SUMMARY: Eddie’s girlfriend decides she wants a piece before he has to leave for work at Hawkins Auto. Thankfully, being the owner means Eddie gets to decide how ‘late’ he can be.
TAGS: Smut! (18+), morning sex, established relationship, domestic fluff, slight praise kink if you squint, mechanic!Eddie AU, modern Hawkins AU, buff!bearded!Eddie, Eddie is in his early 30s. (Only proofread some of this, too tired to finish.)
Fem!Reader is in her late 20s, though unnamed/undescribed. <3
Check out my masterlist for other works for this AU! ♥︎
(I fucking love this AU. I cannot stop writing for it.)
Word Count: 2.1K
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Most mornings, Eddie tried not to wake his girlfriend while he got ready for work. Still, she’d gotten so used to the sounds of him moving around their bedroom that she often found herself lying there with sleepy, half-open eyes just to watch him quietly start his day — though ‘quietly’ was usually relative when it came to Eddie.
The light creak of dresser drawers opening, the low hum of music drifting from his phone speaker in the bathroom, the heavy thud of his work boots hitting the floor one at a time. After nearly three years together, it had all become strangely comforting to her, familiar in the best possible way.
Her eyes opened slightly as she watched Eddie carefully pull open their shared closet door, reaching inside for one of his Hawkins Auto t-shirts. Her gaze trailed over the thick muscle of his arms as he reached, then down the broad span of his back to the trim of his waist hugged by his dark navy work pants.
Lucky for him, his work clothes were simple. Lucky for her, he looked ridiculously good in them.
A fond, appreciative hum left her throat. Eddie heard the sound and paused mid-motion, glancing over his shoulder with a grin already tugging at his lips.
“Mmm?” he repeated, one eyebrow lifting. “Someone’s up early.” His voice was low, still rough with sleep but already carrying that familiar teasing tone as he turned toward her, the shirt he’d grabbed left hanging loosely over his shoulder instead of being pulled on.
“Mhm,” her eyes closed briefly as she nodded once.
Eddie chuckled softly before tossing the shirt onto the bed beside her. A second later, he crawled onto the mattress, his weight dipping it beneath him as he hovered over her, bracing himself on his forearms. The warmth of his freshly showered skin and the clean scent of his cologne wrapped around her instantly, caging her comfortably against the bed. His beard brushed across her skin as he nuzzled into the curve of her neck.
“Good morning,” she hummed with a smile, slipping her arms out from beneath him so she could loosely wrap them around his neck.
“Mornin’,” he mumbled back, the word muffled against her skin.
Her fingers moved absentmindedly through his hair, still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken after waking up, while he slowly pressed further into her. His face stayed tucked into her neck as more of his weight settled over her, drawing a laugh from her the more dramatic he became. His arms slipped beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress just so he could hold her tighter. He was heavy, all warm muscle and weight, but she loved the way he always seemed to melt against her like this.
They stayed like that for another couple of minutes before Eddie finally lifted his head, his face hovering only inches from hers when she met his eyes. He leaned down first, placing a lingering kiss to her cheek before beginning to pull himself away. But before he could fully lift himself from the bed, her hand reached up, fingers gently catching the silver chain dangling from his neck.
Eddie froze mid-retreat, blinking down at her with amusement flickering in his eyes. A slow, knowing smirk crossed his face — one that only deepened when she tugged lightly on the chain still clasped in her fingers.
“Oh?” he questioned. “You wanna play before work?”
“I absolutely do,” she mumbled softly, eyes wandering over his face. “Unless you have to get going...”
Eddie let out a breathy laugh, his pretty brown eyes slightly hooded as he looked down at her. His nostrils flared faintly before he settled his weight back over her again.
“Baby, who’s gonna write me up for being late? Me?” he said with a small grin, dragging his fingers through her sleep-mussed hair. She smiled at his joke as his hand moved down to gently grasp her wrist still holding his chain, guiding it away before pressing her hand firmly into the mattress beside her head.
Her expression softened as she bit down on her lip, her free hand slipping between them to push the blankets aside in a messy heap near the edge of the bed. Warmth bloomed through her cheeks, anticipation curling low in her stomach as Eddie dipped his head and kissed her softly, unhurried and lingering enough to make her melt beneath him. Her hand drifted upward, fingertips gliding over the broad slope of his shoulder before settling around his bicep. She could feel the subtle flex of muscle beneath his skin as he shifted over her, solid and heavy in a way that always made her feel completely surrounded by him.
The belt buckle clicked as Eddie freed it one-handed, his fingers working without hurry — a sharp contrast to the way his mouth moved against her neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin in gentle, teasing bites. He hummed deep in his throat at the way her breath caught, her fingers tightening against his arm as he tugged his belt free from the loops and let it drop carelessly to the floor with a muted thud.
“You just look so good getting ready for work,” she whispered near his ear, slowly dragging her knee along his side.
Eddie’s beard tickled her skin as he laughed softly against her neck, taking her hand and guiding it smoothly to the waistband of his pants. “Undo these for me, pretty girl.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, unable to hide the subtle excitement in her voice as her fingers moved to undo the button of his pants. The rasp of Eddie’s zipper filled the room as he helped her guide it down, his breath warm against her lips when he leaned in to claim hers again. She opened her mouth to him as her hands cradled his face, breathing deeply through her nose. The kiss deepened naturally, full of the same passion he always gave her, steady enough that she could savor every second of it.
Eddie shifted his weight onto his left elbow, while his right hand worked his pants open just enough to free himself. His fingers trailed down her thigh, lifting her leg just enough to drape it over his hip as he settled himself between hers. She could feel him pressing against her, slow and teasing at first, until a quiet hum came from her throat as she tilted her hips upward to meet him. Eddie groaned softly against her mouth, fingers tightening around her thigh as he pushed forward, slipping inside with one smooth roll of his hips.
“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling back slightly from the kiss. His forehead pressed against hers as he buried himself fully into her. “Morning sex is so fuckin’ good.”
His hips rocked into hers at first, each movement lazy and thorough, dragging soft gasps from her lips while his fingers traced idle patterns along the skin of her thigh.
He kissed her again, swallowing her quiet moan as he pushed himself deeper, setting a steady rhythm that quickly had her arching into him, chasing every careful thrust. Eddie laughed low in his throat at the reaction, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured against her skin, biting lightly at her pulse point. Her fingers curled into his hair, nails barely scratching against his scalp as he shifted his weight, adjusting himself onto his forearms for better leverage. The new angle sent him deeper, earning a loud moan from her lips as her hips moved to meet his thrusts. Eddie groaned, his breath hot near her ear as he quickened his pace slightly, just enough to draw more of those pretty sounds from her throat.
“Eddie,” she mewled, fingers tightening in his hair as he lowered his head to leave open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. His name spilled from her lips again, quieter this time, barely more than a whisper as his hand slipped under her shirt, fingers teasing just beneath the curve of her breast.
Eddie hummed against her skin, his hips thrusting deep and slow as his thumb brushed over her nipple, prompting a sharp gasp from her mouth. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, his own darkened with pleasure as he watched her lips part on a moan.
“That’s it,” he cooed, squeezing her breast gently in his palm. “Lemme see you.”
She arched into his touch with a faint whimper, her nails dragging lightly down the back of his neck as she let her head tip back against the pillows. The heat of his hand on her skin, the rhythmic push of his hips — every sensation tightened the heat already curling low in her stomach with each deep roll of his body against hers. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her legs tightening around his waist as she pulled him closer, craving the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.
Eddie growled, low and rough, when she clenched around him, his fingers flexing on her side as his hips stuttered slightly. His lips found hers again in a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue dragging lazily over hers while his free hand slid down her body, slipping between them to press into the heat of her. The first brush of his fingers against her clit drew a sharp cry from her, muffled by his mouth as she writhed beneath him, pleasure coiling tighter in her stomach.
“Fuck,” she hissed lightly, pulling back from the kiss as her nails dug deeper into his shoulders. The tension pulled tighter with every deliberate stroke of his fingers, every deep thrust of his hips — her body trembled beneath him, heat pooling low until it threatened to spill over. Eddie watched her unravel with dark, possessive satisfaction, his rhythm faltering as her thighs clenched around him.
“Atta girl,” he rasped, breath ragged against her ear as her back arched off the mattress. The back of her head pushed into the pillow as she came undone beneath him, every muscle tensing before sinking into the sheets — Eddie watched her fall apart with heavy-lidded eyes, his own release chasing hers with a groan muffled against her shoulder.
He stayed inside her for another moment, savoring the way her body still fluttered around him before finally pulling out with a quiet exhale. His fingers brushed stray hairs back from her forehead as his thumb traced the warm flush high on her cheeks.
“Damn good way to start the day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her nose before rolling off the bed with a quiet grunt.
“Ugh,” she whined the second his weight disappeared from above her. Laughing softly as he stretched, Eddie tossed her a wink while adjusting himself back into his pants.
“C’mon, don’t make that face,” he teased, bending to retrieve his belt before giving her thigh a playful swat. “If I’m any later, Ray’s gonna start thinkin’ I died.”
She smiled, huffing a quiet laugh through her nose as she rolled onto her side to watch him fix his belt and pull his work shirt on. Eddie stood from the bed afterward, grabbing his watch from the nightstand and fastening it around his wrist with practiced ease. When his gaze lifted back to her, a dimple pressed into his cheek as he smiled.
A second later, he crossed back toward the bed, bracing a hand beside her as he bent down to leave one last soft kiss against her lips before pulling back just enough for his face to hover above hers.
“See you later, angel,” he murmured, “I’ll call you on my break.”
“Okay, baby,” she smiled sweetly. The way she looked up at him — soft and sleepy, skin still flushed from the morning they’d shared — made something tighten warmly in his chest. His hand came up to cradle her face, thumb brushing lightly along her cheekbone as he leaned down once more, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate tone she adored so much.
“I love you,” he said.
She looked at him softly, the sincerity behind it was unmistakable. “I love you.”
His thumb lingered against her cheek for another second before he finally straightened with a reluctant sigh, reaching for his keys on the dresser, the soft jingle of metal filling the room.
“Don’t go back to sleep before you eat something,” he said, glancing back at her with that familiar fondness and slight bossy tilt of his chin.
She mirrored the look with exaggerated seriousness. “Will do.”
With one last smirk, Eddie stepped out into the hallway, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood before fading into the distant rumble of the garage door opening. The quiet that followed settled around her gently as she curled deeper beneath the sheets, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne still clinging to the pillow.
SUMMARY: Eddie’s girlfriend brings him lunch at work because he forgot it… again.
TAGS: fluff, established relationship, domestic intimacy, mechanic! Eddie, modern Hawkins AU, Eddie being disgustingly in love. (bc he deserves it.)
Fem!Reader is in her late 20s, though unnamed/undescribed. <3
A/N: Taking a little pause from Lord Munson and dabbling in possibly my favorite version of Eddie: 31-year-old big, buff, bearded mechanic/gym guy metalhead Eddie Munson who works at Hawkins Auto and is hopelessly in love with his girlfriend.
Check out my masterlist for other works for this AU! ♥︎
Word Count: 2.1K
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Eddie Munson worked at Hawkins Auto, a repair and body shop located about two miles from the heart of town. He’d started working there when he was sixteen, and even after everything Hawkins had gone through years later, the old garage remained one of the few steady things in his life. Over time, he’d slowly become the guy people trusted for just about anything. Oil changes, busted engines, strange noises nobody else could figure out — if something was wrong with your car, you brought it to Eddie. Somewhere along the way, he’d become more than just the mechanic at the shop.
After the old owner passed away years back, the garage had been left to Eddie without much hesitation, like everyone had already known it belonged to him long before the paperwork ever said so. These days, the place did well for itself — and so did he.
Eddie lived in a small house near the edge of Hawkins, far enough from the noise of town to feel private, but close enough that he could make it to the shop in under ten minutes. He shared the house with his girlfriend, who he’d been with for about three and half years, though they’d been living together for about seven months.
Living with Eddie meant getting used to little things: the sound of old metal music drifting softly from the bathroom in the mornings, grease stains on the kitchen hand towels no matter how many times they were washed, protein powder shoved beside the coffee maker.
It also meant finding his forgotten lunch sitting on the counter at least twice a week — that is, if he even remembered to make it at all.
Today had been one of those days where she noticed his empty lunchbox still sitting on the counter where he always left it, so she made him lunch and drove it to the shop herself.
She liked it though; being able to bring Eddie his lunch was an excuse for her to visit him at work. She loved seeing him in action, loved when she would sneak into the shop just to watch him work for a few quiet moments before he noticed her.
The way his pretty brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he worked, grease staining his fingers and forearms; the slight pout of his lips whenever he focused too hard, completely unaware he was doing it. There was something unfairly attractive about watching him move around the garage so naturally.
The small bell above the storefront door chimed softly as she stepped inside, the faint smell of motor oil lingering even in the front office air. Ray was already sitting behind the desk when she walked in — he’d been working alongside Eddie since he turned eighteen nearly four years ago, long enough now that seeing her there had become completely normal.
“Wow, haven't seen you in a long time,” Ray remarked with gentle sarcasm as he raised his eyebrows from behind the desk. She scrunched her nose in response, a soft, sarcastic laugh slipping through it. He reminded her a lot of an annoying younger brother: well-meaning, easy to love, and occasionally impossible not to roll her eyes at.
Ray glanced at the lunch bag in her right hand, messing with his dirty blonde hair. “Whatcha got for me in there?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she replied with a playful tone.
“Damn,” he sighed, shaking his head.
She gave him a dramatically disappointed look, brows pulling together tightly as her lips curved into a small pout. “Maybe next time.”
Ray gave her a knowing smile, jerking his head toward the garage behind him, “Ed’s in the back.”
Giving him a short nod of approval, she moved around the desk and toward the open garage quietly. Careful to keep her distance, she settled into her usual habit of watching him for a few moments.
Eddie was bent over the hood of an old Honda Civic when her eyes found him, immediately looking him over in his casual work uniform — dark work pants, scuffed boots, and a black shop t-shirt with the Hawkins Auto logo printed over one side of his chest.
The position had his forearms disappearing deep into the engine, leaving only glimpses of his thick upper arms visible beneath the sleeves of his shirt. The fabric of his shirt pulled tightly across his back every time he moved, the muscle beneath it shifting in a way she found deliciously distracting.
Eddie had been elbow-deep in the guts of the Civic for the last hour, trying to diagnose a stalling issue that had been giving him grief. His fingers tightened around the screwdriver in his hand as he carefully adjusted something, muttering to himself under his breath.
“Come on, you little shit.” He fiddled with the wiring, brow furrowing deeply when he couldn’t seem to get it just right. He didn’t notice her at first, and it took him about five minutes before he did. His head lifted instantly, eyes flickering up from beneath the hood of the car as he turned toward her.
There was a brief pause where he simply stared at her, lips curling into an easy grin as he leaned back against the car and wiped his grease-stained hands on the towel resting nearby on the edge of the hood.
“There’s my girl,” he crooned, laying the dirtied towel back in its place.
“Hi, my love,” she greeted with a smile, cheeks aching from how wide it had grown as she walked over and held out the lunch bag toward him. “You forgot your lunch. Shocker.”
Eddie’s grin deepened as he reached for the bag, though instead of taking it, his hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her gently into his chest. A startled laugh escaped her as he chuckled softly, the scent of oil clinging to his clothes as his free arm slid around her waist.
“Huh,” he mused, leaning his hip against the car’s fender. “Almost like I’m forgettin’ on purpose.”
She laughed again, warmth spreading through her chest as his arms squeezed her a little tighter. Mischief flickered in his brown eyes when she looked up at him.
“Funny how that works,” he mumbled against her temple before pressing a tender kiss there.
“Ass,” she scoffed playfully, her free hand coming up to rest around his bicep.
“But you love me,” he teased, pressing another kiss to her forehead as he finally took the bag from her. Even then, he kept his arm wrapped around her waist, only pulling back enough to peer inside. “What’d you bring me, sweetheart?”
“The chicken, rice, and veggies I made last night,” she told him, opening the lunch bag while he still held it in his hand. “I also cut up some strawberries, and I packed that protein shake thing you like.”
“You’re a fuckin’ angel,” he groaned appreciatively, already opening the container and grabbing a strawberry before she could stop him.
“I know,” she shrugged, smiling. Eddie smiled back before jerking his head toward the small break room near the back of the garage.
"Hang out with me while I eat? I got about twenty before I gotta get back to this piece of shit." He nudged the car’s tire with his boot for emphasis.
“Sure, baby,” she replied easily.
She loved calling him that. For all his size — for the broad shoulders, thick beard, and naturally intimidating look he carried without even trying — there was still something soft about him when it came to her. Something that made the name fit perfectly.
Eddie grinned at her response, tucking the lunch bag under his arm and wrapping his free hand around hers as he led her toward the break room. His fingers were rough against hers, calloused and warm as they slid between her own.
The break room wasn’t anything special — just a small, cluttered space with a microwave, mini fridge, and a single table shoved against the wall. The table was covered in old coffee stains and scattered receipts, but Eddie didn’t seem to care as he dropped into one of the chairs and pulled her down into his lap.
She laughed softly as Eddie wasted no time digging into his lunch, shoveling a forkful of chicken and rice into his mouth before she could even blink.
“Fuck, I was starving,” he admitted between bites, leaning his head back against the wall as he chewed. She smiled, reaching up to brush a stray grain of rice from his beard with her thumb.
“Damn slow down, you’re gonna choke,” she teased, though she couldn’t help the quiet satisfaction at how much he seemed to enjoy her cooking. Eddie smirked, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss to her palm before letting her go.
“Nah, I’m good,” he assured her, though he slowed down a little. “Just tastes better when you make it.”
She rolled her eyes playfully, leaning her head against his shoulder as he continued eating.
The shop smelled like oil and rubber, the faint hum of the overhead fan mixing with the distant sound of Ray talking to someone on the phone in the front office. Eddie’s arm curled around her waist, his thumb brushing absently against her hip as he ate. It was comfortable — domestic in a way that made her heart ache with fondness. She loved moments like these.
“How’s your day been?” he asked after a moment, popping another strawberry into his mouth.
“Good,” she answered honestly, twisting slightly to look up at him. “Quiet. I cleaned the kitchen, did some laundry, and then I noticed someone didn’t pack their lunch.”
Eddie grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But if I didn’t forget, you wouldn’t come see me.” He winked, squeezing her hip lightly as he leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips, tasting faintly of strawberries and the protein shake he’d already downed halfway.
Her hands found his face, gently squishing his cheeks together between her palms. “I see you every day. Literally.”
His laughter vibrated against her hands, deep and warm.
“Yeah, well,” he stole another kiss, keeping his face close to hers after pulling away. “Still like seein’ you in the middle of my day.” His fingers traced idle circles against her thigh where she sat across his lap, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the tenderness in his eyes.
"You're so cute," she murmured.
Eddie’s grin widened at that, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head as he leaned in to bump his nose against hers. “Cute, huh?”
“Yes,” she pecked his lips once. “Very.”
Eddie hummed softly against her lips, chasing after them with playful persistence when she pulled away too soon. His free hand slipped into her hair as he kissed her properly this time — slow and warm in a way that immediately sent heat rushing to her cheeks.
The moment shattered when Ray’s voice cut through the garage from the front office, sharp and impatient.
“Eddie! Phone’s for you! Some lady says her sedan is making a ‘funny noise’ and wants to know if she should drive it in!”
A beat of silence.
"She says it sounds like... 'kachunk kachunk'?"
Eddie groaned against her lips, forehead resting against hers for one last lingering second before pulling away with obvious reluctance. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, but there was humor in his exasperation as he squeezed her waist. “I’ll be there in a second!”
She laughed, quickly covering her mouth as a small snort escaped her nose. Eddie caught it instantly, his expression softening with unmistakable fondness, like he thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever heard.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” she said, absently packing up the containers and putting them back inside the lunch bag.
Eddie sighed dramatically, pressing one last kiss to her temple before slowly shifting her off his lap — though not without keeping his hand on her waist until she was steady on her feet before standing himself.
“C’mon, angel,” he grinned, nodding toward the garage door. “Walk me up front so I don’t get lost.”
Intertwining their hands, she grabbed his lunch bag and walked with him through the garage toward the front office, where Ray stood waiting with the phone held away from his ear and a clear this lady is insane look written across his face.
“Well, I’ll be going,” she said, giving Eddie’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. Eddie caught her wrist before she could walk away, lips already puckered expectantly. A faint smile crossed her face before she rose onto her toes slightly and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“I love you.”
“I love you,” he echoed.
Ray scrunched his face dramatically at the display, earning a light slap to the shoulder from Eddie. Rolling her eyes with a smile, she waved goodbye to both of them before heading out of the shop and driving back home.
SUMMARY: A cute/casual date night where one comment turns into a promise for later. (I saw this tiktok, and immediately wanted to write a lil something based off it. The beginning is mostly fluff, though maybe I will write part two to this one, LOL.) (also not entirely proofread)
TAGS: fluff, established relationship, date night, domestic intimacy, mechanic!Eddie AU, modern Hawkins AU, buff!bearded!Eddie, Eddie is in his early 30s, teasing, suggestive themes.
Fem!Reader is in her late 20s, though unnamed/undescribed. <3
Check out my masterlist for other works for this AU! ♥︎
Word Count: 1.7K
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Not every date with Eddie was planned weeks ahead or written neatly into a schedule. Sometimes they happened after he got off work, calling her on his drive home from the shop just to tell her to ‘be ready’ by the time he got there. Then all he had to do was shower, change, and take her to whatever little restaurant he’d decided on that night. Though she never minded the lack of planning, dates with Eddie felt special no matter what they were doing.
Tonight, he’d taken her to Roane Street Bar & Grill, a casual little restaurant in the main part of town that the two of them had been to more times than they could count. The dim lighting and worn booths gave the place a cozy feel, and the food was good — the kind they craved on nights when both of them wanted something comforting but neither felt like cooking.
The two of them often sat tucked into a booth near the back of the restaurant, close to the old jukebox that still worked despite its age. Every now and then, Eddie would wander over and shove a few bills into it just to play music that, according to him, ‘people just don’t appreciate anymore.’ The way he said it — with complete seriousness and the faintest hint of old-man grumbling in his voice — always made him seem older than he was. He was an old soul in so many ways, and it showed without him even realizing it. She loved that about him.
Now, the two of them sat in their usual booth with plates of food spread out in front of them. Eddie had ordered one of his typical hearty meals, a grilled chicken platter with roasted potatoes and vegetables, while she’d gone for a cheeseburger with fries and a small side salad alongside it. Leaning back against the booth, Eddie watched her with an easy smile, his fingers idly tapping against the condensation-slicked glass of his beer.
“So,” he drawled, “tell me something I don’t know.”
It was a game they’d played since early in their relationship — trading little facts or stories or details about themselves that they hadn’t yet shared with each other. The kind of thing that kept their relationship from ever feeling stagnant or predictable.
He tilted his head slightly, waiting, the dim lighting catching in the dark waves of his hair. His fingers stilled against the glass, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was genuinely interested in whatever she might say next, no matter how small or silly it might be.
She hummed thoughtfully around a bite of her burger, quickly wiping her hands on her napkin as she looked upward in thought. A blush crept onto her cheeks as her face scrunched slightly, the memory suddenly resurfacing.
“When I was younger,” she said after swallowing, “I accidentally ate a dog treat because I thought it was an Oreo.”
Eddie snorted into his beer, barely managing to swallow before breaking into laughter that made his shoulders shake. She facepalmed dramatically, elbow resting against the table as an embarrassed laugh slipped past her lips.
“It’s not funny,” she muttered, dragging out the last syllable despite the smile threatening to break through. Eddie wiped small tears of laughter from his eyes, breath still hitching between chuckles as he reached across the table to tug her hand away from her face.
“Oh, it absolutely is funny,” he countered warmly, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But you can’t just drop that on me and not tell me if you didn’t realize it wasn’t a cookie halfway through chewing.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh jeez, no, I did,” she explained quickly. “The second I bit into it, I spit it right back out. But in my defense, the container it was in wasn’t the original packaging.”
Eddie grinned as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, the gentle amusement in his expression making her embarrassment feel softer. “Okay, I need to know — how old were you? Five? Ten?”
She scrunched her face. “Like... eleven, I think.”
Eddie's grin widened even further, the faint scar above his eyebrow creasing as he shook his head in delighted disbelief, fingers still laced with hers.
“Eleven,” he repeated, smirking, “so right in that sweet spot where you're old enough to know better but young enough to still pull dumb shit. Christ, I would've paid good money to see that.”
She scoffed in mock offense and gently swatted at his hand. He laughed again, his hand dodging the half-hearted swipe before catching her wrist and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles.
“Come on, angel,” he teased, voice softening as he studied her expression, “we've all had our moments. I once tried to microwave a frozen pizza still in the box because I thought the instructions meant to leave it in there.”
Her mouth dropped open as her eyebrows shot upward, a small snort escaping through her nose. “So… arson?”
Eddie groaned, running a hand over his face while she dissolved into giggles, his fingers spreading just enough to peek at her through them. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up — smoke alarm went off, whole place smelled like burning cardboard for a week.”
She grabbed a fry and popped it into her mouth, laughing softly as she chewed. His eyes flickered over her face, lingering on the way the corner of her lips lifted upward as she ate. The warmth in his chest had nothing to do with the beer in his hand — just the easy comfort of nights like this, the way she always made even the simplest moments feel like something worth remembering. She found herself staring at him for a moment after that. The lazy smile resting on his lips, the dark curls falling around his face, his broad hand wrapped loosely around his beer glass. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe she got to love someone who looked at her the way Eddie did.
“I love you, you know that?” He spoke gently, squeezing her hand lightly. It definitely wasn't the first time he'd said it, but tonight it felt softer, somehow.
“Oh, I know,” she said matter-of-factly before reaching for another fry. He arched an eyebrow at her casual tone, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he traced idle patterns against her knuckles with his thumb.
“Yeah? You're just gonna leave me hanging like that?” His voice dropped into something teasing, yet tender.
She smiled at him lightly, sweet and knowing. “I love you, baby.”
His expression softened as he looked at her, thumb stilling against her skin as he leaned in slightly.
“Say it again,” he murmured, eyes glancing between hers like he was trying to memorize the moment.
“The ‘I love you,’ or the ‘baby’?” she asked softly, a playful note slipping into her voice. His smile was slow and effortless, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way she’d learned to trace with her fingertips on lazy Sunday mornings.
“Both,” he admitted, voice dipping lower as he tugged her hand closer, pressing another kiss to her fingers. She released his hand gently, giving his beard a soft tug.
“I love you, baby,” she repeated. His chest rose with a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut for just a beat at the words before opening again with such warmth it could've melted the ice in her glass. A quiet chuckle escaped him as he leaned back against the booth, wiping his mouth with a napkin before nudging his cleaned plate aside — chicken gone, potatoes and veggies vanished, only faint sauce smears remaining.
“Damn right you do,” he said, stretching an arm along the back of the booth while his other hand lifted his glass to his lips to finish his beer.
One thing about Eddie, he always finished his meals.
Rolling her eyes with a smile, she wiped her hands clean before reaching into her purse for her phone, checking the time and any notifications. A second later, she casually flipped to the camera and aimed it toward the table, recording as she zoomed in on their plates — hers still holding a quarter of her burger and a few fries, while Eddie’s plate had been completely cleared. “Damn.”
The camera slowly panned up toward Eddie’s face.
Eddie’s expression was completely serious, dark eyes shifting between her and the camera before he slowly inhaled through his nose.
“Yeah… wait till you get home,” he said, his voice low and weighted, like he’d already mapped out exactly how that promise was going to play out. Her eyes betrayed her immediately, widening as she was left completely speechless. Without another word, she silently ended the video.
The second she lowered her phone, Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with his fingers loosely laced together. The movement pulled the sleeves of his shirt tighter around his biceps, the muscle in his arms shifting noticeably beneath the fabric. A smug grin pulled at his mouth, eyes never leaving hers as he mumbled, “You’re lucky we’re in public.”
Her hand drifted up to the side of her neck, cheeks flushed pink as she tucked her phone away. “Well damn,” she muttered, fighting back a smile. “Check, please.”
Eddie laughed, the sound vibrating deep in his throat as he politely flagged down the waiter, fingers drumming against the tabletop in anticipation. The second the check landed between them, he snatched it up before she could blink, forearm flexing as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket with one smooth motion. The leather creaked softly as he flipped it open, fingers plucking out enough cash to cover their meal plus a generous tip. Her intrusive thoughts won the second she watched him slide the bills beneath his beer glass.
“You are so hot,” she mumbled before she could stop herself.
A crooked smile spread slowly across Eddie’s face at her comment, his eyebrows lifting just slightly like he’d been waiting all night for her to finally say it out loud. He slid his wallet back into his pocket with zero urgency, gaze focused on her like he knew exactly what he was doing to her right now — and planned on making it worse.
SUMMARY: After waking from one of the worst nightmares he’s had in a while, Eddie finally tells his girlfriend the truth about what really happened in Hawkins.
TAGS: Hurt/comfort, trauma, established relationship, buff!bearded!Eddie, modern Hawkins AU. Eddie is late 20s
Fem!Reader is in her mid-20s for this blurb in particular, though unnamed/undescribed. <3
A/N: This takes place earlier in their relationship (before ‘Bringing Him Lunch’). NOT FULLY PROOFREAD srry.
Check out my masterlist for other works for this AU! ♥︎
Word Count: 2.5K
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The bed shaking slightly was what pulled her from sleep first.
Half-asleep, she thought maybe it was thunder or Eddie getting up for water again, but when she finally blinked her eyes open against the darkness, she immediately realized something was wrong.
Eddie was sitting at the edge of the mattress with both hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His breathing sounded uneven in the quiet room, shoulders trembling faintly beneath the thin black t-shirt stretched across his back.
Instinctively, she reached out for him, but her hand pulled back almost instantly when she felt Eddie flinch beneath her touch. That was the exact moment her own heart started pounding.
Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her as she stared at his rigid back. She hesitated to turn on the bedside lamp, suddenly afraid the light might startle him even more.
“Eddie?” she called carefully, barely louder than the soft whir of the ceiling fan overhead.
Eddie’s breath hitched when he heard her voice, but he didn’t turn around — just shook his head once, sharply, like he was trying to shake something loose inside his skull. One hand finally let go of the sheets to scrub roughly down his face before curling into a fist at his mouth. His exhale was ragged when it finally came, muffled against his knuckles.
“Sorry,” he muttered, voice thick. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Her eyebrows pulled together immediately, his tone sounding so unlike himself that it made something uneasy twist in her chest. Eddie had been vulnerable with her before, but not like this. Never this shaken, and truthfully, she had no idea what the right thing to do was. All she knew was that she wanted to help him without pushing him farther away.
“It’s okay, really,” she whispered softly, her eyes fixed on the uneven rise and fall of his shoulders as he struggled to steady his breathing. He let out a rough, humorless laugh at that, his fist still pressed tightly against his mouth like he was trying to physically hold himself together.
“Not exactly,” he argued quietly. His other hand curled tighter into the sheets beneath him, the fabric twisting under the strain of his grip.
“Nightmares,” he finally managed. “They– fuck… they don’t usually get this bad.”
Shifting to face him more fully, she crossed her legs beneath the blankets and folded her hands in her lap as she resisted the overwhelming urge to pull him into her.
She knew vaguely about the nightmares. Years ago, when they’d first met, Eddie used to brush them off casually as “occasional bad dreams” from when he was younger. Back then, she hadn’t realized they never truly stopped. Now, seeing him like this for the first time made her chest ache. Her lips twisted helplessly before she finally spoke again, voice soft and careful in the dark.
“You can always talk to me, Eddie,” she murmured. “I hope you know that.”
Eddie exhaled shakily through his nose, his shoulders slumping slightly as he finally lowered the fist from his mouth. He turned his head just enough to glance back at her over his shoulder.
As her eyes adjusted further to the darkness, the dull moonlight spilling through the curtains caught more of him — the tension still locked tightly in his jaw beneath the stubble, the faint sheen of sweat near his temple, the unmistakable gloss of tears gathered in his eyes. His fingers flexed repeatedly against his thigh like he was trying to ground himself to something real while his lips parted slightly, visibly debating whether or not to finally unleash every demon that had haunted him for nearly a decade.
They had officially been together for a year and a half now, and even before that, back during their awkward flirting stage when she first met Robin and Steve, she’d sensed there was something deeper tying all of them together, especially Eddie. She could never fully pinpoint what it was exactly, only that it lingered beneath certain conversations, certain looks, certain silences. Still, she never pried.
Whatever had happened before she came into Eddie’s life clearly wasn’t something he spoke about easily, and she never wanted him to feel rushed into opening up before he was ready. From the moment she met him, she understood that trusting people didn’t come naturally to him, and even without fully knowing why, she stayed anyway.
Even before tonight, there had always been parts of Eddie that stayed guarded no matter how close they became. He rarely walked around shirtless, even after he started going to the gym and his body noticeably changed over time. In the beginning of their relationship, he’d kept a tank top on the first few times they slept together too, brushing it off casually whenever she tried to tug it higher.
It wasn’t until weeks later, around the fourth time they’d had sex, that he finally let her fully see him. Large, uneven scar tissue stretched sporadically across his torso, old enough to have faded but still impossible to miss beneath the warm light of his bedroom. Back then, when she’d asked what happened, Eddie only gave her a small shrug and told her it was from a car accident.
The silence stretched long enough that she nearly reached for him again, but before she could, Eddie finally reached over and switched on the small bedside lamp beside him. Warm dim light spilled gently across the room before he finally turned fully toward her. His hands trembled faintly where they hovered over his lap. When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and rough, the kind of tone that immediately told her this wasn’t something he’d ever truly said out loud before.
“I don’t… I don’t know where to start,” he admitted quietly, his fingers twitching like they wanted to curl into fists again. Slowly, carefully, she reached for him once more, her hand gently settling over his. Relief loosened in her chest when he didn’t pull away this time.
“I’ll listen as long as you need me to,” she assured him softly, her voice gentle but firm as her eyes searched his face. Even though he was looking directly at her, it still somehow felt like he wasn’t really seeing her at all. His gaze looked distant, lost somewhere far away despite the overwhelming emotion swimming behind it.
His fingers curled tighter around hers, holding onto her warmth like it was the only thing keeping him grounded in the room. For a long moment, he said nothing at all, only staring somewhere past her shoulder as if he was trying to figure out how to unravel years worth of memories without completely drowning in them. Finally, he swallowed hard.
“Hawkins… it used to be a dark fucking place,” he started, the exhaustion in his voice impossible to miss.
She stayed silent beside him, listening carefully. Unlike him, unlike all the others, she hadn’t grown up here. She hadn’t spent years unknowingly living beneath the shadow of whatever haunted this town long before she ever arrived. To her, Hawkins had always just seemed a little strange in ways she could never fully explain — too many rumors, too many abandoned buildings, too many moments where conversations suddenly stopped the second certain topics came up. The ceiling fan continued spinning softly overhead while Eddie rubbed his thumb slowly against the back of her hand, almost absentmindedly.
“There was something wrong with this place for years,” he told her, lip trembling slightly. “Something underneath it. And somehow… all of us ended up in the middle of it.”
His jaw tightened faintly before he continued. “Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan… the kids.” A weak breath left him through his nose. “Me.”
His gaze dropped briefly toward their joined hands.
“There were these monsters,” he whispered, like even now the word sounded impossible out loud. “Another dimension. Government shit nobody would believe if we tried explaining it.” His fingers flexed faintly around hers again. “People got hurt. People died. And after a while, it just became normal to wake up every day wondering if something terrible was gonna happen again.”
He fell silent for another beat before speaking again, noticeably gentler this time.
“El was part of it too,” he murmured. “But… that’s her story to tell. Not mine.”
She sat quietly through all of it, her full attention fixed on him as he spoke. Confusion and curiosity tangled together in her chest, but neither outweighed the concern she felt watching him struggle through the memories. Even when parts of what he described sounded impossible, she never interrupted him. She simply listened, letting him take his time, processing each careful piece he trusted her enough to finally lay in front of her.
Some parts came easier than others. Steve and Robin. The gates opening through Hawkins. The constant fear. But eventually his voice slowed again, his gaze dropping toward their hands resting together between them.
“There was this girl,” he murmured after a long pause. “Chrissy. Cheerleader from school.” His fingers tightened faintly around hers. “She died in my trailer back in 2015.” His jaw flexed hard at the memory. “And the whole town thought I killed her.”
The second the words left his mouth, she felt tears sting unexpectedly at the backs of her eyes. Her expression scrunched slightly, heart twisting painfully at the thought of him carrying something like that.
“I didn’t even understand what I was seeing,” Eddie breathed shakily. “One second she was standing there talking to me, and then…” He stopped himself to clear his throat. “After that, everybody wanted somebody to blame, and somehow that ended up being me.”
The pain buried beneath his voice made her chest ache.
“I almost died,” he admitted suddenly, the words cracking apart on the way out. “I was attacked and I–” His breathing hitched violently before he could finish.
“Oh, Eddie…” His name left her in a pained breath, her heart aching as she watched what felt like years worth of grief pass through his eyes all at once. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend everything he’d lived through, and strangely, she didn’t question any of it either. Not the monsters, not the other dimension. It was real to him, and that alone was enough. Slowly, she let go of his hand so she could cradle his face between both of hers instead. It was only then that Eddie finally looked directly at her.
And the second he did, tears spilled from his eyes.
He crumpled forward into her lap like a puppet with its strings cut. His forehead pressed into her thighs as his shoulders shook violently with the force of his sobs, uneven breaths spilling hot along her skin while his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. His fingers twisted desperately into the fabric of her shirt as he clung to her, pulling himself impossibly closer while he buried his face deeper into her lap, trying and failing to muffle the raw, broken sounds tearing from his throat.
“Christ, Eddie…” the words left her in a shaky cry as her arms immediately wrapped around him. One hand tangled into his hair while the other held him tightly against her, instinctively pulling him closer. “I am so, so sorry.”
Eddie didn’t reply. He only cried harder, his fingers tightening against her shirt every so often like he was afraid to let go. She shut her eyes briefly as she held him and listened. Everything he’d told her suddenly explained so much. The lingering heaviness she’d always sensed in him and the others. The way certain conversations would abruptly die out. The distant looks. The grief none of them ever fully spoke about aloud.
She’d known from the moment she met Eddie that there were layers to him, pieces of himself he kept buried deep beneath the humor and charm and easy smiles. Now she finally understood why being accepted by Hawkins now meant so much to him — why becoming owner of the mechanic shop, being liked by the town, mattered in a way she never fully grasped before.
The same town that once wanted him dead was finally seeing him for who he really was.
His breathing gradually began to steady beneath her touch as her fingers continued slowly combing through his hair, grounding him back into the present little by little. When he finally lifted his head from her lap, his face was flushed and damp with tears, the soft lamplight catching the exhaustion lingering heavily in his red-rimmed eyes. He studied her cautiously for a long moment, like he was still waiting for disbelief or dismissal to cross her face now that everything was finally out in the open.
But it never came. Instead, she gently wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs before cradling his face again, holding him carefully like she was trying to keep every broken piece of him together at once.
“I believe you,” she whispered firmly, her voice unwavering despite the tears still burning behind her own eyes. “And you don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.”
One of her hands slowly lowered from his face to find his again, her fingers wrapping tightly around his as she gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Eddie let out an uneven breath at her words, his shoulders slumping slightly like the weight of everything he’d been carrying had finally loosened enough for him to breathe again. His thumb moved hesitantly against her hand before he lifted his free hand to wipe roughly at his damp cheeks.
“I just…” He gulped, blinking down toward their intertwined hands for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t want you thinking I was hiding shit from you.” His voice still sounded thick with emotion, quieter now but no less raw. “You deserved to know.”
A small, faint smile finally pulled at her lips despite the emotion still lingering heavily in her chest.
“I love you,” she mumbled.
Eddie leaned toward her then, gently cradling her face between his hands this time before pressing a soft kiss against her lips. It lingered for a moment, tender and grateful in a way words couldn’t quite capture, the quietest form of thank you. When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched hers with an almost overwhelming amount of appreciation before he spoke again, his voice still rough and hoarse from crying.
“I love you.”
Eddie silently leaned over to switch the bedside lamp off, darkness slowly settling over the room once again. The two of them lay back down together afterward, her curled onto her side while he moved beside her without a word, immediately pressing himself close enough to bury his face against her neck. She held him there, one arm wrapped securely around him as she pressed a gentle kiss against the side of his head, feeling the tension slowly begin to leave his body little by little.
Eventually, with the steady sound of the ceiling fan humming overhead and Eddie finally relaxing against her, she felt her own heartbeat begin to slow too, sleep quietly pulling her under not long after him.
SUMMARY: Friday night is Eddie’s long overdue Hellfire game, and his girlfriend gets to watch him do what he’s loved for a long time.
TAGS: (Please Read) Hellfire club reunion, Eddie created Hellfire in this AU, established relationships and friendships, domestic fluff, emotional hurt/comfort at the end, soft Eddie, found family, dungeon master!Eddie, buff!bearded!Eddie, modern Hawkins AU, Eddie is early 30s, Dustin, Mike, Lucas are mid-twenties, Gareth & Jeff are 30-ish, mentions of Eddie and the boys’ past (bec almost everything that happened in canon happened in this AU, only difference is timeline shift.)
Fem!Reader is in her late 20s, though unnamed/undescribed. <3
A/N: I had to wing some of the D&D stuff, because I have never played in my life, LOL. Also only proofread some of this. Bear w me pls.
Check out my masterlist for other works for this AU! ♥︎
Word Count: 4.9K
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Occasionally on Friday nights, Eddie liked reverting back to his high school days and gathering the same friends he’d spent most of his teenage years with around a table for Dungeons & Dragons. Gareth and Jeff still lived in Hawkins and, despite adulthood pulling all of them in different directions over the years, the tradition had somehow survived.
Sometimes it was random one-shots they threw together on a whim — other times it was one of Eddie’s full campaigns, complete with overly detailed lore, stupidly specific character voices, and hand-drawn maps he’d spent way too much time on.
All of them had been part of Hellfire since middle school, back when Eddie had insisted on making them a MySpace page dedicated entirely to meetings, discussions, campaign ideas, and all things D&D. Years later, the page eventually evolved into a Facebook group, which somehow ended up being the only social media Eddie still actively used to this day.
After all these years, Eddie had found a different kind of peace at the gym too — a place where he could throw on his headphones, blast his music loud enough to drown everything else out, and work through whatever frustrations or stress had clung to him that week. Despite looking like a stereotypical gym guy now — broad shoulders, tattoos, a beard, muscles that made him slightly intimidating at first glance — he never really stopped being himself underneath it all.
More often than not, the second he got home from the gym, he’d immediately start planning for D&D night, fully slipping back into the same theatrical, charismatic, nerdy dungeon master he’d been since middle school. And honestly, his girlfriend loved watching it happen.
She loved the way he’d pace around the living room while brainstorming ideas out loud to himself, or how intensely focused he got while scribbling notes onto loose sheets of paper spread across the coffee table. Sometimes he’d suddenly test out voices for characters mid-conversation, dramatically acting out scenes while she sat there trying not to laugh.
There was something ridiculously endearing about seeing such a big, tattooed, bearded man become genuinely giddy over D&D.
Though this particular Friday had him more excited than usual. For the first time in forever, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike had all somehow managed to have matching schedules, meaning everyone would finally be there for the massive one-shot Eddie had been planning for weeks.
Eddie had only gotten home from the shop about an hour ago, but by now he was already showered and changed into comfortable black sweatpants and the newer Hellfire shirt he’d had made for himself a few years back, considering the original one from high school definitely didn’t fit him the same anymore.
Practically buzzing with excitement, he moved around the dining room setting up the table with everything they’d need for the night’s endeavors — notebooks, character sheets, pencils, dice trays, loose papers filled with notes only he could understand, and the DM screen he still refused to replace despite how worn it had gotten over the years. Meanwhile, his girlfriend stood in the kitchen putting together snacks for everyone, wanting to contribute somehow even if she didn’t actually play herself. She stood at the kitchen counter putting the final touches on the food when Eddie approached from behind so quietly she didn’t notice him until his hands settled against her waist, making her jump.
“Everything looks delicious,” he commented in that absurd little character voice he’d randomly started using lately, sounding like a medieval tavern owner trying way too hard to flirt with a customer. She laughed softly, immediately matching his ridiculous voice. “Thank you, sir.”
Eddie’s face lit up almost instantly.
“See? You could totally play with us,” he said, pointing at her like he’d just proven an important point.
He’d been trying to convince her to join a game for ages now, constantly insisting he’d help her through everything and coach her the entire time if she’d just agree to one session. Still, she always declined politely, telling him she liked that he had something that was fully his. That never stopped him from trying again every couple of weeks, though.
“I will think about it,” she told him, amused despite herself. “Now help me carry this stuff to the table, please.”
“Right away, m’lady,” Eddie replied immediately, stepping back into an exaggerated bow dramatic enough to make her roll her eyes fondly. Grinning to himself, he straightened back up and gathered a few of the dishes in his hands before carrying them into the dining room while she followed behind him with the rest.
“Are you excited to see the boys?” she asked.
His grin softened slightly at that, almost boyish despite the beard. "Yeah," he admitted, voice dropping back into its normal register as he set the dishes down carefully on the table.
She smiled at him softly, something warm settling in her chest as she watched him move around the dining room with that same familiar excitement he always got whenever Hellfire was involved.
One of the first things she’d noticed after meeting Eddie was how close he was with what she eventually started referring to as ‘the boys’ — Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will. Gareth and Jeff were around more consistently now that everyone was older, but the younger four still slipped so naturally into Eddie’s life that the dynamic had always felt more like family than friendship.
Ever since meeting them during their freshman year of high school — when Eddie had technically been a senior for the second time — he’d looked at the four of them like younger brothers. And the second they joined his pride and joy, The Hellfire Club, that bond had only gotten stronger. He honestly couldn't wait to see them. Unfortunately, Will had regretfully told Eddie earlier that week he wouldn’t be able to fly home for the game after all, tied up with work out in LA and unable to get away in time for the weekend.
Eddie grabbed a piece of pepperoni from one of the plates and sat at the head of the table. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced toward the clock on the wall, absentmindedly straightening one of the notebooks sitting on the table while he talked.
“You know, the first time I DM’d for those little shits, I fully expected them to be awful at it,” he admitted with a quiet laugh. “Then Dustin somehow rolled three nat 20s back-to-back — which still pisses me off, by the way — and Mike immediately started arguing with me over homebrew rules like he’d been playing for twenty years.”
She smiled to herself as he spoke, already hearing the growing excitement in his voice the more he rambled. Eddie’s fingers tapped restlessly against the tabletop before he leaned back slightly with a soft shake of his head.
“Seriously, though,” he said, sounding almost disbelieving now, “I still can’t believe it’s been this long since we all got to play together.”
“I'm so happy you get to have your game,” she said genuinely, standing beside him and draping an arm loosely around his shoulder. He leaned into her side instinctively, glancing up at her with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
“You're gonna stay and watch, right? Maybe get tempted by the dark arts of dice rolling?” His fingers drummed playfully against the tabletop.
“Of course I’ll watch,” she assured him with a laugh. “As for joining… we’ll see.”
The sound of a car door slamming outside immediately caught Eddie’s attention. He perked up so fast it made her laugh under her breath as he shot out of the chair, only to immediately slam his knee against the edge of the table hard enough to make him swear beneath his breath. Still limping slightly, he hurried toward the front window anyway.
“Oh shit,” he muttered, peering through the blinds. “That’s Gareth’s car.”
She watched, amused, as he pressed closer to the glass with the excitement of an overgrown kid on Christmas morning.
Sure enough, Gareth and Jeff were already making their way up the driveway, Gareth wildly gesturing with a six-pack in hand while Jeff walked beside him looking deeply exhausted by whatever argument was currently happening. Even from inside the house, Eddie could recognize Gareth’s dramatic hand motions — the same ones he’d been using during D&D arguments since middle school. The front door swung open before either of them could knock.
“Took you assholes long enough,” Eddie called, leaning against the doorframe with a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes immediately dropped to the beer in Gareth’s hand. “Hope one of those’s for me.”
“Like I’d forget your needy ass,” Gareth shot back, tossing him a can. Eddie caught it easily, still grinning, while Jeff brushed past both of them with a long-suffering sigh.
“Move,” Jeff muttered, waving a notebook in the air. “I need to review my shit before Henderson gets here and starts hitting me with the ‘well actually’ nonsense.”
Entering the dining room, Jeff offered Eddie’s girlfriend a small smile as she settled into the chair at the opposite end of the table, a snack plate balanced in front of her.
“Hey,” he greeted casually.
She beamed back around a bite of cheese. “Hey, Jeff.”
Gareth wandered in behind him, lifting his beer in greeting, though his tone carried that awkward politeness he always seemed to default to around her. “Hey, uh… hope you don’t mind us invading your place again.”
She folded her arms dramatically and leaned back in her chair. “Not at all, Gareth. Please. Invade all you want.”
That earned a laugh from him as he cracked open one of the beers while Jeff immediately started clearing space for his meticulously organized character sheet and notes. Meanwhile, Eddie lingered near the front window, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh as he kept glancing toward the driveway every couple of seconds. The second another pair of headlights pulled in, his face lit up all over again.
As soon as the car doors slammed outside, Eddie was already moving toward the front door before anyone else could even react.
“Oh, finally,” he muttered excitedly, yanking the door open just as Dustin, Mike, and Lucas started up the walkway carrying backpacks, dice cases, and enough snacks to feed an army.
“Jesus Christ,” Dustin blurted the second he looked up at Eddie properly. “What the hell happened to your face?”
Eddie immediately looked offended, one hand flying to his chest while the other stroked dramatically down his beard.
“What happened,” he repeated. “This, Henderson, is called masculinity.”
Lucas barked out a laugh while Mike shook his head, grinning despite himself.
“No, seriously,” Mike said as they stepped inside. “You look like you chop trees for living.”
Eddie shot him a sarcastic smile in response. Dustin was still staring at him with visible disbelief as Eddie pulled him into a quick one-armed hug anyway, immediately doing the same to Lucas and Mike right after. The excitement radiating off him was almost impossible to miss now that everyone was finally there together again.
“You guys have no idea how insane this one-shot’s gonna be,” Eddie warned as he shut the door behind them, smiling boyishly like he’d been waiting weeks to say exactly that.
Dustin immediately spotted Eddie’s girlfriend sitting at the dining table and lit up, completely abandoning whatever comment he’d been about to throw at Eddie in favor of making a beeline straight toward her.
“Hey, stranger,” he teased, throwing his arms around her shoulders in a quick hug before pulling back again with a cheesy smile. “Thought you got rid of us for good, huh?”
She laughed softly, reaching up to affectionately mess with his curls. “Never.”
Lucas stepped in right after for a quick hug of his own while Mike followed with his usual slightly awkward attempt at casual affection that somehow still came off endearing anyway.
“You’re looking suspiciously comfortable over there,” Mike noted, eyeing the snack plate in front of her with narrowed eyes. “Almost like you’re planning to actually play this time.”
She popped a grape into her mouth with a little shrug. “Just observing.”
“We’ll see,” Eddie butted in casually as he entered the room.
Before she could argue otherwise, everyone started settling into their usual spots around the table, helping themselves to snacks and drinks while dice bags, notebooks, and character sheets slowly took over every inch of open space.
After a few hours, the entire table had slipped into the familiar rhythm of the game, conversation overlapping with dice rolls, dramatic reactions, arguments, and bursts of laughter every few minutes. Dustin kept loudly protesting every minor inconvenience Eddie threw at them, Mike was already trying to debate technicalities across the table, Lucas stayed focused on actually keeping everyone on track, Gareth continued suggesting the most reckless possible solutions to every problem, yet panicking when hearing the consequences, and Jeff sat surrounded by organized notes and papers while muttering suspiciously at Eddie under his breath every time something sounded remotely dangerous.
From where she sat nearby, Eddie’s girlfriend found herself smiling more and more without realizing it. She loved watching this side of him — the way he completely came alive while DMing, animated hands moving through the air while he narrated scenes with dramatic intensity like he was performing for an audience. Her attention drifted periodically to the way his biceps stretched beneath the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt as he reached across the table for his dice, the movement absentminded but distracting enough to make her lose track of whatever anyone was saying.
Every now and then, right in the middle of explaining something important, Eddie would glance over at her and casually wink before immediately slipping back into character.
“The cavern opens into a massive ruined hall,” Eddie narrated, lowering his voice enough that the entire table instinctively quieted. “And standing at the center is a death knight in blackened armor.” A mischievous smile took over at the looks forming around the table. “Everybody roll initiative.”
Dustin groaned dramatically, flipping open his character sheet while Mike immediately started rifling through his spell cards with newfound intensity. Lucas leaned forward with narrowed eyes, already studying Eddie’s expression like he could somehow sniff out an incoming betrayal before it happened. Beside him, Gareth muttered a nervous “Oh, we’re so fucked,” under his breath while reaching for his dice, and Jeff immediately started scanning through his notes with the look of someone mentally preparing for disaster.
The energy around the table shifted almost instantly — the boys exchanging looks, fingers tapping anxiously against dice, shoulders squaring with anticipation. Exactly the reaction Eddie had been hoping for when he designed this moment weeks ago.
From the opposite end of the table, his girlfriend watched the entire thing with quiet amusement, fascinated by how quickly the playful banter had transformed into complete, genuine focus. Dice started clattering across the table, a chorus of groans and muttered swearing followed right after as everyone checked their numbers at once.
Eddie stayed suspiciously calm through all of it. He waited just long enough for the tension to settle heavily over the table before leaning forward slightly, fingers steepled beneath his beard as his voice dropped lower, slower.
“The death knight slowly lifts its sword,” he narrated. “Rusted. Jagged. Still dripping with something dark from the last poor bastard who crossed its path.”
Around the table, everyone had gone completely quiet. Then Eddie’s eyes flicked suddenly toward his girlfriend, the corner of his mouth twitching briefly when he caught her attention.
“And then…” he continued slowly, “it looks straight at you.”
Her eyebrows shot up instantly. At the same time, every head around the table whipped toward her too.
“Excuse me?” she asked, looking between all of them with immediate suspicion. Eddie’s grin only widened as he leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the tabletop.
“The death knight recognizes you,” he said smoothly, clearly enjoying the confusion already spreading around the room, “as the long-lost princess of the fallen kingdom.”
“What?” Dustin blurted immediately.
Lucas pointed accusingly across the table. “See? I knew you were planning something shady.”
Meanwhile, Gareth had already started laughing while Jeff dropped his head into one hand like he physically could not believe Eddie was dragging a non-player into the lore. She looked around the table with her mouth slightly open, clearly caught completely off guard by the sudden attention now directed at her. Eddie’s smile was smug as he leaned back in his chair slightly, clearly far too pleased with himself.
“Princess,” he purred in that overly theatrical DM voice of his, “you’ve been part of the story all along. Time to roll.”
Her cheeks immediately flushed red. Part of it was because she hated being put on the spot so suddenly with everyone staring at her, but another part — arguably the more embarrassing part — was because of the way that nickname sounded coming from him. Especially in that voice. Around the table, Dustin’s eyebrows shot up while Gareth looked seconds away from losing his mind.
“Um…” she started weakly, glancing between all of them completely frozen. Even after sitting there watching the game for the last couple hours, she hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the rules. Honestly, most of her attention had been on Eddie the entire time instead.
Eddie’s expression softened slightly at the obvious panic crossing her face. Still rolling the die absently between his fingers, he stood from his chair and slowly rounded the table, every set of eyes in the room following him in complete silence — including hers. When he stopped beside her, Eddie reached down and took her hand gently, turning her palm upward before placing the die into it.
“Don’t worry, princess. You just gotta roll once, that’s all,” he murmured, his tone smooth enough to make her cheeks warm all over again, even while he stayed committed to the bit. His fingers curled briefly around hers before pulling away. “I’ll talk you through the rest.”
That last line made her stomach flutter, and she slowly closed her fingers around the die as she watched Eddie make his way back toward the head of the table. Even after sitting back down, his eyes lingered on her from across the room, his warm brown gaze noticeably darker in a way she knew usually came from passion. The only problem was she couldn’t tell whether it was because of the game or something else entirely.
Taking a deep breath, she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair. Nervously chewing the inside of her lip, she shook the die gently in her hand before tossing it toward the center of the table. The die bounced once against the wood, then again, before finally landing on a natural twenty.
For half a second, the entire table went dead silent.
Then Dustin practically yelled, Gareth slammed both hands against the table in disbelief, and Lucas leaned back in his chair with a loud, “No way.” Even Jeff looked personally offended by the luck while Mike immediately pointed accusingly at Eddie like he’d somehow rigged it.
The chaos erupting around the table barely seemed to register for Eddie. His attention stayed completely on her, something undeniably proud settling into his expression as a slow smirk spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand along his beard while holding her gaze with an intensity that made her stomach flip all over again.
The others quieted down.
“What happens now?” Lucas asked, absentmindedly spinning a pen between his fingers. Eddie still hadn’t looked away from her.
The smirk on his face softened into something quieter, more intent, as he leaned forward slightly against the table, fingers tapping once against the worn wood before he continued narrating.
“The death knight freezes the second the princess steps forward,” he said, his voice low enough that the entire room fell silent again. “Because the symbol she carries is the same crest worn by the royal bloodline that sealed him away centuries ago.”
Dustin immediately sat up straighter. Eddie’s eyes stayed locked on hers as he continued.
“And suddenly,” he murmured, “everybody realizes the princess was never the one meant to be protected.” A slow grin tugged at his mouth again. “She’s the one capable of ending the fight.”
Her eyes widened as she shook her head slightly, like she was trying to physically process what had just happened.
“I’m so fucking lost right now,” she admitted with a light laugh, the confusion in her voice evident.
Eddie let out a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting into an endearing smirk that disappeared almost as quickly as it came. A second later, he was fully locked back into character, expression turning serious again as he looked around the table.
“The princess steps between the party and the death knight,” he continued, voice lowering dramatically. “And the second she touches the crest around her neck, the entire chamber erupts with light.”
Everyone at the table had gone completely silent again.
“The curse binding the knight finally breaks,” Eddie narrated, eyes flicking briefly toward her before returning to the rest of the group. “His armor splits apart, the sword drops from his hand, and the army surrounding the hall collapses with him.”
Dustin immediately pointed across the table. “Dude, you made your girlfriend the chosen one.”
“Seriously,” Gareth laughed. “We fought for, like, three hours just for her to show up and accidentally save all of us with one roll.”
Mike narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Eddie. “You absolutely planned this whole thing.”
Meanwhile, Jeff leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe we just got side-charactered in our own game.”
The tips of Eddie’s ears turned faintly pink beneath his curls at the accusations being thrown around the table, though the amused grin on his face never slipped once. He drummed his fingers lightly against the tabletop and leaned back in his chair with exaggerated innocence.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His eyes flicked back toward her almost immediately afterward, warm with fondness despite all the teasing surrounding them. “Besides,” he added casually, “the princess earned that roll fair and square.”
“That's right,” she cut in finally, nodding firmly as she pointed toward Eddie in agreement. “Thank you, baby.”
Caught up in the moment, she didn’t even realize she’d used the nickname she normally reserved for when they were alone until the word left her mouth. The reaction around the table was immediate.
Dustin practically choked on his drink while Lucas snorted. “How cute.”
Across from them, Mike scrunched his face up dramatically before dragging a hand down it like he’d just been personally attacked by the pet name.
Eddie tried, and failed, to hide the way his cheeks turned faintly pink at the nickname, his jaw flexing as he rubbed a hand over his beard in a poor attempt to hide his smile.
Lucas immediately pointed between the two of them. “Oh, he liked that.”
Before Eddie could defend himself, Mike leaned back in his chair with a dramatic groan. “This one-shot is biased.”
“Extremely biased,” Dustin agreed.
Still visibly amused, Eddie started gathering loose notes and dice from around the table. “Alright, relax,” he said. “You guys survived the death knight, the kingdom’s saved, the princess is safe. Let’s call it there.”
“Wait,” Gareth interrupted suddenly, pointing between Eddie and his girlfriend. “Doesn’t she get an epilogue?”
Jeff nodded immediately in agreement, which only made her look more confused.
“What’s an epilogue?”
“Basically what happens to your character after the story ends,” Eddie explained, glancing briefly toward the clock before looking back at her.
Dustin leaned forward instantly. “Okay, so what happens to the princess?”
The room quieted as Eddie’s attention settled back on her, something softer slipping briefly into his expression.
“The princess returns to her kingdom,” he said slowly, “and she gets her happy ending.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “That’s suspiciously simple.”
Eddie ignored him entirely, standing from the table with a quiet sigh. “Alright, seriously, we should wrap up before it gets too late.”
Nobody argued. Everyone naturally started gathering their things while conversations overlapped around the room, though Eddie lingered beside the table for another moment, absentmindedly flipping through his notebook before shutting it.
“You okay?” she asked softly as she moved closer beside him. Eddie nodded, though he still seemed slightly lost in thought as his fingers brushed lightly against her wrist.
“Just thinking,” he murmured.
“About what?”
He looked at her for a second before giving a small shrug. “Life, I guess.”
Before she could ask anything else, Dustin approached with his bag slung over one shoulder.
“Alright, we’re heading out. Thanks for having us,” Dustin said with a smile. Eddie blinked, pulling himself out of whatever thoughts had settled over him before nodding toward Dustin. Leaning in, he pulled him into a quick hug. “Thanks for coming, man.”
Lucas and Mike wandered over too, exchanging quick hugs and handshakes while Gareth and Jeff hovered near the front door waiting impatiently for everyone else to finish saying their goodbyes.
“Have to plan another one sometime,” Eddie said as he walked them toward the front door. Everyone immediately agreed, even with the quiet understanding lingering beneath it all that coordinating everyone’s schedules again would probably be a nightmare.
Still, smiles and tired goodbyes were exchanged as they slowly filtered out toward their cars. Eddie stayed standing in the doorway watching all five of them disperse down the driveway, the porch light catching against the curls falling around his face. A second later, Dustin honked his horn twice from the street in one last goodbye. Eddie lifted a hand and waved back.
Behind him, his girlfriend stood quietly in the archway between the living room and dining room, leaning against the wall as she watched him with a soft, almost pitying expression.
“Eddie?” Her voice was quiet after a few moments. “You okay?”
He turned from the door after locking it, though at first he didn’t answer. Instead, he just stood there silently for a second, blinking away the haze of memories clouding the back of his mind.
Even after all these years, Eddie still struggled sometimes with the reality of how much had changed. He still saw some of his old friends fairly often, including Robin and Steve, but it was different with the younger boys. Back then, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will had spent nearly every day together with him, bonded not just through Hellfire, but through things they survived side by side that most people would never understand. Somewhere along the way, Eddie had started loving them like younger brothers without even realizing it. They were all still close now, still cared about each other deeply, but adulthood had scattered pieces of that closeness into schedules, jobs, distance, and exhaustion.
Without saying anything, Eddie finally walked toward her slowly, his broad shoulders noticeably heavier now than they had been all night. The second he reached her, she caught the shine of unshed tears in his eyes before he quietly lowered his head onto her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. She hugged his neck, eyes shut as she held him against her.
Eddie’s girlfriend knew enough about their past, despite not having lived through it herself. She knew enough to understand that everything they’d survived together, everything Eddie himself had survived, made moments like this feel almost miraculous sometimes. The fact that he was here at all, standing in her arms and allowing himself to be loved in the gentle, steady way he deserved, was something she never took for granted.
Over time, she’d grown close with the others too, naturally caring for the people Eddie cared for so deeply. And because Eddie didn’t trust easily, not after everything he’d been through, the fact that he trusted her enough to be this vulnerable in front of her made her chest ache in the best possible way. The thought lingered heavily enough in her chest that she found herself saying it out loud, her voice soft near his ear as she held him.
“I’m really proud of you,” she murmured. “For being able to grow and change, but still stay yourself through all of it.”
She leaned back just enough to gently cup his face in her hands, guiding him to look at her properly. His cheeks were still faintly damp from tears, his expression quieter than usual as she brushed her thumbs lightly against his skin.
“And I love that you still care so deeply about your friends,” she continued softly, her voice steady with sincerity. “A lot of people lose that as they get older. You didn’t.”
Silence settled between them for a few quiet seconds, neither of them expecting the aftermath of tonight to feel this emotionally heavy. Instead of brushing her words off with humor like he normally would, Eddie simply nodded faintly, his gaze dropping down as he sniffled once. He exhaled shakily before finally speaking, fully giving in to the weight of the moment instead of trying to joke his way around it. His voice came out rough enough that it made her arms tighten around him instinctively.
“Kinda hits me sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “How lucky I am. That we all made it. That I got you.” His fingers flexed slightly against her waist as he swallowed hard, his eyes drifting downward again. “Back then, I honestly never thought I’d make it this far.”
Her lips pressed together into a small smile to stop them from trembling at the visible emotion in his face.
(Title is TBD, so that's what it will be called for now.)
↦Part Two
Synopsis: Edward Munson was born in 15th-century Dravenia and cursed into vampirism after a desperate bargain to save the woman he loved. Doomed to chase her reincarnated soul through centuries of different lives, he eventually returns to his ancestral estate. When Severa, a young woman plagued by vivid dreams, is sent to Blackmere House in Dravenia for treatment, her dreams begin to feel more like memory — and beyond the Black Forest, Edward feels her return.
Author’s Note & Disclaimer: This is an Eddie Munson fic in name, face, and spirit, but it does not follow Stranger Things canon or themes. Think gothic vampire romance, reincarnated lovers, and tragic devotion (and maybe a few tiny ST easter eggs if you squint). I’m writing this one part at a time and letting the story lead me, so I’m not sure exactly where it’s going yet. Expect slow-ish burn, eventual spice, yearning, old curses, haunted dreams, blood, and romance. I do not own Eddie Munson or Stranger Things. Eddie belongs to the original creators. However, this story, its original characters, setting, lore, and plot are my own.
Word Count: 3.2k
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Dravenia, 1728.
“Tell me again about Lord Munson,” the girl whispered, fingers clutching the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders. The firelight painted her face gold, but her eyes stayed wide and dark, fixed on the old woman across the hearth.
“None of that now,” the woman hissed, waving a dismissive hand at the girl.
“Oh will you please? I promise I won’t be afraid this time.”
The elder woman sighed, stirring the pot of stew hanging over the flames. The scent of thyme and onions curled thick in the air. “You’ve heard it a hundred times, child. Every fool in the valley knows the tale.”
“Please, grandmother,” the girl begged, folding her hands together beneath her chin. The woman’s eyes met hers — eager and pleading for just one more story — and with a quiet huff, the woman cleared her throat as she faced the boiling stew once again. The grandmother's voice dropped low, threading through the crackle of the fire like smoke.
“They say he was born in Dravenia — not a prince, but not a peasant either. A man raised close enough to power to believe he could command fate itself.” Her wooden spoon scraped the bottom of the pot. “And that was his first mistake, child. Men like him should never bargain with things older than the trees.”
The girl’s brows drew together in quiet sympathy before interrupting. “But is it not true that he did it for love?”
The grandmother's lips tightened, her knuckles whitening around the spoon's handle.
“Love,” she muttered, as if the word itself tasted bitter. “Aye, he did it for love — and cursed them both for it.” The firelight flickered across the deep lines of her face. “They say he knelt before the old gods in the Black Forest, where the trees whisper even when there's no wind. Gave up his soul to keep hers from fading.”
”How romantic,” the girl sighed, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as if the story were unfolding above her.
“Romantic?” The grandmother's voice cracked like dry timber in winter. She dropped the spoon into the stew with a splash that sent droplets hissing into the fire. “You'd call it romantic, girl, to watch the same soul wither and die in one’s arms a dozen times over? To make the poor girl save him, just for him to be what destroys her?”
The girl’s expression faltered, her lips pulling into a small pout. Silence fell between them, stretching just long enough to be felt. The old woman picked up the ladle again, breaking the silence.
”I believe that’s enough,” she said, “supper is ready.”
The grandmother would speak no more of Lord Munson that night — though stories, both spoken and unspoken, had a way of traveling.
Through the cracks beneath doors, and the smoke curling from chimneys.
Through the Black Forest — where trees remembered every bargain made beneath them. They remembered him, especially.
Edward Munson.
Long before the name became something feared, he had been only a man — one who loved too deeply, and paid for it. His wife had fallen ill, the kind of sickness no remedy or physician could touch, and he had held her as it took her from him, helpless as her breath slipped away in his arms.
Some said it wasn’t chance — that the gods had offered him a bargain once, something precious in exchange for devotion and he did not accept. Others claimed he had accepted, but failed to honor it — that he turned away, broke faith, chose love over whatever had been asked of him.
He had carried her body into the woods that night, the storm breaking open above him like the sky itself was tearing. Rain soaked him through as thunder split in the dark as he fell to his knees beneath the trees, her lifeless weight in his arms.
And that was when he broke.
He screamed at the heavens, at the gods who had taken her; the gods who had watched and done nothing.
He begged at first — pleaded for her back, for mercy, for anything. But when silence answered him, his grief twisted into something else — something sharper.
Edward renounced them. Every last one.
Cursed them beneath the storm, his voice raw, echoing through the forest as if the trees themselves carried it further. He swore he would never pray to them again; never pray, never bargain, never believe.
The forest listened. The storm didn’t pass, it deepened.
The air grew heavy as something older than the trees — or perhaps beneath them — answered instead.
What found Edward that night was not mercy.
Edward paid no mind to the roaring sky above him, his cold fury collapsing back into grief as he turned toward his love, her body soaked through by the relentless rain. He lifted her carefully and rested her gently against the trunk of one of the great trees, broken sounds leaving him as his eyes never strayed from her face. Then, with trembling hands, he began to dig.
And dig.
Mud packed beneath his nails, rain drenching him to the bone as he carved desperately into the earth until the hollow around him was deep enough. Only then did he stop, carefully lifting the love of his life once more before laying her to rest himself beneath the trees.
By the time the storm cleared, there was no man left kneeling in the mud. Only something else, something that no longer needed the gods to survive.
From that night on, Edward no longer lived, but endured. With each passing century, he would find her again, her soul reborn in another life, another face… only to be forced to lose her every single time.
Dravenia, 1898. Present.
Severa’s shoulders tense with every jolt of the carriage, the road to Blackmere House — a private retreat for those with nervous conditions — uneven beneath her. With each bump, her grip tightens on the leatherbound journal in her lap, as if holding it close could keep its details of her dreams from spilling loose.
Severa's dreams would start with the scent of damp earth and the sound of distant thunder, always the same, always just before dawn, and end with one of the most gut-wrenching screams she’s ever heard. She would wake gasping, her fingers clutching the sheets as if she'd been falling, her nightgown clinging to her skin like a second layer of fear. The doctors in her town called it hysteria; the priests whispered of possession. Her mother, pale with sleepless worry, finally bundled her into a carriage bound for Dravenia's famed retreat — a place where the walls were thick with ivy and the air smelled of lavender and quiet desperation.
The carriage wheels hit another rut, and Severa’s breath catches as the journal slips from her fingers, its pages fluttering open to reveal a sketch — a man’s face, drawn in hurried charcoal strokes, his eyes dark and knowing, his mouth curled in something between a smirk and a sneer. She snatches it up quickly, but not before the driver, a grizzled old man with a face cracked like leather, turns at the sound and catches a glimpse of it.
The driver’s eyes linger a second too long on the sketch before snapping back to the road. His gnarled hands tighten around the reins, the leather creaking under his grip.
“Best keep that to yourself, miss,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. “Folks 'round here don’t take kindly to that face.”
Severa’s pulse quickens. She presses the journal shut, her curiosity prickling hotter than fear. “You know of him?”
The driver doesn’t reply. His silence stretches longer than the road ahead, broken only by the rhythmic clop of hooves and the groan of carriage wheels. Severa watches the back of his head — the way his shoulders hunch, the tension in his knuckles as they grip the reins. She opens her mouth to press him again, but something in his stillness warns her against it. Instead, she tucks the journal back into her lap, fingers tracing the edges of the sketch through the leather cover.
Outside, the forest thickens. Ancient oaks lean over the path, their branches weaving a lattice that choked out the afternoon sun. The air grew damp, carrying the scent of moss and something faintly metallic — like old coins left in the rain.
The carriage slows as Blackmere House comes into view — a sprawling estate of gray stone wrapped in creeping ivy, its gabled roofs sharp against the darkening sky. The wrought-iron gates stand open, but they look more like teeth than a welcome. Beyond them, the Black Forest stretches, its trees older than the house itself, their roots tangled deep in stories no one tells anymore, or is scared to tell.
“Here we are,” the driver clears his throat. His tone suggests this is not a place people arrive at happily. He doesn’t offer to help her down, just waits, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the trees.
Severa glances at the back of the man’s head, a flicker of confusion crossing her features before the slow groan of the gate opening draws her focus. An older woman in a neatly pressed nurse’s uniform steps forward, her posture rigid, expression unreadable.
“Welcome to Blackmere House,” she says, her tone formal — more obligation than warmth.
Severa’s lips part slightly, the expectant look on the nurse’s face prompting her to step down carefully, yet hurriedly, from the carriage. She hugs her journal close to her side as her gaze lifts to the structure before her.
Blackmere House rises in muted greys and blacks, its looming frame reminiscent of a sanitarium — tall, narrow windows set deep into cold stone, the architecture touched with a quiet, gothic severity. Ivy winds its way along the towering iron gates and up the outer walls, curling into the cracks as if trying to claim it. The place feels too still, too watchful; grand, yes, but with something beneath it that unsettles more than it comforts.
“Welcome, alright,” Severa mutters under her breath.
Her feet move after the woman without thought, her attention caught on the towering structure until she collides with something solid. Catching herself, Severa’s eyes lift quickly.
The man before her is tall — imposing without trying to be — with neatly combed dark hair just beginning to silver at his temples. His features are sharp, refined in a way that feels deliberate, and his gray eyes settle on her with a calm, assessing focus. Severa studies his face, her observant nature settling in as it always does with unfamiliar faces. He looks kind, at first glance — his expression composed, almost gentle — but there’s something beneath it that doesn’t sit right, something too polite.
Controlled. The kind of kindness that feels practiced. Severa’s fingers instinctively tighten around her journal.
“Apologies,” she mutters, brushing a dark curl behind her ear.
The man shakes his head. “No need. Miss Severa, I presume?”
His voice carries smooth, Dravenian lilt through perfect English, like velvet drawn over steel. He extends a hand, palm up, fingers relaxed. His cufflinks gleam in the fading light, silver etched with intricate patterns Severa can't quite make out.
“Dr. Ephraim Blackmere. I trust your journey wasn't too taxing?”
Severa glances briefly at Dr. Blackmere’s offered hand before taking it, her grip hesitant.
“Hello, yes, it was… alright,” she answers, a faint unease threading through her voice. She’s never been good at concealing that feeling when someone feels off, her awareness of people is instinctive, almost immediate, and it rarely leads her astray. Though she forces it down now; she has to be respectful, as there is no one else here for her to rely on.
Dr. Blackmere’s fingers close over hers with just the right amount of pressure, firm enough to convey professionalism, yet light enough to avoid discomfort.
“You must be fatigued,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly as he studies her face. His gaze lingers a moment too long on the journal clutched in her other hand before flickering back up. “Allow me to show you to your room, you’ll have time to rest before supper.”
Severa gives a slight nod, pulling her hand back with quiet unease.
His lips twitch into the faintest smile, too practiced to reach his eyes, as he gestures toward the towering front doors. “This way, if you please.”
The gravel crunches beneath his polished boots as he leads her forward, his strides measured. The nurse melts into the shadows of the house as they pass, leaving Severa acutely aware of the weight of the journal pressed against her ribs.
The foyer yawns before them, all dark wood and cold marble. A grandfather clock ticks in the corner, its pendulum swinging like a metronome counting down to something unseen.
The doctor pauses at the foot of the grand staircase, his fingers brushing the carved banister — ebony polished to a mirror sheen, each swirl and knot in the wood whispering of old craftsmanship.
“Your room overlooks the gardens,” he says, voice smooth as the silk of his cravat, though his gaze lingers just past her shoulder, toward a window where the Black Forest looms beyond the manicured hedges.
“And the forest, of course. Many of our guests find the view... settling.” The corner of his mouth quirks, a gesture Severa might mistake for warmth if not for the way his fingers tap once, twice, against the wood — restless, impatient.
“You'll have everything you need. Fresh linens, a writing desk, even a small selection of books, should you wish to read.” His gray eyes flick back to hers, weighing her reaction. “Though I suspect you prefer to document your own thoughts, hm?” A nod toward the journal still clutched in her hands, his tone light but his gaze sharp as a scalpel.
Severa meets his gaze in a wordless answer as they come to a halt, almost in unison, at the doorway to her room. Under the weight of his eyes, she turns toward the door, and Dr. Blackmere opens it slowly, almost deliberately, as if leaving space for her to reconsider.
Severa’s eyes move over the room, it’s neat to the point of sterility; a narrow iron-framed bed, a plain wardrobe, a small writing desk, and a single window framed by heavy curtains that dull the light. The air feels still, like the room has been waiting — or something beyond it has.
The doctor steps aside, his boots silent against the floorboards as he gestures for her to enter. His fingers linger on the silver doorknob, tracing the grooves absently before letting go.
“The nurses change the bedding weekly,” he says, voice low as his gaze drifts to the window where the forest hangs heavy just beyond the glass. “Dinner is served promptly at six, punctuality is appreciated.” A pause, intentional. His eyes flick back to her, noting the way she hasn’t moved. “Unless you’d prefer a tray brought to your room tonight?” The offer hangs between them, weighted with unspoken implications.
“I would prefer that, please,” she replies quietly, her dark eyes tracing every crevice and corner of her space. Dr. Blackmere watches her.
“Of course,” he obliges, his gaze fixed, something unreadable settling behind it. ”Is there anything else I can assist you with, Miss Severa?”
Severa’s attention drifts past him, to the darkening trees in the distance — where the forest lies, heavy and still. ”Are people allowed to visit the forest?”
His fingers tighten imperceptibly around the doorknob before releasing it with practiced calm. "Ah, the Black Forest," he murmurs, stepping closer — not enough to crowd, just enough to subtly redirect her focus toward him.
“A fascinating subject, but I'm afraid visits are... not permitted. The terrain is treacherous, and the locals have their superstitions.” His smile is polished, benign. “We wouldn't want you lost among old roots and older stories, would we?”
Severa lowers her gaze, masking a flicker of disappointment — even as something quieter inside her settles, certain she'll find her way there regardless. She doesn’t respond.
Dr. Blackmere lingers only a moment longer before inclining his head and stepping out, the door behind him closing with a soft click.
Severa has yet to let go of her journal, half convinced the creeping ivy beyond her window might slip through the walls and take it from her.
To call it important to her would be an understatement. Within its pages, she keeps everything she cannot say aloud — her thoughts, her dreams, fragments of things that feel too real to ignore. And what she can’t describe with words, she draws.
The margins, and some whole pages, are filled with sketches of the same man, over and over — a man with dark, expressive eyes, long dark hair, all drawn from memory she doesn’t understand, yet never questioned.
Her trust in Blackmere House, of the doctor himself, was… lacking. And yet, she couldn’t quite ignore the quiet pull beneath it all, the sense that whatever brought her here ran deeper than her dreams.
𑁍𑁍𑁍
Munson Castle.
The moment Severa stepped onto the grounds of Blackmere House, Edward Munson felt it; like the first drop of rain before a storm.
His fingers still against the piano keys in the west wing of the castle, the notes he had been playing faltering into silence. For a moment, he did not move. He only listened, dark eyes narrowing as the air around him shifted.
Slowly, Edward rises from the piano bench, his long fingers lingering against the polished wood before pulling away. He crosses to the window, the floorboards groaning softly beneath his steps, and pushes it open. The scent of the forest beneath him curled into the room — moss and petrichor, yet something deeper beneath it.
Something familiar.
His lips curve slightly, not quite a smile, but the fragile beginning of hope he knew better than to trust, as his gaze fixes on the distant silhouette of Blackmere House through the trees.
”Finally,” he breaths, his voice almost hoarse from centuries of waiting. “You’ve come back to me.”
A shadow shifts against the far wall, stretching unnaturally before taking the vague shape of a man.
”She has arrived,” the shadow rasps, “Blackmere has taken her in.”
Edward’s expression darkens at once. The faint curve of his mouth vanishes, his jaw tightening as his fingers curl against the windowsill. His nails — too long and sharp to be wholly human — bit into the old wood, leaving thin grooves behind.
”Blackmere,” he repeats, low and displeased, as though the name itself were sour on his tongue. “How unfortunate.”
The shadow drifts closer, its edges blurring like smoke in candlelight. “She carries your likeness in her journal. Drawn from dreams. From memory.”
At that, Edward goes still. His expression fading from his face, leaving something older in its place. Hungier.
”Does she?” He asks softly, his inner brows lifting slightly. The wind stirs through the room, lifting the dark waves of his hair from his shoulders. Beyond the castle, the Black Forest sways though no storm has yet reached it.
The shadow hums. “She remembers you.”
Edward’s jaw tightens. “Not enough,” he murmurs, gaze still locked on Blackmere House. “Not yet.”
Then, faint as a secret carried through the trees, came the echo of a heartbeat — soft, mortal, and achingly familiar.
Edward closes his eyes; inhaling slowly as if he could breathe her in from such a distance. He would have known that rhythm in any lifetime.
His fingers tighten once more against the sill, claws biting shallow marks into the wood.
“This time,” he whispers, the words carrying the quiet desperation of a vow long broken.
Severa's dreams begin to follow her into waking life, while Edward experiences something he hasn't known in centuries.
Word Count: 3.4k
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Three Mornings Later.
Severa’s eyes shoot open, her breath catching as her hands brace hard against the mattress on either side of her. She can feel her heart racing in her chest as she attempts to calm herself, fingers tightening against the sheets.
She had the dream again.
The one where her hands claw desperately at the earth, her breaths fast and shallow as rain pelts against her back. And above her — a loud, strained scream, so close it sounds as though it’s coming from directly overhead. The scream is often followed by the flashing image of a man’s face so grief-stricken, so utterly heartbroken, that it always jolts her awake.
Her eyes remain fixed on the ceiling as faint morning light filters through the curtains. It takes her a moment to catch up with her surroundings; she still hasn’t adjusted to them, waking each morning expecting to be back home. Once the realization settles — that she is not in her bedroom, that arriving at Blackmere had been real — tears sting in her eyes.
At least at home, her mother would be there afterward, exhausted and weighed down by guilt, yet still brushing a hand through her daughter’s hair and softly assuring her she was okay.
Severa releases her grip on the sheets and quickly wipes her eyes, only for her attention to catch on the dark stain beneath her fingernails. Confusion flickers across her face as she turns her hands over, examining them. Her fingertips are covered in dirt.
Sitting up hurriedly, her hands still held in front of her, Severa’s gaze drops to the floor beside the bed and slowly trails farther. Clumps of soil are scattered beneath the window, and the potted plant she’d brought up from the garden lies tipped onto its side, the flower torn from the dirt. A faint breeze brushes against her face, and Severa’s eyes snap toward the window. The curtains shift softly around the open frame.
Had she… climbed out the window last night?
Her mother always said she talked in her sleep, but Severa had never wandered — never climbed out windows. But there’s no way she could've left; her room is much too high up, and someone would've seen her, or stopped her.
At the subtle sound of movement down the hall, Severa’s eyes dart toward the closed door across the room. Bewilderment gives way to alarm almost instantly as she scrambles to her feet, hastily stuffing the uprooted plant back into its pot and sweeping loose dirt beneath the bed. Severa scrubs at her fingers with the underside of her nightgown, her eyes narrowed in concentration while she listens carefully for any movement beyond the door.
The knock comes suddenly, yet softly — three taps, then silence — before the handle turns and the door creaks open. As soon as the knock sounds, Severa hurriedly climbs back onto the bed, forcing herself into some semblance of normalcy as she stares toward the door. The nurse from Severa’s arrival, Nurse Maren, stands silhouetted in the doorway, her round face pinched with concern beneath her starched cap.
“Miss Severa?” She announces herself quietly, peering into the dim room. Severa swallows slightly, attempting to compose herself.
“Yes?”
Nurse Maren steps into the room, lingering near the door as she folds her hands in front of her. Her eyes dart to the window, then back to Severa, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“You're up early,” she notes, her voice carefully neutral. “Dr. Blackmere wants to see you before breakfast. He's... concerned about your adjustment period so far.”
Severa feels her stomach sink, though she masks it with a slow, steadying breath and a small nod.
Nurse Maren’s eyes briefly dip to the dirt still caught beneath Severa’s fingernails before returning to her face. The slight tension in Severa’s posture, the nervous edge she’s trying, and failing, to conceal, does not go unnoticed.
“Shall I tell him you’ll be down shortly?” she asks, though the question is laced with quiet expectation.
"Yes, ma'am," Severa breathes, nodding once more.
Nurse Maren lingers a moment longer, her shrewd gaze lingering on the few specs of dirt left behind on the floor. “Very well. I'll inform the doctor. Do freshen up before you join him,” her eyes flick pointedly to Severa's hands before she turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Severa lets out a shaky sigh, the distress finally beginning to ebb after the quiet chaos of the morning. She still hasn't even had a chance to process what exactly happened the night before. Slowly, she rises to shut the window she’d foolishly left open in the middle of her scrambling, then sheds her nightgown to change into a modest day dress better suited for the chilly halls of Blackmere House.
Severa pulls on a satchel, tucking her journal inside before she makes her way down to Dr. Blackmere’s office. She knocks once.
“Come in,” he instructs calmly.
Severa opens the door, her eyes casually sweeping over the room as she steps inside. The room is lined with dark wooden shelves crowded with medical texts, glass bottles, and neatly organized instruments. A heavy oak desk sits near the window, papers stacked with meticulous order, while the faint scent of ink, herbs, and antiseptic lingers in the air.
“Nurse Maren said you wished to see me,” she says, folding her hands neatly in front of her. There’s no real nervousness in her posture, only subtle weariness. Dr. Blackmere looks up from his desk, his gray eyes sharp and assessing as he studies her.
“Indeed,” he says, his voice smooth and measured. “I understand your nightmares have persisted. Would you care to describe them?”
He gestures to the chair opposite him, his fingers steepled together. “In detail, if you don't mind.”
Severa slowly follows his gesture, lowering herself into the chair and folding her hands neatly in her lap, her elbow lightly pressing against the book tucked inside her satchel — a subconscious habit, always keeping it close, protected. Dr. Blackmere casually picks up his pen.
“I’m not entirely sure,” she admits, warmth gathering uneasily in her palms. She isn’t lying, though she chooses her words carefully.
“All I know is the atmosphere feels… dark. Heavy, like the air before a storm. And I hear screaming — a man’s scream — and it sounds…” Her voice falters slightly, trailing into silence.
Dr. Blackmere leans forward, the faintest flicker of something darker crossing his otherwise composed expression. “It sounds…” He repeats her, tone questioning. Severa pauses, her expression softening. “Heartbreaking,” she mumbles.
Dr. Blackmere's fingers tighten subtly around his pen before he sets it down. “Fascinating,” he murmurs, though his tone suggests something darker than academic interest. “And this man, do you ever see his face?”
“I do, yes,” Severa answers, dipping her chin in a hesitant nod.
Dr. Blackmere raises an eyebrow. “Does he resemble anyone you know?”
His gaze lingers on the small corner of her journal peeking from her satchel. Severa can’t hide the flicker of puzzlement that crosses her face at his choice of words.
Fascinating.
“No,” she answers after a brief pause, giving a slight shake of her head, though a trace of uncertainty slips into her voice. “I don’t think so.”
Dr. Blackmere leans back in his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath him as he regards her with an unsettling stillness. His fingers tap once against the armrest, a deliberate, measured motion.
“You don't think so,” he echoes. “Interesting phrasing, Miss Severa. Dreams often draw from the faces we've seen, even fleetingly.” His gaze drifts pointedly to the journal again before lifting back to her face. “Perhaps a stranger from town? Or… someone closer?”
Severa shakes her head again, both in answer and in lingering bewilderment at the man before her. “I surely would remember if I had seen his face before.”
Dr. Blackmere exhales slowly, his fingers ceasing their tapping as he straightens in his chair. “Very well,” he concedes with a thin smile. “If the dreams persist, or worsen, do inform Nurse Maren immediately.” His tone is dismissive, but his gaze lingers on her hands. “You may go.”
Severa’s lips part slightly before she falters. “Um… right, yes,” she says, “thank you.” Standing slowly, Severa turns to make her way to the door, but not before Dr. Blackmere’s voice halts her movements.
“Rest is most important here, Miss Severa,” he says, his smile clashing with the hint of sharpness in his tone, “and honesty, of course.”
Severa’s eyes meet his once more, her fingers curling instinctively around the strap across her shoulder. His smile remains.
“Nurse Maren will see you back to your room. I think it’s best if you remain indoors today.”
Severa feels a wave of unease prickle at the back of her neck, though she forces a small nod, reminding herself to remain respectful. Without another word, she exits the office, closing the door quietly behind her. The words sounded like care, but they felt like a lock turning.
𑁍𑁍𑁍
The midday sun has long since been swallowed by clouds; Dravenia’s weather is notoriously fickle this time of year. Though no trace of daylight reaches the castle’s lowest level, where Edward typically rests in perpetual darkness. However, this awakening feels different enough to unsettle even him. Edward opens his eyes, disturbed by the remnants of something impossible clinging to him.
A dream.
Edward does not dream; he has not dreamed since he was mortal. Daylight only drags him into a deathlike stillness beneath the castle — empty, silent, dark. His fingers twitch against the satin lining of the old, slightly corroded coffin before he lifts the lid, the dim firelight from the wall torches offering little illumination. Sitting up slowly, Edward raises his hands to inspect them, catching the faint scent of wet soil lingering in his senses — though his nails are perfectly clean, the feeling of dirt beneath them clings like a phantom memory.
Edward rises from the coffin before reaching for his boots, his mind still reeling from what he had just witnessed in his sleep.
Of course, after four long centuries, the first dream he experienced would be the darkest day of his life. Only this time, it felt distant — as though he were watching it from above instead of living through it.
And it was the sound of his own scream echoing through the storm that his eyes flew open.
The realization hits him slowly, sinking in as he dresses, fastening the buttons of his waistcoat with distracted fingers. Edward’s boots click softly against the stone floor as he makes his way toward the stairs. He stops short, staring down at his hand again, his fingers curling slightly.
The nightmare, if it could even be called that, hadn’t been entirely his. He had seen glimpses of another dream woven through his own. A woman’s hands clawing through the earth, digging furiously beside his own. The fleeting image of dark hair, pale skin, and wide, frightened eyes.
Edward’s lips press into a thin line as he finally moves toward the stairs, ascending slowly. The silence of the castle presses heavily around him, interrupted only by the faint echo of his footsteps. His fingers tighten around the banister as he reaches the main floor, his dark eyes scanning the grand hall before him. Dust motes dance in the thin slivers of daylight filtering through the heavy curtains, casting shifting patterns across the worn carpets.
He only makes it a few steps down the corridor before pausing, his gaze shifting carefully through the dim hall as if expecting another presence nearby. “I know you’re there,” he says tiredly, continuing down the hall. “Come out, will you.”
The darkness in the corner behind him shifts and twists, forming into the familiar shadow that trails along the walls around Edward as he walks.
The shadow had followed Edward for centuries now. Not fully human, yet not fully separate from him either, it was a lingering remnant of the curse forced upon him long ago. Something born the night he screamed at the heavens beneath the Black Forest and begged for death to be undone.
Since then, it had remained at his side like a wound that never healed. Stretched thin like smoke against candlelight, it moved when no light commanded it, clinging to walls, doorways, and the edges of mirrors. Sometimes it took the vague shape of a man with no face, though its form never stayed whole for long.
Edward never truly knew whether it had been sent by the gods to haunt him, or if it was simply the darkest parts of himself made living. He had grown to accept its presence, not with comfort, but with weary tolerance.
It was the only thing that kept Edward company, even in moments he believed himself to be alone. Its voice, dry as dead leaves dragging over stone, spoke with the certainty of something ancient — something that knew every secret beneath the Black Forest, and every sin Edward carried with him.
“You dreamed,” it mumbles, firm in its certainty. It wasn’t a question.
It never was with the Shadow; it knew things before Edward spoke them aloud. Still, it always asked — or rather, it pretended to ask. Edward suspected it liked watching him admit to things he’d rather keep hidden. Edward exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders slightly.
“Yes,” he admits quietly, brushing past the Shadow without slowing his pace. The Shadow drifts closer, its form flickering like candlelight against the wall as it follows him down the corridor.
“You haven’t dreamed in four hundred years,” it murmurs, its voice low and knowing. “Not since the night the Black Forest swallowed you whole.”
Edward pauses, his jaw clenching slightly. He doesn’t turn around, but his fingers flex at his sides, betraying his irritation.
“Yes, well,” he mutters, his tone dry. “It seems my subconscious has finally decided to torment me as well. Congratulations.”
The Shadow shifts, its form stretching unnaturally along the floor before curling back in on itself. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
Edward stiffens at that, his breath catching slightly before he forces himself to exhale slowly. He doesn’t answer immediately, his dark eyes flickering toward the window at the far end of the corridor. The storm clouds outside cast long shadows across the floor, stretching toward him like reaching hands. After a moment, he turns his head slightly, glancing at the Shadow from the corner of his eye.
“What is her name in this lifetime?”
“Severa,” it hums.
Edward’s expression softens, if only for a moment, something aching quietly beneath the sound of her name. Another life, another name, another version of her that time would eventually rip from his hands again. Although, this time will be different.
“Severa,” he repeats softly, testing the unfamiliar name on his tongue.
“You shared her dream,” it informs him, “where she digs beneath the Black Forest, though she does not know why.”
Edward’s fingers twitch as if remembering the sensation of earth beneath them — both hers and his own. Guilt twists sharply through him, familiar and merciless. Even now, after centuries, he blames himself for every hardship she endures in each new life. He wishes he had never made the bargain at all — that he had simply died beside her that night instead of condemning them both to this endless cycle of loss.
“As I said, I will not let her go this time,” he declares, though the words sound more like a vow to himself than anyone else.
He comes to stand before the window just as the storm finally breaks, rain beginning to pour from the darkened sky beyond the castle walls. The Shadow flickers strangely at his declaration, its form stretching thin along the wall before suddenly recoiling inward like smoke sucked back into a chimney.
Edward says nothing more. He retrieves his top hat and ventures out into the storm, his figure melting into the darkness beyond the castle walls like a wandering spirit.
𑁍𑁍𑁍
Storms had always calmed Severa. Back home, she would sit outside in the rain until her mother practically dragged her indoors. There was something peaceful about storms to her — the louder and more violent, the better — because for once, the chaos existed outside of her mind rather than within it.
Especially tonight, after what happened that morning, and after being confined inside her room the entire day. Nurse Maren had been instructed by Dr. Blackmere to bring each meal directly to Severa’s door, as though quietly eliminating any excuse for her to leave the room at all.
She’s just finished dinner, though she barely touched it, and leaves the tray outside the door afterward, a quiet act of resistance more than anything.
Now she sits at her desk, her attention only half on the words she’s writing, because some restless voice in the back of her mind keeps urging her toward the storm outside. A sharp crack of thunder pulls Severa’s attention from her writing, her head lifting toward the window almost instinctively. Giving in to the persistent pull in the back of her mind, she stands and parts the thick curtains, her gaze settling on the rain droplets streaking quickly down the glass. Her eyes absently follow a single droplet sliding down the window until movement farther out in the storm catches her attention.
A figure stands near the far concrete gate, half obscured by the pouring rain and darkness.
Severa’s eyebrows furrow as she peers through the rain. A man, from what she can tell, the outline of a hat shadowing his face as he watches the window directly. She knows she should feel alarmed, or at least uneasy, yet an odd calm trickles through her instead, cool and steady like rain against skin — followed closely by intrigue.
Then boldness.
Severa crosses the room and slowly opens the door, noticing her dinner tray still sitting untouched outside. Stepping carefully over it, she eases the door shut behind her before quietly making her way toward the gardens, curiosity overpowering any fear of being seen, or caught. As if the gods themselves were trying to keep her away, the rain suddenly pours harder the second her bare feet touch the grass. Shielding her eyes with her hands, Severa steps cautiously toward the still-lingering figure.
”Hello?” She calls, though the rain drowns her out.
The man tilts his chin upward slightly, allowing fragments of little moonlight to catch against his face while his eyes remain completely hidden beneath the shadow of his hat. For a brief moment, Severa stills entirely, her narrowed eyes widening in stunned uncertainty.
Before she can press further, a voice behind her halts her words.
”Miss Severa, would you come back inside please?” Nurse Maren calls, her tone light enough to sound polite, though the quiet firmness in it leaves little room for refusal. Severa glances quickly at Nurse Maren before turning back toward the gate, her eyebrows furrowing when she realizes the figure is no longer there.
Reluctantly, though respectful enough not to argue, she turns and lowers her head, making her way back inside. Nurse Maren follows closely as they arrive at Severa's room.
”I came for your tray, and you were not inside your room.”
”My tray was outside the door,” Severa mutters, then scrunches her face slightly as though catching her tone after it leaves her mouth. ”I’m sorry,” she says, softer this time. “I just… needed to be out in the rain. It helps me sleep.”
Nurse Maren blinks slowly, studying Severa’s face as though silently weighing whether she has the energy to argue with her right now.
After a long moment, Nurse Maren simply gives a short nod and leaves, the sound of her footsteps gradually disappearing down the hall.
The second Severa is alone again, a heavy sigh leaves her. Not because she had lied entirely, the rain truly did calm her, but because something deep in her gut had urged her not to mention the figure standing beyond the gate.
The instinct had been immediate. Protective. And stranger still, she realizes she had felt safer being watched by him than she ever has beneath Dr. Blackmere’s careful attention.
Too mentally drained to properly clean herself up, Severa peels off her rain-soaked clothes, slips into her nightgown, and extinguishes the light beside her bed. As her eyes close, Severa can’t tell whether the unusual calm inside her comes from the rain against her skin, or the dark figure that had been watching her from the gate; she doesn’t get the chance to decide which one it is before sleep pulls her under almost instantly, and for the first time in months, Severa is able to sleep through the night.
Severa's fragile peace is disturbed once again, while Edward discovers how much of him she has carried with her.
Word Count: 2k
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The next morning.
Morning comes gently for once, Severa’s body feeling unusually heavy with genuine rest rather than exhaustion. She stretches her arms above her head, the movement long overdue, before letting them fall loosely back against the mattress. For a few quiet moments, she simply lies there, the unfamiliar feeling of undisturbed sleep enough to confuse her before she slowly realizes why.
She hadn’t dreamed at all last night.
Instead of dwelling on it, she allows herself to bask in the rare peacefulness a little while longer.
Rising to her feet, Severa pulls the curtains open gently, her eyes subconsciously drifting toward the place where the figure had stood the night before. The spot is empty, of course, and to her own confusion, a small part of her feels disappointed by it. Her gaze lingers there for a few quiet seconds longer, almost as if she expects the figure to emerge from the morning fog. Eventually, she turns away from the window — only for her eyes to catch on the empty space atop her desk.
Her journal is gone.
Panic hits her instantly, sharp and suffocating. For one horrible moment, she feels eighteen again, back when the dreams first began — dreams that stole pieces of her sanity night after night, leaving her clinging desperately to the only thing that ever made her feel understood.
Her hands hover over the empty space where her journal had been, as if it might suddenly reappear before her like some cruel trick. Tears well in her eyes as she begins searching for it frantically, forcing herself to stay quiet, terrified of drawing attention from anyone beyond her bedroom door.
How could she have been so careless to not hide her journal before going to sleep?
The desperate searching abruptly stills at the familiar knock against her door, though she doesn’t turn around as Nurse Maren slowly lets herself inside.
“Good morning, Miss Severa,” she greets formally. The composure in her expression falters slightly as she notices the obvious tension filling the room. “I’ve brought breakfast.”
Severa quietly steadies herself against the lingering panic before finally turning toward the older woman, who is carefully setting the breakfast tray at the foot of the bed.
“Has anyone been in my room while I was asleep?” Severa asks, attempting to hide the urgency sharpening beneath her otherwise controlled tone. Nurse Maren meets her gaze evenly, though there’s something faintly calculated flickering behind her eyes — an almost performative confusion.
”Not to my knowledge,” she replies smoothly, yet there’s a subtle edge beneath the politeness of her tone. Before Severa can utter another word, Nurse Maren continues, moving toward the door. “Dr. Blackmere wishes for you to meet him in the library after you are finished with breakfast.”
Severa’s eyes burn accusingly into Nurse Maren’s back, frustration tightening in her chest at the deliberate calmness woven through the woman’s voice. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Severa alone with the suffocating noise of her own thoughts. Almost instantly, her mind begins spiraling.
Where was her journal?
Had Nurse Maren taken it?
Has Dr. Blackmere seen it?
The thought makes her stomach twist violently; she ignores the breakfast tray left on her bed as she presses her palms into her temples, face scrunching as she lets out a stifled, frustrated cry. Every page inside held the most vulnerable parts of her mind. Without it, she felt truly alone.
It is then that every small piece of control she thought she still possessed feels completely stripped away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to the quiet vultures lurking within Blackmere House.
After several long moments, Severa forces herself to gather what composure she can and changes out of her nightgown before leaving her room. The absence of her journal at her side feels deeply wrong, leaving an unsettling emptiness as she enters the library, where Dr. Blackmere awaits her.
He stands by the window when she enters, hands folded neatly behind his back as he turns toward her.
“Ah, Severa,” he says, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something unreadable. “You look well-rested.” His eyes linger on her just a second too long — assessing, searching — before he gestures to a chair. “Come, sit. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Severa sits carefully, her attention lingering on the doctor and the unnerving calmness with which he carries himself. He folds himself into the chair across from her, fingers steepled thoughtfully.
“I’ve noticed a shift in your behavior,” he says, watching her reaction closely. “Subtle things; the way you move, the way you react. Nothing alarming, but... curious.” His lips quirk faintly. “Which is why I’ve decided to implement an observation period. No interruptions, no disturbances. Just quiet study.” The way he says it feels intentional, as if daring her to object.
Severa listens to him speak, though only half her attention follows his words; the other half is consumed with trying to determine whether he took her journal, and how much more he knows than he lets on.
Beneath his calm demeanor, Severa senses something concealed just out of reach. She nods in hesitant compliance, unease immediately settling in her stomach as his words register. The thought of being unable to return to her room twists uncomfortably in her chest; despite everything, it’s the only place in Blackmere House that feels remotely safe to her.
Dr. Blackmere’s gaze drifts to the window momentarily, as if considering something beyond the glass, before returning to her.
“You needn’t worry,” he says calmly. “You’ll have your usual freedoms, within reason. Think of it as a chance to… recalibrate.” He leans forward slightly, fingers unlacing to tap thoughtfully against the armrest. “Is there anything else I can offer you before I leave you be, Miss Severa?”
Yeah, where the hell is my journal? she thinks bitterly, though she forces herself to take a slow breath before giving a small shake of her head.
“No,” she mutters quietly. He observes her for a long moment, the quiet stretching uncomfortably between them before he rises smoothly from his chair.
“Very well,” he says, adjusting his cuffs. “I'll leave you to your thoughts. Do be mindful of the time, lunch is at noon sharp.” He briefly rests his fingers against her shoulder, though the strange coldness in his touch makes Severa subtly twitch away before she can stop herself. His shoes echo softly against the hardwood as he moves toward the door, pausing just once to glance back at her. “I trust you'll find something to occupy yourself.”
The door clicks shut behind him with unsettling finality. Severa keeps her eyes fixed on the window, unblinking as tears quietly gather in her eyes. Only after the door shuts behind him does a single tear finally slip down her cheek.
𑁍𑁍𑁍
Edward sits alone at the head of the grand dining table, the castle hall dim beneath heavy curtains that block out most of the late morning light. What little daylight manages to seep through mingles faintly with the warm glow of scattered candles, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The journal rests open in his lap, his fingers carefully turning each fragile page in silence.
Another page turns.
His gaze stills when his own face stares back at him once more, sketched delicately in dark charcoal by trembling hands he has not touched in centuries.
Edward leans back slightly against the chair, fingers tracing over the charcoal sketch, claws catching lightly against the paper as he studies his own likeness staring back at him from the page — his own sharp features, the dark waves of his hair, the knowing tilt of his mouth. Something tightens in his chest at the familiarity of it, at the way Severa had captured him so precisely, as if she had known him for years rather than glimpsing him briefly in dreams.
His thumb lingers on the edge of the page, pressing gently into the paper before he exhales slowly through his nose, glancing up when he feels the familiar weight of The Shadow’s presence shifting against the candlelight beside him. He flicks the page over absently before glancing toward the nearest darkened corner.
“You’re hovering,” he remarks dryly, not needing to look directly at The Shadow to know it’s there. “If you have something to say, speak plainly.”
The Shadow drifts closer, its formless edges brushing against the candlelight before settling, stretching long and unnatural across the stone floor, its voice scraping softly against the silence like rusted hinges turning.
“You read her words,” it murmurs, its presence curling toward the journal still open in his lap, its shifting darkness lingering near the pages as if drawn to the ink itself. “You see yourself through her eyes.”
Edward remains silent, only exhaling softly as his gaze settles on the sketch before him. Even in charcoal, she captures his eyes with impossible detail.
“Does it unsettle you,” it continues, its voice dropping lower, “to be known so intimately by one who does not know you at all?”
Edward’s jaw flexes subtly as he turns another page in silence. He knows exactly what The Shadow is doing — testing old wounds, searching for cracks in him — but even after centuries, Edward refuses to let it witness the moments it succeeds.
“And how did it feel,” The Shadow asks, “when she finally looked upon you last night… and spoke to you?”
Gliding soundlessly around the back of Edward’s chair, The Shadow curls along the floor before settling at his opposite side.
“She noticed her journal missing as soon as she woke this morning,” it informs him, a faint hint of taunting woven through its dry tone. “The absence of it wounds her.”
“I believe that’s enough,” Edward says suddenly, snapping the journal shut with a soft, irritated thud. “You’ve made your point.”
His grip tightens on the worn leather as he rises abruptly from the chair, the legs scraping softly against the floor. The Shadow slowly withdraws back into the darkness with a low, satisfied hum.
Guilt settles as Edward looks down at Severa’s journal in his hands, The Shadow’s words weighing over him. Taking it from her room in the dead of night had been reckless enough, but reading the deeply personal thoughts scattered across its pages without even speaking to her first feels strangely invasive — even for him. Though he only wishes to know her, he forces himself to remember that although her soul has known him for centuries, this version of her does not. To Severa, he is still a stranger, and she is alone, vulnerable, and trapped within circumstances she barely understands.
𑁍𑁍𑁍
By the time Severa finally returns to her room that evening, mental exhaustion clings heavily to her. Most of her day had been spent under Dr. Blackmere’s direct supervision within the library, leaving her nerves constantly on edge. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, her thoughts continuously spiraled back to her missing journal until her mind felt completely frayed by it.
She presses her back against the door, the first full exhale she's managed all day finally leaving her lungs, only for it to catch abruptly in her throat when her eyes land on something sitting upon the windowsill.
Her journal.
Severa moves across the room quickly and snatches the journal from the windowsill, clutching it tightly against her chest as she tucks her chin downward. She should feel relieved — happy, even — to have it back in her hands, yet unease remains stubbornly lodged within her. She can’t stop wondering where it’s been… or who else has seen it. Her thoughts continue spiraling uncontrollably until movement beyond the window catches her attention through the deepening dusk, the last traces of evening finally giving way to darkness.
The breath catches in Severa’s throat.
The same silhouette stands near the distant gate once more — the figure crowned by the unmistakable shape of a top hat. But the moment her eyes truly land on him, he begins to turn away, his dark form gradually disappearing into the thickening night.
Could he have taken it?
Severa’s fingers tighten around the journal still pressed against her chest, determination slowly taking root beneath her unease.
One way or another, she is going to uncover who he is.
