Feeding The U.S Army

Feeding the U.S Army

summery: You’re a Masterchef contestant, and during the team challenge you and your team have to cook for 100 army men. Easy right?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Warning: very bad english, no proof-read. ENGLISH IS NOY MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I’M SORRY.

I don’t even know what this is but I hope you like it

Masterchef! You had just passed the last selection and finally were going to cook in the Masterchef kitchen.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting when you send in your request to partecipate to the new season of Masterchef, the only thing you knew was that you loved cooking.

You had started cooking when you were really young: you were only eight when you helped your mom baking your dad’s birthday cake for the first time and you hadn’t stopped ever since.

It could seem strange for some people but, growing up in a farm, it was normal for anyone to help as much as they could: you had started with tidying up your room, you had learnt how to collect the eggs from the chicken goop first things in the morning, you had gone with your father to take care of the cows; but as soon as you and your family had found out how much you enjoyed spending your time in the kitchen, that had become your kingdom. You still helped with any other task if help was needed, but most of the time everyone left you do what you did best and what you loved the most: cooking.

So yeah.. you loved cooking: you cooked when you were happy, wou baked when you were stressed, you cooked when you were stuck in your own head, you went to the kitchen when you needed a moment to yourself knowing that very few people had the guts to follow you in your place in the house. 

Anyway the idea of participating at Masterchef first come out while the previous season of the show was on air: you were in the kicthen (surprise surprise!), you were preparing everything for that night gathering; your father was keeping you company while preparing a fruit salad (the only thing you had given him permission to touch, he had pretended to be fed up with your behavior but you both knew it was just for show). You were talking, the tv was on in the background when a new episode of Masterchef had began and your father had stopped answering your question.

“Dad?”- you had asked while still chopping the onions; there was so much to do in so little time you didn’t have time to pay attention to what your father was doing

“You are so much better than him”- your father hadn’t been making any sense

“What are you talking about?”- you had taken your attention from the onions to finally look at your father

“You should try and get on Masterchef”- your father had insisted still looking at the screen where Joe Bastianich was talking to a man in a black apron.

“You’re crazy”- you had simply said before getting back to your cooking. 

You hadn’t talked about it again that day, but the idea had lingered with you and even though you had kept your thoughts to yourself, your father knew you better than anyone else, so one day you had found the Masterchef application on your bed with a post on it 

‘I know you can do it honey- dad’- the post had said 

You had had a lot of fear: the fear of dissapoint your family, the fear of being on national television, the fear of leaving your family that needed your help at the farm every day, the fear of not suceeding, the fear of not being good enough,the fear of not pass even the first selection. Your father had come to your help once again “Honey the only way you could lose is if you didn’t even try. What’s the worst that could happen? that you don’t get in? Who cares? You will always be our favorite chef”

Your father’s words had been the push you needed, so you had send you application and when you had been called for the selection you had been excited.

You had survied the first couples eliminations and now you were going to be the captain of your team, the red team, in the first team challenge and you were scared shitless: not only you could go home if you made any mistakes, but the future in the competion of your team mates depended on you too, and as if that wasn’t enough you had to feed one- hundred army man. So yeah you were panicking and trying not to show it because you needed your team to trust you and to be calm enough to serve good food.

You took a deep breath and focused on what the judges Gordon Ramsay, Joe Bastianich and Aaron Sànchez were saying.

“Each  team will have to devise a menu that includes a protein, two vegetable and a sauce”- Joe said

“Now remeber, at the end of the day one of you will be eliminated and this will be last time he will be cooking in this competion”- Gordon’s words kept your anxiety spiriling but you tried to keep your focus- “All right, are you guys ready? let’s go”

You and your team sprinted as soon as Gordon had done talking. Once what you wanted to cook had been decided, you gave a task to each and everyone of your team mates and you all started cooking.

Managing between doing your own prep and making sure every team member was doing ok and didn’t need your help, wasn’t easy but you made it; the judges tasted your dish after half an hour and, aside from some suggestions to make it better, they liked it.

So you were on cloud nine: the judges liked the dish your team had devised, your prep had gone alright, your team was doing ok. But then service started and YOU PANICKED: you had to serve 100 army men and women and you had no idea how to prepare 100 dished that were perfect and that looked all the same. Your team was looking at you for direction but you had no idea what to do: you had never worked in a restaurat, none of you ever had, and when you cooked for your family gathering everyone made their own dishes, you were so out of your comfort zone. 

And that’s when things started to go even worse: service had started, the army men and women had arrived and had a very clear view of your stations, you had no idea how you wanted to plate the food and Gordon Ramsay came to you and he didn’t look happy.

“Red team come here, all of you, RIGHT NOW! We need a system, your tray is cold, the food is cold, I’m not letting you serve fucked up food. Take your food back in, warm it up, warm your tray. Y/n come here. YOU ARE THE TEAM CAPTAIN, SO FUCKING WAKE UP, DECIDE HOW YOU WANT YOUR FOOD ON THE PLATE AND START A PRODUCTION LINE. RIGHT FUCKING NOW Y/N”- Gordon pratically screamed in your face, you knew he just wanted to make sure the food that came out was perfect, he only wanted for you guys to succeed, but you had never liked when people screamed in your face even if you knew they didn’t mean any harm. Your eyes watered but you weren’t going to cry, you were going to do this, but when you thought things couldn’t go any worse..... you found out you were obviously very wrong.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”- a voice boomed behind Gordon and once you raised your gazed to see what was going on, you saw a mountain of a man, dressed in uniforme, coming towards you.

It was clear not even Gordon knew what was happening

“Can I help you, sir?”- Gordon asked, you couldn’t sure but his voice sounded a little bit unsure

“You wanna help me, why don’t you start by not screaming at a woman?”- the army-man’s voice was much calmer now but he wasn’t any less intimidating. Gordon didn’t know what to say and you knew it, so you took a step forward

“It’s really not a problem.. ehmm”- you read the name of the man on his uniform - “Captain Syverson, sir. Chef Gordon was just giving me a pep talk, everything is good. We will be serving you your food very soon”

As soon as you had started talking the man’s eyes had moved from Gordon to you and for the first time, since he had come over, you noticed how bautiful they really were. His eyes had become gentler when he had started looking at you, you had almost shivered when his attention had been on you and you only.

“Mhhm”- Captain Syverson said like he was still assessing the situation before deciding - “You can called me just Syverson”- he said before turning around and going back to his men.

You stood there for another second, all eyes were on you and you were sure your cheeks were burning

“Back to work guys”- you said. There was no way you weren’t sarving your best food to that hunk of a man.

Everything had gone smoothly after that, you had felt eyes on you some time during service but every time you had looked up you had never been able to pin point who was looking at you, so you had always gone back to work.

Once the judges had annouced your team had received 70 votes against the 30 of the other team and you had won you couldnt’ been happier, you had been sad for the contestant that had had to leave the show, but it was a competition and that was how it worked.

You were still celebrating with your team when you heard someone clearing their throath behind you

“Hello”- captain Syverson was behind you

“Oh Captain, hello”- what was happening?

“I thought I told you to call me Syverson, or Nathan if you prefer, but none on that Captain crap”- his raspy voice was doing things to you that shouldn’t be possible when you had just met the man.

“Right. Was everything ok with your food?”- you asked because why would he be here, if not because there had been something wrong with his food

“The food was amazing, you’re a fantastic cook, sugar”- he said and your cheeks burned once again at the name. What was this man doing to you

“Oh thank you, it was a team effort”

“Well you are the team captain, so I think you deserve some credit, sugar”- he said before looking back where a man was calling for him - “I need to go, but I really hope to see you again sugar”- he winked at you before leaving.

“uh”- you stood there staring at his back not sure of what had happened.

Everyone had joked about what happened between Gordon and the captain for the rest of the season, but you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man that had screamed at Gordon Ramsay (GORDON- FUCKING- RAMSAY) for you.

The competition had gone on and without even knowing how you had arrived to the grand finale and to your surprise YOU HAD WON!

So yeah when you sent your application for Masterchef you didn’t know what you were expecting, but in the end it was clear you had left the show with so much more you had even though you could win.

liked by masterchefus, gordongram and 234,567 others

itsMeYN When I sent the application for Masterchef, because my father conviced me to, I never thought I would even passed the first selection, let alone win the finale. This journey has given me so much, I learnt from every single one of the other contestat, some of which have become really good friends. I don’t even know how to start thanking the judges, Gordon, Joe and Aaron, They have taught me so much and always known when I needed a nudge to wake up and start believe in myself. Thank you, thank you this competition has given me so much 

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yourmominsta I’m so proud of you honey 

jennifer So happy for you, I was rooting for you since the first episode

haley234 Congrats! can we please talk about the team challenge with the army man ;)

austin  Oh my god! that episode was the best, that army captain was totally hitting on her

felicity Does Captain Syverson have instagram? Please does anyone know?

austin I dont think so, I’ve been looking for him too

rachel  Guys I was watching her story the other day and I swear there was a very familiar scratchy voice in the backgroud

yourbestfriend Oh my god... @itsmeYn I think you got busted

itsmeYn @yourbestfriend shut up

haley234 wait what

liked by masterchefus, gordongram, yourbestfriend and 345,678 others

ItmeYn Had the pleasure to dine at @gordonndram restaurant, and wasn’t that an experience. Also I think the second meeting between Gordon and at certain someone went a lot better

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austin “Certain someone”... yep she is totally dating Captain Syverson. Is it normal being so obsessed with the idea of them together when I have only seen 5 min of them together on tv?

haley234 Same sis, same.... and maybe it’s not normal but who cares

gordongram We still yelled at each other so I wouldn’t say it went so much better

itsMeYn “We” is the key word here, you yelled at Sy too, i think it’s mostly out of love now 

austin Sy... I repeat she wrote Sy... My ship is real

Yeah Masterchef had given you so much…

Masterlist

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No Other Expectations - Max Wolfe Imagine (Gossip Girl)

Title: No Other Expectations

Pairing: Max Wolfe X Reader

Word Count: 1,752 words

Warning(s): anxiety, nudity (not explicitly stated, but implied), mention of sex/friends-with-benefits situation

Summary: Max and (Y/n) had an arrangement. (Y/n) decides that it's time to make some adjustments to that arrangement. All that was left was for Max to accept or reject those adjustments.

Author's Note: Shut up. Just shut up. I know. I don't want any judgement. It's my blog, I'll write whoever's characters I want.

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I never thought about all of the little habits that could crop up in a situation like the one that Max and I had found ourselves in.

Max had developed a little knock when he showed up. A pattern that I think he repeated more out of instinct than anything else. The same smirk would sit on his face as he did it. Always so confident.

I had developed this habit of following the same path down his neck as I kissed him. I'd start just at the curve of his jaw, find the skin just behind his ear, and then continue my trail down to the space just between his collarbones.

He always grabbed one of my arms by the wrist. He'd dig his nails into the skin or guide it along his body or bring it up to his mouth so he could trace the skin with his lips.

My personal favorite of these habits was one of Max's.

After we got done and each got cleaned up, Max would lie next to me for a little while. He claimed that he was just calming down before leaving, but I think he liked lying next to me. He liked having the attention without the sex getting in the way.

He would trace his fingertips along my skin.

Sometimes they would follow the line of my spine, gently tapping little rhythms into the skin. Or he'd trace my side, usually following every slight bend that was there, sometimes drawing small circles. Or he would carefully small shapes on my stomach or along my collarbones. His eyes would always follow his hand wherever it went.

These were the times when I felt like I saw beyond the mask that Max liked to put up in front of people. It was so rare, but I adored it.

It didn't take me long to crave seeing it more.

I craved more than Max in bed with me.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was my brain swimming in fresh hormones and chemicals. It would fade in time. I was certain of it.

But as we saw each other outside of my room, I found myself longing for him in more than a physical way. It was strange and new and scary.

So, I hid it. I hid every ounce of emotion that wanted me to grab his hand or kiss his forehead or go on normal dates with him or simply hold him with our clothes on.

But the more I hid it, the harder it fought to show itself.

I felt like I was suffocating. Every time his fingers brushed my skin, something would get caught in my throat. Like the words were trying to fight their way out.

So, I made a plan. I planned every single thing I was going to say. I practiced it. I had to be sure that I could say it in that voice that seemed to bring Max back to me whenever I wanted to make the first move. The confident and seductive part of myself that I hadn't become properly acquainted with before I had met him.

I sat up one night, forcing his hand to fall from where it had been blindly tracing circles and stars on my collarbone. I leaned against my headboard, looking down at him from where I was sitting.

"You alright," he asked.

"I want more," I said simply. He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking a bit. "Not like that. I want more out of this... thing."

Max pushed himself into a sitting position next to me, one hand on either side of my legs so he could properly look me in the eye.

"I want more than fucking."

His eyes widened a bit at my bluntness.

"If you don't that's fine, but I... I do."

I tried to play it so calm and cool and collected, but honestly, if he had refused, I think I would've cried myself to sleep.

"You say that like you know my answer," Max leaned forward a bit.

"I wasn't going to assume anything, but..."

"You don't know," he stopped me.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He only smirked a bit more before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. One of his hands touched my leg gently as he leaned further forward in the hopes of guiding me onto my back.

I hummed into the kiss for a moment before leaning back. He tried to follow my lips, but I held my finger up, pressing against his chin just enough to stop him.

"You can't convince someone that you want more than fucking by fucking them," I said.

"What do you want from me then," he asked, running his hand up and down my arm as he leaned over to kiss my shoulder.

I took a deep breath. "Coffee."

He pulled away to look at me. His eyebrows were furrowed. I had to keep myself from chuckling at him. It was looking at a cat watching their owner eat or something. It was just... cute.

"Coffee," he repeated after a moment. "You want me to make you coffee?"

"No," I shook my head. "I want you to take me out to coffee. A date."

He just tilted his head at me.

"I want to meet in the morning for coffee, sit down with our drinks and talk about bullshit," I continued. "I want to talk about our favorite colors and what we think of the new album from whoever-the-fuck and I want you to hold my hand from across the table. And then, when we're done, I want you to walk me home, kiss me on the doorstep... and then walk away. Nothing more... no other expectations."

"Got the whole thing planned out, huh," he asked, his smirk returning to his face.

"I thought you'd appreciate it if I had all the answers," I shrugged.

He chuckled.

"9... tomorrow."

"And if I don't go?"

The idea made my chest tighten out of anxiety, but I tried to hide it. "Then, I know where we stand, don't I?"

He nodded before leaning forward to kiss me again. I entertained the kiss for a few moments, reaching out to touch his side as I leaned closer to him.

He leaned back before I could this time. He stood up and started pulling on his clothes.

"Are you gonna go," I asked after a moment of just admiring him.

He paused as he buttoned his shirt. "Yeah... text me where you wanna meet."

I tried to keep my smile from getting too wide. "Alright."

He left soon after, throwing a wink over his shoulder before he walked out of my room. I leaned back against my headboard, grinning to myself.

It felt silly to be so hopeful.

I felt something nagging at me for the rest of the night. Turning my stomach into knots and making me have to actively fight the urge to pick at my fingers in the hopes of relaxing. I needed to have more faith in him. I knew that. But that was a hard thing to force.

I spent most of that night tossing and turning in bed.

It's funny when you think about it.

He had been in my house, he had seen me naked more times than I cared to count, he had been with me already. Yet something so simple... something that should have no pressure in comparison... was the thing making me the most nervous.

I was early the next morning. Probably about thirty minutes, but I didn't want to check the time.

I sat at a table meant for two and waited. My eyes went from my fingers actively tapping on the table to the door. Sometimes it would creak open, and my head would jump up. It was never Max.

I didn't check the time until it read nine o'clock.

I felt that twisting in my stomach get stronger. Doubt creeping over me like a spider crawling up my spine.

No, I told myself. It would be fine. He cares about me. He'll show.

At around 9:15, I felt my hope dropping. It felt like everyone was staring at me. Feeling sorry for me. I couldn't blame them; I felt sorry for me too. I couldn't help it.

Had Max actually not shown up? Did he really lie to me about meeting me here?

I felt sick as I realized what had happened.

I stood up, trying to fight the churning of my stomach and the tears about to fill my eyes. My jaw clenched. Futile attempt, truly, but I could try.

I was just stepping away from the table when the door opened.

Max walked in. I froze where I was. Any confidence I had obtained last night when setting up this little date had gone entirely out the window since then, leaving me no way to cover my shocked look.

He looked around quickly before he spotted me. A kind of worried look turned into a smile as he walked over.

"Hey," he said, leaning over to kiss my cheek. In public. In front of people. "Sorry that I'm late. I didn't even think about how difficult this place could've been to find."

I couldn't speak, still stunned by not only the kiss on my cheek, but him showing up at all.

"Did you order," he asked.

It took me a second to quickly shake my head. He held out his hand.

"Come on," he pushed. "I'm buying."

I grinned before taking his hand. I relaxed immediately, leaning a bit closer to his side.

We were quiet until we made it to the table with our drinks. Max kept a hold of my hand. I bit my lip, trying to avoid smiling like an idiot at our hands.

"So," Max said, causing me to look at him. "What's your favorite color?"

I rolled my eyes at him.

It was a nice date. It was nice being able to just talk to him with no pressure. I didn't need to be seductive or charming. I was just... comfortable. I rambled more. Smiled more.

He smiled more too. A genuine smile. Not the normal smirk that rested on his face. A calm grin as he spoke and listened to me.

At the end of the date, Max walked me to my door.

He kissed me gently on my doorstep.

And he walked away... no other expectations.

Just as we planned it.

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