Ohmygoodness. Like, holy shit, I got the coolest Hellfire Haunts request in my asks. I had it all ready to go, was going to save it in my drafts, and then it never did save. Poof. It’s just gone, not in asks or drafts, so I am so sorry if I am losing you in the tumblr mess!
It was a request for Demon!Eddie, using prompt #1 (I’ve waited lifetimes for you.) It was so so sooooo good, I just had to write it!
Summary: Imagine if Jason Carver and his buddies tricked the reader into going up to skull rock, and instead it was really a sacrifice ploy. They were trying to sacrifice them to summon a demon (Eddie) who is less than thrilled, but it turned out to be a soulmate encounter.
So! If this was your ask, please let me know, and I’m sorry I lost it in the mix!
Jason Carver was the golden boy of Hawkins High, and even after he graduated, his name still carried the same authority.
Sure, you had seen him around. You remembered the way he laughed around his friends and how his eyes would linger when he thought you weren't looking when you two were in school. You knew of his popularity and affinity for the cheer squad. So yes, you knew of Jason Carver.
You just never expected to hear him call your name while you were cruising down the grocery store aisles.
The sound of it was strong, and you turned to see him walking down the aisle with a shopping basket in his hands. You stopped with a slight wave. The smile he gave you was jolting.
"Hey," He grinned. "Have you ever been up to Skull Rock?" He asked, leaning against the wall of canned food.
He had never initiated a conversation with you before, but then again, neither had you. You two ran different circles growing up.
"I can't say I have." You told him with a lazy grin, moving down the aisle to pick up a jar of peanut butter. He watched with mild fascination.
"We're throwing a little party up there for Halloween. Tomorrow night. Spooky things go on up there," Jason continued, and you walked alongside him.
You turned your head back to his, catching his stare. "You know, they say it was a place for satanic worship." He teased.
You rolled your eyes playfully.
"It sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus."
He scoffed lightly, putting a hand over his chest.
"It's the best place to be. There are no cops, and there will be drinks and music. It'll be a lot of fun." He said. "And I wanted to see if you'll come this year." He gave you a serious look.
You had never been invited by Jason Carver to a party before.
Even when Steve used to throw parties, that was different. You knew Steve, had mutual friends with him. Jason was hardly an acquaintance.
"I don't know," You thought about it, weighing the pros and cons.
"Give it a chance," He smiled again. "Give me a chance. I can pick you up and everything."
You gave him a once over.
Jason wasn't a regular on your radar, but you did notice him. It was hard not to with his popularity and good-boy persona. And you didn't have any plans.
"Oh, what the hell," You nodded with a grin. His dashing expression was blinding. "I'll bring beer."
You should have known it was too good to be true.
Jason had his own agenda all along. You couldn't have known that it was a trap, that you were just another checkmark on his list.
You couldn't have known even when he picked you up in his truck the next day. He was a gentleman, complimenting your little black dress and bat earrings. You got all dolled up for Halloween. He even offered to help you bring your beer bottles to his truck.
For a fleeting moment, you were excited.
But as soon as you opened the truck door, his old basketball buddies jumped out. You were in too deep. You knew something was terribly wrong.
They dragged you into the backseat, covering your mouth and holding you down. The fight was laughable. There were four of them, covering your mouth with duct tape and surrounding you in the truck. They were terrible.
Your wrists and the crook of your elbows were taped. Above your knees and down by your ankles were taped. It was a little more than overkill.
And then, you were trapped between two of them in the backseat while Jason drove, one of his cronies messing with the music.
You couldn't fight off the roll of nausea in your stomach as one of them wafted something under your nose. Was it sage? Weed? It was disorienting, and you couldn't get away.
"Let's go catch us a monster, boys." Jason grinned, looking in the rearview mirror with wild eyes. "This is the year; I can feel it."
There was something deceptively charming in those eyes, something much darker than you thought Jason Carver could be capable of.
There was no Halloween party at Skull Rock.
You tried to fight against the hazy feeling in your head, even as Jason's silhouette in the front seat got blurry and you slumped against the backseat.
He was the monster.
The night was quiet when Jason and his goons finally dragged you out of the truck and into the woods. You had no clear sense of direction. You felt stoned, your legs swaying lightly as he carried you over his shoulder.
The terrain was rugged, and you could feel stray branches and pine needles hitting the back of your legs.
Your vision was blurry, even as they finally broke through the trees to a small clearing. The trees dispersed, and as you were turned around, Skull Rock was the least of your problems.
In front of Skull Rock, Jason and his friends had drawn a symbol on the floor around you. A pentagram, for fucks sake. It was surrounded by a ring of salt, and you looked at your captor like he was bat-shit insane.
“What’s the matter?” He cooed, crouching down in front of you. “We did this all for you. I said it’s gonna be a lot of fun.”
Two images of Carver swayed in front of your eyes, and you groaned out a complaint as he tugged you forward to the middle of the circle. Your knees dug into the cold ground, and you tightened your arms, trying to fight against him.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” He tormented, pulling a dark robe over his shoulders. “We can’t do it without you. There’s never been anyone in the god-forsaken town quite like you. No one is good enough. No one pure enough.”
Your stomach was in knots.
Around the outside of the circle, you could see the others lighting candles and setting down bowls of spices, crystals, and coins around the star tips of the pentagram. You thought your heart was going to beat outside of your chest.
“There’s just one more thing.” Jason tugged at your hands, and you looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t look so scared, babe. You are the prettiest sacrifice we’ve had.”
You hardly had time to notice the pocketknife he procured before it was too late. He was tugging your hands, laying them palms up into the air before slicing across your skin. Your eyes went wide in horror, and you went to scream but couldn't.
Your hands were shaking, your eyes blurry with the threat of tears.
The next thing you knew, Jason pushed down to the forest floor, straight in the middle of the circle. And as your bloodied palms touched the ground, the men began to chant.
There was a pit of anguish in your stomach.
The candles wavered, and as Jason and his goons chanted, you could have sworn that a thick fog filled the area.
You pushed yourself up to your knees. A wild wind blew through the clearing, and the smell of iron filled your lungs.
You were going to die there.
The chanting waned and wavered until the words were booming in your head. You could feel every unintelligible syllable in the crevices of your heart. It was a seizing, aching feeling. You felt like it would pull you in different directions until you realized the candles blazed with a burning hellfire. You could feel the heat against your skin.
Something was happening.
A figure slowly emerged out of the fog, sprouting from the ground in front of you. Tall and humanoid, you fought back the cry clawing up your throat. You couldn’t see anything except for the outline of two fiery eyes. It was clear to see they were angry. You needed to get out of there.
It was a man stepping out of the fog. The candlelight illuminated the shadows of his body. He was bare, save for several tattoos scattered across his skin, and his hair was a wild halo of dark locks that cascaded around his shoulders. As the figure came into view, you had to shake your head to ensure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.
He was captivating.
Glowing eyes and a rounded nose looked down at the circle, his expression void of pleasantries.
"Abaddon, mischief maker, we summon you to the land of the living,” Jason’s voice boomed across the circle.
Even behind the ridiculous cloak, you could sense Jason’s confidence wane.
He got what he wanted, didn’t he?
The man, that thing, you thought, tilted his head to the side with a scowl. You almost thought you saw sharp canines poking into his bottom lip.
“We summon you with the blood of the innocent. That's what we brought you.” Jason called out with a snicker. “Hell, she might even be a virgin.”
Your head snapped from the figure to the cloaks, bile souring your tongue. You resented them, all of them.
The figure stepped forward, the dark fog swirling around his feet.
"You will do our bidding," Jason spoke bravely now. "We've called upon you, and you will obey my wishes-" But Jason's words faded as the creature reached its full height.
"No."
The lone syllable made your hair stand on end. You looked up at the man, what you so desperately tried to make out as a man, but it was fruitless. His movements were too smooth, calculated like a predator.
The heated embers of his eyes were harrowing, annoyance dancing across his features. Two short horns were poking out from under the mess of curls.
The creature stalked forward in the circle, and Jason took a step back, but you couldn't move. You couldn't breathe.
"I was not summoned here for you. I don’t serve you."
His expression shifted as he towered over you. The beast of a man crouched down to your eye level. It took everything in you not to scream or lash out. But you were terrified.
He was deceptively handsome, and the shadows of his face were illuminated in the candlelight.
His eyes, blazing with hellfire, changed, just for a moment. If you blinked, you would have missed it, but you could have sworn those dark eyes were brown. That they were almost human. But it was gone in a flash. The weight of the situation you were in was harrowing.
"You're not supposed to be here."
The low rumble of his words was unexpected, and you looked up at him in shock. His words were gentle, his tone leveled.
His eyes narrowed, burning with something angry as he looked down at your palms. You were clutching them both to your chest. The dark cloth of your dress and exposed skin bloomed red.
You were trembling.
He reached out slowly, tugging your hands away from your body before looking at the slashes welling with blood. You were too frightened to move as his eyes swept back to yours.
"They hurt you."
With his other hand, s sharp claw cut the bindings on your arms and legs. It was like he was cutting through butter instead of layers of tape. You watched in amazement as he pulled the tape back from your lips. The shuddering breath you took didn’t deter him.
The man's focus returned to your bloody palms, cupping his hands under yours like a bowl. His hands were warm, his touch slowly dissolving the tension in your shoulders.
"They tricked me," You whispered blindly.
Your focus shifted, fixated on the feeling of his warm hands in yours. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You watched as your blood bled between your fingers onto his and down to the ground. A low sound at the back of the creature’s throat pulled your eyes back to his.
It was frustrating. If you thought about it for a moment longer, you would have realized the sound of it was needy, longing even.
“What the hell is going on?” You heard Jason curse from outside the circle, making you wince.
The creature looked at you, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh, sweetheart," His voice was tender, apologetic. Clawed fingers trailed up and over the side of your face. His eyes danced across yours.
You could have sworn you were in a trance.
For a moment, the pentagram and the men outside the circle disappeared. You let all thoughts fade away, looking at the man in front of you. And you just looked at him, scanning the curve of his eyebrows down to the cupid's bow of his lips. He was so stunningly familiar. God, he was beautiful.
"Close your eyes." He instructed, and at your hesitance, he leaned in. His clawed hand cradled your chin, and you watched his eyes soften for the second time, umber pools staring back at you. He smelled of earth and iron. “I will not forsake you.”
His tone was your undoing.
With another long moment of looking at him, you followed his instructions and closed your eyes. He hummed in approval as you felt his touch fall away.
There was a sudden crack, like lightning, in the air. You could smell metal, the heat of it fanning your face. But you kept your eyes closed.
You were steadfast even when the sound of shocked screams and pleas came from Jason and his band of goons. And then there was a thunderous noise of thousands of wings flapping around. A low-clicking noise surrounded you. Bats were swarming the skies. The sounds of carnage tore at your senses. Your lip quivered before you could control yourself.
And all too soon, it was quiet.
Fear gripped your heart, and you were compelled to call out.
“Ad – Abm –” You started but stumbled. You didn’t remember his name. There was a gentle sound of footsteps crunching on leaves before you heard him come back to you.
“I’m right here,” His voice was darker but still controlled. “Don’t call me that name, angel.”
You opened your eyes at the endearment. What was staring back at you was almost human.
You were right. His eyes were brown with the slightest glow, and Jason was gone as you looked around the circle. They were all gone. And his attention was solely on you.
“Your blood,” He urged, pulling your attention back to your hands. “Sweetheart, we need to stop the bleeding.”
You nodded blindly. God, when did your hands start shaking?
He took your left hand and turned it over, dragging his thumb along the incision.
The wound closed before your eyes, leaving behind a raised, thin scar. You let out a breath of relief. Rivulets of your blood stained his hands, but he didn’t care.
The man hesitated when he dropped your hand and moved to the other. You looked up at him carefully.
“You called for me,” His words were heavy, and the air around you was charged with electricity. When you looked up at him, his face was set with the hint of a smile. "I've waited lifetimes for you."
Your heart was hammering in your chest.
You tried to stutter out an apology, that it was all a big mistake, but the shake of his head silenced you. His intentions were set.
"You bled for me," He raised his other hand and sliced into his own palm with a clawed index finger. "And I will bleed for you.”
Thick, dark ichor pooled against his skin. It wasn't natural. You closed your fist instinctively.
"But, why?" You dared to ask. "Why would you do that?"
The look he gave you turned into a boyish grin.
"Because you called for me. I'm bound to you," His eyes were tormenting. "You didn't think I'd go away so easily, did you? If you don't like the sun, I'll make it rain for you. I'll fix all your broken things. I'll keep you nice and close. I'll keep you safe. Don't send me away, angel."
The lilt of his voice was hypnotic.
You weren't sure you could turn him away. You didn't know if you even wanted to. He saved you.
As you listened, your heart ached. You wanted that. You wanted to believe him.
"I'm already bound." He tried again, inching closer.
His plea was so soft, so tender. At the call of your name, your breath hitched, looking up at those big brown eyes. He was looking down at you expectantly.
"Take my hand. Don't make me beg."
He was down on his knees in front of you, his face shrouded in shadows and candlelight. He wasn't the monster you thought him to be.
"Who are you?" You asked in a whisper.
You pushed yourself up to your knees, meeting his eye level.
"Just call me Eddie, sweetheart." He grinned, holding his palm up to you. "Please, take my hand. And I'll explain everything."
You weren't sure if it was the compelling look in his eyes or the softness of his words, but how could you say no?
He saved you. Eddie saved you from the monsters in the woods.
You took his hand without looking away from his eyes, feeling the heat and strength in his hold. You swore you could feel the inky ichor as it mixed with your blood into the cut.
And the way Eddie's eyes lit up? It was like you had hung all the stars in the sky.
But it was too much. The heat in your veins was all-encompassing. You could feel the nerves in your body going haywire.
Eddie’s toothy grin was the last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut. He pulled you close before you could fall, sinking into his embrace.
There was a new excitement in his eyes. The candlelight flickered, more intense than it had ever been before.
He was already bound to you. But what he didn't tell you was that you were willingly binding yourself to him. Eddie wasn't worried; he'd have forever to find a way to tell you.
prompt: billy hargrove + demon + "did you think they could protect you?"
author's note: written for the hellfire haunts challenge hosted by @cryptidcasanova
word count: 5.4k
No one would tell you the truth.
Not Nancy Wheeler or Jonathan Byers or Dustin Henderson. Not Max Mayfield or Robin Buckley or any of the other kids who were there when it happened.
Not even Steve would look you in the eye and tell you how your boyfriend really died.
And that, right there, was what hurt most of all. Because if your own brother couldn't be honest with you, then who could you expect to really tell you the truth?
For months, you tried to uncover the mystery of the tragedy of Starcourt Mall. A lot of people had died including Chief Hopper and your boyfriend. The fact that Billy would never return to you seemed like something only your mind would come up with in your darkest nightmares. And yet, it was the reality you were faced with every day after that fateful night.
You didn't quite believe the story about there being a fire at the mall and it didn't make sense that Billy's body couldn't be recovered, because it was missing from the wreckage.
You knew it was bullshit. You knew, deep down to your very core, that something more sinister had happened at the mall the night Billy died. And you knew that it was your fault he was dead.
If you hadn't fought with him, if you hadn't told him you needed a little space, if you hadn't ignored his odd behavior in the days leading up to his death, then maybe he would still be alive. Maybe you would have dragged him to the Fourth of July celebration in town, even though Billy thought it was dumb, and you could have spent the night coaxing Billy onto rides and kissing him when the Ferris wheel stopped at the top, enjoying the sounds of everyone's laughter and fun.
But no, instead, you had woken up the morning after, deciding to try to make things right with Billy, only to find out that you would never speak to him again.
You had always hated living in a small town like Hawkins. When you went away to college in the fall of ‘84, you never wanted to come home, but Steve had convinced you a summer in Hawkins was what you needed to shake off the stress of your freshman year. You had grumbled and groaned, but you couldn't deny you missed your little brother, so once your last final was over in early May, you made the trip back home.
You hadn't expected much to have changed about the town. You had only been gone a year and while Steve had told you about the crazy shit happening, including the circumstances surrounding the disappearance and death of Barbara Holland, you hadn't expected Billy Hargrove.
He was bold and brash and kind of obnoxious, but he had no problem at all making you fall for him. His charm and playful smirks were one thing, but once you went out on one date and then another, you started to see the real Billy behind the mask.
You spent a month and a half sneaking out to meet him, trying not to be so blatant about it when you realized your brother hated Billy. You didn't know their history, and it wasn't until Steve told you about the terrible things that had happened with Billy in the fall of '84 that you began to realize why.
Your fight in late June with Steve over Billy had turned into a fight with Billy over Steve.
"You terrorized those children," you accused, anger and indignation rising within you. "You could have killed my brother!"
"Look, I was messed up, alright? I was angry and I didn't want to be here, and I took it out on everyone except the one person who deserved it. It's not who I am anymore, though. You know that."
You knew Billy was talking about Neil. He hated his stepfather with everything in him, and while you knew Billy wasn't quite the troublemaker he used to be, it still didn't cover the hurt and guilt you felt over dating the guy who had once beaten your brother into a bloody mess.
"I l--," you cut yourself off, redirecting, "I like you a lot, Billy. You know that. But I just need some time. To think," you clarified. "I still want to be with you, I just..."
"C'mon, Y/N," Billy pleaded. "I'll apologize to your brother and those little punks, alright? I just want--" Billy abruptly stopped talking, defeat slipping into his tone. "Just let me know when you want to talk again," he sighed. "You know where to find me."
And with that, he had turned and walked right out of your life. You had tried calling him and visiting him at the pool in the days after the fight, but it seemed like he was nowhere to be found. Up until the day he died, Billy had practically turned into a ghost, determined to stay off your radar of existence. You were worried he was ignoring you and you wanted nothing more than to go back to that moment you had your fight and try to fix things instead of trying to run away from the problem.
The guilt ate away at you and tore you to shreds. You dreamt of Billy every night. The way he looked before he walked away from you. The slump of his shoulders, betraying the defeat he felt. The heartbreak written into every line of his expression and the way he glanced at you just once more before getting into his car and driving away.
None of it made sense, and the more time passed, the worse you felt.
It seemed as if life in Hawkins moved on, but you couldn't. Your parents thought you were being overdramatic over a boy you barely knew and you didn't know how to make them understand that you did know him.
You spent hours with Billy every night for over a month talking. He would drive out to pick you up from your house and then he would take a leisurely tour around town before finally stopping at the quarry. Billy would grab a blanket from the trunk of his car and spread it out over the hood of his Camaro. You would spend the rest of the night making up stories about constellations and confessing things you thought you never would to Billy.
He told you about his family and his mom and how her abandonment of him still got to him. He talked about how much he hated his dad and how he couldn't wait until he made enough money to either get back to California or at the very least move out of his dad's house. You told him about your inattentive parents and how your family mainly consisted of your brother, the both of you accepting your parent's money when they couldn't spare you any love.
You fell fast and hard for Billy, singing along to the radio as he sped along the winding, twisting backroads of Hawkins, both of you yelling lyrics and sharing delighted grins. You loved seeing Billy letting everything go and being carefree for once. He was a ladies' man and a party magnet, but you knew it was all a facade. Billy was his truest self with you on those night rides, bobbing his head along to Billy Idol and turning into a total goof just for you.
In the midnight hour, she cried he would sing, before pretending to hold a microphone out to you.
More, more, more, you would finish, sharing an amused laugh with Billy.
With a rebel yell, she cried he would prompt, getting another more, more, more out of you.
It hurt to think you would never have another moment like that and it was soul crushing to know that the one person you had trusted for almost your whole life, the one person you thought had your back no matter what, was hiding something from you.
For months, you searched for any clues that would tell you about what happened at Starcourt, but it was as if the building never existed in the first place. You were so consumed by guilt and despair that you dropped out of college, electing to stay in Hawkins. Steve was worried about you, and while your parents didn't even seem to notice you were still around, Steve tried to get you to talk about what was going on.
But you couldn't trust him, and that only added another burden on you.
You had tried, once, to get Steve to talk about what happened at the mall on the Fourth of July. But he claimed he didn't know. And while his performance might have fooled anyone else, you knew your brother better than anyone else.
Steve was lying to you.
And that absolutely destroyed you.
You blamed yourself. You thought maybe Steve held resentment towards you for dating Billy. He hated Billy and you dated Billy even holding onto that knowledge. You had lost Billy and you had lost Steve and now it felt like you truly had no one but yourself.
Months passed and by the time spring was approaching in '86, you were a shell of your former self.
You were plagued by nightmares and phantom voices. You swore you were starting to see things and you started suffering through massive, brain-melting headaches that made your nose bleed. You were half-convinced you were dying, and you did your best to hide everything from Steve. He would only worry and while you didn't fully forgive Steve for hiding the truth from you, you still loved him more than anyone else on the planet.
One night in late March, you woke screaming from a nightmare, phantom hands pressing you into the bed, claws ripping into your skin.
Your suffering is almost at an end echoed in your mind, the chimes of a grandfather clock ringing in your bones.
"Y/N?" Steve's voice shattered the silence. "What's going on?"
You looked up to see Steve standing in your bedroom doorway, a bat held aloft in his hands, as if ready to fend off your attackers. Seeing Steve ready to come to your defense broke something inside of you and soon you were wracked with sobs and useless pleas to make it all stop.
It took hours, but Steve finally got you to talk. He sat on the edge of your bed, worry etched into every line of his face, as he listened to you sputter out meaningless sentences before you finally confessed.
The guilt and the pain and the agonizing certainty that it was shredding you to pieces on the inside.
The nightmares and the voices and the hallucinations and the absolute torment your own mind was subjecting you to.
You thought Steve would think you were crazy or deluded or just plain stupid.
Instead, he looked panic-stricken for a moment before he practically jumped off your bed in his haste to get up.
"Shit," he hissed before fleeing your room.
That wasn't the reaction you were expecting. Before you could think better of it, you clambered out of your bed and followed him.
You found him in his room, already pacing the floor, phone to his ear. "I'm telling you, Nance--," he cut himself off when he noticed you standing in his doorway. "Just call the others, alright?" He hung the phone up before turning to look at you. He grabbed his jacket from where it was folded over the arm of the chair near his bed and threw it at you.
"Come on," he said, ushering you towards the door.
"What? Steve," you tried to protest, but he had a hand around your arm and didn't seem keen on stopping for anything. "Where are we going?" You asked as you awkwardly pulled on his jacket, managing to finally wrest your arm away from him, but grateful for the warmth in the chill of the upstairs hallway. "I'm not dressed to even go anywhere," you pointed out, looking down at your pajama pants with the pink and grey bunnies on them.
"Don't worry about that," Steve argued, hurrying you along. "We've got to go to Nance's house. Just...trust me, alright?"
You nearly froze at the words, because that was the problem, wasn't it? You weren't sure if you could trust Steve. Except, he sounded so sincere and you knew just from one look at him that whatever had gotten into him was important.
"Okay," you conceded with a nod of your head. "Let's go."
You weren't prepared for the crowd that greeted you in the basement of the Wheeler house. Nancy was expected, and while you didn’t see Mike, you drew short at the sight of Max, Dustin, Lucas, and Robin. They were all sitting around the room, waiting for you and Steve to show up, and you suddenly felt unsure that you had made the right choice.
"What's going on?" You looked to Steve, your only anchor keeping you rooted to your spot while wave after wave of fear threatened to take you down. "I don't understand..."
"It's going to sound crazy," Steve started, ushering you into an armchair. "But what we're about to tell you is one hundred percent real, and I know it's not going to make a lot of sense, but Y/N..." he trailed off, looking helplessly to the others.
"Your life is in danger," Nancy finished for your brother.
An hour later, you still couldn't make sense of all the information they had piled on you. You had finally learned the truth about Billy's death and it was far more gruesome than you could have ever imagined. Despite finally knowing what fate had befallen your boyfriend, you still felt an immense wave of guilt threatening to tear you down.
If you had never fought.
If you had never asked for space.
If you had never left him alone.
Maybe Billy wouldn't have been taken. Maybe he wouldn’t have been at the mall that night. Maybe he would still be alive.
It was all your fault.
They also explained that your increasingly vivid nightmares and hallucinations and migraines were all symptoms that you were being marked for death by a monster they called Vecna. Vecna had already taken two people and you were likely next up on the list. They didn't yet have any idea about what to do to stop Vecna, but they would figure it out.
They promised.
Nancy and Robin were investigating a lead while you stayed in the basement of the Wheeler's with Steve and the kids. You felt restless and cooped up in the room, so you finally managed to convince Steve to drive you to the junkyard where Billy's Camaro was kept. It had been broken beyond repair, but it held some of your most precious memories with Billy. You paid the guy who owned the place to keep him from trashing it every month just so you could visit it and sit in the backseat, trying to make sense of where your life had gone so completely wrong.
It was the only place you wanted to be in that moment and while Steve swore up and down that going anywhere was a bad idea, you didn't care.
By the time you got to the junkyard, a migraine clawing at your temples, you were eager to see the Camaro again. It had been your only source of peace for months and you felt like it was the one place you could truly be safe.
You waved Steve off when he tried to join you, wanting to be alone in what might be your final moments.
You pulled open the door to the backseat, letting a wave of heat escape. You wanted to go back in time so badly you could hardly stand it. You could feel pain throbbing at your temples and a wet trickle of what you suspected was blood beginning to drip from your nose. You hastily wiped away the blood, jumping at the sound of a voice right behind you.
"You shouldn't be here."
You whirled around, breath caught in your throat, at the sight of Billy standing there.
"Billy," you gasped, taking a shocked step closer to him. "You're hurt," you said, hating that there were a million other responses milling around your brain, but that was the one that won the fight.
He had blood pouring from a gaping hole in his chest, there were rips in his clothes and scratches all along his arms. There was something off about him, but you were so relieved to see him that you blatantly ignored all the warning signs.
A sick, wicked grin appeared on Billy's face and a dark chuckle escaped his mouth. "Hurt? I'm dead," his voice echoed all around you. A bolt of lightning split the air, turning the sky from blue to red in an instant. "And it's all your fault. You weren't there for me--"
"No," you denied, knowing that it was what you had been thinking for months, but it hurt even more hearing it come right from Billy. "Billy, I lo-lov--"
"You what? Loved me?" Billy scoffed, stalking closer to you. "If you loved me, then you wouldn't have done this to me." With another flash of lightning, the visage of Billy in front of you was replaced with an even more horrifying version of him. He had flesh hanging from his bones and maggots crawling out of his ears. His teeth were bared, brittle and flaking, as he approached you. His eyes were hollowed out, blank spaces where he no longer had a soul. "If you loved me, then you wouldn't have left me."
You gasped when he took a staggering step towards you and your back hit the side of the Camaro. Fog crept along the ground, curling around your feet, and rising higher. Everything was tinged in red and you could feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest.
"Don't worry," Billy's voice grew deeper, taunting. "Your suffering is almost at an end."
Those words finally broke the spell that Vecna had over you. It all came crashing down on you, the reminder that Billy was dead and not here with you. That Vecna was haunting you, intent on claiming you as one of his victims.
You pressed yourself flat against the side of the car before hurriedly stepping to the side, keeping an eye on Vecna. Between one flash of lightning and the next, Billy was no longer standing before you, replaced with Vecna. He looked as if he had been wrapped in roots and vines, his skin scarred and decaying. His eyes were white and striking, freezing you in his sight. His left hand was curled into an elongated claw, terrifying and deadly.
When he took a step closer to you, you finally managed to break yourself out of the trance he held you in. You turned and ran, bolting around stacks of cars and climbing desperately over piles of garbage. You sliced your knee open on a piece of rebar, but you didn't care. You felt the crushing weight of loneliness close in on you, and you tried to remind yourself that you weren't alone.
Steve had brought you to the junkyard. The kids were with him, all of them worried about you. Even Rob, the nutjob who ran the junkyard, was somewhere there. All you had to do was keep running. Keep running, don't look back, and hope that you finally broke free of whatever nightmare world Vecna had you trapped in.
There was the sound of someone humming far off, the noise drifting in through your terrified, panting breaths and Vecna following after you, twisting metal out of his path to gain ground.
It was faint at first, but as you tried in vain to get away from Vecna, the sound came through clearer and clearer.
You knew that song.
"Billy Idol," you breathed with an incredulous huff, your mind immediately catching on the song, letting it infect your mind to drive out Vecna's curse.
I'd sell my soul for you, babe drifted through your head before you felt long tendrils wrap around your ankles, bringing you down to the ground. Your face hit gravel and steel, blood coating your lips as you scrabbled at the ground, attempting to break free.
You were forced onto your back, before you were raised into the air, pressed against a column of bones and viscera that had been erected from the ground. Vines reached out, tethering you to the column, restricting you until you could barely move.
Vecna stood before you, a pitying look on his face. "There's nowhere to run," he pointed out. "Nowhere I won't be able to find you."
I'd give you all, and have none, babe crept through the fog, slicing right through the hold Vecna had on you.
Vecna's hand reached out, forcing you to look at him. He gripped your chin in his grasp, his nails biting into your skin. Your breath hitched in your chest and your mind whirled in a thousand different directions. Panic seared through you, freezing all along your veins, and threatened to rip your sanity from you.
You tried to think of Steve or Billy or anything that would keep you from letting Vecna's eyes bore into yours, knowing that it would be all too easy to lose your mind to him.
Vecna raised his elongated hand above your face, commanding you to stare up at it in horror. You could feel your eyes begin to roll up into your head as Vecna let out a wicked laugh.
"Did you think they could protect you?"
Darkness was creeping in and you could feel yourself beginning to lose the fight you were waging with your consciousness. You felt your bones begin to quake beneath your skin, threatening to shatter, as Vecna's claws pressed into your face.
"Maybe not," you heard a voice echo, your anguished grief lending you to believe it was Billy's. "But I can."
Vecna was ripped away from you and you fell to the ground with a gasp. You struggled to breathe as you forced yourself to look up. You blinked a few times, as if trying to wipe away the image before you, because it was so unbelievable.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
It was.
Billy was standing between you and Vecna. There were blackened, scorched veins running along his arms and his hands were curved into claws, which he was using to rip apart Vecna, piece by piece.
Billy took a moment to look at you over his shoulder. His eyes were charcoal voids ringed with red, spiderlike black veins surrounding them, splintering his skin.
"Run," he demanded before he turned to face Vecna again, falling on him, tearing into him with furious, frenzied swipes of his hands.
It took you a beat too long to understand the word, but once you finally did, you stumbled to your feet and took off towards where you had left the Camaro behind. You knew, instinctively, that you could find salvation there.
You could see a white light up ahead and heard someone frantically calling your name. There were phantom tugs on your legs and tears running down your face. You felt like you were never going to make it, passing rusted cars and piles of trash, paper getting stuck under your shoe and causing you to slip and nearly lose your footing. You could hear Vecna roaring in displeasure and you worried for Billy's safety, but was he even Billy anymore? He sounded like Billy and looked a hell of a lot like him, but he wasn't quite Billy, was he?
You tried to push past the fear and lingering questions and focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. You could hear Steve's pleas for you to stay with him and the sound of Dustin Henderson cursing in frustration and Max Mayfield's panicked cries for your attention. You heard Lucas Sinclair trying to get in contact with Nancy and Robin on the radio, begging them for a solution or idea that would save you.
They wanted to save you. They cared about you. You weren't alone, despite what Vecna wanted you to believe, and Billy, whether a twisted figment of your imagination or not, had saved you. You didn't deserve to die and you weren't going to give into Vecna.
You would fight for yourself and the others. You weren’t ready to die.
With renewed determination, you rounded a stack of crushed cars and finally saw the Camaro. You could make out the shadows of your loved ones on the other side, and without thinking, you dove into the backseat of the Camaro. You crawled through the backseat until you reached the other side of the car, a blinding light filling your senses as you emerged, before you fell right back into your body.
You gasped in a desperate breath before you felt yourself slam back down to the ground. Steve did his best to catch you, but your legs still twisted beneath you, and you felt them give out a warning twinge of pain. You met Max's worried gaze and managed to get out the only words you could think to say.
"It was Billy," you said, your voice trembling. "He saved me. He was there."
"But...how?" Dustin asked, his voice skeptical. "He died, didn't he?"
"I don't know," you answered, unsure how else to interpret what happened in Vecna's thrall. Was it Billy or your own mind fighting back at Vecna? You wouldn't know. You couldn't know. Not unless you saw Billy again. Not unless Vecna came for you again.
You felt desolation and sorrow begin to creep back in on the ride back to the Wheeler house. Steve didn't want to let you out of his sight, and everyone figured there was safety in numbers, so for the time being, you were all staying in the Wheeler's basement.
Nancy and Robin came back, quietly explaining what they found out at the asylum with Victor Creel to the others while your thoughts were focused on what happened with Vecna. You had almost died a cruel and gruesome death. Death's grip had been tightening around you until Billy had shown up. You remembered the hum of Rebel Yell and wondered if that had been Billy's call to you, his way of asking you to hold on until he could save you.
The others fell asleep, despite promising to watch out for you in turns. One by one, their eyes slipped closed, and it wasn't long before they were all passed out, exhausted from the events of the day. You felt wired and restless, so you silently opened the door leading to the backyard, hoping that the fresh air would do you good.
You glanced over your shoulder, making sure you were going unnoticed, and slipped into the Wheeler's backyard. There was one light illuminating the space, but it was easy to stick to the shadows, leaning up against the side of the house, your breath forming clouds in front of your face.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying not to shiver as you glanced up at the sky, attempting to make out all the stars you could. You thought of all the silly stories you told Billy about the stars and the way his fingers would trail lightly along your arm, listening to you ramble away. You always felt safe there with Billy, in the dark, just the two of you and countless stars in the sky.
"In the midnight hour," you sang under your breath, the song on a loop in your mind since the events at the junkyard.
"More, more, more," came a lilting, teasing voice from the darkness, jolting you out of your thoughts.
He was there at the corner of the house, melting away from the bricks behind him until he was right there in front of you. His eyes were still ringed in red, but they no longer looked like pieces of coal that had melted into his face. You could smell smoke and fire on his denim jacket and there was ash streaked across his cheek.
"Billy?" Your voice was barely audible, because you were terrified you were going to shatter the illusion and Billy would disappear again.
"I'm here," he promised, his hand reaching out to gently caress your face. His skin felt so hot against yours and you couldn't help but shudder at the feeling of his heat.
"But how? They said you died," you pointed out, trying to make sense of everything.
"I did," he confirmed, halting your breath in your throat. "And I didn't. I guess I wasn't quite me when I got torn into by that fucker. A lot of me was gone, but there was still enough left around to try to save that girl. The one he wanted so badly he was willing to kill everyone to get to her."
"Billy," you whispered, reaching out to grab his hand, ready this time for the searing heat of his skin. "What's going on?"
"Hell if I know," he answered, a delighted smirk appearing on his face, as if laughing at a joke only he knew the punchline to. "I absorbed too much of that place," he confessed. "And when I died, I ended up there, and I was stuck. I wandered for a while, trying to figure out how to get back, but then I heard you. He had you and I couldn't let him take you too. Not like he took me or the others. He would have hollowed you out and poured himself into you. Turned you into a puppet," he spat, disdain and revulsion seeping into his tone. “A trophy for his shelf. He can’t have you. I won’t let him.”
"I'm sorry," you blurted, the words you had wanted to tell Billy all along forcing their way out of your throat. They had been the two words stuck inside your head for months and finally getting to say them now, they felt nearly useless. What would an apology do when Billy would never be the same again? When this all might still be some kind of fucked up death dream your brain had cooked up for you?
"Sorry?" Billy asked, bemusement clear in his tone. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
"I wasn't there," you reminded him. "We had that fight and I didn't see you and then you died. Maybe if I had been with you, maybe if we never had that fight--"
"Then maybe you would be dead now too," Billy finished for you. "I wouldn't risk that, baby. Because then you'd be like me." His eyes flashed black for a moment before they reverted back to their normal color. "Half-dead and only alive because of a fucked up creature from another dimension. I can feel it crawling underneath my skin," he confessed, his voice hoarse, as if it hurt for him to say. "It wants me and it wants you and it wants everything," he hissed, his breath brushing against your cheek. "But as long as I'm still in here," he said, tapping his fingers against his forehead, "I'm never gonna let it get you. You're safe with me," he promised, leaning forward so his lips brushed against yours.
It felt like a deal he was sealing with a kiss. You didn’t know what you would have to give up in payment, but in that moment, you felt as if you would follow him anywhere. Do anything he asked. Be anything he wanted. Just for more time alone with him.
"Y/N?" You heard Steve call, voice high and panicked. The door behind you opened and you turned to see your brother rushing outside, his shoulders slumping in relief once he noticed you standing in the shadows of the house. "What the fuck are you doing out here? Are you okay?"
You suddenly felt cold, bereft, and when you looked at Billy, it was to see that he wasn't there anymore. You could just barely make out his form moving away from you before he melted back into the shadows.
"Yeah," you answered your brother, turning around to face him again. "I think I'm okay."
Summary: This is part of the Hellfire Haunts writing challenge! Eddie, Vampire, “I’ve waited lifetimes for…” prompt. Let’s just say I took the Kas theory and turned it on its head. Photo made by @cryptidcasanova (who’s the creator of this lovely Halloween challenge)!
Word count: 3.9k
Taglist: @munchabunch @madaboutmunson (thank you both for being my superstar beta readers!) @riffcrusader @michele131 @idiot-parade @mikaylamaiden333
Red, everything was red. This place was like the other world, the human’s world, but it was different. It was devoid of warmth, of happiness, of ambition, of longing and yet it was perfect. Anything could happen here. Ripe for the taking, as it were the true last frontier.
He called any mystical being near him. He made sure only the worthy would hear him and she did. She heard him loud and clear. It felt as though her whole being was being pulled toward the most intense power she had ever felt in her long, extraordinary life. This world has promise. He had vision. One in which she could see herself holding more power than she could ever imagine. Most importantly, she wouldn’t have to hide it. She was not born to hide in the shadows; she was born to rule.
“You have not found me the soldier I seek,” he spoke in a low, guttural voice.
“Master, it is almost time. He’s almost ready.” Her eyes pleaded with him, shining with a desperation foreign to her. This was her chance to finally have the only thing she’s ever wanted in all of her existence.
“Time…Time is something I am running out of. The stronger the girl gets, the less time we have.” The figure growled.
“It will happen in just a matter of days. You have my word. He is the one we need.”
“Why him? Surely, there is someone else out there who is capable, who is ready now.”
“You don’t understand,” she said hesitantly, shaking her head as her dark ruby red waves cascaded around her. “I’ve been following this soul for centuries. He– He’s different this time. I’m… I don’t know how to describe it. There’s this fire inside him. He will burn that world to the ground given the right weapons.” Usually eloquent and flawless with her speech, the only time she ever stumbled over her words was when it came to him – to this specific soul, no matter the incarnation.
“And you’re sure of this?”
“I just need him to trust me. I’ve been watching him. He won’t join us unless he wholeheartedly trusts me.”
“Go. The time is nearing.” He waved her away with his talon-like fingers. The floating clock about them chimed as she dissipated back to her original realm.
— — — — — —
I could still hear the chiming of that clock as I gained my bearings. It always took a few seconds to adjust after transmuting between worlds. Brushing myself off, I looked into the floor mirror. Not a hair out of place. I lightly tapped some fallout from my smokey cat eye makeup. I adjusted my black, split-thigh maxi skirt. My strapless black corset was staying put, but I fiddled with the laces in the front anyway. This was a seemingly drastic departure from my normal, more casual look, but this was how I would always dress if I wasn’t trying to blend in most of the time. Tonight, however, I was out for blood.
As I left the house, I had to laugh as I thought of how ethereal I looked and felt. The lore the humans came up with, our reflection not appearing in mirrors, never made any sense to me. We’re objects. We take up space, cast shadows. Why wouldn’t our photons bounce back at us? Corpses show up in mirrors, why wouldn’t we? I digress.
One of my favorite upsides to being a supernatural being was the speed. I could make it from the once magnificent house I call home to this dingy dive bar in thirty seconds, all while wearing black stilettos. It’s where his band played, every Tuesday. I’ve come here ever since I arrived at this godforsaken town. Of all places, this soul wanted to be here this time around? I couldn’t help but grimace in disgust. At least it was settled nicely atop an alternate universe. If you could even call it that.
As Corroded Coffin, the band that held my attention, was setting up, I ordered my usual filthy martini made with the most expensive ingredients this cheap excuse of a bar offered. Most nights, I hid off to the side. I stayed where he could still see me, but not easily reach me. I was merely observing those times, which were the only occasions I would let him catch glimpses of me. The other times I had to keep myself hidden, so I wouldn’t frighten the poor boy. No matter how otherworldly my beauty was, there was no chance in hell that he would have trusted me if he saw me at his favorite spot in the woods after school, at his band practices, silly little extracurricular meetings where they all acted out lore that was either grossly exaggerated or misinterpreted from years past, or when he was at home. Often those were my favorite times as I listened to him practice on his prized guitar for hours on end. Better yet, there were many nights when he was asleep that I would spend snooping around his room, trying to figure out exactly who he was in this lifetime.
Yeah, here’s a footnote. It’s also a myth that we have to be invited into someone’s home. My kind was created from a magic so primal, it kept itself hidden from these treacherous beings. In order to become one of us, one doesn’t need to die at all. Enough blood just has to be mixed so that the DNA is completely rewritten, giving the former human supernatural abilities and transforming them into this magical, powerful being. Blood does taste better than any other substance and keeps up thriving, so go ahead, call us vampires if that tickles your fancy.
On this night, I made sure to be where he could see me. All of me. I smiled as I sipped my drink knowing immediately when he laid eyes on me. I could see the goosebumps form on his skin. I could smell his intrigue, even the slight arousal that threatened to overtake him. He wasn’t aware of why his body was reacting the way it was. We would always find each other. There was no way he could put into words what he was feeling right now. From that moment on, I never took my eyes off him.
This second twentieth century version of him was by far my favorite. His first stint in this century, he died from influenza, before he could come of age. I know the moment this soul returns to this universe, no matter where I am in the world; however I’m never allowed to see them until after their eighteenth birthday. This time around, I waited. When you have all eternity, two years feels like no time at all. I wanted to see his human life and learn everything I could about him, his character, even his hopes and his dreams. Of course, they were all for naught in the grand scheme of things. Always destined for something greater.
As they ended their set, I snuck out the back for a cigarette. He was always the last to leave. I disguised myself in the shadows until the place had emptied. To the human eye, I instantly raced past him until I was leaning against the back of his van. I rested my heel on the bumper, exposing my pale bare leg from the split in the skirt. His jaw dropped when he saw me. I smirked.
“Hey,” I said simply.
“H-hey. Hello. Um…” He looked around nervously as if this might be some kind of joke. Somehow he found his composure. With a tilt of his head, his eyes narrowed. “You’ve been coming to these shows for weeks. Why are you finally talking to me now?”
I let out a breath through my nose as a sort of laugh. “You’re quick, aren’t you? Well, I guess I just decided there’s no time like the present.”
“What’s with the outfit? You’re a little overdressed for this place. Your look is usually more…tame.”
“It’s a special occasion.” I smiled sweetly without showing my teeth. “Why haven’t you approached me before now? I mean, you can never seem to take your eyes off me when you cover ‘Love Bites.’” There was a hint of playfulness to my voice as the irony of the Judas Priest song was certainly not lost on me. Some might call this happenstance fate.
“You always take off before I get a chance.” As he crossed his arms, his tone was accusatory and bold. Yeah, he was certainly ready. Humans rarely challenged me. Instinctually, everything screamed for them to run as far away as they could. He meant what he said. He would have come up to me, sparking up a conversation, which was precisely the reason I took off every time. Until now.
“I guess you have a point there…uh…” I conceded as I found an opening to ask his name, despite already knowing it. Couldn’t reveal all my cards yet, now could I?
“Eddie. Eddie Munson. And you are…?”
“Kassandra, but everyone just calls me Kas.”
“So, what made you come to Hawkins?” He asked, his demeanor relaxing as he put his hands in his pockets and kicked at nothing on the ground in front of him. He never managed to be able to stay still.
“What is this, Twenty Questions?” I lightly scoffed before retorting with “Why do you stay in Hawkins?” His only response was a look of confusion and a furrowed brow. “You have talent. You could go places, yet you choose to play to no more than six people once a week,” I elaborated.
“I have to graduate school first. I… No one else in my family has. It’s just something I have to do, before I run out of here like a bat out of hell.” His tone softened. It almost seemed like he draped it in shame.
“Ah, let me guess. Rocky home life, vowed to be different and not like your parents, and you’re gonna do everything you can to live the life they never could. How’d I do?”
It was his turn to scoff. “Is it that obvious?”
“No, I’m just good at reading people. You put up a good front though.”
He narrowed his eyes at me again. I found this incredibly amusing. Especially as he put his hand on his van’s window and leaned down to ask me, “What is that supposed to mean?”
I wasn’t exactly sure if he was trying to be intimidating or was simply irritated. Either way, it was endearing that he thought he could get a rise out of me. Putting my leg back on the ground, I snaked my fingers through his belt loops, pulling him towards me. I moved one hand to trace his jawline with my pointed, black painted nails. I could hear his heartbeat quicken. I could smell the hint of adrenaline starting to kick in. “It means…you aren’t as rough and tough as you seem.” I dropped my hand to his chest. “That you crave something more in here.” I whispered as I tapped where his heart was. The self-control I had was truly remarkable. If he were anyone else, I would have cut the bullshit right there and devoured him. Well, with the mood I was in I would have played with my food first. I was a sucker for a good chase, but again, I digress.
The way his curls formed a curtain around us. The way his deep brown eyes searched mine for an answer to a question he had yet to figure out. I knew I struck a chord that reverberated echoes of feelings long repressed. “Who are you?” was the only thing he was able to mutter.
I placed my hand on his shoulder and reached up to speak breathlessly in his ear. “Maybe we should get out of here, so I can show you,” I whispered.
He pulled back and gazed into my eyes again. I looked right back at him, through him almost, searching for the soul inside that remembered mine. Abruptly he went around the van and opened the passenger door while he circled around to take his place behind the wheel. I didn’t go at a human’s pace. As he was passing his side view mirror, I was already seated and buckled. He didn’t process how I moved until he opened the door and saw me.
“How did you…” He started to ask. I simply gave him my most charming of smiles.
“How did I…what?” I asked with feigned innocence coating my voice. He just shook his head and started up his van. The scent that filled the room from that simple motion was intoxicating.
Towards the end of the short ride, he broke the silence. A feat he’d been debating on doing the whole time, judging from how many times he gripped and ungripped the steering wheel and from how often he opened his mouth to begin to speak, but immediately closed it. “Can I level with you?” He finally asked. “I feel like I should be terrified of you for…some reason I can’t figure out. There’s another part of me that is enthralled by you – and I don’t even know why I’m admitting that – and an even deeper part of me that… that feels…” He struggled to find the right words, a sensation that was completely foreign to him.
“That finally feels at home?” I finished for him.
“Yeah…” He agreed softly.
Half of my mouth turned upwards into a sly smile. “It’s a long story… As for feeling terrified of me, the question you asked earlier… It’s not a matter of who I am, but what I am.” I could hear his breath catch. Again, his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as he pulled into his driveway. I laughed as I eyed him. “Should I tone down the theatrics? My apologies, I do have a flare for dramatics. You do too though, I’ve noticed.”
I got out of his sad excuse of a vehicle and opened his door in the blink of an eye. Doing my best to give him a reassuring smile, although in the dead of night I probably came off as sinister. I held his face between my hands, forcing him to hold eye contact with me. “There are worse things out there than me. You needn’t be afraid of me.” Immediately, the tension in his body ceased. I let go of him and began walking to his front door.
“How did you just…” His breathless voice was barely above a whisper, but even with the slight distance between us, I could hear him as clear as day.
I couldn’t help but sigh. I was growing impatient. “I may be eternal, but I really don’t have all night.” I spoke loud enough so he could hear me. He scrambled to get out of his van and get to his trailer. I opened the door and helped myself inside. A little more about the supposed “invitation only” rule as far as people’s homes go. It doesn’t apply to my kind, at least. That is still a real thing, just for those not of this realm such as certain demons, the fae, those kinds of entities.
I went straight to his room and settled on his bed, leaning my back against the wall. Despite the compulsion I used on him, his disposition was still hesitant.
“Yeah, I mean, just make yourself at home.” He said as he got himself settled. Even with everything that was going on, he managed to turn himself around to grab his precious guitar. He put her in its rightful place before turning back to me.
“I always do when I’m here.” I said absentmindedly.
“Run that by me again?” He said, crossing his arms.
“I’ve been watching you for some time now. Ever since you turned eighteen. We have rules.” I shrugged. “You never found it weird when you would lose something and then it would conveniently show up?” A mischievous smile crept onto my face. He could only stare at me, mouth agape in shock. “I always find you, no matter where you reincarnate. I find you.” My tone softened to that of adoration. “Sit. I told you, it’s a long story.”
I used nothing but a commanding tone this time, yet something inside him moved him to sit on the edge of his bed. Perhaps it was fear, curiosity, the rumbling of destiny he felt stirring deep within, or a mix of all of those things. He watched me expectantly.
“At this point, it might have been a millennium ago, we were created at the same time. Turned would probably be a better word for what happened. The one who figured out this magic altered us simultaneously, thus our souls formed an everlasting bond. Of course, balance is everything here, so another righteous human found a magic to counter us and our kind was hunted. They were not pleased that we fed off blood.” I paused. His eyes showed the calculations his mind was computing. He was piecing the puzzle together.
“You– you’re a vampire?” He asked incredulously.
“For all intents and purposes.” I shrugged again. I really wasn’t a fan of this term, because of what romanticism and Hollywood had turned it into. Nonetheless, it was the easiest for humans to comprehend.
“What happened next?”
“Everything was so new to both sides. The Hunters caught up to us.” I stared off at nothing in particular as I recalled what had happened. Nostalgia flooding my features for that version of him. In every life, he always tried to be the hero. “You sacrificed yourself for me, allowing me the chance to escape. So I spent a few centuries learning about what I had become, honing my skills so to speak. Eventually there was enough of our kind to over take the Hunters. They conceded when we nearly wiped them out of existence. We set up rules to live peacefully with one another. Even still, there aren’t many of us left, but everyone has their own choices to make. Some get tired of this world. I never stopped seeing its potential.”
“So…how do I– how does…my soul fit into this?”
“I’ve made plenty of enemies in my past. Each of your incarnations, I had to wait for when you turned eighteen until I could even approach you. Sometimes your soul would forget who I was. Sometimes you were taken away from me one way or another. Throughout each one, I learned more and more about our bond. When others realized how much power we possessed when we were briefly reunited, they stopped at nothing to take us down. Ever the hero, I’ve lost you more times than I could count. I knew though, with each lifetime, you grew stronger. There would come a time when you would be ready to join me.”
“Am I ready…now?”
I let out a curt laugh. “You tell me. You’ve figured out what I truly am, so the compulsion to subside your fear has worn off. And yet…you haven’t tried to run. This is the first time that’s happened. Before, outside of the Hideout, you even tried to challenge me.” I couldn’t help but grin, the pride radiating from me.
He shot up off the bed and began to pace. “No. No! This isn’t real. This can’t be real. This… this… Stop bullshitting me! Who the fuck are you?!”
“I’m not bullshitting you.” I said from the living room having moved at such an inhuman speed it appeared as if I had teleported. He whipped around to stare at me. “You can become what I am.” I whispered into his ear as I, then, moved behind him before his brain even registered that I had left where he saw me standing.
He turned around as rapidly as he humanly could. His eyes widened and he screamed as he scrambled backwards, tripping, and falling onto his bed looking up at me. Again, I applauded my self control. The scent of fear really worked up my appetite.
Before he could even think of running away, I was on top of him, straddling him, pinning him down. My hands locked his wrists to the bed. I stared down at him, giving him a full smile, exposing my fangs. Tears started to stream down the side of his face. A foreign twinge of guilt nipped at me. He was the only being who could ever bring this emotion out of me. I bent down to lick his tears away. “As much as I’m into this,” I started to say before releasing his wrists and boring into his eyes, “Stop crying,” I demanded. The compulsion made him comply.
I adjusted my weight on him to keep him locked in place between my legs. “Can I level with you?” I asked, imitating him from earlier. “What exactly is keeping you here? I can feel your resistance. I will respect your decision, should you refuse my offer, but… I’ve watched you long enough. I, personally, cannot think of a single reason that would keep you tied to this human life.”
He blinked slowly. “I… um, my friends. Wayne. I… can’t… leave them.”
I threw my head back as I laughed. “No. That’s not the reason. You’re terrified. You know deep down, you hate it here. You hate the confines of this life. You need something more. You crave something more. Why do you think you’re so into that stupid ‘fantasy’ game?” I rolled my eyes. It’s astounding how terribly the humans misunderstood everything. “Let me just show you.”
I placed my hand over the top of his skull, pressing down slightly. A surge of energy went through my arm into his head. His mind was flooded with my experiences, my feelings, my abilities, my plans for the future all of which involved him. “This is what you’re resisting. This is what you’re turning down.” I said just before I removed my hand from him. He stared up at me, his wide eyes shone with desire now.
My tight smile grew devilish. “So, what say you, Eddie Munson? Will you finally join me? Join us?” He nodded eagerly. “I need you to say it.”
“I’ll join you. I want to join you. I want to be with you. By your side.” He was breathless, but the yearning in his voice was unmistakable.
I leaned down, inhaling his scent when my face was pressed against his neck. I licked the length of his neck before kissing it. He could only moan. I smiled against his skin, before I sunk my teeth into his neck. I’ve never tasted any being as sweet and exhilarating as him. Tearing myself away, I looked down at his human form one last time. I will say, this was the prettiest version this soul has ever been.
I took my thumb nail and sliced open my own neck, feeling the cool blood slide down my throat. I bent back down allowing him to drink as much from me as he wanted. This feeling was complete ecstasy, unlike anything I had ever felt.
I knew the transformation had started when he went limp beneath me. Patiently I waited. Content with myself, I reached out to the Master to alert him it had been done.
Soon enough the time came. His eyes shot open. His brown irises were even more intense than before as they were now flecked with shimmering gold.
Breathlessly I spoke, “I’ve waited lifetimes for this moment.”
Billy fucking Hargrove. He and I, we dated once and it didn’t last. He was a dick and I hated how his cigarettes smelled. He had needs that I wouldn’t subject myself to. I was a nice girl, an angel some would say. I doubt he even remembers.
But I’m not longer that girl he knew. And he hasn’t changed one bit. I’ve seen him with his stupid car and the different girls each night behind the high school, under the bleachers. I don’t blame them, the girls, he convinces them that he’s a nice guy. I can hear his voice now, “It’s okay, we won’t get caught. The thrill will make it better.” He gave me the same line.
The same pattern, every night, behind the school and under the bleachers. Sometimes he would bring a blanket. What the hell was I doing watching him like a creep? I was waiting to catch him alone.
I want to see if he tastes as bad as he is as a person. I can do that now, I’m not a toy he can play with and throw away afterwards, not anymore. I want him to be the toy, to show him what he is. I want to make him regret and to fear and to feel. Because I no longer can.
I remain in the shadows, I always remain in the dark. Tonight he’s with a pretty blonde with bouncy curls and white dress. Tonight he opens the car door for her and talks softly and sweetly. She’s hesitant, she knows something is off and she’s not interested in his act. Smart girl, this is my chance.
I float out of the shadows in their direction, making sure the first thing he notices is the sound of my boots crunching against the gravel. The second thing is the red lipstick, and third the sucker- my flavor is cherry. My legs, long and smooth and dressed in black fishnet. Leather jacket over a black shirt and a red flannel tied around my waist. He won’t resist.
“Holyshit, Rosie, is that you?” He says with a laugh, grinning ear to ear as I approach.
He used my middle name. Sort of, Alex Rosalind Moore. Not that it matters, I’m dead. I’ve been dead for a good while now. I found the MISSING flyers in the windows too.
“The one and only.” I reply, popping the sucker back into my mouth.
He’s surprised, entranced by me. I look different from the last time he saw me. I used to wear pretty girly things. Ponytails and heels and dresses. I wouldn’t be caught dead in them now.
“Damn. Where have you been?” He purrs to me as I come closer.
I lean against his car, he used to hate that. “Get the fuck off my car.”, he would snap. I’m in his reach, I can smell his cigarettes and cologne. Can he smell the cherry? Just a bit closer…
“It doesn’t matter, I’m not planning on sticking around.” I reply, “Unless you want to give me a reason to stay.”
His eyes light up. He’s excited now. He’s thinking, “Finally! This girl is going to let me get some!” He’s going to get something alright, he’s probably not going to enjoy it as much as I will. I’m the predator and he’s the prey.
“You know, I feel bad about how things ended between us last time. I made a mistake and I’m sorry.” He says, he leans in closer to me.
I could put my fingers through his soft hair, I want to smell it. I want to breathe in his scent. Especially his neck, that vein that’s popping out. It throbs. I didn’t realize how hungry I was getting.
“You feel bad? You called me mean names and made me walk home. I even cried myself to sleep.” I soften my voice to make me sound like the girl I used to be.
My sweet, innocent sounding voice. It works on older men, it makes them feel big and powerful. Add the puppy dog eyes, point them up so it looks like you’re small and weak. They love that shit. Their fucking disgusting.
Title: Unfinished Business
Fandom: Stranger Things
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Word count: 1166
Warnings: mention of death. angst. swearing.
Summary: AU. Steve has a bit of a revelation.
Notes: Written for @cryptidcasanova's Hellfire Haunts Challenge. The prompts chosen for this were Steve Harrington, Ghost and "Did you think they would protect you?" This is the first of my horror/halloween prompts.
horror prompts masterlist
"You know you're dead right?" She's staring at him expectantly.
"Just because I'm flunking with these ladies doesn't mean I'm dead in the water. Just wait. The right one will come."
Robin sighs and leans against the counter. "No, like dead dead. They're ignoring you because they can't see you."
“Oh ha ha,” he says dryly. It’s not that funny. He feels invisible sometimes since school ended. He’s failed more than he thought he would and his parents are never home. He’s no longer King Steve but since he broke up with Nancy, it’s like he doesn’t exist. Or maybe he’s just been so focused on her and the way he seems to see her everywhere with Jonathan. Hawkins isn’t a big town but it feels smaller lately.
“Steve…” her voice is uncharacteristically serious. Robin frowns at him for a moment before she walks around the counter and closes the door. She locks it before she turns to him.
“You can’t do that.”
“I need to,” she says. She walks back to the counter and hops up on it. Steve just sighs because he’s going to have to clean it. “Steve…did something bad happen? Like, recently? Or in the last few months.”
He thinks back to everything. Being drawn back into the chaos of monsters and telekinesis and the end of the world. Trying to save a bunch of asshole kids who didn’t even know how to say thank you.
“Uh…no?” If he tells his coworker the truth, she’ll think he’s insane.
“You didn’t, I don’t know, fall down the stairs? Get in a car accident or something? Wander off with a stranger to help find their puppy?”
He gives her an unimpressed look. Did she think he’s stupid? Scratch that. The answer is probably yes. “No.”
“Steve. Think about it. The only one who’s been talking to you, who’s been looking at you is me. You don’t think that’s weird?”
“I mean–”
“We’re not friends, Steve. I don’t even know why you’re here because you’re not getting paid. Where did you get the uniform? The boss didn’t hire you. So what happened? How did you die?”
“I didn’t die!”
“You sure?”
“Yes! Stop trying to bullshit me!”
“Steve, I’m not–”
“I’m taking my break.” He throws his hat on the counter and leaves, ignoring the way she’s calling his name as he goes out the back.
It’s a cruel trick. Another way to make fun of the fall of King Steve. Like it’s not bad enough that he’s stuck working at some stupid ice cream shop because his dad…he hasn’t actually seen his dad in months. Or his mom. He knows they’ve been around, in the house. Things have moved and dishes appeared in the sink but he hasn’t actually seen them.
He moves through the mall easily. Or it moves around him. He can’t seem to get Robin’s voice out of his head. “How did you die?”
He didn’t die. It’s a stupid question. He leans against the railing, looking out over the mall. He’s just having some bad luck. It’s the stupid hat with that uniform. It’s…it’s the fact that no one’s looking at him.
Steve has always attracted some kind of attention. Most of it good until the disaster with Nancy. But now that Robin’s words are echoing in his head, he’s noticing that no one has even glanced his way. No one’s…he swallows tightly.
He looks over at the couple next to him. “Hey, you know what time it is?”
They walk away.
“That’s rude,” Steve mutters. “Hey!” he calls out to one of his teammates from basketball. “Hey! Kyle!” He raises his voice but they don’t look. No one does. Fear settles in Steve’s chest, sitting heavy like lead. “Hello!” His shout echoes across the mall, but it’s buried in the sound of the mall. Or at least it seems to be. No one reacts.
He runs back to the ice cream shop, noting the way people seem to step around him before he runs into them. Even as he reaches to touch one, they move or duck out of the way. It’s weird. He’s never noticed it before. He stops, standing in the middle of the walkway. Things were fine. He was fine.
“Are you okay?”
He’s back in the ice cream shop, sitting on the floor behind the counter.
“Yea–” he stops, actually thinking about what she says. Things haven’t been the same since that night. The night when Billy beat the shit out of him and he woke up in the backseat of a car, vision blurry and head feeling like it was going to explode, with some kid driving. He ended up in some fucking tunnels that smelled like smoke and rot. He remembers getting out of them. He thinks. He helped the kids up and then…he remembers being by the car, sitting there on the ground while the kids cheered and looked back into the hole and…wait, how did he get home?
“Hey, it’s okay,” Robin says softly.
“…I’m dead?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “Sorry.”
“Bummer.”
She snorts slightly at him. “So what…what happened?”
Steve rests his head back on the wall. “I don’t know.” He closes his eyes. He wouldn’t normally say anything, wouldn’t tell some other poor soul the truth about this town unless he had to. He never wanted anyone to think he was insane but what’s the risk now? He’s dead. The girl he thought he’s been working with sees ghosts and now…he’s dead. So he tells her. Everything.
“Did you think they could protect you?”
“No, it wasn’t like that…it was about protecting them. I just needed to make sure the little shits were safe.”
She stares at him for a moment, her chin resting on her knees as her legs are pulled close to her. The store has been closed for hours now but they’re both still here. Still talking. She sighs for a long moment. “You know, I never would have thought that Steve Harrington was a good dude.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it!” she says, grinning at him. “You’ve been risking your life to save some kids, to save the town and now you’re…” She doesn’t say it. It’s not like they both don’t know but he appreciates that.
“So what now?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I do?”
“Go into the light?” she suggests. “How should I know?”
“You’re the psychic!”
“I’ve never been dead!” She motioned towards herself. “I just see the dead people. Most of them have unfinished business before they move on. So? You got some unfinished business?”
Steve thinks to himself. He thinks of the way Nancy smiles, of Dustin’s enthusiasm about finding a girl he likes, about the way those kids clung to him for help. He thinks of the way he was needed for once and how the bullshit never seems to end in this town. They need him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding more to himself than her. “I do.”
It's not a full length/more of a drabble if anything (only 500 words), but I didn't want to just let the idea die in my head. So I took a short break from my WIP to just jot something down quick.
Prompts: Eddie Munson - Ghost - "Did you think they could protect you?"
Even in Death
Wavy brown hair popped up from behind the preset barrier. Lights flickered around them, and they could only watch as the table between them hovered slightly and crashed back down to the ground.
“Did you think they could protect you?”
The voice came from Eddie, but it was distorted. Warped in a way only he would be able to imagine. A character only he could create.
“You are all that’s left. Their fate lies on you. Do you flee or stay and fight?”
Eyes darted between all members of their party before landing solely on Mike. Defensiveness took over his posture as he threw up his hands backing away.
“What?! You can’t expect me to seriously take this on by myself! I’m barely standing as it is!”
“It’s not like we haven’t had to fight solo before!”
Dustin began to argue against the objection, and Lucas jumped in to aid the counter argument. Gareth was next to voice his opinion. Then Will. Bickering broke out, slowly building intensity until the words themselves could no longer be deciphered amongst the noise.
“Erica did the–”
"Lady Applejack!”
“It’s not possible—”
“Of course it’s–’
“You have to avenge—”
”Run away? We can’t–”
"Do you think I—”
Once more the table lifted from the ground, pieces shaking and tipping over in the process. Once more it slammed to the ground with a crash. But this time the lights went out with it. The decorations surrounding the space toppled to the ground and littered the floor around them. And once all else came to a halt, dice rolled to land next to Mike’s shoes.
“Do you flee or do you stand?!”
Silence. Shifting eyes. Nobody was going to be the first to interject after that spectacle. Almost nobody.
“Dammit, Munson! You remember the last time you wasted all your… poltergeist shit, or whatever makes you go, on these damn nerd games? Do you want to just poof off again?!”
Harrington. Always the babysitter, even for the dead.
“Come on, just having a bit of fun. Lighten up, big boy.”
“Stop it with that! And no!”
A new chorus of objections began to interject.
“Aww, Steve, he knows what he’s doing–”
”Yeah, he knows his limits.”
”It’s nothing serious.”
"Yeah, Steve!”
"It's okay. Eddie's still—”
“Fine!”
Steve sank back down in his seat and picked up the magazine he felt warranted more attention than the shenanigans ongoing around him. Sure, he felt a sense of guilt over everything that happened in the upside down, but even that had its limits. Paranormal wrangler was nothing he signed up for. But when did he really sign up for any of this.
“Alright! But I’m not responsible for… Whatever happens is not on me, okay?!”
Now that the chaos had fizzled to an almost non-existent buzz, Mike bent over to pick up the dice at his feet. Prepared to throw for a last ditch effort. A final chance at victory.
And so the game continued. New members and old, gathered to join in on ‘Hellfire Straight from Hell’ as Eddie liked to call it.
Nothing could keep him from his campaigns, not even death.
It was the middle of the night when you heard it, your name frantically being called over the walkie.
You kept one on your dresser just in case there was trouble. And in Hawkins, there was always trouble.
"This is an emergency -"
"SOS -"
Henderson.
You groaned into your pillow, your mind struggling to wake up. You worked all day and weren't happy about them bugging you in the middle of the night-
"You need to get out of there-"
"-Don't let anyone in your house!" Steve's voice was urgent in the background.
"-It's Eddie-"
When the muddled voices finally resonated, your eyes burst open. You scrambled up, getting tangled in the sheets as you pushed yourself out of bed.
You couldn't get to the walkie-talkie fast enough.
"What do you mean, it's Eddie?" You all but spat into the box.
But the line was silent.
"Come on, you guys, this isn't funny." You groaned, hitting the plastic when no one answered. "Guys?"
You cursed under your breath.
Why would they say something like that? They couldn't just throw around Eddie's name and leave you high and dry. Why would they do that to you? Your anger simmered into muted anxiety, and you paced back and forth to calm down.
It had been – shit – it had been months since Vecna disappeared.
Spring break had come and gone, and the summer turned to fall. Hawkins was starting to put itself back together again.
But you could still see it when you closed your eyes.
You could see Eddie cutting the tether between the upside down and Hawkins, how your lifeline to the other side fell to your feet in Eddie's trailer. Your heart was beating in your throat.
The look he gave you was devastating.
He was going to keep the demo-bats distracted. He was buying more time for everyone.
He wasn't coming back.
But you and Dustin couldn't just leave him there. And then, when you finally helped Dustin get back over, letting him crawl over your shoulders before falling into the upside-down, he abandoned you too.
You were supposed to work together to go fight against the demo bats with Eddie.
But they abandoned you. Dustin was too young, too impulsive to think of what he was doing. He didn't think about how helpless you felt – you couldn't get back there alone.
And Eddie never came back.
You never quite recovered from it.
You loved the freak of Hawkins, and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Eddie knew it, and he cut the rope anyway.
He was the hero he never had the chance to be. Your belly ached. You never got to say goodbye.
You turned off the walkie, setting it down a little too hard against the wood. The dull throb of a headache made itself known. You coaxed your legs down the hall to the kitchen.
Tylenol - then back to bed. If you could get back to bed.
The house was quiet, except for the tap water filling your cup and pills clacking against each other in the bottle. And then, when you finally turned around to head back to your room, you dropped the cup.
What you thought was a shadow in the living room was no shadow at all. The shadow was moving, stalking closer to you with careful steps.
You could have sworn your heart stopped for a moment.
"Eddie?"
Eddie Munson was standing in the middle of your living room, looking the same as the day he left.
The same as when the gates closed.
His hair was free from his bandana, and his hellfire shirt was torn to shreds. Even then, his eyes were just as devastating as you remembered. He exhaled, and the curve of his lips were slightly parted.
You thought you were going to cry.
"Miss me, sweetheart?" The hint of a grin lingered on his cheeks, and he took a step closer.
Fear gripped the corners of your mind, and you took a half step back before hitting the kitchen counter. You shook your head in disbelief.
You had finally lost your goddamned mind.
Those big brown eyes possessed a power you'd never seen before. His features were sharper, his movements more calculated, but the soft smile on his lips was grounding.
You were too afraid to move, fearful that you would wake up.
It was a dream. It must have been a terrible, heartbreaking dream.
"I'm here, baby," Eddie whispered, lifting his hands in surrender. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. "It's okay, really. I'm not going anywhere."
He closed the distance until you were face to face, and your eyes traveled the space he took up in disbelief.
He reached out to you.
Eddie could feel the shift in your heartbeat as his fingers danced along your skin. He took your hand, lingering there before gliding it up your arm and cupping your cheek.
It was agonizing.
His touch was powerful - soothing the burn in your heart, and you didn't even know it. Eddie could lessen that pain, the ache in your veins. He never meant to be the cause of it.
And now, he exuded a confident, cunning power. He was going to protect you. This time, he was going to take care of you.
And when he finally lulled you into his embrace, you were defenseless to it.
He smelled like iron and smoke, and his hold on you was stronger than you could have ever hoped for. You were going to crumble there into a pile at his feet.
"I lost you," Your defeat was heartbreaking. "I couldn't get to you."
The gate closed before you ever had the chance.
But Eddie was going to make you forget all about it. He would wrap you up in all the affection you deserved and help you forget all your worries.
"I shouldn't have scared you," He almost purred, his words lulling you in close. "I shouldn't have left you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
And he meant it. He leaned in closer, holding you like you would disappear if he let go. His hands were strong, cupping your waist.
"I'm going to make it right. I'll make it up to you," He urged, whispering the words into the nape of your neck. "I promise. Come away with me."
The agonizing, depraved feeling in his chest finally subsided.
Eddie missed you. He ached for you.
When he pulled back, his dark eyes were locked on your face. He was hypnotizing.
Eddie was mapping and memorizing everything. His hand cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip before giving you the softest kiss you'd ever had. It was a whisper against your skin. And then, after a slow blink, he pulled back.
"Don't even think about it, Harrington."
You couldn't have known that Steve Harrington broke into your house. He had snuck up behind Eddie, a jagged piece of wood in his grip. He was close to Eddie, too close.
"Let her go."
Steve was brave, naively, so.
But Steve didn't know what he was dealing with. Harrington called your name, but you were still locked on Eddie's intense gaze.
"It's not real," Steve urged, calling your name again. "Snap out of it."
But Eddie's eyes were reeling you in. He was begging you to stay. His gentle smile and the soft curve of his nose were too good to be true.
Eddie was alive.
"Whatever you're seeing, whatever he told you, it's not real." You blinked out of it when you heard Nancy Wheeler's voice pierce through the room.
They were in your house. They were all in your house.
The illusion dissolved as Eddie's expression shifted into a snarl.
In an instant, everything changed. His hair was darker and wilder than you remembered. Eddie's skin was pale, and the fingers hooked under your jaw were sharp claws. Dark trails of blood covered his shirt, and as your focus shifted back to his face, you froze in fear.
It was all a lie. This wasn't your Eddie at all.
His bone structure had changed. The features of his face were sharp, his cheeks gaunt. His brow bone was pushed out, and his eyes were tortuous. They were dark, almost red, and glowing regardless of the lack of light in the room. The bridge of his nose led you down to his lips, parted in a dissatisfied snarl to show you two sharp canines.
Fangs.
Blood was splattered down the corners of his mouth. It rolled down his chin all the way down his neck.
His grip on you was unforgiving.
He was too close.
Oh god.
"Come on, sweetheart," He tormented, his voice a soft contrast to the long, clawed fingernail tracing the curve of your jaw. "Don't be scared. It's just me. Just look at me."
His glamour was powerful and frightening. Your shock was unsettling, and he could taste it in the air. But you didn't jump away from him. Maybe he had a stronger hold than he realized.
Or maybe it was you. Perhaps you were just as devoted to him all along.
"I was so scared, sweetheart." He whispered again. "Scared and alone. And then it was so cold." He remembered, his fingers digging into your skin. "It was so cold. I couldn't get back through the gate. The trailer was locked tight, and I couldn't get back to you."
You were choked up listening to the emotion in his voice.
"What happened to you?" You were stunned, finally finding your voice. "Eds, what did they do to you?"
Eddie shook his head in your direction.
It didn't matter what happened. It didn't matter that he had spent months dazed and confused. It didn't matter then that he didn't feel hunger or the need to rest in the upside-down. It didn't matter that he spent so much time walking, running like a bat out of hell to find an open gate.
And when he finally found an open gate? He took the first chance he got out of there.
He stepped out into the night more alive than he ever felt. The lights were brighter. The sounds were louder. The upside-down muffled him to just how different he was.
And he was hungry.
It didn't matter that he left a trail of bodies from Memphis to Hawkins. It didn't matter that he could only travel by night or that he'd have to find his own means to get back home.
He should have gone to you first.
He shouldn't have stopped at Dustin's house on the way to yours. He shouldn't have tried to explain - Henderson could only see what Eddie had become.
He was one of the monsters from his campaigns.
But none of it mattered now. You mattered to him, and he would find redemption in you.
Eddie called your name again.
"Come with me, please," He all but begged, the low lull of his words dragging you under.
Eddie had been alone for so long. He had always been lonely, but not like this. You could see the hint of a tremor in his lip.
"Get away from her," Steve warned, and you watched as Eddie's expression shifted.
The soft-spoken, lovable man you knew turned into something dangerous. The smirk on his lips was vile.
He let his hand fall away from your face before turning, cornering you between him and the counter while he glared daggers at Steve.
"What are you afraid of, big boy?" His tease was sinister, his lips curling up. "I don't bite."
And before you could blink, Eddie was there, sneaking behind Steve and pulling the wooden stake out of his hands. He moved faster than could be explained, cracking the wood in his hands before letting the woodchips and sawdust fall to the floor.
He wasn't only fast, but he was strong, too.
Eddie had backed Steve into the wall, clacking against the pictures you hung with a groan. It was similar to how they first met at Reefer Ricks. Things were so much simpler then. Back then, Eddie was terrified. But now, he was terrifying.
He was all teeth and claws, his eyes glowing against Steve's brown ones.
"You don't know what it's like, Harrington," Eddie growled, his eyes trailing down to Steve's frantic pulse. "To have everything change in an instant. You know the freaks come out at night. Don't you judge me."
The whisper died on his tongue as he shoved Steve down to the carpet. The sound of a cocking shotgun made you spin; in a flash, your eyes were on Nancy. She was defending Steve. She was going to –
"No, no!" You called out as she aimed the double barrel. "No, Nancy, not like this."
You pleaded with her, and in a fraction of a moment, she looked away from Eddie. He made his move.
He reached for the gun, yanking it out of her grasp. He bent the metal barrels together, with what little effort it would have taken you to break a toothpick, before letting it fall to the floor.
Eddie let out a bitter sigh. His disappointment was potent, suffocating the room.
Nancy changed her tune, rushing over to Steve's side while keeping an eye on Eddie. They never stood a chance. Eddie ran a frustrated hand through his hair, urging himself to calm down.
He took a step back towards the kitchen, gaining your attention.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," He admitted.
Before your eyes, you watched as the violent mirth faded from his expression. Sharp canines turned dull, and you watched as the structure of his face softened.
"Come with me, sweetheart, and no one will get hurt." It wasn't a choice, not for Eddie. He wasn't going to leave without you.
You covered your mouth with your hand. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to do.
Until ten minutes ago, you thought he was dead, but he was there. Someway somehow, he was there. As you looked at him, your eyes went wide in realization.
The demo bats. They changed him.
"Eds," Your eyes were brimming with tears as you stepped toward him. "They hurt you bad, baby. There's," your voice broke, "There's got to be something we can do."
You almost barreled into him regardless of the sirens going off in your head to back away. You couldn't let him hurt your friends.
You cradled Eddie's face in your hands, your heart pounding at the discovery.
"There's got to be something we can do." You pleaded again.
Eddie placed his hands over your own. His rings were just as cold as his skin, and he shook his head with a sad grin.
"Look at me, angel," He urged, pulling you back into his potent stare. "I'm not going to hurt them, but I can't stay here." He rubbed his thumbs against the backs of your hands, listening to how your breathing calmed at his touch. He could make it work.
"I promised I'd make it up to you, but we have to go."
His words were calculated and decisive. Steve and Nancy watched as you blinked, but your eyes were far away. Eddie was giving you an ultimatum. You'd have to turn yourself over to save your friends. He wasn't after them; he came for you.
You didn't even look over at your friends before nodding. "Okay, Eddie. Okay."
Their reactions were instantaneous.
"You can't-"
"Don't!-"
Nancy and Steve shouted in sync, but all Eddie could do was offer them the hint of a scowl as he lowered his hands from yours. Your heartbeat was steady. He convinced you to go. And as he ushered you out the back door from the kitchen to the backyard, he gave Steve and Nancy a weighted stare.
"Don't fuck this up for me," Eddie warned with venom. He was pointing a ringed finger at them. "Or this won't end well for you; for any of you."
Eddie remembered everything he sacrificed when they faced Vecna, and by the look in their eyes, they remembered it too. He did it for them. He helped save Hawkins for them.
This was the least they could do.
Their hearts ached, letting their heads hang low as Eddie walked out the door behind you. Steve put his hand around Nancy's shoulder when he heard her sniffle.
It wasn't a moment later that Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Robin busted through the front door with stakes and squirt guns filled with holy water. Robin had two bundles of garlic in her hands. They were ready to go into battle.
"Where the hell is he?" Dustin bellowed, stomping into the house.
But the group stopped as they looked from the busted-up shotgun to their friends huddling around on the floor.
"It's too late." Robin realized, looking around the room to the back door.
When she caught Steve's eye, he put his head in his hand.
"We can't go after him." Steve was deflated.
The weight of Eddie's threat was more frightening than he could have imagined out of Hawkins High's freak. One look at Nancy and he knew – Eddie wasn't bluffing.
"So what now? We just throw her to the wolves?" Lucas asked incredulously before looking at the stake in his hand. "Vampires." He corrected.
"He's going to hurt people," Max added quickly.
"But he's not going to hurt her." Steve corrected, looking at one of your pictures hanging on the wall.
Eddie wasn't thinking straight, but he wasn't going to hurt you. And the way he looked at you? Eddie was risking getting caught to find you. At least, that's what Steve had to tell himself.
"No, maybe not," Nancy finally spoke up, pulling herself to her feet. "Maybe he won't bleed her dry and leave her on the side of the road."
She looked over the group before looking down at her shotgun. Her eyes were wide in terror. A shiver traveled down her back with a concern she couldn't dare speak.
"But I think he's going to do something much worse."
This is a Hellfire Haunts request from @wh0reforbucknasty and I’m using the prompt “You’re the devil in disguise.”
Summary: The full moon meant more trouble than you realized, but you couldn’t have known until it was too late. But don’t worry, Jim will be there for you.
6.8k words.
Warnings: 18+ Content, Possessive!Hopper, Smut, Jim is a tease until he isn’t, pheromones, breeding kink.
You knew you shouldn't have been racing through the woods.
It was the middle of the night, you were less than sober, and you were hardly dressed for the occasion. But you needed to get to Hopper's cabin.
It was an emergency. Something was wrong.
Maybe it was because Jim stood you up on your date - which was entirely out of character for him. If anything, he was especially eager on those nights. He usually wore a new button-down shirt, sometimes a little tight, to show off his arms. They even kept a table reserved for you at Enzo's.
Or maybe you were on edge because even when you called the station, he wasn't there. 'Hopper left early' was all the deputy could get out before you hung up the phone.
You were using the payphone just outside the restaurant, slamming it down with enough force to catch the attention of a couple leaving with to-go boxes in their hands.
You tried to rationalize it; really, you did.
So you tried to wait it out inside, sipping away your worries with a bottle of wine Jim liked to sip on. But one glass turned to two, to three, to finishing the bottle. Your head was in your hands, and as hard as you tried, you couldn't help but think something terrible had happened.
What if he was hurt?
What if something was wrong with El?
What if another gate opened?
You pulled yourself up from the table at that thought. The chair screeching underneath you burned against your ears and the ears of the rest of the patrons. Their stares lingered on your skin, but you brushed them off. You felt dizzy and quickly made your way out to Main Street.
The fresh air was calming, and autumn was rolling in. There was a nip in the air as you tried to focus. You drank entirely too much wine.
Your car gave you a weary expression.
You shouldn't drive, couldn't drive. Jim would be pissed if you even considered it. You were going to have to make it to Hopper's on foot.
The moon looked down at you with sympathy. She was shining, full, and bright as you walked into the night. It cast you in a gossamer blanket, a glowing shadow as you took shortcuts through town. You cut through Hackett's farm and old Missus Wilson's flower garden.
But it wasn't until you were about to cut off the main road altogether that you heard a loud, bellowing noise from behind you. It dissolved into a dark, guttural growl in the night.
You picked up your pace. You were right; something was wrong.
There was something in the woods.
You could hear it in the shuffling of the brush and the crunch of fallen leaves. You decided to make a run for it. And you didn't look back, even as you swore it was catching up. You were panting, urging your legs to keep moving through the old pathway cut out from the tires of Jim's truck.
If you could just get to him - if you could know he was safe, you could fight it together.
You huffed out a heavy, sad breath.
You needed to tell him how you felt. You had been going on little dates here and there, and more often than not, your house was the place to be for movie nights with the kids. Usually, it was some dumb flick from
Family Video, but it brought everyone together. Even the kids noticed. The lingering stares and careful touches were dangerous. You always danced on the cusp of voicing your thoughts to the illusive, hardened cop.
But Jim was more than that. He was learning to be kind and patient, and his heart was three times bigger than when you first met him. You cared about him more than you could admit.
You were pulled away from your wilting thoughts by the roar of birds flying overhead. They flew out of a tree on the left side of the road, making a beeline in the other direction.
You decided to heed their warning.
You curved around the bend in the path, staying to the right side of the tracks.
It wasn't long before you could see the cabin silhouette between the trees. There was a lonely lamp turned on in the kitchen. Hopper's truck was parked out front. You couldn't help feeling relief as you rushed to the front door.
You spared one brief look behind you, swearing you could feel a pair of eyes staring at you through the trees.
But there was nothing there. There was nothing in the darkness of the night.
You turned the doorknob without looking at it and hurried into the house, locking it behind you. Hot frantic breathing filled the air, and it took your mind a moment to remember it was coming from you. You stared at the door, remembering to scold Jim for keeping it unlocked the next time you-
You jumped as you stepped back, your back hitting something warm and firm. Hands on your shoulders steadied you, and you turned in his arms to face him.
"J -Jim," Your voice shook with relief, and you let him pull you close. "Oh, thank god, I thought something was wrong. I thought that-" You were breathless. "There's something in the woods! I needed to make sure that you were okay."
When he didn't say anything, you took a deep breath and looked up at him.
Jim looked frazzled.
He was burning up. His hair was out of place, his eyes were dark, and you couldn't overlook how his jaw was locked up. It wasn't until then that you realized he was sweating, shirtless, and his pants were hanging lowly on his hips. The curls of his chest hair were clinging to his skin. To say he was disheveled would have been an understatement.
"Are you alright? Where's El?" You asked quickly, looking around the cabin.
"Hold on," he spoke slowly, staring from your mud-covered shoes to the glimmer in your eyes. "You ran all the way out here?" He asked, his voice tense. "Alone?"
He wasn't happy.
"Where's your car?" Jim huffed, putting his hands on his hips.
It was only then that you remembered just how warm your cheeks were. You were so determined to find Jim that you almost forgot the reason you came in the first place.
He stood you up on your date.
You took a grounding breath.
"'It's at Enzo's." You explained, your thoughts returning to you. They changed from drunken woes to clear concerns as you looked back at him. "I drank too much and couldn't drive. Where were you?"
He looked at you with furrowed brows, confusion dark in his eyes.
"I ordered the red wine. The mozzarella sticks," You recounted, watching his expression fall. "So, where. Were. You?"
You pointed a finger into his chest, trying to balance your frustration. But there was a bitter taste on your tongue.
Slow understanding dawned on Hopper's features. It was slow at first, but then it hit him all at once.
"'It's a Thursday," He realized, running a hand over his face.
"It's a Thursday!" You repeated back at him with a bite but stopped when Jim touched your shoulder. “Thursdays are for date nights.” You whispered, refusing to meet his stare.
A still moment passed by too slowly, and the tension in the air made your belly ache.
"You have to go home." Jim huffed, the words sour on his tongue.
With a hand on your back, he turned you around to face the front door.
"Go. Home." He instructed coldly. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
You went still at his bristly tone. He was sending you away.
The anxious pit in your belly grew.
"Go home? I trudged all the way out here for you." You retorted quickly, shaking your head. You looked at him well and hard, tracing a path from his neck down to the crux with his legs. His jeans were more than just hanging low on his hips - it was like he struggled to get them on and forgot to button them.
Jim was hot and sweaty and half undressed. He blew off date night and wasn’t expecting you to show up at his door.
"I said," he gritted, "You need to go home. For both our sakes, I need to be alone."
Jim wasn't happy, like the words were forced past his tongue. You assessed him sharply, but your breath stopped short.
Your thoughts went to the worst-case scenario. In your drunken stupor, you took a sobering step out of his hold.
Maybe Jim wasn't as alone as you thought.
Your eyes fell from his and drifted to where the curtains to his bed were closed tight.
Your belly ached. Maybe you were right. Something was wrong. Your old, insecure feelings towards Joyce, Sandra, Lindsay, and all of the other girls in Jim's life were pulled to the front of your mind.
It was no wonder why you were feeling on edge.
Jim could see the faraway look in your eyes. He moved to touch you, but you flinched out of his grip.
“Honey-“
“Don’t.” You cut him off, wanting it to sound sharp, but it fell flat.
Your dejection left a bitter tinge in the air.
It made Hopper take a heavy breath, and you watched the slow exhale from his chest. His cheeks were hot. Jim was frustrated.
You didn’t understand. He needed you to understand.
“There’s no one else here. It’s just you and me.” Jim assured. “El went to Max’s house for a sleepover.”
The lull of his words was slow and purposeful.
“But it’s not safe to be here. Not tonight,” Your sarcastic, gruff man was exceptionally tender. At your core, they shook the walls you were building up. It almost made your knees weak. “Baby, look at me.”
Your eyes flitted back to his, noticing just how dark they were.
Jim didn’t look like himself at all.
He was immense and imposing, looking down at you like he was trying not to scare you away. He was trying to make himself look smaller than he really was. The jealousy bubbling in your veins came out in short, angry breaths. Your mind was having trouble keeping up with the assumptions of your heart.
"There's no one else."
Jim took a step closer, but you didn't back away this time.
Good, he thought. That meant something was working in his favor.
"There's no one else." He reaffirmed, taking your hand and lifting it up against his cheek.
The bristles of his beard scratched your palm. You let him hold it there and realized just how hot his skin was. Hopper's skin was flushed, and he leaned into your touch. Maybe he was sick. Maybe that's why he missed date night.
He sniffed at the crux of your wrist. A slow moment passed, and he placed a gentle kiss there.
"I'm all yours, angel."
When you looked up at him, his expression shifted. Jim's eyes were softer. They were playful, teasing even. It was a drastic shift from the first moment you saw him.
His entire body language changed suddenly, like he was playing coy. You pulled your hand back to your side. His palm brushed from your cheek down the slope of your neck, tugging on the shoulder of your dress. He was pulling the cloth down your arm as best he could.
The slow, rumbling noise from his chest made your heart thump. His eyes found yours instantly.
"Come on, you know me better than that. That's not why I missed date night."
"Then what happened?"
So impatient.
Jim flashed you a slow grin, his teeth a sharp contrast to the low lighting. His dark eyes were raking further down your body than his hands.
"You wore all this for me?" He asked, avoiding your question altogether. "I don't know what I was thinking, telling you to go. You should stay, really you should."
You felt dizzy at his push and pull. He wasn't making any sense.
"Jim, what has gotten into you tonight?" You asked, hardly registering that he was moving forward, leading you back until you hit the door.
His hand rested against the frame, and he was so close, looking down at you with a hungry gaze. Were his hands always that big?
"Jim-" You started but were cut off.
"You're thinking so loud." He complained, his free hand digging circles into your hip. "What's got you so worked up? You thought there was a big, bad monster out there a minute ago. You need someone to protect you? Someone big and strong?"
You blinked, swearing there was a glow in his dark eyes.
"Jim, you're starting to scare me."
He offered with a toothy smirk before lowering his head. He was eye-to-eye with you, his eyes dancing down to your lips before popping back up.
"There's nothing to be scared of. It's just me."
He pressed his body into yours, warming you up against the chill of the night.
"I want to kiss you so bad. You have no idea. It's all I think about," Jim swallowed, tilting his head to the side, "Well, maybe not all I think about."
The moment his hips ground into yours, your thoughts spiraled. The hard ache between his legs left you speechless.
The Jim you knew was coy and playful but never so forward. He was rocking you into the door, slow and purposeful.
"You smell so good. Can't you smell it?" The sound that rumbled in his chest sounded hauntingly familiar. "Want to tear you apart," He urged, "I could eat you up."
You thought back to running in the dark, running to him for safety from whatever was lurking in the shadows.
It wasn't something from the upside down.
The glint in Jim's eye was enough to confirm your suspicions.
"There's no monster outside, is there?" You asked, remembering the haunting noises you heard in the woods. His eyes creased in amusement.
Jim bit his lip seductively as he assessed you.
"Are you going to run? Make me catch you?"
You took a shuddering breath.
"Go then." He taunted, strands of hair falling in his face. "Run for it, honey. Give me a chase." The sly look in his eye made your blood boil.
You want to kick and fight and be strong, but the back of your mind can't help but drift. What would Jim do if you tried to run for it?
He watched you with the eyes of a predator, and your stomach flipped at the thrill of it. What was he doing to you? Did he always smell that good? You couldn't think clearly.
"You're the devil in disguise." You faltered, pushing against his shoulders.
Jim pulled back, looking at you with a tormenting smirk. Were his eyes darker? Were his teeth sharper?
"Not quite," he bit his lip in amusement.
"Are you gonna hurt me, James?"
You swore you could feel his body shaking. Your question was candid, his eyes locking on you for a long moment before he was broken out of his spell.
You called him by his birth name, and Jim's restraint snapped.
"Only when you beg me to."
His whisper broke you out of his hypnotic hold.
You pushed at his shoulders to get away, and he didn't stop you. You made a beeline away from him. When your brain finally caught up, you realized you were heading toward the closest room in the house - the bathroom.
You could hear the hint of a chuckle from Jim, but you didn't dare to look back. He wasn't chasing after you. You shut and locked the bathroom door, pushing yourself into the corner furthest corner. You needed to think about this.
For a moment, it was quiet. You looked around to find something to protect yourself. But between El's lipgloss and a stack of towels, you felt lost. You put your head in your hands. You didn't know what to do.
"Despite your best intentions," Jim's voice teased from the other side of the door, "You can't get away from this. I'm not a bad dream, babe. You came to me, remember?"
Usually, you could hear every creak and groan of the wooden floors, but he was silent. Jim was sneaking up on you. You could hear his finger tapping on the other side of the hardwood door.
It was tormenting.
"Jim," You pleaded, "I just want to go home."
"I think you knew, deep down," he kept going, "I think you needed me; came to me. You knew that I needed you, too." He spoke up now, the timber of his words making your heart ache. "You can't hide in there forever."
No shit.
You didn't know what was worse; the fear of what you didn't understand or the thrill that went down your spine at Hopper's words.
That wasn't your Jim..or maybe it was. It was all so confusing. You paced around the cramped space, the skirt of your dress making the shower curtain sway.
You caught the moon's reflection in the mirror outside the bathroom window and spun around on your heel.
The moon.
Full and bright, it shone down on the cabin. It was a full moon.
Of all the crazy things you had seen, between the upside down and the soviet spies, your belly ached to think something else could be out there.
No, no, no.
You didn't want to believe it. The laugh that left your lips was bitter.
"There's no way." You whispered, stepping over to the window sill. "It's impossible."
If you opened the window and jumped out, you could make a run for it. You could run back into town. You could get help. You faltered as you reached for the lock on the window.
Who would help you?
Who would help you against the chief of police?
"You still with me in there?" Jim asked after a pause, and you staggered out a breath. You could almost see his smirk on the other side of the door.
You had fought monsters and conquered bad guys. But could you handle someone like Jim Hopper?
"Still here." You replied, quietly unlocking the window as you spoke. "It's the moon, isn't it?"
You didn't really think about it before. Jim was a monster of the night. Even after all the crazy shit you saw in Hawkins, you never pressed Jim about the times he would go off on his own. You never questioned him, not once. He was a grown man and was allowed to have his own life.
You were really kicking yourself for letting him slip under your nose.
"Is that why you joined the force?" You called out, slowly pushing the window open. You prayed he couldn't hear you but cursed when it got stuck. "So you can be the demanding, possessive chief of police without anyone ever realizing why? So they'd never question it?"
You almost let out a cheer when the window was finally opened but stilled when you heard Jim's growl on the other side of the door.
"You haven't seen possessive, honey." He called out, and the next moment you heard the wood splintering. He was going to break the door down.
You gasped, watching it shake against its hinges.
"You're not scared of the big bad wolf, are you?" He teased with a chuckle.
The sound of it was haunting, but it caused a wave of mixed signals down your spine. You decided not to feed into his game and scrambled up and out of the bathroom window.
You just needed to make it until morning.
You went through the window arms first, your weight crashing down into the dirt with a soft thud. When you finally got your bearings, you didn't hear the wood splintering like you would have hoped. Everything was quiet. You stood a little too quickly, peering into the window with blurry focus to see the door wasn't on the hinges. You could see into the open living room.
Jim was gone.
Your heart sank in your chest. He was playing games with you.
Shit.
You looked away from the house and made a dash in the other direction. Your buzz was long gone, leaving you with dreadful, sobering thoughts. You couldn't hear birds or crickets in the night. You couldn't hear anything aside from the heavy thudding in your chest and how your breath was coming out in uneven puffs.
The game of cat and mouse only got worse when you slipped on a pile of leaves down the incline you had been trudging up.
It was as if the trees knew what you were doing and watched on with little help. But if you knew anything about animals, oh god, you needed to have the high ground.
Jim told you that.
You couldn't think straight. Thoughts of glowing eyes and sharp canines tearing into your skin made you shiver in fear. If Jim caught you, he wouldn't let you go. You knew his secret. He could rip you to shreds and scatter whatever was left up to the Illinois border. And he probably knew how to get away with it too.
Your fear was building, capitalizing on top of itself.
You couldn't go home, you realized. You'd never be able to see the kids again. No more movie nights or carpooling. You would have to be on the run to survive, braving the midwest weather on your own.
You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't hear the rustling in the bushes until it was too late.
Jim was trailing after you.
You turned again, trusting your legs to propel you away from the danger. You had no way of knowing how much time had passed. So you ran until your hands shook, and your legs finally slipped on the uneven terrain. This was missing from the list of all the ways you thought you would go.
The cold, hard ground dug into your knees, and you turned quickly, looking up and all around. You were scared to death.
"You're still thinking so loud, angel. I could hear you a mile away." Jim's words broke through the silence and made you snap your head in his direction. "I've got to give it to you; you almost made it to Lover's Lake before getting turned around."
As he rounded a tree, his stance was predatory. His eyebrows were knit together, and his shoulders were squared for a fight.
"This isn't the chase I had in mind. The window was a nice touch." He offered thoughtfully, nodding off in the distance. You craned your head and gasped.
The lights from a nearby building made you turn. You were running in a circle back towards the cabin.
He was bringing you back to him all along.
Your heart stammered in your chest. Jim took a step forward, and you flung your body back, almost panting at the harsh movement.
"Please, please, please trust me," you begged, carefully backing away to the front of the house. "If I had known, I wouldn't have intruded-" Your words were choked, and you tried to stand but stumbled back against an overgrown tree root. Running was pointless. "I would have left you alone. I'm so sorry." You begged.
But you didn't want to die.
He stalked forward, and the moonlight shone on him among the shadows.
"Please, Jim, don't do this." The withdrawal of your words was biting at his skin.
He didn't even bother to put shoes on. Between his bare chest and feet, he was only wearing his Levi's. And he was as imposing as ever, stalking through the cold dirt.
And when he was finally close, leaning in close enough to snatch you up, your brain switched from flight to fight.
You weren't going to give up so easily.
"No, no!" You cried, trying to kick and hit his chest. "What will the kids say? I can't leave them."
You were crying, pounding on his chest, and trying to claw him away. But Jim was calm, swift, and caught your hands in his own as he leaned over you.
"Please, Jim, don't," You choked out, shaking your head wildly. "I'm going to miss them so much."
Maybe it was the tremor in your voice or the words themself, but Jim's teasing smirk softened into a line.
"What's got you so scared for?"
"I don't want to die."
A pregnant silence fell between you, and you stopped pounding on his chest when he stopped and pulled back on his haunches.
"I'm crazy about you. I'm not going to kill you, angel."
Your gasp fell on short ears as he looked you over for injury. Your knee was scraped, but it was nothing serious.
"I wanted to stay away. To keep them safe. To keep you safe," Jim kneeled down next to you, keeping your hands still. "I don't have the best self-control. But maybe the safest place for you is with me."
"Jim-"
And then the look in his eye stunned you into silence. Longing, wanting. His resistance is at its thinnest. And then you smelled it. The lingering aftershave on his neck, the sweat of his skin. Jim was reeling you in like waves to the shore. And whether or not you knew it, he could see the way your eyes were dilating.
He could have you.
He could take you.
He could take care of you.
"It's still me," He whispered, leaning in as your body started to succumb to it. You were cold but numb to the outside when he let your hands go. You didn't even realize it, holding your arms above your head as his hand traced your collar. "It's still me, angel. You know me."
"Jim-" You faltered, "What did you do?" Your breathing was heavier now, hot against his face. "What did you -"
But he didn't do anything.
It was just him.
Jim was emanating power and protection. He was projecting his need without speaking it.
He was losing control.
And when he pulled you up and threw you over his shoulder, you couldn't keep your voice down as his hand rested on the bare skin of your thigh under the dress.
It was a split noise of surprise and a moan, jostling you to your core.
What was he doing to you? His smell, his heat. God, he was breathtaking. Your hands rested on his back and down around the hem of his jeans. Your thoughts were blurring together. The skin-on-skin contact was driving you wild.
Jim was running out of time.
He trudged back to the cabin through the woods, kicking the door shut behind him. Upside down, you let your eye close for a moment. Jim wasn't going to kill you. He wasn't trying to scare you. He said-
You were pulled from behind his back and dropped onto something cushy, the bedsprings groaning as you realized where he had taken you.
You were back in the cabin, behind his curtain, and on his bed.
You'd barely even kissed the man before.
But you were consumed by his touch; his fingerprints dragging and groping were unforgiving.
He wasn't the monster you feared at all.
And when you reached up and touched his chest, the place right over his heart, he knew.
He would never forsake you.
Jim's weight was crushing as he leaned over you, his nose ghosting over your collar and neck before placing a bruising kiss there.
You were his. And the whole goddamned town was going to know it.
You keened against it, blindly turning your head away to give him more room. His tongue was hot, lathing up and down your skin. Sharp teeth teased at gentle skin.
You were a vision.
All of Jim's pain, and all his years of anguish, seemed to come to a halt. He deserved peace. He deserved happiness.
And when he finally gave in and kissed you, you welcomed it willingly.
His wild, ruthless life was worth the gentle touch of your skin. And he was going to have you.
He was calming you down and working you up in new ways.
He shouldn't have pushed you away. He shouldn't have teased you. That poor, fluttering thump of your heart was so loud in his ears.
And he was so hungry for contact.
Jim's kiss was a poison, the scratch of his beard a saccharine sickness that clouded your thoughts. He was everywhere. You were blind to it. Even as he coaxed himself closer, urging his legs to spread your own, you offered yourself willingly.
Even before you knew what he was, if you dared to say it, you wanted Jim. You cared about him. You hoped he understood that.
His tongue was overwhelming against your own, and you put up a valiant fight.
The air was filled with him. He was everywhere, dousing you in affections so profound you were blind to the rest of Hawkins.
So when he wrestled with the skirt of your dress, billowing around the skin of your hips, you hardly noticed the loud tearing noise in the room. His big, meaty hands tore at it like tissue paper until the material was a rag along your back.
The air was hot with a divine purpose.
Jim was right; he could eat you up.
So he placed one last kiss on your bottom lip before pulling back on his haunches.
And then he pounced - biting and licking a line up the delicate inside of your thigh.
You jostled with surprise, grabbing hold of his shoulders for any kind of leverage. The heat of his skin and hardness of muscle shifted under your hands.
It was torture. Your skin was prickling hot.
And when his nose moved, openly bumping over your clothed center, he shuddered with a groan.
He moved you again, pulling your legs up and onto his shoulders. And then he sat up, bringing you with him with your hips in his hands and your ass off the bed.
He was going to tear you apart.
Jim's teeth pulled your panties to the side and snapped. He licked a hot line up your cunt, and you jerked, but he held you in place. A vicious noise tore out from his throat. He dared you to move, his dark eyes glowing against your skin before attacking again. This time it was more than a stripe. He licked and sucked and kissed your weeping cunt.
You were blossoming before him like a flower in the sun.
And Jim wasn't quiet about it either; every lick, every taste of you clouded his mind and muddled against his tongue. He was lapping up your excitement with grunts and pleased moans. Your legs would twitch, would shake, and he'd praise you for it.
But he wasn't so far gone to notice how you were writhing beneath him, utterly open to his assault. Your chest heaved, and your back was arching against him, but there was nowhere to go.
Your mewls and cries were kitten-like. You were crying for him, begging for him.
You needed more.
Your hands were digging against his knees, your nails only coaxing him to keep going.
So when he finally stopped fooling around and nosed at your clit, he thought he was in heaven. He could feel your legs quake around him.
With one strong hand, he pressed at the small of your back, keeping you up. But the other? He'd have to work you open. He'd make sure you were ready for him.
Jim licked against your clit wantonly, and you didn't realize what was happening until one of his fingers pressed against your opening. He found purchase in your body and was carving out a place for him to stay.
Your skin was flushed, your soft walls coaxing him in. He swore he could feel the beat of your heart in the way you were pulsing against him.
His fingers were splitting you open, and the pads of his fingerprints were taking up residency in a way your body would never forget.
Each curl and drag matched Jim's boisterous lapping at your cunt and clit.
The feverish feeling was too much.
You were begging him for mercy, for an end to your suffering. Jim was knuckle-deep in your heat, hot and warm around you. He was leading you to the end of the line but never crossed it. He'd pull back when your legs would start to shake. He'd stop moving his fingers when your walls were a suffocating vice. He was satisfied watching you squirm.
You were almost babbling against the sheets, shaking and crying with pleasure.
Jim was going to ruin you.
He finally doubled down on his efforts, letting his own sounds bounce off the walls before shaking you to your core. Your name fell from his lips like syrup. His praises were winding you up and making you tremble.
White-hot need filled your veins. When you finally came around his fingers, it was with a cry of relief.
But Jim still held you prisoner, suspended in the air as the aftershocks jostled down your spine.
And it was torturous bliss.
Jim's eyes found yours once before looking back at the mess he had made. He wasn't finished with you yet.
He pulled away with a nip at your thigh, letting your legs collapse against the bed.
You were a sticky mess.
Jim didn't even bother to clean you up when he pulled at his own Levi's. They were too tight. The friction of the denim burned against his aching skin, and he fought the overwhelming urge to let his bones snap.
He needed you. He needed to have you.
You'd let him have you, wouldn't you?
The dazed look in your eyes didn't change, not even when he was finally out of his jeans and hovering over you.
"You still with me, angel?"
The gruff tremble of his words made you blink, and you looked up at him with a grin too blissed out to be shy.
"Mhm," You hummed, keeping an eye on his face as he situated himself between your legs. "You scared me."
"Scared you? I got you all worked up?"
"Mhm," You repeated blindly to his teasing, letting him drag you closer to him. And it wasn't until he rubbed his cock against your wet heat that you shuddered back into existence.
He was painting himself in your arousal, sliding down your slit with intention.
"Think you can handle it? Got me all worked up in the woods, coming to see me like that," His words were a whisper of a kiss against your skin.
He was leaning up now, your throat dry as he hovered there. His face was inches away from yours, his eyes capturing you with a stare. "Maybe I should miss more date nights."
"No," You rushed out, using your hand to hold the side of his face. His chin was still wet.
"No?" He challenged. "You want to show me off; show this town who's yours?"
Your eyes were dark, the idea of anyone else laying their hands on Jim making your blood boil. The sudden jealousy was gone as quick as it came. You arched your hips up to his with a groan. Jim let his own strained noise.
He leaned in quick, a peck against your lips before bracing himself on either side of your shoulders. He was caging you in.
"You can tell them. You can show them. You can scream my name from Skull Rock if you really want to." He promised, the tip of his cock catching against your skin.
He wasn't going to be able to play nice for long. His body was tense, muscles all wound up in anticipation.
"You gonna let this wicked police chief take care of you? Oh, I'll take good care of you." It was torture.
His skin was hot, pulsing against your own. You couldn't let it last.
"Then do it already."
His eyes locked on yours, and Jim smirked something wicked.
"Careful," He warned.
His hands, like claws, captured the curve of your chest and curled around your sides.
"You. Don't. Know. What. You're. Asking. For," and with each syllable, he breached forward, carving a path into your cunt.
Invasive. Deeper. Further. Until, at last, he sank to the hilt with a groan.
You didn't even realize you were holding your breath until he started rocking against your skin. He was staying there, holding you close. Impossibly close.
You couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You were lost, paralyzed in Jim's skin, his smell, his sounds. Fuck. Your eyes rolled back as you fell against the pillows.
You were defenseless to it.
You reached for his shoulders for relief, your nails biting into his skin. Jim didn't mind.
You needed to ground yourself but couldn't. He was too big, too much. You called his name but shook.
He was moving again, selfishly enjoying how your body called out to his own. You were needy, weeping down to the sheets as he snapped his hips forward. It was messy and impatient.
But it felt so good.
Locked in the feel of it, Jim rammed forward, chasing the friction it built. And he didn't stop.
He couldn't think straight as he drilled into you, his mind flooding with your sinful visage. He could have you any way he wanted.
He could drag you on top of him and make you bounce on his cock. Jim could tease you until it fit, until you couldn't hold yourself up straight.
He could spin you around and mount you like a bitch in heat. He could fuck into you with wild abandon, watching your ass shake with each snap of his hips.
He could bend you over the hood of his cruiser, claiming you out in the open. Jim would leave hickies across your skin and make a map of his wildest dreams in bruising kisses.
It didn't matter how he did it. He'd fuck you until you were dizzy, until you were begging him to take you, mark you, fill you to the brim.
Jim didn't even realize you were shaking in his arms until you were crying out his name. You came with a frightful shout, gushing and pulsing against his cock, sucking him in closer even though you wanted to push him away.
Every sinful daydream he thought of weren't dreams at all.
Jim had been tormenting you, speaking his fantasies with a growl as he pounded into your skin. It was too much to handle. As hard as you tried to fight it off, his pleasure was bleeding into your own thoughts.
Your body was ruined underneath his, and Jim snapped out of his revelry. He wasn't going to last.
So he urged your legs up, bending your knees to take him impossibly deeper as he trapped you there. Your half-lidded eyes caught his.
"Honey,"
"Jim," You begged.
“I’ve got you.”
He kissed you then, and all you could do was surrender to it. Spicy and musky, he bled into your senses. Jim was everywhere. Your pulse was uneven, spiking with aftershocks as he moved.
The roll of his hips changed, and you lost a breath in his kiss. Jim was going to be your undoing. And as he chased his own release, his kiss changed. He moved lower, hovering before latching onto the gentle skin of your neck.
Just one bite - just one - and you'd be his.
That thought made his stomach tighten, pleasure flooding through him as he pulsed inside you. With a groan, Jim placed one slow, deliberate kiss on your neck as he spilled into you.
Your broken, frantic breaths softened into something steady, looking up at him with something akin to yearning.
You wanted him. You needed him.
His wild thoughts couldn’t keep up with the heavy thudding in his chest.
And then, at the last second, he restrained as his teeth danced across your skin.
Jim pulled away. He conceded. Another night.
He'd have all the time in the world to make you his.
He just hoped he'd find a way to convince El to spend another night at Max's.
