#top 5 fish food

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish life pictures and etc.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny Pt.9

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.10]

"Fan-sea meeting you here. You must be Phantom!"

Danny slowly turned around, grin blinding. "I shore am. Who's asking?"

Danny knew exactly who was asking. Bludhaven's vigilante, Nightwing. If the giant dark blue bird emblazoned on the front of his suit didn't give it away, the friendly demeanor and the puns would have. Plus, now that Danny's figured out who Tim was, the rest were pretty simple dots to be connected.

"Hi. I'm Nightwing. Thanks for saving Batman."

"I am Phantom. You are welcome. Please lecture him on the necessity of keeping the waters clean."

"Uh, I think he knows," Nightwing grinned. “So, why are you cleaning Gotham’s bay? I heard the Atlantic is nice this time of year.”

“Exactly. This?” Danny flapped a gloved hand around them, specifically at the moldy docks and the paint scraped board. “This is not nice. If it were nice, I wouldn’t need to be cleaning it. Look at that paint! It’s flaking off into the water! Does Gotham not have proper boat maintainance? That’s dangerous for the waters and seafarers!”

“Woah, you know a lot about boats,” Nightwing commented, crossing his arms and leaning back. What the hero didn’t know was that he knew more about boats than Danny did, as Danny’s hyper fixation was more focused on space ships and Dick had education à la maison de Bruce Wayne which usually meant an absurd amount of information for someone who doesn’t actually use boats as a regular mode of transportation.

“Rust! Rust is very much a thing!” Danny ranted, using his ice to scoop up water and using it like a makeshift filter. “It weakens bonds! It’s a tetanus hazard! And oh, don’t even get me started on how you people mutated the ocean life!”

“Mutated ocean life? I’m pretty sure we hadn’t. It’s just a little weird, right?”

Without another word, Danny dove into the weird ecosystem that was the Gotham bay. He came back holding a wriggling green thing the size of a worm.

“Do you know what this is?” Danny demanded. The thing flopped around on his gloved hands.

“A sea monkey?”

“They’re brine shrimp. Brine. Shrimp. Do you know what regular brine shrimp look like???” Danny shoved the thing at Nightwing, who took a step back.

“Not like that?” He replied, a quizzical look on his face.

“No, not like that! What in the ancients is this?!” Danny waved the weird sea brine that had started glowing faintly, like Danny’s natural ectoplasm glow. “Far be it from me of all people to judge evolution but this was all man made!” Danny gently tossed the brine shrimp back into the bay. “Brine shrimp is staple food for the ocean! You’ve got weird brine shrimp? You’ve got weird fish! Why is it impossible for this place to, for even one day, refrain from dumping hazardous chemicals or dead bodies in the water?”

“Ooookay, how about we take a breather?” Nightwing quickly glanced around, trying to find something to change the subject, feeling oddly guilty at the earnest expression on the kid’s face. “Uh, I was actually wondering if you’d swing by the waters near Blüd?”

Danny crossed his arms. “I clean the waters as a past time because you humans don’t know how to keep it clean. I am not a personal, on call, seakeeper.”

“Batman will pay you for your time,” Dick offered. Danny straightened. Amity didn’t actually cost that much to live well, but Gotham was a whole other ball park. The rent might be dirt cheap for a city, but the special pricey little add ons such as gas masks and space level insulation on top of the sky high insurance policies were draining what’s left of his half dead soul. As they say, Danny was a city dweller first and Phantom second.

“How much, when, and I won’t fish up the bodies unless he pays me extra.”

“Four thousand base pay, extra one hundred per identity, fifty for bodies with no shades, and on the weekends.”

Danny straightened as his mother’s steel spine, Jazz’s whip sharp wit, and his own craftiness made their appearance as he bargained. “Five thousand. Rate agreed, but I can only do every other weekends and I’ll have to call out some days.”

“Okay.” Nightwing rocked back on his heels with an affable smile. It’s Bruce’s money and it’s going towards his probable future baby brother, after all, even if said baby brother is a dead immortal Atlantis founder. Or something.

Danny groaned. “You are supposed to bargain back. But I’ll take it.”

“Great! Who do we got tonight?” Nightwing looked down at the plastic/burlap wrapped person Danny dragged onto the shores a bit ago.

“The lake kept the body cold, so it should be preserved adequately if you want to examine him,” Danny tilted his head to the side, the flames of his hair tilting with him. “He said his name is Gorganzo Bean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s a nickname he got for eating a whole can of beans straight.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Any more details?”

“Sure.”

When Danny reached to take the money from Nightwing, he found that the hero had tightened his grip on it.

Danny pointedly dropped his gaze from Nightwing’s face to the money.

“Wait. I- I heard from a source that you could possibly smell souls.”

Danny yanked the cash out of Nightwing’s hand and shoved it into his shoulder. If that didn’t confirm Nightwing’s identity, he doesn’t know what would other than the guy telling Danny who he was. “You’ve been speaking with Danny. Yes, I can.”

“Can you tell what’s wrong with my brother?” Nightwing blurted out.

Danny stared at him, his legs flickering in and out to his tail form. “…Other than dressing in probably leather or Kevlar and going out to beat criminals with his bare hands?”

Nightwing opened and closed his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “Other than that. Why is he- um, stinky? Soul-wise,” Nightwing added, clearly humoring the tinny little voice at the base of his temples that was an annoyed Red Hood saying that he showered. “He showers often. And is definitely not stinky body odor wise.”

“I am not a doctor. Well, not now anyways,” Danny said, thinking about his future PhD. “But he’s got a… soul infection. His natural immunity- all souls have a natural immunity against regular outside influences- is working hard to repel the equivalence of chronic bronchitis.”

“There’s… no way to help him?”

“I never said that,” Danny tilted his head. “Bring your brother to meet Danny. He could probably handle it.”

“The civilian?”

“His parents hunted my kind, once. He helped protect me and my people. If anyone knows how to cure it, it would be him.”

Phantom could not afford to deal with this right now, because Danny had a presentation tomorrow that he needed to finish.

“Oh. Thank you, Phantom.” Nightwing said, looking relieved and pensive. Danny decided right then and there that was Future Danny’s problem.

Danny nodded distractedly, blinking out.

He blinked back in. Nightwing jerked back. “Do you happen to have any examples of corrupt politicians in Gotham?”

Nightwing blinked before laughing. “It’d probably be easier to name the ones that aren’t.”

“Good to know. Thank you!”

——

A couple of days later, Tim and two older guys ambushed him in the quad.

“Hi! I’m Dick! This is my brother Jason! We’re Tim’s older brothers!”

Danny looked down at his hand- trapped in an overexcited handshake- and back up at Dick.

Whatever expression he was making, it must have been ha-fucking-larious because Tim and Jason burst out into laughter. Danny cursed his past self.

“Yeah?” Danny blinked. Wait. His smile grew and he made a face like he just realized something. “Oh. So you’re Nightwing?”

The laughter cut off.

“Haha, what?”

“Phantom told me you’d be coming but I, uh, thought you’d be in gear. Not… straight up telling me who you are?”

“You’re in regular contact with Phantom?” Tim demanded.

“Yeah, dude. After you- wait, you’re Red Robin!” Danny whispered.

“Oh shit, B’s gonna be pissed,” Jason drawled, looking mildly amused and hiding an extremely cautious, possibly lethal (if it weren’t for the fact that Danny’s pretty much impossible to kill with regular weapons) reaction.

“You’re one to talk. I’d smell your soul no matter what your disguise was.”

“…About that.”

——

You might be wondering: wouldn’t Dick know not to show up in civvies?

Yes. Except for the fact that Tim stalked Danny for weeks after he met Phantom and Danny hadn’t hung out with (himself) at all. They think Danny doesn’t know Phantom well enough to even talk to him much, despite being from the same town because: they’re all big city kids and have never experienced small town solidarity and, more importantly, gossip grapevines + they have no idea these two are the same people.

A deleted scene:

“When did you have time to talk to Phantom?” Tim demanded. Jason nudged Tim. That had hinted too much at what Tim was doing on his off hours and stalking was usually frowned upon.

“When I wasn’t talking to you, duh.”

[toxycodone]

GOD modern Laios would make such a good little trophy/house husband 🥺 he LOVES cooking dinner for you when you come home after a long day of being the breadwinner. you get to spoil and dote on him and he gets to spend all day doing nerd shit and taking care of the house (he LOVES cooking you dinner and seeing the look of relief on your face coming home to a clean house & warm meal after a long day)

on your anniversary you come home and he's cooked a fucking 5 star meal- like the kinda shit you only get at some fancy ass overpriced restaurant . After dinner you suprise him with a huge intricate Lego set you know he's been wanting but wouldn't ask for because it's soooo expensive & he nearly cries.

He spends like 2 hours going down on you out of pure joy alone before letting you tie him to the bed and ride him until he DOES cry- whimpering "thank you" and "I love you"'s over and over before you've even let him cum. tears falling down his flushed cheeks and eyes rolling back in his head as he writhes against the restraints, so desperate and grateful for whatever you give him. such a good boy, your perfect little house husband 😌

GOOOOOOD YES

okay. Since we got minimum wage retail Laios confirmed by Kui. House husband Laios is so fucking real.

Laios who’s a total part timer since meeting you, he works for pocket change and like. Bare minimum benefits just to keep things comfy for the two of you while he basically puts everything in savings. (Until like one day he just quits tbh when yall are really settled in)

But like in my mind he works under the table at Senshi’s restaurant for cash + to learn about cooking! They go on fishing/hunting/hiking trips together and go to the farmers market to get fresh produce and Senshi teaches Laios everything he knows.

He cleans up your apartment every day. Like, he’s not the best or a maid or anything. He’s just a dude. But he does recognize that he’s immensely privileged and does his best to show you hey. He does care. And he wants you to not have to bust your ass after coming from a full time shift. He does basic things like dishes and stuff and on the weekends you guys maybe spend an hour or two maximum cleaning on the weekends together

LAIOS. PACKS YOUR LUNCH. He love love LOVES doing this and he has little sandwich shapers to make them into little dinosaurs or dolphins or something. And he does bentos with cute little pins and molds and he lovingly spends time on this. I think he genuinely enjoys doing this stuff and testing out new recipes.

And cooking in general!! Like that is how Laios shows he loves you forreal. He genuinely pays attention to your tastes and tries to “gourmet” your favorite foods. (I’ve been rereading the manga and when Marcille’s upset he offers to try his best to make whatever she wants to eat out of monsters and it’s so cute…). Like you want grilled cheese? How about grilled Brie on fresh made bread? Bagels? Oh yeah he tried a new recipe at Senshi’s at 4 am, here’s fresh out of the oven pastries. It’s so cute.

I think. He loves like those random ass kitchen gadgets too. He 100% has an ice cream maker and he makes custom flavors for you.

And he just loves watching you eat. It’s such an expression of love. He works so damn hard to make you smile and make you happy. And his food never sucks because 1. Senshi teaches him everything 2. He ALWAYS tests recipes before going way too hard with them. Like he pays attention to your palette so if he made something gross or something just. Not to your tastes you’d let him know in the trial stage.

And GOD. Laios is just a fucking sex toy I swear. He’s genuinely like. A subby service top. He wants you to absolutely use him however you want but he likes to be the one that’s doing most of the work because he likes to spoil you with his body…(also he cums super easily in my hc so if he tops he’s able to like. Pull out and give you head or switch positions when he’s getting too close)

But when you spoil him and ride him…tell him how handsome he is and how much you love him. yeah he’s crying and whimpering about how much he loves you and how you’re just so fucking perfect. It makes your head spin because Laios genuinely makes you feel like you’re the only person on earth for him.

[myhrtbrkr]

my summer meal plan! 🥒🥚🍵

// on a boring day at home:

—breakfast • choose between:

oatmeal (no toppings): 160 cals

fruit bowl: 50-70 cals

iced coffee: 40-60 cals

yogurt bowl: 130-150 cals

smoothie bowl: 100 cals

cheerios w/ almond milk: 140-160 cals (eat w/ caution, as it is easy to b!nge with cereals)

—lunch • choose between:

plain rice cake w/ hummus & cucumber: 110 cals

shirataki ramen: 20-80 cals (depending on toppings)

iced coffee: 40-60 cals

spicy cucumber salad: 10-80 cals (depending on sauces)

HALF tuna fish sandwich: (not sure on cals but good for protein and feeling full)

—snacks • choose between:

rice cake: 40-60 cals

yogurt rice cake: 80 cals

tea: 0 cals

diet soda: 0 cals

airpopped/organic popcorn: 35 cals per cup

mini pretzels: 100-120 cals (my favs)

pickles: 5 cals

—dinner:

HOME COOKING : small portions!!

EATING OUT : have both veggies & protein and have full knowledge of what you are taking in

—dessert:

avoid ice cream & dairy at all costs

always go for the lowest cal option

~ tips :

* just because everyone else is, doesn’t mean you have to either. stand out because you’re doing what they don’t have the courage to do

* never let free, open food be the opportunity to b!nge.

* overate in public? no worries! make up for it tomorrow with sweat and tears in the gym.

* keep the sweet treats as TREATS. bad dogs don’t get treats remember? don’t be spoiled either.

[disneyprincemuke]

glitter * mv1

it's the morning after a party, and you find yourself tangled up in bed with your boyfriend

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: fluff!! (which is rare for me)

notes: the first one for my 2k sleepover!! my requests are open for my 2k follower sleepover event!!

“darling, wake up.”

the grip around your waist tightens and your back is pressed up on max’s chest. his lips linger on the back of your neck as his thumb traces circles on your bare waist.

you hum in response, your hand covering the back of his that laid on your waist. “good morning, love.”

“it’s 1pm. we need to feed the cats and eat something ourselves,” he whispers. the bed dips behind you and when you open your eyes, max is looming over your shoulder with a smile. “good morning.”

“5 more minutes,” you mumble. you shuffle in the bed, adjusting the duvet as you turn and force max back down into the bed. you throw your arms around his bare torso and bury your face into the pillow. “i’m too tired to get up.”

he shakes in a chuckle, making you pull away and furrow your eyebrows to glare at him. he simply grins at you and moves the stray hairs from your face. “you said that at 11am when i tried waking you up.”

you groan and drop your head onto the pillow. you put your fingers over his eyelids and force them close as you bury your face into his chest. “i’m saying it again now at 1pm. go back to sleep.”

the sun barely illuminates the room you share. you don’t know where the cats are, and while you are concerned about them, sleeping is the only way to cure the pounding you feel in your head.

max had thrown a party the night before, celebrating the end of the 2023 season with the grid. he had it in your house and invited everyone that could say yes. and he threw a raging party.

it did end at 5 in the morning, fueled to last that long with endless party games and loud laughter. you can safely admit that you drank a little too much knowing that you had nowhere to be the next morning.

you didn’t take into account how hungry the cats would be at 1pm. in your defense, though, you’d drunkenly filled up their food bowl before you fell into bed with max at 6.

“but we have to get up,” max mumbles, twirling a piece of your hair on his finger. he presses a kiss to your temple then rubs your shoulder gently. “some of the guys stayed over — carlos is making pancakes.”

you have to admit the pancakes that carlos makes is absolutely delectable. but it’s not enough to convince you to get up.

“he’ll make some for me later if i ask.”

“bold of you to assume that.”

“i know he will. he loves me.” you tighten your grip around him and yank him closer to you. “shut up, max. i’m trying to sleep.”

“then i will get up, okay?” he whispers, slowly untangling himself from your arms. “i’m very hungry and thirsty.”

you frown as the bed moves and the warmth of his body leaves you. you peek through an eye, watching him bend down to get his shorts off the ground and pull it up his legs.

“do you want any coffee? what about water? i’ll bring it up to you, if you want,” he offers, turning to you as he pulls his shirt down. “what about orange juice?”

but you didn’t want to be in bed alone. so now you’re slowly pushing yourself up the mattress, ignoring the way your world spins and head pounds with every second passing.

“darling, get back in bed. i’ll get you what you need.” his voice wavers as he rushes over to your aid when you stumble at the edge of the bed. “i’ll get you some pills for the headache.”

“i want pancakes,” you mutter as you fish for your shorts resting peacefully on the hardwood floor. “and i should help you clean. it’s my house too.”

“it was my party. you just sit back and relax until you feel better,” he says. he pats your head, grabbing the headband sitting on the bedside table peacefully.

he gently pushes your hair back and slides on the top of your head. "are you sure you want to get up now?"

you nod your head, eyes scanning the floor for the shirt you'd thrown somewhere here in the middle of the night. instead, your attention catches a picture reflecting a ray of sun onto a small patch of the wall.

you wobble over to it and pick it up, a polaroid picture of you and max from the night before. it's a tame picture from before the night had gone wild: you're in the kitchen by the fridge with a bottle of beer in your hands with his hand around your waist, and your head on his shoulder.

you're sure that there's another somewhere, later in the night when you're both flushed from the alcohol and giggling on the couch with your legs on his lap.

"there's more pictures on the coffee table downstairs," max chuckles, towering over you from behind. he holds up a piece of clothing by your side, the shirt you'd been looking for seconds ago now accounted for. "were you looking for this?"

"it's my favourite hangover shirt," you giggle, receiving the shirt into your hands. when you put it on, it rests just below your thighs, covering your shorts very slightly.

it's max's shirt from his teen years, no longer fitting him as he grew, but it fit you perfectly on days you prefer loosely fitted clothing. you tuck the hems of the shirt into your shorts and pull it out to give yourself some air.

"ah, you've got glitter all over you, darling," max laughs, his thumbs grazing over your forearm where the said glitter sits on your skin.

he squeezes you three times before he drops his hand to his side, eyes scanning your body for more traces of glitter.

"laugh all you want but you've got one on your cheek too," you tease as you lift your hand up to try and scratch it off. "this is going to be ass to get off."

"you're the one who suggested getting glittery party hats, darling, i don't know what to say," he shrugs as he turns and walks over to the door. "let's get some food and start our day."

"okay," you mutter, walking over to him. you stop by the door where he is and lift your chin. "i had fun last night. great party."

"it was only great because you helped me throw it."

[ltash]

Eating Habits

List of headcannons when it comes to his eating habits, according to my opinion.

1. Simple, no-fuss meals: Ghost prefers basic, hearty meals with minimal flair. Things like grilled chicken, steak, or a sandwich. He's more about sustenance than flavour.

2. Protein-heavy diet: He prioritizes high-protein meals to keep up his strength. Lean meats, eggs, and protein shakes are staples in his diet.

3. Tea over everything: Ghost drinks tea like it’s water. He prefers English Breakfast Tea, and it's often the first thing he reaches for in the morning.

4. On-the-go eater: He’s used to grabbing quick meals between missions or even eating on the move. Protein bars, jerky, or simple rations are common in his kit.

5. Cold baked beans from the tin: When he’s in the field or in a rush, Ghost has no problem cracking open a tin of baked beans and eating them cold. It’s quick, easy, and gets the job done.

6. Avoids processed junk: While he doesn’t care for gourmet meals, he steers clear of overly processed or junk food. He sees food as fuel and tends to avoid anything that might make him feel sluggish.

7. Coffee drinker: Despite his love for tea, Ghost also has a soft spot for a strong cup of coffee, especially black coffee. It provides a calming moment in the chaos of his life.

8. Rare indulgence in spicy food: Every once in a while, Ghost enjoys a spicy kick in his meals, especially when he can find a good chilli or hot sauce.

9. No-nonsense about breakfast: Breakfast for Ghost is usually something quick and effective, like oatmeal with nuts, scrambled eggs, or even cold baked beans straight from the tin if he's on the go.

10. Prefers to eat alone: He’s not one for big social meals. Ghost often eats in solitude, especially when in the field or at the base. It gives him a moment to think and decompress.

11. Hydration is key: He drinks plenty of water, especially during missions. Staying hydrated is essential, and he’s always got a water bottle nearby.

12. Doesn't like sweets: Ghost isn’t into sugary foods or desserts. If offered, he’ll decline politely or simply pass them on to someone else.

13. MRE master: Having spent so much time in the field, he’s developed a knack for making MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) more palatable. He knows how to combine ingredients to make them taste a bit better than the standard fare.

15. Doesn’t drink alcohol often: Ghost rarely drinks, preferring to stay sharp. But when he does, it’s a stiff whiskey, neat, no mixers, no nonsense.

14. Rare moments of comfort food: Every now and then, when he’s feeling nostalgic or off-duty, he might indulge in something comforting, like a hearty shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, or even a hot cuppa with biscuits.

16. Highly disciplined portions : Ghost eats in strict portions, never over-indulging, knowing that he needs to stay in top physical condition for his missions.

[superiorsturgeon]

out of curiosity, why do you like sturgeons so much?

A chance to info dump about my favorite fish…?!

I grew up in the Great Lakes area of North America, where fishing is pretty popular but everyone knows that fish populations aren’t anything like “the good old days” when people took out huge numbers of fish while messing up their spawning sites. I got pretty into fishing when I found out that I could catch bluegill in the surrounding farm ponds, and once in a while my family took me to an isolated fishing cabin for vacation, but for years I never encountered a wild fish bigger than a kilogram or two.

BUT THEN…

I found out about sturgeon! They were HUGE fish that had once lived in the rivers and lakes all around my home, and better yet, fish almost exactly like modern sturgeon had existed all the way back in the Cretaceous period alongside the dinosaurs, and they STILL EXIST TODAY!!! The fact that small numbers of these huge dinosaur fish still existed made them seem almost like a real-life lake monster/cryptid, except that we had proof of their existence!

Furthermore, there’s just nothing else like them. Sturgeon get big. Like, REALLY big. The record for the largest sturgeon was almost 11 meters/24 feet long, which is colossal for freshwater animals. They have armor plates of bone running down their sides, and at the same time they don’t have bony skeletons. They also have a crazy mouth structure, which allows them to actually pop their jaws out like a tube and suck up food. And on top of all of this, the adults are absolute tanks. I’ve seen skin nearly 8mm thick, and it’s so tough that people make leather out of it, and they occasionally lose fins or even entire gill plates and just keep on swimming! (I found out about that last one when I tried to wrestle a big female out of a river and my hand went straight into her gills. She didn’t seem that bothered by it!)

For a long time I filed sturgeon along with Alligator Gar, Giant Mekong catfish, and Yangtze paddlefish as a semi-legendary fish that may still exist, but I was never going to see except possibly in an aquarium, until I enrolled in graduate school. For those unfamiliar with grad school in the US, it typically involves both high-level classes as well as an independent research project the student designs and carries out with help from an experienced professor. When my mentor asked what kind of thing I wanted to study, I tossed out “sturgeon” as one such possibility, expecting to hear that I would probably have to limit myself to more common/accessible species.

I was blown away when she said “Actually, I think I know a guy…”

For the next several years, I got to ride along collecting wild adult sturgeon, gathering eggs, and raising the baby fish in a lab and in a hatchery. I was holding something that I had thought of as a semi-mythical lake/river monster in my own hands! I got to see a river choked with giants as big as 2 meters long, and I got to hold a 5-centimeters mottled baby whose armored scutes were still sharp and possessed the little arrowhead shape and big black pectoral fins that remind me of Mickey Mouse ears! In the video below you can even see a little heartbeat! (Don’t worry, this little guy was returned to the tank soon after to recover from his anesthesia!)

Sadly, I didn’t find anything super groundbreaking in my research, but my experience DID land me a job working in sturgeon aquaculture! If you’ve ever had caviar that wasn’t poached, it probably came from a sturgeon farm, and if you want to see a lot of big fish up close, this is a good place to do it! I probably personally handled more individual sturgeon than there are wild fish in several sturgeon species. In addition, while the wild broodstock I mentioned above might reach 2 meters and over 50kg, the sturgeon I dealt with at the farm would easily double that, and there were a LOT of them! I got to see sturgeon behavior that had never been recorded in field guides, and even a few crazy one-in-a-million mutations like the infamous “ghost” sturgeon!

I even got the opportunity to cook my own sturgeon meat (Yeah, I basically turned into the Touden siblings from Dungeon Meshi except for sturgeon instead of RPG monsters). I got pretty good at making smoked sturgeon, but the meat is also good on the grill or baked, and people have been cooking them in various ways for centuries.

My favorite part of the job was physically wrestling the big fish! Sturgeon are easier to grab than other fish with the right know-how, but a human-sized fish often has its own plans for the day and won’t always cooperate. I was pretty good at moving the adults by the time I left that job, but it was still a wild rodeo every time!

Even more exciting was how we spawned each new generation of sturgeon. In the wild, they form massive spawning runs in big rivers that in the past would be enough to tip small boats, but in a lab or farm we have to use other means. I’ll spare you the details, but I am one of a small number of people who have surgically extracted eggs from a live sturgeon and sutured them back up to swim another day.

The tldr of this essay is that sturgeon are a big, crazy-unique fish that have been around a long time, and I’ve spent a lot of my career handling and working with them. There’s just nothing like them for a fish nerd and they’re damn cool!

(Clip art not mine, I think @sturgeonposting drew or shared it!)

[edgeray]

oh yes i meant when the reader is pregnant if u can, not in a nsfw way im sorry i made it unclear😭

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 4

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  It is once again dragon time, guys. I've written three dragon-related things straight 😩. The part you guys have been waiting for. Actual romance, hell yeah. Extra fluff for that one annoying moot (you know who you are 😡). It’s a bit short compared to the other parts for this series, but probably because there's no new lore dump. Guys, I’ve thought so far into this au, please feel free to ask questions about this AU outside of requests. I am dying to talk about random bits of lore I made up (such as Arle's backstory that I won't be able to write). Also this isn't the end. Because there is going to be a Part 5. What the fuck, guys /j.  Hi anons!! Yes, you can be 🦊 anon and 👅anon. I'm sorry for how late this was first anon, I know I kept you for a while 😭. Also I'm sorrry for not being able to fulfil parts of your request because a) jealous arle wouldn't make sense given the worldbuilding, and b) i don't write nsfw of any kind. Sorry. I'm not going to include how exactly you're pregnant because it makes me uncomfortable writing it, so I'll just leave it up to your interpretation.  Please don't let these discourage you from requesting from me :). I always try my best to satisfy every request as long as it's reasonable and within my rules.  Content warnings / info - no warnings :), 1.8k words

Recovering from the infected wound didn't take long–in fact, it only took a week to be fully healthy, and the wound was healing nicely. Arlecchino was able to take care of everything while you were bedridden. You were surprised by how diligent and aware she seemed to be of taking care of you, especially as a dragon, but you didn't question it. She has had several decades of experience before you, you wouldn't be surprised if she picked up on a few things about humans. 

It's been about four months since the dragon hunters incident, and you have yet had another situation like that. Venturing into the town you had previously been going to was no longer safe, and so you began frequenting another bordering village. It was a bit further away, but because it turned out to be a port town, it ended up providing you with a lot more food and resources you previously couldn't access; including: fresh fish, more meat and produce, and more clothes and fabric. 

The trio have grown big enough to which you ride on top of one of them with no difficulty. They not only increased in size, but also their affection for you, crawling into your lap or climbing your back, or simply pouncing on any limb and holding onto you tightly. The same could be said for you, you no longer saw them as children, but your children. Arlecchino tells you that they refer to you as ‘Mother’ often.

Speaking of Arlecchino, she is no longer the standoffish dragon she was before the dragon hunters incident. On certain days, she can be just as clingy, if not more, than the children, although she would vehemently deny it with a scoff if you are to ever bring it up. Over time, she was less dragon, and more human to you, and with that, your attraction towards her continued to blossom. Your current relationship status with her is still strange, neither of you had ever labeled it on human standards, nor have the two of you ever ‘courted’ one another–in human or in draconic methods. Still, neither the two of you could miss the glances or the way you hold each other. 

Lately, the past few weeks, she has been acting strange. She's been exiting the cave more often alone, leaving you with her children to tend to, not that you mind. She returns hours later, usually with some type of wild animal she caught for you: deer, the occasional bear or moose, sometimes even pigs. You often stand at the entrance of the cave, dumbfounded as she drags the dead creature by her teeth in her dragon form, while the hatchlings salivate. If it's not wild animals, it's usually an arrangement of different colored stones she found along the shores or in the river. You appreciate them, but you're no less puzzled by the intention with each gift. 

You tried to wrack your brain of why she would be behaving like this, but you can’t come up with anything. It also seemed like with every gift you received, she became more and more… saddened? You weren't entirely sure for the reason, but you don't want to offend her by questioning her more. As the weeks pass by, and she disappears more and more, it seems like Arlecchino is… moping. 

You have asked the children multiple times, but all they do is give you a pointed look before jerking their head towards their Father and letting out a rumble. When you approach Arlecchino, asking what was troubling her, all she does is shake her head, her subtle pout ever so slightly intensifying. Finally, having enough of Arlecchino staring blankly at her hands for hours straight, you finally come up to her, taking her clawed hands in yours and gaze into her eyes. 

“Arlecchino. Tell me what's wrong,” you demand gently but firmly, kissing her knuckles.

The dragon stays silent, turning away from you, making your eye twitch. 

“Please…” You plead. 

Arlecchino seems hesitant to answer, opening her mouth before closing it several times. She contemplates something deeply, then lets out a steady exhale. 

“I've been… making courting attempts towards you,” she quietly admits, her cheeks flushing the slightest amount. “But… it seems like you're unreceptive to it because you're human.” 

Courting attempts? As if she was trying to establish a romantic relationship with you? No, it’s not courting as in ‘human courting.’ If it has to do with dragons, then perhaps it means–

“You… you want me as your mate?” You whisper out loud, your face undeniably warm at the realization, and your lips quirk up to the faintest smile. 

The dragon nods timidly, so unbefitting for a strong beast like herself. She peers at you intently, searching and analyzing every twitch of your face to come up with her own answer. You let out a huff, raising your arms to cup the sides of her face in your palms. The cold texture of her skin will never be an unwelcome sensation. 

“You could have told me instead of pouting like one of our children,” you chuckle, stepping closer to lean your forehead against her chest, feeling her thumping heart through it. 

“I didn't know if you wanted to be since… you never responded to my attempts. I know that it's silly seeing that you're human, but I felt more and more discouraged…” Her voice is low and vulnerable, and it makes you want to do nothing more but hold her in your arms forever.  

“You really still have so many things to learn about humans,” you giggle, pressing your lips against her nose. Fingers card through Arlecchino's silky locks, and you hum contently.

 “What do you mean?” 

You grin knowingly. “We like more direct expressions of our desires.” 

You stand on your tiptoes before leaning in, warm lips gracing cold ones as you pull her towards you. Your arms lock around her neck, keeping the two of you against each other. Quickly, Arlecchino responds, pressing her mouth against yours fervently while her fangs prick your bottom lip. You groan into the kiss, and squeak when her hands slide down to your behind, lifting you up from your feet and wrapping your legs around her waist. 

The two of you pull away, and there's almost a feral look in her eyes. 

“There's somewhere I have to take you to,” she growls in your ear, and you can't deny that it makes your stomach coil, your loins burning.  

“Okay…” You murmur, holding onto her tightly. She carries you with ease, walking out of the cave and following along the edge of the mountain's base. It takes only about ten minutes until you spot a small opening, another cavern. Arlecchino takes you inside, and your eyes widen at the sight.

It's a nest, a careful structure supported by stones as the foundation with the sides from branches and sliced tree trunks, before the top is covered in an assortment of blankets and pillows. However, it's smaller and cozier than the nest at home–as if it's made for humans. You carefully step into it, sitting down and finding it pleasantly comfortable. 

“Arlecchino…” you gasp out with whispered awe. 

“Yes…?” 

“Where did you get the money for this?” You question, holding a heap of the numerous silk blankets in your arms, giving her a pointed look knowing damn well it wasn't your money. 

The dragon brings a claw to her face and scratches nervously. “I had Lyney search the bodies of the dragon hunters for anything of value. They had quite a hefty sum,” Arlecchino confesses. 

You sigh in relief, glad that no weaver or innocent person was harmed in getting this. “It's lovely. Is this what you've been leaving the cave for for so long?” 

Arlecchino nods, her voice bashful. “It's… it's a mating nest, so that if it were to happen the children would not be there. I wanted to ask you here…” 

The dragon walks inside the nest, before kneeling down before you, her clawed hands gingerly finding yours and holding them in her large palms. “Would you like to be my mate?” 

“I thought my answer was obvious. Of course,” you answer, smiling. “But isn't mating season in another two months?” 

She nods in response. “I wanted to prepare as early as possible. I wanted everything to be perfect.” ‘For you,’ she leaves out, but you know it's what she implies.

“It is perfect. Thank you… though I feel bad,” you murmur, your own face flustered by your embarrassment. “It took me this long to realize. I guess… I should make it up to you by courting you back, right?” 

Arlecchino flushes, her face visibly reddening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you've courted me with how dragons usually do it. I will do the same, but with humans. Does that sound alright?” You offer, giving her the largest grin. 

Arlecchino's face softens, leaning down and pressing her forehead against you. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds alright,” she murmurs against your lips. 

—

Three months have passed by since then. 

Safe to say, you’re pregnant. 

Arlecchino’s attentiveness towards you had always been impressive, but it borders on extreme with how much she pampers you. Before the mating season, you've taught her all you can about human civilization and socialization so that in the instance you won't be able to travel to town yourself, she can instead. While you always have saved up a lot of money from your time as a dragon hunter, she likes to spend it on you unreservedly. 

It would be endearing if it weren't the excessive amount of blankets in the nest, as if you weren't warm enough. Not to mention the amount of books she's gotten you. Since she doesn't exactly know how to navigate a bookstore, or how to differentiate between different genres of books, she’s gotten you dictionaries, children's book, erotica even. She was blissfully unaware why you read a page for a few seconds, shut the book immediately, took a deep breath before reopening the book, only to reshut it as well, repeating the same process. You didn't want her to get any… ideas. 

Currently, Arlecchino was in her dragon form, nestled around you   protectively from any gusts of wind that may pass through the cave entrance, her tail thumping against the floor softly. Her head rests besides you, her throat rumbling gratifyingly as you run your hand over her snout. 

The trio are currently fighting over some of the beef jerky you mistakenly bought for them, unaware of the chaos it would ensue in the cave. They seem to forget that you can return to the town to buy them more… Ah well, hatchlings will be hatchlings. 

You wonder how much more lively the cave will be with another one. 

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: parrotfish

Which fish hangs out on a mermaid pirate's shoulder and repeats what she says in a high-pitched voice? The parrotfish, of course. Or at least in fiction they should (certainly will in my D&D world). But even in real life, parrotfish are still pretty interesting.

(Image: a common parrotfish (Scarus psittacus) seen from the side in front of rocks and corals. It is a brightly-colored fish, mainly light blue but with patches and stripes of yellow and pink on the fins. Its mouth is open, revealing what appears to be a beak. End ID)

Parrotfish are fish famous for their mouths and eating habits. There are about 90 species known. While they were historically considered their own taxonomic family, they have since been reclassified a subset of the wrasse family and there is still some debate on how to classify them. Most species are on the smaller size, but a few can get very large. The largest species is the green humphead parrotfish (Bolbometopon muricatum) at 1.5 meters (4.9 ft) and 75 kg (165 lbs) while the smallest species is the bluelip parrotfish (Cryptotomus roseus) reaching 13 cm (5 in). I could not find an average weight for the bluelips. What makes parrotfish really stand out visually is their colors and their mouths. Most species are very brightly colored, with distinct markings and males are usually more brightly colored than females. Their mouths are dominated by what appear to be beaks, which gave them their common name. These beaks are actually made of approximately 1,000 teeth arranged in 15 rows. As the teeth wear out, they drop off and are replaced by the row behind them. The teeth are made of fluorapatite, the second hardest biomineral int the world. To support their hardness, the fluorapatite crystals that make up the teeth are woven together in a structure very similar to chainmail, resulting in very hard teeth that measure in at a 5 on the Mohs scale of hardness. For reference, iron is a 4 and higher numbers are harder. The teeth can also handle 530 tons of pressure. You could put the weight of 200 black rhinos on a tooth and it would be fine. The beaks are powerful enough to bite through rock. Which is what they use it for, but more on that below. Another unusual feature of parrotfish is how they sleep. Some species make their own sleeping bags, which would be adorable if they weren't made of mucus. The mucus is produced using glands in the gills and looks like a transparent bubble. The fish sleeps in the mucus cocoon and when it wakes up, it eats the cocoon. There have been several proposed benefits of the cocoon. It contains chemicals that harm skin parasites while also providing a barrier that keeps new parasites from reaching the fish. It also likely blocks the fish's scent, helping it hide from predators.

(Image: a green humphead parrotfish (Bolbometopon muricatum) swimming over yellow coral. It is large and mostly a uniform green color, except for the front of its head, which is pink. It has a large, fleshy lump on the top of its head. End ID)

(Image: a close-up of a parrotfish's beak. The top and bottom beaks are divided into two halves, left and right. The beak is bade of small, circular teeth that overlap each other. End ID)

(Image: another common parrotfish seen from the front. It is inside of a mucus cocoon, which appears as a transparent bubble around the fish. Bits of sand dot the cocoon's surface. End ID)

Parrotfish live worldwide, though the majority of species are found in the Indo-Pacific. They live in warm, shallow waters with lots of rocky reefs, especially coral reefs. They use those powerful teeth to eat and what they eat most is algae. There are three main types of feeding behavior: excavating, scraping, and browsing. Excavators bite into rocks to get their food, scrapers crape food off of the surface of the rocks, and browsers go after larger food sources like seagrass and sponges. Some of the larger parrotfish species also make coral a large part of their diet. When they eat, they naturally get rock in their mouths, moreso in excavators. Because their food clings to the rock, spitting the rocks out would deny them food. Instead, parrotfish use pharyngeal teeth set in their throats to grind the rock into sand, which then passes through the digestive tract. When it exists the digestive tract, it is in the form of fine grains of rock. Or to put it another way, parrotfish eat rock and poop sand. A single parrotfish can produce up to 40 kg (88lbs) of sand yearly, and bigger species can produce even more than that. The process of rock being broken down by living things is called bioerosion and parrotfish are one of the most famous sources of bioerosion. The sand they produce can serve as the basis for new growth of coral or other species and helps reinforce nearby islands. In places like Hawai'i, the Caribbean, and the Maldives, it's estimated that up to 80% of the famous white sand is produced by parrotfish and they serve as a major source of incoming earth to support the islands. This makes parrotfish ecosystem engineers. Their eating of algae is also majorly important to their ecosystems. Algae can overgrow and smother delicate ecosystems like coral reefs and seagrass beds and decaying algae draws oxygen out of the water. Parrotfish help the health of their environments by keeping the algae population at healthy levels. Parrotfish also eat seaweeds and sponges that grow much faster than coral and can smother coral reefs. Parrotfish are considered keystone species in many reefs, including the great barrier reef and their population dropping correlates with reduced health of reefs. Damaged reefs tent to have larger parrotfish populations and those populations drop as the reef recovers.

(Image: a group of many parrotfish feeding on coral. They are all the same species and are mostly blue, with yellow heads and stripes on the face. They appear to be biting the the coral. End ID)

Parrotfish are protogynous sequential hermaprodites. This means that all parrotfish are born female and can become male later in life. The transition is usually triggered when there are too many females or not enough males in a location, though in some species any fish that reaches a certain size will become male. Some parrotfish are solitary while others are social. In social species, the social groups consist of a large male and a harem of females that he protects and claims mating rights with. Other males will attempt to fight the male for dominance via headbutting and threat displays and occasionally one of his harem members will become male to challenge him. Males are usually more colorful than females, which they use to woo females, but also puts them at greater risk of predation. If the harem leader dies and is not replaces, one member of the harem will transition to male and replace him. Many species perform courtship dances during nights of the full moon. In non-social species, males will perform displays and fight with each other to attract females. In social species, the dominant male will mate with his harem while smaller males without harems will try to sneakily woo claimed females or sneak in and mate without being noticed. Parrotfish are broadcast spawners. The female releases her eggs into the water and the males releases sperm to fertilize them. The eggs will drift on the current until settling, after which the larvae will hatch. As with most fish species, only a very few of the larvae will reach adulthood.

(Image: a Mediterranean parrotfish (Sparisoma cretense). It is mostly bright red, but with a yellow patch above the tail and a yellow stripe around the eye that runs down to the belly. A large patch behind the eye is blue. End ID)

Thankfully, most parrotfish species are not particularly endangered. The largest threat to them comes from habitat loss as pollution and climate change harms coral reefs. Reintroducing parrotfish to damaged reefs helps them recover. All species are edible, though there is no commercial fishery for them. While parrotfish are capable of delivering powerful bites, there are few reports of humans getting bit. That being said, I found one case where someone had skin on his penis bitten off by a parrotfish. And yes, that link has pictures. Enjoy.

(Image: a blue parrotfish (Scarus coeruleus) looking at the camera. It is a blue fish with darker patches around the eye. Its snout is bulbous and the beak points downward. End ID).

[answer2jeff]

ready for another lie?

// carmen berzatto x reader

song: Diet Mountain Dew.

pairings: nyc chef!carmen x journalist!reader

mdni!! i'm not responsible for your media consumption.

warnings: smutty smut, VERY DETAILED, fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), porn with plot, drinking, cursing, kinda subby carmy, praise kink, alludes to piv but it doesn't happen, complete and utter filth, i'm giving the people what they want don't look at me!!!

essentially a prequel, 1 year before the start of season 1 of The Bear.

"Fuck youuuuu! It's Friday, loosen up!" A groggy voice yelled from across the bar, cursing you for declining another drink.

You watched your friends flirt with the bartender over the course of 2 rounds of shots; causing harmless fuckery with the several guys who tried flattering them. You were actually bored for once. It made you sick.

You waited for something, anything else to impress you. You tried convincing yourself you didn't have to leave, that your friends wanted you here, and that nights like these were "good for your soul," but there seemed to be no hope.

"Just two vodka tonics. Oh, and a white Negroni. Uh, yes— yes, thank you." You caught a blonde curl from the stool next to you in the corner of your peripheral vision, and you dared to turn your head. You were met by the sight of an oddly familiar guy—and then it hit you like a semi truck.

The man you wrote your final thesis on "the senses creating art," about. Food & Wines best new chef, as of late.

You'd spent an entire year and a half traveling the world (after finally making a name for yourself as a journalist, and snagging a place in Food & Wines top writers) and interviewing the faces of all forms of modern art, representing one of each of the 5 senses.

Casey French, a fragrance designer as the face of "smell." Christopher Knowles, a fashion designer who specialized in optical wear as the face of "sight."

The list went on, until it ended at Carmen Berzatto, on "taste," just 6 months ago. It was September now, and you almost forgot about the 2 and a half hours you took from your day to sit down and talk to him in that studio. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pores in your palms release a nervous sweat.

You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were really seeing him— out of all the other Friday nights, when he could've visited all the other bars. But he chose this Friday, at this bar, next to you. You needed to say something.

"I'll take a Negroni too, actually. And you can just close out my tab for tonight." You handed the bartender your card after you anxiously fished it out of your wallet, trying to seem completely oblivious to Carmen's stare. Carmen clenched his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he kept his gaze focused on you.

"Holy shit! Is that—" A slightly younger man nearly yelped while he inappropriately pointed at you, quickly being shut down by his peer, and being told to "shut the fuck up," but Carmen stayed silent. He was dumbfounded at the sight of you.

"Uh, hi. Funny seeing you here," you croaked, swallowing hard when you realized how much of a horrible excuse of a "hello," that was. Carmen didn't seem to mind, dragging his head out of the clouds and smiling back at you as he received his glass.

"Oh my god, yeah. Wow, I— it's good to see you."

Carmen glanced down at your drink, watching you trace your fingertip around the rim of the short glass. He gazed at your fresh manicure, the beautifully layered rings on your fingers, the diamonds on your wrists, the black dress with a slit that exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh. Carmen always thought you looked nice, only being used to your blazers and gorgeous vintage pants that he was a little jealous of, but this was different.

And as if you weren't already anxious enough, Carmen's "friends" immediately arose from their stools and made their way to an empty table, leaving the two of you alone again. Just looking at him and his clean suit and tie made you nervous, especially with the ink on his hands still visible.

"Good to see you too, Carmen," you smiled, cheeks aching as you tried desperately to hide your excitement. Admittedly, you admired him. That wasn't new. But that feeling in your stomach, that aching, yearning feeling was.

"I don't usually do these things," Carmen mumbled, taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips.

"Me neither. It's kinda— I don't know, icky."

You knew Carmen avoided big gatherings like this, but they were usually tolerable thanks to people who "knew him" enough to let him hang around their groups in silence while they practically screamed at each other. But his free time just never seemed to align with anyone else worth talking to... until tonight.

"Icky. Couldn't have worded it better," Carmen tried not to laugh at your expense, keeping his tongue between his teeth as both of you fought back a smile.

"You get it! God, anyway—how've you been?" You inched closer to him, resting your chin in your palm as your elbows were propped up on the counter. You made sure to keep your stare on him and only him, glancing from his nose, to his lips, and back into his eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was too late to stop now.

Carmen paused, his mouth gaping open slightly as he thought of what he could possibly say to convey that he could be doing better, without completely ruining the mood. He sucked his teeth as he took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the floor until he finally looked at you again.

"Alright, I guess. Managing. How're you?"

"Managing. But really though. Like, has anything changed?"

Carmen thought about your question, realizing how much he seemed to relax tonight—while simultaneously being the most nervous he'd ever been outside of work in the last year. Was it being out and public after a long week? Was it the fact that he still felt so stupid for not getting your actual number, and instead only having access to your business email which was provided by your agent? Was it the smell of your perfume? Was it just you?

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I guess some things have changed."

He couldn't help but awe at the way you did your hair and your makeup that night, appreciating the tiny details your jewelry and purse of choice added to the look. He hardly ever thought twice about the attractive women he'd run into; making small talk and watching them get bored with his interests.

But now you were here; his fantasies, his desires were here, right next to him; wearing a dress that flattered your cleavage and cinched you at the waist, black heels that tapped against the footrest of the barstool. It made his head foggy, and he couldn't even wrap his head around the encounter.

After finishing your Negroni's over the course of 3 separate conversations that left you with a cramp in your side and your cheeks hurting from smiling—basically hitting it off like you were actual friends, you decided to pull the classic...

"You wanna get out of here?"

Two successful, somewhat well known adults in their lines of work were allowed to be human, right? They were allowed to share deep belly laughs with someone they didn't originally plan to see outside of a work setting, right?

Wrong. It was unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted: everything you promised you'd never be around him.

Carmen knew this.

But he was eye-fucking you in that goddamn interview. His tattooed hands rubbing against his thighs as he sat in front of you in the white light of that studio, his gentle voice contradicting his large, almost intimidating arms—it was all you could think about when you wrote your thesis. And now you were gonna be alone with him.

And despite his worries, despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, despite his growing anticipation when he admired your figure like a horny teenager, Carmen agreed. The smirk on your face and your manicured nails in between your pearly white teeth was convincing enough. He knew it was risky, given the fact that you still wrote for Food & Wine every couple of months: being more than capable of ruining his career with one wrong, but so right move.

"Yeah, actually."

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Fuck it.

Carmen closed his tab, gently helping you down from the barstool by your hand. You held your purse close to you while waving a shy goodbye to your friends, who were drunkenly squealing in excitement for you. Carmen's peers seemed to be out of sight; therefore, out of mind. You felt your cheeks go hot, every part of your body tingling. Neither of you knew where you were going. Just not here, and not with everyone else.

He couldn't even think about the fact that he would be back in the glowing white light of the kitchen that following Monday, and you completely forgot about the paper you had to start by Sunday night. And it was way too late to care about any of that now.

You decided your apartment was best.

"Fuck.." Carmen grunted under his breath, his eyes hooded while he felt his pants tighten against his throbbing length. He spread his legs wider as you palmed him, trying to ease some of his tension. You hovered over him as he lied down, sprawled out on your leather couch. His hands were clawing at anything he could reach; your hair, your thighs, the straps of your dress until he pulled it down to your hips, and finally the clasp of your bra.

His bare chest heaved, red and covered in sweat. His dress shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the mess of your apartment. He was honestly too desperate to care.

"You okay with me takin' this off?" Carmen whispered as he cupped your cheek, keeping his fingers prepared to unclip your bra with your permission. He admired every inch of your flushed face as he waited for answer.

"Mhm," you soothed him as your hand moved up and unbuttoned his pants the second your lips moved onto his. Saliva pooled in your mouths with every kiss, turning into a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. Carmen struggled, but eventually tossed your bra onto the living room floor, his mouth just centimeters away from yours as he exhaled heavy breaths.

You sat up straight, pulling Carmen up by his shoulders and smashing your lips back into his. He pulled sway to breathe, taking it upon himself to peel the rest of your dress off. His tattooed hands gently caressed your plush thighs, his calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your lace underwear. He practically worshiped you like this, planting open mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck.

Carmen needed to hear you, feel you, taste you.

"I wanna taste you, if–if that's alright," he placed one last kiss of gratitude on collarbone before he looked up at you through lust-blown, half-lid eyes.

Your entire body began to heat up again, and Carmen's words went straight to your needy cunt. You could feel yourself dripping through your panties while you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, nodding frantically.

"Please," you begged, a mixture of a moan and a silent cry escaping. Carmen's hands detached from your thighs, your hips writhing up from the loss of contact. Without another word, he nodded his head, letting his hands travel down your hips as he got down on his knees in front of you.

Carmen took a shaky breath, glancing from your pleading eyes and back down to your bottom half. He hesitated, choosing to plant one more line of kisses from your tits down to your navel before giving you one last look for permission. He put his hand between your inner thighs, asking you to spread further. You blinked slowly while he peeled your panties off of you, wondering if he would notice how wet you already were.

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Carmen licked his lips, admiring the sight of your puffy slit in hesitation. With your body sprawled out in front of him, your pretty face looking down at him...how could he not eat you out right on that leather couch?

"I've got you, baby," Carmen cooed, his eyes wide as he nearly drooled over the glossy puddle in your underwear. He gently placed your calves over his shoulders, his calloused hands scooping the underside of your thighs.

Carmens wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole up to your soaked clit, not a drop of your arousal going to waste. You grew impatient, the kitten licks he gave your sensitive bundle of nerves driving you mad.

"C'mon, Carmy, I—" You whined, pleading that he'd pick up the pace. Carmen decided not to hold back, giving your throbbing clit aggressive sucks that he'd later soothe with slow, flat-tongued licks.

You bit down on your hand while the other entangled in his hair to muffle the sinful noises you made. Carmen felt his stomach turn at the sound of his name falling from your gaping mouth.

Carmen took note of how much you loved his tongue diving into your weeping hole, earning whimpers and cries of "please," and "oh, fuck, Carmen." He groaned into your pussy when you caught a grip on his hair, placing his head even deeper between your thighs. He moved his hands from your thighs and up to your waist—forcing your jerky hips down on the couch. He wanted to make sure you didn't miss a single bit of pleasure.

"Can I.. uh, can I try something?" He stammered, picking his head up with his chin shiny with your liquids as his hand crept back down, prying between your folds. Carmen needed to keep every part of him busy so he wouldn't have to focus on the aching bulge, already leaking precum in his boxers. He felt his thighs clench as he fucking whimpered beneath you.

"S–sure.." You nodded frantically again, tossing your head back as Carmen carefully inserted a digit into your core. You whimpered in slight discomfort as he stretched you out, which he immediately reassured softly.

"Shhh... you're alright. Jus–just relax f'me, yeah?"

Carmen waited until you whined again; his fingers started at an agonizingly slow pace until he heard your moans getting a little too quiet for his liking. He picked his pace up, sliding another thick finger into your hole and ramming into your g-spot. He hesitated, afraid to hurt you—but you quickly dismissed his worries when you urged him that you needed more. Carmen aligned his tongue back with your pussy, sucking hard before comforting your desire with lapping at your clit.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you felt that familiar knot in your stomach, your grip in his hair tightening while your moans grew louder and louder. You didn't care if your neighbors could hear you through the thin walls of your apartment. You didn't even think about what this would look like the morning after—because none of it mattered. Not with Carmen's head between your thighs.

Carmen could tell you were close, prioritizing your pleasure before he could even register how badly he wanted to cum into his boxers. He couldn't help but buck his hips forward, begging for friction while every noise you made just inched him closer to his release... but he needed this to last.

"You close? Let me take care 'f you," he mumbled, breathing heavily against your pussy while he tried his best to stay still. It sent shockwaves through your body, and you tried desperately not to scream his name.

"So... so close.. Fuck, it's too much," your useless protest was cut short by a loud moan, muffled by the sweaty palm of your hand. Your heart pounded in your head as your walls clenched around Carmen's fingers. You weren't used to anything feeling this good in months.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it. You're alright. You're doing so good. Takin' my fingers so fuckin' good," Carmen's raspy voice comforted you. His tongue finally came back to relieve you, his fingers slowing down so as to not overstimulate you, as much as he wanted to.

"Carmy!" Your eyes screwed shut as your thighs shook. You chased your high, practically grinding into his face as his nose bumped your clit while his fingers remained at work.

—

"Jesus..." You panted, grunting in disappointment when you felt Carmen slide his fingers out of you. He licked them clean while your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to recollect yourself. Carmen planted a kiss on your temple the second he sat back up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap by your waist. You felt his erection against your crotch, his already sticky mess combining with your wetness yet again.

"You okay?" Carmen cupped your cheek, pushing any sweaty strands of hair out of your face. And just when he thought he couldn't have felt more proud of you, he melted into the feeling of your lips against his.

You didn't know if you'd ever see him again, you didn't know if this night would magically become niche hot gossip within your respective groups; all you knew was that you wanted him. His lust blown eyes on you, his hands gripping your waist as he bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you dumb, the sound of sex echoing through your apartment.

Maybe some other Friday night.

[lisenberry]

I’ll be sailing on your deep blue eyes

1/1 4.99k

E/MDNI/18+

Cw: Mention of dirt and filth, rodents (rats/mice), smut, he’s older (it's up to you by how much). Fish/Fishing. Meet cute. Summer love.

John takes you on a first date aboard his fishing boat.  It isn’t at all what you’d expected.

Ao3

It had taken John three days to say one word to you, but once he finally had, you found it hard to get rid of him.  Not that you wanted to. 

For your first date, he invited you for a ride on his boat for some fishing and a sunset cruise along the Mersey Estuary.  Although he'd say it was actually your second.  You didn't think snogging and necking for what seemed like hours, like a couple of teenagers, in the alley behind the pub you worked at all summer qualified, but he could be very convincing.

You were a teacher who supplemented your income cooking in your family's seaside inn during school holidays, and John really liked your great-granddad's fish batter recipe, enough to eat lunch there every day.  He must've known the havoc a steady diet of fryer oil and potatoes could inflict on one's health, but you were too happy for his company to remind him. 

And he probably didn’t care anyway.

He was massive.  Wide shoulders and a thick chest.  He must've worked in construction or something active.  He was cut not by fancy weight machines, but by hard labor.

And he must've seen something in you, too, because the food really wasn't anything special.  Especially when your cousin forgot to set the timer and disappeared to text his girlfriend, over-cooking the whole batch of fried cod and serving it anyway.

You wondered how the place stayed open or had any customers at all when you weren't there.

John told you to dress comfortably and to meet him at the docks at 6:00pm.  You weren't prepared for what awaited you when you walked up at 5:45, in a pair of cutoff shorts and a light jacket in case it got cold.  A bottle of good wine poking out of your bag.

“This is your boat?” you asked, as he exited the wheelhouse to greet you at the railing.

It was an ancient prawn trawler, probably from the early 80s, named the William John and about ten meters long.  Made for hauling in loads of fish and crustaceans, not pleasure cruising.  Rusted nearly through and decaying before your eyes.  It creaked and groaned above the lazy waves of the River Mersey like a contrary, lumbering goose.

You’d lived along the river your whole life.  You'd thought you’d gone nose blind to the smells of low tide and petrol exhaust, but you couldn’t place the stench that radiated from the relic.  Notes of wet tobacco, mildew, and dead animals, perhaps? 

“What’s the matter?  She’s not pretty enough for you?”  He wiped his grease covered hands on an equally greasy rag, defeating the purpose you thought, and reached up to help you board. 

His grip was warm and firm as he helped the bag from your shoulder and caught you against his chest.  His meaty palms on the backs of your thighs and his hot tongue down your throat was enough to momentarily distract you from your doubts.

You hooked your own arms around his neck, and the dampness of his sweat seeped through his layers.  It left you to wonder if he’d showered in anticipation of your visit, or if it would’ve even mattered in the end.  He was filthy either way, and must’ve been dying of heat in his layers. 

Undershirt, overshirt, coveralls.  Topped off with the boonie hat he only ever took off while he was sitting at his favorite booth while he ate. 

When he finally set you down, you nearly stumbled backwards from the absence of his steadying mouth.  Instead, you let yourself fall forward, further into him as you used his immovable form for balance.

“You look nice.”  His eyes sparked with appreciation as he dragged his gaze from your bare legs back up to your face.  “But are you ready to get a little dirty?”

“What do you mean?”  Suddenly apprehensive that you really did have wildly differing ideas of what constituted a date. 

“You’re going to be my first mate for this trip.  How good are you at following orders?”  His hands had traveled to your hip bones, resting as if they were handles molded just for him. 

“I’m not so sure I trust this thing in the open water.”  Your eyes fell upon a hose pumping some kind of slurry off the side of the boat. 

Best case scenario, it was some sort of waste.  Worst case, it had a leak, and that pump was the only thing keeping it afloat.

“Oh, she’s fine.  You don’t have to worry about her.”  He rocked your hips with his hands, as if gauging your pliancy.  Your soft edges fit perfectly in the crook of his thumbs.

“Then what do I have to worry about?”  You inquired with mock suspicion, as you blew away an annoying whisp of hair from catching to the beading perspiration along your eyebrow.

The humid air, and your closeness to him, already had your pulse up and your pores working overtime to cool you off.  You’d have done anything for a stiff breeze to ease the stickiness between your breasts and thighs.  But there was no respite, not from the sun or the intensity of his hungry stare.

“The tides.  We don’t have much time to waste if we’re going to make it back tonight.”  He slipped a hand behind you to unhook the line from the dock’s cleat, in a smooth motion that brought you closer together.

Trapped between him and the railing behind you.

Being stranded out to sea with him overnight didn’t seem so terrible.  Until you remembered the vessel upon which you were standing.  You did a quick mental check for the last time you’d gotten a tetanus shot.  Primary school, maybe?

“I’ve never worked on a boat before.”  You confessed as you moved out of his way helpfully.  “I just cook the fish, not catch it.”

"Try and relax, yeah?  There's no such thing as a bad crew.  As the Captain, it's my job to take good care of you."

“Is there somewhere I can sit?”  You looked around for a chair, only to find a few grimy plastic buckets and rusted out storage hatches.

“Plenty of time for that later, princess,” he said with a smirking shift to his lips that brought your attention to his thick mustache.  “You’re up here with me.”

An innocent enough reply, as he gestured you to follow him to the wheelhouse, but it brought lewd thoughts to your mind.  The kind of thoughts you’d been having for him since he first walked into your pub a few weeks before. 

There was no going back now, you thought, as he fired up the engine with a start that had you clutching his forearm with a white knuckled grip.  Only to have the nerve to laugh as you tried to compose yourself.

“You don’t trust me?”

“No, I do,” but you didn’t sound very convincing.  So, you tried again, locking your eyes with his.  They were a deep blue that matched the sea and held a certainty that made your stomach flutter a bit too fast.  “I do.”

He only nodded, content with your declaration, and motored effortlessly up the river.  Your nervous belly eased as bit as you passed by the Liver buildings and underneath the Queensway and the Kingsway, until you reached the mouth of the open Irish Sea.  The familiar stagnant smell of rotting seaweed and burning fossil fuels gave way to a fresh and crisp ocean breeze. 

The sun dipped lower towards the horizon line as you continued north past the statues along Crosby Beach, and the still visible vestiges of shipwrecks that dotted the coast between Fornby and Southport.

Your captain dropped anchor near each of them, and you shared knowledge and debated the history of the wrecks as he casted a few poles into the water, with hopes of hooking into the schools of mackerel that liked to feed in the cavernous ruins.  You'd read about them, and even taught the local lore to your students, but it was a treat to see them in person. 

To witness how the sea had claimed them and used them for its own purposes.  Deformed by the tides, and reshaped with mussels, vegetation and barnacles.

And he was right about the fish.  You took turns reeling in over a dozen of the mackerel he was hunting for, and with each catch, you'd gotten bolder.  The smile on your face grew bigger as each of your conquests stacked up into the ice chest.  There was a certain power to it.   In the team effort, between you and him.  A connection to the wild that sent your endorphins rushing and ignited your sense of competition.

He oversaw and advised, with a half-burnt cigar in his mouth and a growling affection for your quick study as he showed you how to measure them and gauge their weight.

"Good fish," he muttered approvingly, after each inspection.

“Good captain,” you flirted back as he caught the bottom of your ass with a firm clap. 

An unrest had begun to brew deep between your thighs, an uprising of desire and sensation with every heated glance and flex of jaw beneath his beard.  He was having as much fun as you were, judging by the flick of his tongue along his teeth, and the crinkle of his eyes as he took in your laughter.  

A twinge of hope perhaps, and the promise of more excitement to come.

"This one feels bigger than the others," you noted with a warning at the last fishing spot before it was time to head back.  The tip of your rod was bent nearly in half and the force of it pulled you tight against the railing.

"Fuck my old boots, you got a big one there," he grated, urgently, as his arms wrapped around yours and his foot propped against the side to give you more leverage.  “Could be a shark or a tope.”  He coached you through it patiently as you reeled in the line as hard as you could.

By the time you wrestled it aboard, you were both soaked, in both the salty sea spray and each other’s perspiration.  Your blouse drenched through, and your denim shorts smeared with fishy slime.

Your prey gaped at you from the chipped and iron-stained deck as John worked the hook free from its lip.  It was a cod fish, bigger than you’d ever seen.  It must’ve gone after the mackerel that had taken your bait and gotten snagged along with it.

"Now that's a beautiful thing, darling."  He held it up easily by the mouth and tail, and it spanned almost as long as his arms.  "About twelve or thirteen kilos, I think."

The sun had just about set around you and it painted the sky a dazzling pink.  The excitement of your catch buzzed in your chest as you stopped to appreciate the colors of it for the first time. 

Your Gran had often spoken of her love for pink skies at night.  A good omen, she’d always said. 

Was that the root of your building delight as you watched him pack the giant cod into the cold storage with the rest of the night's catch?  Or was it something else that had you gawking at his waist and hips, appreciating the efficient and powerful way he moved?

"I hope you don't expect me to cook any of that," you chanced a quip as he pulled two of the bigger mackerels out of the ice.

You were wet and getting chilled, as the evening breeze picked up.  Your jacket long forgotten in the wheelhouse.  A shiver crept from your feet to your neck and rubbed at your arms to brush the goosebumps away.

"You can take a seat now, love.”  He dropped his worn and smelly hat on your head and stripped off his thick flannel shirt to wrap around your shoulders as he disappeared into the wheelhouse.  "I'll take it from here."

His overshirt fell nearly to your knees as you retrieved your bottle of wine from your bag and hopped up atop the whaleback storage hatch.  Thankful that you thought to bring a few plastic cups and an opener, just in case.  This boat didn't have wine glasses, of that much you were certain.  And at that point, it didn't matter.

He hadn't capsized you yet.  You could cut him a break for the shabby state of his fishing boat. 

"Need any help?"  You offered, as he came back out with a small grill, a cutting board, and a sharp knife.

He turned over two buckets and grunted in a purely masculine way as he sank on top of one and set the board on the other like a makeshift table.  He held the knife with purpose, like an extension of his own hand, as he skillfully gutted, scaled and deboned the fish he’d set aside. 

“Thought we’d have a deck-side barbeque.  Enjoy our spoils.”

When he’d finished prepping dinner and set the whole fillets to cook on the grill, he accepted a cup of the offered wine and reclined back against the wall behind him.  You were already ahead by a few glasses, and it made you soften a bit. 

You felt closer to him now that he’d wrapped you in his warmth and his scent.  His shirt didn’t smell bad, necessarily, but it was ripe.  Like musk and spice, and the salt of the earth.  You decided then that you were keeping this one.

The shirt.  And maybe him, too.

Curious to learn more about him than the brief bits he’d let slip so far, you prodded him with conversation, and learned that he’d been in the army, serving for several years before retiring and returning home.  He’d only been back a few months before he’d stumbled into your pub for a pint one afternoon and saw you hustling back and forth between the bar and the kitchen.

“I didn’t realize you could cook.  Thought you only ate my fish and chips,” you asked.

The simply prepared, oily filets sizzled over the fiery coals as he checked and flipped them over with his bare hands.

“You think I was there because I like the food?”  A raised eyebrow giving him a rather dashing edge.

“You don’t like my food?”  You feigned a mild outrage, but you didn’t blame him.  You didn’t even like it most of the time.

“I like you.”  He pulled a fresh cigar from his pocket and took his time lighting the end.  A distraction perhaps, so he didn’t have to follow it up with another declaration.

You felt a girlish heat rise to your cheeks as you sipped more wine.  The culprit surely, not the giddiness of his attention.  There wasn’t much you could say to something like that. 

Thank you?   I like you, too?  How were you so bad at this?

“I meant to ask earlier.  Who’s William John?  The name of your boat, I mean.”

“That’s me.  My father was a bit of a ne’r do well.  So, when I was born, my grandfather commissioned this boat for him in hopes it would give him some purpose in his life.  A livelihood to provide for his family.  Aside from draining the family trust dry.”

“And he named it after you?  What a lovely gift.”  As rough around the edges as he was, the picture of him as a boy, working alongside his father brought a pang of longing to your heart. 

“You can see, by the condition of it, exactly what my father thought of it.”  He filled his mouth with a hot bite of food to test its doneness, and to save himself from revealing more of his secrets.

But he’d said enough, and the weight of what he’d shared made everything about him a bit clearer.  His pride, and his quiet authority.  He ran hot with something to prove, but was more shy when it came to the personal things.  Was he insecure in his ability to be loved?

The pang in your heart deepened, at the thought of him seeing the physical manifestation of the neglect he may have felt all his life.  That it wasn’t his father who taught him to fish, or drive the boat and chart the tides.  That he’d most likely taught himself, out of spite.

You thought of your own family legacy at the pub.  Still reaping the benefits of its name, generations after its greatness had faded.  Desperately in need of repair.  A little love and care.

“She’s not so bad.  Just needs a good cleaning and a coat of paint,” you offered gently, smiling your thanks as he handed you a plate of fish and a few slices of crusty bread.

“You see the vision, do you?”  An inquisitive light of humor in his eyes, surprised maybe that he hadn’t scared you away yet.

“Maybe I spoke too soon.  I haven’t used the bathroom yet.”  There was a brief moment of panic as he looked at you with confusion.  “You do have a toilet, don’t you?  Running water?”

“The head’s down the stairs on the left, but I warn you, it’s a tight fit.”

After dinner, you retreated down below to find that he was right.  The wheelhouse above held the controls and comms equipment, as well as a small galley with a padded bench, a dinette table, and a small cooktop and oven. 

Down a set of steps was the bathroom on one side and a sleeping area on the other.  A lumpy mouse-eaten mattress and a closet full of shelves holding everything from extra rope, bottles of motor oil, and dog-eared books.

A rucksack full of clothes and a few pairs of boots were stuffed haphazardly under the bed.

Somehow, the bathroom was smaller than the closet.  The door was broken and didn’t close, and there was a toilet and a sink, with a detachable shower head hanging above to wash over the drain on the floor.  It was wet and a bit slippery, with a newish bar of soap in the corner, solving the mystery that he had showered at least sometime over the last few days or so.

You settled for just washing your hands, but the faucet levers were stuck with layers of corrosion and scum.  Abandoning the effort entirely, you chanced a look at yourself in the cloudy mirror as the light bulb buzzed like a dying insect above your head.

Before you could take in your appearance, you heard him move behind you.  Felt his shadow take up mass, displacing the air and affecting the atmosphere like a weather system.

“Are you living here?”  You asked, turning around to find him propped against the narrow doorway with his shoulder.  He must have to pivot sideways just to make it through.

“I’ve gotten used to worse, if you can believe it.  This is downright cozy compared to the places I’ve been.”

It didn’t seem like an exaggeration, and you believed him.  You understood then why he’d been such an effective captain.  Why men followed him into hell.  Because he’d probably already seen the worst—and survived.  He could take it, whatever it was. 

He could take care of you.

Nothing about this date could be considered romantic.  You’d spent the first few weeks that you’d known him talking about yourself and your family.  Chatting his ears off while he ate and drank, patiently listening to your life story.

This date was to show you his.  To show you him.  To test whether you could follow him.  Trust him.  No frills.  No putting on airs. 

You could either hide from it, or embrace it.  It’d been too long since you’d kissed him, you came to the conclusion in that dank, stuffy space.  Hours at least, so you made the first move.  And it was if he’d been waiting for it.  Your acceptance.  Acquiescence.

Because once his hands met your waist, he made a sound of possession, feral and slightly unnerving.  One that bridged no argument between what is and what could be.

What was.

Hands and mouths, hips against his cock.  You stripped each other bare and collapsed into the bed with the squeaking of coils and the scurrying of something you hoped was smaller than a rat.

You took off his undershirt and chanced a look at his bare chest.  The tan lines between light and dark were stark around his arms and neck.  They brought a contentedness to your breath as you buried your face into his collarbone.

“What you laughing at, love?”  He pulled your face up to meet his, towards his eyes once more.  You struggled to find your focus in their depths.

“I like you, too.”  You hoped he would understand.  A simple thing, and yet you both had something to loose.

He only smirked, knowingly, and tipped a finger against the brim of the hat you’d forgotten you were still wearing.

“You’re in charge, sugar.  And I’m going to fuck you to until you beg me to stop.” 

“Please. Yes!”  You were right, he was a weather system.  And you were at his whim.  Do your worst, you wanted to scream.  To throw a bottle of empty spirits into his core and watch it be sucked away.

But he wasn’t wild like a storm.  He was steady, like the shore.  He caught the bottle and gave it back to you, quietly.  Gently. 

You felt a breath of fresh air along your bottom as he pulled you pants away.  And the humidity found you quickly while you writhed sticky and needy along his scratchy, hairy dick.

“You’re just one surprise after another, aren’t you?”  You murmured, as he slipped his thick cock past your entrance. 

Tighter than you thought he’d be.  A fit with no margin for error.  Snug and tight and welcome.

It stretched, reached places uncharted within.   You could whimper and shy away, but not with him.  You held steady and open, talking all of it.  As much as he could give.

“I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”  He wadded up your discarded shirt.  His shirt, and placed it under your head.  Its scent masking the moth balls and the dust as he buried your nose into the mattress.

And the remaining hours passed in a dream.  You beneath him, and then atop his face.  Aligned with his hips as you shuttered and rode his length in that tiny cot.  Kicking and screaming and begging for your own release.  Again and again.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”  You felt the thin mattress creak and dip as he slipped back down behind you, finally, when it was all over.

“Hmm?”  Your brain was too fucked out to form anything resembling a coherent thought, even if your voice hadn’t been broken.  You were sure they’d heard your screaming in Wales.  Maybe even Ireland.

“We missed the tide window.  About five more hours before we can attempt to go back.”

You whimpered, feeling the crush between your legs and the scratchy fabric at your back as he turned you over and pushed your knees up around your ears.

“The good news is I’ve got plenty of fuel in the tank.  A good captain prepares for all possibilities.”

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”  You couldn’t bring yourself to put any real accusation behind it.

“Yes and no.  I had my hopes.”  At least he was honest.

A relieved gasp escaped you as a warm towel greeted your sore cunt, and not the blunt tip of his cock or the prodding of his thick fingers.  Instead, he cleaned you up in soothing strokes that lulled you into security as you buried your face in the shirt that had become your pillow.

You awoke alone in the tiny bed sometime later, nearly hitting your head as you sat up too quickly.  With the size of his frame, he must not have spent much time in such a cramped space.  Eager to find him, and not be left alone with the chittering sound you could only imagine were mice, you slipped on his shirt and creaked your way up the stairs.

You found him at the helm, sipping a hot tea as he looked out at the lights of the city off in the distance.  Back to civilization.  You curled up on the padded bench beside him and watched in a comfortable silence as the light slowly returned to the sky.

By the time you returned to the dock in the early hours of the morning, you felt rancid.  Your skin itched, hopefully not from bedbugs, and your muscles burned and ached.  But you were smiling, floating with the kind of hopeful feeling that only came after something so new, so different, so crazy, it turned your whole world upside down.

“What’d you think?  Come back again tonight, princess?”  He helped you disembark the boat and folded his arms across his chest expectantly. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” you replied sweetly, knowing you’d see him again at lunch in a few hours.  Already looking forward to it.

And of course you showed up that night at the same time, and the same place.  Bringing with you more wine, an armful of industrial grade cleaning products, air freshener, mouse traps, a few preemptive cranberry pills, pest spray, and a rubber mattress pad cover meant for bedwetting toddlers.

You slipped into an easy routine together, until the end of summer.  Some days you’d leave the dock and sail overnight a little further down the coast.  Others, you’d stay in the port and work on the boat.  He’d do the hard job of making repairs and buffing off the rust with a belt sander, while you’d carefully apply coats of thick, maritime-grade paint.

Below deck, you helped scrub off the nearly forty years of mold and crud from the head and the galley until the true surfaces shined like new.   You finished it off with clean bedding and a decluttered storage area to hold the few things he’d owned.

He lent you his hat to shield your nose from the sun while you worked, and wrapped you in his layers at night when the chilly air crept in.

You brought a bit of life back into your family’s restaurant with fresh and simple grilled mackerel and curried cod recipes that your customers had raved about, and the William John got a makeover worthy of its name. 

And it had been the most fun you’d had in your whole life.  Your favorite summer holiday yet. 

On the last official day before the school year started again, with your classroom set up and your lesson plan laid out, you ended your final shift in the kitchen and found him waiting for you in the alley out back.

A bouquet of flowers in one hand and an enigmatic expression on his face.  His eyes danced with promise and his mouth seemed to twitch excitedly with words unsaid.

“What’s all this, John?  I thought I was meeting you later.”

“I wanted to pick you up,” he said, as if it wasn’t a short walk to the pier.  But his hands found your waist as soon as he’d handed over the blooms, and he set your legs around his hips.  A shocked yelp escaped your lips before being silenced by his.  You could kiss him for days and it wouldn’t be enough, you mused as he pulled away first.  “I have something to show you.”

For a moment, you thought he intended to carry you the entire way, but he set you down gently and instead took your hand.  A silly, romantic thing on the surface, when more accurately he was just too reluctant to let you go. 

His instinct to guide and lead, to pull you along in step beside him.  For your part, your curiosity had you skipping quickly to match his long stride, eager to see what had him so worked up.  Bustling with a nervous energy that contradicted his usually stoic demeanor.

By the time you reached the boat, he’d slowed down, walking forward more deliberately.  Waiting to see if you’d notice his gesture on your own.

He’d finished painting the hull since you’d seen it last.  It no longer read William John in tarnished, fading letters.  In its place was your name.  Elegant and bold.  As if he’d tattooed it on his own chest.

“Oh, love, you shouldn’t have!”  Your hands covered your mouth, and your eyes brimmed with shocked, happy tears. 

“She’s as much yours as she is mine now.  Seemed fitting.  For a fresh start.”  He draped a lazy arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.  “A new beginning.”

“You’d better take good care of her.”  You smiled up at him, your forehead barely grazing the bottom of his chin. 

“Do you think she’s ready for her maiden voyage?  One of the lads I used to serve with is up in Glasgow.  Wants to meet for some creel fishing for langoustines next week.”

“For how long?”  You’d be busy soon with the new term in full swing, and you’d quietly begun to mourn not seeing him in the restaurant every day, or sharing space in his wheelhouse each night. 

Change was inevitable, and it often came swiftly all at once.

“A month or so.  I wish you could come with me.  Never had a better first mate.” 

“Bring me back a few crates of those prawns, will you?  I’ll put them on the specials menu.” 

Saying goodbye to the haze of summer, and to him, was hard but you knew he’d be back.  Especially when he dropped his cherished boonie hat on your head and told you to keep it warm for him.  And sailed off in a boat he’d named after you. 

All the love to @the-sweet-hibiscus for your early support for this.

[animeficsworld]

The King’s Wife

Chapter 5: The Memory of a Love

Sukuna Ryomen x Reader 

Warning: Potential SPOILERS for AFTER the Shibuya Incident! 

Summary: Imagine being the reincarnation of Sukuna’s wife.

After that, Sukuna became distant.

It was as if he was avoiding you.

Perhaps he was waiting for you to remember as he said, but you grew more and more tired of this.

You had no idea what he meant.

You had no idea who he saw in you.

But you were NOT who he thought you were.

And it made you angry.

So angry, you didn’t even leave the room for a couple of days.

But when you did, you saw snow. 

You suddenly felt like you were back in time, as if you weren’t even yourself. 

You headed to the kitchen, knowing it was almost time to eat, and Sukuna would be rather grumpy without his food.

So, you started to prepare a simple soup, to keep you warm and some fish. 

You heard the door slide open behind you. Seeing Uraume enter you bowed your head slightly, remembering how cruel she can be towards you.

“You are cooking some shit again? How many times do I have to tell you that Lord Sukuna does not need your terrible food?!” she slapped her hand on the table which made you flinch.

But she soon left the room.

You put everything on a tray and headed to the dinning room. You set the table and just in time, Sukuna appeared.

You smiled as he closed the door behind himself and sat down. His huge frame used to intimidate you.

“Ryomen, I cooked for us.”

“I could smell it in my room, what did you make?” his eyes met yours as you smiled again, moving closer to him, he moved his arms around you, pulling you to his lap.

“I cooked some soup and fish.”

“Eat then.” he said and you nodded. Grabbing your bowl, you began to eat while he watched you. One of his hand moved to your neck, moving your face to look at him. He moved your hair away from your neck and saw the marks he had made. With a proud smirk, he let you continue.

You felt so comfortable and warm. 

You never wanted to get out of bed. Your futon was shared with your husband, allowing his huge body to fit, he often pulled you on top of him, but he was sure to keep you close.

Each night you felt protected in the arms of your King.

All four arms.

Series Masterlist

[sgiandubh]

For summer afternoons: Shipper Mom's Lazy Apricot Tart (feat. whisky)

Unlike me, Shipper Mom is not a cook and bless her, never pretended to be one. She has no patience and a #silly hidden talent for cutting or burning herself almost every time she tries to prepare something, against her better judgement.

However, I must immediately add that she has perfected three things up to sublime levels: omelets, Belgian endive/chicory salads and a couple of tarts (for which she joyfully cuts all corners that can be cut).

Her Lazy Apricot Tart, a French recipe fished out of the Femme Actuelle magazine sometimes around the Stone Age, has always been a summer staple in our house. Again, a 5 year old could make it in about 10 to 15 minutes, plus baking time (minimal). It requires nothing more than the basics. And it is to die for.

You will need:

250 grams/ half a pound seasonal apricots (ripe, but still firm); 1 sheet of store bought puff pastry; roughly 4 Tsp/60 grams caster sugar (or, even better, brown sugar/cassonade); a hefty dash of whisky; lime juice (optional).

Preheat the oven (medium heat). About 350 Fahrenheit/180 Celsius will do.

Cut apricots in half, remove stones.

Unroll the puff pastry in a properly prepared sheet pan. Cut it in squares, in the pan, before baking.

Place half an apricot on each square, cut side up. Add about half a teaspoon sugar and a bit of whisky on every apricot (fill in the stone hollow completely). Whisky-wise, I recommend a basic blended one. The Famous Grouse is the best I can think of, and a fixture in my kitchen: it was tipped to me by a Swiss family friend who used to be a Nestlé food chemistry executive - I have never looked back. You can add a dash of lime juice on top, if you feel adventurous - I know I always do. Today, we had an exceptional sample of single malt (you know who you are, 😘) and I find it's elevating it immediately. Predictable, really.

Bake for 15 to 25 minutes, until golden brown and properly caramelized, depending of your own oven's whims (mine is exactly like Shipper Mom, has zero patience). Let cool. Serve with confidence and watch the magic in action:

You're welcome.

[buffetlicious]

With mum’s limited selection of food she enjoyed, we were just rotating among the same few stalls. When I tried bringing her to new establishments, she is always saying things like “doesn't look nice or taste good” even before she is eating the food. So, we are back to XO Minced Meat Noodle (XO 肉脞麵) at Sembawang Shopping Centre for dinner.

My XO Minced Meat Noodle (XO 肉脞面) or Bak Chor Mee in local dialect came first. One can select from small (S$5), medium (S$6) or large (S$7) but I chose the small portion one. I asked for mee kia or thin yellow noodles with chilli added. My bowl is topped with fried dumpling, minced pork, sliced pork, fishcake slices, Fuzhou fish ball and plenty of crispy tempura bits.

Mum’s S$5 Chicken Cutlet Noodle (炸鸡扒面) has the same thin yellow noodles but with no chilli sauce added. Hers had only crispy and boneless chicken cutlet and tempura bits. Since ours are dry style noodles, it also came with a bowl of soup each.

[blues824]

hello!! is it possible to ask for jessica rabbit like mc with twist guys of your choice?

I picked the ones that remind me most of Roger Rabbit, besides Malleus. I just like him 🙂

Cater Diamond

Would absolutely dote on you and spoil you, while simultaneously making you laugh more than you ever had before. His Magicam is filled with moments where he took pictures of you laughing.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he just melts like chocolate on a warm summer’s day. In fact, you call him those names more than you do his actual name, so he’s always flustered.

The way you’re able to smoothly flirt with him even in public always drives him mad. He always blushes and becomes shy whenever you’re being affectionate, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it!

Ruggie Bucchi

He is absolutely heart-eyes for you. Anything you say will be done within the next 5 minutes. He truly turns into a Looney Tunes character and would sprint across the world for you. You are the person he holds closest to his heart.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he just has a big dopey grin on his face for the rest of the day. It’s as if you put him under a siren’s unbreakable curse, drawing him to his doom. And by his doom, I mean cuddles at night.

You both flirt with each other all the time, but you always win the war. He might call you ‘hot stuff’ or ‘sugar’, but you are able to flirt so smoothly… as if it were any normal conversation, and it leaves him a blushing mess.

Floyd Leech

He is simping. He would drop whatever he has in his hands, be it a tray of food or another person, just to hang out with you. He always gets so happy whenever you visit him in the Lounge.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he calls you ‘betta fish’ because you’re gorgeous like one. You even once called him a ‘sea puppy’ because he always follows you around, waiting for your attention and praise 

He doesn’t get the human version of flirting, so he will try his best. He’s the kind of person where it won’t click until later, then he’s screaming into his pillow while kicking his feet in the air like a middle school girl.

Kalim Al-Asim

He most definitely spoils you. You have the best jewelry and clothing that money could buy, all just because he loves you so much. You do feel kind of guilty, but he reassures you that it didn’t even make a dent in his fortune.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he gets flustered. He just calls you by your own name or ‘dear’ in response, but the latter is only used rarely. He’s not good with keeping nicknames, so please be patient.

He wouldn’t understand you trying to flirt with him, he’ll just smile and act like he definitely understands what you were trying to do. Jamil often has to tell him what you were doing, which is embarrassing for both parties.

Rook Hunt

He’s head over heels in love. You were just the fairest of them all, topping even Vil in all his glory. So what does he do? He follows you around, of course! Just like he does for everyone else who strikes his interest.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he calls you a lot of French names in response. ‘Mon amour’ and ‘mon ange’ are popular ones, but he also calls you ‘mon lapin’ for obvious reasons.

You both are very flirtatious, so much so that it makes everyone gag. You aren’t afraid to be lovey-dovey in public. Half the time, you are seated on his lap as you hold his face and press kisses everywhere. It makes him flustered, but he loves it.

Lilia Vanrouge

He is the Roger to your Jessica, alright? He’s goofy, childish at times, hyperactive, etc. He is as in love with you as you are with him. You already act like a married couple, and everyone makes it a point in telling you both.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he loves responding by calling you his ‘spouse’ and ‘darling’. You use the nicknames more than your real names, and your contact names in each other’s phones are your nicknames for each other.

You both love to flirt with each other when you’re on your own but if you were trailing behind Malleus, you stop. The young prince has an image to upkeep, and you don’t want to mess it up by doing something to tarnish his reputation.

Malleus Draconia

A more graceful match. Malleus loves to follow you around. He always wants to be near or with you, but not in a suffocating way. Every single time, he picks up a rose and gives it to you whenever he sees you.

He loves it when you call him ‘darling’, but he would prefer if ‘honey bunny’ were kept behind closed doors. He will either call you ‘darling’ or ‘dearest’ because he just finds them fitting. It melts both your hearts whenever you see each other and your nicknames are the first thing you say to each other.

You don’t flirt out in the open but on your nightly walks or in private, Malleus is more of a smooth talker than everyone thinks. His words alone are able to sweep you off of your feet, and you’re the one who ends up flustered.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 5]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

You all returned for dinner service. Like this morning, Yunho and his friends were not there yet, still resting from their mid day break. You made yourself a large container of iced coffee, tying your apron around your waist.

"Do eateries really benefit from a mid day break though?" Wooyoung asked as he washed his hands.

"Well, in this case, they sold out all that we made so I guess Yunho wasn't confident in continuing to stay open." You shrugged.

"They could still serve drinks." Seonghwa reasoned.

"But staying open with drinks only and no food might hurt the revenue. How much you make from drinks compared to food and drinks is so much lesser. It would be smarter for them to rest."

"That's true. Since they are the wait staff for the dinner service and they'll be cleaning up after." Jongho said.

"Don't they have someone to clean?" Wooyoung scoffed.

"They seem to only have someone that washes the dishes and then he leaves. Looks like the cleaning for the front of the house is all reliant on themselves." You informed. After some light conversations, you all began to get into preparing for dinner. As the prep chef, Jongho did all the slicing and vegetable prep.

"I should start prepping the seafood for the cioppino." Seonghwa went to get all the seafood. While Jongho sliced the vegetables, you made the compound gochujang butter for the chicken.

"The vegetables are done. How are we cutting the chicken for roasting? Halves or quarters?" Jongho asked.

"Let's do halves. They're quite small." You replied.

"Since we're searing the pork medallions towards service, I'll make the cherry sauce to get it ready to go." Wooyoung spoke. You hummed and crossed it off the list.

"I'll start with the chickens." You stood beside Jongho. As he butchered the chickens, you stuffed the compound butter under the skin.

"What fish were we using for the cioppino again?" Seonghwa asked.

"Monkfish." You reminded.

"That's the last chicken. I'm going to remove the silver skin of the pork tenderloin and portion it. Are you good here?" Jongho asked you. You gave him a thumbs up and he went to wipe down his station since he was handling the raw chicken.

Although Jongho was a prep chef, as he says, he usually handled whole dishes on his own. You were fine with it, the sous chef, prep chef titles didn't matter much to you.

"Oh when you're done washing up, help me preheat the oven?" You requested. He nodded and went to turn on the ovens for you.

"Ah, where is the madeira?" Wooyoung whined, walking out of the walk in fridge.

"It should be in the pantry instead of the walk in, Woo." Seonghwa informed. Wooyoung went to the dry pantry to look for the alcohol while Jongho tended to his sauce for him momentarily.

"Okay, that's the last chicken." You said, going to wash your hands and getting all the components together.

You laid the vegetables Jongho prepped at the bottom of the trays and seasoned them then you placed racks on top for the chicken to sit.

"Hwa, help me bring the trays into the oven?" You asked. Seonghwa nodded, lowering the fire on his stew before helping you carrying the remaining trays. You slid them into the preheated oven and closed the door. You set a timer and clipped it to your apron before moving onto the next dish.

"Cherry sauce for the pork is done. Shall I start on the dessert?" Wooyoung came up to you.

"Yes. Do the panna cotta now so it can set in time. But don't forget to make the parsnip puree for the pork dish." You told him.

"I won't. I'll do the panna cottas now." He went back into the walk in to get what he needed. When Jongho was done portioning out the pork and setting that aside, he did the raspberry coolis.

"Cioppino is simmering. We'll have to fire the bread during service." Seonghwa helped you with the Korean dessert.

"Oh! I forgot the makeolli ice cream needs to be churned. Let's get it done now?" You remembered.

"On it." Seonghwa took the ice cream machine out.

"I think the last time I made bukkumi was with my grandfather." You laughed as you made the red bean paste that will go inside the glutinous rice dough and pan fried.

"Actually, we haven't done much Korean desserts in a while. Our recent desserts are all Western or Japanese, we did our wagashi workshop together. We should start doing more of those." Wooyoung said. You all nodded in agreement.

"Thinking of using these for the mushrooms that will go into the pasta dish." Jongho showed the metal bowl with the mix of different mushroom types.

"Looks good. Maybe not shitake since it might overpower. And soak the dried porcinis." You looked through the bowl.

"Okay. I'll mix the dried porcinis and the dried black trumpets." Jongho went to the pantry.

"It smells so good in here!" Yunho came in with a big smile. Wooyoung and Seonghwa gave friendly smiles back. You and Jongho were so focused, you just blocked everything else out.

"Hi, (y/n). Did you get some rest?" Yunho asked, standing beside you. You looked up at him, taking a small step to the side but nodded.

Not that you had anything against Yunho but you valued your personal space, especially around people you were not very close with.

"Do you need help?" He grinned.

"Do you not need to help the others prepare for dinner?" You raised an eyebrow. Yunho shook his head, he really enjoyed being in the kitchen with you the other night. And he was never really one that stuck around the kitchen. The only time he was ever in there was when he was with his grandmother.

"Go wash get an apron and wash your hands." You nodded over to the sink. Yunho let out a small 'yes!' in cheer and went over to get an apron. Once he tied it around his waist, he washed his hands.

"What should I do?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Jongho is preparing the glutinous rice dough for me. For now, let's split these red bean balls and weigh them." You instructed.

"Like this." You demonstrated, taking a spoon of red bean paste and rolling it into a ball with your hands, weighing it to the exact weight then setting it in the tray.

"I can do that!" He nodded. But the moment he spooned the bean paste onto his hand, he dropped it.

"I didn't know it would be hot." He pouted.

"It's only slightly warm. You can wear the gloves there." You pointed with your elbow and Yunho trudged over to get them. Again, imagining Yunho's puppy ears pressed to his head in disappointment made you let out a small chuckle.

"Are you laughing at me?" Yunho's eyes were wide. You didn't think he heard you.

"No." You shook your head. To be honest, he wasn't the only one surprised, Wooyoung, Jongho and Seonghwa were a little surprised too.

Yunho resumed his spot next to you and began to do the task. Good thing he was meticulous, wanting to be as accurate as possible when weighing each ball of red bean paste.

"Dough kneaded and done. I'll let it rest." Jongho said, placing the big bowl with the dough beside you.

"Thanks." You momentarily stepped aside to see the progress with the others.

"How's it looking?" You looked into the ice cream churner.

"It should be good to go into the freezer in 45 minutes. The ratios should be correct that it still freezes despite the alcohol in it." Seonghwa nodded. With alcohol in ice creams, there can only be a certain percentage you put in or else the alcohol will prevent the ice cream from properly freezing.

"Panna cotta is going into the chiller!" Wooyoung announced with a tray in his hands. Jongho helped him with carrying the other trays with all the white ramekins.

"Jong, you can start the prep for garnishes. Woo, you can start on your parsnip puree. Hwa, can you help me make a chicken jus?"

"Sure." The three replied and split up. Once the glutinous rice dough was done, you began to portion those out too.

"Done. Shall I move onto that?" Yunho asked excitedly, putting the last ball of red bean paste onto the tray. You nodded and let him assist you in weighing the glutinous rice dough.

"Good evening." San, Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong came in after preparing the restaurant for dinner.

"Evening."

"Wow, you guys look so fancy." Wooyoung chuckled. While there was no waiter or staff uniform, the boys all wore button up shirts and dress pants.

"Wow, it's looking good. Anything we can help with?" Yeosang came over to look at what you were doing alongside Yunho.

"You can help Yunho portion these out. Then I'll start wrapping them." You said. After washing their hands, they came to help where they could with their limited kitchen skills. You placed a red bean ball in the middle of a circle of dough and wrapped it.

"So you're going to fry these after?" Hongjoong asked.

"Pan fry it to get the outside a little crispy. Then we're serving it with makgeolli ice cream." You told him.

"We have 1 hour. Can we make 1 of each dish that is prepared for service for tasting?" You called out. The 3 immediately fell into the rhythm of things.

"Chicken is in the warming oven so let's dish that." You said and Jongho brought the components to you for plating.

"Bread for cioppino going on the grill."

"Pork medallions going on the pan."

"I need a sous at the pass." You said. Seonghwa stepped up and you took over to make the miso butter pasta with mushrooms. The 5 other boys huddled closer to not be in the way.

"Woah." They watched in awe at how all of you worked together, handing components to Seonghwa to plate and put together to be served. Since it wasn't Michelin restaurant, Seonghwa got the plating done quickly. There was no need to micro garnishes but it still looked pretty and well put together.

"Desserts are not ready." Wooyoung informed after checking if the panna cottas were set.

"It's fine. Can we just monitor them and make sure they're ready towards the start of actual service?" You asked and he nodded.

"Watch your back." You cautioned as you placed the hot pan with the miso butter pasta. Seonghwa took a carving fork to twirl it into pretty cylinder. He then spooned the sauce over with the mushrooms.

"Can we sprinkle some chives over?" You said, looking over at the dish. Jongho sliced the chives.

"Better." Seonghwa hummed as he grated the bottarga over then sprinkled the chives over to give it flecks of green.

"Service." Seonghwa said, lining the dishes up. All 5 boys had sparkles in their eyes, their jaws slacked, as they looked over all the dishes in front of them.

"Appetisers, we went a little simple. Bruschetta, mini ham cheese croquetas, crispy brussel sprouts with lemon gochugaru dressing."

"Mains. This is miso butter pasta with mushroom medley and bottarga, we have pork medallions with parsnip puree and cherry madeira sauce, gochujang butter roast chicken with roast vegetables and a chicken jus. Lastly, cioppino with grilled ciabatta." Seonghwa introduced.

"We'll definitely look into exploring a bigger variety of appetisers after tonight." You added. Yunho nodded and they all dug into the dishes to taste.

"The chicken is so good. How did you get all the flavour in?" Yeosang was in disbelief.

"So we made a gochujang butter and we put it under the skin to roast. Then we let all that drip onto the vegetables." You explained.

"The pork dish is my favourite. I love that sauce." San pointed to the dish with his spoon and gave a thumbs up. You gestured to Wooyoung, who was responsible for the dish.

"Hmm..." Wooyoung deliberated after taking a taste of the dish. San blinked in confusion.

"Do you not think it's good?" San asked.

"I mean, it's good. But it is missing something." Wooyoung replied. You took a taste and Wooyoung looked at you for confirmation. You nodded in agreement.

"We have fennel. I'll grill it?" Wooyoung suggested. You hummed and Wooyoung left to go to the walk in to get the fennel. Without anyone else noticing, Hongjoong was finishing the pasta on his own. When the others noticed, it was too late, making them yell at the older male for not leaving them any.

"You snooze you lose?" Hongjoong shrugged. You noticed Yunho had not said anything.

"Any comments? Changes?" You turned to him. Yunho blinked, shaking his head to break his train of thought when he noticed that you were asking him directly.

"It's all really, really good." He said, the tip of his fork still in his mouth. You waited, feeling like he still had something else to say.

"I'm not sure if the food is too fancy..." He confessed. You paused for a while to let his words sink in.

"Would you prefer more homey dishes then?" Jongho asked.

"Let's see how the dinner service plays out before we decide for sure." Yunho said. You nodded in agreement, there wasn't much for you to say since he was the owner, not you.

There was now an awkwardness that hung in the air. Yunho was nervous, he hoped he didn't let his nerves throw you off your game.

"Let's take 5." You said. Wooyoung, Jongho, Seonghwa and yourself stepped out to relax before dinner service. The remaining boys went out to where Yunho was. Mingi looked at his best friend, who was spacing out behind the counter.

"Yunho ah. What was that? You okay?" Mingi tapped Yunho on the shoulder.

"Did I sound too arrogant? Too demanding? They put in all that effort and I just... should I not have said that? I just want the customers to like the place." Yunho panicked.

"It's fine, Yunho. I'm sure they didn't take it to heart. You have to be honest as the restaurant owner." San assured.

"Yes, compared to what I see on television, you were very nice in your reaction." Yeosang said.

"You're too nice, Yunho ah." Hongjoong chuckled, patting his tall friend on the shoulder. Yunho pouted, he didn't like telling people bad news or anything remotely negative.

"And like you said, you didn't say the food was bad. It just might not suit what customers are looking for." Mingi comforted.

"Let's focus on dinner service now." San massaged Yunho's shoulders to relieve the tension.

"This is the list of reservations. If there are still tables available, the online system will add the reservation as it comes in." Yeosang gave the iPad to Hongjoong to refer to the guest list, showing him the online booking sytem. Hongjoong hummed, nodding as he scrolled through and got familiar with it.

"For us, let's split the dining area this way. Into 3. So we don't get any mix ups or repeats, it is easier to keep track of which tables you are responsible for." San said to Yeosang and Mingi.

"Good idea." Mingi nodded.

Meanwhile, your team was back in the kitchen cooking, unaware of Yunho's 'almost' meltdown that was happening outside.

"Too fancy..." You drummed your fingers against the work top. Maybe you needed to go home and research more on what kind of fare and flavours you should be utilising.

"Don't think too hard." Seonghwa chuckled, coming over to kiss the top of your head.

"Don't mock me, Park." You rolled your eyes, shoving him away.

"Let's finish this service then go out. Drinks on Jongho!" Wooyoung said, slinging his arms over yours and Seonghwa's shoulders. Jongho slapped the back of Wooyoung's neck.

"Don't go volunteering my wallet." Jongho glared.

"Yah! I'm your hyung! Show some respect." Wooyoung whined, stomping his feet while Jongho made a face at him, sticking his tongue out. You let out a soft sigh and shook your head, going back to your station, letting Seonghwa mediate their bickering.

Yunho's feedback didn't negatively affect you, it made you want to work harder. You were glad that he was objective and honest, not just saying the food was good.

"We're opening the doors for dinner in 5 minutes." Yunho said through the small pick up window and disappeared.

"I forgot we have that service window." Jongho laughed.

"We've just been talking and serving through the door, which can be dangerous. We should use the window that's actually for passing food and tickets." You reminded.

"Let's do this." You gave each other pats on the shoulder and waited for the first tickets to come in.

"First customers walked in." Seonghwa informed, observing through the window.

Once the orders were taken, the waiters will key it in and the ticket will come through on the machine that's in the kitchen. It cuts the time the waiters have to come and handover tickets, it also makes it easier for whoever is at the window to sort out the orders and give out instructions to the rest of the team.

"First tickets coming in." Seonghwa announced.

Dinner service went by smoothly, there wasn't a manic rush but things weren't slow as well, which was good for Yunho. You were all able to take little 5 minute breaks in between.

"Last ticket going out. Service." Seonghwa rang the bell for pick up at the window. You let out a tired sigh, hearing Seonghwa's words.

"First day done." Wooyoung came, slinging his arm around you. You tiredly leaned against him.

"Let's clean up and prep for tomorrow before going home." You stood up. You, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Jongho gave each other side hugs to commend one another.

"Good work today, everyone." You smiled.

"Of course, we have our leader to guide us." Seonghwa smiled softly, making you look away.

"Do your dishes." You cleared your throat. You washed the big pots, pans and trays that you used. For the bowls, you all left them on the counter neatly to dry overnight, except for the ones you were going to use now.

"Before we clean the stove and the grill, let's cook some dinner." Jongho suggested. There wasn't much but the 4 of you used whatever leftovers you could find to whip something up.

"I wish we had some of that roast chicken leftover. It was seriously good." Wooyoung pouted.

"Luckily we had some piece of the pork medallions left that we could cube up." Seonghwa said, taking a portion of pasta for himself.

The dish was a pasta with garlic, onions, basil fresh tomatoes, cubed pork pieces. Jongho sauteed the leftover mushrooms, serving that alongside the leftover roast vegetables.

"Hwa, call the front team in. I'm stepping out for a bit. You guys start eating first." You told them.

"Sure." The 3 nodded, not protesting or asking any questions.

"Hey, we made a simple dinner before we start tomorrow's prep. Would you guys like some?" Seonghwa asked. The 5 nodded their heads and entered the kitchen. Just like this morning, Yunho noticed that you were not around. Did you leave after service? Did you eat dinner before you left?

~

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