#chef!ghost

Chef!Ghost would fvck you while you hold your stuffed animal that he so carefully set to the side the first time you made love but has gotten in the way of cuddling you at night—

So he fucks you dumb as you squeeze the teddy bear tight, pussy clenching around his length as he ruts into you sideways. Ass smacking against his pelvis, with every rough thrust, pubic hairs all drenched with slick and you’re drooling on your poor bear that’ll be in the washer machine by tomorrow. And maybe he does overstimulate you with the bears nose rubbing against yout clit, your mixed fluids dampening the bears face. Making your hips buck and shudder as you ride its face while Chef!Ghost talks straight filth into your ears. Fucking filthy, so embarrassing and Chef!Ghost is full of sincere apologies as he wipes you down. Your eyebrows knitted together as you playfully ignore him, hiding your face behind a pillow, you flip him the bird. Your poor teddy bear all defiled and will have to go through some sort of christening. And Simon squeeze you tight in his arms, cuteness aggression leaping out of him because you’re the hottest and cutest thing in earth. Leaving another bite mark on your shoulder.

Least he got to hold you for the night. *mic cuts out, credits roll*

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who works as the head chef in a three star restaurant. Is very passionate about his cooking and baking, although he prefers cooking. Let's the confectioner handle the sweets.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates costumers or guests, who think they can outsmart him, by complaining about the 'dry steak', however he simply makes them go home. This way, him and his colleagues have less stress.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who gets criticized because of his strict rules in his restaurant by the press. However, he just wants to make sure it's enjoyable and calm. Without any guests trying to get more free food by playing a victim.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates the press.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates taking the fresh products from the delivery guy, because he's more than talkative. Always makes anyone else go than himself.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who (sometimes) hates his colleagues. Mostly Soap, because he manages to set at least two pans on fire every day and then always ends up staying late to help the cleaning ladies with their job.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who once threw a tomato at Soap for pissing him off, then said; »Be happy that wasn't my knife, you wanker!«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who sometimes gets carried away and talks more loudly than usual, making some guests question if the work morals are actually okay or not.

»Just follow the damn orders, you carrot!« »If the costumer said 'no garlic', then it means 'no garlic'! I don't need this place to be shut down because of your stupid ass.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who either loves it or hates it when familys with children come in. Asks the waiter or waitress who took their orders about them, being happy if the kid is well behaved.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who loves to cook things off the kid's menu, likes to serve it himself when he knows the child/children are nice and not little gremlins.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who rants to himself whenever something upsets him in the slightest way.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to think that you are his favourite coworker. Knows about your excellent degree, enjoys your food and new recipes and loves the fact that you're always on time. Others can't compare.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to gossip with you on breaks over a cigeratte or a cup of tea.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who always makes sure that Velvet's desserts are perfect. It's his most loyal costumer, and the sweetest elder lady on earth.

»Of course, we'll make the most sweetest cheesecake as possible.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who wants to put his hands into the mixer after he heard Velvet compliment you, then following up with, »I'm surprised chef Riley hasn't fallen for you already. I'd be distracted in the kitchen if I had to work with you.« Because she is somehow managed to hit a nerve.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who tries to make you do other work, like organising the storage room and collecting the deliveries, or even cleaning out the containers outside. Just to be more focused on his work... but you're starting to hate it.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who makes Soap shut up with another tomato once he tries to tease Ghost about his 'crush'. Then contemplated with the thoughts of shutting the place down because of his antics.

⟨part 2⟩

a/n: got this idea while reawatching a random series from my childhood, so here you go. hope you enjoyed! (divider @vesearartistry) I'd happily take more requests for this AU, just drop it into my inbox!! Also, he reminds me of Gordon Ramsay.

←MASTERLIST

simon can't cook-

okay no he CAN. okay? but it's very much- chop up whatever the fuck is in the fridge throw it in a pot, add as much meat he can find. then he's sorted. creating some sort of stew. but if not that. he thrives off 2 minute noodles.

listen, he's a working man. he can't be fucked thinking about what to make.

and if he needs to eat while not deployed and wants something, he'll get takeaways so he doesn't have to think about it.

and if ya'll are together - whatever you make... motherfucker eats that shit up like he's in a 5-star fucking reasturant.

you made scrambled eggs with bacon??? he's astounded. absolutely in love. has never been more satisfied in his life.

but oh lord. when he retires..

retired!simon fucking riley finds his fucking calling in cooking.

you no longer have to worry about cooking. nah-uh. not with this man who has all the time in the world to hone in on this new culinary world.

idk i just think it's so cute to think about simon going from beans on toast for breakfast to fluffy buttermilk pancakes or french toast with bacon a berry compote.

then for dinner; it's suddenly a whole line of sushi with all your favourites, dumplings to follow and a beef udon recipe dish. or maybe it's a simple roast - however, a perfectly seasoned meat has been sitting for a while in the oven for so long that when you cut into it, it's juicy and tender. and simon fucking beams at the faces you make.

dessert is a whole other game that simon fucking mastered. seriously. because he's placing down a skillet brownie, topped with ice cream and cream. And when you put a spoon into it, it fucking drips with chocolate ya'll.

just rahhhh retired!simon that turns into chef!simon. who just spoils you day and night with food. who gains the ability to make whatever dish you want, whenever you want. 3am and you want a grilled cheese? he can whip it up in seconds and it'll taste like the most gourmet grilled cheese you have EVER had.

btw, i'm torn between making him a gordon ramsay in the kitchen or him being the complete opposite and being so sweet and patient with you when you want to help him.

WAIT- speaks like gordon ramsay but treats you softly. like, you're not cutting with the knife correctly you fucking donkey. but instead of taking it off you, he presses up behind you, gently cups your hands with his and shows you how to do it safely. and he's speaking so sweetly and softly. a stark contrast to when he called you a fucking donkey - but hey you'll get your bite back. ;)

“Sure, how many?”

“ ‘bout 100.”

Waiter!Reader who chokes on your food mid bite. You and Chef!Ghost have been doing this exchange of food for about two months now. Ghost loves you cakes more than anything on this planet, it would probably be the last thing he wants to eat before he dies. He thinks you’re ridiculously talented and you’ve never failed to amaze him with your baking.

He trusts your tongue more than anything too.

Loves the how you compliment his food, the grin and little dance you do when he brings you a bowl or plate of food. Your honesty, even if you don’t know the right words to describe what’s wrong. Your laugh when he says something silly or when you rub your arms nervously when he inters your space— he simply can’t get enough of it— can’t get enough of you.. It was only a matter of time before he ordered something from you, at least, that’s what he thinks.

“You alright?” He asks, hand going to your back and bringing a glass of water to your lips. You swallow, clearing your throat you nod, “I’m fine.” A lie. He’s making your heart race ten fold. You’ve tried to get used to his touch, really. The hand grazes, the hand on yoru back, caressing your cheeks, feeding you— even eating what you don’t finish. Maybe he’s overly friendly with everyone.

That’s what you like to tell yourself.

“You can make any 2 flavors you like, but the 3rd, has to be the peach cobbler one, I’d die for it.” He continues on as if he didn’t just ask a huge ask of you.

“Chef?”

“Simon,” he corrects, taking the plate from you and few last bites.

“Simon,” you breath, “I’m really happy you like my desserts. Truly. But I’m not finished with culinary school.”

Ghost shrugs, “I know.”

“And I’m not very good at icing my cakes.”

“Do you see a perfect dish being sent out around here?”

“And I’ve never had such a large order in my life!” You ramble on.

Your family are your main clients, They always ask you to bake something for the family function, and maybe you have brought over some brownies or cookies for your friends. Nothing this serious.

“What if I mess up and you hate them? Or they come out wrong or worse—“

“—Baby.” He cuts you off, taking your hands in his, gently sliding his thumbs against your knuckles and then kissing them.

“You want to be a proper baker, right? One that everyone loves, you told me that right?”

You slowly nod, biting the inside of your lip. “Every chef just needs one chance. One. I believe in you lovie, more than anythin. I wouldn’t want you baking for me if I didn’t like it. I want to give you that chance. I’ll pay you for the cupcakes, and let a few of the customers try them on the house. You can see for yourself if they like them. And if they do, I’d like to sell ‘em if you’d do me the honor. I’ll pay you for them. My co-owners been houndin me for years to get a proper dessert, if anythin you’re doin me a huge favor. And if you don’t like the pressure of the order or anythin you can tell me clean to fuck off, I won’t hate you.”

“I think I forgot you love me.”

cw: mdni, it’s just fluff lol, chef!ghost, waiter!reader, it’s a little long.

Waiter!reader who’s overworking themselves.

And it’s not like you meant to, just- you needed this to be perfect. You needed this opportunity that Chef!Ghost gave you, to work out. So the past two weeks you’ve done nothing but focus on that.

You go to culinary school, a bus to the restaurant, work till about ten, get home by 11 and pour your heart into perfecting your 3 recipes till about 5 am. And do it all over again the next day. And the next and the next. It feels like your constantly burning daylight. There are little to no breaks, no room for mistakes, just perfection.

But when you strive for perfection, there comes irritation, anger, disappointment— you’re tired. But you want this—no— this has to work out for you.

You’ve already gone down a route your parents weren’t so proud of, you’ve made your own way by yourself, and then you lost your last job, you got lucky snagging this one. And then with how close you’ve gotten with Simon, the other waiters are questioning you, “Just because you fucked the boss doesn’t mean you can be late,” one snorts. And you have to remind yourself, that this is okay. It’s just for the time being. That you can prove them all wrong. You can prove Simon right, that you are good and it’s good enough to be on his menu.

And maybe this ache in you would make you a good chef, break you down enough just like the other professors wants— enough that makes your soul break juuuust enough for you to be impeccable. That’s the way to show your love of you job, right? That’s the way you want this, right?

So there’s no time to stop. There’s a red bull or a coffee in between the day— you don’t remember—, your professors are complimenting you— maybe you missed the bus to work and almost cried when the second one showed up late. Ran into your shift and threw on an apron, fake smiles and working your way through customers and not dropping that large tray with their food on it, sleeping on the bus on the way home just to get your cupcakes down.

And then there’s Chef!Ghost who hasn’t been able to see you. Not even to check up on you, and at first he let it go, you’re nervous, you don’t want to disappoint. But he doesn’t see you at family meal, your running right out the door as soon as the restaurant closes, and when he does see you, in those small glimpses between the dishes of food, the other waiters and line cooks, you’re just barley holding up, bags under your eyes, jittery, eyes flicking from the linecook to the ticket to the plate, not even talking unless you have to.

You’re on autopilot.

He wants to stop you, tell you that’s it’s all okay. And he shouldn’t have pushed you like this. You can try again later, when you’re mentally ready for it. It makes his heart ache from not even hearing your voice in the kitchen, or smiling at him, whispering in his ear during service how you’d like steak for dinner instead of the special. And he gets to be the one to whip it up for you.

Fucking hell, he misses you.

Hes made a little extra portion of something, braised steak over mashed potatoes this time.

“Come on kid, try a bit f’me.” You think you get weak in the knees off that alone, but the steak is perfectly tender and seasoned, potatoes just right and creamy, you groan at how good it is, stomping your feet at how perfect it is. And Ghosts eyes are so soft at the sight of you enjoying his food. Something he’s still working the kinks out for the autumn menu.

He brushes a stray curl away, then wipes the left over mashed potato that was there, sucking it from his tongue, “It’s good?” He asks as if he didn’t just make your underwear wet— shut up—

“Wonderful!”

“But?” And he waits for it, he’s always looking for answers out of you. The only person he wants answers out of.

“More oomf.” But you say it more like a question. you’re no chef, you don’t know what it’s missing exactly. But Simon is attentive, he understands you so way, some how, takes bite, from the same spoon, himself. Then nods, patting your lower back, “More oomf, thanks birdie.”

You have to take five in the walk in before you get back to your section.

Chef!Ghost who only does in person interviews, no cameras either, right in his kitchen, during service. He doesn’t care for the hype or getting 3 million likes on social media, he wants people to come in, enjoy the atmosphere, the rock music playing during the day, Jazz at night— and then the warm and filling food that will make anybody melt as soon as it touches their tongues. Simon Riley’s, “secret ingredient” that everyone raves over.

“And what exactly could that be?” The interviewer asks, anticipatingly.

And he hums, an ends of his eyes crinkling a deep but light chuckle coming from his lips as he sautés a pan of vegetables, “A bit ‘f fuckin love, innit?”

Incomes waiter!reader who isn’t really supposed to be in the kitchen per say— you so badly want to be a pastry chef. But culinary school needs to be paid off, so you’re working at Ghost Restaurant (lol stupid name, walk with me). But at the restaurant theres no real deserts, just some cookies and a bit of ice cream, “Cause we have to,” one of his sous chef’s, Donny, laughs.

Waiter!reader who, after bribing Donny, got to bring a nicely made chiffon cake to go along with family meal. And the icing, blue is a bit messy. It’s not perfectly done and it’s pretty obvious, but theres some open star piping on it, a few white and yellow cute flowers too. Everyone’s raving about it, from the waiters to dishwashers to the line cooks— and then a nice slice is saved off for Ghost.

“You.” He points to one mid shift, two days later, simply says, motioning you away from the ticket station and to the back of the restaurant.

You’re more than nervous, clearly you must’ve pissed him off, desserts aren’t needed at the restaurant, and to turn family meal into a cake tasting. To Top it off you definitely dropped a couple plates this month. You’re smoked.

“You can make a marble cake, yeah?” Is what he first asks when the back door closes.

You take a glance around the mess of the office, gulp down whatever fear is in you, “I-I can try.”

“Good. Bring me a slice your next shift.”

And it’s as simple as that, he goes back in the building, after plucking your forehead, leaving you rubbing your skin and confused.

did you bring the cake? Of course you did. You want to keep your job. You bring the cake two days later, in an old Tupperware container, a light glaze atop the the dessert, heart pounding out of your chest. And he takes a fork (he has those stashed on him) and takes a bit of your cake. He grunts in satisfaction, then hands you a hot plate of food.

“Eat.”

Was this some sort of trade off? Who knows, but if it meant you could eat on the clock, maybe it was for the best.

“One time my fuckin ass, you’re bein a prick.”

“It’d be good for business for fucks sake! More business means more money!”

“ ‘Nd tha’ means we should start jumpin off bridges and shit for a fucking camera for “more business”? Piss off!”

It’s the forth time this month during family meal, Tommy, Chef!Ghost’s brother and business partner, have had a yelling match right before service. Concerning a very notable Magazine asking for in person, video recorded interview about the business, his kitchen and Ghosts life. Simon doesn’t do video recording, he wants the food to do the talking, even at work he’s still wearing a mask, only taking off his mask to taste the food. The most costumers have heard him is yelling out orders and instructions. He likes the privacy, he didn’t become a chef to be an ‘Internet personality.’

Tommy, has good intentions, he’s a good person, handles most the finances and answers emails and calls but helped the business get off the ground from a food truck to brick. The restaurant isn’t running out of money, far from it, if they really wanted to own another building they could. But Simon doesn’t want to, he likes the one, likes his regulars that come for lunch and those who come for dinner. Likes knowing all the waiters and sous chef’s, sourcing all his ingredients himself. He loves his job the way it is. But Tommy has to pull teeth for a simple interview that goes in the paper, this— he’s asking for pigs to fly.

And Simon won’t even bother to put some fake wings on a pig and kick it off the building with a rope.

“I- shit, [+]! You agree it’s a good idea, right? This would put the restaurant on the next level!”

You’re barely playing mediator eating and watching them go hit for hit, said you’d give them five minutes the second argument so no one punches the other (which won’t happen, they’re exaggerating). It’s now the fourth time, and your name is being mentions.

You do a double take mid bite of the steak you’re eating when you realize both sets of eyes are on you, “oh you’re serious.”

“Course I am! He’ll only listen to you!” Harvy sighs.

You open your mouth to deny it, but you know it’s true. You and Simon- Simon and you- there are no confirmed titles yet. But you and Simon are more than friends after everything that’s happened- deeply connected crushes? Each others situation ?

You’re not taking any questions at this time.

You wipe your hands on your apron, glancing at Simon who’s giving the most adorable pout for you to side with him. “Hey! Don’t look at him!” Harvy snaps his fingers and you can’t help but giggle.

“Well it is a good idea,” you start.

“See Ghost?” Harvy smirks.

“But if Simon doesn’t want to do it then you shouldn’t.” You shrug.

“Yeah, dumb ass.” Simons nudges his brothers forehead back playfully, ready to turn on his feet to end the discussion.

You suck in a breath, “But maybe just this one time just to see if it does anything! I mean you didn’t have to show your face, just your torso maybe, a-and maybe a sous chef could be there for support- even bring Johnny in maybe and he can be the focus!” You ramble as fast as you can.