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penguwastaken · 6 months

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About Brainwashing in Danganronpa

Hello to all 3 of the people who see this account. A few months ago, I made a thread on hit website Twitter dot com about brainwashing in the Danganronpa Series. I discussed where it came from, how it works, and how the brainwashing of class 77-B was never a retcon. The thread got a lot of attention there, even getting a "debunk" on other hit website Reddit dot com (lmao). Due to that, there's been a lot of responses and questions. Since I can't really update a Twitter thread, I decided that I'd make the Ultimate™ Brainwashing thread and hopefully dispel any information on the subject while making my original points more clear and covering things I failed to cover. So here it is: Brainwashing in Danganronpa, how it works, where it came from, and how it was intended from the start. (a 🧵 except not really) *Massive spoilers for Danganronpa Zero, Danganronpa 2, Danganronpa Another Episode, Danganronpa Togami, and Danganronpa 3, as well as the series as a whole*

Danganronpa Zero: First Sighting

Brainwashing has its roots all the way back in the second official entry produced in the series, Danganronpa Zero. During the story's events, Ryoko comes across a secret cult made up of students from the reserve course. They're seen staring at a strange video, seemingly turning them and turn them into mindless zombies.

The video depicts members of the student council killing each other. Ryoko is stunned while watching it. She can barely look away, but eventually through force of will she does. This same video is later used to convince the reserve course to rebel.

The way it's described to work is that it uses their “pent-up emotions,” implying that their emotions played a role in its effectiveness. It's also worth noting that the novel itself refers to what is happening as brainwashing, making this objectively the first depiction of brainwashing in the series right from the second entry.

Danganronpa 2: Now it Gets Dubious

Our next instance of brainwashing comes from Danganronpa 2. The concept is brought up multiple times, such as when Makoto states that the Ultimate Despairs were brainwashed or how the Neo World Program is good at treating brainwashing, though the details of what brainwashing actually means in this context are kept vague.

It's also worth noting that Danganronpa 2 was being written around the same time as Danganronpa Zero and Kodaka wanted concepts from the novel to appear in Danganronpa 2, likely so readers would feel validated. This is why things like Izuru Kamukura and the reserve course play huge roles in Danganronpa 2, it's not too much of a stretch to say that the same applies with brainwashing. One detail we’re given about the brainwashing is from Monokuma, who states the Ultimate Despairs were brainwashed by Junko taking advantage of their feelings. Specifically love, hate, grudges, and "anything really". If that sounds familiar, it’s because that’s exactly how the brainwashing video from Danganronpa Zero was described to function, using their pent-up emotions.

I should mention that Monokuma and Junko are known for being unreliable narrators who often stretch the truth, exaggerate things, and use hyperbole to manipulate people into believing their narrative. Monokuma describes the Ultimate Despairs as “nothing more than Junko’s limbs”, which contradicts the existence of characters like Nagito. Who, while in his despair state, did not work with Junko nor did he look up to her (at least in the normal sense like the other Ultimate Despairs). In fact, it would have been impossible for them to really obey any of Junko's orders as Ultimate Despairs because Junko was trapped inside of Hope's Peak with minimal connection to the outside world. This isn't a definitive "Monokuma is lying" statement, but just note that his word isn't 100% reliable. Meanwhile, someone like Makoto who outright mentions brainwashing, is a much more reliable source.

Danganronpa Another Episode: More Brainwashing! (kinda irrelevant tho...)

The next time brainwashing is used is in the next entry, Danganronpa Another Episode. Though its purpose in this discussion isn’t the most useful, as the brainwashing is caused by Monokuma helmets, which don’t have their functionality explained. I figured it was worth mentioning and describing at least, as its another example of brainwashing at least.

I did figure it was worth adding how the brainwashed children act. They obey the Warriors of Hope’s every command, as if they have zero control over their actions. This is different from how the Ultimate Despairs act, who still some free had free will after presumably being brainwashed judging by the actions of Nagito, who is also in this game.

Danganronpa Togami: I Hate My Life

Okay. As mixed as my opinions are on this novel trilogy, it does feature brainwashing. In fact, it might feature one of the most detailed and important descriptions of brainwashing in the series, and even outright CONFIRMS that class 77-B were brainwashed (sorta).

"Hey um... Tumblr/Twitter user Pengu... what do you mean by 'sorta'?" Well my uninformed reader who I guarantee has probably never read this book, there's a twist. I regret to inform you that the canonicity of Danganronpa Togami is rather questionable, as it depicts an extremely unreliable narrator’s warped viewing of events due to this thing called the K2K system, which means not everything in the novel is meant to be taken literally or at face value.

This doesn't mean that everything should be discarded or immediately dismissed however. This just means that we have to use our brains a little and decipher what the hell Yuya Sato was cooking when he wrote this novel trilogy. In the novel, we discover the existence of the elusive despair novel. When read, the novel will turn the reader to despair and inflict them with the despair disease. This novel is what's used to plummet the world into despair, as well as being what caused the class 77-B to become the Ultimate Despairs. There's no known ways to avoid it, once you read it, it's joever. 😔

As I said earlier, the events of Danganronpa Togami can’t be taken literally. Due to this and prior context, we can safely assume that the despair novel is most likely the K2K's warped idea of the despair video from Danganronpa Zero. Instead of being a book being read that brainwashed people, it was a video being watched. What makes me so sure? Well let's look over the similarities. The way the despair novel works is that it uses cruel words to overload the reader with negative emotions, causing them to snap and turn to despair. That sounds almost exactly like the despair video, overloading the viewer by manipulating their emotions until they turn to despair.

However, a major difference comes from the fact that Danganronpa Togami confirms towards the end that the despair novel doesn't literally brainwash people, acting as a placebo and an excuse for people with despair to use.

However I don't believe this suddenly breaks the connection to the despair video in Danganronpa Zero. All it shows is that the novel doesn't create despair, which is something we already established with the brainwashing video. It doesn't make despair, it makes it stronger. Whether it be via the disturbing imagery on the screen or the words on a page giving you an excuse, all it does is amplify despair. Basically it doesn't make despair come out of nowhere, it incites it. This connection's a little bit of a stretch but I'll bring it up anyways. The technology used in the despair novels was originally to bring hope. (Take notes, it will probably be important assuming you buy this connection.)

Essentially, the despair novel works in a similar same way as the despair video, but instead it’s a book and you read it instead of watching it. This means that class 77-B and the rest of the world were most likely brainwashed via the despair video, and that is what caused the class to become Ultimate Despairs.

Danganronpa 3: The One People Really Don't Like

And all of this brings us to the most detailed yet controversial usage of brainwashing: Danganronpa 3. Many assume that the anime’s usage of brainwashing is a retcon, contradicting the words of our holy savior Super Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair High School. However, I’d like to debate that. In fact, I'd like to finally put a nail in the coffin of this really stupid debate and finally show you that Danganronpa 3's depiction of brainwashing is exactly how it has always been described.

In Danganronpa 3, we are introduced to Ryota Mitarai and his anime. Using the power of subliminal messaging, it heightens the viewer's emotions and makes them more powerful. What was once a slightly emotional scene is now a complete tearjerker fully capable of tearing at the viewers heart strings! While he acknowledges that there are unethical things that can be done with this technology and it's technically brainwashing, his goal is to use this technology to make the world a better place, even if it can be dangerous. If that sounds familiar, that's because it's what Hope's Peak tried doing with the despair novel in Danganronpa Togami. Though I'll admit, this single point is a little bit of a stretch as there are differences. I just figured it was worth at least a mention.

Using her analytical prowess, Junko gets a rough understanding of how the technology works, so she develops the despair video, featuring the student council killing each other overlayed with subliminal messaging technology to make the despair felt while viewing the video stronger.

The video works on Mikan, however Junko fears that the video may not be powerful enough to fully go through with her plans due to not understanding the technology nearly as well as Ryota does. Because of this, she forces Ryota to create a better, more powerful despair video. A despair video v2 if you will. Junko’s fears weren’t unfounded, as we discover that Chisa had the mental fortitude to resist the despair video, similarly to how Ryoko was able to resist the same video in Danganronpa Zero. This is exactly why Junko needs a more powerful video, one that she knows can’t be resisted.

"Ermmmm, Tumblr/Twitter user Pengu, how come Ryoko and Chisa are able to resist the despair video but Mikan and nobody in the reserve course could?" Good question, the answer is pretty simple. As mentioned before, the video takes advantage of the emotions of the viewer. Mikan is already pretty weak minded, so there wasn't much issue in controlling her. The reserve course already hated Hope's Peak and would take any reason to hate them more, so a video that shows them the sins of Hope's Peak would affect them as well. Ryoko and Chisa have no connection to the reserve course however, and neither are particularly very weak emotionally. Ryoko has the analytical prowess of Junko and Chisa is just a very strong willed person in general, and paired with Junko's lack of knowledge about subliminal messaging when creating the video, it's pretty obvious it wouldn't be that effective on them. All the more reason for Junko to force Ryota to make a better despair video.

The despair video v2 that Ryota is forced to make comes in the form of Chiaki’s execution video, where the stronger subliminal messages paired with witnessing the representation of the happiest moments in their miserable lives and their closest friend suffer makes class 77-B unable to resist. Ultimately this causes them to finally snap, being overloaded with despair, and now they turn into the Ultimate Despairs. (side note this is so freaking cool idc what anyone else says)

This resembles Monokuma’s explanation from Danganronpa 2. Junko used class 77-B’s emotions and years of getting closer against them to turn them to them to despair. Now featuring the added context of her using the video designed to manipulate people’s emotions. Also as @jelimore pointed out, Junko leading the class to Chiaki's execution itself was manipulating them. This depiction of brainwashing fits perfectly with the information provided throughout the series, even down to the little details. It’s so close in fact that I can say without a doubt that Danganronpa 3 did not retcon anything. “But Tumblr/Twitter user Pengu, that isn’t how the video is shown to work during Hope Arc. Therefore it actually contradicts previous entries and is inconsistent!" To that I say, you’re correct! ...at least about the hope video functioning differently, but that doesn’t make it inconsistent. The hope video behaves pretty differently. Instead of overloading the viewer with negative feelings, it simply just shows them a repeating video loop that turns them into a mindless zombie, likely caused by even stronger subliminal messaging. The people affected can also snap out of this state with some time, as seen with Aoi.

The reasoning for this is actually pretty simple, it’s just different technology entirely. It’s stated that the hope video was developed later on after the despair video. If anything, it behaves very similar to the Monokuma masks from Danganronpa Another Episode, which we also already established uses different technology. The hope video doesn’t contradict the despair video at all because they both use completely different tech. This can also be seen with how the despair video uses subliminal messaging, meanwhile the messaging in the hope video couldn’t be further from subliminal. There is no inconsistency, just two different things.

The reason the hope video needed to be broadcasted everywhere was so that since it would be airing everywhere, nobody would have time for the effects to wear off or resist it. This would turn the world into mindless zombies who obey every command, similarly to the Monokuma kids. It's just that now they don't have to force bulky helmets onto everyone.

Debunking Common Arguments

With the hope video out of the way, I think it’s very safe to assume that not only is the despair video’s functionality very accurate to previous descriptions, it’s also always been the reason for the brainwashing of Class 77-B, long before Danganronpa 3. Even if you disagree and think the cause of brainwashing was never explicitly mentioned in Danganronpa 2, there's still the fact that Danganronpa 2 outright says it was brainwashing. So even if a video wasn't the direct cause of it, them being brainwashed was still always intended (though given the context and the fact the video was introduced in a tie in novel for the game, I'm certain that it was always the culprit). Many point to this line where Kazuichi asks why they became the Ultimate Despairs and Makoto says he never got an answer to debunk this. But... this doesn't change anything. He asks why they became Ultimate Despairs, not how. And this is completely ignoring the fact that Makoto clearly has done his own digging into the situation, he discovered the Remnants of Despair were hiding among Future Foundation after all. The Future Foundation had access to brainwashing videos, they found them, so of course Makoto is going to know about the brainwashing. What Makoto is saying here is that he doesn't know every little detail, all he knows is that they were brainwashed. I wrote a bit more about it here, but there's nothing contradictory in this scene.

Many also point to Mikan stating that it was her many human relationships that led her to being the way she is. Once again, this changes literally nothing. Mikan was the only one of the remnants who actually knew Junko, she was the only one who spent time with her because she was the first subject. This is why she gets more attached to her, and even why she'd believe what Junko would tell her when they spent time together. Monokuma also says that Junko used "hopeless methods overflowing with charisma and humor" to control the masses. I don't even know why I have to address this, but this statement is so vague you can interpret it as a million things. Like for example, this is how she got Ryota to work for her. While pretending to be Makoto to manipulate the people in the trial, Junko tells them that they all became Ultimate Despairs while coming into contact with her at Hope's Peak and they were subjected by her terrifying influence. Again, ignoring how vague "terrifying influence" is, this is literally Junko trying to LIE AND MANIPULATE them. This is quite possibly the worst example you could have used because we know for a fact that she is lying to them while pretending to be Makoto. There's other examples of Junko trying to manipulate them, like mentioning how everyone hated them and their all Ultimate Despairs at the end of the day. But that's just what this is, manipulation. You would think that the "Junko manipulated class 77-B" crowd would understand that saying "everyone hates you but I saw your potential" is literally manipulation 101. She even states that Izuru killed the entirety of a student council, which we know for certain is a lie because Danganronpa Zero (which came out before) says otherwise. Some say that the brainwashing turned them into mindless zombies and eliminates all blame from their actions. While I would agree that it does make them less at fault, they still have the ability to make choices and still have free will. Their original personalities haven't been overwritten, their brains were just rewired to crave despair. They're still each their individual person with their own ways of feeling despair, and characters like Chisa and Nagito show that they regain their free will to an extent. I also wrote more about that here, LOL.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts

This whole debate stems from people misunderstanding Monokuma’s words and going along with the popular interpretation, which turned out to be wrong. Whether you like the use of brainwashing or not, it objectively isn’t a retcon as it's been developed ever since Danganronpa Zero. Personally, I love the use of brainwashing. I think the way it's developed throughout the series and its usage in Danganronpa 3 is super interesting. If you disagree, that's fine! Heck, if you choose to headcanon that Junko manipulated 15 individual teenagers into all becoming despair hungry terrorists capable but ending the world and fighting off every military in the world in less than a year, that's cool too! But the truth is, Danganronpa 3's brainwashing is canon and it's also not a retcon nor does it contradict anything. Contrary to popular belief, Kodaka was involved with the writing of the anime. He provided a large draft and outline of the plot and oversaw its development. He produced the anime, he did his homework, the team even played the games to prepare for writing the anime. He knew what he was doing. I'm sure if Kodaka intended for them to all be manipulated one by one, that's what he would have went with. All information implying that it was manipulation is very few and far between and questionable at best, not to mention outweighed by everything implying it was brainwashing. Mind manipulation stuff is not new in this series, its been around since the first game and brainwashing was established in literally the second entry ever produced. Whether you love it or hate it, think it's the best thing since sliced bread or the death of the series, brainwashing was the answer the whole time. Some people just never noticed it, and instead of acknowledging that they were wrong, they stuck with a headcanon that they believed so much and jumped to the conclusion of "retcon". I hope this mega post managed to inform some people, maybe change some minds too. If you still don't buy it, then I guess there's nothing I can do. Thanks for reading all of this though, I tend to yap a lot about this franchise lmao.

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hannie-dul-set · 5 months

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats.

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.”

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss.

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of.

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?”

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. ��First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out.

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting.

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack.

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream).

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?”

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.”

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you.

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation.

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all.

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut. “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame.

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in.

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together.

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?”

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended.

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old.

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air.

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you.

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums.

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt x you #tomorror x together x you #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you

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withacapitalp · 9 months

Text

Starry, Starry Night Pt 1

Happy birthday dear friend!!! @thefreakandthehair Lex you are a pillar of the fandom, an amazing writer, and just all around one of my most favorite human beings. I'm so so lucky to get to call you one of my best friends and I hope this fic puts a smile on your face!! @stevethehairington and @hbyrde36 thank you for betaing and for encouragement!!!!

Read it on ao3 instead here

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Steve was asleep at the counter.

Again.

Robin placed another VHS precariously on the top of the pile surrounding him, making sure to adjust it so it wouldn’t fall. A copy of Secret Admirer had toppled down half a dozen boxes when she placed it without care earlier, and Steve had almost woken up just from the sound. She had worked her way through all of the romantic comedy returns and was halfway through the horrors already, and the pile was up to Steve’s waist.

Her working theory was that she would be able to get all the way through the action movies before Steve was completely covered in tapes.

Part of her wanted to feel at least a little bad for fucking with him every single time he fell asleep. After all it wasn’t like Robin hadn’t fallen asleep on the job herself once or twice, and Family Video wasn’t exactly the hardest job in the world. Now that they lived in a veritable ghost town, the store was lucky to get even a handful of patrons every day.

Apart from her own boredom, there wasn’t really any reason to mess with him or try to wake him up.

But there lay the crux of the problem. Robin and Steve had gotten their jobs as one so they could spend time together. Not so Robin could get stuck watching her best friend drool on the counter she would inevitably be forced to clean before they closed tonight.

So, tape fort.

Robin’s theories were almost immediately dashed though, because just as she placed her fourth copy of Rosemary’s Baby down, Steve stretched out his arms, knocking directly into the wall in front of him and bringing that entire cluster of VHS cases down on his head.

“Ow! What! Why?!” Steve shouted, jerking upwards, startling as the rest of the tapes surrounding him began to tumble to the floor.

Robin snickered to herself as she watched the melee, hopping up onto the counter next to where he had been lying his head and beginning to gather up the failed remnants of her experiment.

“Good morning Dingus,” She sang, lightly tapping him on the top of the head with Ghostbusters, “Did you have a good rest?”

“Robin,” Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands and heaving an absolutely ginormous sigh, “Why?”

“Hey, this is your fault,” Robin protested, putting the stack of tapes to the side and sliding to the floor to start grabbing the rest.

“My fault?” Steve repeated, sliding his fingers away from his eyes so he could glare at her while still hiding his face.

“This is the fifth time you’ve fallen asleep on me this week, Dingus,” Robin said, giving him a look as she waved a VHS around her head, “Look at this place. Look at how boring it is. I need enrichment, I’m like a tiger in a zoo.”

Steve lowered his hands, raising a brow and silently judging her for a second before grumbling and joining her on the ground.

“What? Was making paper clip crowns and hiding M&Ms in my pockets not enriching enough anymore?” Steve asked rhetorically, referencing the other things she had done this week during his impromptu naps as he collected the rest of the rom-coms.

“Nope.” She replied, popping the p as she stood, tapes in hand, “Five times, Stevifer. Five.”

“So?”

“So, it’s only Wednesday!” Robin shouted, walking around the counter and towards the shelves, knowing Steve would be following close behind with his own stack. “Is Eddie really still that excited about getting you in his bed every night?”

“You would be the first person to know,” Steve said, wagging his eyebrows and looking far too smug for Robin’s tastes.

That much was true. Steve told Robin everything. What he had for breakfast, any weird customers that came in while she wasn’t scheduled, the stupid things the kids said, and, to the chagrin of both Eddie and Robin, anything and everything to do with his sex life.

And god damn it did her best friends have a lot of sex.

“Okay, so it’s not Eddie keeping you up,” Robin said, a small pit beginning to form in her stomach. She had hoped it was just them fucking like bunnies and Steve needing to recharge during the mornings, but now she was pretty sure it was the other thing, and that was a lot worse.

There was no quick fix for that particular problem.

“You wanna talk about it?” Robin asked softly, turning towards her best friend and trying to be as gentle as allowed.

“Not really,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on the shelves and avoiding her gaze.

Okay, so not gentle. Trying to get Steve to open up was a weird careful tightrope walk between being gentle enough to lower down his guard, while also being firm enough that he didn’t feel like he was being treated like a child. So far Robin was the only one who managed to succeed most of the time, but even she stumbled on occasion.

“You know I don’t mind covering for you, but you can’t keep this up, Dingus,” Robin tried, nudging their shoulders together as she did, hoping that a little extra physical contact would open Steve up even more, “It’s not healthy, and they’re not worth it.”

Wrong thing to say. It was like she could physically see the walls coming back up around him.

“I’ll be fine, Robin,” Steve said, the forced nonchalance in his tone hurting her almost as much as it was definitely hurting him.

“You’re not sleeping again,” She stated plainly, putting it out there for both of them to see. Steve flinched at her words as if she had physically struck him.

“I’m just…still adjusting,” He tried.

Adjusting was still figuring out how the oven worked at Eddie’s new trailer, or trying to find the best routine for sharing the bathroom in the morning. Adjusting was planning work schedules, learning how to live together, becoming used to each other's rhythms.

Whatever was happening here wasn’t adjusting.

“Steve, It’s been almost a month since…” Robin started, trailing off as she tried to find the right words to help him.

Steve already had them.

“Since what, Robin? Since my parents kicked me out?” Steve interrupted, his voice hard and angry as he forced himself to meet her eyes, as if challenging her to try and find a kinder way to say it.

That wasn’t a challenge she was planning to take on. There was no making this better.

“Yeah, since your parents kicked you out,” She repeated, refusing to meet his level of emotion, knowing that would only make Steve even angrier. Sure enough he pushed away from her, stalking over to the counter and furiously punching returns into the computer, a storm cloud of rage swirling around him.

“Steve-”

“God Robin, will you just drop it?!” Steve snapped.

Robin leaned ever so slightly back at his sudden shift and Steve let his eyes slip shut, hanging his head low and taking a slow deep breath. The anger drained from his face, leaving behind only barely there frustration, and a longing that his parents didn’t fucking deserve from a son that was far too good for them.

It wasn’t exactly a shock when Richard and Diane showed up and told their son to pack his shit and leave, but that didn’t make it any less painful for Steve. Robin had never had any faith in them, but for some reason Steve did. He expected his parents to love him just as much as he loved them, and he had deluded himself into thinking that they had only ever done the things they did to try and make him better.

Letting go of that couldn’t be easy, but it was also one of the few things about Steve that Robin felt she would probably never fully understand.

“Please.” Steve whispered, Robin’s heart breaking at the pain in his voice, “I just don’t wanna talk about it, Bobbin.”

Rather than answering she rounded the counter, pressing her body into his side and leaning her head against his shoulder. Steve adjusted to fit her automatically, two becoming one as she let Steve breathe into the pain instead of ignore it.

“Were you at least having a good dream?” Robin asked, her voice slightly muffled by the soft sweater Steve was wearing, wishing she had a way to help him.

“Oh yeah, it was great,” He said with a soft laugh, “I was lying back on a mountain of pillows while Eddie was using his massive thick-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll be forced to smother you next time you fall asleep at work,” Robin groaned, sticking her tongue out and gagging as she pushed Steve away from her. She hammed it up for extra effect, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her lips as she listened to Steve’s laughter.

He hadn’t laughed as much in the last few weeks, and Robin hadn’t realized how much she missed the sound. It reminded her of everything good, all the stuff they hadn’t really been able to do since he moved in with Eddie. Burning breakfast together, dancing around the house in their socks, even trying to muffle their giggles in her bed so they wouldn’t wake her parents, looking through the skylight that was above her bed at the stars…

Huh. Maybe she did have an idea of how to help.

“Now that you’re awake, I’m going to take my break,” Robin said in a faux casual tone, stretching and trying to hide the Cheshire cat grin overtaking her face.

“You built a tape fort around me because you were annoyed I fell asleep and you were alone, so the first thing you do when I wake up is go hide in the back alone?” Steve complained, turning back to the computer and restarting the returns he had begun.

“Love you too,” Robin said, pecking his cheek as she practically skipped towards the breakroom. She closed and locked the door, pressing her ear to it for a second just to make sure Steve wasn’t eavesdropping before almost bolting over to the phone in the corner, punching in the number for the Thatcher’s Tires and bouncing in place as she listened to the dial tone.

This was a great idea. One of her best.

“Hey Pete, it’s Robin. Can you put Eddie on the phone?”

Part two is coming tomorrow!! If you want to be tagged say it in a reblog!!

#stwgdailyprompt #steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #st drabble #steve and eddie #robin buckley #stobin #Platonic stobin #robin and Steve are besties #and as besties #robin has an obligation to fuck with him

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showtoonzfan · 9 months

Text

Okay so I saw S1E2 of HH “Video killed the radio Star” so here’s my thoughts on that, ⚠️SPOILERS⚠️

- So once again, the pacing is all over the place. In the span of 2 episodes we have to deal with introducing Adam and Lute, the main characters of the hotel, the three V’s and Sir Pen, and I don’t like how the three V’s are introduced in the second episode of season 1. Like…can we just let the characters we know breathe and get to know them before you introduce new ones?? Told you this was going to be like Helluva lol.

- So hell is freaking out that the extermination got moved to 6 months later, but Charlie of course isn’t the focus of this episode. It’s mainly the three V’s + Angel/Al/Sir Pen. It still bothers me that the reason behind redeeming sinners is not because Charlie is sick of Hell being a damnation but because she doesn’t want them to be exterminated. It’s such a drastic change from the pilot and the character motivation that it still throws me off sorry.

- So, I actually like Vox. I take back bitching about Christian Borle playing him because while his suave voice may not fit the twink design, he does a fantastic job either way as expected, making Vox an intimidating person. I had thought before that Vox was going to just be this dumb henchman, but I actually like how he’s the runner of things. He’d be so cool if he didn’t curse and talk like every other character in the show though.

- Good GOD Valentino. I already shared how I felt about him when the dialogue leaks came out, but I HATE how his character is just this idiot man baby who throws temper tantrums and legit needs to be “calmed down” by Vox because he’s such an idiot. Like…Velvette calls him a piss baby and Vox legit had to talk to him as if he was one, that’s how dumb this guy is. There’s a scene where Vox asks what they should do about the hotel and Val says “just put something inside, that’s how I get the bitches”- like…kill me. The fan interpretations were better. He was actually someone you didn’t want to mess with and had an intimidating voice, here he’s a whiny baby that you have to remind yourself is the same guy who forces himself on Angel. The Addict and comic version of this character is not the same as the one we have now. His voice is too high pitch, it sucks and his accent goes on and off constantly. Viv can’t write abusers for shit, she sees everything as a joke. Again, how are we supposed to take abuse seriously if this is how you portray your abuser. Crimson is more intimidating than this joke of a cockroach.

- Alastor has been gone for seven years, yeah that “Lilith is Rosie and Al is working for her”- allegation is 100% true like it perfectly lines up together since Lilith has also been gone for seven years. Only for Alastor, it makes no sense. Like…wdym he’s been gone for seven years. The pilot is canon and they state he’s been at the hotel for a week. Alastor was literally walking around town when Charlie was on the news. Do they mean that it’s been years since he’s done his radio show? Viv, when you retcon shit you need to specify. You’re just confusing everyone again.

- They need to explain why exactly it’s dangerous to make a deal with Alastor because all this vagueness isn’t helping the story. The whole reason Vox sends Sir Pen out to be a spy was to make sure Charlie didn’t make a deal with him, yet you literally have Vaggie making a deal with him like it was nothing in the last episode. I also fail to see why exactly Vox cares about Charlie making a deal with Alastor in the first place. Is it because he doesn’t want Al to have more power? Is it because he doesn’t want Charlie to have power? EXPLAIN.

- Yay more retconning and woobifying. So Angel Dust is a whiny wimpy bitch in this episode, he’s very out of character. When Sir Pen comes to the hotel, he’s extra pressed about that, when in the pilot he couldn’t even take Sir Pen seriously and was acting nonchalant towards him. Then when Charlie starts getting all giddy and complimenting Pen, Angel gets sad and jealous??? This is the second fucking episode of season 1. I thought the whole point about Angel and the hotel was that he didn’t trust Charlie nor take the redemption stuff seriously. Now apparently he wants her approval? And then when he finds Pen out, Pen insults him and that causes Angel to just fucking lunge at him and start punching. When did Angel get this goddamn sensitive. Why did the wimpy snake character who’s supposed to be a loser get under his skin THAT much? It’s even more jarring because the last episode Angel was literally saying he loves being exploited and in the pilot he’s presented as someone who could give less of a shit of what other people think, now a simple jab at him being a slut made him go off. Remember when Travis called him a slut in the pilot and Angel just laughed it off? What happened to that Angel lol.

- Vaggie has a line that flat out calls Angel a sexual harasser. And yet we’re supposed to feel bad for him and root for HuskerDust. Makes perfect sense Viv, fuck you. She has no idea what sexual harassment even is because she sees actual harassment as quirky funny jokes and paints it as genuine love. Pick a side. Is Angel an asshole who sexually harasses people or is he an uwu baby who deserves to be with Husk. Clearly Viv chose the second option.

- I liked Vox and Al’s song, tho I wish it was more singing instead of talking. Charlie’s song in the end was boring but at least it was short. I still don’t know how to feel about Pen being at the hotel tho. Like I get he’s a loser and not a big threat but him happily joining the hotel now is way too structurally fast. There’s a lot of things that feel like Viv changed at the last minute compared to the pilot and it shows. Pilot was better.

That’s it, not looking forward to the third one which is HuskerDust focused (female centric show my ass)

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin critical

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prismaticpichu · 2 months

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for ASGZ(and C if you want!) what do their genuine laughs sound like? like a full on heard or saw something really funny to them and then they're busting up (and if ur feeling it, what would each of them find genuinely funny?)

Ahhhhhhh!!! That is the CUTEST question, my friendo!! ❤️💖✨

AGSZC’s Laughs!

Angeal: A deep, throaty guffaw is this man’s specialty! The kind of full-on laugh that scares the shit out of you because it just BOOMS out of absolutely nowhere, often preluded by a verrrryyy long and shrill JK Simmons-esque squeal before the eruption.

What elicits this: “epic” fail videos that he finds on MuTube, stand-up comedy routines, and “Penne For Your Thoughts: The Ultomat-o Book of Food Puns!”

Genesis: Nothing short of hysterical, maniacal cackling that will send him crumpling to the floor in a breathless mass. He has been mistaken for a laughing hyena on several occasions.

What elicits this: Rom-Coms, comical violence, and embarrassinglybad horror films such as the critically-ashamed “ChocoBowed” (particularly the scene wherein the killer Chocobo fires its titular weapons at the bully character’s crotch). Very into black comedy overall!

Sephiroth: Low, quiet, but sincere chuckles is predominantly all that ever ripples from this man’s lips in terms of laughter. HOWEVER! There is one (1) recorded occasion wherein that vague chuckle ballooned into a song of true, heartfelt laughter <3 And it was a day that went down as one of the best in the other three SOLDIERs’ life.

What elicit(ed) this: Zack leaving a bottle of Super Stamp Soda in the freezer, proceeding to take the super swollen can out of the freezer, and then winding up with a supernova of soda dribbling off his hair when science resulted in it exploding in the poor boy’s face. Everyone in the room (Seph included!) burst into uncontrollable laughter, followed by a jumbo group hug that send the breathless General toppling on the couch when Angeal, Genesis, and Zack all assaulted him with a loving and incredulous embrace. All three eagerly await to day to hear that magical sound again <3

Zack: The most joyous, infectious, and authentic laugh you can possibly imagine!! Studies show that it is downright impossible to not so much as crack a smile when the young SOLDIER gets into one of these rapturous fits!!!

What elicits this: Literally anything that can be remotely taken as funny has a 4/5 chance of causing Zack to laugh. He also has an extreme comedy sweet spot for the word “Nibelheim” being spoken in any shape or form.

Cadet!Cloud: A very innocent, soft, and extremely endearing giggle is our trooper’s style! He doesn’t tend to reach all that high of a volume with his laughter (even in his most busted-gut states), but that doesn’t stop it from being an absolute ray of sunshine to the ears of anyone who hears it!

What elicits this: Silly Shreddit threads, gamer raging, and the word “Gongaga” being spoken in any shape or form.

#ffvii #crisis core #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife #asks #ty!!#ff7 #randomness #floof

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chanlix-honey · 11 months

Text

The Attention You Deserve (I.N.)

WARNING: smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, choking, crying, jeongin being a tease and we’re here for it, (light) degrading,,,meaning MINORS DNI!! Please and thank you!!!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: HAPPY ROCK-STAR DAY EVERYONE!!! In honor of the new album release, I have decided to post the full one shot I teased a few days ago. This is my first skz smut post!! Pls be gentle!

Read at your own risk! Again, minors DNI. Enjoy!

“Let’s play a game, hm?” he pulls off the blanket that’s covering your sex, and your pleasured smell pulsates the room. “Since you wanted to be a bad girl, daddy’s going to correct this for you.” He brings your soaked hands to his mouth to lick the pleasure off of you. “I’m going to give you the night of your life. Maybe even the best. And you’re not going to cum once.” He tugs at your shirt, asking you to take it off. You do so obediently. “Good girl.” He plunges two of his fingers into your wet cunt.

“You obey me—and quickly—daddy rewards you. If you don’t listen..well,” You moan, the length of his fingers not giving you any let up. “I’m thinking of fucking you until I cum. How does that sound my dumb baby?” He chuckles, giving you a sly smile.

You couldn’t help yourself. Jeongin has been coming home from work later and later these days. He does his best to let you know that he and the boys won’t be done for some time, but he is an idol after all. He always has something to do. If it’s not vocals with his teacher and Seungmin, it’s practice with Danceracha, or executing lyrics with Channie-hyung (his favorite nickname for Bangchan, that he has passed down to you. Though he doesn’t like telling him in person).

When you text him throughout the day how excited you are for movie night, he can’t help but feel bad to try and remember the last time you and him spent time together. This would be good to get some of that quality time that you were both missing. And to treat you deliciously tonight. He misses your moans and your pussy, so he hopes to make up for it too. He feels his cock twitch at the thought of being coated in your juices and filling you up. He shakes the thought away to make sure he’s not sporting a hard-on before he goes back to Minho leading practice and replies to you. Be sure to wear that purple lace for Daddy tonight, I want to treat you to dessert…be a good girl and wait for me until I get home to give you the attention you deserve.

And tonight isn’t any different. You order pizza for the two of you once he texts you that he’ll be home in an hour—in hopes that the cheesy dinner arrives just as he does. By the time he comes home, he’s too tired for the weekly rom-com-roasting movie night that you and him had planned. He greets you with a good evening forehead kiss and lets you know that he’s going to take a little nap before you get the movie queued up. You smile at his sweet gesture, but can’t help to notice that your heart pangs at the kiss, disappointed that his lips missed yours.

Thirty minutes pass by. Then an hour. You continue to stare at your phone, as the screen is the only thing illuminating the room. You turned off the tv fifteen minutes ago. The barely-eaten pizza stares at you, as the box is only slightly open. You dejectedly scroll through TikTok, skipping fan edits of your boyfriend performing on the multitude of stages all over the world. You skip all, except one. A fan edit of his teasing lip-licking moments on stage, and the pit of your stomach feels engulfed by the flames of arousal. You let the video play once. Twice. Three times. Before you know it, your fingers are rubbing your clit to the ever-playing fan edit, desperately wishing your hand was his mouth and that teasing tongue.

“Ah, ah, daddy~” you mumble. You wouldn’t dare wake him up with your lewd sounds. Last time you made a mistake—let’s just say you couldn’t get out of bed the next day and a half.

Yet, your voice fails you and you squeak when you accidently pinch your clit, and your body shivers. You choke at your clumsiness and tears roll off your cheeks. Daddy-! You tremble, just about to cum.

Consumed in your pleasure, you don’t hear your boyfriend getting up from bed. He woke up from his nap just before you made the terrible decision to play with yourself. First, he heard you watching tiktoks—specifically the one that aroused you in the first place. And then he heard it again..and again. Like you stopped scrolling. Then, he started hearing your pretty little moans. Once he arrived in the phone-illuminated living room, he put the pieces together. He had actually been standing around watching you as he heard your cute little whimpers begging for a release. It seems that you weren’t as quiet as you thought.

“My, my, babygirl..did the words ‘wait for me’ slip your mind?” you yelp.

Suddenly, you feel one of his hands snake around your chin to tilt in his direction, and the other pinning your wrists away from you—stopping your movements.

Which is what brings you to this point. Him fucking you on his fingers in slow agony. It was supposed to be a night he was meant to take care of you. And you couldn’t wait until you had his full attention? He was not going to let that slide. Instead of giving you pleasure until your release, he had other ideas in mind.

“Y-yes daddy,” you shiver.

“Oh good, you do listen. Now tell me—” he begins, his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you, stretching you out.

“—What were you thinking when you stopped on that video darling?” He watches you writhe in pleasure. With your pupils blown, your body twitching in response to his oh so slow movements, and your hands grasping at air—pinned down by his large veiny hands at your wrists—he can’t help but look at you like an angel. How gorgeous you are…he thinks, smirking like the fox he is.

“I was thinking..mmh! About your t-tongue inside me daddy—fuck,” you gasp.

“Go on, princess, tell me how much you need me.” He groans. He can feel pre-cum soaking his sweatpants, his cock throbbing for you, begging to be released from the clothed prison.

“So bad. S-so b-bad. Your p-pretty pussy is aching for your mouth inside me ah~”

“You taste so good, daddy can’t help but to make you feel good to taste more of you..” He gropes your breast in one hand while his mouth is on the other, giving your clothed tits most of the attention—still finger fucking you ever so slowly.

You start to see stars. His fingers in you are already too much, despite the pace. How you’ve missed him touching you like this. But he’s slow. Way too slow. It feels like minutes pass before his fingers slip out again. Every second, you feel less than a milimeter’s worth of his two fingers occupy your gummy walls. Yet, you can’t help but take it all in. You’re drunk on his movements, you’d let him do anything to you at this point.

“You even dressed up in the purple lace I love so much,” he thumbs one of your sensitive nipples for it to perk up, pinching at it slightly. You groan, getting frustrated that you haven’t been able to cum yet.

His thumb grazes your clit. Barely even a graze, it’s almost as if his thumb makes contact by accident. It’s not enough to apply pressure, but enough for you to notice he’s toying with you. Making sure you know he’s doing it on purpose. The fucker. He hears you choke on your own breath every time he gives your clit a little bit of attention.

Jeongin coos, high on your moans. He leans in to you. “You think I wouldn’t notice baby? And now you’re on punishment for playing with daddy’s pussy..do you think I’m an idiot that would let you get away with it, slut?”

Biting between your ear and the skin just below it. “F-fuck…” you groan. He hums in success. He knows how you like to be fucked. Your body is very telling, and your voice lets you down everytime. Every frustrated huff, moan, and whine he takes from you. He’s barely doing anything and you’re already such a mess for him. He’s eager to try more, drunk on your fucked out sounds.

Before you know it, a moan slips out from your lips. “D-daddyyy..” you beg. You feel so close. And then, your body echoes to you. The pit of your stomach begins to tighten and your pussy throbs quickly. Tears brim at your glassy eyes, threatening to roll down. You mewl and moan, unable to control the next words to come out of your mouth. “Please! I c-can’t-t. I can’t I can’t I–” he stops. He removes his slender coated fingers from your tightening hole. A squelching sound fills the room.

Then, your heartbeat slows. You begin to catch your breath. Your tears spill. Your mind is not yet clear, but your senses kick in. You whine the moment you feel your cunt clenching around nothing, and you hear tutting. “My baby’s so close..too fucked to hear what I said, hm?”

You pause. No. No, no, no, no. You scramble to give him an answer quickly after you didn’t respond immediately.

“Daddy…mm..no! N-no I didn’t think—” He interrupts you.

“—Hush hush, it’s ok baby. Too blissed out on my fingers to think quickly.” Tears engulf your eyes, being denied a release.

“I’ll fuck you right to correct this behavior, don’t worry. For now, it’s my turn.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids i.n.#yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #stray kids #i.n. one shots #chanlix-honey posts #chanlix-honey i.n. posts

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mcntsee · 5 months

Text

— ★ the great gig in the sky

↳ request: “Spence gets fatally hurt on the job and the reader (who is his girlfriend and also an agent) just cries over his body, I mean WAILING. In my head I see it as if it's some sort of music video for The Great Gig In The Sky by pink Floyd (iykyk, the song makes me BAWL my eyes out man). Just, absolutely distraught but also artistic, you feel me???”

↳ warnings: Major characters death! Pure angst, blood, wound mention, anxiety, stress, grief, sadness. Reader insert with no use of “y/n”

↳ author’s note: this is short (sorry!!). Not proofread and, I apparently suck at adding the lyrics of a song to the story (!!). I do hope you guys enjoy this, specially @ding-dong-big-schlong , who trusted me with this request and I hope I did it justice! <33

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

I am not frightened of dying, you know.

She turned sharply at the sudden noise, watching as the color drained from his face and pain shot through him. "N-no." Her steps quickened without her realizing it; the sound of her feet pounding on the ground distant in her ears. The familiar ringing in her ears, along with the muteness, was the only thing comprehensible.

He stood there, his hand shooting up to pat at the spreading pain coursing through his body. His vision blurred as he raised his hand to meet his eyes, crimson color seeping through his now-tainted fingers. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, his feet losing their place on the ground as he fell to his knees.

She watched him crumble to the ground, his body seemingly losing all strength, folding onto the ground with a heavy thud. She watched as his hands reached out instinctively but failed to break his fall, leaving him sprawled helplessly on the unforgiving ground, his limbs slack and motionless.

Their coms crackled with frantic voices, familiar tones urging caution, advising to wait for backup as she urgently called for medics. She tuned them out, the urgency in their voices only spurring her to move faster.

Any time will do, I don't mind

The searing pain shot through her knees as they collided with the cold pavement, her jeans now torn and her skin scraped raw, blood trickling from the friction against the rough concrete.

"Spencer—” Her voice quivered with desperation as she reached out, her trembling hands gently guiding him onto his back. “Look at me, Spencer, look at me!”

His eyes fluttered open, the hazel orbs dimming as they swept across the sky before locking onto her tear-filled gaze.

Despite the pain, all he could focus on was her eyes—so beautiful, their color a solace in any circumstance. Yet now, he couldn't bear the sorrow etched within them. The desperation, the pain. "Angel," he whispered.

His arm moved sluggishly as his brain struggled to command it, but eventually, he weakly lifted it and placed his hand against her chest. After a moment of hesitation, he began pushing her away with a grunt of discomfort. “Go.”

“Spencer, what?”

“G-go.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and her hand moved to lower his, stopping his relentless pushing. "I'm going to put you in my lap now, okay?" She whispered softly, her voice gentle and reassuring, as she settled beside him.

“N- no, please just go.”

He bled in her arms, watching her panic as she struggled to keep him awake, pressing down on the wound and apologizing each time a hiss escaped his lips. Yet, despite his protests, she pressed down harder whenever his eyes threatened to close again.

The tears had finally escaped her beautiful eyes, and the sight alone caused him more pain than the wound on his chest. “Go, ple—“

“Spencer, stop! I’m not leaving you. I’m not—just please stay awake.”

Why should I be frightened of dying?

He couldn’t bear seeing her cry, so he struggled to pull away, shifting his body despite the searing pain threatening to overwhelm him. He knew his time was over, and it was okay.

Her grip tightened, pulling him closer until his head rested on her shoulder. With a trembling hand, she wiped at the blood on his lip, her tears mingling with his own as they wet his cheek.

Her shouts echoed in the night, the flashing lights illuminating her face so vividly that he wondered if he had already passed into the afterlife.

She looked so pained, and he looked so peaceful. A beautifully, disastrous mixture.

“Help is almost here, Spence. Please hold on.”

His eyes dimmed, his complexion paling as his breathing slowed. With a final, tight-lipped smile—the kind she had grown to love—he quietly whispered, “I love you.”

There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime

“Spence?”

His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and his chest unmoving as his body rested limply in her arms, like a broken doll awaiting repair.

Her movements were quick as she carefully laid his body back on the ground, her hands trembling as she shook him. "Spencer!" she called out repeatedly, her voice filled with desperation as she continued to shake his body, not pausing even though she knew she might be causing him pain.

Her fingers searched frantically for a pulse, tears streaming down her cheeks as she moved her trembling fingers back and forth. She desperately sought the spot on his neck where she would feel his heartbeat against her fingertips.

With a desperate groan, she quickly blinked away the blurriness from her tears, her hands moving frantically until they landed on his chest. She pressed the heel of her hand against the center of his chest, interlocking her other hand over it, the urgency of her actions mirrored by the rapid pounding of her heart.

With each compression, she pleaded silently with his heart to awaken, her movements fueled by desperation as she struggled to recall the rhythm of the song Spencer had taught her for chest compressions.

With each compression, she felt the resistance of his ribs yielding beneath her hands, the sound of cracking bones lost in the urgency of her efforts. Despite the pain she knew she was causing him, she pressed on, the desperate calls for her name fading into the background as she focused solely on the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Her anger surged, his chest remaining still, his blood-stained lips turning blue, and his skin paling from the loss of blood. "Spencer!" The chest compressions were abandoned as her closed fists pounded his chest, attempting to coax his heart into action. "Wake up!" Each strike grew more forceful, each plea more desperate. "Spencer, wake up! Wake up!"

Strong hands tugged at her vest, forcefully trying to pull her away from him as she persisted. She could hear the familiar voice behind her, begging her to let go—to let Spencer go. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

With a swift motion, her closed fist swung behind her, aimed at creating distance between herself and whoever was grabbing her. “Let go! Let go!” She landed a couple of pathetic hits on them, causing them to hiss in pain and release their grip.

Her knees scraped along the concrete as she swiftly crawled back to the genius's side, the blood on the floor mixing with the blood escaping from the nasty scratches on her knees.

“No- No!” Her sobs escaped her lips as her hands raised into fists again. This time, however, they stayed frozen mid-air as her eyes locked onto his face. “Spence—”

Her hands lowered, holding onto his shoulder as she sat on the back of her legs defeated. She felt the anger and strength slowly leaving her body as she pulled his lifeless body towards her, cradling him in her arms. “Spencer, please…” The rosy pink of his cheeks had disappeared, the glint in his eyes covered behind forever closed lids. Spencer had vanished before her eyes, and yet she could still see him right in front of her, but it wasn’t her ‘Spence’ anymore. Now, it was just the body the soul she had fallen in love with used to occupy.

“Please,” she pleaded, the last reserves of her strength employed in drawing him closer. Her crimson-stained hand tenderly cradled his face, her thumb stroking back and forth as she grappled with the swift departure of his familiar warmth. “Please…”

Sobs and gasps for air wracked her body, repeated pleas of his name falling from her trembling lips. Her heart screamed in agony as her mind processed the harsh reality of his departure. An empty void settled within her, a feeling she knew would never dissipate.

“I love you, too.”

Her head fell onto his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting the cold skin on his neck where the comforting heartbeat she once synced hers with was now absent.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I never said I was frightened of dying.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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rosewaterandivy · 10 months

Text

i. incandescent glow

summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?

pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays

w.c.: 8.2k

a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.

Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”

And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.

He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.

So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.

“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”

Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.

Eddie.

With a fiancée?

“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.

Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.

Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.

“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.

“It’s brown.”

“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”

Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.

But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.

The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.

He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.

“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”

He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”

“Have you met her? What’s she like?”

“I don’t—”

“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”

“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”

She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”

“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”

“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”

“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”

“Good, still in the coma.”

Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.

“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”

An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”

It’s a feeling he knows well.

You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.

“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”

He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”

“She’s freaking out.”

“What?”

He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”

Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”

“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.

Earlier that day

Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.

Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.

Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.

Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.

“Call an ambulance!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”

Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.

Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.

Somehow, this would be your fault.

Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.

Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.

They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.

Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.

“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”

“You didn’t go back with him?”

“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”

He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.

“That’s shitty.”

He hums his agreement.

“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”

“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”

“Oh, okay.”

He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.

“You’re the fiancée, right?”

“Wh–”

“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”

Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.

But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.

A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.

“I don’t–”

The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.

The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”

Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.

“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”

“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”

“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”

Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”

“No? Me neither.”

There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”

A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.

“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”

“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”

You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.

Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”

“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”

Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.

“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”

Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.

It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”

“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”

He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”

Damn.

“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.

Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”

“Great, thank you!”

Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.

Steve Harrington.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.

“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.

Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.

A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.

You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.

“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”

Well, shit.

It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.

“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”

Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.

“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’ll tell them, I just—”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”

You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.

He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.

And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.

Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.

“You fucking idiot.”

That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:

“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.

Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”

Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”

“So, that’s her?”

You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.

At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.

“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Cereal?”

She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”

Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.

“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”

“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”

She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”

“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”

Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”

“You could ask her.”

She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”

He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.

If that’s what the case may be.

As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.

Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”

With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.

All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”

A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.

“Leaving so soon?”

And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.

“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”

“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.

Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.

Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”

Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”

Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.

He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.

“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.

Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.

“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.

“Oh, thank you.”

He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”

You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”

Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.

“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”

Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.

“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”

“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.

“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.

“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.

“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”

You stare back at him blankly.

“Or he’ll kill ya.”

“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.

Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.

“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”

He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.

But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”

When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.

“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”

Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”

“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”

You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”

“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”

“Mom, I already offered—”

You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”

Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.

But maybe it’s too perfect.

Now there’s some food for thought.

A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”

Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.

The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.

“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.

“Lord hear our prayer.”

Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.

“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”

Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”

“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”

“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”

Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”

And the congregants say, “Amen.”

“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”

Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”

“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”

“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”

“Nope.”

“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”

“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”

“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”

“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.

“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.

Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”

“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.

“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”

“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.

“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”

Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.

And the congregation says, “Amen.”

Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.

“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.

“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”

Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.

“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”

“And I can’t even defend myself?”

“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”

“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”

Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.

“Yeah,” Hop agrees.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.

Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”

Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”

Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:

“No swearing.”

Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”

The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.

The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.

It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.

“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”

The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.

The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.

For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.

Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”

“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”

Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.

You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.

Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.

“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.

You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #fic: tbsg #Spotify

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amalgamate-exe · 4 months

Text

Dye Dye My Darling

IRL's plz dont read ^^

Eli -Hawk- moskowitz x M!reader

This is like my first full fic so enjoy!

~~~~~~

Warnings: Unedited, Earlier series hawk, Flirting some and a whole lot of hair dye.

___________________________

Hawk and you have been dating for about 6 months which would make you the luckiest girl in the entire tri-state area if this was some cheesy rom-com, but alas that's not how life worked out for you two. Unfortunately hard-core Karate kids and of course… kyler wouldn't be so chill with you two together, but that was beside the point. You were sitting with your friends at lunch admiring Hawk from afar Admiring him, the way his liberty spikes stood larger than life, the way his nose crinkled when he was laughing, probably about the Miyagi- do kids, or some new internet video that hasn't become post ironic yet, His cleft lip his-

“Earth to Y/N?” One of your friends ask

“Hm sorry? Yeah what's up?” you ask still wanting to keep an eye on your boyfriend, you had no reason to stare but he was just… so pretty, like a Greek sculpture with his liberty spikes seeming to tower on forever

“Did you get the answers for number 6 for Math? You’re a nerd and like- Hey are you even listening to me?” Your friend follows your gaze to see “Oh for the love of gods Y/N I understand you want to live out your little romance but how many times do I have to tell you? He’s taken and… no offense, You're not his… his type!” this was almost a weekly conversation at this point, your friends and anyone else just assumed you had a crush on Hawk, but it didn't matter you two had each other and he invited you over to his house to hang out and play Tekken, and maybe… just MAYBE he’d let you dye his hair, his roots were overgrown and his hair was more of a blue-green bleached color rather than the aggressive red or any other color he has had in the past 6 months.

“Sure thing F/N, anyways here are the answers for the homework,” You say keeping an eye on Hawk. And sliding F/N the answers

The rest of your classes after lunch went by fairly quickly, nothing interesting or notable except that on Friday there would be a huge party at the creek. The final bell rang as you started walking to His house, when you heard the clop-clop of heavy boots on the pavement behind you you turned around and see Hawk

“Hey! Were you just gonna walk off and leave me back at that hell hole?” He asks giving you a playful nudge in the side

“Oh sorry I figured you wouldn't want to be seen with me, social hierarchy and stuff,” you say with a smirk, understanding the cliques in high school are very important, just like 80’s movies.

“Not that I don't want to see you! I get like during lunch where you’re playing all stealth, but I love seeing you, I crave you” he says with a smirk as you walk back to his house.

Once you get into his house you both drop your bags and sit on the couch next to each other, you start playing Tekken 7 on his play station, He selects Devil Jin and you select King, as you two start playing and getting into the groove of the game, you decide to pop the question,

“Hey Pigeon~,” You ask in an almost sing-song voice

“yeah, babe?” He asks Lasered focused on the game, some things never change

“I was thinkin’ like your hair is just bleached now all the colors faded out, and I was wondering if I could dye it for you?”

“No way in hell” Responds quick and toneless

“Aww, why not?” You ask attempting to counter His attack and failing miserably

“Because you're going to mess it up then you made a fool out of both of us! I'll trust you a lot, however my hair dye, my spikes? No one touches those”

“Well, you weren't complaining when I was touching them the other night!” You quickly retort back

“That's– that’s beside the point,” he says slightly flustered “No one touches my hair for upkeep except me!”

“So you're saying that you trust me to give you a PERMANENT tattoo over more or less Temporary hair dye?” You ask with a smirk

“What-? No, that's not what I'm saying at all!” He seems annoyed but that could be because you're beating him at video games rather than you attempting to get permission to dye his hair

“I've been dying my hair since I was like 13 if anyone knows anything I do. Also, would you rather have a little purple on your forehead or the weird half-blond green with roots you have going on now?”

He thinks for a moment as he hits a combo on you, the TV plays a little sound and goes “Player 2 WINS!”

“Wanna know what, Fine, you can dye my hair ONCE” and if you fuck it up you will have to be the one who goes out to buy black box dye to fix it, AND deal?”

You smile and steal a kiss “Deal”

You guys go to his bathroom and he changes into his hair-dye shirt,

“Can't you just be topless?”

“No! You're going to be messing with MY hair. I don't need your eyes somewhere they shouldn't be!”

“Oh sure! I'm the one ogling you when your shirt is off, I swear if you think i'm bad you should SEE your teammates when you take off your Gi top”

“Well last time I checked, I wasn't taking my teammates to bed with me” he responds with a smirk as he takes the bright Red hair dye bottle from under the sink and hands it over to you, then he kisses you on your cheek, “Ok now don't make me regret letting you do this… ok”|

“Fine”

After you start mixing the dye and put on gloves you start applying the dye to his head,

“Are you sure you didn't forget a step?” he asks with a smirk as you apply the dye to his hair

“Well if I did it's too late now… here my phone is in my pocket. play some music” You shift your weight so he can take your phone out of your pocket and he plays something, the noise of chiptune and 8-bit music fills the room, it is lively in its way

“Hey this is kinda good what is it?” you ask about halfway done slopping (painting) on the red pigment to his hair

“You're not gonna believe me,” he says with a smirk

“Oh come on, you've seen my taste in music at times, this is good, what is it?”

“It may or may not be the undertale soundtrack by Toby Fox?” he says almost embarrassed, which causes you to burst out laughing

“God pigeon, no matter how much of a karate badass you are, you're still a nerd at heart… I could kiss you right now”

“Now now, focus on my hair, need your blood in your brain…’ he looks you up and down “Other places,” he says smirking and giving you that damned look of flirtation

“You know you’re making dying your hair seem like way more of an in-depth process than it is… also for your hair being bleached so many times it's still soft” You liked the conversation also the silence no matter how long you've been together still felt off-putting, he smiles

“Thanks the hair dye I use has some conditioner property or something, also I use a shit load of conditioner you know it couldn't damage your hair too much if you wanted to dye your hair too” he was just straight flirting with you now but he seemed genuine with his offer causing you to blush, a lot

“That doesn't sound like a ‘no’ to me, c’mon we can match,” he says with a smirk that you could never say no to. The way his cheeks moved, the way his-

“Hey space cadet, can I dye your hair while mine is setting?” He asks while he's turning his head making sure every bit of the hair is saturated with the crimson dye’

“Yeah, that would be nice… though you better not fuck it up,” you say playfully.

Once you are done dying your hair and rinsing it out, the bathtub looks like a murder scene, with red dye along the bathtub and partially up the wall

“Holy shit your mom is going to kill me!” You say looking back at the mess you've made, hair dripping in front of your eyes, which causes Eli to scoff

“She's fine with it, who do you think took me to buy the dye in the first place? It just needs some TLC and it’ll all be good, baby” He says in a playful tone of voice while wrapping his arms around your waist. “The red streak looks cute on you too,” he says kissing your cheek, it feels nice his hands around your waist, and you lean more into him

“Hey since you don't have to get going for a few more hours, wanna watch a movie? Something cheesy like clueless or… 10 things I hate about you?” He shrugs holding you close

“Both sound perfect”

#fan fiction #cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk moskowitz #eli hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk moskowitz x reader #eli hawk moskowitz x reader #cobra kai fanfiction

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jewishbarbies · 2 months

Note

I hate to be one of those “media literacy is dying/dead, academia is dead” people, but I feel like a lot of the misinformation and bias on apps like TikTok is because people don’t know what a source is and how to source information. People take everything as primary sources and not only that, but nobody uses the CRAAP test anymore.

CRAAP = currency, relevance, authority, accuracy, and purpose.

Currency: the timeliness of the information

When was the information published or posted?

Has the information been revised or updated?

Is the information current or out-of date for your topic?

Are the links functional?

Relevance: the importance of the information for your needs

Does the information relate to your topic or answer your question?

Who is the intended audience?

Is the information at an appropriate level (i.e. not too elementary or advanced for your needs)?

Have you looked at a variety of sources before determining this is one you will use?

Would you be comfortable using this source for a research paper?

Authority: the source of the information

Who is the author/publisher/source/sponsor?

Are the author's credentials or organizational affiliations given?

What are the author's credentials or organizational affiliations given?

What are the author's qualifications to write on the topic?

Is there contact information, such as a publisher or e-mail address?

Does the URL reveal anything about the author or source?

examples: .com (commercial), .edu (educational), .gov (U.S. government), .org (nonprofit organization), or .net (network)

Accuracy: the reliability, truthfulness, and correctness of the content, and

Where does the information come from?

Is the information supported by evidence?

Has the information been reviewed or refereed?

Can you verify any of the information in another source or from personal knowledge?

Does the language or tone seem biased and free of emotion?

Are there spelling, grammar, or other typographical errors?

Purpose: the reason the information exists

What is the purpose of the information? to inform? teach? sell? entertain? persuade?

Do the authors/sponsors make their intentions or purpose clear?

Is the information fact? opinion? propaganda?

Does the point of view appear objective and impartial?

Are there political, ideological, cultural, religious, institutional, or personal biases?

Why does nobody question the amount of asks and posts of people saying: “Hello, my name is *insert Arab name* and I need to get out of Gaza, please send me money to help me get out of Gaza.” We see all these videos of Gazans (some of the videos are actually of syrian people), but why does nobody question why there was a camera recording?

Why was there a camera perfectly in place at the right moment and the right time?

Why does nobody vet their sources anymore?

Why are people shutting down opinions from one side because that’s the side that is deemed as “evil” to them? To the point where the fucking HOUTHIS are being celebrated????!!!!! Hezbollah and ISIS are congratulated! All to hate the Jews.

Why are lies being passed as truth?

Why are conspiracy theories being regurgitated at such a high level?

Why are people failing to recognise their own logical fallacies?

These tiktokers call themselves journalists, yet forget about the ethics of journalism and journalistic integrity standards.

#Asks #anonymoose #antisemitism #those ppl always screaming ‘why isn’t anyone talking about this on the news???’#meanwhile it’s being vetted and fact checked out the ass and that’s why it’s taking time to report it #a single tiktok is not enough evidence for a news story to the whole world #be so fucking for real rn

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11queensupreme11 · 8 months

Note

The comments about Poseidon impregnating Percy with eggs kind of reminded me of the movie Ponyo

I'm imagining the following: Poseidon decides to impregnate Percy in mer form, she now has an adorable and swollen belly full of dozens of eggs (in the same way as a normal fish, let's imagine he impregnated her with just a few dozen already This is her first pregnancy and it doesn't help that she's SO small)

She looks so cute pregnant, with her swollen belly and swimming so slowly due to the weight she is carrying, she gets tired easily so when she is not lying in bed Poseidon is without fail next to her holding or carrying her so that she, it's so It's cute that he has to slow down to match Parcy's slow swim

Do you know how pregnant women walk much slower and with their legs generally spread like a penguin? Well that's our Percy on land and when she's in the water she swims as slow as a manatee

(I totally didn't think of this after seeing a video of a pregnant mom humorously complaining about how her husband and daughter walk too far ahead of her leaving her behind only for her daughter to turn around and say it's because mommy is walking like a obese penguin, children's honesty is hilarious and cruel)

Now comes the film Ponyo:

No filme, Ponyo tem várias irmãs que são um pouco parecidas com girinos e todas ficam em uma cúpula que parece um berçário.

That's where I imagine Percy and Poseidon's children would stay, this man will definitely order a magical nursery to be built (it would be impossible to keep track of almost 100 puppies if they were all scattered around the corners of the castle, the best alternative is to keep them all together in the same place), I know it looks like a fish tank like I confess I found it quite ironic to keep "fish" babies in an aquarium the same way you keep a human baby in a crib

Since she gave birth to the eggs, Percy spends most of her time in the nursery (aquarium) interacting with her babies, feeding, singing and cuddling and when the children are not (stuck) in the nursery they are playing and swimming in the shoal style with Percy while Poseidon lovingly watches

Do you remember that scene from the carriage ride where some fish swim through Poseidon's hair? Well, that's exactly how I imagine the little tadpoles (Percy's affectionate nickname) interacting with their father

Imagine só o gigante Poseidon sentado em seu trono gigantesco enquanto seus bebês correm pelos seus cabelos, brincam de deslizar em seu rabo, agarram-se em seus dedos enormes e brincam com as pontas dos tentáculos do monstro marinho abaixo do trono, talvez Percy esteja sentado em seu ombro vendo os babys brincarem ou talvez ela esteja deitada no seu colo enorme dormindo enquanto segura alguns babys sonolentos que já se cansaram de brincar

Gosto de pensar que Percy (embora ela negue) tem um favoritismo em relação ao primeiro filhote que saiu do ovo, ela definitivamente a nomeou pessoalmente (ou talvez quem a nomeou tenha sido Poseidon, tenho certeza que no passado sendo nomeado por seu pai era uma honra e prova de reconhecimento paterno, especialmente se o bebê fosse "infelizmente" uma menina então ele ficaria ainda mais irritado ao saber que ela preferiu trocar o nome de uma divindade escolhido pessoalmente por um nome humano)

In this case I feel like the roles would be kind of reversed with Percy being in the role of Ponyo's father (a lovable tired loser who just wants to get his baby daughter back who ran away from home) and Poseidon being in the role of Ponyo's mother ( a beautiful and elegant deity, but our merciful and gentle Poseidon has nothing hahaha)

I can see Ponyo running away from home in search of adventure in the same way that in the film, Percy would secretly go in search of her (she doesn't want to warn Poseidon because she knows he won't show mercy to humans who are with her daughter, even that they are innocent and are helping her daughter), she managed to bring her daughter back home and tries to explain why they should stay at sea (because Poseidon is the most overprotective and possessive husband and father there is) but Just like in the film, Ponyo, with the help of her sisters, manages to escape and ends up spilling a potion that temporarily transforms her sisters into huge fish that cause a flood (so far the script remains reasonably the same)

It is at this moment that Poseidon is warned about the problems that his daughter is causing for his daughter-wife, first he has to fix things by turning the fish back into babies, then he has to organize the mess that the ponyo caused to the run away (maybe she accidentally released some sea monsters), his daughter-wife is desperate because all the babies have escaped from the nursery so he has to calm her down by promising to get all the babies back unharmed and finally he has to punish Ponyo ( and her sisters for helping her escape, we all know that the only daughter he accepts that causes trouble is Percy, rebellion in his other children is not tolerated, the only exception to his rule of total perfection is Percy therefore your other children must behave like proper gods)

Poseidon ficaria indignado ao saber todos os detalhes da fuga de Ponyo, saber que sua filha mais velha (depois de Percy) fugiu para viver no mundo humano é absolutamente nojento, quando ele chegar lá com certeza ficaria ofendido pela forma como Ponyo foi tratado inicialmente como um peixe comum e também a mera ideia de uma de suas filhas interagindo e aprendendo costumes bobos com um humano é nauseante

Ao contrário de sua contraparte no filme, ele não daria a Ponyo a oportunidade de se transformar em humano e muito menos estaria disposto a abrir mão de sua paternidade e entregar o título e os deveres de mãe de Ponyo a este humano (a simples ideia de remover o poder de Percy o título de mãe é mais do que ofensivo, quem esse humano pensa que ela é para agir de maneira tão maternal com sua filha!? Ela está tentando roubar o lugar de sua esposa como figura materna? Todos os envolvidos nessa bagunça deveriam ser punidos com a morte )

in fact I think he would even severely punish Ponyo for disobeying and causing her mother so much stress, he would also definitely force her to watch the humans she loves so much die by drowning (a punishment for her betrayal, how dare she run away from her home where she is pampered and protected!? Percy certainly spoiled this child too much to get to the point where she spits on all the love and dedication she received and goes after a human family, Percy will have to beg a lot for Poseidon not to crush the Ponyo between his fingers in his giant form, I feel like he would see the whole situation as a very serious insult and not as the result of a reckless child wanting to explore)

I feel like it would be a very sad ending for Ponyo since she would have to witness her father kills the boy she loves (Sosuke) his mother (Lisa) and the whole town all because of her, her mother is probably upset with her and will also be punished despite not being at fault, her father is seriously considering killing her (although I think Percy would beg for a punishment that doesn't result in death, she would offer anything to soften whatever punishment Poseidon chooses since Ponyo is still just a baby, she is just 5 years old), the her sisters were punished for helping her and any prospect of future freedom just disappeared as they are now permanently incarcerated in the castle (they will only come out when Poseidon decides that they should marry some nobleman of his choosing), she has just learned why the father is called the tyrant of the tides

And finally our Percy would also be punished for not being able to control the children as a proper mother should be able to do, she is sad that her daughter had such a traumatic experience

I found this image while searching for images of Ponyo, I thought it was SO CUTE, I confess that I prefer to imagine that all the eggs are girls similar to Percy with hair that varies from light to dark brown but after seeing this image I'm not opposed to one small tadpole identical to Poseidon

THIS ASK MADE ME FLABBERGASTED

LIKE JAW DROPPED AND EVERYTHING

NO SERIOUSLY YOU GOT POSEIDON'S FATHERLY SKILLS DOWN TO A TEE 😭😭😭 this is exactly what he would be like with his kids (aside from his dearest daughter-wife of course!).

you even managed to accurately describe what he would be like with daughters 😭😭 like the part where you said "they will only come out when Poseidon decides that they should marry some nobleman of his choosing" IT IS 100000% WHAT POSEIDON WOULD DO 💀💀

and the fact that he was soooo offended for percy's sake when ponyo!daughter wanted to live as a human with a human family??? that's so him 💀💀

his inability to show mercy to even his own young children, the oldest being like five 💀💀💀 percy would be downright BEGGING him to spare their daughters she'd be like "please they're only children!!! they dont know any better, they're just kids!!!!" because its true! the sisters are just lil kids who wanna help their big sister out and ponyo!daughter is just a curious and naive child who thinks she's in love (when its mostly just a crush) but these poor girls learned the hard way how much their dad:

HATES disobedience

HATES humans

poor girls. daughter or son, none of poseidon's children are gonna have it easy. percy is quite literally the only exception 🥲

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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xxbottlecapx · 2 years

Text

Another Steve Has seizures idea,

Steve has a seizure around the party, but the symptoms lead everyone to assume he's getting vecnaed

Vecna is back.

Eddie didn’t want to believe it. He really didn’t. It’s been six months since they saved the world and everyone (including Eleven,) had promised them that Vecna was dead. The upside down was permanently closed, there were no secret government experimenters trying to reopen it, and there were certainly no evil wizards using telekinesis to kill wayward teens.

Evidently, Eddie thought, they were wrong.

Everyone was chilling at Family Video, which rarely got any customers these days, since the earthquake, but still somehow managed to stay open. Robin had been named manager (after Keith packed up and left with his mom) and she let the party go wild in the isles as long as they put everything back.

Steve had started cosmetology school a month prior and spent his entire shift attempting (and failing) to memorize all the different names of hair textures. He had his sparkly pink Lisa Frank notebook near the cash register, aggressively running his hands through his wilted hair. Steve already had trouble with reading, adding letters and numbers together seemed to be the worst possible thing for him. He had called Robin crying multiple nights just this week about how stressful it had been for him. Eddie only knew this because he got Steve high yesterday and a high Steve is an oversharing Steve. It’s the only reason Eddie knew anything about the aforementioned ex-king of Hawkins high.

A high Steve was also a really cuddly Steve, which would have been a good thing (because Eddie had been drowning himself in his gay pining since Steve carried him out of the upside down) except Jonathan had been there, and for some reason, high Steve loved cuddling with Jonathan more than anyone else, so Eddie had to seeth in the corner until Jonathan had to leave.

Eddie was still very jealous about it, much to Robin’s amusement.

“You feeling better now?” Robin whispered. Eddie was hiding behind one of the racks, watching Erica try to climb up Steve’s legs and onto his shoulders (he pretended not to notice her, continuing to furiously write in his notebook, which she had gifted him for his birthday.)

“Fucking Jonathan.” Eddie spat.

Jonathan, acting like the innocent asshole he was, didn’t notice Eddie’s glaring. He was sitting in the corner on a beanbag Argyle had made. (Yeah, made, because Argyle knew how to do everything. Half of Eddie’s new furniture was hand-crafted by Argyle.) and Eddie was doing his best to send laser beams in Jonathan’s direction.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Robin nodded, shelving some tapes to his left as if Eddie wasn’t planning a murder in his head.

“Steve really likes romcoms,” Robin says after a moment, making Eddie turn his head to her in confusion. She continued shelving. “and I gave him tomorrow off, so…” she pursed her lips.

It takes Eddie a second to understand what she’s hinting at him.

“Fuck,” he cursed quickly, arms raised. “I don’t even know what a rom-com is, you couldn’t have given me a warning?” He hissed, waving his hand at her.

He pushed her to the side and ran down the hall to search the shelves for whatever a romcom might look like. His brain went a mile a minute. Robin had given Eddie the perfect opportunity to seduce Steve, and he couldn’t waste it.

Eddie went down his mental checklist as he skimmed the tapes. He knew what Steve’s favorite snacks were because he asked all the teens and wrote down every single thing Steve has been eating of his own free will since they started hanging out. He had a chart from perceived most enjoyed to perceived least enjoyed. So he knew he could run to the store and pick some up. Eddie also had to wash all the blankets in his government-assigned house so he and Steve could settle on the floor since Steve preferred watching tv on the floor surrounded by soft things (which Eddie learned from Robin) and Steve also liked painting his nails, (Eddie learned from Nancy) and Eddie could totally go buy nail polish that wasn’t black before tomorrow. Maybe he would be able to hold Steve’s hand. Eddie almost spontaneously combusts at the idea of it.

They could hang out alone, and Eddie wouldn’t invite Jonathan so maybe Steve would cuddle with Eddie instead of fucking Jonathan.

“I need- I need to prepare-“ Eddie hissed under his breath, frantically throwing the horror tapes off the shelf as he saw them since he knew they weren’t romcoms, which meant they had no use to him whatsoever. Eddie sent Robin a scathing look.

“This was your warning.” Robin rolled her eyes, stooping down to pick up the tapes Eddie kept tossing to the floor. “You better not damage these, dingus.”

“Shit! Shit, shit.” Eddie cursed.

He almost steps on Dustin, who was laying like a starfish on the dirty carpeted floor, reciting the entire Monsters & Treasure booklet (from the dungeons and dragons box set published in 1974) to Max, who had stopped paying attention and had music blaring on her headphones so loud you could easily hear it from a mile away. She’s gotten into Screamo recently. Eddie knew this because Max’s trailer also went down in the earthquake so their government-assigned houses were right next to each other, and Lucas had bought Max a very high-quality loudspeaker as a moving-in present. Despite Steve acting like Max’s guardian, she still was an emancipated minor and got to live in that house all alone. The noise probably helped with the loneliness.

++++++

The entire group was spending the day at the abandoned Family Video, making for a cramped and hectic environment. Lucas and Will were yelling at each other as Mike timed them with his stopwatch. They were, Eddie thought, having a contest to see who could keep five tapes stacked on their head the longest. Eleven and Max already lost five minutes ago. Eddie is pretty sure Eleven made Mike lose, but he would never admit to it.

He gave her a high-five anyways.

And of course, (evil) Jonathan and Argyle were smoking on the beanbags. Eddie should ask Argyle if he had a particular champurrado recipe. Steve loved anything Argyle made.

It was driving Eddie insane, actually. He would change his entire personality for Steve to talk to him for even a minute, which Eddie has been advised by both Dustin and Robin not to do, Including begging Argyle to teach him how to make Steve’s favorite beverage. Steve talked to Eddie plenty, Robin always said. Dustin, who was the first to know about Eddie’s crush, kept giving him talks about being himself.

To Eddie’s right as he hurriedly perused their meager movie selection, Nancy started a very passionate conversation with Eleven about the current downfall of the education system. She started working for a local newspaper after she graduated (every senior from this year graduated without having to actually finish the year since the earthquake had destroyed half the school and killed four teachers.) and Nancy’s current article was about how terrible the education system was becoming. Eleven, who knows very little about what the education system even is, very readily riled Nancy up.

When Eddie looked back at this moment, Steve’s reaction would make a lot of sense.

Armed with a load of movies, Eddie approached Robin once more. He had chosen Sixteen Candles, Footloose, Splash, Grease, Moonstruck, Risky Business, Dirty Dancing, and Pretty in Pink. Some of them looked vaguely familiar.

“I don’t even know if these are rom-coms, but he can choose the ones he likes the most,” Eddie said, dropping the tapes at Robin’s feet. She tutted at him in disapproval.

“Are these not romcoms?” Eddie asked after a second, stress in his eyes.

She crossed her arms, looking up at him. “He’s my best friend.” She stated calmly, “I gotta make you put in the effort. I can't help you.”

“What? What?” Eddie yelled, “That’s not how that works-“

“Steve?” Erica yelled over the cacophony of noise. “Steve, this isn’t funny.”

Of course, everyone turns to their resident babysitter.

Steve stood behind the counter with his notebook where he had been all day, only now he had his hands clenched at his side and his eyes were rolling back in his skull. Erica stood by his side pulling at his knitted sweater.

The shock of it means that it takes a second for everyone to process what’s happening. To look at him and remember what it means. In Eddie’s head, Chrissy flashes through his mind.

In less than a second, there is uproar and panic.

“Steve!”

Dustin is up, climbing over the counter and hitting Steve’s shoulders before anyone else makes it to him.

“He’s not waking up!” Dustin shrieks, shaking him harder.

“I thought Vecna was dead? You said he was dead!” Lucas had his hands on his head, the tapes dropping. He rushed to them and stood a few feet back from where everyone had crowded around Steve in a convoluted circle, all crawling over fallen objects to grab him.

“He is dead!” Will yelled back, “I can't feel him.” Will put a hand to his neck. Jonathan clutched at Argyle like the world was about to end, and at the moment, it definitely felt like it was.

“Then how is Steve getting Vecnaed right now?” Nancy snatched Max’s headphones, the most level-headed of them all, a plan already forming in her head.

“What’s his favorite song? Max, where's your list?”

Robin and Eddie ran behind the counter to Steve’s back, Robin grabbing Steve’s shirt and Eddie holding his shoulders in the hopes of keeping him from floating. Eddie wasn’t a religious man, but he did start praying to whatever being out there that might be strong enough to stop it.

They had finished it.

The upside down wasn’t supposed to come back. They had done everything that needed to be done. They were supposed to be safe. Safe. And now Eddie was going to lose Steve. Vecna was back, and Eddie was going to lose Steve.

In the back of the store was a box of tapes with everyone’s favorite songs in them. Max has a list written on her arm in sharpie, constantly updated and improved. It seemed silly to them at first, since the upside down could not hurt them, but they all dutifully helped her keep the list going just in case. Just in case.

Eddie, with shaking hands, lifts Max’s blue sleeve to find Steve’s name in purple marker. He shouts the name and watches helplessly as Nancy dashes into the back room to grab the tape, somehow running with heels in like they were sneakers. Nancy rushes back within seconds and jams the tape into Max’s Walkman.

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) plays on the loudest volume as Eddie grapples with the headphones and puts them on Steve’s head, mumbling prayers the entire time.

“You can’t die or I’ll kill you,” Robin cries, holding onto Steve’s arms.

In moments, the entire group is in tears as they wait for Steve to fight his way out, shouting encouragement. The sinking feeling in Eddie’s gut spread to the rest of his body. If Steve survived, that wasn’t the end of it. They would all be forced once more into fighting whatever nightmare the upside down concocted. What if they didn’t survive this time? Eddie, Steve, and Max almost didn’t make it last time. Max lost her mom and Lucas and Erica lost their dad in the earthquake. Who else would they lose? What if Eddie lost Wayne? What if the entire party died in the process?

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight.

Goes the crackling headphones. Eddie could feel the warmth of Steve’s skin from where he held him. What if this was the last time he saw Steve alive? Their last conversation was Eddie making fun of his notebook (because Eddie flirts like a prepubescent teenager, he hates himself for it.)

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?

Finally, Steve opens his eyes.

The panic gives way to joyous shouting. Robin and Eddie grab at Steve’s arms, leaning on him in relief. Erica wouldn’t admit it later on, but she starts crying.

“Steve!” Dustin yelled, holding Steve’s collar. He was still standing on the counter. “Why didn’t you tell us? You could have died!”

Steve squinted at Dustin, eyes furrowing. He didn’t come out of it the way Max had- alert and scared out of her mind, but lucid. Steve’s eyes were blurred over and he moved slowly like he didn’t know where he was. Eddie could see Max crossing her arms, questioning something.

Steve opens his mouth, but anything he would have said gets hidden under the onslaught of questions the party starts asking. When did you start getting visions? Is Vecna back? Is the upside down still here? What did you see? Why didn’t you tell us? You could have died, Steve.

Eddie feels Steve’s body stiffen, his breath quickening.

With incredible strength, Steve pushes both Robin and Eddie away, stepping back. His eyes frantically switched from face to face, his shoulders rising and falling.

This definitely looked nothing like when Max got possessed.

Steve’s quivering hands grab at his own sweater like it was suffocating him, and before anyone can say anything else, his eyes are rolling back in his head again.

++++++

The frenzy takes about ten minutes to die down. It’s full of so much confused screaming and crying that Eddie thinks he blocked most of it out. In that time, Steve ends up falling on the floor and Max is the one smart enough to tilt him to the side so he won’t choke. When Steve wakes up the second time, he’s so confused that nothing he says makes any sense phonetically. Steve, unable to handle all the yelling around him, backs himself into a corner and hides his face in his knees until Eddie realizes the noise is making it worse. He throws a computer against the wall to get everyone to shut up (since yelling over them didn’t work.)

“Everyone calm down.” Eddie placed himself in front of Steve, forcing everyone to back up. The aggressive computer breaking had very quickly quieted the room.

“He’s awake. He’s scared. Get him some water, Byers. Wait no- not Byers. Robin.” Eddie didn’t want Jonathan to win any Steve points, “Water.”

“On it.” She says, wiping her nose with her sleeve. They were all shaken up and teary-eyed in fear. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if at least three of them had an aneurysm.

“Red, keep the Walkman close. Let’s wait for him.” Eddie said, ignoring the shaking of his hands.

They wait with bated breath. After about five minutes, Steve lifts his head, squinting red filmed eyes at them.

Dustin is, of course, the first one to start talking again.

“Is Vecna back? What did you see?” Before Eddie can reprimand him with a swift kick to the shins, Steve rubs his hands over his face and sighs.

“It wasn’t Vecna.” He whispers slowly.”I was… I was having a seizure. That’s it.”

Visible confusion falls on the crowding group.

“You were getting possessed!” Dustin corrected, finally jumping off the countertop. “Your eyes were rolling back and you were standing like Max did-“ Dustin waved an arm.

“Yeah, a seizure.” Steve placed his forehead back on his knees like he usually did when he had a migraine. Eddie walks to the light switches and turns off a few of them. Not dark enough to panic anyone, but so it isn’t going to irritate Steve’s head more with unnecessary brightness. There was plenty of light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Eddie blinks, sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of Steve’s wilted form.

“You've done this before?” Eddie asks as gently as he can.

“That wasn’t a seizure!” Dustin yells. Eddie doesn't see it, but he hears Dustin’s small oomf as a projectile hits him.

“It was,” Steve sighs, not looking up at them. Robin comes in with her water, sitting next to Steve’s side but not touching him, the water in her lap.

“It’s called a complex partial seizure.” He explains, voice still slow and slurred a little. “It’s really subtle, most of the time. I’ve been having them for years. You said my eyes rolled back, that’s another thing that happens, but it also could be just me staring into space, or picking at my clothes, or smacking my lips a lot.”

“I just thought you stimmed.” Robin inched closer to him. He doesn’t look up at anyone, but he wraps his arm around her shoulders. She hands him the water. His fist doesn’t properly latch on to it so Robin helps him take a sip.

“No, it’s a seizure. Sometimes I’ll get really confused or scared because I won’t remember where I am or what I’m doing right away,” Steve explained, taking another sip of the water. His voice started coming out faster, more aware of himself. “So you guys suddenly grabbing and shouting about me dying scared me, sometimes that can cause another one.” He looked down like he was embarrassed about it, for some reason.

The entire group looked properly chastised despite the fact that Steve definitely wasn’t mad at them and was only looking to inform them so they wouldn’t have that kind of scare again. They all start murmuring apologies. Eddie could practically see everyone trying to wrack their memories for other instances where Steve did this sort of thing. He thought about it too and came up blank.

“I would have told you if I thought they looked like I was getting possessed,” Steve said, which begged the question of why he didn’t tell them before. He’s been having them for years, he said. Surely, he trusted them, right? Why wouldn’t he have said anything? How did no one notice? The party was so close to each other, yet somehow even Eddie had missed this. Part of him felt a bit ashamed at that notion. Looking behind him, he wasn’t the only one.

“I’m just really tired,” Steve said once he got everyone to stop apologizing to him. He looked a little annoyed about it.

“Eddie can drive you home,” Robin demanded. She stood up and forced everyone to get out of their crowded circle around Steve. Dustin and Erica help Steve stand up, much to Steve’s displeasure, and Jonathan and Argyle start quietly picking up the broken computer. Woops.

Handing Eddie his bag of tapes, Robin winked at him.

Steve still seemed pretty out of it, so it was safe to assume he wouldn’t notice them if Eddie just locked them in his trunk.

“You have tomorrow off, too. So you can take it easy.” She says to Steve, winking at Eddie.

Okay, Eddie thinks. There was a slight change of plans, but the Seduce Steve Harrington campaign was officially still on.

Eddie would drive himself, Erica, and Dustin to the library on Monday so they could do some research. For now, he would get Steve home safely, and ask if they could have a movie night.

Resources

https://eyewiki.aao.org/Ophthalmologic_Manifestations_of_Epilepsy

https://www.epilepsy.org.uk/info/seizures/focal-seizures

https://www.epilepsy.com/what-is-epilepsy/syndromes/epilepsy-eyelid-myoclonia-jeavons-syndrome

https://www.epilepsy.com/complications-risks/moods-behavior/stress-mood-and-seizures#:~:text=Emotional%20stress%20also%20can%20lead,seizures%20is%20worry%20or%20fear.

https://www.webmd.com/epilepsy/complex-partial-seizure

If my interpretation of a seizure is inaccurate, i apologize

💚💚💚

#steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #eddie the freak munson #stranger things s4 #robin buckley #steve has brain damage #steve has seizures

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