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strangersmunsons · 2 months

Text

bark at the moon

there's something suuuuper weird in your garage. your best friend Robin calls up her old pals, Steve and Eddie, to come and take a look.

Contains: Eddie x Fem!Reader. Mix of canon & Modern AU, w/ tweaks to established lore (faithfulness to the source material? I don’t know her). Plot of the show is more or less the same, but focus will be on minor threats escaping from the Upside Down, and no more. Everyone is aged up a bit, timeline of events is kept vague. Reader learns some secrets that are tough to wrap her head around, Eddie is an awkward sweetheart, and platonic!Stobin reigns supreme. Word Count: ~8.1k Warnings: Some brief descriptions of gore. Reader has a mild panic attack. Mentions of food & eating. Strong language. I've been tinkering away at this fic since the summer; it's a little different than the sweet & fluffy stuff I normally post, but I had a blast writing it! So I hope you guys enjoy! 🩷

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“I will.” You smack a kiss to Robin’s cheek and push your stool back against the bar. “Try not to get into too much trouble tonight. It’s only Thursday.”

“No promises,” Vickie chimes in, grinning toothily at you, cheeks flushed from a mix of joy and booze.

“I mean it.” You jab a finger in her direction, only half-jokingly. “If you FaceTime me again at 3 AM so I can provide ‘emotional support’ while you’re puking your guts out in the bathroom, I’m hanging up.”

Vickie doesn’t even blink. “You won’t hang up,” she replies dismissively.

She’s totally right, but you don’t say so.

“Just try and keep your insides where they belong, please. They should be, y’know — on the inside. Alright? I love you both. Goodnight!” You blow another dramatic kiss in their direction as you saunter out of the bar, weaving between sticky tables over the even-stickier floor to the exit.

Lizzy’s is you, Robin, and Vickie’s favorite haunt, a nondescript dive bar located on the outskirts of town. It’s a squat, dingy little building tucked neatly away into a thicket of trees at the deadend of a backroad. There’s no neighbors or rival businesses in sight, just a small parking lot with a defunct telephone booth that probably hasn’t worked in several decades. The bar is usually only frequented by patrons belonging to one of two exclusive sects: members of the local biker gang, and this random lesbian couple and their one friend.

Truly a hidden gem.

Happy Hour at Lizzy’s has been a tradition for you and Robin (and Vickie, when she chooses to tag along) since you met at work retreat a year ago. When you caught sight of her funky patched-up blazer and choppy hairstyle, you immediately clocked her as the other youngest, coolest person in the room and forced your friendship upon her in the name of survival. Who else were you gonna hang out with for an entire weekend — Matt from HR who, ironically, was on probation for sending a coworker unsolicited dick pics? No way.

“Hey, can you hold the other side of my bag open for me? I’m gonna jam these cookies in there — quickly, while no one’s looking.”

Two peas in a pod, stealing extra goodies from the complimentary snack table and gossiping in the back row during presentations when you should’ve been listening. You’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

Full of mirth from the quality time spent with your best friend, you hum cheerfully to yourself as you push through the exit and step outside. The door whacks shut behind you, closing you off from the bar’s warm interior, and immediately, you take notice of two things.

First, you’re met with a surprising chill in the air. It’s been pretty temperate so far this week, and pleasantly warm earlier in the day, but it’s become startlingly cold in the mere hours you were inside the bar. You swear you can see a frozen puff of breath each time you exhale. You hug your arms around yourself, frowning slightly. Gravel crunches under your feet as you walk to your car.

The second thing you notice is that it’s obscenely dark out. A single orange streetlamp flickers in the parking lot, illuminating little more than the fluttering moths bashing themselves stupidly into the bulb. There’s no moon in the black-velvet sky; it’s just a blanket of darkness above. You glance at the watch on your wrist, but the time is indiscernible without proper lighting. I guess it’s later than I thought?

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There’s a gross, inexplicable feeling of nakedness as you cross the lot; the cold, unexpected dark and loss of time has you feeling disoriented and exposed. Naturally, your mind begins dredging up scenes from every horror movie you’ve ever watched, and you pick up the pace. Reaching the car, you wrench open the driver-side door, eager to be within the safe confines of the vehicle.

You slide in, and release a relieved breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Slumping back against the seat, you think, Man, I gotta lay off the slasher flicks.

The moment doesn’t last long. Another bolt of paranoia suddenly shoots through you — you whip your head around, searching the backseat for a killer lurking in the shadows, waiting to slice your throat open, possibly with a machete, or maybe even a hook attached to a stumpy wrist.

Nothing there. Totally empty. Not even an extremely trim, flexible murderer contorting themselves out of view down on the cramped floor space.

“It’s fine,” you say aloud to no one in particular, turning forward again. You start the car and ease out of the lot, switching the radio to a pop station — your last line of defense. No one ever got brutally murdered while listening to Britney.

Thankfully, the ride is uneventful, and nobody pops up behind you with any instruments of violence. The further you get into town, with its familiar lights and gentle hum of nighttime traffic, the more at ease you feel. Your mind drifts, thinking of work, what you’ll make for dinner tomorrow, whether or not Vickie will be throwing up within the next hour. Any mundane topic that’ll help calm your nerves.

Eventually you reach home and pull into the garage. It’s a miracle you can even still park in there, it’s so full of junk — old furniture and hardware tools and odds and ends you haven’t had the energy to try and sort through.

A sigh escapes as you cross the threshold that separates the garage from the house. The sweet, homey kitchen is a welcome sight to enter. You put a kettle on for a cup of tea before bed, and decide to dial Robin while you wait for the water to boil.

She picks up after several rings.

“Hello my love.”

“Hi Rob. I’m alive.”

“Oh, good. That would’ve been awkward if it was someone else calling me.”

“Are you still at the bar?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving in a few. Vickie says she’s fine, but she’s got that look in her eye, so…”

There’s a faint “I am fine!” in the background and you snicker. “Good luck with that.”

Robin snorts. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Robin bids you goodnight, and you feel a rush of affection for her. Your roommate recently moved out to go live with her boyfriend, leaving you as the sole tenant of the house. Although you reassured her endlessly that you had no issues living alone, Robin was insistent on constantly checking up on you lest you ‘get SVUed’ — her phrasing, not yours.

The kettle starts whistling, and you pour the steaming water into a mug with a bag of chamomile. You plop down on the soft cushion tied to the kitchen chair, letting the weariness of the day settle in your bones.

You scroll idly through your phone while sipping your tea, ignoring the slight burn it leaves on your lips and tongue. The old house settles and creaks while you relax, making those soft noises that you’ve become accustomed to over time. In fact, you’re so used to it by now that in your sleepy state, you don’t even register the odd sound in the garage, a sort of thunk, not unlike that of a confused bird flying into a picture window.

When the last drop of tea is gone, you place the mug in the dishwasher and head for your bedroom. You go through the steps of your night routine as though on autopilot before finally crashing into the plush bed. Within minutes, sleep takes you.

The sound of your alarm is innocuous enough — a small tinkle of bells or chimes or whatever cheerful twee instrument it is that Apple is using.

It’s incredible how something so innocent can sound so ungodly. Ugh.

Barely lifting your head up off the pillow, you drag the trilling device towards you with snatching fingers and turn it off. Maybe you’ll get up when the second alarm goes off, but let’s be honest — it probably won’t be until the third, and even then you might steal a few extra minutes under the covers.

Eventually you manage to pull yourself upright and, with a huge yawn, lurch out of bed. You shuffle down the hall, thinking of little more than the bagel you’re gonna demolish before jumping in the shower, and make your way back into the kitchen. Your bare feet pad softly across the linoleum floor, cold and sticking slightly to your heels. The sky outside the window is a dark, deep blue.

Then finally, in the stillness of the early morning, you hear a dull thud.

You pause halfway to the toaster.

Ten seconds go by. Silence.

Okay, that’s fine, it’s probably noth–

Thud.

Goddamn it.

There’s a stab of alarm as the sound repeats again, then twice more in rapid succession. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and grab the softball bat you keep propped up by the door. Safety first.

You tiptoe cautiously to the door separating the kitchen and the garage, thinking it’s probably a raccoon or something, he slipped inside when I drove in last night. Actually, there’s so much shit in there, he’s probably been living there for weeks. I really should call a Junk King –

You push the door open slowly, peering around the edge, prepared to fight. Your self-defense weapon is made of bright pink aluminum that catches the dim kitchen light emanating from behind you, glinting in your hands. You’re pretty sure it’s a little-league number so, clearly, it’ll be an even match for whatever it is that awaits you.

At first, nothing appears out of the ordinary. There’s no human silhouettes lurking in the dark. Everything is more or less the same as it was last night. The car is right where you left it, and the windows are intact. The spare furniture crammed against the perimeter is still there – nothing is missing or vandalized. But the room is still too dark for you to make out any less obvious differences, so you reach for the lightswitch on the left side of the doorframe.

And then, from the far corner of the room, up towards the ceiling, there’s an ear-splitting screech that nearly stops your heart.

Before you even have time to blink, a shadowy mass is suddenly flying straight at you. It’s still mostly obscured in the dark — whatever it is — a nebulous blur that swings in a low arc across the room. It’s moving so quickly that the air whistles as the creature cuts a path through it.

You let out a shriek of your own and spring backwards, slamming the door shut. It’s just barely closed when it collides into the wood with a frightening crash. You lock the door with numb fingers and slump back against it with your heart in your throat, and a hot, loose feeling in your lower stomach that, in the midst of your hysteria, you manage to acknowledge as a warning that you might shit your pants.

You lurch forward and spin around, now watching the door with wide eyes. The noise from before, which you now understand must have been that thing flinging itself against the walls, resumes with a fervor that makes you sick with fright. It slams into the door relentlessly, and you physically cringe with each hit.

With shaking hands, you pull one of the kitchen chairs out and prop it underneath the door handle. You really don’t think it could be strong enough to break through, but…

At least you don’t think —

“Robin, I’m about to die.”

“...at six-thirty in the morning? Can you put it off until this afternoon, at least?”

Robin’s voice is still thick with sleep and there’s no doubt that she’s irritated by your early phone call, but right now, you could care less.

“I think there’s some kind of cryptid in my garage.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Come again?”

“Like, I think the fucking Jersey Devil is in there, or something. When I got up this morning I kept hearing this weird noise, so I put my big girl panties on and went to investigate –”

“By yourself? Are you dumb? What if someone was in there?”

“Hey, I had protection, okay? Besides, I figured it was probably a racoon. If it had been a person planning on hurting me, they weren’t being very discreet about it –”

“Alright, alright. Continue.”

“So I open the door, and next thing I know, this thing screams and starts fucking flying directly at my head. I didn’t get a good look at it, Rob, it was too dark, but that thing is out for blood. It keeps flying into the door. Listen to this shit.”

You put your phone on speaker and hold it out, standing as close to the door as you’re willing to get.

“Um, I can’t hear anything.”

“...well…it was doing it earlier...”

“...right. So, what, a bird flew into your garage?”

“A bird? Maybe.” That sort of fit, right? Whatever it was, it had wings. It was kind of big. It made noise. You consider. “Could be a bat, I suppose.”

Across town, Robin suddenly sits bolt upright in bed. Vickie mumbles incoherently next to her, half-awake from hearing your too-early conversation.

“I’m coming over,” Robin says abruptly, and hangs up.

Flinging herself out of bed, Robin begins dressing frantically, scrambling to pull a pair of jeans up over her bare legs. Drawers and closet doors bang open and slam shut again. Vickie groans from beneath her pillow. “Could you keep it down, please?”

“No, sorry babe. Gotta go. I’ll explain later.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You rub your temples in irritation and throw yourself back down on the couch. You’ve taken refuge in the living room while you wait for Robin, and have spent the past fifteen minutes going back and forth with animal control. Trying to convince them to come get this thing out of your house? An exercise in futility.

A frantic knocking makes you jump, before you realize it’s coming from outside the house. You cautiously enter the kitchen again and when you see Robin’s face through the small pane of glass in the front door, your whole body sags with relief. You fling it open breathlessly and throw yourself at her. “Thank God!” The words are muffled, as your face is pressed into her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay!” She slings her arm around you in a hug and pats your back. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

You release her and start venting your frustration. “Yeah, we’ll have to. I tried calling animal control and apparently they can’t do anything since it’s not a dog or a cat, and they kept telling me I had to call a wildlife removal agency instead, and they just kept going on about how they have to send a professional who specializes in birds or bats or whatever the hell it is, and that it’s gonna cost me like at least two hundred bucks –”

Robin cuts off your rambling. “I don’t think you should call anyone.”

You huff. “I certainly don’t want to, if it’s gonna cost me that much. I thought this was what animal control did. What am I paying taxes for?”

Robin’s been here all of two minutes and you already feela little better. The run-in earlier had frightened you, certainly, but you’re no longer alone in the house with an eldritch horror.

Robin shakes her head. “No, I mean I already called someone.”

That stops you, and you squint at her in confusion. “Who? You know a guy who handles this kinda thing?”

“...actually, I know two.”

Eddie’s green-and-white van screams around the corner, practically making the turn on two wheels.

“Jesus, Munson, slow down!”

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a certified expert driver. My insurance company said so.”

A Megadeth song that Steve doesn’t know thumps out of the speakers at a deafening volume. Eddie drums his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music, headbanging as vigorously as he can manage without taking his eyes completely off the road.

Steve reaches for the stereo knob and turns it down. Eddie shoots him a disgruntled look from the driver’s seat. “Hey, man —”

“We got somewhere to be, alright? I told Robin we’d get there ASAP. The last thing we need is for you to wrap this thing around a telephone pole.”

“If she didn’t move so far away, we would already be there,” Eddie complains.

“Dude, she lives like an hour away now. Hour and a half, tops.”

“Well, that’s a long drive when it’s this early!”

Waiting for Robin’s reinforcements to arrive provides ample time for her to shatter your world. You sit together on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other in intense silence. Your brow is deeply furrowed, eyes nearly shut from the force of the expression.

“Are you being for real, or is this an elaborate lie you’re making up that you’ll laugh at me for falling for later?”

Robin drags her finger across her chest, drawing an imaginary X. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. “Yeah, it sounds fucking crazy!”

Robin’s expression turns resentful. “Hey, you’re the one who called me saying Mothman was in your garage this morning –”

“I said the Jersey Devil, actually, but c’mon! An interdimensional monster. Is that real? Can that really be real?”

“Listen, just think about what you saw. You were pretty freaked. Did it really seem like some rabied-up household pest?”

It didn’t. The odd, kite-like shape, the speed with which it flew, and the utter determination — there was no doubt in your mind that it had dived at you deliberately, with the malicious intent to bite and scratch and hurt. You remember the hot taste of fear in your mouth, like a bitter pill dissolved on the tongue.

“No, it didn’t,” you admit quietly. That thing, whatever it was, was weird. But that doesn’t make Robin’s story any easier to swallow.

When it came to the supernatural or…whatever this was considered, you were neither a believer nor a skeptic. You weren’t willing to fully corroborate the existence of such things until you had experienced something like it yourself, but you still took others’ reports in stride; if someone claimed that they felt cold spots in their grandmother’s bedroom after she died, or that their belongings often ended up in odd places despite no one moving them, then you rolled with it. Who were you to deny their experiences? You wouldn’t tell them they’re wrong.

But Robin’s Upside Down, well…it’s giving less childhood ghost story and more Stephen King novel. One of the weirder ones too, that he wrote when he was still snorting a ton of cocaine. She’s on some Tommyknockers shit.

“You’ll see,” Robin promises. “When we kill it, you can get a good look at it.”

“Right, about that. Steve is your himbo friend from home, right?”

Robin smiles proudly. “The one and only.”

“But he’s good at this? Getting rid of these things?”

She nods eagerly. “Oh, very. I know I say he’s a himbo, but I’m selling him short, really, he’s the best. Best guy I know, in fact.”

You hear the pointed lilt in her voice, the one that’s always there when Robin mentions Steve to you. You roll your eyes. “There’s a monster in my garage, and you’re worried about getting me a date?”

Robin throws her hands up in defiance. “I’m just sayin’! He and his girlfriend Nancy broke up.” Her face suddenly lights up as she remembers a bit of gossip. “She’s bisexual now, by the way! Shame she didn’t realize it when we were in high school together, I had a huuuuge crush on her.”

“I thought you had a huge crush on Vickie in high school?”

“I did,” she says, as though there’s nothing contradictory about that fact. “Listen, I’m a complex, multifaceted lesbian, with a lot of —“

She’s interrupted by the knocking at the front door, and both of your heads turn automatically towards the sound.

It’s your second house-call of the day. Robin jumps up, winking at you. “It’s gonna be fine,” she whispers, and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

You follow her back into the kitchen, where you’re promptly welcomed by the sight of two boy-faces smushed shamelessly against the glazing in the door.

Robin rolls her eyes and yanks it open.

Without the door in place to support him, one boy loses his balance and topples forward, crashing into the kitchen. The other boy, who pulled back in time, laughs openly at him.

“Hey, dinguses, this isn’t my house, remember? Don’t be weird.”

“There’s not a day in Munson’s life that he hasn’t been weird.”

The one pulling himself up off the floor grunts out, “I resent that.” When he’s fully upright, he gazes at you with wide eyes and a slight frown, not saying anything.

Robin steps in and they each take turns embracing her in greeting. One of them even ruffles her hair affectionately, and you watch the three of them with interest.

You’ve seen enough pictures of Steve Harrington by now that you could pick him out from a mile away. Of the two boys he’s taller, and more classically handsome, with his pretty features and artfully-sculpted hair. In his neat green pullover and pressed jeans, you can totally picture King Steve as he was in high school — athletic and rich and preppy, with his equally rich and preppy girlfriend.

While you recognize Steve immediately, this other boy you know less. He looks only vaguely familiar, perhaps a background figure in Robin’s photos. His dark hair is long, curly and disheveled, and his eyes are huge and starkly brown against his pale skin. Despite the early hour they must’ve left at, he's taken the time to deck himself out in black leather and loads of silver jewelry.

After he releases Robin, Steve introduces himself. He saunters forward confidently, one hand extended out towards you. “I’m Steve,” he says with a charming smile. He cocks his head slightly to the side, and there’s a brief pause for dramatic effect. “Steve Harrington.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see Robin holding a hand over her eyes in embarrassment. The other boy shoots him a dirty look.

You shake his hand politely, mildly amused. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

When Steve releases your hand, the dark-haired one gives you an awkward wave. “I’m Eddie.”

The name rings a bell. You wave back and smile at him kindly. “Hi, Eddie.”

He shuffles his feet, Reeboks squeaking against the linoleum, not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m really glad you both are here,” you add, glancing between the two boys. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Our pleasure,” Steve replies. “Always happy to be of service —”

“So,” Eddie cuts in, “where did you find this little fucker, anyway?”

“The garage.” Your voice is soft with trepidation. “The door’s right there.”

Three sets of eyes, blue and hazel and brown, follow the line of your pointed index finger. The chair is still jammed underneath the knob in a feeble attempt to barricade the door.

“Alright, we just need to grab our stuff from the van,” Eddie tells you. “And we’ll take care of it. If there’s only one, it shouldn’t take us long at all.”

You nod, like this is all good and normal and not the weirdest morning of your life. “Okay.”

When they move to head outside again, Steve eyes your little pink aluminum softball bat, back in its place in the corner. He smiles. “Hey, I got one of those!“

Eddie jogs lightly to catch up with Steve as he strides to where the van is parked outside.

“Hey,” he hisses, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You didn’t tell me this was Robin’s hot friend.”

“Huh?” Steve squints at him, disgruntled. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know, literally anyone?”

“If I’m talking about Robin’s friend, then I’m talking about her. I didn’t realize I had to clarify.” He yanks the trunk open, and his voice takes on a more taunting tone. “Why? You nervous that a girl is actually speaking to you for once?”

Eddie steps back, visibly stung. “Hey, fuck you, man.”

Steve and Eddie’s friendship is not as tenuous as it once was, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Steve softens immediately, face painted with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair. He sighs. “I bumped into Nancy at the store yesterday, I’m not in a good mood.”

Eddie nods awkwardly, not really sure how to answer. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, um…again.”

“Thank you…for that reminder,” Steve replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. “That we dated twice, and then also broke up twice.”

Eddie just smiles and claps him on the back. “I’m here for you, brother.”

From the kitchen window, you can see Steve and Eddie trudging back towards the house fully armed. Steve is holding a wooden baseball bat hammered-through with nails, and Eddie has what appears to be a makeshift spear — really, it’s just a big stick with a knife jerry-rigged on the end.

Robin takes in your open-mouthed shock. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, dumbfounded, staring. “This is fine.”

The boys reenter. Steve smiles brilliantly at you, face clearing of some previous sourness you don’t know the cause of, and gestures with his bat to yours. “We can upgrade that for you, if you want,” he jokes.

You chuckle uneasily, panic setting in as you stare at the lethal-looking spikes of the nails. “Heh…maybe later.”

Eddie watches you carefully, the way your fingers scrunch nervously into the fabric of your sleep shirt, and the occasional, rapid twist of your head that you can’t seem to control, like you’re desperately trying to clear your mind of something awful.

Robin glances down at her buzzing phone, Vickie’s name and face popping up on the homescreen for the hundredth time this morning — apparently, she’s now awake and frantic that her clumsy girlfriend may have yet again gotten herself involved in some wild, life-threatening shenanigan.

“Just give me a minute, she’s freaking out,” Robin mumbles, pushing past you and into the living room for privacy.

Steve turns his back to you as he goes to remove the chair from under the knob, and Eddie takes this small opportunity to move closer to you. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he took your trembling hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “We’re not gonna let that thing get at you.”

You manage a nod, overwhelmed. Eddie reaches out and pats your arm but pulls back quickly, like he’s afraid to touch you for too long.

Steve calls your name, and you turn to him, distracted.

The chair is back in its place at the table, and he gestures to the now-unprotected door. “Is it crowded in there?”

“Very,” you confirm. The untidy chaos in the garage would normally embarrass you, but given the circumstances, you’re a little beyond caring. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll try and be really careful about your stuff.”

“But no promises,” Eddie adds, a smile touching his lips for the first time.

You try to smile back, still feeling bizarrely distraught. “Just try not to break my windshield, please.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like a reasonable enough request.”

“Okay, Munson, you ready?”

“Yeah.” Eddie joins him by the door. There hasn’t been any more noise from the garage since you heard it this morning — you don’t know what that bodes for them.

They brace themselves, weapons raised and at the ready. With a flick of his wrist Steve opens the door, which slowly creaks open. Shoulders hunched, he crosses the threshold, and switches the light on. You watch with bated breath, anticipating the sharp cry to be uttered at any moment.

Nothing happens.

Both Steve and Eddie cautiously enter the garage, watching for any signs of life. Steve starts jabbing at the little nooks and crannies amongst your things, trying to poke it out of hiding.

Eddie crouches down on the ground and peers underneath your car.

“See anything?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not yet,” answers Eddie in a low voice.

Steve peels a dusty tarp off of an old end table, opens up a discarded cabinet. “Come on,” he mutters.

Three agonizing minutes go by as they pick their way through the room, searching under and over and behind every bit of junk, neither boy finding what they’re looking for.

“Maybe it got out,” Steve muses, standing upright, relaxing his grip on the bat, letting it rest casually against his shoulder.

You shift uncertainly, still hovering from your post at the half-open door. “Would that be good or bad?”

“Good for us. Bad for the neighbors,” says Eddie.

Suddenly a streak of dark gray erupts from behind Steve.

You barely have time to yell; Steve, feeling the ripple of wind on the back of his neck, whirls around.

The creature beats its leathery wings and it’s moving up and up until it reaches the ceiling, circling the room, no doubt gauging which angle it should dive at and towards who.

Instinct tells you to slam the door shut, like you did earlier, but then Eddie and Steve will be trapped. Instead you leave the door ajar, crouched in pathetic terror. The boys recover their stances quickly, muscles tensed, ready to swing and jab their respective weapons the moment it comes within in striking distance. Their faces are twin mirrors of fierce determination.

The creature goes for Steve first, swooping down on him; you’re horrified to see its open mouth is full of concentric rows of spiny teeth. You utter a sharp cry, almost unable to look, certain that he’s about to be mauled by this terrible thing.

And the creature is fast.

But Steve is faster.

There’s a horrible sound, a meaty thwack! as the baseball bat smashes into the monster, sending it careening over your parked car like a gnarly fastball. It hits the wall and slides to the floor.

Eddie wastes no time in slamming one heavy boot down on a tattered wing, pinning the dazed thing into place. With one sharp jab, the knife pierces deep into the creature’s belly. He gives the spear a swift jerk, dragging the knife down, and cleaves the body almost completely in two. Its oily flesh is taut, but fragile; the thin skin surrounding the wound peels back, and it splits open like an over-full garbage bag, glistening, red-black insides seeping out onto the hard concrete floor.

Eddie whistles. “Goodnight.”

Gobsmacked by what just unfolded, you tiptoe into the garage. “Is…is it dead?”

“Yup,” says Eddie, nudging the thing with his foot. “This is kind of a small one,” he calls over to Steve.

Steve’s puffing slightly, shoulders heaving with adrenaline. “I noticed that. Probably not doing too hot out here in the real world.”

You gape at them both, eyes flitting between the two boys. Small?

You creep closer to the pulpy mass, getting your first good look at your uninvited guest. If you were right about one thing earlier, it’s that this is certainly no common house bat; it’s gray and rubbery, made of slick naked flesh, with a long twisted tail like braided rope. Its wings are shot through with six spidery limbs, its small head little more than a gaping maw lined with razors. And despite Eddie and Steve’s comments, to you? This thing seems enormous.

Eddie smiles at you proudly. “And just think — we did it all without breaking your windshield.”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, about that…”

There’s a dent in the passenger-side door of the car. You’re sure if you were to hold Steve’s bat at the right angle against the dinged metal, it would fit in the depression like a glove.

Robin appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against the doorframe, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hey. What’d I miss?”

The cleanup process is quick but dirty. Eddie scrapes up everything he can with a snow shovel of all things, and dumps the carcass unceremoniously into a Hefty bag — the real heavy-duty kind, with the red strings — as it was politely held open by Steve. Meanwhile, you scrub at the blood left behind, but it doesn’t do much. The ominous stain is likely etched into the garage floor forever.

Maybe you can throw a rug over it or something.

Robin yawns as she watches you work. “Can we go get breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’m down,” says Steve, motioning for you to hand him the scrubber clutched in your hand.

You hand it over, but warn him, “I don’t think this is coming out.” He starts scrubbing anyway.

Eddie pipes up. “Are there any good diners around here?”

You wince. “We just threw an eviscerated monster in the trash. Don’t you need, like, a refractory period to deal with that level of gross?”

He thinks it over for a moment, then smiles and shrugs. “No.”

Laughter bubbles up and spills over your lips uncontrollably. It starts out normal, but then you can’t stop, and then it sort of feels like maybe you’re hyperventilating.

Robin, your soulmate, bless her, is always in tune with your emotions. She reacts quickly, kneeling down beside you on the cold floor, and wraps an arm around you. “Hey,” she says gently. “Relax, just breathe. I know everything you heard and saw today is literally insane, but it’s all okay.”

Robin’s hick hometown. Parallel dimensions. Little girl with superpowers. Monsters. Something about a gate...Monsters. Monsters from said-parallel dimension. Monsters from said-parallel dimension finding their way inside your home. Monsters in your home.

“Jesus,” you gasp in frustration, knuckling stupid tears at the corners of your eyes. “What is this?”

“It’s a lot to take in, is what it is,” says Steve sympathetically. “But that thing’s dead, and you’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“The big bad stuff is already finished,” Eddie adds. You didn’t notice, but he’s crouched down right next to you, mirroring Robin’s position on your other side. “Not to mention,” he nudges you playfully, “you’ve got two pretty damn good exterminators on speed dial now, huh?” He places a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel the warm metal of his rings through your shirt.

You manage a weak mile. “True. That was pretty impressive,” you sniffle. His fingers give a reassuring little squeeze, but — again — is quick to let go.

He glances at Robin and Steve. “You know,” he starts in an accusatory tone, “you guys were definitely not this nice to me when I had to find out about all this shit.”

“We were in a time crunch,” Robin says dismissively. “You had to get with the program.”

The hysteria starts to wane; your body slumps a little under the combined weight of Robin and Eddie’s arms. “I changed my mind.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “About what?”

“…I want breakfast now.”

The ride to the diner gives you a chance to mull over the bizarre nature of the morning’s events. You let your head fall back on the seat and close your eyes; a stranger thing has never happened to you.

Part of you wonders why Robin never told you all this but you immediately dismiss the thought. Why would she, unless it was absolutely necessary, like today? In addition to being pretty far-fetched, the whole thing also sounds pretty fucking traumatic.

“What do you guys call those things again?” you mumble, turning to Eddie, who’s sitting next to you in the backseat of Robin’s car.

Eddie’s face turns pink when he hears you address him, though you can’t fathom why. “Uh, demobats.”

“Demobats,” you repeat. “How’d you come up with that?”

Steve pipes up from the passenger seat. “The first monster we saw from the Upside-Down was called a demogorgon. Some nerds named it.”

“Oh,” you say faintly.

“We can talk about something else,” says Robin. She looks at you anxiously in the rearview mirror, suspicious that you’re going to fall apart again.

“I’m fine, Rob. I’ve made my peace with it.” You pause, and amend. “I’m making my peace with it.”

“Oo-kay.” She drags out the first syllable, letting it be known that she doesn’t really believe you.

“Are there very many of these things?”

Steve seems to hesitate before he answers. “We don’t think so. Only a dozen or so managed to slip through the gate before it shut, and we think we got most of ‘em when they were still flapping around Hawkins. We found one that nearly crossed over the border into Ohio — we were keeping an eye on the papers — but other than that, this is the furthest out of town we’ve heard of them going.”

You process this, not really sure what to say. There’s not really much you can say. Instead, you turn your head to the window and watch the world race by through the glass, letting it slide past your eyes in a blur of green and blue.

The diner’s parking lot is mostly empty. Work should have already started for most — only a handful of elderly patrons are inside, sipping coffee at the bar and reading the paper.

The matronly waitress wiping down a table lets you know that the four of you can sit anywhere you like. Robin immediately slides into a booth by the window, well away from the other customers.

Steve takes the seat across from her, hoping you’ll sit on the bench next to him, but you plop down tiredly next to Robin instead. Eddie takes the last open spot, opposite from you.

A hush falls over the group while you peruse the menu. The waitress comes and takes orders; waters all around, coffee, and juice, a blueberry short stack for Robin, French toast for yourself, a breakfast burrito for Steve, and fried eggs and sausage for Eddie, with a bottle of hot sauce, please and thank you.

Polite chatter resumes, and quickly devolves into familiar banter around mouthfuls of food, though you stay quieter than the rest, thoroughly worn out. Steve and Robin’s camaraderie takes up the bulk of the conversation, anyway, both of them firing back and forth at each other with ease. You decide that you like Steve — he’s clearly grown into a genuinely nice guy, different from the high school boy Robin told you he once was, but it seems he’s retained just the perfect amount of bitchiness. It’s easy to see why she’s so fond of him.

You’re content to watch and listen to them with mild amusement (though Steve periodically directs his comments towards you, subtly watching your reaction to what he says) and it seems that Eddie is, too. You can’t tell if he’s used to being their third wheel or if he’s just being shy because there’s a new person around.

Robin and Steve enter a fierce debate about something or other — the prospective music career of someone named Tammy that you vaguely recall being a former crush of Robin's. You face Eddie and ask in a hushed tone, “Are they always like this?”

He swallows a bite of gooey, Tabasco-smothered egg. “Pretty much.”

“I wouldn’t have the energy,” you marvel.

Eddie chuckles. He shifts in his seat, and his leg bumps into yours under the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, turning pink again.

“That’s okay.” You study his face, which is angled down towards his plate, decidedly away from your gaze. His eyes are big and dark and warm, like sticky-sweet molasses.

“You have very pretty eyes,” you tell him matter-of-factly, just as there’s a lull in Robin and Steve’s argument. In tandem, both of them turn their heads to stare at you.

Surprise flickers across Eddie’s face when he realizes you’re speaking to him. His face warms to an even deeper red, but he looks pleased; and you’re glad for it.

“Thank you?” It comes out like a question.

“You’re welcome.” You nod and give him a soft smile, which he returns, and for a moment you might as well be the only two people in the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Robin watches the exchange with her head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised in surprise. You return to eating your breakfast, and she casts Steve an apologetic look. Eddie tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding his glee.

You excuse yourself to the restroom. As soon as you’re gone, Robin says, “Sorry, Steve.”

He just sighs in defeat, slumping back against the booth’s cushion. “Whatever.”

Eddie stabs a fork in his direction. “You’re not even over Wheeler yet, anyway. Let me have this.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “You’re still hung up on Nancy? Steve, come on.”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “You’re the one who said we should get back together!” he cries.

Robin’s mouth pulls to the side in mild guilt. “Which was a mistake on my part, I will admit.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” Eddie chimes in.

Steve turns his incredulous look to Eddie. “And don’t even get me started on what you told me about her —”

“I’m the last person you should be taking relationship advice from,” he interrupts nonchalantly.

Steve gapes at his so-called friends. Robin plows on.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not over Nance, I’m not letting you near my girl. She’s not gonna be your rebound; she deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” concurs Eddie, the word garbled around a forkful of food, “like me.”

Steve drops his head onto the table.

“And stop trying to flirt with her, so I can.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing such a great job at that so far,” says Steve sarcastically, forehead still pressed against the formica.

“I’m gettin’ warmed up! Just give me a second, Christ.”

Steve, though snarky on the outside, is still soft on the inside, and so feels a pang of sympathy — he knows why Eddie’s nervous around girls. One drunken night he, Eddie, and Dustin had been shotgunning cans of shitty beer in the Hendersons’ backyard, and he’d spilled his guts about the abysmal reality of his love life. Not that Steve’s is going much better, obviously. But Eddie had deep-rooted fears that went beyond Steve’s understanding, insecurities that harkened back to his childhood and twisted into trickier and trickier knots the older he got.

Eddie has his reasons to be nervous.

“Alright,” says Steve, finally yanking his head back up off the table. “I give, she’s all yours. But I’m gonna remind you — and don’t take this the wrong way — that all she’s done so far is give you a single compliment. Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late,” Eddie replies dreamily. “I’m already planning my proposal.”

Robin starts laughing, just as you approach the table again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Boys,” she replies without hesitation. She takes another sip of coffee. “I’m so glad I’m gay.”

You finish the rest of your breakfast. When the waitress offers to bring the checks around, you’re quick to foot the bill.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” you say among the chorus of protests. “I don’t know what I would have done if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

“Ended up in the Weekly World News,” Eddie teases.

“What a high honor that would have been.” You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

Steve drives everyone back to the house, and a wave of sadness washes over you as you all pile into the kitchen once more. The prospect of the boys’ departure fills you with a strange kind of emptiness; it hits you that you really don’t want them to leave. You’re already feeling attached.

You suppose being rescued from a monster is just one of those things that brings people closer together, like a family barbecue, or making a blood oath.

And truth be told, you feel slightly…uneasy. Discombobulated. Though the events of the morning are still fresh in your mind, the steps of your daily routine are drifting hazily back to you through the fog of shock. Normally at this hour, you’d be plugging away at work. You have an explanatory email to write to your boss for missing today, and you imagine Robin will be submitting something similar. A nine-to-five job, running errands, going to happy hour — they all seem so trivial. How are you supposed to go back to all those things as though nothing out of the ordinary happened? Knowing that your best friend used the free time she had between finishing high school and working retail to help save the world from monsters and government conspiracies and God only knows what other crazy shit?

It’s all too surreal. You grip the edge of the kitchen table with one hand, steadying yourself. Easy girl.

You glance around, then choose to settle your gaze on Eddie, soothed by all his dark, warm colors.

Steve checks his watch, sighing. “We should probably head back. I got the afternoon shift today.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that Family Video is still fucking open.”

Steve ignores this and immediately turns to you instead. “To clarify, I have a real job, too — I was part-time at my company, and now I’m transitioning to full-time.” He’s needlessly defensive. “Managing the video store’s been a nice side gig, but I swear I’m retiring.”

You blink. “You don’t have to defend Family Video to me, Steve. It’s a very respectable establishment.”

“Yeah,” agrees Eddie, “Fuck the government, you’re the real backbone of our society.”

“Fuck off, Munson.”

“Well, this has been a grand old time,” Robin interrupts their bickering, yawning and stretching her arms dramatically. “But I think I need to go home. Smooth things over with the wife before she starts panicking again.” As though suddenly remembering your earlier distress, she turns to you, frowning. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

Not wanting to burden your friend who is being oh-so-chill about the science-fiction film that is literally her life, you immediately lie. “No, I’m okay.”

Her bright blue eyes narrow, not believing you. “I’ll stay,” she says decidedly.

“No, Rob, I think I’m just gonna go to sleep, honestly.” You are tired. Your bones feel weary; you want nothing more than to collapse back into bed and slip into unconsciousness again. “You go ahead and go home.”

You shift your attention towards Steve and Eddie, who are both hanging quietly by the door.

“Again, I can’t thank you guys enough. Really,” you tell them again, stepping forward with arms outstretched. It doesn’t matter that you just met; you need a proper goodbye from both of them. Right away Steve obliges, and wraps his arms around you, patting your back gently before stepping away again.

Eddie hesitates, looking bashful when you turn to him next, and you lower your arms in embarrassment. You don’t want to make him feel like he has to hug you if he doesn’t want to. But before you can feel too stung about it, he steps forward and embraces you tightly.

It’s oddly intimate — his arms are low, circled around your waist, and his cheek presses against your hair. He sighs, a soft exhale that you can’t see or hear but rather, you feel. The creeping sense of loss grows stronger when he releases you again.

“See you soon, I hope.” Steve gives you a final wave, when he’s halfway out of the house. “We should all get together sometime. Y’know, on non-monster related business,” he jokes.

“For sure,” you promise, fluttering your fingers back at him.

“And if you ever need anything,” Eddie’s low voice is suddenly close to your ear, “just let me — us — know. We’ll be here before you know it.”

You let out a small, shuddery breath. “Thank you,” you whisper gratefully, touched by his attentiveness. Eddie seems to be the only other person who understands the gravity of what you’ve seen. Robin and Steve have been in the game too long, perhaps, and although they’re understanding, the remarkability of their Upside Down has worn off.

Eddie, however, doesn’t appear to have achieved quite the same level of nonchalance that they have, and when he looks at you, his concern is tangible. It’s etched in the set of his frown, practically staring out at you from those big eyes of his. Those big, pretty eyes.

“See you around,” he says softly.

And with that, he’s gone.

thank you for reading!!! 🦇💙

taglist: @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #god i hope this pacing is okay? this is the longest fic I’ve ever written #can’t tell if I’ve jammed too much in here or not enough 🤷🏻‍♀️

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Text

Wrong Crush - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie thinks Will has a crush on you. When he doesn’t believe your protests, Will decides it’s time he’s let in on a secret.

Note: This really just came about because Will Byers is my son and I love him with all my heart and want to protect him from the world. Also, Will totally would have had a crush on Eddie.

Warnings: platonic!will byers x reader, language, coming out, i think that’s it?

Words: 3.2k

Eddie’s second favorite thing in the whole world was Hellfire Club. With the first being you, obviously. Even after, finally, graduating from high school, Eddie still got together with the guys once a week to play DND. Dustin kept the game going at school, but it was a whole different level when the guys played the game with Eddie.

Friday nights became Hellfire nights for the guys, and you and the girls would have a girl’s night. Whether you had dinner, went to a movie, or just hung out at someone’s house having wine, it was a nice night for everyone. Eddie would always come home to your shared apartment with a smile on his face, telling of either the valiant effort it took the guys to beat his campaign, or of his success in defeating the gang.

But lately, Eddie would come home from Hellfire nights in a less-than-happy mood. You’d ask if something was wrong, but Eddie would always deny. You knew, though. He wasn’t his happy self.

One Thursday, a day before the beginning of the next campaign, Will came by after school.

“Are you sure?” you ask him as you sit at the kitchen table. You cup your coffee mug in your hands and lean in towards him.

“No, I’m not sure,” he says with a shrug. “But it seems like he is. It’s not like I’m going to come out and ask him, though.”

“Why don’t you try to hang out with him?” you offer. “Does he like DND?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “He’s a baseball player. Total jock.”

“So, what makes you think he’s gay?” You didn’t want to sound harsh, but you couldn’t stand the thought of Will getting hurt.

Will runs his hands over his hair and sighs. “Just like…a feeling, I don’t know. All these girls want to go out with him, but he never wants to. He’s quiet when his friends talk about dating.”

“You’re eavesdropping on his conversations, huh?” you ask with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Will says as his cheeks turn red.

“Look, I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” You reach across the table and take Will’s hand in your own. You’ll never forget the heartbreak Will went through when he revealed his feelings to Mike. Thankfully, they were able to put it past them and continue to be best friends, but Will had been severely depressed. Will still wasn’t out to everyone, but you were one of the lucky ones he trusted with his secret.

“I know,” Will says.

The front door opens and Eddie walks in, grease and oil smudges on his white t-shirt.

“Hey, babe.” He kicks his boots off and comes to a halt when he sees Will at the table. His eyes snap to your joined hands. “Hey, Will.”

“Hey, Eddie.” Will smiles and bashfully pulls his hand out of yours. “I was just heading out.”

“Oh sweetie, you don’t have to,” you tell Will.

“No, I better get home for dinner. I’ll see you later. See you tomorrow, Eddie?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Eddie smiles at him but you can tell it’s forced.

“Bye!” Will calls as he walks out the door.

You take your cold coffee mug over to the sink while Eddie washes his hands.

“What’d he want?” Eddie asks.

His tone makes you frown. “Why’d he have to want anything? We’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says sharply as he shakes water droplets off his hands, eyes searching for a towel.

You hand him one and scowl. “What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.” He roughly dries his hands before tossing the towel on the counter. You watch as he stalks over to your bedroom, tension tight in his back and shoulders.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you say as you follow him. “Bad day at work?”

“Nope,” he tells you as he strips his shirt off. His eyes won’t meet yours as he pulls on a Metallica tee. He goes to walk out of the bedroom, but you step in his path.

“Babe, come on,” you say. He sighs and you place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly. “When have you ever been able to lie to me? Hmm? Come on, talk to me.”

Eddie drops his head forward and lets out a groan. He takes a deep breath before raising his head and meeting your gaze.

“Will has a crush on you.”

It takes everything in you not to immediately smile and laugh, telling Eddie how wrong he is. But you manage to compose yourself and nod your head a few times, thoughtfully.

“What makes you say that?”

Eddie gently places his hands on your hips and tugs you closer. “Every week in Hellfire he talks to me about you. He’s always hanging out here. And every time I come home, he gets all flustered and leaves.”

And what else could that all mean? You think to yourself. With a deep breath, you lean forward and press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

“Sweetheart, Will does not have a crush on me,” you assure him. “He’s just comfortable talking to me about things that he isn’t comfortable talking about with other people.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say. “They’re not my secrets to share.” Eddie huffs and sidesteps you, exiting the bedroom. With a groan, you follow him into the kitchen. “What, you want me to betray his trust? What kind of friend do you think I am?”

“You’re just not listening to me,” Eddie says. “I’m uncomfortable around him now. I know to us he’s just a kid, but what if he thinks it could be more?”

“Eddie.” You walk forward and take his face in your hands. “Is this why you’ve been grumpy coming home from Hellfire?”

He nods and rests your forehead against yours. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m not jealous, I swear. I just don’t want him having a crush on my girl.”

You peck his lips and wrap your arms around his middle. “If you promise to be nice to him tomorrow night, I’ll talk to him.”

“Deal.”

What you were going to say, you weren’t sure.

On Saturday, you pick Will up from his house and grab burgers for lunch. You go to the park, away from other people because you don’t want anyone else to hear what you’re going to talk about.

“I talked to him at school,” Will tells you. “In biology class. Told him I liked his Hoosiers shirt. I only knew what it was because of Hop.”

“Good! I’m glad you worked up the courage.”

As much as you knew Will, he knew you just the same. He could tell something was on your mind and would do anything he could to help you with it.

“What’s up?” He asks.

You sigh and fold up your burger wrapper. “I’ve got a problem.”

“Anything I can do?” Will asks.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, come on,” he says with a smile. “I doubt you could ever do that.”

“Eddie thinks you have a crush on me.” Better to rip the Band-Aid right off. Will’s face drops and his eyebrows pull together.

“Why would he think that?” He asks.

“Because you talk to him about me at Hellfire. You come over and hang out with me and leave when he gets home.”

“W-Well, that’s because-.”

“I know. I know, Will,” you say. “I told him you didn’t, but he doesn’t believe me.”

Will drops his head back and balls up the fast-food bag in his hands. He lets out a long, loud groan and flops down on his back.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.” You lay down next to him and reach over for his hand. He laces his fingers with yours as he stares up at the sky.

“Will he hate me if he knows?”

“Oh, not at all.” You sit up straight and lean over so you can look him directly in the eyes. “He knows about Robin, and you’ve seen them together. Thick as thieves. He doesn’t care who she loves, and he won’t care who you love.”

“Promise?” Will asks. There are tears in his eyes, and it breaks your heart. You want to punch anyone who ever made him feel, or anyone who ever will make him feel, like he isn’t worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of friendship, worthy of respect.

“I promise.”

“I don’t want to lose his friendship,” he says quietly.

“You won’t.” You bring your joined hands up to your mouth and press a kiss to his knuckles. “He loves you, Will. He’s just irked right now because he thinks you’re moving in on his turf.”

He cracks a smile, and you breathe a sigh of relief. With your free hand, you pat his chest a few times.

“Nothing will change if he knows. I guarantee it.”

“Okay,” he says. “You can tell him, then.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or forcing you into anything.”

“You’re not. Eddie’s my friend. He’s a good friend. I would’ve told him eventually, anyway. But I don’t want him to be upset with you. Or me.”

“Honestly, the first time he sees you after he finds out, he’s probably going to give you the biggest hug ever and everyone is going to look at him like he’s crazy.”

Will laughs and sits up. “That’s okay, I like hugs.”

“Good. Because you’re about to get another one.” You pounce on Will and knock him back down to the ground. He laughs and squirms as you snake your arms around his chest. “Just let me hug you!”

“You’re squeezing me!” he shouts between bouts of laughter.

“It’s how I show my love!”

“Poor Eddie.”

You sit back up quickly, jaw dropped, as you stare at him.

“William Byers, was that a dirty joke?”

He looks up at you with wide innocent eyes, cheeks pink, and shakes his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You lean back down to tickle along his ribs, causing him a new fit of laughter.

“Eddie’s going to have to teach you some dirty jokes because that one was pretty tame.”

When you get home from dropping Will off, Eddie is sprawled out on the couch, a can of beer in his hand.

“Is that sports I hear on the television?” you ask as you set your purse down.

“Most guys spend Saturdays watching football and drinking beer. I figured I’d try it.”

“And?”

“It fucking sucks.” He picks up the remote and turns the television off before walking over to join you in the kitchen. “Who cares how far some guy can run the ball down the field? What does it matter if Florida State University beats the University of Florida? It’s a game and it’s stupid.”

“I know, baby,” you say. “It’s not an important game like DND.”

“Yes, exactly. You get me.” He rests his head against yours and you let out a laugh at your boyfriend’s dramatics. Anyone who knew you as a couple knew that you weren’t the drama queen in the relationship.

“So, how did it go with Will?” Eddie asks.

“Good,” you tell him. The kitchen table is behind you, and you lead Eddie over to it, your knee knocking into one of the matching blue chairs on the way.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks. You lean forward, arms sprawled over to Eddie’s side of the table. He takes your hands in his and pulls them up to his mouth to breathe hot air on them when he finds them cold.

“I talked to him,” you say.

“And?”

“Eddie, he did not and does not have a crush on me. I wish you would’ve believed me,” you say.

“Princess, it’s not that I don’t trust you. Or think you’re lying to me. It’s just kind of what the evidence led me to believe.”

“Well, it’s not true. And to prove it even further, Will has given me permission to tell you one of his secrets.”

“He has?” Eddie looks surprised and a little flattered.

“Why not? He said you’re good friends.”

“We are,” Eddie agrees.

“Alright then.” You grip his hands in yours and make sure he’s paying attention to you. “Well, how I knew with such certainty that Will doesn’t have a crush on me, is because he couldn’t. He doesn’t have crushes on girls, Eddie.”

Eddie’s face screws up in confusion. “What? Like, does he think they still have cooties or something? He’s eighteen, right?”

You snort out a laugh and shake your head. “No, baby. I mean, yes, he is eighteen, but he doesn’t think girls have cooties. He just doesn’t like girls in that way.” At Eddie’s still confused face, you continue. “He doesn’t like girls the way that you do. Or the way that Steve or Mike do. He likes boys, like how Robin likes girls.”

Understanding dawns on Eddie’s face and his eyebrows raise so high you think they’d disappeared in his hair. “So, he’s gay?”

“Yes,” you say, weight taken off your chest.

“Oh,” Eddie drawls, as if this clicks pieces of a puzzle together for him.

“And now he’s worried you’re going to think differently of him once you know.”

Eddie frowns and shakes his head. “I would never do that.”

“I know, that’s what I told him,” you say.

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t care who he wants to be with. As long as it’s not my girl, it’s fine.”

“You’ve gotta still treat him like one of the guys,” you tell him. “The last thing he wants is to be treated differently. He’s still the same Will he’s always been.”

“I will, I will, don’t worry.” Eddie stands up from the table and opens the fridge, eyes scanning on what he could make for dinner.

You watch him. Nothing in his demeanor has changed. He doesn’t look more tense, actually the opposite. He’s relieved there was a simple explanation for what was bothering him. Eddie frowns into the fridge though, before closing it and turning to you.

“Wait,” he says. “But that doesn’t…explain why he’s always talking to me about you at Hellfire. And why he gets all flustered when I come home. Unless all your conversations before I come home are about his sexuality, which I doubt.”

“I mean,” you say, your voice an octave higher than you meant it to be. “There’s an explanation for that as well.”

“Do I get to hear it?” Eddie waits with a hand on his hip, leaning against the refrigerator door.

“Okay, so,” you start as you stand up from the table. You’re trying to come up with the right words to say and Eddie takes this to mean you’re stalling. He urges you forward with a hand motion, and you roll your eyes at him. “So, at Hellfire, right? Who’s he talking to?”

“Me,” Eddie says.

“Mhmm. And you said he gets flustered when who comes home?”

“Me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, and he shrugs.

“Are you going to get to the point?” he asks.

“Oh, God,” you say as you rub your hands over your face. For such a clever man, he wasn’t always the quickest with picking up emotional clues. “Okay, so there’s two people who live in this apartment. Will has a crush on one of them.”

Eddie’s face scrunches up in confusion. “But you just told me- oh.” Eddie’s face changes so quickly that it makes you laugh. From confusion, to raised eyebrows as he takes in this new information.

“Huh,” he says. He pushes off the refrigerator and takes the few steps over to you. “So, he thinks I’m hot, huh?” The self-satisfied smirk on his face makes you roll your eyes.

“You tease him about this, and I swear to God, Eddie-.”

“Hey, hey, hey. I wouldn’t do that.” His face still looks self-satisfied even if the smirk has fallen off. “Just means he has good tastes.”

“And what, he didn’t when you thought he had a crush on me?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Now sweetheart, this isn’t about you,” Eddie placates playfully with a pat on the top of your head. He knows he’s winding you up, but he also knows that you’re aware he’s just goofing off.

You glare up at him. “You’re the worst. Let Will spend a week with you and these feelings go away. He’ll have complete focus on that baseball player at school then.”

“Aw baby,” Eddie coos as he wraps you up in his arms. “Don’t get jealous. You know I’m not into guys, and Will is a kid, so you’re stuck with me. Forever and ever.”

“Jealousy isn’t the word I’d use,” you say, staying still as he squeezes you in his grip.

“What word would you use?”

“Annoyed.”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“You’re just thrown off because now there’s someone who thinks I’m the hot one in the relationship.”

“I’ve always thought you were the hot one in the relationship!”

“Mm, well you’re wrong.” He leans in for another kiss and this one is far less chaste. “Always been you,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Alright, sweet talker,” you say. “It’s time to put up or shut up.”

Eddie scoops you up into his arms and plops you down on the bed before you can even let out a laugh.

On Monday, Will comes back over after school. He wants to make sure that the conversation with Eddie went alright.

“He spent all of yesterday telling me how bad he felt for getting upset when he thought you liked me. If we had the money, I swear he’d buy you a car just to ease his guilt.”

Will laughs and takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m relieved. Not just that telling him went okay, but that another person in my life knows. It seems kind of daunting that I’m going to have to tell the people I care about for like, the rest of my life. But you telling Eddie kind of took that piece of the burden off me, and I’m thankful.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to, whenever you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s all your call. It’s your life so you get to call all the shots when it comes to that.”

Will smiles gratefully at you before the front doorknob starts to turn. Eddie steps inside and grins when he sees the two of you there. It’s a nice change from how the last few weeks have gone. You’re just praying Eddie doesn’t say something stupid as he drops his keys and comes over to the table.

“Can I hug you?” Eddie asks.

Will looks like he might cry if he opens his mouth, so he nods instead. He stands up and Eddie pulls him into a bear hug. You know how tight those squeezes of his can be, and that he reserves them for the moments that call for them. This was certainly one of those times.

Eddie pulls away and places his hands on Will’s shoulder. He looks Will straight in the eye and gives him a smile.

“Still love you, dude. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Will nods through a tearful smile and Eddie pulls him back in for another hug. You wipe away a few tears of your own as Eddie smiles at you over Will’s shoulder.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #will byers #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

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morallyinept · 6 months

Text

Ring Toss - A Frankie Morales One Shot 🍩

Summary: Frankie comes home with a box of treats, just for you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶 "It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Oral, M receiving/mild dirty talk. Delicious food porn with Frankie. What else is there to say?

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Frankie and donuts... 🤤 Dedicated to lovely @secretelephanttattoo 🍩😘

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The box of sweet, sticky treats is calling your name.

You can’t resist them. Nu-uh, no way. Your one weakness and he knows it.

You pout up at him, trying to be riled, but the smirk on his tan face blooms across those luscious pink lips of his, and despite you wanting to slap it off of his chops at his gall of tempting you - you know you can't resist his sweet face either under that patchy scruff.

“I’m on a diet.” You scowl at him, trying not to smirk back.

“Screw the diet, hermosa. You can have one, right?” Frankie shrugs, looming in front of you.

“Noooo. It’ll undo all the hard work I did at the gym today.” You whine. The ache in your calves reminds you to hold strong. And maybe not go so hard on the cross trainer next time...

Frankie scoffs, holding the box out to you and you continue to refuse the sugary, deep-fried treats that are inside ganging up on and leering at you.

You can smell them. Oh God. It's like he's opened up Pandora’s Box and colourful sprinkles and sticky, creamy glazes are calling out to you; luring you in like a Siren song only you can hear.

Hijo de puta!

“I got 'em fresh. I got the custard ones, I know they’re your favourite.” Frankie insists with a tempting pink purse of his lips.

“You did?” You ask leaning forward to peer into the box.

Yep, there they were; oozing and sticky with that thick gloop leaking out of one of them like it had been shot and was bleeding out its vanillary insides.

No, stop it!

“Yeah.” He nods, smiling pleasantly down at you from under that well worn in cap; his messy curls rioting behind his ears. Deep brown eyes penetrate you with a beguiling simmer laced around them.

It was really sweet of him, touching. He knows what you like and how to make you happy. It's the little things Frankie does that give you the constant heart eyes for him.

The way he holds open the passenger side door for you on his beat up Pickup, and always takes your hand as you step out like you're his queen.

The way he always greets you when you come home from work with a swamping, lingering kiss, pushing you up agaisnt the back of the door, readily equipped with his large hands squeezing and groping at your body affectionately, before you've even said hello to one another.

The way he stops off on the way home from his group therapy sessions on a Thursday, to grab a box of fresh donuts from Dough Boyz, and ensures your favourites are plentiful.

Frankie smiles with tempting, molten eyes. Big browns out on full display. That same puppy-dog look he gives you which renders you absolute mush at his feet, usually.

“I hate you.” You shake your head. The pout is back and it's staying put. Much like your stony resistance.

“You hate me, huh?” Frankie baulks with a tinkling chuckle as he scratches at his scruff under his chin.

You fold your arms, sinking back into the couch and refusing him, trying to watch the TV - anything to distract you away from that heady, saccharine scent that wafts from the forbidden box of calorific delights.

“Suit yourself, muñeca. More for me.” Frankie says casually, tossing the box on the coffee table.

“I hope you get fat!” You call to him playfully as he saunters off towards the kitchen, his laugh echoing around you.

"You want a coffee?" He calls back.

"No, thanks," you humpf in response.

He leaves it there, lid open whilst he goes into the kitchen. You glance at it; your eyes darting back and forth at the temptation of sticking your fingers in and selecting the one that oozes with that yellowy-golden custard you long to taste cloying around your gums.

It's a test. You know it. Leave it open to tempt and twist you into finally submitting, and then Frankie would walk in to catch you red-handed and to see half of them snarffed up; crumbs mottled down your top and smeared sugar constellations across your cheeks.

Oh, he is such an asshole!

Frankie pads back into the lounge after a few minutes with his coffee and sits on the sofa adjacent to you, putting his long legs up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles. He reaches forward for a donut.

You watch as his dexterous, thick fingers pry a glazed ring out of the box, and he sits back into the cushions getting comfortable, bringing it up to his mouth.

Oh, it's like watching a filthy, X-rated porno.

How those plush, pink lips would part and he’d bite into the dough, licking his lips free of the sticky glaze. Shrapnels of glaze getting stuck in the fuzz of his moustache.

He watches the TV absentmindedly whilst he feasts quietly, unaware you want to launch the box of sugary treats at his head for bringing them here, the shithead.

But you want one, you soooo want one.

No! I worked hard this week. No treats!

But one won’t hurt.

You can’t just have one though, can you?!

But he brought you custard donuts, he loves you.

Fuck!

His dark eyes flick towards yours and you look away as he brings his coffee back up to his lips and smirks.

You try to invest yourself into whatever the heck it is rolling across the TV screen, but the overwhelming scent of sugar, and the sound of him smacking his lips together, soon draws your attention away again.

Frankie sucks his fingers slowly; the squeaking wet sounds of them popping out of his lewd mouth, before he runs his tongue around his teeth, sounds like it's gunfire inside your ears, thundering.

Loud enough for you to know the bastardo is doing it on purpose. Louder than the steam coming out of your ears.

Fuck that fucking fucker!

Your willpower is waning as you stare at the box of donuts on the coffee table taunting and seducing you.

No, I'm not going to give in. He wants me to and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. Nope!

You glance at Frankie and he's watching you again with those dark chocolate eyes. “Just have one, you know you want to.” He tempts you.

Yeah, all he needs is a horned tail and a pitchfork, right?

“That’s not the point, I can’t have one. You know I can’t.” You sulk, shaking your head.

“Why? Because you went to the gym? One donut isn’t going to fucking hurt, hermosa.” He scoffs, chuckling.

You turn away again. “You don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m all for keeping fit, but a treat now and again in moderation is good, baby.” He smiles. "You've earned it."

You shake your head trying to ignore him.

“You’re really gonna resist?” Frankie questions.

You nod. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Well alright.” He sighs, admitting defeat.

You watch the TV again, smouldering away. You then see him reach forward and put his coffee cup down on the table in your peripherals.

He reaches into the box, with those wandering fingers once more. The one he pulls out is a plain one; the sister of the previous he'd just devoured.

He eyes it and then puts it back and reaches for another that takes his fancy instead; this time choosing one with sprinkles scattered across the pink, shiny glaze.

He sits back into the cushions again and looks darkly at you.

“You really won’t eat this?” Frankie questions.

“No.” You shake your head again feeling your brain rattle inside your skull.

“But what if I really want you to eat it, to enjoy it? I mean, I brought these as a reward for how well you’ve been doing lately at the gym… what a waste.” He sighs, shaking his head. He pouts at you too, those thick lips pursed out.

“Are you trying to guilt trip me, Morales? It’s not working.” You confirm, frowning.

"Ya lo veremos..." Frankie sighs with a slick smile.

"Stop it," you warn.

You watch him put the donut between his lips and then let go; it balances precariously between those plumpy, pink smackers and his fuzzy moustache.

With his hands, he simply reaches down, undoes the buckle on his belt, the button on his jeans, and then unzips his fly.

You watch, with widening eyes, as he pulls out his cock and pumps it a few times in his fist.

You can hear him groan around the donut hanging out of his mouth; eyes rolling back as he acqaints himself with his thick, swelling dick.

Oh shit...

He jerks on his cock; little wheezed breaths pelting out of his chest, until he's fully hard and rigid in his hand.

He looks at you the whole time he's doing it too.

“What... are you doing?” You baulk at him, feeling hot prickles dance on the back of your neck. The heat flares all over your body and you clench your fist around the throw over the couch you're sitting on.

He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively with a small shrug of his shoulders, unable to speak with the donut hanging out of his mouth; his saliva starting to melt the glaze that he can feel pooling in the corners.

Frankie then takes the donut from his mouth, licking crudely at his lips, and simply places it over his stiff cock. Sliding his thick member through the hole tightly in the centre, and pushes it down as far as it will go without breaking.

The donut rubber-rings itself around him and he lets go. His cock stands up right, fully hard and bobbing two and fro a little with the weight of the donut around it.

You swallow hard as he sits there waiting for you expectantly. He rests his arms over the top of his head; eyes peering darkly at you from under the rim of his cap. He juts his hips forward, challenging you brazenly.

Frankie's smirk is widening, and your cheeks are turning more red as the seconds wear on. Red with fury, red with abject need...

Oh, you son of a b-

“Frankie-”

“Eat it,” he encourages with an ever-widening grin and beckons you over with two fingers. "Come here."

You sigh, and then giggle in unison with him as he chuckles.

"You're such an ass."

“Come on,” he rouses, wiggling his hips from side to side and his cock rocks, life buoyed inside the donut and bites his lip suggestively.

You stand up, completely caving; a sound escaping you similar to a bear disturbed from their hibernation, and make your way towards him, utterly burning up now.

Yeah, he’s totally done a number on you alright.

“You’re gonna make a mess all over your jeans.” You roll your eyes.

He shakes his head. “You’d better eat it quickly then before it sticks.” Frankie teases as you approach him.

He runs his pointer finger around the orbit of the donut, in the pink glaze, and sucks it into his mouth.

"Mmm," he quips and klaxons sound in your ears.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you remark to him, trying to resist his allure.

He pulls you forward by your wrists and your face meets his. “It’s why you love me.” He purrs before he kisses you.

"I do, damnit." You sigh.

His lips are sweetly tasting and you suck on his bottom lip, sampling the crusted glaze and groan in delight at the sugar rush of it.

You reach down to feel his swollen head poking out the top of the donut oozing. You suck your fingers and they are sweetly swirled with the donut glaze and that salty glaze all of his own that beads from the slit.

“You taste really good.” You murmur to him.

“Oh, I know,” Frankie smirks. “You should have more of me, hermosa.” He incites.

You kneel down between his legs and crane forward. Looking up at him, you take a gentle bite from the donut, and he bites his lip again watching you.

Oh, it tastes fucking better than you could have imagined.

Your fingers are scratching inside the soft, downy hairs of his thighs into his groin as he thrusts his hips out a little more towards you.

The donut tastes fantastic, and you make sure to allow your lips to brush over him now and again, making him gasp and shudder.

Yeah, now it's your turn to tease the fuck out of him.

The gummy taste of the glaze coates him and sticks to his skin; you eat more of the donut from around his cock, savouring it. It's a sticky sweet mess that makes you whine. Makes you sweat. Makes your head swim and your sex pulse in desire and need.

"That's it, baby. Eat it all up..." Frankie encourages.

You scoff the donut around him, slowly revealing more of his impressive and hard cock that you long to devour.

Thick, veiny and so fucking hard. A beautifully flushed head that drips and throbs as you run your tongue over it, tasting every morsel of that sticky syrup.

Your body clenches and drools in response.

"Mmm," he croons, smiling.

Frankie runs his hands through your hair as you finish it; crumbs from the dough dotted around his length and dappled in the fuzzy short hairs at the base of him as you swallow your last mouthful of the wondrous treat.

His eyes burn into yours as he watches you lick up the side of his shaft where the glaze is stuck in wet globules, and you feel his cock pulse in response.

“Yeah…” He whispers, keenly and nodding at what's to come. "Suck it."

You open your mouth as you get to the top, placing him inside and you swallow him down.

“Fuck!” Frankie whines out; his head thrown back against the couch cushions as you give him that sweet, succulent head that he craves.

Your fingers claw into his thighs as you bob up and down, head stuffed inside his lap, sucking him clean. You lick and kiss the whole length of him. Tonguing around the head like a popiscle, licking up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, and slurping him down deeper into the trenches of your throat.

You feel him put a gentle pressure on the back of your head; he wants you to deep throat him, to take him in all the way. To choke and gag on him as that frothy spittle hangs from your lips.

He grunts out as you do it; swallowing his thick, tasty cock deep inside your throat and pressing your nose against the skin above his groin.

You inhale him in, sighing in satisfaction as you do. You love the taste of him, the fullness of him. The way he packs you out around your cheeks.

He feels you heave around him and hisses out as the back of your throat squeezes around him.

"Eso se siente tan jodidamente bien, no pares..." he groans with a silky hiss.

Frankie pulls out and you gasp for air; crystal saliva strings dangling from his swollen head to your mouth.

He pulls you up and kisses you; tasting the donut, tasting himself and smirking at you.

Sucking on your tongue, Frankie whines and your body is burning up. You're craving more. The sugar rush floods through your veins making your fingers shake.

"More, baby." Frankie encourages. "You're so fucking good at that."

He lets go of you and you go back to sucking him off. Holding the base of him steady, and he throws his hands up again behind his capped head, shuffling down the couch a little; enjoying the show of you taking him in.

Hungry for it, hungry for him. Basking in that candy coated wonderland of that sweet tasting cock.

You work his shaft, pumping as you go to really get him going; massaging his balls that are aching to release, and give him plenty of eye contact as he watches you mouth on him.

“Fuck, baby I’m gunna come…” Frankie gasps; his thighs twitching and shaking as he releases, filling your mouth with that delicious, thick custard of his own.

He tastes so fucking good.

He watches, enthralled, as you swallow it all down, licking your lips and sucking your fingers afterwards.

“Yum,” you murmur at him with a wink.

Frankie smiles at you through flushed cheeks and blissed out brown eyes like he's high, utterly beside himself in post-coital dumbness for a few beats.

You promptly stand up and turn to the box on the coffee table, plucking out that weeping custard donut, and sit back in your spot on the adjacent couch and bite into it.

Frankie chortles loudly; cock and balls still out as you devour that delicious custard treat without any ounce of guilt.

"Knew you couldn't resist." He chants.

"You play dirty, Morales." You say around a mouthful and it's heavenly.

"Always, hermosa."

Yeah, one or two donuts won’t hurt, right?

I really hope you enjoyed reading this tasty treat with Frankie. If you did, please consider re-blogging this so others can also have their fill. I'd love to know your thoughts too. Thanks so much for reading! 🖤

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie triple frontier #triple frontier frankie #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fluff #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys #gimme that donut

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crimewrought · 1 year

Text

maria commits a lot of crime. not one of them against fashion though mind you

#this is my convoluted way of saying she dresses nice :) slay girlboss #happy thursday gang!! now i write <3

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justmy-account · 24 days

Text

Stranger Things filming updates from this week

March 18th-24th

Monday 18th

one of the girls from Kali’s gang is going to Atlanta

also

Tuesday 19th

Wednesday 20th

nothing

Thursday 21st

Friday 22nd

Happy birthday Will!!

Ross remembered, shoutout to him

Saturday 23rd

nothing

Sunday 24th

nothing

If I forgot anything, let me know!

#stranger things #st5 #st5 bts #st5 leaks #stranger things 5 #st5 production #st5 spoilers #st5 filming #stranger things bts #stranger things spoilers #stranger things filming #kali prasad #will byers #will byers bts #birthdaygate #byler

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scertifiedsavanaclawstan · 2 years

Text

Dorm Leaders When They're Drunk + Signature Drinks

And also what their fellow members think of the drink but that's too long of a title.

Yeah it's another @jackplushie silver bullet post because I had this thought and I couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote it down lol. Also with pictures of the drinks!

Also I don't know shit about alcohol so I have no clue if these descriptions are good/make sense.

Riddle's Screaming Rose

As it turns out, Riddle + Alcohol = MORE RIDDLE. When he's drunk Riddle becomes so much more focused on his rules, and his order, that it almost becomes comical. It doesn't hurt that he's a bit more forgetful, once you caught him in a panic because he was wearing the wrong color for the last Thursday of the month… on a Saturday. His gang members are careful to stay out of his way when he's drunk, they're not interested in the extra discipline. The drink itself is SWEEEET. It's flavored like strawberry and is good with food. Riddle normally orders more dessert, while his fellow members tend to prefer actual food. The only one who doesn't drink it is Cater, he still likes how it looks though.

Leona's Purring Kitten

You thought he was going to be the sleepy drunk? Well he usually is, but this drink of his is made with coffee so he actually tends to stay awake. And when he does well… prepare yourself for a LOT of unplanned affection. Leona spends most of his time drunk trying to get your attention, complimenting you, staring at you with a moony grin on his face, whining in your general direction. It's not unique though, his gang finds out he's more likely to praise them when he's drunk and they are ecstatic! He doesn't forget what happens when he's sober though, so whenever they abuse the opportunity too much they're really in for it afterwards. Ruggie likes it, it keeps him up and he can snack on the cookie that comes with the drink. It's a bit too bitter for Jack though.

Azul's Mermaid's Tears

Yeah no surprises on this one. While he normally manages to be perfectly put together, none of the stresses or worries of his life breaking through to the surface, once he gets tipsy… Well that's when the waterworks start. He's going to be venting to you about everything, his contracts, his diet, the twins. Honestly if you actually hated him you probably had some decent blackmail. If some of his tears get in his drink it probably isnt a big deal, its already got a salt rim, and other than that it tastes… healthy? The Leech twins tried it once when they were over. Floyd declared Azul's taste in drinks was boring. Jade meanwhile said that it was… fine :) just fine. Neither of them ordered it again.

Kalim's Sleepy Tiger

You thought he would be the happy drunk? Well yeah he would if he could hold his liquor… Kalim thankfully doesn't cause you too much trouble, sober or not, but he's even less of a problem when drunk. The worst that he does is force you to call Jamil because he always forget to mention he's going to the bar, and then he falls asleep. Most of the time though he just stares at you would be drinks with a soft smile, and then you'll turn around and find him snoring gently on the counter. Jamil usually orders a drink when he comes to pick Kalim up, the date syrup was his idea, before the drink was just a mango infused spirit with whipped cream.

Vil's Cranky Virgin

Vil really hates you for this one. But he was pretty rude when he first walked in so you're not that sorry. It got its name from what Vil calls being 'married to work' and what you call 'having no game'. Oh, and the complaining. "Oh bartender, your hair is messy! Straighten your tie Epel! Rook button up your shirt!" Vil is even more likely to point out errors in appearance when he's drunk, but he's… also just generally more easily upset. Most people tend to give him a wide berth when they find him trying to fix your hair over the counter. The drink itself is appropriately expensive tasting, made with apple syrup and a VERY herbaceous liquor. It's a good seller since his whole gang tends to order it too. Epel hates that he likes something Vil enjoys, Rook doesn't care what the drink is, he just wants what Vil wants.

Idia's Gamer Rage

Y'know how Idia gets when he's talking on his tablet about something he really cares about? Yeah imagine that. Times a thousand. For the love of God do not mention any show or game he's been into lately. He WILL bombard you with questions and he WILL start a fight if you have the 'wrong' opinion. You've had to throw him out on his ass multiple times for starting shouting matches, to which point Idia has the dubious honor of having a drink limit. The drink itself is bubbly and flavored like blue raspberry, and more like a boozy root beer float than a proper cocktail. It's one of the few you make a non-alcoholic version of, for Ortho. You'd give it to him normally (you've murdered people, what's enabling a little underage drinking?) if he asked but he's the one who asks for it virgin. He tried it normally once without knowing and as it turns out he HATES the taste of alcohol.

Malleus' Dragon's Tantrum

You were originally going to call this one 'The Horny Lizard' but that was a bit much so you toned it back. As it turns out, Malleus Draconia, incredibly powerful and the most feared crime lord in the city, is a very emotional, clingy drunk. He at the very least dutifully waits until the end or the night to get totally wasted, because when he does he's climbing over the counter to attach to your closest limb. Since none of his gang members are willing (or able) to help pry him off of you, you have to close up pretty soon after. Unless another boss happens to walk in, but that causes… further problems. As for the drink itself? Boy is it sour, all the lime mixed with the absinthe makes it a drink almost no one other than Malleus orders. Of those who do, Lilia seems to barely have tastebuds, Silver likes it because he can't fall asleep when his face is so puckered, and Sebek doesn't actually like it anymore than anyone else, but he refuses to drink anything but Malleus' favorite. At your bar at least.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twst x reader #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #twst headcanons #crime au

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outerspacebisexual · 2 years

Note

Hi!! First, congratulations on the 300 followers, your stories are very good!!!

Second, can I ask prompt 26 with Robin x f! Reader? Maybe they were almost ended the relationship before and the reader got hurt trying to help. Or maybe not.... the choice is yours!

I just wanted some angst and fluff with a happy ending :)

THX xoxo

Heartbeat - Robin Buckley

Summary: Your relationship with Robin was wavering, and you couldn't help but think it was because of you.

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: mild SPOILERS for Season 4 Vol. 1, swearing, angst, fluff, injury, blood, miscommunication trope (rip sorry) kinda but not really

Masterlist

Who knew that relationships could be perfect one second and rocky the next?

You weren’t quite sure when your relationship with Robin started to go downhill. Everything had been absolutely perfect. Sure, you had a shitty job at the local diner, and you were trying to work out how to defer your college acceptance for a year to wait for Robin to graduate, but you had the most amazing girlfriend.

You and Robin had first met when you called into Scoops Ahoy to see Steve, not expecting to see the most beautiful woman you’d ever laid eyes on.

The feeling had been mutual, because between her rambling and you stumbling over your words, you managed to ask her on a date and she had accepted.

That had been over a year ago now.

Now, you were crying in your room trying to work out where things went wrong. You couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment. You’d had your fair share of arguments together, but didn’t every couple?

Everything had begun to build up, and you weren’t sure if it there was any coming back from it.

At this point, you and Robin practically lived together. Your parents were always out of town, courtesy of them working with the Harringtons. So, that meant that the two of you could do whatever the hell you wanted all the time.

Your house was bigger than hers and it was closer to her work, which she loved. And she had said that living with you like this was just ‘practice for the real thing’.

But lately, you were feeling more and more like you lived by yourself.

Robin was coming over less and less, with what had started as her being over most nights, had dwindled down to maybe one or two nights a week if you were lucky.

Your job had been giving you less hours, too, so you noticed her absence more and more.

Like tonight, when you were supposed to be having an afternoon of movies, but she wasn’t there. You had waited two hours on the couch, the food you had cooked growing cold on the coffee table.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to eat.

By the third hour, you had started to cry.

By the fourth, you had gone up to your room.

It wasn’t until the sixth hour that the phone rang. You ignored it once, but it rang again, the shrill noise splitting your eardrums.

You reached over to the phone on your bedside and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” You could barely hear her over the sound of people cheering. “Hey, listen, I’m still at Lucas’s game and the gang are going out afterwards, so I won’t be home tonight.”

Home. That should have made your heart flutter, but instead it filled you with an unbearable sadness that she hadn’t been home for three days.

“Yeah, OK.” You didn’t have it in you to fight about it now.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and the tears began to form again.

“Nothing,” you managed, palming your nose to try and stop the tears. “I’ll see you later?”

“I have work tomorrow, so probably Thursday?”

You frowned. “You aren’t coming over tomorrow night? I thought—”

The crowd surged from the gym, and she said, “Hey, babe, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Lucas is off the bench.”

And then came the monotonous beeps to signal she had hung up.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t mentioned that it was Lucas’s game that night. Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t invited to the after-game hang out.

But what stung the most was that she had forgotten you. And it was beginning to feel a lot like she was doing it on purpose.

That had been four days ago, and while you had been with Robin these past few days trying to help Eddie Munson, you wouldn’t exactly call it quality time together. There was a weird tension between the two of you. Like waiting for a bomb to go off, and you had no idea why it was even detonated in the first place.

When you had gone with the group to Skull Rock, you had reached for her hand, which she took, but she shook you off as soon as she could.

That had nearly been your breaking point.

Then you had held your hand out to help her into the boat, but she opted to use Steve and Eddie instead.

And when Steve decided to check out the Watergate and then proceeded to get pulled under, Robin had only looked at you once when you said, “No, Robin, please don’t.” And then she fell backwards into the dark water.

At every single opportunity, she chose someone else.

And you knew that it was only a matter of time before she chose someone else to love.

But for right now, you had bigger problems.

Not only were you frantically running after Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin after jumping in headfirst after your girlfriend through a gate to the upside down, but you were desperately trying to hold together what felt like your entire leg.

While trying to help Steve, one of the bats had used its teeth and claws to grip your thigh, and when you finally managed to pull it off, it had felt like it took half of your skin with it.

You pressed your hand further against the gashes. Skull Rock was so close, and when you reached it, you collapsed onto a freestanding stone, leaning against the large boulder.

Steve was hissing in pain when Nancy tied a piece of her shirt around his stomach.

Your head felt light, but you fought through the pain to check on Robin. She seemed fine, she wasn’t limping or gasping in pain. She was rambling to Steve about rabies. That alone had some of the tension easing from your shoulders. She was fine.

“Hey, are you good?” Eddie asked, siding up beside you.

You opened your mouth to answer when you coughed and the pain that shot through your leg made you yelp and press into your thigh harder.

Eddie caught it and moved your hand away to reveal the blood staining your pants and skin. “Holy shit! Guys!”

Your head was spinning at that point, just trying your best not to pass out.

You could faintly hear the others crowding you, but you didn’t care about any of it until Robin kneeled in front of you, her hands on either side of your head, forcing you to look at her.

She was saying something, and you squinted your eyes at her lips. “Are you insane? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was shrill as she tried to move your hands away to see what she could do. “How did this happen?”

“It’s just a scratch,” you mumbled.

“You’re bleeding profusely.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

She gripped your hand. “You’re my girlfriend.” The way she said it seemed like that was an answer, but really, it left you with more questions. Ones that your spaced-out mind couldn’t form into complete sentences. “You’re never a bother.” Maybe it was the blood loss combined with the high stress environment, but at that moment, you believed her.

You could also see the way her breath was starting to hitch as she began to hyperventilate. “Hey.” You grabbed her hand and pulled it to your chest, not caring about the blood she painted there. “Feel my heartbeat. I’m OK.”

Her hand was cold, but you held it there, her breaths slowly coming down to normal. But as she came down, you went sky high. Your dizziness became worse, the mind fog taking over.

She slipped off the leaf print shirt she had over her plain shirt and started tearing it, wrapping it around your leg to try and stem the bleeding and hold your ruined flesh together. “Love, you need to lift it for me.”

The pet name falling from her lips had you smiling, despite the pain. You were delirious. “Love,” you murmured, leaning back into the rock face again. “You never call me love anymore.” She pulled the makeshift torniquet tighter and you groaned, leaning forward until you were eye level. “Do you call someone else love instead?”

Her brows furrowed instantly, frown etched deep on her face. “What?”

You hummed, reaching out and playing with a lock of her hair, winding it between your fingers. You felt like you were floating. “I know that you don’t love me anymore. I just…wish I knew what I did.”

The logical, semi-conscious side of your brain was screaming; it was screaming because you knew that you would never have said the words out loud to her under any other circumstances.

When you look back into her eyes, she looked like she was going to cry. “Robin!” you said abruptly. “Don’t cry.” You patted her cheek with your hand as you dropped her hair.

“Hey, Eddie?” she called, ignoring you completely. “Can you help me get her to Nancy’s?”

You couldn’t remember getting to Nancy’s more than the brief flashes of nearly falling over, Eddie and Robin stabilising you.

By the time you reached the Wheeler’s street, you had started to gain your consciousness back. You were walking straight, your arm slung over Eddie’s shoulder to take some of the pressure off your leg. Robin walked just in front of you, making sure you didn’t step on the hive-mind-vines. She hadn’t said anything to you the whole walk.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Robin asked Nancy as you entered her house.

Nancy directed her to the bathroom and Robin took you from Eddie, depositing you onto the closed toilet seat before spinning to the cabinet and pulling out the box.

She fumbled through it, gathering bandages and an antiseptic.

“Robin?” you called softly, but she didn’t respond. She just gathered the items she’d collected and knelt before you.

“This is going to hurt, and I’m sorry in advance,” she said finally, only briefly glancing at you before undoing the shirt and letting it fall to the ground. You hissed and clenched your jaw, gripping the outside of your leg.

She didn’t give you any time to get ready as she poured the antiseptic on and started wrapping the bandages around your thigh. Tears sprang to your eyes, and you bit your lip so hard you thought it would bleed. Which was just what you needed. More blood loss.

When she was done, she stood up, letting her fingers run over the bandages to ensure they were secure.

The gesture was so tiny, but it had you crying in earnest.

Robin looked at you then. Everything was muted by the darkness, but her eyes still shone in the way you loved, even as they roamed your face. You could feel her winding up to start shooting questions, her leg bouncing as she stood in place.

“What you said earlier…” she started. “What did you mean?”

Even though you had been waiting for this moment for weeks, it still had a pit of dread opening up in your gut. This was it.

“What part?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the part where you said I don’t love you anymore.” The words were icy, and you had only been on the receiving end of them once before.

You didn’t know where to start. You didn’t want to have this conversation.

Robin knew you too well. “Oh, we are definitely hashing this out now,” she said, leaning back against the sink behind her. “What did you mean?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You sighed, the pain and frustration building inside you to an astronomical level. “Robin, I’m tired of you forgetting about me. I’m so sick of feeling like you don’t care about me, like our relationship isn’t worth your time.” You swiped at your cheeks. “If you…if you aren’t in love with me anymore, just tell me. Because I can’t keep pretending to be OK with being second.” Your voice broke, and you could only attempt to steel yourself for the oncoming heartbreak.

But Robin didn’t say anything straight away, she fell to her knees between your legs, careful to avoid your thigh. She reached out and placed her hands on either side of your face, just like she always did, just because you liked it.

“Love, where are you getting this from?”

“You’re never home anymore,” you said, trying your best to ignore the way your heart raced being this close to her. “You…you missed our movie marathon, and you didn’t invite me.” It sounded pathetic now that you said it aloud, but Robin brushed her thumbs over your cheekbones.

She had a guilty look on her face. “I’m so sorry I missed our movie marathon, Y/N. I did forget about it with the stupid pep rally and Lucas being all excited. I’m so sorry.”

You caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes as she looked down.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. At all. I was…trying to do it for you,” she admitted.

It was your turn to be confused. “What? Why would I want that?”

She removed her hands from your face, placing them in her lap. “I—I saw the acceptance letter. For college. And your response letter to defer. I know you want to go, and I thought that if I could try and distance myself, maybe you would just do it instead of being held down by me here.”

You couldn’t stop the painful way your heart squeezed. “Robin, I want to defer because I want to wait for you. It’s because I want to wait until you’ve graduated, so that we could make that decision together. You know that I only applied for colleges to please my parents. I don’t feel held down by you, Robin Buckley, I just want to do these milestones with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes clouded with tears. “I’m sorry, I—that’s literally the cutest thing anyone has ever said to me. I don’t—”

You cut her off with a kiss, and she melted into it, but pulled away after a second.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and you kissed her quiet.

“Stop apologising, my love.”

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this! i hope you like it! <3 aeia

check out my prompt celebration!

#robin buckley x reader #stranger things x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley angst #robin buckley fluff #stranger things angst #outerspacebisexual

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