#sticks em in a pot
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pokemon is fun because it combines most of my interests and I can have complex thoughts about caring for giant plant monsters.
*burying my torterra in the yard and covering him with dead leaves and mulch*
you're doing great sweetie
#leafie speaks#I love grass types so much but caring for them would be brutal....#sticks em in a pot#cool great see u in 6 months when the frost thaws#pokemon
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I ended up playing a longer set against this higher ranked gio in the park yesterday and managed to hold my own pretty well. this end-of-round scramble was super hype
#guilty gear#replays and clips#I used to really hate fighting gio but now she's honestly one of the only matchups I actually look forward to playing#as either of my characters really#like she'll still mix my brain into a smoothie but I understand enough of the mind games I'm being subjected to to be like#damn she's good#it honestly makes me want to try picking up the other characters I've persistently had problems with#like pot/i-no/chipp/ky/faust#although I really don't see myself liking any of them enough to stick with em long term
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DPXDC prompt. Adult!Danny x Sleep-deprived!Constantine: We seem to have a misunderstanding.
Warlock was willing to admit that the Phantom’s company was mostly useful and not unpleasant. Because of the specifics of his work they had to meet quite often. It was nice to be at least a little sure that you wouldn’t get stabbed in the back. The new ghost king seemed to be amused by the World of the Living and that was quite useful. In addition, the Infinite Realms had a history of endless conflicts with Hell, so when demons was messing with him, Phantom was happy to put sticks in their wheels.
However, the current enemy of the League was another alien. Both John and Phantom happened to be nearby. But it seems ghost had no reason to help Hellblazer now, as this fight had nothing to do with his kingdom. Given that Batman had explicitly instructed John to stay on the battlefield, it seemed that if John Constantine wanted to count on a weekend, he would have to use his trump card now.
Constantine: In view of the urgency of the situation, I would like to make a proposal. Life offers many challenges. I know I can meet them if you're willing to face them with me. In the spirit of saving time..[holding up a ring] This is for you. You in?
Phantom: I..I don’t know, John. I mean i want to say yes but It’s all so sudden. Please gimme some time to think, okay? And let me help to deal with these invaders first and then we’ll talk about it.
John: ..Sure?
~~~~~
Tucker: Whoa crazy battle dude.
John: Civilians are not allowed here.
Danny: It's all right. We were going to meet at a cafe, but now, well, there is no cafe. I mean, he's with me and not so civilian, okay?Ehem..John, meet my best friend Tucker. Tucker, meet my..Em, this is John, and he's kinda my John. It's new for us.
Damn. He was in a hurry and offered more than he should have. It turns out the ghost had an interest in protecting the city. It is unlikely that he would allow the destruction of the place where one of his humans lives.
And worst of all, Phantom did not accept the ring (for which John had to hunt for several months) as payment. Constantine got it specially in case he needed a favor or a way to calm the anger of the spirit he was starting to get along with. Like, really, John spent a fair amount to own the artifact which would have neutralized the consequences of wearing a ring of rage. But Ghost didn’t want it? Why? And yet he helped. So John was in debt.
And how it's all at a bad time. The peace treaty and the treaty of cooperation between the States and the Infinite Realms was concluded only recently. Of course John didn't even have time to discuss the terms of their deal because the blushing ghost flew away to fight but to say that he won't pay for the service is like admitting that you want to start a new conflict. Constantine was starting to have a headache. He'll think about it when he gets at least a couple of hours of sleep. Whatever payment the ghost needs, it can wait a couple of hours.
~~~~~
But as it turned out, the ghost couldn’t make up his mind and decide what he wanted from him. He started showing up at John’s place and looking at him thoughtfully, also recently dragged him to pick out a suit. How he could be mistaken for a stylist John did not understand but preferred not to unnerve a potential ally.
Moreover, for some reason the chaotic creature decided that he had the right to condemn John for always forgetting to have dinner or take a bath. This scoundrel dared to lock him in a bathroom with strange scented candles and colored water. Whatever these bath bombs were, dumb spirit failed to poison him but now John smelled like peaches. Disgusting.
After breaking down the door he found the same mess with candles on the kitchen table. Phantom fought a fierce battle with the green goo in the pot that he brought to John's house, but eventually gave up and they ordered delivery. All in all, it was a pleasant evening. Of course John didn't admit it but for some reason Danny decided that he could make such a mess every Friday.
~~~~~
Danny: So..me and Morningstar are friends now. Do you mind? I know you don’t get along very well.
John: Why should I care? Your friends are your business. Considering you’re crazy about the stars I’m surprised you’re not sleeping with their maker.
Danny: Hell no, Lightbringer is great. And I’m glad he’s sharing with me what I wouldn’t find in books but I would never cheat on my partner.
John: Good to know. (Wow, who knew the Phantom has a lover.)
~~~~~
Morningstar: I have no idea what you see in this arrogant man, stardust.
Phantom: I don’t know. It’s interesting to be around him. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And his determination and sarcastic nature are really charming.
Morningstar: Well, I’ll get rid of some of his contracts for your wedding but only because I like you and not because I’m willing to deal with this liar.
Phantom: Thanks, Luci, you’re the best.
Morningstar:That’s true. But it's not free. I need you as a babysitter to keep Spawn busy while, well, Detective and I are busy.
Phantom: No problem :)
#dpxdc prompt#dpxdc crossover#dpxdc prompts#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#have no idea what this ship name is.help?!#danny x constantine#dannyxconstantine
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egg hunt
ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: Explicit (18+ only!)
warnings: oral sex (m! receiving), balls, questionable use of sex toys, semi-public blowjobs, eggs, Joel is a giant bunny, feelings, misunderstandings leading to angst.
word count: 5.9k
summary: Catching Joel dressed as a giant rabbit in your backyard wasn't on your bingo card for things to happen to you this year. But, what waits for you beneath the bunny suit, and in his basket, aren't the only surprises you'll have tonight.
A/N: truth be told I find eggs genuinely, criminally funny in every possible way, as well as disgusting, so happy Easter!
These egg things are hilarious, but also not nearly as fun as they seem, though if I'd had the genius idea to stick 'em on some balls I imagine I would've had a much better time tbh.
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You almost don't notice, too busy shoving your cup harshly against the ice dispenser before taking a long, deep, gulp of the cold liquid. But then you see it, and it's not the shock of cold to your esophagus that makes your eyes widen, spluttering icy water before sucking in a desperate breath.
No. It's the ghostly white figure rummaging around in your backyard on all fours.
You duck down just as it stands, holding on tightly to the counter edge with both hands, before crawling to the backdoor to check it's locked, keeping you safely inside away from whatever this thing was. But, just as you reach for the latch, the creature stands on two legs, stretching back with two thick arms on its waist.
The figure is broad, and tall, and... dressed in what appears to be a giant bunny onesie. Even with it's head covered in a white hood, bunny ears flapping as the creature bends and moves, you know what it is. Who it is. You'd recognize those shoulders just about anywhere, and no one else would pull something like this at 9pm on a Sunday.
It had been weeks since you last saw him, but you can't say that was a surprise - what you had wasn't exactly a regular thing, if it could be called a thing at all. That doesn't mean you hadn't been hoping for it, counting down the days to the next holiday in hopes you'd see him again - There was no denying your disappointment St. Patrick's day came and went with no sign of a leprechaun and a pot of gold. Now, he was finally here, dressed head to toe in a bunny suit, doing fuck knows what to your lawn.
"The fucker..."
Unlocking the door, you slink out into the night, sliding it closed behind you before creeping across the yard. This was new, getting to be the one to surprise him. He may have been in your yard, but with each soft step of your foot on the grass it looked like you were finally going to one up him.
But then he turns around, looking toward the house and seemingly straight through you for a moment...
Before his eyes focus on you in the dark, and everything in his hands goes tumbling to the ground as he practically leaps out of his bunny suit.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ."
"We've got to stop meeting like this," you say watching Joel's giant bunny ears flap in the air with his movement as he bends, reaching down to the grass to pick up the basket he dropped.
"You half scared the shit outta me, what're you doin' out here?" he grumbles as he rights himself.
"What are you doing out here? It's my yard. You Bunny Joel this time?" you joke, crossing your arms over your chest in a not-so-smooth attempt to cover yourself. Getting properly dressed had been the last thing on your mind when you stumbled down the stairs, legs still jelly and head still fuzzy from post-orgasm bliss. The only thought that registered was how damn thirsty you were as you tugged a worn, old shirt over your head and made your way to the kitchen. It wasn't cool enough to blame the temperature shift on your quickly puckering nipples, and you didn't feel like explaining where your panties were or why your thighs were simultaneously sticky and slippery. You're just grateful you put on anything at all, and at the very least it was long enough to cover your ass.
Joel smirks, your fruitless attempt at modesty not going unnoticed. "Ain't no regular bunny, darlin'. I'm the Easter Bunny."
"And the difference is...?"
"Eggs."
You laugh, folding yourself over a little as you giggle into the night. The whole get up really is ridiculous enough on its own, yet here you are discussing the nuances of being a giant bunny with a man more fond of playing dress up than anyone else you'd ever met.
"Eggs?"
You spot them as soon as the word leaves your mouth - four colorful eggs sat neatly in his basket, and another nestled into your flowerbed. Only, they don't look like normal eggs at all. Squinting in the dark, the yard lit only by shitty solar lights you'd bought online last summer, you can make out the neat patterns swirled all over them. This was not the handiwork of some enthusiastic child dying eggs for Easter - they looked professionally painted. Joel shakes the basket at you as you continue to squint at it, and you realise not a single one has cracked or broken, even after being dropped on the floor.
"What are they? Egg shaped bouncy balls?"
"Got some balls right here if you're really that interested," he jokes, looking obscene as he waggles his eyebrows at you beneath the hood of the bunny onesie. "Here, they're just these... things. My brother got 'em for me as a joke, it's a long story."
He passes you one of the eggs, the surface smooth and cool in your hand. There's writing on it that you can just about make out, but you still have no clue what you're holding as you turn it around in your palm.
Sensing your confusion, Joel offers a choice gesture, as he explains that they're for "Y'know."
It clicks. Well, sort of. You know for sure then that they're not something you could sneak away for some solo playtime, like with the plug he dutifully left on by your bedside so many weeks ago but maybe, like the contraptions Joel had strapped over his balls your last two encounters, you could enjoy them together.
"Wait, so... you're giving me a thing for anatomy I don't even have?"
"No it's not like that, I just thought - I, well, shit."
"I'm just fuckin' with you, Bunny Joel. Though giving me a gift that's really a gift for yourself is a bit of a dick move."
"Ain't a dick move if you like 'em, sweetheart. And it's Easter Bunny Joel," he corrects with a wink, smiling at you as he drops the basket on the ground to pull at his neck tie. The man looks good in pink, you think, as he fiddles with the floppy satin.
"Y'know, Easter Bunny Joel doesn't quite roll off the tongue."
"Don't it?"
"Nope," you say with a pop, pinching the material of Joel's Bunny onesie to feel the fabric between your finger tips as your roll the egg across the palm of your other hand. "Think you need a better name than that."
"Okay, I'll bite. What you got in mind?"
You're walking your fingers down his chest now, dancing them in a criss-cross pattern across the fastenings at the front of the suit until you reach his hip and slowly you drag the tips of your fingers closer to his crotch until you're cupping his bulge. You wouldn't say he's entirely flaccid, there's certainly something there, but the length of him still feels pliable beneath your hand as you stroke over the front of his costume.
"I was thinking... Flopsy," you say with a squeeze of your palm against his cock, biting back a laugh when you hear him hiss a breath of night air through his teeth.
"Real funny."
"What? If you're committed to the bit, I can be too," and before he can protest you slip the fingers of your free hand between the fastenings on the front of his suit. You can feel his skin underneath, hot and sticky, trapped beneath the synthetic fabric of the bunny costume. At the very least, he's topless under there, and eager to find out more, you quickly yank at the front, grinning devilishly at Joel as the fabric pops open slightly.
"You really wanna be gettin' into this out here?"
"You scared, Flopsy?" you say, with another squeeze to his now much harder cock. "That side is up for sale, and Janet is out of town until Tuesday. No one's seeing anything. Unless you're scared someone might hear something... but I guess you'll just have to keep quiet."
"F- you're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he mutters, pulling at his pink tie so it hangs loosely around his neck, giving him better movement to look down at your hand where it strokes his cock over the soft plush of the rabbit costume.
You tug again at the suit and with a rapid pop pop pop, the remaining fastenings hiding his chest from you pull open, revealing him to you and... he's a mess. From the neck down he's covered in streaks of paint, multicolored blooms splattered across him, dusting his ribs like a rainbow of bruises.
"Kid had some powder paint stuff - y'know that festival of color thing? Well, kid had some left after a party with a friend from school... had a little fight in the yard earlier before I dropped her back with her mom for the week," he explains quickly, rubbing a hand nervously against his chest and smearing the splattered rainbow there. You make a mental note, adding has a kid to the very short list of confirmed facts you know about Joel. It's not exactly a surprise revelation, all things considered - the costumes had to come from somewhere, and most grown men don't just have fairy wings and toy bows and arrows lying around.
"Well, Flopsy, you make a mighty fine canvas, but I think I might need a hand with this."
The egg you'd been turning in your hand is deposited back into his grasp just as you tug him forward giving him a peck on the chin as you look at him expectantly. Joel knows he shouldn't pull you toward him and kiss you out here, he thinks he knows that the expectant look is nothing to do with kissing him and everything to do with the egg in his hand, but he does anyway. Slotting his mouth against yours, he pulls you into his chest, the sweat of his skin transfering blotches of paint from his chest to your old shirt. But you don't care, holding yourself tighter to him, pushing your fingers underneath his hood to card them through his hair. Joel groans into your mouth when your fingertips rub at his scalp. You're in half a mind to call him such a good bunny but the air, and the thought, is knocked out of you the next second when he presses a hand against your ass, pulling you further into him so he can grind his hardened length against your lower belly.
It's been far too long since someone held you against them like this, and far too long since Joel had had someone like you in his arms. As he kisses and kisses you, you're starting to feel more and more insane, and maybe you are - maybe accepting this man into your home with such regularity is the mark of insanity, some kind of as-of-yet undiscovered syndrome that's going to be named after you.
Eventually, you muster the strength to pull away, slapping a hand gently to his chest and nodding down to the egg gripped in his fist. You're eager to see it in action, even if you still can't quite picture what it is.
"C'mon, open it for me. Gotta properly thank the Easter Bunny for bringing me Easter eggs."
Joel slips the wrapper of the egg, something you never could've figured out on your own without decent lighting to guide your way, and presses a thumb into the side of it, popping the top off the egg in one smooth movement.
Before he can hand it to you, you slip down to your knees, bare shins resting against the cool, damp grass. It's a beautiful clear night, not trace of the moon in sight just yet, but the glimmer of stars sparkling relentlessly overhead regardless. You hadn't noticed how hot you'd gotten, but being around Joel always seemed to do this to you. Your cheeks felt hot, your heart beat faster, and your head felt slightly dizzy - the result of it emptying itself of all thoughts except the ones that made you make questionable decisions it seemed. Of course, this time the heat wasn't just from proximity, but from that damned fabric of his costume, the synthetic fibers making you feel sweaty as you held onto him. The grass beneath you is a welcome relief against your warm skin, sending the fine hairs on your body prickling at the sensation.
"This how you say thank you to everyone? On your knees?"
"It's how I say thank you to giant bunnies, Joel," you quip back, pressing a kiss to the softness of his belly. You litter a string of kisses down the trail of hair until you reach the boundary of the bunny suit. Whether he's commando or you have another layer to get through, you don't yet know, but you waste no time finding out. With the hook of your finger and a final swift pull, the last fastenings bursts open, revealing Joel's heavy length straining against the front of his boxers. Where his tip tents the fabric, a darker patch blooms, turning the gray practically black with precum.
In your dreams, and there had been many of them, it didn't go like this. Dream you rarely went three rounds with themselves before Joel popped up to come fuck her brains out. Dream you was clever. And, as good as your solo session this evening was, you can't help but have a little regret for ruining yourself before the surprise main event. It was like eating a big meal right before someone suggested getting pizza. You could (and damn well would) eat pizza, but you couldn't enjoy it the same way. Pizza or Joel, you were going to savor it as best you could.
"Such a tease, Flopsy," you murmur as you kiss across his covered cock, nuzzling your face into it and watching in glee as his hand grips the opened egg that little bit tighter. Your fingers are pulling again, this time tugging down at his waistband. Joel is in half a mind to rid the egg of its shell and use the damn thing as a stress ball. It had been too long since last time, and since he last came two fucking days ago, to be seeing you on your knees for him in that flimsy t-shirt. It felt like a gift from the heavens and divine retribution wrapped up in one you shaped package.
As you pull his cock from the confines of his boxers, feeling the deep pulse of the blood in his veins as you wrap your fingers around him, you can't believe your luck at getting to see it in the flesh again. As brilliantly as your mind can concoct the image of it, the reality of it is so much better than any fantasy. Before you let yourself get lost in it, you reach for Joel's hand, grabbing the egg back from him and watching the top fall to the ground and roll across your lawn.
"It stretches. Goes over and you just - uh - stroke with it I guess."
The inside is far from what you expected. You almost find it gross, the translucent white interior far squishier than you expected that it'd be bordering on slimey if it was wet too. Joel laughs down at you, seeing your face as you try to work out what the fuck you're holding, pulling it free from the rest of the shell and seeing a hole stuffed with a plastic tube. You can see what he means now, and you let a soft oh fall from your lips as you tug the tube filled with a sachet of lube from the middle of the toy. You feel inside, running your fingers over soft ridges, and you can only imagine how nice it must feel sliding wetly up and down a cock and, not for the first time in your life, you wish you could experience it yourself. But, the next best thing is right in front of you, and that'll have to do.
"These feel good?" you ask, his eyes turning glassy as you examine the inside of the stroker while your hand still tugs slowly up and down his cock.
Joel sighs deeply, nodding down at you, the obscene bunny ears still flopping on his head with each movement. "S'good. Nothin' like the real deal but, yeah. Feel nice."
Gripping Joel's cock in your fist, you begin to stroke gently up and down, sliding his foreskin back and forth over his cock until he's steely hard beneath your palm. The solar lights are starting to dim, their charge from the day already running out, but you can still see the dusky red tip, and the blue of the vein that runs down his shaft. You squish the toy in your other hand, the temptation to taste too strong to just leave all the fun to the squishy silicone. So, you press a delicate kiss right to the tip.
"Oh fuck," Joel hisses.
"Missed it," you confess on your knees with another kiss.
"Yeah? Well, s'all yours." Mine.
"Really? Your bunny wife not going to chase me out of my own yard?"
"Know damn well I ain't got a wife, I ain't the cheatin' kind, darlin', don't you worry."
And that admission alone sends your aching cunt throbbing between your legs, wishing even more desperately now that you weren't completely wrecked and oversensitive from your ill-timed playtime upstairs.
"Good," is all you say before taking his head in your mouth with a swirl of your tongue, a satisfied moan vibrating against his tip as you taste him properly for the first time in 4 months. "I've been thinking about doing this."
"Yeah? Been thinking about sucking my cock?"
"Mhm."
"Shit."
A simple continuous swirl of your tongue and small bob of your head was apparently enough to have him gripping his hands into tight fists, clearly fighting some internal demons to keep himself from coming so soon. Your mind absolutely fizzes with it, that this man wants you, likes what you do to him so much that you can have such an affect on him. And when you suck lightly, his head tips back so far the hood slides back off his head. All you can see is the underside of his jaw from where you look up from your knees, and when looks back down at you with heavy eyes, he looks the most normal you've ever seen him. He's not Santa, nor Cupid, and the costume that had rendered him Bunny Joel just a second ago instead drapes around him like nothing more than a soft, white coat.
"Thought about you tasting you," you mutter between mouthing at his cock, slicking his entire length with your saliva. "Having you come in my mouth. On my face."
Joel groans again, much louder this time and you can't help but laugh, mouth pressed to his balls, at his feeble attempt at silence. You press the tip of your finger, egg still clutched in your fist, to his dribbling slit, and drag a tooth grazing kiss across his sensitive ball skin as you silence him with a whisper.
"Shh, Flopsy. You don't want us to get caught."
"Fuckin' Flopsy, I should -"
But you don't hear what he should do, because you engulf his tip with your mouth once again and Joel finds himself speechless as you immediately slide your lips further down his slicked length with ease. You work him in your mouth, sucking him as you move up and down. He can't stop moaning, he doesn't even try. He should, he thinks. You deserve better than getting caught in your backyard doing something like this, but all he can think about each time you move your tongue just like that is how fucking good your mouth feels.
He feels like he's going to come. Your hand is massaging gently over his balls, your mouth working his cock to a near frenzy, and he is absolutely, one hundred percent sure he's going to come. You know he's almost there. If the groaning wasn't enough, the tightening in his balls and the twitching of his cock were a clear sign he was about to blow.
Then you stop.
Just like that, your mouth is gone. Your hands too. And he's having to force himself to look down at you where you stare in awe at the stroker in your hands, glistening with lube you'd poured into it as he bit his lip and fought off coming, untouched, into the breeze.
You want to use it on him, to listen to him groan as you stroke him with the soft silicone, and watch his every move as you work him over the edge. And his cock, as if calling to you like some kind of siren of the sea, beckons you in, accepting an offering of one last kiss before you raise the stroker.
"It's so stretchy," you gasp, as you slide the toy over the tip of Joel's cock. You can pull it almost all the way down the length of him. You make a few experimental twists and jerks, before settling into a slow rhythm, teasing him just as you'd teased yourself and dragged out your own orgasm upstairs.
It's interesting. Slipperier than your own hand, easier than your own mouth, but not quite the same as either. You can't feel him like this, and you certainly can't taste him.
"Do you like it?" you ask, and Joel doesn't quite know what to answer. He does like it - he likes having your hands on him any way he can get it, but he can't feel you in the same way like this. And it's definitely not as good as your mouth, or any other hole of yours he's fucked.
There's just enough light to see his face give a noncommittal twitch and you're peeling the toy off of him, sucking his tip back into your mouth quickly, moaning as the taste of him hits your tongue.
"Good, because I prefer it like this too."
"Fuck, yeah."
Now though, you have a lubed up, saggy egg in your hand and nowhere to put it. Until an absolutely inspired idea hits you square in the face and you're grinning with Joel's cock in your mouth.
He barely sees the fiendish look in your eye, just notices as you pull off him again, and he could scream. Then, something smooth and cold coats his balls. Your fingers are cradling him delicately, thumb and forefinger stretching open the toy until with a gentle wiggle, his balls are encased in the squishy silicone. And holy fuck, is it like nothing he's ever felt.
"Don't think that's how you use it, darlin'. But, shit, it's good," he gasps as you gently massage his balls through the toy. It's like having a soft cool mouth encasing his entire ballsack, while your actual mouth kisses delicately all over his cock. "C'mon now, stop your teasin', gotta come in the pretty fuckin' mouth."
He's back in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence, your mouth sounding wet an obscene as you work him up and up and up all over again. You draw him in deeper, his cock meeting the back of your throat, over and over, his hand coming to cup your face and delicately wipe away a tear from your watering eyes. Fuck, you're wishing more than ever that you could just jump on him, that your cunt wasn't wrecked, or that it didn't matter, that you could go infinite rounds and still want to be touched again and again. But that wasn't you. You had a limit and, even though you'd reached it, the want in you didn't go away and neither did the slick feeling between your legs or the deep throb of your pulse beating away in your clit.
Joel's fingers grip tighter on the side of your face, a soft thrust of his hips meeting every movement of your head. Catching his eye almost kills you then and there with his cock wedged at the back of your throat. He looks as wrecked as you feel, dark eyes shining down like black holes from space now that the light from your solar lamps has all but fucked off. The paint and rabbit ears almost fade away into the background as you hold yourself down on his cock, making yourself whine around him. You're starting to think if you sucked his cock for long enough you could make yourself come totally untouched, but you don't want to think about it. You can't.
He takes over then. Each slip of your lips down his cock met with a gentle hold, until you both do it all over again. It's easier to hold for longer each time, almost feeling deeper with each slide of his cock across your tongue, the taste of his precum making you salivate as much as having your mouth filled and occupied is.
Then, he presses you down, holding your head as you moan and whine and try desperately to swallow around him, to take more of him as he only seems to get harder.
"Not so Flopsy now, huh?" he asks, releasing you and pushing your head down on his cock once more.
He's fucking into your mouth now, small shallow thrusts hitting the back of your throat, your hand working the toy slickly across his balls as he moans more desperately than you've ever heard him moan before. Despite your teasing and edging, he's the one holding back now, the feel of your mouth on his cock, your nails scratching at his belly, and that damned toy sliding across his balls far too much for him to want to let go of any time soon.
But fuck is he close, and if he's not careful he's going to ruin it for himself by holding back and exploding without warning. He's waited too long for that to happen.
"I'm gonna -"
"Mhm!" you groan around his dick, nodding as much as you can with it in your mouth. You steady your hand against his waist, taking over all movement as he stills the slow gyration of his hips, bobbing your head faster as you suck him down. The swirl and flick of your tongue is positively relentless, and everything feels so wet and warm and fucking perfect that he knows he's a goner.
"Hn-uhhhhh, fuck. Ah, fuck, don't stop, don't stop, fuck, ugh!"
He bursts, salty in your mouth, filling your throat as you swallow around him, massaging and gripping his heavy balls as they twitch in your palm through the thick silicone.
You're only a bit of a mess when you pull off of him. Your lips are swollen and tingly, your hand slippery with lube, but you are totally, utterly content. The slick feeling between your legs is still there, so is the throb, but you're as satisfied as you could possibly be.
Pulling yourself to your feet is another story. Your legs have gone a bit numb from sitting on your knees for so long, and you stumble as you fight to right yourself, Joel catching you just before you tumble into the flowerbed. You laugh in his arms, his mouth pressed to yours as he swallows the sound, consumes it, wills it to make home in his body so he never forgets it.
Joel's fingers work their way under your thin shirt. He'd been looking between your face and your nipples the entire time you were on your knees for him, and he suspects you're entirely naked under there. When his fingers meet your sticky thighs, he thinks he's hit the jackpot, and is ready to return the favor through the haze of his own orgasm, when you stop him.
"I, uh... sorted myself out not too long ago. A few times."
"Damn, if I'd known I woulda come right up and helped you out myself. Thought you were sleepin', house was dark. Jus' playing with this sweet thing all along, huh?"
If he had known, he would have known how much you thought about him as you fucked yourself on your fingers. He would have known how you used the plug he left on your bedside table more than any of the others, crying his name out into the lonely expanse of your bedroom as you came quicker, and harder, than you had any right to. If he had known, he'd know how well and truly fucked you were over a man you still knew practically nothing about.
Of course, you knew some physical things. You knew what he looked like naked, how broad he was and how sweaty he got when he fucked you. You knew what he sounded like groaning into your mouth or laughing at a silly quip you'd thrown at him. You knew what he tasted like, and what you tasted like off of his tongue. But that was where your knowledge of him ended. You didn't know what he did for work, or if he even liked his job. You didn't know his favorite food or color. You didn't know what he sang in the car. You didn't know where he lived or what he drove - you didn't even know his full name, and you knew exactly why.
You were scared. Terrified, actually. Terrified to really get to know him, to break that blissful illusion of the tall, dark stranger who rocked your world on a seasonal basis, only to find you didn't like him at all. Or worse - that he didn't like you.
So, when you walk him through your house, egg disposed of and hands washed, listening to the soft snap of his suit being closed up around his bare body, you desperately try to ignore the longing ache in your chest, stopping any request for him to stay, to take you out for coffee in the morning before it stupidly tumbles out of your mouth. That's not what this is.
Instead, you wordlessly reach for your keys, smiling sweetly to him as if you hadn't just been waging war against yourself inside your head.
"What're you doing," he says, pointing to the keys held in your hand. "Goin' somewhere, or comin' home with me?"
"No, smart ass, this is a key, it locks doors. Just gonna lock up after you leave."
Joel's smile drops from his face. And you don't know why, but it has alarm bells immediately blaring in your head.
"What?" you ask nervously, eyes darting around his face as if you're trying to read his mind as he takes a slow step toward you, a frown slowly pulling his brow down as he pieces some mystery together.
"The door locks when it closes, then you the take the key and lock it again after?"
"... Maybe? Yes?"
"Wait. And you're tellin' me you do that every night."
"Yes, I lock my door every night Joel, what's wrong with that." Obviously your lock was no match for his lock picking skills, but you didn't consider that Joel perhaps didn't know how locks worked at all.
"What's wrong with that is you're unlocking your door every night and leaving it unlocked all night."
Your blood turns cold. You don't know why. You could just not believe him, or test for yourself, but something about his reaction, and his seemingly easy ability to get into your house, tells you that what he says is exactly right. It's your turn for your smile to drop, and you can feel it slip off your face just as your heart starts rapidly hopping in your chest.
"Oh. I - I thought..."
"It ain't that kind of lock, sweetheart. You never checked it after lockin' it?"
"No. No I - My last place, the lock, I had to - oh my god." There's dread now. A sickening cocktail of feelings swirling through your body, turning you red hot and cold over and over as you think of all the things that could've happened, how lucky you were they didn't, after all this time. Damn near a year, and you hadn't figured out how to properly work your own fucking door.
"How d'you think I been gettin' in? Didn't exactly climb down the chimney or fly in through the window the last two times. Maybe shouldn'ta done it that first time, but your tree was driving me mad, seein' it bare like that every time I drove past. You weren't in and the door was open, was only gonna be quick and then..."
You're not listening. Your heart has just stopped like it's been hurtled into a brick wall at 100mph. "Wait, you drive past my house?"
"Where else am I gonna fuckin' drive?!"
A thousand million volts straight to your chest, and your heart is beating again, racing, your voice raising with it, brandishing the pointy end of your key at him like it could save you now. "Have you been stalking me?"
"What? No! I live down the fuckin' street, I drive by to get to my house, I thought you knew that."
"Down the street?"
"Yes. I'm hardly gonna come from outta town just to fix your lights and your sink and fuck off again. I was just... bein' neighborly, I guess."
"You've been in my house fixing my shit without me here?"
It's just revelation after revelation. You can't believe it. You can't believe yourself for one, but you can't believe him either. Only you can. You very much believe him, and you hate that you do and you hate that, deep down, you know he's right and you're exactly the kind of idiot he's undoubtedly thinking you are.
"You ain't fuckin' noticed?! You had a light out in here, your kitchen faucet was drippin', your railin' in your hall closet was bust... you didn't notice anythin'? Are you even fuckin' in that pretty head o' yours?"
Suddenly you're feeling very stupid. The door is one thing, the minor home repairs another, but you'd been under the impression you were both on the same page this entire time. That it was some silly game you played, two strangers who had next to no clue about each other. All this time he knew who you were, but you were too fucking preoccupied and distracted and stupid to see that he was right there.
The heat in your checks crackles in your ears, misting over your eyes and making your entire body feel fuzzy. That fight or flight you'd been wondering about for the last few months has suddenly decided to make an appearance, settling on both as you fight back tears with a quivering lip.
"Get out." It's silent fury, building white hot as the seconds tick by with him standing, staring at you like you're the one dressed as a giant rabbit and not him.
"What? Darlin', c'mon, it's okay -"
"Get. Out." You wrench the door open, pushing him and his stupid fucking bunny costume out, shoving the basket of eggs into his arms once he crosses the doorway.
"Bye." You slam the door, the stupid fucking self locking door, and slide down it, head in your hands. You have never felt so fucking stupid.
taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#pedro pascal characters#coveted fics#big bawl jawl#never forget the balls#fic: dress up joel
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Hey! I have to ask because you seem like a good resource, I have never had a PIEROGI before, and want to know if you have any good recipes for them?
PIEROGI RECIPE from my babcia
ingredients:
10 medium sized potatoes
250g curd cheese, or a mix of ricotta and cream cheese
1 large onion
salt and pepper
sour cream, butter, & bacon to serve
and, for the dough:
4 cups white plain flour
approx 1 cup of water
tablespoon of olive oil
(or you can buy round dumpling sheets from asian supermarket if lazy)
TO MAKE
peel, cut and boil potates until cooked
chop your onion finely and caramelise it in a bit of oil.. don't let em burn or they'll taste bitter
mash your potates and cheese. add the onion, salt and pepper, and mix very well. cover with glad wrap and set aside
in a mixing bowl add your flour and salt to taste. start adding the water or oil until you have a dough you can roll out very thinly
put a large pot full of water to boil, add one tsp of salt & a glug of cooking oil to stop the sticking
knead your dough a few times til it becomes elastic and easy to work with
lightly flour your work surface and, with a rolling pin, roll the dough as thin as possible, like 1-2mm. the thinner you can do this the yummier the final result, but work within your comfort zone, as you don't want the pierogi to split when boiling
use a glass to cut circles out of the dough
placing the circle of dough in the palm of your hand, stretch slightly and add a heaped teaspoon or more of the potato/cheese mixture. yummy!
stretch the dough around the mixture to seal into a dumpling, and place them on a floured plate
when you're ready, boil your pierogi about 5 or 6 at a time, making sure they don't stick to each other or the pan. boil til they float to the surface.
pull them out with a slotted spoon and lay them on a draining board to cool
congrats! you have make delicious pierogi ruskie. you can eat them straight away, but i loooove to fry them all crispy in oil and butter... i hope this brings you so much love and dumpling
#this took ages to answer cos i was abroad but wanted to give you my best recipe ever#you can put anything in a pierog really but this is the classic mixture i grew up with#we make loads and loads of them in the months leading up to christmas#happy cooking op! thanks for the message#asked#pierogi#recipe#dumpling
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do you have some favourite go-to recipes? i would love any of your recommendations!! xx
we eat the same few things on rotation in our house, as I do all the cooking, and I like a) one-pot meals, and b) pasta, preferably. most of these are fairly low effort but you get a lot of bang for your buck flavour-wise, and they're endlessly customisable!
also, listen, I don't do measurements. follow your heart and taste as you go.
the tiktok viral baked feta pasta from like 4 years ago
ingredients: plum or cherry tomatoes, a block of feta (or boursin if you're feeling flush), garlic, pasta
optional extras: spinach, cannellini beans, chili crisp
recipe: whack your tomatoes, sliced garlic, and olive oil in a big dish. nestle your feta in there. I like to add a tin of drained cannellini beans at this point to bulk it out/cut down on the pasta/make the texture confusing, but you don't have to. stick it in the oven at like 180-200C for half an hour ish. after half an hour boil your pasta. retrieve your oven dish, stir everything up to desired consistency (I'm a chunk girl). you can add spinach while you do this for extra greenery, or a massive spoonful of chili crisp for heat and crunch, but it's good on its own. add the pasta and some pasta water if you need. voila. you simply cannot go wrong.
gochujang and hummus pasta
ingredients: gochujang (this keeps forever in the fridge so it's a good kitchen investment), a tub of hummus, garlic, white onion, parm
optional extras: parsley
recipe: chop onion and garlic, sling them in a pan with butter and a splash of EVOO. when the onion is sufficiently sweaty and nice, add a dollop of gochujang (the bigger the dollop the spicier the end result) and stir it all in, followed by the whole tub of hummus. boil the pasta. add the cooked pasta to the pan, along with some pasta water, a shit load of grated parm, and garnish with parsley. my friend sent me a vegan version of this recipe about a year ago and I've made the non-vegan version roughly once a week since. it is so fucking delicious.
butter bean thing
ingredients: butter beans, garlic, red onion, tomato paste, cream/double cream/greek yog, lemon, sourdough/nice crusty bread
optional extras: parsley
recipe: throw chopped garlic and onion in a pan with butter and EVOO and really let them sweat it out. add tinned butter beans WITH THE JUICE. yes, I know. add in a few good squirty piles of tomato paste and stir, then let it all heat through. at this point start toasting your crusty bread of choice because I ALWAYS forget until the end and then I'm rushed. I recommend splurging for the good bread, slathered with melty butter. add whatever creamy thing you have to hand (the og recipe I saw said double cream, but I usually have greek yoghurt in and that does the job) to the beans, along with some lemon juice, garnish with parsley if you like and serve. use the bread as a giant spoon. you are welcome.
sausage soup/stew? casserole??
ingredients: celery, white onion, carrot, sausage/s, cherry tomatoes, tinned tomatoes, chicken broth, parm
optional extras: creamy thing of your choice, spinach, orzo
recipe: dice the celery, carrot and onion (mirepoix!), and throw it in a big big big pot with some EVOO. now: I get a pack of nice sausages and either mash or chop them depending on how much energy I have, but if you live somewhere with a butcher or whatever you can save your mashing arm and just get ground sausage. throw in the ground, mashed, or chopped sausage and cook for a bit. follow with a tin of chopped tomatoes and chicken broth. I usually put in about a litre. chop the cherry toms and toss them in. follow with a load of grated parm. if you have any parm rinds, throw em in and leave it to bubble away. this doesn't sound like much but it is so good. the longer you leave it the more flavourful it will be! towards the end I like to add in whatever creamy thing is in the fridge (double cream, greek yog, milk), along with lots of chopped spinach and a cup of orzo to really bulk it up. we can happily live on this for DAYS, especially if we have leftover fancy crusty bread from the gochujang pasta. oh and remember to take out the parm rind.
thai chicken curryish
ingredients: chicken (thigh/breast), garlic, ginger, yellow peppers, spring onion, cashew nuts, rice, coconut milk, chicken broth
optional extras: sriracha, coriander
recipe: I love this one cos it is SO quick and SOOOO easy. cut chicken into chunks and brown it in the pot. whip it back out and throw in the chopped garlic and ginger (I have a tube of ginger paste in the fridge cos WHO has the time?) with a big glug of EVOO, then a cup of rice. jasmine works, but I've also used risotto rice. toss in the chopped peppers, spring onion and cashew nuts (if I have the energy I'll chop the nuts, but you can put em in as-is), then add coconut milk (a tin's amount, be that an actual tin or some of the melted stuff that costs 1/4 of the price - thanks Asian supermarket!) and chicken broth. put the browned chicken back in, give it all a stir, cover it, and stick it in the oven for like 25ish mins. here’s the NYT recipe if you need liquid measurements/an actionable recipe that isn’t me riffing. (as always, 12ft.io/ in front of the address to bypass the paywall.) serve it with sriracha squirted all over it (HIGHLY RECOMMEND) and coriander if you like it.
delicious little rice waffle
ingredients: leftover jasmine rice, chili crisp, an egg, kewpie mayonnaise, sesame oil, spring onion, A WAFFLE MAKER
optional extras: furikake
recipe: full disclosure, you need a little waffle maker for this. mix the rice with chili crisp, a little sesame oil, and egg yolk. dollop it into the waffle maker and cook. garnish with kewpie mayo, sliced spring onion and some furikake if you have it, or just toasted sesame seeds if you have those, or neither! delicious little spicy umami snack, my beloved.
tuna melt of dreams
ingredients: you know what's in a tuna melt
recipe: swap the butter on the outside of the bread for kewpie mayonnaise and thank me later.
ADDENDUM: this goes without saying for me but sadly I know it does not for everybody: SEASON YOUR FOOD WITH SALT. IT WON'T MAKE YOUR FOOD SALTY IT WILL MAKE IT DELICIOUS. COOK YOUR PASTA IN SALT. WHEN IN DOUBT, ADD SOME SALT. THANK YOU.
#these are our staples#every so often I will come home with a bunch of new recipes and try them all and add some to rotation#Bon Appetit's dan dan pappardelle was a fixture last year cos it is SO FUCKIN TASTY but also a bit of a faff to make#SEND ME ALL YOUR EASY BREEZY ONE POT RECIPES!!!#THANKS!!!#answered#this was fun thanks
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Anonymous: I absolutely loved Momma Donna / Alcina but I can only imagine them catching their child reader whose now a young adult (maybe 20 yrs) smoking pot with the dimitrescu daughters lol maybe uncle Karl too
Haha! Yeah, that checks out. I did Alcina in this one and I’ll try to make another for Donna. Post this ask is talking about here! Let’s get into it!
Y/N, Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Sitting on the roof of the castle high as fuck*
Y/N: Do y'all ever notice how… Tall Mama is? That’s weird, right?
Cass: *Eyes wide, laughs* She is really tall! When you were little, she could hold your entire body in one hand!
Dani: *Starts bawling out of nowhere, crawls over to Y/N on all fours* You were so smmmaaaalllll! Why can’t you be like that now? *Pinching Y/N’s cheeks, buries her face in their hair*
Y/N: *Trying to push Dani off* Quit snotting all over me, Dani! Nasty!
Bela: Well, in my mind, Y/N’s still little. *Picks Y/N up and cradles them like a baby* Precious, itsy-bitsy, squish!
Y/N: H-hey, put me down! I’m too stoned for this!
Dani: Group hug, everybody!
Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Squeeze the shit out of Y/N, trying to wrestle them out of each other’s arms*
Cass: It’s my turn to hold, Y/N!
Dani: No, mine!
Cass and Dani: *Pulling Y/N in two different directions, getting rougher*
Y/N: Let me go! You’re gonna tear me apart!
Cass: Ha, a maiden in the dungeon said that to me earlier when I was torturing her. That was fun…
Y/N: *Freaked out* If you let me go, I’ll show you where I keep my snack stash!
Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Quickly drop Y/N, have the munchies*
Bela: *Grabs Y/N by the collar* Show us, Y/N! I need a twinkie or something! Anything!
Y/N: It’s in a box under my bed!
Bela and Dani: *Start running off*
Cass: Wait, idiots! That’s where Y/N keeps their girly magazines!
Y/N: O.o What the fuck, Cass! You’ve been looking through my things?!
Cass: *Brings a hand to her mouth, laughing* Damn, I was just kidding, you perv! You actually have porn under your bed?
Y/N: *About to die from embarrassment*
Dani: *Laughing her ass off*
Alcina: *Clears her throat*
Y/N, Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Startled, turn and look behind them*
Alcina: *Furious, tapping her foot* What is going on up here?! You’re making a racket! And Y/N, how tasteless! You’re throwing out those magazines immediately!
Y/N: My mom knows about my porn. Kill me now. Somebody throw me off the top of this roof.
Alcina: *Spots the weed* Outrageous! You four have been getting high up here?!
Dani: Yeah! Fuck the police!
Cass and Y/N: *Start laughing*
Bela: I would have suggested something more like defund the police, but I agree.
Y/N: That too, but definitely fuck the police.
Alcina: *Growls* Silence!
Y/N, Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Shut their mouths*
Alcina: *Looks at Bela, Cass, and Dani* Look what you three have done to your baby sibling! Corrupting them with drugs!
Y/N: Yeah! I’m completely innocent in this! Tell ‘em, Mama!
Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Shoot murderous looks at Y/N*
Bela: It was your weed, you imbecile!
Y/N: *Sticks their tongue out at Bela, gives her the finger* No one likes a snitch, kiss-ass!
Alcina: *Appalled at Y/N’s behavior* No! No, no, no, no! My baby will not be using drugs, looking at pornography, or behaving like a ruffian! I forbid it!
Y/N: *Whips out their trusty puppy-dog eyes on Alcina* We just smoked to relax a bit, Mama. Are you mad at us??
Alcina: *Sighs and rubs Y/N’s head, can’t stay mad at her baby* Dragas, just promise me this will not happen again, alright?
Y/N, Bela, Cass, and Dani: We promise!
Alcina: Good. Now clean all of this up and go to bed.
Y/N, Bela, Cass, and Dani: *Start to leave*
Alcina: Y/N? Just a moment.
Y/N: *Cringes, stays back* Yes, Mama?
Alcina: I want all of those disgusting magazines and any drugs you have on my desk by tomorrow morning. Do you understand?
Y/N: *Sighs* Understood.
The next morning:
Alcina: *Smoked literally five bowls worth of Y/N’s weed, looking at the porn magazines* Wow, look at the gozongas on her! Not as good as mine, but flame recognize flame.
Alcina: *Makes up a silly song, giggling* Boobies, boobies. Yes, I have big boobies. I think they’re worth their weight in rubies.
Alcina: *Starts laughing hysterically* I should make one of those Ticky Tocks! I’m hilarious when I’m high!
Masterlist
#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#re8#re8 village#re8 lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu x reader#lady dimitrescu x reader#re8 shitpost#re8 incorrect quotes#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu
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Lucifer doting on a mama!reader [Sneak Peek]
Le gasp! what’s this?? A baby crib and a violin… how could these two possibly relate?? 🧐
Don’t fret, the final part to my pregnant!reader fic is coming! My plan is to have it dropped by this weekend, so a nice conclusion with a decent length. sorry this took a little longer than usual!
but i think you’ll be fed with this irresistible art by a mutual of mine that’ll be thrown into the pot! Here is only just a warmup sketch, but check out the wonderful artist, indxlulu, over on twt! Go give em a follow & see their other lucifer pieces 🤭
now, take this unedited morsel of what i’ve got cooking:
Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite awhile, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her.
The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. She was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.
You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.
You squished your daughters cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”
“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”
“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”
“What are you doing?” An amused, velvety voice came from across your room.
You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the babies lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.
There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.
He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter.
Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world was.
Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.
“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it.
“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.
“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.
You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.
“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke.
Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat.
Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again.
“How is everything going?”
“Good,” you lied.
“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you.
Lucifer’s cane twisting between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.
You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him.
Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever, his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.
You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet.
His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.
He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.
Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure.
You just needed to prove him wrong.
That’s it for now! See you soon 🤍
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It's a shame that Michael Richards turned out to be such a turboracist because it scuppered my pitch for a hit crossover film where the cops bust down Cosmo Kramer's door because they've mistaken him for the one who keeps sticking people in those traps, and at first he's miffed, but then afterwards he starts reading up on this Jigsaw guy, and there's this frog-boiling-in-a-pot conversation he has with Jerry where he's like, You know Jerry, I don't agree with everything the man did but I think he had some ideas that we shouldn't just dismiss out of hand, and a week later he's tracked down Jigsaw to pitch him "Kramer and Kramer Life coaching," and John keeps sticking him in increasingly over-the-top traps to get rid of him but Cosmo keeps sliding out of 'em like a greased weasel, and by the end of the movie John Kramer has turned himself into the police to get protective custody against Cosmo Kramer. George is absent for the entire film until he shows up briefly in the background as a participant in one of those "gut a person to retrieve the lifesaving key" traps, and then at the end of the movie he's just hanging out in Jerry's apartment with a serene expression on his face
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I've been reading the comments on reddit about the megabases and burnout, and the take that megabases are "facades", just there to look pretty with no function. Read that continuously it gets exhausting.
I don't know how to form my thoughts I'll just dump it all here:
First eyyyy Scar giving props again to Pearl and Bdubs that they aren't MC builders anymore they've ascended to great artists.
That leads me to the thought of megabases, there are ppl in HC who treats MC as a canvas, they genuinely enjoy building and if making megabases is their thing let em, no need to harp on that it has no function, yes it does it's their outlet and most importantly their art. If someone is building something big just to follow an imagined template in HC that's their misconception and if a viewer is complaining about this, there are hermits they can watch that has a different take, like Zed (have you seen the zedvancements?! amazing), Joe (tho he was building the massive pinball machine this season, it was a passion project for him), Etho, xB, Beef (his maps were mega xD, he loves doing it tho).
I remember Bdubs in s7 he was building his wonderful town and Grian told him it wasn't a megabase so he built his mountain and massive castle (btw is this why ppl thinking HC is about megabases?) Bdubs never appears to burnout when he's building. His solo series "Building with Bdubs" he's even challenging himself to build massive... my point is, there are ppl who geniunely likes building and ppl thumbing their nose at it are hurting the builders of HC.
Grian is the most prominent one who has megabase burnout, he always enjoy building when they are novel or is tied with lore. Grumbot, his bottle under the ocean, his stores, treesa, Cherry Tree in a pot, etc. Maybe stick with that (these are mostly relatively smaller builds).
The burnout comes from self-inflicted "rules" like megabases and what "content" will make the viewers engaged. Content is something they have to deal with because it's their job... they just need to do content that they enjoy. I'm pretty sure the hermits are brainstorming in their meetings. They will come up with something good.
AND I see this a lot too on reddit, ppl who are asking "Isn't HC vanilla?" passive-aggressively pointing at DO2's doors, cards, keys etc. now if you made Tango do those too in map form or have him make more farms for unique items for the treasure/shards, imagine the restocking... Tango would definitely burnout especially with how much those doors/custom items made him happy. He has done A LOOOOT for season 9. It irks me when ppl question if they are vanilla.
Let the hermits have their custom item models for their hats/elytra/weapons it adds something to their content and those simple things invigorates them and we enjoy their silliness with it.
*cue Bdubs gasping* "but we're vanilla!" when they requested for rain/snow to be shut off when they were ice racing.
#tldr#i hope this opinion dumping made sense#bdubs#pearlescentmoon#scar#tango#hermitcraft#they have been playing for more than 10 years#let them enjoy playing the way they want to#that translates to more amazing content
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♟ If they like board games, and how good they are at ‘em (for Armand)
and of course
☾ Sleeping habits (for Our Boys daniel/armand/louis 👀)
♟ If they like board games, and how good they are at ‘em (for Armand)
Does he like board games? Yes. Is he good at them? To the point Daniel has refused to play at times lmao
I just think he'd be the worst combination of rules lawyer but also arbitrary. Like if they're playing ticket to ride he's analyzing every move Daniel makes and denying him the ability to move a single car if it's already touched the board. You start placing your cars along a route and realize there's a better path? Too bad, you set one token down, Armand is not allowing take backs. Catan? He's ruthless, he knows the rules and will make life hell.
But he's also the kind of demon who learned about the concept of 'house rules' from drunk Daniel back in the 80s, and now the Trinity Gate monopoly nights take like seven hours because properties aren't being auctioned off and every time Lestat says anything about how this shit is unfair, he's the prince- he's forced to place $100 in the pot in the middle of the board and game drags on and on and fucking on.
Also I see him into those really complex modern board games that have like, six decks of cards, a rule book as thick as a dictionary, and need at least an hour to explain to a new player. Like wingspan or time stories. But that's fine because everyone in the household has their preferred complex game (I think Louis would dig time stories tbh) and he's down for any of them.
☾ Sleeping habits (for Our Boys daniel/armand/louis 👀)
Oh man oh man I had to marinate on this one, I have THOUGHTS.
This is a relationship configuration where Armand can sit back and be doted on and he's taking advantage of that. Like he is always always always sleeping in the middle on the nights they're all home. He just really enjoys the weight and comfort of being surrounded by the two of them but in like, two main configurations-
Armand on his back, with Louis and Daniel on their sides facing him- a fave because he gets the joy of their faces tucked up close to his cheek/neck, or a chin resting on his shoulder. ALSO because he gets the entertainment value of Louis and Daniel trying to figure out whose arm goes where like who gets to hold his waist, who gets a hand on his chest.
And it's awkward the first couple times because neither of them know if its okay if their arms brush, like what if they BOTH want their hand on Armand's chest? But after a few nights everyone is used to it, and occasionally Armand will feel Daniel's hand push against Louis' and shove it over a little just to be a pest. And Armand hears Louis sigh but he doesn't take the bait and push back like Lestat would, he just waits until the night Daniel is least expecting it and grabs his hand and holds onto it. And now they're buddies who share a bed with their shared boyfriend and hold hands and boy does that make for some interesting eavesdropping into Louis' mind for Armand.
Armand getting spooned by Louis, with Daniel on his side wrapped around Armand like an octopus- This one happens most often if Daniel is a straggler and comes to bed last. He has to lift Armand's arm, sneak in and snuggle up with his face buried in Armand's chest. And he's tall so being down this low results in his feet sticking off the bottom of the bed but that's alright, sometimes waking up with two people playing with his hair makes up for it.
And Armand likes this because he gets to feel squashed between them but his face is still out, and Louis would like it because his chin can rest atop Armand's head. Because I think both of them have some weird trauma that would lead them to wanting to be able to see their surroundings as soon as they open their eyes, and not want to feel smothered before they fall asleep. Like Louis getting buried in the wall in that coffin, and Armand's....everything. They're both a little hypervigilant as a result.
ALSO
In my heart of hearts Armand is like Lestat, a morning (evening?) person who is ready to get out of bed and go. But Louis and Daniel both like to linger in that space between death sleep and wakefulness, where they're napping like mortals and groggy.
And Daniel missed out on sleeping a full night with Armand for so long, right? Like as a mortal he'd wake up groping for Armand even though he's not there, and would wind up hugging a pillow instead.
So now whenever Armand springs out of bed alone and gets dressed he gets treated to the sight of Daniel shifting around until he snuggles up to Louis' arm and gets settled again. And Louis is so used to Lestat clinging that he doesn't even stir, he's accepted that tall blond men drooling on his shoulder is his fate ♥
#wow wow wow this is a novel lmao#i love them how did you manage to do this to me!!!#i feel so full of new thoughts and new energy#we gotta write the fic lmao it needs to happen!!!#vc headcanons#vc askgame#armand/daniel#armand/louis/daniel
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My Dad's Marinara Recipe (AUTHENTIC)(ITALIAN)(SIMPLE)(REAL)(NO BS)
this is my italian dads classic marinara sauce recipe. its shockly simple to make and requires few ingredients and very little simmer time. the secret to tomato forward bright fresh tasting sauce is all in using high quality tomatoes. its just enough mincing and sauteeing to feel like you Made something, its all in the proper timing of not burning the garlic and whatnot. once you master it you can really impress ppl
- mince an onion and sautee in the pot on low heat. add a generous pinch of salt
-mince 4-5 cloves garlic and add in when the onion is translucent and "overcome"
-about 1min-30secs later when garlic is fragrant add 2 cans tomatoes
-important: use quality tomatoes only: SAN MARANZO WHOLE PEELED TOMATOES. i get the cento brand usually. you can rough chop em by opening the can and sticking a knife in there to cut em all up
-cook on low heat just until the tomatoes are hot and it bubbles in the center.
- mix with spaghetti or any other pasta. can be used in other recipes if you wanna get fancy
Thank youuuuu! And thanks to all other recipe sharers.
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i hav been obsessed with ur blog and how u write anakin since i found it, i have a prompt and i would love to see what u do with it. all i will say is greasy nic addicted pothead linecook anakin. thank u god bless 🙏🙏
no bcos this is my sweet spot actually. something about linecooks having a sailor’s mouth, barking shit at people in their way, sweaty from labor and from the heat of appliances, flirting with the cute waitresses & giving them meals to go home with…
☥ he’s the guy that works the most, probably as much as he can, bcos hes like… hobby-less
☥ i’m imagining dane cook’s look from the movie “waiting…” so the black bandana around the hair to keep it out of his face. eyebrow piercing, maybe some lip piercings ….. ooooo
☥ the nic and pot is so real and so special to me. you’d more often than not catch him outside in the back having a smoke. one time he came to work with a bong and he passed it around with the other ppl in the back
☥ horsing around constantly with his coworkers like theyre all siblings that hate each other
☥ but when you walk in,,, he gets so bashful sometimes
“heyy, miss (y/n)…“
his coworkers mocking him, batting their lashes like, “hEyY, mIsS (y/N)—“ and he whips em with a towel a little to get em to shut up
☥ always leaning on things, any excuse to get closer to you. you pick up a plate and he throws a towel over his shoulder and hes chewing on a toothpick and hes like, “when’s your shift up?” bcos he wants to hang out with you after even if its just smoking with you in his car
☥ he’s got that oral fixation, his vape, a cig if hes got it, pre-rolls he has in the pocket in his apron, toothpicks, toying with his snake bite lip rings when he talks to you
☥ you get so nervous around him bcos he looks so big and mean and acts so commanding in the kitchen. you like him in that black shirt he wears all the time even if it’s stained with food and sweat and it tucks so nicely into his apron
☥ listening to his shitty music on his shitty radio and every other song he’s like “ohhh this is a good one, this is a good one—“
“this is your playlist, ani—“
“shut up and listen. this chick is a genius. listen to this.”
he’s such a jackass.
he’d probably grab your hand on the way out and twirl you to the song. “dance, waitress, dance.”
☥ he rly would be so greasy. so disgusting. i love the word to describe him. greasy. smelly from working istg you’d love his musk. like the stench mixed with his deodorant and cologne. you’d joke with him how he smells so good and that you wanna stick his nose in his pit and he laughs it off like “knew you were a freak.” even tho that’s not technically what you meant but now you’re thinking about him shoving your face in his taint
☥ imagine the two of you finally smoke together as an excuse to hangout and suddenly youre straddling him in his backed up seat and making out like you’re trying to inhale each other. all that sexual tension finally having a space to be worked out as youre grinding down on his halfie and he’s got a joint still pinched in between his fingers
maybe he does you inside his car and the next day you can’t stop flirting with each other hardcore during work. he starts grabbing your ass discretely whenever he can, and your fingers draw down his chest while hes eyeing you hungrily. trying to lure you outside during his smoke break for a quick make out and grope session because he just can’t stay away from you
☥ bet a bunch of your coworkers think hes so hot and youre listening to em knowing youre the one doing him after the shift
#centricontori#thanks for the msg!!#ch: linecook!anakin#anakin skywalker prompt#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker x reader#reader insert
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A Demand for Shakie Shakies - A Dad!Guero Fluff Short.
For my Guero girls (ENABLERS) who have done nothing but encourage this man to take up residence within my brain. Damn you all to hell. Love you really, though :D
Words - 856
Warnings - None, just cute (annoying!) dad!Guero fluff!
“Daddy!”
That yell. Jesus, she’s loud. Even from where she’s playing within your eye line in the living room across the hallway, her decibels rival that of a pneumatic drill.
“What up, button?”
“Need snacks!”
“Alright, chill, tiny girl. I’m making that happen as fast as I can.”
“Faster!”
He pauses, attracting your attention, pointing at you with the knife he’s holding. “She gets all this mouth from you, mamacita.”
Turning to him, your eyes widen at the sheer audacity of him to even suggest such a falsehood. “Says the man with the mouth the size of Manhattan, and twice as loud.”
Guero grins broadly, bobbing his tongue between his teeth just as the patter of tiny feet signals her arrival in the kitchen.
With little hands clasped to her hips, she opens her mouth to draw a big breath. “DADDY!”
“GRACIE!” Yeah, he matches her in volume. Or she matches him, you’re unsure which way around it is since she started talking.
“Need my snacks!”
He raises his eyebrows at her demands, finishing chopping up the cucumber and pepper slices she’s requested. “What’s the magic word, baby cakes?”
“Now!”
Yep. Two very loud, demanding peas in a pod. It would be completely fair to say that Gracie is his tiny female equivalent. Apart from the fact she looks just like him, nobody could deny she was his from the noise and the sass alone.
He can’t help but hiss out a laugh, shaking his head. “Wasn’t the one I was after. Try again.”
“Please!”
He scoops her up, seating her on the side of the counter. “Here you go, duchess.”
“Fankoo, daddy. But I not duchess. I princess!”
He kisses her head as she begins to chomp through her cucumber. “You’re for sure regal, kid.” She grins, all tiny teeth, holding out a piece of gnawed on cucumber and feeding it to him.
“Daddy where shakie shakies?”
She means her maracas, a word that at eighteen months old, she hasn’t quite grasped yet. “Over there on the table, but you ain’t playing with ‘em right now. Snack first.”
“Wanna do shakie shakies! Now!”
How very like her dad, refusing to take anything but complete compliance to her wishes. “Eat your snacks first, baby. Do as daddy says.”
A snort emanates from your boyfriend, Guero raising an eyebrow. “Ain’t like you ever do.”
You turn away from where you’re stirring the pot upon the stove, kissing the side of his neck. “There is one place I do.”
“And even then it ain’t enough for my liking.”
“You said you liked me to have a little bite,” you protest, using a little more force to prevent the chili from sticking to the bottom of the pot, turning the heat right down.
He comes up behind you, moving your hair to place a kiss upon your cheek. “I said I like it when you bite.” He gives your butt a little slap before moving back to mind Gracie, pulling ridiculous faces at her as she eats. As soon as she’s done, her hands are thrust in the direction of the table.
“Shakie shakies now, daddy!”
“What, right now?”
“Yes!”
A soft burst of laughter exits his nose, looking between the table and his baby a few times. “And what do I get out of it?”
“Get ‘em now, daddy. NOW!” The delight of being at her service. That’s what he gets out of it.
“Damn, she fierce!” he laughs in a voice designed to entertain. She giggles, even though she is currently frustrated with his reluctance to proffer the desired shakie shakies. “You totally sure you want ‘em now, button?”
“Yes!”
His amused grin grows ever wider. “Totally sure?”
“DADDY BAD MAN!”
You point at her with the spoon you’re stirring with. “True, Gracie. Daddy is a bad man.” Turning, you wink at him, Guero licking his top lip at you, mouthing ‘and you love it’ with a returned wink. Yeah, he’s got you there.
“What, these? Are these what you want?” he asks, moving to the kitchen table and picking up the maracas.
“Gimme!”
“Say please.”
She’s all but puce in the face by this point, her father quickly whittling her down to her last nerve. He has a flair for it with everyone in his life, if nothing else. “PLEASE!”
“Hmm, nah.” He’s snorting with laughter at her utter indignance, Gracie turning to you for support.
“Mommy, get the shakie shakies! Mommy do shakie shakies, then give to Gracie!”
Guero snorts, beginning to grin. “It was from yo mama doin’ the skakie shakie that we ended up with you in the first place.” he mutters, cracking you up completely as you turn and grab the maracas, giving them a little shake before handing them to your expectant daughter.
“Stop teasing the tiny beast, or mentioning my shakie shakie in front of her,” you chide, shaking your head softly as you turn back to the stove.
“Alright,” he sniffs, looking you up and down. “Just as long as I get to see it later.”
As soon as Gracie is in bed, he does. No maracas are involved, either.
#guero mayans mc#guero fanfiction#guero fanfic#guero x ofc#guero mayans#mayans mc fanfiction#mayans mc fanfic#mayans mc imagine#mayans mc fic
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Fanzine Friday #10: Skills (2009) by Sabrina Simon
Skills is a DIY zine about common household tasks and fun projects. Following last week's canning theme, here is the section about food preservation, with an additional recipe for a baking soda volcano.
The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States. Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.
Image transcripts below the cut:
Food Preservation
I've been interested in food preservation for a while now and have figured out a few different ways to save fresh produce for use at a later date.
Freezing
Many vegetables can be preserved simply by freezing. All you need is a plastic bag with no holes and a top that seals completely. Cook the vegetables (fully or partially), stick `em in a bag, stick the bag in the freezer, and there you go!
To prevent things from freezing in a clump, place them in a single layer on a baking sheet, place the sheet in the freezer, then transfer to storage bag when they are frozen through.
To freeze corn, cook it as you normally would, then cut the kernels off of the cob. Sometimes when cooked corn-on-the-cob sits around it gets pale and wrinkly, but after cutting it off the cob and freezing it, it will have a plump, yellow appearance. Nice.
Berries and grapes can be frozen raw.
Bananas can be placed in the freezer for later use. The skins turn brown but does not have an effect on flavor.
To freeze ranges and lemons: zest and juice the fruit then freeze the zest and the juice separately, in a plastic bag or ice cube tray; or just stick them in there whole; or cut into sections and store in bags.
Canning
Canning food may seem like an antiquated, labor-intensive idea, but it is actually simple once you know the process.
The Basic Boiling Water Canning Process
Obtain canning jars and lids— that is jars that have a flat lid and a bans band. You must use a new flat lid every time you can, but screw bands can be re-used. Wash the jars, bands, and lids in hot soapy water. Using a dishwasher is fine. Let dry thoroughly. Please follow a recipe for the food you want to can, because you need to make sure there is enough acid in the product so it won't spoil.
Prepare a canner. A canner is a large pot with a lid and a rack in the bottom. The rack is important because water must be able to circulate sides of the canning jar. Assemble your own canner by obtaining a pot deep enough to fit your jar and something that will keep the jars from touching the bottom and allow circulation. Try a toaster oven rack or a metal colander.
Fill the jars with the fruits or vegetables to be canned. It is important to leave "headspace" at the top of the can, as per recipe instructions. For boiling water canning, maker sure to leave 1/2 inch of space between the food and the top of the jar.
Use a clean, wet cloth to wipe around the jar tops. They should be totally clean.
Place a flat lid on the jar, and screw on the bands tightly.
Place the rack in the pot, fill pot halfway with water, place the cans in the pot, and top up with boiling water - enough so that cans are covered with one inch of water above them. Place lid on canner and start timing as per recipe instructions. If need be, top up the pot with more boiling water so that there is always one inch above the jars. Remember not to let jars touch the sides or bottom of the pan or each other. Also, always keep the lid on.
Remove jars from the canner and place on a rack to cool. When they are cool, check to make sure that all of the jars sealed. A sealed jar will have a dip in the lid that does not give. An unsealed jar will "pop" up and down if you press on the lid. If any jars are unsealed, you can try resealing them immediately (by the same process), or else just refrigerate and use within a few days.
Label jars with the date of canning. Store in a cool, dark, and dry place and use within one year. Now wasn't that fun?
Applesauce
I made and canned applesauce and you can to!
This recipe makes about six pints of applesauce. I live in a house with five other people so having a ton of applesauce is fine by us, but feel free to cut the recipe in half.
Start by peeling, coring, and cutting eight pounds of cooking apples.* I've got one of those hand-crank apple peelers which is perfect for this. Otherwise—recruit your friends to help you, because this is a LOT of apples!
*I suggest using a combo of Granny Smith & Golden Delicious apples.
Place apples, 2 cups of water, and a couple cinnamon sticks (if you want) in a huge pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until apples are very tender. Stir often. Depending on what type of apple you use and how small they are chopped, this could take anywhere from 15 to 40 minutes.
Remove cinnamon sticks. Mush apples to a consistency you like. I like a chunky kind of applesauce so I just smash it a bit with a potato masher.. If you want it smoother, run it through a food mill or ricer and put it back in the pot. If you want, add sugar to taste (brown sugar is nice) and more water, if it seems a little thick.
Bring sauce up to boiling. Pour the sauce into the clean jars— they should still be warm. Wipe the rims of the jars and apply lids and bands. Process for 15 minutes using instructions above.
***An obvious way to preserve fruit is by canning your own jam/jelly/preserves. I can't stomach that sort of thing, so I've never made it. If you have a jam-type recipe you're willing to share, please send it in! ***
Baking Soda & Vinegar
Another cheap + easy way to entertain the kids is to make a baking soda volcano! Simply put some baking soda in a glass, dribble in a bit of vinegar, and watch it foam & expand & hiss. It's pretty fun. Add some food dye for special effects. Bonus points if you do it in the sink: the foaming action can help unclog a drain, the soda is a good abrasive for cleaning, and it will also neutralize odors. Sweet! (Note: don't overdo it - a little bit of each product goes a very long way!)
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An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 3: Through The Hourglass I Saw You
Chapter Links: One, Two, Three
Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader
Rating: Explicit 18+
Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Drowning, Somnophilia, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.
This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.
---
Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town. He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.
And that might actually be a bit of a problem.
---
"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin. You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.
"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest. "I- can't breathe!"
---
Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!
The harbor grew grimmer by the day as ships disappeared one-by-one, loaded up onto trailers and hauled away into storage for the season. Some of the men joined their ships in wintering away from the town, setting off in the early morning light to visit far flung families until they had long worn out their welcome and the ice began to thaw.
You were helping out down at the docks that morning, accompanying Gramps who insisted on sticking to his usual routine despite the rasp in his chest that he couldn't quite kick. You'd stuck around to keep an eye on him, making yourself useful by stacking up the lobster pots and crab cages in a nearby storage building. The wire cages were hopelessly bent and buckled from years of heavy use, so your stacks were lopsided and wobbly; threatening to topple over if you so much as looked at them wrong.
"Could be worse, I suppose," the Dockmaster tutted, which was pretty much as close to a glowing recommendation as he was capable of giving. "Don't forget to grab the pots near the office too."
"The remaining boats won't need them?"
"Nah. It's starting to get too cold for shellfish. Most of the crabs and lobsters have already moved out into deeper waters where it's warmer. It's not worth the trouble for the handful of 'em that haven't had the good sense to leave yet."
"I see," you mutter distractedly, thinking about the lobster you knew for certain was still lingering near the shore and how cold his skin had grown.
"You need to leave, don't you?" You asked Kirishima the next day as you lay sprawled across his chest and belly, an old quilt wrapped around your upper bodies as you did your best to bring up his core temperature.
"I don't want to," he whispered, pulling you further up his chest so he could nuzzle into your neck as he was oft to do. "I want to stay with you."
"Eijiro-"
"Please. Just a few more days. I'm not ready yet."
"And you will be in a couple of days?"
"No," Eijiro laughs dryly, his upper legs snagging the edge of the quilt and tucking it more firmly around your body. "But I don't think I'll have much of a choice."
Clad in your wetsuit, the murky ocean water too cold for even a warm-blooded creature like yourself to brave without discomfort, you clung desperately to Eijiro in the fading evening light. You had spent the entire day wrapped in each other's tight embrace, treasuring every kiss and caress, knowing that these fleeting touches would have to sustain you over the long months you'd spend apart.
"Promise that you'll come back?" You croak, throat tight with misery. "That you won't meet some lobster lady and forget all about me?"
"That's enough of that sort of talk," Eijiro scolded, grasping your chin in his icy hand and directing your gaze up to his face; his eyes steely and serious. "Believe me, Minnow- nobody can ever compare to you."
"I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm not doubting your sincerity, but it's just so hard and I- I don't know what I'll do without you."
"Can I tell you something? About when we first met?"
"Okay."
"I…wasn't in a great place that day. I had been rejected again for mating rights- the same thing that had happened year after year after year. I thought that I would never get to know what it was like; to be held, wanted, loved," he explained, stopping to press a tender kiss to your furrowed brow. "And then, all of a sudden, there you were."
"There I was, thinking that a lobster man was drowning and making an absolute fool of myself," you snort, that memory summoning up a feeling of retrospective mortification that sometimes kept you awake at night.
"No. There you were, struggling to reach me- to save me. I might not have actually been in trouble, but no one had ever fought so hard for me before, not once in my entire life. Can you imagine how I felt then? When you reached out to me and begged for me to take your hand? When you promised you wouldn't ever let me go?"
You shook your head, the unforgiving loneliness Kirishima described too strange and foreign for you to truly understand.
"It felt like all of my dreams had come true," he grinned, his pale blue lips stretched wide into a dreamy smile.
"Oh, Eijiro," you sobbed, chest bursting with emotions you struggled to put names to; feelings that existed somewhere in the space between heartbreak and bliss.
"And you know what the most amazing thing was? You kept fighting for me. Over and over again, even when the opponent was yourself. I thought for sure when we thought you were allergic to me that you would realize I wasn't worth the trouble and give up."
"But I didn't."
"No, you didn't," Eijiro whispered, disbelief and awe steeped into his words as he cradled your face adoringly between his chilled hands. "And now it's my turn. Let me prove to you that I will always return, that I'll fight to be by your side for as long as you'll have me."
"Forever, then?"
"Forever," Kirishima readily agreed, sealing his oath with a kiss that lasted until you were both left shivering as the final rays of sun were swallowed by the horizon.
You had arranged for Gramps to spend the day with his friends down at the restaurant where they were celebrating the official end of the commercial fishing season. As much as all the men claimed they wouldn't so much as touch a pole until the Game Warden declared the waters open for fishing next year, you knew you would catch them out on the lake in a few weeks time; sawing through the ice and vying for the best positions to park their fishing huts.
You had begged off from the celebrations, citing a need for a break from caregiving and catch your breath. The men organizing the event had understood completely, assuring you that they would keep a close watch on your Grandpa and get him home safely at the end of the night.
There was an entire list of chores that needed to be done; scrubbing the burnt lasagna sauce from the bottom of the oven, crawling under the porch to shut off the water to the outside spigot before the first frost hit, making sure Gramps had enough meds to make it through the week- mundane things. Important things. Things that absolutely needed to get done.
Instead, you rolled over and pulled your covers over your head, crying yourself quietly back to sleep instead.
"Hey, Gramps?" You called out from your place at the stove, pushing a spatula half-heartedly through the powdered eggs congealing at the bottom of the pan. "You gonna' do anything with the box on the table? It's been sitting there a couple of days and I want to try and get the table cleaned off by dinner."
"What are you talking about?" Your Grandpa huffed, shuffling into the kitchen. "I didn't get a package."
"Check the table," you encouraged gently, turning away so you wouldn't have to witness the pinch of confusion twisting across his face.
"Oh, I- I guess I'd forgotten," he stammered, mind reeling for an explanation as he pulled out the packing slip, a shower of foam shipping peanuts spilling out across the tabletop. "Must have thought it was for you or something."
"Of course," you agreed, shutting off the burner and dumping the scrambled eggs into a shallow bowl. "Here's breakfast if you want it."
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks," he muttered as he squinted down at the packing list. "Do you know why I ordered five bags of penis shaped pasta?"
You laughed, a sharp, surprised sound that was wholly inappropriate on such a quiet morning.
"Can't say that I do. But if It were me, I'd make some for dinner so the next time someone told me to go eat a bag of dicks I could say 'Oh, yeah? I already have.'"
"Ha!" Your Grandpa wheezed, slapping his thigh heartily before digging one of the bags of pasta out of the box. "That's a good one!"
"Don't act so surprised," you sniff haughtily, snagging the pasta from his hand and dropping it onto the counter. "I am your granddaughter after all."
"That you are," he chuckled, spooning some of the eggs into his mouth while you rooted through the fridge.
"Do we have any hot dogs left?" You ask as you push a margarine container full of leftovers to the side. "I want to chop some up and add them to the pasta so we can really lean into the weenie linguini angle."
The boys from the dock were over today, crammed around the ancient TV in the living room on folding chairs they hauled around from house to house to accommodate their shifting hangout locations so no one person had to bear the burden of hosting every get together.
You'd thought they would have some sort of preferred sports match to watch, a local football or hockey team perhaps; but apparently the group of them were too competitive to coexist peacefully during play-off season. After a particular explosive brawl a decade or so ago, where everyone limped away with fat lips and bloody knuckles, they had sworn off sports spectatorship entirely for the sake of community harmony. These days they spent their weekends tuned into dog shows, speculating on which pooches would place and cheering on their favorite breeds.
"I don't get how this is any different than you all watching football or something," you huff, slamming a piece of bread down on top of the tuna sandwich you were assembling. "Those dogs are still competing and you're all still picking sides."
"That's true," your Grandpa's best friend nodded, snagging a bag of pork rinds out of the pantry to carry back out to the living room along with his newly opened beer. "But the difference is that we really don't care which dogs actually win. They're all good dogs who deserve to come in first, so there are no hard feelings when your favorite doesn't place."
"Can't argue with that logic, I suppose."
"Nope. And believe me, we've tried!" He chortled, peering around the door frame to sneak a glance at Gramps; perched in his recliner and trying to follow the bouncing conversation with a distant gaze.
"He's not doing well, is he?" His friend sniffed, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay by coughing into his fist.
"No, he's not."
"Right. Okay."
"It's not," you croaked, placing a gentle hand between his quaking shoulders, rubbing soothing circles and allowing him to have a quiet moment of grief while snippets of an argument over the low placement of a group favorite, a sad-faced St. Bernard, floated by.
It was bitterly cold out tonight. You thought you had bundled up appropriately for the season, but it had quickly become evident the moment you stepped outside that you had missed the mark by a layer or five. It wasn't enough of a deterrent for you to turn around though. You needed to get out and fill your lungs with something besides the stale air of your house that was weighed down by the fragrance of your Grandfather's slow demise; thin broths and pain medicine, powdered shampoo and muscle creams.
Body on auto-pilot, you wandered down to the beach, dropping down onto the frigid sand indelicately. You stared out at the ocean for a while, lost in the memories of sunny days and Kirishima's sunnier smile.
"You better come back, Eijiro," you whispered, tears stinging sharply as they rolled down your cheeks in the frigid air. "I don't think I can handle losing both of you."
Gramps had passed quietly in the night during the deepest part of winter; when snow fell more often than not and you had to muscle the front door open from the frozen frame every morning. It had taken the funeral home a long time to get to you with the icy condition of the roads, so you did your best to keep busy and await their arrival.
You had thought that you could be strong and wait with your Grandpa when the time came, but now that the moment was here you found that you couldn't bear to stay in his room a moment longer than absolutely necessary. His face was slack and unfamiliar, body empty of the essence that made Gramps uniquely him; the wise-cracking busybody with more jokes than sense.
Ignoring the smell of cooling excrement that permeated the room, you kissed your Grandfather's forehead, tucked his blankets further up on his shoulders, and left the room. You frittered time away with any distraction you could find, sifting through piles of junk mail and TV guides, straightening the doilies your Grandma had lovingly tatted and draped across every horizontal surface, and cut out coupons from the Sunday paper. Each of those tasks stretched out by you anxiously pulling back the front window curtain every few minutes to check for the hearse's arrival.
After an eternity of chipping ice off the freezer walls, you finally spied the hearse slowly rolling down the street, followed by a beat up sedan you knew belonged to your Grandpa's best friend. He shot out of the car recklessly fast for someone with a bad hip on an icy sidewalk, but you didn't have it in you to chastise him.
Not today.
"I'm so sorry," you apologized as you ran a shaking hand down your face in frustration, watching the people from the funeral home unload a gurney and toss a folded up body bag on top. "I should have called- I didn't, I don't-"
"Hush," your Grandpa's friend interrupted gruffly, pulling you into a tight hug that you didn't know you needed. "You've had enough on your mind this morning. Have you eaten?"
"I- no. I went to ask Gramps what he wanted and I just never got around to it," you say, voice muffled by the downy coat your face was pressed into. "I think I may have left the milk out."
"It's cold enough that I'm sure the milk is fine," he said, pulling back from the hug and pushing you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder while the funeral director and his assistant rolled the gurney towards the front steps. "How about I meet with these gentlemen while you whip us up something real quick? I'm not picky, so whatever you make'll be fine."
You were thankful in this moment for the way the entire town danced around emotionally charged situations, welcoming the distraction of preparing a meal over having to deal with well-meaning sympathies and feelings you weren't sure how to start processing.
"I'll get some coffee going. Come to the kitchen whenever you're ready."
"Will do."
"This is a good turn out," you cried, dabbing at your eyes with a handful of soggy tissues.
"Your Grandfather was a well liked man."
"I don't even recognize some of the people here," you admitted, squinting to the back row that was clogged with women in spectacularly styled church hats and hand-me-down pearls.
"That's the Ladies Auxiliary for the town up the coast. They come to all the funerals around here."
"For fun?"
"No," your Grandpa's friend snorted. "To make sure there's always someone here. Not everyone is as popular as your Gramps is- was."
"Oh," you sob, overcome by their thoughtfulness. "That's so nice."
"It is. They're lovely gals."
Still crying, you peered down into the casket where Gramp's body lay; still and unsmiling for the first time in his life. The funeral director had seemed a bit confused when you had handed him the bag of garments and accessories you had put together for your Grandfather to be buried in, but you were pleased to see he had executed your vision flawlessly.
His only suit, a tasteful tweed affair you had seen him squeeze into for every family wedding since you were a kid, was accented by a novelty squirting flower pinned to his lapel and a motorized bow tie that spun wildly under his chin with a cheery whirring noise.
"You don't think the novelty vampire teeth were too much?"
"This is exactly what he would have wanted," his friend assures you, reaching into the casket and pushing down onto the rubber chicken stuffed into the crook of your Grandfather's arm; the resulting squawk easily heard over the din of the deep sniffles of a group of men who refused to outright cry and were all collectively experiencing an out of season allergy flare up.
"Just wait until the eulogies. I slipped a remote controlled fart machine into his pocket."
The town restaurant was unusually packed during breakfast the next day. The booths that usually sat empty were all full of members of the Ladies Auxiliary, each woman primly sipping coffee and pointedly ignoring each other's deeply rumpled dresses and day-old makeup.
"Do you have something you want to say?" The lady at the counter next to you bristled, apparently taking your curious glances as a sign of disapproval.
"Not at all," you rushed to explain, sliding a handful of bills across the counter to pay for your breakfast order. "I'd be doing something similar if my boyfriend were around."
"Alright then," the woman said, shoulders deflating as the fight seeped from her body. "My apologies."
"It's fine," you say, waving off her contrition as you contemplate a triangle of toast left untouched on your plate. "Besides, I'm sure my Gramps would be thrilled that his funeral was directly responsible for his friends having such a memorable evening."
"Goodness!" The woman gasped. "That was your Grandfather's funeral? I feel even worse now!"
"It's fine! Really! I shouldn't have been staring. I've just gotten used to the same grungy old men that seeing a group of lovely and well-dressed women caught me off guard."
"They are a bit rough around the edges," the woman agreed with a slight grimace, dabbing at the faded remains of her lipstick with the edge of a napkin.
"No judgment here, sister. Any port in a storm, ammirite?"
She snorts inelegantly, the corner of her mouth quirked in delight as she unclasps the top of her practical clutch and pulls out a slightly wrinkled pamphlet for the Ladies Auxiliary that she slides across the counter towards you.
"Here's the brochure for our branch of the Auxiliary. You should consider joining. I think it'll do you good to spend some time away from these old curmudgeons and spend some time in a more…feminine atmosphere."
To perfectly punctuate her sales pitch, one of the men at the back of the diner let loose an astoundingly loud belch that immediately launched all the men into an explosive round of appreciative applause.
"One question: do I get to wear a fancy hat like you do?" You ask, staring at the artfully arranged tower of tulle and feathers piled atop her head.
"Of course. What's even the point, otherwise?"
"Count me in."
The weeks ticked by slowly as you grew accustomed to living by yourself and figuring out what constituted your new normal. The activities that had defined your existence at the beginning of your stay, spending time with Eijiro and caring for Gramps, were both suddenly and dramatically stricken from your schedule and you struggled to fill your days because of it.
Perhaps sensing your ennui, the town council; which was composed entirely of the two brothers who also ran the post office, elected to put you in charge of using the snowblower to clear off the sidewalks on mainstreet and the walkways of anyone who called and asked you for assistance. It kept you busy most mornings, and you were glad for the distraction.
The rest of your time was spent getting Gramp's affairs put in order; contacting banks and sending copies of his death certificate to Governmental agencies you'd never heard of before. When you had a moment to spare you would pick a room in the house and start organizing, carefully packing away bits of family history and discarding numerous shoe boxes stuffed full of faded sales receipts and old batteries.
Gramps friends and neighbors, sadly well-versed in estate cleaning, would often swing by to assist you in lifting heavier objects and driving truck beds full of garbage out to the dump. You were currently glued to your laptop, scanning in old family photos for posterity and considering how much of a bother it would be to put a digital album together when a hand clapped down firmly onto your shoulder, wrenching a startled yelp out from the depths of your soul.
"Sorry!" Your Grandpa's friend winced, removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step away from your person. "Didn't realize I was sneaking up on ya'."
"It's okay," you gasp, heart still hammering in your chest. "I was pretty distracted."
A picture from your Grandparents' honeymoon had just popped up on the screen. With little money and even less time to spare, they had spent a weekend driving up and down the coast, stopping and eating at every pancake restaurant they could find. They'd rated their meals at every location, their food selections identical for the sake of consistency, in a tiny notebook you'd found stashed away in Gramp's desk.
"Good gracious- look at how young he was."
"I know."
"Such a goofy looking fella'," he noted, pulling out the chair next to you. "Good thing you take after your Grandma."
"The small mercies of the universe," you agree, loading up a new picture into the scanner.
He flips through the box of loose photos, pausing every now and then to closely examine a picture of him or the boys around town.
"You don't have to stay, you know," he murmured gruffly as he lifted a delicate sepia tinted photo up by the edges. "You've been helping out a lot this year and while we're grateful for all you've done, we'll get along just fine without you. We always have."
It was kind of him, to give you an out; to not mention the handfuls of people who had left town this year, either in a body bag or shoved into the dedicated minivan from the local retirement home. The townsfolk had gotten by in the past because they were numerous and young. Now they were few and old and struggling to make it through each year. You leaving would likely be the domino that would send the town toppling into ruin with no one around to push a mower without getting winded or shuffle up onto a roof to repair a leak without vertigo setting in.
"This life…isn't what I ever imagined for myself," you admit, mind churning with thoughts of Eijiro as you swap out photos in the scanner once more. "But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy here. I'm just happy in a way I didn't expect."
"You like us old coots that much, eh?" He chuckled, tossing the photo back into the box and turning his attention to a stack of your Grandfather's ledgers.
"Please," you scoffed. "I'm only staying because I just sent a check up to the Ladies Auxiliary and I know for a fact that there's no way they'll refund me that membership fee. Their treasurer is feisty."
As soon as the barometer rose above freezing the town sprung into action, ripping tarps off of boats, changing out oil, and checking coolant levels. It was still far too cold for leaves and blossoms to emerge, but the return of the ships to harbor did more to lift your spirits than a field of flowers ever could. Those boats were a true and indelible sign that spring was on its way.
"What are you smiling about?" One of the dockworkers called down to you from where he was grinding down a rusty patch on the cabin wall with a belt sander. "If you have time to be happy you must not have enough to do!"
"No, no! I'm very busy here," you assured him, smearing a large glob of wax across the hull. "I'm just excited that it's almost lobster season again."
"Again with all the lobster talk? All winter it's been lobster this and lobster that!"
"Well, can you blame me? I think I've spent enough of my life without lobster at this point."
"Fair enough!" The worker laughed, a dry bray that sounded enough like a donkey that it always made you smile. "What are you looking forward to the most? Steamed lobster? Lobster rolls?"
"I'm looking forward to getting me some of that sweet, sweet lobster tail," you giggled to yourself, kicking on the electric buffer to drown out the sounds of chit-chat and swearing, drifting off in a sea of titillating memories you hoped you'd be able to recreate soon.
You were refreshing the paint on a red and yellow striped buoy, hands and arms splotched with an entire rainbow of colors from your work, when the Dockmaster approached the section of overturned crates you had turned into your maritime arts and crafts station.
"You're not completely incompetent."
"Thank you, Sir," you said, setting down your brush to rest across the top of a small bucket of paint.
"Clean up here and come to my office. I've got something for you."
That something turned out to be a set of keys that you had barely managed to catch by the neon orange key float as the Dockmaster chucked them at your head.
"Those'r the keys to your new boat. Congratulations. Don't fuck up," he grunted, snuffing his cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray. "Now get out of my office."
You stumbled out of the smoky room, keys clutched in your hands as you slumped down into a sagging lawn chair the Dockmaster kept outside for his smoke breaks on warmer days when the air in his office became too stifling.
"You okay?" One of the passing fishermen asked, hefting a large coil of rope further up his shoulder. "Dockmaster wasn't too mean to ya', was he?"
"No- he, uh. He gave me a boat?"
"Ha! Did he really?" The fisherman laughed. "Guess you're really one of us now!"
"But I don't even know how to drive a boat!" You screeched, panic quickly replacing the buzzing numbness that had filled you only moments before.
"It's not that hard. Me and the boys will go with you when you take your boat for a spin and show you the ropes."
"That'll be great. Thanks."
It was, in fact, not great.
While the fishermen were correct that driving a boat was technically easy, every other aspect of handling a boat fell somewhere along the spectrum between frustrating and absolute madness. Your docking skills were so abysmal that the fishermen had ended up lashing tires around the entire hull, effectively turning your ship into the maritime version of a bumper car.
But the absolute worst part of the entire experience turned out to be the name of your vessel.
"I'm changing the name," you declared boldly once you and your group of tagalong fishermen had matched the numbers on your keychain to the blocky boat ID numbers printed on the forward half of the ship.
"Oh, come on!" One of the men laughed, doubled over and wheezing for breath at your expense. "You're the perfect choice to captain 'The Nauti Girl!'"
Just saying the name outloud was enough to send the men into a cackling uproar once again. One man with a bushy Santa beard was having a hard enough time regaining his composure that he gave up entirely and laid down on the dock, rolling around on the warped planks as he fought to catch his breath.
"Nope. I refuse. This boat is going to have a nice and respectable name. Like 'Sea Breeze' or 'Wave Breaker'," you huffed. "Something I won't be embarrassed to call out over the radio."
"Boooring!" The loudest fisherman protested. "Besides, it's bad luck to change the name of a ship."
"Of course it is," you mutter disgruntledly.
"Also," the man continued. "If you changed the name then you'd have to get rid of this lovely lady!" He said while gesturing to the cute, pinup style mermaid in a sailor's hat perched next to your boat's sprawling cursive name.
You cross your arms across your chest, thoughtfully staring at the teal haired mermaid holding an anchor at just the right angle to obscure her nipples and keep things family-friendly.
"Okay, fine. But if I can't name the boat I get to name the mermaid," you grumbled, throwing your leg high to make it over the coaming and step down onto the deck; turning back to face the men in the dock when you realized they hadn't followed you onto the boat.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" The man with the Santa beard asked, his cheeks still burning red from his fit of hysterics moments ago.
"Permission granted," you grinned in return. "I need you gentlemen to show me just what this 'Nauti Girl' is capable of!"
As the greenest fisher at the dock, the men had been gradually easing you into performing more difficult tasks while you grew accustomed to piloting your boat. So far you had mostly been sent out to return forgotten items or lunches to boats that had disembarked earlier in the day, but just a few days ago the Dockmaster had started sending you out to check on the farthest flung lobster cages to see if the crustaceans were starting to make it back to the coastline.
The first few had come up empty, so you made a note of their locations and double checked that they were firmly attached to their buoys before chucking them back into the water. Pulling up on the next end line, you were surprised to feel some resistance. The other cages had come up relatively easily, so maybe this pot actually had something trapped inside?
Bracing your legs, you tightened your grip onto the rope and gave a mighty tug, drawing the rope up and over the edge of your boat. Ever so slowly, you drew the sodden rope up from the water, peering over the edge to see what could possibly be weighing down the line so much. Your questions were answered when, with one final pull and a forceful grunt, the grinning face of Eijiro dramatically rose out of the water.
"Would you look at that," you laughed, happy tears rolling down your cheeks as you reached down towards your boyfriend. "The first lobster of the season."
"And from the way you tell it, I'm quite the catch," Kirishima winked playfully as he grasped the side of your boat and pulled himself up to be face-to-face with you.
"I missed you, Eijiro. So, so much," you cried, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as tightly as you could, which you knew was a fair bit snugger than you could manage the last time you saw him thanks to countless hours of unpaid manual labor.
"I missed you too, Minnow," Eijiro said, his voice shaky as he nuzzled into your shoulder and deeply inhaled the scent of your skin. You had envisioned your reunion a thousand times over the last few months, but all of those scenarios paled in the face of the actual experience of being cradled in Eijiro's arms once more. Even the uncomfortable feeling of the side of the boat digging into your belly couldn't take away from the thrum of utter contentment unfurling in your soul.
"Nauti Girl, come in Nauti Girl. Nauti Girl, do you read me? Over." The radio on your boat screamed as it crackled to life.
"Really?" You groan. "They had to call right now?"
"Wait- why is that man calling you 'Naughty Girl'?" Kirishima asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
"Ugh!" You huff, pressing a quick to Eijiro's lips as you unwillingly work to free yourself from the tangle of his limbs. "He isn't calling me that, it's the name of my boat."
"You named your boat Naughty Girl?"
"I would never! It already came with a name-"
"Nauti Girl? Pick up! Over!"
"I'm coming! Hold your horses!" You yell ineffectually at the radio, knowing that they won't hear you until you hold down the button to answer. "Just- hold on one second, okay?"
You practically fly across the deck, slamming your hand down on the call button. "Nauti Girl, here. Go ahead. Over."
"There was a small accident and we're short a set of hands to get the last boat launched. Requesting you return to harbor to assist. Over."
Hissing in frustration, you send a pleading look to where Eijiro is draped across the coaming, watching you with an utterly dejected look settling across his face.
"You need to go, don't you?" He murmured sadly.
"I do. They can't do it without me."
"I understand," Eijiro sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration and sending tiny droplets of water spraying across the deck. "Sometimes you have to help others at the expense of yourself."
"Yeah," you sighed, pressing the button down once more. "Roger that. I'll finish up here and head back ASAP. Over and out."
You hook the receiver back into place and rush again to Eijiro, cradling his jaw in your hands as you press tender kisses across his face. He closed his eyes and sighed happily, basking in the glow of your loving attention.
"I need to head back in. But let's meet tonight at the cave up shore. I'll bring some blankets and snacks and we can spend all night together, okay?"
"Okay," he nods with a soft smile, eyes sparking as his hand drifts down to pat at the top of a tightly woven seagrass basket tied around his hips. "And I'll show you the surprise I brought."
"You got me something?" You gasp in delight, peering further over the edge of the boat to examine the closed lid basket more closely.
"Technically, I got us something," he laughed nervously, glancing down at the basket with a fond smile. "I hope you'll love it as much as I do."
The accident back at dock was thankfully minor; someone had gotten their hand smashed between two crates and while they hadn't broken any bones, Doc had them on lockdown in his living room to make sure they were actually keeping their hand iced and elevated. Doc's concern was well placed because it wasn't unusual for the townsfolk to nod along to his instructions and then conduct themselves as though they were the poster children for medical noncompliance.
With everyone pitching in you were able to get the last boat launched with no real issues and then spent the remainder of the afternoon anxiously watching the sun dip lower on the horizon as you replaced missing weights on casting nets. Once it became too difficult to see what your hands were doing in the fading light, the men called it for the day and you had to endure the Herculean task of trying to casually walk home. You wanted to take off at a sprint to rendezvous with Eijiro as quickly as you could, but knew that running through town would draw unwanted scrutiny from the townsfolk. Going out onto the ocean alone at night was foolhardy and dangerous, and if you were caught heading out you knew that you would be hauled back in and given a stern talking to about your reckless behavior.
So you played it cool, stopping to chat to folks heading down to the diner, dropping into the corner store to grab some granola bars and a couple bags of chips, and slowly made your way home the same as you would every night. But you were off and running as soon as the porch door slammed shut behind you, tearing across the house and throwing things into a large duffle bag as quickly as you could manage before shoving slices of deli meat and handfuls of shredded cheese into your mouth in lieu of an actual meal as you waited for the last bit of daylight to evaporate into inky darkness.
Once the bright pinpricks of stars were the only lights remaining in the sky you made your escape, sliding outside through the kitchen door that faced the ocean and creeping quietly down to the beach, stopping only to grab your inflatable raft you kept under the back deck. Slipping on a life vest, you tossed your bag into your raft and waded out into the shallows, jumping aboard and pushing yourself away from the shore with alternating pushes of your paddle against the sandy ocean floor.
"Just a little longer, Eiji," you whispered quietly into the night. "I'm on my way."
Kirishima was already at the cave when you arrived, paddling nervously around in circles while singing, the strange clicks layering into a haunting sort of lullaby; like crickets chirping late in the night. His song cut off as he caught sight of you, darting to you and grabbing a hold of your raft's tow rope and pulling you to the rocky cave shore as he'd done so many times before.
"Decided to leave the Naughty Girl at home, huh?" He teased, patting a hand onto the side of your trusty raft as you hopped out and pulled it further onto the shore to keep the shifting tide from grabbing it while you weren't paying attention.
"What are you talking about? I'm right here!" You winked back playfully as you unzipped your duffle bag and worked at spreading the large quilt down over the sand.
"Of course," he laughed, watching with fond eyes as you settled into the middle of the blanket. "My mistake."
"I can probably be persuaded to forgive you," you purred, patting the blanket as you beckoned for Kirishima to come and join you on shore. His eyes followed the curves of your legs up as he swallowed thickly, hands darting to the basket at his hip.
"Okay, so, before we go any further I have something I need to show you," he confesses, untying the complicated knots that kept the basket lashed around his hips. "You have to come here. It doesn't- the basket has to stay in the water for now."
"Alright," you agreed readily, concerned for the abrupt mood shift Eijiro was displaying. Cautiously, you made your way down to the water and stepped into the shallows, joining your boyfriend in the chest-deep water.
"Before I open this, I want to remind you about how much I love you. I understand if this is too much and I'm sorry I made such a big decision without you, but I had to do something," Eijiro said, his words rushed and squished together with worry as he carefully pried open the lid of the basket and pushed it into your awaiting arms.
You peer down into the basket, stuffed full of slimy ribbons of kelp and dotted with tiny slivers of fish bones. Confused, you were about to ask Kirishima about what exactly you were supposed to be looking at when a passing wave shifted a tangle of the kelp and revealed a downy tuft of bright red hair. Breathlessly, you reached into the basket and brushed aside another clump of seaweed, uncovering the tiny curled up half-lobster baby within.
"Eijiro," you whisper, trying to keep your voice level so you wouldn't disturb the sleeping child. "Did you steal a baby?"
"What? No!" Kirishima rushes to assure you, his smooth hands sliding to cover yours as you cradle the basket. "It was a really successful hatching season. We hadn't had so many hatchlings survive in, well, ever. And we were struggling to keep them all fed and safe, but it was just too overwhelming."
"This little one was really struggling. They wouldn't eat on their own and couldn't keep up with their siblings," Eijiro murmured sadly, letting loose a couple of comforting clicks as he ran a gentle finger through their fluttering hair. "Their mother couldn't give them the attention they needed without her other children suffering, so she culled them from her nest."
"That's awful," you whispered, hand dipping into the basket beside Eijiro's to gently stroke the little one's pale and pudgy cheek.
"It is," he agreed. "But necessary. She couldn't risk the health of her other children for just one."
It was quiet for a while as you both peered down at the sleeping child as they shifted, curling their tail around their head and rolling up into a ball about the size of an orange.
"They're so small."
"The runt of their pod. Just like me," Eijiro sniffed, a distant and miserable look in his eyes. "It could have been me. If my hatching year had been more successful, it would have been me pushed out and left to die."
"Oh, Eijiro," you sob; angry at the cruelty and unfairness of nature that had hurt the man you loved so deeply.
"I just couldn't leave them. Not if I could help."
"Of course you couldn't. You did the right thing."
"You aren't upset?" Kirishima asked, thin threads of hope threading through the misery woven into his voice.
"Oh, I am. But not at you. And not at them," you said as you ran a finger down the slick, unhardened chitin of their tiny tail.
"Oh, Spirits be praised," he sighed, shoulders deeply sagging as relief flooded his body. "I was hoping it would be okay since it was just one. You told me one baby was normal for humans."
"You could have brought me a hundred babies and it still would have been fine," you assured him, smiling gently when the child sneezed, letting loose a burst of tiny bubbles from their mouth.
"I don't think we could handle a hundred babies," Eijiro chuckled, pulling you into his embrace, the basket sheltered between your entwined bodies.
"Probably not," you agree, dropping your head down to rest on Eijiro's chest as you gazed down at your new baby in awe. "But I think we can handle one."
"Yeah," Eijiro sighed happily, tightening his grip around you and the baby; his entire world, his family, cradled safely in his arms. "We can handle one."
Your life was one of feast and famine. The time spent with Eijiro and your child filled your heart and soul with so much joy that you often wondered how your body was able to contain it all without bursting at the seams. Conversely, the long winter months served as a stark lesson in misery and longing as you anxiously awaited the arrival of spring and the migration of your small family back into your life.
To ease the anxious worries of your heart, Eijiro agreed to wear a tracking tag woven into a band on his wrist. Each night you were bathed in the glow of your laptop screen, lulled to sleep by Eijiro drawing intricate patterns across the screen with his movements; wordless proclamations of love that only you could see.
Your child, who you had discerned to be a girl once her swimmerets had developed enough to tell one way or the other, eventually appeared next to her father on the map; her bright dot carving out wobbly paths that mirrored Eijiro's smooth trails through the water.
The townsfolk had noticed the intense depression you fell into during winter and did their best to keep you in good spirits. The fishermen who taught you how to handle the Nauti Girl met you for dinner three nights a week, The Dockmaster taught you the actual rules to Backgammon and confirmed your long held suspicions that your Grandfather was a dirty rotten cheater, and the ladies at the Auxiliary pooled their money together to buy you one of those sun therapy lamps. You weren't sure of the lamp's actual efficacy, but looking at it made you feel cared for and loved, so you kept it propped up in the corner of your living room anyway.
The longer you stayed in the dilapidated town you had grown to call home the more heartbreak you were subjected to. Inevitably, the people you loved and lived with, relaxed and toiled beside, grew measurably older with each passing year until they very suddenly stopped- stopped aging, stopped breathing, stopped living.
The men assured you time and time again over coffee, returning from vacations, on their deathbeds; that they had no regrets. That their lives were difficult, but wonderful. The hands blistered and their joints were ground to dust from decades of thankless labor; but their eyes witnessed the boundless beauty that nature had to offer and they had the extreme privilege of knowing true acceptance and affection from their chosen family; their neighbors, brothers, and friends.
That's what they wished for you to find as well; a devastatingly beautiful life full of misery and ecstasy and everything in-between. And as you watched two heads of bright red hair breach the surface of the water, speeding towards your boat and a long-awaited reunion, you were fairly sure you already had.
#eijiro x y/n#kirishima x you#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima x reader#kirishima eijiro x y/n#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#bnha x self insert#mha x female reader#pigeoncoos🕊
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