#chef!steve

[gayphob1a]

Don't Blame Steve

TW: Smut whoops

“Hands!”

“Yes, Chef!” Steve yells, running as fast as he dares to the sous without being reprimanded for creating a hazard. The saucier he had been stationed with shoots him a warning glare, and he knows after this rush he’ll have his ass handed to him on one of the maitre d’s silver platters for abandoning his position, but he’s been given explicit instructions. When the sous calls, he is to run, not walk. He can take the wrath of a measly saucier if it means his chef de cuisine won’t be involved in this particular dispute. 

The man is horrifying, a dark void that pulls everyone in with his initial charisma, only to snap in an instant and leave you feeling like an empty shell of your former self. He runs his kitchen with an iron fist. Hopper himself would cower in Timothy’s presence. Not even swinging a bat into the flowering maw of a demogorgon could hold up to the terror he instills. The sous, though better, is no walk in the park either. She seems like a sweet woman at first, Rosie, but if her call for help goes unheeded there’s no telling what she may use as a weapon. Steve thought, based on this fact alone, that they may even get along the first time he saw her throw a metal spoon across the kitchen in a fit of rage, but this idea was quickly thrown out the window when he narrowly avoided an egg timer hitting him in the head with enough force he very well may have been on the receiving end of another concussion. And at the hands of a 54 year old woman no less. 

Steve comes skidding to a halt at Rosie’s side, close enough to smell the bourbon leaking from her pores and he desperately hopes she’s just horribly hungover. The last time she showed up drunk he went home with burns burgeoning on third degree. Why Timothy never picks up on this, or chooses to ignore it, he doesn’t understand — considering he once came in and was immediately reprimanded for his untied shoelace. 

“I need you on mise. Running low on shallots and cilantro for garnish.”

Steve tries not to roll his eyes, but well, he’s never been the best at keeping a handle on his facial expressions, and Rosie must pick up on some slight twitch in his expression or the exasperated sigh in his “yes, chef.”

“What? Do you think you have better things to be doing? We’re in the weeds and I’m running low on fucking garnishes. Maybe if you were half decent at staging I would have had everything I needed before we were getting fucked in the ass.”

“No, chef. I’m sorry, I’m on it.”

“Good. I don’t miss twice, kid.”

Steve spends the rest of the evening rush by Rosie’s side, dicing in silence like a well-trained dog. He almost misses the call for closing, overstimulated and exhausted both physically and emotionally. All through his closing duties, he’s berated by Sam, the saucier he abandoned firing dishes on his own. He almost doesn’t think he’ll make it through the night, but like always, he does, and drives home on autopilot, hardly registering the traffic as he listens to one of Eddie’s heavy metal tapes to release some of the tension thrumming in his veins. Since culinary school, he’s developed more of a taste for Eddie’s music, finding comfort in the thrumming baselines and heavy drums that make his teeth rattle with how loud it blares through the speakers.

He trudges up the stairs to their apartment, his every muscle alighting in pain. His head is pounding, and he tries to remember the last time he drank water, but days are starting to blur together and he’s not sure he even has today. Still, none of that can stop the smile that erupts over Steve’s features when he sees Eddie waiting for him with dinner set out on the table, despite it being 10 o'clock at night. 

“Hey baby. Rough day?” And Steve just melts into the way Eddie can read him in an instant, falling into his arms with a heavy sigh. He nods silently and inhales Eddie’s scent. He’s just showered and he smells like sandalwood, Steve’s favorite scent. It reminds him of the fact that Eddie changed the bodywash he uses when he discovered that tidbit of information. Eddie isn’t even a particularly huge fan of sandalwood. He doesn’t hate it or anything, it just wasn’t really on his radar until Steve said something, and now he may even love it for the way it makes Steve nestle into his neck and take in deep breaths, sighing at the way it mingles on his skin.

Eddie is no chef and Steve knows that. He doesn’t expect perfection — in fact, after nearly 11 hours of perfection, he prefers a little chaos and junk food. Eddie always delivers, plating up a simple turkey sandwich and potato chips with a vase of flowers and candlelight. 

“I love you,” Steve sighs, settling into his seat which Eddie pushes in for him, leaving a kiss on the top of his head. 

“I love you too. And I saved you plenty of hot water for a bath when you’re done.”

Steve tucks into his sandwich, eating like he’s been starving in a desert for months. Eddie watches with pure adoration on his face, eating much slower and stopping Steve every couple bites to remind him to drink the ice water he put out. After the first half (Eddie cut his sandwich into triangles. However juvenile, Steve has always found it easier to eat them this way and Eddie finds it adorable), Steve is ready to talk. He regails the evening and the vicious humbling he received after closing in as much detail as he can muster, but frankly the day starts to slip away as soon as he gets home. Maybe it’s the repeated trauma, but his brain has a way of compartmentalizing in a matter of hours. There’s just one complaint that never seems to go away.

“And I’m not even getting paid for any of this!”

Eddie gave up asking if working in kitchens was really worth it after the first week. Steve’s answer was always the same. Despite the mental and physical toll, his goals remained clear. He was going to get through this stupid stage and get a real job in a kitchen until he could save up enough money to one day open his own place dedicated to all the recipes that made him fall in love with cooking in the first place, everything the kids loved when he experimented in the kitchen for them.

Eddie has to drag Steve out of his seat to the bathroom when they finish. Steve’s body aches so bad he could fall asleep at the table. It wouldn’t be the first time and Eddie isn’t letting that happen again, lest he be charged with Steve’s complaints of sore everything in the morning. He draws the bath and puts in epsom salt for the pain and lavender scented bubble bath because it eases the knot in Steve’s mind that has his shoulders permanently pressed to his ears. He helps Steve over the ledge of the tub and gently lowers him into the steaming water. It’s the perfect temperature, nearly scalding just the way Steve likes so he can enjoy the water’s warm embrace as long as possible. They remain quiet as Eddie massages Steve’s legs, working the knots out of his calves and running his thumbs up and down the arches of his feet. Steve lets out an occasional contented sigh, relishing in the fact that Eddie enjoys pampering him just as much as he needs it after a day like today. 

The few unpredictable strands of Eddie’s hair that can never be contained by a bun, no matter how neat, are starting to form loose ringlets. Steve reaches out to wind one around his fingers, moves his hand to his boyfriend’s steam warmed cheeks, and draws him in for a delightfully slow kiss. Eddie’s hands travel up Steve’s legs to his thighs, raising them slightly from the porcelain of the tub so he can run his fingers over his taught hamstrings like the frets of his guitar. He plays Steve nearly as well, no, better, and Steve sings his praises into Eddie’s lips.

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks, his forehead pressed to Steve’s, their breath intermingling in heavy puffs between them. 

“Much.” Steve replies. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation of Eddie’s fingers all over him. His firm, deliberate strokes graze higher up Steve’s thighs, ghosting between his legs and Steve chokes back a whimper. The bubbles hide the way he’s been steadily growing harder, but Eddie’s hands reveal all. He’s not always in the mood after work, but the princess treatment, as Eddie likes to call it, makes his heart swell… amongst other things.

Steve tries to stand, but the bath is still warm and Eddie’s hands hold him in place. “Just relax. Let me take care of you sweetheart.”

“I want to touch you,” Steve whines. 

“You will, but we can take it slow tonight, right?”

And Steve’s mind is foggy, sure, a combination of the long hours and Eddie’s expert touch, but he doesn’t think he’s that foggy until the words just kind of slip out of him. “Yes, chef,” he moans. 

A hand flies up to clasp over his mouth and his eyes go wide. Eddie is silent, watching like a hawk, his hand still and gripping onto Steve’s thigh in a vice grip. “I– I don’t… I’m so sorry. That just came out. Fuck.”

“Woah woah, hold on there big boy. It’s okay. Look, you don’t have to, I know you had a long day, but maybe just… say it again?”

“Y-yes chef.” Steve tries it out, wondering if it will feel foreign in his mouth, but it doesn’t. It feels natural, like an extension of himself, bearing himself raw to Eddie in a rare way he never has before. He wants to feel Eddie prodding at this part of him, taking him apart piece by piece like he has to every other aspect of his soul until now.

“Jesus christ. How does anyone get anything done in that kitchen with you around?”

“You say that every day.”

“Yeah, but now I mean it. You’re walking around all night saying ‘yes chef’ like an adorable little slut. I wouldn’t be able to think straight.” Eddie splashes Steve with the velocity at which he moves his hand to his dick, gripping tight enough to make Steve moan. His head falls back against the tub, the ends of his hair grazing the bubbly warm water. The contrast of cold porcelain against hot skin makes him realize just how hard his whole body must be flushing, damp from the water and sweat mixing on his skin. His hands find the sides of the tub and hold on for dear life as Eddie’s hand pumps and twists up the length of his shaft. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, staring, taking in every expression and breathy noise he releases. 

“Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me.”

“That’s right. Good boy.”

Eddie’s hand speeds up, sloshing water up all around Steve’s chest. Heat pools in his stomach and Steve feels his balls draw up, nearing the edge in record time from the praise.

“Wait,” he says, dropping a hand down to still Eddie’s wrist.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, stopping instantly, concern lacing his voice. 

“‘M okay. I don’t want to cum yet. Want to fuck you.”

Eddie hums. “I thought I was taking care of you?”

“You can take care of me while I fuck you. Ride me into the mattress.”

“Fuck, Stevie. Let’s go.” Eddie helps Steve out of the tub, drying him just enough that he’s not dripping into the carpet. Steve’s skin is red hot, the heat bubbling over into Eddie’s chest as they collide in a sloppy kiss, hardly breaking apart as they stumble to the bedroom. 

Eddie pushes Steve down onto the bed and hovers over him, admiring. He’s hard and aching, leaking against his stomach and he pulls Eddie into him, crashing their lips back together so hard their teeth clack against one another. Eddie is still fully dressed and that just won’t do. Steve’s hands roam Eddie’s body, feeling and squeezing until he reaches the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Eddie has new tattoos all over his chest, including Steve’s bat, and he loves to kiss over it, sucking bruises into the outline until it’s puffy and sticking out, raised against his milky white skin. Eddie undoes his belt hastily, pulling his pants and underwear off his hips until they fall to the ground with a clank of his belt buckle against the floor. 

“Lay back, I want you inside me.”

Steve groans. “You need to prep?”

“What do you think I do all day when you’re gone baby?”

Steve reaches around between Eddie's cheeks and sure enough he’s loose and pliant, ready to take Steve’s considerable girth. Steve twitches pathetically, precum spurting out of his tip all over the happy trail leading down to his pubes, thinking about Eddie laid out in their bed playing with himself, moaning wildly alone while he waits for Steve to trudge up the stairs to their little apartment with no promise he’ll even be fucked at all. 

“You ready for me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes chef.”

“Shit you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I may have some idea.” Steve smirks, his eyes tracing over Eddie’s frame to his throbbing erection.

“Steve.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” Eddie straddles Steve’s hips and grabs his cock, lining himself up to sink down                       in one swift movement. 

The room is filled with the sound of their moans, their scents mingling together in a heady musk. Eddie’s hands find themselves on Steve’s chest, squeezing his pecks, a juxtaposition of soft skin and hard muscles sprinkled with thick hair. He bounces up and down at a ruthless pace, grinding his hips down with a little twist each time he sinks to the hilt. Steve falls apart under him, his face burying in the pillow beneath him, catching the cries and spit that pool on his tongue. He wants to plant his feet, drive his hips up and pound back relentlessly, drag more of those wanton moans from Eddie’s throat, but he’s so exhausted, the pleasure only adding to the led in his bones, so he lets Eddie take what he needs, let’s him dedicate his heart to Steve’s pleasure. He’s going to come already after being driven to the edge not five minutes earlier, but he needs to stave it off, hold back until he can be painted with Eddie’s cum. 

But Eddie knows him all too well. Knows every sound, knows the meaning of every pleasured grimace on his face. “Don’t wait for me honey. I want to make you feel good.”

“Can I…”

“Cum inside me baby. Want to feel you fall apart while I milk it out of you.”

Those words are all he needs, coming in thick ropes that paint Eddie’s walls. Steve is sensitive, crying out Eddie’s name as he keeps riding the last of Steve’s hard on, chasing his own pleasure. 

“Come on, Chef.” Steve wraps a hand around Eddie’s dick, stroking him hard and fast. “Need to see you cum on the fly, please.”

“Fuckkkk,” Eddie moans as he cums all over Steve’s chest. He falls boneless into Steve’s open arms. Steve wraps his arms around his neck and rubs a gentle hand up and down his back, kissing the hair matted with sweat against his forehead. 

“We need another bath.” Steve giggles.

“I’ll get a wash cloth. We can shower in the morning,” Eddie sighs, squeezing Steve back and letting his affection pour out in droves. He lifts himself off of Steve and feels his spend leaking out and making a mess. “But maybe we sleep on the couch tonight? I’m not changing the sheets.”

Eddie scurries off to the bathroom so he doesn’t drip all over the carpet and returns a couple minutes later to towel Steve off. He picks Steve up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him to the living room, neither of them being bothered to even put on boxers. Eddie puts on a movie and they drift to sleep in each other’s arms, a tangle of limbs and shared body heat so they can both fit on the small couch. The next morning they shower together as promised before Steve has to leave for the restaurant. All day, with every call of ‘Yes, chef!’ he can’t help but think of Eddie and smile to himself. He doesn’t think working in a kitchen will ever be the same again.

[asuperconfusedgirl]

how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie who goes on Worst Cooks in America because he is Genuinely Hopeless, but Wayne is getting older and Eddie wants to be able to take care of him and knowing how to cook is necessary, vs. Celebrity chef Steve Harrington who is appalled by just how bad Eddie is, but also absolutely enamored by his story and his determination to be better.

Steve has to restrain himself as he sees Eddie getting more competent and confident in the kitchen, while Eddie has to focus on not dropping to his knees anytime Steve gives him any kind of praise.

In the end, Eddie may not win the show, but he gets a very special consolation prize once filming is finally over.

[kitchen-spoon]

Chef Steve dating rockstar Eddie. When Eddie is home from tour writing Steve makes him lunch every day. Eddie records it, gushing over the food and his boyfriend.

Eddie: “today it was rainy and cold so I requested homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

Steve comes in the frame, hair long and brushed up and back. He has little circular glasses he pushes up before he speaks. The movement shows off his hairy forearms, on display as the sleeves of his green and white stripped button up are pushed up to his elbows.

Steve: “This is blistered garlic and basil tomato soup with roasted garlic spread over fresh sour dough toast as an open face grilled cheese with provolone cheese.”

Eddie smiles as Steve explains the dish and then thanks him, tipping his head back for a kiss. He takes the roast and dips it in the soup, bringing it up to carefully take a bite. He moans as his tongue gets a first taste of the soup.

Eddie after he swallows: “oh Steve that is wonderful baby. This is just fantastic.”

He reached out and pulls Steve over, giving his hand a kiss then pulling him down for a real kiss.

Steve accepts the praise easily, smiling against Eddies lips. He stands behind Eddie and smiles proudly as Eddie finishes off the rest of the food. He watches so fondly his eyes are basically cartoon hearts popping out of his face. And Eddie cant stop complimenting and praising Steve and his food.

The video ends with them sharing one last kiss as Steve takes Eddies empty plate away.

[springtyme]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ♡

Welcome to my first ever October writing challenge! 🍂☕️🍁

I’m very excited, and I really hope that I’ll be able to keep up with the schedule. And also a big thank you to everyone who sent in requests ♡

Most of the fics on this list are lighthearted fluff, but stories marked * are nsfw and only suited for 18+ readers.

𝟏. Coffee shop (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟐. Sick day (Steve Harrington x reader) 𝟑. Rainy afternoon (Carmy Berzatto x reader) 𝟒. Movie night (Simon Riley x reader) 𝟓. Morning drive (Emily Prentiss x reader) 𝟔. IKEA “date” (Kyle Garrick x reader) 𝟕. Sweater weather (Sydney Adamu x reader) 𝟖. Can’t sleep (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟗. Train ride (Aaron Hotchner x reader) 𝟏𝟎. Huddling for warmth * (Arthur Morgan x reader) 𝟏𝟏. Cuddles (Kyle Garrick x reader) 𝟏𝟐. A walk in the woods (Eddie Munson x reader) 𝟏𝟑. Decorating (Joel Miller x reader) 𝟏𝟒. Comfort food (John Price x reader) 𝟏𝟓. The orange peel theory (Chef Luca x reader) 𝟏𝟔. Meet cute (Derek Morgan x reader) 𝟏𝟕. Lazy Sunday (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟏𝟖. Family expansion (Johnny MacTavish x reader) 𝟏𝟗. Hayride (Steve Harrington x reader) 𝟐𝟎. Halloween candy (Roman Roy x reader) 𝟐𝟏. Trick or treat (Aaron Hotchner x reader) 𝟐𝟐. Baking (… x reader) 𝟐𝟑. Party confessions (Sydney Adamu x reader) 𝟐𝟒. Pumpkin carving (… x reader) 𝟐𝟓. Horror movie comfort * (Mikey Berzatto x reader) 𝟐𝟔. Roommates (… x reader) 𝟐𝟕. Haunted house (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟐𝟖. Pumpkin patch (Richie Jerimovich x reader) 𝟐𝟗. Scary movie marathon (Eddie Munson x reader) 𝟑𝟎. Costume party * (… x reader) 𝟑𝟏. Harvest celebration * (Joel Miller x reader)

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie who always got horny at the sight of his omega cooking in the kitchen.

Every time he came home and saw Steve putter around in that pink frilly apron, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from creeping up to his cute omega, bending him over the counter or dining table, and eating him out.

Once he was done, Steve would return to his task like nothing had happened, but his legs would be shaking so much that Eddie had to bend him over again and reward him with a big knot for having been such a good housewife.

Their dinner would always be a little burnt by the end of it, but no one heard Eddie complain.

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Harvey Korman as Chef Gormaanda - The Star Wars Holiday Special (1978)

[on-a-lucky-tide]

There's a terf in admin. We don't have a lot to do with each other and I'm quite senior so she wouldn't fuckin' dare, but I was chatting with the cleaning staff in the staff room this morning and they were all slagging her off, and it was so funny. She is so hated. Not just because of her far right ideology, but because she's just a shitty person; she's rude, she treats them like they're inferior to her, throws her colleagues under the bus, and she's fake as fuck (all their words). Terfs are insufferable even to people they're not outwardly trying to eradicate because terf ideology is always part of a broader antisocial personality.

[biteofcherry]

On the wave of being horngry and hungry 😏 today thot is:

Hot, tattooed chef.

Passionate, creating amazing food.

So good that you decide to try everything on the menu. So you go to his restaurant every weekend, ordering a different dish each time and each time melting over how delicious it is.

The staff recognises you by now and tells the chef about this woman who is a regular and is set on trying every dish on the menu. Hearing about it, he starts taking the dishes to you personally - flustering you at first, because you're not used to the attention.

He starts flirting with you, too.

When it seems you're nearing the end of the menu, he presents you with a specially crafted one. He tells you, you now get your personal menu, meaning he will personally cook something for you and just for you every weekend.

And he hopes you'll then let him to take you home... 😏

---------------

Who is he?

[fluffysucker]

Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

In no world were you meant to be together, but in every universe, you were meant for each other.

A/N: I present you grumpy sunshine wrapped in enemies(ish) to lovers with Beefy Boxer/Biker Bucky.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated.

Also, I tried to be as inclusive as possible. But my delusion couldn't be controlled I'm sorry.

Ngl this is for me more than anything.

Also, I'm thinking about making this its own universe and maybe write more of it. Tell me what you think

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You hated Bucky Barnes, and he hated you.

The two of you should have never crossed paths. Your worlds should have never met. But the wall separating you could only hold for so long.

The infamous boxer was a phenomenon in his field. Unbeatable and astute, Bucky Barnes held his reputation with pride. He was stronger than all and the smartest the game had. His jab was as numbing as the winter. His techniques were as calculated as a soldier's. Bucky Barnes was as hard as nails. A legend.

To keep up with the notoriety, it was rumoured that Barnes and his team were also a biker gang. It was never confirmed, but the black leather jacket he always had on, the long hair touching his shoulder or tidied in a low bun, the motorbike barked in front of the gym, and the intimidating sense lingering around him. It was never denied, either.

In the mornings, Bucky Barnes ran a successful gym with his two bestfriends, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both played occasionally, but only Bucky was the professional, so they were more his trainers. They also trained other players and armatures. They tried to gain other normal customers, but it didn't always work. With a reputation like theirs, attracting customers wasn't easy.

It was usually the same for nights, unless they had matches. Most of their fights were held on Stark's property. He ran an empire, and boxing was the dominant centre, led by the biggest champion. And Stark lets Bucky have it his way, just like he likes. As long as Bucky keeps on bringing these huge numbers into their pockets, both are happy and content.

So it was out of the nature for Bucky to have zero interest in the new restaurant that opened up right next door to the gym. They had their regularly frequented places. The bar run by Romanoff and Belova, a couple of blocks away from Stark's property, was more than enough. He didn't even bother to throw a glance at it. Even after he knew that the owner had come by and given out menus and promised them discounts if they stopped by, there was still nothing.

Until one night. Bucky got carried away in training. He had an important match coming up. He knew his opponent barely stood a chance, but Bucky enjoyed the thriller of the game. The sweat and blood that go into it He didn't remember a time when he didn't want to do this. It was like it was programmed so deeply in his brain. He was made for this.

Everyone left, one by one. Until then, it was only him. After so many hours, he finally got tired. He threw his gloves aside and went to take a shower to remove the evidence of his hard work before going back home. As he was locking the gym's door, he heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he needed food. He was starving. Before deciding to wait and order food once he got home, the big sign caught his eye. They did indeed have a restaurant right next door. He admitted he was too tired to cook or wait for delivery. He needed food, then crashed into his bed. So maybe the closest restaurant would be useful.

Once he stepped in, he felt out of place immediately. His dark clothes and huge frame made him look like a stranger compared to the light-coloured painted walls. Some had flowers, and others had stars drawn on them. There were fairy lights in some corners. The aromatic scent was everywhere. Bucky almost winced at how bright and colourful everything felt. This was an alternative universe that he didn't belong in.

"Hi, how can I help you?" An even sweeter voice rang and caught Bucky's attention, breaking him from his trance of observing the place.

He turned around to find the prettiest girl he had ever seen standing behind the counter. Your beauty caught him off guard. He never believed someone could be so beautiful before. But here you were, standing. Taking his breath away.

He recovered very quickly and moved to stand in front of the counter. With the most loving smile, you handed him the menu. He took a look at the menu and wanted to laugh out loud. Dish names were just as cheerful as the atmosphere.

Out of habit, you started explaining and recommending stuff for him. He interrupted you, putting in his order. You didn't give it much thought but took his order happily.

You apologised for the lack of waiters, as it was almost closing time and it was only you. No answer. With his blank stare, you told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Only then did he notice the empty restaurant. It was just you and him. It was that late. So he took a seat at the nearest table.

Not taking much, you returned with his order. You placed it in front of him with a big smile on your face. You knew right away who that was the minute he walked in. James Barnes. The famous boxer who trains next door You have been praying after your small visit to them that they would be regular customers. The business was doing great. But the more, the merer. Always. Lots of people warned you about the men next door. But you didn't feel like they were as bad as people made them out to be. You were always so trusting, unless shown otherwise. So you were happy that, finally, one of them stopped by.

You moved away, letting him enjoy his food. Unable to fight your nature, you started talking to him as you continued cleaning the remaining parts of the place. No answer again. He didn't even bother to look at you. Okay. Maybe he had a rough day. Not all people are used to chatting.

Bucky was one of these people. His eyes widened as you started talking to him. People were never that friendly to him. People avoided him. Nobody tried to open up a conversation with him. He didn't know how to react. And he was too tired to try. So he practiced his other specialty. Silence. But even if he wouldn't admit it, Bucky found your voice calming. So he let you talk instead of just shutting you up.

You reduced your talking to a minimum. Only little remarks there and then to avoid complete silence. The second time, you heard his voice since he walked in and asked for the check. You brought the paper to the table he occupied, keeping your smile up and telling him that he got the 'neighbour discount' as you called it. You almost heard his scoff as you left him.

You had your back to the door, so you only turned around when you heard the door close. You didn't hear his footsteps, and most definitely, you didn't hear his goodbye, goodnight, or even thank you. Now that's rude.

You returned to the table to collect the check. But you found the review note you attached to every check empty. Not a single penmark. And that was more rude. You made sure that filling out the note only took seconds. You genuinely cared to hear people's opinions so you could be better and have the restaurant grow more.

So he didn't speak to you for more than two sentences. Didn't say thank you or goodbye. Didn't fill in the note. Okay, maybe you didn't want them as customers if they were all that rude.

It turns out they weren't that rude. However, Bucky was more rude than you thought.

A couple of days after Bucky's visit, you were surprised to see Bucky with another two men. You guessed they were Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The trio was all well-known. You doubted if Bucky was the one to recommend the restaurant. You weren't sure if he even liked the food. And you were right. He would be caught dead if he brought up the fairy world you called a restaurant. Even when it served the tastiest food he had ever had,

It was a slow day. No intense training or excessive fight preparation The three men didn't have much to do that day. So when Steve suggested trying out the restaurant, Bucky neither objected nor showed excitement.

So when they walked in, you couldn't help the feeling of surprise along with the tiny bit of happiness, hoping it would be a nicer visit this time. After preparing their orders and sending them out, you waited for a bit before you left the kitchen to greet them. Not before making sure you looked presentable.

With the small space and their loud voices, it wasn't hard to locate them. You approached them with a big smile and positive attitude.

"I wanted to make sure you were having a good time." You followed up after introducing yourself.

"The food is amazing. This burger is to die for." Steve was the first to compliment you, with Sam nodding and agreeing.

"You have one good chef." Sam added as he took another french fry into his mouth. "Send my regards to them."

"Actually, I'm also the chef." The statement caused a shocked expression to fill in their faces. They asked for details, and you briefly told them how you were the core of the small business as the owner and main chef.

The two men were polite, and they didn't seem annoyed by your chatty personality. In fact, they interacted with you and asked questions to learn more. And all they had to say were nice compliments. Except one.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what was the inspiration for the place? Was it a fairy garden or Disney's latest cartoon?" None of you were ready for the sarcastic comment Bucky threw at you.

You didn't let your smile break in the face of his sarcasm. Nor did you give much thought to the pet name. You put on a bigger smile now, looking at him.

"A bit of both." That's one thing about you: you refused to let the world change about you. You never reciprocate rudeness with rudeness.

"I can tell." Bucky was taken back by your response. He expected you to get offended, but you didn't.

"Thank you. It was my vision all along." You replied, your smile never leaving your face.

And that started your hate relationship with Bucky Barnes.

After that day, the men became regular customers. And it wasn't just the three men. Little by little, it was most of the team. First, it was just to try the good food. Then it was because they wanted to. They wouldn't admit it, but your place was like a breath of fresh air. Something so different from what they are used to. From what they are known for. From what people expected from them. And you never judged them, treated them differently, or asked about the rumours that followed them. So it was a calm change, but much needed.

But their favourite thing was yours and Bucky's constant bickering. Or more Bucky's. Nobody understood why Bucky was doing this. You never partook in his constant attempts to make fun of you. You always had a sweet response to fire back. You truly were the living embodiment of killing them with kindness.

However, he never stopped. Every time he stepped foot in the place, you claimed it was your biggest achievement. He had something rude to say. Something to annoy you with. Something to bother you. Sarcasm and jokes spilling out of him with no end whatsoever.

The number of times you wanted to punch him or snap at him right back was increasing. But you refused to give in. To let him win. He wouldn't be the one to change you. So you kept engaging with him only with gracious things to say.

Besides, you chose to think that everyone had their own battles and demons. And for sure, Bucky looked like he had lots of them. He looked rougher than most. His job made him appear invincible, but he wasn't. Nobody was. So he may drive you mad, but he deserves the gentle treatment you offered all.

Bucky had no idea why he was doing it. Why every time he saw you, he felt the urge to tease you. It wasn't like him. But he didn't fight it back.

"How are you, Tinkerbell?"

"You should buy green carpets. It will finish off the garden aesthetic."

"Here is the princess who got lost."

"The pasta was great, Barbie."

Stuff like this flew from him all the time. And not once did you get back at him. You stayed nice and polite. Your sweet self never crumbling.

There was something in you that drove him insane. Your warm eyes. Your bright smile. Your cheerful voice. Your positive mindset. Your kind heart. Your friendly nature. Your hard work. Your delicious food. Your colourful wardrobe of dresses, skirts, tops, and cardigans. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was all of it.

The deepest part of him knew why he was doing this. He liked you. He liked you so much. From the moment he entered your restaurant alone, the first time And the more he knew you, the more he liked you. You were special. And you were everything he wasn't. He thought if he got closer, he would be tinting you. He would bring darkness to your shine. A moral thing preventing him from speaking his truth. even thinking about it.

So he acted like a teenager. He made fun of you. In hopes of making you hate him. He convinced himself and the others that he didn't like your sunshine personality.

Until one day

It started off like any normal day. Bucky had a match coming up. So they all had something to do. The day was going fine. Up before Peter Parker, who was usually on reception duties, ran in and said there was fire in your place,

For a second, blood ran cold in Bucky's body. He heard ringing in his ears. Were you okay? He collected himself quickly, wanting to check for himself.

He threw the gloves away, almost pushing everybody out of the way to get out. And he was the first to see the chaos in the street. A firetruck was parked, and firemen were going in and out of your restaurant along with some policemen. His eyes were searching for you frantically until he spotted you.

You had some dust on your face and your white clothes. You were checking that everyone was okay and out safely. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips or your shaking body.

He couldn't help himself as he ran towards you. You turned as you felt someone approaching you. Without your control, your face softened, and tears blurred your sight once you noticed who it was.

"Bucky." You whispered as a way to ground yourself from all the mess that happened and is still happening.

Following his first instincts, Bucky pulled you into his chest, wrapping your trembling form in his arms and holding you so close to him. And the dam broke.

Sobs fled from you. Tears mixed with his sweat. Your fists gripped his white tank top. Your face hidden away in his chest.

You didn't know how it happened. You had been holding up well enough during it all. You had been managing the situation the best you could. However, when Bucky got here, your mind stopped working. Your mind gave up on you, letting your emotions hit you with full force, breaking down your bastion with no guarantee you would be caught.

But you were. You were braced by strong amrs, rubbing your back, laying small kisses on your hair, and whispering words of comfort in your ears. "I'm here. I'm right here." "You're okay. You're fine."

Your sobs ceased, but your body still shook against Bucky's. Tears remained to fall freely on your face. Bucky's hold was still firm but secure around you.

You only moved away from him when a policeman approached you, informing you that you were needed at the police station.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky's stern voice left no room for negotiation. It wasn't up to debate. He wasn't leaving you.

"I'll grab my stuff in a second." He turned to the policeman standing in front of you, making sure it was okay that he joined. And he got a nod of approval in return.

He left your side, walking towards the gym. He paid no attention to his friends standing by, who were puzzled by the encounter. And true to his words, he came back in seconds, his black leather jacket on, phone in hand, and wallet in hand.

He got to you, letting his hand wrap around your shoulder. The gesture was welcomed by you as you rested your head on his chest. Something about having Bucky spread calmness in you

At the police station, Bucky found out what really happened. It wasn't just fire. It was a robbery. A bunch of armed men attacked your restaurant, demanding money from you and all the people inside. As you are trying to handle the situation without panicking more, it was discovered that one of the customers was a cop, which sent the robbers into an unexpected turn. So they took all they could from the cash register and your own things before setting the kitchen on fire to run away without being caught.

Between talking with the insurance company, the bank, and watching security footage from your restaurants and the street, you spent the rest of the day in the station.

And Bucky didn't leave your side for a second of it.

He didn't leave you until you both got out of the cap in front of your apartment. And he didn't leave until he made sure you got inside safely.

Something about you being hurt sent Bucky into a spiral. Who was heartless enough to hurt such a sweet soul as you? To look at you and not want to give you everything? Bucky would never know. All he knew was that he never wanted to see you so afraid and shaken like today. To not see your smile lighting up your face. So he would do whatever it took to make sure you were always fine.

Which was why you found him by your building the first thing in the morning.

"You have lots of places to go today. Said I would join you."

And up until you were handed the keys to your restaurant brand new after the insurance company had finished the repairs, Bucky didn't leave you. He was always there. Helping you finish papers, going to the police station to identify the robbers, and buying new stuff for the restaurants. Everything. He was there for everything.

And you had to admit. It was lovely to have him. A helping hand you needed. Physically and emotionally. Someone to share this unfortunate journey with. And Bucky didn't bother it for a bit. And you appreciated having him.

So, it only felt right for him to be your first order after the reopening.

The truth was, you never hated Bucky, no matter how much you tried. His huge form, his steel blue eyes, his signature stare, his playful smirk. They all made you feel something. He made you feel something you couldn't quite understand. But it was a pleasant something. He annoyed you so much, but you never took it too seriously. Maybe he hated you, but you didn't.

Now, you didn't need him. You were ready to carry on with your life. He didn't know how to get back to normal. He couldn't. He couldn't pretend you didn't make his heart beat faster. You made his days better. But he was so unworthy of you. And he knew you could never look at him. Maybe you hated him, but he didn't.

He tried to get back to his life. Only training and matches. Only visiting your place with the others who quickly figured out what was happening. He needed to get you out of his mind. That lasted for two days.

When Bucky was closing the gym, he heard something coming from your restaurant. With a frown, he moved to see you still inside. He looked at his watch to check the time again. It was indeed late.

"What are you doing?" He didn't bother with greetings as he entered.

"Hi, Bucky." Your cheerful voice rang through the empty place.

"What are you doing?" He repeated his question, looking at the paper in front of you.

"I'm sending out advertisements and deal offerings to different places." You answered him with a smile.

"Sweetheart, do you know what time it's?" Bucky signed as he looked at you, looking clueless.

"C'mon, let's get you home." He moved towards you, taking the papers out of your hand and putting them down without messing them.

"But I have a lot to do." You tried to protest as he gathered your stuff and helped you out.

"It will still be here in the morning." And he was having none of it.

"I need to get the business going." You added.

"You can do that in the morning, too." Bucky led you out of the restaurant in spite of your complaining.

He took the key from your hand and handed it back to you after he closed up. You expected him to move away, but he didn't.

"How are you going to get home?" He hoped you wouldn't give him the answer he had in mind.

"It's not very far. I was going to walk." And it was it.

Do you not care about your safety, or do you think you are James Bond?

Bucky had to bite his tongue and not scold you right on the spot. He knew you were stressed about the business, so he didn't want to add more.

"Great. I was going somewhere there, too. Let me walk."

"You were?" You questioned him, not believing him, but he nodded quickly.

As a matter of fact, Bucky didn't have anywhere to go other than collapsing on his bed. But over his dead body were you going to walk back home alone in this hour

"Lead the way, princess." The return of the name, but a smile on your face. He may mean it as an insult. You didn't care. It sounded good coming from him.

And the two of you walked.

And somehow, without planning, it became a routine.

Bucky would finish at the gym and come straight to the restaurant. It didn't matter whether it was late or not. He would get in and wait till you were done with the day. Then he would walk you home. Sometimes, he would help with stuff, but most times, you would make him sit down and bring him tonnes of food you prepared just for him.

"You train so hard. Don't want to burn these muscles. Eat and rest."

You weren't stupid. You knew he had nothing to do with where you were living. Yet he still chose to go out of his way, walk you home, and wait until you got in. He was taking care of you. So you wanted to take care of him too.

It felt strange to Bucky. Nobody made sure if he was eating well enough, drinking enough water, and resting enough. Nobody ever did. Everybody treated him like he was a machine. Like he He needed nothing.

Then there you were. Feeding him with delicious food. Letting him relax. Laughing at his jokes. Your hands grazing softly. It was all foreign to him, but very welcome. And he was getting attached. He knew it. How could he not?

He had the sweetest and most loving person on the planet, showing him attention and care.

Bucky counted the minutes until he could be with you. Until he could walk you home, it would be just the two of you. You did most of the talking, telling him about your day or an interesting story you heard. He would tell you briefly about his day.

He loved listening to you. Every detail you shared with him. You were the first in his life to be carefree around him other than his family. You didn't let his stiff demeanour affect your friendly one.

The extra time he spent back to his place from yours didn't bother him in the slightest. He found it reassuring that he knew for sure you were safe at home. It was all worth it.

Every single one of Bucky's friends knew what was happening from the moment he asked to postpone a match to go somewhere with you when you're repairing the restaurant. And it became so clear when he stopped hanging out at Natasha's bar after matches, claiming he was tired. But, in truth, he only wanted to be with you. And the days he knew he couldn't turn it down, especially after a grand victory, he would be glued to his phone until you texted him that you were home. Then he may start celebrating.

Bucky almost punched Steve in the face when he brought up inviting you to one of the matches, or at least to hang out with the whole team at Natasha's bar. Bucky wanted you nowhere near this world. He couldn't imagine you watching him while he was fighting. You would never look at him again. Yes, you were kind, but in the ring, he was a beast. You didn't deserve to see how bad he could be.

That's why he never acted on his feelings for you. He knew he was falling for you. He knew from the start. But you deserved better. So much better.

Your radiant nature had no place near him.

He even tried to stop seeing you, feeling guilty for ever getting close to you. But he failed miserably. You gave him something nobody did. A light in the darkness.

So he bottled it and felt grateful that you even let him be your friend. Or whatever you were.

Before a fact came crushing. You were single.

The days following matches were usually very slow. So he left earlier than usual just to come and wait for you. As long as you wanted. He had a bandage on his forehead and a compression bandage around his hand.

Sometimes you forget what his job was. Until he shows up bruised and bandaged like this. You knew he was strong enough to handle himself. He was the best in the game. But you couldn't help the twinge of your heart at the thought of him hurt.

So you prepared extra food and drinks for him. Once it was evening, you kept your best table for him. You even brought the air freshener with the scent; he commented once that he liked it. Everything to help him relax.

You kept telling yourself you were only doing this because he liked to help everyone. But you knew it was very different. He was very different.

So when he stepped in, your big smile got bigger.

You tried to come and talk with him whenever you could, but it was a busy day. He had no problem. He enjoyed watching you work. You were so dedicated and smart. He wanted you to be the most successful chef and owner in the world.

But maybe he shouldn't have been watching. He should have paid attention to anything else. So he wouldn't have seen the man who had been flirting with you since he walked in.

It was taking everything in Bucky to not get up and throw the guy away. But he heard it. Your answer to his question "Yes, I'm single." And he was reminded of the cruelty of the world. You weren't his. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have been biting the inside of his mouth when the guy tried to touch your hand as you handed him his bill.

And he most definitely shouldn't be feeling like crying and burning down the world when the guy asked you out and left his number.

Wasn't that what he wanted? For you to have better than him. To have someone who wasn't surrounded by blood and pain. Someone who wouldn't defile your glimmer That guy looked decent enough. Maybe that was your chance to find love.

However, he wanted to tear that paper to pieces. He wanted to punch the guy for asking his girl. But you weren't his girl.

Bucky was conflicted by his emotions. He didn't know what to feel or how to think. So he did the thing he was the best at. He stayed silent.

You noticed right away the change in his mood. He wasn't the most talkative person, but this silence was different. He looked like he was somewhere else. Somewhere, that wasn't so nice.

"Are you sure that you are fine?" You asked as you came to a stop in front of your building.

You only got a nod as an answer.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm always going to be here."

Your words finally made him look at you after you left the restaurant.

"You are?" His hesitant tone made you frown.

"Of course." You answered very quickly.

"Are you going to go out with this guy?" It was quiet; you almost missed it, but you didn't.

Bucky didn't know what happened. He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't. It fell from him.

"Do you want me to?" Your reply was something he didn't expect at all.

You couldn't say you weren't disappointed when Bucky did nothing when the guy started flirting with you. You didn't know what you wanted him to do. But you wanted him to do something.

Instinctively, Bucky moved closer to you, standing right in front of you.

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me why I shouldn't go out with him."

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. You were so close to each other. His blue eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were filled with something so warm that you couldn't quite figure it out.

Bucky didn't know how to answer your question. Why didn't he want you to go out with the guy? Well, he didn't want you to go out with any guy. So he threw caution to the wind and followed his heart.

You almost tripped, but his hands on your waist steadied you. The feeling of his lips on yours was something out of the world. His lips were a bit bruised, but they were soft. It was all so good that your mind stopped working.

Bucky was about to pull away and apologise profoundly when you didn't kiss him back. As he was about to move, your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

The kiss was gentle, and it was filled with emotions. Loving ones. It sent electricity through your bodies. It spread warmth all over you.

Your need for oxygen made you break the kiss, hands still around each other, eyes only looking at each other.

"I thought you hated me."

"Never did. Not for a second, princess."

Bucky's lips smashed against yours once again. And it was like every piece was falling into its place. The puzzle was completed. The rainbow after the rain

You were the shining star in Bucky's dark sky. He may not deserve you, but he was going to do everything in his power to get you to shine more.

Because you were made for each other.

[radar-rock]

RAT VS. KING PRAWN! THE MUPPETS 70TH ANNIVERSARY SMACKDOWN!

[samslvrgirl]

Why is it that whenever I’m just writing out a fic, ANOTHER fic idea pops up in my head and i have to stop writing the current one…..

I hate being a fanfic writer who has adhd

[pahtoosh]

baker's convention

[image ID: a gif from infinity war of steve hugging bucky. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: 1900 words

warnings: food. reader gets picked up by steve. i kinda gave our baba anxiety(sorry)

a/n: i am SO proud of this! i hope you all love it! and i am very happy to expand the chef/baker universe! i sprinkled in a hint at a future fic with baker!nat, but let me know if you guys have any suggestions for our other friends!

pairing: chef!daddy!bucky x gn!little!reader

summary: bucky takes you to a baker's convention and you get to try new creations from his closest friends. special appearances from natasha, sam, and steve!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Bucky helped you put on your lanyard and nametag at the convention center’s entrance. He knew you could do it yourself, but he was stalling and needed something to occupy his shaky hands. He straightened out your shirt, another nervous habit of his. 

“Are you excited, bubba?”

“Yes! So excited, Daddy.” 

“Good, good. Daddy’s excited too.”

He kept fiddling with your clothes and tried not to think about how nervous he was for today. You’d met his baker buddies before, but never all at once, in one day. And never in such a crowded place. 

He wasn’t worried because of you; he was worried about all the things beyond his control. What if the convention was too overwhelming? What if you two got separated? What if a stranger was mean to you? Breathe, Bucky. Breathe. 

“Daddy?”

“Y-yeah?”

“I can have all the sweets I want today, right?”

Bucky laughed, taken aback by your question.

“Our minds are in two different places, honeybun.” He stopped messing with your clothes and kissed your forehead. “Yes, you can have all the sweets you want if you remember your manners–and if you give me a big hug right now.”

You squealed and wrapped your arms around Bucky, squeezing him with all your might. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Bucky was starting to feel a bit better. As usual, you were able to calm his nerves and remind him that he had nothing to worry about. He was a good caregiver. If you got overwhelmed, he would know the signs and how to help you. If you got lost, he had plenty of friends and colleagues who knew you, loved you, and would do anything to help. If a stranger tried ruining your day, he was more concerned with what you could do to them than what they could do to you. 

While you were hugging Bucky as hard as you could, you were also helping slow down his heart rate and the other physical signs of his stress. He was finally prepared to go in.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yes! Yes! I’m so ready!” 

You swung your interlocked hands back and forth as you and Bucky walked through the doors and down the long hallway that led to the convention center.

The sight of the many vendors and their stalls selling baked goods stopped you in your tracks. There were more than you could count. It seemed as if there were endless rows of cookies, cupcakes, pies, and happy people enjoying the art of baking. 

Bucky noticed a friend giving you a slight wave to get your attention. He gently tugged your hand. 

“Do you wanna go over there, honey? That booth looks good.”

You looked at the booth and gasped, then walked as fast as you could to get there, tugging Bucky along behind you. You were by no means as gentle with Bucky as he had been with you earlier. He laughed good-naturedly as you practically pulled his arm out of its socket. 

“Natty!”

“Hey there, firecracker.” 

Bucky greeted her with a nod. “Natalia.”

“Buchanan.” She turned to face you again. “I saw you pulling your Daddy back there. I could teach you this trick if you re-”

Bucky covered your ears with his hands and gave his friend a bewildered look. “You’re not teaching them that,” he whisper shouted. 

Natasha stifled a laugh while Bucky took his hands away from your ears and tried to redirect your attention. “Which of these treats do you wanna try first, bun?”

“Can I have one of the cakes, please?”

“Comin’ right up.” She handed you a small plate with a square piece of cake and two forks. Bucky motioned for you to take the first bite. Your eyes widened in delight. The cake was so delicate and soaked in a sweet milk. The cake itself was sightly sour, but the sweet milk and ganache topping balanced the whole dessert. 

“What is this?”

“It’s bird’s milk cake. Do you like it?”

“Mhm!” You went in for another bite. 

“I have something else for you to try too.” Natasha reached beside her and handed you and Bucky another plate with two small, potato-like objects. “This is called kartosha.”

You tried pronouncing this new word before taking a bite. Once again, you were struck by how beautifully simple and balanced the dessert was. Bittersweet cookie crumbles were combined with sweet, sticky condensed milk.

“It’s so good!”

“I’m glad you think so.” Natasha looked like she was going to say more, but then a special someone caught her eye. She leaned over to whisper in your ear. “I think someone’s been stealing looks and wondering when you’re going to visit their booth.”

You whipped your head around and saw Sam look quickly in the other direction, as if he was pretending that he hadn’t been looking at you earlier. He had a mischievous smile on his face though, and his eyes wandered to you for a second before darting back. He rocked back and forth on his heels and even began to whistle a little. You giggled at his attempts to look casual.

You turned to Bucky. “Daddy, can we go to Sammy’s booth?”

“Sure can, let’s say bye to Nat first.”

“Bye, Natty! Thank you for the cake and kartosha!”

“You’re welcome.” She walked around the booth to give you a goodbye hug. “You have to come visit the cafe soon, okay? The kitties miss you and I need some help from my little decorator.”

“I will!” You waved goodbye and then skipped to Sam’s booth. 

He was still putting on his oblivious act. 

“Sammy, hi!”

“Oh, hey! I didn’t even see you there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “Nuh uh, I saw you looking!”

“Alright, alright, ya caught me. But once you see the show I’ve got planned for you, you’ll understand.”

“A show?” you asked, bouncing excitedly.

“Yup. A whole show. Tell me something, do you like caramel?” He took a step to where his burner stove was.

“Yeah!” 

“Okay well this isn’t exactly caramel, but if you like caramel, you’ll like this.” He put a small pan on the stove and turned on the heat. “We’ll start off with a little butter, some cinnamon, and brown sugar.” Sam effortlessly dropped and sprinkled the ingredients into the pan as he listed them off. He gave the mixture a stir, shaking the pan at the same time like a pro.

“Now I don’t know if you like bananas. But if you don’t, you’ll like them after this.” He put a small handful of slices into the pan and coated them in the sauce. He turned off the stove. 

“Alright, here’s the real show. I need y’all to take one step back so you’re behind that red tape on the floor.”

You and Bucky did as he said. 

“Perfect, thank you. Now these bananas just need a little more juice.” He poured a small amount of clear amber liquid into the pan. “And they could also use a little more heat.” He flicked a lighter just to the side of the pan, setting all of the amber liquid aflame. He shook the pan back and forth, flipping the bananas in the flaming sauce. You watched the fire, absolutely mesmerized by how it shifted and how Sam had so much control over the volatile force. He kept the whole thing moving, like it was a choreographed dance between him and the flaming pan where he was the leader. Slowly, the flames died down and the bananas were left in a glistening sauce.

“THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING EVER!” you screamed, clapping your hands and jumping up and down. “How did you do that?!”

“A lot of practice, okay? Don’t ever try this at home.”

You nodded. “I’ll just watch you do it every day.”

Sam laughed. “If you boost my ego like this every time, I’ll do this whenever you want. You ready to try the bananas now?”

“Yes please!”

“Alright, and one more very important question.” He halted and looked at you seriously. “Do you want ice cream?”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Sam gave you and Bucky two beautiful bowls of bananas foster, he called it. He grinned from ear to ear as you asked him endless questions. You wanted to talk more(and ask for another serving), but a crowd full of people wanting to see Sam’s show had formed. You thanked him profusely and waved goodbye nearly your entire walk to the next booth, until you had to turn the corner and could no longer see your friend. Luckily, Bucky was holding your other hand and leading the way to make sure you didn’t bump into anyone or get lost.

You were about to mourn the end of the best time of your life, when you saw another friend waving to you excitedly.

“Stevie!”

You skipped to his booth and he met you in the middle, picking you up for a bone-crushing hug. 

“I missed you, bug!”

“Easy, Rogers. Bubba’s full of sweets and ice cream.”

Steve set you down gently and fixed your clothes that he had messed up. “Sorry, bubba, sorry. Wait–you had ice cream already?”

“Uh huh! We went to Sam’s booth!”

“Aw, you went to Sam’s booth before mine? That’s not fair!” he whined. He put a hand over his chest. “You’re breakin’ my heart, bubba.”

“And he gave me a fire show.”

“And he gave you a fire show?” Steve pretended to cry, putting his head in his hands and allowing sobs to run through his body. 

“Stevieee, c’mon!” You wrapped your arms around him and patted his back. “Do you know what Sammy didn’t give to me?”

“What?” Steve asked, still pouting. 

“Two hugs!”

Steve stopped his crocodile tears and returned your embrace, swinging you side to side to hear your giggles. 

“I guess the hugs make up for me not having any fire. And I’m the best hugger you know, right?”

“I-”

“Let’s go see the sweets I have for you!” he said, cutting you off. He carried you on his hip for the short walk to his booth and set you down at the front of it, because only vendors were allowed in the behind area.

Steve stepped behind the display and fixed his apron. Before he spoke, he puffed out his chest and held out his hands in a theatrical manner.

“Welcome to a slice of paradise! We have every pie you can think of! Apple, pumpkin, pecan, key lime, cherry, strawberry–every American classic! And for the non-pie lovers, I have cheesecakes, tarts, and the best rice krispie treats made with my Ma’s secret recipe.” He ended his speech with a wink.

“Wow! There’s so many! I don’t know which one to choose.” You looked at Bucky for assistance. 

“Lucky for you, my little bug, I have a sampler platter!” Steve presented you with a plate of many small squares of everything he was selling, all with different colored toothpicks. “You can try these out and when you decide the one you want, let me know and I’ll serve you a whole slice.”

You giddily took the sampler plate and tried all the samples with Bucky, giving Steve feedback after each bite. When you finished trying all of the sweets, you couldn’t pick just one to have a full slice of.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have another sample plate, please?”

“Sure, but don’t you want a whole slice of your favorite one?”

“I can’t choose a favorite! They’re all so good.”

Steve smiled proudly. “Alright, one more sampler platter for the charmer with the grouchy daddy.”

Bucky grunted while you giggled. “I have one more question.”

Steve nodded while he arranged your next plate. “What’s up?”

“Can I have a scoop of ice cream too? I need to try all of them with it, for science.”

[timetopanic34]

I’m reading a Stucky fic set during the war.

I was absolutely delighted that the author mentioned Hedy Lamarr.

Steve is telling the Howlies that she and Howard Stark were working on some stuff together.

Because in the MCU world that isn’t at all out of the question. In fact, the two of them together could potentially do more than either of them might do separately.

So I was just “chef’s kiss” to this piece of brilliance. I’m surprised other fic writers hadn’t thought to do it.

Of course Howard might try to seduce her but I’m certain she would just punch him and tell him to get back to fucking work (well actually I dunno if she cursed. I’d like to think so 😉)

[elsie-talisman]

bitches be like girl why are you cryin’?

…and I gotta turn my phone around and show them a picture of paget brewster literally just existing…

[astrid-nomically-steddie]

Steve (a chef who's taken years of culinary school)

Eddie: How are you so buff. All you do is cook.

Steve: ... Mashed potatoes

Eddie: ...