Bartender Simon When A Customer Yells At Reader For A Mistake?

Bartender Simon when a customer yells at reader for a mistake?

I love the way you guys think LOVE keep em comin!!

It starts when he's restocking his bar, carrying crates with fruit, bitters, coasters, and straws. He comes down from the pantry upstairs to a decently relaxed lunch crowd, when he hears the second half of the customer's tantrum.

"You expect me to eat this?! It's bloody raw!"

"I'm so sorry, I can take it back aga-"

"You already did that - went to the kitchen and stuck it under the warmer for a few seconds and thought I wouldn't notice, huh?"

"No sir, I gave it to the che-"

"I don't want to hear fucking excuses, just go fix my damn burger. I'm paying for this shit, aren't I? And you're working for my tip. So fucking work, cunt."

Humiliation isn't enough to describe what you feel - there isn't a strong enough word for it. Claiming you're a liar, saying you grovel for tips, yelling at you in front of your other tables, calling you a cunt - it makes your eyes sting with oncoming tears, staring at him and using every muscle in your jaw to keep from spitting insults back at him. You want to throw the food in his face, but instead, you grab his plate and storm off to the kitchen before he can see you cry.

The man scoffs, looking at his watch. "Fuckin' great..."

Simon's still standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding his crates and staring daggers at the man. He knows what it's like, being berated by customers. He says "that's customer service for ya" and moves on. But for this wanker to berate you - he sees red. He sees his next target.

He swiftly crosses the restaurant floor, boots thudding against the old wood as he drops his crate behind the bar. Soap's already yelling about the asshole when he pushes his way into the kitchen.

"Order it fuckin' rare and ye get fuckin' rare, bloody clipe- talkin' mince, bawface bastard-" he slams the burger back onto the grill with a tense arm, continuing to grumble as it sizzles. "Cookin' ye a nice strip o' shoe leather-"

You're sitting on an overturned crate, sobbing into your hands, pen and notepad on the ground beside you. Price is on one knee, one arm around your shoulder and the other on your leg - you'd never officially met the owner of the pub, but now was as good a time as any, you suppose.

"Wot happened?" Is all that Ghost could say without going off on a rampage. He's saving that for later.

"He fucking embarrassed me, that's what happened!!" You snap, looking up at Simon. Your eyes are red and puffy after only crying for a minute or two, cheeks wet from your tears. You hug your arms around your middle and choke on a sob. "Told me his fucking burger wasn't cooked, so I sent it back- then he tries to say I never even gave it to Soap?! Calls m-me a cunt in front of my tables?! Make me fucking work for his money - I don't want his goddamn money!!"

Price shushes you, worrying your anger might be leaking through the kitchen door - he doesn't want the same customer to hear you bad-mouthing him, although it's rightfully deserved. He rubs your back gently as you drop your head into your hands again, shoulders shaking as you cry.

Simon's seething - he's already moving before his brain can catch up, still stuck on the picture of your teary face. He marches behind the line and reaches across Soap, picking the burger right off the grill.

Soap makes a shocked sound. "Ye gone mad, LT?!"

"Table six?" Ghost asks, holding the sizzling burger patty in his hand, grease dripping onto his forearm.

You stare between his face and the patty - your crying stopped, your face now replaced with a stupefied expression. "Uh- yeah."

And like that, he's off; he shoves himself back out onto the floor and makes his way towards the customer who yelled at you. The burger burns his hand, but he doesn't even notice the pain. He drops it onto the table in front of the man, who yelps in disgust. "What the fuck-"

"Better?" Ghost says, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he looked down at the man, now stuttering and blubbering in shock. Specks of grease are freckling his white dress shirt.

"Are you- is this a fucking joke?"

"It's your fuckin' burger."

"I can't believe this-"

"Then get the fuck out my pub." Ghost growls; he grabs the man by his arm, ripping his blazer off the back of his chair, and drags him to the front door. The other customers look with wide eyes as he busts the door open with his shoulder and throws the man onto the sidewalk. He wheezes as he hits the ground, and Ghost throws his blazer at him next.

"If I ever see your face in 'ere after this, 'm throwin' you out again and keepin' your bullocks as a fuckin' souvenir."

The man stares at him, flabbergasted, as Ghost walks back inside. People are focused on their meals now, heads down and pretending they didn't see Simon body a man to the ground - the guy deserved it, after all.

Simon huffs, picking up the burger from the now-empty table. His hand stings a bit, but he has years of callouses built up to keep any real burns from settling in. He gently kicks the chair back into place and starts heading back to the kitchen, when he sees you.

You're staring at him with wide, wet eyes, standing in the entryway to the kitchen and mouth slightly ajar in awe. You've fully stopped crying, but there are still tears on your face from before. Eyeliner and mascara are smudged a bit, but it only makes Simon's fondness for you blossom.

He gently nudges your shoulder with his elbow as he pushes past you. "Take a fifteen. I'll watch your tables."

You stare after him as he throws the burger into the trash, grabbing a fresh towel and wrapping his hand. Wide back facing you as he looks at Soap, who stares at him with a frustrated sigh.

You're horny now. Horny for Simon - and you're definitely relaying this entire shebang to your friends tonight.

2009 riley…

Seriously. I love 2009 simon riley so much. I love his droopy blue eyes, his cursing, his voice, his youthfulness, his baclava and sunglasses. everything about him screams biker boyfriend. He deserves so much more attention… HIS BLUE EYES ARE SO……. not to mention he looks adorably high. Maybe i’m just a sicko for droopy eyes. HE LOOKS SO TIRED! They remind me of a puppy and i’m not sure if i’m going crazy or what. HE’S JUST SO ADORABLE DAWG I CANT…beefy ghost is cute too, but 09 ghost js gives me the tall handsome, well-built biker boy. Why did they have to do him like that bro…. (Pics not mine)

college!ghost and you waking up at the same time. You have a class to get ready for at 9am, but in order to be ready you’d have to catch breakfast at 8am. Now it was 7:30. All you wanted to do was go back to sleep like the bedbug you were. Classes, you thought annoyed. You now brushed your teeth, messy hair down in waves and mussed up from sleeping. The fluorescent lights don’t help either. The bathroom was a public one, so anyone could’ve walked in at any moment.

And suddenly the door swung open. In there stands the man you’d been seeing around—blue and black plaid pajamas, a soft tee shirt and his balaclava mask off. His caddy hangs in his hand. You stare in shock—toothbrush in your mouth, hand not moving. Your messy sleep deprived eyes boring into his. First thing you notice: his mask was off. Scars roamed his face, tracing his features. He was gruff and blonde—you pegged him as a brunette. Guess I was wrong this time, you thought.

“Wot you starin’ at?” He’d gruffly say, voice thick from sleep. You looked away immediately, brushing your teeth faster as a distraction.

“Nothin.” You managed to say—although mumbling from the toothbrush in your mouth.

The brute of a man just stands next to you, not saying another word. The harsh curve of his nose shines in the light, bags under his eyes as he reaches for his toothbrush in irritation. He didn’t think anyone else would be up at this time, at the ass crack of dawn. He brushed his teeth, hazy eyes staring in the mirror. All he could see were you beside him: in his peripheral.

All clad in shorts and a tank top, strap falling to the side. Hair tousled as you brushed your teeth then washed your face. He had to ask himself: why did you need all those steps just to wash your face? Now he found himself staring curious, although shifting his gaze away so you wouldn’t catch him.

Just another gal, he thought. Maybe he recognized you from the room across—but then again it was the ass crack of dawn and his mind was a mess.

College!simon x reader masterlist 🤍

Thanks so much to everyone who read/is reading this! This was my first ever fic lol. Your feedback & comments mean a lot to me—as a writer 🥺✉️ it motivates me! Feel free to reblog & comment!

divider creds: @fairytopea

Lil blurb

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

this is part 2 of my college!simon idea :) enjoy! feel free to like comment & reblog.

Simon mumbled and grunted. He was heaved over the barstool of the Bistro, finished a long day of studies and classwork. A.D, B.C, blueprints of Greek palaces and Knossos rebuilding—my ass. He thought in annoyance, brows slashes down in a glare, rough eyes peering out from his balaclava mask. A girl beside him eyed his mask to which he stared, biting into his sandwhich.

All around the Bistro had calmed down, a few people in and out. Simon always took the seat closest to the exit, it was better for an escape—and he maintained situational awareness. Not only that, but he liked when he sat alone. His brooding form took over at least two seats.

“Bloody hell…the man took chicken outta chicken…” Simon said, staring at his sandwich in disgust. His eyes had widened by a fraction. He chewed the last bite before setting the stale sandwich down, already pissed they messed up his order. He shook his head in annoyance and then managed to catch you.

His head paused in its moment and he drank you in, hair illuminated by the dangling overhead lights. The warm light made your hair softer than usual, and you wore a flowy skirt, some boots and a buckled bag hang off your shoulder. Along with a tank top you’d managed to find in your laundry that wasn’t dirty.

Wait a minute. He’d seen you before. This was the lass that lived across from him. In that tiny corner of a “room,” your “dungeon” as he called it. His eyes narrowed as he watched you order your usual. He had no idea what it was but he was tempted to find out.

Only so he could get rid of whatever the hell he’d been ordering lately. After you received your ticket, you made your way to the opposite seating area away from him, hair flowing and following your movements.

“I keep seein’ that lass…tis a sign or wot?” He’d mumble, more so to himself. The plastic cup nudges his lips before he drank the water, washing away whatever chicken—fake chicken had been left.

——

Sometime later at night, he’d been walking down the pathway to his dorm. His hands were stuffed casually in his pockets, the sound of music blasting through his wired headphones was the only thing he was focused on. His boots crunched over pebbles, the gravely path taking a turn up a slope. The moon hung high and heavy in the sky.

It was then he caught wind of some laughter pouring out like champagne. Smooth, easy, flowing. Kind of like—you. There you stood, standing ahead and walking, just having finished dinner and on your phone, smiling widely. Your head was tilted up at the moon in amazement, talking about how you’d seen more balls than you cared to admit—

To which he cocked a brow curiously and carried on walking, although slightly slower this time. God. Maybe it was from all the training that weighed him down. He knew it was an excuse to eavesdrop more but to be fair: you piqued his interest. Ever since he’d seen you in that bathroom, hair tousled and half asleep.

“My damn window won’t shut.” He heard you complain, sighing as your head tipped down, focusing on the rocky path. You adjusted your bag, hair flowing. Some laughter sounded over the phone and then said, “Just get that masked man to do it, the one you been telling me about.”

Masked man?

Oh.

Him.

Who else wore a looming skull mask in the dead of night? Him.

“No, absolutely not—I don’t even know him.” You said much quieter, eyes wide and lifting to peer around to see if anyone heard. It seemed like you didn’t know he was directly behind you, hanging a few feet back. He shuffled in his spot and for the first time in a while for the day, found his lip itching to grin. It was too easy. You seemed naive in the moment.

It also seemed apparent to him you’d been talking about him—to whoever friend it was over the phone. His finger tapped against his thigh, head cocking to the side curiously. Although he couldn’t blame you for doing so—lotta lassies fawned over him. He found himself disinterested though, unable to see himself in a relationship for the time being. Maybe it was the trauma, maybe it was the fact he preffered to be with his goldfish and venting to it, only to be returned with blobs of bubbles blowing out.

Just then, his boot crunched loudly on a twig and your head snapped around, hand clutching the phone. He stared, now pausing in his movements, as you were blocking his path. He watched as color drained from your face quite amusingly—and you fumbled to disconnect the phone call.

“Yeah, yeah, make sure to tell him what a nice ass—“

The phone cut off. Now both of you stood staring at each other.

Part 3 of college au with simon riley x reader 🥺 living for this fic ugh.

Part 1

Part 2

“How much did you hear?” Your voice rang out, although not in a huddled whisper. You acknowledged he at least caught you, but it stung embarrassingly. You eyed him curiously, a whoops floating in your mind. Score one for me for being so clueless—

Before you could finish your thought, he responded and shifted, one shoulder shrugging slightly. His jacket wrinkled. He then walked forward, standing just enough to see your face more clearly. The curve of his nose was hidden from the mask, eyes shadowed by the lamppost. Beside them, large glass windows were revealing the inside of the gym.

“A filthy amount.” Then his smooth voice rang out, eyeing your expression. Goddamnit, what was up with this man? You felt scrutinized and open. Vulnerable under his gaze yet you refused to admit it just yet. Pride? Ego?

You clutched your bag closer, maybe an attempt to shield yourself from his gaze and then turned away, continuing your walk up the path. Even faster this time—an attempt to get away from the situation.

But his long legs caught up beside you, eyes not leaving you. A flash of amusement crossed them.

“I heard y’er window was givin’ a fuss.” He stated. Curses. You almost flinched at the mention of what he heard and cleared your throat. You glanced up to see both your dorm buildings in view, some decorative planters watered and waving with plants.

“And so you did?” You half joked, arms crossing across your chest and not looking at him. Apart of you wonder what exactly he thought of you now, and what he’d been able to figure out from the call. Or maybe it was better to not know.

He strode closer to talk, long legs catching up easily to which you bristled at. And the pathway was small—making his arm brush yours. The contact produced sparks across your body for a split second, then you squashed it given the situation. You were a damn mouse next to his form, and it didn’t help you faintly smelled his cologne— but musky scent mixed together.

“I can give ya’ a hand—those things get all jammed.”

His voice was warmer this time although he couldn’t help the grin itching at him. Trees blurred past them as you finally reached the door to your dorm. You scanned your ID in—and of course he followed.

Because he lived across from you, conveniently.

“Look—it’s fine. I’ll have my friend take a look at it.” You brushed off, walking away and down the stairs. You knew damn well your friend was a skinny lad baring no muscle. A basketball could slap him in the head and he’d fly into the wall like the mosquito he was.

He slowed his movements for a split second, eyes narrowing. Almost like he didn’t believe you—as red rimmed eyes tracked your racing form. “Just thought it’d be faster if I did it. You won’t be freezin’ tonight.”

He followed you, of course having nowhere else to turn. The stony grey building reflected little to no signs of life. White corridors then came into view. He couldn’t lie he found this amusing as hell, watching you race and dart about, all flustered and itching to get away from the fact of what he heard.

“I said—“

“I know what you said.” He cut you off, although his tone was warm. He held no malice, but he figured he liked this little game.

You spun around in irritation, eyes blazing and the corner of your eye twitching. He caught wiff of your perfume and he was momentarily stunned, but resumed his composure. He leaned his shoulder on the wall, hands in his pockets casually and gazed down at you. He was waiting for your response.

“Then if you heard you should probably leave.” You said, glancing at his door that was keyed and merely across from yours.

Simon liked this: a challenge.

He shifted so his shoulder moved off from the wall and he tipped a brow at you. His hand went to his bag strap, adjusting it before saying, “Tell y’er friend I said thank you.”

Oh god. Now you knew he’d never let you live this down.