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sleepy-steve · 8 months ago

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steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.5k // inspired by this post ♡

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november 1983

It wasn’t a bad gig, as far as eternal work in the Underworld went. Eddie didn’t even have to row the boat. He was more of a figurehead. Someone for the souls to follow. Someone to guide them. Seemed like an odd thing to entrust to a dead eighteen year old from the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere USA, but Eddie wasn’t going to argue. Didn’t even know if he could. It had all gone very smoothly. All the souls doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. Until Steve appears.

Eddie spots him sitting on the riverbank, knees pulled up. Looking a little too casual, in Eddie’s opinion, but he didn’t know the guy’s life. Some souls were more prepared than others.

“Hey, man, time to uh, get moving,” Eddie says, and cringes at himself. He’d already been spoken to about his boat-side manner. But how were you supposed to talk to people that had just died? Eddie still hadn’t quite worked it out. Was supposed to find his own words, instead of working off a script.

“Hm?” The soul looks up in mild surprise. He looks to be about Eddie’s age, and has a black eye, a split lip, and a nasty cut across his nose. Jesus, wonder what happened to him. It wasn’t polite to ask, Eddie’d been taught.

Eddie gestures vaguely at the boat. “C’mon. I’m taking you to the next part.”

“What happened to the last guy?” The guy tilts his head to the side, hair flopping with the movement.

“What?”

“The last guy who was on the boat?” The soul asks, waving a hand in the general direction of the boat. Even from where he stands, Eddie can see the bruises on the guy’s knuckles. “It used to be an older guy, tallish, beard…?”

“I… I don’t know, man.” Eddie flounders. He’d had some chatty souls before, but none that asked questions he wasn’t trained to answer.

“Hm…” The guy hums thoughtfully, nodding to himself. Shifting slightly, he settles into a more comfortable position.

“So…” Eddie stares at him with wide eyes, brows raised expectantly. “You gonna get on the boat or…?”

“Nah.”

“…What do you mean, nah?” Eddie asks incredulously. Was that even allowed? What would happen if a soul didn’t get on the boat? Would Eddie get in trouble for not collecting him?

“Not getting on the boat.” The guy smiles at him, a little crooked from the scar across his lip. “I won’t be here long, don’t worry.”

“What…?” Eddie trails off, before recognition drops into his mind. It was that smile, it reminded him of… “Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah?” Steve confirms, brows pulled together in confusion. “Wait… holy shit… Eddie, right?”

“Yeah!” Eddie leans over the edge of the boat, bringing him as close as he dares. Close enough to see the blues fade into purples in the bruises on his face. The trail of dry blood still under his nose.

“You died, like, not that long ago, right?” Steve asks, not making any moves to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah, house fire.” Eddie waves him off, not wanting to dwell on the memories of his shitty father and those last moments where Eddie tried to save the few good things he had left. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry you’re here though.” Professionalism is out the window in favour of familiarity.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Steve waves him off back. “Like I said, won’t be here long.”

Eddie knows what this is. Denial. He’d seen it many times since starting this job. “Steve…” He keeps his tone soft, just like he was taught. “I know it can be hard to accept, but you’re dead. That’s why you’re here. You have to get on the boat in order to move on.” Steve is giving him a bemused smile, and Eddie feels a twinge of irritation. He’s doing his best. “I’ll be with you the entire time, I promise.”

“That’s… nice, man,” Steve says, slight grin still on his lips. “But I’m not getting on the boat.”

“Steve. You have to get on the boat.” Eddie throws his hands down to gesture at said boat, exasperated.

“No, I don’t.” Steve gives a little shake of his head.

“Get…” Eddie loses steam for a second before gearing up again. “Get on the boat, man.”

Steve just blinks at him. “I don’t need to.”

“Get on the fucking boat, Steve!” Exasperation is in each word now, Eddie losing his patience. If it wasn’t completely against the rules, Eddie would have jumped off the boat and dragged him on by the collar of his stupid sweater. The souls had to choose to move on.

With a glint in his eye and a half smile, like they’re in on some joke together, Steve still doesn’t move. “No.”

“You’re dead, man,” Eddie snaps. Fuck, he’s losing his cool and is gonna get told off for it. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“Woah, woah, Eddie.” Steve holds his hands up. Placating. Another ripple of annoyance runs through Eddie. “Okay, just—I know I’m dead. But I don’t stay dead. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Oh, okay. So Harrington is delusional. Eddie briefly wonders just how hard he’d been hit, looking over Steve’s bruises. Was this what killed him? Eddie holds back a grimace. “Just… get on the fucking boat, man. I know it’s hard, but you have to move on. Also, I might get my ass handed to me if you don’t, so like, maybe do it for me?”

Steve laughs good-naturedly. Hopeful that he’s finally gotten through to him, Eddie can’t help but crack a smile at the sound. “So, s’that a yes?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

“Sorry, man,” Steve laughs. “Still a no.” Eddie slumps over the side of the boat dramatically, hair almost dipping into the black water. “But don’t worry. Last guy never got in trouble for not collecting me, so you should be fine.”

Pulling himself back up with an exaggerated sigh, Eddie settles with his forearms on the edge of the boat. “Okay, Harrington. I’m choosing to trust you,” he says, giving Steve a pointed look. “Can I ask…” Steve raises a brow. “What, uh… what happened? To you?” Eddie gestures vaguely at Steve’s overall appearance. The black eye, the cut across his nose, the split lip.

“Oh, this?” Steve points to the bruise. “This isn’t what killed me. Got into it with Byers. Not important, really, anymore…” He trails off before shaking himself. “This, though…” Lowering his knees, dropping his denim-clad legs to the grass, Steve reveals several deep wounds to his chest and stomach.

Eddie lets out a low whistle at them. “Christ, Harrington. You get attacked by a bear or something? We even have bears in Hawkins?”

Steve snorts. “Nah, I don’t know what this thing was. Some kind of alien-monster-creature. Face opened up all…” Steve holds his hands around his face, wiggling his fingers in a fan. “…creepy.”

Looking at him with furrowed brows, Eddie isn’t sure if Steve is messing with him, or genuinely believes that a monster killed him and that he’s not going to stay dead. Eddie stays silent, assessing him.

“Anyway,” Steve clears his throat, awkward under Eddie’s stare. “Nancy and Jonathan are probably freaking out right now, I’ll have to explain when I wake up.” He’s rambling, Eddie notices with slight amusement. “Which should be soon, though this might be the longest I’ve spent down here. Last time was quicker for sure.”

“Last time?” Eddie asks, unable to stop his curiosity.

“Yeah, the, uh, car accident,” Steve says. “Got t-boned at an intersection, died on the spot. Woke up with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and this crazy head wound.” He waves a hand around the side of his head. “Got lucky, all things considered.”

“Right…” Eddie vaguely recalls hearing about Harrington’s car wreck from last year. But surely he hadn’t died. It wasn’t impossible, but highly unlikely.

“You don’t believe me.” Steve grins at him, and Eddie feels his cheeks warm at it.

“Can you blame me?”

Steve considers him for a moment. “No, I guess not.” His head turns sharply, as though he hears something that Eddie doesn’t. “Time’s up.” Steve stands, brushing blades of dry grass off his jeans. He gives Eddie a two-finger wave. “Until next time, Munson.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie leans over the side of the boat again as Steve turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Steve huffs a laugh. “Back.”

“Steve!” Leaning dangerously far over the edge of the boat, Eddie calls after his retreating form. He watches with wide eyes as Steve quite literally fades from view, figure growing more translucent until finally disappearing completely. Unable to pull his gaze away from the empty grass field where Steve stood just a moment ago, Eddie only has one thought in his mind:

What the fuck?

#this was a brain worm that wouldn't leave me alone so. here we are #i did have a lot of fun writing them tho :~)#cira writes #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things fic #steddie

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kjiscrawlingbackformore · 2 months ago

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Peace - Intro

Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary: Reader comes back to her hometown and transfers to Wiskayok High School after getting expelled from her previous high school. Follows Junior year into Senior year, all the way up to the crash. (Eventual NSFW mdni)

Warnings: None

You had been in the guidance office for exactly four minutes, and you already wanted to walk out. Mr. Weaver sat across from you, hunched behind a desk stacked with coffee-stained folders and a lava lamp that looked like it hadn’t moved since 1983. He wore a too-bright Hawaiian shirt under a threadbare blazer, and he was squinting at her transcript like it had personally offended him.

“Well,” he said, dragging the syllable out like a sitcom punchline, “Miss Y/L/N, you’ve got yourself a... colorful academic history.”

You slouched deeper in the vinyl chair and crossed your arms. “I like to keep things interesting.”

Mr. Weaver flipped a page with dramatic flair. “Catholic school. Honor roll. And then-oh, what’s this? Expelled for reckless and violent behavior.” He looked up with a grin that said not judging, but also absolutely judging. “That’ll look great on your college applications. Maybe list it under ‘special talents.’”

You smirked despite yourself. “I stabbed a kid with a pencil. It wasn’t that deep.”

“Well,” he said, wagging a finger, “that’s kind of the issue, right? Too deep.”

You laughed. Just a little and then quickly hid it behind a shrug. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

“I’m not here to scold you. I’ve had students set fire to desks before lunch. Honestly, you’re practically a saint.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Sister Lauren said something different. I think it was I’m influenced by Lucifer himself or something.” You said throwing around quotation marks.

“No, I’m not. But I like to start the year with optimism.” He tapped the folder. “I do want to figure out what this year is going to look like for you. We could aim for just surviving junior year, sure, but I think you might be more interesting than that.”

You sighed, shifting your eyes to look out the window. “I already figured it out. I do the bare minimum. I keep my head down. Till I graduate. Ta-da.”

Mr. Weaver gave a dry chuckle. “Riveting plan. But here’s the thing. I read people for a living, Y/N. And you? You’ve got too much bite for the ‘bare minimum.’”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

He paused, softer now. “Yeah. Says here you’re living with your aunt now.” He flipped a page, brows furrowing slightly. “And there’s a note… about your parents.”

Your mouth tensed. Your voice was clipped when you answered. “They’re dead. You can just say that. Not that deep either.”

“Dead parents,” he repeated, nodding. “Got it. Thanks for the permission slip.”

He closed the folder gently, then looked at you. Like he was really seeing you. It made you shift under the weight of his eyes.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “You want to be treated like an adult. Fine. I will. But being an adult means owning your choices, showing up, letting people help you before you explode into something sharp again.”

As he spoke, you picked at the frayed hem of your sleeve, not quite looking at him. Not wanting to meet his eyes. “You always this dramatic?” You muttered.

“Only before my second cup of coffee. After that, I become a ray of sunshine.”

“Lucky me.”

“We’re going to do check-ins,” he said, grabbing a sticky note and jotting something down. “With your teachers. Don’t freak out, it’s not surveillance. It’s just to make sure you’re actually here, and trying. That you’re not attempting to self sabotage your own life.”

“Fun.”

“Think of me as the nosy neighbor in the sitcom of your high school experience.”

You scoff at the analogy he chose. “Can I get a laugh track at least?” you joke.

“Nope. You’re on a slow-burn redemption arc. Possibly a tragicomedy.”

You blinked, surprised by the way that made you want to smile. He watched you a moment longer, then asked more carefully, “How are the grandparents?”

You let out a breath. “Confused. Tired. Think prayer will fix me.”

“And do you?”

“No.” You said quickly with a shrug. “They tried prayer, baptism, and demon exorcism. Think they thought they could handle two kids when my parents died. But I’m pretty positive I broke something in their logic. Something about traumatic events making me a bad influence to my brother. Now they treat me like an overdue movie rental. Shipped me back here like I belonged in the return bin.”

Mr. Weaver’s face didn’t shift much, but his voice did. “Well, lucky for you, we don’t charge late fees here. Just interest.”

Again with the weird ass analogies. You frown before asking “Which is…?”

“Me bugging you all year long. Unrelentingly.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. A tiny, reluctant smile trying to inch its way to your lips. You instead still your frown. Refusing to relax so soon. Not when you just got here. Not when he doesn't even know how bad it could get.

He reached for a highlighter, dragging it over a few course codes on your schedule. “Okay, let’s see what the fates have dealt you… English with Ms. Raymond, Pre-Calc with Doyle-may God help us-and…”

He trailed off, squinting. “Spanish.”

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“Spanish,” he repeated, offhandedly. “Figured you’d love that, considering it says here you’re fluent. Sounds like an easy A.”

“Nope. Anything but that.”

Mr. Weaver looked up slowly, pen hovering midair. “You’re joking.”

You shook your head, firm. “I’m not fluent. Not anymore. Haven’t spoken it in years. Not since my mom died.” Your voice sharpened. “Don’t you people have a French class?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “You're serious.”

“Dead serious. I will literally have a panic attack if you put me in Spanish.”

He stared at you for a long second. Then sighed dramatically and clicked through something on his ancient desktop. “Lucky you,” he muttered. “Two open seats in French. God knows why. Probably because no one wants to sound like a baguette with bronchitis.”

You felt relief flood you, and cracked a half-smile. “Merci.”

He raised a brow. “Ah, she speaks.”

You nodded once, settling back into your chair like the air had come back into the room. “Thanks.”

“De rien,” he replied with exaggerated flair, scribbling out the old listing and penciling in the new. “And for the record, I still think you’d survive Spanish. But fine. We’ll keep your trauma and your transcript from colliding.”

He paused, folding his hands, a little more serious now.

“I know you’re trying to stay invisible this year. But I’m not going to let you ghost your own life, Y/N. You’ve got too much fire under all that flinch.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That's a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Noted.”

Mr. Weaver grinned and handed you the final version of your schedule. You held onto the paper, reading over the paper like it was fragile. Mr. Weaver sipped from his mug and raised his eyebrows. “Welcome back to New Jersey, kid. Try not to stab anyone this time.”

You stood, one foot already out the door. “No promises.”

“Oh good,” he said, with a sigh. “It’s always more fun that way.”

#lottie matthews #yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #lottie mathews x reader #jackie taylor #jackie yellowjackets #jackie taylor x reader

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whiskyanndboots · 10 months ago

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Vertigo

Summary - You were kicking yourself, you were a coward, a hopelessly unrequited mess hung up on a time traveling genius who didn't end up with normal, boring girls like you.  Pairing - Five x Reader, OCxReader (briefly)

Warnings- Swearing, sexual innuendo, alcohol, canon divergence, pining

A/N - I didn’t edit this, sorry, but I got a little fic idea and ran with it. I’d never heard of Umbrella Academy until about a month ago when the series ended and the community was on fire, I only write for series 4 and Five is aged up in this one because it’s a travesty we didn’t get his family making jokes about him legally being able to drink now. Sloane is alive because so she should be.

You tilted your head back and finished your drink while the bartender was already making your next one, the pleasant buzz of alcohol thrummed through you easing the anxiety you'd had in coming here earlier tonight.   "He won't stop staring" Charlotte whispered in your ear, leaning into you so much you stumbled into the bar.   Charlotte was your favourite co-worker, she didn't seem to care much about your vague answers and the distance you kept from everyone at work.   "Who?" You answered with fake interest, you knew who.   "Oliver!" She exclaimed laughing into her drink still way too close to your face.   She was right, Oliver had been staring all night, aswell as flirting and buying you drinks. Oliver had asked you out once a few months ago and you'd rejected him, he took it on the chin and you'd been friends ever since. But you weren't blind, you seen the way he'd look at you, eyes flicking over your body before darting back up to your face when you'd walk by, his gaze always drifting to your mouth while you spoke. 

The only difference was that for the first time tonight you were flirting back.   "Come on, let's go dance" Charlotte tugged on your arm lightly gesturing at the packed dance floor.   "I'll get my drink and I'll meet you out there" You told her, she dropped your arm and practically bounced into the crowd, your gaze caught Oliver’s and you gave him a quick smile, ducking your head and turning to face the bar.   He was handsome, smart, funny, successful and he was very, very into you, you should have been over the moon, but there was one very crucial thing he was lacking when it came to your feelings.   He wasn't Five Hargreeves.  You'd been living with Five for two years now, you'd been surprised when he offered up his apartment while you were still reeling from having somehow, inexplicably, jumped timelines. He had said he was away working all the time and the place was empty anyway.   Considering you'd been staying with all the other Hargreeves siblings on a rotating roster the offer sounded like a dream. Five had eventually warmed up to you after he'd decided you weren't secretly trying to screw over him and his family, it took a few months longer than this siblings, you thought living with him would be awkward and you’d have this semi silent co-existence type of roommate relationship.   As it turned out living with Five was easy. Yes, he was snarky, bossy and arrogant, but he was an old man at heart and he acted like one. When he wasn't working he was home reading about things that made your brain hurt, watching jeopardy and random documentaries, he’d recently found his new hobby in building these little complex car sculptures he'd painstakingly put together for weeks at a time.   He liked walking too, the two of you often went for strolls, getting fresh air and finding new things to see, you were always excited about these little adventures and finding another hidden gem in the city. Five also had a love of classic cars and driving them very fast whenever he had occasion, the first time he asked if you wanted a spin in a 1983 Pontiac Firebird he’d acquired for a Saturday drive you spent most of it holding on for dear life. Five was an entirely sensible, though impatient, driver in the city, but he let loose when you traveled onto open roads. He liked to go see some of the weird wonders America had to offer, he had a list.

It was so easy to forget he was an old man on the inside while simultaneously forgetting his body was so young on the outside too.   Your favourite thing by far was drinking scotch at home on the couch just talking, laughing and listening to music as he tried to help you understand some complex theory on physics or his own time travel ones, he also told you stories of his life. Most of the time they were funny, but some nights it got somber and they were nights where you were brave enough to reach out and squeeze his hand as a comfort, he wasn't normally a very physically affectionate guy, but he always squeezed your hand back.   This was a problem because you'd very quickly fallen for Five, so quickly it was embarrassing, and Five had zero inclination towards you romantically.   You were helpless really, his tenacity, how incredibly intelligent he is, his arrogant charm and quick wit and how much he loved his family all made your heart flutter. There were times when he'd look up at you with mischievous green eyes, a slight smirk tilting his mouth and his dark hair falling so perfectly in his face that your heart would slam against your ribcage.   But as you had pointed out, this was all completely one sided.   Five saw you as a friend, a close friend, but there was nothing more. He'd never once made a move or even hinted at seeing you romantically in the last two and a half years you'd known him.   It was fine at first, it was enough for you just to be in his orbit, to live in your home together drinking coffee in the morning while he did crosswords in the newspaper and asked for your help occasionally, to be at family dinners or events and stand to the side to watch his incredible and weird family laughing and shouting while the both of you stole a moment for each other in the, usually, happy chaos.  It was enough to be cooking dinner and have Five come home muttering about the idiots he worked with, shrugging out of his jacket and coming to see what you were making. He'd lean against the kitchen counter venting while you were getting everything ready, he'd eventually sigh loudly and ask about your own day. You'd try not to get too distracted when he'd reach up and loosen his tie, long, tapered fingers plucking the knot expertly apart.   He'd always stand there until you were done cooking, hair messy, a slight smile on his face, sometimes teasing you as you tried to one up him with playful insults, you never could, but you still tried and the wide grin he'd give you when you inevitably were lost for words against him made your face flush.  It was all so domestic and you were far too comfortable with it.   The longer you indulged in the bubble you'd created with Five the deeper you were falling in and the more it was going to hurt when it ended.  You'd been thinking lately about the future, you wanted someone to love, maybe even a family, you'd spent over two years now in a kind of limbo not willing to accept you weren't going home to your old life. But you were getting older, you were watching everyone else's lives change and grow while yours stayed the same.   You dreaded the day Five told you he met someone, it was bound to happen eventually, if anything you were surprised it hadn't already. You'd see the way women looked at him, but he always brushed them off if they were brave enough to approach, atleast while you were with him. You didn't like to think about what happened when you weren't.  So you pushed yourself to do this, to have some fun and get to know your co-workers better, let your walls down and maybe even give Oliver a chance. Lila had even called and invited you out tonight and although you would much rather have spent time with Lila, Diego, Klaus, Luther and Sloane you declined. Lila sounded happy you were getting out of the house and making other friends.

You were glad you came, you were having fun and the more alcohol you drank the more free and giddy you felt. It felt amazing not to care so much about your problems.

You hadn't been with anyone since you found yourself stranded in this timeline and all the pent up frustration from living with the man who made your pulse quicken on a daily basis felt like it needed to be let out.   You grabbed your drink and made your way over to Oliver, he smiled widely as you approached, it felt good to have someone interested in you.  "Wanna dance?" He asked, there was a relaxed demeanour about him, he'd been drinking as much as you and you wondered if he could feel the same adrenaline about you as you were about him.   You nodded taking his outstretched hand as he led you onto the dance floor. The pub you all decided to visit had a band playing tonight, doing some pretty decent covers of some 80's rock and roll, you'd been here before with the others, it wasn't far from your apartment and Lila and Diego's house.   You saw Charlotte out there, swaying her hips with her arms around a mans neck, she winked at you with a wide smile when she saw Oliver pulling you further into the crowd of people.  You danced and sang , laughing and spinning around, everytime Oliver touched your skin it sent butterflies into your stomach, you don't remember the last time you felt this kind of nervous excitement, this exhilarated.  

A lie.

 You absolutely do remember.   It had been their birthday, all of their birthdays, but it was Five's second twenty first birthday, so naturally there was alot of alcohol involved. Five endured endless teasing about finally being able to drink and watching his cranky, snide banter with his family had you grinning all night.   You shook your head, you wouldn't let yourself think about that night. It was a year ago and you'd filed it firmly in the do not open part of your brain, you saved it for late nights when you couldn't sleep and you let yourself take a pathetic hit off the memory.   Oliver pulled you closer to him and out of your head, his hands were on your hips, he had an easy, boozy grin on his face while he held you tighter against his body, you could feel muscle and warmth, your breath quickened.  "You're so beautiful" He yelled over the music his hand sliding up to cup your face.   Your heart was racing as he leaned in, you'd been waiting for this all night.  His mouth clumsily pressed onto yours, you kissed him back with a vigour you didn't even know you had. This was what you needed to do, you had to get Five out of your head which was ironic considering its all you could think about now.   The kiss was messy, not unpleasant though, he pulled back to smile at you before smashing his lips back onto yours more forcefully now, his hands sliding down your body as you swayed to the music,   Your stomach turned flipped on itself, a sick feeling of guilt winding through you. It felt like cheating which was stupid, you weren't dating Five and Five wasn't in love with you. Five couldn’t have cared less you were doing this.   Suddenly everything was too overwhelming, you pulled back, but stayed in Olivers arms. His face was flushed and a goofy smile was plastered across it. You weren't sure you could do this, a kiss was one thing, but more felt like too much more.   You were kicking yourself, you were a coward, a hopelessly unrequited mess hung up on a time traveling genius who didn't end up with normal, boring girls like you.  You were abruptly pulled out of your mid makeout crisis when your arm was roughly yanked backwards and out of Oliver's arms. The alcohol made you unsteady and you'd almost tripped over stumbling into another body.  "Lila?" You blurted out confused when you turned to see the culprit, she looked furious.  "What the hell are you doing?" She barked at you loudly, you furrowed your brow at her, your mind trying to catch up with where Lila had just come from.  "(Y/N)?" Oliver asked moving closer, hand outstretched in concern.   "Back off wanker" She spat pulling you roughly through the crowd.   "Ow Lila!" You exclaimed, she was squeezing your wrist too hard. You quickly sent a reassuring wave and smile at Oliver behind you while Lila practically dragged you with her, your boozy legs not wanting to cooperate properly.   As you made it off the dancefloor you were greeted with a few of the other Hargreeves family members, you smiled before realising they looked didn't look happy to see you at all, Diego in particular looked furious.   "We're going home" Lila turned her head to tell you, not bothering to stop as she passed her family, even Luther and Sloane didn't meet your eye as you were tugged past.   "Why?" You tried to pull your arm back.   Lila turned to look at you with so much barely restrained fury you flinched, she didn't answer and you didn't fight her as she continued to pull you into the cold night air.  "I said I'm driving" You heard Diego arguing with Klaus as you tried to catch up with what the hell was happening. You were sitting in the back of Lila and Diego's van with Klaus, Sloane and Luther before you knew which way was up.   Klaus sat beside you, the side of his mouth lifted at your confused gaze, but his expression was pinched.   "Wait, I didn't tell them I was going!" You exclaimed looking back at the bar as the car jerked away from the curb throwing your body against your seatbelt.

“That’s what you’re worried about!?l Diego yelled, turning in his seat to glare at you, it made you flinch. You'd never been on the receiving end of a Hargreeves wrath before.

 You looked over to Luther and Sloane, their mouths were tight and they were pointedly not looking at you. You were so confused, you were willing your brain to sober up a enough to make sense of this.   "I can't believe this, how could you do this?!" Diego continued on driving the car faster than he should have been, white knuckle gripping the steering wheel, Lila was staring straight ahead seeming deep in thought.   You were definitely missing something because you had wracked your brain several times over and you were pretty positive you hadn't done anything at all to warrant this level of outrage.  "Are you gonna say something?" Diego once again turned to look over his shoulder at you.   "Just lay off, Diego" Klaus interjected "wait until we're home, she's drunk"   "Lay off?! I haven't even started" Diego fired back.   The car turned sharply and you grabbed onto the seat to steady yourself, you looked over to Klaus who's expression wasn't angry as he gazed down at you, it was worse, he looked disappointed.  "Has something happened?" You finally spoke up, as the words left your mouth you had a sudden scary thought "Is Five ok?"   "Oh, so now you give a damn about Five, huh?" Diego sounded exasperated even though he let out a chuckle, shaking his head muttering things you couldn’t hear.   The car pulled up in their driveway with a harsh jolt, you felt like the journey hear was way quicker than it should have been. You let yourself be led into the living room by Klaus who sat you down on the couch, the Hargreeves filed into the room each taking a seat, Lila pulled a chair from the kitchen into the room and planted herself down infront of you, Diego however was pacing back and forth looking like he was struggling not to explode.   Klaus appeared beside you with a glass of water, you hadn't realise how thirsty you were, "Thanks" you muttered taking a long gulp.   No one had answered you about Five yet and anxiety was building in your chest.   "How long?" Lila asked, the way she was staring into your eyes was intimidating the hell out of you.  "How long what?" You asked back creasing your brow.   "How long have you been fucking that guy?!" Diego exploded making your head snap towards him in surprise  "Diego, let me do the interrogating honey" Lila reprimanded, but turned to you expectantly.

"Oliver?" You asked quietly, what was their problem with Oliver?  "That the assholes name, huh? Oliver what a dumb ass name" Diego was muttering to himself.   "Well?" Lila widened her eyes at you expectantly. You suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable being stared at under a spotlight like this , this was your personal life and you could do whatever the hell you wanted.   "I don't see how thats any of your business" You replied steadily, Lila looked like she could have slapped you, the twitch in her hand made you pretty sure she wanted to.   "Our brother is our business" Diego stalked forward towards you "I never would have picked you for something like this, we all thought of you like family, Five worships the ground you walk on" You leaned back into the couch, Diego's voice was measured, but it felt oddly like being yelled at.   "It stops now. You tell him when he gets back or we will" Luther spoke for the first time, all business and no nonsense, nothing like the goofy big guy you'd come to know over the last few years. Sloane locked eyes with you before dropping them, a sullen look on her face.  "I'm sorry" You closed your eyes for a moment raising your hand up before running it across your face "why are you all so pissed?" You turned your confused gaze to Klaus.  "Well, I imagine it was having our night interrupted by our brothers girlfriend playing tonsil hockey with some guy who's definitely not our brother" Klaus answered, his delivery was light, but his tone was clipped.   "Five's gonna be devastated, is this what do while he's away at work? I just- I just- I just can't figure out why you'd do this to him, you guys are happy, aren’t you happy?” Diego was pacing again.  Your brain short circuited.   Girlfriend?  "Are you talking about me?" You asked bewildered. You weren't sober enough for this conversation because clearly you were missing something here.   "Well as far as I know there wasn't anyone else out cheating on Five tonight" Lila answered back sarcastically.   "You-" You couldn't even find the words, what in the actual hell was going on "I'm not Five's girlfriend"   The room went silent.  "You can't be that drunk, if this is your idea of a ruse, it's a shit one" Lila raised her eyebrow looking annoyed.  "Let me get this straight" you leaned back in your chair closing your eyes for a brief moment to organise your thoughts "you think I'm Five's girlfriend and you caught me cheating on him" You glanced at all the faces around the room.  "Yeah, obviously" Lila's face scrunched up in confusion.   "Well, you're missing one very important piece of that puzzle, I'm not his girlfriend" you shot back.  "You live together" Sloane suddenly piped up  "We're roommates"   "You're always together, you went on a date last Saturday" Luther joined in.   "We're friends, it wasn't a date it was a classic car show"

“You’re like a boring old married couple, I saw you arguing over whether to have blueberry or chocolate chip muffins with your afternoon tea last week! ” Klaus looked at you imploringly.

“I’m not boring” You spluttered

"You're definitely knocking boots" Lila raised an expectant eyebrow.   "No, absolutely not. Wait, you know that" You shook your head confused and turned to look at Sloane who also definitely knew that. You remembered the conversation with them about how you were most definitely not sleeping with Five despite everyone believing the contrary, but you cleared that up a year ago and no one ever brought it up again.  "But our birthday" Klaus sounded mystified, your heart started pounding.   How did they know about that night, did Five tell them what happened? You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.   "What about it?" You feigned innocence.   "Our master plan to make sure you two emotionally stunted sweethearts finally admitted you wanted to jump each others bones" Klaus looked at Lila who looked panicked at his admission.

“What plan?" You swivelled your head between them.  "Well, we thought Five was being a cowardly little shit and needed a nudge in the right direction " Lila's smile grew cheesy and fake, you were sure she could feel the anger and embarrassment radiating off you.  "It seemed like a giant success, I mean, when I drove you both home Allison and I were worried you were going to get it on in the back seat if I wasn't quick enough" Klaus replied laughing and nodding at his siblings, you were definitely red in the face.  "No!" You said borderline hysterical "that definitely did not happen" This was hands down the most embarrassing moment of your life.   "Wait, hold on, you aren't cheating on Five?" Diego asked with a hand in his hair.  "No, we're just friends" You desperately wanted to end this conversation “you can ask him if you don’t believe me” you offered.   "Holy shit" Diego looked equal parts stunned and horrified.

“But you two-“ Luther looked like he was struggling to find words “you’re both- you always-you know!” he exclaimed, his hands waving in front of himself.   "I need more water" you muttered going to the kitchen.   What an absolute nightmare, clearly the way you felt about Five was so obvious his own family thought you two were together, you were absolutely fucking tragic. You had to do damage control, the single worst thing you could think of happening in your life right now was the idea of Five looking at you with pity in is eyes if he found out about your feelings.   "Hey" Lila and Sloane both slunk into the kitchen as you were downing your water "I think we need to talk"   "What was this master plan Klaus was talking about?" You raised an annoyed eyebrow in their direction.  "Well, it all started last year on the twins birthday"   

A/N - thanks for reading if you got this far, most of this was a set up for another, hopefully, two parts to this series.

#five x you #five x reader #five hargreaves x reader

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doubtfultaste · 8 months ago

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Eyes of Fire (1983)

#1983 #Eyes of Fire #Avery Crounse #folk horror #Cry Blue Sky #Crying Blue Sky

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thegothicalice · 10 months ago

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I absolutely love your style and was wondering as a cinemaphile what obscure, off the wall horror movies would you suggest for the spooky season?

Uhhhh how about various levels of obscure from the 80s and 90s? (Not a complete lists because I’ve seen literally thousands of films and forget half of what I watch and use Letterboxd to keep track)

1999– Idle Hands, Don’t Look Under the Bed, Bats, Ravenous, In Dreams, Lighthouse, Stir of Echos, Audition, Kolobos

1998—The Last Broadcast, Devil in the Flesh, Whispering Corridors, Urban Legend, Shadowbuilder, The Eternal, The Quiet Family, Strangeland, Deep Rising, The Wisdom of Crocodiles, Tomie

1997– The Relic, The Ugly, Event Horizon, Cure, Wax Mask, Snow White: A Tale of Terror, Quicksilver Highway, Office Killer, The Night Flier

1996– From Dusk til Dawn, Little Witches, Uncle Sam, The Frighteners, The Dentist, Karmina, Thesis, Tromeo & Juliet,

1995– Blood & Donuts, Screamers, Tales from the Hood, The Demolitionist, Mushrooms, The Girl With the Hungry Eyes, The Day of the Beast, Serpent’s Lair, Rumpelstiltskin, Mute Witness, Evil Ed, Project: Metalbeast, Habit, The Addiction, Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight, Lord of Illusions

1994– Tammy & the T Rex, In the Mouth of Madness, Lurking Fear, Cemetery Man, Death Machine, Brainscan, Nadja

1993– Love Bites, Doppelgänger, Necronomicon, Body Bags, Ed & His Dead Mother, Dark Waters, Skinner, Jack Be Nimble, Ticks, Carnosaur, The Temp

1992– Death Becomes Her, The Vagrant, Tale of a Vampire, The Unnameable II, Innocent Blood, Dr Giggles, Auntie Lee’s Meat Pies, Aswang, Sleepwalkers, Netherworld, Split Second

1991– The Resurrected, The Boneyard, Body Parts, Popcorn, Subspecies, There’s Nothing Out There, Highway to Hell, The Runestone, Cast a Deadly Spell, Children of the Night

1990– Frankenhooker, Fear, Nightbreed, Lisa, Mom, Grim Prairie Tales, Shakma, Pale Blood, Baby Blood, Mirror Mirror, Hardware, Meridian, Def by Temptation, The Vampire Family, Reflecting Skin, Demonia

1989– Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat, Nightlife, I Madman, Dr. Caligari, The Black Cat, Paganini Horror, Phantom of the Mall: Eric’s Revenge, The Dead Pit, The Phantom of the Opera, Dead Calm, Intruder, The House of Usher

1988– Paperhouse, Spider Labyrinth, Spell Caster, Sorority Babes in the Slime-Bowl-O-Rama, Cellar Dweller, Pin, 976-EVIL, Brain Damage, Rejuvenatrix, Blood Relations, Party Line, The Unnamable, The Wicked

1987– Psychos in Love, Blood Rage, The Caller, Stagefright, Graveyard Shift, American Gothic, Street Trash, From a Whisper to a Scream, Blood Diner

1986– Spookies, Poison for the Fairies, Vamp, Gothic, Deadtime Stories, TerrorVision, Witchboard, Trick or Treat

1985– The Doctor and the Devils, Phenomena, The Stuff

1984– Decoder, The Company of Wolves, Monster Dog, Sole Survivor, Special Effects

1983– The Lift, Wilczyca (She Wolf), Eyes of Fire, House of Long Shadows, The Hunger, Angst, Curtains, Blood Beat, Mortuary, The Keep

1982– Ferat Vampire, Next of Kin, The Sender, Tenebre, One Dark Night, The Living Dead Girl, Superstition, Alone in the Dark, Parasite

1981– The Black Cat, Fear No Evil, Dead & Buried, Possession, Night School, The Monster Club, Allison’s Birthday, Frightmare, Ghost Story, The Funhouse, The Pit, Evilspeak, Strange Behavior, The Nesting

1980– Macabre, Fade to Black, The Ninth Configuration, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

These are all just what I’ve recorded on my personal Letterboxd since I started it in April of 2017, I’ve seen plenty more but tried to just pick possibly less-known stuff, some bad and some good.

#go ask Alice #movie questions #horror movies #movie recs #tried to skip stuff that was too… bad-taste-rapey-squicky and things shot on video

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baddiewiththebook · 7 months ago

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Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 9

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

July 1983

There is a crackle and a pop that comes from the fire that dances before you. Fiery like an angry monster erupting from his hibernation, ready to feed. The wood sizzles, as the last bit of sap cooks from the bark. Moisture drains as the wood turns to ash.

Your eyes train to the open night sky. Trees touch the air reaching out to the heavens above. Pine has become one of your favorite scents since coming out to camp here nights ago. This is one of the final nights all together.

That being said, you’re a bit melancholic about going home tomorrow. At home, you won’t have the dramatic retelling of woodland monsters by Eddie who ghosts over the flames, and nearly commands them to bend and to turn. You won’t have Gareth’s half decent cooking that sits just right in your belly, and not making you bloat out until you’re about to burst. Freak quietly eats the leftovers from dinner time. Hot dogs. Potato chips. It’s all quite typical of a camping trip. And, Jeff, who plays you songs on his harmonica that he says his grandfather taught him ages ago. You’re immersed in the experience, truly.

Jeff puts down the harmonica a moment, and Eddie files his stories back between his ears. The conversation is light. Although, there is a line crossed eventually. Gareth storms off down a darkened path to a lake of water to get some air. You tell the group that you’re going to the bathroom quickly after this happens.

You sneak around the campers, and take a flashlight with you. The pathway is a straightforward slope. Even if you somehow veered off the path and onto the thick wood, you would hear the water and still push forward until you hit the lake.

The large moon overhead mirrors into the water, along with its friends - the stars. Ripples in the tide gently caress the sand leaving soggy wet trails. You can find Gareth making purchase against a fallen log not too far from the path.

“May I join you?” You clear your throat, adjusting the flashlight to the beach floor when Gareth squints at you.

Gareth doesn’t have much to say to you. It’s not you that has him irritated after all. He drops the tension built at the base of his jaw, and his shoulders follow.

You take this as an invite, and you scoot not-so-close next to him. The sea speaks to you. She says so many words without saying anything at all. The freedom to travel the world, and to touch so many people. She’s home to many creatures. And, abused by so many humans. They take advantage of her generosity, and thus is the meaning of womanhood. You could shred your English teacher apart for giving you a scalding hot ‘D’ on your essay about femininity. For him, the world bended on hand and knee.

At least you wouldn’t have to take a class with him this upcoming year.

“Moon’s big,” you bite your tongue for such a silly little thing to say.

Gareth kicks the sand and the pebbles at his feet, “I know they’re just teasing me because they’re older.”

Their conversation grew childish, as Eddie had picked on Gareth for his lack of experience with women. It nicked a hole in his pride, or perhaps invited the shy little boy to rise to the surface after all of these years. Truthfully, the sting of Eddie’s comment isn’t what bothers him. The other guys laughs. It’s all a joke to them. But, internally Gareth has been struggling. All by his age, the boys had at least one date under their belt.

You inhale deeply, which grabs Gareth’s attention. With the moonlight caressing your skin like a tender hand holding up your chin to bless you even more beautifully than you already are, Gareth knows how screwed he is. Jeff has told him to back off. He insists that you’re Eddie’s girl. You’re fueled by a secret passion that burns only for Eddie.

That might be true by the way you laugh undeniably hard whenever you are left together. Oh, your laugh is a fresh breeze on a hot day. Warm sun punches his body. The leaves on the trees begin to shake. Finally, the wind kisses his ears coolly in a most needed sort of way.

In a way, he needs you to laugh at him like that.

“Don’t let them get to you,” you shrug your shoulders up and down. The flashlight has fallen into the sand, while still on. Shadows of their toes hit the beach sand making silly little puppets. “You don’t have to go around sleeping with every girl you see. I’ve never . . .”

Your confidence fails you right then. Simply, you didn’t want to seem suggestive towards Gareth. Well, in case a situation like that might happen. That’s not to say that it would. But, you know - you have a long life ahead of you and Gareth isn’t the worst looking guy you’ve seen. Or, calling him not-the-worst sounds wrong. That’s not what you meant.

Gareth bursts your train of thought, “I’ve never even kissed a girl. Shouldn’t I have at least done that?”

Was he really asking you for advice? Sure, your first kiss was soggy and far too wet for your liking. You could have sucked face with a frog, and he would have been kinder than- oh, it doesn’t matter. First kisses are always less amazing than what you expect. That’s why you practice.

“There isn’t a timeline on this sort of stuff,” you explain to him. “It just sort of happens. Some people don’t get kissed until they’re forty.”

Gareth’s half glare shuts your mouth, before you could make him feel any worse. So, you’re not good at this? Who knew?

“I cannot wait for my first kiss to be when I’m forty,” he snorts lightly. “Eddie’s already-,”

You jerk your head, but the end of the sentence never falls out of his mouth. Gareth’s quite red in the face, and he doesn’t dare turn his head back to you.

“Eddie can do whatever - whoever he wants,” you pretend like the bomb Gareth dropped doesn’t bother you, but he watches your shoulders bend slightly.

According to Jeff, you’re Eddie’s girl. They’ve spoken a lot. Jeff’s advice is to back off, before Gareth gets bitten. Knowing Eddie, he’s a shark that could take you down whole if he wanted too. That’s not to criticize his close friend. It’s just that keeping you so close, but to not make a move on you is beyond childish to think of. He has to understand that one day someone will come along and ask you on a date. That they’ll sweep you off your feet. You deserve to be loved, and to be held. Not kept under Eddie’s shadow.

Oh, God. Can Gareth risk loosing Eddie as not only a friend, but as a major part of a band they created. This band means everything to all of its members. The sound is so unique, and so new. They could really be going somewhere with this.

Gareth decides in that moment that he would rather chance making the band a success, and to keep everyone and everything the same as it has always been. One day he can wake up without humming to the tune of you. That the scent of your perfume doesn’t send him into a trance-like-state of utter silliness.

The burn in his belly aches. Gareth stares into the sea, as though he’s thrown his greatest secret, and his greatest worry into the ocean. She swallows the message whole. Yeah, if only that works. He hangs his head.

Your fingertips grace the top of his left shoulder blade. Even though his jacket, Gareth can imagine the softness that the pads of your fingers provide. Soft and smooth ridges pepper alonghis hidden skin like a well-rehearsed song and dance.

“Gareth,” the sound of your voice melts him. “Are you okay?”

Gareth cocks his head in your direction. You watch in waiting as his eyes fall to your lips. Hopefully, he doesn’t see you tremble too.

There is a moment that the both of you share in complete silence. The waves quiet themselves. The trees no longer move, but rather watch the scene unfold in front of them. It’s perfectly romantic.

Hot breath hits your face. Gareth has become closer to you, or maybe you moved to him. You swallow thickly. He licks his lips.

Pause.

There is a thrust of wind that hit the both of you, but doesn’t cause either of you to break away. It only moves you closer. Hand in hand.

“Fuck it,” Gareth mutters to himself, and closes the gap.

Slotting his lips against yours, Gareth could swear he hears the heavens calling from beyond. You tangle your fingers into his hair, holding on for dear life. While Gareth’s lips aren’t classically trained, you hold out for practice. The message is clearly written. His nose bumps against yours, and you hum through locked lips. Gareth sneaks his grip on you around your waist, below your jacket. The skin there is cool. Shivers wrestle up your spine. you around the waist below your jacket in a bold move. You gasp.

As the kiss ends, you both find pulling away to come too soon. Sneaking in one or two more small kisses, your eyes do finally meet. Your lips are swollen and damp, and so are Gareth’s lips. Somehow you’ve tangled yourself into him. Threatening to swing your legs back over his lap, Gareth grasps the back of your knee with his hand.

“Stay,” he stammers out of breath. “Please.”

You nod - completely winded yourself.

“Maybe you could use a bit more practice?” You pinch your fingers together with a suggestive smirk playing against your lips.

Gareth cackles into the sky, then lets his head fall back to you. “Seriously?”

You nibble your bottom lip.

Gareth brings his lips to yours once again bringing your two bodies into one shared unit. You wait to slip into something deeper that he isn’t quite ready for yet. Instead, the two of you spend far too long enjoying the moment.

There is a group of campers not far away wondering where you have gone off too. Robin rides into the darkness with the assistance of a flashlight to use the bathroom. Hopefully, you haven’t died in there yet.

Robin does catch up with you two in the sharp fork that’s along the pathways. If you head upwards, you’ll begin to smell the bathrooms not too far away. Down the hill is the short walk to the lakeside where you’ve just come from.

“I went to the bathroom, and then I went to find Gareth,” you explain rapidly to Robin.

While she knows that could be a lie, Robin has had far too much pop and she does really have to go to the bathroom. She leaves you there, and she will forget about finding you two suspiciously in the woods together.

Upon returning to the camp site, you hadn’t talked about if either Gareth or you wanted to tell the others about what has just happened. It doesn’t seem as though you’ll get a chance because Gareth is whisked off in a drunken apology from Eddie. Gareth tells Eddie not to sweat it, then accepts a marshmallow peace offering.

You too return to the fire opposite side to Gareth. A poker is offered to you, so that you might stick marshmallows on the ends to cook them. That is one of your favorite parts to a camping trip - it used to be your favorite.

Perhaps, something has changed your mind. Something sweeter has come along. It's like the scent of a new book. Sweet and woodsy. You’re just unfolding the pages to this novel.

Gareth’s gaze softens as he catches you looking right at him, and you blush while tucking your lips into each other.

You can’t wait to read this book.

-> <-

[August 1983]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson preference #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

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2222bad · 2 months ago

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LEADING LADY

[michael wants you to be in his upcoming short film] | 1.2k words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , show bizz baby! , john landis ooc (?)

[1983]

“what do you mean you’re not doing the film?” john asks michael, his hip cocked over to one side in climbing distress.

with a sigh, michael states his case once more: “i told you, john, if she can’t be my lead, i’m not doing it. and you can go ahead and tell george that i said it, too.”

john squints through his glasses, fogged from the sudden sweat he’s producing all over his body. with a measured breath, he presses his hands together and moves them slowly up to his mouth.

“i thought you understood this, michael. it’s not personal that your girlfriend doesn’t star in the shoot. okay? we have tons of girls—hundreds—that have come in to audition. by equity standard they need to be seen. will you see them, or do i have to go tell them we’ve wasted their time?”

michael looks down at the book of headshots, his fingers peruse the several pages, eyeing over the pictures. black and white prints of stunning smolders, shining smiles.

“i already know who i’m looking for, john.”

“you already know who you’re looking for—look, i didn’t fly all the way here to make a home video,” john steams, “if that’s what you want, you can kiss the whole thing goodbye. it won’t do well, michael.”

a flicker dove into michael’s eye like a flash of fire.

“you wanna bet?” he teases, folding his arms in his jacket.

john’s face falls, his whole body coming forward in surrender to his dejection. his hands find michael’s shoulders and he sighs into the feeling.

“will you at least see them?” john begs, his eyes full of exhaustion. “if you don’t find a girl by the end of today, we can talk.”

“mhm,” michael answers blankly and drags his loafers behind the audition table. once in his seat again, john peers behind him. he’s put his sunglasses back on.

—

“that’s your one hundred and thirty-fifth no…do we even try for thirty-sixth?” john asks with the weight of a thousand men as he flops the last headshot down on the table.

“i’m sorry, none of them are what i want,” michael says, shaking his head.

red-faced and sweaty, george reaches across the table in agitation. “michael. we’ve got girls like ola ray coming in here who are perfect for this role and you’re turning them down. what’s the problem, huh? i’m sorry, but your girl won’t fit. she doesn’t work.”

“how would you know?” michael flops his hands down in his lap with an airy chuckle. “you haven’t even met her.”

the table suppresses its groans. chairs creak and papers shuffle under the sound of clearing throats.

“we are running out of time, john,” mumbles george.

“alright,” john grumbles, nose bridge pinched between his director’s fingers, “tell her to come tomorrow. we’ll do the screen test.”

the littered cups of coffee rattle and shake as john scrunches his chair from the table and walks into the hall with his hand on the back of his neck. michael feels none of the animosity. in fact, he continues to smile.

—

“c’mere! i’ll introduce you,” michael says as he wraps his arms around your shoulders excitedly. the minute you stepped inside the warehouse, michael skipped over to your side. it was a tall place, huge and full of mock set pieces. where you’d be needed was in front of the camera where the wall had been replaced with fake brick.

“how should i act? gosh, im so nervous.” you grab a hold of michael’s prototype jacket, his feet going miles faster than you could in your heels.

“you’re wonderful just as you are. just be yourself,” he assures you, pressing his lips to your cheek unabashedly.

before you stood his crew looking pensive and eyeing various parts of the set up. it was a small team, but definitely mighty. you’d lost count of how many times you’d seen an american werewolf in london and hoped it wasn’t obvious in the way your teeth shone with egregious enthusiasm.

with an arm around you, michael gestured excitedly to each of the guys. “this is rick baker; our makeup artist, george folsey jr.; he’ll be helping with producing, that’s michael peters; we’re choreographing together, and, of course, this is john landis.”

“it’s lovely to finally meet you,” you smile shyly, “thank you very much for this opportunity.”

john gives a tight-lipped smile, but doesn’t say a word. you glance at michael who beams a grin worth the entirety of the sun and he takes your hand to show you around.

—

“this is just a test,” john reminds you carefully as rick sprays aqua net over your hair. stood in front of the brick wall, you try to blink the hot lights from your view.

of course. you knew that. but something about the way he said it felt weird in your body.

you give a look of understanding and a small nod that john could catch from the monitor. of course. just a test.

you were fabulous on screen. you took every point of direction from john with grace and an undeniably natural way about you that felt so refreshing and new. when michael joined you, there was no mistake how great you paired together on screen. michael was at ease, improvising and enjoying himself immensely. it was rare john had to make any adjustment at all.

behind the camera, george and john watch you two move through the watered down zombie portion.

“what’d he say she’s been in?” george asks in a low voice.

“not much…a few guest roles, mostly magazine shoots,” john says.

george pauses, now looking over at john who was notably invested in the monitor’s gaze.

“he’s gonna fight this until the end,” george huffs and lights a cigarette.

“yeah,” john shrugs, “he’s young.”

but he couldn’t deny how michael’s eyes lit up when he looked at you. the way he wrapped his arms around you, the way he got you to smile. he shone. held so much virility and love inside. just what the video needed.

he ran his fingers along his beard.

“alright! that’s good, michael! take five!”

—

the second the premiere finally aired on mtv, your phone rang off the hook like a bat out of hell.

your agent, your friends, your family. all of them sat on their couches, bunched up with celebration and popcorn, their hands flying to the phone once vincent’s wicked laugh erupted over michael’s haunting citrine eyes.

“i’m here in the office right now!” your agent laughs, “i can’t believe it! you won’t believe who’s calling for you. can you make it in tomorrow?”

“yeah,” you do your best to curb your smile, “yeah, i can be there first thing.”

“you’d better! the world wants you! congratulations.”

“baby! it’s playin’ again!” michael hollers from the couch. “come on! you’re gonna miss it!”

“oh—hey, i’ve gotta go! i’ll see you tomorrow! thank you, thank you, thank you!”

as you make it back to the couch, the roar of crickets and frogs fill your ears, the car rolls down the darkened street, you get that same starry feeling you did when you really filmed it all over again.

“did you talk to john?” you ask sweetly as the car fizzles out of gas. wrapped in michael’s arms, you steal a few pieces of popcorn from his open palm.

“yeah,” he smirks at the scene. “he says it’s great.”

“and what’d you say?” your gaze moves up to his face, smiling big.

“i said, 'i told you so.'”

AAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHAHUHUHUHUHHHHhhhhhh

—

@writtenbychris

#i know that realistically michael would've probably been like i want my girl in it and they'd be like sir yes sir!#but this is more fun #THANK YOU CHRIS #michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #applehead #moonwalker

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zepskies · 9 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 12

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And here we go, with our Avengers: Civil War moment…

Song Inspo: “I Go to Extremes” by Billy Joel

Word Count: 5.1K

Tags/Warnings: Violence, blood, and death. Angst, peril, hurt/comfort, and fluff.

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 12: A Fire in the Blood

Ben walked into the kitchen the next morning in search of coffee and food. He added some grounds to the coffeemaker on the counter and grabbed a bagel from the fridge, then slammed the door shut.

“All right, get the fuck out,” he said, as if to an empty room. “I’m gonna lose my breakfast before I even eat it.”

Slowly, Charlie and Donna stood up from behind the kitchen island. Both of them looked wrecked. Her hair was wild and disheveled. He had dark red lipstick smudged all around his mouth and neck. Their clothes were bundled in their hands, but they needed no further prompting to run butt-ass naked out of the kitchen. Ben shook his head.

“Fucking animals,” he muttered.

But he didn’t blame them for being bored.

Meanwhile down the hall, Donna pulled Charlie into the shower with her. She got him to start washing her hair while she bathed the rest of herself with a bar of soap.

“He took it a lot better than I expected,” she said.

“Well, he’s probably known since at least last night,” Charlie said, smirking. “The man’s got super hearing, and you didn’t exactly keep it down.”

She reached back to smack his thigh teasingly. “That’s not what I meant. I just thought he’d raise more hell.”

She actually frowned at the thought. Part of her had indulged with Charlie because she thought it might piss Ben off, but to her surprise, he didn’t seem to give much of a fuck. In the past, he once snapped a man’s wrist for touching her ass at a gala. In fact, he’d ruined a lot of perfectly good hookup opportunities for her by being his jealous, caveman self, even though he was whoring himself out with any willing female.

So now, either Ben hated her that much, or…he actually did care about you.

Ben answered his cell when it rang. It was a familiar number.

Arthur. This better be fucking it.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“Yeah, I found her,” Arthur said, with a grim sigh. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Where?” Ben demanded. His hand clenched on the phone, threatening to crack the frame.

“Nottingham, West Virginia. It’s one of Vought’s most high-security labs. I didn’t even have clearance to know about it when I worked there,” he said. “It’s easy to miss though. Somewhere between a national forest and a couple of cemeteries.”

“Good enough for me,” Ben said. He finished his coffee in one quick slurp and headed over to his room to get the rest of his suit on. He was only half dressed.

“I hope you find her. Now I’ll be fucking off to Belize. Stan’s probably already got eyes on me,” said Arthur.

“Don’t you worry about Stan. After I get Sirena, I’m chopping the head off the fucking snake,” Ben said angrily.

“Okay, well, good luck to ya.”

After hanging up and lacing up his boots, Ben headed out of the room and down the hall. He banged a fist on the bathroom door, hard enough to rattle its hinges.

“Suit up, kids! We’re headed out.”

Arthur’s directions were direct enough. Donna had to park her car somewhere along the main road, but it was another mile or so before Ben finally found what they were looking for: a solitary building that looked like a nondescript farmhouse from the outside.

“This is their top secret high-security lab?” Charlie said. “Looks abandoned.”

“That’s exactly how they want it to look,” Ben said. It reminded him of the lab in Siberia. He was willing to bet that the lab itself ran several stories and floors underground.

Once they stepped out from the safety of the trees, gunshots rained from above and up ahead. There was a line of armed guards emerging from the front and the back of the building, while a helicopter descended from above.

Donna took out most of the guards on the ground, while Charlie shot his guns at the helicopter and took out the glass in the windshield. Ben threw up his shield at it, causing irreparable damage to the vessel. The pilot was forced to initiate a crash landing.

The helicopter doors opened, revealing Black Noir. He grabbed another man and jumped from the helicopter. The other man screamed, but the landing was swift. Noir made sure that Mindstorm landed on his feet, more or less, while the helicopter carved into the ground behind them and combusted.

Ah, the gang’s all here, Ben thought grimly. It saved him the trouble of hunting those two down as well.

“So it’s true,” Mindstorm said, taking in the sight of Ben with both astonishment and dread.

“Hey, Dan,” said Ben. “Looking rough.”

It was true. The man appeared to be a shell of his former self; thin, with lines of age around his eyes and across his forehead, his skin pale and splotchy. A decade of paranoia and reclusion hadn’t done much good for Dan. Noir must've scrounged him up from his hiding hole, like fishing out a rat from the sewer.

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” Charlie tried. “Just let him get Sirena out of there. After what you guys did, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Ben glanced at his former sidekick. He actually seemed sincere.

Too bad Noir wasn’t about to go for it. He had Vought’s dick so far up his ass, he wouldn’t likely take a shit without Stan Edgar’s say so. He crouched into a fighting stance and unsheathed his katana. The rest of the guards poured in to flank around him and Mindstorm.

Ben rolled a crack out of his neck.

“Fine. If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll fucking get,” he said.

Noir started charging at him first, but Donna shot off a fireball in his direction.

Chaos ignited from there.

Something’s wrong. You felt it, with so many energies converging high above you. It must’ve meant that you were underground, yet again.

There were still men in the compound itself. You now felt their energies being stuffed out, closer and closer in your direction.

Ben? You wondered. You stood up from your cot in nervous anticipation, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. After Vogelbaum dropped his news, you’d spent the entire night battling your shock, followed shortly by your panic.

No matter what they did to you now, there was no way you were going to let them hurt your child.

Ben…

More than anything, you wanted to see him. You wanted to tell him that his dream was coming true, whether he was ready for it or not…

But there was something coming, and it wasn’t him. You would’ve felt it if it was him. By the rate the men were dying somewhere outside of your cell, however, it was getting closer to your cell. For some reason, you just couldn’t identify the energy signature itself.

You got your answer when your cell door forcibly opened. You gaped in shock.

“Countess?” you said.

She was panting for breath, but she whipped a sweaty lock of red hair out of her eyes and reached out a gloved hand for you.

“Come on, before I change my fucking mind,” she said.

You were still in shock, but you managed to break yourself out of it to follow her out of the cell. You had to stop short though, as an entire unit of Vought security came pouring into the hall with raised guns.

You opened your mouth and began your siren song. Within seconds, every man curled in on themselves as they screamed in pain. Some of them managed to rip their helmets off as they gripped their heads. Tears of blood dripped down from their eyes, and they all soon fell into lifeless heaps.

You stopped singing, and your eyes faded from glowing violet to their normal hue. Donna looked at you, both stunned and wary.

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t work on women. Even frigid cunts like you,” you said with a grin.

She smirked back. “Come on then.”

“Where’s Ben?” you asked, joining her in hastening down the hall.

“Up there fighting,” she replied, pointing up to the ceiling. “You’re about fifteen floors down from the outside world.”

“Fucking figures,” you muttered, but your heart swelled to know that Ben was here, and he was all right. Your hand went to your lower belly on reflex.

“Wait,” you gasped, as something occurred to you. “We need to find someone.”

“What the fuck do you mean? We need to get out of here!” Donna said.

“There’s a kid somewhere in here, and I’m not leaving without him,” you snapped. You began opening doors where you sensed a presence inside. Most often it was a lab technician or other employee, and Donna vaporized them.

You opened one door and found Dr. Vogelbaum. Finally, you saw him react with widening eyes. You felt his fear.

Donna eviscerated him too, in a bloody mess of limbs.

You grimaced at the gore, but you paused, noticing a thick file on the man’s desk.

THE HOMELANDER PROJECT was stamped at the top in large red letters. You picked your way through the mess and grabbed the file. Then you and Donna continued heading down the hall.

There at the end was a red door. Something about it called to you. You reached out with your awareness, and you felt a familiar male energy, young and scared and alone.

You beckoned Donna over. The door was heavy and locked, but the two of you worked together to twist it open by its large circular handle, like the hatch on a submarine. It swung open with a creak, and inside the room was a bare white cell, not unlike yours.

A young boy sat against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, wearing a white shirt and plain gray sweatpants. He was blonde and blue-eyed, and he felt familiar to you on-sight.

“John?” you said, stepping inside the cell.

He tilted his head, like he recognized your voice. He said your name uncertainly as he got up to his feet.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you said, approaching him with cautious steps. “I’m getting out of here, but I want you to come with me.”

John looked reluctant, even as he glanced at your outstretched hand.

“Vogelbaum is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore,” you said. “John, please, let me help you.”

After a moment of his indecision, John reached out and carefully grasped your hand. You led him out of the cell, and encouraged him to stay close to you when you and Donna started back towards the elevators.

The three of you rode all the way up to the top level, where the sounds of an epic fight raged behind the doors of the building. Still, it was a familiar balm to your frayed mind to step outside those doors and find a bright sun beating down on a dusty clearing. Beyond it was layers of forest trees.

Donna said that her car was about a mile in that direction, but before you guys could attempt to get to safety, Noir landed right in front of you.

“Irving—” you said in warning.

Donna raised her hands, prepared to blast him into pieces, but John threw the first punch. It landed squarely in Noir’s chest and had him flying several feet away, into a nearby tree. Your mouth fell open in shock as you gave the kid a wide-eyed look.

John smiled up at you, in a—Did I do good?—kind of way.

“Holy shit,” Donna muttered.

You huffed a short laugh and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Good job, bud.”

You shifted your attention to the rest of the battle, and it caught on Ben with a gasp. He was striding toward Mindstorm with his shield held in front of him. He backhanded Mindstorm in the face and quickly got him pinned on the ground.

Charlie was already lying unconscious, trapped in his own mind. Donna went to try and help him, while you started running headfirst toward the other two men.

“Ben!” you shouted out.

He glanced up at you on reflex, but it proved to be an unfortunate distraction, giving Mindstorm the opening he needed to reach out a hand and touch Ben’s forehead. His eyes closed and he collapsed to the ground.

“No!” the ragged yell tore from your throat. You knew full well what Mindstorm was capable of.

You rushed forward and tried to capture Mindstorm with your siren song. It managed to hold him in place, making him grip at his temples with strain. You knew you didn’t totally have him under your spell, however. Not until you knelt down in front of him and grabbed his face with both hands. Your eyes illuminated brighter as you focused all of your power on him.

Mindstorm fought it tooth and nail, but ultimately, the pull of you was too much. He screamed as blood trailed down his face from his eyes, nose, and ears, until his voice faded, and his blue eyes became unseeing. When you released him, he slumped into a heap.

You fell back onto your ass and heaved for breath. All the while, you stared at his unseeing eyes. Part of you felt sick with yourself. The other part felt vindicated, and a little more free.

With a gasp, you remembered Ben. You turned over and crawled over to his body where he laid unconscious in the dirt and dead leaves.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have killed Mindstorm. He was the only one who could’ve brought him out of this.

Unless…

An idea struck you, and you knew you had to try. You shuffled onto your knees and took Ben’s face carefully in your shaking hands. You closed your eyes.

Focusing your powers on his being, you entered his mind. You waded through waves of darkness as they lapped at you, trying to draw you in. But you were a brighter light. You went deeper, layer by layer.

You began to see moving images, like scenes from a reel. You saw his father, berating him. You saw the moment Compound V was injected into his arm, immediately filling his veins with pain. You saw his mother’s funeral, a day marked by falling snow and a stoic set of Ben’s young shoulders.

You saw so many days and nights at the facility where you both were kept, but one in particular struck at your own heart—the day Dr. Eisenstein had you brought you into Ben’s cell and slammed you down on the table in front of him, prepared to inject an unknown experimental serum into your body.

Ben’s face seemed angry on the outside, but this deep inside his mind, you felt his anger, as well as his fear, and his desire to protect you.

You weren’t sure it would work, but you needed to get his attention somehow. You needed to wake him up.

“Ben!” you shouted to him.

To your relief, he actually looked over at you, meeting your gaze with surprise in his own.

Until you were ripped away from him, out of his mind and into the waking world. Your bleary eyes eventually focused on the dark shape above you. On Black Noir.

He hauled you up by your arms and began to drag you across the clearing, away from Ben.

“Stop!” you struggled. Noir ignored you, just tightening his hold.

He dragged you past Donna’s body. She was dying on the ground, with her throat cut and bubbling with blood. Your eyes widened, but you quickly took in the rest of the clearing.

John was trapped under the massive trunk of a fallen tree, struggling to get up. He was being swarmed by Vought security guards.

Just over Noir’s shoulder, you caught sight of Ben. He was starting to wake up, and he turned over and pushed himself up onto one knee. Relief filled your chest.

In a fit of desperation, you dug your heels into the ground. “Let go! Let go of me!”

You opened your mouth and took in a breath to sing, but how quickly Noir’s hand wrapped around your throat, choking the breath right out of you. He tightened his hold, little by little, until you began to feel lightheaded. Panic gripped at your heart.

“Stop, Noir, please! I’m pregnant!” you pleaded, with tears in your eyes.

Beyond him, you met Ben’s gaze. His mouth fell open as he stared at you, after half scrambling to his feet.

You returned your attention to Noir when you realized you could feel his shock, and the tension through your hand on his glove. He glanced over his shoulder at Ben, then back at your tearful eyes. You felt Noir’s disgust, swiftly followed by his anger.

You gasped when he let you go, just so he could unsheathe his weapon. Ben gritted his teeth in anger. Before he could throw his shield, Noir swung his katana down on you.

You instinctively raised up your arms to protect yourself, but the blade only shattered against your skin. You raised your head, blinking in shock. You clenched your fists, and you realized that you felt different, somehow. You were strong.

You shoved Noir hard in the chest, and he flew several feet away, rolling in the dirt as he landed.

Ben ran over to join you. He wrapped his non-shield wielding arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him. You melted into him in relief, resting your head against his chest.

“I don’t know how I did that,” you admitted.

“Looks like knocking you up comes with some added perks,” he said, grinning down at you.

Once you understood what he meant, another wave of shock hit you. The life inside you was not only carrying his genes, but some of his power as well, making you strong.

You looked up at his smug grin and rolled your eyes in amusement, but you also wanted to grab his face and pull him down for a kiss. The look in his eyes told you he wanted to oblige, but you both stopped short, coming to attention when you saw Noir picking himself up from the ground.

“I’ve got him,” Ben said darkly. He let go of you and took a step toward Noir, putting himself in front of you.

Two old enemies faced each other. This time, Ben began to make the first move.

Just then, a pair of red laser beams broke through the clearing and cut through Noir’s mask and skull. He dropped to his knees, and then fell to the ground.

What the hell…

Slowly you turned back to see that John had broken free of the guards. All of them lied either passed out or dead at his feet. He stepped over them and went to your side with shaky hands, shocked at even his own power. Had he known he could do that?

“Are you okay?” he asked you in concern.

You were still reeling, but you nodded and grasped his shoulder. Ben was unsettled looking at John. You knew the look on his face. He wasn’t sure whether the kid was a threat as well. Ben slid an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“Ben, this is John,” you explained. “He was a ‘guest’ in the lab, same as me.”

Ben seized up the kid. Eventually he rested his shield on the ground and reached out his hand.

“John, huh?”

The kid nodded and shook his hand. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“That’s a strong name,” Ben said. John smiled.

With that small peace won, you slipped away from Ben and went to Charlie. You knelt down and felt for his pulse at his neck. You shook your head in sadness.

“He’s gone,” you said. Ben helped you stand again.

You were disappointed about Donna too, even knowing she was the one who helped sell you out in the first place. You were sure it was probably under duress, but she had saved you today.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ben said. You agreed, but first, you looked back at the lab.

“They took vials of my blood. God knows what else they have in there,” you said.

“They took your fucking blood?” he said, through furrowed brows.

“Yeah, that’s how I know I’m pregnant,” you said, again, holding a hand to your belly. Ben softened slightly at that.

He blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay, you and the kid hang back. Far back.”

You grasped John’s shoulder and led him over to the dense line of trees. You both hunkered down behind a fallen tree trunk and watched Ben approach the lab.

He set a firm stance and concentrated, until his chest glowed with power. Letting loose a yell of strain, he summoned a blast that destroyed the entire building. It not only created a backlash of debris and flames, but it also shook the earth. He stalked forward and angled the blast downward, so that it would consume the floors below as well.

You had to duck down further as the impact of the blast was too much. John covered you with his arms around your shoulders.

When it was over, Ben struggled to regain his breath. He even stumbled a bit on his way back to you, but he kept a steady pace, until he found you and the kid again. Ben reached a hand for you and once again helped you up from the ground, guiding you into his arms.

His chest still felt hot, but you didn’t care. You curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him down to you for a kiss. It was relief, it was passion, and it was home.

You parted slowly, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I love you,” you whispered into the small space in between.

Releasing a subtle breath, Ben nodded. You opened your eyes and cupped his cheek.

“You can say it,” you prompted, teasingly. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

You could hazard a guess at what he was thinking. This close, you could feel him, and his reluctance. But his lips hinted at a smile.

“Yeah, I fucking love you,” he said. He thumbed at your chin, his gaze roaming over your face before he met your eyes. “I love you.”

Tears made your vision blur a little. You nodded, smiling, and reached up on your toes for another kiss.

“Are you guys done yet?” John asked. He shifted on his feet, all antsy and tired. “Can we go?”

Ben’s face fell into annoyance at the kid. You gave him a rueful smile, and one last stroke of his cheek.

“The car’s about a mile out,” Ben said.

“Yep,” you said. “I guess we start walking.”

John slept in the backseat of the car while Ben drove down the highway going northeast. His gaze roamed over you as you stared out the window, seemingly calm with that file you stole from Vogelbaum’s office resting on your lap.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to it. Ben couldn’t help but distract you first. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh.

“Hey,” he said. You perked up at him.

“You okay?” he asked. You smiled a little and slipped your hand over his.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Considering.”

He alternated between watching the road and watching you a bit closer.

“Did they hurt you?” he pressed. You shook your head, squeezing his hand.

“No. They pretty much left me alone,” you said, though his concern warmed you. You also sensed something else underneath…the sting of regret. It took him a few beats, but he eventually spoke.

“I shouldn’t have let you go out alone,” he said, briefly meeting your eyes. “I should’ve been there.”

It was as close to an apology as you’d ever gotten from him. You almost smiled.

“Look, we’re here now,” you said. “Pretty soon, this is all just going to be a bad memory we can put behind us, like everything else.”

You rubbed his arm and glanced down at the file sitting on your lap. Your curiosity had you flipping it open. The more you read over its contents, the more your face slackened in shock.

“Oh my God, Ben,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Pull over for a minute.”

“We can’t stop here. We need to get to the airport.”

“This is important. Stop the car.”

He huffed in annoyance, but he pulled the car over. He left the car running and got out along with you.

You later leaned against the passenger side while he read the file. You watched the shock descend over his face as it all began to click together in his mind. He turned and pointed at the backseat of the car.

“He’s…”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Christ on a damn cross,” he said.

“Yeah,” you repeated. You covered your mouth with a hand. “And the poor kid’s been kept in that basement his whole damn life… It was Vogelbaum’s project, but how did he do it?”

A realization fell over Ben. He joined you in leaning against the car. The file fell to his side.

“Back in…’81. No, beginning of ’83, before you joined up. Vogelbaum wanted a sample of my swimmers for an experiment. Something about genetics,” he said. He still remembered the Penthouse Forum he used to give his “sample.”

June. Danielle Deneux. Bush like a Pomeranian. He almost smiled at the memory, but the rest of it soured that part for him.

You gave him an incredulous look. “And you didn’t ask questions about what they were going to use your sperm for?”

Ben rolled his eyes and gave you the file. You shook your head.

“The point is, John is…more or less your son,” you said.

“What?!” John exclaimed. He spooked you and Ben when he popped up in the car window.

You should’ve known he’d have enhanced hearing. Just like his father.

John came out of the car, and both father and son looked at one another in assessing ways. Even though they had different coloring, you started to notice the similar shape of their jawlines, the line of their noses. John soon had tears in his eyes.

“You…you’re my dad?” he said.

Ben’s hands went to his hips. His posture was stiff and awkward.

“I guess I am,” he said.

He didn’t expect the way John literally flew over and hugged him with a strength that impacted Ben. He grunted and grabbed the kid’s shoulders.

“Okay, all right, lock it up. Don’t be a little girl about it.”

John’s face fell with dejection, but he dropped his arms and took a step back. You became both dismayed and angry.

“Ben!” you said sharply. “Let your son hug you, for fuck’s sake.”

He shot you a warning look, but you had your hand on John’s shoulder as you glared back at Ben. He crossed his arms.

Then he uncrossed them with an exasperated huff. He went to John and dropped a hand on his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, you moved back to give them a moment.

Ben looked down at the kid’s face. His blonde hair and blue eyes weren’t his. He must’ve taken after his mother, whoever she was, or whatever genetics Vogelbaum manipulated, but he did see his own strong jaw in the kid.

“Well, it’s unfortunate that we couldn’t meet sooner, but…looks like you’re my son,” said Ben. “I'm thinking you want to stick around with us.”

John nodded vigorously.

“All right,” Ben said. “Then let’s get going.”

John nodded again, quickly wiping at his face to clear away his tears.

Good, Ben thought with a quirk of his lips. He squeezed John’s shoulder and let him go, so he could return to the driver’s side of the car. You gave John a warm hug. Ben saw it through the window and almost shook his head. He could already tell that you were going to try to mother that boy.

Somehow, that thought just softened him, at least a little. Because it reminded him that you were carrying his child as well. Not to mention, his blood was making you nice and strong.

When you slid into the passenger seat, he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss over your knuckles. You smiled at him.

“Where are we gonna go?” John asked.

Ben glanced at him in the rearview mirror. Ben's brows drew together as his expression firmed.

“To finish what we started,” he said.

You knew what that meant. He wanted to go to New York to finish off Stan Edgar, Stillwell, and anyone else who had a hand in their capture.

“Ben, they’ll never stop trying to get him back,” you said, gesturing at John. “And…when Vogelbaum took my blood, he said they wanted to monitor me. Apparently this has never happened before…a supe getting another supe pregnant.”

Ben paused.

“He talked like I was a rat in his lab, and he wanted to document the findings,” you said, as tears welled up in your eyes and made your throat tight with emotion, and the remnants of dread.

Ben frowned and squeezed your hand.

“That’s not fucking happening,” he said. You sighed and wiped at your cheek. After taking a few steadying breaths, you managed to get a hold of yourself.

“If we go back to New York, it’s a big risk,” you said.

This time, Ben actually considered what you were saying. He was stubborn though.

“I can’t just fucking let it go. What Stan Edgar did, what they all did—”

“If you take out Stan, they’ll just put another one in his place. I doubt it’ll ever end,” you said. You moved his hand to your stomach. “But if you want this. If you want a family, this is it.”

Ben glanced down at his hand under yours, and then your face. As much as he wanted the rest of his revenge, he also wanted, and needed to protect you. He couldn’t make another mistake like last time. If you were taken from him again, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

That also posed a harder question. Where the hell could he take you where you’d be safe? Even Arthur had fucked off to Belize.

Ben stroked your hand in contemplation…until an idea came to him.

A grin raised his lips.

“All right,” he said. “How do you feel about Colombia?”

AN: Lol! Suffice to say, there's going to be a big BMD easter egg in the Epilogue, but did you like how the final battle shook out? Was there anything that surprised you? Do you wish some members of Payback had lived?

I went back and forth on how some characters would meet their end, but I felt that this is the story I wanted to tell, with her, Ben, and John escaping together and forming their strange new family. 😂💚

Next Time: The Epilogue...

A phone dock rested on the coffee table. The call was on speaker.

“That child represents a multi-million-dollar investment,” said Stan Edgar.

“You should’ve thought about that before you shipped us off to motherfucking Siberia,” Ben snapped. “Hell, before you decided to steal my goddamn DNA. But guess fucking what. He’s my son. He belongs with me.”

You gave him a look of pride, resting a hand on his thigh in support. He glanced at you and grabbed your hand.

“You’re not leaving me with much recourse here, Soldier Boy,” Stan replied.

Ben leaned forward. He took that as a very real threat.

▶️ Keep Reading: The Epilogue

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dippindaz · 3 months ago

Note

I was wondering if mayhaps, possibly, I could place a Steve x Reader Request.

Maybe something were Reader is overweight/chubby(or anything else, really) and used to get bullied by Steve (King Steve era) and they meet again around Season 3/4-ish and he just wants to apologise but she's a little traumatized? Doesn't have to be a happy or romantic ending either, depending on what you prefer.

Feel free to add/change anything, and even if you don't end up writing it (which is totally fine) thank you for taking the time to read this ♥️♥️

(This is my first time requesting anything so I apologise if this comes off a little bit weirdly - English isn't my first language either🙏)

You’re so sweet 🥺❤️ you have nothing to apologize for! I love requests with a bit of detail as they give me something to go off of. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Warnings: Fatphobia, fatphobic nicknames and comments, bullying, lots of insecurity, she/her pro-nouns used

Hawkins High, 1983

Your stomach twisted as you stepped into the crowded hallway, gripping your books a little tighter against your chest. You were used to the looks, the whispered comments that followed you like a shadow. Most of the time, you could ignore them. But when it was Steve Harrington—the so-called “King of Hawkins High”—they were impossible to drown out.

He was leaning against his locker with Tommy H. and Carol, laughing at something she’d just whispered in his ear. You could feel their eyes on you before you even passed them, your heartbeat picking up in warning. Maybe if you just walked faster—

“Hey, watch it, tubby,” Steve’s voice cut through the hallway noise as your shoulder accidentally brushed his on the way past.

Your cheeks burned. A couple of people turned to watch, and you felt small. You kept your head down, pretending you hadn’t heard him.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that.” His voice was dripping with mock sweetness, but it was loud enough to make sure everyone heard. “I mean, I felt that. You trying to knock me over? Jesus, what do you eat, cinder blocks?”

Tommy cackled, Carol snorted, and the humiliation crawled up your throat like bile.

You wanted to say something—wanted to fire back, to tell him to go to hell—but the words stuck, tangled up with every insult you’d ever swallowed down before. Instead, you just clutched your books tighter and kept walking, head low, the sound of their laughter ringing in your ears long after you turned the corner.

———————————————————————————

High school ended, but the scars it left didn’t fade so easily. You’d spent years trying to convince yourself that Steve Harrington’s words—and all the other cruel whispers that followed you through the halls—didn’t matter. That they didn’t shape you. That you weren’t defined by how other people saw you.

But deep down, you knew better.

The echoes of laughter, the way people’s eyes lingered a second too long on your body, the way you learned to shrink yourself even when you took up space—it all stayed. You carried it with you after graduation, past the lockers and classrooms, out into the real world where you were supposed to feel freer.

You never did.

You worked, kept your head down, tried to build a life outside of Hawkins High’s social hierarchy. A life where you weren’t the punchline of some arrogant rich boy’s joke. But self-consciousness was a stubborn thing, wrapping around you like a second skin, making it hard to forget.

———————————————————————————

The mall was overwhelming.

You hadn’t stepped foot in it since it opened, even though half of Hawkins acted like Starcourt was the best thing to happen to the town. The crowds, the bright lights, the sheer newness of it all—it made you uneasy. But your friend had practically dragged you here, insisting that you couldn’t avoid it forever.

“You can’t just keep pretending this place doesn’t exist,” she had said, looping her arm through yours. “Come on, just for a couple of hours?”

And somehow, you had caved.

Now, after wandering in and out of stores, you found yourself standing outside Scoops Ahoy, your friend peering through the glass with an eager grin.

“We have to go in,” she declared. “I’ve been hearing so much about this place.”

Your stomach twisted. You could already see the familiar brown hair beneath the ridiculous blue-and-white hat, the easygoing way he leaned against the counter. You hadn’t seen Steve Harrington in years, not since high school, and you weren’t exactly eager to change that.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” you said, shifting on your feet.

Your friend gave you a look. “Are you serious? It’s just ice cream. And I’m starving.” She grabbed your wrist and started pulling you toward the entrance before you could protest. “Come on, it’ll take like five minutes.”

Five minutes. You could handle five minutes.

The moment you stepped inside the sugary scent of waffle cones filled your nose as kids and families bustled around the counter. Your friend stepped ahead eagerly, scanning the menu, while you lingered a little further back, hoping—praying—that Steve wouldn’t notice you.

But then—

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, what can I get—”

His voice cut off.

You knew the second he recognized you. His easy, customer-service smile faltered, his brows pulling together slightly, like he was trying to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

You weren’t in high school anymore. You weren’t the girl gripping her books in the hallway, avoiding his words like they were bullets. But he wasn’t King Steve anymore, either. He was standing in front of you in a dorky uniform, and for the first time, you saw something in his expression you’d never seen before—

Regret.

“Hey,” he said, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure you’d even acknowledge him.

You swallowed hard, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

You didn’t say hey back.

Instead, you looked away and muttered, “I’ll wait outside,” before turning on your heel and walking out the door, leaving Steve standing behind the counter, his mouth slightly open like he’d wanted to say more.

But he didn’t. Or if he did, you couldn’t hear.

The moment you stepped outside, the air felt different—thicker, harder to breathe, like you’d been sucked into a memory you weren’t ready to relive.

Your friend was still inside, probably placing her order like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t just come face to face with the one person whose words had clung to you for years.

Hey.

That was all he had said. Just a simple, hesitant hey. But it didn’t matter.

Because the moment your eyes met his, it all came rushing back—the sting of laughter echoing down the halls, the way you had clenched your jaw and kept walking, the way his words had burrowed deep into your skin until they felt like truths instead of insults.

“You trying to knock me over? Jesus, what do you eat, cinder blocks?”

Your stomach twisted, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, as if you could physically hold back the wave of self-consciousness threatening to drown you.

It was stupid. You weren’t in high school anymore. You weren’t some insecure teenager trying to disappear behind oversized sweaters and carefully calculated movements to take up less space. You had spent years trying to move past it, trying to tell yourself that you were more than the way people saw you.

But the second you saw him, the second his voice reached your ears, it was like none of that progress had ever happened.

You had felt small again.

No, not small—exposed. Like he could still see every single insecurity he had once poked and prodded at for his own amusement.

You took a shaky breath and dug your nails into your palm, grounding yourself.

He wasn’t that guy anymore. You had heard about Steve Harrington’s supposed transformation, how he had traded in his arrogance for something closer to decency. You had even seen it, in glimpses around town—how he always had that mop of curly-haired kids trailing behind him, how he looked exhausted but softer, different in a way you hadn’t been able to place before.

But none of that changed what he had done.

None of that erased the years of insecurity he had helped carve into you.

And now he wanted to say hey, like you were old friends, like he didn’t remember the way he had made you feel like nothing?

No.

You weren’t ready for this. You weren’t ready for him.

The door swung open behind you, and your friend stepped out, holding two cups of ice cream.

“What the hell was that about?” she asked, frowning as she handed you one of the cups, wrapped in a napkin.

You blinked, forcing yourself to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

She gave you a look. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the part where Steve Harrington looked at you like he’d just seen a ghost and you walked out like the building was on fire?”

You swallowed. “It’s nothing. I just… I didn’t feel like being in there.”

Your friend’s expression softened. “Hey, are you okay?”

Were you?

You wanted to say yes, to brush it off like you always did. But the truth sat heavy in your chest, pressing down like a weight you had carried for far too long.

So instead of answering, you just let out a breath and said, “Can we just go?”

Your friend didn’t push. She nodded, looping her arm through yours again as you walked away from the bright, buzzing mall, leaving Scoops Ahoy—and Steve Harrington—behind.

——————————————————————————

After the run-in at Scoops Ahoy, you had done your best to push it down, to bury the emotions that had been clawing their way up since you saw him. It was just an awkward moment, nothing more. You would move on, just like you had before.

But Hawkins was small, and fate—or something crueler—wasn’t done with you yet.

You had stopped by the pharmacy, picking up a few things, when you turned the corner and nearly walked straight into him

Steve.

Your body tensed before your brain could even process it. He wasn’t in his stupid sailor uniform this time, just a plain t-shirt and jeans, hair still styled but a little messier than you remembered from high school.

His eyes widened the second he saw you, like he couldn’t believe his luck. Or maybe his misfortune.

You immediately looked for an escape route, but before you could step around him, he took a hesitant step forward.

“Hey, wait,” he said quickly. “Can I—can we talk for a second?”

Your heart pounded. You didn’t want to talk to him.

You didn’t want to stand here, face to face with him, and pretend like the past hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t spent years making you the butt of his jokes, chipping away at your confidence until you barely had any left.

"Just—just one second, please," His voice wasn’t the cocky, mocking tone you remembered. It was softer, almost unsure. "I know you don’t wanna talk to me, and I don’t blame you, but… I need to say this."

You clenched your jaw, looking past him instead of at him.

"You don’t need to do anything, Harrington," you muttered. "I’m fine. It was a long time ago."

"Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter," he said, almost too quickly, like he’d been holding onto the words for days. "Look, I—I was an asshole. A huge asshole. And I know that probably doesn’t even cover it, but…" He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’m sorry."

You didn’t say anything.

Because what could you say?

Sorry wasn’t some magic word that erased the past. It didn’t make the years of insecurity disappear. It didn’t stop the way your stomach twisted every time you remembered how he used to laugh at you, how he had made you feel like you weren’t enough.

And yet…

Something about the way he said it, the way his voice wavered slightly, made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready to confront.

"I don’t expect you to forgive me," he continued when you didn’t respond. "And I sure as hell don’t deserve it. But I just… I needed you to know that I regret it. All of it. The way I treated you, the way I acted back then—I was a complete dick. No excuses."

For the first time, you let yourself really look at him.

He wasn’t King Steve anymore. There was no smug grin, no self-assured arrogance. Just a guy standing in front of you, fidgeting slightly, looking like he was genuinely sorry.

But that didn’t make the pain go away.

"You don’t get to apologize and make it go away, Steve," you said quietly, finally finding your voice. "You don’t get to say ‘I regret it’ and expect me to just—just forget what it was like."

His expression tightened, like your words physically hit him.

"I know," he said, nodding. "I know. And I don’t expect that. I just… I needed to say it. Because you didn’t deserve any of that shit, and I hate that I was part of the reason you—" He cut himself off, hesitating for only a moment before continuing, his voice softer. "I am part of the reason you're hurting, and I'm sorry."

You stared at him, heart still pounding.

You had spent so long resenting him. So long remembering only the bad. And yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not trying to justify it, not trying to downplay it—just… owning it.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

So you just swallowed down the lump in your throat and said, "Yeah. Well. Maybe now you'll know how it felt."

Then you stepped around him and walked away, leaving Steve Harrington standing alone in the pharmacy aisle, his apology lingering in your mind.

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