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lipglossanon · 1 year

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I’m Not A Bad Man (I’m Just Overwhelmed)

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Stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader part i - An Open Invitation (To A Perfect Domination)

part ii - What You Do To Me (No One Knows)

part iv (finale): Am I Your One and Only Desire?

Warnings: 18+ so minors DNI, stepcest, fingering, cockwarming, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), ball teasing, ball sucking, having sex while on the phone with an oblivious caller (hopefully that makes sense, cause idk what to label it 🤣), dirty talk, daddy kink, light breeding kink, creampie, cum swallowing, face sitting, pussy slapping/spanking

not proofread brochachos 🤙 mainly just smut so if you’re looking for plot I’d look elsewhere 🤣

Title from These Things by She Wants Revenge

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Thankfully, Leon gives you a breather after the marathon sex. He kisses you one last time and helps you out of bed. You go to stand, but your legs tremble so much you nearly fall. He catches you and guides you into the master bath connected to the bedroom.

He sits you down on the edge of the tub and starts the water.

“I’m gonna go make that food order,” he kisses the top of your head, “I’ll be back in a few minutes; yell if you need me.”

Humming in reply, you watch the muscles in his back and ass as he turns and leaves the room; a low heat flares in your stomach when you see all the scratch marks you left on his skin.

You twist, running your hand under the tap and finding the water warm enough, you stopper the tub and slip down into the bottom. Sighing, you relax as the warm water slowly fills the basin, caressing your skin and helping to loosen your muscles.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” a warm voice murmurs causing your eyes to flutter open.

“Mmm sorry,” you look up to see Leon turning the water off.

“Raise up for me, sweetheart,” he climbs in the bath with you, sitting directly behind you and pulling you to sit between his legs.

You tense for a moment, but when he doesn’t do anything more than rub your arms you slowly relax back against him.

“So sweet for me,” he presses kisses into your neck, hands wrapping around your waist.

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, “‘m tired, Leon.”

“I know,” he lets his right hand drift down your body until he’s stroking your inner thigh, “let me help you.”

You whine but don’t fight him as he slips his middle and ring finger into your soft, clenching heat.

“Please no,” you whine out in discomfort as he slips his fingers out and back in.

His questing fingers begin pressing into your body more insistently, “I need to clean out the mess I made, beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you hiss as Leon fingers out the leftover cum in your hole.

His fingers slide out of your body, leaving you gasping and aching at the empty feeling left behind.

“Shh sweetheart,” he kisses the side of your head, “it’s over with now.”

A low chuckle in your ear causes goosebumps to chase across your skin.

“So good for me aren’t you?” a hot tongue traces the shell of his ear, “god, you drive me crazy.”

You gasp, “I-I’m —“

The loose hold around your waist tightens as Leon nips at your earlobe before placing open mouth kisses across the arch of your neck, tongue darting out to taste your skin.

You shiver at the sensation, baring more of your neck to him. A small whine leaves your mouth before you can quell it.

“Daddy,” you gasp out only to have Leon slip his index and middle fingers into your mouth.

You hear a tsk before his smoky voice speaks again, “Pretty, pretty girl.”

You weakly suck on the digits invading your mouth. He presses a soft kiss at your temple.

“I know how bad you want it, baby. You sound so pretty when you fall apart,” he presses his fingers harder against your tongue, “but we gotta give your little pussy a break.”

Your back arches as you squirm in arousal at those words, a whimper slipping from your throat. You eagerly lap at his fingers, wrapping your tongue around them and swallowing as drool drips down your chin.

A low hum from Leon reverberates in your chest.

“So good for me, baby,” Leon nuzzles your neck, fingertips skating across your skin.

He relaxes against the tub, hands rubbing your arms and shoulders. You slowly become less tense until you’re laying against him sleepily. Leon helps you wash off with soft kisses pressed into your skin at every step. Once finished, he helps you up and out of the tub.

After the bath, Leon slips out to get dressed leaving you to dry off on your own. You step out in a towel and Leon hands you an old sleep shirt of his and a pair of briefs.

You go to take them and he pulls them back out of reach, “What do we say, sweetheart?”

Your toes curl to stop your hands from fidgeting, “Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, kissing the top of your head and handing you the shirt and briefs.

“The food’s here so I’ll see you downstairs.”

You watch him leave the bedroom and you gaze down at the soft baggy shirt in your hands. Unfolding it you see, RPD emblazoned on the left breast pocket. You quickly slip it on along with the briefs, which make you wrinkle your nose, and make your way downstairs.

۩۞۩۞۩۞۩

You both sit on the couch after eating the takeout Leon ordered. Sated and tired, you snuggle into the cushions to finish watching the scary movie that was playing earlier. Sitting cross legged, your shoulders brush up against Leon’s as his big hand encompasses your thigh.

“I’ve got an idea,” his voice is a low, heated timbre, “why don’t you keep me nice and warm?”

Your brows furrow in confusion as you tilt your face up to look at him, “What?”

He pulls the front of his sweats down just enough to slip his cock out. He’s half hard and slowly filling out, thickening against his thigh. He pats his legs.

“Straddle me and I’ll show you what I mean,” his hair falls over his eyes giving him a boyish air.

Leon pulls you into his lap, murmuring sweet praise in your ear. He slips his hands under the loose briefs you’re wearing and rubs your clit. His fingers dip into your slit to tease at your hole until you’re squirming and whimpering and soaking his fingers.

Pulling away, he helps you to slip the briefs he gave you off, baring your cunt— all puffy and shiny with slick. His cock slides in between your thighs, precum leaving a sticky wet trail against your skin.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he soothes you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

He slips the tip of his fat dick into your wet spasming hole.

“Fuck, so good. Such a good girl for me huh. Shh shh, s’okay just the tip sweetheart, promise won’t go any further,” he sighs in relief, letting the head of his cock breach your spasming hole.

Leon’s biceps flex, highlighting the veins in his forearms as he holds your dripping pussy still. The fat tip stretches your sore cunt making you whine as your fingers dig into his tense shoulders.

“Daddy,” you whine, desperate at this point and not able to think past the feeling of the slight stretch of your pussy and how empty it feels inside.

Whining you work his cock further and further into your body as Leon just holds your hips, groaning until you’re sitting flushed against his pelvis.

He watches you work your sweet little pussy down on his cock. He then lifts you up just to let you slide back down.

“You put it all in by yourself, huh,” he growls, “now just let me use your sloppy hole, sweetheart.”

“Leon,” you gasp, grinding down with a moan.

He holds your hips still, not letting you shift, “Now sit here, sweet girl. You’re gonna cockwarm daddy til he’s ready to fuck your pretty pussy full of cum.”

You moan, hands tugging on his shirt. His eyes drag down your body and he pinches your nipples through the thin shirt you’re wearing.

“Look so sexy,” he gives you a messy, tongue filled kiss, “want you to wear this shirt anytime we’re home alone, okay baby?”

“O-okay, daddy,” you whimper, thighs shifting as your pussy walls clamp repeatedly on his thick cock.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he groans, pulling you close.

You whine and nuzzle into his neck, tucking your face under his chin.

“Settle down, baby,” he coos, running his wide palms down your spine to cup your ass in both hands.

You tense all over, but keep still with a low moan. Unsure of how long you’re made to keep Leon’s cock in your weeping pussy, you drift in and out of a daze. You can hear the tv playing in the background and Leon drops little kisses on your head, but you just coast on the floaty feeling slowly taking over your mind.

He’s so thick inside of you it’s all you can think about. The delicious stretch to your sore walls, clit swollen—begging to be touched, even the way Leon squeezes your ass, all of it keeping you in that syrupy headspace.

He jostles you accidentally, making you whine and grind down until he soothes you back into relaxing against him. Leon’s palms pet and stroke over your tired body, almost lulling you asleep. You feel his chest vibrate under your cheek.

“Hm?” You pull back with a confused sound, sleepy eyes looking into Leon’s dark stare.

“I asked if daddy’s sweet girl is feeling good?”

You give him a cute smile, “So good, daddy.”

He gives you a sly grin, “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod.

“Maybe you should cockwarm daddy when he has to work from home, think that’s a good idea sweetheart?”

You whine, pussy clenching down on his thick cock, “Yes, daddy.”

“Yeah, you like it don’t you, feeling all stretched out from daddy’s fat cock?”

You roll your hips down with a moan, “Daddy’s the best.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, pressing his hips up into you further, “think it’s time to fill this needy cunt.”

“Uh huh,” you slur, hips humping down faster on his dick.

He grabs your waist and fucks his cock deep in your soaked pussy. After a handful of skin slapping thrusts, he slows down to deep rolling grinds. Dazedly, you hear a faint buzzing from your side.

“Daddy needs you to keep quiet, okay?”

“Wha—“

He puts his hand over your mouth as he answers his buzzing phone.

“Hey honey, how’re you?”

Your eyes widen, anxiety flaring in your stomach cutting into that cottony barrier of arousal flooding your brain. Your mom called?! You try to push away from Leon, raising your hips up to move off of his lap. A mean look comes into his face as his lips thin.

“Oh, everything’s fine here. Can’t complain.”

He puts the phone up to his ear, holding it there with his shoulder so he can use both hands to yank you back flush on his lap. His hand quickly comes up to cover your mouth as you squeal from the sudden fullness of his cock bottoming out in your cunt.

He starts up the deep rolling thrusts that keeps the fat tip of his dick pressed against your cervix; your eyes roll back in your head as the pain bleeds into molten pleasure, making your pussy pulse and clench down on his cock.

“Oh she’s doing well! We actually spent a little time together earlier,” he laughs, dark eyes watching you fall apart while he drills up into your squelching pussy with his thick, heavy cock.

“Ah, I’m sure she’ll love that. Yeah she loves her sweets, doesn’t she?”

You want to scream, you feel so good right now. But all that escapes you are tears, dripping down your cheeks leaving your eyes to look big and glassy. Leon smirks at you as he keeps chatting with your mom.

His thumb circles your clit so slowly, barely giving you any stimulation. You buck your hips and push yourself harder into his hand. Ignoring you, he stops teasing your sensitive bud and moves that hand to guide your hips into a rolling grind.

“No,” he laughs, laying his head back on the couch, lazily focused on your tits bouncing, “I really don’t need anything.”

You’re panting behind the hand he still has covering your mouth. Moving your hands away from clenching onto his shoulders, you reach down between your bodies to spread your pussy.

His gaze follows the movement and he stares hungrily at your spread open cunt, watching as his cock bullies in and out of your tight hole.

“Wait,” he rasps, “yeah that does sound good actually.”

He moves his head closer to your chest. pulls the phone away, and spits on your pussy. You freeze; your whole body clenching from that so he does it again, watching gleefully as you shudder all over, eyes rolling back as the hot spit drips all over your pussy lips and swollen clit.

“Huh, sorry could you repeat that, the phone cut out for a sec,” he settles back against the couch, not letting you bounce on his dick like you want, like you need.

You go to move your hands, but he gives a quick, sharp smack to your clit directly that has you crying out behind his palm.

“Oh must be the movie, I’m watching. Yeah that one,” he grins, “you know how I love these kinds of things.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him lick a stripe from the edge of his palm to the tips of fingers. His wet hand comes down to spank your pussy and clit hard. You squeal and buck in his lap but can’t pull away.

“Yeah it gets kinda loud in certain parts,” he spanks your spread open cunt again, “sorry if it’s too loud, honey.”

Your eyes are completely rolled back, eyelashes fluttering and mouth drooling as Leon abuses your sore pussy. It’s getting you wetter than before, the sharp sting fading into that hot, dull throb that’s making you shiver all over.

Without realizing it, you’ve stopped trying to get away. You’ve arched your hips up just right so when Leon smacks his hand down on your sensitive cunt, he’s really giving it to you. When he does finally pull away, your eyes focus on his with a whine.

“Yeah? I get it, and the traffic is always so terrible on top of it,” he keeps talking to your mom, like your not grinding your needy cunt on his fat cock.

It makes you so hot to know that Leon’s fucking you while he’s talking to his wife—your own mom. You feel like such a slut but you can’t deny how it gets you so wet, makes you want to ride Leon hard, maybe even get caught.

Your walls spasm and clench down on him at that thought making him flinch and bite his lip.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat, eyes narrowing at you, “movie just got to me for a sec I guess.”

You stop spreading yourself open and drag your nails down his tense stomach, then leaving one hand there you reach around behind you with your free hand to squeeze his balls.

It’s like you electrocuted him; his hips jump up, stomach trembling under your hand. He’s stifling any noise but you can see in the pinch of his brows that he likes it. You feather your fingertips across the soft skin before gently rolling his balls in your hand.

“It does sound fun,” his eyes stare into yours, hungry and dark, “maybe we should take a trip out that way then.”

You bite your lip and gently squeeze down on his sack. He bucks up into your pussy even harder. The hand holding onto your hip moves and grabs your hand on his stomach to push it back behind you. He nods downward and you take the hint, moving it to join the other on touching his heavy balls.

“Yeah, sounds perfect,” he sighs, fully relaxing into the couch.

You can’t really bounce on him in this position, so Leon’s thick cock just stays seated in your pulsing heat as your hands tease and tickle his balls. Using both hands, you can really tell how big and swollen they’ve gotten. You roll them in your hands and feel his cock kick inside your pussy.

You moan softly, muffled behind his hand still, and keep massaging his soft sack. You start to wonder what it would be like to have them in your mouth, all sensitive and fat on your tongue. You feel yourself dripping down his cock at the thought.

“I can’t believe they would ask you to do that,” his hand squeezes your thigh hard enough to bruise.

You tug his balls and bounce them in your hand before softly massaging them. Leon raises up into more of a sitting position and roughly pulls you up and off of his cock. You watch dazedly as his dick drools precum down the wet shaft, until he manhandles you down over the armrest of the couch.

With your back to him, you can only feel as he slides his fat cock back into your pussy, stretching you out so good it makes your hole clench down over and over.

“Yeah, exactly. Oh? Well okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Yeah, mm love you too,” he pulls you flush with his hips, stilling all movement to keep his dick fully inside your cunt.

He hangs up and tosses the phone to the side.

“Trying to suck me in, sweetheart? Greedy little pussy needs daddy’s cock that bad?”

He pounds into your sloppy, squelching hole, slick dripping everywhere. The swollen tip of his cock hammers against your g-spot making you scream.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans with a laugh, “wanna cream that sweet fucking pussy. Get you all dirty so I can eat you out.”

You whine and claw at the couch, clit rubbing against the rough material and edging you closer and closer to orgasm.

“C’mon baby, don’t you want that? Want me breed that hot cunt? Course you do,” he moves his hands from your hips to each side of your body on the armrest.

He lowers himself down, using his body weight to hold you in place and box you in, “Should I make you squirt on my cock, sweetheart? Get the couch all dirty?”

You tense up, words slurring, “Daddy, gonna cum, gonna cum.”

He laughs and pinches your side as his hand slips down to your clit. He tugs your hips back just a little and lands a hard spank across your swollen bud.

You squeal, body trembling, “Daddy!”

“Oh I know,” he mocks, “so rough on your little pussy.”

He smacks you again catching your clit on his wedding ring making you scream as your orgasm rushes over you. Slick drips around his cock as your cunt clamps down on his dick.

“Fuck,” he growls, hips pistoning harder into your fluttering walls, “good girl, good g— fuck!”

Your cunt milks his cock as he fills you with hot sticky cum.

“Take it,” he hisses, biting down hard on your shoulder causing you to moan, pussy clamping down even harder on his dick.

Your crying from how good it feels, hole still gushing slick from his fat cock bullying into your pussy and cumming deep inside you.

You hiccup a sob as he keeps cumming, rope after rope of hot jizz painting your fluttering walls white.

“Gonna eat you out after this,” he groans in your ear, “wanna get my mouth on your pussy so bad.”

You whine as he pulls out, cum and slick oozing from your hole to drip all down your thighs and onto the couch. Without moving you, Leon lays on his back and shifts until he’s underneath your splayed legs.

“Sit on my face, baby,” he guides your hips down, but you hesitate and hover over his mouth.

“I said,” he growls, “sit on my fucking face.”

With a harsh tug, your cunt presses down on his mouth, squishing his nose against your clit. His mouth opens, tongue eagerly licking into your sensitive pussy. You feel him moan and it makes you rock against his soft lips.

You grab onto his hair and start riding his face gently as you’re still reeling from that last orgasm. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs to just hold you in place.

“Daddy,” you moan, “so good, feels—unh.”

You trail off with a whine as he sucks on your pussy lips and nuzzles your clit. He greedily eats the cum out of your messy cunt. Mewling, you press yourself harder on Leon’s face; he groans as you settle further onto his mouth.

He grinds his face against your puffy cunt making you whine louder, clit fat and throbbing with arousal. He rubs his nose against the sensitive bundle of nerves making you buck into the feeling.

Everything is so sensitive, ramped up to eleven, that you’re cumming on his tongue before you even realize it.

“D-dadd—dad—,” your spine bows in a perfect curve as Leon laps up all of your creamy slick.

You’re suspended in that too much feeling as Leon groans and presses even further into your cunt, practically suffocating himself to taste you more.

When he finally pushes you up and slides out, your legs are too shaky to hold you up. Leon manhandles you to lay with your back against the couch. This time, he kneels over your shoulders, knees now bracketing either side of your head.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he takes his cock in hand and slaps it against your lips.

You eagerly loll your tongue out, eyes lidded and hazy. Instead of feeding his cock into your waiting mouth, he pulls it towards his abs to drag his balls across your open mouth. Moaning, you eagerly lick and suck on the salty skin. Your eyes flutter as he dips his balls in and out of your mouth.

“There we go, suck’em sweetheart,” he mockingly coos down at you, slowly stroking his dick.

You lick and suck on his sack until it’s coated in your spit, dripping back down on your chin. Moaning, you suck one of his balls in your mouth and work it with your tongue and lips.

“That’s it, good girl,” he laughs, “god, love having my balls sucked by a pretty girl.”

You let it go with a pop and pull the other one into your hot mouth with a low sigh. Humming in pleasure, you gently suck on the soft skin of his ball while running your tongue all around it.

“Let me teabag that sweet little mouth,” he growls down at you, pulling off of your mouth to dip his wet sack back down onto your tongue again and again.

He eventually drags his balls down your chin leaving a trail of spit as he presses the drippy tip of his cock past your swollen lips.

“Gonna cum in your mouth,” he groans, watching as your lips stretch around his hard cock.

Tears gather at your lash line as he sinks inch by inch into your hot wet throat.

“Fuck, gonna cream this little throatpussy,” he grins at you as you moan around his dick, “like that? Mmm it’s gonna feel so good, daddy’s hot cum bathing your slutty throat.”

You whine, reaching down to your sore cunt to rub your clit.

“You getting off to this?” He chuckles, sliding deeper into your mouth making your throat click when you swallow.

He pulls out a few inches and sinks back down into you making you moan as he fills your throat.

“Play with that cute pussy, cum all over your fingers while I fuck your mouth,” he holds your head down so he can fuck down into your spit slick mouth, wet balls smacking your chin.

You continue to moan as he fucks open your throat, eyes watering when he dips down too far.

“God, baby, I’m about to cum,” his hips stutter, “gonna swallow, right? Yeah, drink it all up for daddy. Milk my cock as I drain my balls in that tight fucking throat.”

Your fingers circle and rub your clit faster until you’re moaning uncontrollably and cumming, hole clenching down on nothing as slick drips from your pussy.

With a low groan, Leon eases out until you can only suckle on the fat head of his dick. Hot sticky ropes of cum fill your mouth and the back of your throat; as he slowly sinks further into your mouth, cum drips down the back of your throat making you swallow and milk his throbbing cock.

Leon pulls out of your mouth, but leaves his swollen tip pressed to your lips, “Clean it up, sweetheart.”

You softly kitten lick the head as he softens against your mouth. After a few moments, he pulls away and sits back on the couch to pull you into his lap. He kisses you, tongue sloppily licking into your mouth.

“Did so good for me,” he murmurs as he pulls away, “such a good girl.”

“Leon,” you sigh, exhaustion written all over your body, “s’good but ‘m tired.”

“We’ll go lay down, okay?” he coaxes you to stand on wobbly legs and helps you upstairs.

He guides you, to your surprise, to your own room.

Before you can question it, he has you both tucked under the covers of your smaller bed, his front pressed all along your back.

“Daddy,” you whine as he kisses your neck, “why here?”

He laughs in your ear and drops another kiss on your neck, “After we rest, I’m gonna fuck you here, too. Always wanted to make you cry while I rail you in this bed.”

White hot pleasure pulses in your clit and nipples as you roll your hips back.

“Daddy, that’s so dirty!”

“I know,” he laughs again, “we can even pretend your mom’s home when we do, so you’ll have to be so quiet. Don’t wanna get caught,” he dips his tongue into your ear before kissing the shell.

You shudder, eyes nearly crossing at the dull throb of want washing over your spent body.

“But,” he shifts and wraps his arms around your waist, “we need to get some sleep, baby.”

You give a shaky sigh as you nod, “Okay, daddy.”

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aquagirl1978 · 2 months

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Message in a Bottle

A/N: Happy Birthday Silvio Pairing: Silvio Ricci x Reader Prompt: A walk along the beach at sunset Word count: 1113 Tags: fluff

The sand was soft between your toes, the salty air bringing a cool breeze from the ocean. Walking hand in hand, the sun shone brightly as it began its descent towards the horizon.

Never in all your life, after spending your entire life in Rhodolite – and much of that time working at the bookstore – did you imagine living somewhere else. And never in a million years – after your disastrous first “date” with Silvio – did you imagine falling in love with Silvio and moving to Benitoite.

Funny how time changes first impressions, isn’t it?

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout in that head of yours?” Silvio asked, playfully tugging on your arm.

“Huh?” You quickly pushed away your thoughts, fearing that he, too, was able to read your mind.

“Ya got that silly lovestruck look on your face,” he pointed out, his hand gesturing at your face. “You’re thinkin’ of me, aren’t ya?” he added, his sly smirk not hiding the reddening blush creeping on his cheeks.

“Absolutely not!” Letting go of his hand, you gently punched his shoulder, pushing him away. “Perish the thought.”

He laughed and reached out, grabbing your hand. You continued walking along the shoreline in silence, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the beach.

You ended up walking so far, you reached a small outcropping of rocks. When you saw a scattering of seashells washed up in the sand, your eyes brightened with excitement.

“Look at all these shells!” Walking closer to the shells, you wanted to collect some to bring back home as a memory of today.

“Go pick yer shells, I’m fine right over here,” Silvio replied, clearly disinterested in the shells.

Crouching down, your fingers dug in the sand to pick up the shells, hoping to get lucky and find a conch shell or perhaps a starfish.

“Silvio, you should come over here, there’s some really pretty shells!” you called out. Most of the shells were scallop shells or clam shells, but you did find a particularly pretty oyster shell, the inside swirled with creamy white mother-of-pearl, that could serve as a trinket holder. You glanced up to find him waving his hand, walking away from the rocks. And you.

You shrugged your shoulders as you continued your collecting, eager to see what other treasures you might find in the sand. The sun was in the perfect position for its rays to shine so bright in your eyes that you needed to shield them with your hands. This also meant the sun’s rays also highlighted the shells and anything else in the surrounding area.

Not far away, you spotted something shining bright in the sand. As you approached the object, you noted that it was a small bottle, its glass glittering in the sunlight. You quickly dug it out of the sand, excited to examine its contents. Holding it in your hands, you saw inside the bottle there was what appeared to be a rolled up piece of paper. A thrill ran down your spine as your body shivered with excitement, wondering what was in the bottle.

Was it a message from long ago from a sailor to his family? Or maybe it was a pirate’s map? Or perhaps it was an encouraging note to whomever found the bottle?

The possibilities were endless.

Holding the bottle in one hand, you gingerly pulled on the cork stopper with the other hand. Placing the bottle down on the sand, you unrolled the paper, your eyes quickly scanning the words scrawled on the sheet.

Your heart stopped for a moment – the handwriting, you recognized it. You would know it anywhere as it belonged to Silvio.

If you’re reading this, then you found it. My secret surprise for you. I’m not good with expressing my feelings, so don’t go expectin’ something sappy.

You glanced up, your eyes welling with tears as you found Silvio off in the distance, the waves gently lapping at his ankles. With his back to you, you were unsure if he had noticed you discovered his bottle.

I would shower you with a mountain of gifts, more than you have ever seen, to show you my love for you. But I know objects don’t hold much meaning to you, so I thought I’d write you this letter. You can thank that rotten mutt later for this, it was his idea.

Your gaze returned to the message in your hands, your heart pounding in your chest, your face feeling flush as your mind processed the words on the paper.

You’re the only person I’ve ever said this to. But don’t go expectin’ me to say it all the time. But… I love you.

Your eyes flicked up again, desperate to see Silvio. He was still standing in the waves, but this time, you could have sworn he glanced back at you briefly.

I ain’t so good with words. So if ya do happen to find this, don’t bring it up. Okay? It was hard enough to write this on paper, I’m not gonna wanna have a whole conversation about my feelings.

So if ya do find this, instead… ask me to dance with you. That way I’ll know you found it.

With the heel of your palm, you wiped the tears on your face. Shoving the paper in your pocket along with the shells you collected, you ran over to Silvio.

The water was cool against your skin as you got closer to him.

“Hey,” you called out, grabbing his attention. He turned and looked at you, his face flustered. “You ok?” you asked teasingly, noticing the bright blush adorning his face.

“Me? I’m fine!” he practically shouted back. “Next time, don’t take so long collecting your shells.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you miss me, Silvio?”

His handsome face twisted into an angry scowl. “Miss you? Nah. Don’t go putting words in my mouth. It’s just…the water is gettin’ cold.”

Biting your lip, you controlled your urge to continue to torment him. Taking his hand in yours, you gazed into his ocean blue eyes, ready to put an end to his torture.

“Dance with me?”

Silvio scoffed at your request. “Here? On the beach?”

“Yeah, here on the beach,” you repeated, your eyes fixed on him, wanting to tell him everything you felt reading his letter.

Silvio sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine,” he grumbled. “The things I do to make ya happy.”

He wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling your body so close to his, you could feel the heat radiating from him. As your bodies swayed to the susurration of the waves, you looked up at Silvio, pleased to find a soft smile on his lips.

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings

@wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381

@maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia

@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

@ikesenwritings @justpeachyteastea @kalims-pessimist-bestie @writingwhimsey @shadowylakes

@ikeprinces-stuff @kookie-my-little-sunshine @candiedcoffeedrops

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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tolietpaperdreams · 2 months

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Hysteria Final Chapter! (Hartbreak)

It’s finally here! This is it! It’s been so fun to write this story, I can’t believe it’s finally done 🫶🏻 Thank you so much to everyone that has stuck with it since the beginning, this is actually my first completed multi-chapter fic and I feel super accomplished.

Thank you all for reading and enjoying it means the world!

Here’s your tooth-rottingly sweet finale <3

The day of the pay-per-view was here. Bret felt good about it. He’d trained to his best ability and the match was mapped to the umpteenth degree. There was nothing else to do except maintain his readiness.

The build-up had been fantastic, Shawn was as charismatic as ever. He was so over with the fans that every time Bret went to speak on the mic he was booed to the point of silence. Bret couldn't even be mad, it meant he was doing his job.

That morning at the hotel. Bret woke Shawn up with sweet kisses all over his face; he wanted to make sure his partner felt nothing but support.

“Mmph…” Shawn scrunched his eyes closed and tried to bury his face back into the pillow.

Bret nibbled on Shawn’s earlobe in response, earning another tired groan from the blonde.

“Lemme sleep,” Shawn half-heartedly pushed Bret away, to no avail.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta get to the arena early today,” Bret placed one more kiss on Shawn’s cheek and added a playful pat to his ass.

Shawn whined again, pulling the extra pillow over his face while Bret stood and stretched.

“Dramatic ass…” Bret huffed under his breath, earning a pillow thrown straight to his face.

“Am not,” Shawn sat up, his hair sticking up in every direction and the sleep still in his eyes.

“Do you want breakfast or not?” Bret chucked the pillow right back but Shawn got lucky and caught it.

The blonde shook his head, “I’ll figure something out there.”

“Alright, well get up, we’re leaving in fifteen,” Bret said as he threw a t-shirt on.

“Jesus- okay, you're so bossy,” Shawn grumpily stood, his back stiff.

At the arena, they stalled backstage with each other. Shawn would have to go do his pre-show ritual with Hunter and the guys and Bret would do his with his friends. They probably wouldn't see each other till the match, but it was for the best.

Most people backstage knew they were a ‘thing’ but it was better not to raise eyebrows before a pay-per-view. Shawn had gotten quiet on the ride over, and Bret could tell the nerves were starting to get to him.

Bret felt his own version of pre-show nerves, but it wasn't about his performance, it was about how he was going to make Shawn look out there. There was a bit of sadness in dropping the title, but he had gotten over that. He needed to put Shawn over, that's what mattered.

“You feeling okay?” Bret asked, hiking his gym bag higher up on his shoulder.

Shawn nodded while fidgeting with his hands, “I’m fine, just a little nervous.”

Bret leaned in and placed a soft kiss to Shawn’s lips, “You’re The Show Stopper, remember?” He titled Shawn's chin up with a finger.

They hadn't discussed Shawn’s confession over the phone a few days ago. Bret wanted to when he first saw Shawn after their few days off, but he’d been shut down. Shawn acted like everything was normal which threw Bret off entirely. How could he just confess that he was in love with Bret and then act like nothing happened?

He was beginning to wonder if he had misheard Shawn, but he’d worry about it later. After tonight, Shawn would be champion, and they had all the time in the world to figure life out as it came at them.

The look of affection in Shawn’s eyes made him melt. Bret was so wrong about Shawn initially- he was someone who felt his emotions fully and wore them on his sleeve. Shawn wasn't perfect by any means, but he was perfect for Bret.

Bret who was calm, cool, and collected- Bret who couldn't talk to people without stumbling over his words. He needed someone like Shawn to bring him out of his shell. It was a balance he’d never known before.

Shawn nodded, the confidence slowly coming back to him, “I know.”

“Good,” Bret gave him one last kiss while they were still hidden from peaking eyes, “I’ll see you out there.”

The rest of the day went by quickly. Both Bret and Shawn were so busy with media interviews and pre-show prep that by the time Bret was warming up, the show had already started.

Owen and Jim had their own tag match to worry about and Davey was technically ‘barred from ringside’ which of course meant he’d interrupt the match at the worst possible moment, hopefully causing the LOD their tag titles. Bret didn't know the outcome and he didn't want to, he still liked to suspend his disbelief and enjoy wrestling for what it was.

He was backstage alone, watching the monitor and waiting for his time to hit gorilla. He went over the match in his head while he waited, the belt laid across his lap. The bright gold contrast with the black leather always caught his eye.

Bret was proud of his time as champion, he was a fighting champion, someone who earned his spot. The feeling was bittersweet; he would miss being at the top but his time was up. That's how this company worked. Shawn deserved it more than anyone Bret could think of, besides maybe his little brother, but that was a fight he wouldn't dare get in the middle of.

The belt would look so good in Shawn’s hands, Bret couldn't wait to see the smile on his face when he held it up for the first time. He ran his fingers across the gold plate, admiring its shine. There would be other chances for him to get the belt back, it was a competition, and that part never stopped. It took Bret too much time to realize he could be happy either way.

After a while, Bret eventually got restless and left the locker room. He’d be early to gorilla but that way he’d get to see Owen and the guys after their match.

There were still plenty of monitors for Bret to watch the match. Owen, as always, was a spitfire in the ring. He was fast and athletic as hell; a wonder to watch. It wasn't long before Davey interfered and Owen got the pin.

Bret was ecstatic, for a brief moment in time the Hart Foundation would be covered in championships. However short that time was going to last didn't matter; the moment Owen, Jim, and Davey appeared they were all smiles and sweaty hugs.

“Proud of you, little brother,” Bret gave Owen a rough pat on the shoulder and ruffled his blonde hair like he was a kid again.

Owen was beaming, “You get out there and kick some ass, big brother.”

“Always do,” Bret winked and gave Jim and Davey their congratulations before they headed backstage.

It would be a few more minutes till Bret’s music hit. He needed to focus again. It was go-time; he ran over important parts of the match in his head while he stayed warm. Before long, the boss came over to wish him good luck with a tight nod and a look in his eye that said ‘you know what to do.’

Bret’s music hit the speakers and he took in the roar of the crowd. Taking one last deep breath, he slung the title over his shoulder, lowered his sunglasses, and walked out. Bret took it all in, the fans reaching out to touch him, the bright lights- he relished in the rewards of his hard work.

As he made his way down the aisle, he stopped to give a little girl his sunglasses, she was jumpy and giddy with excitement. That was always one of the best parts of his job. After that, Bret climbed into the ring and held the title up one last time.

The music dimmed along with the lights. Bret handed the belt to a staff member, mentally parting ways, and stood in the corner as he waited for Shawn’s music to play.

It could have been ten seconds or thirty minutes and Bret wouldn't have known the difference, but his heart rate began to spike the moment that iconic entrance began. He was expecting something extravagant like Shawn coming down from the rafters or sneaking up on him from behind, but the blonde made his appearance from the top of the ramp.

Shawn was all hips and confidence as he swaggered down the aisle, white tassels swinging every which way. God, he looked good. He always did, but it was Shawn’s confidence that dragged Bret in even further.

Bret kept his face as neutral as possible, he had to act like he was indifferent to Shawn, or like he was better than him. Which wouldn't have been hard to do a few months ago, but since everything had changed, all Bret wanted to do was admire his partner.

They finally made eye contact when Shawn stepped into the ring. It wasn’t easy keeping the smile off his face, but Bret managed, even as he secretly admired the way Shawn shimmied off his ring gear. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he could’ve sworn Shawn threw a wink or two in there.

As the music died down and the lights came up, the ref made sure they were both ready and soon the bell rang. Bret’s mind shifted; it was time to go to work.

They circled each other for a bit, building tension for the crowd before starting with the standard lockup.

“You look nervous Hitman,” Shawn teased.

“In your dreams, Michaels,” Bret replied as he used his momentum to sling Shawn into the ropes.

The blonde bounced back, aiming for a clothesline that Bret dodged last second. They played this cat-and-mouse game for a while; one of them running the ropes and the other evading. Things were going smoothly so far.

The playful banter also continued. Specifically, the first pinfall when Shawn practically had Bret’s knees over his shoulders. He swiftly kicked out on two.

“You should let me see you like that more often,” Shawn whispered in Bret’s ear, pulling him back to his feet.

“Maybe if you play nice,” Bret got out before being slammed into the turnbuckle.

The match was starting to heat up, the crowd was into it. Different chants could be heard throughout the arena, and it was time to start building to the bigger spots. It was Bret’s turn to counter.

Shawn ran at him full speed from the opposite side of the ring right into a spinebuster. Bret got the cover, but of course, Shawn kicked out.

“Usually, you let me hold you down,” Bret said as he caught his breath for a moment.

Chest heaving, Shawn turned on his side so his mouth was mostly covered from the crowd, “Usually, I get something out of it.”

Bret stood slow and grabbed Shawn by the hair, making it look like he was yanking the blonde up by the hair, “That’s not very nice.”

Shawn’s eyes were squeezed together as he feigned pain, “I thought you like when I talk back?”

“Only if I get something out of it,” Bret let go of Shawn’s hair and swung him into the ropes, throwing the blonde over his shoulder when he came back.

After a few elbow drops and more failed pin-falls, Shawn sent Bret over the top rope, crashing into the barricade. Fans reached to touch him and cheer him on, but Bret had to shake off the fog that overcame his mind. He hadn’t hit his head, but something had shifted.

He sat up slowly, favoring his right shoulder, and took in the sight of Shawn in the ring. He was on top of the world; the crowd cheering him on as he taunted, everything about him was a superstar. As he watched Shawn sprint from the other side of the ring and barrel towards him from over the top rope, Bret realized something.

He was in love.

Shawn’s weight hit him with a thud and the crowd lost it.

How ironic for Bret to realize he was in love while said individual was beating the shit out of him. It just made too much sense; their relationship hadn’t been conventional from the start. Why start now?

Loving Shawn was so simple yet entirely complicated. If the last few months had taught Bret anything, it was that life threw curveballs at you when you least expected it. Going from hating Shawn’s guts to not being able to breathe without him was something he had never expected, but it felt so right.

They were two opposite ends of the spectrum that balanced each other out, the final two puzzle pieces to fit it all together. It was never about the belt, it was about Bret letting go of control, and Shawn gave him that ability. To accept. Shawn had just realized it before him.

The match continued and Bret was more than happy to play along. Their in-ring styles complemented each other perfectly, and this could easily become one of Bret’s favorite matches of all time. Even if he was biased.

Bret rolled back into the ring after leaving Shawn on the ground from a brutal suplex. They were getting near the finale, but first Bret had to show off a little bit.

He waited for Shawn in the corner of the ring, making it look like he was exhausted to the crowd. In reality, the adrenaline could keep him going for much longer, but he’d save that energy for later.

Shawn finally stood and trudged his way into the ring, the crowd impatient for more action. Bret waited for his cue and threw Shawn to the ring floor. He looked to the crowd and called for the Sharpshooter.

After that, things got fuzzy again for Bret. The roaring of the crowd was coming in and out, and the only thing he could really feel was the weight of Shawn’s legs as he turned the blonde over and locked in the submission move.

The ref was practically bouncing back and forth between the two of them, seeing if Shawn would tap or if Bret would give. He could hear Shawn’s groans of agony through the fog, but he’d never remember how long he held the Sharpshooter for.

The next thing he knew, he was being rolled over into a pinfall and kicked out at the last second. Shawn had reversed his move. Bret faced the opposite direction and stood, preparing himself for what was coming next.

He could hear the stomps of Shawn’s boots on the ring and the crowd getting louder along with it. This was it. Bret turned and was met with Sweet Chin Music.

He landed on the ground with a thunderous noise and Shawn was quick to cover him.

“Thank you,” Shawn whispered.

One. Two. Three.

The bell rang and it was over. Shawn’s music hit and the crowd was on their feet.

Bret didn't say anything but gave Shawn’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He’d be able to say anything he wanted to soon enough.

They announced Shawn as the winner and new champion over the speakers and Bret knew that was his cue to head back up the ramp. He rolled out of the ring and slowly backed away. The look of Shawn celebrating was a beautiful picture; his boyhood dream came true. It had all been worth it.

It reminded Bret of the first time he held that belt in his hands, it was a feeling unlike any other, but it wasn't about him. This moment was about Shawn, and he’d give the man he loved that time. As he continued backing up the ramp, a few fans shouted their dismay, but it all blended together.

The last thing he saw before turning to head backstage was Shawn holding the belt up to the crowd and drinking in their approval.

Once backstage, he was greeted with handshakes and pats on the back from everyone; Owen, Davey, and Jim goaded about how technical the match had been. Owen was jumping with excitement, not yet coming down from his own match. Even Kevin, Scott, and Kid gave their approval.

Hunter approached him last, “Amazing match.”

Bret gestured toward the ramp entrance, “It was all him.”

“Maybe he brings out the best in you,” Hunter offered.

Bret didn't even have to think about it, “Maybe he does.”

He gave Hunter a pat on the shoulder and then headed further backstage for water and a towel. As he waited for Shawn, he caught his breath and savored a minute of alone time. His mind was starting to clear when he saw Shawn finally enter the back.

The blonde was immediately swarmed with people congratulating him and making him take pictures. Bret almost laughed to himself, he could tell Shawn wanted to get away but such was the life of a champion. The blonde was at least excited to see his friends, including Bret’s half.

A moment later, their eyes met, and Shawn’s smile grew wide. He ran towards Bret, the title falling from his shoulder halfway, and jumped into his arms causing them to spin around. Bret held on tight, squeezing Shawn in his arms.

“Congrats, baby,” Bret’s voice was muffled by Shawn’s shoulder.

“Bret, it was incredible,” Shawn practically squealed before Bret set him down.

Shawn pulled him into a kiss and if Bret was sure before, he was positive now. There was no doubt in his mind that Shawn was meant to be his and vice versa; in the most insane way, they fit together.

“Shawn,” Bret pulled back for a moment, trying to find his words.

All this time, the fighting, the drama- it was all to get here. It was all so Bret could finally dig down into the depths of his soul to figure out how to love someone and let someone love him in return. Bret squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, leaning his forehead against Shawn’s. The words were there, he just had to say them. Three words that he hoped Shawn already knew. It took everything in him, but he’d die trying before he gave up.

Bret pulled back to look Shawn in the eyes, those sparkling blue eyes that were so full of life, “I love you.”

Before Shawn could respond Bret had the sudden will to continue, “I love you. I love your laugh, I love your smile, I love your friends, the way your nose crinkles when you try to read something from far away but you refuse to get glasses. I love how you snore and the way you-”

Shawn shut him up with a kiss; one that said everything that needed to be said between them. They were by no means perfect, but Bret was looking forward to every step of the way with the man he loved.

Bret moved to grab Shawn’s belt from the ground, “Less than ten minutes as the champion and you're already losing this thing.”

“That’s what I have you for, right?” Shawn took the title and threw it over his shoulder, “To remember my stuff and carry my bags?”

Bret huffed a laugh at the blonde’s teasing and took Shawn’s hand in his own, “Take me home, champ.”

***

*EPILOGUE*

*A few months later*

Bret hated his birthday. All it did was remind him that he was one year older and that his body hurt more and more every day, but Shawn insisted on celebrating. The last thing he wanted was a big party, which had been Shawn’s initial plan, so they settled on inviting Bret’s family over for dinner.

In the last few months, Shawn had been staying with Bret in Calgary whenever they had time off work, but they hadn’t yet discussed the idea of moving in together. That was still a little ways down the road, and they were both content with where their relationship stood for the moment. It was nice to be excited about time off instead of just anticipating getting back on the road.

The dinner was nice, Bret hadn't wanted anything fancy so they settled on Italian and Shawn turned out to be quite the chef. Owen and his family were there along with a bunch of their other siblings and their families. Shawn was a natural with all of Bret’s nieces and nephews, which in turn earned him a side-eye and a smile from one of his sisters.

“Absolutely not,” Bret nearly choked.

They hadn’t even been together for six months let alone had the thought of children. That was something they could discuss in ten years, maybe five if they were feeling spry. Bret knew she was doing it to tease him but that was something his sister couldn't torture out of him right now.

Shawn had to practically beg Bret to let him get a cake, but eventually, he agreed. If anything it was for the kids to eat, at least that's what Bret told himself until Shawn cut him a giant piece after everyone embarrassed him with that stupid ‘Happy Birthday’ song.

“It’s your birthday, you don't have to be so strict about your diet,” Shawn gave him a peck on the cheek and set the plate in front of him.

Bret didn't mean to be so grumpy, but sometimes that was just his disposition and he was very fortunate to have so many people who loved him despite it.

“Thanks, babe,” He gave Shawn a smile.

The cake was amazing and Bret knew he might have overindulged when he ended up on the couch with a hand on his stomach because of how full he was. He looked at Shawn in the kitchen and waved him over.

“One sec!” Shawn set down whatever he was doing and gestured for Owen to follow him.

Bret watched his brother and boyfriend leave out the front door with a confused look on his face. Whatever they were up to was obviously not good, but Bret didn't have the energy to bother getting up.

One second turned into thirty minutes and now Bret was starting to get a little concerned. Everyone else seemed fine, though. So there wasn't much that he could do.

Eventually, Owen burst through the door with a grin on his face, “We’re back!”

“Where did you guys go?” Bret furrowed his brow.

“Nun ya,” Owen replied and jumped over the edge of the couch to take a seat like the big kid he was.

Shawn eventually appeared with a medium-sized gift box in his arms; it was wrapped in blue wrapping paper with a giant purple bow on top. Bret should have known what to expect when he told Shawn he didn't want any gifts.

“Everything else is in Owen’s car, but this is the most important one,” Shawn said giddily as he sat next to Bret.

“What do you mean everything else?” Bret pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll see,” Shawn grinned and set the box on Bret’s lap, “Don’t shake it, it’s fragile.”

Bret looked around the room as his family waited for him to open up the box; the kids were even more eager to see what was inside.

Before he could even notice the holes on the top, the box moved. It took a moment for Bret to register what that meant.

“Shawn,” Bret said deadpan, giving the blonde a look of disbelief.

“Open it,” Shawn nudged him with an elbow.

“Shawn, if there's a live animal in he-”

Bret was interrupted by the tiniest squeak he had ever heard in his life. He sighed and took the lid off the box.

So much for his hard exterior, because the moment Bret laid eyes on the tiny black and white kitten in the box, he melted.

“I don't- How did-” Bret tried but quickly shut himself up and reached into the box to pick up the kitten.

There was a little makeshift purple collar on the kitten’s neck that was decorated with flowers and Bret couldn't help but recognize them.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Shawn leaned his head on Bret’s shoulder and gave the kitten a scratch, “She’s been staying at Owen’s since I picked her out. We had to run back to his place to go grab her.”

Bret was still at a loss for words. The kitten was already playing with his fingers like she owned the place. Which she absolutely already did.

“All the supplies are in the car,” Shawn added, “I think she likes you, already.”

The kitten let out another tiny meow and rubbed her face against Bret’s hand. His hand that dwarfed this tiny creature.

“We’ll work on your roar later,” Bret smiled and scratched her chin, “Does she have a name?”

The blonde looked up at Bret and then back to the kitten, “Not yet, but I think I have a good idea.”

Bret raised a brow, “Oh?”

Shawn snuggled into Bret’s side and let out a very content sigh, “I was thinking Orchid.”

#hartbreak #shawn michaels #bret hart #wrestling tag #wwf #90s wwf #hbk #ao3 #fanfic #wrestling fanfiction #shawn x bret #bretshawn #bret hart x shawn michaels

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rottenpumpkin13 · 8 months

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I love how in majority of your posts, the boys are hanging out in Angeal's office like that's their spot

That's because Angeal's office usually smells like cinnamon and apple, probably due to a scented candle burning away at some corner. There's small plants and succulents by the window, as well as a miniature, green watering can with drawing of a frog Angeal painted when he was a child. He has a lollipop jar on his desk that he makes sure is always full, so that whoever comes in can grab one. There's an old jukebox tucked away in a corner that he got at the flea market in the slums. When there isn't much to do, you can hear rock music and indie folk tunes playing from his office. It's definitely the messiest office, but only because it's so lived in. There's a fluffy blanket on the worn, leather couch that's filled with pillows, as well as a hoodie Genesis left there three weeks ago. Sephiroth's favorite books are on the coffee table, as is a theraputic coloring book Angeal got him that Sephiroth insists he never uses. But Angeal keeps a box of colored pencils on top of it anyway, and never makes mention of the color slowly filling its pages. He's just glad Sephiroth is using it. Genesis got him an electric kettle he also keeps on the coffee table, right by a basket of different tea bags, each one catered to his friends' tastes. Of course there's a neat collection of mugs there too, including one Zack made for him during a pottery class. There's black tea for Gen, chamomile for Sephiroth, and anise tea for Zack (it calms his nerves). The shelves in his office are filled with colorful trinkets and action figures, the type he could never afford as a child. There's a conch shell Sephiroth got him from a mission to Costa a few months ago that he uses as a book stopper. There's a humidifier shaped like the full moon on his desk. It lights up in different colors, but he makes sure it's usually bright yellow because that's what makes him happy. Angeal never shuts his office door, preferring to keep it open at all times. He says it's easier for people to find him, and claims a shut door is unwelcoming.

So I guess the reason everyone flocks to Angeal's office is because it feels safe, like him.

#angeal hewley #ff7 crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7 #ffvii #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #zack fair #final fantasy 7 #writing

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aib-au-official · 8 months

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Introducing: the Mockfest

A Splatfest on Tumblr!

Okay so it's not actually that much of a Splatfest so much as it is for me to write silly banter between idols, draw stuff, and then let y'all vote on pointless questions. But I'm having fun with it, so now it's a thing here.

The Shell-Stoppers

Art gifted by @ratflamt

An up-and-coming trio of octoling siblings who rose up from underground to the streets of Inkopolis Square, and later Splatsville. The band consists of main vocalist Emily ("Hachi"), sound mixer Coral ("DJ Bub-L-Gum"), and instrumentalist Elliot ("MintyFresh"), who— rumor has it— are somehow connected to another pop duo: Off the Hook. While the Shell-Stoppers themselves have never achieved true "idol" status, they have somewhat of a following and host a series of "online Splatfests", or Mockfests, in their spare time; nothing huge (they don't want to take the attention away from Deep Cut and the real splatfests, but playful little polls on generally unimportant topics— complete with funny discussions, as they each defend their choice before opening up the vote.

How this works:

Each poll will be open for 7 days

You may reblog and comment if you have something to add to the discussion, but please keep it civil and relevant to the topic at hand

Team propaganda is allowed if so desired (if that's your thing)

Winning team gets one piece of artwork relating to the theme

Simple, right? You're welcome to organize a group of friends and do some actual splatting for it, too, by all means. I just am not going to organize anything myself.

Also taking suggestions for future Mockfest themes!!!

Now let's waste our time 👍

#adventures in inkopolis and beyond #AIB au #Mockfest #Shell-Stoppers #Emily 'eight' (8)#Coral Ida-Houzuki #elliot Ida-Houzuki

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kjpurplepineapple · 1 year

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#splatoon #emily 'eight' (8)#coral Ida-Houzuki #elliot (bad ending 8)#Shell-Stoppers #sanitized octoling #splatbands #adventures in Inkopolis and Beyond

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mrs-snape5984 · 5 months

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„I hope, I’ll always have you in my mind, so that I know to find you every time.“

„Put your head on my chest, that’s your safe place. We‘ll fall deeper in love every day. From life unto life and for always.“ („Soul Mate“ by Flora Cash)

There’s something in my current life, that came hand in hand with my disease ME/CFS…slowly creeping into my fibres…infecting my mind with sadness. It’s loneliness, that I’m talking about. Overwhelming, crushing, suffocating loneliness.

Before this cruel bitch of a disease put a stopper in my life, as I knew it from before, I haven’t been healthy, either. But neither my severe Colitis Ulcerosa, nor the other few sicknesses and disabilities had achieved to break me the way, ME/CFS broke me!

What’s left, is only a shell of myself…a sad shadow of the woman, I’ve been prior to today. Where did the intelligent, sassy, witty and caring person go to, when she disappeared so insidiously from my personality? On some days, I still get a little glimpse of her, when I’m talking to my beloved friends @vulnus-sanare, @preciousthelmadonna or my bestie Miri, who often just “enjoys” sitting beside me in my dark room…embraced by silence and darkness. These tiny jiffies, when I’m recognising my previous character…my true nature, even though it’s only for a brief time, I’m feeling a little less anxious…a little less worthless.

But sadly, these moments become more rare with each new PEM crash of my disease (PEM = Post-exertional malaise = worsening of symptoms after certain activities). It feels as if I’m fading away from life…I’m fading away from other people’s lives as well as from my own.

Since I can’t leave my dark room - and most of the time even my bed - I’m not capable of joining social gatherings anymore. It’s impossible for me to endure listening to more than one person at once, so even my three kids have to “visit” me one after the other in my chamber. There are days, when I can’t even reply to messages from others, just because screen time is killing me.

All the more, I’m grateful for these few friends, who stay with me, no matter how silent I am, because they make me feel worthier and loved. And yet, I’m afraid of not being able to give them the same amount of support in return…due to the restrictions of my cruel reality, which are confining me.

So, there are many days, which I’m spending in total gloominess and silence with nothing but solitude surrounding me. And even if I’d be capable of sending text or audio messages (since I can’t type them out properly sometimes), I often hold myself back from reaching out to these understanding friends…only because I don’t want to be a burden to them.

I commissioned the lovely artist @hannisimp for this beautiful piece of art. Lin, you gave me exactly, what I needed with this tender artwork of yours. You gave me the feeling of being less alone. Severus accompanies me for 21 years now. He’s the safe haven, the comfort blanket, which I’m clinging to so desperately! My dear, I can’t stress enough, how grateful I am for your fine art. You made the love and the trust between Severus and my - oh, so self-inserted - OC Jules become palpable. There are no words to express my gratitude, so I just stay with these: Thank you for everything, my friend! Thank you for your talent, your kindness and each of your messages. I won’t ever take these things for granted.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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lullabyes22-blog · 10 months

Text

Snippet - Fairytales - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx soliloquizes.

Or philosophizes.

Or something.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"Perfect," she mutters. "That's what he says."

Except it's not about her. Well, yeah. It is about her. But it's really about Silco. His hopeless, relentless, bottomless thirst to win. To prove the world wrong. To show them all. He's always been the man with the big plan, and the empty pockets. He's come up the hard way, only to have Topside's snobs laugh him off the block. He's never been enough, never had enough, and the fierceness of it, that low-down burning grudge in the pit of his gut, has fed him like nothing else.

It's become his sustenance. His lifeblood. The heart of Zaun's revolution.

Jinx knows Silco's story. She was there for every page.

Same way she knows Vi's story. The girl with too much on her shoulders, who carried her burdens till they broke her, and left her better self to rot in a cell. Same way she knows Vander's story, the man who gave too much, and lost too many. Same way she knows Claggor's story, and Mylo's, and all the rest whose deaths were as quick as their lives were short.

And Ekko, who's still alive. Alive and kicking.

And that, Jinx thinks, is the kicker.

The Boy Savior's lost his way. And—boo hoo—it's all because of her. She's the one who let the Big Bad Wolf inside their home. And with a huff and a puff, he blew their world down. Never mind that it was made of sticks, and sticks are for burning. Never mind that Little Blue Riding Hood was only playing with matches, and the world had been waiting, hungry, to go up in smoke. Never mind that, if she hadn't gone a-knocking, the Big Bad Wolf would have, and the whole place would have burned anyway.

Silco was always gonna get what he wanted, come hell or high water. And in the end, hell won, and the high waters rose, and they all drowned. Burned.

Boom.

Jinx nearly laughs, but stops. It tastes too stoppered-up with salt, and she's not here to cry. Since the Deadlands, she doesn't have a single tear left for them.

Not a single drop.

"In fairytales," she tells Billy, "tears are magic."

Billy's head tilts, listening. He understands nothing. But he's a good listener.

"But fairytales—they're all warnings, see? Tales of what happens when girls do bad things. Like not listening when your big sister says 'Stay at home.' Like not running when the brave boy says 'Come with me.' Like not screaming when the wolf opens his big, bloody maw, and says, 'Dinnertime.'" A clammy shiver flutters over her skin. "You're not supposed to get happy endings when you break the rules. You're supposed to die. Just like the monsters."

Because that's what bad girls are. Monsters in marzipan shells. Hungry to break out; born to be slain. That's the way fairytales work, too. If you're a good girl, you get a happy ending. If you're a bad girl, you get a dead end.

There's no other way, and if there was, someone would've written it by now.

But this is Zaun. And no one writes fairytales here. The story's lived, not written. It's passed down from generation to generation. Mother to son. Father to daughter. Sister to sister. That's why Jinx knows Silco's story. Why she knows Vi's, and Vander's. And every story she's ever heard, true or not.

That's how the city lives. How it survives. Through living and suffering and dying, and having others remember, so there's always someone to tell the tale.

To never forget.

Jinx, though? Jinx has already died. Died, and come back. Destroyed, beheaded, cried; destroyed, deadheaded, survived. A phoenix, Silco calls her. Born the bones of her enemies, and destined to rule over a city reborn.

That's pure Silly talk, though. Him and his Silcoisms. He could fill a whole book. A heavy tome, penned by the man himself. She'd read it, cover to cover. Hell, maybe she'd have a starring role!

The Blue Herring. The Chekhov's Loaded Gun. The Unjinxed Jinx.

She nods. "Yeah. I'd be in Silly's book."

Billy chirps. He's a curious little thing. He'd make a great detective, if he was less bird-brained.

"I'd be the heroine. Well—the anti-heroine. One of those film noir dames. The—the—" She snaps her fingers. "—the femme fatale. Yeah. Silco loooooves a good femme fatale. Says they're the ones who write history. With their wiles and wits and weapons hidden in naughty places. And they've got a whole lotta naughty places." She tips Billy a wink. "Get it?"

Billy's beady eye slits. The little prude.

"I'd be his muse," she goes on, "and he'd name a cocktail after me. A strong drink, with a bite. And he'd call it: Blue Lightning. Or maybe Pink Suckerpunch. Or, no, no! Jinx. Just Jinx." She giggles, and Billy squawks in scandal. "And he'd tell the bartender: A tall cool Jinx, Chuck, with a cherry on top. And he'd sip, and make a solo toast, and say: Here's to lookin' at you, kid. And I'd be a portrait on his wall. A big one. I'd be in a slinky gown. Something glammed-up and glittery. And my hair, all curled. And my face, all made up." She sweeps her short hair up over her head in mimicry of a lush chignon, sucking in her cheeks and pouting her lips. "And then there'd be a flashback. And the room would go smoky, and full of music, and there'd be a spotlight shining down on me. And I'd have a cigarette in one hand, and a gun in the other. And then I'd turn around, and shoot the cameraman."

She doubles over with laughter. Billy is less impressed.

Crows are many things. Comedians, they ain't.

"That'd be the last shot. Of the film. Get it? Because I'd shoot him!" Wiping her eyes, she grins. "The femme fatale with firepower. That's me. Waaaay better than a fairytale. Silco says so, too. He says the femmes Haunt the narrative. That's one of his words, too. Narrative. It's all about how you tell the story. Who gets to tell it, and what they've got to say." She juts her chin at Piltover's skyline, all glitz and glory. "Topside's stories? They're all the same." Her tone deepens: the bombast of a newsreel narrator. "'Piltover! Home to the Hexgates, the marvel of the century. An endless horizon of progress.'" She blows a raspberry. "Blah, blah, blah. Their story's just: Look how shiny we are. And how rich. And how pretty. What? That dark sooty hole down there? It's just the dirt. Ignore it. It's not real."

And just like that, the anger comes, bubbling up like lava. Her jaw grits.

"Their stories aren't real. They're lies. As hollow as their hearts. Hollow as fairytales. And fairytales, they're only stories for kids. Keep 'em soft, and sweet, and dumb. The real stories—the hard truth—they're down here. In Zaun. We're the city of dreams. Not Piltover. Because we know what it takes to make our dreams come true."

Not a wish upon a star. A fist to the jaw, and a knife in the back, and a graveyard's worth of corpses.

Vi couldn't see that. She took one look at Zaun's acid-green skies and thought, Who would want to live here? And that's all it took for her to turn her back. She chose Piltover, where her fists have no place, and her spine is a straight arrow, and her voice is a muted murmur. Where her story is: Yes ma'am. No sir. I'm a good girl. I know my place.

She'd rather have a boot on her neck than live free. Rather make kissy-kissy with a Piltie princess than fight for what's hers. What's theirs. What's all of Zaun's.

The place Jinx was born to defend.

And Ekko?

He's a turncoat, too. Just a different stripe. Like Vi, he fell for the fairytales. Instead of fighting, he flew off to Neverland. No Boy Savior, but a regular Peter Pan. He saw a little girl, and thought: Save her. He saw the Big Bad Wolf, and thought: Slay him. It never occurred to him that the Big Bad Wolf had a history, and a heart, just like hers. Never occurred to him that the little girl was a witch, a weapon, a walking timebomb.

Never occurred to him that maybe she liked being bad. Being blue.

Being Jinx.

"A gal's got a right to choose," Jinx tells Billy. "That's what Zaun's about."

Free will, not fairytales. No rules but the ones you break. No chains but the bling you flash. You can be anything. Be anybody. And if that means cutting a throat or two along the way, so be it. That's survival, baby.

Silco understands that. He understands her. He took Powder by the hand, and said: Your choices don't make you. You make your choices. And: You, too, can change the world. And: You, too, can be more than you think

Be bigger. Better. Be the best.

Be my perfect girl.

Be Jinx.

Jinx knows Silco's story. And Silco knows Jinx's. Vi wrote the first chapter. But Silco's the one who rewrote the ending. Who gave her a new page, and a second chance.

A perfect beginning.

Jinx gusts a gloomy sigh.

"Perfect," she repeats, softer. "That's me."

She scritches Billy's skull. He thrums like a little engine.

"But sometimes I want to ask him..."

Her caress falters.

"Ask him..."

Billy opens his eyes. Red and black and déjà vu.

"I know," she whispers. "Stupid question. If I was just even a liiiiiittle less perfect: poof. It's curtains."

So: perfect.

Because Zaun needs her. Because she needs Zaun.

Because Silco needs both.

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thegoldensanctuary · 1 year

Text

Louis XV's royal clutter

Castles opened to the public tend to put a great emphasis on furnitures, paintings and panellings. This focus often occurs at the expense of smaller every day items, such as tools, services, boxes and so on.

Even as far back as the 18th century, inventories of the garde meuble- the administration in charge of the French royal furnitures and collections- often omitted those smaller items, in favour of a greater focus on the furnitures themselves.

Several exception that that rule do exist for instance : When King Louis XV died the 10th of May 1774 in Versailles, his Versailles private cabinets were opened and searched, all the cash and the precious items contained in his cupboards were listed and described in an inventory made 27 days after his death.

Said inventory isn't located in the documents of the House of King(O1 series of the french national archives) like it is usually the case, but in the King's papers, namely in the K series of the national archives, more specifically the K 153.

The document in question was never published nor translated to this date.

I decided to publish it for the first time and translate it entirely to give an idea of the of the kind of clutter that was present in the king's private cabinets in Versailles at the time of his death :

Here is the translation of the provided text into English:

1: Four gold snuffboxes, three enameled, one guilloché,

2: A black lacquer snuffbox mounted in gold,

3: A snuffbox of black tortoiseshell.

4: An ivory candy box.

5: Two watches encrusted with diamonds with their chains also adorned with diamonds

6: An enameled watch with diamond hands and button, a gold cord, and two seals encrusted with diamonds,

7: A garnet box watch adorned with diamonds, attached with a blue ribbon,

9: A large rock crystal flask with a gold stopper, and two seals encrusted with diamonds

10: A small crystal flask

11: A large enameled gold flask

12: Two plain gold flasks in a roussette box

13: A shell flask

14: A rock crystal flask in a roussette case

15: Seven math instrument cases, some in plain gold, others enameled, and some encrusted with diamonds

16: A side case with an enameled gold chain but with diamond buttons

17: Two pocket cases, one enameled gold adorned with diamonds and rubies, and one in jade

18: Four lorgnettes - two in gold, two in silver, and one in copper

19: Two pencil cases, one enameled gold adorned with diamonds, the other containing a compass

20: A Baradel in gold

21: A small portable silver barometer

22: Four tablets in gold, lacquer, or Burgos, one of tortoiseshell with diamond cyphers

23: Three souvenirs, one of enameled gold

24: A hunting knife with a gold handle

25: A dog collar with diamond initials.

26: A large lacquer tablet containing eight portraits of the royal family adorned in gold

27: A lacquer tablet with a portrait inside

28: Four portraits in three plain boxes

29: An ivory barrel adorned with gold

30: A piece of jade from the Amazon River

31: A Sèvres porcelain lorgnette

32: A gold and Magellan telescope

33: A porcelain Sèvres eyewash basin

34: A small red leather writing set adorned with gold, with a gold seal and pencil

35: A damask pruning knife

36: A double-bladed mother-of-pearl knife with a gold fleur-de-lys

37: Three glasses cases, one of tortoiseshell adorned with gold

38: An approaching eyeglass adorned with silver

39: A watch with its chain and seals, all in rubies and diamonds

41: A mathematics case in yellow lacquer with diamond buttons

42: Two almanacs mounted in silver and marcasites in their roussette cases

45: Three seals, two in gold, one in stone

47: Four rings, three with diamonds or coloured stones, one with an engraved stone

48: An English lorgnette

49: Four canes - one with a gold handle, one with a porcelain crutch, one with a gold apple adorned with diamonds, one with a golden apple-wood handle and parasol

50: Six watches - one in gold, enameled with a steel chain and chime, two other enameled, three other guilloché gold

51: A steel mirror

52: A gold egg cup in a roussette case

53: A gold writing set with Charlier paintings, in miniature in a roussette case

54: A very beautiful crystal vase, measuring 9 inches in height

55: A gold breakfast set consisting of a Sevres porcelain tray, two identical cups, a gold teapot and sugar pot, two spoons, a strainer, and a sugar tong made of the same metal

56: A gold-enameled punch pot with a pump, and a second pot of Saxony porcelain

57: A small enameled gold punch pot with a pump and a crystal basin

58: Two gold-enameled candlesticks with their bobeches

59: A crystal breakfast set surrounded by gold, consisting of three goblets

60: Another crystal breakfast set consisting of two carafes and a covered goblet, with the tray of enameled gold

61: A red leather box, edged with gold, containing 12 gold spoons and 12 gold forks, two roast oval plates, two appetizer plates, two dessert plates, and six dishes, all made of the same metal, with one missing, which is in the possession of Mr. de Fontanieu.

62: A set in a red leather box containing a lacquer box with a marabout, a teapot, a spirit lamp, six coffee spoons, all made of gold, three cups, a sugar pot, and a milk jug made of Sevres porcelain

63: A set in a walnut wood box containing 12 gold tableware, twelve knives with rosewood handles, gold cup and rosette, steel blades, twelve knives with Sevres porcelain handles adorned with cup rosette landau, plus four gold plates

64: A red lacquer box reinforced with gold, containing a Sevres porcelain bowl adorned with gold, two gold spoons, a covered crystal goblet adorned with gold, two porcelain pasta pots from Sevres

65: A wooden case enclosed in a black lacquer box containing a marabout made of gold with handles made of Sevres porcelain, two large sugar pots, two saucers, and two chocolate cups made of porcelain, a spirit lamp, adorned with gold, a square crystal flask adorned with gold, two coffee spoons, and a large gold spoon

66: A gold-plated copper microscope in its pyramid case

Dom Noël, Planche 19 Microscope tripode.

67: A writing set with 12 zodiac signs

68: A wooden box reinforced with silver containing a pharmacy adorned with silver

69: A yellow lacquer box enclosed in a red leather box

70: A graphometer in a red leather case

71: A gold compass with its stand and a level in a sharkskin case

72: A black lacquer box

73: A breakfast set consisting of a painted sheet metal tray and two porcelain cups

74: A writing set made of silver-reinforced roussette

75: Supplementary gold tableware, three coffee spoons, one tea spoon, a gold set in a roussette case

76: A small black lacquer box

77: A small oak chest, we weren't able to find the key

78: A box of tools with wooden handles and silver ferrules

79: A box of Kingswood,but the key wasn't found

80: A gold-braided telescope

81: A coffee pot for four gold cups with jasper handles and six gold coffee spoons, in a leather case made to contain 12.

#historical research #historical #history #rococo #18th century #Versailles #louis xv of france #Louis XV #palace of versailles

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marwritesgood · 2 years

Text

Stepping on the Last Train

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Summary: Tensions in the Hopper household come to a peak when El runs away under Y/n's supervision.

series masterlist // main masterlist

A/N: this is a side-story (though technically a back-story) to my Steve series, Cardigan. i recommend reading the first two parts of the main storyline, if you haven't already, for better context.

September 18th, 1978

Sara let out a tired yawn as her older sister read the last sentence of her favourite storybook. The hospital bed was the least bit comforting, nothing at all like her bed at home. Sara frowned as her sister closed the book shut.

"The end," Y/n sighed, relieved one of the longest days of her life was finally coming to an end.

Between school, her neglected chores and the daily trips to the hospital, she had barely any time to sleep. Even when she did catch a break, she never could go to sleep. Not when her baby sister was sitting in a cold gloomy hospital room, their parents both a mere shell of the lively people they once were.

Some nights, Y/n would dream the four of them were all dancing in the living again. Her stepping on her dad’s toes as her mum lifted Sara up in the air. On those nights, she could not help but wish she could sleep and dream that forever.

Y/n turned to place the book down on the chair beside the bed, but Sara grasped her arm and stopper her. She huffed, knowing where this was going.

"Again," the little girl spoke softly.

Her big sister's voice was a significant upgrade from the hospital ambiance and the annoying beeps from the heart monitor. The older girl sighed. Those days, it felt like everyone wanted more from her than what little she had left to give.

"No, Sara, I'm really tired."

The young girl pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and staring up at her sister until her eyes watered. She had gone from almost always having her way to not having any say at all. It wasn't fair, they both thought.

"Pleeease, Y/n," she pleaded, weakly grasping onto her sister’s forearm.

Y/n frowned, her heart sinking. Sara huffed defeatedly as her sister leaned in and kissed her temple apologetically.

"It's getting late, Sara bear,” Y/n whispered with a weak smile. Time was no one’s friend in the hospital. “- We should really get some sleep.”

As Y/n shift the hospital bedsheets to sit up, the faint sound of her father's voice could be heard. Her eyes shot up to the silhouette of her parents through window, as their conversation in the corridor escalated just as it always did.

"I'm doing everything I can!”

Hopper threw his hands up in frustration which only infuriated his wife more. Livid, she inched closer with a deathly glare and a horrified expression.

"What, and I'm not?!"

Y/n winced and instantly looked down to Sara. Their parents fighting had become routine now, but she knew that didn’t stop the youngest Hopper from trembling in fear every time.

Y/n shifted back into her original spot and wrapped her arms around her baby sister. What was one more late night, she told her. Sara already had her fair share of things to worry about.

"Let's read it one more time, ok?”

Sara sniffled and looked up to her big sister, nodding her head as she tried to bring herself to smile. Y/n frowned before leaning in and kissing her temple softly. She opened the book to the first page again and made a point of raising her voice and doing extra goofy character voices to drown out the sound of her parents.

***

December 20th, 1983

Y/n gulped down a mouthful of soda as she studied her father from across the room. He said goodnight Eleven and carefully closed shut to the door that Y/n guessed would now be her bedroom.

Once he turned to approach the kitchen table, Hopper met his daughter's hard gaze with glazed over eyes riddled with guilt. He was grateful she waited until he sat down opposite her before ripping him a new one. El needed a decent night's sleep, among so many other things.

His daughter huffed, surrendering the death grip she had on her soda can. How was he so calm and casual about something that impacted their day-to-day lives massively? Y/n leaned in and glared at him with knitted brows.

“What the hell, dad?”

She spoke in hushed tone, yet her voice still projected with a piercing sharpness. Hopper sighed. He knew his daughter well enough to suspect she would not take the news of El moving well. Even so, he couldn't help but hope it bode over a hell of a lot more smoothly.

“Listen, bug, I know-“

Y/n scoffed, cutting whatever explanation he had short.

“Look, I get that she’s alone and needs a safe place to stay," she reasoned. "- but you can’t just take in a child we only met a few weeks ago and just expect me to be on board.”

Hopper pursed his lips as his posture slumped. That was a fair point, one he had always been aware of but chose to overlook. It was easy to do when El looked up at him the way she did.

“I know it’s a big change-"

"It's a massive change," Y/n corrected.

This was a much bigger deal than bringing in a stray cat. Eleven was an entire person who needed and deserved more than what Y/n had been just barely getting by with that last few years.

Hopper leaned back against his chair and ran his hand over his mouth. After a moment's deliberation, he turned to his daughter once more. Y/n felt uneasy as he looked to her with pleading eyes. She knew then he was not going to give up easy, and that only made her feel worse.

"I just thought that maybe after all she's done and all she's been through…” Hopper shook his head, unable to even fathom just how much that little girl had endured.

He looked to his daughter and sighed once more. They could go back and forth all night about what it was that led him to making such a rash decision. However, ultimately, Hopper's reasoning was simple.

“She needs me, bug.”

Y/n winced. Finally, she was able to put her finger on what it was that made her so uneasy. In one chance encounter in the woods, Hopper dropped everything to bring El home. In one encounter, he made the call to step into her life and be a parent with seemingly little hesitation.

Where had this version of him been for the last few years?

Hopper reached out and placed his hand atop Y/n's, causing her to jump. He waited until she finally looked back before pressing further.

“She needs us.”

Y/n stared blankly at him. She blinked a few times then moved her hand away. This was not a movie, or some storybook tale. There were very real factors to account for and very real considerations to make. He needed a cold hard reality check, Y/n told herself.

"You work first thing in the morning and show up drunk in the middle of the night almost every night, dad,.” Y/n’s voice was calm and level, which sent chills down her father’s spine.

He didn’t feel like the parent in their conversation. He felt like a kid sitting in the principal’s office. Y/n sat back and narrowed her eyes, only heightening that very feeling.

"Do you really think your guardianship is what she needs right now?"

Hopper scoffed defensively.

"Hey, now that's not fair.”

He wasn’t new to the parenting scene. Sure, it had been just him and Y/n for a while and sure, he had been asleep at the wheel for a while too. But he was still a parent.

Y/n eyes only narrowed further.

"It isn’t?"

She licked her lips and swallowed thickly. She knew she was in the right, but that did not stop the guilt from creeping in. Maybe there was a nicer way of going about it. Maybe she was being a bit harsh.

Y/n dismissed that train of thought immediately. If not for Eleven’s sake, then it would be for hers. She already had her hands full trying to keep the lights running with just herself and Hopper. Adding another kid into the mix would only complicate things further and Y/n knew if things went south she would be the one to have to step up.

Lord knows he father knew nothing about doing that.

"Look, I don't want El to be out on the streets, but... and I'm not trying to be cruel,” she had to make sure he knew. “I just… I don't see how she's gonna be better off here."

Hopper’s stomach sank as he struggled to think of a decent retort. There was none. Their kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes, half-empty pizza boxes and a plethora of empty and almost-empty beer bottles. Their living room was no improvement. Old boxes Hopper had moved out of the spare room to make space for El, piles of policework and cigarette burns all over their sofa.

Y/n pressed further, though she suspected he was already getting the hint.

“I mean… how do you plan to look after her when you've barely been able to look after yourself the past few years?"

Much less her, the person he was already responsible for.

Y/n had to look away and excuse herself from the table. If she stayed and kept looking at him, she knew she was either going to scream or cry hysterically. Waiting for him to come to his senses was pointless, but she always struggled to resist doing it.

She was still his daughter, after all.

Hopper heard Y/n’s bedroom door close and leaned forqard again, this time putting his head in his hands and lettig out a quiet groan. What had he done? What had he gotten himself into.

Y/n words echoed through his head as he tried to figure out the best way around it. He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to reach for the whiskey he kept in the kitchen cabinet. She was right, he realised.

He hated that she was right.

Balling his hands into a fist, Hopper glanced over once more to the pile of dirty dishes among the mess that was the kitchen. That was one way to start. He let out a huff and then got up from his chair and approached the mess, turning the faucet on and making a start on what he knew would be a long journey and an ongoing process.

If for nothing else, then it was to make sure Y/n thought of him as more than a drunken deadbeat.

***

October 31st, 1984

El looked up to Y/n with glossy eyes and pouted, her shoulders slumping defeatedly. She knew it was a long shot, but Y/n always came to the rescue when El had disagreements with Hopper. She did not thing she was asking for much.

Y/n sighed and glaced past her little sister. She could just make out Steve’s car pulling up to front of the cabin. As much as she hated disappointing El, Y/n did not want to get caught in the crossfire.

"That's Steve. I have to go now.”

She sped past the pouty young girl and reached for her bag from the kitchen table. Before she could make it to the door, El raced to block her path, this time with her hands clutched together pleadingly. That was new.

"Y/n, please,” El cried.

One night. All she wanted was one night out of the cabin doing somethings kids her age were doing. Something Mike was probably doing, though she would never know for sure because of Hopper’s stupid rules. Y/n frowned.

"I'm sorry, El, Hopper already said no."

Usually, Y/n could not care less what Hopper had to say, but when it came to El he was an otherworldly kind of strict. If Hopper banned Steve from coming over for a week after she missed her curfew twice in a row, Y/n dreaded imagining what he would do if she took her little sister out.

"I never leave," El complained, her brows knitting together as her frustration reached an all-time high. If Y/n was not going to take her side, what were the chances that anything was going to be different?

"C'mon, you know I don't agree with him, but I can't just-"

"Please, Y/n.”

Y/n froze for a moment. El sounded different. She didn’t sound like a kid throwing a tantrum because her dad wasn’t letting her go and play.

She sound like a kid who desparately wanted a break. She sounded like someone who needed their big sister. She sounded like Sara. That was enough for Y/n to give in.

"Go put on your costume."

El didn’t need to be told twice before bolting to her room and coming back out with the white bed sheet she had cut out holes into. Y/n could not help but smile as she opened the door for her and followed her out to where the BMW parked.

Steve had been waiting outside, leaning back against the hood of his car. As El came racing out towards him, he instantly stood straight and embraced her as she hugged him excitedly. Y/n smiled nervously as he looked to her in confusion.

"What's going on?"

Y/n shoved her house keys back into her bag and crossed her arms anxiously. It was too late to go back now.

"El wants to go trick or treating,” she explained nervously. Steve toyed with the car keys in his hands as he only felt more puzzled.

"I thought your dad said-"

"It's too dangerous," Y/n nodded. Glancing between her little sister and her boyfriend, she scratched the back of her head. "So- I don't know- I was thinking we could just drive around and El could stay in the backseat and watch? That way no one sees her."

Steve couldn't help but feel bummed their movie plans were being given a rain-check, but one look at El and her adorable costume and he knew he could not say no.

"Yeah, sure.”

He went to open the door for Y/n when he took notice of the way El lowered her head and left out a huff. Even with her expression concealed behind the white sheet, Steve could tell she was disappointed.

He reached his hand out for Y/n's, halting her from getting into the passenger's seat. She turned to him, puzzled.

“Or maybe..." Steve gave El a small smile before turning to her older sister. It would be worth a shot. He gave his wristwatch a once-over. "I mean it’s only 5 o’clock. Muncie's just a little over an hour away, and we don't know anyone there."

Y/n furrowed her brows, unsure whether she felt more startled or touched by what Steve was implicating.

"You wanna drive to Muncie?"

Steve shrugged, as if it was no big deal. To Y/n, it was. He stood behind El and placed his hands on her shoulder, feeling assured he was doing a good thing by the way the young girl was already jumping with excitement.

Maybe it wasn't trick-or-treating with Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will, but it was a hell of a lot better than sitting in the backseat on the outside looking in.

"I want El to have the full Halloween experience."

"I do too, but it's risky," Y/n argued, folding her arms and taking a step towards the two of them. "What if someone sees her?"

"C'mon, she has the best costume to disguise her," Steve nudged El's shoulder gently, prompting her to lift her hands up.

"Boo!"

"See? Terrifying."

Y/n laughed beneath her breath then pulled Steve closer to her as El stood behind with a hopeful gaze. As much as she wanted to indulge, she could not ignore how risky it would be.

"Steve," she whispered. "If my dad finds out, he's gonna be pissed."

"I’ll get you both home before he gets off work, I promise," Steve assured, snaking his arms around her waist and closing the gap between them almost entirely.

Y/n pursed her lips, still unsure. Steve, not wanting to let El down after already getting her hopes up, pressed a soft kiss against his girlfriend's temple and then leaned his against hers until she met his eyes.

"Please, baby?"

Her knees weakened. Something about the way he called her baby always seemed to have that effect on Y/n. As if she was not already convinced, a small hand tugged on the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Yeah, please, Y/n?"

With two pair of eyes glued onto her, Y/n felt completely cornered. How was she to say no to the two people she loved most? Letting out a sigh, she playfully rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms.

"Ok, fine."

El hugged her briefly before speeding to the BMW, where Steve stood holding both right-side doors open. Y/n was glad he brought up the idea of going to Muncie. El deserved a normal kid-experience. Maybe they could even make a habit of it.

Steve upheld his promise and got both Hopper girls home safe well before Hopper was due back. While Y/n turned in early, El stayed awake. Between the bucket of candy she had to hide in her closet and the numerous exchanges she had with kids and other families, she was awestruck. El didn't know when or how.

All she knew was that she wanted to go again, and soon.

***

November 10th, 1984

Hopper's truck was already parked outside the cabin when Steve pulled up with Y/n in the passenger seat. She mumbled a curse beneath her breath, dreading having to leave the car. She leaned back against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut.

“My dad’s gonna kill me.”

This was beyond missing curfew or letting El outside in broad daylight. After their massive argument and broken television, Hopper stressed that his eldest keep an extra close eye on his youngest. And now she was nowhere to be found. There was no telling how Hopper was going to react.

She tried not to think about the worst case scenario. Just the situation in itself made her a nervous wreck. Feeling helpless, Steve reached for her hand and held onto it firmly.

“We can keep looking, baby," he spoke softly. If she wanted him to drive her halfway across the country, he would. There was very little he hated more than seeing her so upset.

“It’s no use,” Y/n huffed defeatedly. “We’ve looked everywhere.”

There was no other place in Hawkins she could think of that they had not already been to. Even if there was a place they had missed, it had been hours now. There was a greater chance El was out of Hawkins entirely, maybe even Indiana.

Y/n unbuckled her seatbelt and sat up straight. The longer she stayed in Steve's car, the more time she would have to psych herself out.

It was time to face the music.

“Do you want me to come inside with you?”

Steve's offer caught her by surprise. She smiled weakly and shook her head. Showing up with Steve would only agitate Hopper more given how much he already had against him.

“It’s ok."

Y/n waited until Steve was out of the driveway before going inside. The cabin was eerily silent, so much so Y/n was beginning to think Hopper was in his room. The she turned to the kitchen.

“Where is she?”

Hopper ascended from the shadows of their dimly lit kitchen until he and Y/n stood facing each other from opposite ends of the kitchen table. He crossed his arms and waited for a response, though he already knew the answer.

“Dad, I can explain,” Y/n whimpered quietly.

However, before she could even start, Hopper was muttering something about a report a woman made to the station with a description that matched El to a tee.

“What the hell happened?”

His voice was chillingly level, in a way that made Y/n's chest hurt.

“I came home from school with Steve, and El was still really upset and she asked me for some eggos, but we had none left. So I told her I would be super quick, and I was!”

Hopper furrowed his brows.

“You left her?”

“For five minutes, dad,” Y/n reasoned, her voice breaking. Suddenly, she felt like a little kid again. “Steve and I drove to the nearest store, got some eggos and came back but she was already gone.”

If it weren't for Steve suggesting different solutions, Y/n would have probably been on her knees crying and hyperventilating for hours. She looked to her dad and hoped he would at least acknowledge how distressing that must have been, but his expression was unchanged.

He was still looking at her like she was a sorry excuse of a person. Like she should have been the one missing, not El.

“And you didn’t call me?”

Y/n winced. Steve suggested doing that, but the prospect of it terrified her.

“I thought maybe she wouldn’t have gotten that far yet," Y/n defended, though it was a mere half-truth. "- so Steve and I drove around looking for her.”

“How could you be so irresponsible?"

She clenched her jaw. He did not have the right to say that to her. Not with his track record. Even so, Y/n bit her tongue. Escalating the situation was the last thing she needed, but he was sure testing her.

“If you had kept an eye on her, she would have never left," Hopper added, inching closer and narrowing his eyes at his daughter.

He could not believe it. The one person he thought he could always count on let him down massively. Adding insult to injury, she scoffed at him. Hopper's blood was boiling.

“Well, maybe if you had given her a bit of freedom she wouldn’t feel the need to retaliate by running away," Y/n hissed. Had he already forgotten the very reason he and El fought just a mere day ago?

“Don’t turn this around on me," Hopper growled, pointing his index finger at her. She was toeing the line of going too far, something she once never did but seemed to make a habit of in recent years. "I'm not the one who lost her.”

“No, of course not," Y/n laughed dryly, her tone saturated in a sarcasm that only angered her father more. "You can never do any wrong, all your rules are completely reasonable and not at all controlling.”

“El never disobeyed my rules until you started encouraging her to," Hopper argued pointedly.

"You mean until I listened to her and encouraged her to exercise her freedom of choice?”

“Since when does lashing out at and keeping secrets from their dad fall under freedom of choice?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. Did he not know anything about teenaged girls? Maybe if he was sober when she was 13 he would have even a semblance of a clue as to what El was going through.

“Oh my god, fine!" Y/n yelled. "- sue me for thinking a 13 year old girl should have a bit privacy and be allowed to say how she feels.”

“Don’t do that," Hopper shook his head, doubling back. "You don’t have a monopoly over knowing what’s best for El, I know a thing or two about raising a teenager.”

He was still the parent, Hopper told himself. That had to count for something.

Y/n stared at him, bewildered. He really believed that, didn't he? She knew then any attempt she could make at convincing him otherwise would be in vain. She shook her head.

“But you have no idea what its like being a teenage girl," she pointed out. "- especially one that has to live with you, because let me tell you…”

She stopped herself. While she found great satisfaction in ripping her father a new one, now was not the time. Not with El missing and her father still oblivious as to what could have compelled her to leave.

Hopper narrowed his eyes.

“Go on," he retorted.

Y/n sighed. This was about El.

“She had questions, dad." Y/n voice and expression softened. “- Questions about where she came from and what she can do and how long she has to stay cooped up in here, and all you do is give her vague answers or no answers at all, and it just…”

She tried to find the right words. She tried to think of a way of getting the message across without provoking him further, or making him defensive.

“You know, living with you and… and being your daughter, it’s…” Y/n shook her head. Maybe there wasn't a nice way of going about it. She looked to him and let out a huff. “You make it really hard sometimes.”

Hopper's brows rose, taken aback. He nodded his head, and for a second Y/n let herself be convinced that he got it. That he finally got it. But then he clenched his jaw and suddenly his gaze became a cold glare.

“Yeah well, being your dad hasn’t been all that great either either.”

Regret seeped in the very instant the words left his lips. Hopper inhaled sharply, watching his daughter intently, terrified of another screaming match. It would be two nights in a row.

However, Y/n did not scream at him. She didn’t even flinch. Hopper didn't think it was possible but, somehow, that left him feeling a hundred times worse. Y/n shrugged her shoulders with a deflated frown. She had only one response.

“You stopped being my dad years ago.”

There was no other emotion in her voice, only exhaustion. She could never understand how he had it in him to say such horrid things to her. Perhaps there was time where she would have become livid by him saying what he did, but Y/n had little to nothing left in her.

They could go back and fourth as long as they wanted, but what use would it be? It would always end the same way; with Y/n walking away even more hurt and traumatised than she already was.

***

February 20th, 1986

“You got kids, American?"

Hopper's train of thought was swiftly intercepted as the Russian man seated next to him waited expectedly. He nodded once.

"Two girls," Hopper stated shortly.

He leaned back against the stone wall behind him and closed his eyes. If he tried, he could picture the two of them in his head and it would feel real enough to give him some comfort. It was the way he kept himself grounded and determined to stay alive.

"My youngest, she’s great," he explained, smiling to himself as he remembered El.

He recalled the way she kept him on his toes and brought so much light into his life. He could not remember how long it had been since their last movie night. He wondered how long her hair was now. God, did he miss her. Both of them.

"And my oldest? My god..." Hopper opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. His Y/n was really something. What he would give to see her again. "- She’s the spitting image of her mom, but she’s got my stubbornness."

No description could do her justice, but in simple words that was Y/n in a nutshell. All the best part of her mother and all the rough edges of her dad. Hopper knew that was part of the reason they butted heads so often.

He also knew he shouldered the rest of the blame for that.

“I was supposed to be the parent, but…” Hopper sighed, his shame getting the best of him as he remembered all he did wrong and how she always put up with it. “- Every step of the way she’s been the one looking out for me, keeping things in line and… calling me out on my bullshit.”

It was never fair, he knew that. He knew he should have never put her in a position where she had to be the one keeping the lights running and keeping him in check. Yet, even so, she did it.

She was resilient and patient and forgiving when she had every reason to be vengeful and leave him in the dumps.

“And she’s become one hell of a kid… in spite of me. Not because."

Maybe he would tell her that, if he ever made it home to her and El. Hopper tried not to think about it too much. In order to get home, he needed to get out of whatever hellhole he was in. In order to do that, he needed to stay alive long enough to figure out how.

***

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