#but the power dynamic here? chef’s kiss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goodday-goodmorn · 5 months

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Back on this account: Prefacing this that this work was wrote in like a day and like most of my things- i was too lazy to edit lol. The concept form todays work was injected into my brain by good old @auspicioustidings, check em out- they got some cool concepts and fics. (Particularly Firewatch- chefs kiss to that series), lots of soft, dark, kidnap-y, COD content 👍

Without further ado i present my impulsive thoughts on a page:

——————

“Committed to the Bit.”

words: 4.7k

Summary: You’re at an utterly boring halloween party, about to leave when some scottish man dressed as a solider comes slinking into the bathroom and really goes ham with his whole ‘This place is dangerous, you aren’t supposed to be here- we gotta get you to safety’ act. Weird pick-up line approach but hey it fucking works. He’s just charming enough for you to play along with his bit. Because it is just a bit… right?

This party was kinda dull. Which really was a shame considering how high your expectations were. From what your friend said- it was supposed to be an immersive experience. The hosts were apparently old collage buddies with your friend who were halloween fanatics.

You friend has absolutely hyped them up, talking all about how when they threw parties they got into them and would always play up whatever dynamic they were going for with their costumes. Even to a level of mild public humiliation.

She once recounted the story of how one year, when dressed as a pair of vampires, they full on acted as though they were melting when someone brought a side of garlic breadsticks with the pizza. Fully committed to the bit it seems.

Because of the hosts being so dedicated to their act, of course it wasn’t uncommon for guests to act in a similar manner. Even those who didn’t have a running gag for the night were overall relaxed and had a good time being apart of the fun. It was a non-judgmental zone, filled with pretty decor and open people.

So of course, after hearing all about the welcoming and fucking amazing vibes of these parties- you had agreed to meet up with your friend at one.

Normally, you weren’t really one for parties, especially halloween ones because it was typically full of judgey, horny, strangers who would consider you weird- and you’d have to small talk and the songs almost always sucked because of course they couldn’t play actual halloween songs even if it killed them.

But after many reassurances from your friend, including videos and photos she had graciously provided you- you went to one.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

The costumes were amazing- high quality and expensive, hell the place was fucking stunning, all decked out in halloween gear and dark lighting. Even the building itself seemed perfect for this sort of thing- winding corridors, random locked rooms, ominous men in suits. Oh and don’t get you started on the snack table, shit was heavenly even if you were the only one touching it. The aesthetics of the party were great, But…

The vibes were way off. There was no rambunctious fun laughter and people grooving on the dance floor. Everyone seemed oddly reserved. Committed to their bits for sure, but well… there wasn’t much ah, variety to everyone’s act.

They all shared a similar vibe of like- domineering power. Which was definitely pretty fucking hot when it came to some people, (looking at you fancy vanpire lady), but it got boring after a while.

Safe to say your attempts at socializing were pretty shot. And what’s even worse, your friend? Yeah she didn’t even show up.

Tragic truly. You would call her to see if she made it here yet, but your phone was dead- and talking to any of the other party goers was a song and dance you didn’t wanna attempt again.

So here you are, in the bathroom, sitting by one of the sinks and charging your phone.

How lame.

You sigh, standing up to check yourself out in the mirror. At least your costume is fun, it’s a reference that only really you and you friend would get, but still, it made you happy to wear. It was a royal outfit, you looked like nobility, nice and fancy. Perhaps a barron, or maybe a princess, or a king- really it was up for anyone's interpretation. You fix up the head accessory, then fuss with your hair just to have something to do.

Maybe you should just leave, you were getting pretty bored of everything.

And it’s at that moment, as you’re sinking down to the bathroom floor to grab your charger that the most interesting thing of tonight bursts through the door.

You look at him, blinking once then twice. He does the same.

Eye candy.

That’s the first thought that comes to mind. Without an ounce of shame you let your eyes rack over his form, fitted in some sort of military outfit, tactical gear and even a prop gun. He makes it look damn good.

And then you stop admiring the hunk of prime meat in front of you because starring is rude. (Even if he is fucking amazingly charmingly rugged and god damn what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that mohawk of his and just tug-)

“That’s a good fucking costume.”

He pauses, looking at you with something confused and a bit bemused. And like an idiot you just can’t keep your mouth shut and blurt out more shit.

“Did ya have to bust through the door though? I mean like- don’t get me wrong it was cool as shit- really adds to the character here, big, hot, ah… military? guy.”

You wince, you’re making a fool of yourself. Luckily the man doesn't seem to mind.

(Johnny takes one look at you, your bag in a sink, your phone charging in the bathroom outlet, your clearly partly homemade costume that shows way more care than any of the other people in this joint and easily figures out-)

“L.T, Found a civvie.”

He mumbles into a- oh shit he’s got an earpiece and everything. Now that is cool. You tell him as such.

“Okay that is so fucking cool. Dude does that thing actually work? Man. How long did it even take for you to get this whole costume?”

He studies you with an odd look for a moment. You wonder if there’s actually anyone talking to him in that earpiece. Must be with the way he pauses. Slowly, he speaks; gentle.

“Not a costume lass. We ought to get you outta here, it's gonna be a shitshow soon.”

You blink. And then, you smile.

“Rightttt, not a costume. I getcha.”

“Not joking bonnie. This place is dangerous, filled with snakes. How did a wee thing like you even get in here?”

You smile, a bit pleased to banter with the first person who isn't doing the same old same old, ‘i know more than you, ooo im so big and powerful and scary’ act.

“Took a carriage ride and promised my roommate I'd be back by midnight.”

He eyes your royal esc outfit, not cinderella by any means but it still makes him smile slightly. (And boy if that isn't a sight, him looking you up and down and looking at you like that?)

“Cute. Then allow me to be yer escort princess.” He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom door.

The statement is said with just enough sarcasm to make you bite down a grin. Hes very committed to this whole military operation act. And honestly? You were ready to leave anyway. Not to mention this guy was the only one who’d gotten your interest all night.

You grab your things and stuff them in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder tightly.

“Follow me, and ye gotta be quiet. Cant let anyone see us.”

You are more than willing to go along with his silly bit. And so you give him a clumsy salute, with a good natured smile.

“You got it captain.”

“Sergeant.”

He corrects you with an amused little puff of air. Clearly- hes just as pleased to have someone indulge him as you are to have someone interesting to talk to.

“You got it sergeant.” You repeat back with a graceful little half bow and amused smirk.

He turns back to the door, hands on his gun and before you go out you grab onto his arm.

“Wait!”

He turns to you with a raised eyebrow, eyes sharp, focused: wow hes a really good actor and hes got really pretty fucking eyes-

“Lassie?”

Oh yeah you can't get lost in his eyes just yet.

“Can I have a gun? For safety and all that- totally.”

“Hen… i don't think-”

“please sergeant? I promise I won't break it or anything! I just wanna get more into character ya know? pretty please Sir…?

…

(Johnny is not a good man. And fuck when he hears you call him by his rank, sir, asking so sweetly- your hands clasped in front of you- looking at him with a sheepish grin and pleading eyes. He wants to give you a damn bazooka if it means you keep talking sweet to him. Ghost is in his ear, telling him he better not bloody dare.)

(So of course…)

“You keep that safety on boonie. Hold it like this. If you gotta use it, don't be shooting or you’ll blow yer eye out. You toss the bloody thing in the direction of whatever it is you’re tryna hit- or you hand it to me. Is that clear?”

You nod vehemently, assuring him with little, yep’s and sure’s, and got it-’s. He raises a brow, mostly cause hes not sure if you’re actually taking this seriously. You take it for something else entirely though and then quickly say-

“Yes sir. Understood.”

(...Johnny is both damn disappointed hes on a mission, and greatful as fuck, because the only thing he wants to do is push you up against that wall, sneak his hands down your silly little costume and tease you until you’re a squirming mess. Asking you if you understand how hard hes gonna fuck you and hear your breath hitch as you answer back with a wanton “Yes sir”—)

“Sergeant…?”

You stare at the fellow and his intense gaze, wondering if you took it too far. Hes committed to his bit sure, but you didn't mean to overstep and make him feel like he had to give you a gun. Clearly they were expensive props, detailed and metallic and heavy.

Instead of speaking to you, he speaks to his earpiece, “just a precaution L.T, what if her majesty gets cornered? Little lass don't have a lick of combat training.”

You -far to ready to add to this stupid little bit- chime in,

“Yeah, they only teach you fencing and the waltz where i'm from.”

Johnny grins, “Com'on L.T”

(As much as Ghost hates to admit it- Johnny is right. And so be begrudgingly relents. It seems everyone is amused by how utterly oblivious you are because Gaz spares a laugh and a cheeky comment after Ghost's gruff voice.)

“Soooo… what's the verdict Sergeant? Did your uh… LT? That's lieutenant right-? Does he approve?”

In response, Soap carefully positions a gun in your hand, telling you with an edge to keep your fingers away from the trigger. (Safety is on of course, Johnnys not an idiot all the time.) You nod, holding onto the gun and feeling so cool.

Like that the two of you are off, sneaking around the winding corridors and hiding.

Honestly? This is the most fun you’ve had since you got here. Its all you can do to not bounce on your heels when you follow Soap around.

He's just so into this, that you can't help but be sucked in. Speaking in low tones to his ear peice, making sure you stick close, talking about positions and other military jargon that goes over your head. Oh and he does it all with this charming smile, like the situation is serious yes- but like he's still making sure you’re having fun. Trying to keep you comfortable. The energy is tense but in a good way. Electric even.

You find yourself holding your breath whenever you hide behind a corner, or when he tugs you to him and holds you still- god it's just so thrilling. Maybe because you’ve had a boring night, and cause he's charming and fun in all the right ways- but you’re having a blast.

Even when things seem to get even more tense.

You and Soap are currently nestled away in a little nook, a back corridor, a dead end. Soap curses, speaking into his earpiece. You can hear footsteps, someones coming. And if they see you and Soap- you'll surely be compromised.

(Which means your little game will likely come to an end. Most of the party people here are judgmental, ergo they probably won't appreciate your little roleplay. Its in this moment that you decide- fuck it, you dont want this to end.)

“Sergeant!” You whisper harshly, tugging off your fancy coat and draping it around him, “I’ve got a plan- trust me.”

He looks at you, mildly conflicted, he's about to say something but the footsteps are getting closer and you really need a cover story for why you’re lurking in a dark corner away from the party. You can only think of one reason two people would sneak away at a party.

Sue you for getting too into this silly game of pretend, but adrenaline spikes and next thing you know; you’re kissing him.

Rough and messy, needy. You let out your best wanton muffled moan. His eyes are wide, and for a moment you spiral, realizing what you’ve just done. Sure you were playing pretend and he was committed to the bit but you just kissed him for fucks sake- sexually harsssed him!

Oh god hes gonna hate you and you just ruined all that fun banter and any shot at ever speaking to the only decent person you’ve met all night—

He’s kissing back.

With sudden haste he pulls you close, kissing you back with a ferocity that short circuits your brain for a moment. His knee slots in between your legs, entangling you two, and then there's a soft thud as his back hits the wall.

Holy shit.

Your heart races, a slurry of adrenaline, of elation because he was playing along with your silly cover story, of something hot and molten because he was running his hands along your outfit desperately.

Amidst the heat of it all, the grinding of his knee between your legs- you don't even notice the fact that the footsteps stopped. Johnny does though. He breaks the kiss with a purposeful loud noise, when he sees your dazed and confused expression however- he quickly aims for your neck before you can say a word and accidently give away the clever cover story you thought of.

You gasp, the noise does wonders. He can hear whoevers about to round the corner shifting about, obviously realizing what's going on and debating if they should check to be sure or spare their eyes of the sight.

So of course, Johnny helps them decide by laying it on thick.

“Fuck atta girl hen, wanna hear you fall apart f’ me.”

He presses you against his knee, nibbling at your skin to make your breath stutter. Thankfully, you catch his words and seem to get at least to some level what he's doing.

So of course, because god damn it- you’re in the thick of this silly military operation act now- you’ve gotta commit. You moan out the worst thing you can think of to make someone go away. Which is of course—

“Daddy!”

(Johnny can hear Gaz fucking roaring with laughter over coms. It takes everything in himself not to laugh then and there. Luckily, having a pretty little thing pressed against his knee and trembling provides a good distraction. Still, he can't repress the grin.)

“Yeah? Need something kitten?” He captures your lips again, a quick kiss this time, just to leave you breathless for your next remark.

“Y-Your c-” Oh my fucking god you dont know if you’re struggling to speak because you’re trying your damndest not to laugh, or because you are painfully terribly aroused at due to his kisses and husky voice. Thank god he intervenes.

“Whats that kitty? Yer gonna have to speak up. Lemme hear that sweet voice of yours.”

He guides you across his knee, you tangle your hand in his hair, tugging that stupid mohawk close to kiss him again.

When you quickly pull away, you rush out the words, failing to hide the look of pure hysterical amusement on your face- luckily the rush of words is mistaken for neediness and not because you are seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Your cock-”

He captured your laughter in another kiss, groaning to hide the sound of your stifled snickers.

Finally, after what seems like ages and yet too little time- he hears Ghost in his ear giving him the all clear. Not without clear amusement.

Johny backs off, panting heavily and listening. He hears nothing but empty air. Quietly he whispers,

“They’re gone.”

You pant as well, trying your best to keep your hysterical little giggles quiet. Johnny is right there with you, like fucking schoolgirls- the two of you giggle for a moment.

Ah but you should probably apologize.

“H-Hey im sorry by the way- for kissing you out of the blue like that, i didn't know if you’d be comfortable with it but uh- i kinda got invested in the whole-”

You wave a hand about as he backs off you, pulling his knee away from your heat between your legs.

“-‘Don't get caught’, thing. Sorry if i um- took it too far and make you uncomfortable…”

(Johnny looks down at you, pretty little oblivious thing, looking all sheepish and nervous as if there wasn’t the high potential you just saved both his and your asses with your quick thinking.)

“All good lassie. Good quick thinking.”

(As much as he’d love to tease you more about it- or even tell you just how much he enjoyed kissing you until you were breathless- he’s still on a mission, and you need to keep moving.)

(So for now, he settles for a hair ruffle and a wink. You smile all the same.)

The pair of you continue, and you are starting to wonder where you’re going. This ain’t the way you came in- though, you suppose coming in via the main entrance would defeat the point of the game. Which was of course: to sneak you out undetected. Walking through the hall of party-goers probably wouldn’t be the best call.

Still, it's odd when you find yourself stopping at a room. It appears to be locked, a passcode and everything. This doesn’t seem to be an issue though.

(“Intel says they left the hard drive here. Code is 269344041.” Johnny listens to Ghosts voice, inputting the code easily. He ignores the confused look you end him in favor of mumbling-)

“a’m in.”

You blink as he talks to his earpiece. Carefully and quietly as you enter the room, you ask,

“Um… sergeant? What are we doing in here?”

“Looking for a package hen.”

(“Should be in a small red box.” Ghost relays.)

“-Little red box. Help me look?”

You nod like the helpful little thing you are and begin to search the room. It’s a storage unit of sorts. Bunch of random shit, you even spot a cool ass box of skeleton bones. That you show to your newfound companion.

He grimaces and gently sets the box down away from your hands.

“Let’s not touch anything else alright lassie?”

It’s framed as a question but really it’s an order. You just shrug, and then remember your line was supposed to be, ‘yes sir.’

“Yes sir.”

The search doesn’t take long after that, a few minutes max before you spot a little red box high up on a shelf. All the things around it are collecting dust, but the dull red colored cardboard seems to be free of it. Placed there recently it seems.

Maybe this whole immersive thing was planned out, and maybe it was pure luck you got roped into it. Everything was awfully elaborate after all. With him knowing the code and stuff.

“Sergeant i think i found it.”

He’s on you in and instant,

“Where?”

You point up the shelf. “That it?”

He carefully grabs it, opens it up and shuts it before you can get a good look. Looked kinda like a flash drive? A flash drive inside a plastic baggie.

“That’s what we’re looking for alright. Good work lassie. Ye might as well be a recruit at this point.”

He’s joking it seems, so you smile back in turn.

“Lived a bit too cushiony of a life for military work i’m afraid.” You gesture once more to your royal outfit. “But i’ll consider the offer sergeant.”

He takes you by the arm, tucking the box into his vest and leading you to the door.

“Glad to hear it princess.”

After that, it’s more sneaking about, more little bits of banter whenever you can, and listening to him speak into his earpiece. It’s dreadfully fun, the most fun you’ve had all night and honestly? At any party ever.

Finally- Finally, you seem to make your goal as you feel open air on your skin. That took forever to get out, with how massive the place was, but by god it was fun sneaking around like a super spy with…

Oh. You come to the sudden realization that you don’t actually know his name. That and- you never gave him your name either.

Well, this is where you leave so…

“Hey i just realized i never got your name.”

He turns to you for a brief moment, his hands on your arm now, tugging you along away from the building so that the bouncers at the front won’t see you. The two of you stop a little ways away.

“Soap. Or Johnny if you’d prefer.”

He says it so simply, with such an easy smile.

“And you princess?”

You say your own back, and it sounds so nice on his tongue. So right.

“Um- if you wouldn’t mind-“ You’re fishing in your bag now for your barely charged phone, wanting to get his number because he seems like a stand up dude and-

Soap touches his earpiece, “Package and civilians secure L.T. Good to go.” He says it quiet enough you don’t hear it, too busy looking for your phone.

(“Roger. Gaz move in.”)

“-could i maybe get your number? After i find my phone, of course. it’s just uh, well i had a lot of fun. Truth be told the night was pretty shit before you found me so if it’s okay with y-“

Your eyes widen when you see behind Soap, several Military troops storming the place, all of them holding what look to be- very real guns.

“What the fu-?”

You start, dropping your phone in a shock and completely shattering the poor device against the pavement.

Johnny can’t seem to bite down his grin.

Slowly, and yet all too fast, everything clicks as soon as you hear gunshots.

At a snails pace your head turns towards Johnny. Soap. The sergeant. The real sergeant.

“I did tell ya it wasn’t a costume hen.”

You were such a fucking idiot.

——————

Awkwardly you sit in your chair, taken in for interrogation. Less that and more for protocol considering everyone agreed you didn’t know jack shit.

Apparently, you went to the wrong party and somehow ended up at a terrorist gathering, which would explain the weird vibes of all the guests. And the super big and confusing building. And the many locked doors. And the—

The more you thought about it, the more stupid you felt so at some point in the hours of being on this stupid military base, you stopped.

To your utter horror and humiliation: Soap was a real sergeant. On a real mission. And he gave you a real ass fucking gun. And you had kissed him and oh god he had his knee between your fucking legs- you called him daddy.

Physically unable to handle the shame and embarrassment, you make a noise similar to that of a dying cat and bury your face in your hands.

The person ‘interrogating’ you, (a nice man that everyone called Gaz), just laughed. At the very least your misery was amusing.

“I am- so, so so fucking sorry, oh my god i’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it love. It helped to keep you calm. Better than dealing with panicking eh?”

You nodded because he made sense. It didn’t mean you were happy about it- but it did make sense. Soap tried to tell you after all. Honestly it was probably for the best you thought it was all a joke. Who knows what you would have done if you knew it was for real, probably panicked and gotten both yourself and him killed.

Gaz pats your head, an amused but sympathetic smile on his face.

(God fucking damn it, were all sergeants just naturally this fucking charming??? …You don’t have a thing for military guys do you?)

When the captain of this whole thing walks in, John Price; with a smile like that of a damn koala bear and air of authority- you decide that, yeah. Maybe you do have a thing for military types.

Go figure.

“You're free to go love.”

You sigh with relief, mostly because you don’t physically think you can handle anymore embarrassment. Your face is starting to hurt from all the cringing you’ve been doing. How are you ever gonna live this down?

“Afraid your phones broken though. Do you know the way home?”

No. Obviously not. You were taken here via military truck with the other soldiers. Frankly you could be in a different country right now and you wouldn’t know because you passed out at some point from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

(Price of course, knows this. He just wants to see you squirm a little longer. Is it wrong? Yeah. But he’ll be damned if you aren’t the most fun thing to mess with.)

“Um no- sir.” You tack on the title quickly, unsure exactly what to call him.

“Alright. I’ll have one of my men escort you home.”

As long as it’s anyone but Johnny you should be able to survive a car ri-

“Soap.”

Fuck.

“Take my car and escort the little lady back home.”

…You just had to think it, didn't you?

(Price knows he’s cruel for messing with you. Mean and terrible really. But the face you make when he calls Soap into the room? Where you look like you go through every stage of grief before landing on depression in .5 seconds?)

(Priceless.)

——————

The car ride is just as excruciating as you thought it would be. Even worse- Soaps a good guy. Charming and fun, sweet even. He jokes and teases you but tries his damnest to make the car ride as comfortable as possible.

Hell he even offers to stop someplace and buy you something for the road. And offer you not let would refuse; but you were at the base for hours, and it’s like 2 AM and you are exhausted and hungry and embarrassed.

So the two of you get some takeout, and eat in Prices car. You would be worried about eating in the car, but Soap makes you comfortable, assuring you the captain would probably be more upset if he let you go home on an empty stomach.

The rest of the drive is cozy after that. He pulls laughter out of you, and embarrassed groans but it’s all in good fun.

By the time you get home, you’re most definitely a little unsteady on your feet just due to how tired you are. He helps you out of the car, and even walks you to your door.

Before he leaves, you awkwardly debate giving him your number. Just so you could buy him drinks or something later down the line to make up for your utter stupidity today- but then you remember your totaled phone.

Damn.

And then, a god seemingly hears your prays because he’s slipping you a sheet of paper.

Drowsily you blink down at it to find a king number string. A phone number.

When you snap your eyes back up to him, he’s grinning.

“You wanted it right lass? Give me a call sometime.”

And then, he’s winking and walking away. Just like that.

…huh. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

#john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod fanfic #tf 141 x reader #(kinda?)#Kissing #fanfic #go look at auspicioustiddings they’re cool #Read Firewatch #I don’t normally write romance tbh #Those were definitely probably not prop bones #Also reader 100 percent shows up with baked goods down the line #Bro is never gonna live this down #I wouldn’t either #The embarrassment could kill a man.

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penvisions · 6 months

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garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.” You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

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sasukesun · 5 months

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Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

i was going to give you my top 12 until i found out that sanguinedawns deleted their profile so now one of my favourite narusasu fics ever is gone 🥺 it was called naked hearts. i guess i can’t give you exactly what you asked for, sometimes i suck at picking favourites. so i will give you my top 11 (😭) because i can’t take any of these out, and with no ranking, i’m unable to do that. i guess i’ve already recommended all of these fics here and they are all either narusasu or satosugu since i need to have a certain brainrot to look for fanfic.

the earth doesn’t move by mostlyharmless

(narusasu) i find this fic in character, really enjoy the dialogues and love seeing my boys being domestic and just weird guys. i love it.

a hostage situation by kinomiakai

(narusasu) i love how sasuke reads poetry here and how he “kidnaps” naruto. sasuke has two lines about naruto realising his feelings for him that changed my brain chemistry forever, i can’t explain the softness and patience and genuine love that contain in these two lines and i find them so real to sasuke’s character.

that’s what best friends are for by heimai

(narusasu) yes, the sasuke’s vibrator one, one of the greatest heritages of the naruto fandom. this is just the most fun and hilarious fic. i love how in character it is in a modern au context, obviously naruto and sasuke in canonverse would be a bit different than naruto and sasuke in a modern au, they are lighter but still in character.

last ones out by hereforwords

(narusasu) what changed my brain chemistry forever in this fic is their love confession, one of sasuke’s lines in particular, also so real to his character and their relationship.

safe in your arms. by ambiguousreality

(narusasu) if you ever feel sad remember that genin narusasu napping together fanfic exists :)

a thousand summers more by bluelikeskies

(narusasu) this one is so poetic and beautiful. naruto is summer and sasuke is winter, literally.

your name and what that really means by kintou

(narusasu) i think kintou writes narusasu very in character and i love how full of passion some gestures are in this fic, plus i love sasuke’s introspection.

king, until i am by iamsomebody

(satosugu) because it’s so in character and i love their dynamics here. the introduction of this fic is so… getou suguru was burdened with power, too.

summer’s first breath by hiraethia

(satosugu) like i said, this is the most satosugu fic ever. great metaphors, exceptional portrayals of grief, perfect introspection. i can’t explain the emotions i felt while reading so many scenes of this fic. chef’s kiss.

carry me home by valleykey

(satosugu) i love following getou’s mind and train of thought here, the author was great at characterising him. there are great dialogues as well, one in particular of teen getou with adult gojou still lives in my mind rent free.

be good to me by championstunic

(satosugu) something something small actions that contain so much intimacy something. i have a real brainrot for it.

#ask #anonymous #fic rec

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ekwolfwriter-blog · 11 months

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I have said it before, and I will say it a millions times again: the animators were on point with the Southern Raiders episode.

I still want to break more of it down, but from this clip there is a range of emotions that are just chef's kiss perfect! Here is the tweet to follow along: https://twitter.com/zutaramedia/status/1660306841321226241?s=20

But from the scene, we get this beautiful shot:

We get a shocked Zuko that is shocked to hear the comment from Katara and how angry she still is toward him.

Next we get a grimacing Zuko. Wondering why she still is angry at him since everyone has shown the trust and accept him as part of the team. Especially after he saved her and from how she saved him. And also still feeling bad that she is still mad.

And Katara looks off, not really as angry as before - but definitely like she is trying to hold back from crying again. Could be the angle and the lighting but there is some emotions on her face too.

Bonus, Suki looking worried for Zuko and Katara between this scene and looked between them like there was some tension was clearly sensed. Definitely curious as to what caused them to have this dynamic

Next we get a determined Zuko to finally figure out why Katara is mad at him. Definitely reads like "I can't stand her being mad at me. I need to know why so I can make it up to her as she deserves it."

Also, Sokka's face is hilarious!

And finally:

He might look mad, but I would say more determined to understand why she is mad at him at him and understands that he has to talk to her face to face; following her when no one else was getting up or offering. Clearly breaking the mold as no one else ever seemed to follow her when she needed to be alone when mad and not looking into it more. But not our totally crushing on the powerful water bending girl fire boy. He can tell there is more.

And sadly I could not get a picture, but after this, you can so see him walking a distance behind her but clearly making sure to give Katara her space to storm off.

The range of emotions this boy shows all while trying to make things right for Katara and definitely realizing he needs to know directly from her as to why she is so hostile, just amazing! And even the small moment of Katara looking ready to cry before turning and leaving to add more emotions as well! The animators did not waste a moment as they certainly crammed in so much! I love it!

So wish we got the two parter for Southern Raiders. Would have loved to have seen how they would have added more.

Still going to break the whole thing down another day. But for now, hope you all enjoy!

#zutara #katara x zuko #zuko #totally crushing on #katara #2d animation #animators knew what they were doing #animation analysis #zutara forever

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casualhedonists · 2 months

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i know you have a fic recs tag but was hoping youd maybe share what you love about some of your fave fics!

good lord anon first off i’m SO sorry it took me so long to answer this. it’s been in my drafts with the list half written since forever but here we go!

also i’m so honored you’d ask!! there’s not nearly enough room in a post for me to mention all my favorites, but i’ll tell you some of my current faves and why i like them (i made a post with my faves quite a while ago here, so i’ll try to mention others so i’m not spamming those writers with mentions!)

blue, bambi and you by @darby-rowe (and every fic of theirs let’s be real) what to say about this fic except the wonderful dally blows the roof off every fucking time and it’s suchhh a perfectly executed threesome, the voyeurism guilt is explored so nicely and adds to the atmosphere, the tension is just perfect and the resolution is chefs kiss

constantly in the darkness by @divineidolatry my beloved friend june went off on this holy shit. wonderfully executed exes to lovers, emotional fuckery, and artfully crafted bdsm scenes my belovedddd also the buildup?? are you kidding me??? also an amazing reader / clemensia friendship dynamic which is something that can be so personal. i’m never shutting up about it thank you and goodnight 🫶🏼

the roommate snowjanus au by @euphemiaamillais (her masterlist is here, do yourself a favor and stalk it rn) my GOD words can’t describe how much i love this universe and we’ve been graced with so so many fics and i devour them everytime. i love the power dynamics, little subtleties and the characterisations with it being in a modern setting are just everything! the sexting. the threesomes. are everything. the strip poker game?? call an ambulance for me type beat

#asks 💌#mimi’s fic recs #☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ faves!#so so sorry again for the forever wait anon! here’s a forehead kiss to make up for it <3

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bloopitynoot · 7 months

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Shadowgast Corporate/Office-Au Rec List!

Hello I'm back again with more disaster wizard (well and in this case working professional but more office-like setting) recommendations!

This list is a little bit more bawdy than normal (I love a good smut fic, but I also try to vary the ratings on these lists for those who may not share my enthusiasm).

If you want to see my other shadowgast rec lists- they are linked at the end of this post. ANYWAYS- let's get into it!

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1 As per my last email

As per my last email (11651 words) by LivThael (I don't think they are on Tumblr- if they do please comment so I can tag- but they have a twitter listed in the notes of the fic) Chapters: 11/11 Rating: Explicit Summary: Essek Thelyss is an asshole with a questionable taste in spreadsheets. Caleb Widogast has more important and certainly more interesting things to do than filing travel expense claims. A series of mails turns into a escalating meeting. Or: Please stop writing me emails, I genuinely hate you. - Explicit content only in chapter 10.

What I loved: Anyone who has worked in an office knows a passive aggressive email when they get one. Plus we have the added bonus of having to deal with accounting to get expenses covered- ugh, so good. The energy of these passive aggressive- yet flirty workplace emails between new hire Caleb and kind-of-an-asshole Essek in accounting is *chefs kiss*. The build up to their meeting was written so well! I also really love the way the fic is formatted- the email style gives it an immersive feel.

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2 Paradigm Shift

Paradigm Shift (114,291 words) by full_time_dreamer_behold (I don't know their tumblr, please totally feel free to tag if they have one- i'll add it). Chapters: 28/28 Rating: Teen and up Audiences Summary: Recently moved to Rosohna, Caleb accepts a job at a prestigious law firm, but the work turns out to be menial and dull. Thankfully, his life takes a turn when he makes new friends and starts taking a curious interest in the IT Manager- the handsome and intriguing Essek Thelyss. Could he be reason enough for Caleb to stay in this place? He certainly intends to find out.

A friends-to-idiots-to-lovers slow burn with a sweet ending.

What I loved: This was such a lovely slow burn. It covers hard topics in a corporate kind of setting including racism, nepotism, and power dynamics that really suck but it handled with care and well written. I also really love the disability representation here! This slow burn is so so good, I super recommend! Also bonus it's the length of a beefy novel!

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3 the golden thread around your neck whispered visions of my undoing

the golden thread around your neck whispered visions of my undoing (172812 words) by MarsBar2019 (If you know Mars' tumblr please comment and I will tag- I couldn' find it in the notes). Chapters: 38/? Rating: Explicit Summary: Caleb Widogast does not belong here. The world of sharp suits, board meetings, and billion dollar budgets is a far cry from Caleb’s preferred domain: the research lab. Where nobody cares about his faded T-shirts and raggedy jeans. But a year of industry experience will look good on his CV, and the hefty pay bump wouldn’t hurt either. How hard could a secretary gig be? What he finds behind the glittering edifice of Auriga, Wildemount’s leading name in arcane technology, is CEO Essek Thelyss, who maintains his domain with an acid tongue and an iron fist. It’s difficult not to find him intriguing, this handsome, guarded, brilliant man. It’s even more difficult not to want to please him. Caleb knows to keep it professional, though. Working late nights together at the office and lingering glances here and there don’t cross the boundaries of propriety. That is, until they do.

Or: the one where Essek Thelyss loses focus and has a consensual workplace relationship.

Updates weekly on Mondays.

E-rated chapters: Ch. 4, 9, 13, 14, 17, 18, 22-23, 26, 32, 38

Why I love it: Out of all the recs this one is the SPICIEST (and I love that). Head the warnings - there may be stuff that isn't for you, but if you, like me, enjoy a 6/5 spicy level fic- congrats this one will not disappoint. This story is in progress but updates weekly which is fantastic. We have big time and hot mess CEO Essek and his personal assistant disaster bisexual Caleb- of course it's an HR scandal waiting to happen, but also, Essek might come out a better person for it. I cannot recommend this enough, this fic is so so good. In addition to the smut, it's also just a really fantastic story.

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4 sleep, with benefits

sleep, with benefits (62272 words) by KmacKatie @kmackatie Chapters: 12/12 Rating: Explicit Summary: Caleb Widogast wakes up from the first good night of sleep in far too long. It takes him a moment to realise it's because he's not in his bed. Is it the better mattress (lump-free and like a cloud), or the fact he drunkenly slept with Essek Thelyss, the colleague he's been secretly crushing on for the last six months?

Why I loved it: Let me just start off by saying kmackatie is brilliant and everything shadowgast that katie writes makes my heart sing. In this fic Essek and Caleb are captured so well- they are both big idiots who act like scared cats around one another (even though they both want the same thing) but honestly- can there be any other dynamic? This hot mess of them not using their words eventually leads to the best of endings and you should all read it because it is so lovely.

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BONUS FIC: (high school teachers, less corporate feel, but not what I would throw on a professor or academia list so its a bonus for this one).

5 all this science i don't understand

all this science i don't understand (8858 words) by mllekurtz @mllekurtz Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Mature Summary: Caleb knew how he was with crushes, he was aware that historically they’ve brought him nothing but trouble, and vowed that he wasn’t going to develop one on his new colleague. This resolution lasted a remarkable twenty-four hours. * Small-town high school science teacher Caleb Widogast has his life more or less figured out, or so he thinks. Then an unexpected variable gets thrown into the equation in the form of the new addition to the teaching staff: the handsome and clever Essek Thelyss.

Why I loved it: This fic was so sweet. I have a soft spot for fics that play with chronology in their story telling and this one does a bit of that. It is a shorter read but honestly that works really well for this love story. Caleb of course falls hard and fast and Essek does not mind at all. Some angst, but they are written so well and so soft, Brilliant <;3

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My Other Shadowgast Rec lists:

Shadowgast fics that made me ugly cry

Shadowgast Space Opera-AU list

Shadowgast Bakery/Coffee/Tea Shop-AUs

As usual I devour all fics shadowgast so if there is a rec list you want to read that is tried and true- dm me or leave a comment. I always prefer to use my librarian degree for chaotic neutral purposes so hmu.

[I am totally thinking about doing a Professor/Researcher OR College-AU OR Time is a Weird Soup list next but we shall see!]

#shadowgast fic recs #shadowgast #for the shadowgast shippers #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #critical role fan fiction #mighty nein #cr 2 #I honestly love making these lists so much #if you have a theme you like to read let me know #I will totally make you a personalized list

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odessa-castle · 28 days

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NLTS might just be one of my favorite fics of all time. The characterizations, the banter, the tension - it's all 10/10 (and I loooove all the little nods to Shakespeare).

Your Cazador is truly menacing and has such a looming presence for a character who doesn't appear much on the page. You mentioned in an earlier ask that you deliberately built Cazador and Astarion's dynamic on the emotional language of intimate partner violence (which I think is so heartbreakingly accurate). If you feel comfortable, could you talk a little more about that choice, why you made it, and/or how it shaped your writing?

Beyond excited for part two!!

Thank you so much! NLTS has come to mean a lot to me, and I'm glad this story means something to other people, too.

As far as Cazador and Astarion's dynamic and IPV goes, I think I did mention in the tags that I had a lot to say on the subject, and I do, but I'm going to put it under a cut for fairly obvious reasons. Read on at your discretion.

So! Vampires. You can do a lot of things with vampires, and with the sire-childe relationship in particular. I'm not going to do a whole scholarly review here or anything, but suffice to say that it is inherently, to some degree, a relationship based on power and control, and the transgressive nature -- the blurring of boundaries between parent and lover, the interplay between sex and death, etc. -- is part of the horror and part of the appeal. Also, biting is sex, and the issues of consent arising from the former are extrapolated onto the latter. Again, there's a lot of room to play with metaphor here, depending on the story you want to tell, but if it's not kinda fucked up, then why even bother?

Astarion and Cazador's relationship is likewise one where a number of different lenses can come into play, depending on what you're interested in exploring. I do think one of the draws of Astarion's story is the way that it takes certain conventions that pop up around vampires and strips the layer of metaphor away -- Astarion's sexual abuse is explicitly a part of his story in a way that I (and many others) didn't expect to see presented so frankly. And I knew I wanted to do some of that metaphor-stripping myself when I wrote this.

The fantasy/supernatural elements let you really go to some extremes when you're writing about Astarion's abuse, and Cazador is awful enough that almost any horror you can come up with is something he'd plausibly do to Astarion. And there are some evil geniuses in this fandom. The things I've seen people do with torture and body horror, with mind control, with sheer sexual depravity -- chef's kiss. I love you guys. I don't think that's where my strengths as a writer necessarily lie, though, and it wasn't quite what I wanted in terms of either theme or tone for this story. I wanted both Wyll's and Astarion's loneliness and low self-worth to be grounded in something really emotionally recognizable, in part so they could recognize these things in each other, and I wanted to show off the...quieter moments of their trauma, almost. The critical voices they've internalized; their self-censoring and self-deprecation; the things they've normalized that really shouldn't be normal, actually.

I'm not going to get too deep into the nature of my interest in IPV. Suffice to say that I have both personal and professional experience in that area, and that like all artists, I bring pieces of myself into the things I create. What I can say is that I don't think I've ever encountered an IPV survivor who didn't experience some form of emotional abuse as part of that power and control relationship, and that a lot of survivors have talked about how that can be the hardest thing to recover from, because it gets so deep inside your head. It warps the way you view yourself; it distorts the way you see the world. You carry your abuser's voice with you, whether or not they're there. And it's not easy to make it go away. It's not easy to make the emotional conditioning go away, to disentangle the survival mechanisms you've had to develop once you no longer actually need them to survive. These things hold true with, like, basically every form of ongoing abuse, they're not necessarily unique to IPV, but they're a big part of IPV nonetheless. (And they're certainly things we see from a lot of the companions in-game, Astarion very much included. Gotta love how his immediate response to you initiating the breakup conversation is "did I do something wrong?")

I do know that discussions of the exact nature of Cazador's abuse of Astarion can get, uh, fraught. I do think Cazador's sexual objectification and possessiveness of Astarion are, well, text, and Cazador certainly uses other people as proxies to enact sexual violence on Astarion. I didn't include, and don't plan to include, any outright sexual contact between them on-page because I think the point comes across clearly enough without it (and because jesus, enough stuff happens on-page in NLTS, there needs to be a balance if I don't want to turn the story into one giant downer). For me, the crux of their dynamic lies in one of Astarion's first descriptions of Cazador: a man obsessed with power -- not political power, but power over people.

Cazador might think of himself as rational and in control of his own actions and passions -- a lot of abusers will tell you that they're just being logical, you're the one bringing your emotions into everything -- but in reality, he is obsessed with his control over Astarion. When he feels like that control is being threatened, he sees it as a direct assault on his own self-image and power and masculinity, and he takes it out on Astarion to convince them both that Astarion still belongs to Cazador. I don't think Cazador wants Astarion's love, necessarily; I don't think he knows what love actually is, anymore. I think he wants Astarion's true submission -- and he's never going to get that, because Astarion obeys him out of fear, not trust, and trust is what submission actually requires. (As is choice, which is also a thing that Cazador does not and will not give Astarion.) Basically, the closer Wyll and Astarion get, the more Cazador gets caught up in these dominance games, and those are ultimately him pissing on a lamppost rather than him accomplishing anything.

And I do write him as fixated on Astarion to a degree that he isn't with the other spawn. He doesn't really care about Dalyria taking Branwyn as a lover, for example, because whether rightly or wrongly, he doesn't perceive that as a threat to his control over her (or as a threat to his own self-image); he could tell her to stop, and she would, without him needing to compel her obedience. But Cazador doesn't feel as secure of his ownership over Astarion, for good reason, and that plus his sexual obsession makes him act Totally Normal about all this.

In NLTS, Cazador is, generally, not reacting to what Wyll and/or Astarion are actually doing. He's reacting to perceived threats to his ego, whether or not those threats have any basis in reality. Cazador breaks Astarion's rib because he wants to break Astarion's rib. It's not even sensible as a punishment, but it makes Cazador feel powerful, and it makes Astarion feel worthless. As I mentioned in an earlier post, he makes Wyll's gift to Astarion all about himself instead because it's a way of soothing his ego, and because, at that point, he's still thinking of Wyll as an easily-controlled dupe. Things change once Wyll duels Lord Andoril -- Cazador's proxy and mouthpiece -- over Astarion, and wins. It doesn't matter what Astarion did or didn't do. It matters that, to Cazador, someone publicly challenged his ownership of Astarion and got away with it, and Wyll is the kind of threat that (at this point) Cazador can't simply have killed and be done with it. The fallout for Cazador's business prospects isn't great, sure, but it's also not really what he cares about most. But really, the thing most getting in the way of Cazador's political ambitions in this story is...Cazador himself. Even if he'd tell you otherwise, because Cazador's not exactly self-aware.

This is also the point where Cazador being low-key annoyed that Wyll wants Astarion for something other than his body turns into Cazador becoming Big Mad about that fact, because Cazador cannot handle the idea of Wyll laying claim to some part of Astarion that he himself doesn't have access to. (Yes, this is a really fucked-up way for him to frame the fact that Wyll, you know, sees and values Astarion as a person. But well, Astarion is not and never has been a person to Cazador.) On some level, Cazador isn't wrong about this, either -- Wyll genuinely is a threat to his control over Astarion. But because Cazador is a petty, jealous little tyrant of a man who doesn't understand love, he catalogues this threat as Astarion offering his submission to another man. Astarion having his own autonomous wants and desires is, obviously, not something that crosses his mind. When Wyll is exiled, Cazador fully gives himself over to his inner green-eyed monster, and abandons all pretense of self-control or calculation. Cazador forcing Astarion to enjoy -- or well, take physical pleasure in -- his own rape is, among other things, Cazador trying to brute-force Astarion's submission.

The thing about power and control relationships is that the abuser never really feels secure in them. Nothing is ever good enough; everything can become a new ego threat. Cazador is alone, and he's miserable, and really, he's made himself that way.

One commenter really hit the nail on the head in Chapter 14: I was like "oh now wyll won't be a useful political tool," as if Cazador was some kind of evil political mastermind, rather than an evil horrible monster. There is, indeed, an evil political mastermind in NLTS -- but it's Enver Gortash, not Cazador Szarr. Gortash does more in half a chapter than Cazador does in basically the entire fic. In NLTS, Cazador is not a monster because he's a powerful and terrifying supernatural being -- although he is also that. He's a monster because he's a jealous tyrant who can't see past the tip of his own nose. And honestly, I think that makes for a scarier villain.

#the ask and the answer #butnodamage #nothing like the sun #cw for frank discussion of ipv dynamics - although i think the nature of the ask itself makes that fairly clear #this post was more draining to write than i expected but it is also full of things that i very much want to say #and now i'll hop off my soapbox

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childotkw · 1 year

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Ahhh! I'm absolutely in love with your Lucemond fic snippets. The idea of Lucerys bonding with the Cannibal over their shared consumption of dragon flesh is just so *chef's kiss*. Also that line about Lucerys thinking about the way Arrax was still looking out for him even in death. My poor heart. I've seen a few people mention Lucerys surviving and bonding with him, but no one talked about how such a thing could come to pass when the dragon has a history of killing any who try to fly him.

A part of me can't help but think about the utterly dark and unhinged potential of their bond. Perhaps there is no real love and gentle affection between them, not like Lucerys' bond with Arrax, but they have a shared experience and an understanding of doing whatever it takes to survive. The Cannibal is always hungry for the flesh of his kin, and he can sense that same sort of hunger in his newly bonded. It resonates between them. It makes the ancient beast want to nuture that hunger, ensure that his feral little rider survives and grows stronger. The old dragon feeds Lucerys' need for revenge, and the human helps feed the beast's rage and cravings for battle and any spoils that he can claim. It creates a really beautiful and terrifying sort of symmetry.

And now for an utterly depraved idea...

Imagine the Cannibal swooping in and fighting an enemy dragon while Lucerys is involved in some skirmish on the ground and ripping off a chunk of flesh. The Blacks win the fight and the dragon lands and presents the lump to its rider like an offering.

Lucerys is quiet as he watches the great dragon lower its massive head and nudge the meat towards him. He can hear the whispers of onlookers calling his bonded a monster and how they should all fear for their lives. Through their bond he can feel Cannibal's quiet encouragement. Here. The flesh of your enemy. Eat. Be strong. With Cannibal's thoughts echoing in his head head, he opens his mouth and commands, "Dracarys."

The dragon's flames errupt forth, scorching the meat in a controlled burst of emerald fire. The gathered crowd watches on in shock and horror as the Prince draws out a knife and slices away a strip of seared meat. The Cannibal throws back his head with a proud roar as the boy accepts and his teeth sink into his gift.

(Tell me Aemond wouldn't go absolutely unhinged and feral over finding out Lucerys ended up eating Arrax in order to survive and may have just eaten a piece of one of the Green's dragons. It'd probably be worse if it was Vhagar that was injured too. Haha.)

I'm frothing at the mouth with this - it's like you're in my head.

When I thought up the whole symbolic cannibalism of Lucerys eating bits of Arrax to survive, I was so giddy. It happens rarely, but some of the things my brain comes up with honestly blow me away. I just immediately sat down and went yes YES this is what I need.

Poor boy is going to Go Through Some Things under my tender care. Just a dash more trauma and survivor guilt to make him extra spicy.

Lucerys will be walking a very fine line for most of this - and god am I excited to dive into his bond with Cannibal.

The unspoken understanding between them, that soul-deep connection, distorted reflections of each other…it'll be so good.

Lucerys' gradual shifts in personality, guided by Cannibal's own - it's like being caught in the tail of a comet. Cannibal is old, he has been around since the dawn of the Targaryen dynasty, and Lucerys is so young, too young to be able to keep himself grounded in the face of such a force of nature. Cannibal's hunger, that insatiable bloodlust - it'll start to bleed through, and Lucerys will be made into something new.

Especially in the beginning, when their bond is so fresh, Lucerys will feel the need to reinforce their connection. But once they've settled into their new dynamic, that will be when it becomes…routine for him. Normal. The disgust and shame mostly doused by the heady rush of power that comes from being a predator.

Once the war begins in earnest, and they are too valuable to leave wallowing on Dragonstone, Lucerys takes to eating his meals with Cannibal. He doesn't always partake in whatever prey Cannibal hauls in - sometimes it's enough for him to simply mime that act; but more often than not he'll return to camp with animal blood staining his mouth and hands.

The men are unnerved, Targaryens have always been…queer to outsiders, but who are they to question a dragon? Who are they to question Lucerys Velaryon, the rider of one of the largest dragons alive, and who is said to be unkillable?

No. They merely avert their eyes from the boy when he returns from visiting his beast, keeping their thoughts to themselves and praying that the day never comes when they are seen as prey.

(And as for Aemond? Well, when he hears the rumours surrounding Lucerys, when he hears how he drenches his pale skin in the blood of his kills, when he hears the way people speak of the boy with hushed fear instead of scorn…he can't help but laugh.

Because Lucerys had always been a violent, hungry little creature.

It's just now that everyone else sees the truth.)

#anonymous #HOTD #ruination au #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #aemond is so gosh darn vindicated #he's known the truth since Luke took a dagger to his eye #and it feels so good to watch people finally *understand* that Luke is batshit insane

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sarahnotjmaas · 7 months

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Okay I did it Here are my notes for the tandem read:

Tandem Read

Empire of Storms:

Manon’s crown helmet sounds really cool

These mother fuckers don’t wanna recognize her as queen!?!? She literally can and will protect you from EVERYTHING. I hate men lol

No they cannot kill Asterin. It’s too early in the book I can’t take that

The way she burned that soldier from the inside out with just one little blow of breath was so cool

Omg Manon attacking her grandma!!!

I cannot belief Rowan told Gavriel about Aedion like that!!!! There were much more sensitive ways he coulda said that shit

So Aedion meeting his dad went well😂 “I didn’t expect to say any of that” lol Aedion and Aelin are really the same person huh

Okay Manon and Dorian is way hotter than Aelin and Rowan I don’t even care. Fight me.

Also I feel like if Aedion and Lysandra got more attention they could’ve been *chefs kiss but we get Elide and Lorcan instead. Don’t get me wrong there okay but I think would’ve preferred more focus on Aedion and Lysandra….

Okay I lied about that^

The liken?? Crazy! Aelins power goes stupid hard! I love how SJM describes her power and how she burrows down into it!!

Ansel is back and remind me why we trust her. She’s a known traitor…..

Excuse me??? Dorian or Aelin have to give their life!?!? No. NO!!!! IF SJM KILLS DORIAN!!!!!!!!!

THAT FUCKING BITCH MAEVE!! THEYRE MATES!! I knew it! I didn’t know how but I knew it! This also only gives me more hope for Azriel and Elaine in ACOTAR.

They’re married 😭😭

Tower of Dawn:

So Chaol is acting a little ableist and I low key hopes he learns to be a warrior from a wheelchair. I don’t see that happening but…..

So he’s gonna walk but what are the dynamics here I’m confused

The healer from the womb being found dead in the library is low key scary. I’m glad I didn’t read that at night hahaha

I stand by my statement from the last book that I don’t like Chaol and Nesryn together. They don’t spark anything in me but Nesry and Sartaq, Chaol and Yrene?? Now that intrigues me.

The acolytes gushing over Chaol, CUUUUUTEEE!!!

Him telling Yrene, ‘I didn’t want you to show them’ made me tear up

Ooooooo laying in that bed with her made his toes curl, me too Chaol

Damn Nesryns note was kinda cold. Her and Sartaq are kinda cute though. And like it do be an adventure lol

Chaol and Yrene one a date 🥹🫠

I don’t care about Nesryn lol. Hope she gets the bird people to fight in the war but 🥱

CHAOL IS WALKING my heart is soaring!! I loved everything about that. Yrene tugging him into a corner to make out! Yes!!!! She better get some dick on her birthday! That better be Chaols gift

Okay so the locket was precious but the birthday sex was better hahaha

When is Yrene gone meet Aelin!?!?

Omg SARTAQ!!! I fucking hate spiders wtf

MAEVE IS QUEEN OF THE VALG!?!? WHATTTTT???

Does Rowan know?? How could he not?

Yrene said “I thought the sex was good before but now that he’s fully healed !!!!” Good for you sis

It’s wife right. Her place is his wife. I stg

So while all his friends are facing war and death, Chaols falling in love and getting sloppy toppy lol good for him

Duva is the valg??? Didn’t see that coming

NOOOO CHAOLS BACK! My man got to walk fully healed for like a day! He only ran once

Aww him and Yrene are bonded like Rhys and Feyre!

Sartaq!!!! Omg Nesryn and Sartaq! That was so hot “never from you” 🫠

Chaol and Yrene are married 😭LADY WESTFALL 10/10

Unpopular opinion: tower of Dawn might be my favorite book in the series lol

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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

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I wanna talk about Star Wars comics and how fucking funny they are??? And how with the power of hindsight, they can make Luke and Leia so obviously twins??? (The finish each others sentences!! They both think about stealing an Imperial fucking Star Destroyer at the exact same time!! Luke says “Han is gonna hate this idea” and Leia replies “All the more reason to do it” !! They are TWINS babey!!)

Darth Vader knowing Luke is his son before Empire Strikes Back is the best move ever. Like, you can read Empire Strikes Back as him knowing (he calls Luke “Skywalker” on Hoth, after all) but making it obvious? Chef’s kiss. Darth Vader sending multiple bounty hunters and Stormtroopers and Aphra all after Luke, but specifically requesting him alive? Every single person who confronts Luke being like “Why the FUCK does Vader want you alive?? Has he even met you??? I met you five seconds ago and I want you dead, Vader is so powerful????” Vader purposefully ruining other Imperial plans to catch Luke because he’s the only Imperial who gets to have Luke? Him calling him exclusively “my son” in his inner dialogue? Him being like “The world and the galaxy and the Empire and everyone I know could literally die right in front of me in a fiery death but that is secondary, can I have my boy or what?”

(Luke over there like “Hmm. For some reason, I feel like I should meet Vader.”

Leia: “Ignore it.”

Luke: “Yeah, okay.”

Vader: “…hello darkness my old friend-“)

I love Sana but I specifically love her relationship with Luke. If you were to tell someone that a smuggler and a princess were friends, you’d be describing Sana and Luke’s relationship instead of Han and Leia’s. What do I mean i’m so glad you asked-

Luke, very excited: “I got to drive the Falcon :D”

Sana, very tired because this is right after the prison break arc and Luke was unconscious and threatened with death five seconds ago: “This child is too young to speak to me.”

Luke: “What do you mean about Han and Leia?”

Sana: “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Like!!! Sana!!! Leia is the SAME age as him!!! But no, Luke is the babie one, it matters little that he blew up the Death Star, he is the sheltered princess of the relationship while Sana is the world-weary smuggler who feels dirty just standing next to him. Their dynamic is fucking gold and I will not hear a single thing against it.

Okay but can we talk about Vader Down? The story arc in which Aphra says “Skywalker is on Vrogas Vas” and Vader comes out of hyperspace in the exact area the x-wings are doing drills? The story where Luke is like “hm, how best to deal with Darth Vader… I think I’ll crash my ship directly into his, sending us both plummeting to what might be our deaths, that might work.” (Vader: “Finally, a pilot who is worth facing off against wait a second that feels like-“) The story where Leia is like “Everyone around me is dead except for me, but Vader obviously left me alive in hopes I’d lead him back to the base, but I’m going to do the opposite, actually, and I’m going to stand here and wait for him and then tell the Rebels to blow us both up. Yes, I’ll die, but so will Vader, and that’s worth it.” (Vader is not actually thinking she’ll lead him to the rebel base. He (correctly) assumes that either Leia will find Luke or Luke will come to Leia) Dr. Aphra come over to try and help capture Luke because her options are 1. Capture Skywalker boy and bring him to Vader and Vader maybe won’t torture her to death, or B. Vader definitely tortures her to death.

The actual reason I love Vader Down is actually a combo of two reasons. First and foremost, Luke gets captured or knocked out or otherwise incapacitated (or just passed from one group’s hands to another) like ten times. It’s a running trend in the comcis, actually, Luke’s slipperiness that resembles how impossible it is to catch him in the Thrawn trilogy (Luke should be impossible to capture, it’s really what he deserves). The second reason is because Darth Vader finally commits murder of the person I want to see him murder, “General Grievous 2.0, this time he’s a cephalopod.” Or, Karbin for short. The way he gets him?

1. Big rock bridge

2. Vader pushed Karbin back a bit with the Force

3. Vader walks off of the bridge

4. Aphra rams into the bridge with her ship

5. Murder

It’s a foolproof plan and really, just, very well executed, 10/10 all around, I can’t get over Vader casually just walking off of the bridge

(The comic ends with Luke being like: “I feel like there was something I was supposed to learn in that big ol’ Jedi temple down on Vrogas Vas. Like the Force or something wanted me to know something. Or learn something. Hmm. Guess I’ll never know what it was. ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ “

Vader: “…all around me are familiar faces-“)

Luke and Darth Vader and Vader being like “pleASE just GIVE ME my BOY” and the Force going “haha nope” while Luke accidentally gets lost on his way to literally everywhere is so good. Luke and Obi-Wan, who left Luke his journal that Luke pulls out every once in a while to read is also, I must say, just wonderful.

Obi-Wan is the oldest 40yo ever, give him and his joints a break please and just let him pat the small child’s head once or twice, Owen, please, it might keep him sane, it’s for the good of the galaxy-

No what I actually like are the rock people. The Force rock people. The glowing blue Force rock giant people who were worn down by tiny humans until they became mountain ranges and who Yoda revives. The tiny blue rock baby children who Luke meets for the literal first time in his entire life and is immediately like “I would literally doe to protect these babies. Get behind me children, I am very willing to be stabbed multiple times if it means that baby rock people remain unharmed.”

Luke gets stabbed like eight times, honestly, are the baby rock people worth it? Yes. They are. Thank you for asking-

But, this is all 2015 run stuff, and that’s a bit hnfair since I also love the earlier comics! I promise, I really do!

2004 run had Skippy the Jedi droid, which automatically makes it the best comic ever written, even if Luke does look like he has a haybale on his head. And it had Qui-Gon “I do what the Force tells me to do. Why did it tell me to do this? I don’t know, I did it because it asked and now it’s done. Bang up job, Obi-Wan, let’s go home” Jinn. Space Jesus Darth Vader, anyone? Strangely sexualized female characters? Fucking skirt slits up to everyone’s waist, because the artists have never tried to wear a skirt before? It even has Mara Jade! Truly, this comic has everything.

1977 comic run? Well. I have one thing to prove that this is worth your time. The comic isn’t great, the art is very strange, none of the characters look like their actors (it’s pretty cool that He-Man got his acting start playing Luke Skywalker-), and everything is a little bit off. Not to mention Leia’s strangely prominent breasts. Why are they like that? I’m confused.

Why should you read it?

Darth Vader floaty a cup.

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