (T, 3.7k)

While Harry is attempting to fix the mess of his life before the kids come home from Hogwarts for the holidays, he finds Draco Malfoy in the last place he would have expected him -- At a muggle tea shop in the north of England.

Mise en Place by @corvuscrowned (T, 5.4k)

Draco needs to learn how to cook, and luckily, Harry knows his way around a kitchen.

What Dreams May Come by @firethesound (E, 36k)

If Harry had to get called into work on his day off, at least he was able to get Malfoy called in too.

#milestone celebration #rapid fire recs

[joe-dayton]

Psychoanalytic Theory in The Boys

In his article titled ”Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus”, Jean-Louis Baudry concludes that “cinema [appears] as a sort of psychic apparatus of substitution, corresponding to the model defined by the dominant ideology” and that its ultimate and “primarily economic” goal is to prevent any form of deviations or exposure of the dominant ideology as a model.[1] Referencing Freud, Derrida, and even Plato, Baudry dissects and examines the ways in which the cinema works as an ideological tool for the dominant narrative of the culture that produces it, both in its mechanisms and its results. Through this same psychoanalytic lens, I will analyze how the narrative structure and ideological messaging of The Boys others characters through their respective identities while simultaneously upholding and sternly reinforcing the dominant ideology of American society. The Boys, an Amazon Prime original adaptation of the 2006 comic book series of the same name, follows a wide cast of characters; many of which are othered in some way, whether they are a superhero or a normal human being. Therefore, in order to keep this post in scope I will only be discussing one of the main characters, Starlight, examining her othering in the show and the ideological effects it creates.

In order to properly examine how Starlight is othered by the narrative and ideological structure of the show, we must first discuss the ways in which the cinema as a whole is a tool of ideological reproduction. To clarify, when Baudry refers to the term cinema he is discussing the literal structure and composition of a movie theatre, regarding both the presentation of reality in front of the audience and the origin of that reality being projected from behind them. However, I will be referring to cinema as the general idea of an abstract and presented reality—such as The Boys television series—through which all of the same concepts of the representation of the self apply. Baudry argues that “The ‘reality’ mimed by the cinema is first of all that of a ‘self.’ But because the reflected image is not that of the body itself but that of a world already given as meaning, one can distinguish two levels of identification.”[2] The first of these two levels is attached to the image itself, the relation and identification that we feel with the characters presented to us on the screen. While it is not a literal or physical reflection, we can still deeply relate and empathize with them as they go through the trials and tribulations of the story, such as Starlight’s sexual assault and her fight to get justice. And this action, the events, and the problems that the cinema presents us with is the second identification that the reality of cinema mimics. Baudry goes on to argue that what constitutes the images on screen, such as the mise-en-scene or stylization of a work, is of “little importance” as long as the capability of identifying with them is still possible.[3] The question is not one of form or mise-en-scene but one of ideology; of whether or not the camera will permit the subject (the self) to “constitute and seize itself in a particular mode of specular reflection.”[4] As such, cinema becomes an “apparatus destined to obtain a precise ideological effect,” as we inherently relate to and relocate our sense of self in relation to the events that are controlled by the cinema.[5]

Therefore, despite having lost the literal spatial similarity to Plato’s cave that movie theatres have, television series such as The Boys are no less of an illusion than the movies projected from behind our heads to in front of our eyes. Speculative media is a projection of ideology made into a representative form of reality. What this mechanism produces in the case of The Boys is a carefully articulated reality in which those that are othered, such as Starlight or A-Train or Maeve—characters that we place our idea of self into—are never allowed by the camera to fully seize their (our) hopes for morality or justice, thereby disallowing the viewer to ideologically “constitute and seize itself” in specular reflection.[6] This is particularly true with Starlight’s character arc. Despite being one of the most powerful characters in the show, Starlight is the first in the show to be othered by the structures and dynamics of power in the show. This othering of her gender and sexuality—as well as her ideas of morality and right and wrong—happens on her very first day of work at “Vought”—the international conglomerate responsible for both the creation and management of superheroes—when she is sexually assaulted by her coworker and subsequently reprimanded by her boss for speaking out about the issue. While this is an important event for both her character and the dominant narrative of the show, in the ideological and psychoanalytic sense it is only the beginning of a much larger and more concerning narrative. Throughout the episodes that follow this event, we see an eerily familiar story play out. Her assaulter, The Deep, goes on an apology publicity tour and is suspended for a brief amount of time only to eventually be brought back onto “The Seven” over other, more diverse, and far more qualified superheroes. In spite of her objections to this and to the overall corruption present throughout Vought, Starlight is othered by the rest of “The Seven” and Vought executives for her sexuality, gender, and ideology and is barred from having a say. In the structural narrative of the show, Starlight and characters like her who are othered for various reasons are unable to act, to seize any sense of control over the dominant narrative of the world unless they act immorally. This is evident throughout the show, particularly in the episode after Starlight is assaulted, when she speaks out about the assault and is almost fired, which she only avoids by blackmailing her boss with the threat of loss of profit for Vought. 

Although there are flashes and brief instances of morality and humanism in the show, such as Starlight’s relationship with Hughie, another one of the main characters, these moments are few and far between and are becoming increasingly rare as the show is reaching season 4. I would argue that these moments of humanity are small cessions made in spite of the dominant ideology in order to maintain the illusion of self-reflection, allowing the show’s characters to maintain a level of humanity that we can relate to while simultaneously maintaining the dominant narrative that humanism and morality fail to defeat the capitalist powers that be like Vought or Amazon itself.

By delineating the viewer’s self to a character like Starlight—a subject upon which we can reflect ourselves and our desires—and creating an overall narrative that then stifles that sense of self from seizing any form of control or creation of change from the current power structures and ideology of the reflected reality, The Boys is able to effectively portray a speculative reality that has a deceiving duality, hiding it’s ideological message while ostensibly presenting another. The viewer is given a work that allows them to identify with the characters extremely well as they go through hardship and othering while also making those characters incredibly powerful and self-reliant through means of superpowers, such as Starlight. However, this reflection of the powerful and virtuous self that the viewer is presented in the show is at some point, without fail, corrupted or shown to fail when faced against the power structures and dominant, capitalist narrative of the world within the show, ultimately reaffirming and strengthening the dominant, capitalist realist narrative of America and Hollywood.

[1]  Baudry, Jean. “Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology, 296.

[2] Baudry, Jean. “Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology, 295.

[3] Baudry, Jean. “Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology, 295.

[4] Baudry, Jean. “Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology, 296.

[5] Baudry, Jean. “Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology, 295.

[6] Baudry, Jean. “Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus” Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology, 296.

@theuncannyprofessoro

#oxyspeculativetv #speculativetvanalysis