#if not you should at least watch the ED for it. they use this song and have Freddie mercurys cats sing and dance to it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justmeinadaze · 6 months ago

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Created a Monster (Steddie X Kas Y/N)

Every time I hear this song this idea pops into my head but it's not what I'm used to writing per say. I wanted you guys to read like a preview and tell me if this is something you'd want more of or a one shot. Or whatever lol Just some feed back :) It's been sitting in my WIP forever but I can't stop thinking about it.

Warning: Steddie X Kas Fem Reader, mentions of grief and how much the boys miss her, I twisted some things from the show obviously. Instead of Eddie fighting, Y/N does. I also read up a bit on Kas so took some lore there. Not really expanded on in this preview but...

Word Count: 1956

Eddie and Steve stare at your gravestone as the preacher continues to spout some nonsense about young souls being angels on Earth and being called back home. No one understood what they were going through not even their friends they had fought with. You were their everything and now… you were gone.

Steve and Robin sat in the cafeteria of the hospital picking at their food as they waited for Eddie to join them. For the past four months they had been visiting Max while continuing to be moral support for Lucas. Neither boy would let on how jealous they actually were of the former Hellfire member. At least he could still hold his girlfriend’s hand…see her face…kiss her cheek.

“The doctor’s said she’s showing improvement.”, Robin mused as she took a bite of bland rice in front of her.

“That’s good. She’s a good kid who’s been through too much. She deserves to have a full life.”

His friend nods in understanding, scanning Steve over before reaching for his hand.

“This is a stupid question but how are you doing?”

“I’m, um, I’m surviving. Eddie’s trying to keep it together for the guys but we’re both kind of floundering.”, he chuckles as he places his fork down and leans back. “I miss her laugh. Every time Munson would tell a joke, she would close her eyes and scrunch her nose… so cute.”

“Yeah, she was.”, his friend softly murmured. “She loved you two more than anything. Y/N would talk about you both nonstop to an annoying degree.”

When Robin playfully rolls her eyes, they both laugh almost uncontrollably until his gradually shift into sobs. Rising to her feet, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and in turn he does the same, his fingers digging almost painfully into her back.

“I miss her so much.”

***

When both boys finally made it back home, Eddie silently flopped down on the couch as he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Since your passing, the metalhead had moved into the living room since their apartment only had one bedroom. Without you between them they saw no point in sharing anymore. Steve never said anything to contradict but he wished his friend had stayed. Even though they were never intimate in the dynamic, he would have rather shared a bed with his friend than be alone. It was just more of a reminder that you were gone.

“Another group of men were found dead today outside of their homes, stabbed through the chest, and with nothing stolen or motive perceived from Hawkins PD. We reached out to reinstated Chief Hopper for comment but at this time none was given.”

“Something we should be worried about you think?”, Steve asked as he came up behind his friend to watch the tv.

“I mean, as long as they aren’t blaming me, I’d say no.”

“It doesn’t seem like Vecna either. No broken bones or eyes caved in—” Rising to his feet, Eddie hastily turned off the tv and reached for his jacket. “Eddie—”

“I agree. No Vecna. I’m, um, I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be?! Are we just going to be awkward around each other now? She wouldn’t have wanted that, Ed.”

A smooth, sarcastic laugh escaped the metalhead’s lips as he turned to face his friend.

“Yeah? Well, I wanted her here and she’s fucking dead. We both don’t get what we want.”

“So, you’re just going to sully her memory like that?”

“Oh, fuck you, Harrington! She’s the one that ran off even though I told her not to move. She’s the one that decided to fight instead of listening to you and not being a hero. She’s the one who DIED IN MY FUCKING ARMS!” As his voice cracked, he paused to collect himself. “Y/N’s gone. She doesn’t get a say anymore.”

With that he turned on his heels and slammed the door.

“He’s always been really hot headed hasn’t he?”, the vision of you giggles as you kick your feet against the counter.

Steve never told anyone for fear of coming off as insane but this is how he processed you no longer being around; he pretended you weren’t gone.

“Yeah, just like you.”

“Excuse me! I was stubborn but not ‘hot headed’, jerk.”

His head hung at the word “was” as his bottom lip began to tremble. Jumping off the counter, you slide over till you were just inches from his side. Even though you weren’t really there, he swore he could smell you.

“Steve, baby, look at me. He’ll be ok… you both will.”

Shaking his head, he wiped the tears that had begun to fall but when he moved his hands away the image of you disappeared.

“I love you, honey. I miss you so much.”

############

Eddie pulled his hood over his head as he powerwalked in what he thought was no particular direction. Even after being exonerated people still scowled and hurled insults his way. The ones that hurt him the most were the ones about you.

Because they couldn’t bring your body back, it was assumed you had died with everyone else. Your family still held on to hope but in the worst way. You parents used to love him and Steve, treating them both like family but after Chrissy’s death everything shifted. They told you to stay away from him and in turn you told them to fuck off.

Anytime they saw Eddie, they begged him to tell them where you were or where your body was so they could properly grieve. He ignored them as best he could but it killed him because he knew the truth. That’s something he and Nancy could connect on. Every time she told him about her experiences with Barb it comforted him to an extent. He hoped one day he could give them peace like her friend’s parents got.

Stumbling over his feet, the metalhead finally took note of his surroundings realizing he had walked to Hawkins Cemetery. Sighing heavily, he gave in and let his feet continue to lead him till he was in front of your plot.

“Y/N Y/L/N. 1986. Loving Friend, Daughter, and Girlfriend.”

“Fucking basic shit. You were way more than that.”, he grumbled as he took a seat facing your stone.

“I’m angry with you; so fucking angry. I told you to go up the rope but you insisted I go so I could catch you like Steve had. I should have known better. How could you do that? How could you leave us like that?!”

“I didn’t do it by choice.”, the vision of you replied in a sad but calm tone as you sat on top of your own stone. Eddie’s jaw tightened as he looked in the opposite direction. “Still ignoring me?”

“You’re not real.”

“True…but it helps Steve. At least that’s what you hope after hearing him talk out loud to me the other night. He really hates being alone, you know? He wants to talk to you but—”

“I can’t talk about you with people. Not yet.”

“Ok, then don’t talk about me. Maybe talk about D&D or Steve’s day. Anything else. Eddie, just because I’m gone doesn’t mean you two stop being friends.”

“Don’t preach to me, babe. I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Nothing. That’s all I ever fucking hear now. I don’t hear your stories about work or your family. I don’t hear you laughing at my jokes or your sarcasm when you’re making fun of Steve for his lack of movie knowledge. I don’t hear your fucking breath in the middle of the night when you’re sleeping or see you bite your lip when you’re thinking about something complicated. I don’t feel your fingers in my hair when I’m lying on the floor listening to music or your lips against mine. Why, Y/N? Because you’re fucking DEAD!”

The vision of you watched with sympathetic eyes as his shoulders shook and he sobbed in his hands. After a few minutes, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, finding you sitting cross legged in front of him with your knees inches from his own.

“I don’t know how to live without you, sweetheart.”

“Eddie… I never loved anyone on this planet as much as I loved you and Steve. If it meant keeping you both safe…I would die again.”

“It was our job to protect you.”

“And you did such an amazing job.”

Shaking his head, he glanced towards a tree in the distance before turning your way to find you gone.

“I love you, baby.”

################

Steve’s eyes snap open at the sound of glass breaking before quickly grabbing his bat and slowly stalking to the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ!”

“I just go by Eddie but…” They both exasperatedly laughed as the other boy lowered his weapon. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just left the cemetery and I didn’t realize it was so fucking late.”

“Did, um, were you going to see her?”

He could have responded sarcastically but your words lingered in his mind.

“Yeah… I just needed to hash some things out with her.”

“I know how you feel. Sometimes I get really angry at her to but then I get confused because I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Yeah.”, Eddie laughs as well. “Fuck, this sucks.”

As his friend nodded, a shadow on the wall caught the former jocks attention. It looked like a figure but that can’t be right because they were on the fourth floor of their complex. Just as he began to glance to find out what it was, their window shattered causing both men to fall to the ground and cover their heads.

Steve recovered first, swiftly grabbing his bat and blocking the weapon that begun to swing down towards the metalhead. To his surprise it did stop it but as soon as he pushed the figure back, the bat cut cleanly in half. It took him a few seconds to realize the stranger in front of him was wielding a sword causing him to duck out of the way as the person continued swinging it at him.

While trying to find something to defend himself with, he heard Eddie call his name and turned just in time to see him slide another sword his way.

“Isn’t this fake?!”

“Please! We’re nerds! Do you think Y/N and I would buy anything fake!?”

Just as Steve unsheathed the weapon, it clinked loudly against the strangers. Both beings went toe to toe with the pretty boy surprising even himself. He got too cocky, however, lowering his guard just enough for the figure to punch his chest knocking the wind out of him as he fell to the floor.

The armor the figure was wearing loudly tapped against each other as they stepped forwards and pointed their weapon at Steve’s throat. With wide eyes, he watched as the person took off their helmet and casually tossed it to the ground as their hair fell around their face.

“Y/N?”

The boy whined as you tilted the sharp weapon up towards his chin causing him to stretch his face out of the way.

“My master sends his regards.”, you hiss as you step back and raise your sword.

Before you can do anything, something hard collides with your head and you faint to the ground.

“Ok, I’m not dreaming right? Or hallucinating?”, Eddie asked as he reached for Steve’s hand to help him off the ground.

“No, dude. At least I don’t think so…”

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

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If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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#stranger things #if I should stay #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #Robin Buckley #platonic stobin #steve and el #el just wants to help #Eddie’s doing his best not to freak out every other second #he’s trying yall #starambles

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magewritesstories · 9 months ago

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[ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ] ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏᴍ ᴀꜱꜱᴏᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

summary: just a simple one-shot of your life before Megumi went to Jujutsu Tech tw: implied fem!reader but no pronouns are used note: listen, gojo has a chokehold on me but domestic!gojo? ooohh boy words: 811 (it's pretty short) jujutsu kaisen masterlist

YOU BROWSE THE ISLE BOREDLY. Some old Ed Sheeran song playing over the low-quality speaker of the grocery store as your eyes scour the colourful array of cereal boxes in front of you.

It had been an annoying experience this morning, waking up to find not only all the Captain Crunch cereal but also the instant coffee gone.

Usually Gojo does all the grocery shopping (which leads to an unequal ratio of healthy- to junkfoods.) But he's out on a mission and you can't survive without coffee.

So, here you are, trying to find a good cereal.

You could just get Captain Crunch, but Megumi complained about it last time so that was a no-go.

"You should get that one," A feminine voice spoke up as you were reading the label of a bright pink box.

You turn around to face the unfamiliar voice. "Excuse me?"

An elder woman, maybe ten years older than you, holds up a dark green box with what seems to be the picture of a monkey and chocolate shells.

"This cereal—it's more nutritious but my kids love it because it tastes like chocolate."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" You question, a little taken aback. The woman's smile falters a little and suddenly you think you've made a mistake. Had you met her at a parent-teacher conference, maybe?

But thankfully she quickly reassures you. "Oh, no sorry, I'm Saori Aino," She introduces, maneuvering past her cart to shake your hand, "I live in apartment 107. I suppose I got a little ahead of myself there."

"Ah, okay, it's alright," You reply quickly, smiling somewhat awkwardly as you shake her hand, "I'm Y/N L/N."

The woman nods as she hands you the box of cereal, letting out a soft giggle. "Oh, I know. My son goes to the same middle-school as your daughter—tells me how Tsumiki can never shut up about how amazing you are."

The comment makes you go a little red as you smile, "Really?"

"Oh yeah, honestly we're all dying to meet you—you should swing by a PTA meeting some time," Saori replies, "I know all the other parents would love to meet you. Bring your husband too!"

Before you can reply that technically Satoru isn't your husband yet, Saori continues excitedly. "Actually, the spring dance is coming up, and we need volunteer chaperones."

"Oh, uhm, I suppose I could check my schedule..." You reply, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

"That's great!" She replies, clasping her hands together excitedly before checking her watch, "Ah, I should really get going and make dinner but think about what I said. And don't be shy to ask for a favour every now and then, we parents should stick together, right?"

Saori doesn't give you the time to reply as she quickly walks off with a small wave. Leaving you standing there with a box of cereal in your hand, wondering what had just happened.

You're lazing on the couch—halfheartedly listening to the protagonist of the movie monologue—when Satoru get home that night.

He leans over the back of the couch, watching along for a couple of minutes before jumping over it and plopping down next to you.

You quickly wing your legs over his lap as he takes of his blindfold, tiredly resting your head on his shoulder.

"How'd the mission go?"

"As always, it was a walk in the park."

You playfully roll you eyes at his bragging tone. "How was it here? Anything exciting happen?" Satoru asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he relaxes.

"Nothing special, just ran some errands, helped Tsumiki with math—at least I think I did, pretty sure we were both crying about the primitive at some point."

Then you suddenly remember your interaction at the store. "Oh, and I think I'm officially a part of the neighbourhood mom association."

Gojo peels his eyes away form the glowing screen, "What?"

"Yeah, I was grocery shopping today—because somebody finished all the coffee and didn't bother to restock—" He feigns an innocent face at that—"And one of the moms that lives in the building walked up to me."

He raises a brow at the statement. "She started talking 'bout how the PTA would love to have us join them, they need chaperones for Tsumiki's spring dance, and how we shouldn't be shy and ask for help if we need it, etc."

"Congratulations," He replies sarcastically, grinning at the proud smile on your face. You nod, "I think I deserve to be recognized as a parent after putting up with you and Megumi."

Satoru just rolls his eyes playfully.

"Oh and by the way, everyone thinks you're my husband."

He lets out a laugh at that statement, placing a sloppy kiss on you cheek, "Yeah, I should probably get on that, huh?"

"Probably."

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jujustu kaisen

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eiightysixbaby · 1 year ago

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Idk if your requests are open- Eddie and rock singer!reader? They both perform at the hideout, which is how they met, and then he finds out she goes to Hawkins High as well. Rest is up to you 😊 p

hi love! thanks for your request, I adore this! I hope you enjoy my take on it 🫶🏻

Eddie genuinely can’t believe his eyes. There’s no way - no way - a girl as gorgeous as you lives in Hawkins and he’s never seen you before. There’s no way this gorgeous girl exists and she can sing like a goddess. But, here you are, performing with your band at the Hideout on the same night he’s performing with Corroded Coffin.

You’re doing a cover of Barracuda by Heart, killing it if Eddie’s being honest. Your voice works so well for the song and your energy is so captivating, he’s actually got heart shaped eyes as he watches you command the tiny little stage. It puts the set they just played to shame, the way you draw a crowd - that isn’t just full of drunk people.

Gareth knocks his fist against Eddie’s shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. Eddie glances at him, unwilling to tear his eyes away from you for too long.

“Dude, they’re fucking amazing,” Gareth says emphatically. “That girl can sing.”

“Tell me about it. I genuinely think I found the love of my life,” Eddie replies, shifting his gaze back onto you as if to prove a point.

He watches as you belt into the microphone, finishing the song and giving an enthusiastic bow before you and the rest of your band leave the stage.

“Go talk to her, man!” Jeff encourages, leaning over the table to grab Eddie’s forearm, giving it a slight shake.

Eddie shakes his head, curly hair flopping around his face. “Nah, I dunno, man,” he starts, but the guys don’t even let him finish.

“Don’t say she wouldn’t be into you,” Gareth interjects “because she literally did a cover of Dio earlier. That girl was made for you.”

“And she’s wearing a Metallica shirt,” Jeff says.

“And I caught her watching our set,” says Grant. “But she certainly wasn’t looking at any one of us except you, Ed,” he laughs.

“Okay, alright, point taken,” Eddie snaps, raising his hands up to silence the group.

He knows he should talk to you. He knows he’ll regret it forever if he doesn’t. And yet, when he sees you sit down with your band mates at the table beside his, he feels his stomach do somersaults. Your laugh sounds like sunshine. Like butterflies and rainbows and glitter and everything good. It simultaneously makes him nauseous and elated. He feels himself go rigid with nerves as you talk mere feet away from him, rambling excitedly to your friends about how well they did up on stage. He feels himself literally turn to stone when Gareth stands up, sidling up to your table and congratulating you all on an awesome performance.

Because Eddie knows Gareth, and he knows he’s not just innocently praising you guys, no. He’s on a mission to make Eddie crawl out of his skin, and he’s about to achieve it.

“Yeah, me and my friend Eddie were just talking about how great you guys sounded. Isn’t that right, Ed?” he says, giving Eddie a wickedly cheeky grin as Eddie turns to look at him. He’d be scowling if it weren’t for the fact that you are also looking right at him.

He’s like a deer in headlights, lips parted slightly as he fully meets your eyes. He blubbers like a fish for a moment before Jeff literally kicks him under the table, waking him up.

“Uh, y-yeah, oh yeah. You guys were incredible, put us to shame really,” he forces out a laugh, tries to force a sense of ease into his voice, which is horribly ironic.

You seem to buy it, though, or at least you don’t comment on it if you can tell that he’s about ready to tunnel underground and leave this bar forever. Instead, you beam at him, a brilliant and gorgeous smile that would have his knees buckling if he’d been standing.

“Thanks, Eddie, but you guys truly killed it. We couldn’t have possibly competed with that Master of Puppets solo you delivered,” you say excitedly, talking with your hands. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say, leaning forward on your table, extending a hand as far as it will go for him to shake.

He totally notices how you didn’t extend a hand to Gareth, oh boy does he notice. He only sweats a little bit as he reaches his hand to meet yours, shaking it firmly. “It’s great to meet you,” he says, smiling softly, butterflies still raging in his stomach.

“You should’ve seen him when he was learning that solo,” Grant interjects, “holed himself up in his room for weeks until he mastered it.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t do anything else but practice. I swear, he probably didn’t shower for day-” Jeff is cut off by an elbow to his ribs, Eddie turning to him with an expression that says ‘you’re dead if you keep talking’.

“Ooookay, anyways,” Eddie interrupts, his cheeks going pink.

His face feels hot as you laugh at the image his friends had put in your brain. But you aren’t truly laughing at him, Eddie can tell, and your response only affirms it. “I don’t blame you, it’s one of those songs that just infects you, right? Your hard work clearly paid off, too,” you say, still smiling brightly.

Eddie feels his nerves ease a bit, and he knows he’s in good company with you. You aren’t phased by his awkwardness, you don’t even seem to notice. Eventually, your friends and his friends all leave the tables, walking over to play some of the pinball machines tucked in one of the corners of the bar. It’s just you and him now, silence washing over the scene as he finds he doesn’t really know what to say.

“So, uh, you from Hawkins? I’ve never seen you around,” he wonders, voice cracking mid-sentence. He wants to slam his head against the table top until it cracks open, but he perseveres.

“I actually moved here at the start of summer,” you say, setting down the glass of water you’d been sipping on. “Moved in right next door to our drummer, caught him playing in his garage the one day, and the rest was history. They needed a singer for the band, and I decided, why not?” you smile, reminiscing on those first days of friendship. “Anyway, I’m due to start at Hawkins High next week for the new school year. I’ll be a senior.”

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at that, giddiness brewing in his chest at the thought of seeing you again. “Oh, no shit! I go to Hawkins High, too. I’ll be, uh, I’ll be doing my senior year…. for the… third time,” he winces, earning a soft laugh out of you.

“Third times a charm, isn’t that what they say?” you beam at him, resting a hand on his forearm gently and squeezing once before pulling away. Your soft eyes meet his, and he feels all of his worries melt away. There isn’t a hint of judgment in your voice, in your gaze, and it’s genuinely a weird feeling to Eddie. He feels like he could tell you anything.

God, he’s screwed.

Eddie normally hates the first day of school. Everyone bubbling with an excitement he doesn’t feel, talking to their friends as if they haven’t seen each other in ages, when this town is so small it’d be next to impossible to not have run into each other over the summer. School to him was just a place where people would pick on him, try to tear him apart, outcast him. Yeah, the first day of school has never been Eddie’s favorite day. Until today.

He finds himself getting up before his alarm even goes off, the anticipation of possibly getting to see you taking over his brain. You hadn’t spoken since that night at the Hideout, he didn’t get your number like an idiot, and needless to say he’s been dying to talk to you again. His friends gave him plenty of hell for not setting up a date with you or something, but he just couldn’t do it so impulsively. Now, though? Now, he wants to work up the nerve to do it, and he’s hoping he’ll get the chance to see you throughout the school day.

His uncle Wayne notices the unusual skip in his step, the small smile tugging at his lips as he prepares his breakfast for the day.

“What’s gotten into you, boy? Usually I’m dragging your ass outta bed so you’re not late for first period,”

“Just, uh, just excited to start my last year of high school,” Eddie says, playing it off. “One day closer to graduating and leaving that place forever, huh?”

Wayne doesn’t buy it, knows Eddie’s been dreading doing senior year over for a second time, but he doesn’t press the issue. Just gives him a slight nod and goes out to the porch to drink his coffee.

Eddie flies through his morning routine; scarfs down his breakfast, chugs a mug of coffee very ungracefully, showers and gets dressed. He puts on a Dio shirt, thinking back to the cover of Holy Diver you did with your band. A conversation starter, he thinks to himself. He grabs his keys, heading for his van with his backpack and his little tin lunch box full of drugs in tow - because, y’know, he won’t turn down the chance to make a few extra bucks today if the opportunity presents itself.

The halls of Hawkins High are bustling when he arrives, full of giddy freshmen going over their schedules with their friends, teachers greeting the students, the jocks being obnoxiously loud as per usual. But this time, Eddie doesn’t feel an overwhelming sense of dread consuming him. His eyes scan the sea of people for your familiar face, but he doesn’t see you.

He can’t really be disappointed yet - there’s tons of students here, it’s unlikely you’d be the first one he’d run into. But then first period passes and you aren’t in his class. And then second, and third. Halfway through the day, and still nothing. What if you don’t share a single period with him? What if he doesn’t get the chance to see you at all?

He trudges into the cafeteria at his designated lunch hour, mood lifting a little when he sees Gareth and Grant waving at him eagerly from the table they’d claimed.

“What’s up, man? You look a little down in the dumps,” Gareth says, frowning a little at the older boy.

“He’s sad cause he hasn’t seen the love of his life yet,” Jeff says, coming up behind Eddie with his tray of food, startling him.

“Oh shut up,” Eddie mumbles, taking his seat and pulling his sandwich from his lunch bag.

He’s not really listening to the conversation his friends dive into, he’s too busy scanning the room for you. His eyes roam over the various tables, separated into their designated cliques. He spots the band geeks, the cheerleaders, the basketball team - just the way it always is. There’s a sea of people in here but he doesn’t find the one he’s looking for. Just as he’s about to lose hope, to resign to the fact that you’ve probably been assigned to a different lunch period, he hears a familiar voice calling his name.

“Eddie?” your voice calls, and he turns in his seat.

You wave eagerly at him when his eyes land on you, and it makes his stomach flip. You look perfect, dressed a bit more preppy than you had been at the Hideout, but still not untrue to yourself.

“I’m so glad I ran into you! Love the shirt, by the way,” you tell him, and he feels his cheeks heat.

“Y/N, hey,” he says, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. “It’s so great to see you again, how’re you liking Hawkins High?”

“Eh, it’s alright so far. The jocks are extra annoying and Ms. O’Donnell seems like she’ll be a pain in my ass, but I’ll push through,” you say, still smiling despite your complaints.

“Don’t get me started on that woman,” Eddie says, shaking his head and laughing.

You greet the rest of the guys, chatting briefly with all of them about band stuff and what classes you’re taking. Eddie watches you, listens to that gorgeous laugh of yours as you exchange banter with his friends. He’s got stars in his eyes every time you glance over at him.

Soon enough you decide you need to head back to your table, wanting to make sure you have enough time to eat your food. “It was great to see you guys again, we’ll have to get together sometime soon!” you say, waving pointedly at Eddie as you retreat to your own seat with your own friends.

Eddie wants to smack himself for not making a move, not asking you out on a date. The opportunity slipped right through his fingers. He doesn’t even need to look at the guys to know they’re all staring at him, ready to deliver various quips about how he had his chance right there.

“Don’t say shit, or I’ll make the next Hellfire campaign a nightmare for all of you,” he threatens, pointing a ringed finger at the three of them.

The table goes silent, each of the guys suddenly extremely interested in their meals, none of them daring another glance in Eddie’s direction.

The rest of the school day drags. Eddie knows he’ll see you again, he knows it wasn’t his only shot to ask you out, but he disappointed himself by losing the nerve to speak up. What if he flounders every time he sees you? What if someone else snatches you up before he can get the balls to try? He absentmindedly floats through his last few periods, staring into space as he daydreams about you.

Finally, the last bell rings, saving him from purgatory. He packs up his things and shuffles out of his classroom, ready to go home and just sleep away his self-pity.

Then, he sees you. You’re about to head out the door of the building, backpack slung over your shoulders. A fire ignites beneath his feet, a gnawing feeling that tells him he can’t let you get away this time. He picks up his pace as he heads in your direction, sneakers squeaking on the freshly polished floors. He doesn’t give himself the time to second guess it. He calls your name, and you turn, eyes shining when you realize it’s him.

“Eddie, hi, what’s up?” you ask, tilting your head to the side a little as you both step out of the way of the crowds of students who are eager to leave for the day.

“Hey, um, I was just wondering if… maybe you’d want to swing by the diner or something? For dinner tonight?” he asks, his palms sweating as he speaks.

For once, he thinks he’s made you nervous. You glance away from him for a moment, chewing your lip as you hold back a smile.

“I’d love to,” you say, and he feels an immense weight lifting off of his shoulders. He feels like he could fly right now if he wanted to.

“I can pick you up at around, say five-thirty?” he questions, waiting for your approval. He shifts his weight on his feet, hands fidgeting with one of the straps of his book bag.

“Okay, yeah,” you agree, pulling a piece of paper and pen from your backpack and scribbling your address down, handing it to him. “I’ll see you then, Eddie,” you grin. Then, you lean closer, your mouth hovering beside his ear. “Maybe after dinner you can teach me how to play Master of Puppets,” you say quietly, pulling back with a slight smirk on your face.

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before you’re gone, pushing the doors open and walking through the parking lot. He looks down at the paper you’d handed him, sparkly purple ink from your gel pen gleaming up at him.

And yeah, Eddie’s so fucking screwed with you. But there’s no way he’s letting you out of his grip now.

#leah’s got mail 💌#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb

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mixsethaddams · 1 year ago

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Soft Steddie summertime ficlet. Pure fluff. ~1700 words. No ratings or warnings.

Twitter got it first but tumblr got spellchecked 😹

One of Steve’s favourite things to do on a hot summer morning, was to stay in bed.

It was his own little form of rebellion. After years of being forced to get up at the crack of dawn to ‘not waste the weather!’ as a kid, he loved nothing more as an adult than to listen to the bird song through the window, muffled by the closed drapes.

He wasn’t always able to break the habit of a lifetime. He spent a long time after his parents stopped coming home still hauling himself up with the sun and berating himself into doing something that was worthy of the good day.

Some people didn’t have the luxury of getting up and going out to enjoy a hot day, so he should just be grateful. He spent more days than he could count sitting at the edge of the quarry, watching the gang play in the water. They loved it when Steve called to see if they wanted to do something for the day. They’d still be half asleep whereas he would’ve been awake for hours, waiting for a reasonable time to pick up the phone.

He would sit with a hot coffee, another little ‘fuck you’ to his mother. He loved warm drinks on sunny days, the way the extra heat made the tip of his nose prickle. His mother insisted he only ever have the awful homemade lemonade she never made sweet enough and steeped the peels in for too long. It was bitter enough to make Steve gag if he didn’t brace himself properly for it.

It wasn’t until the arrival of Eddie Munson that things started to shift for Steve.

He noticed it for the first time when, at one of the many quarry days, Eddie stole a long mouthful of Steve’s coffee before lighting a cigarette and settling down onto the rocky beach next to him.

“Fuck that’s good,” muttered Eddie, wiping a stray drop from his chin.

Steve stared in half-disbelief. Everyone made fun of his little thermos before now.

Steve felt a familiar flutter in his chest.

He’d been ignoring it up until now, convincing himself it was nothing because how could it be, they had nothing in common? Surviving a bizarre mind wizard’s attempt to end the world doesn’t exactly count as a ‘shared interest’.

Steve tested the waters slowly throughout the rest of the day. Nothing too crazy, nothing too deep. Just to see how close to his own opinions Eddie’s answers would land.

“Ed, I’m gonna do an ice cream run. Whats your favourite?”

“Anything lemon lime, man, thanks”

Steve’s favourite was the lemon lime popsicle.

“I got some snacks too, here, which one do you want?”

“Oh shit is that a Baby Ruth? I’m taking that, fuck the kids”

Steve had bought himself that same candy bar.

But Steve shook himself off again because come on, really? They were like, the two most popular things out there.

Only when the kids emerged from the water for their lunch did Steve see a little more of what they had in common.

There were pouts all round when the rules of an on-the-spot game were in dispute.

Voices spoke over each other to get the adults to agree that they were right and their rules were the ones that should be followed.

Steve sighed and prepared himself. Of course, the only options were to either find a new game entirely, or figure out the rules again together as group, right from the beginning.

Steve was used to being fought every step of the way on things like this. Robin and Nancy would make unhelpful comments in jest, and Steve would end up the bad guy for at least two of the gang.

He was about to open his mouth to propose his solution, when Eddie beat him to it.

“So find another fuckin’ game?”

Eddie said it so easily, licking melted popsicle juice from the side of his hand.

“But-!” The protests came immediately. Steve readied himself to dive in.

But Eddie spoke first again.

“If you can’t agree on this one, find another one,” he said firmly. “You wanna sit out here and talk about rules for an hour until its all straightened out?”

Heads shook.

“Didn’t think so. Now fuck off, you’re in my sun,”

Steve watched with wide eyes as the kids, who were really almost college aged by now, went happily back to the water.

“How did you do that?” asked Steve.

“Do what?”

“Make them listen!”

Eddie laughed.

“They had two options, they picked one, simple,” said Eddie with a shrug.

Steve watched Eddie carefully, waiting for more of an explanation that never came.

“What, you had a different solution?” asked Eddie.

Steve shook his head.

“Thats exactly what I was going to say,” said Steve, looking out to the water where they were playing together merrily.

“We good?” asked Eddie slowly, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah!” said Steve quickly, realising he’d been staring. “Not used to having someone on my side when they start fighting, thats all,”

Eddie hummed and went back to his candy, occassionally stealing more of Steve’s coffee.

When the sun was finally lowering in the sky and the water was getting that little bit too cool to be enjoyable, Steve and Eddie shared the last cigarette in the pack while everyone else towelled off and gathered their stuff.

“So what, uh…” started Steve. “What would you usually do on a day like this? Or is this your thing?”

Steve was curious if all the little shared enjoyments and opinions of the day would continue. If it would amount to the thing at the top of Steve’s list, that he’d been bred to believe as ‘shameful’.

Eddie hummed around the butt of their cigarette before passing it back to Steve, giving him the last drag.

“Big plans for days like this, Harrington,” said Eddie, stretching out and resting back on his elbows.

Steve felt his stomach twist. He’d gotten it wrong. That was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. Steve was used to thinking he’d found someone he could be himself around and then realising he was wrong.

“I would’ve stayed in bed all damn day,” said Eddie, smiling softly up at the sky.

Wait. What?

“You…bed?” stuttered Steve. “Seriously?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” mumbled Eddie. “Don’t waste the day or whatever. You ever stayed in a dark room when its sunny out? Life changing, man. Ultimate relaxation knowing you’re choosing comfort over convention. Trust me,”

Steve was stunned.

“I…I was thinking the same,” admitted Steve.

“It’s nice,” he muttered, not looking up at Eddie and feeling embarrassed somehow. “I like listening to the, um, to the birds, you know? But still being in bed,”

Eddie nodded his head.

“I totally get it,” agreed Eddie, smiling wide. Steve’s chest felt like it was about to burst when they made eye contact.

“Wonder what else we have in common,” said Eddie coyly, leaning in to knock his shoulder against Steve’s hip.

They found out later that night that they both liked a lot of the same things.

They liked how each other sounded when they giggled softly through their first kiss, sitting on the roof of Eddie’s trailer and watching the stars.

They found out they both liked teasing fingertips and gentle pushing and pulling in the right direction.

They found out they both liked to sleep holding hands to ground them against the anxiety that still plagued their little group.

They liked the bubble they created between themselves, and filled it quickly with love.

And now, late into the morning of a blazing hot mid summer day. The phone off the hook since the night before and the walkies designated for emergency use only.

They were lying together, curled up and bordering on too hot under the blanket, listening to the birds.

They listened as the rest of the neighbourhood woke up and spurred to life, cars starting and families yelling.

It was a few weeks since that day at the quarry.

Steve and Eddie had spent every night and most of every day together. They agreed on everything. Well, except pizza toppings, but Eddie would eat all the olives so it was fine. Steve’s dad had once told him that in a business if two people agree on everything, you don’t need to keep them both around.

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie and said a silent prayer that he never tried to treat a relationship like a business. That was his parents’ mistake, he thought.

It was all very new. Some people still didn’t know the true nature of their increased ‘sleepovers’, but Steve was already aghast at the idea of being without Eddie again.

He knew they’d argue eventually. They’d find a tipping point on something that they wouldn’t see eye to eye on. Steve was ready for that day. He didn’t want to think of them ever fighting but he was realistic. Steve just knew he would never make the same mistakes as his parents did, and he’d do everything he could come out the other side with his Eddie still under his arm.

Eddie stirred fully awake when a car horn blared from down the street.

“Mmmmph!” he whined. “They scared the fucking birds away,”

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighed and nuzzled in closer, settling himself in Steve’s neck with a contented hum.

“We doin’ anything today?” murmered Eddie.

Steve stroked his back in long, slow waves.

“Just this,” he whispered.

Eddie nodded, and his body soon went lax as he he drifted back to sleep.

Steve felt like crying, in fact he thought he might. He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose into Eddie’s hair. Steve was almost surprised at the overwhelming wave of contentment that crashed over him.

Years spent feeling guilt for not ‘enjoying the sun’ were slowly ebbing away. How could he feel bad over what he was doing now? How could the love, and safety he felt now, be bad?

Steve selfishly thought he would sacrifice ever seeing the sun again, if every morning was like this.

And it had been, hadn’t it? For weeks now. Steve woke up feeling just like this, for weeks.

Steve smiled to himself and tightened his hold on Eddie’s body. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he settled himself into his pillow.

The birds returned and resumed their song.

And for hours, Steve listened.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #seth writes #steve x eddie #steddie fic #probably still a fee typos hanging around #fluff fic #soft fic #summer fic

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months ago

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the freak in the penthouse part 12

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 FYI, I’ve basically imagined that Dustin and Suzie are roughly the same age as the others in this, so in their late teens and early twenties…

Chapter 12: reality check

Five Days later

Steve picked up the phone and dialled Eddie’s number. It rang twice, before the answerphone stabbed him with the same old jack-knife in the gut:

“Hi! This is Suzie.”

“And this is Dustin.”

“We’re not around right now—

“—or we’re having our downtime, together or apart, which is super important to us—”

Jesus Christ, kill me already.

Steve had heard this message a dozen times. Dustin and Suzie sounded so goddamn chirpy, like they were going to explode into song. And Steve had endured waaaaay too many chirpy songs the last few nights, courtesy of Robin’s mom’s cassette deck.

He endured the rest of their nail-scapingly annoying message and braced himself for the Ding!

“Hi, this is Steve. Again. Look, I really need to talk to Ed—”

“Answerphone tape full,” recited an electronic voice, the polar-opposite of chirpy.

“Fuck!” Steve slammed down the receiver.

Why wasn’t Eddie returning his calls?

Okay, Steve had been sleeping a ton the past few days, might’ve missed something. Robin’s leave was over today, and her mom worked really long shifts…

A muffled meeeeow had him looking up sharpish. Resident cat, Fernando, glared at him through the window.

“All right, I’m sorry I stole your couch. I don’t hate you, it’s your fur that hates me. Way to go making me feel even shittier about it.”

He glared back. Trouble was, this was Fernando’s home, not his. Robin had technically moved out last year, and he’d barely got a nickel to slot into the housekeeping kitty.

He was gonna have to sell his watch. Or the guitar. Dammit, he’d wanted to check in with Eddie first, but what choice did he have?

He leafed through the telephone directory for music stores, scraped together some loose change, and caught a bus across the city. On the journey, he missed his old Sony Walkman as never before. Thanks to Robin’s mom, ‘Mamma Mia’ by Abba ear-wormed through his brain. Uuuuuuurgh! He hugged the glittery guitar case tightly and attempted to pep himself up.

Eddie said he was crazy about Steve. Steve sure as heck felt the same.

“Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go?”

“Shut the hell up, Agnetha,” he muttered, earning himself a scathing glance from a woman sitting close. But Steve hadn’t been broken-hearted when he left the hotel. He’d been scared shitless over that fact he was losing his memory as well as his mind. He still was. His future with Eddie had been the one thing he’d felt faintly optimistic about, and…

“Look at me now, will I ever learn?”

No. No way. Eddie was a good person. Yeah, Robin had passed hours bad-mouthing him. No matter. Steve believed in Eddie. Well, he desperately wanted to. He was getting really worried about him—about whether he’d really been ‘cured’ of his agoraphobia, and about his overly sass-tastic and curiously absent friends.

He missed him so much. Christ, it hurt.

In ‘Jivin’ Jams,’ Steve laid the guitar case on the counter and opened it. The store-owner’s brows shot sky high: “Where did you get this, son?”

“A friend gave it me,” said Steve. “There was a rumor it once belonged to Jimi Hendrix or something.”

The guy stared at him, mega-intense, which Steve took to be a positive sign. Maybe he should play hardball, get competing offers from a bunch of stores.

“I’m looking for at least two-thousand bucks,” he ventured.

“I got some catalogues out back that should help me figure out what it’s worth. Gimme a tick.”

Steve shrugged. “Sure.”

The dude vanished. Steve waited, grinning when a track he knew—‘Friday I’m in love,” by The Cure—drowned out the Abba hell-loop in his head. He remembered this one. Yeah, he’d been flat on his back on that honking great bed, with his ankles looped around Eddie’s neck. While merrily fucking Steve, Eddie had sung along like an idiot:

“Monday, you can hold your head, Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed, Or Thursday, watch the walls instead, It's Friday, I'm in love…”

Christ, he missed Eddie’s dumbass ‘o’ face. He missed how Eddie always needed him to come too, loving it when Steve squirted across those lick-tastic tatts. Yeah, he missed… so much. If he got a decent amount for the guitar, maybe he and Eddie could rent a place together. Get back to fucking every day of the week…

He was still daydreaming, smirking vaguely, when the two policemen walked in.

“I didn’t know it was stolen!” protested Steve. The son-of-a-bitch store-owner handed the guitar over the counter to one of the cops.

“Where d’you get it then?” asked the other.

“A friend gave it to me.” Steve’s legs started to feel wibbly.

“This friend got a name?”

Steve bit hard into his bottom lip.

“You think on it, and tell us when we get to the precinct, huh?”

They took his knapsack and turned out his pockets. When the handcuffs came out, the bubble of panic in his windpipe ballooned.

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” he repeated, sort of on autopilot. They cuffed him anyway. Outside the store, the cool air smarted against his burning skin. “C-crap. No, please! Look… I… I didn’t know!”

He was guided into the back of their patrol vehicle and the door slammed shut. He shut his eyes, rested his head back, and battled his instinct to struggle against the cuffs.

OH MY GOD, EDDIE! YOU REALLY WERE TAKEN FOR A CHUMP!

Unless he knew it was stolen? No. No way, no way. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Okay… breathe. Keep calm, right? Shiiiiit!

Steve had been picked up by the police once before. It’d been soon after he’d run from that man, when he was on the streets, and… Nope, nope, NOPE.

His mind grew as clammed up as his body. Which was probably how, breathing fast and shallow, he survived the short journey to the precinct. Still kinda dazed, he was uncuffed and processed. His rescue inhaler, which had been in his pack, was handed back to him. For the first time in a while, he managed to form a coherent sentence: “I need to make a phone call.”

As he was shown to the booth, his worries swerved off in a whole new direction. Dammit, he still didn’t know Robin’s number. He could try calling the hotel, see if he could get a message to her, but…

His unsteady fingers dialled the one number that’d etched itself into his heart. He knew it was gonna go to that ‘answerphone full’ message.

Shit, you are not gonna cry, Harrington, or you’re gonna be eaten alive.

“Hello, this is Suzie.”

“Oh Jesus Christ!”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not Him. This is Suzie Henderson. To whom am I speaking?”

“It’s Steve.” He swiped his knuckles across his cheekbones. “I’m, uh… um… Eddie’s friend. Is he there?”

“No, we don’t know where he is. We’re really worried.” She sure sounded less chirpy than in her message. “I thought Dusty tried to call you back. Have you heard from Eddie?”

“N-no, no. Oh my God. Oh my God, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”

“You seem distressed, Steve. Can I help?”

What choice did he have? He poured out his story, including how Eddie gave him the guitar he was accused of fencing, right till the call randomly cut off.

…

In the interview room, a tired-looking cop dumped a worryingly thick file between them.

“It’s a simple question, kid. Tell us how you came into possession of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar, and we can cut you a deal. You sing sweet enough, you could skip all charges.”

Steve chewed his thumbnail, stared at the table: “I got it from a friend.”

“Listen to me. That guitar was stolen during an armed robbery at a house in Brentwood. You already got an arrest record. You don’t talk, you’re looking at some serious time behind bars.”

Steve gawked up at the interviewer, his thumb still half-caught in his mouth. He’d go to the prison for the guy he loved but…

This isn’t happening.

“Whoever you’re covering for, are they worth it? You scared they’re gonna come for you? We can put you in witness protection.”

Scared? Of Eddie? It was almost hilarious, and finally snapped Steve from his clammed-up funk. He giggled nervously.

“You think this is funny, kid? You can laugh your ass off in jail. You wanna recall your friend’s name for me now?”

“I… um…”

Eddie would want you to tell him, you idiot! He can probably help clear this mess up! There is also the teensy weensy possibility he’s skipped town, leaving you holding his seriously problematic baby…

“Look, I’m not exactly sure where he—“

The door flew wide and a young woman with fashionably frizzy hair and some serious shoulder-pad action stepped in. “Stop the interview. My name’s Nancy Wheeler. I’m Steve’s lawyer and I need a moment alone with my client.”

The interviewer looked mildly pissed then picked up his files and shuffled out.

Steve slumped back in his seat and blinked at his apparent saviour. Beneath the make-up and the power suit, she didn’t look much older than he was. She smiled tightly, pulled a chair around and sat down beside him.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve finally found his voice. “I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I can’t pay you anything."

“I’m not actually a lawyer,” she hissed, kinda apologetic. “I’m a trainee journalist. Friend of Suzie’s. She’s sort of into law as a hobby, and she’s clued me in on exactly what to say, so… sit tight, keep quiet. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

…

Nancy did a lot of talking, and Steve eventually found himself leaving the precinct flanked by Nancy and Suzie. Suzie had brought her checkbook to pay Steve’s bail, though in the end, he hadn’t been charged.

He’d lost track of time during his ordeal, and it was past ten pm and dark outside. Before they reached the bottom of the precinct steps, a Volvo drew up, and its internal light switched on. A guy with curly hair and a ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest’ baseball cap wound down the window.

“Get in!” he yelled.

“Love you too, Dusty-bun.” Suzie headed around to the front passenger seat.

Steve hesitated. “Uh, look, I appreciate the cavalry charge and all, but you’re, like, complete strangers.”

“Get in, Dingus!” Robin had rolled down the backseat window.

“What the heck are you doing here?” He climbed in, and she folded him into a clumsy hug. Nancy climbed in on his other side.

“Are you okay?” asked Robin.

“Jesus, what do you think? I got arrested, and.. I’m so confused.”

Robin launched her story, as Dustin drove off. When she’d discovered Steve AWOL, she’d freaked out. Then she’d called Dustin’s number, which she knew Steve had been trying all week. While garbling madly at each other, she’d learned from Dustin about Steve’s arrest. Dustin, meanwhile, gleaned that Robin had heard from co-workers that day about an incident at the hotel.

The same incident that Dustin, Suzie and Nancy had spent the last few days trying to get to the bottom of.

“What happened at the hotel?” asked Steve.

“We’re not entirely sure,” said Nancy. Steve wasn’t sure why they'd gotten a rookie journalist in tow. So much baffled him right now. “What we do know is that the police have charged Eddie with assault and battery. His disappearing act doesn’t exactly help his case.”

“What? No way!” Steve couldn’t buy it. Eddie was one of the gentlest guys he’d ever known. Okay, there was that one time he busted his own knuckles, but…

"It's a pretty serious business," Robin was saying. "The only witness was Doreen. She swore that the so-called 'victim’”— Robin spluttered the word out like sour milk—“was blind drunk and walked into a pillar, but the police didn't buy it.”

“We’ve got to find Eddie before the cops do,” chipped in Dustin.

“Yeah, well, LAPD are the least of Eddie’s troubles,” snapped Robin. “I’m gonna gut him over this whole guitar business.”

Too fucking much.

After the rollercoaster of the past few hours, Steve felt basically punch-drunk. He groaned, rubbed his brow, then shaded his eyes from the dazzle of the streetlights. “Please just someone tell me you’ve got a clue where Eddie is.”

“It’s a work in progress,” said Suzie. “He never picked up his ride from the hotel. We’ve exhausted our leads locally, so we’re heading up to Oregon to see his uncle. Wayne won’t talk over the phone—”

“He won’t talk to us, period,” interjected Dustin. “But I think he knows something.”

“We’re going to Oregon?” Steve emerged from beneath his fingers. “Now? The cops told me to not leave town.”

“Dustin said he’d drop us home first,” said Robin. “I’d be delighted to wash my hands of Jon Bon Jovi’s evil stoner cousin for good.”

“He’s not evil.” Steve gave an enormous yawn, then zoned in on the one thing he knew for sure. “I need to find him. You go home, Robin. Fernando will scratch my eyes out if I spend another night on his couch.”

She bitched a bit more, including about how yuck and sweaty he was. Then she refused to leave him. He curled up against her—he couldn’t risk drooling on a complete stranger—and hunkered down for the long drive.

....

Part 13 on Ao3 Part 13 on tumblr

promise we’ll get back to Eddie in the next chapter. I needed to get a few more characters into play so we can finally get steddie on their path to healing and HEA… soon (ish!)

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

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#thefreakinthepenthouse #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction

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anakin-pilled · 10 months ago

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𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 - anakin skywalker x fem! reader (part three)

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem! reader

wordcount: 9.4k

warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of EDs, body dysmorphia/body issues, fainting, mistreatment, hospitalization, crying, reader being emotional, anakin being a reckless driver, half proofread bc i got lazy (will probably edit another day, its late af as im posting this)

rating: 18+

author's note: hi, i'm so sorry for the delay on chapter three! life got really busy and i found myself not having enough time to write, but now life has settled and i finally had enough time and inspo to finish this chapter. i literally forced myself to stay home this weekend and finish this chapter bc i'll be traveling this week and won't have time to write. i hope i made up for it by making this chapter longer than usual!! let me know if u have any questions or comments. reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated xx

creds to saradika for the divider!

You originally had no plans this weekend, but after much persuasion from one of your closest friends, you decided to attend some party that a friend of a friend was hosting. It was better than being locked up in your apartment all weekend, letting the thoughts of Anakin consume your mind and slowly pick away at your sanity. After all, it gave you the chance to dress up prettily, consume free hooch, and maybe find someone to get under and help you get over Anakin.

The water in your porcelain sonic tub was doused in a fragrant Crimson Jelly Spire oil and mixed with the fragile petals of a Jasmine flower. The combination of spice and sweetness left your skin refreshed and smelling good. The midday light of Corscant filtered through the windows and cast the nearly all-ivory refresher in an ethereal lighting. The water swished around you as you hugged your knees to your chest and laid the side of your cheek on top of them. You trained your eyes on the refresher’s ceilings before blowing a loose piece of hair out of your face. You ran this bath about an hour ago, but you had yet to get up because your mind was occupied by him. Staying away from Anakin was harder than you anticipated. Your mind recalled, for about the hundredth time today, two instances that happened over the last few rotations.

The first instance with Anakin left you unnerved and unconfident in your self-proclamation to stay away from him.

The benefit concert was only a few rotations away now, so you started practicing. Even though you were only performing songs that you already performed and rehearsed before, it still didn’t hurt to practice even more. This was going to be broadcast across the Republic, so you had to be perfect.

You holed yourself up in your practice room for the majority of the day. The only time you saw Anakin was in the morning when your protocol droid prepared breakfast. You told Anakin that you would be practicing with your team of dancers for the day, so there was no need for him to stay with you all day. You encouraged him to take the day off and reassured him that your practice suite was located in a safe building with 24/7 security watch. Anakin insisted that he at least drop you off. He could take the time to stop by the Temple and check in on Ahsoka’s training.

That was hours ago. It was nearing your twelfth hour of continuous practice and you were exhausted, to say the least. Your vocal cords felt raw from the amount of singing you did today, and the legs in your muscles were spasming from the constant repetition of your dancing. You dismissed your team members around two hours ago, you didn’t think they should be subjected to your perfectionist tendencies. One of them, a Pantoran girl named Chione, voiced her concern for you. Chione was one of your oldest dancers, she joined your team during your first mini-tour around a few Core planets and has never left your team since. You considered her one of your closest friends.

“Are you positive that you’re okay to practice on your own? You’ve barely had any food today. I don’t want you fainting with no one to help,” voiced Chione in a dulcet tone. She was always looking out for your well-being, especially because she knew how hard you could be on yourself. Chione was a source of bright life in your life and one of the most genuine people you’ve ever known.

“I’ll be fine, Chione. I had a heavy breakfast, and I’ve made sure to eat energy pudding bars and stay hydrated during our breaks,” you reassured your friend. She looked unconvinced, but you rushed her out of the room with a kiss on her cheek and a promise to send her a message once you arrived home.

Now that you had the studio to yourself, you decided to go through a few more drills and focus on the routines that you struggled with the most. You weren’t always a perfectionist. Back when you lived on Bar’leth, you were neither the smartest student in your grade nor the dumbest student–you were perfectly average. You didn’t feel the need to engage in your classmates’ cutthroat competition or push yourself more than you required. Even when it came to your musical prowess, you sang and studied instruments because you enjoyed it and it brought you happiness. If you were stuck on learning a certain composition or hitting the right note, you would always put in your best effort, but you never lost any sleep over it. You knew that if you were to put pressure on yourself, it would take the enjoyment away. Music was yours, without any strings, expectations, or attachments to soil your relationship with it.

That swiftly changed once you were signed a record deal with one of Coruscant’s most famous record labels, Interstellar Records. You didn’t even know it was possible to become famous at the intergalactic level. Most of the artists you listened to on Bar’leth were artists from your planet. The galaxy’s population is enormous–Coruscant alone has around three trillion people! You never imagined that your name would known anywhere besides Bar’leth. Yet, luck seemed to be on your side on that one fateful day.

The story of how you were discovered is quite simple. Your school hosted an annual festival for the anniversary of the formation of Bar’leth’s government. It’s a joyous holiday where students are encouraged to promote Bar’leth’s culture through food, traditional customs, and performances. Families and regular citizens flock to the school to join and watch the students at the festival. It’s a day you look forward to every year. Each class section is assigned to a particular event. The graduating class of that year is always assigned to open the festival with a choir rendition of Bar’leth’s national anthem. You were asked to lead the choir since the music instructor knew of your talent, which meant that you would be the main singer. Little did you know that one of the executives from Interstellar Records was at the school festival. One of his nephews attended your school, so that was his reason for being there. As soon as you got off the stage and the festivities started, you were immediately pulled to the side by your school’s headmaster who introduced you to the executive. He spoke to you about your talent, and how he believed that you could make something of yourself with proper training and a recording label to manage you.

That was five years ago, and a lot has changed since then. After finishing your last year of government-mandated education, you moved to Coruscant and began your career as a professional artist. Life suddenly flipped. Your upbringing on Bar’leth was humble. You came from a decent, middle-class family and lived in a standard home. Suddenly, you lived in a fancy Coruscant apartment with the former senator Sheev Palpatine, and you were always surrounded by a team of managers who dictated your schedule from morning to night. You were given vocal training, attended dance classes, and sat through etiquette and media training courses all while trying to produce your debut record. The first year of your career was marked by sleepless nights due to the sheer amount of activities on your daily agenda. Many times throughout the first year, you debated if this was a smart decision.

You continuously pushed yourself through it because dreams weren’t achieved by themselves. You had to work to make your dreams come true. This was just part of the process. At least that’s what you said to reason with your inner self to avoid any feelings of regret and anxiety. Yet, throughout that first year, you were also exposed to a darker side of the industry that you weren’t equipped to handle as a barely legal adult. When you signed that contract with the label, you also signed away any right to individuality and personal autonomy.

You had a certain image to uphold as a public figure and this image was controlled entirely by your label. You were like clay that they could bend at their will–constantly being prodded and

molded until you were nothing short of perfection. Your clothes were preselected each day, hair was only done in styles the label wanted, and pre-answered scripts were given for interviews. Worst of all, even your diet was dictated by the label. How much you ate, what you ate, and even when you ate was all at the discretion of the executives. They even went so far as to weigh you weekly to make sure you were staying on top of your weight. If you weren’t at their goal weight, they subjected you to intense periods of exercise. It was an abusive cycle that fundamentally altered your self-esteem. Slowly, you became a shell of the person you once were. You didn’t find enjoyment in your career anymore, something you were once so passionate and excited about. The harsh regime of your management extinguished that flame. All that mattered to you was if you were meeting your label’s expectations. You were consumed by the weight of their expectations. You drowned under their judgment, and each criticism was like a blaster shot straight to your heart. The executives weren’t satisfied no matter what you did. Practice hours went from a few hours of your day to half of your day. You slowly cut contact with your friends from home and lied to your family when they asked how you were doing. You couldn’t bear to tell them the truth. You were miserable.

Eventually, the constant overwork and abuse by the label became too much for your body to handle and one day you fainted in the middle of practice. The medic at the medcenter informed you that your body shut due to exhaustion and malnutrition. Due to you being one year away from being a legal adult by the Republic’s standards, the medic was forced to report this incident to the authorities. Holonet tabloids somehow got a hold of this information and leaked it on their celebrity gossip pages. This prompted an investigation from the Intergalactic Federation of Musicians, the trade guild dedicated to musicians, performers, and songwriters, who determined that your label was not properly upholding their side of the contract. The IFM fined Interstellar Records and voided your contract, which left you free and away from their abuse.

It took you a few months to recover from the whole incident. The best course of action was to move back to Bar’leth while you healed. Your career didn’t stop there, however. Right before the situation, your debut album was released. Hence, you were practicing for upcoming promotions the label scheduled you for. The release of your debut album was quiet–until your face ended up on the Holonet’s hot spot after the initial news broke. The people of Coruscant, and even some people from neighboring planets, pitied you. You never intended for anything to be this way, but the story that the tabloids ran against you worked in your favor. You, a young fresh-faced, and doe-eyed girl from a smaller Core planet, were a victim of the cruel entertainment industry. Everyone blamed the label, rightfully so, but the amount of support and influx of love from Coruscant’s citizens catapulted you into fame and stardom. The public wanted to see you win (until they didn’t). Other recording labels were knocking at your door, trying to get you to sign with their company You were hesitant, not wanting to experience the same trauma. Senator Palpatine offered his help in negotiating the contract bids as an apology for not noticing what you were going through before. After all, you were still living with him while you were still signed to Interstellar. You didn’t blame him as you hid your problems well. Regardless, it all worked out in the end as you were signed to a new label, under terms and conditions you saw fit. Four years have passed since you signed onto Nebula Music Group. Your fame instantaneously increased after signing with them. Gido was assigned your new manager, and you were extremely thankful for him because he played a major role in ensuring you were properly treated and supported by the label. Nebula Music Group had more trust and faith in you than Interstellar, so they allowed you more authority and creative liberties in the music-making process. Because of this, you could produce authentic, critically acclaimed, popular albums. Your last album, Last Words of a Shooting Star, broke a record with the highest sales of sound slugs in history for a female artist. You did mini tours around the inner and mid-Core planets. Despite your initial hardships, life was turning out better than you envisioned. You had a second chance at your dream. You liked to consider yourself fully healed from the situation, but that was far from the truth.

Take now for example.

In moments like this, when it’s only yourself and the mirror, your mind can’t help but flashback to the horrible treatment you suffered at the hands of those people. You know that no matter how much therapy or how far removed from the situation you were, a part of you was still stuck in the past.

Chione was right to be concerned. This wasn’t the first time you stayed behind and continued practicing on your own, often to the point of exhaustion and breaking down. She’s caught you in these moments before, where you were so focused on perfection that you failed to take care of yourself properly—staying dehydrated, skipping meals, and not sleeping just so you could devote more time to practice. You would gladly damage yourself for it. You couldn’t help it. Insecurity was embedded in your bones. You knew that as a young female in the industry, you had a short shelf life (or at least that’s what your previous label hammered into your brain). Once the industry deemed you expired, you would be nothing. Thus, you needed to be so perfect, that even past your expiration date, people would still want you. You were nothing without desirability.

You looked at yourself with hard eyes in the mirror. Your eyes landed on the deep, heavy-set eye bags under your eyes. A scowl appeared on your face. You then moved your eyes to your arms, which never seemed skinny enough for you. A knot formed in your throat. Lastly, you laid your eyes upon your stomach. No matter how many meals you skipped, what diet fads you went on, or what food you prematurely threw away to avoid finishing, your stomach never looked the way you wanted. A sigh escaped your throat.

It was futile to worry about these things now. At a time so late in the day, nothing good would come of it. You inhaled and exhaled breathing as if you were absorbing and releasing all of your previous negative energy. Putting on a fake smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you gave yourself one last look before continuing to practice.

The song you were currently dancing to belonged to the glimmick genre–a genre of music that was associated with frenzied sounds and rapid beats. As an artist, you were most comfortable with the sparkle-bop and pop genres. That was your domain, and it was the genre that made you famous. However, you wanted you wanted to experiment on your recent album to get out of your artistic comfort zone and reach a wider audience, so you included songs of different genres, with glimmick being one of them. Due to the nature of the glimmick genre, your song “Atom of the Pneuma,” required an intricate, fast-paced dance with movements that you were not familiar with. The choreography for this dance was sharp and pristine, contorting and bending your body to resemble straight, angular lines. Most of your choreography featured lighter dance moves, with flowy movement and softer forms. It was the reason you stayed later than the rest of your team–you wanted to hone on this particular routine before the benefit concert.

Your legs were bent, hands placed on top of your thighs as you caught your breath and prepared to replay the song just a few more times before calling ending the day. You got into position. The song started and filled the room with a pounding, rich techno bass that bounced off the walls. You began to move your body to the beat while your right arm was simultaneously moving it to create a pattern that extended from your body outward. Your head followed the beat as well, which left you slightly dizzy. You learned to block out any negative sensations when dancing, a practice you learned from the days when you danced on little sleep and little food. The unpleasant sensation went ignored until you spun your body around and lost your balance resulting in an unceremonious fall toward the hard wooden floor. You placed your arms to cushion your fall out of reflex, but the fall never came. A pair of large, calloused hands were placed on your waist, holding you steady. The hands gently guided you toward the floor, forcing you to sit.

You raised your face toward the ceiling, trying to see who it was that miraculously saved you from your fall. The bright lights of the practice room invaded your eyesight and you could only make out the fuzzy outline of the person. Tiny, black dots swirled your vision as you tried to regain your composure. The feeling was overwhelming. You could feel your breath quicken as you tried to calm yourself. This wasn’t the first time you have fainted from overdoing it, but it was never any easier each time. You hated the feeling, you hated the coldness that washed over your body, you hated how your vision failed you, and you hated the dull panging inside your head.

You shut your eyes, barely focusing on the person next to you. Your nails dug into your palm, the pain distracting you from the uncomfortable feeling and forcing you back into the present. After a few more moments, you opened your eyes again and turned your vision to the only other figure in the room. You could feel the warmth of their body next to yours–the warmth overpowering the previous coldness your body felt.

“Anakin,” you whispered.

“You okay there, pop star?” Anakin softly replied. “You almost took a nasty fall, you could have sprained your wrist or hurt your head. We wouldn’t want that before the big day, now would we?”

His brown curls gently caressed his face as he looked down at you. He was kneeling over you, eyes scanning over your body to make sure you were okay. You didn’t even hear him enter. How did he get inside? Access to this room was only allowed by people with logged fingerprints and/or other DNA indicators.

“Just give me a minute please.” You still felt lightheaded.

Anakin stood up and walked toward your practice bag and grabbed the container of water that was sitting next to it. He then proceeded toward you, sat next to you, and put the tip of the container to your lips. You titled your head back as you drank. After a couple of gulps, you answered Anakin’s question.

“I apologize if I frightened you. I must have overdone it and got lightheaded because of it. I assure you that I feel better now and can continue my practice,” You tried to stand up before Anakin’s hand caught your wrist and dragged you back toward the ground. Your response was cold and robotic. That’s because you were in a different mode right now, your more “professional” mode which consisted of one thing only–to never give up until you were blue in the fact. It was ingrained in you from your past training that even if you felt like complete bantha shit, you couldn’t stop practicing just because you felt slightly off. Perfection could never be achieved if you stopped every single time you felt bad.

“Just take a moment to relax. You nearly fainted. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you continue to practice in this state,” Anakin reasoned. He pitied you because he knew the exact look of determination on your face.

“I can’t stop. The benefit is only a few rotations from now. I have to get this routine down, or else I’ll look like a fool on stage,” you argued back. You turned, but Anakin kept a firm hold on your wrist.

“Stop being stubborn and just take a quick break.” The seriousness in Anakin’s tone made you want to cry. His voice projected across the now silent practice room. You were already feeling bad from almost fainting and now you were being emotional too. You slipped to the ground and hung your head low as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice wavered. Putting in this state always puts you in a weird headspace. You swallowed the tight knot that formed in your throat. You didn’t want to cry in front of Anakin.

Anakin noticed the waver of your voice and how you refused to meet his eyes. He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so harsh, but he didn’t want you to hurt yourself either.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for. I didn’t mean for my voice to sound that way,” Anakin hesitated before putting a hand on your shoulder for comfort. He felt slightly awkward. He didn’t know you very well yet, so he didn’t want to invade your personal space, but he recognized that you needed some comfort.

“You should leave. You don’t have to deal with me. I know the Chancellor asked you to watch over me, but this is too much. I promise I’m fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened.” You don’t know why you let that small detail split to Anakin. Perhaps you just wanted someone else to know that you weren’t fully healed from your past. You tried to do your best to hide it from the rest of your team, only Chione being the most knowledgeable on the subject.

“I’m not going to leave you. It’s late and you should be heading back to your apartment. I came to pick you up. Gido said you hadn’t arrived home yet and that I could find you here.”

You sighed at Anakin’s response. There were a few moments of silence before you began speaking again. “I’m sorry. You’re just being a decent person, and I’m here trying to push you away. I don’t mean it.” You took a deep breath, “I just get in a weird headspace whenever I’m practicing sometimes.”

Anakin didn’t want to pry, but he could tell there was a deeper meaning behind your words.

You started speaking before your brain could even comprehend what you were saying. You were desperate to let out all of your negative feelings. “Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough sometimes? Like the whole world is waiting for you to trip and fall?” You glanced at Anakin with glassy eyes.

You continued to tirade. “I know my life may look glamorous, and it is. But no one ever talks about the dark side of being in the public eye, especially as a female. They treat you as if you’re some spectacle for their entertainment as if you’re not a living being with consciousness and feelings. Even those who are supposed to be there for you end up on the same side as the critics and haters.” Your chest was now heaving up and down as a result of your heightened emotion. “Even when I work my ass off to be perfect, so I can meet their standards and so they can finally shut the kriff up, they find another thing to comment on just to tear me down.”

“Yes, I understand the feeling.” And Anakin truly did understand. Anakin wanted to comfort you, he felt empathetic as he watched you cry. Do you remember how I told you how I joined the Jedi at a later age than most?” You nodded as you sniffled. “The Jedi council didn’t want to take me in at first…but Qui-Gon convinced them to take me in because he saw potential in me, potential as the Chosen one. Master Qui-Gon died before he had the chance to train me, so his Padawan, my former master, requested that he take me up as his Padawan. No Padawan had ever been trained at such a young age, but the council accepted his wish as a dying request from Qui-Gon.” Anakin still recalls that day–he was waiting outside the council’s room–in wonder at the grand pillars of the Jedi Temple. It was so grandiose and had a sense of holiness, two things he never witnessed on Tatooine.

“I had to work twice as hard as the other younglings to get up to speed. Most of them already had years of experience with the Jedi, they knew how to properly wield the force and the Jedi scriptures were ingrained into their beings by that point. Eventually, I surpassed the younglings and surpassed the expectations of the council. But even then, the council has never fully trusted me. I feel they’re always scrutinizing me, watching for my next mistake too. I’m not the most conventional Jedi, and I don’t always play by the books, but I’m a Jedi through and thorough. No matter how many times I prove that the council, or even my former master, they don’t believe in me. We’ve been fighting this war for Maker knows how long, and they still refuse to make me master, despite being the poster boy for this war.”

“Wow, Anakin…I didn’t expect that from you.” You honestly didn’t expect to find yourself relating to Anakin, you were on completely different sides of society. How could you, a pop star, relate to a Jedi? It comforted you in a way, to know that you weren’t the only person to go through feelings of inadequacy and frustration. “How do you deal with it?”

“When I was a Padawan in training, I didn’t deal with it most healthily. I was snarky (he still is), and rebelled against my master’s teachings. I was stubborn, hoping that if I showed off my power, I could finally be appreciated by the council. I was wrong to do that, it’s how I lost my right arm.” Anakin then slipped off his glove to show you the silver mechanical prosthetic. You gasped, not expecting to learn this information. Anakin continued, “I still like to show off, but as I matured, I realized that I didn’t have to define myself by the approval of others. I know that I am capable, and I will keep working hard until the council recognizes that.”

“You don’t deserve that. I know we only just met, but I’ve only heard remarkable things about you. The Republic wouldn’t stand a chance against the Separatists against you. I mean no offense to the other Jedi, they’re all vital to the war effort too, but we need someone who takes risks and isn’t afraid to be unorthodox. I don’t know much about the Jedi, but I know one day you’ll make a great Master.”

This heart-to-heart chat with Anakin was unexpected but welcomed. You appreciated that he was honest and open with you–someone who was practically a stranger still. He didn’t have to come all this way to pick you up nor did Anakin need to comfort you in an hour of need, but he did. However, Anakin didn’t let the conversation marinate too long, suddenly embarrassed at the information he shared with you.

Anakin stood up from the ground and reached his hand toward you. You accepted his hand and Anakin pulled you up as well. “Are you feeling better now?”

Despite the dried tear marks on your face and the incoming headache you were about to face, you told Anakin that you did feel better. You weren’t ready to divulge your entire past with Anakin just yet, but maybe one day the two of you could become friends. Did that count as an attachment? You weren’t sure.

“Let’s get you home, pop star.”

“Thanks, General.”

The second instance with Anakin was in an unconventional situation, but it brought a smile to your face when you recalled it. It was only the fifth day of him being assigned as your bodyguard. The incident at the practice room happened on his third day there. You wanted to speak to him more after that night, but you found yourself pulled in all directions by your management team. You supposed you should be thankful–you promised to stay away from Anakin. The only issue is that you didn’t want to stay away from him anymore.

Anakin walked into your living room after talking with Obi-Wan through his commlink. Obi-Wan was updating Anakin on his most recent diplomatic mission on a nearby planet. A heated conversation was taking place between you and Gido.

“You’re being ridiculous! It’s not even that scary and you can’t keep on relying on others to transport you places,” Gido said as he pinched his nose with a hand, a look of frustration on his face.

“Of course I can! I’m rich. I can just hire chauffeurs!” you taunted in reply. You knew your argument wasn’t sound, but you just wanted to vex Gido at this point. Deep down, you knew your manager was right.

“What about when you’re old and retired? Who’s going to help you then? Certainly not I. I’ll be dead!” He pointed an accusatory finger at you.

A glare embraced your face at Gido’s words. You scoffed before turning your body, not realizing that Anakin entered the room. He had to stop sneaking in like that. Those damn Jedi.

Anakin looked at you two with a curious look. Having joined the conversation toward its end, Anakin did not know what you two were talking about. Heat ran up your neck and toward your face as Gido explained with a deadpan expression.

“My dear friend here does not have her Republic driving license, despite being an adult. I’ve been telling her to get her license for years, but she always manages to procrastinate. And every time I tell her, she brushes me off her shoulder.” He pointed at you with an accusing thumb.

With a high-pitched tone, you defended yourself, “I know how to drive!... Sort of. Look, I just don’t like driving. The skylanes are always chaotic and the last time I visited the Ministry of Transport, it took me hours to update my identification and the workers were extremely rude. I’m not going back there if I don’t have to!”

“And I keep telling her, she needs to get her license. Kid, don’t be stubborn. Wouldn’t you feel more independent if you could drive around yourself?”

“Oh, stop bullshitting me, Gido. You just don’t want to drive me around because you hate the sky lanes as much as I do!” It was true. Gido groaned and mumbled every time he had to drive you places, complaining that he wouldn’t need to take you to run your errands if you had your own license. You couldn’t help it–you enjoyed dragging Gido along and you knew he secretly enjoyed spending time with you.

Anakin had a solution to both of your problems. Driving was one of his fortes. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka would disagree, but Anakin knew he was the best pilot in the galaxy. Yes, Anakin could be reckless, but there was never a landing or move he couldn’t pull off. The innate talent he had as a young boy flourished when he moved to Coruscant and began his Padawan training. Having access to much more refined and newer technology allowed Anakin to perfect the craft of piloting.

“I can teach you how to drive. I’m the best pilot in the galaxy.” The seriousness on Anakin’s face indicated that he wasn’t joking.

You gulped. The heating sensation returned. You began to shake your head from side to side with wide eyes. Your hands moved in front of you as if to mimic the movement of your head, waving off Anakin’s solution.

“I don’t think that necessary,” you protested.

“Actually, I think it’s very necessary. Only the Maker knows how long you’ll push this off. Anakin, would you mind doing this favor? I have a few meetings with the company, we need to finalize the last details for the benefit. Feel free to use her airspeeder parked outside–it’s one of the newest models,” Gido stated.

Anakin grinned. He really did miss his yellow Eta-2 Starfighter, but he would never deny the chance to operate new technology.

That’s how you found yourself outside sitting in a neatly parked J12 Twin-pod on your apartment’s landing platform. The airspeeder belonged to you, though you’d never driven it before. The airspeeder was one of the newer models on the market. The surface was wrapped with a special pink-tinted chrome wrap making the car look sleek and expensive. Gido, your chauffeur, and occasionally Chione, were the only people to ever drive it.

You looked out the window and saw Anakin approaching the passenger side of the airspeeder. “Karking hell, I’m really doing this,” you thought. You detested driving. It made your palms sweaty and shot your nervous system. To make matters worse, you would be stuck in the confined airspeeder with Anakin! So much for trying to keep your proximity from him. You were both scared and embarrassed. Here was Anakin, the most famous Jedi at the moment, teaching pathetic you how to properly drive. Surely he had much better, more important things to do–like lead a war planning meeting or something.

The passenger door opened, and Anakin effortlessly climbed into the passenger seat and sat down. Your back stiffened, and suddenly the airspeeder seemed tighter. You shot an uneasy glance toward Anakin, who only smiled in excitement.

After the other night in the dance room where you had that conversation with Anakin, you felt less apprehensive around him. He was more human to you and less of a mysterious figure, less of a pretty face who made you nervous. You still found yourself mousy and internally reeling in his presence, but Anakin was becoming akin to a friend. You started conversing more during mealtimes, slowly getting to know each other.

“Alright, pop star, first we’re going to start with the controls. You have to fire up the engine by flipping this red switch. After the flip is switched, check your mirrors to ensure you can view directly behind and on your sides. Be careful with your blind spots. You don’t want to get rear-ended because you forgot to check for it. Coruscant sky lanes are no joke. With an airspeeder as pretty as yours, I’d hate to see it get destroyed. ” Anakin pointed toward a red button near the right side of the console, located next to the steering gear. “You got that?” Anakin questioned with one eyebrow raised.

Once again, Anakin felt your energy through the force. It was way calmer compared to the first day, but he could still feel your energy buzzing. Perhaps you realized that his presence was nothing to fear.

“Go on. Turn it on,” Anakin commanded. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when you heard the baritone voice command you. It reverberated several times in your head. Anakin’s voice was manly, and extremely attractive. You felt jealous that his soldiers got to hear that voice every day.

You reached toward the switch and flipped it upward with a shaky hand. The airspeeder lit up from inside, indicating it had come to life. There wasn’t an initial turbo–this was one of the main features of this model. It was supposed to fly seamlessly through the air. You placed your hands on each side of the steering gears. Not knowing what to do next, you looked at Anakin for guidance.

Anakin stood up to stand directly behind you. He reached out his arms and placed his hands on top of yours. He then leaned down to the side of your face and explained, “I’m going to show you how you properly place your hands on the steering gear and how to move it while you’re driving.” Anakin moved your hands toward the middle of the gear.

“Have a tight grip on the gear. The tighter the grip, the more control you have over the speeder. The higher sky lanes get more wind traction, so it’s especially important to have control in those lanes.” You nodded to show you were following. Anakin suddenly turned the gear harshly to the left, “Don’t do what I just did. When you turn the gear harshly, you jerk the speeder. If you’re switching lanes or turning a corner, switch on your indicators so other drivers know which way you’re going.” Of course, Anakin never followed his own advice, but for your sake, he played it by the books.

It all felt too intimate. Your head was in a rush, which probably wasn’t the best state to be in while you were about to drive. Anakin’s hands engulfed yours. The difference between his callused hands and your perfectly manicured hands drove you crazy. You could see the veins exposed on his ungloved hand. The sight of the green veins made your stomach turn warm. Much like his face, Anakin’s hand was sculpted by the Maker themself. Not even the finest marble statues could compare to the piece of art that was Anakin Skywalker.

“...Lastly, when you’re making a turn, do not turn the gear all the way around. The speeder has a built-in function that automatically rotates it. If you turn it all the way, you’ll make a sharp turn, ruining the internal tachyon drive regulator. Do you think you can handle this? Gido told me about the last time you tried to drive.” The last time you tried to drive, it resulted in several fines and almost caused a crash–the tabloids were on your ass for weeks after that.

You completely spaced out while Anakin was speaking, too focused on your inner thoughts. Hearing the teasing tone of his voice brought you back. You hated being undermined. You would prove to Anakin, and Gido, that you can drive perfectly fine and that you have nothing to be scared of.

“I can you assure that not only can I handle this, but you’ll be amazed at how quickly I learn,” you sassed Anakin back. You were lying. You couldn’t handle this, yet you couldn’t look like a ditz in front of Anakin.

“Let’s start flying. Don’t be nervous. I’m right here if you need me.”

Anakin sat back in his seat and observed you as you started maneuvering the aircraft. He directed you toward a sky lane to merge into. “I’m going to guide you to a specific path where the air traffic isn’t so busy. It should be easier for you to fly since there isn’t as much chaos.”

You kept a strong grip on the steering gear. Coruscant Prime, Coruscant’s only sun, was shining bright. The Weather Control Network did a splendid job at keeping Coruscant’s weather optical today–it wasn’t too windy and the sky was clear. You took it as a positive sign.

The airspeeder flew steadily through the air. Anakin was surprised. The way Gido described your driving, he assumed that he would need to take control of the speeder earlier. You weren’t doing a terrible job so far. Aside from the occasional jerk or harsh turn, you managed not to crash so far.

Maybe Anakin thought too soon. “Watch out! Watch out to your right!,” Anakin exclaimed. You tried switching lanes, but the speeder behind you wasn’t slowing down to let you in. You narrowly avoided an accident at the last second by going back into your lane.

“Oops–I didn’t mean that,” you said with a giggle and a shrug of your shoulders. “How am I doing so far?”

“You’re not doing too bad, with some more practice, you should be able to get your license in no time. Why do you hate driving so much?”

While still focusing on the sky in front of you, you explained to Anakin, “I love Coruscant and all that it has to offer. But the sky lanes in Bar’leth are much calmer and less congested. I grew up used to that. Even after all these years of living here, I still can’t stomach the driving here. It’s horrendous! I much prefer to have someone else drive, that way the pressure won’t be on me. I know Gido’s right, I need my license, but can you blame me? We’ve already witnessed almost two accidents! How did you get so good at flying?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a pilot since I was a little boy. I used to tinker in the garage, building and modifying parts for my own podracer. I even won the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine,” answered Anakin.

“Why did you want to become a pilot?” you wondered. Anakin seemed like like an intentional type of person–his actions, thoughts, and opinions were direct reflections of him and what he felt inside.

Not many people outside of the Jedi temple knew Anakin’s true origins–that he was a former slave. The first ten years of his life were filtered solely through this lens, it came to impact much of his opinions on life, politics, and society. He didn’t like speaking about it and avoided the topic as much as he could. Anakin hated his life as a slave and he hated slavery with every fibre of his being. However, Anakin especially hated speaking about this past life now because every time he did, he was reminded of how he willingly chose to leave his mother on Tatooine. Anakin felt like he was the reason she died. He wasn’t strong enough or fast enough to save her from the Tuskens, but maybe, just maybe, if he stayed with his mother instead of leaving with Qui-Gon, Shmi Skywalker’s death could have been avoided.

Anakin didn’t respond to your question. When you looked at him, his face was scrunched up in a deep thought.

You were about to say something else when you saw something approaching the speeder from the corner of your eye. You quickly glanced to your left, only to spot a human male nearly hanging off the side of his airspeeder with a cam held up to his eye. You groaned out loud which caught Anakin’s attention. They came at the worst time possible. You were trying to learn how to drive for Kriff’s sake!

“The paparazzi are following! Can’t they just leave me alone” you ranted. You needed them to get off your trail, fast. You had a complex relationship with the paparazzi. You hated the way they invaded your privacy and fed the Holonet tabloids with material to gossip about. For every bad picture, outrageous rumor, and leaked news, there was a paparazzi behind it. They caused you so much pain. At the same time, the very nature of your career relied on the paparazzi to dispel news and reveal your current state of affairs through pictures. They were unofficial members of your public relations team. Every celebrity knew that they needed the paparazzi as much as they hated them. You couldn’t imagine what ridiculous headline they would come up with now.

The man got closer and closer to your speeder as he tried to record you on his cam. He was mere inches away from crashing into the side of your speeder. You started to panic and your hands lost your tight grip as you started to tremble. Even the slightest movement to the left would cause a crash, potentially sending both of your speeders tumbling below.

“Anakin, what do I do? I don’t know what to do! They’re too close,” you yelped. Any closer and the paparazzi’s camera would touch your speeder’s window.

“Stay calm, pop star. I got this.” Anakin’s tone was cocky. He had something up his sleeve. This wasn’t his first high-speed chase, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. Anakin switched into General mode. His hands swiftly moved across the dashboard as he pressed a multitude of buttons and flipped several switches.

“What are you doing?!” You hated how high-pitched your voice sounded, the fear slipping out of your voice a squeak.

“Relax. I’m just taking control of the speeder. This speeder model is programmed so that in case of emergencies, the co-passager can take control of the speeder and drive it.” A panel opened on the console and an additional steering gear emerged into view. Anakin gripped the gear and turned it to the right. The speeder lurched to the right, putting more distance between you and the paparazzi.

No longer needed to grip the gear, you turned toward Anakin and shielded yourself by facing your back toward the window. The Holo Net wouldn’t be getting anything out of you today. Those insatiable nerfhurders had no boundaries sometimes.

“You better hold on tight. Things are about to get bumpy.” The only way to get these paparazzi off your trail was by speeding up and losing them in the endless zigzags of Coruscant. Anakin wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your safety. He felt his fingertips buzzing with anticipation–the past few rotations with you have been enjoyable and peaceful, but he needed an outlet for his energy. Ever since the Clone Wars started, Anakin was constantly on the go, so his body and mind were accustomed to this. Fortunately for Anakin, flying was the best outlet for him.

“What do you mean? Anakin, I’m begging you. Please don’t do anything crazy. I get motion sick-” Your words were cut off as the speeder accelerated. “ANAKIN!!!,” you screamed. You then quickly shut your eyes again. You couldn’t bear to witness the scene in front of you. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell Anakin was driving significantly faster than what was allowed by the law.

The speeder weaved in and out of lanes. At one point, Anakin squeezed in between two speeders before hitting the turbo boosters. The paparazzi were still hot on your trail, but at least they were no longer directly next to you. You finally opened your eyes and saw that you were nearing the retail district, CoCo Town. Suddenly, the speeder nosedived toward the ground and you tightly clung to the gear in front of you for stability. The paparazzi were still chasing you, their speeder also diving below.

“Anakin do you have to be so reckless?!,” you shouted as Anakin laughed.

“My apologies–it was either that or let the paparazzi stalk you. Which one did you prefer? I didn’t have time to ask while you were panicking,” he replied in a sarcastic tone. You were about to rebuttal, but Anakin continued talking. “As soon as I land this on the ground, we’re going to get out and run. Let’s try to lose them in the crowd.”

The speeder lowered onto the ground and Anakin quickly parked the vehicle on a landing platform where several other speeders were parked. The doors unlocked and you both quickly stepped out. Before you could even completely step off, Anakin grabbed you by your waist and lowered you onto the ground. He then grabbed your hand and started running in the opposite direction of the speeder. You looked behind you, only to see the paparazzi had caught up and were now looking for you. After a quick scan, one of their eyes caught yours and they looked toward each other before running in the same direction as you and Anakin.

You could barely think about the paparazzi chasing you down as your mind relished the feeling of Anakin’s hands engulfing your waist. Anakin was a statuesque man, it made sense that his hands would be the same. Your skin burned at the touch. You shook your head to wane off the thoughts and redirect your focus in front of you.

Anakin’s back was facing you, his wide shoulders moving up and down as you ran through the crowds together. His curls bounced with each step. You apologized to each person you bumped into, slightly embarrassed to be in a situation like this. Why did this have to happen to you? Couldn’t they have picked another celebrity to torment today? You heard from the jogan fruit vine that the Holodrama actress Alexis Cov-Prim was getting out of rehab today. Wouldn’t that be a juicer headline than you learning how to drive? You already had one bad story from driving, you didn’t need another.

Anakin made a sharp turn around and corner and dragged you into a store named “Madame Acantha’s Emporium.” You kept your head low as Anakin greeted the storekeeper. You didn’t want to risk being recognized again. As you looked around and observed the store, you noticed the store sold a variety of womenswear from dresses to accessories. Anakin scanned the store for any suspicious figures before turning towards you.

“Grab something to disguise yourself with. We can’t stay in here forever.” You started browsing through the racks of clothes, pulling out a large knitted sweater before walking over to the accessory area and picking out a pair of daytime spectacles and a vibrant magenta wig with a bob cut. Anakin couldn’t disguise himself as he was too big for the clothing sold here. That didn’t matter as long as you could disguise yourself.

You quickly walked over to the changing rooms before switching out your outer layer for the sweater. After putting on the sweater, you grabbed the only elastic on your wrist and tied your hair so the wig could fit on. Once the wig was secured on your head, you put on the daytime spectacles and walked out of the changing rooms. You rushed towards the cashier and quickly asked her to ring up the transaction before throwing your credit chip on the counter. The employee, a humanoid woman of a species you couldn’t name, quickly rang up the transaction before handing you a receipt and bidding you a good day.

You turned towards Anakin and asked, “Does this look alright? Do I look like myself?”

Anakin stepped closer to you and grabbed the sides of your face. He slipped some of the wig’s hair through his fingers before adjusting it so it sat properly on your head. His fingers lingered for a second before he nodded. “I can’t even recognize you. Let’s go before they catch up.”

Anakin walked out of the store first and scoped the street. He looked left and right before quickly going back inside. He grabbed you and shoved the both of you behind the first rack of clothes he saw. You were about to protest when you saw the two men from earlier, the one who was recording had his camera by his side. They went up to the shopkeeper at the cashier and began to converse with the lady, most likely asking her if she had seen anyone with the same description as you. While they were distracted, you and Anakin looked at each other and secretly decided to make a run for it.

You both ran out of the store and into an alleyway nearby. You saw the paparazzi running past the alleyway as you were catching your breath. Then, you started to giggle. The whole situation was absurd. You, standing in an alleyway, with a bright wig and sunglasses–obviously a terrible disguise–and Anakin Skywalker, the most famous Jedi at the moment, dressed in all of his Jedi garb with his lightsaber attached at the hilt.

“What are you laughing at?,” Anakin asked, one of his perfectly shaped eyes arched. You must have looked crazy.

“I’m laughing at the situation. I look like a clown,” you replied. “Let’s go, I’m hungry after all that running and chasing. Let’s get something to eat–my treat.” You then walked out of the alleyway together. Before you stepped into the public view, you turned towards Anakin, “Thank you, by the way. I don’t know what I would have done without you to save the day.” You gave Anakin a look of genuine gratefulness.

The both of you proceeded in the direction of the shops.

“Come on, pop star. I know a great diner that my old master loves. It’s called Dex’s Diner. Have you ever been there before?” Anakin asked.

The both of you arrived at Dex’s Diner and proceeded to order half the menu. You spent hours in the diner, the both of you enjoying each other’s company after the crazy events of the day.

You spent the same evening replaying all of the times Anakin touched you and how each touch made you feel.

You decided it was time to get out of your head and back into the present. If you stayed in the sonic tub any longer, you wouldn’t have enough time to get ready without feeling rushed. You stood up from the sonic tub and grabbed the plush white robe sitting on the table next to it. You then put the robe on and walked toward the mirror.

You grabbed the brush and started brushing through your hair to ensure that any tangles and knots were out. After deciding your hair was neat enough, you put the brush down and started moisturizing your body with your favorite lotion. You would let your hair air dry until you figured out how you wanted to style it. The lotion was made from the musk-rose plant and mixed with tiny hints of vanilla. When you were done moisturizing your body and applying your skincare, you walked out of the room and into the closet directly in front of the refresher.

To say your closet was huge is an understatement. When you finally earned enough credits to afford a high-rise apartment, the one thing you told your realtor was that you would not compromise on a small closet. The closet was lined with shelves and racks, each holding either your clothes or your shoes. In the middle of the closet sat an island, constructed with cream-yellow Selonian marble, that stored all of your accessories. A floor-to-ceiling mirror and lounging chaise were perched at the far corner of the room. You walked over to the shelf that held your dresses and began to sift through them. You felt the soft silks, thin taffetas, and the gorgeous gemwebs of your collection.

“Aha,” you muttered as your hand finally landed on the gown you were looking for. The gown, designed by one of the most in-demand fashion ateliers, was a floor-length, demicot silk-lined tight velvet black gown with a curved necklace. The upper half of the gown was pale pink and covered in a multitude of tiny sequins and pearl studs. One shoulder extended out into the shape of a single petal, which was also fabricated with sequins and pearls. You paired it with a pair of black gloves that extended to your mid-bicep. The dress was as much haute as it was a piece of wearable art. If there was one thing you loved about being wealthy, it was the clothes.

You laid your evening gown on the chaise before traveling to your vanity and beginning on your makeup. Since the gown was extravagant in itself, you decided that a more subtle makeup look would complement the overall look more. You wanted people to focus on the gown and all its intricacies and craftsmanship. After glossing your lips with a matching shade of pink, you finished your makeup and moved on to your hair. You settled on a suitable hairstyle and allowed your loose face-framing layers to enhance the shape of your face.

You looked at yourself in the mirror once more before deciding you were ready to go. You walked out of your room and towards the living where Anakin was waiting for you.

To be continued...

(Here is a link to the dress, which was designed by Miss Sohee. One thing I love about the SW universe is the fashion, so I wanted to include a dress that reflected that. Like, come on. Have you seen Padme’s and Satine’s outfits?)

taglist: @angie2274 @bunnylovesani @0709fullofstars @js-favnanadoongi @payton-dixonreader

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

#kendra's works !!!#anakin skywalker #anakin #star wars anakin #star wars #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #tcw anakin #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalkwer x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader x you

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saintliam · 3 months ago

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michelle what are your favourite smiths biographical materials (ie books documentaries their autobiographies etc)? or just your opinions on all the ones you've read/seen?

hello :) thank you so much for the question!

I suppose the classic of the Morrissey-Marr songwritng partnership is The Severed Alliance by Johnny Rogan. It has its serious faults, i.e. it was not done with the blessing of the band - Morrissey especially disliked it. It's exhaustive, about 350 pages or so. It can be recommended insofar as there's a lot of information in it, and lots of it is true (it's good for trivia questions for sure), but I personally think it's a pity there isn't something just a bit better from an outsider-biography point of view.

In fact, I remember having a book from the library called Songs That Saved Your Life: The Art of The Smiths 1982-87, and I recommend it very strongly, if you can find it. You might know the author, Simon Goddard, from his Bowie books, and he also wrote the Mozipedia book (which I haven't read in total, just sort of glanced at).

Morrissey's Autobiography: This is the only thing in my answer that I'm saying you really should read, because it's just a masterpiece. It's well-written and dramatic and a bit wandering and tells his life story in a way that's atmospherically true (I mean that the facts are sound, of course, but that there's a narrative feeling, a properly developed novelistic aesthetic, and the sense that it probably starts raining when he's unhappy, in-world). Quite cutting in places, but never very bitter, or at least, he knows how to be funny about people even when he does feel terribly hard-done by with them. There are places where you might feel his focus is catastrophically unfair in its direction (there's a LOT about the court case), but it's indispensible as a book because it's ultimately how Morrissey feels about Morrissey and everything that happens in the world as well, so - it's sort of brilliant. Came out in 2013, I remember going to the bookshop specially for it that weekend :').

Set The Boy Free is Johnny Marr's autobiography. [I was tempted to leave it there ...] - Although I like Johnny Marr just fine, Set The Boy Free pales drastically in comparison to the Autobiography. Which is a pity because it would have been great to have two more-or-less equal testaments to their time together. It's short, and there just isn't a whole lot about The Smiths in there, because he's at pains to defend his post-Smiths solo career. Which is fair enough because he was 20 then and has done lots since, but this book is probably not totally indispensible for you unless you're a proper Johnny Marr fan. Came out in 2016.

The Smiths on The South Bank Show is a very good TV broadcast, made with live performance footage, interviews, etc. It's not even quite retrospective, because it came out in 1987, just after the break-up. Lots of stuff from their contemporaries saying how much they like and appreciate them! Morrissey talking about the whole philosophy behind the band and his own writing. I really love it :)

There isn't really any excellent film documentary about The Smiths, which is outrageous but probably fairly understandable given that the band members never had a period post-band where they were talking to each other or willing to work together on something, and Morrissey even chided Johnny Marr for supposedly mentioning the Smiths too much in interviews etc. There's The Smiths: Under Review (which is actually fairly good, despite the limitations I mentioned above, and makes good use of 90mins), and there's the one I watched yesterday, The Story of the Smiths: Greatness and Controversy (at 35mins, it's not a waste of time). I've been meaning to watch The Rise and Fall of the Smiths, it's something like 25mins total, so I'll let you know soon.

I've been meaning to read Morrissey in Conversation: The Essential Interviews ed. Paul A. Woods, you know, in case I missed something. And I've heard good things about Saint Morrissey by Mark Simpson, but I haven't read it yet.

There are some other places you can go. I like wandering around Passions Just Like Mine - a website run by a fan, with lots of linear notes about the songs, different releases, etc. And there are lots of good magazine interviews scanned on Pinterest, of all places.

That's only a few things but I hope it was somewhat helpful! :) x

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unabashedly-so · 1 year ago

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🌹SDV Elliott HC 💃

Content warning: Americanized contexts ahead. 😅 Not pigeonholing SDV as American but I'm using Americanized regionalisms because that's the language I have to communicate I'm trying to portray. 🤷‍♀️

************

It takes a high heart level and a moderate intoxication level to bring it out, BUT Elliott has had years of ballroom dance under his belt.

I'm imagining a southern old-money style upbringing for him (subject to change) and he started being trained in different dances bc he was involved in whatever the male version of debutantes is.

he wasn't big into it at the time but yknow mommy issues he was a diligent well-mannered young man so he learned enough to pass by.

enter university and Prince Slut (freshman year) is finding all kinds of ways to get the tender physical touch and affection he craved as a child make friends and finds the uni's ballroom dance club

his foundation of skill and reputation make him insanely popular within the club so it becomes a genuinely healthy outlet for him.

he never takes it seriously in terms of competition; he's just there to have fun and make his partner shine but you KNOW he's flaunting and flexing along the way, like executing daring moves with his partner, showboating, getting so overly sultry with it, etc.

he gets so many numbers and so much ass whenever he goes out, it's upsetting.

anyway tl;dr he spends so much time on that and other social activities in college that he barely passes most of his classes and it's actually a huge regret of his but that's a whole 'nother post

he stops dancing after uni for the most part as he has to reprioritize his life

but that doesn't mean that he lets it go, oh no.

get enough drinks in this man and enough room to move and he's 10years younger ready to sweep anyone off their feet.

He'll trot with the foxes, swing from one coast to another, cha-cha real smooth, give him tequila and he'll give you salsa, etc etc

of fucking course he can waltz but like 1) ya Basic, and 2) dinner and a movie first (and let's make it Viennese, for the love of Yoba)

he'd much rather rumba or tango tbh but only with someone he really cares about. poor boy'll catch feelings quick rocking hips like that.

which like. alternate ending to the 6heart scene has him inviting you to dance with him to blow off some steam. nothing too stilted or sensual, just an easy swing or something so he can move and move you and maybe even give you a twirl if you're so inclined 😉

(at 8hearts and above he's twirling you, dipping you, and rocking you on his hips during wrap-ins 🥴🥴 you've also unlocked private rumba, tango, and waltzes with him, and boy is it getting humid in this seaside cabin 🥵🥵)

it does take getting him at least buzzed to bring it out, but he has no shame once it's out, so it's like an open secret in Pelican town that he'll show anyone who's a good sport a good time

EXCEPT.

(and this is a big one)

he's so fucking judgey about what music people choose to dance to.

full on Big Sassy Gay energy.

"oh you want to slow dance to [Ed Sheeran]? yeah I remember being in middle school too."

"*Thinking Out Loud playing* is this the wedding song where people teeter back and forth like two rickety sideways rocking chairs with room for Yoba in between because your grandma's watching for three straight minutes? ...no yeah it's fine. I mean to their credit it probably functions as their run through for the consummation later too so good for them I guess"

*I Won't Give Up playing* "if you need to dance to a song where someone else declares how you're So Definitely going to be together forever, I'm sorry but I give it two years tops." "Elliott, this was Haley and Alex's song." "I said what I said. Next."

"*dramatic sigh* just because you can mathematically fit a 5 step into a 4/4 doesn't mean you can or should turn any bubblegum pop song about casual sex into a tango. It's NOT about sensuality, it's about THE CONFLICT THEREIN."

just take him home at this point. 😅 no one understands what he's saying but they know it's probably insulting.

anyway fast forward to domestic bliss and he's regularly pulling you in to show you how happy you make him

he's definitely singing any lines he thinks fit you under his breath while he dances with you. He'll bring you in close and murmur them into your ear or kiss them into your neck if he's got bedroom thoughts. 🌹

#wow this got way out of hand and also intensely personal lmaoo #sdv #sdv Elliott #sdv headcanons #Stardew Valley #stardew elliott

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cherriesfromeden · 1 year ago

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kiss her you fool

...

[requested : no]

[pairing : eddie kasbrak x fem!reader]

[summary : you and eddie have been avoiding confessions with each other but richie's finally gotten tired of that game and at a sleepover at bill's, everything comes crashing down.]

[warnings : none but i used some of this song lyrics in this and they do not belong to me! they will be italicized. also this is kind of long. beware.]

...

it was a lazy day down at the quarry and the losers were all by the shore or in the water, messing around. richie, mike, ben, and stan were in the middle of a water fight while beverly, and bill were watching with amusement. the last two losers, you and eddie, were strolling along the shoreline, making small talk.

"wait, really?" eddie looked up, confused. "you didn't bring a towel?"

"yeah...no i forgot one. i'll just lay down on bev's until you guys get out of the water." you said as you took her towel from the fallen log and unfolded it.

"but it's almost a million degrees! you should at least sit near the water so you don't die of heatstroke." his hands fluttered over his inhaler nervously.

"hey! HEY!" richie, who had already been in the water with the others now was wading back towards the shore. "eds you should leave y/n alone she doesn't wannna bone so c'mon!"

eddie's face flushed and he glanced at you quickly before following richie back in the water.

what he didn't notice is that you seemed just as embarrassed as him, if not more.

"eds, please. for the love of god. fucking tell her!" richie hissed at him when they got back to the others.

"what? no! she probably doesn't even feel the same! why would i tell her now? i mean, it would probably ruin everything that-" eddie was interrupted by a splash of water hitting him in the face, courtesy of richie.

beverly mumbled a few curses next to bill as she watched the two friends start to argue. she knew that you thought the same thing about eddie and she had very similar conversations with you.

bill, who had talked to both of you, was even more frustrated. it seemed like neither one of you would ever blurt out your feelings for fear of rejection when that was the last thing that would ever happen.

"i hate this." bill muttered, sinking down in the water so his mouth was barely above it. bev looked over at him and chuckled slightly. he knew she felt the same but she found it more interesting to see what would ever happen, if anything did.

"TELL HER!" she heard richie scream.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" eddie yelled back and beverly heard a splash, which she knew came from eddie.

after a minute of silence, bill and beverly glanced worriedly at each other, then to the shore where you were curled up in the sun, to eddie and richie. the two boys were having what seemed to be a very quiet argument, which was unlike them.

bill swam over and, after a slight hesitation, bev followed him.

"tell. her. goddamn this eds! come on i promise that you won't regret it!"

"there is nothing more i would regret if she said no!"

"okay this is so stupid. i'll tell y/n myself then."

eddie glared at his best friend. "you wouldn't." at this, richie smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"would i?"

eddie stood there, not knowing what to do. he gaped at richie and waited for him to splash him again or say it was a joke but he was still there with a grin on his face while all his other friends watched from a few feet away.

"what- no you woul- would you? oh shit. oh god. richie please no." eddie spluttered.

"don't be a fool, tell her you think she's cool." richie replied, moving next to ben since he was the least likely to smack him.

"guys? hey, guys!" your voice called from the shore, making everyone turn to you. "it's getting later and i've got to be home for dinner! see you later!" and with a wave, you grabbed your things and left.

"bye y/n!" beverly called and mike waved.

"see you tomorrow!" ben yelled. richie hollered something about seeing you later tonight before he leaped onto eddie before he could say anything close to goodbye. stan and bill were busy pulling the two apart to do much other than give you a quick glance but you got the message.

humming in content, you made your way back home.

...

the next day came rather quickly for you. the plan was that you, richie, beverly, and eddie were going to get ice cream and catch a movie before you met up with the others at bill's house for a sleepover.

beverly was supposed to pick you up any minute now and you were rushing around, looking for socks.

there was a knock at the door and you grabbed the first pair you saw and ran to answer.

beverly looked down at you, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"hello there." she said, squatting down so she was at eye level while you tied your shoelaces. "are you gonna do it? i can drag richie away for a little while but you better not waste that time n/n. today's the day!"

"no way." you scoffed and stood up. you snatched your keys and locked the door while beverly groaned and rolled her eyes. "today is not the day. you said that last time we went to the movies too so it doesn't count."

"yeah well you didn't tell him! so it does count cause nothing happened except that richie got banned from the popcorn." beverly twirled around to face you as the two of you started walking down the sidewalk. "pleeeeeease y/n? i promise it'll be worth it."

"absolutely not."

beverly sighed and gave up on pestering you. this was going to be a long day.

"oh look, there they are." you said and waved richie and eddie over.

"joy." beverly grumbled.

...

"well i'm thoroughly confused." you said, stepping out into the setting sunlight. your lips pursed together in thought and eddie watched quietly from next to richie. "that movie was weird."

he could stay like this forever. you were perfect and right there. why couldn't he just say it? just three simple words.

"i-"

"hey look at that weird bird." richie said, pointing towards a bird that was pecking at something on the ground. but, at richie's words, it gave a caw and flew away as if it were offended.

eddie shrank behind richie and reached for his inhaler as if to use it but stopped when you started laughing.

"richie! that's so mean, look you made him cry!" you choked out through your giggles. richie looked over at you and elbowed your side.

"hey if that made him cry wait till i'm really mean to him."

"leave the bird alone!"

"make me sweetheart!"

beverly, who had been noticing eddie's behavior, decided to get them all to bill's house so she could have a word with richie.

"let's go guys, everyone else is probably already there." she said and herded the other three up the street.

she fell back next to eddie and nudged him. he turned, as if startled to see her.

"hey eddie, you know you have to tell her at some point right?"

"what are you talking ab-"

"eddie." she stared at him until he looked away, a light pink dusting his cheeks. "you've only got one chance."

"yeah yeah. i know." he murmured as they reached bill's front door.

you knocked on the door as richie was still poking fun of the bird and you.

"hello!" a small boy with a huge grin answered the door.

"georgie!" you smiled as he ran to give you a hug which you gladly returned. "hey buddy, where's everyone else?"

"they're all upstairs in billy's room. oh, and my mom is going out to get pizza in a few minutes." he said, dragging you in the house. "i'll be down here if you need me!" georgie chirped and ran away to join his father in the living room again.

"he's so cute." beverly said, leading the four of you up to bill's room.

you nodded and the door in front of you suddenly burst open. stan came stumbling out into the hall and saw all of you.

"oh thank god, i was going insane. bill's got a game of war going on with mike and keeps cheating."

"i am n-not!" a voice came from inside the room.

"yes you are!"

"war? deal me in." richie said and rushed past stan to join mike and bill while ben rubbed his temples from the incoming headache.

you, beverly, stan, and eddie all hurried inside the room and no one bothered to close the door again.

...

a few hours and pizzas later, you were still playing war but in teams and there were many threats, fights, and insults in between rounds.

the current game was probably going to be the last since everyone was calming down. bill and stan against mike and richie. the rest of you were huddled in a circle around them, watching intently.

on your left was beverly who was almost falling asleep on ben's shoulder and on your right was, of course, eddie. though both of you were focused on the game, it felt as if there was something else pressing down on you to worry about.

you felt something press against your hand and looked down. in the heat of the games, eddie had slipped his hand into yours. when he looked back at you, he realized what happened and quickly snatched his hand away.

"sorry." he whispered.

"i didn't really mind." you half-teased, trying to hide your embarrassment. he met your eyes and neither of you seemed to be able to look away.

"HA!" mike yelled in triumph, snapping you both out of the daze, as he and richie took the win while stan and bill both started shouting protests. mike and richie high-fived and richie stood up.

"TOLD YOU BILLY!" he danced around the crowd of losers and made his way towards the hallway. "now i'm getting some ice cream. anyone else want some?"

both you and eddie got up at the same time and followed richie downstairs.

"where'd he go?" eddie asked. the kitchen was empty of richie who was never one to turn down ice cream.

"i-uh good question." you said, tripping over your words. oh no. was this something beverly had planned?

"um. anyways. so, bill's got vanilla, chocolate, mint chocolate, woah he has the whole store. look."

you walked over to where eddie was peering in the freezer. it was a small freezer so there wasn't much room for two people to look in it.

the brush of eddie's shoulder sent a jolt down your spine and you straightened up.

"i'll go with that one." you said and pointed at your favorite flavor. he looked concerned.

"are you okay y/n?"

he knows my name, part of you thought. he's been our friend for years of course he does dumbass, the other part snapped back.

"yes, i'm fine." you croaked. why was this happening now?

"she's thinking the same thing as you." richie muttered under his breath as he watched his friends talk from the doorway with beverly behind him.

the both of you faced each other and froze. it was like the moment earlier, upstairs where the only thing you'd wanted to do was stare at him and have this cloak all of your other problems.

beverly wanted to scream. you were so close and she was silently praying that you didn't let this go to waste.

the tension was so thick in the air it could've suffocated the two of you in the kitchen except both of you were oblivious to the fact that the other was feeling the same.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD." richie shouted impatiently.

you and eddie both jumped and spun around to face him and bev.

"KISS HER YOU FOOL!" he screamed and stormed over to eddie, shaking him by the shoulders.

a shocked silence spread after richie realized what he had done and said. he let go of eddie quickly and stepped away from them. you looked from him to beverly to eddie and back at richie.

"i mean, it had to be said." beverly said, breaking the silence. "y/n i'm sure you wouldn't mind that."

now it was your turn to be stunned into silence.

"bev, we should go. actually, this time." richie said, taking her wrist and leading her away from the two of you.

eddie gulped and covered his mouth with shaking fingers. you felt like you were on the verge of fainting.

but wait. "so, do you-"

"yes! okay? i like you! there i said it. i know you probably don't feel the same but i can't just leave anything unsaid after that and it's not a joke or anything. i promise." eddie said, throwing his hands away from his face.

"eddie. i know it isn't a joke. i feel the same. and if it wasn't for richie, fuck him by the way, i probably never would've told you." you shrugged, too nervous to look him in the eyes.

"and bev." eddie let out a strained laugh. you gave him a small smile and a feeling of pride bloomed in his chest.

"yeah, and fuck bev too." you said with a slightly less strained laugh.

"hey, do you maybe wanna go to that new movie that's coming out friday?" eddie asked.

a smile crept onto your face. "i'd love that."

...

#cherry from the garden🪻#writing #it 2017 #it 2017 x reader #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kasbrak x reader #it x reader

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pascalscoffin · 10 months ago

Text

You + Me Is All We Need

Full Pedro Masterlist

Sometimes, the only person a girl can count on is her daddy.

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. 2007! No outbreak! No x reader or anything this is just a little insight on life inside the Miller house on a particularly rough day. Absent Mother. Depressed Sarah. Mentions Sarah might have an ED (she doesn’t I swear she’s just depressed). Mentions of Ellie x Sarah (they’re the same age).

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Somethings been wrong with Sarah lately, Joel’s not a hundred percent sure what it is but he can tell somethings been bothering her. Every time he’d go to bring it up though, he would chicken out and change the subject and it would make him feel a hundred times worse than he had before he opened his stupid mouth.

He’d thought, after graduation and with college right around the corner she’d be happier, go out with friends, maybe go on some dates with Ellie. He hadn’t even heard her say anything about her in about a week, which was odd because she was usually bringing up every little fact she could think of.

He’d noticed she was on her phone a lot more, scowled at it more, she didn’t push for movie nights nearly as much as she used to, most of the time rushing off to her room with her nose buried in her cellphone. He’d talked to Tommy and Maria, who both agreed she was probably just being an angsty teenager, but it didn’t feel like that, it felt like he was watching his babygirl struggle and there was nothing he could do. She ate less, talked to him less, she was just… not the same and it was hurting him to see her that way.

She’d started going on runs, he noticed, early in the morning before he got up. He started getting up earlier just to make sure she would actually make it back, watching her take off from his bedroom window, sometimes at half speed, other times at complete full speed. This wasn’t normal teenage angst, he was a teenager, he couldn’t remember ever choosing to run at five am at full speed.

Maria suggested she was having body issues and while Joel considered the running and not eating as evidence of that, it just didn’t… feel right. It wasn’t that, either. Eventually, he decided he’d stop asking other people for advice on his daughter, and he’d just ask her himself.

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She wasn’t there. She wasn’t fucking there. She promised she’d be there! The words echoed in Sarah’s head as her feet pounded into the pavement, tears streamed down her face, and Hert-Shaped Box blaring into her ears as her headphone cords hit her chest with each stomp. Ellie was responsible for her vast arrange in music taste. The Hannah Montana songs now accompanied by bands like Nirvana, No Doubt, and 4 Non Blondes.

She should text Ellie at least, she’s been messaging her ever since graduation, asking if she was alright, if she wanted her to come over. She had come over but Sarah had told Joel to just send her away, not feeling up to guests. Sarah’s kept her completely in the dark, didn’t even greet her after she faked her way through photos with her family. Ellie had known Michelle was supposed to be at graduation, and had sent Sarah an I’m sorry text when she noticed she wasn’t there.

Sarah had been showing her photos the entire week leading up to graduation, having found Michelle’s Facebook and decided on a whim to message her. Michelle had seemed so happy to talk her, replying quickly but gradually the texts got more distant, and then radio silence after not showing up at her graduation. Had even sent Sarah a photo of her getting into her car with the message ‘headed to you!’ With a heart that Sarah had fallen for immediately.

Worst of all, when she’d gone to find Michelle’s Facebook and ask her what happened she was blocked, she’d worried and thought something happened, and then Ellie, after being forced by Sarah, looked up the Facebook account and it was full of new pictures of her with her family at the beach on the day of graduation. Sarah had been heartbroken, had left Ellie’s house without a word and ignored her dad the rest of the night when she got home, sobbing into her pillow.

She didn’t know why she didn’t tell Joel, maybe because she was scared he’d tell her the truth- that Michelle left for a reason. She wasn’t going to suddenly have a change of heart. It was something Sarah had already known, already told herself even without Joel saying it that that was the case. And she’d been fine with it. Completely fine with it.

Until prom happened and Maria helped her get ready in areas that Joel couldn’t. Like doing her hair better than a few braids or buns, which she had no problem with, but it was prom, she needed to go all out. She’d gone on Instagram while Maria was doing her hair, and was assaulted with photos of girls getting ready with their mothers and her heart sank to her stomach and stayed there.

She loved Maria, she did. But Maria was her aunt, not her mother. Prom was something you got ready for with your mother. Your mom was supposed to annoy you for photos while your dad tried to coax her away. But instead. Sarah had Maria and Tommy and Joel, who took a respectful amount of photos before sending her on her way with Ellie.

She just wished she’d had a mother growing up. Joel was great and she loved him more than anything. But there was always something tugging in her chest, and until recently she hadn’t put it together.

She ran until her feet hurt, stumbling to a stop and dropping to her knees on her front lawn, wheezing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. She felt a large hand on her should and flinched back, yanking her headphones out as she looked up, relaxing a bit when she saw Joel looking down at her worriedly. “Dad-“

“Sarah.. come on let’s get you some water.” Joel frowned deeply and helped her off the grass. “I… we need to talk.” He sighed heavily as he took her inside, gathering the words in his head as he grabbed her a glass of water. And then he got her some bread and the butter for toast.

“I’m not-“ “eat it or I’ll make you.” Joel sat next to her on the couch and rubbed his face as he sighed, watching her pick up the bread and take a bite. “You haven’t eaten a full meal in days, babygirl. You’re worrying me.” “There’s nothing to be worried about.” “There is. Somethings going on with you and I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“You can’t help anyway, dad.” Sarah looked down at the taste in her hand, tears in her eyes. “If you tell me I can try.” Sarah huffed and threw the toast down on the coffee table. “You won’t get it.” “Why? Because I was a teenager twenty years ago? I still remember being one.”

“God why is it always because I’m a teenager?!” Sarah stood up and threw her hands up. “Or because I’m a girl- or-or because I’m on my period?!” Joel leaned back, eyes widened a little, he opened his mouth to speak but Sarah cut him off. “You won’t get it dad because both of your parents loved you!” She screamed.

“Sarah-“ Joel stood up quickly and moved around the coffee table, frowning when she took a step back from him. “You- you had a mom and a dad! And they were both there! Papa tau-taught you how to-to do all that guy stuff and-and granny taught you the-the other stuff.” She was hyperventilating now, sobbing as Joel grabbed her shoulders and the tears streamed down her face. Unable to even think of what mothers teach their children in her frantic state.

“I can’t even get my mom to show up to my graduation!” She sobbed loudly, dropping her head as her hands covered her face. “Sarah…” Joel tried to pull her closer but she shoved him away. “No!” She sobbed. “No I don’t understand!” She yanked her phone out of her pocket and wiped her eye as she opened Facebook and showed Joel the blocked account. “She told me she would be there and then she blocked me!”

She threw her phone across the living room. “And-and I went to Ellie’s and she-she looked on her Facebook and she’s at the fucking beach with her new family!” Joel didn’t really know what to do, letting her vent and scream as much as she needed to.

“Fuck her!” She yelled at the phone, her shoulders shaking. “I don’t need her. I don’t.” She shook her head rapidly. “I didn’t need her to-to teach me how to tie my shoes or-or ride a bike, or play soccer, or do my hair, or help me get ready for-for my first date-“ Joel started to move closer to her as she continued. “I don’t need her to be there for my wedding. I didn’t need her to be there to get me ready for prom, I didn’t need her at graduation! I don’t need or want her advice for anything!”

When Joel grabbed her this time she finally broke, turning to look up at him and sobbing, “Why won’t she love me, daddy?” Joel’s eyes filling with tears as he pulled Sarah into his chest, lowering them both to the ground when he noticed her whole body starting to shake.

Joel wasn’t good with words, in fact he fucking sucked at them. But as he sat there on the floor with his 18 year old daughter curled up in his lap, sobbing over a woman who couldn’t think twice about her if her life depended on it, he knew he couldn’t let her feel this way. Like it was her fault.

“Listen to me.” He whispered into the top of her head before taking a deep breath and rubbing her back. “What Michelle does has nothing to do with you and whether or not you deserve to be loved.” He hugged her tighter. “Because you do, babygirl. You’re funny and so smart and you’re beautiful and your smile is out of this world.” He shook his head. “Don’t let her actions, her failures as a human being, dictate how you perceive yourself. Michelle… she’s set in her ways and it has nothing to do with you. She’s sick, honey. There’s something… not right about her and I don’t want you to get caught up in her web of lies and misery.” He whispered.

“You’ve got a great life without her. A girl that’s crazy about you, a dad that would take down the Incredible Hulk if it would make you happy, a loving aunt and uncle and a cousin on the way.” He pulled back and cupped her cheeks to make her look at him. “You’re doing wonderful without her and you don’t need her coming into your life and messing it up. Show her you can be happy without her, can move on in your life without her.”

Sarah’s lip wobbled, her tears having stopped by now as she listened to Joel, nodding weakly before hugging Joel tightly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so mean to everyone and I’m starving and I started ignoring everyone and-“ “and you stink.” Joel teased. Sarah gasped and pulled away, seeing nothing but fondness in his eyes as she shook her head.

“Just cause you run like you’re running from the police or something. Go take a shower, I’ll make you something to eat and we’ll watch whatever you wanna watch.” He said softly, helping her stand up, relieved she had her strength back. “… can you make your empanadas? And put in Curtis and Viper?”

Joel smiled softly and nodded, surprised she actually wanted to watch that movie. “Yeah. I can make empanadas and put in Curtis and Viper.” He chuckled when she smiled and turned around to go shower, shaking his head before slowly letting his smile drop and his jaw tense.

Fucking Michelle.

Sarah wouldn’t be a hundred percent yet, he knew that, and it would likely be a while before she felt and acted like her old self again. He was glad he could calm her down, though. It was just taking every remaining cell in his body not to make one of those Facebook accounts for the soul purpose of absolutely reaming Michelle for her behavior, but part of him new she would thrive too much off of that, to know that she upset another human being so deeply.

So, instead, while he was cooking he did make a Facebook, but not to search out Michelle and lay into her, even if he wanted to so bad. He made his profile picture a photo of him and Sarah and immediately loaded the account with photos of her or the both of them together.

He posted every picture of prom, graduation, and school events before then. He was proud of Sarah and he wasn’t going to let his lack of technology or Michelle’s sick heart let it go unnoticed.

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How do we feel about background Ellie x Sarah?

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #Joel tlou #Joel miller tlou #Sarah miller #Sarah tlou #Sarah miller tlou

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