One-shot Imagines

My Italian Chef (H/n Smut)

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Shoutout to AriRenne - I love this idea so much.

⇝This chapter will contain mature themes⇜

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Since I was a little girl, one of my biggest passions was being in the kitchen. Cooking, baking- all of it. I graduated high school with a scholarship and was now studying hard to achieve my dream. It had been officially three months since I started, and I adored it. My biggest support has always been my dad. He was very successful in the industry. He taught me everything I know.

"Y/N!" A voice above me shrieked as a pillow repeatedly smashed into my face. I groaned and rolled around, accidentally falling onto the ground with a "thump".

"Whatttt?" I stuck up my hand to flip her off and sat up with crazy hair; I could feel it.

"You gotta go!" My best friend exclaimed, pointing at my alarm clock. Shit.

"SHOOT!" I dashed out of bed and put my hair in a messy bun to leave. "See you later!" I beamed. She smiled and called back the same. I had skipped the class before to take a nap before my last class since we weren't doing anything I couldn't catch up on later easily.

I panted as I sprinted down the hall and got yelled at a few times. I was never late. I couldn't be late all because of that stupid alarm clock. I just wanted a bit more sleep since I had such a bad night.

I smiled and caught my breath as I got through the kitchen doors, mumbling apologies. "I'm so sorry I'm late, I'll get to work right.. away.." I breathed, "My alarm clock-"

"I don't care why," A deep voice muttered above me, very unimpressed. "Get going." He shot me a glare. Grumpy, rude, snappy, stubborn, and morally gray:

H/n.

If the results for the definition of "asshole", were one word, it would be his name. He had to be in his mid-twenties, I guess. He was often described as tall, muscular, and too much more, with messy hair that got in his face when he worked. How did such a fine man get interested in this field out of any he could have chosen? And that thick but raspy and gentle Italian accent? He was just so... no. I won't even go there. No, he's so damn annoying. Those qualities don't make up for the other bullshit. I think. He's too snappy and harsh for his good.

All I heard was his yapping and whining about how irresponsible I was for showing up late just this once, even though I was early every day. Him being one of the top teachers, and my teacher, was the only thing stopping me from putting him in his place. We would bicker so much, that students started mumbling "cat and dog", under their breaths when we'd argue. He probably grew to hate me. But that's okay because I hate him too. So much. So because the moron wouldn't stop his complaints, I decided to let out my anger. Quietly. What harm was there in that?

"You're a pain in the ass," I said quietly to myself, getting some knives to start cutting. Or I at least thought I said quietly.

"And you're late," He snapped back, shooting me a look. I felt my face go white. My heart rate heightened as I grew flustered with embarrassment and resentment towards him. I don't care how good of a cook he is; I will always hate him. I would never be able to understand why he was such a pain, or if he even had a reason. Though even if he did, I doubted it was any good.