#Warning - No happy ending

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete arsehole, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Blinded

Azriel x Reader

Summary:

Word count: angst, feeling worthless, yelling, cursing, betrayal, jealousy, big sad people, pregnancy (Elucien), injuries, violence. Yup.

A/N: Honestly? Be prepared. 🤣💕

Again, thank you @sarawritestories for always giving me to kick in the butt I need when I'm stuck! 💕 Thanks @milswrites for the moral support too ily 🥰

Azriel was staring at your lips. Those full sultry lips painted with that same shade of pink Elain loves to wear.

Only, you weren’t Elain.

He tried to convince himself that he could get over it, get over Elain. He could love, praise, and touch another female without thinking about her.

Could he?

“Az?” You whisper, each one of your rapid breaths formed a cloud that filled the small gap between yours and Azriel’s face. His grip on your hips loosened as he snapped back into reality. He gulped down his shame. Shit. Your eyes, so soft, and loving, and pure filled with concern, Azriel’s stomach dropped. “Are you alright?” She stroked his face, his lips. His lips were still swollen from the kiss…

From the kiss that he fantasized about sharing with another woman.

He tried to shake the thought of Elain away, tried to ignore his shadows whispering wrong, wrong, wrong in his ears. He could do it, he knew it. You were kind, very pretty, caring… “Yeah,” He whispered, before attacking your lips once again. The kiss was feral, rough. His lips were crashing hard against yours, teeth clashing, as he tried so desperately to forget about Elain’s softness.

Your heart was beating in sync with the loud, yet distant busy chatting of the crowd at Rita’s, situated not far from the gloomy alley you and Azriel had stumbled out to. The frenzy was too intense for you to wait before touching him, tasting him, smelling him. Your lips parted when the exposed skin, compliments to the deep cut of your dress that barely covered your body, collided with the cool surface. The earthy and vigorous taste of the wine you had imbibed earlier that night filled his own mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

Elain would’ve drank something sweet, or fruity.

He slowly pulled away from you, his thumb grazing the exposed skin on the small of your back. It sent shivers up your spine, and your nipples hardened. He stared at you, observed how red your cheeks were, how his lips had smushed your lipstick, how the smell of you changed from your arousal. But the love and adoration that shone into those eyes, your eyes, felt like a stab in his cruel heart.

He couldn’t do this.

“Let me fly you back home,” His voice was raspy. He tried to give you a genuine smile, and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his fingers combing through your now very disheveled hair. “Will you be staying?” He wanted to drown in the cauldron and succumb from his sorrows at the sound of your pleading, hopeful tone.

“Another night, when we’ll both be sober.” He lied. They had talked and danced more than they had to drink, he was far from drunk, and you too. But you just shrugged, offering him a kind and comprehensive smile. “Okay,” Was all that you’ve answered, before he picked you up into his arms and led you through the clear night sky.

He dropped you off, bowed his head, and said “Thank you, for tonight,” before flying away without another word. He didn’t even kiss you goodnight.

—

The sky was clear, and the weather started to warm up in Velaris. You had gone shopping for lighter dresses today, and couldn’t wait to come back home and swirl in them for your Illyrian to see, since he had been too busy to spend the morning with you. There were always piles of paperworks lingering on his desk, you couldn’t blame him.

You turned on yourself in the mirror, admiring the last dress you had to try on. It was the prettiest, the deep blue fabric instantly drew you in. It was the exact same blue of Azriel’s siphons. “So, what do you think!” You beamed, spinning around to look into those pretty shades of hazel dancing in his eyes. Your toes were curling in your shoes, excited to get his reaction on your newest, and now favorite, piece of clothing.

“Mhm,” He hums absent-mindedly. Your face dropped, and your eyes turned a tad more glossy than normal. You lifted your chin up, and instead of exploding with rage, or bursting in tears, you cleared your throat as a last attempt to get his attention.

Desperate, pathetic.

Azriel lifted up his head at last, his eyes quickly scanned you, and he gave you a tiny smirk of approval, accompanied by a small nod of his head. “You look good, baby,” He adds, only for good measure.

Good. Not stunning, not flawless, not delightful, not ravishing… Just good. You noticed how Azriel’s eyes drifted back to whatever paperwork he was doing the second you turned back around to face yourself in the mirror, you noticed how his gaze did not linger on any of your features for one second. The shadowsinger had always been a man of few words, showing his love mostly through actions. But lately… lately he was also a man of few actions.

You gulped down your tears, maybe he was just busier than usual, you thought, and yet… You pinched your arm, mentally scolding yourself for being so selfish. Azriel worked hard, he always bought you anything you’d wish and ask for, even more. He had to work a lot to get you all that. You concluded that you simply needed to be more grateful and understanding.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe you were too clingy. You inhaled, trying to get all of the possibilities of why Azriel was acting this way around you out of your mind, and you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. You repeated the action a few times, and once you were sure that your voice was steady enough to talk to him, you did. “I'm going out to see Elain today,” You said, your eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror, secretly analyzing how his body reacted to the second Archeron sister's name.

Azriel barely reacted, only the slight twitch of his fingers around his pen proved your point. Something about Elain was upsetting him, but what? “Have fun,” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. Azriel tried so damn hard to not think of how Elain’s scent would linger on your clothes for hours, maybe even days when you'll come back from your stupid little play date with her. Tried to ignore the insufferable truth that Elain, even when she belonged to another male, even when himself belonged to another female, to you, still haunted his memories every day, noon, and night.

“I will.” It took every ounce of your self-control to not snap at him. It was getting so hard to ignore that pull, that painful throb in your chest that kept screaming at you more, more, more! But deep down, you knew that Azriel would probably never be able to give you more.

To give you his heart, completely.

—

“How is Azriel?”

Elain's melodic voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Your fingers still plucked at some invasive weeds competing with Elain's stunning flowers for the nutrients, sunlight, and water. But you didn't dare lift your eyes to meet hers, knowing she'd see the lies dancing in your eyes. “Good. Busy, but good,” Which was true, in some ways.

He kept telling you he was fine, and it was true that he was busier than usual, but deep down, you knew he wasn't doing “good”. Elain nodded, the chestnut curls that escaped her bun bouncing on her forehead as she did so. She knew better than to press the topic with you.

“You're… pale,” Her stunning doe eyes burned with concern, and you felt so bad for lying to your friend, even if it was only partially a lie. “I'm fine.”

Suddenly, the air shifted, and a cool breeze ran at the back of your neck, leaving a veil of goosebump on your delicate skin. The sound of Elain's gardening tools clashing to the ground made you jolt. You rapidly lifted your gaze, and gasped when you took I'm the sight of her once brown eyes now turned completely white, the wind flowing through her hair. It was as if she commanded the air itself.

“Leave him,”

Her voice didn't sound like her own, it sounded like nails on a blackboard, scrapping your soul. You hissed, covering your ears, your eyes wide with fear. But you could still hear her voice, and her face was so close. Your body was frozen in place, as if you were hypnotized by those cold white orbs, and your mind screamed at you to back off, to call for help. To call for Lucien, Elain’s mate.

“The shadow male is bound to be blinded.”

The shaddow male could only be Azriel. Was he okay? What was happening? You hated riddles. “Blinded by what?!” You pressed, begging for answers and yet begging for the kind Archeron to come back to her usual self.

“The seer… The shadow male is bound to be blinded by the seer.”

“Elain!” You hadn't heard the grass sweeping against Lucien's fancy leather boots. Nor his hurried footsteps, and breathing, as he not so delicately moved Elain away from you. You landed on your butt, but you didn't take Lucien's actions personally. After all, he was only reacting instinctively as a newly mated male. You swiped a hand on your face, your brain reeling from the information.

Rage, jealousy, despair.

“Y/N…” You faintly heard Elain's voice, her real voice, call out for you. You didn't even realize the tears that rolled down your cheeks until you felt her soiled hands brush against your damp skin. “I need to go,” You didn't wait to be granted your leave before you hastened back inside the River House.

You almost tripped on the marbled floors, your shoe soles were now slippery because of the dew that had coated your heels. You shoved them out of your feets, the coldness of the floors not bothering you for one bit as you kept running, and running through the halls.

Rhysand’s office doors slammed open, making the Shadowsinger, and the High Lord startle slightly. You felt your heart being ripped open when you saw his eyes, on you, filled with worry.

It has been years since he last looked at you, truly looked at you.

“What is this about?” Azriel rose from his chair, his steps towards you careful, his shadows swirling around you frantically. “Elain,” He froze in place, and his pupils shook. “Is she alright?” Her. It had always been her. Her safety, her well being, simply her. It would always be her before you.

The shadow man is bound to be blinded by the seer, not you.

“She is,” You gulped, swiping away your own tears, the tears he yet hadn't noticed. He reached his hand to touch you, but you smacked his hand away, he frowned. “I am not, Azriel. I am not alright. This is not alright,” You gesture between him and you. “I'm done.”

He fell to his knees, his hand curled at his chest as he looked up desperately at you. “What have you done…” His voice shook, his face red with anger, shame even. “What have you done!” He screamed, desperately trying to hold onto the hem of your dress, trying to keep you here, with him. He was angry, furious, at himself, at you, at Elain, at the cauldron that kept torturing his fate over and over again.

The bond snapped into place only for him to tug on the crumbling thread, watching as you reject the one thing Azriel longed for most in this life. A mate.

He fell to his knees, his hand curled at his chest as he looked up desperately at you. “What have you done…” His voice shook, his face red with anger, shame even. “What have you done!” He screamed, desperately trying to hold onto the hem of your dress, trying to keep you here, with him. He was angry, furious, at himself, at you, at Elain, at the cauldron that kept torturing his fate over and over again.

Rhys ran to Azriel's side, holding him back. You stumbled back, ripping the hem of your dress out of Azriel grip. He sobbed, and screamed as his soul was being ripped in half. Yours was too, but the damage had mostly been done throughout those years of being ignored, unloved and denied. Your soul and heart have been broken for a while now. You winnowed away, far away, and never came back.

Good riddance.

Taglist: @berryzxx @thelov3lybookworm @sidthedollface2 @favsrachz

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Izutsumi character study

[fuck-customers]

I work in a public school district with over 30k students. I don't even know how many staff. Our IT department is like 70 people. That's not fucking enough. They announced a few months ago that they're cutting 9 people from the staff that are actually in the schools, AND today they announced that they're cutting all 8 of our part time employees. There were only 33 school-level staff to start with. We're losing over 40% of our man-hours.

For important context, we're a pretty up-scale district, at least for our region of the US. Projectors/smartboards or smart TVs with touch screens in every class, every student has an iPad or MacBook depending on grade level, etc.. This much tech and they're cutting 40+% of our hours.

Next school year will be real interesting, because the whole IT department is in agreement that we're not gonna push ourselves to keep up. Work will get done when it gets done, and if that bothers people then they can go talk to the guys in finance who decides IT isn't important.

[thisisxli]

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. - 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑.

Rs: Prince Sukuna x Cinderella Reader

Warnings: none other than your bitch step-mother and step-sisters. And Mahito! Slight curse words

Tags: Cinderella AU

Summary: After your father died, your step-family has forced you into becoming their scullery maid. What if there was something or someone that was a one time in a life chance that could change your way of living? Of course, Prince Sukuna.

Wc: 10.2k

A/N: mostly proofread, ignore any mistakes I've made! A lot of monologue and scenes from the 1950s Cinderella movie and a few from the 2015 one.

Gojo clears his throat, opening the book as mice and a few more animals crowd around him. "Once upon a time.." Gojo looks up, thinking to himself for a moment before nodding, averting his blue eyes back into the book, "a life passes and a life begins anew, when poor little (Y/N) worked as a scullery maid..."

"Prince Sukuna," the Duchess speaks. Sukuna smirks as he fences with his partner in front of him before quickly dodging their fence, his own fence easily making way to his partner's body. "Prince Sukuna," the Duchess speaks once again except more firmly, a few butlers coming up to stand next to them. "Prince Sukuna-" "nice job out there," Sukuna's smirk widens when he takes off his eepe mask, high-fiving his fencing partner.

"Prince Sukuna!!-" "What, Uraume!??!" Sukuna turns to his Duchess with visible annoyance shown on his face, his posture starting to droop. "Can't you see I'm busy here? If my father needs something, he can do it himself," Sukuna spits, pulling his mask down and getting into a stance to fence. Uraume's face quickly drops to a face of aggravation as she rolls her eyes before turning stoic, "what your father requests of you is to be wedded with a wife in hand." Sukuna stiffens as his fencing partner gets the opening, hitting him in the chest with the tip of the sword. "H-hey! I did it! I did it guys! 1 to 29! Hey....!" Heads turn to Sukuna's fencing partner when his voice starts to trail off, meeting the glowing eyes of Sukuna through the mask. Sukuna sighs before taking off his whole entire head piece, throwing his fencing sword to the ground. "He wants me to marry," he turns to Uruame, deadpanning. Uruame nods and starts to bow, "he suggests you come up with who you wish to wed." Sukuna groans as a hand drags down his face, his face tattoos scrunching along with his grimacing wrinkles. He thinks for a moment. A wife? Maybe it is about time. "So..." He starts, peaking people's interest. He knows when they slowly turn to a stop in fencing. "Would that get me some pussy?"

His fencing partner starts to snicker along with other fencers, a few chuckling in the back. Uruame sucks in her lips behind her teeth, biting down. She bows down again before walking away, waving to the butlers to stay there with him. "I don't get paid enough for this.." She mutters as she adjusts her monocle.

Sukuna sits in his bed with a black silk robe wrapped around his body, his pecs slightly exposed. His arms loosely hung around two girls who were laying at his sides that were wearing slightly revealing clothes. Sukuna turns his head when he hears a knock at the door, sighing, "come in." Uruame glides into the enormous room along with Sukuna's father following close behind her. Sukuna nearly chokes on his own spit, retracting his arms from the girls beside him and putting his hands in his own lap. Sukuna slightly frowns when his father looks around in the room, "father." The king looks back at his son for a moment before continuing to speculate the room, "Sukuna." Sukuna clicks his tongue, roughly tapping the two females at his sides. They quickly move off the bed and out the room.

"What's this nonsense about me getting married? I'm only 24, damn it-" Sukuna's eyes widen when he gets cut off by a slam on the table. He meets his father's death stare, not too short to make a death stare of his own. His father falters for a second before letting out a boisterous laugh, opening his arms. "My, my, you have grown, son!" Sukuna chuckles and gets off the bed to meet his father, hugging him and patting each other's backs roughly. Uruame just watches silently, blinking at the two. "You are soon to be wed! You're a man, for gods sake. You will take my place as king," he walks up to the large balcony along side Sukuna, looking at him, "and maybe even create your own heir." His father raises his brows in suggestion as Sukuna snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure, maybe," he smirks, looking over to his father, "I'd just have to find the right one." Sukuna ponders for a moment, looking off to the city that dimly illuminated both their faces. "But how?"

They both think for a moment with their chin pinched by their fingers as Uruame speaks up, tired of the two, "we could throw a ball." They both look back at Uruame and then back at each other before letting out the same rich laugh. Uruame nearly backs out before having her back pat roughly by the king. "That's a tremendous idea! We'll have the servants set up everything in the ball room and have Uruame send out the invitations to every woman in the city!" Sukuna grins as he pats his old man's back, his Duchess mentally sliding a hand down her face. "Soon.. You'll take over everything."

As said and done, servants set up the ballroom that was themed in a deep red with gold encasing the walls and pillars in designs, beautiful diamond chandeliers hang from the ceilings and tall candles light up the room along with the paintings of bloody naked women. Large drapes hang loosely around the King's chair, half-naked women clinging to his legs and sides.

Uruame appears in front of the short stair case, bowing on one knee. "Has the invitation spread throughout the city?" The King slightly smirks, pushing his fingertips together and leans forward. "Yes, my Sire. Every maiden has received an invitation," she pauses, looking up as she smirks, "everything is going according to plan, Sire." The King chuckles in amusement as he waves over a servant, whispering in her ear before sending her off to fetch Sukuna. "Well then," he stands up, arms open, his Royal mantle falling back from his shoulders. "It starts tomorrow night," he grins as the women below him slightly cower in fear, some clinging onto his pants.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with your arm before clipping wet clothes and dress onto the hanging rope, small dirt and rubble covering parts of your work dress. When all the clothes were hanged, you set a empty basket near the wall and walk over to your Airdelle Terrier, Shoko. The brown thin-furred dog whines in delight when you scratch behind her ears, giggling when she thumps her leg on the ground. She pants as you feed her a treat, walking off with three little mic trailing behind you. Your other dog slept soundly next to Shoko, your Afghan Hound named Nanami. Your horse, Geto, neighs when he sees you. You giggle and wave.

You quickly come to a stop to look down at the three mice following you that bump into the back of your heel. Yuji, following Nobara, and Megumi. "Aw, I didn't know you guys were following me," you sweetly say before scooping them up and dropping them in the pocket of your apron. You enter through a back door of the château, a bell violently ringing against the wall. "(N/N)!! mop the floor downstairs!" The three mice covers their ears in annoyance, Yuji, the one in the red shirt poking out the pocket with a fist curled in the air. He gets shoved back in when Megumi, the one in a dark blue shirt, pushes his head down. You sigh before getting a bucket near the fireplace and fill it up with soap and water, grabbing a towel along the way. You head over to the main room, watching as one of your step-sisters, Yorozu, step up the stairs with dirty heels. She smirks as she slides her feet out of them at the top of the staircase and picks them up, huffing in pettiness before carefully carry her heels within arms reach from her dress, walking away to the shared room with her sister. You sigh when you hear the door shut, quickly dipping the towel in the bucket and start to scrub the floor. The mice jump out your apron's pocket and slides across the slippery floor with small bubbles following closely behind them.

Mahito, the cat, peers from behind the staircase, eyes slitting into lines when he sees the three mice scattering across the floor, struggling to get up.

"Itadori! Get up!" Megumi shouts, his round ears twitching. Yuji fails to do so, slipping before making Nobara slip on her own two little feet, falling back as her bottom half hangs over her face. Her tail wiggles in aggravation as she takes a quick hit on Yuji's head, a 'bonk' sound being heard from the mouse's head. A red bump appears over his pink and black ombre fur. "Ow! I'm trying, Fushiguro! Woah, woah, woah! Hey- look out!" Yuji's small clawed finger points to the now scurrying cat headed their way, all mice's feet skedaddling on the floor. The cat's face meets the wall, his fur standing up from all over at the impact. Yuji snickers before moving on all fours, the blue cat charging at the mouse. Yuji and Mahito slip across the floor, Mahito's claws missing barely an inch on Yuji. Mahito had a thick coat that had a natural baby blue color along with a creamy white color spotting over his paws, nose, and stomach. Dark colors etch on his fur on the back, resembling lines of stitches. Nobara, the mouse that was in a small pink work dress like you, stood on top of a table. Mahito creeps under it, trying to catch the movement of anything. She squeaks when she uses all her might to push a heavy book off the table. Mahito looks up just as it lands in his face, yowling as his paws clutches his face. All three mice scurry through a hole in the wall, closing their small door as you make way towards the cat with a confused expression.

"Mahito, what are you doing down here? You're getting your dirty paws all over the place," you sigh as you pick up the book and set it back on the table, a small frown on your features as you watch the cat walk up the stairs, an unknowing scowl on its' face. You make your way back to your bucket of soap and water, picking up the towel and wiping what stain or streak was on the floor.

The main doors open causing you to turn your head, meeting the eyes of your step-mother. She had a black short bob with a stitch lined across her forehead, a sun hat covered in dark red roses wrapped in a ribbon that was a color of an eggplant. She rolled her eyes at you before opening her mouth to speak, "Yorozu! MeiMei!" Her voice was sickeningly sweet, a hand was cupped next to her mouth, her other holding a envelope and a fan. Both tall women hurry down the stairs, their thick dresses bouncing with each step down the stairs, their hind parts thickened and round in the dress. "Yes, mother," they both say in unison, one's large silver haired braid hanging over their face and the other with a tie up, black spiky hair sprawling out on all sides, a few hair strands resting at the sides of her face. They both bow politely, all three women ignoring your presence.

"Guess who's throwing a ball tomorrow night, girls?" Both step-sisters look at their mother in shock before turning to each other, squealing as they hold each other's hands, jumping in excitement, their dresses bouncing with them. "He's looking for a wife," she explains, a glint in her eye. Both girls squeal even louder, Yorozu balling her dress into her hands. "He'll marry me!" Yorozu claims boldly before having her sister push her shoulder, her braid swaying with every turn of her head, "no, he'll marry me! What are you on, sister?" The girls inch closer to each other's faces as their bickering echoes throughout the room, quickly shutting up when their mother's staff hits the ground. Your step-mother clears her throat, firmly pursing her lips as she explains again, "you both will dress your best. We'll all live in the castle if one of you are able to be wedded." Both of the girls giggle just before you speak up, "step-mother Kenjaku.. May I be able to attend the ball?" The room goes silent as they all turn to your figure, piercing eyes staring daggers into your soul just as they all burst into laughter in unison, your form shrinking and faltering by their boisterous laugh. "Now let's see.." Your step-mother taps her purple-colored fingernails around the ball on her staff, eyes wandering around the ceiling of the room. "If you are able to scrub every corner and edge, clean each of our rooms, and manage to get a dress.." She pauses, jaw pushed to the side for a second, "you're able to attend the ball with us," she seethes with sarcasm, emphasizing with the word 'us.'

You urgently nod your head, bowing at waist-level. "Now then, girls get ready for dinner. (Y/N), prepare the dinner," your step-mother waves her hand at the three of you, all obediently listening to her orders.

"Chop, chop, boys!" Nobara squeaks out to Yuji and Megumi who were cutting and sewing through pink fabric, three other birds working on the bows. One female that had raven colored feathers, the other having silver feathers, and the third having two shades overlapping each other, black and white. A mice, Choso, helps his brother Yuji and have him stand on his shoulders. The raven feathered bird chirps happily when another bird joins in, being quite small compared to her. "Yuta! I'm so glad you could make it," the female bird chirps, watching the smaller bird land on the desk. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Maki," Yuta chirped back, flapping his wings in greeting.

"Gosh, I can't believe I'm stuck with you two," Megumi murmurs, dragging a clawed hand down and over his snout. Yuji blows a raspberry at him before jumping off the desk, sewing the fabric shut. Nobara finishes it with a bite to the string, the rest of it falling loosely to the floor as Yuji scurried his little feet to the desk. Yuta and Maki work their way to raise the dress up high as Panda places a bow in the center of the neckline when Megumi places a turquoise pearl bead necklace around it, small cheers and squeaks erupting from every mouse at the finishing touch. Inumaki flies to your door, hearing your footsteps come up the stairs.

"Mealworms!" Inumaki chirps to the others. Panda sighs before flapping his wings in alarm for the mouses as he translates, "she's coming!"

It was almost sun-down and you were trembling out of your wits end, your body tired and overworked. You open the door to your room, your face twisting into a face of surprise at the sight. "W-woah!" "Surprise!" Mice jumped up from behind large objects, birds flying into your room as you analyze your new dress. It was a simple but beautiful dress to you, you could only stare at it in awe as you touch it and let it fall from up ur fingers. You start to squeal in delight, carefully taking the dress in your arms, hugging it tightly as you danced around the room. "Thank you! Thank you to you all, thank you so much!"

"I have to show step-mother this," you exclaimed as you went behind the paper folding screen, birds flying over to help remove your clothes. The dress easily slides over your figure, hugging yourself as you hurriedly did your hair just the way you wanted it with a pink bow at the back.

Your step-mother and step-sisters descend the stairs as they both pat their faces in dry powder, the back of their dresses bouncing each time they took a step. "Now when you're presented to his highness, be sure-" Just as they were about to leave, you quickly step down the stairs, a hand up in the air, "wait!" They all look back, gasping audibly when they see you in a dress. As you leave the staircase, you immediately twirl before politely bowing. "Isn't it lovely? Do you like it? Do you think it will do?" Yorozu and Mei step back, absolutely astounded. Yorozu had her hair down with a dark pink dress, Mei's hair was half-down and half-up, wearing a vibrant yellow dress. "N/N!!" "Mother she can't-" "oh no!" "You can't let her-" "GIRLS, please," your step-mother holds a hand up at both of them, holding a stern look. She quickly puts on a smile on her face, looking back and forth between her daughters. "After all, we did make a bargain," she looks up to you, "didn't we, (Y/N)?" You only grin in response before having it slowly fade as she steps up closer to you. "And I never go back on my word. Hmm, how very clever. These beads.. They give it just the right touch, don't you think so, MeiMei?"

Mei turns away as she huffs, "no I don't, I think she's-" Mei's eyes are quick to open, turning back to your beautiful form. She ghastly gasps, her face twisting in anger, "oh! Why you little thief!" She stomps her feet under her dress. "They're my beads! Give them here," she demands before ripping them off of your neck before quickly hearing Yorozu pop in, "oh and look! That's my sash! She's wearing my sash!" You stand there in distraught, panicking as your gaze switches to both the girls as they start to rip apart your dress. You plead as they rip off the ribbons and fabric, feeling their breath against your cheek when they get into your face to yell. "Girls! Girls... That's quite enough," your step-mother scoffs before opening the door, "hurry along now, both of you."

They both walk out the door, holding their dresses between their thumb and index fingers with their hind parts bouncing behind them. You look down at the ripped pieces of your dress on the marble floor, looking up at your step-mother looking down at you with a smirk. "Goodnight," she says one last time, closing the door behind her, leaving you alone in the château. You raise your hands to your eyes as you cry out, running out of the house and to a bench where your mother once sat at.

Hot tears go spilling from your eyes, hands clutching onto the seat and your dress. You weep as you speak out, "no, it isn't true." You sob, hiccuping as mice and other animals you know come to gather to watch you. "It's just no use, no use at all," you whimper to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut, "I can't believe. No, not anymore. There's nothing else to believe in.. nothing."

"Nothing, my dear?" A voice speaks out as you continue to weep. "Now you don't really believe that-" "oh, but I do-" "nonsense sweetheart! If you lost all your faith, I couldn't be here," the voice speaks, soft tender hands holding onto your arms. A hand slides to your chin, your head lifting to see the face of the voice. You gasp when you see a pale man with white hair, blue eyes glowing in the dark. "And here I am," he exclaims, smirking when you nearly fall back before holding your arms gently, lifting you up to stand. "Oh come now, dry those tears," he wipes your tears away with his thumbs, "I don't know what to do when girls cry in front of me. You can't go to the ball looking like that anyway."

"Oh! But- but I'm not-" "of course you are, but we do have to hurry," he chuckles, sliding his fingers through his hair. "Even miracles take time," he rolls up his sleeves, closing his eyes. "Miracles?" He nods, humming in response, "just watch," he smirks just as he attempts to pull out a wand confidently, nothing coming out and appearing on his hand. He blinks at his hand, blushing in embarrassment. "Oops, mistake there. Shit- what did I do with my wand? I was sure..." He bends over to look under the bench and inside his cloak as you peer over him in amusement, "a wand? You must be.." "Your fairy godfather? Why yes, of course. Always been here. And before you ask, I swear I'm not that old- oh! Never mind, I just remembered- I put it away," he smugly says, turning to you with raised brows, his fingers pinched as he lines it down in the air, a wand appearing through the pinch of his fingers. You're taken aback when you see this, your feet shuffling on the floor as you step back.

"Fushiguro! Did'ya see that?!" Yuji exclaims in bewilderment, shaking the shoulders of his best friend. "Yeah.. Yeah, I did," he grumbles, whiskers twitching in annoyance. "How'd he do it?!" Other mice exclaim as Choso pries Yuji off his friend. "Now let's look here.. First thing we need is.. Well, to.. a pumpkin! Yeah-" your godfather points his wand to a fresh grown-out pumpkin in the garden, sparkling magic carrying the pumpkin over. You watch in amazement, hearing him mutter words. "What are you saying? What's your name?" Your godfather looks back at you before chuckling, rubbing a hand at the back of his head. "I'm chanting some magic words but it's a little embarrassing for a man like me to say. Name's Gojo Satoru for you!" You nod feverishly, watching as the pumpkin floats its' way over. Vines grow and starts to curl in itself, the pumpkin growing larger with each chant that comes out of Gojo's mouth. The pumpkin changes its' color.. turning white... it's a carriage? It's a carriage! "Isn't it wonderful?" Gojo turns to you in his flirtatious voice, leaning his weight on one hip as he raises a brow at you.

You giggle, ghosting your hands over the wheel of the large carriage, "it's beautiful," you breathe. "Yes, yes it is. With a elegant coach like that of course- we'll have to.... get mice!" He points down to four mice on the floor, Yuji, Choso, Megumi, and Nobara. Your horse, Geto, stomps his hoove on the ground in offense. "We'll have a coach when we're through. Now let's see here- bibbidi bibbidi boo," he whispers, waving the wand at the four mice that turn into large beautiful stallions. "Ah, now see- that's great. You can't go without a horse!"

You tilt your head at him in confusion, "another one?" You ponder, watching him shake his head and chuckle. "It'll be a change- he'll handle the reins instead," he pets your horse before even more sparkling magic carry Geto, turning Geto into a tall grown man that was... quite attractive. He gets sat in the driver's seat, reins in his hold. He blinks before looking down at himself, then at you. You shrug before blushing, watching him start to smile at you. "He'll be a coachman. And another thing.. The finishing touch! You!" You await for the magic to connect with your skin but nothing tingling comes. You open your eyes to see your dog, Shoko, being carried through the air. She was then transformed into a beautiful girl with a brown bob.

"She'll be the footman," he puffs out his chest pridefully, closing his eyes at his work. "Now, go ahead- hop in because we don't have much time," he bats an eye at you, "I know, I know, don't thank me-" you deadpan at him, pouting. "I wasn't.. Well, I mean- I am thankful! But.. My dress.. Don't you think it's..?"

"Hm?" He turns around to fully take a look at you, gasping in horror when he takes a look at your dress. You deadpan at him again. Did he seriously not notice? "Oh good heavens, no. You sweetie, are not going to the ball looking like that, " he mutters, eyeing your dress up and down. He quickly walks over to you, bending down to measure you with his wand. Your face becomes hot when the attractive man gets close to you, wand pressing against your side. He hums before backing up to create a certain amount of distance, chanting again as the same magic before circles around you, your dress quickly puffing into a poofy light-blue dress. It sparkled under the moon light, puffed out sleeves hugging your shoulders as gloves the same color as your dress were worn by your hands.

You twirl around, hands clutching the sides of your dress as your feet drags you across the floor. "Have you ever seen such a beautiful dress? I even have glass slippers!" You sighed happily, seeing Shoko's head nod quickly as she eyed your dress with a sparkle in her eye. You twirl your way to Geto, a toothy grin on your face as his cheeks turned pink. "M-miss (Y/N)! You're beautiful," he breathes, eyes kept on you as you bow at him and twirl your way towards your godfather who was smiling fondly at you.

"It's like a dream, godfather Gojo-" "please," he raises a hand up before taking your gloved hand in his own, "call me Satoru, sweetheart." You giggle as you twirl away, wrapped in the moment. His smile slightly drops as he taps the tip of his wand against his chin, cocking a brow at you in concern. "Jus' letting you know, like all dreams, this won't last forever. You'll only have until midnight.. And then.."

"Yes, yes, midnight- thank you," you grin, swaying your dress as you stare at your reflection in the water. "Hey now- just wait a minute. You must understand, sweetheart, that at the stroke of midnight, all of this," he draws a circle with his wand, gesturing to every object and being he used magic on, "will go back to the way it was before, d'ya hear me?"

You nod before quickly running to him, taking his hands and holding it to your chest, Gojo's cheeks slightly pink at the unexpected action. "I understand.. but it's anything I could ever hope for," you breathe, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek, your glass heels giving you leverage. "Ah.. Yeah.. Well ah! Goodness shit- it's getting late, you ought to go," he ushers you off, gently shoving you in the carriage, "the ball can't wait." You quickly adjust to the seat as the door closes, the carriage already being sent off in the dirt road. "Remember, sweetheart! Stroke of midnight!" You stick your head out the door window, smiling when you see his figure slowly fade in a sparkle of magic.

"Mademoiselles Mei Kenjaku and Yorozu Kenjaku, daughters of Lady Kenjaku."

Sukuna's eye peak interest when he sees Yorozu, a small smirk on his lips. He does nothing of the matter though, and just bows as they bow at him, eyes lingering on his figure. Sukuna's father sighs from the stands, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disapproval. "Y'know sire, I did try to warn you about the prince. He's not interested in any of this and you are a hopeless romantic," Uruame speaks through his sighs and groans, a gloved hand rubbing his forehead.

"There's no doubt when he just bows and right when he suddenly stops and looks up,"

Sukuna raises his head, his whole body stiffening when he sees you, his heart stuttering. "And there, she stands. The girl of his dreams. Who she is or whence she came from, he does not know nor does he care," Uruame speaks away as Sukuna's father notices Sukuna's sudden change in behaviour. Sukuna rushes past Yorozu and Mei, making his way towards your wandering and curious figure. "His heart tells him that here," Sukuna grabs ahold of your hand, only for you to be quick to draw back, "here is the maid that is predestined to be his bride." Sukuna is quick to bow down before you just as you do after him. Uruame lightly chuckles, rubbing her monocle against her suit as the King blinks at the scene of his son and your beautiful form below. "A pretty plot for fairy tails, sire. But in real life, oh no. It was fore doomed to failure-" she quickly gets cut off when the King locks her head with his arm, his gloved knuckles rubbing against her scalp. "Failure, huh? Then take a look at this, you damn pompous hag!" He quickly shoves her down, along with her monocle to watch the two youngsters interact.

Sukuna kisses your hand gently before looking up at you with his red gleaming eyes, ones that were so opposite from Gojo's. It kind of scared you. His eyes almost held possessiveness and so many dark things behind, eyes more piercing and slit than Gojo's who seemed much more kinder and seemed to have good-will. As scary as it was, his eyes also told you he had a sense of security and protection. It almost made you weak in the knees.

"Your highness, it would be an honor. May I take your hand?" His deep voice rumbles in the air, cold air puffing out your mouth as you stare at him in slight surprise. A smile slowly spreads onto your face as you take your hand in his, guiding you into the ball room. Sukuna was nearly gonna shit his pants. He thought you were so fucking beautiful, he didn't know what to say. "You look amazing tonight," he gestures towards your dress, gently squeezing your hand. You blush and cover over your mouth with a hand as you both walk over to the ballroom, starting to gain the eyes of other maidens.

"Who is she? Do you know her?" The King exclaims, peering down with Uruame's monocle. "No, Sire. I've never seen her before," Uruame shakes her head and peers down with him, invested in the sight of Sukuna in the hand of a woman. "Well that's one thing in her favor- shit, they're coming over here," the King quickly turns to gesture to the musicians, hands waving at them, "the waltz! Do the goddamn waltz!"

"Dim the lights!" The King nearly falls over the edge, Uruame's face turning red and round as a tomato as she struggles to keep him up.

"Huh?" Sukuna looks around before looking back at you, his heart nearly melting at the sight of the eye contact. "I guess this is where we should dance," you joke lightly, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other continues to squeeze your hand gently but firmly. He chuckles at your comment, gazing down at you. "You're funny," he remarks, swaying you back and forth as you pick up your dress.

You grin up at him as the music carries you both, lost in each other's gaze. Maidens stare at you both in jealousy and hate, others' heart crumbling at the sight. Some are even happy.

"If anything goes wrong," the King cuts off before sliding his thumb across his neck just as he disappears behind the curtains, leaving Uruame dumbfounded and in charge.

"Mother," Mei whispers in an aggravated voice, clinging to her mother's side. "Mother, who is that," Yorozu growls, twisting her foot into the ground. Your step-mother stares at you and Sukuna from afar, brows raised as her eyes held a jealous glint in them.

"Do we know her?" "Well the prince certainly seems to- but I know I've never seen her-" your step-mother cuts them off with a wave, "nor I, but she's certainly is- wait.. There is something familiar about her," your step-mother's eyes follow you and Sukuna, her own feet moving to inspect your familiar figure. You and Sukuna dance your way out the ballroom elegantly just as your step-mother tries to take a good look, curtains being closed in her face. "Oh my," she embarrassingly looks around, a hand placed on her chest before turning to the sound of another voice, "ahem." There stood Uruame, cocking a brow at her before rubbing her monocle against her suit.

You hum a tune as you both dance, staring into each other's eyes as the night carries you both away. For Sukuna, it felt like it had been a very long time since his heart started to beat. And when he looked into your eyes, it was like seeing the stars. It was in that moment that Sukuna decided that you were to be the one made into his wife.

You two are both met with stairs and that's when you decide to disconnect from each other, your gloved hand and waist savoring the warmth his hands once left you. "So, are you a princess?" Sukuna looks at you as you sputter, nearly choking on your words, a hand waving at your face as you blush. "Ah- no.. I'm merely.. just a girl that lives in a chateau resided in the city," you smile, tucking a few hair strands behind your ear. "Are you.. Are you a prince?"

Sukuna stiffens in surprise, scratching his head, "well.. I'm the prince that's asking for wife," he slightly smirks when he sees your shocked face. "You- you're the prince?! The prince?!" Sukuna laughs, bowing politely at you. "I'm not exactly the prince, I'm just a prince. But I mean, hey," he looks down at you, eyeing you up and down, "I'm the best prince of all there is." You stifle a chuckle, snorting as you turn away to dab away your tears, "he's so corny," you whisper to yourself. But that didn't go unheard by Sukuna that makes a face. "I'd ought to have your head chopped for that, beautiful," Sukuna looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, smirking when your smile slightly falters. You scoff as you turn your head away, waving your hand at him and completely ignoring what he said. "If you must," you shrug, making your way to a fountain.

You were definitely the one. He chuckles before walking beside you, gazing down at the reflection of both of you. You were an amazing sight to behold, like a newly-bloomed flower covered in a frost of snow. He sees you turn to him, getting the chance to look up at you.

You both inch closer, lips lightly brushing at the tips and ghosting over each other. His hand slides over to your waist, gently rubbing up and down your sides that made you shudder. Your eyes quickly open. Just before he got any closer, you step away far enough that your lips was out of reach. "What time is it?" You bite your lip just as Sukuna makes a confused face, turning to look behind him. "It's currently 11:59. Why?" You quickly detach your body away from him, clutching your dress in your fingers, "goodbye! I'm sorry but I have to go!" You step away from him, his hand reaching out for you. "Hey wait!!" A clock starts to ring in your ears now, hurriedly making your way through the garden and back into the ballroom, Sukuna following not too far behind. When you walk past the curtains, you catch the eyes of other maidens just as Sukuna comes through who was quickly swarmed with women. "Wait- I haven't even got your name!" Uruame gets up quickly to chase after you, shoving past the swarm of women heading Sukuna's way.

"Mademoiselle!- pretty lady!-" she nearly trips over her own feet, her eyes watching your leaving figure unexpectingly run down the stairs with such speed. As you run down the stairs, one of your glass slippers fall off, growling in frustration when you have no time to make a grab for it. Uruame makes a grab for it as you dash into an extravagant carriage, "close the gates! Follow that carriage and close the goddamn gates!" Uruame shakes her head in anger, pointing towards your leaving carriage.

You all make it into a forest nearby your house before everything returned to its' original form, your 'horses' turning back into mice, your coachman turning back into your horse, your footman turning back into your dog, and your carriage turning back into a pumpkin that was now squished under your bum.

You look back to see men with large horses charging at you. You gasp before quickly moving out the way, gesturing to the rest of the animals before they got crushed like the pumpkin below that glittered with left over magic. "Oh.. I'm sorry. It seems I had forgotten about the time," you murmur, looking to your horse and dog apologetically. "But... It was so wonderful. And he was so handsome- and when we danced..- I'm sure that no man could have ever.. man," you laugh, wiping a tear. "(N/N)! (N/N)!" You look down, seeing Yuji's small clawed finger pointing at your feet. "A slipper!" "Yeah, your slipper!" Yuji and Nobara shout over each other, pointing their little fingers as they push at each other. You let out a shaky 'oh' and slip your feet out of the glass shoe, holding the delicate thing in your hands before you look up to the stars, eyes glimmering. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much, for everything."

The King's snoring abruptly stops when he hears knocking at the door, grumbling as he gets up, rubbing the side of his face, "come in," he says urgently. Uruame breaks a sweat as she enters, quick to bow at his feet on one knee. "Uruame! So he's proposed already! Sit down, sit down," he easily lifts her up to her feet, pushing her down on a chair as she slightly frowns, clutching her monocle carefully. "But I haven't told you-" "now, now, we have much more important things to discuss. Arrangement for the wedding, special occasions, national holiday, all that sort of things."

"But Sire-" "here, have a cigar," the King grins, shoving a large cigar in Uruame's mouth that was already lit in the end. "But-" the King laughs, shoving more cigars in her suit. "Better practice to be handin' these out, eh?" He cackles, throwing his head back as Uruame stutters over her words, sweat covering almost her entire back. The king pulls out a sword, Uruame's eyes shutting tightly as she braces for pain but nothing comes. "And for you my friend, a knighthood!"

Uruame peeks an eye open, clutching the hem of her suit. "I hereby dub you Lady... Err- uh.. By the way, what title would you like?" Uruame swallows her saliva thickly, ignoring his question, "sire, she got away." "Well if that would be your title-.. she WHAT?!" The King shakes in anger, his face quite literally turning into a deep shade of red. "Why you- you little imbecile!" Uruame backs up on her feet as the King steps towards her, raising his sword, "b-but sire- remember! Y-you're sick! Your blood pressure!"

"Treason!" He swings down his sword, cutting Uruame's cigar in half. She blinks, gasping just as she crawls backwards, getting up to hide behind the chair she was on. "N-no sire!-" "sabotage! You were in league with the prince all along!" "No sire- I did try to stop her! But- but she vanished into thin air!" "A likely story!" He swings his sword at her, quickly scrambling under and through a table just before he cuts it in half. She quickly jumps onto his bed, jumping as high as he can as he swings at her. They both look like children. "He loves her Sire! The only thing left of her is this slipper! He won't rest until he finds her!" The King's eyes slightly widen at her words but continues to swing, "what did you say?"

"The prince, Sire! Swears he'll marry none but the girl who fits this slipper!" She lands on her back on his bed, the King landing along with her, his large feet planted at her sides. "He said that, did he?" He grins, snatching the glass slipper before smooching it like it was his mother's cheek. "Jackpot!" "But Sire- this slipper may fit any number of girls. Especially in Shibuya!"

"That's his problem- he gave his words, we'll hold him to it," the King hops off the bed, throwing the sword to the side and the slipper on the bed as he walks off. "Nuh uh, I'll have nothing to do with it," Uruame crosses her arms, her usual stoic expression back on her face. He picks up the sword again to lift up the glass slipper, gliding past Uruame's face. "You will try this on every maiden in the kingdom. And if the shoe fits," the King lowers the sword to her throat, "bring her in." "Y-yes.. your majesty," Uruame gulps.

"The prince?" You mutter as your mouth goes dry, accidentally dropping the tray of breakfast on the floor. "Oh you!- you clumsy little fool! Clean up that mess. And help my daughters dress up," your step-mother ushers, pulling the blanket off her daughters that was still in sleeping wear. "If he's in love with that girl, why should we even bother?" Mei pulls the blanket over her and Yorozu again, butts sticking up as their mother roughly snatches the blanket, both of them looking at her in surprise. "Listen to me! There's still a chance that one of you could get in," their mother explains urgently, nodding her head towards where you assumed the palace was. "What?" They say in unison. "One of us?" They turn to each other, blinking.

"Why mother, what do you mean?-" "just this.. No one, not even the prince, knows who that girl is," she explains thoroughly. "We know, we know! (N/N)! (N/-" Yuji quickly gets cut off by Megumi's punch, a frown displayed on his furry face. "The glass slipper is their only clue. Now, the Duchess has been ordered to try it on every girl in the kingdom. And if one can be found if the slipper fits, by the kings command: that girl shall be the Prince's bride."

"His.. bride," you breathe out under a whisper, processing the information. Your step-sisters were quick to process the information though, demanding for you to quickly get them ready and prepped, rushing out of the bed and such. They grab clothes across the room that was laid all over the place, placing it in your arms as you stare off into space, a loving grin on your features as you reminisce your last night interactions with the prince.

"What's the matter with you?!" "Wake up stupid!" "We gotta get dressed!" You blink at them before you look down at your own clothes, your work clothes worn out and covered in dirt and stains. "Dressed.. Yes, I've got to get dressed. It wouldn't do for the Duchess to see me like this.." You set down the pile of dresses and clothes down in Yorozu's arms.

"Mother did you see what she did to me?!" "Mother, are you just gonna let her do this?!" Your step-mother raises a hand at them, "silence." She glares at your back, squinting close to your figure as you sway your way down the hall, humming the same tune as you were the night before. As you go to your room, you quickly undid your hair and start to brush it, singing the tune more louder. Chose lifts up Yuji on his shoulders as Megumi and Nobara stand next to each other, all four shouting at you. "Hm? What?" Your eyes widen just as you look up in the mirror, gasping when you see your step-mother's reflection. "Oh no!" You turn to run to the door, pulling the handle and shaking it. "You can't- I- shit! You can't do this! Oh, let me out!" You cry out, tears starting to form quickly. "You must let me out! You can't keep me in here! Oh.. Oh please," you sob, sliding down your door as you weakly punch it.

Yuji and Megumi hide inside a tea cup, whispering to each other as they plan on how they get the key from your step-mother's pocket. They climb over it and crawl their way over, Yuji slightly pulling on Megumi's tail when he falls into the pocket. Megumi musters up his tiny strength and lifts up the key, Yuji reaching for it as it pokes out. Your step-mother looks up at the stairs just before she starts to reach in her pocket. Yuji jumps, shaking his head profusely as he pushes the key back down in the pocket, a hand going inside to grip the key and going outside the pocket to pat against it. Megumi rubs his head, silently growling under his breath. "Damn old lady," he mutters.

"You must be quite fatigue, your grace. May we all drink some tea?" Your step-mother suggests as Uruame sits herself down on a chair, clearly exhausted. Kenjaku nearly pours a drop of tea that Yuji was in, who was sucking in his stomach when it came too close. "No thank you, ma'am. But we must proceed with the search," Uruame slowly blinks, her monocle falling off her face. She nods politely before gesturing to her daughter, Yorozu. "Yorozu, dear," she says tenderly, grinning when the servant holds the glass slipper right under Yorozu's foot. The servant slips it in, clapping in delight when he sees it fit. Or as he thought. He lifts up her foot, revealing her long slender foot that the glass slipper barely fit in. It seems her dress was covering most of her foot.

The servant's toupee nearly jumps out, clearly shook. "Oh! It- it may be a trugle snug, y'know!? Dancin' all night and all.. I can't understand why of course! It- it always fit perfect before!" The servant tries his best to shove her foot in the glass slipper, Yorozu chuckling awkwardly.

Yuji reaches over for the key, Megumi trying to push it towards his reach as he tries his own attempt to climb out the pocket. Yuji lets out a squeak of pain, both of them dropping to the ground, sliding off your step-mother's dress. "Now c'mon, Yuji! Up the stairs! Now!" They lift up the key, only making it by a few steps. "Boy, do we have a long way to go," Yuji complains, frowning when he looks up. "Oh come on! We gotta help her, now quick! They're already moving to Mei!"

You sob and cling to the door, hearing soft patter draw in closer to the sound of your ears, peering your teary eyes through the key hole. You gasp and cry in relief, "you got the key! My goodness! Thank you, thank you so much!" Megumi slides under your door but before Yuji ever can, Mahito comes in and traps him with a bowl. "Oh! Mahito! Let him go!" Mahito tilts his head to the sound of your voice at the other side of the door, letting out hisses of laughter, his tongue rolling over his fangs. Megumi quickly rushes back out the door, grabbing Mahito's tail, biting it as hard as he can. Mahito jumps, hair spiking up as he grabs his tail. He quickly puts the bowl over Yuji again.

More mice start to charge at him with forks before getting flicked away by Mahito's paws, a grin plastered on his furry face. A candle comes towards him which he easily blows out. Birds come in to throw unused dishes at his head which he quickly jumps up to swipe at them to a stop. "Shit.. Shit!" You panick, banging your head against the door before looking through the keyhole, "Nanami.. Get Nanami!"

The birds quickly rush over to the barn, tugging at the ears of your other dog that hazily woke up by the sound of chirping birds and the barks of Shoko beside him, Geto joining in on the bundle of sounds.

Uruame quickly catches the glass slipper with a finger, sighing in relief. "Oh, your grace, I'm dreadfully sorry. It shouldn't happen again-" "precisely, Madam," Uruame frowns at the grown woman. Nanami growls at the cat that was now cowering in fear, yowling as Nanami chases him out the window. Other mices lift up the bowl that Yuji was under, balled tightly into himself while clutching the key. "Itadori, c'mon!" Yuji shakes his head before Megumi knocks him in the head, dragging him under the door along with the key.

"You are the only ladies in the household I hope I presume?" Uruame cocks a brow tiredly, rubbing her monocle against her suit. "There's no one in the house, your grace." Uruame blinks before bowing her head lightly at the three ladies, "quite so. Good day then, good day-" she nearly walks out before getting cut off by your alarming voice, turning around just as quick as you run down the stairs, your step-family looking at you appalled. "Please wait! May I try it on?" "Pay no attention to her," your step-mother persuades, your step-sisters chiming in, "it's only (N/N)!" "Scullery!" "From the kitchen!" "Ridiculous!" "Impossible!" "She's out of her mind!" Uruame's expression lightens when she examines your feet through her monocle, a twitching smile making way to her lips. "Yes, yes- just an imaginative child!-" "Madam, my orders were 'every maiden.'"

Uruame shoves past her, gently gesturing you to come closer. "Come, my child," she takes your hand in hers as she sits you down, waving to the servant carrying the glass slipper on top of a silk purple pillow. The servant nods happily as he rushes over. Your step-mother grits her teeth, stepping her foot out as he trips over, pretending not to have seen the scene, smirking when it shatters on the ground. "N-no.. Oh no, no, no... This is.. terrible. The king.. What will he say?" Uruame mumbles in despair, getting on her knees to pick up the broken pieces. "You see if I could help-" you get cut off by Uruame's despair, "no, no. Nothing can help."

You chuckle, dipping into your apron pocket, "but you see," you smirk, looking down at her. "I have the other slipper," you pull it out and your step-mother's face goes pale, her jaw dropping nearly to the floor. Mice cheer as they watch the scene, your slipper fitting just so perfectly on your foot. Uruame nearly kisses the shoe as she stares up at you in delight, glad that she finally does not have to search all over the city anymore. And of course, that she found you, Sukuna's soon-to-be wife. Your step-sisters' go into a fit, pouting and crossing their arms to hug themselves for comfort while they stomp on the marble floor.

"Should I go get my things?" You quirk up at Uruame who rubs her monocle against her suit jacket. She blinks at you in surprise before chuckling, "there's no need. But if you please to do so, do it by all means, your Highness," she lightly bows down your way, other men in suit following her action. Your cheeks turn pink before you quickly head upstairs, checking if you wanted to bring anything. You stop rummaging through your drawer when you come across a photo of your father and your mother with little you in between them. You smile bitterly at the picture, bringing it up close to your chest. And of course, you were gonna bring the animals.

"And then- and then what else happens?" Yuji's clawed fingers tug onto Gojo's sleeves, earning a smack on the head from Megumi. "Well, of course, the wedding happens," Gojo smirks, looking back into the large book in front of him.

"Does mommy and daddy have a happy ending?" Gojo looks over to the twins with pink hair, one of them having your colored eyes and the other with red. He chuckles, patting both of their heads, "just listen, okay?"

Maidens scurry across all over the room, various of old women complimenting your features and a few others criticizing you. They made sure your dress fit perfectly and when you came out of the changing room, your beauty had all girls young and old gasping, enchanted by your beauty. "My god, you're so beautiful. Not even I looked like this when I was your age," one comments, "somebody switch our bodies!" Another goes. "You're so beautiful, your Highness," a young one pipes in. You accept the compliments and chuckle with them before the door of the room bursts open, revealing none other than Uruame who held a grumpy face. "Alright, alright, wedding's about to start. Are you guys all set?" A following of quiet 'yes's and a few nods come from all over the room, Uruame sighing when she's had her confirmation until her eyes went over to your figure. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you. "Y-your Highness..." Uruame blushes, bowing. You were wearing a big puffy dress that was as white as snow, your dress being as nearly as similar as the one you went to the ball with. Except parts of the dress had more glimmer and lace designs, especially in your corset. Flower lace designs adorn your ribs and sides, fine linen covering the part for your breasts. Of course, your dress had puffy sleeves made out of fine linen also. You were also the only one wearing white. Everyone else in the wedding was wearing either a dark red or black(which was thankfully allowed). Sukuna made sure you and him were the only one standing out. "You're ethereal," Uruame finishes, bowing once more. You blush at her compliment, draping over the veil over your face.

The King enters the room before bowing deeply, a cute and friendly smile setting onto his face, "you look lovely, miss (Y/N). Gosh- I bet my grandchildren will be beautiful-" he grunts when he feels Uruame jab him from the side, chuckling before extending his arm to you. "Let's see where this beautiful day takes us," he grins wider when you loop your arms around his, hearing sounds of music playing. Was this what it was like? To get married? You were quickly handed a slightly large bouquet of flowers, mixed in with Lilies, red and white roses, some sweet asylum flowers adorning the sides.

The place was dark-colored and yet it seemed so bright with the colors of the sun leaking through the windows and past the drapes. Everyone stood up, many gasped and was in awe at the sight of you. You realized your dress was extended a little longer from the back but you didn't mind. You liked the attention. You could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as you stepped closer to the alter, Sukuna's figure coming more into view behind the veil. You both come to a stop before he hugs you, clutching your bouquet tightly as you turn to the alter. You couldn't really see Sukuna's face over the lace of the veil but you could see his hair. His pink hair was slightly slicked back, some of it sticking up, giving that 'bad boy' or 'she calls me daddy' vibe.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate union of these two loving beings, Sukuna Ryōmen and (Y/N) (L/N)," you nearly gasp when you recognize the voice, turning to see the same blue eyes wink at you. You smile, turning your gaze back to Sukuna. "We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared by these two people, as they come together to start their new life in a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends," you almost cringe at that part. Because you don't have much friends or family here besides the animals. "They are enjoyed that many of you are able to join us today. As we stand here today to mark this occasion, we remember that what matters most is not the ceremony itself, but the love and companionship you will continue to share throughout your married life together. It was by chance, that Sukuna had stumbled across this woman that he now claims his own," you hear Gojo fondly say. You hear Sukuna gruff, agreeing with him. A couple of people from the side laughs, including you. "To honor the strength of love and the role it plays in our lives, Sukuna and (Y/N) have called upon two of their nearest and dearest to share readings that have moved them,

Your wedding vows are a sacred declaration of your love for each other, the foundation of your relationship as a married couple, and the life you want to build together.

Please face each other as you declare vows to one another. Sukuna, you may start." You hear Sukuna suck in a breath, watching him fumble with his gloved fingers through the veil. For Sukuna, it was like his heart was in his throat. For the first time, in front of his own people, he felt so scared. "(Y/N) (L/N)," he says in a firm voice. "When I first met you, you were the most beautiful and enticing person I have ever seen. The dance we had the night we met felt.. special, really. But at the same time, it was like you were out of reach, something I couldn't grab or have, even as a prince," he calmly says without a stutter, looking up at you. "Within every fiber of my being, am I glad to have met such a great woman. One look at you and I'm lost and I feel... vulnerable," the word 'vulnerable' coming out of his mouth had a few people from the crowd gasping quietly. More like almost a few hundred people. "I, Sukuna Ryōmen, take you, (Y/N) (L/N) to be my wedded wife. I promise to stand by your side through good and bad times, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I vow to stay true to you and love you unconditionally for the rest of my days." Out pops a silk pillow with two rings on it, both golden and one decorated with beautiful glimmering diamonds. Four mice are underneath it.

You let out a shaky sigh, looking up to the ceiling so tears wouldn't fall and ruin your makeup. A few people chuckle including your maidens. "(Y/N)," Gojo turns to you, his brow slightly raised. You inhale and exhale through your nose and look up at Sukuna, secretly glad your veil was covering your face. "Sukuna Ryōmen. When I first met you, I wouldn't lie and say you didn't have me scared shitless," you spat, smile wavering as Sukuna snickers, a few people gasping at the use of language while Sukuna's father chuckles at it. "But I realized you were just more than scary. You're funny and kind when you want to be. You took me away from what only I can call a nightmare, and for that, I thank you for everything. Maybe someday in our marriage, I'll get to break past your rough cold exterior," a few awes are heard throughout the crowd.

"I, (Y/N) (L/N), take you, Sukuna Ryōmen to be my wedded husband. I promise to stand by your side through good and bad times, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I vow to stay true to you and love you unconditionally for the rest of my days," you let out a sigh from speaking all those words. Who knew vows could be so overwhelming? "Oh yeah- I forgot, before we start, does anyone have any objections?" Silence. Gojo chuckles before beckoning you both to take the rings.

"Do you, Sukuna, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" "I do," the softest words ever to come out of Sukuna's mouth. You were sure your cheeks were as red as beetroots right now. "Do you, (Y/N), take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" You nod, squeezing the trunk of the flower bouquet, "I do." You both slide the rings onto each other's fingers, smiling at it adoringly when it fits perfectly. "You may now kiss the bride," Gojo triumphaly announces, watching in anticipation when Sukuna lifts up your veil. You nearly took his breath away. Before you could even blush and turn away embarrassed, he smashes his lips against yours. It became gentle quickly after that, his lips moving amongst your own. His lips were soft, demanding but soft. It felt nice. It was passionate. From that day on, you were now married to each other.

You walk down the hallway just before coming to a stop, eyes widening as you turn to peek through a door. Your eyes soften when you see your godfather with an open book, animals and your children surrounding him. You smile but it quickly fades away when you feel a hand on your shoulder, your soul almost floating away. "Woah, there. Sorry, darling," Sukuna kisses your cheek, moving his hand on your waist as his thumb caresses your side. You sigh, shaking your head before reciprocating the kiss onto his cheek, not too long until you lay a hand on your own. "I'm happy, Sukuna," you look up at him. He smiles down at you, moving to kiss you. "Eww!" You both quickly turn to see everyone staring at you through the crack of the door. Sukuna growls, moving away from you and marches into the room as you snort at the sight.

As he scolds everyone and tells them to go to bed, you smile. You could never ask for anything more than this.

A/N: was rlly fun to write, I completely made Sukuna into a softie in this one so he's not completely himself. But it's Cinderella only she can change him! 🥰

This is kind of a make up after the eternity fic.. But I still hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading <3

If you liked this one, go check out my other works and see if you enjoy them as well! Follow and give me a note if you enjoy<3

M. LIST

If you wanna know more about me, click on my page and read my pinned post.

Tags: @sircatchungus

[teehee-vibes]

Agonized over the fact that when Chip reunites with Arlin, no matter how it happens, whether Arlin is dead or alive, corrupted or stable, preserved as he was or aged by time and magic… whether it’s a moment of joy and relief at a long-awaited reunion or a heart-shattering episode of grief because Chip is too late, Chip can’t even cry about it.

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷ now playing

Taryn: My father used to tell me that the earth would heal our wounds. That the ground would swallow our woes and our tears would nourish the soil beneath us. Pain was no stranger to the garden. A stubbed toe. A scraped knee. A fall. Physical discomfort is a natural part of the living. But to be afflicted by another is quite the wound. You can’t heal something you can’t touch. Atlas is a different kind of hurt. Like picking a rose from a bush… Easy to admire as long as you don’t touch the thorns underneath.

[ericshoney]

Perfect ~ Sturniolo triplets

Warnings: angst, eating disorders, crying, mental health, mentions of a broken home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been friends with the triplets since high school and you loved every second you spent with them. As you didn't have the best home life, you found comfort and protection in the Sturniolo home and once the guys moved to LA, you were close behind. You moved in with the trio, saying you'd help with their filming and any meetings.

However, after spending years in LA and now having your own social media fame, you couldn't help but feel bland and simple. You also couldn't ignore the comments on your posts about your weight. You had always struggled with your weight, it going up and down constantly.

But now, it was getting to your head. Your mind was telling you that you wasn't good enough and you were fat and ugly and that the guys only kept you around as you help edit or keep them on track of important meetings. Your mind telling you they didn't really like you.

It then resulted in you skipping out snacks, only eating three meals a day. Which then went downhill. You then cut out breakfast, before skipping lunch and slowly dinner as well. Your mind tells you that eating would just get you fat and nobody would like you.

Your weight then dropped drastically and the guys noticed. They noticed how sunken your eyes looked, how thin you were getting, how your clothes hung off your body and they were worried. They were scared to lose you.

Nick, Matt and Chris sat on the sofa as you were showering, the trio talking about your sudden weight loss. Concern written all over their faces.

"She's not eating." Matt mentioned.

"We need to talk to her." Chris said.

"Yes, but we need to be careful not to hurt her more than she already is." Nick said, agreeing but also thinking logically.

Matt and Chris nodded and when you walked out, the guys told you to sit as they wanted to talk. You nodded, taking a seat between Matt and Nick on the sofa.

"What's going on?" You asked.

"We've noticed your sudden weight loss." Chris blurted out, earning a slap from Nick.

"It's great isn't it. I'm now fitting the perfect LA image." You said, a fake smile printed on your face, which the guys knew was fake.

"Sweetheart, we're basically your brothers. Talk to us, you aren't eating which isn't healthy and we don't want to lose you." Nick softly said, taking your hand in his.

"Just not hungry." You mumbled.

"That's what your mind is telling you. But we know it's not true." Matt said.

"None of you really like me.....I'm only good for helping you work." You mumbled, tears ready to spill over.

"No, that's not true, kid. You are one of our best friends and as Nick said, basically our sister. We love you and care about you. If we didn't, we wouldn't be having this talk." Chris said, sitting in front of you on the floor.

You looked into his blue eyes, the tears now falling freely down your face. You looked at Nick and to Matt as well, all their faces showed worry. You mind now screaming at you for making them upset.

"I'm sorry." You cried.

"Don't be sorry. We're sorry for not seeing the signs first of all." Matt said, rubbing your back.

"We want to help you. Will you let us?" Nick asked softly.

You nodded laying your head on his shoulder. Chris laid his head on your knees as Matt continued to rub your back. In that moment you felt loved and supported and knew over time you would get better, with your friends help.

[moonelnone]

Part 5...! Luffy!

[absolutebl]

New Korean BL - Jazz for Two

Tae Yi (Song Han Gyeom?) hears a familiar melody filling the empty halls and makes his way to the old music room. He knows his brother is dead, but he can’t help but hope, maybe, just maybe...it’s his brother playing his favorite song. When he slams open the door, however, he finds Se Heon (Kim Jin Kwon), a new transfer student, at the piano. Disappointment comes crashing down and Tae Yi can’t control his anger. How dare Se Heon play his brother’s song? How dare he smile? How dare he say he loves jazz?

“If I ever catch you playing the piano again...that’ll be the end of you.”

And with that begins Tae Yi and Se Heon's story, as unpredictable and visceral as jazz. (Source: BLUPDATE2022 Twitter via MDL)

Adapted from the webtoon "Jazz for Two" (재즈처럼) by Keul Ra Jyu (클라쥬)

Stars

Song Han Gyeom (prev A-Day), Omega X (rapper)

Kim Jin Kwon, Newkidd (leader, sub-vocal)

Byun Sung Tae - lead in Happy Merry Ending

Ko Jae Hyun - side in To My Star

Thoughts

With two active idols in the leads (we think), odds are not great on this one. So far the only truly successful execution of solid BL from active idols has been Semantic Error (and frankly KNK barely counts). Plus this is the production team/director behind A Shoulder to Cry On which I HATED, so yeah...

I'm excited to have anything new from Korea but I'm keeping my expectations low.

My idols in BLs tracking is here (possibly not updated). This won't get on the list until after it releases. Never count your idols until after the BL has hatched.

[atlaswav]

ADDICTED TO THE RUSH ♢

INFO: 3k words, aiku oliver x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: strange things, a man did, when his knowledge of women was suddenly upturned by your very existence — the anomaly to his capricious heart, the addictive rush he'd been yearning for. WARNINGS: making out 16+ (shame.), hard drugs, hallucinogens, please don't do drugs kids, ESPECIALLY NOT FROM RANDOM STRANGERS LIKE OLIVER THIS BITCHASS, angst?? with happy ending. please be drug safe, not like this guy AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read and this is nothing except shame and delusion i'm ashamed and also simultaneously proud but i'll probably look back on this later and barf. listen to waiting for love by openside the title is inspired by that song. ++ if this is romanticising drugs in any way pls lmk idk what came over me. also likes and reblogs are really appreciated i'll give you a cookie 🫂

Contrary to what many would think, Oliver Aiku didn’t exactly consider himself one for parties. If anything, the thrumming bass that vibrated through the crowd, the alcohol stagnant in the air and the humidity of sweating bodies was an immediate line in the sand. He did have a reputation to keep, however, so what was one girl from the next when his name became a mantra on their lips?

Oliver wasn’t one for drinking, drugs or anything of the sort, either. Despite what his teammates may think, he would never have taken anything beyond a celebratory drink. Even though he’d been offered far worse on multiple occasions.

The professional soccer player couldn’t possibly risk any harm to his health, could he?

But he supposed, if he were to take the strangely glimmering, iridescent pill that was offered to him at the subway station in the dead of night, it’d be catastrophic. Strange things, a man did, when his heart was confused, brimming with reckless abandon. 

What was another wound to his soul than what already was?

He’d ingest it against the voice of reason, and his head would start to spin after a few moments. Were there two of those men standing in front of him? The lights would begin to flicker in his vision, and the ground would rise up to meet his face unceremoniously, while he dreamed of a faraway paradise. A paradise filled with gaudy colours, rippling images, and infinite traces of you. 

You, you you – your narcotic smell everywhere, your hypnotic laughter around each corner and bend, the hue of your irises flashing in the peripherals of his vision. He’d turn, aching to catch your evasive gaze, but you weren’t there. 

Slipping through his fingers like water, fading into the effervescent shoreline. Trying to bottle sunlight – preserve seafoam. 

He supposed that’s what loving you was like – would be like – not that he would know.  It was an addiction in its own sense; chasing something that wasn’t there, yet yearned to hold. 

He supposed that if he ingested that pill, and if all these things happened to him, then loving you was a drug. 

He got unbelievably high from your presence, the rapid beating of his heart, your quiet smiles, shared furtive glances, secret whispers, your feather light touch skimming across his skin, your voice’s melodic cadences. 

He’d give up anything to try again. To turn time on its head, watch the sand fall inversely through the hourglass and give rise to the words that were lodged in his throat. To stand his ground and not run away like the coward he became when it came to you. But of course, Oliver Aiku was not one for such things either. 

And he hated himself for it. 

The lights above shone a myriad of colours into his bleary gaze, the ground beneath him rumbling. What was that screeching noise? 

It hurt his ears. He wanted to curl into a ball to escape it, but his limbs betrayed him.

His annoyance only spiked as people started to pour onto the platform, the ground shaking with footsteps and indistinct voices. 

He told himself that he should move, but the iridescent lights above him were swirling into shapes, and he wanted to watch the bubbles float towards him, shining incandescently. 

Wait. Bubbles? 

“Oliver? Oh my god.”

He stirred, temples throbbing. Your voice started to haunt him too, it seemed. Lilting, soothing, lovely. He wished you’d speak again. He needed you to say his name again. It sounded like honey when it fell from your lips. 

“Oh my god, Oliver, wake up.”

He mumbled something, faintly aware of a face in front of him. Your face. Beautiful, but marked with worry. He willed himself to reach out, to hold your cheek, to brush your hair away from your face, but he couldn’t.

“He’s off. On a trip to another universe. What did that guy give him?” another voice, this one less lovely. A dissonant cadence that had him remembering training. He hated training. Only because his team mates wouldn’t stop pestering him about you, once they’d finally found out about you.

“Hang in there, Oliver. We’ll get you home.” 

Home? To him, home was wherever you were. He was entirely content to fall asleep in your arms, on the grimy platform floor. 

Arms tried to lift him, but the six foot man was liquid in their arms. 

“C’mon, can you move?” his teammate asked. “What did that guy even give you?”

He grumbled something. Tried to get his legs to move. Stumbled backwards, hitting his back on a wall. 

“He said “a ticket to heaven for a night”, whatever that means.” You supply.

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Sendo, let’s just carry him. It isn’t too far anyway.” you huffed, looping one of his arms around you. He tried to cling to you with both arms, but his limbs flailed uselessly by his sides. 

“Alright, fine. You’re buying me a drink after this, Aiku.” His teammate’s voice irked him, even in this state of bliss. 

The walk back to his apartment took far longer than it should’ve. It was quiet, occasionally broken by the heaving of breaths, clouding in the winter air. Wisps of colour followed them out of the subway station. Was that a whale swimming towards them? No, that was just the light. The stupid, colourful light. 

He creaked open his eyes, and the world started to swirl in his vision. Were they standing at his elevator? Is that why the wind had stopped blowing into his face? He leaned into your warmth, cheeks red from the cold. 

“You can go now, I got him from here.” 

“You sure?” His balance slips as Sendo removes himself from Oliver’s grip. 

“Yeah. ‘Night, Sendo.” 

“Yeah, yeah, message me if something happens. Goodnight.”

You stand there in silence with him, waiting for the elevator to arrive. His face presses into the crook of your neck, stubble grazing your skin as he mumbles something. 

“Oliver, what did you do?” you sigh. 

He frowns. 

“You okay?”

He huffs. 

“Silent treatment, or high out of your mind?”

He doesn’t respond. Spots start to appear all over the place. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Waves of dizziness wash over him, and his grip on your arm tightens. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” you haul him into the elevator, leaning against the wall as the ascent starts. Oliver wobbles dangerously, threatening to collapse as his knees start to give out. 

“Why did you do this?” you mutter. “Is it because of what I said?”

His eyes snap open. As close to snapping open as his traitorous body would allow in this state of his. Your eyes meet his, and he feels himself wanting to drown in your gaze forever. His mind was just as traitorous as his body.

No, he wants to say. It could never be your fault. 

But he doesn’t. His tongue is lead in his mouth, so he just looks at you in a stupor before you sigh and shake your head. 

“You don’t have to reciprocate anything. We can still be friends.” 

Your confession only hours before had felt like a weight finally lifted from your chest, quickly replaced by another. Heavier, more suffocating. When he’d run from you, it took everything within you to not run after him and beg. 

He hated anything remotely permanent, he’d once confided to you. He found an appreciation for the fleeting moments of affection of one night stands and miscellaneous, faceless, nameless women – no strings attached, tying him down. Heaven forbid you become the object of his hatred, along with the object of his – disgust? You couldn’t tell, with Oliver. There was never any telling what he’d do. 

You drew the keys from his pocket, unlocking his front door as he stumbled forward, nearly face planting on the floors. 

“Come on, you big baby.” 

“...Stars.” 

“What?”

“Stars on the… ceiling.” me mumbled, eyes half closed.

Worry rushed through you as you seated him on the couch. Just how strong was the drug he took?

“What did you take?” you grasp his shoulders, shaking him lightly. He mumbles something close to ‘Don’t worry’. If anything, you begin to worry more as his head falls to one side. 

“Oliver.” Your voice is a song in his ears, drawing up images of the waves at sunrise, bleeding orange, pink and purple into the deep blue of the water. 

“Oliver, stay with me.”

“‘M fine.” he manages. “Dizzy.” 

“Let me get you some water.” your presence – the warmth of your touch – disappears, and his eyes open in alarm. 

He hears the sound of water being poured, then soft footsteps shuffling around. His apartment is dark, the only light drifting in from the balcony, illuminating the room with a pale glow. 

“Here, drink.” you lift the glass to his lips, and he begrudgingly takes a couple of sips. Some water spills from the corner of his lips, down his neck. His Adam's apple bobs. His trembling hand comes up weakly to lower the glass, but he doesn’t release his grip as he meets your eyes. Pupils blown out, hardly on this plane of existence. 

“I love you.”

You nearly drop the glass. 

“You’re high. Say that to me when you’re sober.” you pry free from his grip, setting the glass onto the low coffee table in front of you. “Want to go to bed?”

He shakes his head, the movement apparently as much as he can muster. “Here.”

“Huh?”

“Here. With you.” he mumbles. 

“What?”

Then you take a seat next to him, and his head falls onto your shoulder. His body seems to relax in your presence, wholly at peace. 

You sigh. If “heaven for one night” meant anything, he’d be fine by morning, but you debated calling an ambulance anyway. Should you call the ambulance? Was that crook at the subway trustworthy? You glance at the peacefully sleeping man beside you, chest evenly rising and falling. He seemed fine, but he had taken drugs from a stranger.  

You reach for your phone just as he grumbles, flopping his entire upper body onto your lap. 

Okay, no, then.

Oliver’s soft snoring is almost endearing as he nuzzles his face into your thighs. You heave a sigh, running a hand through his neon green edged hair. He seemed to lean into the touch. No, it was your imagination. You lean back against the leather sofa and close your eyes, hoping for the night to pass sooner. Hoping that he’d sober up by morning, and spare you a trip to the emergency room. 

Hoping to hear those three words in the lustre of clarity. 

—

His dreams were filled with phantoms; phantom hands, faces, touches. Phantom words spoken into the air, disappearing in smoke, and only spurring his guilt. Yet as he woke from his stupor, the world smelled like you. Coaxing him back to the dreamscape. Exhaustion hit him like a tsunami, meeting him with a thundering headache. 

His vision didn’t fare any better as he opened his eyes, the world a mess of swirls and blurring patterns. He groaned and flipped over, only to realise where he was. 

The disorientation of sleep melted away as he finally came to his senses. Sweat, thinly beaded across his skin, his clothes clinging to his body. He lay curled up on the couch, head nuzzled into the pillows – warm, soft –

“Oliver? You awake?” 

He snaps to attention, sitting up the moment he hears your voice.

The plight of his dreams, the palliative cadences that he wished he could despair in. 

His head throbbed from the blood rushing to his head, and he swore quietly, swaying as he adjusted. 

“How are you feeling? Are you alright?” your eyes are wide with concern, and something in his heart tugs. 

The night before is an empty slot in his reel of memory, a smudge of bright, neon lights and dancing shapes as he attempts to recall exactly what happened. How he ended up sleeping on your lap, how you’d ended up at his apartment. Did you sleep over? It looks like you didn’t sleep at all, with the dark circles under your red rimmed eyes. 

You abruptly get off the couch, heading into his kitchen. He hears the pouring of water, then you return, gingerly handing him the glass. He takes it, confusion slowly turning to realisation as he remembers. 

And the memory of his cowardliness, his recklessness, his awful string of decisions that led him to seeing stars rushes through him like ice cold water. 

“You okay?” you ask, voice soft. Treading on eggshells. 

He nods, downing the glass of water. 

Quiet, strung on a humming wire, envelops you as he attempts to find the words that kept escaping him. The words that he swore he’d never speak, even though you were right in front of him, still worried. Despite it all. You’d stayed, despite everything. 

Would he have been a coward for pushing you away? Sparing you from the inevitable heartbreak that he’d dole out like his meaningless plethora of apologies, incapable of anything prolonged more than one night?

“Oliver,” his gaze snaps to you. His name was like ambrosia on your lips. He wanted to hear it spoken again and again, a prayer, a worship, a plea. 

“Did we…” he trails off, sheepish. Oliver Aiku, bashful of his escapades. 

Your cheeks redden slightly as you shake your head, unwilling to meet his eyes. 

Silence, the capricious thing. Teetering on the edge of ruin, speared into disrepair with words that could shatter or mend your heart. Your heart, aching to be given away. Aching for the one that you couldn’t have. 

Your name echoes through his empty house. The early morning sunlight peers through the windows, casting warm light on your face. Rejuvenating, almost divine. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your heart drops. 

“I don’t know how to–” he rubs his face with his hand, heterochromic eyes gazing at some point beyond. “I’ve never had a way with words.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” your bitter smile breaks his heart. Digs the blade in and twists, spilling burning acid into his veins. 

He can feel his world crumbling around him as you stand, turning around. Heading for the door, for the threshold beyond that would mean you were finally gone. Finally out of his life, finally gone from the dreams that you haunted, from the touch that he craved. 

He should be glad, but instead, like an addicted man, he reaches out, grabbing your arm. 

“Wait,” 

You turn to face him. Hope glimmers in your eyes and he can only feel guilty. His love wasn’t something that he could offer, his heart wasn’t one that could stay with yours for as long as he would wish, and it was another thing that he despised himself for. 

He despised himself for not being able to love you the way you should be. 

If only he could put it into words. 

“You don’t need to comfort me.” 

He sighs. “I’m not trying to comfort you, I just…”

You frown, stepping closer. “Then what, Oliver?”

If only you knew the effect you had. “I don’t have a way with words,” he starts. “But I’ve always believed that actions can speak louder.”

“What are you–”

Your words drown in his mouth as he pulls your mouth down to meet his. He drowns your gasp of shock, offers reassurance with the measured brush of his tongue on your lips. If Oliver had anything to show from his reputation as a womaniser, it was knowing how to treat a woman. 

The kiss burns with a fervour that you can only describe as hunger. He kisses like he’s been starved, addicted to your taste, your touch, shivering as your hands wander into his hair. His breath catches in his throat as your nails scrape his scalp, muffling a groan as you bite his lip. 

You pull away all too quickly for his liking. His starvation is in his eyes. Your breaths are quick, ragged, and he tries to kiss you again, but you press your index finger to his lips. 

“Are you still high?” you ask, voice carrying that hint of joy that he wanted to illuminate. 

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?” 

A smile breaks out on your face as he sighs heavily, catching your wrist in his hand. “I might be, but I can think straight.”

A laugh from you, and he thinks he’s doomed. Fated to be wrapped around your finger for the remainder of his sorry life, a jester for your amusement. How quickly the tables have turned on him. 

“We’ll see, Aiku.” you press a kiss to his forehead, smile luminescent in the dawn sun. Despite the sleepless night, watching over him in his state of oblivion, you were radiant. The object of  his secret desires, the hubris to his mercurial heart. 

“Wait, what?” As you turn to leave, he scrambles up from the couch, but his limbs won’t let him catch you. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” you cast him a coy smile. “If your actions speak true, come find me when you’re sober.”

Then the door opens and closes, before he can retort. Gone with the wind, scattered like seafoam on the shores of golden sand. 

He falls back onto the couch with a huff, the ceiling still swimming slightly in his vision. Never again, he’d take any drug from any sketchy man in a subway station. He didn’t need drugs, alcohol or women anymore, he could discard his reputation completely. He didn’t need such things anymore – not when he had you. 

You, you you, with your haunting presence, eluding his grasp like sunlight in a jar. He’d normally relent, turning to the next woman fawning over him, sweep her off her feet with his aloofness and casanova grin. 

But now he had you, and the chase was a thrill that no drug could replicate. 

You were his dopamine, he was hopelessly addicted. 

written by @atlaswav, published 4th of February, 2024

[sketches-n-editz]

fionna and cake doodles pt.1 (mostly simon)

[haetrack]

GUESS WHAT IM FINISHING SOOOON

so u know what that means… if u wanna be tagged… like or reply to This post (reminder: if you don’t have your age somewhere on ur account i won’t tag you)

ITS COMING ALONG NICELY ACTUALLY… i have abt hmm three more scenes to go so it WILL!!! be posted soon 🫂❤️

[afewproblems]

Part Three Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings AU

Part One, Part Two, read on Ao3 Here

Thank you everyone for your patience, I am splitting up this last part into two (I know, I know - I'm sorry!!)

***

 The drive home after dropping Robin off was long. She had offered to stay the night again but Steve insisted she go home unless she wanted her parents to throw them and impromptu engagement party after she eventually graduates --Steve still winces when he thinks about Mrs.Buckley cooing about what sweet babies they would make when she thought he had left the other night. 

He pulls into the empty driveway and shuts off the Beemer’s engine; it feels criminal for the sun to still be at full force at this time but at least he's been able to avoid the heat for most of the day. 

And say what you will about the Harringtons, but at least they had invested in AC before skipping town without him.

Once inside Steve hangs his keys on the hook beside the door and heads upstairs to change. He just wants to crawl into bed, hide himself under the covers and sleep after the day he's had. 

Robin did her best to give him a pep talk after their run in with Eddie at Family Video but it had mostly consisted of her brainstorming how to shave his head without implicating themselves. 

It made Steve laugh despite arguing that Eddie's hair was his third best feature and Steve is fairly certain he would be second in line to avenge it next to Eddie.

Steve throws on an old pair of pajamas and a ratty Hawkins high t-shirt from the floor beside his laundry basket. He sniffs it dubiously and throws it on, it could go another day without a wash --it's just him tonight anyway. 

Alone again.

Steve makes his way downstairs and debates a frozen pizza or the leftovers in the Tupperware Mrs.Henderson had forced into his hands before he left their house the other night. 

He'd picked up a lot of recipes from Claudia and learned different ways to stretch an ingredient across multiple meals or even make a single meal last multiple days -with his parents gone so often it had been crucial for him to learn. Steve isn't even sure where they are at this point or if they know about the earthquakes. 

A small part of him hopes they don't know, because if they did and still haven't called or come back to Hawkins to check on him….

Steve quells that line of thought and tosses it into the little box in the corner of his mind. 

Don't think about it. 

Steve rolls his shoulders and opens the fridge before taking out the tupperware and grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

The sudden sound of tires crunching and an engine turning off outside has him looking towards the front entryway, it's definitely in his driveway, but he isn't expecting anyone?

Oh god…what if it's Hopper or Nancy? Another gate? If Vecna's back, they needed him. 

Steve nearly drops the plate in his hands in his haste to get to the door, he manages to put it on the counter before sliding over the hardwood floor as he stumbles into the foyer. 

Steve flings open the door to reveal a nervous Eddie Munson on his doorstep.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice pitched with surprise and concern, he looks around for any sign of one of the other kids, "What is it? Is it Vecna? Is anyone hurt?"

Eddie blinks, his eyebrows pop up into his scruffy bangs, "What? No, no man, it's just me".

Steve breathes out a sharp sigh of relief and lets his heart rate slowly calm down, but if it wasn't the Upside Down why the hell was Eddie here? 

Contrary to popular opinion, Steve wasn't actually stupid, he knew Eddie wouldn't just be here for him, he'd made it perfectly clear that they weren't friends.

"Oh," Steve mumbles, still confused, "did you leave something here the other night?"

Eddie tilts his head slightly and his eyebrows fall into the barest furrow, "No Steve, I just, can I come inside?" 

His right hand twitches once before reaching for the door frame as he steps forward.

A million questions nearly burst forth from Steve, what do you want? Did the kids put you up to this? Are you going to say it to my face this time? What do you want from me?

He wrenches them back, shoving them all into that same little box, and instead says, "yeah man," as he steps aside to let Eddie through.

Eddie grins but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the anxious feeling in Steve's gut, twisting and cold, begins to build again.

All at once Steve is incredibly aware of the fact that he's wearing pajamas and a dirty old t-shirt, he's sweaty and tired from a long day at work and he doesn't have the emotional fortitude to be told off again.

"Hey, Eddie, listen," Steve fumbles through the words, he reaches up to pinch his fingers into his eyes, "if this is about Hellfire, I'll back off, I didn’t mean to," he stops and swallows, searching for what to say. 

Because, what did he even do? It's still not clear and the thought makes him want to grind his teeth.

"To like, interfere with your set up? Or, or, actually, you know what,” Steve's voice suddenly climbs in volume, "I don't know, what did I do Munson?"

Steve raises his hands from his eyes to his hair which he grips harshly with one hand while the other gestures wildly in front of him.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to Family Video,” Steve shakes his head and chews harshly on his bottom lip, “if you hate me, I don't understand why you keep coming around?" 

Eddie is frozen in front of him, a ‘deer in the headlights’ look in his eye, his mouth opens once and closes, but Steve keeps going.

"I mean, was this just some kind of weird game to you? Let's see how much we can stick it to old King-Steve? I heard you that night man," his eyes begin to sting as he yells, his throat tightens and the words waver slightly at the end. 

Steve grits his teeth to keep himself from speaking, from revealing more than he wants to, he hasn't felt like this since Nancy called him Bullshit in the middle of that crowded Halloween party and isn't that thought a punch to the gut.

Steve shakes his head and turns his face away to pinch his nose so harshly he worries it'll bruise.

"So," Steve whispers, letting the fight drain out of him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, "what do you want, because I am not really up for whatever this is". 

Eddie isn't looking at him anymore, his face is pointed at Steve but his eyes are trained on a point on the floor between them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Unbelievable.

"Look," Steve breathes out, he reaches up and presses the fingers of his left hand into his eyes, surreptitiously wiping away any evidence of moisture, and gestures behind him at the foyer, "if you want something just spit it out, otherwise I'm tired and I'm going to bed so--"

"I'm sorry" Eddie blurts out, he takes a step closer to Steve who steps back without a thought. Eddie winces at the movement and draws his arms around himself.

Eddie seems to hesitate, his eyes dart over Steve's face and once towards the front door before his expression flattens and his shoulders square in one fluid movement. 

Steve's stomach does a little swoop as he remembers that Eddie nearly sacrificed himself to save Dustin, he wonders if his face held the same expression before he cut the rope.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I," Eddie swallows audibly and shifts his weight from foot to foot, "I was so sure of something for a really long time and it made me act like an ass". 

"Sure of what?" Steve says, his voice nearly a whisper.

"How much do you remember about me from school?" Eddie murmurs eventually, there's a slight tremor running through his hands which tighten their grip on the sides of his jean vest until his knuckles stain white.

Steve shakes his head, there wasn’t much, but by the time he had heard whispers of the name Munson, he had been dealing with Hargrove, and Nancy, and Dustin's attempts at rehabilitating a demo-dog --he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time to worry about some metal-head that stood on tables in the school cafeteria. 

Eddie's breathing stops and starts in short shallow hitching breaths and his face grows even paler than normal, he looks like he's seconds from passing out if Steve is being honest with himself. 

Fuck.

"Hey, hey Eddie, come on breathe man," Steve says sharply, he moves quickly, keeping his hands up ready to catch him, just in case, as Steve leads Eddie towards the kitchen. 

He helps Eddie sit down on a stool by the counter ledge and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Steve flits around the kitchen, distracting himself with getting Eddie water and a cool damp washcloth which he drapes over the back of his neck.

Eddie lets his head droop slightly with the weight of the towel and scoffs, muttering something under his breath; Steve's hackles raise of their own accord as he steps away from him.

"I'm just trying to help man, Jesus," he bites out, resisting the impressive urge to throw the other man out. Steve leans against the wall opposite Eddie instead and scowls. 

"Christ," Eddie snaps as he grabs the cloth and brings it around to wipe his face, "I said, I can't believe I thought you were a Grade-A asshole".

Steve suppresses a flinch at the title, the tightness in his chest returns at full force.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, slumping in his seat as the anger seems to drain out of him. Eddie closes his eyes, holding up the towel, "how did you know that would help?" 

He reaches for the glass in front of him, the slight tremble of his fingers the only remaining sign of Eddie's panic.

Steve shrugs, a small part of him wants to tell Eddie about the Russians.

How his sense of touch almost always helped to snap him out of an episode, whether it was Robin’s small warm hand on his cheek when things got too much, or a cool wet washcloth to wipe away the sweat from his brow after a waking nightmare. It was grounding, bringing him back to the present quicker than any other method he and Robin have tried in the last year or so since recovering from their time underneath Starcourt.

Steve’s not quite ready for that conversation though.

Eddie's watching, analyzing him the way Robin does sometimes and Steve realizes he must have been quiet for awhile, Eddie’s big brown eyes trace over Steve questioningly, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. 

"You want to talk about it?" Steve says slowly, changing the subject. He half expects Eddie to tell him to shove it and get up from the stool to leave, pretending this conversation never took place. 

He doesn't though.

Instead Eddie drops the towel on the counter and brings both of his hands to his face. He sits there, hunched for almost a minute solid before letting them drop back into his lap.

Eddie doesn't look at Steve as he starts to speak.

"I've lived with my uncle for a very long time," he says softly, the words almost too quiet for Steve to make out at first, "I moved in with him just before highschool". 

Eddie swallows and licks his lips, "I told you a little bit about my dad already yeah?" 

He raises his eyes to finally look at Steve, who nods again. It feels wrong to speak, like he would be interrupting.

"Well, he wasn't arrested till after I was in Hawkins, but I don't think I really felt safe until the day Wayne got that call". 

Steve's stomach abruptly falls into his shoes. 

Sure, Eddie's story about learning to hot wire had made Steve pause but he hadn't really thought more about that story beyond the ease with which Eddie brought the vehicle to life. He feels his chest twinge with shame this time and steps closer.

"Apparently," Eddie continues, slowly, carefully, "Billy Hargrove had taken it upon himself to tell everyone he could about me and my shitty fuckin' family".

"That uh," Eddie's wary eyes flick up at Steve once more, his expression tight, "that my dad kicked me out, woulda killed me if he could've".

Steve feels a chill roll up his spine at the words.

“And he wasn’t wrong, got all the details right somehow, even the one about me liking--" he trails off before wiping his left hand down his face while the right reaches for the towel again and begins fiddling with it.

Steve makes a noise, something soft and understanding, he takes a step closer to the counter, halting as Eddie looks up with open panic.

"But," Eddie continues with watchful eyes, "up until a few hours ago, I thought…you had done that".

And that is the last straw.

Steve doesn't think this time when he moves, he steps up to Eddie and before he can even open his mouth or flinch Steve has him wrapped in his arms.

It's awkward with Eddie still seated on the stool, his face pressed into Steve's collarbone, but he’s tense and Steve knows he's stopped breathing altogether. 

"I'm sorry about your dad," Steve murmurs into the top of Eddie's wild hair, and he is. Steve knows exactly what it's like to have a dad that uses violence to get his way, that screams first and asks questions later.

Eddie shakes his head once, an incredulous expression pulls at his brow as he leans back slightly to look Steve up and down once more before he grins sharply.

"Yeah well," Eddie hums, "I'm sure he wasn't planning on having a fag for a kid".

Steve pulls away abruptly, but keeps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, his face briefly twisting into a harsh scowl. Steve doesn't catch the terror that flits across Eddie's face as he stands up to his full height.

"Don't call yourself that," Steve says harshly, "and don't use that word around Robin and the kids".

He lets go of Eddie entirely, and begins to pace, "Your dad is a piece of shit, who didn't deserve you and Billy Hargrove is lucky he's dead," Steve growls lowly, he takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose, he needed to calm down.

Like he said, Billy was dead, and the senior Munson was in some prison somewhere where he couldn't get to Eddie anyway, and not every problem required the use of his fists, Robin's words echo in his ear. 

"What?" Eddie blurts out, surprise painting his face. He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at Steve as though he's never seen him before. 

But there's a fire in Steve that has been burning for three years, ever since he tried to apologize to Jonathan and Nancy the very first time, and the flames burned even brighter a year ago when he stopped to take in Robin's pale, desperate, face as she told him about Tammy.  

"And I know Hawkins is shit, trust me," Steve growls, he steps into Eddie's space again, "but there are people here who believe that there is nothing wrong with you, got it? You have us now".

"I, I know," Eddie mumbles, he's still watching Steve with something akin to awe in his eyes but it disappears as quickly as Steve spots it.

"Thank you," Steve says eventually, "for telling me, sorry if I freaked you out just now".

It's quiet in the kitchen for a beat, the only noise is the steady tick of the large wall clock beside the pantry and the hum of cicadas from outside the kitchen window Steve had forgotten to close that morning.

Steve nervously chews his lip, he's ruined it again, his second attempts at being cool about someone coming out to him even worse than the first. Robin had been nice about it at the time -and admittedly neither of them could quite remember the bulk of the conversation, but he does remember telling Robin her first crush was a dud and sounded like a dying Muppet. 

So, he was two for two.

"You're sorry?" Eddie finally croaks, his eyes are larger than Steve has ever seen him and his chest stutters once as he breathes rapidly.

Steve reaches for the discarded cloth on the counter just to keep his hands from reaching for Eddie. 

"You're sorry?" Eddie says again, his voice barely a whisper, "you're unbelievable is what you are".

Oh. 

Steve sighs and blinks once, twice, before closing his eyes, "I know".

"Shut up," Eddie barks, "I'm the one who is trying to apologize and you're being so--"

"I know--"

"No! Let me fucking talk Harrington," Eddie shouts, and Steve feels his teeth click as he snaps his mouth shut.

He braces himself, better to get it all out on the table now, he thinks, let him say his piece and then they can all just move on -he can move on. 

"I don't think I ever understood you, how you fit in with this whole group," Eddie mutters, his face tipped towards the floor, he brushes a handful of curls away from his face as they slide forward.

"I mean, I watched you in action, you ripped a fucking bat in half man," he laughs but his expression is shuttered, almost blank as he counts off on his ringed fingers, "you carried me out of hell, you listen to all the shit the kids say when they tell you stories, do you know how many people would just tune them out? You cooked for my uncle, you--Robin is your best friend? Robin?" 

"Hey,” Steve says sharply with a glare, “layoff Robin, what are you even saying?"

"See!” Eddie throws his hands towards Steve emphatically, a wild look in his eyes,”that's what I’m talking about! Thats, it’s--okay it’s not coming out right," Eddie stands up from the stool but stays beside the counter. 

He huffs out a small quiet laugh and shakes his head, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face, "you're just, you're not who I thought man".

Steve crosses his arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection and the Hawkins high logo in faded orange print,"I thought we already had this conversation?"

"Yeah well, I actually mean it this time".

"...Right,” Steve sighs tiredly, it's laughable really, just how wrong he and Robin had been. 

All that time he thought they were growing closer, that Eddie had been his friend. 

All those small moments over the last few months were nothing. Just two people with vastly different expectations of what they meant to one another. 

Eddie’s face twists as the words tumble out at a mile a minute, "no, fuck, Steve, I can't, just--I don't," he grabs two handfuls of hair and yanks, hard, "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry, and I'm fucking it up.”

Eddie takes a deep breath before letting it all out in one smooth motion, "you're amazing, Steve, and I'm kicking myself for not seeing that before”.

He takes a step towards Steve but hesitates,spinning the rings on his fingers.

“I’m just, I’m really sorry and I hope that you can forgive me, that we can get back to where we were before?”

Steve feels himself smile mechanically, his chest tight and cold, he nods once and hears the words, 'yeah man,' leave his mouth. It's as though he's in a fog, everything feels so far away.

The smile Eddie gives him is brilliant, bright enough to light up the kitchen but Steve turns away and sweeps a tremulous hand through his hair. 

"Yeah, Eds, we'll see each other around, we're good".

Eddie's smile falters slightly, but Steve is determined to end this conversation, go upstairs and crawl into bed for a millennia,

"I'll put in a good word with Mrs. Henderson," Steve continues, gesturing towards the abandoned tupperware on the counter, "I think she'd listen if I told her you guys needed a place for Dusty-Bun's club".

Eddie's face falls slightly, "What, Steve--" 

"It'll be great, Claudia makes the best snacks and she honestly has a better basement than the Wheelers --but don't ever say that to Mike or you'll never hear the end of it," Steve says with a half smile as he walks towards the counter to grab the tupperware, he lifts it up to show Eddie before he reaches for the fridge door to put it away.

He's not hungry anymore anyway. 

"But…" Eddie whispers, the tone catches Steve's attention but he can't look at Eddie right now, he just wants to sleep.

"I mean, you could come, you know," Eddie clears his throat and moves, the sound of fabric and shoes scuffing across hardwood makes Steve finally look up.

Eddie is beside him, his expression equal parts wary but hopeful, his big brown eyes fixed on Steve.

I thought Hell would freeze over? Steve thinks to himself angrily before biting the inside of his cheek. 

They've just reached some kind of truce, Eddie apologized for fucks sake, he should just let this go. 

But there is a heat now that simmers in his chest, it makes him want to scream. Steve swallows roughly and pushes the feeling down, trying his best to smother the flames into embers before they engulf him completely.

If friendship is all he is allowed, then Steve can work with that, he just has to reign things in a bit. He’s been playing fast and loose with his heart for so long and that it's become a dangerous game.

"Yeah, sure, I can," Steve mumbles tiredly, "I just have to check my schedule, Keith's been keeping me on my toes lately". 

He shrugs and gives Eddie a wane smile before clearing his throat and turning away, "anyways man, I'm beat".

Steve moves towards the opposite hallway, he feels like he's escaping.

Eddie stands in the kitchen, shoulders drooped, but he nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He takes a step towards the foyer before turning sharply around.

"Harring- Steve," Eddie winces, "Steve, I also wanted to say we're sorry about the table, we didn't mean to scratch it all to hell that night and," he swallows roughly, "I can, we can chip in to…help fix it or whatever". 

But Steve is already shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "it's cracked actually--"

"What?!"

"No, no," Steve cuts in, he waves his hand to sweep away the panic in Eddie's voice, "Sorry, it's been cracked for awhile, you guys didn't have anything to do with it".

Eddie deflates in obvious relief, he laughs brightly, letting the last of his nervous energy flow out in a cackle.

"Fuck man, thank God, I definitely do not have the money to fix that shit," Eddie sweeps his hands into his curls to pull them away from his face, "why's it still cracked?"

Steve shrugs, "No one's bothered with it before, easier to just leave it I guess," he breathes out sharply through his nose in something like a laugh, "I wouldn't know how to fix it if I tried, never been good at woodworking". 

Steve looks back at Eddie to find him staring, his eyebrows have pinched together and gone is the smile that shone nearly as much as the rings on his hands. 

"Anyway, I'll see you around man," Steve hums, he doesn't need Eddie analyzing him, seeing something in him that he shouldn't. It’s a dismissal, one that Eddie seems to take well, despite the stiffness of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'll see ya," Eddie says softly over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the kitchen, back towards the front door.

Steve waits until the door has closed, until he hears gravel under tires, until he's sure that Eddie is gone. His chest tightens once more with hot blistering anger that builds in his stomach before overflowing into his chest.

It drives him forward, the anger, the overwhelming heat building up his neck and pounding in his head, he's at the counter all of a sudden.

The plate he was going to use for supper is in his hands.

He raises it over his head and brings it down in a satisfying clash of shattered ceramic that explodes all over the hardwood.

Steve stands there, breathing raggedy in a daze.

Fuck.

The floor is covered in shards of varying sizes, he realizes belatedly he's only wearing socks but the thoughts come slow as though dragging themselves through mud. 

Steve steps over the ceramic and walks to the pantry, he removes the broom and dustpan from the small hanger on the inside of the door.

Steve begins to sweep up the shards into a little pile, wincing as a few pieces here and there cut through the fabric of his socks and into the soles of his feet.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until he sees the tears drop into the pile of plate shards and dust. Steve scrubs his arm over his eyes roughly and sniffs, his lungs stutter once as he chokes out a wet cough. 

"Get it together," he says sharply to himself.

Steve methodically sweeps the rest of the plate into the dustpan and walks towards the sink before opening the bottom cupboard and tipping the pan into the garbage can. 

He takes off his socks and examines the bottoms, there are a few small pieces of plate but no blood -Steve counts it as a win.

Steve leaves the broom and dustpan out and walks himself and the dirty socks out of the kitchen and up the stairs back to his room, his limbs feel heavy and the steady heat that had crawled up his neck has been replaced by a bone deep exhaustion that he longs to sink into.

Steve closes his bedroom door and steps towards the bed, allowing himself to tip forward and collapse against the comforter.

It's hard to move now, everything feels sore, from the tips of his toes, and the soles of his feet, to the top of his head. It's as though someone stretched him out between their hands and twisted and twisted until there was nothing left inside of him. 

He's empty and that thought is terrifying.

Steve reaches out blindly for the phone on his bedside table, he manages to snag it by the cord and narrowly avoids smacking himself in the face as the hard plastic swings into his hands. He dials the Buckley's home number by memory and waits.

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Mrs.Buckley, can you put Robin on?"

"Of course dear, but we are going to be having dinner soon so not too long okay?"

"Yes Mrs. Buckley,"

He waits, letting his pillow cradle the phone to his ear while the muffled background noise of the Buckley household trickles through the speaker, talking and television and laughter. It's a stark contrast to his own silent home. 

"Steve?"

"Hey Bobby," he nearly whispers into the receiver, he feels himself melt into the mattress at the sound of her voice.

"Steve" Robin grumbles over the line, "I just left you like an hour ago, what's up?"

He chews on his lip and the words for a beat, considering how to even tell her, "Eddie, um, came by".

"What?!" Robin's voice squeals over the speaker and Steve almost drops the phone as he jerks it away from his ear, "what did he want? Did you let him in?"

"Yeah Bobs," he sighs tiredly, "he, he apologized--"

"Steve, we talked about this, you forgive people way too easily--"

"I know, I just…" he doesn't even know how to say it, that a rage burnt him up from the inside out until he was nothing but hollow embers and smoke.

"Robin, I was so angry," 

"Did you yell at him? What did you say?"

"No," he pushes himself up from the pillows, just catching the phone as it threatens to tumble from his shoulder, "he left, he, we talked about going back to normal, he…"

"Steve, what the hell did he say this time, you have to tell me, it's like the platonic soulmate law--"

"He didn't mean it the first time, when we talked in the Upside Down, that he thought I was a good dude, everything I thought for months has been a lie," his voice shakes as he continues, "he thought I spread this awful rumor about him back in highschool and he's never forgiven me for it, but I had no idea and I didn't do it -I know I was the fucking worst back then but Robin I promise you I didnt-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, do you want me to come over?" 

"No, your mum said you had dinner right away,"

"Steve, you’re way more important than dinner, that's so lame but it's one thousand percent true and I'll come up with something better when I get to your house, I'm leaving now".

Steve smiles as Robin hangs up with a soft, ‘see you in a minute!’ and sets the phone back on the receiver, he closes his eyes and tucks his face into the pillows for just a moment. 

Steve wakes with a start to the sound of feet hitting the stairs two at a time, he looks over at the red numbers on his bedside clock and squints as copper sunlight hits his face through his bedroom window. It's nearly quarter after seven now and the exhaustion that had held his limbs seems to have loosened ever so slightly. 

Steve doesn't move from the bed as Robin opens his door and pads slowly across the carpet. She says nothing in greeting and crawls onto the mattress. Steve shifts slightly to let her wiggle her way in between him and the bedroom wall.

"You asshole," Robin scolds softly, but there's still a smile in her voice, "you didn't even lock your front door, anyone could have come in here".

She wraps her thin arms around him from behind and Steve feels himself melt into the embrace.

"This have anything to do with the broom and dustpan on the counter?" she continues after a beat, "you don't really strike me as the sweeping type, it was like pulling teeth getting you to do it at scoops".

"Vacuuming is better" he mumbles into his pillow.

Robin is warm behind his back, holding him steady, and he finds himself reaching for her hand draped over his chest. The easy affection soothes the remaining burn in his heart.

"I smashed a plate," Steve says so softly he can feel Robin even shuffle closer to hear him. 

She's quiet a moment, but she doesn't move away. If anything, Robin seems to drape herself over his shoulder even more, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth. Steve swallows roughly and turns his face further into the pillows. 

"Nothing like a good plate smash," she mumbles sagely into his ear, "I think I read that in a magazine once, buy cheap dishes so you got something to smash when things just get too much," she pauses to sit up and turn him over to face her, "or maybe it was pencils".

Steve snorts as she mimes a violent snapping motion with her hands, and finally let's himself look at her. 

Robin's smiles as his eyes meet her own, but there's still a flicker of worry behind her blue ones that she can't seem to hide. 

And she isn't the only one who is worried.

This wouldn't be the first time he's acted out because of his anger. Steve would be the first person to admit he has a history of impulsive behavior, throwing himself fist first into situations before he can properly think it through. 

He says things in the moment he regrets later. Hell, Steve vandalized private property because he was angry with Nancy for christ sakes.

But this was different, it felt different. This scared him. It was like he had taken a backseat for a moment, disengaged from the world and came back to himself surrounded by shattered ceramic and a deep feeling of shame. 

He wonders, belatedly, if this is how his father felt when he would break things, when he would scream at Steve until he was red faced and shaking, when he would slam doors and smash the flat palm of his hand into walls or dragging his heavy class ring over the previously unblemished wood surface of his grandmother's table. 

It's terrifying to think about.

"You want me to stay?" Robin whispers after a beat.

Steve breathes out sharply through his nose, "I'm sure your parents would love that," he wiggles his eyebrows and attempts a lecherous wink, laughing at the squawk Robin makes.

She grabs one of the pillows and catches him with a face full of cotton batting, "Hey, for a fake boyfriend I could do worse you perv".

It starts an all out war, Steve lets her get him into a headlock before he licks all the way up the offending arm holding him in place, she lets go with a cry of, 'Gross!' and swings the pillow into his face again.

By the end of it they're both laughing so hard they can't even sit up.

"Robin," Steve says softly. 

They're laying on the bed, Steve with his head on the pillow by the headboard and Robin laying with her head closest to the end. She nudges his ear with her toe and he jerks away with a squawk.

"Yeah?" Robin groans as she slides her elbows towards her head to prop her torso up to look at him.

He lets his eyes trace over her, this girl who can make him laugh no matter what, who seems to read his mind with little to no trouble, who is ready to loudly defend him whenever possible.

He loves her so much.

Steve shakes his head, a prickly static charge builds in his hair as it rubs against the pillow, "just, you're just the best person I know," he says eventually, "don't tell Dustin I said that, but I'm glad I met you".

Robin mimes pulling a zipper closed over her mouth and flicks away the metal pull. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are suspiciously shiny at the tender admission.

"You absolute goof, do you keep onions under your bed," she snarks after wiping her eyes with her hand, she takes her wet fingers and wipes them off on his pajamas. 

"I'm glad I met you too, and if you want to talk about," she half shrugs and tips her head towards his bedroom door, "you know, the plate thing, I'm here".

She reaches for his ankle resting next to her elbow and gives it a squeeze, "God, all the hair on your legs, it looks like you have a second set of pants on".

"Can't even be nice to me for longer than five minutes," Steve mutters as he steals the offending leg to sit up on the bed.

"I didn't bring anything," Robin says suddenly, looking over at the glaring red numbers on Steve's alarm clock on his side table, "what's a gal gotta do for some food and some pj's?"

Steve rolls his eyes and uncrosses his legs and throws them over the side of the bed, sitting up while he's at it, "you figured out a Russian spy code with your little genius ears but you couldn't snag a change of clothes before you left?"

"Hey, you called me, I came running," Robin tells him firmly, she sits up and scooches over to sit beside him with her legs draped over the edge and their thighs pressed together.

"I know Bobby, I knew you would," he says softly as she leans her head to rest on his shoulder, the weight at his side is warm and familiar and pulls a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Steve lets his head loll to the side to rest on Robin's, his limbs loose as a tension he hadn't realized had been trapped in his shoulders flows out of him.

***

Over the next few weeks things begin to ease back into some semblance of normal.

It's not easy.

Steve ends up having to trick the kids into going to the old ice cream parlor where Eddie is waiting for them to make a separate apology for their last Hellfire meeting. 

Steve insists they're fine to the four sets of  disbelieving eyes that scowl at both of them, he and Eddie have buried the hack-saw and there's nothing more to say.

"It's hatchet, Steve," Dustin says with exasperation and barely concealed glee, “you buried the hatchet, sometimes I think you say these things on purpose".

"Oh Dusy-bun," Steve hums, reaching out to catch Dustin with his arm and drag him into a loose headlock, "I absolutely do it on purpose".

It's a little awkward, Will still seems a bit wary of Eddie, but Mike, Dustin, and Lucas obviously missed their Dungeon Master.

Steve can't help the clawing guilt that sits heavy in his stomach from being at the center of their little fight, but a small irritable part of him is envious of how quickly they all fall back into step with one another without missing a beat.

"This place is alright," Lucas says once they've all settled into a hideous lime green booth with their treats, "but the butterscotch is shit compared to Scoops".

He's frowning at the half eaten cup in his hands like he's tempted to toss it right then and there.

"Ice cream is ice cream," Mike scoffs with a roll of his eyes, he reaches for the cup which Lucas snatches back just out of reach from grabby fingers.

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't finish it--"

"You're practically giving it away dude, come on!" 

Eddie smiles and seems to finally relax into his seat, he leans across the table closer to Steve and Dustin and whispers conspiratorially, "What the hell is scoops?"

"Remember Starcourt?" Dustin chirps around a mouthful of Rocky Road before Steve can say anything, "Steve worked there, and Robin, that's how they met". 

Eddie tilts his head and frowns, his eyes pan back and forth between Dustin and Steve, "the mall that burnt down?"

Steve tenses, his right hand curls into a fist beneath the table while the little wooden spoon in his left hand threatens to snap between his fingers resting on the sticky table top.

Eddie glances at him curiously before looking back to Dustin who continues to speak, oblivious to the strangers around them.

"Oh yeah, that wasn't a fire--"

"Dustin," Steve snaps, more loudly and harshly than he intends, but it catches the teens attention. Steve shakes his head once and gestures around the shop, they're one of three full tables of people but even still, their voices have been carrying all afternoon.

Dustin has the good graces to look sheepish before scowling at the ice cream in his hands, "no one's listening--"

"Not here--" Steve manages to spit out between his teeth before all four kids are arguing at the top of their voices.

"Don't yell at Dustin!" 

"No one's even in here!"

"What, we can't even talk about this with each other now?"

"Fuck off Steve--"

Steve almost laughs, it's the first time in two weeks the kids have acted like their old selves instead of walking on eggshells around him, weighing their words carefully, avoiding bringing up Eddie or Hellfire and trailing off when he enters a room.

"Hey," Eddie says sharply, "layoff your babysitter alright, Jesus Christ guys".

And suddenly the spell is broken.

Lucas slowly puts down his cup and Mike rolls his eyes but seems to deflate in his seat, leaning into Will who frowns at Eddie slightly. Dustin crosses his arms across his chest and glares with a mutinous expression at the table. 

Dammit.

"Okay, everyone relax, finish up and let's go," Steve sighs. He reaches over and tugs on Dustin's ever present cap with his right hand while the left hand, still holding his spoon, snags a little taste of Lucas's cup of butterscotch. 

All of the kids start yelling again, but this time laughter rings out as the earlier tension melts away. 

Steve looks at Eddie who smiles widely at him, relief evident in his big brown eyes; he can't stop the small grin that takes over his own face at the sight, even if it does make his chest ache. 

They leave shortly after, the kids prattle on about some sci-fi movie that's caught their eye for the next trip to the Hawk Theater. Dustin argues that sequels never hold up while Will insists that as long as there are Aliens, as the title suggests, it should be just as good as the first.

Steve and Eddie follow just behind the group, Eddie slows down to walk in step with Steve. 

"Sooo that was a little…intense," Eddie says, it's phrased more like a question and the way he's looking at Steve, like he's waiting for an answer for why the air in the ice cream place seemed to shift. He reaches for Steve's elbow with soft fingers that curl around and press into his denim jacket. 

The kids have already piled into the beamer, Lucas snags the front seat since it's his turn --much to the irritation of Mike who 'never gets front seat dibs!'

Eddie swings in front of Steve slightly, letting his hand maintain contact at Steve's elbow, grounding them both.

Eddie's eyes narrow, just enough that Steve catches it, "You just…seem a little on edge or something".

Steve shugs and carefully pulls on a small neutral grin. It's comfortable, he's worn it before.

"Yeah man," he looks away from Eddie's concerned gaze, "it's all good, I'll see you later alright?

He keeps the tone bright. It's not his customer service voice, this is something he's carefully honed over years of sports injuries, smiling at teachers as they scolded him, or lying through his teeth to his dad after a particularly nasty screaming session.

It's light, and something he's never had to break out with Robin.

A small part of Steve was hoping he'd never have to use it on Eddie, but here they were.

"I gotta get the kids back anyway," it's not quite a lie but it's only three in the afternoon, and the words only seem to push Eddie a little further as his fingers curl more firmly around Steve's elbow.

"Steve," Eddie says again, but Steve is already pulling himself out of Eddie's grip, his hand falls away to hang limply at his side, silver rings glinting in the midafternoon sun.

Steve waves and makes his way to the driver's side door, ignoring the way Eddie's eyes follow him and the downward curve of his mouth.

He opens the car door and lets it shut, allowing the chaos of noise and teenage yelling drown out the guilt that followed him into the car.

"So," Dustin says from the back as Steve buckles himself in,"are you sure you guys are good?" 

Steve pauses for just a second before he blinks and puts the key in the ignition, "yeah, 'course man, why wouldn't we be?" 

Dustin is quiet for a moment, all of the kids are. 

There is a strange, somber heaviness in the vehicle as Steve makes his way down mainstreet. 

Mike seems off in his own stormy little world, glaring at the hands in his lap while Will looks out the window with a sad frown. Steve feel's Dustin and now Lucas watching him, their gaze enough to make him itch. 

"You guys just seem different," Dustin insists, he crosses his arms over his seatbelt and leans back into his seat. 

"You guys don't touch like you used to," Lucas says matter of factly.

Dustin snaps his fingers and leans forward once more to grab the back of Lucas's seat, "that's what it is! It's been driving me crazy!"

A dull ache throbs in Steve's chest as the kids continue to talk over one another, the volume gradually rising in the small space.

"Okay, first of all, I will crash this car if you all keep yelling," Steve barks over the four incessant voices, "Jesus, second of all, we don't touch each other--"

"Yes you do!"

"Um, have you met yourselves?"

"Jesus, it's like you're a pair of Octopuses!"

"If you're both sooo good why didn't you guys hug goodbye like you used to?"

"Enough," Steve says sharply, he signals right and slowly pulls off to the side of the road, letting the crackle of gravel fill the now silent vehicle. Steve grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles have faded to white to hide the shaking of his hands.

"Look," Steve sighs, he lifts one hand away from the steering wheel to scrub harshly over his face. It catches on the hint of stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but I am an adult, and I can take care of myself".

"What about when Max saved you from Billy?" Mike scoffs, he ignores the elbow that Will throws into his side. 

"Or when Erica and I had to rescue you and Robin from the Russians?" Dustin challenges with equal ferocity. 

"That was different," Steve says with a scowl and a roll of his eyes, "I only got into those situations because I was looking out for you shitheads--"

"Exactly!!" Dustin crows with a smirk.

"Us shitheads stick together!" He raises his eyebrow like he's already won the argument and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Steve sighs and lets his head tip back into the headrest, he looks into the rear view mirror at the three sets of eyes staring back at him before tipping his face to the side to see Lucas's unwavering gaze from the passenger seat. 

"If I promise you guys that everything is fine for now, you'll drop it?"

The kids are quiet for a moment before Will says, "Party meeting, plug your ears Steve".

Steve considers just putting the car back into drive and continuing on their way, ignoring the ridiculous request. 

But it's Will, and the youngest Buyers has finally realized his ability to weaponize his big hazel eyes and bowl cut to get whatever he wants.

"How is this my life," Steve mutters under his breath but does as he's asked. 

He raises his hands to cup over his ears, muting the following low chatter around him. Steve hums a few bars of Dancing in the Dark to make whatever they're saying even more indistinguishable, because he's a damn good babysitter, before Lucas taps his elbow.

Steve shifts in the driver's seat, turning so he can see all of the beaming faces staring back at him. He feels his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"We'll drop it," Dustin tells him with a smile that doesn't waver once as he looks over to Lucas and then Will, Mike rolls his eyes though the smallest of grins tugs at the corner of his lips.

"If you agree to host Hellfire again," Lucas says with a sly smile, holding his hand out with wiggling fingers for Will to match the corresponding move with his own confident hand. 

"Guys…"

"Come on Steve, you've got the best place for it and we'll make sure you have a good time!" Dustin leans across Mike who huffs and pushes him away, it doesn’t stop Dustin from clasping Steve’s driver's seat with his hands and squeezing the leather by Steve’s shoulder.

Steve holds in a scoff, doubting that they can really guarantee such a thing, especially if Eddie and the other Hellfire members will be there, but the kids are all doing their best impression of the youngest Wheeler, Holly, when she begs for piggyback rides.

"Fine," Steve huffs out, he feels a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth as the kids cheer. 

"Yeah, yeah, if you really want to make me happy, one of you should learn to fuckin' drive".

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty @hyperfixationgoddess @hippieg1rl420

And thank you to @flowercrowngods for your encouragement, I hope the stobin fluff makes up for this not being finished yet!

[fuck-customers]

When the chip readers for credit cards first started rolling out at the place I worked, there was a glitch where if the customer took the card out before it was done, the entire register system would freeze. I always, ALWAYS, told the customers “Put your chip in and don’t take it out until you hear the machine beep, otherwise it could freeze the system and we will have to start the transaction over/wait/etc.” We also only had three check-out registers, and two customer service registers.

Gentleman comes up to purchase his electronic. Puts chip in. I explain the way I always do. He takes the card out before it’s done. System freeze. He apologizes, and I reiterate that if he takes his card out before it’s fine the system will freeze. We move to another register while the first one reboots. He puts his card in. I tell him again not to take it out till it beeps. Again, he takes it out before. Second register is now frozen and has to reboot. When we moved to the third register, I asked him to hand me the card so I could perform the transaction myself. Idk if he was being malicious with his incompetence but he got REALLY pissy when I told him not to touch his card and that I would take it out for him. He asked for a manager. When the manager came over he literally told the customer “You’ve cause two registers to be down because you didn’t listen to instructions. I’m sorry but what else did you expect?”

One of the rare moments where management took my side.

[stuckinapril]

😐 no one told me id burst out crying in front of my best friend watching past lives