#so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon

[wraithlafitte]

even it up

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), graphic descriptions of injuries and repairing them, SMUT, unprotected piv, dean might have a pain kink (or a competency kink), praise (m!receiving), blowjob, riding, (reckless) choking, edging (m!receiving), begging, biting, overstimulation

word count: 4.7k

a/n: part 2 to bitchin'. sorry it took so long! i got busy with schoolwork, but the semester's almost up so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. thanks for your patience!

Silence filled the rental car as you and Dean drove to the location you'd tracked the missing vampires to. You had woken up tangled together, naked, dried bodily fluids a stark reminder of how far you'd fallen. You hadn't said a word to him all morning, and even Dean was devoid of his usual quips. At least you seemed to agree: last night was a mistake, and shouldn't happen again.

You parked the car in an unmarked, cracked parking lot a few blocks away from the abandoned house. Dean was out the door before you pulled the key from the ignition, rushing to the trunk to grab his weapons. You sighed and went after him, slamming the door behind you.

You stopped to the side of the trunk. "Dean."

"What," came his gruff reply from under the trunk lid. The sparse weeds growing through the pavement were suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk-"

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk, causing you to jump, and tossed you a machete, which you caught easily despite being startled.

"Let's just get the job done," he said, his face hard and unyielding as he made eye contact with you.

You looked away quickly, avoiding his stony gaze. "Fine," you mumbled. Those weeds sure were growing. Kind of how Dean had started to grow on you... persistent, despite the unforgiving terrain.

Shaking your head, you fell into step behind Dean as he started walking down the uneven sidewalk.

Your hands were deft as you picked the lock of the back door to the old, peeling green house. All the windows were boarded up, so you had no idea what was waiting for you directly behind this door, but if there was one thing you could count on, it's that if something did charge you, Dean would chop its head off. Not necessarily because he wanted to save you, but because he liked killing monsters. And you had a feeling that he had some anger he might want to take out on something deserving.

The lock finally clicked and you pushed the door open cautiously. It opened into a dirty mudroom, scattered with shoes and coats of all sizes and styles. Your stomach turned as you realized they must have belonged to victims.

Dean noticed it too. "Let's go," he said grimly and pushed past you into the building, machete held high.

You picked up your own machete from the ground where you had set it to pick the lock and followed Dean. He was quick, peeking past corners before whipping around and advancing down the hallways, pressed flat against the wall. You were less... dramatic about your caution, choosing to let him clear the way.

Dean stopped suddenly and threw an arm back, stopping you in place. For a second, you were distracted by the way his hand pressed back against you, fingers almost curling around your shirt, touching but not quite. A breeze through a broken window sent a wave of his Old Spice scent in your direction that almost overtook you. Then you came to your senses and slapped his hand away.

You peered past him to see what it was. You had come across a bedroom, in which three vampires were snoring away unwittingly. You recognized them from the warehouse.

Dean looked back at you and nodded, creeping into the room. You each went to a side of the bed and made eye contact over the sleeping monsters in front of you.

One, Dean mouthed, raising his blade.

Two, and you followed suit.

Three, and both of you swung. The blood of two vampires splattered the white sheets, and the third leapt up immediately, fangs descending. She stood on the bed, ready to pounce on Dean, when you pulled her legs out from under her. The vamp fell to the mattress, where you unceremoniously chopped off its head.

"Nice move," Dean muttered, wiping his blade and already walking towards the door. "Let's clear the rest of the house."

You checked the remaining rooms on the ground floor, while Dean hurried upstairs. You found nothing in the dilapidated rooms except some mice and rotting wood floors.

A loud pounding and scuffling sounded on the ceiling above you, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting the floor. You turned and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Dean was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a vamp on the landing, his machete lying some distance away. Blood trickled down his temple. The ornate bronze candlestick the vampire wielded had a matching red stain.

The vampire hooked his beefy arm around Dean's neck and slammed him face first into the wall, shattering the glass on a picture frame that hung there. You seized the opportunity of having his back to you and rushed up behind him, hacking at his neck. Only his neck was so thick and muscular that your blade barely went through a third of it.

The vamp dropped Dean on the ground and slowly turned on you, your machete still stuck in its neck. Your eyes darted to where Dean's machete had fallen, and you scrambled backwards to pick it up, almost tripping on a rug in the process, but successfully retrieving it anyway. You brandished in front of you as you got backed into a corner, your last line of defense.

It had the audacity to laugh at you. "You think that's gonna work?" he taunted, bearing down on you and shadowing you from the meager sunlight coming through a window in an adjacent room.

In your periphery, you saw Dean rising from the ground, eyes fixed on the weapon stuck in the vampire's neck. You suppressed the urge to glance at him fully as he crept up behind the monster. He took hold of the machete handle and yanked.

It was no good. The vamp whirled on him, socking him in the jaw. You saw your chance. Dean was down for the count and the vampire had its back turned again. You ran up and swung with all your might in the opposite direction. The vamp's head rolled.

Dean looked up at you from the ground where he had fallen, panting hard. “You’re welcome,” he breathed heavily.

“For what? I saved your ass,” you reminded him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“If I hadn’t distracted it, you wouldn’t have been able to get it,” he said while standing, obviously trying to repair his ego.

You rolled your eyes and dropped his hand roughly. “Oh please.” You started down the stairs to head back to the car.

“At least we got them all now,” Dean commented, stomping down the stairs behind you.

You ignored him all the way back to the car and all the way back to the hotel as he continued to try to convince you that you hadn’t done all the work.

The sun was setting by the time you got back to the hotel, all shades of red and orange that reminded you of the blood you had spilled today. It reflected off the Impala, parked in front of the side door of the hotel. And it bathed Dean in a warm golden light that bounced off his freckled skin and made him look like he was glowing.

Ew, what am I thinking, you scolded yourself. He's just sweaty. He's a gross, sweaty man who you hate and never want to be intimate with again. He doesn't look sexy at all right now.

You were brought back to earth as Dean winced heavily while hauling his bag out of your trunk to transfer it to his car. His hand went to his ribs, tenderly feeling around for cracks.

"You should come inside so I can check you out," you said without thinking.

Dean looked at you incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you'd love to check me out, but I gotta go."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Not what I meant. You're obviously hurt, let me take a look. I can patch you up better than you can yourself."

He threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "Fine. If you'll let me leave after."

You prepared your first aid kit while Dean stripped off his top layers. You could have just gotten what you needed as you went, but you were preparing yourself for seeing him shirtless again... in the same environment that you'd fucked in last night.

You turned around, heart rate picking up. You were just making yourself nervous more than anything. You'd seen him shirtless thousands of times before. It's fine, it's normal.

And there he was.

Half-naked.

Sweaty.

Groaning.

Dean sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying to look down his side, where deep red bruises were already formed. They were accompanied by a gash on his chest, presumably where the vampire's claws had cut into his skin as it tossed him around.

You kneeled in front of him and began examining his ribs, making sure to be gentle as you ran your fingers over each bone. Goosebumps rose on his flesh in the path of your hands. "Well, good news, nothing's broken."

Dean gave a pained sort of grimace-smile. "Great. So I can leave." He made to get up off the bed, but you held down his thighs.

"Not so fast," you said. "Let me fix up that cut."

"It's fine, really, I can do it myself," he protested. He met your determined gaze and slumped back.

"Fine. Make it quick."

You poured some antiseptic on a gauze pad. "This is gonna sting."

"I know, sweetheart, this ain't my first rodeo," Dean griped.

You gave him an expressionless look like I-am-so-done-with-you and pressed the soaked gauze to the cut. Dean hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening into the blanket beneath him. You wiped away the blood and the grime, revealing how deep the cut was.

"I'm gonna have to close this up," you told him. "It's deeper than I thought." You begin rummaging through the first-aid kit for the suture needle you knew was around somewhere. A hunter's first-aid kit was a little more elaborate than most.

You carefully threaded the needle, tongue poking through your lips, then looked up at him. "Ready?"

Dean's expression hardened and he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing, wadded up one end, and shoved it in his mouth.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you wove the needle through his delicate skin, meticulously joining the two sides. You worked as quickly and as steadily as you could, painstakingly making sure to sew him up in a way that wouldn't scar too much. Dean did his best to keep quiet, occasionally grunting in pain, his face scrunching up around the shirt in his mouth.

You reached the end of the cut and adeptly tied off the thread, snipping the loose end off. Dean spat the chunk of t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.

You made eye contact for a moment as you covered the wound site with a bandage, then Dean shifted his eyes to the side. "Thanks," he said after a minute.

"You sure you want to go? Why don't you rest one more night before getting on the road?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his knee soothingly. His leg twitched under your hand.

"I should go...." Dean protested half-heartedly, not making any move to get up. Did he want to stay?

"Got somewhere to be, Winchester?" you teased. Testing your theory, you rubbed his thigh a couple times. His eyes fluttered half-closed and he looked at you darkly through his lashes.

"Don't," he murmured, uncharacteristically non-combative. His hand crept around your wrist, holding your hand on his leg.

You looked up at him from your place between his legs. "You say one thing, but do another," you said softly. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip and let go of your hand, clasping his together in his lap and dropping his gaze to them. You waited a beat, then grabbed his hands, pulling them to your chest.

"Look at me, Dean," you commanded. His eyes flew up in surprise. "Tell me what you want."

His expression changed from surprised to irritated to aroused. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"You."

You grinned and stood up to clamber onto him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, Dean's hands ghosting across your back and legs, helping you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as you made out and rolled your hips down onto his hardening cock.

Dean groaned and broke away. "Let me fuck you," he rasped, pupils blown.

A lovely mischievous idea occurred to you. You pouted. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me take care of you." You slid off his lap onto the floor and turned away, pulling your own shirt over your head. "Get comfortable on the bed."

In the fake gold plated mirror on the wall, you saw Dean look you up and down hungrily. Then he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and sat against the headboard. You slowly lowered your jeans, then your panties, being as teasing as possible, knowing he was watching.

"Come here," he barked finally. You turned to face him, bra still covering your breasts.

"So demanding," you breathed, but went to him anyway. You sat down on his thighs and looped your arms around his neck again, pulling him in for a kiss, which he swerved in favor of mouthing kisses into your neck and jaw. You moaned a little as he paid attention to a sensitive vein. Your hips almost involuntarily rolled forward, meeting his lower stomach.

His hands, which had just been resting on your thighs, squeezed harshly into the supple flesh of your hips. You yelped as he dug his fingers into the bruises he had left the day before.

"You said you would take care of me," Dean said snarkily, staring pointedly at his cock between you. You smirked and wrapped your hand around its base, admiring the reddening tip. You slowly squeezed your hand up from the base to the tip, and were rewarded with a thick drop of precum leaking out and dripping down the side. Dean huffed, a dark flush spreading across his neck and chest.

You scooted down his legs until your face was level with his crotch. Making teasing eye contact with him, you slowly stuck out your tongue and licked his cock from his balls up, flicking off the tip. Dean growled, his skin and gaze fiery.

"Quit'cher teasing," he slurred, tilting his head back to knock against the headboard.

You found significant pleasure in weakening him, and although you'd have liked to keep teasing him, you wanted to make him come undone. So you took his cock into your mouth, sucking gently on the fat head, savoring the salty taste of him.

"Fuck," Dean whispered, head still back, eyes closed. You swirled your tongue around a few times, then started lowering your head, taking him further and further into your mouth. He reached for your head but you caught his hand and held it down to the bed.

You raised your head, letting his cock fall from your mouth, a string of drool still connecting the two. "Trust me," you said, raising your eyebrow.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he groaned.

"Don't make me tie you down," you warned. "I will."

"I'd like to see you try- ngh!" You squeezed the base of his cock tightly and watched as it turned red and Dean squirmed beneath you, mouth agape and panting. He truly was a beautiful, lewd sight.

"Mind your stitches," you reminded him gently. "Lie still." You loosened your hold on his cock and began sliding your hand along it languidly.

Dean visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering open. You lowered your mouth back onto his cock, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and swallowing around him. Your eyes watered and stung, but the groan he let out was worth it. You repeated the process a couple more times, then pulled off and looked up at him. He regarded you darkly and lustfully as you grabbed his hand and brought it to the side of your face, allowing him to lace his fingers through your hair and grab a handful.

A handhold.

You nodded slightly and dropped your jaw, mouth waiting above his heavy cock. Dean's mouth slowly grew into a grin.

"Want me to fuck your face, huh? Guess that's one way you can help me out." He shoved your head down onto him. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Fucking slut, letting a guy fuck your mouth just 'cuz you feel sorry for him." He began bobbing your head up and down. His grip on your hair made your scalp tingle.

You made a little moan of protest. It turned into the most obscene gurgling, gagging sound as he continued to use you like a human fleshlight.

You gripped his wrist and tugged his hand out of your hair so you could pull off of his cock. You looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I will stop."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, out of breath. "You practically threw yourself on me."

You smirked, moving up to straddle him, and pinned his hand to the headboard. "I think you'll find that, both times, it was the other way around."

Before Dean knew what was happening, you ambushed him with a handcuff snapping around his wrist, the other side looped haphazardly on the bedpost. It didn't matter that it wasn't secure. He didn't have enough leverage to lift it over the tall post and free himself.

While he snarled, distracted, you trapped his other wrist in the same way. You smiled down at him sweetly when his angry face turned to you.

"I did warn you," you said, grinding down on his lap. "But I guess I should've known better than to give you any control. It was always going to come to this, wasn't it?"

"You bitch," Dean said through gritted teeth, straining forward against his restraints.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. "Just say the word if it's too much."

You felt him relax underneath you, then he nipped at your ear. "How weak do you think I am? Do your worst," he sneered.

You rose above him, triumphant. "Oh, I will, baby." You ground your wet core against his cock, still slick with your spit. He ground his teeth more, trying not to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

And oh, how beautiful it was that he let his head loll back, giving himself into your control, eyes fluttering shut. Then he seemed to snap to his senses and he opened his eyes, muttering, "Just ride me already."

"Patience," you whispered, and began kissing him. You kissed down his neck, across his chest (avoiding the stitches), down his stomach through the soft hairs that led back down to his pretty cock, laying on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum like dew in the hairs.

You blew softly across his length as you considered the best way to make him unravel for you. He let out a low groan, quiet and strained. You smiled to yourself and lowered your mouth back onto his cock, running your tongue lightly along the thick vein that ran up its underside, tracing the life-force that pulsated beneath his skin. He huffed softly in quick succession.

"Breathe," you murmured against his dick, and licked the tip gently, slo-o-owly. Dean made a pretty noise that was halfway a grunt and halfway a breathy sigh, and your pussy fluttered between your legs.

You clambered back up his body, your knees framing his waist as you hovered over him. His eyes were completely clouded by lust, an eager expression taking over his face. You took hold of his cock and lined it up with your body. His breath hitched in anticipation.

You cocked your head, smiling. "What do you say?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you, I'm not begging."

"Oh, but you already have, Dean." You stroke his cock gently where it waits between your legs. "What's one more word?"

His eyes threatened to close against his will. He gritted his teeth, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and spoke. "Please," he whispered.

"Good boy," you praised, sinking down onto his cock slowly. You moaned loudly as you felt him fill you up again. It almost felt better now that you were taking your time with him. Dean moaned softly, arms finally relaxing in his bonds.

Your head dipped down and you kissed him. His mouth was soft and pliant against yours, not fighting, not working to dominate, and you had the fleeting thought that you had tamed him. You didn't know how, but in this moment, he was completely submissive. And you liked it.

You raised yourself up and drew off his cock until just the head remained inside, then slid back down slowly, like you had at first. Dean leaned forward, held back somewhat by the cuffs, to suck and press kisses to your breasts. You ground down on him, pressing his cock as far in as it would go until it ached, and your chest vibrated with Dean's responding groan.

"Please move," he begged hoarsely, hips twitching underneath you.

"Since you asked nicely," you breathed. You began rolling your hips against his steadily, watching as his pleasure flickered through his rugged features. It was a stark contrast to last night, when he had been scowling and making quips the entire time as he fucked you into the mattress. This was almost... loving. Or perhaps you were simply providing him a service. You did agree to take care of him, and maybe that's what he needed.

You reached up and unclasped the handcuff on Dean's left hand, somehow trusting that he would not go anywhere. His eyes flew open and his hand was on you like it was a magnet and your hip was the opposite charge. His hand massaged into the flesh of your hip, making a dull ache arise from the bruises of the previous night.

You looked into his eyes as both your moans filled the air. They were wide and asking, and since his hand was gentle on your body, and he had been on such good behavior, you released his other hand as well.

It was like a switch flipped. His right hand darted to your waist and dug in, the hand on your hip tightening as well as he took control of your movement. You yelped and he began pushing you faster, your thighs screaming with effort as you tried to regain control.

"Dean," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders.

He grinned, slamming your hips down on him until you were forced to fall against his shoulder. "You were too slow," he gasped between heavy breaths, the wind rushing from his lungs each time your hips met his.

You managed to push yourself back up, bracing your forearm against his throat. His gasps turned ragged as you cut off his air. His thrusts slowed as you regained control of him.

"Be good," you said harshly, catching your breath and narrowing your gaze. "Only good boys get what they want." Dean scowled as he realized you were parroting his words from the night before.

"Fuck you," he spat hoarsely, voice barely audible from the pressure on his vocal cords. You cocked an eyebrow and leaned a little heavier on his throat. His cock twitched inside you.

Letting up on his throat just enough that he could breathe, you picked yourself up and began fucking yourself on his cock again, this time fully in control as his hands just clutched at your hips. You swear he went bug-eyed at the renewed friction combined with his light-headedness.

You felt pressure build in your core as you watched Dean's face, red and straining, mouth hanging open as he gasped in a desperate bid for a full breath. All that came from his mouth were raspy moans and heaves. He seemed determined not to beg still. You supposed he had been faking before. That wouldn't do.

"Tell me when you're close, baby," you purred in his ear as you began rubbing your clit, the sensation causing you to clench around him tightly. You readjusted the arm on his throat so he could speak.

"I'm close," you continued. "If I come on your cock, can you take it? Or will it be too much?" You pouted in mock pity. Dean was barely listening, eyes rolled back in his head, mouth moving in something that might have been words, if he wasn't so pussy-drunk and oxygen-deprived.

The look on his face finally pushed you over the edge, and you fell on his mouth hungrily as your pussy spasmed around him, eating up his desperate whines and moans as they fell from his lips.

You didn't stop your pace, overstimulating yourself and building another orgasm while Dean... finally broke.

"Please," he gasped hoarsely into your mouth, teeth clashing against yours as he jerked forward, drawn towards you, needing to be closer and closer and closer. "I'm so close."

You smirked down at him and slowed drastically. He was going to feel everything you were subjected to last night. He whined and buried his face in your chest, hips wiggling in an attempt to thrust into you again. "What do you say?"

"I just did," he growled, scraping his teeth over your skin.

"You didn't," you said cheerily. "You know what you need to tell me."

He let out a drawn-out groan followed by what could be considered somewhat of a sob. "Fuck."

"That's not it," you chastised.

Dean gritted his teeth and looked up at you, meeting your gaze. But he couldn't hold it. "I need to come," he whispered, eyes dropping. "Please make me come."

You resumed your last pace, touching yourself and clenching down on him as your body reacted to the feelings. Dean let out a broken moan as you leaned on his throat again. "Fuck- fuck-" he gasped against your skin, more his mouth just forming the words than speaking, hot and wet and open. His entire body tensed and he stopped breathing for just a moment-

And then he came inside you, shuddering and digging his nails into your hips so tightly you thought you might bleed. You didn't slow until you were following him, wringing every drop from his spent cock as he begged you to slow down in half-human sounds. You didn't slow until you were overstimulating yourself too, and he was straining against your arm, all but crying as his face contorted, all gritted teeth and tense muscles and red cheeks.

At last, you seated yourself fully on him and just stayed there, finally un-obstructing his airway. Dean's hands fell limply to your sides as his chest heaved, panting heavily and looking at you with a glazed expression as his cock jerked weakly inside you.

You made a quick scan of his injuries. Nothing had burst or ripped. He was catching his breath. Satisfied that he was physically okay, you smirked down at him.

"Now we're even," you told him slyly, dragging yourself off of him and laying down beside him.

"Fuck you," he croaked.

You smiled and nipped at his jaw. "Think you better just stay the night, wouldn't want you to drive like this."

Dean hesitated, then decided to take the bait. "Like what?"

"All weak and worn out," you said sympathetically. "Driving tired from a good fucking is the same as driving drunk, you know."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Really?" you asked sweetly, propping yourself on one elbow to look at him. "Could've sworn it was something like that...." You pretended to think.

"I'll stay," Dean sighed, snaking his arm around you and pulling you into his side. "If you promise we can do this again before checkout."

"I don't know," you said. "We might sleep too long. We might have to take it out to the car."

Dean shivered at the thought of fucking you in his Impala. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

[betterfettered]

Hello hello we'll be back to our regularly scheduled obey me programming soon but I'm so down bad for blade from honkai star rail right now so I wrote a real quick little thingy about him.

Your yandere kidnaps you

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere, please let me know if reader is gendered)(noncon)(violence against reader)(kidnapping)(forced affection)(masc rage)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(Please let me know if I am missing a TW)

Part 2

[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

You thought your master’s bondman was not just cute, but also harmlessly so. “Blade”, he called himself, which you thought was so melodramatic that you could not help but smile whenever you happened to see him. On greeting him, you bent your knee and lowered your face as a maid ought to, but surreptitiously peeked at him from beneath your fringe and pressed your lips together to hide a laugh at the stilted way it made him hold himself, the apathy in his expression stirred up into a vague discomfort. For all the chagrin his name heralded, you could not help but see an awkward man who liked heaps of sugar and a touch of salt in his tea, one who would nudge your arm with his knuckles before demanding in monotone that you reaffix his barrette and shivering when your hands brushed his scalp. A hissy cat, a moody kid with overgrown bangs – you were fond of him, and nowhere near as scared as you should have been.

In fact, that lack of fear made it hard to understand what was happening when he first locked you away. His expression not budging out of its typical hollowness, he simply wrapped his hand around your arm and began to lead you; you followed, as a servant did, through halls and down many stairs. You didn’t question it when he led you to a part of the compound you had never been to until a door shut behind you, hard, and you turned in time to watch him slide a bar into place to lock it. When he faced you again, it was to glare down his nose at you with his typical emptiness, this time with more intensity than you were used to.

There was a brief pause, then he raised his hand to your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost just above your skin until you raised your own hand to push his away.

“I o-ought to be going,” you said, taking a step back. “I’ve plenty of work to do.”

That was not the right answer. This time he seized your wrist, hard enough to make you hiss a little, and dragged you further through the hall you had been sealed in. It was hard to focus with your heart pounding so hard, but you tried to scan your surroundings to see where you were and only recognized that you were somewhere dark, poorly lit by dim bulbs and no windows, with his feet leaving prints in the dust telling you that no one had been down here for quite some time in a way that makes your stomach drop, because you have a bad feeling about anything he could need privacy for–

Your fears were validated as he pulled you into a tiny room, some defunct servant’s quarters you’d imagine, containing nothing but a small bed covered in threadbare sheets and a rickety nightstand. Panic overwhelmed you, and you immediately began to struggle against him like mad, your chest seizing up so hard that it took you a while to realize that that loud noise you could hear was you screaming, apologizing, promising to do anything else that he wanted if he just let you leave.

He had been uncomfortable trying to approach you gently, unsure how to do it with his hands reforged specifically for killing and only killing. Subjugation, however, was his only nature, and once you began to act like prey, he allowed his instincts to take over. The nails of your flailing hand caught his face but seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever; he wrenched you forward by your arm hard enough that you stumbled and then kicked your feet out from beneath you while still holding your arm so that he could press you onto your back as you fell. It was relatively easy to pin you after he did that, and he did so by planting his knee downwards into the soft flab of your stomach, driving it in a little deeper when you tried to squirm away and loosing a knife from his belt to remove your clothing with.

He fucked you like a punishment, pushing into you with no foreplay and holding you down by both of your wrists as he thrusted into you hard enough to make your fat thighs clap against his skin. He watched you rather emotionlessly, unmoved by the tears pouring from your eyes and down your temples into your hairline or the whimpers that occasionally escaped your lips despite how hard you were pressing them together. Wracked with pain and with humiliation at your body suddenly being so exposed and shock at how things had turned bad so quickly, how you were suddenly being pinned under him like this used like some disposable toy, you looked just beyond the side of his head and traced cracks in the ceiling while you waited for him to finish. The room had been quiet but for the hoarse creaking of the bed, so you were surprised when you suddenly heard a grunt from him: he freed one of your wrists to bring the back of his hand to his blushing face, covering his mouth as he finished, his eyes growing distant as he stared down at you and his cock pulsating inside of you, making you feel sick.

You expected him to fix his clothes and leave you there, back to his same nonplussed demeanor, but instead he continued watching you the moment that he came back to his senses. As though that would make him vanish, you squeezed your eyes shut and only felt what happened next. He grabbed hold of the bottom of your face with his horribly cold hands, the bandage wrapped around it feeling clammy with his sweat, and then his lips pressed onto yours and his fringe tickled your forehead. You recoiled in shock and disgust, retreating backwards into the mattress and turning your face away from him, wiping your mouth before you could stop yourself. You flinched, expecting to feel the bruising of his hands roughly handling you again, but instead he lied down on you a little gently, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he commanded.

It took you a second, but eventually you complied.

“Now say that you love me.”

“I--… I can’t,” you whispered back.

“You will. Say it.”

It took a long time for you to finally comply, and to his credit he waited in your embrace without moving as he awaited you saying it; eventually, your disgust was outweighed by your worry that he would never pull out of you and leave if you did not obey, so eventually you did finally whisper it into his hair, tears welling up in your voice as you pried the words from your throat.

After what felt like an eternity, he eventually left, but you were not allowed to because he locked the door from the outside when he went. In fact, you were kept in that tiny room so long that you lost track of time. You tried to measure your days by the showers you took in the adjoined bathroom, or the times you’d get hungry and eat some of the food you’d been left the day before, but you could not stop the time from blending together into slop no matter what you did.

It was easiest to measure time in when he suddenly reappeared to see you.

The first few days, upon just the sound of him unlocking the door keeping you shut in here, you would shake uncontrollably and fix your eyes to the ground. Once he entered, you tried to put as much distance between him and you that you could, though that was only a few steps or so. That ruined feeling, the unfamiliar slickness and soreness between your legs would rush back over you in memory and you’d feel overwhelmed to the point of dizziness, your trembling jaw barely able to form “please don’t” as he stared you down impassively. The second or third time you did this, he lost patience with it and dragged you kicking and screaming back over to the bed, but this time he only lied down beside you and rested his head on your chest, then demanding the same two things: to put your arms around him and say that you love him. You obeyed, sobbing, but sooner rather than later you got used to your new routine and became proficient, or comfortable even, in the new ritual of greeting him.

“Welcome back,” you’d tell him when he entered, going over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying him back and forth. Then you’d say you missed him or you were thinking of him or you were happy to see him. You started to wonder if that was actually true: he was your only human interaction, and after (what felt like) a few weeks you felt almost excited to see him, especially when he bought you things you requested, like wine and puzzles and lube and books. You felt like you could kiss him when he brought you a video game from his companion, though he seemed not to be sure what it was.

Well, more like you could kiss him and want to, because you often kissed him, actually. After greeting him you often led him, still emotionless as he always was, over to the bed where the two of you would lie down in the same position, his head on your chest and your arms around him. When you could stomach it, you’d roll over onto him and press your lips to his and moan into his mouth and grind on him, doing your very best to arouse him. Your hope was that if you preempted his lust with seduction of your own, maybe the sex would be easier, maybe you would have fewer nightmares that woke you up screaming. Strangely, your success with this strategy was variable: often times, he allowed your ministrations and then let you ride him until he came, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while his other hand covered part of his face. Other times, he seemed to grow overwhelmed with your affections, flipped you back over and rested his head on you again, burying his reddened face into your chest so you could only see the top of his head. You’d be confused, not sure what to do, and he’d quietly command you to do the same thing he always did: wrap your arms around him and tell him you love him.

Still, no matter what you did, you could not escape that often he wanted to hurt you. You could predict it based on how much blood he was covered in when he visited you or how he seemed to bristle away from your touch, but most reliably he was in this violent mood when he woke up from nightmares of his own, seemingly gripped with unwavering rage that drove him to want to destroy, whether that be furniture or himself or you. If you were unlucky and he went for you first, you’d be awoken by him striking you, hitting your face or dragging you by your hair or roughly tearing your clothes from your body. You learned better than fighting back quickly, as that only made him angrier, and so you just tried to shield your face and go somewhere else in your mind until it was over. Sometimes he’d fuck you dry, hard enough that you bled a little after, other times he’d hit you all over your body until it hurt to move, other times still he’d twist your arms painfully behind your back, lean into your ear, and tell you exactly how he was going to kill you in gruesome detail that made you want to vomit. He only seemed satisfied when your tears had run out and you stopped moving, overwhelmed by pain and despair, and then the room would fall into silence but for the sound of his panting, slowing breath.

After these rages were the only times he’d hold you and tell you that he loved you in a way you knew was meant to be comforting but only sounded flat and disturbed.

Eventually, he let you go (later you learned that it had been around two and a half months after you’d been captured). It was unceremonious – he simply left one day and did not shut the door behind him. It took you nearly an hour to summon the courage to leave, as you could not help but fear that this was some sort of trap, that he’d be waiting just beyond the threshold to punish you if you left. In the end, though, it was not, and after some walking you found yourself back in a central corridor of the compound with business as usual happening around you. It was hard to comprehend how other people were talking, laughing, cleaning, working without bone deep, paranoid fear strangling them. You’d dreamed of your freedom for a long time, of the relief you’d feel to be out of his clutches, but there was no relief to be had.

You could not sleep with any semblance of normalcy after getting out, so you often lied awake at night and wondered why he had gotten rid of you. Had he grown tired of you, bored? Had he moved on to someone else? Had he seen that there was something within you that he had irreparably broken that made you not worth using any more? Part of you worried about this so endlessly because if he was angry that you failed him, you needed to figure that out so you could prepare for him to return in one of his rages.

But another part of you, one that you could not bear to acknowledge, had grown used to making him and his comfort the center of your universe, and now felt lost without him. You wished that he had just kept you until you died.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Chapter 10: I Want Her

Charlotte's Club Outfit:

Charlotte's Baseball Outfit (Except Pretend it's a Cubs Jersey:

A Pic of People Being Subjected to Charlotte and Lip PDA:

Note: Hiii! This took longer than I thought, apologies, but here it is! It's a little shorter but when I'm less busy we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you so much for all of the love I've been receiving on this, it means the world. I hope you all continue to enjoy reading :) <3 Also hopefully I got this damn tag list right this time. Let me know if you wanna be added!

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @heavenly1927 @th3h0nkz @yezzyyae

“So, you don’t think he’d like a flask with a drunk Mickey Mouse on it?”

Lip chuckles as he balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hands are busy jotting down a string algorithm for one of his bosses that he’d figured out and memorized earlier that morning. “I think Mickey would like us to buy him some shots while we’re out tonight. And I think Mickey deserves nothing but us showing the fuck up.”

“Aww,” Charlotte whines on the other line, Lip can basically hear the pout he knows is on her face. “I wanna give him something to open. Knowing you Gallaghers Ian’s probably just giving him dick for his birthday. He can’t unwrap that. Unless I pick up a bow for him to put on it.”

“Uh, really don’t want to think about you helpin’ my brother put a bow on his dick for his boyfriend, babe.” Lip sniffs, curling his lip up in distaste.

“Such a prude.” she chirps. 

Lip ignores her, finishing up what he’s doing and ripping it from the notepad, going back to his computer to check his work. Suddenly, there’s a knock at his office door. It’s so weird for him to say, his office. Well, it's his and the other paid intern’s office to share. All of the poor fucks working for free share cubicles downstairs and the real employees get their own offices on Lip’s floor. But it’s mostly his, the other guy’s uncle is one of the big bosses and he rarely actually comes to work and normally when he does, it’s to play foosball with the other trust fund babies before going to happy hour. “Yeah?”

The door swings open and Eric comes strolling in, tossing a foam stress ball back and forth between his hands, the same douchebag look he always has is painted on his face. “Hey, Gallagher, you got time for a quick favor?”

“Uh, yeah. One sec,” Lip brings one hand to the phone, holding it sturdily against his ear. “Charlotte, I gotta go.” He tries to ignore the immediate irritation at the way Eric straightens when he hears Charlotte’s name.

“Ooh, Charlotte, huh? Someone important must be in the room.” she jokes.

“Oh, shit, the girlfriend. Put her on speaker.”

“I’m,” the blond tries and achieves, albeit poorly, to contain his temper. “I’m not putting her on speaker, man.” 

“No, bubba, it’s okay, I’ll say hi.” her sweet voice intercedes. Lip curses under his breath before putting the phone on speaker. “Hi, I’m Phillip’s girlfriend, Charlotte.”

Eric pulls up one of the extra seats of the room, leaning into the phone rested on Lip’s desk. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric, Gallagher’s boss.”

Lip scoffs disbelievingly, shaking his head, looking away. He could tolerate shitheads like Eric all day, but with his girlfriend watching? It was a whole new ball game. “Aye-”

“For now,” Charlotte hums on the other side of the line. “But my baby is a genius, he’ll be running that place soon.”

Both Eric and Lip go silent for a moment, the latter trying to work away the smug smile that starts to spread on his face. Eric blinks before schooling an easy look on his own face and offering a laugh that’s a little too loud. “Yeah, I believe it.”

There’s an awkward silence where Lip just watches Eric rock between his two feet, staring at the phone on the desk, waiting for Charlotte to take back what she said, compliment him to even things out, or just politely hang up. He smirks, ducking his head at the fact that this dickhead just doesn’t know his girl. Charlotte would ride an awkward silence until the wheels fell off. Simply because she doesn’t think to fill it. That’s just who she is, she doesn’t fill silence, she doesn’t laugh at jokes she doesn’t think are funny and her fake smile looks more like an awkward grimace. 

After a minute passes Lip decides to take mercy on the poor guy and hang up. “Uh, bunny, I gotta get back to work, alright? I’ll meet you at the house when I get off.”

“‘Kay!” she chirps. “Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.” Lip leans on the small wooden desk and waits for Eric to recover from the uncomfortable moment. “You, uh, needed something?”

“Right! Right, I did. Do. I need you to run some diagnostics on a program my dad sent over, I’d do it, but there’s so much on my desk right now, and you’re the only one who's as fast as me.” 

“Sure,” Lip shrugs. “Send it over.” 

Eric claps his hands together, a wider smile on his face as he turns to leave. The man stops mid-step, turning to face the blond again. “Hey, Gallagher, what’re you doing this weekend?”

“It’s my brother’s boyfriend’s birthday tonight so I’m gonna go to that. After that, I'll probably just find something to do with my girl, why?”

“You like baseball?” Eric asks. “Cubs are playing, me and some of the guys are going. You should come.”

Lip tries to look disinterested. He knows however much the tickets are he couldn’t pay it unless he dipped into the money he and Charlotte had been saving, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to sit where these rich pricks sit unless he emptied the damn jar. “I dunno.”

“C’mon man, my dad already bought the tickets. It’s team bonding and shit.” Eric continues, leaning against the door frame. “It’s on Sunday, there’ll be beer and baseball, what more do you need to know? You can even bring your girl, everyone else does when we go. Except the ugly fuckers who don’t have one.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, talk to Charlotte.” Lip says noncommittally, eyeing the other man as he nods, turning away and exiting the office. “‘Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian used to worry about his brother a lot. Really. See, Lip is the oldest brother, and he’s never stepped out of that role. Despite coming off as a pretentious, narcissistic asshole, his big brother was actually a decent person. He cares about his family. When they were younger and Monica and Frank were in and out, Fiona and Lip had to grow up quickly. Everyone always talks about how Fiona stepped up. How she became their mom, but no one talks about how even though he was only a couple years older than Ian, Lip became their dad. For the younger kids, Lip is the only steady father figure they know. 

And being real, the kid has fuckin’ issues with women. Probably Monica’s fault, and all of their mommy issues manifested in different ways, Lip and Carl just have the misfortune of being straight. Between that raging bitch Karen who literally got off on fucking shit up for him, that old bag he was fucking at school, that one rich crazy bitch, and Mandy, Lip had been through the ringer. Not that most of that chaos wasn’t self-made. Ian wasn’t blind, he knows his brother is a slut. 

So, when sweet, prissy, little Charlotte Fisher rolled into town with her big innocent brown eyes, wide smile and soft hands that would tell anyone she’s never worked a day in her life, Ian had been nervous. She’s nice, their little siblings love her, and he thought his brother would absolutely ruin her. Sometimes he still does think that. 

But as time goes on, his mind has started to change. Lip has never called a girl his girlfriend outside of trying to get her into bed before. He’s never walked around with a polaroid picture of a girl in his wallet. He’s never tried this hard. This shit might be for real and Ian is happy about it. 

Now, he and Mickey have an actual couple to hang out with.

“Last one.” Lip takes a deep drag from the blunt between his fingers, turning his head in the direction away from Charlotte as he blows out the smoke. He passes the blunt back to Mickey before walking a couple steps away where his girlfriend stands, wrapping his arms around her to share the warmth as she shivers. “Told you you’d be cold. Gonna catch fuckin’ pneumonia.”

“The cold doesn’t make p-people sick. G-germs do.” she sasses, leaning into him, letting out a small sneeze. “Don’t say anything.”

“Too worried about being cute. Should’ve made you put some fuckin’ clothes on.”

“Nah,” Mickey says, flicking the burnt leftovers of the blunt to the ground, walking over. “Princess here is our ticket to free drinks, she’s dressed the part.” 

“We’re not pimpin’ my fuckin’ girlfriend, Mickey.”

“Isn’t she gonna start strippin’ like, next week? What’s the difference?”

“Oh-kay.” Ian interrupts, throwing his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him, “Let’s go in.”

“Wait,” Charlotte pauses, before they can start walking up the street to the bar. “Is, um, is Mandy coming? Because, you’re her brother and I don’t wanna, like,” she gestures between her and Lip, “rub it in, you know?”

“Nah, you’re good. M’seein’ her tomorrow, shithead has to work tonight.” Mickey shrugs. “Now, I’m sick of standin’ here talkin’, it’s my fuckin’ birthday and I’m fuckin’ sober, it’s ridiculous.”

The group makes their way into the busy bar. It was one of the few nights they had a DJ instead of a live band which was likely the reason it was so busy. Mickey and Ian shove their way through the crowd, Charlotte right behind them with Lip’s arm around her waist, hand resting on her stomach, holding her to him. 

Once they find a spot with a little space, Mickey turns around and nudges Charlotte. “C’mon princess, this pussy already said he’s not drinkin’ cause he thinks he needs to watch me or somethin’, go shot for shot with me.”

Before the woman can even answer her boyfriend’s free hand is cupping her jaw, guiding her to look back at him, pulling her into a kiss. The word ‘no’ mumbled against her lips. She pouts, and the pair mumble amongst themselves as Ian and Mickey watch. After a few moments Lip rolls his eyes and nods, kissing her lips again before letting her go. 

Charlotte bounces excitedly, grinning at Mickey. “Kay, you wanna see something cool?” Without letting him answer, she straightens, rolling her shoulders back and putting an arch in her back as she walks a little ways away to the bar where a couple of guys are standing. She leans forward on the bar, poking her butt out a little as she looks around, appearing bored.

It’s not long before one of the guys turns to her and starts talking, leaning down to whisper in her ear as his friends behind him stare at her ass. Ian turns his head to look at Lip, who is looking away from his girlfriend, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. 

A couple moments later, Charlotte was coming shuffling back with three shots and a beer balanced in her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Drinks on me gentlemen.” she says, passing two shots to Ian, one for him, one for Mickey and handing Lip the beer. Lip’s finger slips through her back belt loop, tugging the girl to him again as he locks eyes with the guys who've purchased them over her head, sipping the beer they’d just paid for. 

“Bottoms up, princess.” Mickey says, bring his glass to Charlotte’s before tossing it back. The men chuckle as the girl sputters and gags at the taste, one eye twitching with discomfort.  Lip runs his hand along her side soothingly.

“Yuck, I don’t want any more of those.”

Charlotte had several more. Three and a half. She didn’t get a chance to finish the last shot before Lip wrestled it from her hands, slamming it down on the bar and pulling her away from it. 

She, Mickey and Ian had done their fair share of dancing. It mostly consisted of Ian and Charlotte taking turns grinding on Mickey to irritate him and the two men occasionally stepping away to dance with each other, only pausing to scare off whatever guy that was trying to get Charlotte to give them the time of day. Lip lingered at the bar, offering them supportive nods and nursing his beer. He’d chosen not to drink too much considering he’d already smoked and his girlfriend was currently slurring her words together as she stumbled her way over to him.

“Hi, bubba.” she hums over the loud music, swaying to the side a little as Lip’s arm shoots out to balance her, pulling her to him. He nudges her nose with his before looking at her wide smile and lidded eyes.

“Hi, baby. Havin’ fun?” He smiles.

“Yeah.” she tosses her arms around his neck leaning into him. “Stop laughin’ at me.”

“M’not, c’mon.”

“You haven’t danced with me at all, let’s go over there.” she whines, pulling at him and pouting.

Lip taps her lightly on the back of the thigh, “Stop whining” he murmurs in her ear before turning her so her back is against his front. Lip slides his hands down Charlotte’s sides to her hips, pulling her close to him. “I don’t dance.”

The woman in front of him rolls her eyes, placing one hand over his and the other going to the back of his head, burying in the hair at his nape. She turns her head so she can look at him with a sleepy smile. “You do with me.”

Lip leans back on the bar, wetting his lips as he watches Charlotte roll her ass back against him, grinding on his dick. His blue eyes shift between her ass and trying to get a glimpse of her face, one of his hands moving to the gap in the back of her jeans, grabbing the space there to guide her movements, biting back a groan when she bends in further, arching in front of him. 

“Gettin’ sick of this place, ready to go birthday boy?” Ian asks as Mickey yawns. His mission was accomplished, he’d taken his boyfriend out, showed him a good time for his birthday. Tomorrow they’d do the family vibe, with cake, streamers, and his one sane sibling. He slings his arm around him and goes to guide him over to his brother and his girlfriend. The last he’d seen the pair they’d been basically fucking through their clothes against the bar.

The redhead pauses in his steps, laughing disbelievingly at the sight in front of him.

A couple feet away is his brother, his girlfriend in his arms. The pair are quietly laughing and leaning back and forth to whisper in each other’s ears. His brother’s stance is relaxed, the only thing tense on him is his grip on his swaying drunk girlfriend, an easy smile that Ian hasn’t seen in a long time on Lip’s face. If he didn’t know better he’d say he seemed happy. Charlotte’s hands cup his face as she drunkenly presses kisses all over his face, leaving pink lip stains all over his mouth, cheeks and neck. 

Ian didn’t want to break up the scene but he’d really needed to get Mickey home. Once he’s rounded up the group, he and Lip guide their drunken partners to the car, ushering them in, and shushing Mickey’s slurred curses. After he drives Ian and Mickey to Mickey’s home Lip pulls off with a still very drunk but now a lot less rowdy Charlotte in the passenger seat, promising to return the car the next day. 

Ian watches as his older brother climbs into the driver’s seat of the car, checking the girl’s seatbelt and brushing the hair out of her face tenderly before the drive into the night. As much as he’d felt bad for Mandy he’d known that she and his brother would never work. Ian loves her, but Lip didn’t. Not the way she wanted. He couldn’t convince her of that. But Ian almost wishes that she’d seen Lip tonight. He was a different person when he was with Charlotte, not so bitter. Not acting like he was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. As crazy and fucked up he is, Ian knows Mickey is what’s best for him. He’s starting to think Charlotte is what’s best for Lip.

“Fuckin’ Frank.” Fiona huffs, ripping her covers off at the sound of her front door opening. She’d bet all of the dollars she doesn’t fucking have that it’s him. Either way, him or whatever idiot decided to try to rob them were gonna get a bat to the face. She eases down the stairs, wooden weapon in her hand as she flicks the light on. “Jesus, Lip!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he whisper-yells. Slung over his shoulder is a giggling, very likely drunk Charlotte. 

“Shit, is Lottie drunk? Good going genius she’s not supposed to drink ‘til her birthday.” Fiona hisses, running a hand over her hair and dropping the bat onto the couch.

“Well, Mickey decided they’d share today.” Lip grumbles, adjusting his girlfriend on his shoulder before pushing past his sister and going up the stairs, rolling his eyes as he feels her following closely behind. 

Lip rests Charlotte softly on the bed, looking sighing as she flops backward. “No baby,” he pulls her up by her arms. “Up.”

Fiona leans in the doorway and watches in shock as her little brother cares for the girl on the bed in front of him. She’d never seen him be so gentle with anyone they weren’t related to. He chuckles lightly as he encourages the still giggling girl to lift her arms, tugging her tight t-shirt up and over her head, reaching around and unhooking her bra before digging in his drawer and pulling out one of his bigger shirts to pull over her head. “Pass me one of your wipes if you’re gonna stand there.” 

“Oh-” Fiona had forgotten herself, so shocked by the scene, she quickly walks over to the bathroom, grabbing her pack of makeup wipes and handing them to her brother. 

Lip takes the wipes and crouches in front of the girl, resting his hands on her knees. “Wanna go wash your face or are wipes good for now. Can you get up?” Charlotte’s eyes are clearly heavy, she leans her forehead against his, giggling as she shakes her head no, rubbing their heads together. “No? Okay, eyes closed, bunny, or it’ll burn.” The woman whimpers and struggles drunkenly as he drags the cold wipe across her face. Blue eyes sharp with focus as he tries to get every bit off. When he’s satisfied that he’d gotten all he could he kisses her lips before pushing off of the floor and reaching under his pillow, producing a light pink scarf. “Stay still, you know m’not good at this part.”

“Don’t wan’it.” she whines.

“You’re drunk, and you’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, if I don’t put this shit on you. Sit still.” Lip cups her jaw, giving her a serious look, only to be met with a wide grin. Fiona chuckles behind them, shrugging when her brother cuts his eyes at her.

“She’s gonna need aspirin and water for tomorrow.” Fiona offers.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I’ve had her chugging water since the bar-ow!” 

Both Gallagher siblings look down to a now half asleep Charlotte, clean faced with her scarf tied as neatly as Lip could manage on her head, hanging slightly to one side. Her hand is up, offending fingers suspended in the air after pinching Lip’s arm roughly. “Ow.” she mocks, her eyes closing. “Be nice. She’s helping, trying to help me.” she slurs.

Lip rolls his eyes, offering a gruff, ‘sorry’ to his sister, as he nudges his girlfriend to lie down in the bed, kissing her forehead. “‘M’fuckin’ helpin’ you, brat.”

Another hand reaches out, this time to roughly tap him on the cheek. “Thank you, bubba.”

Fiona snickers again. “Bubba?”

Lip huffs, now starting to get himself ready for bed, flicking his sister off as a cue for her to exit. Fiona quietly closes the door behind her and returns to her room. 

As she climbs into bed, she thinks to herself about all of the times she’d been embarrassed about her brothers’ behavior with women and men alike. They were sluts, the both of them, minus Liam and Carl. And often selfish, rude and disrespectful. But now they’d both found people who made them better. Who taught them how to care for people the right way, outside of the family. She was happy to watch them experience young love, no catches, no conditions, no reason to be hard all the time. They’d found people who looked at them like they were worth something. Worth everything. Fiona resolves to herself that she would find that for herself and hope her remaining siblings would do the same. She hated not being able to chat with V about the extent of Lip and Charlotte’s relationship. But maybe it was worth it. Maybe Charlotte and Mickey were. Even if they are extra mouths to feed. 

Eric takes a sip of his beer and nods along with another dull conversation with his coworkers that he was forced to pretend he was friends with. They’d been here for fifteen minutes and thus far, two of them had disappeared to do coke in the bathroom, several of them had fought with their girlfriends/wives/fiancés and the rest had been droning on and on about the stock exchange, something that he truly knows nothing about. His fucking accountant handles that shit for him. He was bored and annoyed to say the least. The game hadn’t started yet and Rebecca had been a bitch all morning. She was mad because she didn’t feel like coming to sit through a baseball game, despite the fact that they’d not only have a box but an open bar pre-paid for. The only thing that got her dressed was a promise to take her out for sushi after. Eric fucking hates sushi. 

Really, he was waiting on Gallagher. He’d actually been surprised with how much he liked Lip. He figured they’d have nothing to talk about, but the guy was pretty quiet in general. He was a great listener, and when he did say shit, it was actually important. Sure he seemed a little wound-up but he’d heard from his dad that their family friend, Ms. Helene helped him get this job because he’s broke and has got like, a family of 9 or something. Eric found the little snippets of Lip’s life he shared interesting. Like…well…his hot sister who’d stopped by for lunch one day. And his even hotter girlfriend he has a picture of on his desk, next to the picture of the 5,000 kids he lives with. 

Lip shows up with Charlotte fifteen minutes before the game is about to start. The pair walk up, hand in hand, matching pace with his easy strides and her peppy steps. When they approach one of the guys from legal (Eric thinks) says what they’re all thinking under his breath. “Goddamn.”

The woman is wearing a cropped, long sleeved black top with low hanging black pants, her sparkling belly button ring on display. Over top is a button down jersey she’s left open and on her head is a matching Cubs hat, her long, silky black hair hanging down over her shoulders. 

Lip is wearing a similar outfit, but with a black fitted sweater, his larger fingers intertwined with her smaller manicured ones. 

Eric forces himself to stop ogling the girl, clapping his hands together and welcoming them over. “Gallagher! You made it, glad you came.”

“Uh, thanks for having us.” he pulls the girl closer by her waist, obviously noticing the eyes on her. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” The girl says sweetly, offering him a smile as she leans into her boyfriend. 

Eric urges his eyes to stay on her face, and off of their body language. But the way Lip’s thumb is rubbing along the skin on the girl’s waist, the way she’s staring up at him so adoringly, Eric felt like he was being excluded from something, despite fully being part of this conversation. 

He doesn’t realize he hadn’t spoken until Lip takes it upon himself to introduce him. “Bunny, this is Eric.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m Eric, I uh-” he remembers her negative reaction to him referring to himself as Lip’s boss and flounders for an alternative. “I work with Lip.” 

“Yeah, he told me.” she chirps, rocking on her feet a little. “Thanks for inviting us. I’ve never gone to a baseball game. I’m gonna try my best to keep up, Phillip tried his best to explain to me on the way here.” 

“Aw really? Well, my girlfriend Becca is an old pro, I drag her here all the time, she’ll teach you the ropes of how to keep occupied while we watch the game. Go join the ladies, she’s the one looking like she didn’t know she was coming here in slacks.” Eric smiles. His smile drops slightly as he watches the couple exchange a look. 

Lip tilts his head downward, lowering his voice to a murmur Eric strains his ears to hear. “Do you wanna go?”

Charlotte mulls it over for a second before shrugging and patting his chest. “Yeah, it’s fine, hang with the guys, I’ll come back over if you miss me too much.”

“Yeah, whatever, brat, go make nice.” The blond banters back, patting his girlfriend’s ass as he kisses her before playfully shoving her in the direction of the women gathered around the drinks. Lip sidesteps a little, blocking the crowd of men staring at the woman’s ass as she makes her way over to the other girls. “You, uh, guys make bets already?”

Trevor, some guy from…marketing (Eric swears he’s seen him on that floor) sighs, “No, thank God you brought it up-”

Suddenly, they’re a very lively bunch, placing bets that Lip is apparently calling, pulling off his own hat and placing the money in it. Eric tries to focus on the fun and Lip’s apparent godlike memory that allows him to remember who said what, but his eyes keep drifting. He watches as every couple of minutes, Charlotte and Lip look at each other, checking in without saying a word before returning to their respective groups. Once, Charlotte had come over to bring Lip a beer once she’d noticed all the other guys had one. The only time Rebecca had come over was when she wanted money for a fresh pretzel and even then, Charlotte had been in tow. Apparently, the two women had been getting along well. Becca had demanded enough money to get Charlotte a pretzel too, to which Gallagher immediately reached in his wallet and produced money Eric knew he didn’t have to spare, and gave it to the woman. When they’d come back, Eric’s girlfriend had a pretzel she was already eating and Lip’s had chicken tenders and fries for them to share. 

As the game got more interesting and the men started shouting and getting excited, the women grew antsy, Charlotte included. Seth’s girlfriend was really intrigued by the game, but that may have also been because she’s into baseball players. Becca was posted up in the corner, on the phone with the restaurant she wanted to go to and Charlotte was standing behind Lip’s chair, hands on his shoulders. 

“Come sit, baby.” he says, patting his lap. Charlotte huffs as she makes her way around the front, plopping down in his lap and resting her cheek against his. “Lemme hear it.”

“I’m bored.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and this game is long and you didn’t mention that.”

“You done?”

“No, and it’s cold.” Charlotte sighs. “Now, I’m done.”

“Now you’re done. Cool, I can go back to watchin’ now or what?”

Oof. Eric thinks, waiting for her to start yelling, throwing a fit until Lip offers her something to calm down. That’s what they all want, he thinks. Instead, her brows furrow and she glances at Eric before grabbing the color of Lip’s shirt, tugging his ear to her lips to whisper into it.

Blue eyes go wide for a moment before a ‘uh, fuck yeah, I wanna do that.’ is murmured and she’s hopping off of his lap. “Uh, hey man, we’ll be right back, do we need a code to get back in or…”

“Oh, no, man you’re good. You guys okay? If you need something they’ll bring it in here if we call down-”

“I left something I need in the car.” Charlotte intercepts, pulling at Lip again, leading him out of the suite. Moments later Rebecca sits down in Lip’s seat next to Eric, letting out a sigh.

“So, Phillip’s girlfriend gets to leave and I don’t?”

30 minutes later and the pair comes back, looking relatively the same, despite being slightly disheveled and what appears to be a fresh hickey blooming on Charlotte’s neck. The game is almost over and immediately Lip gets back into wheeling and dealing. He starts settling up on bets while Charlotte collects the numbers of the other girls.

“No seriously, we need to keep in touch.” Rebecca smiles, hugging the girl tightly.

“Yeah, girl, I’d love that, we should hang out soon.” Charlotte hugs back. “Maybe we’ll even let Phillip and Eric come on our date.”

“Maybe, but we’re gonna have to hang out without prying ears too. I’ve been watching you two, you’ve got to tell me what type of shit you’re pulling in the bedroom, you’ve got blondie wrapped around your finger. Eric told me you’ve only known each other a couple of months and at this rate you’ll end up with a ring before me.”

“I…I’m sure that’s not true.” Charlotte says quietly, letting her eyes travel over to her man, unsurprised that he looks over to her as soon as she reaches him, eyes locking. They’ve been in sync like that a lot lately. “How long have you two been together?”

“Since high school,” The girl huffs. “He’s dragging his feet as all men do. I mean, I’ve played my part, even got mommy and daddy’s approval. On both sides. We’re all fucking waiting on him. You’re smart, getting in on the ground up, not picking one that was born with a golden spoon shoved down his throat. But my parents wouldn’t settle for less. Guess yours are trusting the process.”

“Um, exc-” Before Charlotte can finish, Eric gestures Rebecca over and the girl pats her arm one more time before going to her boyfriend. Charlotte makes her way over to Lip, thoughts heavy. They are getting more serious. Despite being together for a short amount of time, she can’t imagine her life without him now. She’d been dodging the concept of introducing him to her parents for a while because she knew how’d they’d act. She’d seen a live demo of it with Kev. They’d treat him like white trash, the last thing Charlotte thought of him as. They’d be condescending, and mean. But it’d happen eventually, because…well she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, and she hopes he doesn’t plan to either. 

After everyone gets separated in the crowd of people leaving the game, Eric waits on the sidewalk for the car he’d called for him and Rebecca. She was babbling about something or another he didn’t care about when he saw Charlotte and Lip. The woman is giggling loudly as the man tickles her, the two of them damn near bumping people every few seconds as if no one else was here. 

“I’m never going to a game with you again” the girl breathes, gasping in air as he stops tickling and starts holding her hand. 

Eric watches as Lip rolls his eyes, pulling her into him as he walks her to the passenger side of some old, beat up truck. “Yeah, okay,” he laughs, opening the door for her, “I can hear you now when I try to go without you, ‘bubba, please, take me with you, I’ll be bored without you,’” he mocks.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“No?” he snorts, closing her door and going around to the driver’s side. 

As he watches them interact Eric can’t help but think, he wants what they have. There’s a small pang of jealousy that rings in his chest. But it isn’t until he watches Charlotte lean over to manually unlock the door on the driver’s side so Lip can get in that an even more intrusive thought enters his mind.

I want her.

[ughgoaway]

Don't try to force writing if you're in a slump. I find I go through ups and downs. Sometimes it's a drought, sometimes it's a flood. Just ride the wave and go with the flow. Love your writing but don't put pressure on yourself, we'll all be here waiting whenever you're ready and inspired x

this is so fucking kind of you to send, thank you so much. hopefully, I'll be inspired soon, and we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming lol <3

[ourlittleuluru]

Another IRL post and we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program of game focused ramblings/landscape mode-ing/reblogs etc! (ngl can tmr come any sooner? QwQ itchy fingers wants to gacha for Lumiere)

~+~+~+~ IRL time ~+~+~+~

Thankfully! Today! Thank you booth mate for needing to leave early so I don't go walking around to spend my money any more than I need to ToT

But I did do one last final damage to my wallet! and it's this cuteeeeee sticker sheet >w<

With this, it's safe to say... I can officially make the Xavier Observation Journal thing... Time to make this a reality! Especially since I have so many stickers and some photocards to start off with~!

Now... I just need to find time outside of work and merch making and all the art WIPs to do 🤣

Side thing, Imma be opening up the online store like after another convention in June which I would be joining the artist alley yet again ><;;;

More side rambles, I'm... not too sure of the reason but there wasn't much people going around looking for LnDS merch??? Only 1 Rafayel got adopted ToT

But I did manage to meet another Xavier Constellation and she was just diagonally to my left at the booth! 🥺 It's always nice to meet another fellow Constellation ❤ (and I'm trying to pull her in here 🤣)

Okay, that's enough irl ramblings from me tonight! Xavier is literally asking me to go and sleep soon as I left the game idling on the home screen~

[mirrorofprinces]

Hello there!

I’m relatively new to KP and have become *slightly* obsessed with all the fics out there. When I found your fics, I did that thing where you absolutely have to read every single thing the writer’s written in case the works all suddenly disappear. Very into your writing style and I love the way you can tell how fond you are of these characters in every world you create 🥰

Howeverrrr! I wanted to ask if you’ll be writing any more Off to the Races? Absolutely no pressure, I promise! I just got hooked and then realised we’re at chapter two so thought I’d see if you’d mind sharing your plans for this fic. Very invested in sugar daddy!Kinn and oblivious bi!Porsche 😆

Also, thank you for contributing so brilliantly to this fandom. You’re so appreciated!

welcome to the fandom and thanks so much for your kind words! i'm really glad my writing resonated with you and that you like my interpretation of these two<3 i'm definitely continuing the sugar daddy fic (AND the pornstar AU series AND the la fortissimo series, if anyone else is reading this and curious), i'm just a little busier these days while i'm training at my new job, back in therapy, and prioritizing (1) more fic that i need to post soon. then we'll return to our regularly scheduled programming :) ~

[whcwashe]

apologies to everyone still waiting on replies and starters -- I have a bunch of stuff queued / in my drafts and I've been really scatterbrained about it. Once we're past this week and the Halloween Rush ends, I'll actually have some breathing room, so hopefully we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

[welllpthisishappening]

The Baby Was Fussy

I have no excuse for this. I have no idea what this even is. But I had so many questions. And so I wrote the answers myself. Canon is not my usual jam, but...nope, still no excuse. I’ll retreat back to hockey as soon as possible. 

Killian thinks it’s colic.

Well, no, that’s a lie. Killian is positive it’s colic, because Killian has read every book about babies and then a few more about only-recently born babies and...the word for that is infant.

God, Emma is so tired.

It’s definitely colic.

There’s been more crying in their house in the last forty-eight hours than should ever exist in one space ever, and Emma swears she can feel the bags growing underneath her eyes, but it’s not the bone-deep exhaustion she’s used to from saving Storybrooke or fighting monsters or even realm hopping.

They don’t have to do that anymore, after all.

It’s the kind of exhaustion that just kind of wraps around her and feels a bit like a blanket and a little warm, like she’s been covered in feelings and emotions and she’s clearly become a giant sap at some point, but Emma has, somehow, smiled more in the last forty-eight hours than she ever once thought possible.

So...by comparison.

It’s definitely colic and it’s not really that bad and they’re absolutely going to be late.

“Swan,” Killian calls from the other end of the hall and she can hear Hope fussing because, at some point, that’s become their theme song.

The website claims colic doesn’t last forever.

Emma is not convinced.

There are footsteps moving towards her, but Emma keeps her eyes trained on the mirror in front of her, trying to convince herself that curling her hair is a good idea. And won’t end with a tiny fist gripping the strands.

“Swan,” Killian repeats like she didn’t hear him, and the floor creaks when he moves into the room. The whole house seems to creak, constantly, no matter where they step or what they touch, and that’s kind of nice too because it feels lived in and theirs and they’ve mapped out every single inch of it, padding out tiny semi-circles in attempts to get Hope to sleep.

That’s worked about as well as this curling iron.

She nearly burns her right ear when she does, finally, glance up.

Emma knows her mouth drops open slightly, breath rushing out of her in a quick huff, and maybe her eyes widen too – just to complete the perfect look of surprise and several other words that are hardly appropriate in front of their infant daughter.

She remembered the word that time.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asks, but it’s clear he’s not expecting an answer and she briefly considers if she can arrest her co-law enforcement for whatever the hell he’s doing with his eyebrows.

“Aye,” she mutters in a pale imitation of his voice and it gets the laugh out of him she was hoping for.

Emma presses her lips together, careful not to burn her ear – because, honestly, if they go see Doctor Whale again or set foot in one more doctor’s office she may actually scream. And they’re going to be so late.

Killian hums, stepping into her space and Emma doesn’t even try to stop herself from leaning against his chest. It takes some finangling and shifting and she’s not sure what noise she lets out when she notices that pink, plastic monstrosity Ruby bought them as a gift at the end of his hook, but she’s smiling again and Hope is actually not crying.

Emma is not going to question whatever miracle it is.

“You’re not dressed yet,” Killian points out, and Emma’s laugh turns into a sigh. She wriinkles her nose, glancing at their reflection in the mirror, and, she swears, her mouth goes dry.

There was never really a discussion about keeping it. It just kind of...hung in the back corner of the closet and, maybe, did something ridiculous to her pulse every time she saw it hanging in between button-up shirts with slightly absurd floral patterns and leather jackets and the few actual gowns in their combined space because that’s the kind of life Emma lives now.

But there was also no actual, specific discussion about Killian wearing full scale pirate regalia to a royal coronation in a different realm that they can drive to now.

Her life is very weird.

Her life is fantastic.

“And you’re incredibly dressed,” Emma counters, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and she laughs again when she notices the tips of Killian’s ears go red.

He narrows his eyes, pressing his tongue to the corner of his lips, and Emma has to dig her heels into the floor to stop herself from turning around. The collar of his jacket is popped slightly, which Emma has a fairly strong suspicion is also to avoid it being tugged on by tiny, little hands, and Hope is already clearly fascinated with the charms around his neck.

“Ah, yes,” he mutters. “There was an...incident. While you were in the shower.” “An incident?” “A crying jag that turned into a rather loud ordeal and a forgotten towel for my shoulder and unfortunately that new jacket took the brunt of the damage.” Emma nods in understanding, ignoring the pang of disappointment in her gut because she liked that jacket a lot and that woman Ashley just knew from the Enchanted Forest worked incredibly hard on it. Or Emma assumes she did.

She still can’t quite wrap her mind around fairy godmothers and magic outfits for royal coronations.

Maybe she’ll get there eventually.

Maybe after this coronation.

Maybe after she stops staring at her husband in full scale pirate regalia.

“I can…” Killian starts, taking another step back and Emma finally spins around, the note of concern in his voice doing something even more potent to her pulse than anything to do with the actually impressive amount of black leather he’s wearing.

His tongue keeps darting out between his lips, eyes glancing around the room and anywhere except Emma and she really needs to get dressed.

A fairy godmother made her dress.

“No, no,” Emma says, only slightly embarrassed when she practically shouts the words in his face. Killian’s eyes widen slightly, but they’re also looking at her, which works pretty well and they haven’t been out of the house in the last two days.

They both fell asleep propped up on the wall in the corner of Hope’s room the night before.

“No,” she repeats. “It’s...you look…” Emma is going to arrest her own husband for the look on his face. “Aye,” he says. “Feels almost appropriate doesn’t it?” “Does it?” “Swan.” “I know, I know,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes when his smile, somehow, gets wider. “If I answered a question with a question I’d argue too. Whatever. But, yeah, I guess you’re right. Full circle or something. I’m sorry about your coat, though.” “It’s alright, love. I think we’ve exhausted ourselves completely now, haven’t we?” It takes less than half a second to realize he’s not actually talking to Emma, which is far more endearing than she would have expected. She may sprain several different muscles in her face by the time this is all over.

“Maybe we won’t cause a scene upon arrival then,” Emma says, reaching out to brush her fingers over Hope’s stomach. That earns her a quiet noise too – one that’s inching closer to a giggle every day.

“I think we do need to actually arrive in order to do that.” “How much time are we talking?”

“To travel there or for you to put your gown on?” Emma arches an eyebrow, but she’s only met with a smirk and that goddamn tongue and maybe she’s missed full scale pirate regalia more than she realized. “I don’t know you to be one to complain about my clothing choices choices, Captain.” She will absolutely, positively never admit to doing it solely for the reaction, but that may be exactly why she did it and Killian’s eyes practically flash when he meets her gaze.

Emma isn’t sure flirting is a good excuse for being late to a royal event.

“Never, Swan,” he says, ducking his head and brushing his lips over hers. It’s over before she’s entirely ready for it, and if she chases after him slightly it might not be a lie. She blames the coat. And the cut of his shirt. “Although,” Killian adds. “I’d rather we didn’t begin this new royal reign with wanted posters because our tardiness.”

“Pirate,” she accuses.

“With a fantastic sense of timing.” Emma rolls her eyes, but their daughter is squirming in his arms and neither her hair nor Killian’s charms are safe. “Fine, fine,” she says. “Give me five minutes.”

It takes her four.

And even that feels too long, the quiet creak of the living room floor proof positive of the path Killian’s been tracing for those two-hundred and forty seconds.

He smiles when he sees her anyway.

“Everything alright?” she asks, and it’s kind of a copout and a little cheesy, but they haven’t been outside in two days and her dress is pink.

And so, maybe, Emma awkwardly asked her mom if she still had those polaroids from her first date with Killian. And so, maybe, she brought the dress when the fairy godmother asked for a more detailed look. And so, maybe, this one wasn’t exactly the same, but it was also pink and soft and there was a pattern on it that was so intricate the only explanation was magic.

Killian nods slowly, eyes tracing over her and back up to her face and, possibly, down to her lips and Emma doesn’t bite them, which seems like some kind of victory. She might exhale softly though, like everything is settling or starting and it’s a weird balance, but that’s kind of their lives and she absolutely refused to wear poofy, bell sleeves.

There had to be a line somewhere.

“Stunning, Swan,” he says, voice low and intent when he takes a step back towards her. There’s a baby bag at her feet. It’s nautical theme. Elsa bought it. “You look stunning, love.” Emma grins – possibly so she doesn’t cry, which she may do later anyway because this is supposed to be some kind of event and she’s already seen designs for her mom’s dress too.

“You think I need a coat?” she asks.

It’s clearly not what Killian expects, which almost makes it better but he laughs softly and kisses her again. That doesn’t leave her much room to argue.

“I have no idea,” he answers. “We haven’t been outside in eons.” “That’s only slightly dramatic, don’t you think?” “That’s a pirate trait too, love. I’m afraid, you’ll have to get used to it.” “I think I’m good with that,” Emma says, but it sounds as important as stunning and maybe they can hang her dress next to his jacket when they get home later. “C’mon, it takes real, literal eons to get Hope in the car seat.”

Killian nods and neither one of them moves before they both lean forward slightly and the kiss is quick and normal and it threatens to make Emma’s heart burst, but she ducks down to grab the bag they’ve got filled at all times now.

That’s definitely a Navy thing, but Emma never mentions that.

And she briefly considers how ridiculous it will look, but she doesn’t have anything else and they’re late enough already and Killian’s smile threatens to rival the sun when Emma closes the door behind her – her red, leather jacket on over her gown.

“All good?” she asks.

“Aye, love. Let’s go.”

[isaaclouisdv]

Hypnos tag banned on tumblr

ain't gonna stop me thooo

[yaytheboop]

I can’t believe he hasn’t given us anything for two years except a few sparse tweets/instagram pics, and now he’s coming out with a book and I’ll have to buy it

[ask19thcentury-doctorgilbert]

OUR LORD HAS RISEN FROM THE GRAVE AND IS READY TO BE AWESOME AGAIN!!!

JSDJCKJSD Nope, not dead, just busy with real life! Good news is I did get accepted into Animation program, so come January ya girl's going to be a full-time Animation student and I'm so excited!!

I am gonna try and get back in the swing of things as soon as I'm done with what I'm doing for the zine I'm in! Thank you so much for your patience everyone, we'll be back to Gil's regularly scheduled 19th century medical shenanigans soon~! ❤️❤️❤️

[homestuckexamination]

i ain't a big fan of post-canon content (and consider em dubiously canon/usually kind of,, not really pay em any mind?? like i just 😑 ya know?? kinda sorta ignoring em?? occasionally only occasionally)

bUT??? i want the new kids to thrive

i want them to be happy (and jake oh my fucking god please let jake be happy-)

and i wanna see tavros go apeshit

(also the ultimate self is a vv mwah concept i like it,, plus the h^2 artstyle is sooo <33 mwah i love it)

~halloween-void anon

(betcha didn't expect lukewarm takes from the entity that usually brings you crack theories; we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program soon and i heard you weren't feeling too hot so im gonna try to whip up some funny hahas to lift your mood <33)

Yeah! I wish everyone a very thrive in HS^2. That said, the Ultimate Self as a concept existed prior to HS^2! Just a reminder that Jaspie and Davepeta are both Ultimate Selves :3

[malachi-walker]

Major Announcement

Those of you who are here for Rhythm & Blues and my other fics have no doubt noticed the major decrease in my posting rate over the last six months. And for a long time, I was uncertain of the reason myself. Well last Friday I got my answer, and that answer was a little bad boy called toxic encephalitis, which due to medications had been building up in my system since last year.

The good news is I'm scheduled to make a full recovery, but this is all a fancy way of tap dancing around the fact that I almost died last Friday, and would have if I hadn't been in a position where my family could get to me in time. Even then, I woke up in the hospital four days later with no memory of how I got there, and my body is still a tad trashed from the amount of struggling I did in my frenzy--it took four EMTs to get me into the ambulance alone and I was on full point restraint for several days while doctors worked to figure out what was wrong with me and save my life.

It still feels amazing and unreal and honestly a little terrifying that I get to go through all that and still bounce back without any projected long-term effects. But my head is completely clear for the first time this year, and once my body recovers in turn, that is what's expected.

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming of Spop, fanfics, meta, swords and anything else you know me for probably sometime next week--In particular I'm planning to be back to R&B and some other, saucier projects I'm very excited to share. (◠‿・) So in the meantime, thank you all so dearly for supporting me and being so patient over the past months, and keep calm and love these two incredible gays. See you soon.

- Mal

[lenniharrisonsims]

Catching Up With The Ivanovs

Week 2

Last recap post from my hiatus! After this, starting tomorrow, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled posts!

May 3rd- Alto Expecting

This afternoon, Simon and Viola Milner, Earl and Countess of Alto, announced that they are expecting their first child! The Countess also used the post to announce that she will finally be taking a break from her law firm in order to rest during the pregnancy, something she hasn't done since long before she married the Earl.

May 4th- Ophelia's Birthday Bash- And New Beau!?

HIH Crown Princess Ophelia shocked the Empire when she showed up to her own birthday party in a scandalously shear corset-top pink party dress and... Prince Jonas?! The last we saw of our Crown Princess she was attending Prince Jonas' birthday party in Britechester, noticeably without long-time boyfriend Luke Marin. Something must've happened at that party, because tonight HIH was very romantic with the Windenburg Prince. They're incredibly cute and would be a couple to root for, if everyone wasn't so confused as to what happened with Mr. Marin! The young couple was almost inseparable nearly a month ago- even surviving all the drama Prince Jonas caused- and now not to long after, the Crown Princess is all cozy with the very man who caused that drama? People are wondering- what is the story! Fans of Luke and Ophelia (the overwhelming favorite to win the Princess' heart) are confused and heartbroken, so we can only imagine how Luke feels himself!

May 5th- Ophelia and Friends Graduate University!

This morning, the universities of Britechester and Foxbury held their graduation ceremonies, and there were plenty of familiar faces in those caps and gowns.

(Top left: The Imperial Family celebrates Ophelia's graduation with a degree in Political Science and World History. Even Princess Rosalind flew in from Selvadorada! Noticeably absent? Prince Benedict, who's still in the hospital for an unknown (to us) illness! Top right: the Royal Family of Windenburg made the trip inland to celebrate youngest son Prince Jonas' graduation with a degree in History and Leadership. Bottom panel: Crown Princess Ophelia and Princess Jonas flaunt their relationship to the public, perhaps trying to prove to the doubters that they actually are happy together?)

(Top left: Princess Victoria looks excited to celebrate her graduation in her law degree with her father, Prince Nickolai, and soon to be step-mother and sister, Dr. Megan and Wren Hathaway. Dr. Hathaway continues to wear the jewelry from the Arnsey collection, even though the current Duchess was also in attendance. Top right: A completely different picture- Princess Victoria looks much me serious with her stern mother, Duchess Baylee of Arnsey (while she can still call herself that), who was in a very bad mood on this joyous occasion. Her Grace sat on the opposite side of the auditorium as the Imperial family, refused to talk to anyone but her daughter, even when the Tsarina attempted to start a conversation, and left immediately after this photo was taken. Someone seems to be bitter at all the attention her ex-husband and fiancee are getting? Bottom panel: Princess Victoria and Lord Louis take a break from the family drama to celebrate their engagement! The couple announced that they will start planning their wedding after the wedding of her father to Dr. Hathaway, so as to not step on any toes)

(Left: Luke Marin's only guest for the ceremony was his mother, Mrs. Allie Marin. Mrs. Marin remains close friends with Tsarina Ekaterina and Prince Matthew, from their Britechester days, and despite all the drama between their children, has kept up her relationship with them. The widowed mother even sat with the Tsarina and Prince Matthew at the ceremony, and was invited back to the Imperial Palace afterward for tea- an offer she accepted, but her son did not. Right: Earl Lucian, seeming no worse for wear after his rejected proposal to Princess Emilia, posed with his family to celebrate his graduation, and move back to Windenburg.)

Later that afternoon was the Foxbury Institute graduation ceremony.

(Top left: Hon. Miss Yue Dias puts the drama of Antonio's Hot and Cold engagement behind her to celebrate her degree in computer programming and game design with her family- mothers Princess Maria and Encarna Dias, Duchess of Hartwards, and younger sister Hon. Miss Feng Mian. Top right: Brindleton Triplets graduate from FI, supported by parents, the Viscount and Viscountess of Greyside. Bottom panel: the youngest triplet, Lord René Yang celebrates his graduation with girlfriend, Hon. Miss Feng Mian Dias.)

May 6th- Sulani's Second!

Chief Lilah Mahoe, Prince Stefano Colona, and Princess Malie Mahoe, posed as a family in the Sulani Heart Gardens to announce the expectation of their second baby! Many are hoping for a boy, but regardless of gender, Princess Malie will retain get position as heir to the Chiefdom, because the Sulani Independent Islands follow an absolute primogeniture, meaning the first-born of the Chief is heir to the title, regardless of gender. This does mean, however, that Prince Stefano moves even further down the line of succession, as this second baby will also outrank him and carry the royal name of Mahoe.

May 7th- Benny Comes Home!

Paparazzi spotted a lot of security outside the Imperial Hearts Hospital, and as there's only one high-profile patient we know, they knew it had to do with Prince Benedict. They didn't have to wait long either, as they watched HIH and his parents be escorted from the hospital and ushered into a car with dark tinted windows. The young Prince looked paler and more thin than usual, dressed in a casual pair of sweatpants and sandals, with his doting parents following close behind, Prince Matthew even carrying a duffel for his son back to the car. We still don't know what it was that had our youngest imperial in the hospital for so long, but we can only hope that now that he's home, he's on the road to recovery! We missed you Benny!

[harryfeatgaga]

hopefully we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming with the daily set pics soon😔😔

GOD I KNOW

Anonymous said: I can’t wait to see Harry as a sociopath/psychopath 🥰 we’re going to see him yell? And be semi/full on violent?? Possibly see him choke someone??? *insert “lord have mercy I’m bout to bust” music*

HES GONNA BE SO FUCKING GOOOOODDDDDD

[paper--moons]

we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming soon, currently working on some stardew valley requests so just a head ups there :)