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passivenovember · 1 year ago

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When Billy Falls in Love

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red.

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag.

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him?

About his bones and blood.

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black.

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock.

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong.

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies.

If it kills him.

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers.

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington? What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away.

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks.

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this.

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door.

Eddie doesn’t move.

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up.

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him.

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?”

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.

He smells like peaches.

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image.

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

Billy stops. Waits.

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And.

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does.

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now.

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then.

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy.

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

#harringrove #fluff #clothes swapping #love confessions #idk what this is #i'm just feeling very In Love

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souvlakicocaine · 3 months ago

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2day I think I’ll watch the biochem lecture I missed (~1 hr) then study pharmaceutics (~2 hrs) and do my week’s calc (~3 hrs) once I have my caffeine + l theanine. and that shud get the more difficult subjects out the way b4 the wknd

#my txt #to do list

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send-up-my-heart-to-you · 5 months ago

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i shud make a blog specifically for my spiral posts n shoot but like i alr have this blog + study blog + palestine blog + spam blog + writing blog

#chat do i do it

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gojonanami · 9 months ago

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will u ever start writing books like for real? you shud defo be getting paid for ur works theyre too good to be real and free.

but it makes me happy ofc that theyre free truly thank u, u help me fill in my procasination times when i shud be studying to do law in the future but ur fics jus get too interesting to leave 😭

you're very very kind :) i am working on two books!! i hope to make some good progress over the next few months :) <3 thank you so much bb T_T

i'm glad i can help fill your time :) that makes me so happy as someone who studied in the same field, good luck with your law studies! <3333

#sab [asks]#sab [anons]#sab [praise]

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mommypieck · 1 year ago

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hi im sorry but i really wanted to rant and my best friend has been rlly weird lately.. my finals are going on rn and im usually not struggling this much to study yk.. like- im smart. i understand everything and its rlly easy. i cud be topping in everything if i wanted. but im so burnt out from 2019.. everyday id go directly to more classes after school and id reach home at 8pm where my mom wud force me to do homework and study more.. i was the fat kid until 2 years ago and i never had friends bcuz of it.. i developed anorexia and suddenly got people talking to me once i lost weight.. but ive also been depressed with adhd and ocd.. my therapist thinks im doing fine even though my antidepressants dont make me feel fine.. my adhd meds stopped affecting me too.. i REALLY wanna study, like i really do. tomorrow i have an exam for a subject i really like. but im unprepared. and i simply can't get myself to study.. i really dont know whats wrong with me.😭😭😭 i know these are my finals and i shud be serious cuz this will determine my life!! but i cant bring myself to sit and actually study.. for the previous tests this year, i managed to study the day before and the morning of the exam.. but this time, even though im waking up at 3:30 to study for the tests, i simply cant make myself do it.. I really do wanna study, i never hated it.. but idk why i cant.. pls some advice </3

i usually just make myself like the topic i am studying. even if it's the stupidest most boring shit, i just tell myself that it's actually interesting. and it works. also im really bad at chemistry and i hate it, but lately i always study a day before the exam. i just can't study anytime else because my brain doesn't work. but I don't think i have any advice to give you if you don't feel like studying. i had to study so i study and i don't think about not studying most of the time. only with chemistry. i know i didn't help u but im seriously not the type to ask for advice.

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superm4ks · 4 months ago

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F1isms aside how are you doing? sounds like it’s been a rough half year, hope you’re hanging in there

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀 tysm for asking🩷

I mean our fund raiser nearly hit its goal but tbh like it’s so crazy to me that so many people already wanna help us so like even irl I have family and friends who I thought wud come thru and didn’t. Like my aunt literally just called us this week offering COTA tickets and I was like . Can’t u just help pay a few medical bills. Can’t u send my mom some rent money because yk shes about to lose the house and she can’t get a job and we’re gonna be homeless lmfao. And my aunt was actually super offended that I was offended lmfao and now I feel like I shud have told her yes and then made another giveaway for those fucking tickets because fuck her. but whtvr. I think for some reason I just didn’t expect to feel so alone. Yk other people struggling wid their own shit but like. Me and Mrs kat have my mom, who’s can barely afford to feed us and keep us off the streets. Mrs kat parents came out all the way from Marseille to have Xmas wid us and it was nice ((I thought)) and now they refuse her calls and say they will send HER money but only her, under the condition that she dumps me because I’m holding her back wid all my baggage and my chronic pain and fucked up shoulder and addiction. And I’m black so I’m not right for her anyway 😐 I served these people food in my moms house lmfao.

Mrs kat got dreams of her own here tho she wants to finish her studies and pay off student loans like .. and she wants to be wid me. So her parents like cut her off completely and they stopped sending money a long time ago.

This shit is really fucked up and complex Im just trying to tell u , yeah. It’s been fucking rough. 😣😣😣 I do have a ‘job’ now which is something, I do errands for this like INSANE woman who’s prolly gonna get me arrested but she’s paying me weekly and that’s all that matters. My mom says I need to find something wid a contract immediately and that’s why I need the fundraiser money so we don’t completely become homeless while I search for safer options. I also need to go back to rehab and physio asap because I feel like I’m losing my mind and my benefits only afford medical physio from a shitty fucking clinic like once a month and it’s always full. I’m in pain all the time rn. I got duped into this extremely expensive surgery I’m STILL paying for and now it’s like they don’t care that I still need physio to actually getter better.

My cats are ok 🥹 Chica rejected some medicine for some stomach issues she had and had to back to the vet ((more bills 😭)) and it was scary but she’s back super stable and almost 100%. Calypso is SUPER pregnant, due prolly next month and we want her to have the babes wid us because it’s her first litter and she’s an anxious diva but that’s sm WORK and we’re kinda like NOW??? Ok. But she seems safer wid us, comfortable, and gonna be a real good momma. Chica has been incredible wid her too. They really be taking care of each other.

So yh if u still got some spare change u wanna throw our way my p.aypals is: [email protected] . U will also register for my bdays ((august 5th)) first anual ‘supermaks gives back’ where I pick a few of u thru p.aypal to send back my much beloved max merch as a thank u . I know this is dumb but idk what else to do. Idk how that’s gonna work either but I’m excited we’ll figure it out. Y’all been here for me twice now . Makes me wanna cry when I think of it too much.

I appreciate all yalls help wid all my heart. Just knowing there’s strangers out there who still want to c us fight to c another day and do better, bro that’s more meaningful to me than words can say.

I am hanging in there. Thanks to u

God bless u 🤍

#really personal tmi ramblings #cw medical trauma #cw surgery #cw addiction #cw homophobia #cw racism #kits gofunding #emergency fundraiser #crowdfunding #<< for cw #long post

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kylowritten · 2 years ago

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If the Slipper Fits

Pairings: Kylo Ren x ForceSensitive!Reader

Summary: Nobody wants to be the woman whose foot fits that slipper.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: mentions of self harm

A/N: Let me know what you think about this part in the comments! Some lovely angst and forced proximity to follow next time👀

Part Eleven

You find the royal advisor tucked away near the back of the palace, where you presume is a room intended for battle strategy. There's a model of the kingdom in the center of the floor on a platform. Palpatine stands at the head of it, along with several other noblesse you don't recognize. Their heads snap up as you storm into the room.

"Get out."

No one moves.

Palpatine chuckles, somewhat awkwardly. "Your Highness, what an unexpected surprise. How can we —?"

"Get out," you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists at your sides. When there's still no movement, your voice adopts a hardened edge. "I demand you to get out. Now."

The noblesse scurry around the table and stream past you, giving you a wide berth. You slam the door shut as the last one flees from your glare. Palpatine is staring steadily at you, still rooted in place behind the table. You recognize the hint of uncertainty in his eyes, of fear.

"What is this about?" He asks. "You didn't have to yell at them. We were in the middle of an important meeting."

You fill the space between you, stomping to the edge of the table and then laying your hands flat on the surface. The model of the kingdom flickers at the disturbance. "I know what you're doing to Kylo."

"And," he raises a brow, "what is that?"

"I saw him, in that weird room. I saw him —" your voice chokes slightly, your confidence wavering. "I saw him," you finish. "I know that it was your doing. You said yourself that you sent him away."

Palpatine studies you before answering. "I don't know what you're talking about. What the prince does on his own time is hardly my business."

"He was...he was...harming himself."

"People do many things for their own strange reasons, who am I to condemn them for it?" Palpatine asks, waving a hand. "Is that all that you came here for?"

Your molars grind together. "It is, and I won't leave until you admit your influence."

"Then you might be here for awhile, Your Highness."

Palpatine moves as if to leave, and you step in the line of his path. Your voice reaches a pitch of hysteria that you desperately wish you could've controlled: "Why are you doing this to him?"

"Why do you care?" Palpatine sneers, his entire demeanor changing.

"I—"

Why did you care?

Someone says your name, and like a puppet whose string has been pulled taunt, you whirl around to face the owner of the voice. Kylo. He stands in the doorway. There's no way you can decipher the emotionless look on his face, the way his dark gaze bounces from you to Palpatine and back. "Did I interrupt?" He asks.

"No, she was just leaving —"

"Close the door," you command Kylo, speaking over Palpatine.

Your husband obeys without question, which both surprises and pleases you. From your side, Palpatine grumbles. You shoot him a look, then take a few steps towards Kylo, hoping to appeal to him. "You can't let him hurt you."

The faintest twitch of a muscle beneath Kylo's eye. "I don't understand."

"I saw you, just now, where you were." You swallow. "I saw you hurt yourself and—and I know that he has something to do with it."

"Please tell her that she's being ridiculous," Palpatine says.

Kylo's gaze skates over the both of you again, perhaps in an effort to decide who to side with.

"I don't know what you mean," he finally replies.

Palpatine makes a celebratory sound similar to a snake hissing, or perhaps an engine. "See, I told you. Now if you would excuse me."

You hope Palpatine can feel your eyes burning into his back as you watch his retreating form. Angrily, you address Kylo, "What the fuck was that? You defended him?"

"You don't know what you're doing," he bites back. His entire body seems to shudder with barely suppressed emotion.

You jab your index finger into his chest. "He's behind this, I know it." You feel your anger slip away, slowly, giving into sadness the way the face of a cliff might break and slip into the sea. "You don't need to do that, Kylo. It doesn't matter what you've done."

"You wouldn't understand," he growls.

"You're right," you snap. "I don't."

In a burst of action, Kylo seizes your wrist then grabs you by the waist, turning and flattening you against the wall. He towers over you, the enormity of his size eclipsing everything in your vision but him.

He snarls, his dark eyes bearing down on you, intense, smoldering with anger. "He was right."

"Who?" You breathe.

"You are a distraction," he replies absently. He shakes his head, nearly imperceptible. Kylo looks as if he's torn between kissing you or killing you — you're not sure which one terrifies you more. "If I am to rule, I can't allow myself to fall victim to your...ploys. I married you because I needed to solidify our bond and strengthen my power. Nothing else."

While you weren't at all under the impression that he married you for true love, you feel this isn't the time to mention it.

"I'm not trying to...to deceive you," you say.

Kylo's throat bobs as he swallows. "No. But I am allowing myself to divert from what's important."

You can't stop yourself — you reach up and lay your hand on his cheek. He bristles like you might as well have struck him. "Hurting yourself isn't the answer, Kylo."

"It's a reminder," he says back, low and haunted. "A punishment for my behavior. It helps me focus."

You shake your head. "It's not right —"

"He knows what's best for me."

It goes without saying who he is.

"Does he? He knows what's best for you, but he lets you hurt yourself? How can you say that?"

"Pain is the best teacher," Kylo says.

"Do you really believe that?" You ask. Something in your chest feels as if it's shattering.

Kylo drops your wrist. His hand ghosts over your side where the stonebadger attacked you. "I do." He pauses, then explains, "You never would've been motivated to use the Force without this. Without the pain. It fuels us."

"Fuels you, maybe." You shove him away, if only to create space. "I can't believe you."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

It was disheartening, really, how absurdly confident Kylo was. You wanted to shout at him, or hug him, or maybe go back in time and stop Palpatine before he could dig his talons into the young Ben Solo.

"You're wrong," you spit. "And you knew I used the Force and you didn't say anything? I tried to reach out for you."

"Clearly I was occupied with other matters."

You growl in irritation. Half of you wants to tear out your hair while the other wants to grab Kylo by the shoulders and shake him. Forcing yourself to take a breath, you relax your shoulders. When you speak, it takes every modicum of patience in your body to be calm.

"Where even were you? I've never seen anything like it."

"I would hope not." Kylo stands a few feet away. It infuriates you how uneffected he is by things that cause you turmoil. "It was...in my mind, I suppose. A mental state."

You frown. Then would he have scars?

"Yes, it has lasting physical effects," he says. You forget that he can selectively hear your thoughts. "It's a place of reconciliation. Somewhere for me to go and be alone."

"But I was there," you whisper.

Kylo has the nerve to appear slightly aggrieved by this. "Yes. It seems that the bond grants you access."

"I was you," you say. You're not sure why you're telling him this. Maybe because he's the only one who would understand. "It's like I was seeing what you saw."

"I suppose it's not unexpected. You were calling for me. It must've somehow manifested you into being there with me."

You practically beg, "Please don't do it again."

"You can't demand that of me."

"I'm not," you nearly whimper, "I'm asking."

Kylo stays silent. He opens the door and stands besides it, signaling that he's done with your conversation, no doubt. Luckily, you've never been that great on picking up social cues.

"I'm being serious. Not again." You rack your brain for some reasoning, a negotiation. "If you do it again, I'll stop using the Force. I'll stop training."

"That'll only harm you."

Emboldened by your tactic, you push forward, gaining enthusiasm. "If I'm not adept in the Force, or even using it, then I'm no good to you in our bond. Useless, basically. You can't expect to have heightened power if I don't have any."

"I can make you," he replies.

"I think you underestimate my aptitude for stubbornness.”

He eyes you. "You are exceptionally stubborn."

"See?"

"Fine. I won't." Your spirit lift in triumph, then promptly plummet at his next words, "If that's your wish, then I don’t need you distracting me. I want you out of my sight."

The next few weeks pass in a blur of long days spent by yourself, exploring the palace and the surrounding grounds. You slept and read, and dabbled when you could in the Force, but mostly you stayed out of Kylo’s way.

It was exceedingly difficult considering that he had blocked himself from you, and you couldn’t exactly anticipate his whereabouts. Unless you heard the sound of his boots preceding him, you were forced to either scurry away like a frightened mouse (fitting, perhaps) or duck into doorways to avoid detection. Sometimes, you suspected he was doing it on purpose, and just because you couldn’t sense him didn’t mean that he couldn’t sense you.

And…you were bored. There had never before been a time in your life when you weren’t doing something. The servants wouldn’t allow you to help with anything — prepping meals, cleaning, even making your own bed, though you persisted. Eventually, you gave up.

Normally you wouldn’t be glad to have Captain Phasma track you down, but you almost wanted to cry in relief when she did.

She calls out for you while you’re on your way back from breakfast. She breezes through the hallway like a predator hunting it’s prey, and yet it doesn’t unnerve you. You’re mostly just excited to have someone to talk to.

“Captain?” You ask.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay.” The enthusiasm in your voice causes Phasma’s brows to furrow. You cough, “I mean, yeah, okay.”

Phasma stalks away. You follow her into one of the many unoccupied rooms in the palace. You’re not sure what their purpose is, besides maybe being a glorified storage closet. This room hosts vases full of rolled canvas and what appears to be abandoned Stormtrooper armor.

“I suppose you remember the conversation we had at your wedding ceremony,” she says.

You nod.

Without waiting for you to elaborate, she continues with the efficiency that only a Captain of the kingdom’s army could possess. “I’m afraid the situation is getting worse. We have reason to believe that a group of fourth district rebels have snuck into our territory.”

“Why?”

“In order to free you,” Phasma guesses. She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know what they think they’re doing, coming up to the palace.”

You frown. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, they believe that you’re a prisoner here.”

Your weight shifts from foot to foot. You’re not a prisoner, exactly, but it’s not like you could just go wherever you wanted. “Weird.”

“Indeed.” Phasma shoots you a pointed look. “I wanted to send an ambush patrol but the prince has other ideas.”

“Kylo?”

“He thought it would be best to leave the group alone, they won’t make it far. And for you two to represent a united front. It’s not unheard of for royalty to tour the kingdom after marriage: show a good face to the people, and all that.” She waves her hand as if politics bore her. “He explicitly wanted me to tell you that you’re to leave in two days time. And that you need to be convincing, play the part. If not, I fear that your district will only continue to unravel.”

“And if they unravel, then that could lead to rebellions elsewhere,” you hazard.

Phasma’s eyes flicker. “Yes. We hope to prevent something like that.”

You accept, and Phasma whirls out of the room faster than you can ask anything else. For the first time in a while, you’re grateful to be alone.

First, Kylo married you in a bid to strengthen his own power, and now he wants to parade you around the districts like some sort of prize? He hadn’t even spoken to you in two weeks. How were you supposed to go on a tour of the whole kingdom with him?

You’re tempted to find him and confront him about this ridiculous plan, but then you remember the lash of the flog against his scarred back. You promised that you wouldn’t distract him if he stopped. You had no way of knowing if he was holding up his side of the bargain, but something in your heart told you that he was. Perhaps you thought too highly of him.

Its amusing that you think of me at all.

“Kylo,” you breathe.

I expect that Phasma has talked to you by now.

You’d be right. You pause. Where are you?

I’ve been busy getting ready for our tour, Little Mouse, he replies. His voice curls at the end, as if he’s pleased with this development.

You echo your previous thoughts. You haven’t even looked at me in two weeks and now you want to spend all of our time together?

Want is a strong word, he says, it’s more a necessity than anything, to quell the uprising in your district and anywhere else entertaining the idea.

Mentally you prepare to respond, but just like that — he’s gone again. You grumble to yourself.

On the way back to your room (you requested another, since it would be awfully hard not to distract your husband in his own bedroom) you mull over Kylo’s decision. More than likely he sought to calm his kingdom, roiling with unease.

But you could also use this.

It would be a perfect time to spend copious amounts of time with Kylo, to work your way into his mind. Or, at least, figure out how to do that. You hadn’t forgotten your promise to Leia to save her son.

Fine, you would follow along, but you would operate on your own agenda. Just like so many times before, you would act as if you were being tossed around like a leaf in the wind, but in reality, you were more like a bird of prey; hovering high above, surveying the terrain below, and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Part Twelve

- - -

@juniperwoodwell

@eternal-mikrokosmos

@judypahtootee

#cinderella #fanfic #force sensitive #forced marriage #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo x you #one thousand and one nights #star wars

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an-ecu-harrypotter-au · 8 months ago

Text

TPS Part 3: A Boy And His Frog

"Cousin Samsahn!"

"Cousin Travis. So good ta see ya after all this time. Happy ya wanted us ta board wit ya."

"Glad to have you and yooehr sahn live with us."

Ah look round the forest as Pop talks ta a man wit a red beard. Ah think it’s Uncle Travis but Ah ain’t gonna interrupt Pop while he’s talkin. Uncle Travis might be mean an yell at me.

"Come on inside and set yooehr bags down."

“Awright Toby le’s go an get settled in.”

“Ok Pop.”

Ah follow Pop inside an get settled inta Uncle Travis' homestead. Ah see a pond wit froggies an toadies on mah way in, but Ah don’t wanna mess wit ‘em jus yet.

"Cousins!"

Ah see a couple a lil kids comin runnin up ta us an Ah get all scared.

"Whoa dere! You need to be careful with Toby. 'e spooks easily."

"Dang Ah shoulda tol ya more bout Toby's sitiation Cousin Travis."

"Ah don't whrry about it Samsahn. Kids 'ere are always bounceng avf de walls. You need to keep remendeng dem to slow down."

"Shrry dad. We'll be mhre careful."

Uncle Travis pats the two boys on the head. Ah'm realizin they're twins.

"Dese are my twins Seamus and Patrick. Dey're only 7."

Ah wave at 'em an Ah see a woman wit blonde come in.

"Cousin Samsahn this is my wife, Nhrah."

Pop hugs 'er an Ah think she looks nice.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Cousin Samsahn."

"Yeah yer husband sure done tol me a lot bout ya in his letters. We'll get ta talkin once we's get unpacked. Come on Toby, we gotta find get sitiated."

"Ok, Pop."

Time Skip

Bout a week passed an Ah’m startin ta like it here in Ireland. Things ain’t exactly like Florida but everythang’s been yummy so far.

“Toby. Time ta wake up son.”

“Mornin Pop.”

Ah wake up feelin thirsty so Ah head into the kitchen fer some sweet tea. Pop’s been teachin Uncle Travis how ta make it cause he done knows we drink a lotta it in Florida. Suddenly, Ah hear laughter from out front.

“Toby! Toby!”

Ah go outside ta see Patrick down by a pond. Ah wonder wha he found so Ah get down real close.

“Oi foun’ a green frog, cousin. Didn’t yer say yer needed a pet ter go ter 'ogwarts?”

Ah ain’t been here long nough ta understand Irish people but Ah see a lil froggie poke its lil head out the water.

“Thanks, cousin! C'mere lil guy.”

Ah cup mah hands an the froggie actually jumps right inta mah hands. Patrick looks amazed Ah did it as Ah study the froggie's cute lil legs.

“Yer shud name 'imself Trevor. 'e’s part av our big family nigh.”

“Trevor. Tha’s a good name, cousin.”

A smile spreads across mah face.

“Ah’mma take this froggie ta Pop. Thanks!”

Ah bring ‘em ta see Pop. He’s lookin all ‘mazed at me.

“You’s must be usin magic son. Trevor ain’t been movin outta yer hands. It’s like ya got an understandin wit him even though he don’t know no English.”

“He’s so cool. An cute. So Ah get ta take Trevor to Hogwarts with me?”

“Course ya can son.”

Ah start wigglin wit mah froggie in mah hands.

“We’s gonna be gettin everythang fer Trevor an yer schoolin tomorrow. Go an ask Uncle Travis fer a bowl ya can put him in.”

Ah head back outside to search fer a bowl. After a short while, Ah find Uncle Travis on the front porch.

“Uncle Travis! Ah’ve got me a froggie an Ah need a bowl fer it.”

“Just go and get a bowl from de sink, boy. Patrick did a great job fendeng a pet fhr you.”

Ah go inside an find an old bowl ta put Trevor in. Ah bring him back ta the front porch an show him ta Uncle Travis.

“Here he is, Uncle Travis. This’ Trevor. He’s gonna be comin’ wit me ta Hogwarts an Ah’ll even make 'em a bowl a sweet tea so’s he’ll be a lil more at home. Pop done said Trevor don’t know no English yet but Ah think Trevor understands a little bit. Maybe ya can teach him some English."

"Dat frog's only got eyes fhr you, boy. I don't think I'll be able to get him to understand anyt'eng I say.”

“Well, maybe ya could start by croakin like a frog. That’d make Trevor feel real welcome, now.“

Uncle Travis laughs an does a lil imitation croakin’ noise. Trevor blinks his cute little green froggie eyes an blinks his weird froggie eyelids a couple times.

"Yer gonna be mah best friend Trevor.”

“Toby come an get yer eats!”

Ah hear mah Pop hollerin an look at mah froggie again.

“Awright Trevor, we’s goin inside now. Comin Pop!”

Tagging: @arrolyn1114, @nemos-rapture, @xanatenshi, @briefpandatimemachine, @hooked-on-elvis, @vintagepresley, @aliengoth3, @smokeymountainboy, @bigdaddyelvislover, @mercsandmonsters, @pledgingmylovee, @presleysgirl6, and @thetaoofzoe.

#toby and the veela #the philosopher's stone #I promise not all Irish people will sound like this

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