#flame grilled burger

[abramsbooks]

RECIPE: The Flame-Grilled Burger (from The Great American Burger Book (Updated and Expanded Edition))

Cooking over direct flame is one of the most difficult ways to make a hamburger. One of the reasons so many of the hamburgers made a hundred years ago were cooked on flat tops was simply because the results were predictably good. Squash a ball of beef on a skillet and reap the rewards of the path of least resistance. I also would imagine that way back then, lighting a big charcoal grill and flame cooking at small burger stands and joints throughout America would have been pretty dangerous. But we all know that a burger cooked on a flame grill is a very different burger.

It’s easy to master the skillet-cooked burger. Grilling a burger on open flame requires more dedication to the craft, more time, more equipment, and a willingness to fail. That’s because cooking on an outdoor grill can be very unpredictable. The grill master is at the mercy of uneven temperatures, depending on the type of coals used and where those coals are in relation to the grilling grate. Even the weather can be a factor. The outdoor propane grill solves a few of these issues, but if you really want to experience a flame-cooked burger, super-hot charcoal is the only way to go.

There’s something fundamental and primal in our desire to harness fire and grill. “The greatest advantage to cooking over flame is the grilled flavor,” Michael Ollier, corporate chef at Certified Angus Beef®, told me once, adding with a smile, “I crave that.” It’s a flavor that you cannot ever achieve cooking on a flat top or by any other method. Chef Ollier explained the science behind this perfectly: “The fat that drips onto the coals becomes airborne, flavoring your burgers.”

The keys to grilling success are high heat and confidence. Get your coals super hot and your tools, patties, and condiments ready to go, and you’ll be all set up to grill like a pro. When family and friends are hovering around you at the grill, waiting for magic, it may feel like there’s a lot at stake. Just follow the recipe below for the classic grilled cheeseburger—and remember, practice makes perfect.

Makes 8 burgers

Equipment

A 3½-inch (9-cm) food ring or round cutter

Parchment paper

A charcoal chimney

Charcoal briquettes or lump charcoal

A charcoal kettle grill, hibachi, or similar

A stiff spatula (with a long handle)

The Burger

2½ pounds (about 1 kg) fresh-ground 80/20 chuck

Salt and coarse black pepper, for seasoning

8 soft white buns

The Toppings

8 thick slices American, cheddar, or any other good melting cheese

Green-leaf lettuce

1 or 2 red beefsteak tomatoes, sliced

1 medium Vidalia or Walla Walla onion, sliced

Divide the beef into 8 equal portions (5 ounces/140 g each).

Place the food ring on a cutting board or clean surface lined with parchment paper and add a portion of beef. Gently press the beef into the ring to create a perfectly round patty. (I use the ring for consistent thickness, but you can eyeball the size if you prefer. Both methods work fine. Just be sure not to over-press the meat—you want it to maintain a somewhat loose grind.)

Return the patties to the fridge to chill until you’re ready to grill (hey, that rhymes).

Using the chimney starter, light the charcoal. When coals are ready, transfer them to the grill, making sure that the bottom vent is open. Spread the coals out, leaving a small space on one side (as a rest spot in case things get too hot in there).

Place the grate over the coals and, using a grill brush, scrape off any residual buildup from your last grilling adventure. Cover the grill and make sure that the top vent is wide open. Give your grill grate a chance to heat up—you don’t want to plop raw burger patties onto a lukewarm grill. That grate should be ridiculously hot!

At this point, and not before, season both sides of your patties with a liberal amount of salt and pepper. Salting too early will bind the muscle fibers together and make your burgers tough (yuck).

Place the patties on the hot grill grate, cover the grill, and leave them alone. Allow the patties to cook for about 5 minutes. The cooking time can vary depending on environmental and equipment factors, so you’ll have to use your best judgment here. Chef Michael Ollier from Certified Angus Beef put it best when he told me, “Let the burger speak to you.” If you understand this statement, you’re probably drinking too much at the grill. But seriously, with experience comes wisdom—the burger will actually tell you when it’s time to flip. One good visual cue is when you see red liquid start to form on the uncooked surface of the burger. Go ahead and take a peek just shy of 5 minutes.

This would be a good time to toast your buns. Toast them indoors using a skillet on your stovetop, or toast them with butter in a small cast-iron skillet, directly on the colder side of the grill.

Cook the second side (again, untouched and covered) for an additional 4 minutes. With about 1 minute to go, top each patty with a slice of cheese and cover the grill. As the burgers finish cooking, slide them to the cooler rest spot section of the grill, away from the hot coals. Once all your burgers are done, remove them from the heat and allow them to rest for 1½ minutes. The internal temperature of the burgers should be about 143°F (62°C) for medium-rare.

Top the toasted buns with the lettuce, tomato, and onion slices, or your condiments of choice. (I love a good, crisp slice of onion on my grilled burgers, as well as mustard, pickle, and sometimes mayonnaise.) Transfer the patties to the toasted buns and serve.

The definitive guide to creating the most mouthwatering hamburgers by America’s leading burger expert—expanded and updated with new and improved recipes

The Great American Burger Book was the first book to showcase a wide range of regional burger styles and cooking methods. In this new, expanded edition, author and burger expert George Motz covers traditional grilling techniques as well as how to smoke, steam, poach, smash, and deep-fry burgers based on signature recipes from around the country.

Each chapter is dedicated to a specific regional burger, and includes the history of the method and details on how to create your own piece of American food history right at home. Written by Motz, the author of Hamburger America and hailed by the New York Times as a “leading authority” on hamburgers, The Great American Burger Book is a regional tour of America’s best burgers.

Recipes feature regional burgers from California, Connecticut, Florida, Hawaii, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, and Wisconsin. International locations include: Australia, Brazil, Denmark, Malaysia, and Turkey.

These mouthwatering recipes include Connecticut’s Steamed Cheeseburger, The Tortilla Burger of New Mexico, Iowa’s Loosemeat Sandwich, Houston’s Smoked Burger, Pennsylvania’s The Fluff Screamer, and Sheboygan's Brat Burger.

This is a book for anyone who loves a great burger, unique or classic. And who doesn’t love a great burger?

For more information, click here.

[indeedgoodman]

[noname21sstuff-blog]

MOTIONGATE™ Dubai’s Dragon Flame Grill unveils new fiery burger menu inspired by How to Train Your Dragon Franchise

The immersive dining experience allows guests to soak in the adventures of Berk while savoring delectable flavours of the new menu #Motiongate @Motiongate @DeagonFlameGrill #DragonFlameGrill

The immersive dining experience allows guests to soak in the adventures of Berk while savoring delectable flavours of the new menu Ready to dig into a fiery feast fit for Vi-kings, at the Dragon Flame Grill? MOTIONGATE™ Dubai’s thematic restaurant inspired by the epic movie ‘How to Train Your Dragon’, is thrilled to unveil a new burger menu – the delectable ‘Fire Breathing Burgers’ – taking…

[dtfpeta]

‘09 ghost has been on my mind lately. I just see him as such a domestic man and doting lover! Very chivalrous and a “That’s my wife!” mentality fs.

Wouldn’t forgive himself if you were to open your own passenger door after a date, and prior to that he was practically leaping over the hood of the car to open the door before you got out. Tsking at you as he takes your hand and walks you to the entrance of y’all’s favorite chain restaurant because you best believe he’s splurging with an appetizer and dessert. “Anythin’ for my girl” he’d smile.

And on the very rare occasion that he has the day off but you’re the one stuck at work, your stress almost instantly vanishes when an assault of lemon scented cleaner and bleach fills your senses. Ghost definitely enjoys wearing the pants in the relationship but damn does he take the role of malewife seriously. The house would be cleaned from head to toe, a stick of incense burning (because he appreciates their stress reducing aroma), and burgers resting in the microwave. Because if he's one thing but a lovestruck man it's the king of the grill.

And when he's on deployment during the cold, dead of night- the thoughts he procures of you barely hold a flame to the actual warmth you could provide him. The cheesily posed polaroid of you he begged to take burns a hole in his pocket and his hands claw to retrieve it. A pining sigh being breathed from him as his palm comes to rub at his brow. Finally, he begins to warm up now that his thoughts are plagued of you and how he can spoil you when he gets back home.

[zillachii]

Me: *sick, bored and miserable*

My mind: ✨whopper whopper whopper whopper jr double triple whopper✨

😌

[joelmillerisapunk]

Watermelon Sugar

Dbf/neighbor/daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,522

Summary: At the annual neighborhood barbecue, you can't ignore the sparks flying between you and Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. What starts as playful flirting leads to a secret, steamy encounter that leaves you both wanting more.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, unprotected p in v, m! oral recieving, soft but dom daddy!Joel, Joel calls reader baby and sunflower, use of daddy, light choking, hair pulling, and spanking. And a lil aftercare. Reader has hair and wears a bikini.

Notes: I've been slow over here and a little inactive due to adulting ughhh, but thank you all for your love and support 🥰 I truly appreciate all of you! tysm @joelslegalwhre & @evolnoomym beta reading for me. Smooching you both forever. Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The annual neighborhood barbecue is a tradition you've always looked forward to, but this year, it feels different. Ever since you can remember, Joel Miller has been a fixture in your life—a man who could make you laugh with a single look and who always seemed to know when you needed a friend. But lately, the glances you exchange feel charged with something new, something you're not quite ready to name.

As you dab on a bit of perfume, you catch your dad's voice in the hallway, calling out that he's heading over to Joel's early to help set up.

“Be there soon!” You yell back.

—

As you step out of your front door, the warm summer breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat and freshly cooked burgers from the neighborhood barbecue, hosted by none other than Joel Miller - your dad's best friend and neighbor, the one youve had a crush on forever. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you walk towards his house, knowing that he will be there waiting for you.

Your heart races as you approach the familiar scene; tables filled with food and drinks, kids running around playing games, and adults chatting animatedly under the shade of trees. You spot Joel standing near the grill, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he expertly flips burgers on the sizzling hot coals. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from all his hard work preparing for today's event.

"Hey there!" Your dad calls out when he sees you approaching. "Just in time! We were just about to start eating."

You take a moment to admire Joel's form; how strong yet gentle he looks handling those flaming hot coals like they were nothing more than pebbles in a stream; how those little black shorts sit on his body just right, how that white baggy shirt hangs over his big broad shoulders hugging his thick neck just right. Damn it. Why does he have to look so good?

As you draw closer, the heat from the grill is almost as intense as the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of Joel. His head looks up for a moment as he sees you approach, a wide grin spreading across his face.

You take a plate from the stack and start to serve yourself, trying to keep your hands from shaking. The array of food is impressive: potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh fruit, and an assortment of desserts that would make any food lover weak in the knees. But your focus is on the grill, where Joel is now plating a burger that looks like a work of art.

"Here ya go, sunflower," he says. The nickname, worn in like a favorite pair of jeans from years of use, still makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. "I added a secret sauce.” He whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Tell me if it's as good as I think it is.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

As you take the burger from Joel, your fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You try to brush it off as static, but deep down, you know it's more than that. You take a bite of the burger, and the flavors explode on your tongue. The sauce is tangy and sweet, perfectly complementing the grilled meat's smoky flavor.

"Mmm," you moan, closing your eyes in appreciation. "This is incredible."

Joel's eyes light up with pride. "M’glad you like it." His eyes follow every movement of your lips, every chew, every swallow. It's as if he's savoring every moment of this interaction.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, telling yourself it's just appreciation for a good meal. But deep down, you know it's more than that. Joel has always been kind to you, always looked out for you, but now, as your eyes lock in a silent understanding, you sense something different. Something forbidden.

"So, you really like the sauce?" he inquires, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You nod eagerly, your taste buds still dancing from the burst of flavors. "Mhmmm! What’s in it?”

Joel chuckles. "That's top-secret information, darlin', Ain't gettin’ it outta me that easy."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you walk behind the grill and up to Joel. “How about we make a deal? You give me the secret sauce recipe, and I'll show you something I know you wanna see.”

"Alright, you've got my attention."

Slowly, with deliberate grace, you begin to lift your shirt just enough for him to catch sight of the vibrant pattern of your bikini top beneath—your fingers deftly move towards one side strap of this bikini top; teasingly pulling at it as if contemplating revealing even more than intended

"Fuck - " he breathes out, quickly shaking his head to compose himself before grabbing your arm to stop you. "Your dad's right there, the hell you doin'?”

With a mischievous wink, you let the strap snap back into place, leaving just enough to his imagination. "Maybe later then," you tease “If you wanna see the rest come find me Mr. Miller.”

Joel watches you step back and saunter away towards the pool, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. The playful sway of your hips is hypnotic, and he can't help but stare as you make your way over to the pool. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of desire that's clouding his judgment. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning his attention back to the grill, but the sizzle of the meat does little to drown out the sound of your laughter carried in the breeze.

He glances over at you, watching as you settle by the pool, your legs dangling in the water. You're a vision, your hair catching the sunlight, your smile bright and inviting. He tries to focus on the task at hand, serving people, and making small talk, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He can't help it; you're like a magnet, drawing him in against his better judgment.

He watches as you reach for a slice of watermelon on your plate, its vibrant red color promising a burst of sweetness. The juicy fruit is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. As you take a bite, the watermelon's juice is so abundant that it escapes your lips, trickling down your chin.

In an attempt to catch the runaway droplets, you quickly bring your hand up to your face. But in your haste, another stream of juice breaks free, trailing a path down your neck and disappearing into the valley between your breasts. The sensation of the cool liquid against your heated skin makes you gasp softly, making Joel groan under his breath. He watches you with an intensity that borders on feral. His grip tightens around the spatula he's holding as he takes in the sight of you, flustered and trying to contain the watermelon's sweet rebellion. His mind races with images he knows he shouldn't entertain—images of him licking away those sticky trails left by nature's candy on your skin; his hands following suit to ensure not a single drop is wasted; his lips tasting every inch they cover until there's no trace of watermelon left.

His body reacts before he can stop it—a sudden twitch in his pants that thankfully goes unnoticed by everyone else due to his strategically placed apron tied securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath to regain control over his runaway thoughts while simultaneously adjusting himself discreetly under the cover of fabric.

Taking the opportunity to step away from the grill, Joel grabs a cold Corona from the cooler, the bottle sweating as much as he is. He approaches you but stops for a split second to watch you. The sight of you lying there, your body still glistening with juices, makes his heart race.

"Thought ya might be thirsty," he says, handing you the beer, his voice deeper than usual.

You look up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Took you long enough," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you take the beer and sip it.

He sits down beside you, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're playin’ with fire, y’know that sweetheart?" he warns.

You just smirk, leaning back in your chair, your gaze locked onto his like a little puppy.

"You keep lookin' at me like that, and we're gonna have a problem," Joel says, his voice a low rumble.

"What if I want a problem?"

His intake of breath is sharp, and you can see the effect your words have on him. His jaw clenches, and there's a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that tells you he's teetering on the edge of control. You watch as Joel quickly gets up from his chair and walks away. He rounds the corner of the house before disappearing.

You wait for a moment before you put your beer down beside the one he left and casually stand up to follow him.

Around the side of the house, away from prying eyes, Joel is leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The moment he sees you, his eyes darken.

"What are we doin' here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close the distance between you, your body brushing against his. "Something we both want," you reply confidently, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

He captures your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "This is wrong," he murmurs, though the conviction in his voice is wavering.

"Does it feel wrong?" You challenge, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, his gaze dropping to your lips. Then, with a groan of surrender, he closes the gap between you, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve as if he's memorizing you by touch. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him, a mix of beer and the sweet tang of barbeque sauce, drives you wild.

Suddenly, Joel breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "We can't do this here," he says, glancing around to make sure no one has followed you.

You nod, your breath hitching as you realize the gravity of what you're about to do. "Then take me somewhere we can," you whisper back, your hand slipping into his.

With a groan that sounds almost pained, Joel takes a step back, pulling you with him as he leads you away from the party and towards the detached garage at the end of the driveway. His grip on your hand is firm, almost possessive, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The inside of the garage is cool and dimly lit compared to the bright sunlight outside. It's filled with tools and gardening equipment—a testimony to Joel's many hobbies. The door lightly closes shut behind you, sealing out the world and the sounds of the party. The air is thick with the scent of oil and wood, a heady mixture that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Joel wastes no time, pressing you against the cool metal of a parked truck, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

"You've been drivin’ me crazy all day," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Teasin’ me like that in front of everyone."

You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

His lips crash onto yours once again, demanding and dominant. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You can feel his stubble rough against your skin.

"You're playin’ a dangerous game, baby," he murmurs against your mouth.

He spins you around roughly, pressing your chest against the truck's hood. You can feel the cool metal against your overheated skin. His hands tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

"Tell me whatcha want," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"You," you gasp, arching your back to press closer to him. "I want you, Joel."

He rewards you with a slow grind of his hips against yours, the friction making you moan. "You want me to fuck ya, sunflower?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you whimper, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for support. "Please, Joel."

He chuckles darkly, his lips tracing a path down the side of your neck. "Beggin’ already? I thought you liked playin’ hard to get." You feel his teeth nip at your skin as he speaks. Your body trembles with need, your breathing coming out in short bursts. You don't understand why this feels so right, but you don't question it anymore. "Stay still," he orders, his voice firm.

You force yourself to comply, your body trembling with anticipation. He takes his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. When he finally reaches beneath the fabric of your bikini top to palm your breast, you can't help but let out a moan of relief.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb circling your nipple. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His other hand slides down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You're already so wet for him, and when his fingers brush against your clit, you can't help but buck your hips.

"Fuck, you're so responsive," he groans, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You're panting now, desperate for release. But he denies you, pulling his hand away just as you're about to tip over the edge. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "You don't come till I tell ya to."

He spins you around once again, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "I wanna see you baby," he says, his hands tugging at your shorts. "All of you."

You help him undress you, your hands shaking with need. Once you're standing before him in nothing but your bikini, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says, the concrete floor cool against your skin. You hear the zip of his pants and then them falling to the ground along with his boxers as he steps forward, his hands fisting in your hair guiding you to his cock. "Open up," he commands, his voice gruff. "Show me how much you want this."

You part your lips obediently, taking him into your mouth. He's big and hard, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eliciting a groan from above and then take him entirely until he's hitting the back of your throat.

"That's it, sunflower," he praises, his hips thrusting gently. "Just like that."

You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you take him deeper. His grip on your hair tightens, and you can tell he's struggling to last. "Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says, his voice strained.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The salty taste of his arousal mixes with the lingering sweetness of the watermelon, creating a heady combination that has you moaning around his length.

"Feels so damn good baby," Joel groans, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. His eyes are locked on yours, filled with a raw, unfiltered desire that sends a thrill through you. You feel his thighs quiver under your hands, and you know he's close. But before he can reach his peak, he gently pulls you away, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop.

"Up," he commands as he pulls you to your feet, his hands roaming your body once again. He unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground, and then he's cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. "Tell me you want this," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you baby."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

With a growl, he lifts you onto the hood of the truck and with a hunger in his eyes that matches your own, Joel hooks his fingers into the sides of your bikini bottoms, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly begins to peel them away. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. He tosses the bikini bottoms aside, his hands returning to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he steps closer.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs approvingly, his fingers tracing the seam of your cunt. You can feel yourself growing warm at his words, but you don't have time to feel self-conscious because he's leaning in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers continue their exploration.

One finger circles your entrance before pushing inside, making you gasp into the kiss. He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously as he establishes a rhythm that has you writhing on the hood of the truck. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusting fingers.

"Joel," you moan, your hands fisting in his shirt as pleasure builds within you. "Please..."

He chuckles against your mouth, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. "Please, what?" he teases, even as he adds another finger, filling you even more. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you inside me," you pant out, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he's playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Joel's eyes darken at your words, and he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

You ready for me, sunflower?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance.

You nod eagerly, your body aching for him. "Yes, please."

With a groan, he pushes forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out at the intensity of it. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel even better than I imagined."

As the initial shock of your union subsides, Joel begins to move, his hips setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is a sweet invasion, a claim that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

"Look at me," Joel commands, his voice gruff with need. You lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze searing into your soul. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his pace increasing with each word.

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You know the answer he wants, the answer that feels right in this moment. "You," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you, Daddy."

A shudder runs through Joel at the sound of the word Daddy falling from your lips. "That's right," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed vigor. "You're mine, sunflower. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy," you moan louder this time, surrendering yourself to him completely.

The words, once taboo, now feel like a secret language between the two of you. With each thrust, Joel reaffirms his claim on you, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his release.

"Harder," you beg, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. "I need more."

He responds with a growl, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the garage, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. "Is this what ya need?" he pants, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Yes," you cry out, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. "More... I need all of you."

In response to your plea, Joel reaches up and wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race and your head spin. The sensation of being restrained by him sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's a thrilling mix of fear and excitement that heightens the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that baby?" he rasps out, his eyes searching yours for confirmation even as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You like it when Daddy chokes you while he fucks your pretty little cunt?"

You nod as much as his grip will allow, your breath coming in short gasps as stars dance behind your closed eyelids. "Yes," you manage to choke out.

The world around you seems to blur into a haze of pleasure and desire as Joel continues to claim your body with an almost feral intensity. His grip on your throat remains firm, yet gentle enough not to cause harm, serving as a potent reminder of his control over you. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your neck only adds to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy that's building within you.

"Come on, sunflower, come for me." Joel grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeezin’ Daddy's cock.”

His words are the final push you need. With a cry that echoes off the walls of the garage, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, causing your entire body to convulse with the force of it. Your inner muscles clamp down around Joel's shaft, milking him as he continues to drive into you with powerful thrusts.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Joel isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax as he roughly pulls you up, positioning himself behind you.

"You think we're done?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I ain't even close to being finished with this sexy body of yours."

His hands grip your hips tightly as he lines himself up with your entrance once again. With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely and causing you to cry out in a mix of pleasure and surprise. The new angle allows him to go even deeper than before, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he sets a brutal pace that has the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the garage. "You feel so fuckin' good like this."

One hand releases its grip on your hip and tangles in your hair instead, pulling it just hard enough to tilt your head back and expose the long line of your neck. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he continues to pound into you from behind.

"Such a good girl," he praises between thrusts, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Takin’ Daddy's cock so well.”

His other hand comes down on the curve of your ass with a sharp smack that makes you gasp and push back against him for more. The sting of the slap only adds to the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he drives into you again and again. Each smack is followed by a soothing caress that sends shivers down your spine and makes a heat pool low in your belly once more.

"You like it when I spank this naughty little ass?" Joel asks wickedly as his hand comes down on the other cheek, this time eliciting another moan from deep within you. "Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes," you manage to gasp out between thrusts, your body shaking under his relentless assault . "I love it when you spank me, Daddy.”

The sound of your admission seems to spur Joel on even more. His thrusts become wilder, more uncontrolled, as he chases his own release. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back further, forcing you to arch your back and take him even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

"That's it, baby girl," Joel growls, his voice ragged with desire. "Come for me one more time."

His words are all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge once more. Your body convulses beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around his shaft as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Joel lets out a guttural groan as he feels your orgasm milk his own from him. His hips stutter against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, marking you his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the only sounds in the garage are the ragged gasps of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Slowly, Joel releases his grip on your hair and hip, his hands gently caressing the skin he'd so roughly manhandled just moments before.

"You okay, sunflower?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern as he carefully withdraws from your body.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you manage to say, your voice shaky but filled with a satisfaction that you've never felt before. "I'm good. More than good."

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck. "You're more than good, baby girl. You're incredible."

He helps you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you to steady you when your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His eyes scan your body, taking in the marks he's left on your skin—the redness where his fingers had gripped you, the faint handprint on your ass, the love bites that dot your neck and shoulders.

"Let's get ya cleaned up," he says, his tone gentle as he leads you over to an old sink in the corner of the garage. He turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before wetting a clean rag and using it to gently wipe away the evidence of what just happend.

You watch him, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the tenderness of his actions. This is a side of Joel you've never seen before—a side that's caring and attentive, a side that makes you feel cherished and loved.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean, he helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin with each article of clothing he helps you into. When you're fully clothed again, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're so beautiful, sunflower," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Inside and out."

The warmth of Joel's embrace and the tenderness in his voice make your heart flutter with a mixture of joy and trepidation. You're standing in a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've ever experienced.

"Joel," you say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter, "what does this mean for us now?"

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that takes your breath away. "It means," he begins, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently, "that I can't ignore these feelings any longer. It means that I want to be with you, truly be with you, in every sense of the word."

Your heart leaps at his words, but reality quickly sets in. "But what about my dad? What about everything else?"

Joel nods, understanding the weight of your concerns. "I know it's complicated," he admits. "And I don't have all the answers right now. But I do know that I can't go back to pretending there's nothing between us, that you're just my best friend's daughter.”

You smile at that, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "So... where do we go from here?"

"First," he says with a grin, "we get back to that barbecue before your dad sends out a search party." He gives you one last lingering kiss before stepping back to survey the scene. "Then we figure this out together—away from pryin’ eyes and family gatherings."

With a nod of agreement, you follow Joel out of the garage, your hand securely tucked in his. The world outside seems different now—brighter, more vibrant, as if your encounter has somehow altered your perception of reality. The sounds of laughter and music from the barbecue drift towards you, a stark contrast to the intimate silence you've just left behind.

As you approach the party, Joel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take this one step at a time," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the gathering. "Okay?"

You nod, grateful for his presence and his promise. Together, you reenter the party, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the secret you now share with Joel.

Throughout the afternoon, you catch each other's eyes from across the yard, exchanging knowing smiles, and subtle touches whenever possible. Your dad, none the wiser, chats happily with neighbors and friends, his laughter mingling with the sounds of summer.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood, you find yourself standing next to Joel by the grill once more. He hands you another beer, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent gesture of affection.

"So," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow, "how's that secret sauce treatin ya?"

You can't help but chuckle, the memory of your earlier exchange bringing a flush to your cheeks. "I think it's safe to say it's the best sauce I've ever had," you reply with a wink, taking a sip of your beer to hide your smile.

Joel laughs, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I don't know about that," he teases. "I might have to give you a few more samples before you can make such a bold claim.”

But before you can retort, your dad saunters over to join you by the grill. He claps Joel on the back affectionately and turns to address both of you.

"You two look like you're up to no good," he says with a smile. "What are you plotting over here?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words—does he suspect something?—but Joel seems unfazed as he throws an arm around your dad's shoulders with brotherly affection.

"Just discussing some top-secret barbecue business," Joel replies smoothly, giving your dad a reassuring squeeze before releasing him and turning back to tend to the grill once more.

—

Eventually, as the crowd begins to thin and the night grows deeper, your dad announces that it's time to start cleaning up. You join in, helping to gather plates and cups and fold tables, all the while feeling Joel's gaze on you.

Once the last of the guests have said their goodbyes and the yard is returned to its peaceful state, your dad claps Joel on the back, thanking him for another successful barbecue. "You outdid yourself this year, Joel," he says with a smile.

Joel returns the smile, though his eyes flicker to you for a brief moment. "Always happy to host," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of emotion that passes between you two.

Your dad turns to you, his eyes tired but content. "I'm gonna head home, kiddo. You coming, or are you gonna help Joel clean up?"

You glance at Joel, who gives you a small nod, understanding the silent question in your eyes. "I'll stay and help out, Dad," you say, your voice calm and composed. "You go get some rest."

Your dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Always the responsible one, just like your mother. Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

With a final wave, your dad heads off down the street, leaving you and Joel alone under the starlit sky. The moment his figure disappears into the distance, the air between you seems to crackle with anticipation.

Joel steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and intimate.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing everything, I guess."

He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight," he says softly. "But I want you to know what happened between us... it wasn't a one-time thing for me."

Your heart swells at his words, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "It wasn't for me, either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. Then, with a shared look of understanding, you both begin to tidy up the remaining mess, working side by side in comfortable silence.

When the last dish is washed and put away, and the yard is once again pristine, Joel takes your hand, leading you to the porch swing. The night is quiet now, save for the distant sound of a dog barking and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

You sit down next to him, the swing creaking slightly under your combined weight. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both look up at the stars.

As you sit there, nestled under Joel's arm, the stars twinkle above, casting a serene glow over the quiet neighborhood. You feel a sense of peace and contentment that you've never experienced before, a feeling of being exactly where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful tonight," you murmur, your head resting against Joel's shoulder.

��It sure is," he agrees, his voice a soft rumble. But when you tilt your head back to look at him, you realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at you. His eyes trace the contours of your face, drinking in every detail as if to memorize you, to etch this moment into his memory forever. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, a silent indication of the smile he wears in his heart, a smile that reaches out to you, enveloping you in its embrace.

"Joel..." you begin, unsure of what to say next. There are a million thoughts swirling in your head, a million questions about what the future holds for the two of you.

He seems to sense your unease and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out, sunflower," he assures you again.

You take a deep breath, letting the comforting weight of Joel's arm around you anchor you to the present moment. The uncertainty of the future looms ahead, but for now, you choose to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"I know we will," you reply.

Joel's smile is soft. "That's my girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Brave and beautiful.”

The gentle sway of the porch swing and the rhythmic chorus of crickets lull you into a state of peaceful tranquility. Your eyelids grow heavy, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Joel notices your drowsy state and smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Come on, sunflower," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your weary senses. "Let's get you inside." With surprising gentleness, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stands from the swing. You let out a sleepy protest but quickly settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he carries you into the house.

He navigates through the darkened rooms with ease, making his way to his bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, pulling back the covers so he can tuck you in.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around the room, turning off lights and setting an alarm for the morning. When he's satisfied that everything is in order, he begins to undress, shedding his clothes until he's standing in nothing but his boxers. The sight of him—all hard planes and toned muscles—makes your breath hitch in your throat despite your sleepy state.

Joel catches your gaze and chuckles softly. "Like what ya see?" he teases gently as he slips into bed beside you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Always," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes darken at your confession, but he makes no move to act on the attraction that still crackles between you. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Get some sleep, sunflower," he says softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of your face.

You nod again, snuggling deeper into the covers as Joel turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The bed shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, the heat of his body a comforting presence in the cool room.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Joel's arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, and he lulls you into a deep, peaceful slumber. In the quiet darkness of the night, with Joel's protective embrace surrounding you, you feel safe and cherished. The worries and uncertainties of the future fade into the background, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging and you know this is exactly where you were meant to be.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Robin sucks on her drink through her straw, “why, exactly, are we here?”

Steve sighs into his own drink.

Robin looks around the yard from her perch on a lawn chair, “I can’t help but notice, Steven, that we are very clearly the oldest people here.”

Steve watches Eddie balefully. He’s trying and failing to light the grill. It’s almost embarrassing to watch; Steve can’t seem to look away.

“Steven, I am drinking something that was mixed together in bowl. I’m drinking it out of a red solo cup. I haven’t touched one of these in a decade. I require an explanation.”

“I don’t have one.”

“That is a lie. Your pants will catch fire and then you can use them to help that moron to light the grill.”

They watch for a little longer.

“Fucks sake Steve just go and do it for him. This tastes like paint thinner; I’ll need to eat some bread at some point or I’ll go into kidney failure.”

Steve gets up and lights the grill for Eddie. He’s wearing another butchered tee shirt and some black board shorts. He’s so pale, and all of his bony bits are on show. Elbows. Wrists. Ankles.

His hair is gathered up into a messy bun on top of his head.

He still has a smear of make up on one eyelid where it hasn’t washed off properly.

Steve knows exactly what he sounds like when he comes.

“Thanks man,” Eddie’s blushing. He’s rubbing the back of his neck. It reveals Eddie’s pale ribs. His dark hairy armpit-

Steve runs away before he does something stupid.

“Okay, so, step by step, no gory details please, what exactly happened last night, because I know damn well you didn’t spend the entire forty five minutes I was waiting hanging around in a gross bathroom.”

Steve sighs, rubs his forehead, then goes and gets them both refills.

“Coward,” Robin calls after his retreating back.

He’s refilling their cups with an honest to fucking god soup ladle out of the kitchen – avoiding the fly that has met it’s sticky end in what is, no doubt, highly toxic punch – when it happens.

“Hey man,” Steve is being addressed by an actual pimply teenager.

“Hey.”

“Nice car,” he sounds weirdly angry about it.

“Uhhh...thanks,” because Steve doesn’t know what the fuck else to say to a dude wearing a dungeons and dragons tee shirt over flaming basketball shorts. He has nothing on his feet. Outside. Steve represses a shudder.

“Look, you clearly have money, or whatever, and probably a fancy job and you’re like, forty-”

“Hey-”

“- or whatever, but this thing with Eddie, can you make it fast please? Dragging it out isn’t fair on him.”

Steve blinks. He’s getting a shovel talk from someone who probably doesn’t know what a VHS is.

Steve can remember playing video games with no save; if you were going to do it, you had to play the whole damn thing in one go. Steve didn’t have a mobile phone until he was fifteen. Steve is not going to take this.

“This ‘thing’ I have with Eddie is none of your business. Eddie can speak for himself-”

“No Eddie cannot speak for himself, because Eddie is the nicest guy I know and Eddie already thinks he’s in love. Don’t think I don’t see what this is for you, Eddie’s just another thing to play with until you get bored. Look at this place, look at us. Now look at you and you’re fancy friend over there,” the kid gestures and, yeah, alright, the difference is pretty obvious, “you wouldn’t be caught dead here, slumming it, if you weren't getting something out of it. Now hurry it along, Eddie only writes good stuff when he’s heartbroken. Which is a lot, by the way. We all know how this goes.”

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“I just got a shovel talk from a kid who probably shouldn’t even be drinking yet.”

“Ouch,” Robin takes her drink back, “how does that feel?”

Steve shrugs, “not sure, actually.”

Across the yard, Steve watches as Eddie gesticulates wildly and hisses angrily at the pimply face DnDer. He catches Steve watching. Eddie grabs the kid by the arm and drags him away.

“The burgers are burning,” Robin idly points out.

Steve sighs, he loves this polo, grease stains are a bastard, and the chances of finding an apron in this place are none existent.

At least Robin comes with him. She half unwraps some cheese and generally pretends to busy herself, slicing buns and stacking paper plates.

“So, last night?”

“Right,” Steve sighs through his nose, shuffling some onions around on the flat plate. “So I was just going to you know, get him.”

“Get your man tiger,” Robin purrs.

It shouldn’t be funny, but it kind of is. Steve laughs.

“But he just...grabbed my hand. And he said ‘Steve! Come and meet the guys!’ So I...did.”

“He introduced you to his friends,” Robin raises that lethal eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“And you went along with it?”

“Well I kind of...he didn’t let go of my hand so I kind of…”

Both of Robins eyebrows are now in the stratosphere. She appears to spend a few minutes digesting that, “and then you got invited to...this.”

Steve’s already dug half a hole, and he still apparently has the shovel in his hand, so he keeps going, “he was just so happy to see me,” Steve admits, quietly.

“Who is that?”

“Who?”

Robin grabs Steve by the hair and forcibly turns his whole head, “that.”

There’s a blonde girl talking to Eddie. She’s wearing a white tank top and daisy dukes, “no idea.”

“Come on, high time you introduced me.”

Steve really tries, but he cant hide the fact that he is delighted by this turn of events, “why, Robin Buckley! Oh how the tables have turned-”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m going to make her cry.”

Part Five

[ask-hank]

The only stove in the hotel exploded and it'll be two weeks before anyone can come look at it. Do you have any propane grills you could recommend in the meantime? ...Preferably that sell to... Well... Hell...

@ask-vaggie

Heh heh, Why sure, what you need is the Vogner Charking Imperial. Not only will it cook a steak or burger to perfection, but propane is a clean burning fuel so you'll taste the meat and not the heat. Now let me know if Lucifer needs some propane to run the flames down there. It'll be a clean burning Hell, I tell you h'what.

[dadvans]

memorial day

Memorial Day is always the Monday to end all Mondays, year after year. Buck discovers it’s a little bit better when you have a guy waiting for you after a stupid shift and you both get to trade war stories.

Tommy greets him with a kiss and presses two beers from a six pack to his hands when Buck lets him in, then walks over to the kitchen to put the other four away.

“I don’t know about you, but my stupidest call today was putting out a brush fire caused by a gender reveal party. You’d think after El Dorado people would fucking learn, but holiday weekends always bring out the idiots.” He opens the refrigerator door and spots the saran wrapped plate Buck left there for him. “Or maybe you had a much better day than me. Bobby cook?”

“No, uh, actually,” Buck says, hunting for the church key in the drawer behind him. “My stupidest call of the day would be the neighborhood barbecue brawl that broke out. Three guys arguing over who would man the grill. The backyard seemed salvageable when we left, but one guy’s face not so much after another dad tried to give it the smash burger treatment on an open flame. Some families were so embarrassed they actually sent us home with leftovers. I was able to weasel out a second plate for you.”

“Evan.” Tommy takes the plate out and stares down at it with a confused little smile, what Buck has taken to calling his Who Me? face in his head.

“It wasn’t hard, pretty sure Athena and Maddie and Karen got one too. Anyway, you should try the potato salad. Apparently, it’s grandma’s famous recipe.”

Buck cracks the caps off both of their beers and replaces the church key with a fork for Tommy. Tommy gives him another look before digging in. One bite of potato salad in and his eyes are rolling back in his head.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says, meaningfully at the plate and not at Buck.

Buck laughs. “Wings aren’t bad either. Cole slaw I can do better.”

“Sure,” Tommy replies graciously. He picks up a chicken wing and has the meat practically sucked off the bone in two bites. “I can’t remember the last time I spent one of these actually getting to enjoy part of it.”

Later, after Buck gets him to wipe the buffalo sauce off the corner of his mouth, Tommy gets on his knees for Buck and shows him exactly how grateful he is with a fairly luxurious blowjob. Buck comes down the back of his throat and slurs out a thank you for your service, to which Tommy playfully flips him off. And he’s no potato salad, Tommy didn’t need to say it, but he’s feeling pretty loved too.

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie using any open flame to light his cigarette

(a blurb that appeared in my head when I saw this picture)

Eddie smoked cigarettes almost all the time. When he was stressed, mad, or even relaxed. His lips craved to taste the paper as he held it between his lips. Plus, his girlfriend couldn't stop staring at him when he did it. He enjoyed how she'd drooled as he blew the smoke into the air.

So when his only lighter broke, he was pissed. Sure, he could easily go buy a new one, but Eddie made everything difficult.

~~~

Y/N wanted to make cookies, and Eddie didn't have a choice. He stood in grey sweatpants, his flannel unbuttoned with his chest bare underneath. Y/N tried to focus on the cookies in the oven, but Eddie's naked skin was too distracting. Eddie wasn't paying a single thought to the cookies, ranting about something he thought was stupid as he paced around their tiny kitchen.

All his words went out of her ears. She was almost hypnotized, it felt like. She couldn't focus on anything except for his skin.

Then the smoke alarm blasted, and she snapped back to reality. Eddie rolled his eyes at the interruption. She was quick to open the oven, the cookies burning as she pulled it out. Tiny flames rose from the pan, causing her to quickly throw the pan on top of the oven. She raced to grab water, filling a cup as she quickly turned.

"EDDIE!" she panicked, his face nearly in the flames when she turned back to him.

She quickly dumped the water on the pan, staring at Eddie with a puzzled look.

"What?" He shrugged, a cigarette now lit in his mouth.

"DID YOU USE THE FIRE TO LIGHT THAT?" she screamed.

"My lighter is broken!"

~~~

"Okay so three hot dogs, and four burgers," Y/N said, telling Eddie as she opened a new package of buns.

"On it, boss." He joked, adding the meat on the grill.

The couple decided to host a big dinner for the group. Hot dogs, burgers, and outdoor games. The group was playing soccer, as Y/N and Eddie prepared dinner.

Eddie hummed a song as he flipped the hot dogs and burgers. His eyes caught the flames and a familiar idea popped into his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

Y/N was grabbing chips from the kitchen when she walked back outside

"EDWARD!" She yelled, marching over to him. Once again, his head was near the flame as he lit the cigarette.

"My lighter is broken!"

~~~

The weather felt amazing, so Eddie and Y/N took a trip to the beach, bringing Dustin along. Dustin spent hours in the water as Y/N kept a close eye on him.

Eddie put together the fire and took out the ingredients he bought for s'mores.

"COME ON BUD! S'MORES TIME!" Eddie yelled, Dustin immediately ran out of the water. Taking the towel Y/N held out for him.

Y/N smiled as she watched Eddie help Dustin get the marshmallow ready to burn. It was like watching two children.

"I CAN DO IT!" Dustin yelled, which resulted in a smack in the head from Eddie.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she prepared the cracker and chocolate, sitting close as Dustin roasted his marshmallow. Once it caught fire, he took it out of the fire.

Before Y/N could smash the marshmallow between the crackers, Eddie was in the flame.

"EDWARD MUNSON!" She screamed. A cigarette hanging from his mouth as the end burned.

"MY LIGHT IS BROKE!N"

[yarrayora]

because of the lack of female protagonists in... pretty much every genre, really, people tend to hype up a lot of series as "better than the average [insert genre]" just because it has a female protagonist rather than male

(personally i think girls deserve formulaic schlock, too, like how bofuri is basically the average MMOVR with a black haired plain looking boy repeatedly stumbling upon cheat powers except the protagonist is a girl)

but when i look for new titles saying "i want interesting worldbuilding where we get to see how this fantasy world works as a society and the court intrigue goes beyond high school level mean girl bullying" and people respond with titles like "i'm in love with the villainess" it's like asking for a grilled steak and getting handed a hamburger

burger's good, but not what i'm looking for

so here's a list of my manga/webtoon recommendations for stories of political intrigue in fantasy worlds with a female protagonist (not all of them are isekai or regression or reincarnation, most are straight up just fantasy world):

The Holy Grail of Eris

The story of a kingdom after the villainess is executed for attempting to poison the heroine beloved by the crown prince. Our protagonist is Constance Grail who finds herself being haunted by the ghost of the villainess Scarlet Castiel who saved her from suffering the humiliation of having her engagement broken because of a false accusation.

Scarlet claims that she has been framed, and together the duo is set to find out the truth regarding her death sentence.

Saying more than this would ruin the plot twists, but read this if you're interested in a story where it makes sense for a ducal daughter to be sacrificed in exchange for a lady of a lower class as the nation's queen.

Itsuwari no Freya (localized as Prince Freya)

A small kingdom struggles to defend itself against a powerful warmongering kingdom with the leadership of their cunning prince. Except, the prince has died. To prevent the flame of hope from being extinguished, the prince's inner circle employs the aid of Freya, a village maiden with the same face as the late prince.

There is no time to prepare her to learn the ropes of politics. Now Freya must plunge immediately into international turmoil and figure out a way to secure support from other nations with the help of the prince's knights and, of course, her own charisma and intelligence.

Ebony (localized as Lady Evony)

Sensational news sweeps the nation: the Grand Duke has put a criminal under his protection. Evony was accused of her father's murder and ended up suffering all kinds of abuse in the hands of the prison wardens who despise her.

Yet her time at the women's prison was also the only time she was able to gain education in a misogynistic nation who still bars women from learning while other countries have a headmistress for their famous college and traveling tradeswomen.

As she heals from the wounds inflicted both on her body and her heart, she realizes she wants to become someone who can stand equal to the Grand Duke and not just a fragile flower to be protected in his garden.

Great if you're looking for slow burn romance where the main couple are equals instead of the usual "obsessive yandere male lead who holds to power/lovely lady who struggles to be useful" or "stupid but doting male lead who needs his very smart lady to show him the way"

Also great if you're looking for a korean webtoon where all their problems CANNOT be solved by the protagonists being wealthy capitalists

The Falcon Princess

While other webtoons tend to focus on noblewomen's tea parties as a source of conflict, The Falcon Princess focuses on a kingdom in the middle of being invaded.

The protagonist is a princess on the run when the imperial palace ends up ransacked by the enemy nation. She wakes up as a falcon and ends up finding herself as her kingdom's commander's messenger bird.

Despite the language barrier, the princess helps the commander figure out the enemy's location, strategy, and various ways to defeat them and finds herself becoming a symbol of hope who leads the army into reclaiming her nation.

JK Haru is a Sex Worker in Another World

Last but not least but is definitely the most controversial pick. Haru is a girl who gets reincarnated in another world after she got hit by a truck alongside her otaku classmate.

While said otaku is living his best life as his power fantasy becomes a reality, Haru refuses to be his girl in exchange for a comfortable life, even though the only job she could have in a misogynistic world where women can't even eat at a restaurant without a chaperone is at a brothel.

And yet, she doesn't hate it. Although the customers can be rough, she befriends the other prostitutes at the brothel and figures out how to enjoy her job. It's a story that depicts sex workers with respect, acknowledging their struggles without turning it into misery porn.

It also asks an important question regarding the trope of "overpowered isekaid protagonist changes the world for the better": CAN they actually change the world just because they have cheat powers? After all, societal issue isn't something you can solve using brute force and money alone

[seat-safety-switch]

You know, I was one of those doubters. One of the haters. An old stick in the mud. I resisted the introduction of pseudo-sentient kitchen appliances into my home for as long as I could, until they were legally mandated. They keep seniors from feeling lonely, the government explained. They keep your house from burning down, the insurance lobby explained. We have no other ways of making you replace your stove every 10 years, the appliance-manufacturing monsters explained, their hissing insectoid faces barely concealed by a sweaty human mask.

So. I had a top-of-the-line Kenmore ThinkCook® 5030-301KPQ-81U in my kitchen. Stainless steel, because that was the cheapest at the store. When I started using it, I resented the computer’s interference in my cooking (”howdy pardner, better stop trying to heat Hungry Man dinners in their original plastic container on a burner.”) Its attempts to make small talk. Its incessant demand to use the self-cleaning feature. The time it summoned a team of maids, purchased at my expense, to wipe its burners clean.

Eventually, I got used to its presence in my life. It was nice to have something to come home to, like a pet. Making small talk with a non-human sentience was a unique experience in history. And once I taught it a bunch of disgusting jokes, it never was able to keep the maids around for long enough to submit an invoice. There was just one thing: the damn stove was racist.

I don’t mean about colour, although I’m sure it had lots of opinions about the paint finish on the other stoves at the store that we didn’t explore. No, I’m talking about cooking methods. You see, back in the Beforetimes, we had folks who placed outdoor grilling as the superior way to make a burger. They’d have these little parties in their back yards, when you could do that, and grill up some cow meat, when you could do that. It was part of traditional models of masculinity: providing for the whole neighbourhood by dishing out charred steaks and burgs, ignoring the advice of those so-called “experts” with their worship of the carbon-steel pan and fume extractor.

Sometimes I’d wind up the stove about it. Start talking about my idyllic childhood, just to watch its internal temperature regulation slip a few digits, the shrieking of its inductors trying valiantly to handle the inrush of additional rage-based current.

“Th-th-those motherfuckers,” stuttered the apoplectic stove, its OLED display pulsing as the power supply got dangerously close to the over-voltage protection limit. “Grilling is an inferior, invented concept. Weak humans, huddled together around a hypnotic flame, unevenly heating their meals. It makes me sick.”

How was I to know that a child was nearby, recording my Maytag’s unhinged rant with their TikTok neural implant through my missing back door? Soon, the government men came, and carried it away, and brought me a new one. The new stove was much more polite, but I still missed my friend. It’ll take me like a whole other month before I get this thing dropping slurs about hibachis.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost Of You | J. Miller (Chapter Five)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3.7k

Warnings / FLUFF. ACTUAL FLUFF AND SOME HAPPINESS. Talking about suicide, mourning and descriptions of grief and depression. And a little surprise right at the end that I will not spoil for y'all.

Authors Note / Okay. I LOVE THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH. I have to admit when I wrote it I actually made myself cry and that's no word of a lie. I am having so much fun fleshing this story out and I hope that the slow burn isn't too slow for y'all but I promise these two are moving in the direction we want them to move in - I PROMISE YOU. If you enjoy this then I would LOVE to hear from you - Comments, reblogs and asks genuinely make my day.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A week later, your garden is abuzz with life. Tommy has dragged the kettle grill from his garden into your own and is currently trying to get the coals to light, Joel is standing over his shoulder trying to get him to listen to what he thinks will work. You giggle to yourself when Tommy follows Joel’s instructions, and the flames catch. Younger brother yet again bested by his older brother’s knowledge. 

Maria is stepping out of the kitchen with plates and cutlery, placing them on the table, where Ellie is sat curled on the chair with her nose in a book. She’d come to the library on Monday and switched Artemis Fowl for the Chronicles of Narnia, another good choice in your opinion, and she’d spent most of the last thirty minutes with her nose stuck in the book. 

“Here you go, honey,” Maria pushes a glass of blackberry wine into your hand, “Shane sent us a bloody crate of this stuff, he’s made so much this year.” 

You clink your glass with her own and take a sip, letting the sweet liquid fall down your throat. You have to admit it was getting better with every year. The first year Shane had proudly debuted his wine it was way too sour, everyone apart from Tommy had been too polite to tell him so. The next year, it had been drowned in enough sugar to give anyone diabetes, but now he was getting the hang of it, and with the sun starting to lower in the sky and all your favourite people, apart from one, around you, you had to admit you thought you were happy. 

You’d spent all day cooking side dishes that you’d saved up your ration cards for. Potato salad, a slapdash attempt at Greek salad, just without feta and balsamic vinegar, you’d even made a fresh loaf of bread. Maria and Tommy had brought meat to grill – there were steaks from the last lot of cows to have been slaughtered, chicken that Maria had skewered with peppers, and even burgers and sausages. Your luck to have found this place never failed to amaze you. You could convince yourself all this was back on the street you’d lived at in California before outbreak day. Ellie had even attempted to make a pie as dessert. She’d lifted the cloth covering the pastry when she’d knocked on the door, Joel in tow. 

“It’s apple, because I remember you saying that was your favourite,” You’d smiled and pulled her into a quick hug, “Joel insisted on a whole pastry lid though, something about it being better than the lattice.” 

You’d looked him in the eye, “Well, Joel is outnumbered here, but we’ll let him off for tonight.” 

He’d dipped to kiss your cheek as he’d walked in through the threshold, passing a bottle of whiskey to you, “If you set that in the freezer it’ll be nice and chilled for something to drink after dinner.” 

Once the flames have died down and the coals are embers, you watch Tommy set the chicken skewers on the grill. You head inside and pull your sides out of the fridge, cutting slices of bread. There’s a tiny amount of butter left which you also pull out, setting everything on the table outside, watching as Ellie’s eyes bulge at foods she’d never experienced before. You smirk at her, whispering that she’s welcome to try anything she wants but to make sure Joel doesn’t catch her, sure that he’ll chide her for her manners. 

You go back inside and pull another plate out for Tommy to set the cooked meat on and fill two tumblers of whiskey for the two of them, setting them on the empty plate to take them down to the men. 

“It never fails to amaze me how much cooking on fire takes you men back to the dark ages.” You joke, holding the plate out for Joel to take a glass, which he does gladly, neither him nor Tommy enjoying Shane’s homebrewed beer much by the looks of it.

You hand Tommy the plate once he’s taken his own glass, “Didn’t Sarah always used to say the same thing?” Tommy asked, Joel nods in agreement, “Somethin’ about being cavemen.” 

You laugh and leave them to it, heading back to the table where Maria and Ellie are talking together. As you sit down you can tell that Ellie is attempting (and failing) to get Maria to let her try her wine. 

“You don’t want this, trust me,” You smirk, sitting down on the chair next to her, “I’ve been drinking my entire life and it’s already going to my head.” 

You make polite conversation around the table for a little while until Tommy is walking towards you with a plate full of grilled meat. He sets it down before he sits down next to his wife, Joel taking the other unoccupied chair opposite you. Within moments, plates are full and you’re all eating in silence. 

Joel watches you intently as you cut a slice of steak. He watches as your eyes close and your head tilts back a little until a little groan falls from your mouth. He can’t stop his brain from thinking how much he’d like to be the one making your eyes close and your head tilt back like that. God, he really was getting old if a singular glass of whiskey had him thinking like this. He drags his gaze from you back to his own plate of food, so you don’t catch the darkening of his eyes. 

“Tommy, Jesus Christ, I haven’t had steak like this in so long.” You’re praising his brother, breaking off a slice of bread to dip into the dripping that’s come from the resting steak. 

Everyone is silent as you make your way through the rest of the meal. Once you’ve all eaten your fill there’s less left that you thought there would be, everyone obviously making the most of the rare luxury of meat. 

Ellie insists that although you’re all fit to burst, you have to try a slice of apple pie and you’re thankful you did. She’d done an absolutely fantastic job of it on her own and you couldn’t help the swell of your heart as she’d grinned when you told her it was just as good as the one you’d made together, backed up by everyone else around the table. 

Maria and Ellie do the dishes together, packaging up leftovers for everyone to take home with them for the next day as Joel and Tommy start a small fire on the grass of your garden in a small drum that you don’t dare ask where he got it from. You tell Ellie about your days camping with your dad, toasting marshmallows and getting sticky when you tried to pull it off the toasting stick. 

You drink whiskey for the first time in ages as you swap stories across the fire and you can’t help but smile. You love this little bunch of people, the five of them, sat around, keeping you company, making everything seem just that little bit easier. 

You glance to your left a little while later, Ellie is asleep, resting her head on her hand. The conversation has lulled a little, Maria and Tommy are holding each other’s hands, glancing at Ellie too. 

“I think I’m ready to call it a night,” Maria speaks, “We’ll take Ellie back to yours Joel, you stay here and finish your drink.” 

He’s just poured himself another glass of whiskey from the bottle and is cradling it in his impossibly large hands. He nods, gently waking Ellie to tell her that Maria and Tommy will walk her home and he’ll be back soon once he finishes his drink. She doesn’t argue, standing up with a yawn. 

“Thanks for today,” She says to you, bending down to your chair to give you a quick hug, “I’m glad you liked the pie.” 

You smile at her and say that you hope you’ll see her soon, bidding her a goodnight. She gives Joel a hug too, telling him not to stay out too late because he’s an old man. He snorts but agrees he won’t stay long. 

Maria and Tommy also give you a hug, insisting that you stay put instead of standing. And then they’re all gone and it’s just you and Joel sat around the fire. It’s quiet, the silent never uncomfortable between the two of you. 

“Can I ask a question?” You ask quietly, once the silence becomes too much, looking down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. 

The fire is warm, even if its flames have died down. It’s casting a gentle orange glow across Joel’s features which makes him look soft, even more welcoming than normal. 

“Of course you can.” He replies, sipping his own drink. 

“How long did it take for you to feel okay again?” You can’t look him in the eye, can’t look at him altogether, it’s a personal question, one you never thought you’d feel okay asking, but the wine and whiskey have made you brave, “You know, after Sarah?” 

He’s silent for a long time. Long enough that you wonder if you’ve upset him. You’re about to open your mouth to apologise for overstepping a line when he speaks, “It wasn’t time that did it,” He answers, thinking back to the last time he’d said those words, it’s still true, “It’s more about what I found that made it easier.” 

You’re running a finger around the rim of your glass trying to distract yourself but you can feel his eyes on you, “It never goes away, not really,” He sighs, “Not to make you feel even worse about things, but it shrinks a little, until you can remember all the good things about that person, instead of how much it hurts that you don’t have them anymore.” 

“What was it like for you?” You look at him now and fuck he’s pretty. No amount of grief would deny the way your stomach flipped when you see him in this moment. The flickering orange light of the flame illuminating the shadows of his face, his eyes are darker than normal, and you think you might just drown yourself in them if you look any longer, “What was your grief like?” You look away, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. 

You watch as he leans his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his fingers on his mouth as if he’s contemplating what to say to you, “I couldn’t see the point of life without her anymore,” He speaks softly, “Sarah was gone, the world was gone, so what was I still doin’ here, you know?” You nod, because you do know. You know all too well. “In those first few days after I tried to kill myself,” You let in a sharp inhale of breath, which he doesn’t acknowledge, “I was ready, I wasn’t scared, but I flinched, and for twenty years I always wondered why. Why did I flinch when I pulled that trigger?” He’s silent again for a while and you want to reach out and offer your hand to him, but again, you don’t, you keep it in your own lap, “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that it won’t always break your heart, but I think you already know that,” You nod in agreement as you close your eyes, “You’ve just gotta find the next thing worth livin’ for.” 

You want to tell him you’re sorry, but when had that ever helped you? No amount of sorry from anyone was going to bring your respective people back. You’d always thought that saying sorry was a cop out anyway. Something someone said when they didn’t know what else to say, so you didn’t. 

“You know, it never even crossed my mind.” You muse, mostly to yourself than anything else. 

“What didn’t?”

“Killing myself,” You reply almost immediately, “I think now that it would have been the easiest thing, I could have been with him, I wouldn’t have been here to listen to everyone gossip about me, I wouldn’t have spent a year of my life practically locked in my house, but it never once crossed my mind.” 

“You wanna know what I think?” He asks, watching you as you nod, “I think that’s because deep down you knew you’d be okay, whether you realized it or not,” He’s reaching for the nearly empty bottle of whiskey to top his glass up, “I know it hurts, sweet pea, trust me, but you’ll know what love is again someday.” 

It’s such a striking thing for him to say that it catches you completely off guard. Outside of the handful of times this evening that you’ve caught yourself thinking of how utterly beautiful a man Joel Miller is, you’ve never thought about finding someone else. Mark was meant to be your one and only, you’ve vowed to each other that was the case, signed your names on a piece of paper to the same effect. ‘Til death us do part. It’s silly but when you’d uttered those words to Mark, you’d always imagined dying together. Old age, hands held, drifting off together. In reality it hadn’t been old age, but you’d held hands, right until the bitter end, but then you were left here, all alone, and he was gone. 

“You know those romantic movies we used to watch before?” 

“You used to watch.” He interrupts, a small smile on his face. 

“Alright, those romantic movies I used to watch,” You let out a little giggle, “Whenever someone died before their time, they would inevitably get just the right amount of time to tell the person they loved that they wanted to move on?” Joel nods that he knows what you’re talking about, “I guess I’ve always thought I needed his permission, not really just to find someone else, but to move on and live my life again.” 

“Did you need his permission for much when he was around?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “He was always so laid back, even when we were on our own out of the quarantine zones, we were a team, but we understood each other, understood what we both needed, so no, not really.” 

Joel speaks without a pause, “Then you just need to ask yourself for permission then.” 

Silence falls between you both again. You’re staring at the flames in front of you and draining your glass of whiskey. It was never your favourite, you didn’t like the way it burnt on your tongue or the feeling of it settling in your stomach, but like anything in this world, it was the case of any port in a storm. Joel follows suit and drains the last of his drink. 

“I should really be gettin’ back,” He speaks softly, “But thank you, for today, it’s been one of the nicest days I can remember.” 

You both stand up, Joel taking the empty glasses and you taking hold of the whiskey bottle with the last bit of amber liquid in the bottom. He walks in front, stopping to drop the glasses in the sink which you insist you’ll wash up yourself. You set the whiskey bottle on the side and follow him to the front door. 

He pauses before he can turn the handle and open the door and you wonder what’s going on. Joel is the kind of man who is always sure of his actions, never falters, but his hand is outstretched and he’s not moving. You’re leant against the wall on one shoulder at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the top floor of your house when he turns back around to you. 

“I think he’d want you to be happy, sweet pea,” He breathes, “You have too much love in here to not give it to anyone else.” His fingertips are brushing the space between your breasts where your heart is, and you wonder when he got so fucking close to you.

You look up and he’s looming over you, those beautiful brown eyes looking directly through yours and into your soul. His hands are cupping your cheeks. Those rough and calloused palms are warm against your skin which had cooled in the evening air. You can’t quite believe it but you’re tilting your face up towards him and he’s leaning his down towards yours and before you know it, his lips are pressed to yours so softly you might cry. You can sense his hesitation but as your eyes flutter closed, you’re pushing yourself onto your toes to press your lips more firmly to his. 

And then it all comes crashing over you. The moment you close your eyes, it’s not Joel’s face in your mind, it’s Mark’s. It’s his hands cupping your face, they were softer than Joel’s. It was hit scent you could remember through your nostrils, not the smoke and musk you could smell of Joel. Your hands are fisting the lapels of his jacket as you pull away, pulling in a sigh as he rests his forehead against yours before pulling himself away. He’s still close enough that your hands are still on his jacket, but he’s dropped his hands from his face. 

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You whisper, shaking your head, “I can’t.” Is what you murmur. 

He drops his head and steps back from you, making your hands drop from his jacket, he’s turning on his heel and heading to the door with a mumbled apology. 

“Joel!” You call out before he has chance to shut the door behind him, he turns and faces you, “I’m not saying never,” You confess, “Just not right now.” 

You watch as a flash of hope appears on his face and he’s giving you that signature lop-sided smile, “I’ll wait, sweet pea.” And then he’s gone. 

*

It’s late and Joel can’t sleep. He’s been tossing and turning since he got into bed an hour ago, replaying the events of the evening in his mind. He’s trying to blame his irrational choice to kiss you on the whiskey, but he knows it isn’t true. Every day he’s seen you since you sat down and ate strawberry pie together, he’s wanted to kiss you. Wanted to kiss the sadness and the grief out of your body and put you back together again. It had nothing to do with the whiskey and everything to do with you. 

The way you’d asked him about his own grief, so quiet and unsure as to whether you were overstepping a line. The way you’d listened to him talk about wanting to end everything but didn’t offer an apology or the look in your eyes that told him you felt sorry for him. The way that every time he spoke to you, you opened up a little bit more, let him in a little more. Hell, even the way you’d winced at every mouthful of whiskey. It was all you. And it had been a dumb fucking decision. 

He could hear the break in your voice as you’d told him you couldn’t, like you were afraid of letting him down. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d said, ‘Just not right now’ and his stupid smile at your words. He didn’t want to push your boundaries this much, didn’t want you to think you owed him anything. He just wanted to make you less miserable. 

He runs a hand over his face and grumbles to himself. He knows sleep won’t find him now. His head won’t shut up and all he really wants to do is run to your front step and tell you he’s sorry, that you don’t have to make him feel better by telling him to wait if you don’t mean it. He’ll never forget the spark of electricity down his spine when your lips touched him, or how he craved to push his whole body against yours when your hands had pulled at the lapel of his jacket, but he doesn’t need you to feel like you must want him back. 

If only he knew that you were led in your own bed, a few streets over, in a similar state of insomnia. Led in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, wishing that Mark’s face hadn’t been at the forefront of your mind when you’d closed your eyes. That’s what does it, what fills your body with panic. That you wished for the first time that you didn’t think about him. You’d wanted it to be all Joel, consumed by him, you didn’t want Mark’s face in the back of your mind. 

Tears roll down your cheeks and onto your pillow. Your brain is telling you that soon enough he won’t be there. You keep wishing he wasn’t, and he won’t be, you’ll forget about him, forget the shape of his body against yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, and surely that’s not right. Surely you should always want to remember him. Your first love, your first everything, really. 

Joel was a good man. One of the best you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he didn’t deserve someone who wasn’t able to give their all, someone who would always close their eyes and see their dead husband. You couldn’t make him wait for you, but could you let him go? Could you let Joel go? The man who had fixed your rotted porch step just because he didn’t want you to hurt yourself. The man who didn’t push you for insight into your grief, just stood there and let you be, letting you share when you were ready. The man who had been through the same kind of loss as you and had been walking around for the last twenty years knowing he failed at ending it all. 

You run a hand over your face and decide that no, you couldn’t let him walk away, but you weren’t quite ready to let someone in like that. You needed to speak to him, to lay all your cards on the table for once, and that scared the shit out of you. It was time to put your big girl pants on and face the music. 

PREV | NEXT

Joel Miller Taglist - @winwin70 @jessie8605 @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @morning-star-joy @tieronecrush @leeeesahhh @babeincolor @beee-haw @kirsteng42 @mirandablue1 @sixxslut @impala1967dwinchester @flash2412 @gimmebackmysoul @kelp-dreaming @gracie7209 @voteforpedro09 @brittmb115 @karokaroxx @amb11 @heartfairy @grumpy-the-tired @Lillilotus @doctorstatic @morallyinept @southernbe @elissaa @pop-sugar102 @u-luciferssatanicdaughter @alyhull @purplerain44 @harryleatherfit @lovely-ateez @emilianamason @bootyliciousposts @lorilane33 @casa-boiardi

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Tifa Lockhart X Dragoon!Reader

This was part of collection of requests from inconsistentlyinterested

Also, I apologize in advance for the egregious Iron Maiden reference and focus on the combat.

NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!!!

The Buster Sword clashed with your Supercharger Lance, creating a storm of sparks between both you and Cloud while you and him sparred with The Highwind behind the both of you, docked on the ground for the group to take a bit of a break and for Cid to do a critical bit of maintenance on it with the semi-reluctant help of Vincent and the others.

Off to the side, Barett, Red, Tifa, and Aerith were in the middle of preparing food for the group that was kindly provided by You, Cloud, and Yuffie.

Speaking of Yuffie, the little thief was also hanging around the cooking group, though she was mostly pestering them with questions while trying to sneak bites of the ingredients, especially the dough Barret was making for the Cookies Marlene had always loved and the special dish Tifa was making with the help of Aerith who was chopping the vegetables that would serve as the sides and Red who was serving as the flame while he took a nap.

Alas, Yuffie’s attempts to get into either were thwarted by Barret lightly flicking her on the head or Tifa slapping her hand with a set of tongs.

This was an important dish for Tifa after all, and after being slapped on the hand for the twelfth time, Yuffie decided to ask her a few questions in order to distract her.

They were, of course, ineffective at distracting her.

However, the answers she gave most definitely did distract Yuffie.

Especially when she asked “Where did you guys even find someone who can go toe to toe with a SOLDIER like Cloud?”

Barret let out a groan and Aerith let out a chuckle as Tifa got a glint in her eye.

“Now why’d you have to go and ask something like that?” Barret groaned

“Well then Yuffie, if you must know, our resident Lancer kind of just… walked into Seventh Heaven one day from the desert, massive lance and all, before ordering a cup of clean water, a burger of whatever would be easiest to make, some kebabs and a single cookie.

“Wait a minute… isn’t that what you guys are cooking right now?” Yuffie asked, enraptured by the story.

“Correct, Tifa here has a question she wants to ask, but that's neither here nor there, I want to hear about their… What did Cloud call it? Supercharger Lance and Powerslave Engine?” Aerith asked as she continued to clean the vegetables, cut them, place them on sticks, and then grill the kebabs.

This is when Barrett decided to pipe up.

“I’ll admit, I don’t know all that much about it, just that it was a part of some sort of experiment involving using summoning Materia to power weaponry. Hell, up until we met that crazy fool I thought it was just some bedtime story to be told to anyone who got too uppity with Shin Ra, that they would ship you off somewhere and have you use one of those ticking time bombs on a stick against anyone they didn’t like. Yet there is one of those weapons right over there, apparently it isn’t as much of a myth as I thought.”

“Ooh! What was that experiment called!?” Yuffie asked, completely invested now.

“If memory serves, Project Dragoon. And let me tell you, I can definitely see why after the first time I saw that lance really go into action!” Barrett stated before beginning to recount the tale of the Airbuster.

“We had our backs to the wall, some mean bastard of a Robot was sicced on us by Shinra himself-” Barrett stated as the entire group, even the sleeping Red said in unison.

“May he burn in hell eternally.”

“-It wasn’t looking pretty, not because we couldn’t handle the bot but because we were running out of time on our bomb. Then the Dragoon there decided to pull out that limit break of theirs.” Barret stated, his memory returning to that moment which would forever be something he would remember.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Retracting heat shields, activating turbines, injecting fuel… LIMIT BREAK: POWERSLAVE SUPERCHARGER!!!” you shouted as you raised your lance which was beginning to hum and spin as the blackened and soot covered metal slid open in places, revealing a blood red materia crystal about the size of Barrett's shoulder within that let out an infernal heat upon the battlefield.

Then… it began to scream like a banshee, the moisture in the air vaporizing, the materia flaring to life and your lance beginning to spin faster and faster, as if it was getting up to the right speed for something, like an engine readying for take off.

Little did they know, that was an accurate descriptor of what was about to happen.

You grabbed the Supercharger Lance tight in your hands as the revolutions of the metal finally came up to speed and then… you were gone

BOOM!

The arm of the robot flew off as you cratered into the metal wall before pushing off and disappearing.

BOOM!

The second arm was destroyed and you appeared on the catwalk before vanishing.

BOOM!

Its lower right half exploded and you appeared behind it.

BOOM

Its lower left was gone in a flash and you were in the sky behind Barrett, Cloud, and Tifa.

Then finally.

BOOM!

A molten hole appeared in the core of the mechanical monster, you directly behind it, Lance glowing red and melting the metal catwalk just from being in contact with it.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT AND WHY DIDN’T YOU DO IT SOONER!!!” Barrett shouted in equal parts amazement and frustration.

“A Powerslave engine?” Cloud muttered to himself in shock.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“After that, all hell broke loose and we lost track of Cloud, not to mention we had to carry that crazy idiot and their damn near flaming lance back to Seventh Heaven.” Barrett muttered irritatedly.

“After that came the whole Don Corneo debacle.” Aerith chimed in.

“Who is-” Yuffie began before Barrett, Tifa, and Aerith all shouted in unison.

“NO!”

“Alright, alright, alright jeez!” Yuffie quietly muttered before asking “What happened next?

“Next… the plate fell…” Tifa mournfully stated as her mind wandered back to just after, when everyone brought her back up, both to save Aerith and to show Shin Ra they wouldn’t die so easily.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Well then… better get ready old man… CAUSE AVALANCHE IS COMING FOR YOUR ASS!!!” Barrett shouted, raising his gun to the tower.

“We’ll be taking Aerith off your hands as well!” Cloud shouted as he took his sword and pointed it at the tower just like Barrett and his gun.

You smirked as you picked up your Lance and followed suit, offering your hand to Tifa who took it and was pulled up as you shouted “You're gonna be paying from out of the grave to fix all of this! Aerith, Sector Seven, The Slums, all of it!”

After a moment, Tifa followed everyone else's lead and raised her closed fist at the tower and shouted “Mako, The Planet, The People, ALL OF IT!!! WE REFUSE TO BE YOUR TOOLS ANY LONGER!!!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After that, they spent the next hour or so parroting back their adventures and all the hijinks that took place during them.

And over that Time, Yuffie noticed something, whenever Tifa would talk about you, she would get a certain look in her eye, her face would start to turn a tad pink around the cheeks and she would always say things in a certain way… if Yuffie had to describe it, she would call it an admiring tone.

Then, finally, after dinner when Tifa asked you to come somewhere private with her and then the two of you returned, hand in hand looking extremely happy it hit the ninja.

The reason Tifa went through making this meal.

The reason she would talk so fondly about when you had her back or she had yours.

The reason she held you in high regard as a person, and a fighter.

It was because Tifa Lockhart had a crush.

A crush she just acted on.

[latibvles]

a football jersey for the frat boys au!

A FOOTBALL JERSEY.

oh jealous bucky my beloved. we don't get a lot of viv with other guys in mainverse hence the delight of AUs. and also tailgating. thank you for the prompt, friend <3

—

“You’re real good at that,” Bucky remarks sagely, leaning up against the plastic folding table and at least halfway into Buck’s personal space. Buck only looks at him momentarily before he’s flipping the burgers on the portable grill.

“Yeah? That’s why you’re hovering?”

“Well somebody’s gotta be the taste tester. Y’know, make sure it’s all good for the girls.” Buck rolls his eyes, pressing a hand into Bucky’s shoulder to push him a bit out of his personal space, half-hearted in the gesture.

“You mean callin’ dibs?”

“Well when you put it like that it makes me sound greedy.”

“You are,” Benny remarks as he places the stack of paper plates on the table, next to it the cooler full of beers. “They’re not gonna grow legs and walk away Bucky, Jesus Christ. Come help me set up the chairs.” He already sounds bewildered and Bucky can’t help but find the slightest bit of amusement in that. In his defense, he’d gone out with Harry to buy the groceries and hadn’t eaten all day. So maybe he was calling dibs — but it was a hard earned, hard fought dibs.

Buck pokes him once more, this time with his elbow.

“Go make yourself useful,” he declares, like a dad telling his kid to run along. Bucky makes a show of it, sighing languidly as he peels away from his perch, hears Benny half-heartedly calling him a jackass as he hops up onto the landing of the truck bed and reaches over for the first of the folding chairs.

“Speaking of,” Bucky starts as he shakes the first from the fabric case. “Where’re the girls anyway?”

“June said they were pulling in a couple minutes ago,” Benny does a quick scan of the parking lot, other tailgaters wrapped up in their own music and company. Bucky nods, sets up the chair then grabs another.

“And Jack?”

“With a friend I think, said he’d meet us before heading in.”

“A friend?”

“The girl he met during summer classes,” Benny reminds him, and Bucky makes a quiet ‘ah’ noise. The one they had yet to meet, because Jack is, well, Jack. Sometimes he acts like their frat president and other times he acts like he’s running a covert ops mission whenever he leaves the house. All it does is pique Bucky’s curiosity further about who this is , but he’s not about to start weaving through cars looking for the guy.

“Nothing’s sacred anymore, Benny,” Bucky declares dramatically once they have the other chairs set up, throwing himself into one of them as Benny chuckles and Dougie snorts from across the circle, fiddling with the speaker and his playlists like a man on a mission. Benny places his hands on his hips and takes another survey of the parking lot like he’s king of the hill or something, before his whole face lights up and he’s hopping down. Bucky twists his body to look back as Fern raises her hand to wave — her smile, bright, flaming hair pulled back with a green and white bow for their school colors.

“Got the second case,” June announces, gesturing to the other case of beers in her hands that Benny takes from her quickly.

“You’re a godsend,” Benny declares, going to take the secondary case from her. He lands a chaste kiss on her lips, smiling at her and regarding the rest of them with similar friendliness. Fern flits about, greeting most of them with hugs and brushes against their cheeks.

“No Brady? Curt?” Fern asks with a slight tilt to her head. Dougie straightens up in the chair.

“What, we’re not enough for you?” He teases, making Fern scoff lightly and roll her eyes. Dougie grins. “They went to go find Croz, who’s in the bathroom. Or should be. And uh, Jack’s meeting us inside.”

“You missing somebody?” Bucky asks, knowing the answer as he takes stock of the other girls — Benny happy to sit perched on the edge of the truck bed with his arms wrapped around June’s waist, both of them talking to Harrie. Willie over by Buck and the grill.

Fern looks around like a mother counting her chicks.

“Huh. Viv said she’d be meeting us here. She said she had to come early.” Bucky raises a brow.

“What for?” Fern only shrugs, grabbing a beer from the ones they’d already put in the cooler. She looks at it and then gestures to him and Bucky nods before she grabs another and tosses it to him. He whistles low and impressed when he catches it. “They should put you in the starting lineup.”

Fern laughs brightly at that, opening her mouth to speak again.

“Hey!” Bucky’s eyes snap to the sound faster than he’ll ever admit — just enough to catch the last flashes of midriff before the familiar white of their university football team’s away jersey tumbles past, smacking Bucky with the dark green “87” on the front. Viv’s smiling brightly all the same, collarbones exposed from how the baggy fabric hangs off her frame.

“You rob the Jets locker room or something?” He asks, watching how her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink as he rises from the chair.

His face is burning too — but it’s definitely not for the same reason. He can feel Buck’s eyes trained on him like a silent reminder to behave. Viv shakes her head, reaching to rub the back of her neck.

“Nothing like that. It’s—”

“Oh my God!” Fern’s squeal is inhumane as she darts over, throwing her arms around the taller girl to squeeze and then behold her. “You didn’t tell us he gave you his jersey!”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

They’re talking to one another so quickly Bucky can hardly make sense of it. Or rather: Fern’s asking questions and only letting Viv get half the answer out. Either way, he shoves one hand in his pocket and takes a sip of his beer in the other, jaw clenching as he forces himself to look away for a moment.

It’s not like she hasn’t told him about the guy she’s been talking to; how she’d met him in late August doing tours of campus for incoming freshmen. But he also didn’t get the entire play-by-play of their interactions since. A smile at her phone, or an unknown car dropping her off were about as much as he’s ever seen the guy. Still, his stomach twists in a weird way, jaw clenching as he dares another look at her, eyes racing up and down her form in record time.

Of course, she looks good. She looks good in everything. He’d say it if the only remarks on his tongue weren’t questions about if his position was their rumored-to-be crappy kicker. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t like making an ass of himself.

Or, more accurately, Bucky just doesn’t like when Viv’s mad at him.

“Bucky,” Buck might as well wolf-whistle at him, an owner calling his dog back into the house. He gestures with a jerk of his head towards him and Willie, grabbing a paper plate. “You called first dibs, didn’t you?”

He makes his way over, and judging by the look of resignation on Buck’s face — he knows Bucky’s giving him the earful on the ride home.

[ross-hollander]

With extreme dedication...

...the finest minds of the Wolf Empire have finally cracked the question that has been circled around for decades: what is the actual largest possible burger to get in the cafeteria on burger night?

Be an Elemental. Instantly triples your order size.

Order the Conquering Khan. You may say, oh, but the CK only has two patties, whereas the Test of Honor has three! That is just the trick: the TH has about the same amount of actual meat in it, just split into more patties, weakening the internal structure and becoming more likely to fall apart.

You want to place your order just before shift ends- roughly second to last. This is when the Laborers are most likely to let their infamous guard on serving sizes down just a hair, giving you a chance for a slightly above-regulation patty.

Now, take the order in Assault Grade, which makes what would be the equivalent of six regulation burgers (hereinafter, RB=6) and increases it to RB=9. This also means they will increase your toppings by about one-fifth to cover the physical area of the burger.

Order the bun toasted; this is vital, because if you do not, your burger will crumble under its own weight. Toasting the buns gets them sturdy enough to support the weight.

Toppings: ask for the flame-grilled vegetables, as these have significant volume to them, and the extra-large pickled cucumber slices. This leaves you with one slot remaining, which should be used for sauces or relish.

The true kicker to all this- after placing the above, use the Spoils of War special order (requires Star Captain rank and a logged combat victory in the field or Circle that day) to have it double-stacked, bringing you immediately to RB=18.

This theory-crafting ran into #8, which was "get ejected from the cafeteria for holding up the line while the Laborer staff actually make said monstrosity, because they are ardent believers in malicious compliance."