Lala

I reblog random shit when I'm bored. Enjoy 😊

[lev-calder-deactivated20230421]

[You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be like.] … Mean and scary?

JOSEPH QUINN as EDDIE MUNSON in STRANGER THINGS 4: VOL. 1 (2022)

[jjangredpanda]

[roanniom]

They cast Joseph Quinn solely because of the face he can make when he screams

[eddie-munsons-balls-deactivated]

Yeah…

[roanniom]

Yeah

[whiplashsquid]

I don't post about this show much, but B99 was one of my favourite shows for a long time, and was especially important to me in my preteens and helped me through many major life changes

Rest easy Captain Holt

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door. 

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative. 

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning. 

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself. 

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together. 

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates. 

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town. 

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by. 

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge. 

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.  

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon. 

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant  forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another. 

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check. 

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri. 

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good! 

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations. 

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van. 

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum. 

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.  

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint. 

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment. 

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?  

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed. 

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling. 

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die. 

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him. 

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten. 

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow. 

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.” 

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.” 

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied. 

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos. 

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived. 

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself. 

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap. 

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back. 

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street. 

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now. 

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format. 

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title. 

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins. 

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain. 

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.” 

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance.. 

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.” 

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness. 

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.” 

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile. 

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t. 

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder. 

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition. 

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now. 

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath. 

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all. 

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern. 

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside. 

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold. 

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?” 

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose. 

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?” 

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.” 

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.” 

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero. 

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm. 

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air. 

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked. 

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals. 

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat. 

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more. 

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.” 

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.” 

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind. 

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail. 

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory. 

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

[flameprincess86]

This chapter was amazingly written and can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next.

[ryan-waddell11]

a mood

[grimandghoulish]

reblog if you remember what it felt like to walk into blockbuster

reblog if you remember what it felt like to walk into blockbuster

[trashmouth-richie]

I can smell it

[sidereustales]

Sink Your Teeth Into Me - Part I

Part II

Pairing: vampire hunter!Eddie Munson x fem!vampire!reader

Summary: Eddie Munson, descendant to a line of vampire hunters, thought he knew everything he needed to know about behind a hunter and the creatures who stalked the night. Until he met you and you turned out to be the very thing he had sworn to destroy.

Contains: SMUT, ANGST, unprotected p in v sex, blood, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, reader dies (gets turned into vampire), magic, bodily harm, gore/description of injury, fear, brief self harm, mentions of the death of a close family member, vomit, no use of y/n, violence, set in the 90s, mentions of death and minor character death, witches, Eddie picks reader up (he has supernatural strength), ONE scene where Eddie is violent towards reader (he finds out what she is)

Word Count: 13.9k+

Masterlist

A/N: This story contains some darker themes. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please take care of yourself first. Special thanks to @allthingsjoeq for helping me out so much during the writing process and my beta readers, @xxhellfiregirlxx and @lilthbunny you’re all wonderful. ♥️

I do not give permission to have my work copied, translated, rewritten, put into any AI programs, or reposted

It was easy to forget what your life was like before you knew the truth about the world. That truth was a simple one, monsters were real, and they looked just like everyone else. 

Gone were the days of blissful ignorance where the only thing you feared from walking the streets at night was another fellow human. Gone were the days of silver jewelry being merely a preference and not a necessity.  Gone were the days of looking upon a full moon and seeing its beauty, now instead wondering what creatures called to it in the dead of night. 

Now you walked among the knowing. 

In the small town of Hawkins was where the truth was revealed to you. You had moved to the midwestern town in hopes of a fresh start. A home to finally call your own. Perhaps if you were lucky enough, a family. But those hopes were replaced with a need for survival once you began a position as bartender for The Hideout.

The Hideout was unlike any bar you had ever worked in before. Technically, The Hideout didn’t exist. To the unknowing residents of Hawkins, they only knew of Murray’s. A dingy bar known for its outdated 60s decor by the town's cemetery. This unsuspecting little bar was the cover for the infamous Hideout. 

A speakeasy for the very beings whose life mission was to rid the world of the creatures who stalked the night.

A speakeasy for monster hunters.

The owner of the establishment, Murray Bauman, despite not being a hunter himself, was a respected and notable figure within the community who did his due diligence to keep the secret bar safe from outsiders and unwelcome guests.

The Hideout could only be accessed through the back door of Murrays, to the pantry. Hidden behind a false shelf was a staircase leading to the building's sub-level. A series of old tunnels led you to a guarded iron door laced in silver and salt. Impenetrable to any monster who might come across it, with a bouncer sitting right outside of it. A skilled hunter in his own right. 

Even if you did manage to find the secret entrance and make your way there, that still did not guarantee access. In order to gain entry you had to pass two tests. The first of which was to show the mark that all hunters were born with, a birthmark beneath their collar bone in the shape of a trident with a curled tail and two crescent moons that sat in the center of it, back to back.

The second test was the silver test. A silver coin would be placed in the hand of the recipient. If the coin caused you no harm, you were allowed in. 

While the hideout was only intended for hunters there was an exception made for the few humans Murray employed. 

When you first applied for the job it was for Murray’s. You didn’t even know The Hideout existed. Until one one night you witnessed two hunters disposing of a foolhardy young vampire who wanted a peek inside the fabled Hideout. After that, Murray offered you a job in exchange for your silence. You gladly took it and never spoke of the incident again. 

Your very first shift was when you met him.

The first time you saw him he had blood on his face. 

You knew Eddie to be a regular based on what your co-workers were able to fill you in on. Always coming in right before closing for a quick drink. Sometimes two if the day had been a particularly grueling one. Some days he was accompanied by his hunting partner Gareth since most hunters preferred to work in pairs. But more often than not Eddie came in alone. He didn’t talk to many people outside of your co-worker Steve and occasionally Murray or the town sheriff if he was around. 

He always sat on the same stool at the end of the bar. Many times you caught him staring at the photo directly on the wall in front of him. It was a framed photograph of the bar's founders in their youth. Your boss Murray, the Sheriff Jim Hopper, and another man that you’ve never seen before with crystal blue eyes and cropped short hair. 

You spotted the small red blotch on Eddie’s chin as you watched him sip at his bourbon, eyes strained on that photograph. Thinking not much of it, you walked over to him from behind the bar with a sway of your hips that had him looking up from the amber liquid in his glass. You handed him a napkin and pointed out the spot of blood. His dark brown eyes had bored into yours as he gingerly took the napkin from your hand with a muttered thank you. Your hands brushed ever so slightly. Then you were gone again, tending to the other patrons. 

He’d noticed you since the first moment he walked into the bar. Having not recognized you, he was weary of you at first. But something about the way your skin felt against his had him watching you the rest of that night. Memorized by your beauty and serene charm. 

Eddie had not been witness to such beauty in years. His life was full of the macabre as of late. Blood. Monsters. Violence. So much violence. 

He had a craving for something tender. Something calm to quell the dark storming of his mind.

He thought he could find that in you.

He felt it when he looked at you. This quietness. This goodness. He ached to be near you. To feel that tranquility you provided for him. 

So, every Friday he’d come to the bar. No matter how tired or how much his body ached from the day's activities. 

He’d scrub himself clean of any blood or grime and sit in that same stool with that same glass of bourbon, and he’d watch you work. He’d watch your easy smile you gave to each customer. So genuine he really believed you were that happy to see each and everyone. He’d watch your hands as they’d skim over the various bottles on the wall until you found the one you were looking for. He’d listened to your laughter that never failed to warm the icy hollowness of his chest as you joked around with a co-worker. 

You were an angel, and he was the yearning devil seeking your affections. He only hoped he didn’t force you to fall. 

“Are you ever gonna talk to her?” his friend Steve teased from behind the bar, a knowing smile on his face. Eddie merely glowered at his friend as he sipped at his drink.

“She doesn’t bite.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes as he looked back to you, eyes trailing over your figure as you tended to another patron. 

“Just ask her out man,” Gareth who sat beside him butted in. “This longing staring is getting old.”

He didn’t listen, of course. It was another week before he finally mustered up the courage to speak to you.

“Excuse me,” he held his glass up in the air in want of a refill, and your attention.

You approached him with a smile on your face. The sight made his heart flutter. As you poured the bourbon you could feel his eyes on you. You always did.  You looked up at him and took in his appearance as you made your way to him. The silver rings of his hand clinked against the glass as he raised it, looking up at you with dark brown eyes past his bangs. His hair pulled back into a messy bun. 

“What’s your name?” he asked you quietly, his voice held a softness that contrasted with his otherwise rough appearance.

You told him, and asked for his in return. Even though you already knew it from your co-workers.

“Eddie.”

When you walked away to tend to another customer Eddie repeated your name inside his head like a mantra. He seared it into the crevices of his mind, now finally having a name for the angelic face that consumed his dreams most nights. 

He didn’t show up to the bar for a week after that. 

When he finally walked through the door to The Hideout, you breathed a sigh of relief. You always knew with him being a hunter there was a possibility he’d never walk through those doors again. Your heart ached for him all those days he was missing. Seeing him again, being in his presence, filled a hole you didn’t know had grown. Despite your relief to see him, the state of him had panic striking through your veins. 

He stumbled into the bar, covered in blood and other grime. One arm over the bouncer's shoulder while his other arm hung loosely at his side as blood dripped down to the ground. One of his legs was also injured as he walked with a limp. You rushed over to him without a second thought, abandoning the sheriff you were tending to. You and the bouncer Hank guided Eddie to one of the dark red leather booths and helped him sit. The Sheriff who was sitting at the bar stood and ordered one of the other hunters to get your boss Murray while you made quick work to remove his long leather coat and inspect the wound. 

A chunk of his flesh was missing from his arm. Muscle and skin torn away. You couldn’t see bone, but you suspected that it almost reached that point. 

“Eddie,” you gasped as you looked at the wound. 

“Should see the other guy,” he replied weakly. 

One of your coworkers, a younger hunter with dark brown skin and a high top fade that you came to know as Lucas, seemed rather frazzled by the whole situation. He handed you a dish cloth and a bottle of vodka with wide eyes as he looked at the gaping wound. You handed the bottle to Eddie. 

“Drink this,” you ordered him.

“Not my drink sweetheart,” he shook his head disapprovingly as he looked at the bottle of liquor.

“Drink it. Now. It’ll help with the pain.” 

Eddie looked at you with a slight raise to his brow at your stern tone, having never heard it from you before. He took the bottle from you and took a swig. His face scrunched up sourly as the vodka hit his tongue. You pressed the dishcloth to his arm in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Eddie hissed through his teeth as he clutched the bottle tighter, his knuckles turning white. He took another swig.

“What happened?” Sheriff Hopper demanded, looking at Eddie. 

“Bloodsuckers on the town border,” Eddie explained. “They got Gareth.” 

The hunters began murmuring amongst each other. A cacophony of confusion and anger. Your eyes scanned the room uneasily. You could feel the tension in the room grow and grow. Murray burst through the door as the uproar began, with the hunter who was sent to fetch him trailing behind.

“What’s going on?” His attention remained between Eddie and Hopper. 

“Those damn bloodsuckers. They got past the barrier,” Eddie huffed in response before taking another swig of the vodka. 

“What happened to the protection spell?” Hopper questioned, speaking up over the commotion.

“I don’t know Hop,” Eddie replied through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you ask the goddamn witches who fucking made it?” 

“Watch your tone with me boy,” Hopper said warningly with narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at him.

Murray turned to Lucas, a stern tone to his voice as he said his name. He grabbed a pen from his pocket and quickly scribbled something down before handing it to the younger man.

“Call this number, tell them something is wrong with the barrier and that we have an injured hunter in need of healing. We’re going to the Sanctuary, they need to send someone there.”

Lucas quickly nodded as he ran over to the bar's phone and started dialing the number. You watched as Eddie’s jaw clenched, his stoney eyes trained on the buzz haired man in front of him.

“Why didn’t you answer my page?” Eddie questioned him. 

Hopper looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Your what?” He looked to Murray like he was expecting him to explain for the young man. 

“My page Hops. I paged you on your goddamn pager!” Eddie’s fist hit the table in a sudden burst of frustration. You flinched from it and he gave you a sympathetic look, putting his hand over yours that was still holding pressure on his wound.

“You know I don’t use that shit!”

“Yeah, and look what happened!” Eddie snapped at the older man.

“That’s enough!” Murray waved his arms out to both of them. “Everyone take a fucking breath. Jim, grab him. You’re helping me take him to the witches.”

Hopper helped Eddie up by his good arm with a scowl on his face. You rose from your seat to try and help but Murray stopped you. 

“You’re staying here. I’m not gonna get any shit from them for bringing a normie with us.”

Normie. He said it as if he wasn’t one. A regular human just like you. You wanted to protest. To be there for Eddie in his time of need. But you knew Murray was right. You’d never met a witch before. That you knew of. But you knew they were just as secretive as the hunters, and they did not appreciate Murray hiring normies to The Hideout as it was. So you stayed quiet. Even though every part of you was begging you to follow after Eddie and make sure he was alright. You went back to work as Hopper, Murray, and Eddie left to treat his wounds. Some of the other hunters followed them out in search of the vampires that had killed their friend.

After the two older men helped Eddie into Hopper’s truck they sped off to the Sanctuary. Just like The Hideout, the Sanctuary was unknown to the normies of Hawkins. Hidden from plain view and only accessible by certain means.

Hopper pulled up to the town's library, an old three story brick building, helping Eddie out without even bothering to put his truck into park. 

Murray banged on on the front doors of the building. He was impatient and on edge, so when it wasn’t answered right away he banged away some more. Before he could knock again the door swung open to reveal a younger witch in a pair of baggy overalls with short brown-blonde hair that reached her chin.

“What part of secret sanctu–” The older man didn’t even let her finish. He simply pushed past her with Hopper and Eddie following behind. “Where’s High Priestess Byers?” he asked demandingly. 

The younger woman huffed, “She went to the site of the attack to fix the barrier.” 

“What about the other witches? The kid needs healing.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” she replied curtly.

“What? They sent a kid? No–”

“Murray,” Eddie spoke up over the older man. “She’s not a kid and neither am I. Robin’s good. Wheeler would have been better, but she’s good.” 

Murray sighed and gestured for Robin to lead them to the entrance to the sanctuary. They followed her to the back of the library and watched as she pulled down one of the books on the shelves. Arthur Miller's The Crucible was put to its spine as she muttered the words of the old religion. There was a click and the shifting of a mechanism as the bookcase popped open revealing a secret entrance with a winding staircase leading down. 

“Do you expect him to go down there?” Murray scoffed.

“I don’t have any supplies on me. Unless you have a mortar, pestle, cauldron, calendula officinalis and devils claw in your back pocket?”

When he didn’t reply Robin hummed and began her descent down the stairs.The men followed behind with Hopper supporting and assisting Eddie. The stairs were dark, the only light source coming from the top of them from the entrance.When the bookcase closed behind them they were shrouded in darkness making all the men freeze on the steps, not able to see ahead of them. Robin held her hands up in front of her and muttered more words none of the men understood. A number of small balls of light appeared around them, fighting away the darkness. She gestured for the men to keep following and as they did the lights followed with them.

When they finally reached the bottom they found themselves in a room lined with bookshelves on one side and cots on the other. 

“Put him on a bed, take off his coat,” Robin instructed.

Hopper gently helped Eddie onto one of the small cots, helping him swing his injured leg over. Eddie winced at the biting pain as Hopper helped pull his leather coat off. He muttered to a small sorry kid in return. The witch walked over and sat on a small stool beside Eddie. She carefully grabbed his arm and inspected it.

“How long is a healing potion going to take?” Eddie questioned.

Robin looked up at him, a slight look of shock on her face. “Healing potion? For an injury this bad? This needs a regeneration spell!” 

“Whatever, can you just do something?” he grumbled, head falling back against the flat pillow below him.

Robin pulled the leg of his pants up to look at his leg next. She spoke the words of the old religion once again as her hands hovered over his leg. Her eyes glowed gold for a fraction of a second, making Eddie sit up to try and see what she was doing.

“Yep, definitely a regeneration. You tore your ACL.” 

She stood and turned to the bookshelves, catching Murray inspecting one of the books that laid across one of the large work tables.

“Don’t touch that!” She yelled at the older man. He jumped back in surprise, quickly pulling his hands away. “Normies,” she muttered under her breath before she went to the work table Murray was standing behind and ushered him away so she could get to work in preparing the spell.

Murray went over to Hopper and Eddie, taking a seat at the stool that Robin previously occupied. 

“How ya feeling kid?” He patted his good arm.

“Fuckin’ peachy,” Eddie grumbled. 

“Talk to us,” Hopper urged. “What happened?”

Eddie sighed, wincing as he sat up slightly. “We were just driving past the border when we were ambushed. We were low on stakes because of the nest we had just taken out in Indianapolis and my gun jammed. We only got a few of them but one of them—“ he cleared his throat before continuing, feeling a lump form at the base of his throat. “One of them got Gareth. Just…snapped his neck. It happened so fast I couldn’t–”

“Hey, hey,” Hopper soothed, putting his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault kid.” 

Eddie nodded, his eyes clenching shut for a moment as he fought back the tears that stung his eyes.

Robin came back to them, a mortar in hand with a green paste inside. Eddie laid back down as she stood in front of Murray with raised brows, giving him a perturbed look from where he sat on the stool she was previously occupying. When he didn’t get the hint she cleared her throat and gestured to the seat. Murray stood with a roll of his eyes. Once Robin took her place on the stool she scooped up some of the thick green substance in her hand and began rubbing it into his wound. It smelt foul. Like a murky swamp.

“FUCK!” Eddie exclaimed as he felt a deep burning pain. It bubbled and sizzled against him, seeping into the wound. He gripped onto the sides of the cot, bending the metal with his strength. 

Robin rubbed more of the paste onto his knee, ignoring his yells of pain. “Seriously Munson?” she asked teasingly. “I thought you were supposed to be a big bad hunter.” 

He breathed deeply through his nose and clenched his eyes shut, choosing to ignore her teasing. The witch reached into her overall pocket with her clean hand and pulled out a small clear crystal and set it gingerly at the center of his chest. Eddie opened his eyes when he felt her place something by his mouth. A leather strap was held out for him to take. He groaned, but bit down on the strap.

“Now for the part that’s really going to suck,” Robin patted at his head as she stood up from her stool and held her hands out over his body. 

She began to chant ancient and long forgotten words. A gentle glow emitted from the small crystal on his chest. The men all stared at it in wonder. No matter how often any of them had seen magic, it was always a sight to behold a witch at work. 

But Eddie’s marveling quickly turned to a deep and fiery hot pain. His entire body went rigid. His eyes clamping shut as every nerve in his body was set ablaze. He could feel his skin, muscles, and ligaments reforming. His scream of pain was muffled by the leather in his mouth. With clenched fist and teeth, tears pricked at his eyes. 

But then it was over. The consuming fire of agony snuffed out by a simple drop of Robin's hands. 

His chest heaved from exertion. He felt like he’d just run a marathon, an ache to his body he wasn’t accustomed to. He slowly sat up on the cot, removing the leather strap from his mouth. He felt a wave of nausea hit him suddenly. Without him having to say a word, Robin quickly wiped the paste from her hand and grabbed a bucket from beside the cot. She set it in his lap as Eddie retched, emptying the contents of his stomach into the tin pail. She rubbed at his back with one hand and held his hair back with the other as he gagged and heaved, slumped over in a rather depressing sight. 

“There ya go,” she cooed encouragingly. “Don’t worry this is more than normal.”

The bile burned at his throat and for a moment he regretted ever seeking help from the witch. With a final spit into the bucket Eddie turned his head to look up at her with glassy eyes. “I fucking hate magic,” he groused. 

“No you don’t, you love it. Everyone does.” Robin chuckled.

He shot her a glare as he handed her the sour smelling bucket and went to stand up from the bed.

“Easy, easy,” Robin warned, setting the pail on the ground and putting a hand to his back. 

He ignored her as he swung his legs over the edge and held his hand out for his leather coat that Hopper was holding onto. The sheriff handed it back to him and he put it on, a gaping hole in the sleeve. As he stood up Robin put her hand on his arm over the hole and muttered something under her breath. Eddie watched as the leather reformed around his arm, sealing the hole.

“Gotta be careful with this Munson, Wayne would have a fit if he knew you weren’t taking care of it,” Robin said as she lowered her hand back to her side. 

Eddie gave her a slight smile. “Thanks Buckley. For everything.”

The men left the sanctuary, piling back into the sheriff's truck. As Hopper drove down the streets of Hawkins Eddie saw they were going in the opposite direction of the barrier breach and leaned forward over the back of the console from the back seat. 

“Where are you going?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“Taking you home. You’re in no shape to fight after that. That spell kicks your ass. I know you’re feeling like shit.” Hopper explained, turning his head only for a second to look back at Eddie.

“No, I'm fine. They may need us at the barrier they–”

Murray cut him off, “The barrier’s been sealed already. They’re still looking for a couple fangs though. I got a page while that witch was making you spew your guts out,” He held up his pager to show him. 

“See what kind of information you can get when you pay attention to your pager, Hopper?” Eddie glared at the older man who just rolled his eyes in return. “Did they figure out how they made it past the barrier?”

Murray scratched at his head, “That's the thing. High Priestess Byers found some traces of magic, they just haven’t figured out who's yet.” 

Eddie’s brows furrowed in confusion. “A witch?” he scoffed. “A witch let the vampires in?” 

“Seems like it,” Murray shrugged. 

Eddie slumped back into his seat, watching out the window as they passed building after building. He had heard a lot of crazy things in his 20-something years. But a witch working with vampires? That was unheard of. Witches hated vampires as much as hunters did. Arguably, they hated them more. 

Vampires were dangerous. But a rogue witch was far worse. Eddie had been trained by his father to not fear the things he was supposed to hunt, but he was terrified. 

You didn’t see Eddie for two days after that night. Most of the hunters were busy tracking down the vampires that had made it past the barrier the other night. It had been a shitty two days for him. All he wanted was to see you again and be surrounded by the peace you brought him.

When Eddie came back into the bar you were in the middle of closing up, sweeping the floors. Any other customer you would have turned them away. You weren’t supposed to allow anyone to stay after closing, especially when none of the bouncers were around. But he looked like he needed a drink…and you had really missed him.

Eddie expected you to turn him away. But inside you stopped sweeping to go behind the bar and make him his usual drink. He took a seat at his spot when you set the glass down on the counter.

“Thanks angel,” he tipped his glass to you before he took a sip. The nickname made your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks. 

“Did they leave you all alone to close?” Eddie asked, his index finger swirling around the rim of his glass

“Yeah. I was the only normie working tonight so…” you shrugged and just as you were about to get back to cleaning up you heard a disappointed and gruff sound come from him. “What?” you questioned confused.

“They left you alone when vamps made it past the barrier.”

You leaned over the bar towards him, resting your head in your hands. “Yeah, alone in a secret bar protected by a door of iron, salt, and silver.” You nodded. A smile crept up your cheeks when you realized he was being protective of you.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you about the witch. He didn’t want to scare you, especially when they hadn’t found them yet. He hummed, a disapproving sound as he reached into his coat. He pulled out a silver dagger with a black hilt and set it on the bar in front of you. It wouldn’t do much for a fight against a witch, but it would work for a bloodsucker.

“Silver dagger laced in mistletoe. You should take it, for protection.”

“Don’t you need it?”

He shook his head and pushed it closer to you. “I’ve got plenty, angel.”

“Thank you,” You picked the dagger up and inspected it. Down the blade were intricate engravings in a language you did not recognize or understand. “Mistletoe, huh?”

“One of their weaknesses, it won’t kill ‘em but it’ll hurt like hell and give you a fighting chance.” He nodded. He reached behind his head and took his hair out of the bun that it was slowly falling out of, letting the long locks fall just above his shoulders. You tried not to stare as he ran his hand through his hair. 

“They must really hate christmas.”

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly as his head fell forward with crinkled eyes. You’d never seen him laugh before but it was a beautiful sight. His laughter was airy and bright. An intoxicating sound that had you laughing along with him. 

As much as you wanted to spend the rest of the night talking and laughing with him, you did have to finish closing up. You went back to sweeping up the floor. Eddie couldn’t help but watch you as he did. He took in the short skirt you were wearing and the way it hugged your thighs. He could feel himself tightening in his jeans as he watched your hips sway with each step. 

You knew he was staring. You wanted him to look at you. The game of cat and mouse you seemed to play had grown tiresome. You wanted him to finally make some kind of move. When you looked back at him over your shoulder and bent down to pick up a discarded napkin Eddie finally got the hint.

He rose from the barstool and quickly made his way over to you, his hands going to your hips. You felt as he moved your hair away from your neck and leaned down to your hear. When you felt his hot breath against your skin you whimpered.

That was the last straw.

He pushed you up against the wall, his lips pressed to yours nearly knocking the air out of your lungs with the force of it. Noses bumping against each other as he held you flush against him, groaning when your hands traveled into his hair and tangled in his curly locks. Eddie kissed you with a hunger that had you whimpering into his mouth. His hands roamed over your body, finger tips finding their way under the hem of your shirt to feel at your soft and warm skin. You could feel the calluses of his fingers as they dug into your flesh and the rapid beating of his heart matched your own.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me it’s not just me,” he begged. He had an uneasiness to his voice like he was afraid of your answer. Like he was afraid of your rejection. 

“I want you,” you whispered in return.

He groaned deeply from his throat as he pressed his lips back to yours, licking into your mouth. You moaned as his tongue traced over yours. His lips traveled to your jaw and nipped at the skin. “I should be taking you home with me.” He continued his descent to your neck, grazing his teeth over your pulse point in a way that had you shivering. “Should be treating you the way you deserve.” 

“You can treat me right without taking me home,” you replied breathlessly as his hand slid down and under the hem of your skirt. You spread your legs wider for him.

Eddie grinned against your skin, “Yeah? Gonna let me treat you right angel?” 

“Please,” you begged as you felt his hand brush over your clothed core. 

He fell to his knees without a word. 

He pushed your skirt past your hips and grabbed at the fabric of your tights, ripping them away from your skin. You gasped as you looked down at him. His eyes were blown with lust. “Eddie,” you scolded half-heartedly. “I liked those!”

“I’ll buy you more,” he chuckled as he pulled your panties down your legs. “These however,” he held up the black lace in his hands. “Too pretty to ruin.” He tossed them behind him and lifted one of your legs to rest against his shoulder as he kissed up the inside of your thigh. Eddie’s deep brown eyes came face to face with your cunt and he let out a guttural moan that had you clenching around nothing. He swiped his thumb over your clit making you keen. A divine sound that ran in his ears like a symphony. He hummed appreciatively at the feeling of your slickness. You gripped onto his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Gonna worship you baby,” he said quietly as he dipped his face in between your legs. He kissed over the lips of your pussy before he slid his tongue through you. You moaned, letting your head fall back and lightly thudding against the wall as he made out with your cunt, his thumb carressing gentle circles against your sensitive clit. 

“I’ve wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you,” he confessed. “Dreamt of it. Of you.” 

You whimpered as he attached his mouth to your little bundle of nerves, licking and sucking at it as the tip of his index finger prodded at your entrance. He slowly sunk it into you, reveling in the feeling of your wet and warm walls around it. You moaned his name as his finger curled into you with a come hither motion. You could feel the stark contrast of his cold silver rings against your hot skin. His cock twitched at every sound you made. He ached for you. 

“That’s it my angel,” he cooed, making heat blossom in your center from his words. You looked down at him to see him staring up at you as he sucked back onto your clit. His dark brown eyes looked at you with a tenderness that had you clenching around him. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured against you as he pushed his middle finger into you. Now fucking you with two fingers, he picked up his pace slightly making the tingling heat of pleasure expand and grow throughout your body. You could hear the wetness between you as his fingers thrusted into you. A sinful sound that had him moaning into you.

“Cum for me angel,” he begged. His voice was rough and quiet. “Just let go, I want to taste it.” 

He sucked your clit back into his mouth, stroking his tongue over it. “F-fuck Eddie!” You moaned as you clenched around his fingers once again, tugging harshly on his hair making him mewl into you. Your orgasm hit you in an intense wave as he hungrily lapped at your cunt. Your legs shook but he kept you steady, keeping you upright. 

“Good girl.”

He rose from his knees and licked your arousal off his lips before he kissed you. The taste of you was still on his tongue. Your hands went for his jeans, quickly undoing the button and zipper to push it down his hips. You pulled his hard cock out, swiping at the angry red tip as it leaked precum. Eddie moaned into your mouth, bordering on a whine as you pumped him in your fist. 

“I’ve been dreaming of you too,” you whispered against his lips. “Dreamt of having you inside me. Need you inside me Eddie.”

He practically growled at your words, cock twitching in your hand.

“Not gonna last if you keep doing that angel,” he warned as he pulled your hand away from his dick. He grabbed you by the back of your thighs and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around him as he held you against the wall with an unnatural ease and show of strength. 

With your skirt still bunched around your hips he brought the leaking tip to your hole, slowly pressing into your wet heat. “Take a deep breath for me sweetheart.” You obliged as he began to push into you, taking his time inch by inch. He hissed through his teeth at the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

You pulled him in for a desperate kiss by his hair, licking into his mouth as he slowly stretched you out. When he finally filled you to the hilt he let out a strangled moan while you whimpered. His head fell to the crook of your neck as he languidly thrusted in and out of you. You felt so full of him. He was everywhere. Caging you in against the wall with his breath hot on your neck, panting and groaning into your skin. His hair tickled your jaw and he rubbed at your clit in gentle circles and pressed soft kisses to your neck, reveling in the way you enveloped his cock. “Feel so fucking good baby. Fuck.”

Your hands made his way to the hem of his shirt. You pushed up underneath it, feeling at his hot skin and the line of hair that led to his pelvis. The more your hands explored you felt a roughness, grooves and lines that you’d never known about. Before you could venture any further Eddie was pulling your hands away from his torso. 

“Don’t.”

You didn’t push it. Not when you saw the almost embarrassed look in his eyes when he lifted his head to look at you. Instead, you wrapped an arm over his shoulder while the other went to cup his face in your hand. You moved your hips with his, trying to force him as deep as possible into you. 

“Tell me what you need, angel,” he kissed at your cheek, whispering into the skin. 

“F-faster, harder,” you managed to utter. 

“Sure you can take it?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

You nodded rapidly, eyes squeezing shut with a whine.

His grip on you tightened, rings digging into the plush flesh as he sped up his pace. Hips rocking into you with a steady fervor as he pounded you into the wall. Despite his rough thrusts, he was still holding back from his full strength. Not wanting to actually hurt you. You gasped as you felt him find that soft spot inside you that shot a wave of pleasure through you. Your fingers pulled at his hair forcing, a throatily groan slipping past his lips. His fingers sped up on your clit trying to push you over the edge. 

“Eddie,” you whined, a sound that made his cock twitch as his orgasm teetered towards the edge. The tip of him repeatedly brushing against your g-spot made a heat pool in your core. Sounds of your slickness filled the room as he stayed the course, rutting into you with desperation. You clenched around him, knowing you weren’t that far behind. You clawed at his back and shoulders, his shirt the only barrier between your blunt nails and his skin. 

“Fuck, fuck sweetheart. Need you to cum. Need you to cum first angel,” he begged quietly and breathily into your ear. Your head flew back against the wall but you didn’t even feel the ache of it with him overloading your body with an intense heat of arousal. Your cunt clenched around him as you came, coating his cock in your release. His hips stuttered in rhythm as he pumped into you once, twice, a third time before he finished, spilling inside of you. 

He held you closely to him as you both tried to catch your breaths. He kissed your forehead sweetly, lips lingering on your sweaty skin a fraction longer than typical of such a kiss. “Good girl,” he cooed affectionately, making you hum happily in response. “Did so good for me.”

He held you for a while, until he started to soften inside of you. When he finally pulled out of you he watched as his release dripped out of you and down your thighs. He moaned at the sight, making you giggle before he grabbed some napkins from a nearby table and helped clean you up.

“Oh you don’t–” 

“Shush, I made the mess, let me clean it.” He swatted your hands away gently when you tried to stop him. You stared at him fondly while he cleaned you up, taking great care to be gentle. The contrast from how he was now to how he was when he fucked you was dizzying. He even retrieved the panties he had haphazardly thrown for you and helped you step back into them. 

For a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming. 

“Are you, uh, are you free this weekend?” he asked hesitantly. You tried you best to not laugh at his sudden shyness when he had only moments ago been fucking you into the wall.

“I’m free," you smiled at him.

“Would you like to…maybe get a drink? Or no, you work in a bar all the time you're not gonna want to go to a bar. Dinner, do you want to get dinner?” 

Your smile only widened as you looked at the bumbling man before you. “I’d love to have dinner with you.” 

You got drinks for the both of you and sat at one of the booths in the bar. Eddie had his arm slung around you while you leaned into him. The night continued on like that, sharing jokes and stories with one another. He told you about his hunting buddy Gareth, how he came to know him in high school and started working with him. He told you some hunting stories and about the nest of vampires he took out in Indianapolis the week he was gone, before he came back and was ambushed on the Hawkins border. He even told you about the mysterious man in the photo of The Hideouts founders. 

His uncle Wayne.

“He passed a few years ago,” Eddie explained. His eyes were downcasted onto his glass as he spoke. “He and my old man were tracking this nest out to Michigan,” he cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. There was a flash of something in his eyes. A pain that ached and never went away. You put your hand over his in hopes of providing him some comfort. He finally looked up at you, a sad smile on his face before continuing. “The nest was bigger than either of them expected. They, uh, they were overwhelmed and—” he trailed off with a deep sigh. “Yeah.”  

“He helped start this place?” you asked, hoping to bring the conversation to a happy place for him. 

Eddie nodded, his thumb stroked over the back of your hand. You don’t think he even realized he was doing it. 

“Hop and Murray were friends with him since they were kids. The only reason Murray even knows about all this is because Wayne saved him from a werewolf.” 

“A werewolf? I thought they were rare.”

“To Indiana, very. Especially nowadays. But Hawkins wasn’t like it is now. There was no barrier, creatures could come and go.” He explained. 

“Have you ever seen one before? A werewolf?” You questioned. 

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at the table. “Oh yeah. I’ve seen a werewolf. Met a real annoying one. He used a shit ton of hairspray and never shut up about the cubs.” 

You turned to him, a look of confusion on your face. “You’re joking right?”

“Afraid not. That’s Steve for you.”

“The werewolf’s name…is Steve?” You laughed. “Wait…Steve, Steve? The guy who works here, Steve?”

“That very one,” Eddie nodded. “Got turned a while back. I petitioned the witches High Priestess to let him live here so we could keep an eye on him when he first turned and help him control it.” 

You leaned on the table, head resting in your hand. “How do you…” you hesitated, unsure of how to ask. “How do you know when someones not…human? How do you tell?”

Eddie shook his head, twirling one of the rings on his finger. “You can't for the most part. Vamps and werewolves you usually don’t know until its too late…or you use one of their weaknesses on them. Witches you’ll never fucking know unless they want you too, they’re very secretive. Ghouls are easy, you can tell those nasty fuckers from a mile away just from the smell. Hunters at least have a mark—”  

The iron door to The Hideout opened with a creak, and Eddie quickly stood up, hand reaching for the gun in his coat. The tension in his shoulders immediately eased once he saw who it was.

“Hop, what are you doing here?”

“Me?” Hopper scoffed incredulously. “What the fuck have you been doing? Everyone’s been trying to reach you! And you give me shit for not checking my pager? I outta-”

“Hop, Hop, slow down. What happened?” Eddie asked, confused.

“Fucking vamps again. Two young hunters tracked them out to the woods, we haven’t heard from them since.” Hopper explained, rubbing at his bearded chin.

“Why were you trying to get a hold of me?”

“Eddie,” Hopper’s eyes softened for a moment. “Max was one of them.” 

At the sound of the name Eddie picked up his coat and put it on. He gave you a chaste kiss, “I’ll call you later. I gotta go angel.” 

You looked at him confused, but nodded. You’d never heard of this Max before, but clearly they were someone important to him. He rushed off with Hopper leaving you alone in the bar.

When you checked the time you saw how late it was. You quickly cleaned up after yourself then grabbed your coat and made your way out of the Hideout to go home and get some sleep.

The cold autumn air nipped at your skin as you closed the back door of Murray’s behind you. The alleyway was only illuminated by a distant street lamp at the end of it and the crescent moon that hung above you. You wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to conserve some heat. As you made your way out of the dark space you heard footsteps behind you. You quickly whipped around, eyes frantically searching the darkness for the source of the sound. You could see a figure in the distance. Your heart quickened as you turned around and kept walking, picking up your pace. The footsteps followed suit as they drew nearer. 

Your back hit the cold brick wall of Murrays, fingers dug into your skin as a hand wrapped around your neck. Staring back at you was a man with quiffed blonde hair, and blue eyes that swelled into an inky black. He grinned at you and you saw his fans.

“Please,” you begged with a gasp as he began to squeeze at your neck. The man only clicked his tongue in a sound of disappointment. “You’d think a hunter would know better than to leave such a poor defenseless human behind.” His voice dripped with feigned sympathy. “It’s pretty pathetic really,” he tilted his head as he faked a pout. “How easy you can break.” He squeezed at your neck harder, preventing the air from reaching your lungs. 

You reached into your coat for the silver dagger Eddie had given you and sliced it at his gut. He pulled away and stepped back with a painful hiss. 

“You bitch!” he exclaimed. He lunged for you and you sliced at his face. Once. Twice. Both cheeks now sporting two deep cuts. He grabbed you, twisting your arm until it snapped, making you drop the dagger. You cried out as he slammed your head against the brick wall. Searing pain erupted in your skull. You tried to fight him off but he was too strong, and your vision was starting to darken as black dots came to your eyes. He threw you onto the ground, grabbing the silver dagger you had dropped. He kneeled over you, and pushed the dagger into your stomach. You gasped at the burning pain as the blood from his cut up face dripped onto you and into your mouth. He grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and slammed your head against the pavement a few more times.

Until there was only darkness.

Eddie and Hopper arrived at the last known place Max and her hunting partner Lucy were known to be, the woods. Hopper had parked a ways away while they traveled the rest of the way by foot to make as little noise as possible. The whistling of the wind through the trees was the only sound that could be heard. The two men searched the area in hopes of some sign of them. But as they looked in the distance they heard a sound. They both crouched down, peering through a bush as they watched the scene before them. A large vampire dragged two young hunters behind him, their bodies limp as they laid across the ground. Eddie clutched tightly onto the gun in his hand until his knuckles whitened. 

“Easy,” Hopper whispered warningly when he saw the younger man tense

But as soon as Eddie saw a flash of red hair, he was no longer listening to reason. He stood from his hiding spot and charged at the vampires, aiming his gun at one of their chests. He fired off a shot and the large vampire fell to the ground with a thud as the wooden bullet pierced his heart, he watched as the monster’s body shriveled away to a state of decay. Eddie was yanked backwards as something grabbed the back of his coat. He reared back his gun and slammed the butt of it into the face of the person that had a grip on him. They managed to still pull him to the ground. 

Looming over him was a vampiric man, endless black eyes boring into him in a scowl. He swiped at his legs to bring him down with him. The vampire fell, and as he did Eddie took a stake out from his coat. He rose to his knees and lifted the stake above his head, before sinking it into the monster's heart.

The vampire cried out in pain, then went limp, decaying in front of him. Eddie rushed over to the young red headed hunter girl, cradling her in his arms.

“Max? Max?!” He tried to shake her back to consciousness. He put his middle and index finger onto her wrist and sighed in relief when he felt the beating of her heart. But when he checked the other girls, Lucy, he found none.

Another shot rang out and Eddie looked behind him to see another vampire that laid on the ground with Hopper standing behind him with his shotgun pointed at the creature. 

“God Dammit boy!” Hopper exclaimed. 

“We need to get them out of here.”

“More could be coming we–”

“We can’t just leave them they–”

“Dammit Ed that’s not what I’m saying! Just let me think for a moment!”

A rustling sound emerged in the distance behind them, both men quickly whipped around with guns pointed at the ready. Their guns flew out of their hands before they could make any use of them.

“Relax boys it’s just us,” High Priestess Byers emerged through the trees with her sons Jonathan and Will behind her, as well as a few other witches and Eddie’s friend Steve.

“What are you doing here Joyce?” Hopper questioned.

“I was told you were on top of this vampire business, that you had already taken care of most of them,” High Priestess Byers crossed her arms over her chest with a look of annoyance on her face.

“The smart ones are staying hidden. We’ll take care of them,” Hopper nodded before his eyes went to Steve. “What’s the wolf doing here?”

“Tracking the girls. It’s more subtle than a locating spell,” she explained. 

“Max needs help,” Eddie picked Max up, draping her over his arms. He carried her over to a curly haired witch named Nancy and they both kneeled down. She got to work, pulling a vial of a yellow liquid from her pocket and chanting the words of the old religion as she poured it into the young girl's mouth. 

Max began to cough and sat up with a start. Weakly she leaned her head against Eddie’s chest with a groan. Eddie petted her head with a soft smile, “Hey red.”

“And the other one?” Joyce looked to the other young girl on the ground by Hopper feet.

Hopper merely shook his head.

Joyce sighed and turned to her youngest son Will. “Notify the family–”

“It would be best if it came from a fellow hunter,” Hopper cut her off.

“Alright,” the High Priestess agreed. “But you should tell them as soon as possible.” 

She turned to Eddie next. “Come with us back to the sanctuary. We’ll check her out and give her some proper treatment there. Steve can help Hopper get Lucy back home. The rest of you can dispose of the fangs.”

Eddie nodded, and quickly grabbed his gun to holster it before he took the young red head into his arms as the other witches gathered the vampire's bodies. When he looked back at Hopper he saw the pained look in his eyes as he looked at Lucy. While Jonathan, Will, and Nancy followed Joyce, Eddie stayed behind for a moment with Hopper and Steve.

“Hop?” Eddie asked softly.

“She’s the same age as Jane,” He finally looked up at the younger man. “This could have been Jane.”

“But it wasn’t,” Steve put his hand on his shoulder. “Jane is safe. She’s with Robin at the covenstead.”

“I know,” Hopper cleared his throat. He kneeled down and took the young girl into his arms. “Let's get her back to her family.” 

Steve nodded, picking up Hoppers gun for him and he and Eddie said a quick goodbye before they went their separate ways, Eddie following after the High Priestess while Steve and Hopper went back towards his truck.

Back at the sanctuary Eddie sat at Max’s bedside nervously bouncing his knee as he waited for Nancy to finish the spell she was doing to heal her internal injuries. 

“Relax Munson,” Nancy said, perturbed. “She’s going to be fine.” 

“This isn’t that horrible spell that Buckley did on me is it?” He asked as Nancy set a small clear crystal on Max’s chest. 

“…it is” Nancy answered hesitantly. She took the mortar with the familiar green and swampy smelling paste inside and smeared some onto the girl's forehead. Eddie grabbed Max’s hand to give her something to squeeze. 

Then Nancy held her hands over the young girl's head. The crystal began to glow as she chanted the familiar words that Robin once did. Max’s eyes popped open abruptly as she screamed out in pain. She gripped so harshly onto Eddie’s hand he was afraid she might break it. But luckily for the young hunter the spell did not seem to last as long as it did for Eddie. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that Nancy was the best healer around, and he’d be lying if I said he wasn’t a little annoyed that Nancy hadn’t been the one to heal him that night instead of Robin.

Max breathed heavily as she tried to catch her breath, her eyes wide as she looked over between Eddie and Nancy frantically.

“Hey red,” Eddie said softly as he stroked at her hair. 

“W-what happened?” she asked frantically, eyes searching around the room. “Where’s Lucy?”

“You got attacked by a fang,” Eddie explained.

“And Lucy?”

Eddie’s face twisted into a look of sympathy. Max understood before he could say anything. “No,” her voice cracked as tears brimmed at her waterline.  

“I’m so sorry Max.”

Max sat up and wrapped Eddie into an embrace as she sobbed into his shoulder. He rubbed at her back to try to sooth her.

She was too young for this, he thought. Too young to lose a friend, a partner. But this was the hunter way. Thrusting kids no older than 18 into a world of death and nightmares. Sometimes he thought being a hunter wasn’t actually the gift they said it was, but rather a curse. 

He held her as she cried, spilling tears of his own for the young girl in his arms. 

That night, Eddie took Max back to their shared trailer.

He had taken her in after her mom was killed by a werewolf while out on a hunt. She was only 14 at the time and just coming into her hunter powers. His father told him he was ridiculous for taking in a kid that wasn’t his own when he himself was only 20. But Max and him had always shared a bond. 

She was the sister he never had, and he was the brother she always deserved. 

After Max went to sleep Eddie decided to leave a message on your answering machine for you in the morning.

Hey angel. I, uh, I had a really good time tonight. I’m sorry I had to leave so abruptly. My…my sister needed help and I—Have I told you about her yet? Her name is Max. I think you’d really like her. Anyway I just…fuck I wish you were here with me right now. But I’m really looking forward to our date. I hope you got home safe. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later yeah? I know you won’t hear this until the morning but…sweet dreams angel. I know I’ll be dreaming of you tonight…shit. That was so cheesy. Sorry. I’ll see you soon baby. Bye.

And that was what he did. 

While you laid cold and dead in the alleyway, Eddie dreamed of you. 

He dreamed of your soft skin and gentle touches. He dreamed of your quiet whimpers and melodic moans. He dreamed of the caress of your lips against his. He dreamed of your boisterous laugh and beaming smile. 

He dreamed of his angel and how he longed to see you again. 

Your skin was burning. A deep fiery pain that had you jolting awake. With a hiss you crawled away from the rising sun into the shadows. That was when you caught your reflection in a broken piece of glass. Black voidless eyes stared back at you. Your gums stung and when you opened your mouth you saw two bloody fangs poking out from your top ones. You picked up the shard, inspecting your new features with wide and fearful eyes. You dropped the glass as tears stung in your eyes. You crawled away and curled in on yourself as you sobbed.

Your fear was overwhelming but what was the most terrifying was that despite that, you could not feel the quickening of your heart that usually came with the territory. You could hardly feel your heartbeat at all.

You had to get out of there. You had to find a way home without being seen. You shrugged off your jacket and held it over your head as you stood. Your apartment wasn’t far from the hideout so you had to trust you could make it there without burning alive. 

You weaved through the alleyways, trying you best to stay predominantly in the shadows as you scurried home. The jacket, while it prevented you from bursting into flames, did not ward off the heat of the sun's rays and the pain that it inflicted. 

Once you made it inside your apartment you quickly threw off the steaming coat onto your floor. You breathed a heavy sigh as you stood in your dark apartment, curtains drawn and lights off. 

For now you were safe. But for how long?

You called in sick for the next week. After hearing the message Eddie had left you on your answering machine you couldn’t imagine ever facing him again. Not after what you had become. As the days passed you felt a horrible pain in your stomach that grew and grew. No matter what you ate, your hunger never seemed to subside. You knew what you were really craving, but you refused to give into temptation. To become the very thing you once feared. 

The transition into what you had become had been excruciating. Not only did your stomach always ache, but everything was always too loud. Cars driving by and honking was like hearing a bullhorn right into your ear, your ears rang consistently now. The lights were always too bright. You had to keep most of them off to relieve your stinging eyes. Every scent was too strong. You could smell your neighbors awful perfume from two doors down. 

It got easier eventually as the week went on as you grew more used to your heightened senses. 

Eddie called a few times to check up on you and you always did your best to reassure him that you were fine, that it was only a cold. But by the end of the week Murray was growing irritated with you. When he threatened to fire you, you knew you couldn’t keep the charade up for long. But when Eddie called and told you he’d come over to check in on you you knew you had to make a choice.

Looking back, it was a stupid one. The worst decision you had ever made. 

But you decided to go into work that night.

You were lucky that the bouncer Hank was so friendly with you and opened the silver laced door for you allowing you to walk in. You suppose it was a stroke of stupid luck when he even said Welcome back. 

Some of your regulars wanted to know where you had been but they easily took the answer of you being sick. You supposed it had to do with your appearance, eyes sunken and skin duller than usual. 

“Are you sure you're okay to work?” your co-worker Steve asked you, brows furrowed in worry. “I can tell Murray you're still not up to it. Lucas can cover for you.” 

“I’m fine,” you insisted, waving him off dismissively. 

You wondered if Steve would look at you differently if he knew the truth. You didn’t think your predicaments were that different. He only had a better handle on his. 

The longer your shift went on the harder it became to ignore the smell of everyone's blood. You felt your fangs poke out of your gums more than once. You were still not used to the slicing pain they induced each time they did. There were many moments throughout the day where you simply had to take breaks to try and collect yourself. Either in the bathroom or even leaving the bar to hide away in the tunnel leading to it.

You could smell the sweet smell of everyone's blood around you. The roiling beast of hunger inside you clawed at your insides everytime one of the hunters came too close. 

It only got worse when he came in.

He smiled widely as soon as he saw you. It took everything in him to not just go over to you and kiss you. But he managed to resist and took his usual seat.

You wanted nothing more than to greet him with open arms. To steal that stupid cute bandana off his head in exchange for a kiss to his stupid handsome face. 

You ached to return to that night. Where you were just two people finally coming into your feelings, embracing them. 

Instead of now, having to lock them away and throw away the key. 

It didn’t take long for him to notice that you were acting strangely.

You were avoiding him. 

You wouldn’t even look at him.

Did you regret that night? Did you not really want him the way he wanted you? Was it something he said during those phone calls throughout the week? What had he done? 

As much as it hurt, he let you have your space.

Once the last call was made and the lingering hunters had left, he finally confronted you when you stood in front of him to wipe down the counters.

“Angel, you don’t look so good,” he looked at you with sympathetic eyes, a gentle tone to his voice. “Are you sick baby?” He reached out to touch your hand. His silver rings burned your skin and you pulled away with a  hiss. He flinched as you did and stared at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

“What are you?” He whispered, the words almost getting lodged in his throat. But he forced them out. You clutched your hand to your chest as you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“Eddie—“ 

“What. Are. You. Werewolf? Vampire? What?” He demanded. The anger he tried to keep locked away breached the surface, the claws of it ripping at his skin as he stared at you. You sighed and closed your eyes, wiping away at the leaking tears. When you opened them they were inky black. You opened your mouth to speak, and Eddie saw your fangs, coated in your own blood from where they poked out of your gums. 

“No.” He whispered. A strangled sound like he was trying to hold back tears of his own. He stumbled back, the bar stool he was sitting on fell to the floor. You tried to say something, but you didn’t get the chance. 

Eddie lunged at you, pinning against the nearest wall. The same wall he had pinned you to the other night. His hand went around your neck making his rings sizzle against your skin. A deep burning pain that made you yelp. His incredible strength lifted you off your feet. Too weak to fight back from not feeding, you were defenseless against him.

“Y-you—“ he started to say. But he couldn’t think straight. His mind was racing, heart beating out of his chest. His eyes searched your face frantically as your endless black eyes returned to their normal shade. “Eddie,” you put your hand over his where it pressed against your throat. “Please.” The fear in your eyes made every square inch in his body tense. His breathing was heavy. Erratic. Tears brimmed at his waterline, threatening escape as he looked at the face that once brought him so much peace. So much happiness.

He did this to you. 

He dropped you from his grasp, taking a wide step back from you as his hands tugged at the roots of his hair. You stumbled onto your feet. Your hands clutched at your throat as you sucked in a ragged breath. Eddie wiped the runaway tears from his eyes as he stared at your hunched over form. A ball of emotions was lodged in his throat.

He reached out for you again, guilt and regret clouding his features. But you didn’t see it. You only saw his hand coming for you again.

Your claws protracted on instinct, your hand swatting through the air when you made contact with his skin and ripped. He hissed in pain and pulled his arm away, holding it to his chest.

Then you ran. 

“NO! WAIT!” He yelled after you.

But your fear of what you might do if you stayed consumed you. A furious thing that clutched onto your heart and forced your legs to keep pumping. He chased after you, long legs bounding behind you as you both rushed up the stairs and through the secret entrance. With what strength you had you shoved the shelf-door open and raced out of the pantry to the outside. 

The cold night air bit at your skin as you were pelted with rain and wind. A crack of lightning lit up the night sky and thunder boomed as you heard his heavy boots only steps behind you. You could smell his blood in the air, watered down by the heavy downpour. It made your fangs slice through your gums, the taste of copper pooling onto your tongue. You sprinted down the dark alleyway. Just as you reached the edge you felt a burning pain on your arm. Eddie had grabbed it, his silver rings searing your skin. You cried out in pain and he quickly retracted his grip. 

“SHIT! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” with the rain you couldn’t see the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He hurriedly pulled the rings off his fingers. You took the distraction to keep running. Just as the tempest surrounding you raged on, so did the turmoil in Eddie’s heart and mind as he chased after you. He was hot on your tail, calling out your name in desperation and begging you to stop. But you couldn’t. For fear of what he’d do to you, or what you’d do to him. 

You ducked out of the alley and into another. You knew it was only a matter of time before he caught you, your body too weak from the lack of blood in your system. The sweet smell of his blood dripping onto the pavement behind you enticed you as the roiling beast of hunger clawed at you in desperation for a taste, a bite into his supple skin to allow the crimson life force to flood your mouth.

You yelped out in fear as he caught you once more, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace. He spun you around in his grasp, stepping backwards with you as you struggled until your back was against the cold brick wall of the alleyway.

“No! No! Please!” You begged, trying to push him off you.

“Shhh shhh it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m sorry I’m so sorry,” he tried to sooth you. He brushed the wet hair that stuck to your forehead away from it and cupped your face in his hands. “I’m sorry. Angel, I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you. Please don’t run. Please.” He cried, voice breaking. 

“Don’t touch me!” you shrieked, pulling his hands away from you.

 He took a step back with his hands held up. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

He saw your eyes had returned to that black void. Your fangs smeared with your own blood from where they popped out. Your claws were sharp and curled, nasty looking and dripping with his blood. But most of all he saw the way you were looking at him. He hated it. Like you were scared of him now.

He knew you had every right to be. He had put his hands on you. He had hurt you. All because of the anger that ran through his veins. A temper that proved time and time again to be a curse. He had taken his anger out on the one person he wasn’t actually angry at. The vampire that turned you was the real source of his rage. But they weren’t around. So when he looked into your vampiric eyes and saw your fangs all he saw was your cold lifeless body lying on the ground. 

He was angry at himself too. For allowing it to happen. For not walking you home that night. For not protecting you like he should have.

“I’m sorry,” a choked sob slipped past his lips as he tugged at the roots of his hair. “I’m so sorry.” 

The space between you felt infinite, no matter how close he was standing. It was like you were drowning, gasping for breath and reaching out for him as a life raft that you no longer belonged on.

 You watched him carefully, waiting for him to do something else. A part of you wished he would just go away. To leave you before you could hurt each other any more. But a bigger part…

That part was wishing he would just hold you like he did that night. 

“Can I…” he swallowed thickly, Adam's apple bobbing once. Twice. “Can I please touch you? Please angel.” He spoke barely above a whisper. His eyes looked at you pleadingly but he made no move. He waited. Waited for you to give him the okay. Waited for you to tell him you still wanted him, despite what he was capable of. Despite what you knew him to be capable of. 

You went to nod your head, a silent and hesitant acknowledgement of consent. But then the scent of his blood hit your nose again and your stomach ached  for you to sink your teeth into him. You coward against the wall, turning your face away from him and clenching your eyes shut in an attempt to will the pestering hunger away. 

His face crumbled. His heart shattered, the shards stabbed through his chest and punctured his lungs. 

You didn’t want him anymore. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

A sob punched its way through you as you cried into your hands. You couldn’t believe he was still apologizing to you. 

The monster.

“Please just go,” you sniveled. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Then he understood. 

You were just as scared of what you were capable of as he was. 

“Angel,” He gently cupped your face in his hands, resting his forehead against yours. You tried to push him away again, but he held onto you. “Hey, hey it’s okay.” He tried to soothe you, his thumbs rubbing at your cheeks while he spoke to you in a voice as soft as silk. He could feel you shaking in his hands. A quiet whimper slipped past your lips as the rain mixed with your tears. His heart ached at the sound. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

With your arms wrapped around your body you dug your claws into your arms. You focused on the stinging pain and the feeling of your warm blood trickling down them. You needed something else to focus on. Something other than the hunger.

He brushed his nose over yours as you looked into his glossy eyes. Red and bloodshot from crying. You could hear the way his heart beat quickly, like it was trying to break free from the confines of his chest. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself and fight back the creature of hunger living inside you.

“I know I’m a monster–”

“--No,” he cut you off suddenly, voice cracking. “You’re not…you’re not a monster. You’re not. You’re good. You’re so good.”

You wanted to believe him. But you had seen the way your eyes welled with an endless pit of darkness when you were hungry. You could feel the pinch and tearing of skin as your fangs poked through your gums. You could smell the delectable scent of his blood from where it dripped down his arm, could feel how it enticed you and how every cell of your body was begging you to sink your teeth into the carotid artery that you could hear pumping. 

You knew no one good would fantasize about draining the man they cared for dry. 

The familiar copper scent of blood hit Eddie’s nose. But it wasn’t his own. His eyes scanned your body until he saw the blood dripping from your arms, claws stabbing into your own skin. 

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked frantically once he spotted the blood. “STOP THAT!” He pulled your hands away from your arms. Like a caged animal, you hissed at him. Swiping at him with your claws, just barely missing his face. He stumbled back, falling onto his ass as he stared at you with wide and fearful eyes.

“Y-your blood,” you uttered. “I-I can’t—“ 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he quickly pulled off the bandanna around his head. He wrung it out as best he could before wrapping it around his wound. 

“That’s not gonna help,” you swallowed thickly. 

“When was the last time you fed?” He asked, looking at you with that familiar crinkle of concern between his brows. 

It was a welcomed sight. To know he still cared for you. 

“I haven’t.” 

“Baby—“

“I won’t!” You snapped. Eddie’s jaw clenched, his face hardening as your words hit him. “Do you know what happens to vampires who don’t feed?” 

You shook your head. 

“Their bodies shut down. You grow so weak until you’re unable to move. You become trapped in your own body.” 

Your throat constricted at his words. But you knew whether your fed or not, you’d always be a shell of yourself. 

“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” you croaked. 

“You don’t have to.” He shook his head, his eyes softening. “You could live off animal blood. I’ve heard some vamps do. You don’t have to…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“That really works?” You questioned, voice meak.

“From what I’d heard. I-I’ve never seen it myself but…we could try.”  

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, some of your own blood accidentally smearing on your cheek. With a slow nod you replied, “Okay, let’s try.” 

He wanted to reach and wipe the blood from your face like you did that first night you met. But he resisted, knowing his closeness would only provide you with more discomfort.

Eddie was able to coax you back inside the bar. You dug your claws into your palms, making sure to hide it better from him as you tried to fight against the urge to taste the blood from his wound. Eddie was astonished by your control. He had never known a new vamp that could resist feeding for a day, let alone a week. He certainly didn’t know one that refused to feed on people and could resist the smell of blood when it was right in front of them.

But you did. That was how he knew for sure that you were good. 

“Stay here, I’ll get you something to eat,” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze when you sat at the bar and grabbed the first bottle of liquor you could reach and poured yourself a drink.

“No cats or dogs. Please.”

He smiled at you warmly, heart swelling at your sweet request before he put his hand to your head and pulled it closer to him so he could place a gentle kiss at your temple. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt his chapped lips against your skin. You’d wish he pressed them to your lips instead, but you said nothing. “No pets.” He agreed. 

He grabbed his coat from where it laid on the bar and left The Hideout, climbing onto his bike to head to the only place he knew that would have a supply of animal blood.

When he returned he had a plastic bag in hand, setting the contents of it in front of where you sat at one of the booths. Two pints of blood sat before you. “What is it?” You asked as you popped open one of the lids and stuck your nose in it to get a better whiff. Your nose scrunched up in disgust at the sour smell. 

“Pigs blood,” Eddie slid into the booth across from you and set his coat beside him on the seat. You saw he had wrapped up the wound on his forearm while he was out.

“Where did you get pigs blood?” you looked at him incredulously.

“Butcher’s shop. C’mon angel drink up.”

“What kind of butcher’s shop is open this late? Did you steal these?” you gaped at him, pushing the pints away from you. 

“It’s fine. I left some money so it’s not technically stealing,” he pushed the blood back over to you, urging you to drink. 

You carefully picked one of them up, wincing as the sour smell hit you once again. His large brown eyes were zeroed in on you. 

“Can you at least turn around?” 

He laughed, taken a little by surprise by your request, “Are you serious?”

“Please.” 

With a deep, and a little dramatic, sigh he turned around in his chair so his back was to you. Once his eyes were no longer boring into you you brought the pint to your lips and started to drink.

The taste was unpleasant. Just as sour as it smelled and cold. So cold. You tried your best to gulp down the red ichor. But it was terrible. As you chugged you started to gag, the blood pushing back up your throat. You slammed the pint to the table before you could finish and retched, spilling the foul blood out onto your shoes as tears ran down your face. Eddie was by your side in a matter of seconds, pulling your hair back and rubbing soothingly at your back. He gingerly moved a strand of your way away from your mouth that was coated in blood. You looked up at him, your eyes once again black from feeding and tears running down your face.

“What’s wrong baby? Can you not – was it too cold? I should have heated it up. I’m sorry,” he spoke to you softly in a way that only made you cry harder. “I’ll heat it up angel. Okay?”

“Eddie, it's disgusting,” you sniffled. 

“I’m sorry angel. But maybe heating it up will make it better. Okay?”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure.

He kissed your temple and grabbed the two pints before heading into the kitchen. He came back he had paper towels with him. “Eddie don’t–” you tried to stop him when he got on his knees in front of you.

“I got it sweetheart. It’s fine.” 

 He tried his best to clean up the mess of the regurgitated blood and while he was able to get it off the floor without any stains, your shoes were ruined. He gave your knee a squeeze and a kiss before he stood back up and discarded the paper towels. Once everything was cleaned up he went back to the kitchen and brought out the two pints of blood, setting them in front of you. You touched the containers to see that they were definitely warmer. 

“I put them in the microwave. Try it now,” he rubbed at your back. 

“Turn around?”

He did so hesitantly, not wanting you to get sick again.

You started to drink again. This time it was more bearable. The taste was still awful but the warmth helped soothe the ache in your belly. Once you finish both pints you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tapped Eddie’s shoulder signaling him to turn around.

“Better?” he asked, standing up and sliding into the booth beside you. 

“Better.” You replied solemnly, resting your head against his shoulder. He put his arm around you and kissed your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out angel,” he said quietly. “I promise.” 

You still had to clean up the bar and finish closing up. Eddie insisted on helping you despite your reassurance that he didn’t have to. You caught your reflection in the mirror behind the bar, a joke Murray had installed from the stereotype that vampires couldn’t see themselves in them. You saw the puncture wounds in your upper arm. Eyes bloodshot from crying and hair matted down from the rain. But what really caught your eye was the ring shaped burn marks around your neck. Your fingers ghosted over the marks.

“You’re still new so…they’ll take a little bit to heal.” 

His voice made you jump as he appeared beside you.

“Oh.” Was all you said in response. 

His hand reached out and his thumb stroked over your cheek softly. You leaned into his touch and it made his heart ache.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. 

“It’s okay you were just scared. You did what any—“ 

“No.” He said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have…I never wanted to hurt you I-“ he breathed a deep sigh. 

“I should have saved you.” 

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. His eyes filled with a sadness and regret that he didn’t deserve. He was taken by surprise when you hugged him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He hesitantly returned your embrace, hiding his face in your hair. 

“You had no way of knowing. You did nothing wrong.”

His arms tightened around you at your words. You held each other like that for a while, neither wanting to let go just yet.

Thanks for reading!

Gia’s Gems: @bettyfrommars @ali-r3n @devilinthepalemoonlite @spenciesprincess @belladonnaa-0 @allthingsjoeq @screammunson

Munson’s Maniacs: @dark-angel-is-back @reidsbtch

Here for the monsters: @skrzydlak @emma77645 @amira0303 @ghost-proofbaby @allthingsjoeq @goth-cowgirl-03 @nope-thanks

Let me know if you’d like to join the Munson’s Maniacs (Eddie fics), Harringtons Heathens (Steve fics), or Gia’s Gems (all fics) tag lists 🥰

Dividers by @benkeibear

For the vibes:

[flameprincess86]

❤️❤️❤️ this was so good. Can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next

[halloweenhorrorohmy]

𝔖𝔭𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔖𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫

[halloweenskellington]

The Addams Family

[sugoighibli-blog-deactivated202]

[piastrinorris]

CHARLIE HEATON and EDUARDO FRANCO as JONATHAN BYERS and ARGYLE | STRANGER THINGS 4 (2022) // 4.05

[oneforthemunny]

it is THEIR season 🫶

[eddiesxangel]

If I don’t watch Jennifer’s Body this October I give you permission to slap me

[stars-bean]

Mean Girls (2004) dir. Mark Waters

[nessa007]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃👻🕸 Abbott Elementary (2021- ) Parks and Recreation (2009 - 2015) Friends (1994 - 2004) Brooklyn Nine-Nine (2013 - 2021) Stranger Things (2016- ) The Office (2005 - 2013) Derry Girls (2018 - 2022) Ted Lasso (2020 - 2023) New Girl (2011 - 2018) Modern Family (2009 - 2020)

[bebx]

🎃⁀➷ October has arrived *ੈ✩‧₊˚🕷️🍂

[littledemondani-deactivated2025]

happy october, ya spooky fucks 💀