chloe, 25, also known as @angelbabydoll28 or @angelbaby-fics
silly little self-shipper 🫶 its not that serious to me but it brings me a lot of joy to imagine my relationships with my favorite characters!! feel free to block if that makes you uncomfortable, i wont mind 🩷
this is my personal blog for when im not age regressed!!! please only follow if you're over 18!! theres nothing inherently nsfw but on this blog you may find:
bad words
horror movies
nsfw jokes/lighthearted thirst
drug use (weed lol)
basically me acting like a 20-something year old lol
if any of this makes you uncomfortable, please dont feel the need to follow me here!!
TRACK 6 - as it was by harry styles (eddie munson x fem!reader)
a/n: this could have gone very sad, but i wanted to write something softer. :-) just some shortness and sweetness.
“in this world, it’s just us. you know it’s not the same as it was.”
Laying here with her, the entire world melted away. The street lights were nothing more than highlights in the shadows casting across the walls of the bedroom, the sound of a siren in the distinct merely white noise. None of it mattered to Eddie; the only thing that mattered was the feeling of her head on his chest and her warm fingertips dancing over his stomach in soothing circles beneath his shirt. All he wanted to care about was the sound of her deep breaths, timing perfectly with his own.
He had spent the night out with friends. A loud dinner at a nicer restaurant, discussions of simpler times as they compared what their lives were now. How they had all moved away from their hometown, how they were all official adults now. Steve had just gotten a job as a school counselor, Nancy was running her own local newspaper, Dustin had just been accepted into his first choice college - they were all growing and changing, leaving behind the people they once were.
Eddie found himself panicking halfway through the night, getting lost in his own head as he had listened to his friends indulge in the details of their new lives. He missed them, awfully. These days, they could only find one or two days a month if they were lucky to catch up this way, a stark change from the way they used to see each other every single day. Everyone was always busy. Everyone was always on the move.
He had changed too. The moment he’d graduated and saved up, Eddie had moved to the bigger city. He was playing small gigs here and there as a solo-act, taking classes at a community college. It’s not like he had stayed the same, but on nights like tonight, it reminded him of just how much he had changed. And it was usually fine, manageable, but tonight had simply felt like a bit heavy of a reminder.
But then he came home to her.
She was something that had been a part of his change, too. In a chance encounter as he packed up one night after a show, she’d approached him. All shy smiles and fiddling hands as she complimented him on his performance. He doesn’t know what had gotten into him, but he found himself offering to buy her a drink, because she was a pretty girl, and she was talking to him. One drink turned to two, which turned to three. Stories were told, names were learned, and numbers were exchanged. The rest, as some would put it, was history.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmurs against his shoulder, leaning her head back to get a good look at him.
He looks down at her, enamored by the way the shadows dance across her cheek bones and how her eyes still shine with just as many stars in them as they did that first night. “Just thinkin’ about how things change.”
“Good change, or bad change?”
He thought about the last year with her. How she had gone above and beyond for his birthday, going so far as to even contact his Hawkins’ friends and bring them all into town for one night. That night, he’d gotten multiple ‘she’s a keeper’ talks. He thought about their first few dates, and how goddamn nervous he had been for the other shoe to drop. But it never did. She still came back for more, even after that date in which he’d accidentally locked them out of his van, and it inconveniently began to pour down rain. She still wanted to see him after he’d spilled his wine onto her during their first time eating at a nicer restaurant, making him curse and nearly cry before she took his hands in hers and promised him it was fine. The shirt could be replaced, but the moment couldn’t.
“It’s a cute story for the grandkids, right?”
When she said that, he saw a fear in her eyes. She was worried she was talking about the future too soon; it was only their third date.
She wasn’t. He had decided he wanted to marry her by the second date.
Everything about Eddie Munson’s life had evolved and changed from what it once was, and it was for the better, and it was thanks to her. For the first time in twenty-five years, he saw a future for himself, and he saw it with her.
“Good change,” he promises with a whisper, reaching down to cradle her jaw before bringing his lips to hers chastely, “Such good change.”
She hums against his lips, a small smile cracking. He rolls them over, caging her in with his arms as he hovers over her, drinking in her every feature. The way her hair spills out around her against the pillow, the way her face is so breathtaking even with sleep lines on her cheeks.
“I love you,” he quietly confesses, the words still lighting her up like it was the first time he’d ever said them, “I love you so fucking much.”
“And I love you,” she says in return, bringing a gentle hand to his cheek that he nuzzles into without hesitation, only pulling away to press a kiss to her palm.
He dips in for a proper kiss, his hair falling down like a curtain around them as their lips meet.
Things were always changing, and always would be. But sometimes, it changes for the better. Sometimes, it changes so you can meet the right girl at just the right time, and maybe that wasn’t so bad.
Eddie Munson’s life may not be the same as it once was, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
been toying with the concept of vampirism as like, needing something that you inherently can't provide for yourself. vampirism as dependency- especially in cases of vampires who refuse to (or straightup *cannot* for whatever reason) feed on anyone without consent, who must rely on blood freely given by living humans.
an independent young adult, so eager to move out on her own and see the world by herself, is turned into a vampire. her human parents are willing to feed her, but now she'll be dependent on them. she can't move away, can't stray too far from the family farm by herself, because she can't be too far from her source of blood for too long. she's afraid of what will happen when her parents are too old to give blood to her, if she'll be able to find someone else to depend on. she'll outlive them all eventually, if she's not left to starve.
a sociable vampire with a wide network of human friends who are willing to offer up their blood to her. they're happy to help her, but she still feels like a monster for having to take their blood all the time. she tries to take as little as possible while they beg her please take more, we hate seeing you so hungry all the time, please let us help.
a vampire trapped in an abusive marriage because he relies on his wife for blood. if he leaves her without an alternate support system to feed him, he'd starve. she isolated him from all his other loved ones who might've been willing to feed him years ago. she holds the fact that she gives him her blood over his head anytime he tries to defend himself.
This kind of thing is why I look at vampirism as a dimension of disability - it's impossible for me to look at their circumstances and not see the vulnerabilities and complex logistical problems imposed by chronic illnesses. It's the absolute inability to be exposed to the sun - sometimes even inability to move or stay awake when the sun is up. It's the inability to take other forms of nourishment besides blood. It's the mental and emotional experience of being unable to focus on anything else if you get too hungry.
But, as in these examples (and especially the "what happens when I outlive my parents?"), it is indeed overwhelmingly about "what if I just can't meet my own needs on my own?" and that is a very common experience.
And having been both disabled and an abusive survivor, I find that juxtaposition particularly fascinating, because it's common as hell - vastly moreso than most people realise - for those things to coincide. I often fin horror fiction the most emotionally and creatively useful genre lens for exploring difficult real-life experience, and stuff like this is why.
