#I want cranberry juice :c

[wyrm-with-a-why]

I’m so stressed the fuck out right now :3

[queer-little-demigod]

i wish i were special - clarisse la rue

summary glory matters more to her than you do.

fic type angst/hurt

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!hades!reader

word count 1k

warnings clarisse being mean, neglect, sadness, hurt, breakup, implied su!c!de

masterlist

That evening in the Hades cabin was lonely as per usual. You sat there, feeling stupid as you stared at the black candles flickering their orange light against the silver candleabra you had so painstakingly found out from the lost-and-found (ironically).

The dinner had been set, with Clarisse's favourite pasta with meat sauce, and two glasses of cranberry juice. All for her.

It had started with shying away from your touch in public, passing a comment here and there. But over time it got harder and harder to ignore.

Why didn't you do anything, Y/n? You might be thinking.

You just couldn't bring yourself to tell her she was being shitty, because more often than not she'd dedicate a win to you. With a speech, her lips on your skin, her hands on your body.

But ever since Percy came to camp, it’s always been about glory. It’s always been about being one step ahead of that random little twelve year old who just had a bout of good luck (in Clarisse’s opinion) and killed a Minotaur on his first monster encounter?

It was obviously more than that, too, but it still hurt the same.

It hurt even more that you had planned this date all by yourself, when she knew what a problem attachment and intimacy was to you, and she just didn’t show up.

You had poured your heart and soul into this, a way to show her how much you love her. A way to show her that you cared and weren’t just some unemotional Hades kid like everyone else thought you were. You actually wanted to show that you were different from everyone, not just the girls, because your godly parent, for the last eight years, had dictated how people saw you. How they assumed you were.

You gave up after a while, and lay back in your bed, staring at the ceiling after blowing out the candles on the little desk you made a makeshift dinner table.

‘What did I do wrong?’ Was your only question. ‘Was she tired of me?’ ‘Am I too much for her?’ ‘Is it because I’m a Hades kid?’

Little by little, you felt your heart break. Like a sculptor’s stone being chipped away bit by bit to make a painful masterpiece. You loathed having such a godly parent, you wished with all your might that things were different.

That maybe you were still special to her.

The next day, she came up to you with excitement. “Y/n, baby guess what—“

You didn’t want to hear it. Your whole body screamed at you to leave that situation, to walk away, make her feel shitty the way she made you feel shitty.

But you just couldn't.

You thought it would mzke you too vengeful, thought it would potray you as petty. It was just a missed date, she could've been busy, she forgot to tell you.

Intentional or not, it still hurt.

"That's amazing," you smiled tightly, resisting the urge to slide out of her touch as she swung an arm across your shoulders.

You loved her, but why did her touch feel like it was knives dragging down your skin? Why did it feel like she was not your girlfriend, but an outsider? An outsider who was trying to touch you.

She was just a stranger wearing your lover's face.

Three days later, it happened again.

You sat at the campfire alone, feeling far too shy to talk to the other campers, noticing how they shuffled away from you or formed such close-knit groups that you were physically excluded as well. How they whispered and stopped when you came. You saw it all. It sucked.

But what sucked the most was Clarisse not saying a single thing against it. How she, too, stayed with her group, not bothering to include you in any way whatsoever.

Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong again? Why was she doing this?

You saw that unlike usual, she didn't come to you in the evening to stargaze or just talk. She was at the training grounds. Again.

You understood that the battlefield was her temple, her spear her idol, the battlecry her prayer, but you also wished that you were as special to her as you once were.

You were a battlefield, but just the aftermath. The battlefield when it was littered with bodies, blood clumping up the soil and the air hanging heavy with the stench of death.

But you wanted more. You wanted something different.

You wanted to be the battlefield she was so devoted to. You wanted to be the spear she was with every evening, you wanted to hear the loving prayers she whispered to her spear once she finished her training.

Was it the loving prayers you wanted or the sound of her voice in that sweet tone once again? The tone which held all the adoration the world of war could offer, all the gentleness a child of the fierce battle could provide.

You wished you were special.

"Clarisse, you wanna hang out this evening?" You asked her again the following night.

"Can't," she said after ushering her friends away. Atleast she still valued private conversation.

"Why not?"

"I'm busy,"

"Doing what?"

"Why do you need to know?"

The way she snapped that last sentence, it made something in your heart ache. She knew you hated it when she snapped at you. She knew that you did feel lonely.

She knew it all.

You stared at the ground and sighed softly, "I don't,"

"Exactly," she scoffed. "Stop being so clingy, Y/n."

Clingy? Were you...was this her actual thought? Every time she said she loved it when you spent time with her...was it a lie? A petty lie sold to the naive, lonely Hades kid?

"Sorry," you shrugged, "I'll stop asking," you punctuated your sentence by turning around and walking off.

Why didn't she call back for you?

Why didn't she run after you?

Why weren't you special?

The next week went by the same. She would say she'd show up, she wouldn't, you'd ask, you'd be insulted. Over and over and over again.

One night, after you had spent another evening alone, you took a deep breath in and tapped on her shoulder, stating firmly, "We need to talk, Clarisse."

She was shocked. Shocked by the fact that you used her full name. You never used her full name. Ever.

You felt your palms sweat, your mind race, and your whole body almost seize up with nerves.

"Look, I get that you want glory in the upcoming capture the flag, you want glory at camp, you want glory in some quest or the other," you firmly stated. "But is glory worth more than me?"

A small, amused smile spread over her lips. "Is someone jealous?"

"Don't fucking tease me," you snapped, having had enough. "I'm not jealous, I'm--I'm angry. I hate being angry, but I especially hate being angry at you."

"Me? What did I do?"

An incredulous laugh escaped your lips. "What did--what did you do? How about we focus on what you didn't do?"

"Didn't--? Get to the point!"

"So you don't remember the missed dates, forgotten evenings, times where I wanted to talk but you called me--" You inhaled deeply, keeping yourself from bursting into tears. "You called me clingy or annoying or attention-seeking. I have ignored your shitty treatment for far too long Clarisse!"

Your heart ached as you saw her deadpan expression, her emotionless gaze. You felt your throat close up. You were in the middle of the ocean, salt water filling your lungs, stealing the breath out of them.

"I think you're overthinking it," she shrugged.

The water vanished. Now all that remained was fire. A new fire that coursed through your normally cold veins, that made you see red. It took everything in you not to punch her in the face.

"Really? You said that I was special," you snarled, glaring at her. "You said you'll never leave me alone, you'll never make me believe the bad thoughts in my head, and now I see that it's exactly what you do!"

Her silence is what hurt the most. She wasn't denying it, she wasn't apologising.

"Clarisse, don't you know how I feel? When I try to talk to people, they turn their heads with an awkward smile. When I walk into a room, people stop talking or laughing. When I sit near people they shuffle away, and for what? Because my father is the god of the dead. I'm punished day and night for something that I can't fucking control.

"You were the one who got me. You made me feel wanted, you made me want to wake up and live to see another godsforsaken day! But now..." you looked at the ground. No, you glared at the ground. You couldn't see her face.

"I always emerge victorious in the end," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Gods, you wanted those hands to hold you close and wipe your tears away.

You felt your heart break. "What?"

"I always emerge victorious in the end. Glory is what I live for," she said plainly.

Each word felt like a stab to the gut. Each word cut through you like a knife, like her spear tip cut through the training dummies in the arena.

"Glory matters more than me?" You whispered, looking up at her.

Clarisse felt her heart break at the look in your eyes.

You looked...hollow. Empty, a shell of a person. There was no twinkle in your eye, there wasn't the flash of laughter within them that she always saw. They didn't glow with an aura of love.

Empty. Like every child of the god of the dead would have seemed to be.

"Glory matters more than everything,"

"You said I was your everything,"

"Did you note the past tense, death girl?"

You didn't want to reply. You couldn't. You refused to talk to her after that sentence. Death girl?

If this is what love is, you didn’t want it.

Why did glory matter more to her than you did? You probably would never find out.

You wished you were special.

And you would just have to keep on wishing.

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

[lalunanymph]

𖨆♡𖨆 ran haitani x fem!reader, hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ yearning for revenge after the untimely death of your father, you come to discover an underground organization called bonten and how its executive may have all the answers you need. the big catch? you were the first ever girl that broke his heart.

: ̗̀➛ explicit sex, a/nal play, mentions of a miscarriage, grief, religious undertones, drinking, smoking, (f) oral receiving, mild exhibitionism, c/um eating, public sex, mentions of pregnancy, ran’s untameable daddy kink 

masterlist 🌙

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 #𝟒

No one can say that Ran Haitani was a man who broke his promises.

Not when he had his beautiful girlfriend in a mating press, one hand around your delicate neck and the other tracing tight circles on your puffy clit.

“R-Ran—ah-ah—slow down!”

Your whines were overshadowed by the obscene squelches coming from your joint bodies, and all your boyfriend did was chuckle.

The promise in question that he had to fulfill? The word of honor he had given himself to fuck you in that little tight dress the moment you both came back from the mission.

And, oh—did he carry out his promise with zeal.

This was your—what? Fifth round? Sixth?

You had lost all concept of time the moment you stepped back into your shared apartment and the doors closed behind your tense forms. Ran had instantly pressed you against the wall, ripping off your dress—ripping it, not even caring enough to remove it from your frame—and taking you on the floor like a lust-crazed animal; Kisaki’s blood staining between your bodies and smearing the pristine marble floors.

After finding your first release of the night, he had brought you into the bathroom, intent on cleaning you up before he got distracted by the suds clinging like a second skin onto the curves of your breasts. In the wake of christening the bathtub with your loud moans, he took you once more in the shower with your palms pressed to the glass partition where all you could was mewl pathetically and take everything he was giving you.

But Ran was not that mean to deny you rest after such an arduous night. He did let you rehydrate yourself with some cranberry juice before bending you over the couch arm, the ecstasy in his veins second to the exhilarating feeling of your cunt muscles massaging his cock.

Flooding you with his seed, he had finally—finally—brought you to bed where you could rest your aching limbs. But this respite didn’t last long and he soon slid his insatiable cock into your already swollen walls, fucking you from behind before putting you on your back, right where you are now.

“Where’s all your bravado, baby?” he grunted, that same bright grin of bloodlust now purely filled with lust. He didn’t care that your thighs were unceasingly quaking or that it had been a full three hours of non-stop fucking. “‘I’d probably like it, Rin’—were you fucking serious? Did you know how much I wanted to slap that pretty pussy of yours for saying shit like that to my baby brother of all people?”

“Didn’t mean it, Ran,” you mewled, gripping his amethyst locks tighter, tears clinging to the ends of your lashes. “I was just—ah—high on the kill.”

Your pathetic rebuttals were choked back when his palm tightened around your neck. Manhandling you with ease and setting you onto your hands and knees, your eyes snapped wide open when you felt the head of his cock nudge past the tight ring of your ass.

“Ran—”

“I know baby, I know,” he soothed, leaning over to slide open the bedside drawer to uncap a bottle of lube. The warmed drizzle between your cheeks made you seize in anticipation and he kneaded your hip. “Relax, baby. I’ll prep you.”

With his lubed thumb, he pushed past the star-shaped circle, your forbidden walls almost expelling the foreign pressure until you felt his other hand cup your mound, middle finger tenderly rubbing your engorged clit. Shivers of pleasure spiked down your spine and he used that distraction to settle his large thumb fully into your anus.

Unable to hold yourself up for any longer, you crumpled forward, ass pushed even higher for him to do anything he pleased with it.

“You good, baby?”

All you could do was make a soft sound of confirmation.

“Gonna fuck your pretty ass now, ‘kay?”

Your soft okay was swallowed when he pulled you closer, thumb replaced by the fat head of his cock. Through it all, Ran paced you, constantly rubbing your clit to get your muscles to relax until eventually—

“God, baby,” his guttural groan could’ve probably woken Rin up on the other end of the hallway. “S’tight f’me—fuck!—your ass is perfection, princess.”

With the sheets bunched under your white knuckles, you were nothing but a fucked-out sexdoll for him to do as he pleased. Every push of his hips—every rut of his cock deeper into your throbbing ass—made you expel full-bodied moans, the sounds unlike that one filthy porn video he had once made you watch while he ate you out.

“Ran, Ran, Ran,” you keened out his name, completely lost in the feel of his cock making its mark in your ass; the sloppy sounds of his thrusts and the lube dripping down your thighs getting you high enough to release high-pitched moans at every hot thrust.

If this didn’t wake your neighbours, you were convinced not even a shootout could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Y/N...” You peeked back to find him with his teeth bared, dreamy lilac eyes lowered in complete pussy drunkness, those soft violet locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. His palms were hot presses on your stomach, gently tweaking your nipples, and the pleasure was too much—all too much that you had to alleviate it; fucking your trembling pussy with two fingers as you came for the sixth and final time tonight.

Pulling his cock out, he sprayed his seed onto your back, harsh breathing loud and hot on the inner shell of your ear. There was no way you were tethered to earth; crashing down onto the mattress where he followed, completely exhausted from the numerous rounds. Outside, a milky dawn was peeking past the curtains and you flickered your tired gaze to the alarm clock, unsurprised to find it a little past 6AM.

Ran placed one shaky kiss into your hair and reached for the box of tissues you had prepared on the side of the bed, wiping his release from your back and tossing the soiled material onto the floor. Bringing you into the warmth of his embrace, he fished in his bedside table for his cigarettes, lighting one up and passing it to you. Your hands shook when you took it from him, inhaling the first drag of nicotine which lifted your already satiated body to all new heights.

The two of you laid in silence, no sounds beyond the slight crackle of both your cigarettes after every inhale. Ash was spilling onto the bed, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

“So, what’re you gonna do now?”

Ran’s voice jolted you out from your reverie and you glanced up at him. Those lilac eyes appraised you with curiosity and despite one whole night of fucking, you still blushed at the intensity of how he was staring at you, dropping your gaze shyly to your palm laying across his stomach. You traced the tattoos on the left side of his body that curled around his skin like the tendrils of smoke he exhaled, drunk on his warmth.

“I guess I’ll live now,” you murmured. “Dad’s killer is dead and it’s time to think about rebuilding my life.”

A beat of silence. “Mikey’s offer still stands, y’know?”

You tried hard not to get carried away by your silent excitement, clearing your throat. “You sure you want me in Bonten?”

“The spot’s all yours, babe,” he teased and wrapped one arm around you, tiredly nuzzling the back of your head. “‘Sides, it’ll be hot to see you kick ass all the time. You have great potential as a spy—Bonten’s little honey trap.”

Smothering a smile at his nickname for you, you quipped, “You sure you’ll be alright if I have to seduce other men?”

He smothered his cigarette into his own ashtray and dusted his hands, grinning. “As long as I’m the only one who can fuck your brains out by the end of the day—sure.” Ran’s reasoning was simple and you had to snort at how easy he made it all sound.

You took one last drag and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on your bedside table.

“Okay.”

Just like that, you sealed your fate as part of Bonten and of his life. His sculpted arms draped you closer across his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek. There was no need for you to look up to know that he was grinning like a Cheshire-cat.

“Ouch, fuck—”

“Stay still, miss,” the tattoo artist Mikey swore by as the best in the city reassured you.

He patted your arm and your gritted teeth was part of a melange of sounds which included the gentle whir of the needle currently jabbing into your skin with the speed of a thousand pricks. Beside you, Ran snickered at your expression of pain and you leveled him with a glare. You were going to kick his ass if he kept this up.

“We’re almost finished.”

From his words, the smarting pain lessened and a second later, a cool salve was spread onto the skin above your right thigh. He wrapped your tattoo in a bandage and gave you a thumbs up. “All done Mrs. Haitani.”

You were in too much pain to correct him of your true relationship status, and winced at the inflamed skin.

“Remember—you would need to disinfect it twice a day starting from tonight.”

Ran handled the payment while you fixed the hem of your blazer dress. One glance down at your leg and pride bloomed hot and fresh in your heart. The Bonten tattoo—modeled after Izana’s earring—stood out like a proud smirk on the expanse of your skin.

“Looks good,” Ran commented, quick to eye the same design he sported on his neck that was currently on the soft skin of your thigh.

“It’s pretty,” you cooed and took his offered hand, leaving the tattoo shop located near Roppongi. The afternoon sun was warm on your skin, draping over both your forms like a blanket of honey.

Once in the car, you admired the design, pulling up the hem of your dress to trace the tattoo with your eager eyes.

“Can you see it peeping past my dress?”

“Are you trying to flash me while I’m driving?” You didn't have to look at him to know that he would be smirking.

“In your dreams, Haitani.”

“Y’know you’re about to be a Haitani, too, right?” He brought your left hand up and skimmed his lips over your ring finger’s knuckle where a silver band with a 2 carat marquise-shaped diamond was nestled snugly upon your digit.

“Of course—you wouldn’t stop reminding me.”

“You love it when I remind you,” his quick reply made you want to blush; akin to admitting defeat when it comes to your bickering sessions with your now-fiancé.

“Yes,” you said softly, dropping your gaze to your lap and shyly squeezing his hand. “I love it, too.”

“Huh? I couldn't hear you—could you speak up?” This motherfucker… you could practically hear the grin in his tone and you hitched your shades up higher, smoothing down the front of your blazer dress to buy time to retort.

But, Ran was endlessly patient, especially when it came to your confession on your true emotions.

His grin was unbelievably—and unfairly—handsome. Purple locks fell softly in his face, his toned frame powerful under his neatly pressed three-piece suit, tie snugly fit in a pristine Windsor knot that he insisted you helped him do every single morning. Your fiancé was too alluring for his own good and as the both of you had walked the streets of Roppongi where you had both called home once, there was no denying the many eyes of the women (and some men) that lingered on him.

If you pointed it out to him, he preferred not to make a comment, merely smirking in that same smug manner. So, you decided to give in—just because you were in a good mood.

“I said I love you, you dork.”

“Oh—love you too, babe.”

Bonten HQ appeared, a covert building that housed Japan’s most notorious gang in the façade of a hotel that was under Mikey’s name. Scanning your name tags at the front desk, the both of you took the lift to the penthouse suite that was the main Bonten members’ offices.

The sprawling room was touched with a large window where Mikey’s desk stood on an elevated flooring, Sanzu on his right and Kaku on his left. In the front—Rindou and Ran’s desk, and beside Senju and Takeomi was your designated table. Your fiancé made small talk with Kokonoi who had his own private office to work over the numbers, while you noticed Senju’s absence and asked Sanzu about it.

“On a mission,” Bonten’s number two said, and raked his eyes up and down your figure. “You got the tat?”

“Oh yeah, I got it.”

“Can I see?”

“Gotta ask Ran first—hey babe, can Sanzu look at my tattoo?”

Without even sparing his superior a second look, Ran said, “Sure—if he wants his eyes gouged out.”

Haru raised his hands in mock surrender and fixed you with a smirk. “Sheesh, fine. I ain’t high enough to enjoy the pain anyway.”

You spared him a small smile as your phone vibrated, a quick reminder to where you were supposed to be in an hour’s time. Casting a quick glance at Mikey, you addressed him, keeping your voice soft and pliant to not arouse suspicion.

“Hey, boss? Is it alright if I take a quick hour to check on something?”

Mikey looked up from his computer screen and raised a brow. “Didn’t you and Ran just come back from lunch?”

“It’ll be quick,” you said and gestured towards the door. “I’ll be in and out in an hour.”

Your soft question caught the other’s attention and sensing the wandering gazes of his comrades, Mikey decided that an hour was not too long of a period to let you go and attend to whatever you needed to do.

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll be leaving now.”

Ran gripped your wrist when you passed his table, brows knitted. “Where are you going?”

“Just on… an appointment,” you took his hand with your free one and squeezed. “I’m heading into the city for a bit.”

Sensing that you wanted to be alone, he nodded, releasing his grip on you. “Okay.”

The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, Mikey quipped over the neutral silence in the wake of your departure. “Ran, I want you to follow her.”

He was in no position to deny his leader, and nodded, working out the logistics. He had brought a white shirt and a pair of jeans that he could change into, and since his car was as familiar to you as the white C8 Corvette he had gifted to you for your birthday, he went with another option.

“Sure thing, boss. Hey, Kaku—can I borrow your bike?”

The dark-haired man looked like he wanted to say no, but when Mikey’s gaze touched his, he sighed, fishing in his pants pocket for his keys.

“Here—catch.”

Ran caught the jangling bundle in his larger palm and grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t dent it,” was Kakucho’s low warning. Ran snorted.

“And hurt the love of your life? I won’t,” he snickered and knowing Bonten’s number 3 could not deny him, he picked up his comrade’s helmet as well, bracing it under his arm.

“I’m serious, Haitani,” Kakucho grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “If I see even one tiny scratch—”

“I’m dead, I know, I know,” Ran sing-songed as he made his way to the elevator. “I heard you loud and clear, Kaku.” The doors closed on Kakucho’s sour expression and Mikey’s impassive one. Alone, Ran let his cockiness drop and he wondered out loud what had gotten into you. “Where are you going, baby?”

Your Corvette was not in the private parking garage when he strode past your allocated spot, and he hurriedly dressed in the back of his McLaren before donning on the helmet and walking over to the majestic beauty that was Kaku’s Blackster 883 Harley. Checking his phone, he noted that you still had your location shared with him and followed that tiny blue dot downtown to the city where he caught sight of your car and trailed it all the way to… a jewelry store?

Parking Kaku’s bike between two alleyways that gave him a prime view of you, he let his eyes rake over your flushed cheeks, the slight panicked gleam in your eyes. He watched you until you disappeared into the shop, deciding it was a good time to lower the helmet’s visor and keep his languid gaze trailed on the front door to keep tabs on you.

As for you, there was not even an inkling of suspicion that you were being followed. The cool blast from the air conditioner blowing in your face made you shudder and your presence was announced by the soft clinging of a bell above the door.

“Mrs. Haitani—hello!” the young salesgirl with her whitened smile greeted you at the counter. “Are you here to refit your ring?”

“Oh, I’m not married yet,” you quipped, lifting your hands and waving them sheepishly, much to the other girl’s oh my gosh sorry, I forgot! It wasn’t that big of a slight and you leaned forward as if conspiring with her. “I’m actually here to get something custom-made.”

Her answering grin was as bright as the jewels on display. “Right this way.” Leading you towards a back room, you kept your guard up. Valhalla may be gone, but it’s minions could still be around at any time.

However, the coast remained clear and you were brought into another room where double doors were pulled back for you to enter. The head jeweler bowed his head low and offered you a wide smile. “Mrs. Haitani. How good it is to see you. I heard that you wanted something custom-made?”

Smiling thinly at your mistaken marital status, you pulled out some designs from your folder and placed the drawings on the table for him to peer down at it. “I would like to create a custom-made locket with tanzanite encrusting on one side.”

“May I ask why tanzanite, Mrs. Haitani? It is not as sturdy as diamonds”

Because it would’ve been my baby’s birthstone, you wanted to snap but reigned in your anger. This man was just trying to do his job. “Because I like tanzanite and I would pay a high price to have this done. Can you help me?”

At your insistence, he bowed his head once more and gingerly picked up your designs. “Give us half an hour.”

You smiled. There was a reason why you had chosen this place which was known for its speedy welding and precise craftsmanship. Of course, such swift care would come with a high price tag, but you paid it no mind. You would give the last penny in your bank account to commemorate the memory of your little one.

“This is the locket you requested for, Miss L/N,” the head jewelry appeared exactly thirty minutes after he had left you alone to peruse the displays. “What shall I engrave on it?”

The words that were traced on your heart but never had the chance to see the light of day spilled past your lips like healing water. “Could you engrave—’to the one I never got to hold’ on the back?”

A tremor of rawness passed between the both of you, and he seemed to understand what occurred for this to be your request. He nodded, expression turning rueful, and said, “Of course, Mrs. Haitani. We’ll be back with your necklace in no time.”

While you were waiting for the final touches to your necklace, Ran was growing impatient in the afternoon heat. He glanced at his Rolex and clicked his tongue, a surly mood that did not help with how the hot sun seemed to beat down on the back of his neck. Thank goodness he wasn't in his three-piece—he would be in an even shittier mood if he had to deal with the humidity in his custom-made suit.

A jewelry store. Mikey made him leave the cool shades of the office so that he could trail after his fiancée while she was in a jewelry store? Despite how much his boss’s paranoia was annoying him, Ran reasoned that Mikey must’ve wanted you to be watched in case you thought of threatening him again. Sano Manjiro did not trust easily and once that faith was broken, he would be a fool to keep his jugular exposed in any manner.

“Where are you going now, Y/N?” he murmured to himself, trailing after your reappearance outside the store, and absorbing every minuscule detail with his perceptive gaze; the sun glinting off your hair, the slight dip in the corners of your mouth, how you were resolutely keeping your eyes down to the ground before you closed the car door.

The route was unfamiliar to him and he made sure to keep a few meters away from you, the back of your white C8 Corvette still in his sights as he maneuvered Kaku’s Harley in between the streams of traffic. The gravel road became narrower until it tapered off to a lone building in the middle of a quiet field that was surrounded by dense trees.

He killed the engine, getting a vantage point upon a low hill where he had a clear view of you stopping the car in front of a lonesome little church. There you were—all sharpness and large shades, head bowed with a golden glint around your neck that he noticed you did not have before you left the jewelry store. What are you doing in a place like this, baby?

Ignorant to your clandestine audience, you disembarked from your car, the large shades you wore hiding a few tears you had shed while driving to this destination. The newly minted necklace felt like a hot brand against your clavicle, heavy to the touch; you steeled yourself with a deep breath and looked up at the blue sky for one brief moment before entering the sanctuary.

It had been years since you last entered a holy space.

Your father used to be a devout congregant, and church days were a staple in your little family until you turned 15 and didn’t feel like honoring this tradition, preferring to spend your weekends with your friends and Ran while your father did his duties as a good Christian man.

A part of you felt like you were coming home; the blow of nostalgia hitting you the hardest when you smelled the sweet incense, walking past the same pew your father preferred to sit on every Sunday. You could retrace every step like it was muscle memory—three pulpits down from the altar, always on the furthest side closest to the wall so he could let pregnant women and elderly couples slide out easily for Holy Communion.

Years later, his daughter would find herself sitting in his usual spot, staring up at the large crucifix of a tormented savior gazing down at her with doleful eyes. You had expected yourself to feel like an open wound—throbbing, and tender to the touch from all the sins you had committed; all the lives you had stolen.

Yet, all you felt in this instance was an unceasingly pervading sense of peace.

Completing the sign of the cross—you grasped the necklace in between your pressed palms and slid to your knees; praying for your father’s soul, hoping he was taking care of your unborn baby and giving them the love you never had a chance to give in this lifetime. You prayed for your safety and a better life with your fiancé—to be kept safely away from harm despite how dangerous both your occupations inherently were.

Through it all, the tears never ceased, your mind growing light-headed as you continued sobbing softly in this quiet sanctuary. It felt like you were sitting at the bottom of an ocean, peace saturating the air and fitting around the revered space like a jewel in a crown. Finishing your prayers, you did another quick cross and sat back on the hard wooden surface, staring up at the beige walls with your tear-clogged eyes and reddened nose.

“Peace be with you.”

That soft voice jolted you out of your miserable reverie, and you lifted your watery eyes to find a pair of kind ones staring down at you with a familiarity that reminded you of the past life you had tried so hard to bury.

Her lined face was sagely and a name tickled in the back of your mind. I’m helping Sister Teresa tomorrow with the catechism syllabus, the voice of your father echoed in your mind.

A face from your once the murkiest of your memories appeared like a shimmering holy light and you blinked back the tears, stuttering out, “And with you, sister.”

“May I?” She gestured to the empty space and you wished you could’ve scrambled to put on your shades so she could not see your tear-swollen features. Nodding, you discreetly swiped the remaining tears from your cheeks, forcing your features into one of contrition.

“I’m sorry—am I not allowed to enter during this time?”

“Everyone is always welcomed back to the House of God, my dear,” she said kindly and then, “I remember you—Mr. L/N’s daughter—my, my. It has been too long since we last saw you.”

Deciding that you could not deny her recognition, you faked a smile that most likely appeared grotesque through unmistakeable sorrow.

“I have been… busy with life, Sister Teresa.”

“So, I’ve heard,” the older woman hummed, sweeping her veil to the side and fixing you with those kind eyes that seemed to pry into your soul insistently to bring up your deepest hurt. Your desire to bolt from the scene and stammer out an apology was extinguished when she murmured, “I am sorry for the loss of your father. We all prayed for him, and for you, too.”

Stunned that she still remembered you despite your pervading absence all those years ago, you remained quiet, shifting your attention to the sanctuary so you could avoid her piercing gaze.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

You sensed that she wanted to reach out to you—to understand your disappearance from this church and subsequently, from this town; you had, after all, up and left from everything that once remotely held a shape of familiarity to you. Deciding that it was safe to speak to her, you recollected how open she was to you as a younger girl and your tongue loosened, eager to bridge the gap between your old self and this new Y/N; aching for a slice of your old life back even if it was just from this minute interaction.

“I… reconciled with my old ex-boyfriend,” you lifted your left hand up for the matronly woman to spot the engagement ring. “We’re getting married soon.” Her wide smile dampened your reluctance to speak and you divulged to her the real reason you had sought out sanctuary away from the world for a few moments. “I’m here not just to pray for my dad… I lost a baby.”

She did not judge you on your marital status or even pin the blame on your lascivious new lifestyle that landed you in this position. Rather, all she said was, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

It was funny how such a simple show of kindness had your walls fracturing and you fingered the locket around your neck. “I got this necklace made for my baby.”

Sister Teresa's dark eyes were warm when she regarded you. “They are with the Lord.”

“I just pray my dad is taking care of his grandchild.”

Her kind smile never wavered and she reached out to you. After years of sexual and even violent physical contact, you couldn’t stop the flinch. But, there was no ulterior motive to the warm press of her hand on yours beyond unadulterated sympathy and understanding “I’m sure he is. And I’m sure he’s proud of the woman you are today, Y/N.”

You had doubts if your father would be proud of how his sweet daughter became a prostitute-turned-gangster, but the holy woman before you did not need to know the truth. Deciding that you would break down and tell her everything that happened the longer you stayed here, you cleared your throat, tentatively squeezing her frail palm in yours.

“I have to go, but it was so nice to see you after so long, Sister Teresa.”

Your hesitance must’ve been scrawled on your face. She nodded and released her hold on your hand. “Of course, Y/N. God bless you.” Trailing after her when she left the pew, you bowed your head before this holy woman, thankful that you were given this piece of interaction to put your past behind you.

“God bless you, too.”

“Take care,” the older woman hesitated before adding, “we’ll always be waiting for you should you wish to return, Y/N.”

Somehow, that was enough reassurance that you were on the right path after years of running through an endless dark forest; you could see the light—you were allowed to see the light.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sister. Thank you.”

The figure of the woman he loved stepped out of the church and Ran straightened from his languid position on Kakucho’s bike, wondering what you had been doing inside.

But he didn’t have to ruminate for long; before approaching the Corvette, you dabbed at your eyes which he could see were red-rimmed even from this distance, lifting your shades to hide your sadness from the world once again. He sighed, already knowing what had transpired from his years of being intimately acquainted with you.

He brought his phone to his ear, carefully watching you close the car door and speed off towards the highway—back to Bonten HQ.

An answering click on the other end. “Everything alright, Ran?”

“Yeah, Mikey,” he sighed, “she made a trip to a jewelry store and went to a church. She was—is—still grieving.”

The head of Bonten did not need to ask him what you were mourning over. Everyone who was there on the day you pulled a gun on Mikey knew, despite how high you placed your walls in an effort to detract anyone from scaling it. The other man was quiet as he absorbed this fact.

“Take the day off—both of you,” was his curt response.

“Boss—“

“I don’t think I need to tell you twice, Haitani.”

There was no bite to Mikey’s bark; he sounded amused rather than threatening and Ran did not want to seem ungrateful for this show of kindness. Perhaps he could use this day to take you out shopping or try this one cafe you both had been meaning to visit for a while; anything to replace the red-eyed remorse with your usual sparkling smiles.

“Yes, sir.”

Dribbles of champagne dotted the counter when the men toasted, flutes clinking together, the sparkling flavor lost on your tongue as you chose to sip on a glass of water tonight.

Raucous laughter filled the space, hoots of this bar is so cool warming up the crevices of your soul at how bright everyone seemed tonight for the second Haitani bar opening in Roppongi. The writhing mass of bodies outside seemed to be muted when everyone was in this VIP room, the music vibrating through the walls almost drowning out Sanzu’s next words when he leaned in closer to you and said:

“So, I guess you’ll have your hands full with this new baby.”

“You can say that again,” you grinned up at your superior and nudged his shoulder. “But, don’t let Ran hear—he wouldn’t let me return to Bonten if you called our new bar that.”

Your fiancé was flitting around the room as befitting of the new co-owner of this establishment. Smartly dressed in a new three-piece Zegna that you had bought for him, the only thing more catching than Ran Haitani for tonight would be the tasteful decor and walls splashed with hues of dark purple that made you feel like you were nestled in the middle of a brimming, lively forest; the snatches of LED light almost akin to bright flashes of lightning—here for one split second and then gone.

“Pfft. I would drag you back myself. No one is as good with numbers as you are—well, besides Koko.”

“Glad to hear that my business acumen is helping us speed up our money laundering efforts,” you teased and Sanzu winked at you, cheekily retorting:

“We’d be lost without you, darling.”

A tap on your shoulder and you excused yourself from the pink-haired man’s side to address Mikey.

“I’ll be heading back soon,” he said and swept his dark gaze over the lively VIP room where only selected guests were allowed to mingle and enter. “Thanks for inviting me—it’s a good spot.”

“Of course,” you agreed with a fond smile. “Do you need me to call your driver, boss?”

“I have a ride,” he clarified and you didn’t pry; Mikey may have unfinished business and you sensed he didn't want to burden you with that knowledge.

“Just call us if anything comes up, okay?”

A fleeting smile lifted the corners of his lips and he bobbed his head once in acknowledgment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“‘Night, Mikey.”

You watched him walk out of the room with his head bent and hands in his pockets, mentally wondering if you could perhaps lift some of the weight that hung on his shoulders by prepping him dinner tomorrow. A part of you wondered—did Mikey even eat? You’ve only ever seen him smoke and drink, but never consume a proper meal. That had to change soon; you couldn’t risk your boss withering away from the stress.

“Hey. Mikey left?” Ran’s voice jolted you out from your reverie and you made a sound of confirmation.

“Yeah—he said he had to go.”

Lilac eyes darted to his watch and he kissed his teeth. “It’s a little after four. I guess we should wrap this up.” You nodded and went to inform the bar to stop the flow of drinks. The dance floor outside was still in full swing, but slowly, lights were coming back to life, signaling to the inebriated crowd that the club was going to close soon.

At the VIP table, Kokonoi was counting a wad of cash despite how Ran told him to lay off his finances and Rindou was chatting to Takeomi who had a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. A few random prostitutes hung around, some of them you recognized from brief meetings when you were once in their shoes, and others brought in by your future brother-in-law to keep the atmosphere lively in the room.

One of them was cuddled up next to Kakucho, and you sensed that he would most likely take her back home before the sun rose. Mochi had gone back before Mikey, and Sanzu was on his best behavior—nose clean, literally and figuratively, as he was sprawled next to one of the whores, letting her admire his scars.

From the corner of your eye, you saw one of the girls who was emboldened enough to sway over to your fiancé, sitting on his lap as he was speaking to one of the investors. Lifting a brow, he regarded her coolly, and you took that as your cue to walk over to her, gripping her shoulder in one tight hand and glaring down at her.

“You’re in my spot,” you spat, and pushed the drunk woman off his lap, ignoring her squeak of indignation.

Locking eyes with her, you straddled your man’s lap and touched your gaze with his to find him staring down at you amusingly. The short satin dress you wore had hitched up to your thighs, exposing the globes of your ass and you didn’t care to make yourself decent despite your status as the co-owner of this bar.

What you did instead was run your lips down your fiancé’s throat, nipping on the slightly salty skin softly before standing up, cognizant of how the girl was staring at you in incredulity. “I forgot something,” you said in a sickly sweet voice and nodded towards the investor who was trying hard not to stare at the plush flesh of your thighs as you strode away, making sure to brush against the stunned girl when you passed her.

As you spoke to the bartenders and took into account the stock for tonight, you felt an arm slide around your waist and lips in the crook of your neck. “Y’know… you’re incredibly hot when you’re jealous.”

Feeling pouty because he didn’t immediately push the girl off him, you huffed and pried his hand off you. “I’m closing up, Ran.”

Proving that he was persistent, those same warm lips trailed towards your ear, nipping your lobe affectionately. “I really was going to tell her to fuck off, baby. You were just faster than I was.”

“Hmph,” was your retort and you felt the low vibration of his chuckle in the pit of his chest.

“You’re so cute.”

Cute? Oh, Ran Haitani was really asking for it tonight.

You turned around in his arms and lifted yourself onto the counter. Under the strobing lights, his handsome smirk was all you could giddily keep your eyes on, and you tugged him closer by his belt, letting him into the circle of your legs and trapping him there with your thighs around his waist.

“Damn, baby—right in front of my investors and colleagues?” he teased and traced his fingers down your bare thigh.

“You should’ve paid me more mind, then,” you pouted and he leaned forward, kissing you on the plump of your lower lip. Letting his hand drift to your waist, neither of you cared that eyes were on you; he let his lips meet yours and you sank your fingers into his purpled locks, gasping when he sharply bit on your lower lip which gave him easy access to slip his tongue into your mouth. Despite the atmosphere growing hot and heavy, you kept your head leveled and swallowed the urge to moan into his mouth when his larger palms skimmed down your back, making you shiver with anticipation.

Pulling your mouth away from his enticing one, you breathed in deeply, raising your gaze beyond his shoulder and catching your colleagues’ eyes. The men shamelessly drank in your shy smile and how you tossed your hair to the side so Ran could suck on the exposed skin of your neck, your fingers tangling in his locks possessively. This little club-warning session was officially over for you.

“Bar’s closed!”

Your voice rang with undeniable authority and the bouncers responded to your orders. In the distance, a low groan from Rindou who had enough of you and his brother sucking each other’s faces off in front of everyone, and a come on, man from Sanzu who was just about to bring that whore into his lap.

If your colleagues were pissed, they dared not show it, not in yours and Ran’s turf. They knew their place.

Once the VIP doors closed with the last employee who staggered out, you released a low, dulcet moan.

“Ran—baby,” you panted, weakly pushing his face off your neck, the numerous love bites he left in his lustful oblivion starting to throb slightly. “N-not fair. You let me chase them out while you were enjoying yourself.”

He hummed, dipping his head lower to your cleavage, his tongue leaving warm curls of saliva on your heaving chest. “I knew you had it under control, baby.”

Squirming in his hold, you gasped when he pushed one thin strap off your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drunk off your vanilla scent that made his cock all but jump at the thought of finally tasting you. “‘Sides, it was sexy watching you trying not to lose it.”

“Kaku shook his head at me,” you tried to keep the whine out of your tone, but failed. “The whole team probably thinks I’m a slut.”

“So, what?” he purred and looked down at you with those half-mast amethysts. “Even if you are, you’re my slut. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

The truth made your clit twitch and every fiber in your body was aching to have him.

His lips touched the clavicle of your throat where your necklace hung and he reached out to it. “This is pretty.”

“I had it made about two months ago,” you mumbled, thinking back to that darkest moment in your life when you were still grieving over your lost baby. Though the wounds were still there, it did not feel as tender as before; a scar replacing the throbbing, hot laceration with the veneer of time.

“It’s tanzanite.”

You affirmed his observation. “I got it done for… our baby.”

A rueful expression overcame him. You had expected him to be surprised or even point out why you would be doing this for a child you barely even knew—but all Ran did was trace his thumb over the engraved words. To the one I never got to hold. “I know. Mikey told me to trail after you that day at the jewelry store and the church.”

This did not surprise you. “Oh. I suppose he still doesn’t trust me.”

“He does,” Ran closed the distance and pressed his forehead to yours. “It was just that one time.”

You hummed and drifted your fingers to his tie, unlooping it, putting all thoughts of Mikey, your baby, and the mistakes you made out of your mind. Ran—he was the only thing you wanted to focus on tonight. You undressed him, starting with his loose tie, then his suit jacket and the creaseless vest to expose the white dress shirt underneath.

He got your message and pushed your other strap off, exposing your lace strapless bra from underneath the soft satin. There were no more words exchanged; warm puffs of his breath teasing your neck and leaving goosebumps down your arms when he pressed hot-open mouth kisses in between your breasts before gently drawing down the slinky cups; wrapping his lips around one turgid bud. You sighed, enjoying his attention when he shifted his mouth to the other nipple.

“Baby,” you whined when he slid one calloused palm down your thigh to touch the wet spot growing on your matching black panties. Pulling the scrap of lace down and tucking it into his pocket, he flashed you one cheeky grin before kneeling; tall enough that he easily came eye-to-eye with your pussy. Ran settled himself in between your thighs and you gasped when he used two large fingers to pry your soaking lips apart before his tongue slipped out to part through your folds.

Leaning back on one hand, you bit your lower lip, the music in the distance becoming mellower, the lights turning into one solid color of the softest shade of purple that matched the dilated lilac pupils that were cataloging your every reaction. There was a knock on the door and the both of you paused.

“Sir, ma’am? The club is officially closed,” the voice of your head bouncer drifted through the cracks.

Clearing your throat, you retorted, “Thank you. We’ll b-be out in a bit.” Your voice faltered when he started to suck on your clit, the sounds that came from the man in between your legs could rival the nastiest porn out there.

“Shall I leave the key with you, ma’am?”

Ran took the opportunity to slip one finger into your pulsing hole, enjoying your soft grunt of pleasure.

“U-um—just leave it on the table outside!” you chirped, flashing your infuriating fiancé one glare to tell him to cut it out. But, Ran was enjoying how quickly you were falling apart at the seams, your hips no longer under your control and grinding down on his tongue that was currently drawing maddening circles on your puffy clit.

“Alright. Goodnight Mr. Haitani, Mrs. Haitani.”

“G-goodnight,” you called and waited until the front door closed before releasing your restrained moan. The man below you only snickered, a devilish smirk on his angelic face.

“You’re s-such an asshole, Haitani.”

“Hmm? Hard to tell that you’re mad when you’re literally dripping over our counters, baby,” he mocked and straightened, chin shiny with your juices. You opened your mouth to retort, but the words were stolen from you when he brought you down from the high surface and pressed you to his chest. One hand slipped under your skirt, two fingers plunging deep into your depths.

“Ran!” your squeal bounced across the room; no sounds now beyond your heavy breathing. Using his free hand, he pushed your head forward, your cheek pressed into the glass counter.

“Look at the mess you made, you filthy girl,” he cooed and you were shocked to find a puddle where your pussy was just a few moments ago. “Lick it.”

“Ran—”

Those long fingers of his easily grazed your sweet spots, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. The hot bubble deep in your belly was threatening to burst, your orgasm promising to wash over you in an act of vengeance. If it wasn’t for his arm locked around your torso, you would’ve probably slid down to the floor into a puddle; similar to the pool of your juices on the once pristine surface.

“Lick it and I’ll make you cum.” His breathy yet gravelly tone left you conflicted; those slim and nimble fingers felt blisteringly good and you were close enough to start clenching down on him. But, Ran did not give in, did not press on your swollen spot and your clit in that way which would always make you seize around him.

“Baby—”

“Come on. You’ve eaten my cum before and you’re shy to taste yours? You’re the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had—shame that you don’t experience it. Do it, Y/N.”

Flickering your gaze up to him, the hand on your neck did not seem to yield and you shuddered at how intently he was looking at you. There was no room for you to beg and worm your way out of this. Slowly, your tongue slipped past your glossed lips and you lapped at the almost creamy liquid, the taste of musk heavy in the back of your throat and making you feel filthier than the mess you had left behind.

Literally slurping your own cum, your cheeks were burning, the cold glass barely extinguishing the flame of embarrassment at how this was turning you on beyond the point of return. Those lilac eyes never left yours, occasionally flitting to your progress, and once the counter was spotless did he grin and nod approvingly.

“Good girl.” Ran didn’t give you any breathing room; fucking you vigorously with his fingers, your slick sloshing around his digits, and with his other free hand, he teased and tweaked your nipples, breath hot in the shell of your ear.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, the fog of lust making you throw out all caution, your needy sounds bouncing all across the walls. “Daddy—please…”

“Cum for me,” he breathed, “Cum for me like the little slut you are, Y/N.”

Seizing around his fingers, you keened out your orgasm, all but humping on his fingers like a bitch in heat, panting and moaning out his name. A suspended moment in time where you were purely made of just sensation—white filling your vision and you opened your clumpy eyes, your mascara surely smudged by now.

Ran had that same shit-eating grin scrawled across his face. “Earth to Y/N?”

You couldn’t speak, the orgasm that still pulsed through you rendering you mute, only capable of breathing hard. Taking advantage of your blurry state, he pushed your tiny dress up; your body automatically folding forward, ass up, arms folded, and head resting on them—a mare waiting to be bred by her stallion.

The flash of pain when his palm collided on your ass felt like the wildfire spread of ant bites. “Ran!”

“Uh-uh. It’s Daddy, you little bitch,” he cooed. The clinking of his belt as it fell to the ground faintly registered in your hazy mind and you grunted when he pushed his cock through the tight ring of your pussy.

“Daddy—” you gasped, jolting forward from the force of his first thrust, standing on your tiptoes to curve your body into a back-breaking bow to take his cock.

“Fuck… your pussy was made for me, darling,” he grunted softly into your ear, the press of his larger body into yours would’ve suffocated you, but you were already at a point that you did not care.

“Daddy, Daddy,” you chanted over and over again, every drag of his heavy cock through your already rippling walls making your tits sway back and forth like a pendulum; your vocal cords only knowing how to rasp dulcet Daddy’s, the second wave cresting and rising—threatening to drag you down into the crushing depths of your second release.

“Can feel you squeezing me so well, baby,” he growled, and nipped your pulse point, one finger coming to rub sloppy circles onto your engorged clit. All you felt was him—the weighted slap of his balls on your skin, the drenched sounds of your pussy receiving his every thrust, the smell of sex curling in the air together with his cologne, the imprint of his lips on your neck, that same finger running clockwise, clockwise, clockwise—

“Daddy!” you shattered around his cock and he moaned, spitting out curses and your name. You didn’t have to wait long to receive his long-awaited gift; his hot seed filling you all the way to the brim, plugged by his large cock still pumping a huge load of cum into your quivering cunt.

One last spurt and he slumped onto you, droplets of sweat dripping onto your bare shoulder. Ran grunted and unglued himself from you, removing his softening cock from your creamy depths. Warm dribbles of cum trickled down your thighs and a laugh slipped past your intumescent lips.

Your fiancé turned softer, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the nearest sofa, spreading you onto his lap and adjusting himself so you could drape your head over his chest.

Shaky fingers carded through your hair and he pressed a kiss onto your sweat-slicked temple. He straightened your bra and slipped your straps back in place, one last kiss placed onto your neck.

There was no doubt that there were stars in your eyes and he fought back a smirk at how softly you were smiling at him in this instance. Ran was no less affected—a tender smirk on his face as he drank in your features.

“I have something for you.”

“Hmm?”

Leaving the warm impression of his chest and lap, you walked over to your purse and removed a small box from it. “Close your eyes.”

Ran adjusted and made himself decent, following your request and sliding his eyes closed. You sauntered over to him and sat back on his lap. “Okay—now extend your palm.”

You could see the apprehension suffuse across his face, but he did as you said; one palm up.

“If you drop a lizard into my hand, I’ll end you, Y/N,” he threatened and you pressed your lips together to keep from bursting out into peals of giggles, remembering how much he abhorred those scaly critters. Setting the square in his outstretched hand, you marveled at how much smaller the box seemed in his larger palm.

Sensing the weight, his lips twisted in a question, but you spoke before he could. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sleepy lilacs widened at the sight of a pair of baby shoes in his hand; still wrapped neatly in the clear plastic box they came in.

“I’m pretty sure these would not fit,” he joked and twirled the square between his long fingers. “If you forgot my shoe size, it’s a size ten, babe.”

Refusing to be swayed by his antics, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly and poked his cheek. “Those aren’t for you.”

Whether through sheer divine intervention or his common sense returning after a mind-numbing orgasm, your fiancé stared at the shoes, dumfounded.

“Y/N… you’re…”

He dared not even say those words out loud and you nodded, lips still pressed together to keep a smile from spreading too wide. You cataloged the questions that flashed through his eyes; the ever quick-witted Ran Haitani was stunned by this one bit of information that he could not keep up with.

You put it into words for him.

“I’m pregnant, Ran.”

“Is that why you refused the champagne?” was the first question he asked and you couldn’t help it—you laughed, the sound pure and filled with happiness at this shared good news with him.

“Mhm hmm.”

“Fuck,” he swore and brought the shoes closer to his face; a pair of yellow sneakers. “How long have you known?”

“I took a test last week and today again just to make sure.” You fidgeted with the necklace around your neck, waiting for him to speak.

As if the sun had pierced through amethyst clouds, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas and he chuckled, burying his flushed cheeks into your neck and rubbing them back and forth—nuzzling you to his heart’s content.

“You really made me a daddy,” he choked out and you threaded your fingers through his hair, nodding emphatically.

“We’re gonna be parents—for real this time.”

Rather than launching into a ton of questions, he preferred to admire the yellow sneakers in his larger grasp.

“We gotta talk to Mikey to let you take your maternity leave earlier.”

“Huh? But I’m barely in my first few months,” you mused at how he was already jumping ahead.

Ran snorted and raised his brow. “There is no way I’m letting you onto the field when you’re carrying my baby. Don’t even fight me on this.”

You clamped your mouth shut on the protests that were fighting to leave your tongue. “So, what? I’m just going to be your pretty little housewife now?”

“We’ll get maids to help around the house and the cooking,” he said and mistook your pout for your resistance. “Why? Are you against that idea?”

“It’s just…” you trailed off, unsure how to tell your fiancé that you wanted your privacy now that you were both expecting a baby. How could you share with him that you wanted the absolute freedom to walk around naked in your own home? That you wanted him to be the sole person to dote on you, to be able to fuck you anywhere around the house—on the dining table, by the balcony, in the bathroom, even in the living room—an act that you both could not partake in if there was going to be eyes on you every day?

“I wanted to—y’know… keep this between us,” you trailed one finger down his angular jaw and hummed. “I want to… indulge… at this moment with you, baby.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gave him a shy smile. “Just with you.”

Seeming to catch your drift, your soon-to-be husband chuckled, looping his fingers with yours. “Ah, you just want me all to yourself, huh? Don’t be scared to tell me the truth, baby.”

“Yeah,” you admitted and his grin grew.

“Fine. It’s about time we moved to a bigger penthouse, anyway. Rin was thinking about shifting, too.”

“He’s not going to stay with us, right?” you couldn’t keep the apprehension out of your tone, already pitying the younger Haitani for having to put up with your exacerbated hormones and newly… carnal urges for his older brother.

Ran chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. It’ll be hell for him. ‘Sides—” there was an edge of wickedness in his smile now. “I can’t fuck you freely if my little brother is in the next room, right?” He hummed, heart growing lighter at your small giggle. “I’ll move us to a penthouse and Rin can take the other unit in another building. At least we’re still close-ish.”

You sighed, “Sounds like heaven.”

“You’re heaven, baby,” he said and you didn’t doubt the sincerity in his tone.

Never in your life would you expect a plot of revenge to bring you such a wave of felicity in your life; the ugliest parts of your history turning into a happiness you had not felt for such a long time in those hard five years you spent parted from your better half—the love of your life and now the father to your unborn child.

“What do you think about a wedding, baby?” Ran’s bright smile was contagious and you allowed yourself to be swept up by his impulses.

“Now?”

“Tomorrow,” he said and placed one palm on your belly. “Our little bean can’t be born out of wedlock, y’know. I wanna make his or her mommy an honest woman first.”

Throwing all caution and plans out, you pictured how pissed off your wedding organizers would be when you decided to take matters into your own hands; disregarding their careful preparation all for a shotgun wedding because of the little angel now growing in your womb.

The old you, the one who trod through life with a looking glass to catch the smallest detail in case you would miss it; the one who lived in fear of what the next day would bring, no longer held any sway to your decisions. You were a free woman—fuck the shackles of your past. You would not be weighed down by them anymore; you were free to love, to exist, to just be.

You were free to just live.

“Deal. Let’s do this, Haitani.”

THE END.

a/n. if you all had no idea, this story was actually (partly) inspired by the k drama 'my name' and was a different genre i dabbled in at all those years ago to try my hand at dark content and heavier topics teehee <3 even though its been a while since i reintroduced this series, but i wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking with ran and y/n's story since it's first conception in 2021 till the final reuploaded chapter today <3

if you're still hungering for more daddy ran, don't miss out on my other series 'blackmail kiss' which is currently ongoing !! luv u all and see u soon <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[onecherrypotato]

Oranges are so…I don’t like em. They’re a mid fruit that you have to work for and orange juice is just bitter and gross for me. Like my food opinions can be weird, I get that. I would prefer to have a grapefruit or just a straight up lemon than an orange slice. Fricken they’re not that good guys!! I will concede that orange peel covered in chocolate is pretty good. But I do not like oranges. Especially orange juice. Like even when I was younger, my mom said I would only eat blood oranges lol. And I went out of my way to ask for cranberry juice when we went out for breakfast. Out of the aj, oj, cj breakfast juice trinity, cranberry juice is my favorite. Like apple juice is good too…but orange juice is so not good!!! AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE FACT THAT YOU CAN HAVE PULP WOTH THE OJ, WHY DO YOU WANT TO ADD TEXTURE TO YOUR DRINK?! And also! Kiwis are just the. Superior vitamin c giver. During freshman year of college, they had kiwis in the cafeteria and I almost cried cause of how happy I was. I posted about it on my instagram stories. Oranges are my enemy and a sure fire way to ruin a fruit salad. If I had to eat an orange to survive, ok yeah I’d eat it, but I wouldn’t be happy about it.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

#6 for the wrapped game >:]c i think number 6 songs are fun. which one got left juuuust off the top 5

THIS ONE IS NOT A SURPRISE 2 ME. god. i had this shit on repeat for ages. its not even that good a song it just scratched an itch in my brain. anyway here's some gay qsmp shit

The lights of Las Casualonas flash in Pac's eyes, leaving afterimages of the bodies around him in his vision, his head spins from alcohol, the music is deafening, and he doesn't think he's felt this alive since Cell ate his leg.

He's never been a party guy. Clubs were never his scene. But Melissa is on a stripper pole on stage and laughing as Mariana sticks a couple bills between her tits, Etoiles is half passed out at the bar and babbling to Phil in what might be French or English but it's really hard to tell, Fit is dancing with Mike in the corner and looks really fucking hot covered in sweat like that Jesus fucking Christ, and everyone else, all of Pac's friends and family, are dancing and drinking and having fun like they're going to die tomorrow.

With everything else that's been happening lately, they all needed this.

He stumbles into a body and giggles, struggling to keep his balance. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters. "I'm just--I need another drink."

The person turns around and his heart leaps into his throat. Cell. Cellbit. Not--not Cell. He's hasn't been Cell in years. Like, a decade, probably. Has it been that long since Alcatraz? Damn.

Cellbit looks at him, eyes hazy, and oh, yeah, he's also drunk as fuck, isn't he? He's got a drink in his hand, and it's something red, and there's a drop of it on the corner of his mouth, and Pac isn't sure if he wants to run away or lick it off his face.

No, he shouldn't do that. Down, boy. Chill.

Cellbit smiles, his too-sharp teeth glinting in the light, and there's a slight red tint to them because of whatever he's drinking, and Pac wishes it was his blood in that cup. What? Who said that. No one said that. No one said--anything. He's normal.

"Queridinho," Cellbit purrs--literally, like a fucking cat, shit, and Pac feels like an electrical current has been sent down his spine. Fucking hell.

He looks so much like Cell. He is Cell, just--older. Different. Hotter. Pac finds himself giggling again. This is weird. Nice, though. Man, Cellbit is sexy. Pac wants to, like, open up his ribs and crawl into his chest cavity, or something. No, that's weirder. He's drunk. Whatever.

He stumbles, and Cellbit holds out his arms to steady him, drink sloshing in his cup. "Woah. Peqi, how many drinks have you had?"

Pac tries to count on his fingers, but trying to focus on them is hard. He giggles again and leans his forehead on Cellbit's shoulder.

"Mmmmm, a few," he mutters, and he's not even sure if he's talking loud enough for Cellbit to hear.

Then Cellbit's giggling, and Pac stumbles into him, and they've got an armful of each other, Cellbit's drink spilling a little on Pac's pants, but who cares anymore, really? This is nice. This is really nice.

Pac pulls away just enough to look at Cell's face--Cellbit's face, god dammit, they're--different people. Kind of. Not really. That's how Pac likes to think about it, but Cellbit looks a lot like Cell right now, looking down at Pac like he's--like he's a rabbit and Cell is a wolf. Or something. That's hot. Also terrifying. Mostly hot though.

Cellbit holds up his drink like an offering, staring at Pac, waiting.

Pac leans forward and places his lips on the rim of the cup. Cellbit gently tips it, letting Pac get a sip of what's in it. Cranberry and raspberry juice, mostly, with some vodka. Hm. Not bad.

Cellbit lowers the cup, then immediately leans in to press a kiss to Pac's lips, way too quick and way too chaste. "Want another drink?" he mutters, mere centimetres from Pac's mouth.

Pac nods. Cellbit takes his hand and starts dragging him through the crowd towards the bar. Pac smiles, holds on tight, and lets Cell sweep him away in the flashing lights.

[brackishkittie]

୨୧- CHAPTER FOUR, blame it! - ୨୧

summary: you go to a party with your friends and see ellie, you try avoiding her the whole night but when she sees you talking to an old friend, her blood boils and she just has to say something.

c/n: alcohol usage, strong language, jealous!ellie, you and ellie argue ( kinda idk ), and ellie going crazy..again.

a/n: idk why this took me so long to finish but here you guys go! come get y’all juice!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️

series masterlist! - chapter four ➝ chapter five!

"girl I'm outside hurry up," ashlesha said as she tapped her nails on her grey leathered steering wheel as she signaled for nari to scoot over to the other seat with her bag. “I’m coming outside just let me grab my bag and I’ll be right out,” you answer back while fixing your lip liner and ending the call. you walk out of the house and head straight for ashlesha’s car, “girl we thought you were gonna take 18 years and 5 business days to get ready..” nari says as she fixes her blush in her small mirror. “oh please I didn’t even take that long..now let’s go, I’m ready to down some tequila and henny.” you all laugh as ashlesha takes the car out park and puts it back in drive. 30 minutes later, as soon as it hits 8, you all finally make it to the party. “I’m telling y’all..if ellie is here I’m leaving..” you say but get pushed infront of the door by your two friends, “GIRL GOOOO SHE’S NOT HERE!!” nari says, putting her hand on her hip, and groaning.

“ok ok!” you push open the door and walk in as ashlesha and nari follow behind you. you all rush to the kitchen for that well known red solo cup and only a few cranberry and hennessy shots later, you all are on the couch laughing your asses off at the littlest things and then you see her. the one person you didn’t wanna see was right across the room, in the corner, looking down into her cup, and her eyes suddenly dart towards yours as if she knew you were looking at her. she smiles slightly and looks back into her cup but god if you only knew..while she looked unbothered, she was sweating and panicking. “oh my god she’s here? MY PRAYERS!! MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED!” she thought to herself and had to stop herself from screaming at the top of her goddamn lungs.

you furrowed your brows and huffed looking at your friends, “you guys said she wasn’t gonna be here” you groaned and playfully hit them both and they giggled. “it’s not funny cmon I wanna go home” you frowned and laid your head on nari’s shoulder. “you should go talk to her” nari says as she pats your head, “no way I don’t wanna talk to her” you sigh and look to your left and see dina and jesse making out in a corner like some freakishly horny crazy highschool teens. “ugh..get a room..” you roll your eyes and look to your right and see a very familiar face, “oh my god? jasmine?” you gasp and she looks at you, “y/n? oh my gosh, hey gorgeous!” you stand up and she comes over and hugs you. ellie sees this and immediately her face drops from “omg my favorite sexy ex that I miss so much is here!!” to “who the actual fuck is that touching her. what the hell.” she clenches her jaw as she watches you two from the corner of the room, her face hot and red.

the more and more you and jasmine laughed and giggled the more ellie felt herself losing her cool. she knew she was your ex now and she knew she couldn’t just march over there but the alcohol was kicking in and she was feeling bold. she walked over to you and jasmine and put her hand on your shoulder, “can I borrow her for a sec? yes? ok thanks.” ellie says as she pulls you away from jasmine who looks extremely confused. “what the hell ellie? what do you want?” you turn to her and say while she just stares at you, pulling her hand away from you and biting the inside of her cheek. “y/n are you doing this on purpose?” she says which makes you tilt your head and show visible confusion to her question. “what the fuck are you talking about?” you’re frustrated, folding your arms and leaning against the wall while she just stares at you trying to get you to fess up about whatever she thinks you’re doing.

all of a sudden, ellie’s face turns red out of embarrassment realizing you actually weren’t trying to make her jealous and that she probably needed to sober up from the alcohol. she rubbed her neck and opened her mouth to speak when she didn’t even get a chance because you immediately read her like a book once you saw her face turn red. “you’re jealous aren’t you?” you squint and almost laugh, “we aren’t together anymore els..move on please.” you say while pushing yourself off the wall to walk away.“whatever..there’s no one better than me anyway.” she now crosses her arms as yours fall to your sides. “oh fuck you. you sound like a man.” you roll your eyes and walk off while ellie flips you off and you can hear her mutter “fuck you too.” and you start giggling to yourself as you walk back over to jasmine.

as it got later on into the night you, nari, and ashlesha all fall asleep on the couch and around 3 in the morning you feel someone shaking you awake. “y/n? Y/NNNN!!! GIRL GET UP LET’S GO.” nari lightly slaps your face trying to wake you up and you start to open your eyes. “ughhhh my head hurts...I have a fucking headache what the hell.” you rub your head and look up at nari, “how many shots did I take?” you ask as she shrugs and looks at ashlesha for the answer but she just shrugs too. “god..can we go back to my place?? you guys can just stay until it’s finally morning.” you sit up from the couch and stretch. “yeah..can we order wingstop when they open? I’m fucking starving and I could fuck up some mango habanero wings right now…a cow even.” nari says while patting her stomach while you pick up your things and follow behind your friends who left the house. “do you think dunkin donuts is open? I need something sweet like now. I feel like a pregnant woman bossing around her wife and child.” nari says as you all fucking lose it while ashlesha starts driving back to your house, still laughing her ass off.

meanwhile with ellie though…

“oh cmon ellie..it couldn’t have been that bad...I hope…” dina says as she pats ellie’s back as she ugly cries into her hands about how much she fucked up that small interaction she had with you a few hours ago at the party. “well I mean..it could’ve gone worse.” jesse says as he chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, “wow thanks jess, that totally makes me feel better!!” ellie says sarcastically which makes jesse huff and roll his eyes. “all she said was fuck you ellie..she could’ve like slapped you for even pulling her away or cussed you out even more for everyone at the party to hear.” he says while falling back on ellie’s bed and staring up at the ceiling. “jesse, you’re gonna send the girl into cardiac arrest please stop.” she looks at him and hits him on his arm, “well call me kevin gates because you know exactly what happens next after the cardiac arrest.” he laughs while dina and ellie turn to look at him with the most “shut the fuck up” expressions ever. “bad timing?..sorry.” he mutters and looks away.

“obviously?? and stop with that kevin gates video, it’s making me feel extremely ill.” dina says as she shakes her head and sighs, “ellie you really need to talk to y/n…SOBER and IN THE RIGHT MIND.” as soon as dina said that, ellie immediately stopped her ugly crying and side-eyed her so hard. “no shit dina..no shit..and stop yelling in my EAR because I’m right NEXT TO YOU.” ellie says as she wipes her face with her sleeve and goes to the kitchen for a tissue to blow her nose. dina looks at jesse and shakes her head, “man..she’s hooked on this girl..I feel bad because y/n may not come around and she’s on her bad bad BADDD.” dina scratched her head while jesse nodded in agreement.

ellie came back into the room and sat back down on the bed, “so what should I do? it’s only been like a week since our breakup. I can’t just say I wanna get back together now..” ellie groans and grabs her pillow that jesse was laying on, “hey! I was laying on that..” jesse sits up and frowns, “well that’s too damn bad.” ellie scoffs and hides her face in the pillow. “I say give it a few more weeks or a month maybe??” jesse says in response to what she said earlier which she freaks out about. “A MONTH?? ARE YOU CRAZY? she’ll already have moved on by then..I’ll just give it a few more weeks maybe, hopefully, she’ll unblock me on everything and talk to me...if not I’ll have to text her off one of my lurking accounts.” ellie sighs and rubs her temples, “I’m sorry did you just say ONE OF?? AS IN THERE’S MORE THAN ONE??” dina looks at her with pure concern as ellie turns to her and makes a face that says “uhm hello???? obviously???….”

“why do you need more than one?? one is enough to lurk at her..bro what is your problem?” dina blinks a few times before turning away from her and shaking her head in disbelief and disappointment. “in case she finds out it’s me and blocks me? duhhh like I need to have multiple accounts. it’s a necessity when it comes to lurking..you wouldn’t know anyway.” ellie rolls her eyes and nudges dina. “ok so like what if she presses all new accounts made will be blocked??” jesse blurts out which makes ellie’s neck snap towards him and she throws the pillow at him. “take that back NOW. do not manifest that negative energy into my life jesse.” she frowns and gets up, grabs her phone from her desk, and goes onto instagram. “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do my daily lurking on y/n’s account.” ellie says with a smile while jesse and dina groan in unison.

tags: @elsmissingfingers @astrcmoni @cowgirlcherrie @theganymedes @ximtiredx @ellieswifee @liabadoobee 🩷🩷

[sundove88]

The Cookie Chonk Chart!!

So recently, @thetropicalfairy and I have had a discussion about which Cookies would be considered chonky- and here is the entire list! And the pic was made by her as well.

Note: Some OCs will be on this list- and some folks not shown in the pic will be as well. If there’s anyone you want to add to the list, that’s ok!

A Fine Boi (Somewhat Chubby): Herb, Churro, Aloe, Gold Citrine, Okchun, Elderberry (OC), Sable, Icicle Yeti, Grapefruit, Tiramisu, Habanero, Bubbles Dragon (OC), Snapdragon, Blueberry Pie, Lilybell, Pecan Brownie (OC), Grandberry Brawler 1/Glimmerberry, Grandberry Brawler 2/Grapeberry, Honorable Paladin Trainee/White Choco Chip, Serious Paladin Trainee/Vanilla Bundt Cake, Kouign Amann, Caramel Arrow, Silverbell, GingerBrave, Dizzy Cookie/Gorgonzola, SuperCar Cookies 1 and 2/Emmental Cheese and Cambozola, Partay Cookies/Swiss Cheese and Raclette, Blue Slushy, Xylitol Nova, Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar, Mystic Flour, Burning Spice, Silent Salt, Golden Cheese, White Lily, Bumbleberry,

He Chomnk (Mostly Chubby): Dark Cacao, Crunchy Chip (Post Odyssey), Ice Candy, Olive, Strawberry, Custard III, Rye, Cream Puff, Cherry, Blueberry, Pinecone, Amber Sugar, Sea Fairy, Walnut, Cherry Ball, Zombie, Frilled Jellyfish, Carrot, Cotton, Milky Way, Hero, Canele, Mille-Feuille, Vanilla Sugar, Longan Dragon, Buttercream Choco, Pancake, Tea Knight, Tarte Tatin, Captain Caviar, Milkshake (OC), Snowfall Villager/Cashmere, Kind Villager/Poplin, Pumpkin, Parfaedia Principal/Deluxe Sundae, Creme Knights Preceptor/Chantilly Cream, Scovillia Headmaster/Hot Pot, Berry Parfaedia Student/Berry Compote, Citrus Parfaedia Student/Marmalade, Prune Juice, Captain Caviar, Tangerine Tanghulu, WildBerry, Timekeeper, Pure Vanilla, Mango, Muscle, Cranberry,

A Heckin’ Chonker (Very Chubby): Lord Oyster, Mozzarella, Royalberry, Princess, Tiger Lily, Milk, Beet, Yogurt Cream, Cocoa, Chocolate Bon Bon, Mocha Ray, Bacon, Pastel Meringue, Cheesecake, Red Bean, S’More, Frosted Choco (OC), Choco Malt (OC), Coconut Choco (OC), Turtle Brownie (OC), Fudge Ice Cream (OC), Snow Sugar, Ananas Dragon, Vagabond, Gelato (OC), Choco Milk (OC), Second Watcher/Choco Chunk, Grandberry Merchant 1/Blueberry Muffin, Grandberry Merchant 2/Honeyberry, Grandberry Merchant 3/Pinkberry, Spicy Scovillia Student/Army Stew, Hot Scovillia Student/Spicy Rosè, Sauna Egg, Golden Cheese Kingdom Citizen 2/Manchego, Space Doughnut,

H E F T Y C H O N K (Extremely Chubby): Avocado, Hollyberry, Princess Professor Mimolette (OC), Prince Professor Cavatappi (OC), Mala Sauce, Capsaicin, Moon Rabbit (Mostly due to her huge rabbit form), Peperoncino, Potato, Eden Dragon (OC), Dark Choco (After he left The Cookies of Darkness), Macaron, Abalone, Lotus Dragon, Spinach, Half Avocado, Hot Mala Warrior/Spicy Noodle Cookie, Spicy Mala Warrior/Chili Sauce Cookie, Mangosteen (Lychee’s Disguise),

M E G A C H O N K E R (Seriously Chubby): Lychee Dragon, Affogato (Post Episode 14), Elder Custard, Affogato’s Disciple 1/Cortado, Affogato’s Disciple 2/Galao, Pumpkin Spice Latte (OC), Mysterious Priest/Compound Choco, Marble Bread, Plain Yogurt,

O H L A W D H E C O M I N (The Chubbiest of All): Pitaya Dragon, Eggnog, Gatekeeper Cookie/Couverture, Stink Eye Tortuca,

[shrekysenpai-love-me]

Souichi Tsuji Head Canon

Note: Souichi is over 18 in this story. I don't got TIME for you guys to be sliding up in my dms, saying, "He's a minor!". Tired of that shit. Enjoy~

~

"She's so beautiful. An absolute goddess..."

When you and Souichi first meet, the man is most definitely at a loss for words. He has never seen anybody as beautiful and graceful as yourself. 

Shiny, (h/l), (h/c) hair pulled back into a classy ponytail and pretty, plump lips that put even flowers to shame.

He's sure you are a goddess. And he isn't going to give up until you're his. 

My love for you is eternal. Don't you ever forget that.

When I tell you, this man will shower you in gifts and affection, this man will shower you in gifts in affection. 

From simple, "I love you"s and small sweets to "Your smile outshines the Sun!" and expensive jewelry you've ever seen in your life. This man would not stop until he knew you knew your worth. 

You want candy, jewels, hugs, cuddles? Whatever you want, he'll give it to you within a heartbeat.

Who shall I curse? Anyone who even comes near you, of course, my love.

Although, all his gifts weren't sweet. And some were very grotesque. 

Ranging from animal skins and rat bones. To some of his own baby teeth and even poems written in his own blood, the man would stop at nothing, no matter how creepy it was.

"Oh, this? It signifies how much I love you, my love. I truly am lucky to have a goddess such as yourself by my side."

Infatuated. Obsessive. And possessive. That was him. 

"Who was that? And why were they holding your hand? It's a co-worker? No. I won't allow you to see them anymore."

Whenever you went out with friends or anywhere in general, Souichi made sure he'd be by your side at all times. When he couldn't be there however, he'd make it known that you were his and his alone. Making you wear his own clothing, sweats and boxers included. Sometimes, he'd even buy you a new dress, just to flaunt that you, his beautiful wife, looked sexy in almost anything.

However, if Souichi didn't buy a dress, he wouldn't just send you out in his own clothing. No. He'd make the every night before, he'd cover your body in hickies and bruises (he especially seemed to love you neck, collarbone, and thighs). When you went out, the man would immediately suggest a wide collared sweatshirt with shorts. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Your love and affection is simply too intoxicating, I can barely take it any longer.

Souichi can, and will, quite literally get drunk off your love. 

Just the slightest bit of contact and he'll be a blushing mess for hours. And don't even get me started on when you hug and kiss him. 

As soon as your hands make their ways around his neck, or your lips brush against his, the man will full out moan and squirm at the attention he's getting from you. 

The blood on my hands? Oh! It's just cranberry juice. 

This man is not afraid to kill for you. I mean it. 

And even though he'd never get his hands dirty, he would just to see the men that constantly flirt with you, or make you feel uncomfortable, suffer.

The more gruesome the death, the better. Anything that would takes days to clean up are a favorite for him. Unless he could use black magic. Then, he would gladly kill every single man you ever met.

My love, please don't cry. I did it for you. Can't you see? I love you. 

However, when Souichi killed, he could get a little carried away. So much so that you would accidentally walk in on the scene. 

Whenever a gasp broke the silence or your heavy breathing met his ear, the man would wipe your tears away with his blood-stained hands. 

"(Y/n). Honey. It's not real. They're fake."

"R-Really?"

"Yes. Really."

The more tears he wiped, the more attached you would become to him. Souichi was a manipulator, and he knew that as long as you believed him, he'd have you wrapped around his evil little fingers. 

"Y-Yes (Y/n), my goddess! I'm such a disgusting pig! More! More! Ah~"

The physical embodiment of submissive and breed able. This man would let you step on him, spit on him, pull at his hair, choke him out, anything.

And when you degraded him?

"You are a fucking pervert. Watching me undress. Have you no shame?"

The man moans in delight as he feels his orgasm coming closer and closer.

"Yes! A pervert! Ruin me, (Y/n)! Please! Make me yours! Treat me like the slut I am!"

No matter how hard he begged, you would never let up from any punishment he got. And he absolutely loved it. 

I gave you absolutely everything and this is how you treat me? 

When you find out, and believe me, you will, that Souichi has been lying to you all this time, you immediately break things off with him. However, it doesn't go as planned. 

"I don't want to be anywhere near a selfish, greedy monster such as yourself! We're through!" The man laughs when you say this. "Us? Through? Honey, I don't think you quite get where we stand."

Grabbing your hand before roughly pulls you towards him before giving you a bone chilling smile. "You are mine and mine alone. If another man even looks at you wrong, I'll kill him myself."

[butchreg]

regressor alphabet for sisters barnes && paxton from heretic

literally nobody asked for this but i finally was able to watch heretic recently and this was on my mind so grahhrg. sister barnes is literally me if you even care. >_< aut4aut implied :3 , probably ooc im sorry :C i tried... started this at like 7:30 or 8 this morning and only finishing now gughh.. alphabet found here

A - activities (what are their favorite activities to do while regressed ?)

barnes is much more of a laid back regressor. she likes reading best of all.

paxton on the other hand is much more playful. she likes playing pretend and dress up a lot.

B - blankies (do they have a favorite blanket ? what does it look like ?)

i see barnes as more of a quilt person. i think it'd be a typical patchwork quilt, made by a mother or grandmother and it would be too precious for her to carry around - she wouldn't want to get it dirty but when she's feeling upset she'll just climb into bed and bury herself in it.

paxton has a plain rose pink baby blanket from her childhood that she carries around everywhere when she's regressed. if her blanket comes out it's a telltale time she's feeling little.

C - cuddles (do they enjoy cuddling ? how do they like to cuddle ?)

barnes has a very big aversion to touch most of the time due to being autistic but if she's feeling small enough she likes to cuddle with paxton.

paxton is a big snuggler but usually cuddles with a big pile of stuffed animals.

she gets Soouper excited whenever barnes is feeling okay to cuddle. barnes likes to curl up as small as possible with one of paxton's plushies, curling wordlessly into paxton's side. on the occasion of barnes being littler than her like in these instances paxton will squeal and be super excited about baby barnes, giving her as many pats as she'll allow.

D - dinner (what is their favorite meal to eat for dinner when regressed ?)

barnes is not a big eater. she does her best but oftentimes skips or forgets meals especially while regressed. she's partial to a snack of cheese and crackers and some juice, cranberry or apple, but full meals are difficult for her.

paxton loves mac n cheese, mostly boxed kinds like kraft or annies. she Especially loves the shaped kind, the bunnies annies or spongebob kraft ones.

E - emotions (do they get emotional when they regress ? do any emotions trigger them to regress ?)

barnes is very much an involuntary regressor, typically regressing as a result of traumatic instances / memories or due to negative emotion. she can be fussy, crying a lot or isolating from other people. her regression is a time for her to feel all of her big feelings she may otherwise repress or minimize. if she's baby or toddler age she'll be much more clingy than distant, getting weepy if she's left entirely alone.

paxton tends to regress a mix of voluntarily and involuntarily and it's generally due to high levels of emotion whether they are positive or negative. she tends to be excited about everything when regressed, letting herself stim much more freely. she tends to be quite the yapper no matter whether regressed or not but if she gets overexcited or overstimulated she tends to go nonverbal. sometimes this frustrates her, leading to other more negative emotions causing her to cry or become upset.

F - food (what are their favorite foods or snacks to eat when regressed ?)

barnes tends to snack on baby puffs no matter her regression age. she also loves her bottles when she's really small though she can get a bit shy of this fact when she's not regressed or older.

paxton is not a very picky eater but when it comes to snacks she especially loves things like graham crackers when she's old enough to eat them.

G - giggles (what makes them laugh ? what do they find funny ?)

barnes is partial to wry humor even while regressed. she's not a big giggler, or one to laugh out loud much, another thing that's not different from her typical self.

paxton on the other hand is a HUGE giggler. she finds everything funny when she's little. she doesn't always pick up on sarcasm, cocking her head like a puppy in confusion but whether its immature potty humor or even something meant to be serious she's giggling.

paxton is always trying to make barnes laugh but oftentimes she can't get her whole joke out before she starts laughing.

H - hugs (do they like hugging ? when do they hug ?)

noooo barnes is not a fan of hugs D: . sometimes paxton can get away with a small one but from anyone else there's no chance. i previously mentioned her aversion to touch but hugs are especially unpleasant for her.

paxton does typically like hugs. she's not as big of a hugger as she is a cuddler but she loves a nice firm hug as well. she very much is a physical person she likes to express her affection through physical touch.

I - imagination (do they use their imagination a lot when playing ?)

barnes doesn't tend to play much. she's much more laid back and reserved. she tends to keep to her books and to observing others, she likes to watch paxton play but finds it hard to join in. she tends to think more literally and struggles to break out of that line of thinking.

paxton on the other hand is very imaginative with playing. she loves playing pretend, always making up detailed lore for her games. she loves playing dress up as well, those are her two favorites. she can find a way to play with just about anything !

J - jammies (do they have a pair of pajamas they wear when going to bed ? what does it look like ?)

no barnes doesn't, she doesn't have much regression gear or childish clothing at all. she tends to wear simple black athletic type comfortable clothing to bed.

paxton is a fan of nightgowns. she has lots of them, some having been made by relatives, some having been bought with the intention to use while regressed. they tend to be floral or otherwise patterned fairly simply.

K - kissies (do they like (platonic) kisses ? do they like to give or receive them ?)

barnes is vehemently against kisses from most people. she's used to them and will put up with them, but she can't keep herself from grimacing and wiping the spot when she's in an appropriate setting to do so. when she's regressed further she may cry or fuss if someone attempts to give her kisses even if they're well meaning.

paxton feels weird about kisses. they tend to make her uncomfortable though when she's small enough she does skew more towards enjoying receiving little kisses on her forehead.

L - lullabies (do they have a favorite lullaby to listen to as they go to sleep ?)

not a specific lullaby but barnes loves listening to classical music, both when she's sleepy and just in general.

paxton will sometimes listen to hymns to fall asleep, namely ones she knows by heart. random headcanon that she was a part of the choir as a girl and she listens to those anthems and hymns to get to sleep. as a choir kid she seems like one (derogatory but affectionate as well /lh). they comfort her and strangely seem to help her regress.

M - movies (what is their favorite movie to watch when regressed ? what genre is it ?)

i think barnes would freak with howls moving castle :3 also likely age "inappropriate" films like horror films and more philosophical films.

paxton is into animated films. she likes disney animated films but is also a fan of studio ghibli and musicals such as the sound of music.

N - nicknames (do they have any preferred nicknames they would want a cg to use ?)

"baby" makes barnes feel reeeaally tiny and all blushy. being called baby is an instant trigger for regression. she's not a biiig fan of nicknames but "kit" also makes her smiley. she's just a lil kitten sometimes.

paxton loves nicknames. she likes cutesy and girly ones like "bun", "sugar", and "princess" best.

O - oops! (do they tend to be clumsy or make a lot of mistakes when regressed ?)

barnes not much. she's more sedentary while regressed so not as many opportunities come up for her to fall over. occasionally she'll spill her juice or have another minor slip up but even that is enough to leave baby barnes in tears. being autistic she at times struggles with recognizing her own needs which at times leads to accidents even when she's regressed on the older side. this often causes panic attacks or shutdowns poor baby :C . she tends to use padding just in case but she also is one to beat herself up about it especially when she uses it.

paxton is not suuuper clumsy while regressed but there's definitely a notable difference between her typical self and her small self. mostly she'll trip over her own feet a lot more frequently. she tends to brush off mistakes more easily than barnes while regressed though she is often harder on herself while not regressed. she gets a bit frustrated when she makes a silly mistake like coloring outside the lines but she moves on quickly. she's a bit more playful about them, brushing them off with an "oopsies" or something of the sort.

P - pacifier (do they use pacis ? what does their paci look like ?)

barnes does not use a pacifier, not having any real regression gear aside from one simple bottle. occasionally she'll suck or gnaw on her fingers but she's not really interested in a pacifier of her own. maybe a teether but she feels too shy to try either.

paxton is much more of a thumb sucker to her shame but if she has a paci on her she'll try to remember to use it. she has a simple pink one and a simple white one. she likes the pink one better though.

Q - quiet time (do they enjoy quiet activities ? what do they like to do during quiet time ?)

yes yes, barnes is a Big fan of quiet time ! she loves reading all types of books and people watching. sometimes she'll hum to herself while doodling but mostly she reads. regressed ! barnes is one of those kids who will go through a book in an afternoon.

paxton finds it hard to sit still or be quiet especially while regressed so she doesn't enjoy it nearly as much as barnes but she does like to color quietly sometimes. she's a big colorer, she's filled up so many coloring books.

R - regression (how often do they regress ? how do they behave when they regress ?)

it's out of barnes's control as her regression is involuntary but it happens more frequently than she'd like. she's good at hiding the fact that she's regressed but maybe a few times a week she'll let the mask slip. she's quiet and reserved, being pretty much entirely nonverbal no matter her regression age. she primarily communicates through sign or with nonverbal sounds and facial expressions. she regresses to a wide range of ages from babyspace to just a few years younger than her actual age. her regression tends to be an outlet for her negative emotions leading her to sometimes act in self destructive ways.

paxton tries to schedule her regression, keeping it to no more than two days a week of full regression but she tends to regress a bit more often than that with her regression being partially involuntary. she acts similarly to how she does while not regressed, she's a permaregressor in my eyes but just doesn't have the word for it. even when she regresses younger or entirely she's pretty similar to her "normal" self. she's more open about her regression than barnes who tries to keep hers a secret, and much more comfortable about using gear. she tends to use padding pretty often as well but it's much less embarrassing for her than it is for barnes.

S - stuffies (do they have stuffed animals ? what are their names ? what do they look like ?)

barnes has one stuffed animal, a ragged creature that was probably a bear though it certainly doesn't look like one anymore. it was white when she first got it but now it's some kind of brown. it was a gift from her dad when she was really little, not one that she really latched onto until after his death. after his passing, however, he never leaves her side if she's at home. i think she's one of those kids who were made to give away the majority of her stuffies once she got a bit older, but she always kept her bear from her dad.

paxton has LOTS of stuffed animals. some are handmade and some aren't but she always has one on hand. if barnes is especially fussy she's there with one of her plushies, always a different one, to try and cheer her up. she doesn't really have any particular favorites, "it wouldn't be fair to them :L" she says. those who are aware of her regression are always surprised at how many she has, she seems to always have a new one.

T - temper (do they have a temper ? do they throw temper tantrums often, or at all ?)

no neither of them really have full on temper tantrums. paxton comes closer but it's not really out of anger when she has outbursts, more of overstimulation or another misplaced emotion.

U - upset (how do they express being upset when regressed ?)

barnes is a crier. if she's a bit older she tends to isolate as well but there's always tears. she's trained herself to be a silent crier, sometimes even paxton doesn't notice when she gets teary but if she's super tiny she'll full on weep which definitely gets her attention.

paxton crosses her arms and pouts, sometimes stamping her foot or audibly making a sound of frustration. when she gets really frustrated she gets teary. she is more open about her crying, doing so loudly and without shame.

V - voice (do they speak in a different tone of voice when regressed ? how is it different from their normal voice ?)

barnes doesn't speak coherently while regressed but she does sometimes babble a bit when she's a littol baby. it can be a bit comical to hear her babbling in her typical deeper voice but don't you dare laugh at her she's very self conscious.

paxton's voice is mostly the same, perhaps her words are a bit more slurred (don't think that's quite the word but can't think of the better fitting one) but she's just as much of a yapper as always.

W - warm (what makes them feel all warm and fuzzy ?)

for barnes one thing is definitely being called "baby" like mentioned early. she also wears mostly sweaters when she's regressed which were made by a family member. they make her feel real safe and cozy.

for paxton one thing is being regressed with barnes especially when she gets the typically stoic barnes to smile or laugh. also basically any animal, she sees one outside the window or on the street and gets super fuzzy inside.

X - (e)xtra (additional headcanons ?)

not related to regression really but i will just say there is yuri everywhere including in the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints ^w^

also both are autistic and paxton has adhd as well

Y - yucky! (what do they dislike?)

they both have sensory issues so not fans of the typical things like loud noises, bright lights, large crowds, etc

barnes struggles with the textures of a lot of foods and fabrics. anything mushy is icky.

paxton hates wool and the rain, smell of wet wool is the worst and she hates being wet.

Z - zzz (what are some sleep habits of theirs ? do they take naps often ? do they have a specific time for naptimes or bedtime ?)

barnes takes a lot of little cat naps. she tends to nap curled up in the sun like a kitten. she tries to go to bed around 9:30 every night but sometimes will get caught up in a book or another activity. typically she's good about it but sometimes needs some help getting to bed at a reasonable hour. she's not the best sleeper at night, getting to sleep is hard for her but once she's out she's out.

paxton is not much of a napper which can sometimes lead to her being cranky or fussy. she's a bit hypocritical in the sense that she's always on top of getting barnes to bed yet she refuses to take naps herself and often struggles getting herself to bed. she needs total darkness to sleep.

when she's on the older side paxton tends to stay up late in case littler barnes has forgotten about bedtime so she can get her to bed. barnes tends to do the same thing for paxton when she can as well.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

whatever that means

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: 1537

A/N: not part of I'm on Fire, but it's touch tank compliant! just a little thing that had been swimming around in my head. The article text is taken from a 2004 copy of Psychology Today so it's a little bit early for my Hotch (c. 2007) but I did my best y'all. Also not that anyone cares but the movie they're watching is 10 things i hate about you <3

Warnings: sex? but not... steamy sex? like... plot sex. Hotch is insecure but there's a lot of comfort <3

faceless hotch still courtesy of @lesbianhotch <3 <3

The bed shifts slightly and you feel a rush of cold against your legs as Aaron lifts the duvet and the heavy winter blanket. You reach for him blindly, too tired to open your eyes and accept the chilly morning.

You mumble his name, and he kisses your cheek tenderly.

"Go back to sleep honey, just going to the bathroom," He whispers, and you nod, pulling the blankets up to your chin and pressing your face deep into the pillow.

When you wake up an hour or so later, you open your eyes properly, and take in the cosy sight of your partner lying in bed with you, skimming through a magazine. You reach over and nudge his hand slightly so you can see the cover.

"Psychology Today?"

You laugh lightly, and move closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder so you can see what he's reading.

"Have to stay up to date," He jokes dryly, and you kiss his cheek, feeling filled to the brim with love for him. That's your man, this reading-psychology-magazines-in-bed-on-a-Sunday man, this mussed hair man, this man who's brushed his teeth so he doesn't feel like he's contaminating you by kissing you. You open your mouth slightly and he pops a mint into it, knowing what you're asking for.

"Any sexy articles you want to read to me?"

"Well, according to Arlene Goldman," He murmurs. "Good sex is about having the right attitude." He flicks a few pages back to where he'd briefly skimmed that article.

"Read to me?" You ask sweetly, letting your eyes close so you can focus on his low voice, feeling the way it makes its way from his chest out of his throat, over his tongue, between his lips.

"Give yourself permission to completely experience sex and its pleasures. That means you must let go of guilt, self-consciousness, judgments and personal hang-ups. Also, forget about your to do list and be prepared to fully experience the moment, says Goldman," Aaron reads.

"Are you feeling," You run your hand up Aaron's bare chest. "Hung up?" Your tone is teasing, and he drops the magazine, turning towards you to press a kiss to your lips.

You reach down to feel him, and feel that he's already rock hard.

"Aaron," You breathe. "Damn."

"Want you," He says, leaning back in to kiss you again.

It must be your fourth or fifth round when you press your hand softly to Aaron's chest.

"It's starting to chafe, baby," You say softly. "I can blow you if you want to come again?"

He shakes his head, breathing heavily. "I'm okay. Want me to stop?"

You nod, and he rolls off you immediately, springing up to fetch you a warm washcloth. He's gone for a while, presumably waiting for the water to warm up enough that the cloth will retain the heat (your water heater always seems to struggle on these cooler mornings).

"Do you want some juice or something?" He calls.

"Yes please," You reply. "Do we still have cranberry juice?"

He returns a few minutes later with the juice and the washcloth.

You thank him and rest the warm cloth over your pubic area, letting it ease the slight pain there. It's nothing too awful, just the result of continuous stimulation.

"Was that good?" He runs a finger over your eyebrow, where the hairs were sticking up at all angles from how you'd thrown your hand over your face in the throes of pleasure.

You nod. "Yeah, not for every day, but it was good," You smile.

After drinking your juice and going to the bathroom, you settle back into bed, encouraging Aaron to wrap his arms around you so you can spoon with him.

You press your ass back towards his hips, and he clears his throat, shifting his hips uneasily. You feel his erection pressing against you.

"Are you still hard?" You ask softly.

"Yes," He breathes.

"I'm sorry," You say. "I can't go again yet."

He kisses your temple tenderly. "Don't worry. It's not bothering me."

x x x x x

"Could you fetch a cough drop from the medicine cabinet? I don't feel like getting up," Aaron says, and you nod quickly, standing from the sofa.

"You okay?" You ask, and he nods.

"My throat's just a bit dry," He says, pausing the movie you'd been watching.

There's a silence that comes over the house, and it doesn't lift when you walk back into the room, a cherry cough drop in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other.

He freezes when he sees what you're holding, and you quickly go back to the sofa to sit beside him, setting the bottle aside as you give him the cough drop.

He's quiet for a long time, his face reddening with each passing second. It's so silent that you can hear him passing the cough drop from one side of his mouth to the other. In the end it's you who breaks the silence.

"I know it's none of my business, but... Has this been a problem for you?"

He shakes his head quickly.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," You say. "A lot of men take it."

He says your name softly, looking at you for any evidence that you're passing a secret judgment about his sexual performance.

"Is this why you were hard for so long the other day?"

"Yeah," He breathes.

"Was that the first time you've taken viagra?"

He looks down at the floor, suddenly incredibly attentive to the pattern of the rug. He'd never noticed that there were so many different shades of green in it.

"Aaron, I'm not trying to embarrass you, it's just that there are side effects that I can keep an eye out for if I know you're taking it," You explain. "And if you want to have less sex, or you're not feeling it, we can always slow down."

He shakes his head. "It's not that, it's just... I know sex is important to you, and I didn't want it to be a thing. I thought I'd get a prescription so that it didn't have to be a problem."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay. Please tell me if it is ever too much for you. It is important to me, but I don't ever want to have sex if you don't want to be having it."

Noticing how he's slumping into the couch and avoiding your eyes, you take his hands in yours.

"Hey, I love you. You don't have to take this stuff for my sake. Have there ever been times that I've wanted sex and you haven't been able to get an erection?"

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. "No. You make me so hard," He glances at you as he says the last part of the sentence, and you beam.

"I know that you like having sex on Sunday mornings, and I was just worried that you might want multiple rounds and I wasn't lasting like you wanted me to. Especially since I'm not as young as I used to be..."

"No!" You exclaim, louder than you meant to. "Oh my god, no, Aaron. You're perfect. If we were having more sex I think we'd run into problems. I worried I was going to get a UTI if we went much longer."

You straddle his lap, the paused movie behind your back completely forgotten.

"I love your stamina. I find it incredibly sexy that you fuck me the way you do. I love how you can always talk to me about what you need. I love your cock, but most importantly, I love you, Aaron. The sex is fucking incredible, but it's incredible because it's sex with you. It's sex with your hands, and your voice, and your body, and our relationship, and all of this love I have for you," You ramble, pressing your hands to his cheeks and your forehead to his.

You laugh to yourself, happiness flooding your veins. "All of this love. I'm amazed that I can fit all of it in one body."

When you lean back so you can look at him properly, you see that his eyes are watery. He cups the side of your face with his left hand, and you lean into his touch, closing your eyes with a small smile.

"I love you, honey," He says softly, running his thumb over your cheekbone. "Thank you."

You shrug. "It's nothing. I don't mind if you keep them, and if you ever do need them, but tell me if you take them, okay? There are some side effects that I'd want to look out for."

He nods. "Promise."

You look at him and feel love blossom in your chest again. "I'm gonna marry the hell out of you one day."

He laughs, and the sound makes you feel like you've sprouted wings.

"Alright. C'mon, I wanna see if the guy gets the girl," He says, slipping you from his lap into the space beside him. You rest your head on his shoulder.

"You know that he does," You say quietly. "You've seen this one before."

He kisses your forehead. "I know."

[nimblermortal]

Lemon Kale Muffins

But Nimbler, I hear you say, why would I do that to myself?

Look. It's an improvement on the lemon blueberry* muffin, and it's bright green. It also happens to sneak vegetables and protein into your diet. Stay tuned! You will need a blender.

*cranberry. Improvement.

100g chopped kale 2 eggs 2 teaspoons vanilla extract, or 1/2 t vanilla powder and 1 t vanilla 1 lemon zest and juice 1/3 c (150 mL) neutral oil 2-3 T honey 1 (110g) stick of butter 1/3 c (70g) caster/granulated sugar 3/4 c (100g) all purpose flour 1/2 c (60g) whole wheat flour 1/4 c (25g) almond flour 1 teaspoon baking powder scant ½ teaspoon salt handful of cranberries

Steam kale. If you want it to be a brighter green, dunk steamed kale in cold water and squeeze out. Add kale, eggs, vanilla, lemon zest and juice, oil and honey to blender. Blend till homogeneous. Cream butter and sugar. Beat liquid from bender with creamed butter and sugar. Mix till just combined with dry ingredients and cranberries. Put into greased muffin tin and bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes. Makes 12 muffins. These are fragile when freshly baked so wait five or ten minutes to loosen them from the tin.

-----

You do NOT get a picture because I just realized these muffies are half way through baking and I forgot the whole wheat flour. Brain shorted out between the white and the almond flours and I just left it out. Also meant to add more cranberries. SOUP IT IS. And no more baking for me tonight. :(

[classicsstudentsunion]

Ancient Recipes: Apricot Dessert (Apicius, De re coquinaria)

Did you know when you Google Apicius, they call him a professional chef?

Given that he was the closest thing Ancient Rome had to Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart, we guess it makes sense. These apricots are a fantastic dessert from De re coquinaria (c. 5th cent. CE), arguably the best-known Ancient Roman cookbook. They likely would have been enjoyed at room temperature, but taste fantastic after being chilled. We make this at every rendition of our Ancient Food Day, and it's always a hit.

Latin: duracina primotica pusilla precoquiis purgas, enucleas, in frigidam mittis; in patina conponis; teres piper mentam siccam; suffundis liquids; adicies mel passum uinum et acetum; refundis in patina super precoquia, olei modicum mittis et lento igni ferueat, cum ferbuerit, amulo obligas, piper aspargis et inferes. (De re coquinaria, 4.177)

Translation (by John Liao): Wash firm, early or small apricots, pit them, and put them in the cold [water]. Arrange them in a pan. Crush pepper and dried mint, pour over liquamen and add honey, passum, wine and vinegar. Pour over the apricots in the pan. Add a little oil and heat on a low flame. Thicken [the sauce] with starch while it simmers. Sprinkle with pepper and serve. 

Ingredients

10-12 apricots (pitted and halved if fresh, rehydrated in water overnight if dried)

1 ½-2 tbsp freshly cracked black pepper (plus extra for garnish)

1 tbsp dried mint flakes

1 tsp garum/liquamen (substitute fish sauce if you can't find/make it yourself)

3-4 heaping tbsp of honey

3/4 cup of red wine

3/4 cup of passum (also known as raisin wine. Substitutes can include cranberry juice (less sweet), grape juice (more sweet), or ice wine (if you don’t have to make this for a school event).

1 tsp of vinegar (2 tsp if you're not using passum/alcoholic passum substitute)

1 ½ tbsp of olive oil

½ tsp corn starch

3-4 tbsp cold water

Our Recipe

Soak halved, pitted fresh apricots in cold water for 15 minutes (skip if using rehydrated fruit)

In a wide pan (at least 3 inches deep), lightly toast the black pepper and mint at medium heat until fragrant.

Add the liquids: honey, passum, wine, vinegar, and liquamen. Bring to a simmer and stir until well incorporated, and the honey has dissolved. Continue simmering to cook off the alcohol. If the mixture begins to reduce too much, add water in small amounts.

Once the desired amount of alcohol has been cooked off, add the apricots. Continue simmering until apricots reach your desired texture (usually 8-12 mins).

Remove the apricots from the pan. Mix cornstarch with cold water into a slurry, and add to the remaining liquid. Stir and cook until thick, then pour over reserved apricots. Let cool.

Serve chilled or at room temperature, with fresh black pepper sprinkled on top.

Below, we served them with libum (Roman cheesecake) and statites (Ancient Greek spelt crepes).

Some more anachronistic ways to serve this can include using it as pie or tart filling, mixing it with Greek yogurt, or serving it with vanilla ice cream while it's still hot (sort of like a poached pear situation).

Some FAQs

Q. "How long do I actually boil the sauce?"

A. As long as you want, depending on how much alcohol you want in the dish (we serve these at school events, so we have to boil it to hell and back to get rid of all the alcohol).

Q. "The ancient recipe says to cook the apricots first, why do you make the sauce first?"

A. When we tried the apricot-first method, the apricots fell apart and turned the whole thing into a jam-like stew because of how long we had to cook the sauce. It tasted great but lacked the nice texture of the whole apricots.

Q. "Can I substitute ingredients 1-1?"

A. Generally, yes. For our passum substitute, we use cranberry juice for its tartness, but any of the three substitutes work. However, if you have the ability to make/buy garum and passum, definitely give it a try!

[studywgabi]

Vagina Insecurities!

This, like any story worth telling, is all about a an adult woman with the sex drive of a 13-year-old boy. It is also one that no one asked for. This is an extreme overshare about my self-esteem, body, and sex life (sex death?), and why I'm still a virgin despite being hornier than a teenage methhead rabbit. Yeah, I want to have sex. Fucking sue me. I want to date, I want to fall in love, and I want to be railed. There it is. Let's talk about it!

I don't hear songs with lyrics like "pussy so good, I say my own name during sex" or "kitty on fleek" and think "yeah, me too. I totally get where you're coming from. This song really resonates with me because my kitty is, in fact, also on fleek."

I hate every part of my body, but especially those parts. My pussy is all lopsided. (There's a sentence that's never been typed before). My right labia minora (my right, not someone who was facing me) is more than twice as long as my left. It's too dark and while I'm all for bell bottoms and Fleetwood Mac, I could do without my thick, PCOS pubic hair (that extends to my stomach and thighs) being '70's style. I'm perfectly healthy and luckily I've never had any kind of infection, but my natural smell is just awful, and whole-body deodorant only seems to irritate my skin and make it worse. I follow all the rules religiously: just soap and warm water, "breathable" cotton underwear, yogurt and cranberry juice, but that's just the way I am. I smell terrible. Not unhealthy, just bad. Absolutely unbearable.

I hate my breasts because they're too small and look like they've already withstood 90 years of gravity instead of just 18. I'm a 34B, which is fairly average and would make sense if I were thinner, but is really unproportional at my weight. I feel like, being my size, I should be a C at least, but I carry all my weight in my stomach and not in my curves. My areolas are too dark, too big, and have these weird bumps on them, almost like acne. My entire chest is covered in dark hair, not just a few pluckable strays around my nipples, but my whole breasts and my sternum, along with every other square inch of my body.

My breasts act like cranky old neighbors in a vicious feud that started as mild annoyance over Left's dachshund always getting into Right's backyard, but escalated into flat-out suburban warfare, complete with brutal rhododendron sabotage. I'm the granddaughter trying to coax them into talking out their differences, but I just can't convince them no matter what I do. They stick out (barely) the wrong way- away from each other and down rather than up and straight ahead like they're supposed to. They're called headlights for a reason, but with these, I'd crash right into the car in front of me and end up totaling both of us.

I'd overshare on the internet about my 2-dimensional ass, too, except there's nothing to say. If you only saw me from the back, you would think I had gone through a car compacter. I am the "before" picture in the commercial for BBLs. I don't have a feminine shape. There is zero difference between my waist and hips.

I would feel so ridiculous in lingerie, like I was an actor in a silly skit. I bought some nice underwear just for me, hoping it would make me feel a little more confident even if no one else was going to see it, but it's just putting lipstick on a pig. Even wearing a nice dress feels so strange and pointless to me, because nothing I do could ever make me look on the outside like the woman I feel like on the inside. I feel like I don't deserve nice clothes and that I can't justify spending time or money on my appearance. I'm trying to move away from that, but it's an uphill battle when everything I've ever heard about bodies that look like mine are that they should be hidden, that they're something to be ashamed of, and that they're completely undesirable. I would like to think of myself as beautiful, and maybe I'll get there someday, but thinking of myself as sexy just feels impossible. I wish my body were my own. I wish my opinion about my body was mine. I wish that I belonged to myself. If you can relate to any part of this in any way, I'm so, so sorry.

I'm a total pussy when it comes to sex (ha. ha. ha.). The thing that's holding me back is fear. I am so, so scared. I'm scared I would get hurt. I'm scared adding physical intimacy into the mix would make a bad breakup a thousand times worse. I'm scared he would tell horror stories about the ugliest girl and the worst lay of his life to his friends, his future girlfriends, for their entertainment and sympathy. I'm scared he would compare me to his past girlfriends and regret breaking up with them. Most of all, I'm scared he would laugh. I'm scared he would see my body and be disgusted but amused. I'm scared he would think of me as a car crash: so horrible you can't look away. I'm scared he would find me morbidly fascinating.

I don't have sagely advice on this one. I'm insecure, and I know I shouldn't be, and I don't want to be, but I am. And it's holding me back from doing something I really (really) want to do. I guess I just wanted to be honest. I may be a crock pot, but if you're patient, I can burn just as hot as a microwave.

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 7

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

Thank you so much for your continued support of my work! Every little bit helps me to keep going :)

And now, back to our regularly scheduled nerdy romcom shenanigans!

***

Faith

I kept time with the metronome as I pirouetted around my living room. I’d decided early on in my transition that I wanted to be more graceful, and ballet had seemed like a good way to accomplish that while staying in shape. Murder on the feet, but so worth it- I was, if nothing else, of a marginal amateur level of talent, which was all I was asking for. So, each night, I donned my workout garb, moved the orange couch and brown coffee table a few feet so they pressed against the back wall, rolled up the white carpet that normally covered the linoleum floor, and put on the metronome and danced around the living room.

The tumblers clicked on the lock, and my front door opened to reveal my handsome, dashing, wonderful roommate and best friend entering the apartment. 

I broke out of my pose and grabbed my towel off of the couch, blotting my sweaty face. “Hey!”

“Hi,” he said, taking off his suit jacket and sticking it in the coat closet that indented our apartment just to the left of the front door, hanging it alongside his leather jacket and my white overcoat.

“How’s it going?” I asked, switching off my metronome and pushing the couch and coffee table back into their normal positions in front of the plasma screen television.

“Oh, you know, it’s going,” Zeke said. “You have a good workout?”

“Yeah!” I said, trying my best to show off my winning smile. My orange sports bra and black tutu may not have been the most conventional ballet attire, but it did show off my abs, something I was very eager to do now that I had them. 

Dancing didn’t just help me get in shape and feel that sweet, sweet gender euphoria, either- it gave me a great opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and actually THINK them. And that evening, I’d come to two conclusions: one, my friendship and working relationship with Zeke was too important to risk destroying by asking him to be my boyfriend out of the blue, at least not when I had no idea if he felt the same way as I did; two, I wanted him to make the first move. Maybe I was old-fashioned, but the idea of the guy being the one to escalate the relationship from non-romantic to romantic really appealed to me. Plus, if I put out hints that I liked him, was a bit more flirty and forward than usual, and he slowly cottoned on to what I was getting at and then asked me out, then it would all be perfect. And if he didn’t pick up on the hints, or just wasn’t interested, I had plausible deniability. It was an immaculate plan, totally fool-proof. 

I put a hand on my hip and leaned forward to show off my modest boobs and toned abs and smooth legs. “How do I look?”

“Like you just worked out?” Zeke said, aiming for the fridge and retrieving his jug of cranberry juice. He reached into the liquor cabinet after that and pulled out the flask of vodka, then poured himself a shot of it mixed with a glass of cranberry juice. 

‘ Oh. Right. I was sweaty and gross. “Good point. I should hit the shower. After that, wanna hang out?”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nursing his drink, swirling it around in his hands, staring at the wall. 

“You okay, Zeke?” I asked, tilting my head. 

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, looked at the screen, and chuckled. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.”

“Oh?” I said. “What were you off doing? I never got a chance to ask you before you left.”

“Oh, just hanging out with a friend.”

“Who?”

“Calloway,” he said. 

My eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, what?”

He took a long sip of his drink. “What?”

“Why were you hanging out with him?” I said, folding my arms over my chest and shrinking in on myself a bit. 

“Calloway texted me asking if I wanted to watch Gundam. I said yes, because I’m tired of all the weird hostility between us. And because I like Gundam,” Zeke said simply. “Honestly, Calloway is pretty cool outside of the ring.”

“Oh,” I said, taking a step back. “Fair enough. I… You can do what you want, but I’m probably not gonna hang out with him any time soon. You know that, right?”

“I mean, you two actually have more in common then you might think-”

“I… Am not crazy about that comparison, but if you say so, sure,” I said, taking another step back, pivoting left from the kitchen towards the hallway that led to the rest of our apartment. Finally, I turned around and went for the bathroom. “Glad you had fun, though. Seriously. You can never have too many friends. I’m gonna hop in the shower now.”

“Sounds good, Faithy,” he said, and he flashed that smile, and for a second everything was fine.

Everything was fine, fine, fine, fine, FINE. 

I showered, put my hair up in a towel, and wrapped a bathrobe around myself as I stepped out into the living room, where I found Zeke texting again while smiling that smile of his. The one that I knew wasn’t for me and me alone, but that I… 

No, stop that, Faith, he doesn’t owe you anything, I thought. He’s a person, and he can make his own decisions about what he does with his free time. 

Zeke and I wound up watching an old film noir that night, but I barely paid attention, and he was texting the entire time, smiling and chuckling every time his phone buzzed from a new message. I didn’t need to ask who it was.

***

The week went by normally, all things considered. Zeke and I worked on Dai Guren during the days, hung out and watched movies at night. Nothing was wrong, per se, but he was just always texting, and whenever I asked who he was talking to, he had the same answer:

Calloway. 

The one thing I found odd was that, despite the two clearly being close friends now (apparently), he always referred to Calloway by his last name. Never his first. And yeah, sometimes guys just did that, even with close friends, but even when he’d thought I was a guy Zeke called me by my first name. 

I tried to just keep it, keep him, out of my mind. Who Zeke spent his free time with was his business, and everyone needs more than one friend. I mean, I only needed one, but other people, yeah, they require multiple outlets for social engagement. And if Zeke and I were gonna start dating- which was not a guarantee, obviously, just something I’d really really really like to happen- then he would need a new platonic best friend. And I may not have been crazy about Keith Calloway, but hey, Zeke could do worse. Could be Olivia. 

Olivia. I had to go up against her in less than a week. I wasn’t crazy about that, but if nothing else, it might be a bit cathartic to defeat her. 

On Thursday morning, the day before our match, I decided to do a bit of shopping. I’d just gotten my monthly stipend from my parents- they were still a little iffy on the whole trans thing, still occasionally misgendered me and then immediately corrected themselves but got annoyed at me when I tired to correct them. But they were trying, and that was the important part. And hey, when both your folks are in the Army Corps of Engineers, wanting to build fighting robots for money is far from the worst thing you can do with your early twenties. I’ll get a real job someday- right now, though, I’m still figuring myself out. No reason I can’t do something I love while I do that. 

Zeke was passed out on the living room couch clutching his beloved baby seal plushie, Lacus. I jotted down where I was going and when I intended to be back on a sticky note and put it on his forehead. He didn’t wake up- the man slept like a rock, it was almost impressive- and I headed out. 

I cruised down Lincoln in the Star-Rocket Racer, weaving in and out of traffic as I headed for Venice. The best shops were in Santa Monica, but the more affordable and more trans-friendly ones tended to be in Venice. The air was warm with early-summer heat, the sky was clear and blue for miles, and the narrow street was uncrowded thanks to the just-shy-of-midday hours. The salty smell of the nearby ocean wafted through the air on a gentle, cooling seabreeze, and the clean street packed with shops and storefronts nearly sparkled in the sunlight. I wore my favorite off-white sleeveless sundress with a sunflower pattern, along with strappy wedge-heel sandals, a wide-brimmed black sun-hat, and a string of pearls around my neck that my mom had gifted me as a coming out present. I’d gone for a natural makeup look that day, subtle eyes and pink lipstick and just enough foundation to cover up my razor burn. My black cat purse was slung over my shoulder as I sauntered down the street, humming an Olivia Rodrigo song as I looked in the store windows. 

At the end of the street, I found a shop called ‘Surf Turf Apparel.’ Palm trees enclosed both sides of the brick store, and in the window was the most adorable green swing dress with white polka dots I’d ever seen. It looked a bit big for me (pros and cons of being hilariously short- thanks, hilariously short parents), but I could at least ask if they had anything more in my size. If not… I dunno, I could try shortening it myself. I’d always wanted to learn how to sew. 

I stepped inside and looked around- they had a lot of great dresses in here! Every style and color and fabric I could name, and plenty I couldn’t, hung from mannequins, harkening to eras as far back as the 1950s. At least one dress was there to represent each decade in the history of American fashion, standing proudly amidst the more standard beach apparel and SO MANY GORGEOUS HATS! I’d never been more in love with a shop this quickly! They had everything!

From the back of the store came an unnaturally high voice, what sounded like someone putting on a traditional female tone, perhaps someone, like me, who didn’t naturally speak in a feminine register. “Hi there!”

Poor thing- I’d gotten a bit better since I’d started doing vocal exercises on the daily. Maybe I could give her a few pointers. 

I looked at the source of the voice as she continued speaking, “Welcome to Surf Turf Apparel! How may I…”

The voice trailed off as I looked at the person behind the counter. We made eye contact. Prolonged eye contact. Prolonged, unblinking, silent eye contact. It was incredibly awkward. But when someone you low-key hated surprised you in a manner this thorough, it was hard not to be speechless and equally hard to look away. 

Calloway stood behind the wooden counter wearing a short-sleeved v-neck burgundy blouse, a golden butterfly necklace, and a full face of makeup- dark eyeshadow and red lipstick and very bold mascara. Her light brown hair was put up in a high but loose ponytail, with freshly-curled ringlets dancing about loosely on the sides of her face. Her eyebrows looked like they’d been freshly tweezed that very morning. It made her face look… Softer. Less aggressive. All of it together honestly made her look like a totally different person.

Was it ‘her?’ Should I be using ‘her’ for her? I should ask. 

But that would require me to do something with my mouth besides let it hang open in shock. Calloway, for her part, still wasn’t saying anything or blinking either. I think I understood now why Zeke had been exclusively using her last name around me. 

A tall, middle-aged woman (MILF, my brain automatically screamed) with long platinum hair, clad in a yellow A-line maxi-dress and flat white sandals, walked out from the back of the shop and said, “Close your mouth, Katie. Flies will nest. Also, you have a customer.”

“Hey, Mom, can I take my ten?” Calloway asked. 

“Sure. You want me to handle this one?” her evident mother asked. 

“Actually, Faith and I know each other, and we need to have a little talk.”

I was too shocked to react to this, too shocked to even do anything when Calloway… Katie, apparently… Grabbed me by the arm and shepherded me outside and into the alleyway next to what was APPARENTLY her family’s shop. Because of course it freaking was. 

“Okay,” I started, “So-”

“I’m not trans!” Calloway said, in that practiced high pitched voice of hers. 

I blinked. “Uh-huh. Right.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I shouldn’t say.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not something you should have other people confirm for you,” I said. “And because I think all this speaks for itself, so if you’re too blind to see it, then that ain’t my fault.”

She raised a finger, then lowered it and looked at the ground. “That’s a fair point.”

“So,” I said, arms folded together. Her eyes were instantly drawn to my chest, at which point I looked down and realized the fold was putting my cleavage on display. I tucked my arms away behind my back hurriedly. “Anyway. Was there anything else you wanted to say to me, or was it really just that?”

Calloway… Katie, or maybe it was still Keith on some level (hard to say with eggs this dense), exhaled audibly and said, “I need you to keep this to yourself.”

“Yeah, of course,” I said with a nonchalant shrug. 

“I mean it, Watanabe! I- wait, seriously, just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that,” I said, struggling to keep the monotone out of my voice. “Look, everything else that’s happened between us aside, I am not just gonna out somebody because of spite. I mean seriously, what kind of asshole do you take me for?”

She looked at me blankly, unblinking once more. 

My eyes narrowed. “Oh my God, what kind of asshole do you take me for?!”

She let her mouth hang open for ten agonizingly long seconds before saying, “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“It was, yeah. But now it’s not!” 

“I don’t think you’re an asshole! Okay, there! I said it. I just… Didn’t think you were gonna do me any favors because… Last time we talked, I… And you…”

I heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I… Uh, so about that-”

“I’m sorry for antagonizing you last season!” she suddenly shouted, stepping forward, grabbing my hands and squeezing them inside her own. 

My pulse quickened and my jaw dropped. What the heck was going on?

She kept going: “I just… I liked playing to the crowd. I get way too into it, though, and I forgot what’s fun and hammy for me might be obnoxious and overbearing to other people. I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about this, to your whole team about this, last year, instead of going after you every time I was on camera. I’m sorry.” 

She looked like she was on the verge of tears, sincerity and hope and despair radiating out from her very soul. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her long lashes mesmerizing as she opened and closed her eyes rapidly. I could feel my face going red. Was I… 

No, no. She was cute in a freshly-hatched way, sure, but I wasn’t attracted to her- it was just aesthetic appreciation. 

“I forgive you,” I said, squeezing her hands back. “And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I was… In a bad place. I’d just come out, and my girlfriend dumped me on the spot because of it.”

“Oh my God!” she said, finally releasing my hands from her grasp and putting them on her hips. Outraged painted over her face. “That’s horrible! That’s why she’s on a different team this year?!”

“Yup.”

“What a bitch!”

“Please don’t say that about my ex, I still care about her,” I said flatly. 

“Right! Right, sorry. I just…”

“You get carried away sometimes. I get it.”

“And you’re going up against her this week?” 

“Yup,” I said. “First match of the night, no less.”

“Ooof,” Katie said. I figured I should just call her that- seemed safest. “I’m going up against Haverfield and Ansible.”

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” I said. 

“Big same.”

“Kick his ass for me?” I asked.

She stood at attention and gave a salute, of the kind so formal it would make my parents proud. “Gotta make things up to you somehow.”

“Hey come on, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Yeah, but I do,” Katie said. “I’m tired of being the jerk. But if I’m going up against another jerk… Well, I’ll feel less bad about it. Also, I… I wanna be friends with Zeke. And since you two are besties… Well, you and I should probably learn to coexist.”

I smiled. She was so… Sincere, so earnest. It was really surprising. She was also much cuter like this, so that probably helped disarm me a bit. “Fair enough! To co-existence.”

“Here, here!” she said, extending a hand. 

We shook, and I’ll admit, I was taken aback by how firm her grip was. She was definitely intense, definitely a lot, but… Maybe she and I could be friends.

***

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[animeomegas]

How do you write so much? I have started work on my book (in my native language) and it takes so long for so few pages. I write a page for an hour, my hands drop from my own slowness

I am a very quick and prolific writer, that's true! Here are my tips, although I don't know if they'll work for other people.

a) An excellent space to write - I set up my room specifically to suit my writing. I have a separate pull out desk to my main desk, so that it is always clear and clean for me to put my laptop on and start working. The lighting is just how I want it, I have a coaster for my copious amounts of apple tea and hot chocolate and I have (fake lol) plants. I even have a little Neji figure watching over me while I write. I don't get interrupted when I'm writing, I'm firm about that with my family.

b) Routines - I like to get myself a drink and then choose a candle to light. Yesterday, I had a hot chocolate and burnt an orange scented candle. The day before I had cranberry juice and a cherry blossom candle. I know that drink + candle + writing desk = time to write. I also have specific sets of lounge wear, five cool outfits and five warm ones, that are my 'writing clothes', almost like having a work uniform.

c) Recognising that first drafts exist to be flawed - I tend to agonise over every sentence and that really slows down my writing. I have to make a consistent effort to remind myself that editing me can handle all the little bits that don't feel right, and as long as the dialogue and general progression are decent, then I can just move on and write the next part. I find this to be much faster than editing as I go.

d) Two projects at all times - I am someone who can get frustrated if my progress grinds to a halt, so rather than stop being productive when a project makes me frustrated, I simply move to my second project. This way, I am being productive more frequently, rather than giving up altogether for the day.

Those are the main ones, but it would be wrong of me to ignore that I have certain privileges that enable me to write very often. I don't have a job and I'm supported by my mum (who supports my writing 100%), I have had lots and lots of practice over many years, I can afford to buy things like my tea and candles, and my current mental health is much better than it has been in the past. I didn't write for four years because my mental health was so bad, and finally reaching the point where I was well enough to write again made a huge difference on my productivity.

Ultimately, try out a bunch of things and see what works! There are many schedules for productivity online, many different ways to establish a routine etc. I wish you luck with your book and I wish I could be more helpful. I'm sure your book will be amazing <333

[amelia-rate]

Roselle aka sorrel aka hibiscus from flower to glass!

Growing hibiscus in my area, the Southeast US zone 8a, is pretty low-effort. I sowed the seeds in place in a sunny spot and kept the soil moist. Once the seedlings get a third set of leaves I pretty much left them alone. They started blooming in August and they'll keep going until the first frost.

The part of this hibiscus that makes the drink isn't actually the flower petals. It's the calyx, which is the part of flowers that protects the bud before it blooms. On Roselle hibiscus, this calyx continues to grow after the flower falls off and becomes tart and juicy. The seed pod will develop inside the calyx, and for making hibiscus drinks you'll want to separate them out. There's a way to use the seed pod's natural pectin to make jelly, but I haven't perfected it.

There's a couple different ways to use the calyces for drinks. You can simply pick the pods and dry them and use the dried material to steep a tea. You can also boil them in an amount of water that covers the calyces and strain out the material to create a syrup for a more concentrated flavor you can use in drink mixes. I added 3/4 cup of sugar and a generous portion of honey to mine.

The overall flavor of the Roselle hibiscus is very tart and similar to cranberry juice. I like to snack on the calyces right from the branch, they taste like warhead candies a bit. They're high in vitamin C and antioxidants, and the color is just lovely. If you have warm summers and want to grow some, I'll mail you seeds!