#vampire eddie au

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #vampire!au #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie smut #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x afab!reader smut #fem!reader #luveline's halloween party

[obligatedart]

I can never resist the urge to draw this babygirl 🥹

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #joseph quinn #steve x eddie #blood. #kas eddie munson #beat up #vampire eddie fanart #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x steve #vampire eddie au #fanart

[moonlightsolo]

eddie the bloody-handed

summary: your boyfriend, eddie, sacrifices himself in the upside down to keep you and dustin safe- but when you finally go back for him, something else has taken his place.

pairing: vampire!eddie x female reader

warnings: graphic depictions of blood, death, angst, mourning of a character, major spoilers for vol. 2, kinda villain!eddie at the end but with good morals

note: said i was gonna take a long break, but i couldn't help myself when this idea came up. also thinkin about a part 2???

all you feel is pain. pain as your heart wrings in your chest, as if it will burst at any moment. pain from your lungs not allowing you to take a full breath. pain as your bones ache with grief while you scream out for your dying boyfriend, watching him choke out his last breath.

eddie's body sits limp and heavy in your arms, erratic pleas tumbling from your lips. your hands cup his bloodied face as sobs roll out one after another, searching his still face for any sign of life.

“no, eddie! please! wake up!” your voice echoes in the alternate dimension, coughing hoarsely from the phlegm building in your throat. 

“we have to go. right now. nancy's plan didn't work." steve’s worried eyes come into view in front of you, wide and full of fear. 

"why didn't you just run?" you cry out to eddie, fists desperately grasping at his leather jacket.

harrington stands up after you ignore him, taking a step behind you. his arms swoop under your arms to pull you up to your feet unwillingly, “what?! no!” your voice shrieks in protest. your legs kicking as you fight against his efforts, “steve, please!” you suck in a wheezy breath, your chest shaking and bottom lip quivering. with a grunt, you press a kiss against eddie’s still warm forehead. 

before you’re overtaken by steve’s strength, you yank an arm away from his hold to run your fingers through eddie’s unruly hair you’ve grown to love, “i love you, my sweet eds.” your watery eyes blink out numerous tears above him. the liquid slides off your face and onto eddie’s cheeks, carving tracks through the blood and dirt dormant on his skin. your body goes slack, succumbing to the battle. 

“i’m so sorry.” his voice cracks, the thunder rumbles above you two as your feet drag against the pavement. steve sniffles as he helps you up the stairs of the munson’s trailer, towards the gate in the living room. steve's emotions are getting the best of him. he would never want to do this to one of his best friends, if it wasn't a life or death situation.

the rest of the group has already climbed through with a new rope they found. the discarded one sits beneath the gate, causing the memory of eddie slicing it to save you and dustin to flash in your mind. 

another hiccup tumbles from your lips. a wet sniffle honks from your nose in attempt to suck up the mucus leaking from your nostrils. 

steve aids in helping you climb, his hands sitting respectfully on your waist. “steve… i can’t leave him.” you whimper quietly under your breath, pausing your climbing to glance down.

“i know, honey. i know, just- get through this part and we’ll come back for him. it’s not safe for us to be down here right now.” his thumb rubs your sides in attempt to comfort you, urging you to keep moving. 

your head nods, taking a deep shuttering breath before continuing your climb. small puffs of strained breath fall past your lips until you’re flipped right side up, back hitting the mattress that’s laid out on the ground.

robin’s hand reaches out for you, helping you up to your feet to allow steve to fall through. the floor rumbles beneath your feet, making you second guess if you’re still in the upside down. 

the things around eddie’s trailer begin to tremble, glass clatters and the objects on the wall swing. your eyes dart around at the people around you, their face mimicking your panic-stricken one. 

“steve! hurry up!” nancy shouts at him through the portal, making him quicken in pace, “i’ll be right back!” you announce as you turn on your heel.

“no! y/n! shit- what is she doing? there’s an actual natural disaster happening right now!” robin rants, loud voice slightly cracking as she follows. your legs quickly carry you back to eddie’s room, but not without tumbling into the walls from the force of the ground shaking beneath you. 

the modular home whines and cracks around you as your body frantically pushes through his door. 

the smell of his familiar cologne, weed and tobacco instantly smacks you in the face. tears instantaneously fall down your face, you stumble up to his electric guitar sitting pretty on the wall. 

“come on! we need to go!” dustin screams at you and robin from the other room. the urgency makes you reach out for the instrument, slipping the strap over your head. 

the dresser falls forward, drawers clattering as they fall out onto the floor of his room. you lunge forward to catch it before it could hit the ground, robin runs up to your side to help you keep it steady. 

“i think we really, really need to go. like right now, right now!” her voice is strained with panic. 

“i can’t leave without some of his stuff.” you huff out, dropping to your knees to vigorously search through his pile of clothes on the floor. 

you find two of your favorite band tees before standing up swiftly, snatching his cologne that has fallen to the ground on the way up. robin stands back to let the wardrobe fall, stumbling backwards to clutch your upper arm. 

she starts to lead you down the hallway, but a fallen polaroid catches your eye. you reach down as you run out of the room, snatching the flimsy photo. your eyes glance over it, a teary smile coming to your face when you realized what it is. 

eddie is laying down in his bed with you, arm around your shoulders as you hide your face in his chest. he’s playfully sticking his tongue out at the camera, his hand on your shoulder in a rocker gesture. your poor boy, oh how you wish he would have just ran. 

“holy shit! holy shit!” robin screams, her hectic pace quickens even faster. her scared voice makes you follow her eyes to peer at the ceiling, seeing that the gate has spread down the hallway. 

“come. on! come on!” harrington waves you down from the front doorway, screaming at you both to hurry up. robin practically flies past steve, hopping past the steps instead of using them. 

your arm is tugged along with her, so you have no choice but to follow her movements. you slide into the middle seat of nancy’s car. eyes watching as the gate burns a hole right through the top of the beloved trailer. 

once steve hops into the passenger seat, wheeler screeches out of the grass, punching the gas as she speeds out of the trailer park. 

all three of you in the back turn around to watch the gate crack the home in half, spreading to the ground outside. your heart aches as all the memories you shared with eddie are destroyed- just like that. you sorrowfully turn back around, sinking in your seat as tears silently run down your warm cheeks. 

“everything… is just gone…” you whisper out, fingernails digging into your knees caps through your jeans. dustin tackles your side with a hug, holding onto you desperately as he cries against your shoulder.

he didn’t even have to talk for you to wrap your arms around the boy, the silence in the car is deafening as you comfort each other. 

the ride home is dreadful. the rest of the party was informed that max was taken to the hospital, and the town is completely destroyed from all the gates merging. 

the next few days are even worse. half of hawkins population has been relocated to the high school. where you were involuntarily volunteered to help out, since it’ll be ‘good for you’ to get out.

you’re busy slumming out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the people of hawkins, working in a machine-like routine. robin is occupied with vicki, and steve is somewhere folding clean donated clothes. 

how is this supposed to help? it’s making you feel worse. you’d rather be absentmindedly strumming chords on the guitar instead of-

your running thoughts pause when you notice a crowd forming around the large windows. 

the knife in your hand clatters to the table below you before you run past robin to push through the crowd. your heartbeat pounds against your ears, ignoring the clamor of the people you’re pushing out of the way. 

you come to a clearing, noticing steve staring out the window in the front. you reach out to grip his shoulder to pull yourself to him, stumbling forward out of the packed crowd. his hand instinctively grabs yours to bring you closer to him, holding onto you protectively. 

when you’re close enough, you finally realize why everyone has gathered. to other people, it seems like it’s snowing, but to you and your friends, the familiar upside down dust is floating freely in the air. 

“steve…” you breathe out, hand gripping his just as harshly, “what’s going on?”

he turns his head, giving you a look that makes fear travel down your spine, “i think.. it’s merging with our world. another gate must’ve opened.” 

the sound of another gate opening makes you perk up, mind cranking with millions of thoughts. steve realizes what just clicked in your mind, but he’s too slow to react. you’ve already pulled your hand away from him, and started pushing back through the crowd. 

you need to find this gate in hawkins, you need to find eddie. 

steve calls out your name repeatedly, not having the best luck weaving and bobbing through the crowds as he chases after you. 

your feet take off in a sprint, dodging numerous children and people as you make your way through the maze of corridors in the high school. the area is heavily guarded by military personnel; which means you need to find a way past them. 

you burst through the front doors of the school, trotting quickly down the steps. the door behind you bangs open, a panting steve emerging as he weakly screams your name. 

you stop in your tracks, turning around to look at him with a stern glare.

“steven, you can either you help me, or you can ignore what i’m doing and go back to folding clothes.” you breathe out heavily, giving him an ultimatum. 

he marches up to you, face twisted with frustration, “i don’t think you realize how dangerous it’s going to be to go back! i mean- seriously? there’s militia everywhere, they will shoot-!” 

“you can lecture me all you want, harrington, but you will not change my goddamn mind.” 

steve groans in annoyance, looking up at the darkened sky, “you obviously know i’m not going to let you do this by yourself, right?” he mutters, stressfully running his hand through his hair as he drops his head to stare at his feet. 

a small grin curls up on one side of your mouth, your hands rest proudly on your hips, “i seriously love you, steve. now let’s go.” you slap your hand into his to pull him to your car but he doesn’t budge. 

“we can’t do this alone.” 

steve corrals robin and dustin from inside the school, gives nancy a call, but she refuses to help anyone go back into that hell. (that’s her exact words)

dustin knows exactly where eleven’s hideout is, so steve drives there with the help of dustin’s directions. the car rolls up to a very old, almost destroyed cabin. 

the inter-dimensional dust seems to be thicker around this part, and there’s nobody to be found. “come on.” you usher, hopping out of the backseat to run towards the house. you knuckles rap against the wooden door, but to no avail. 

you hop down the steps, ignoring the rest of them to run around back. you notice a trail that leads through the forest, so you opt to follow it; even with steve’s fatherly protests. 

it seems like you’re going the right way since the dust is growing thicker, almost as if a gate is nearby. you come across a clearing, a grassy hill scattered with wildflowers. the scene behind it catches your eye, dark smoke billows into the sky from the cracked open earth. 

it resembles a scene out of a fantasy book, like lava is spewing from the depths of the planet. the group is standing farther down the hill, surrounding something on the ground. 

you run up to them, chest constricting with anxiety as you grow closer. there it is- the gate.

the people around you call your name in surprise from your arrival, but it falls upon deaf ears. every form of self-preservation is screaming at you to not jump through, but your heart aches for eddie; to find him and put his body to rest.

as you’re about to step through the gate, your body is held captive by someone gripping the back of your metallica t-shirt, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

your head spins around to the person holding you back, seeing hopper, alive and well. “oh my god!” you shriek, throwing yourself at the man who quickly hugs you back with a hearty laugh. 

“hey kid. how you doing?” his deep voice rumbles. this doesn’t seem real. 

the floodgates let loose, tears soaking into his shirt. “i’m terrible.” you sniffle, wiping your nose with your hand, “my boyfriend… he- he died in there.” you point back at the gate with your lip quivering. 

“i want to get him. bring him back to give him a proper burial. i just- i left him in there.” you sob, digging your face into his chest. 

“hey, hey. i don’t think going back there is the best idea right now. we need a plan.”

you pull away from him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, “i do have a plan. i’ve been thinking about it for days. i know what i need to do.” you pull away from him, turning on your heel to stare down directly into the gate. 

it seems as if everything slows down around you. before you could decide if you want to jump into it, a tentacle from the gate whips out at your foot. the slimy extremity spirals up your leg to grip your body, pulling you harshly to the ground. 

a scream leaves your mouth as you’re tugged towards the mouth of it, “no!” you yelp, scratching at the ground, dirt building up under your nails. you wanted to make this decision yourself, not to be forcefully taken in.

flashes of your friends running after your helpless body are seen between your head being hit repeatedly against the ground. your body is lashed around by the violent force of the creature as you fight against its efforts. 

your strength is nothing compared to it, unable to keep yourself in your own world. the tentacle tightens it’s grip on your ankle as it pulls your body into the alternate dimension. 

the thing detaches from you, throwing your body into the air as you scream into the oblivion. gravity takes over and you’re sent hurling towards the ground. your side slams into the solid terrain, your lungs left unable to work. 

all the air is punched out of your body, instantly struggling to breathe as you army crawl away from the insistent tentacle. “augh- fuck.” you wheeze, unable to take a fully deep breath from the air being knocked out of you.

you roll onto your back, looking over at the gate that’s sealing up in the ground. the once colorful flowers around you seem to have molded and withered away, the sky is dark and menacing, lightning flashing red. 

your consciousness seems to fade in and out, head twirling dizzily. you blink in attempt to clear your fuzzy eyesight, lungs finally regaining some strength. 

your hand rests on your chest as you breathe in all the upside down grime. you close your eyes for a moment to try and relax, taking in deep and slow yet painful breaths. 

something above you blasts air in your face, making you gasp and whip your eyes open. the dark silhouette of a large bat-like creature in the sky is shown by the flashing lightning. 

adrenaline kicks in your nervous system, activating your fight or flight response. your legs scramble beneath you as the bat nose dives, and barrels down right towards you. 

“shit shit shit shit!” you screech when you notice it growing closer, hands coming up to hide your face. it’s cold grasp embraces your body, trapping your arms by your sides and lifting you up into the sky.

the freezing air whips through your hair, your eyes hesitantly squint open to look around you. red flashes in the clouds you’re flying through, making your body tremble with fear. even with the cold temperature of the sky, sweat pools on the back of your neck.

the monster soars through the air, it’s fur slightly tickling your nose. since you’re pressed into it’s chest, you didn’t dare to look up at its face. you’re not dead… yet, so you decide to glance at your attacker. 

it seems almost human like- it’s skin is soft, yet deathly pale, almost grey. it’s wearing a bloodied white shirt, it’s scarred sides in full view from the torn holes. you realize that it’s not fur, it’s curly hair that adorns it’s head. 

oh my god. 

the jawline, the hair, the ripped up hellfire club shirt… 

“eddie?” you scream out over the loud wind in your ears. instantly, tears spring to your eyes as you wiggle in his grasp to bring one of your hands out. his tight grasp doesn’t budge, not letting you move as he traps you against his chest. 

eddie drops beneath the clouds, making you squeal from the feeling in your abdomen. his arms tighten protectively around you before his wings widen, stopping the airflow to gently lower you both to the ground. 

once your feet touch the grass, you stumble backwards to fully look at him. it’s eddie, but he doesn’t look like your eddie. his skin is much paler, clothes torn where he was bitten by the demo-bats, wings folded fingertips black with long dark nails, and leather jacket scuffed and ripped from his protruding wings. 

“eds?” you call out his name again, stepping forward with your hand out. his head hangs, frizzy hair covering his face as he shakes and grips the roots at the top of his head.

“baby, please. look at me.” your voice whimpers out desperately, tears running down your cheeks. 

“stay away!” he raises his voice, making you stop in your tracks. his shoulders quiver as he silently cries into his hands, “i’m a monster. i don’t want you to see me like this. why did you come back?”

you take another careful step towards him, waiting for him to tell you no before you take another one, “my love. you’re not a monster.” you mutter with a breathy laugh. 

his head lifts up, looking at you with bright glossy red eyes instead of the dark brown ones you’ve grown so fond of. you stop to stare at him, looking over his slightly sunken cheeks. his perfect lips are still plump, and slightly pink. 

“but i am.” he talks, flashing his pearly fangs in his mouth. the sight makes your blood run cold, but you refuse to let him know that it terrifies you. 

“no, eds. you’re not.” you shake your head with a watery smile, reaching both your hands out for him. his bright eyes dart towards you, then to your hands then back down to his.

shakily, he lifts his arms so his hands were hovering above yours, fingertips grazing against each other’s. you slightly raise your hands, fingers wrapping around his slender wrists. the temperature of his skin is a great contrast to yours. it feels as if he’s been outside in the snow all day.

“i don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.” his voice is timid, quiet and scared. 

“you won’t. i know you won’t.” you let your hands travel up his familiar arms, feeling the muscles and once full veins under his skin. you let your hands travel to his waist, pulling yourself towards him to embrace his rigid body. 

at first, he’s tense when your body presses into his, but he soon softens against your touch. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, letting out a relieved shaky breath. “god, i missed you so much.” 

“eds, you died in my arms. i thought i was never going to see you again.” you mumble into his dirty shirt, voice muffled. 

“i did, but i woke up once you left. i turned into... whatever this is,” he motions to his body, “think i’m part demo-bat, or somethin’.” he chuckles, fluttering his wings behind him. 

“like kas the bloody-handed, from d and d.” 

“kas?” he tilts his head back to look at you with a sly smirk, “hearing you say that was so sexy.” 

“only learned from the best.” you bring your pointer finger up to poke his nose, making his face scrunch up. 

“can i kiss you or will you bite me?” 

“maybe i will… maybe i won’t.” he shrugs playfully, gripping your hips to pull you closer. his infamous smirk makes your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

you stand slightly on the tips of your toes, craning your neck up to peck a wary kiss against his cool lips. he chuckles against you, dipping down to catch his lips with yours again.  

the temperature sends a shock down your spine, goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. his nails slowly drag up the back of your arm, making another shiver wrack through your body. 

the sharpness of his fangs press into your bottom lip as he deepens the kiss, wiggling his tongue past your lips to press against yours. 

eddie’s hands glide down your sides to rest on the swell of your ass, squeezing the plushy flesh there. his wings flap happily behind him, curling in around your bodies to shield you both from the surroundings. 

you pull back from the kiss, eyes fluttering open to look around, noticing the fleshy wings circled around you. “eds, you’re so beautiful.” you stare up into his crimson irises, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. 

the boy nuzzles his cheek into your palm like a puppy, happy to be here with you in this moment. touching you, feeling your warm skin under his icy fingertips. 

the crunch of footsteps behind you makes him tug you against his chest possessively, wings tightening around your body to hide you as he whips around towards the sound. 

eddie lets out a loud hiss, showing his fangs at the aggressors in front of him. his eyes are intimidating, baring his teeth as he tries to ward off the intruders. 

“hey, hey, hey!” someone attempts to calm him down, their voice deep and muffled by something. “we don't want to hurt you. we’re looking for someone! a girl. she came in here, did you see her?” 

his eyes flicker between the people, muscles softening against you. his wings slowly unravel, letting you in view. when you turn on your heel, you don’t exactly recognize them at first. 

two men are standing in front of you, clothed in protective gear, flashlights and weapons in hand and bandanas over their nose and mouth. “steve? hopper?” you breathe out, squinting to get a better look. 

“hey, yeah- it’s us.” steve’s eyes flicker to eddie, looking fearful of the winged man. “harrington?” eddie calls out with a shocked tone, hands on his hips as he leans forward to stare at him for a moment.

“should’ve known by the hair.” he gestures with a twirl on top of his own head, “sorry, buddy.” he chuckles, “didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“what happened?” harrington asks, eyes raking over munson’s silhouette with a frightened look. 

“long story short… those uh bats? turned me into a vampire, kind of thing.” he nods his head once he thinks he explained it good enough, pursing his lips awkwardly. 

“y/n. we have to go. you can’t stay here, come on.” hopper waves his hand as he moves toward you. 

your eyebrows furrow, taking a step towards eddie. “i’m not leaving him. i just got him back.” you wrap your arms around his side. 

eddie pulls you in protectively as hopper sighs and takes another slow step towards you both, “i don’t want to fight with you, let’s just go. it’s not safe.” 

“excuse me. i don’t know who you are, but she says she doesn’t want to go, and frankly, i don’t want her to either.” eddie grows more and more protective by the moment, upper lip slightly twitching as he yearns to snarl. 

the man completely disregards eddie, “did you not hear me correctly? it’s. not. safe. you can’t be breathing in all this shit for a long period of time.” hopper grows impatient, his broad shoulders huffing. 

steve is behind him, eyes darting nervously between everyone as he stays quiet. “you gonna help me, or what, kid?” hopper shouts back at steve who clears his throat and steps forward. 

“yeah, uh. you should probably listen to him.” 

“or what?” you snap back, chest rising and falling quicker as anger brews deeply inside of you. 

“or i’m going to drag your ass out of here.” jim states, obviously loosing his cool. 

“over my dead body.” eddie steps forward, almost chest to chest with the taller man. his fangs slightly show as he finally snarls at him. 

hopper let’s out a chuckle, but not one that’s sounds like you just told him a joke. “huh, okay.” his hand rests on the weapon in the holster of his waist. 

“eddie. get us out of here.” you whisper up to your boyfriend, in fear for both of your safety. “hold on tight.” his arms wrap around your waist as he launches himself from the ground and into the air. 

“hey?! hey!” hopper and steve yell at you both, watching from the ground as eddie disappears into the clouds. 

your body shivers from the below freezing temperatures of the high altitude, gripping his body for some sort of solace. 

“hold on, baby. tryna find your house.” he dips beneath the clouds, eyes looking over the area until he finds your home. he drops to the ground, leading you up to your doorstep. 

eddie pushes open the front door, letting you walk inside first before following behind. he locks the door behind you both, letting you look around at your home. 

“it’s like mine… but different.” you breathe out, walking up the steps to find your room. eddie folds his wings behind his back as he follows you up the staircase. 

the door to your bedroom is already cracked open, letting you slip inside easily. the bed is messy and thankfully not covered in vines, “i’ve been staying here. since mine got destroyed by the giant gate.” he clears his throat awkwardly, watching you as you peer at all your familiar things. 

“can you sleep?” you ask, turning to look at him leaning against the doorway. 

“nope, i tried.” he huffs, rolling his eyes, “doesn’t mean i can’t cuddle with you while you do.” his eyes perk up, awaiting for your answer with a little smile. 

“of course, darling. you can always cuddle me.” you plop on the bed, patting the empty space beside you. 

eddie sulks up to you, sinking into the soft mattress. “you know, i tried to leave through a gate and it burned me. i mean, i healed quickly, but it hurt like a mother-fucker.” 

your worried eyes flash to him, “wait- you can’t leave?”

he shrugs in response, gulping when he notices your emotions growing stronger, “don’t worry ‘bout it right now, babe. we’ll get henderson down here and that nerd will figure something out.” he wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you down into the bed. 

“but for now, get some rest, okay? i can tell you’re tired.” he tucks you in under the blankets along with himself beside you. 

he stares down into your eyes as he slightly hovers above you, “everything will be okay.” he pecks your lips with a reassuring smile. 

“you’re right, we’ll figure something out.” you give him one last kiss before succumbing into his side, nuzzling against him to get comfortable enough to be able to fall asleep. 

one of his wings sneaks underneath you, wrapping around the side of your body like a canopy. he absentmindedly presses soft kisses to your face, enjoying watching you sleep.

“i love you.” he whispers to your sleeping self, before he begins to press kisses down to your jaw, making his way to your neck. 

eddie let’s his cold tongue poke over your jugular vein, feeling the heartbeat pumping blood through your body. his mouth salivates at the feeling, knowing you’ll be so tasty. you’re his girl, everything about you is tasty. 

he’s careful not to wake you up while he drags his fangs across your soft skin. every bone in his body aches to feed, to sink his teeth into you.

the animalistic urges take over, eyes tearing up from being unable to control himself. a hoarse hiss emits from his mouth, making you jolt awake. he presses his nose into your skin as you wake up, “eddie?” your pretty voice whispers out to him, pushing against his chest but he doesn’t budge. 

he trembles in your arms, lips opening to mouth at your skin, “eddie, you’re scaring me, baby. get off.” you whimper, pushing more aggressively against him. 

“i’m so sorry. i just- i can’t be without you... please forgive me. i love you.” he weeps softly in your ear. 

his words makes you go still, eyes going wide when you realize his fangs are pressing into your skin. “eddie!” you yelp once the pain grows hot on your neck, pushing your hands roughly at his chest. 

a cry tumbles past your lips, his wings curl around you to hold you steady. his strength is no match against you as he slurps at your delicious blood. 

the thick warm liquid hits his tongue, an almost orgasmic moan gurgles out against your neck, “eddie, please!“ your cries grow softer as more blood is drained from you. 

the hits against his chest slowly fade to nothing as you go limp in his arms. he pulls back instinctively with a gasp, wiping his wet mouth on the back of his hand. 

he cups your face once he realizes what he’s done, “i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” he wails above you, wiping at the seeping blood on your neck with his hand. his thumbs swipe under your eyes to dry up your tears.

“you’ll wake up soon, sweetheart. everything will be okay.” 

-

tags: @authorlovers @powerfultenderness

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #vampire eddie munson #vampire au #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson fic #vampire eddie au #kas the bloody handed #dungeons and dragons #eddie the bloody handed

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

True Blood AU

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader

Dead Again 4.4k

When Doves Cry 6.7k

The Taste of You 1.6k

I Love the Darkness in You 5.7k

The Baptism 6.8k

Bloodstream 3.4k

Cry Little Sister 4.4k

Warm Hands, Frozen Hearts 4.6k

Heads Will Roll - 3.6k

The Man Who Made a Monster - 7.6k

PLAYLIST

❤️‍🔥18+Only❤️‍🔥

Summary: Vampires are coming out of the Upside Down and going mainstream in Hawkins. Because of that, the town has become a bit of a tourist destination for people fascinated by vampire lore and the supernatural. Trying to outrun the dark secrets of your past, you decide to lay low in the small town and get a job at a human/vampire crossover bar called Main Vein. You are a recluse who drives a hearse; you have plenty of scars both internal and external. It's been 10 years since Eddie was turned, and the trailer park he lives in is nothing but vampires, that is, until you move in next door. Typical you: running from danger only to find it again.

#vampire!eddie #eddiemunson #vampire eddie au #vampires #trueblood #strangerthingsau #stranger things eddie #eddie munson series #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #supernatural #eddiemunsonsmut #vampire eddie munson

[eddiethehunted]

here are some sketches from the past week since i can’t manage to finish anything 😭

#steddie #eddie munson #vampire eddie au #(for the top right) #my art #top left is inspired by the fact that it has hit below zero here😭😭😭

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Steve bit his lip in attempts to keep him moans down, but it was too much; Eddie sucking and licking the blood from his neck. "Ah!" he gasped when Eddie bit down extra hard.

"Be a big boy and keep your pretty mouth shut," Eddie muttered. "We can't have the others coming to see what those noises are." And he went back to attacking Steve's neck

#steve is trying but eddie is making it very difficult #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #kas eddie munson #eddie as kas #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie x steve

[katyawriteswhump]

(vampire) nesting season—steddie microfic, steddie holiday drabble.

WC: 388. CW: none. Rating: M. Tags: vampire eddie, vampire au, established steddie, angst, fluff, non-explicit bloodsucking, dark undertones.

For @steddieholidaydrabbles spring pop-up event, and @steddiemicrofic March prompt, ‘pin.’ Also for @sidekick-hero and littleskit on Ao3, who kindly requested more vampire eddie/human steve fic… Sorry, I haven't had time to get a longer fic going this month. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this companion piece to A deep and dreamless love (also on Ao3)😉 This fic can also be read standalone without reading the companion fic.

....

The gigantine crash from the backyard awoke Eddie. It was dark, he’d overslept. Was Steve in danger?

Eddie rushed to the yard—his cold dead vampire heart thudding—and stopped by their storm-shelter’s opened trapdoor. Beneath, bricks and debris buried the ladder: “Steve?” 

“Who else, genius?” Steve sounded muffled.

“Thought you were spring-cleaning?”

“I am! Use your vampire super-strength to shift this fallen crap NOW.” Steve coughed, doubtless on the dust. As Eddie cleared the fallen-in roof from the ladder, a sumptuous scent hit. Blood! He prayed Steve wasn’t pinned down, hurting, bleeding badly…

After shifting the final rubble, Eddie sighed with relief. Steve looked okay, mildly dirty, his hair decorously wrecked. Black fabric swathed the walls, at which Steve now pointed:

“Stabbed myself pinning up silk.” He sucked his finger. “No major bleeding—don’t freak out.”

“You could've been killed.” Eddie tentatively looped his arms around Steve, grateful for the usual precautionary scarf covering Steve’s delicious throat. “Sure you’re okay?”

Steve glared: “Do I look hurt, idiot.”

“You look…” Edible. “Adorable.”

“Dumbass crumbly basement. Ruined my surprise present.”

“Uuuuuh, whose present? And why the slinky-yet-hazardous subterranean boudoir?”

“Christ, you’re slow tonight.” Steve threw himself onto a sea of black cushions, tugging Eddie with him. “Longer spring days equal less nighttime with you. I built you an underground vampire nest, so we can…”

He pulled Eddie into a messy kiss, knees hitching round Eddie’s hips, forcing Eddie closer yet. Eddie kissed back—groaning, rutting, basking in Steve’s pulsing heat. His soul yearned only for Steve. His body hankered to drain Steve’s veins dry.

Shiiiiit, I need breakfast.

Eddie tore himself free. Steve laughed, dabbing wet lips, luxuriating on the cushions. A squirming mouse ready to be pinned by a cat? Steve’s fingers lovingly threaded Eddie’s hair, thumb caressing Eddie’s cheek. “You like?”

“Love it, Babe, but…” 

Eddie grimaced. Temptation burned. Steve simply ripped away his scarf, revealing Eddie’s many previous bite-marks on his neck. These never healed, because: “You’re peckish, huh?”

“Holy shit, Stevie. If I can’t stop drinking, you’re totally trapped here.” The truth tolled like a death knell: This is no nest. You’ve built a goddamn tomb! “Unlike you, I’m noooo hero.”

Steve rolled his way-too-trusting eyes, and pressed Eddie’s face into the scrumptiously thrumming curve of his throat. “Jesus, bite me already.”

Eddie’s fangs erupted and pierced Steve deep.

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steddiemicroficmarch #steddiemicrofic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie x steve #steddie microfic

[corrodedwritings]

a familiar kinda love // COMING SOON

MOODBOARD for a Vampire!Eddie x Familiar!Reader that I have in the works. I got inspired by Guillermo and Nandor in What We Do In The Shadows. Tempted to post a sneak peak.

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut blurb #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie au #stranger things eddie #stranger things

[wrayofmoonshine]

eddie, being dramatic: well well well. steve harrington, as i live and breathe

steve, visibly tired of it all: you’re a vampire, my love. you don’t do either of those things

#is this anything #steddie #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #appalachian eddie munson #italian steve harrington #genderqueer steve harrington #<- none of those are relevant but always applicable

[allthingssteddie]

When Steve was a kid he had an imaginary friend name Ed’s who he would play with.

It all started one rainy night when Steve was nine years old. He had heard a noise in his shed finding a boy his age .

From there on he would visit him inside the shed every night after his parents would go to bed. They would become best friends. Until one day he stoped showing up. It wasn’t until Steve had turned seventeen he would see Ed’s again but this time when he goes to greet him Ed’s bites him.

Backstory Eddie Munson family have come from a long line of vampire like creatures who kill their mates because they believe they make them weak but when Eddie Munson was a kid he could smell his mate and would constantly come back to him until one day when he had started getting vampirism symptoms he decided to stay away.

(It’s not written it’s just a idea)

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fic idea #steddie first kiss #steddie fandom #vampire eddie x steve #bi steve harrington #eddie munson is gay #vampire eddie au #steddie soulmate au #steddie ficlet #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson is in love #steve harrington x eddie munson #steveddie #eddie munson is not dead #steddie ao3 #steddie edit #steddie imagine #steddie au #steddie idea #gay eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #no upside down au #steve and eddie #supernatural steddie

[2jihiir0]

So anyways this is the first shot of season 5 - *proceeds to roll opening credits* 

#kas eddie munson #kas theory #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #vampire eddie au #myart

[luveline]

What about reader doing eddie’s makeup in the love bites au?

Love your work! <3

thank you for your request! (loosely inspired by that scene in how to lose a guy in 10 days!!) love bites au / vampire eddie ♥︎ fem!reader suggestive content

If there's someone Eddie dislikes more than Blondie, it's Carly Simm. Where Blondie hasn't ever personally done anything to Eddie besides existing as a band, Carly Simm is similarly innocent. Her only crime is writing catchy music that you can't get enough of. 

You'd discovered her a week or two ago on the radio, and you'd begged Eddie to turn it up. He loves seeing you happy, and while it isn't his jam he'd happily complied. Same reason he'd bought you the tape. 

He regrets it now, sitting in your bed with a lapful of your thighs, your hands tucking hair behind his ears in perfect sync as you hum The Carter Family for the hundredth time today. 

"I'm not good," you remind him. 

"Sure you are," he reassures, hands slowly climbing the hills of your hips. He slips one under your shirt to squeeze along your back, stopping flat-palmed at the small of it. "I'm not bothering you, am I?" 

"You can touch me as much as you want." 

Your confusion prompts a quick explanation, "I meant, I won't distract you?" 

"Maybe a little." You smile softly. "We don't have anywhere to be."  

You and Eddie only have to be here and now, wasting time together. Spending it together. And truthfully this had been Eddie's idea anyways. 

You tap the pads of your fingers to Eddie's face and smile at his tacky skin. "Perfect." 

Your methods are dubious, your first course of action is to mix a cream that boasts colour changing technology with a dollop of moisturiser. He closes his eyes and you dot it over his forehead, his cheeks, his chin. You're more delicate near his nose, fingertips precise, the smallest bit of product rubbed into his nose. Next comes the patting, your fingers working over his face. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Trying to get rid of streaks." You sit back. Eddie lets his arms stretch to keep you. "Looking good, handsome." 

"Thank you." 

You move onto eyeshadow next. You've brought a colourful palette that you bought at the fancy department store before you'd met him, plastic covering still intact. When he'd asked, you'd only said, "I knew I had to save it for something special," like it wasn't the most romantic thing he'd ever heard. 

You open the eyeshadow compact and ask Eddie to choose a colour. He goes for the dark, dark navy because there's no black, and you tell him to close his eyes. You swipe your fingers over his eyelid more gently than you need to. 

Eddie can hear everything; your heart beating regularly despite his handsy grasp on your hips, your breathing, and the heat that kisses his lips with each exhale, every fraction of sound from the tape deck as it switches to the next song. 

"Oh, god, not this one again," he groans. 

You start to sway with the music, and then your favourite part comes on and he's expecting it, your hands on his cheeks, fingers careful not to smudge shadow over his temples. You sing lightly, sweetly, clumsy but he wouldn't expect anything less — you aren't the kind of girl who worries about sounding good, and you never have been. "And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner," you sing, pausing to laugh, meeting his eyes with nothing but mirth. "You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you! You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is-" 

He kisses you by accident. Swears. The look in your eyes had been too much to ignore any longer, that playful teasing, the funny quirk of your mouth as you'd warbled through it. He'd needed to kiss you if only to feel you smiling. 

"Never buying you music ever again," he mumbles against you. 

You pull back to steal the lead, kissing him quickly, once then twice before you lean back. "You like this song." 

"No, I like watching you when you listen to it. Big difference." 

You raise your eyebrows and then use your thumbs to force his up too. "We're confused," you say. 

His pulse starts to rise. He's become much more acquainted with the physical effects of love since his unfortunate transformation. Every time he thinks he's found the bottom of the well of his affection, you do something that makes his heart skip and he has to reassess. 

"You know when you miss the last step?"

You gesture for him to close his eyes. "Like, when you trip?" 

"Just miss it completely. Overshot." 

Your finger starts to dab the opposite eye. "Mm," you murmur, concentration robbing your voice. He waits for you to finish your pulling motion and squeezes you, code for you've forgotten the conversation. 

"I think so," you say eventually. 

He opens his eyes. You're looking at the soft glittery colour pensively. 

"You know how it makes your stomach flip? Do you think there's a good version of that?" 

"Like finding a step where you weren't expecting one?" 

"Like, the sudden rush of a good feeling. Molly for a split-second." 

"I've never tried molly." 

"And you won't," he says, mostly joking. 

You take some of the glitter onto your finger and smooth it under his eyes. He looks up at the ceiling and fights the urge to blink as you get close to his waterline. He trusts you not to poke his eyes out.  

Your pulse spikes suddenly. 

He drops his chin back down. "What?" 

Worry gives to amusement when he sees your expression. It's shy (or as shy as you get), which means you're thinking about something very specific. 

"You know when we're-" 

"Hugging?" 

You beam. "Yeah, definitely. And you're all sweaty, and you push your face into my neck?" 

Eddie has the good graces to feel flustered. "Yeah." 

"Sometimes I think you're gonna bite me. And I get that feeling. 'The sudden rush of a good feeling,'" you confide, hands playing in the hair at the back of his neck. He shudders when you start to scratch his scalp, your smile a short fall from salacious. 

Eddie probably wouldn't bite you. He's too worried you'll end up in the same boat as him, a blood-sucker who can't get excited without little knife points slotting out of his gums. 

Speaking of. 

"Fuck," he mutters. He'd been doing a spectacular job at keeping his fangs in, especially because he's young and you're literally his girlfriend and you're in his lap moving around. They snap into place over his regular canines and blood fills his mouth, gums sliced open.

You wince when he winces. "Sorry, baby." 

It's definitely your fault but also he can't really blame you. This is normal flirting between couples, and he does it to himself most the time. It's actually extremely fucking annoying, to be lying in bed at night by himself, and all he wants to do is think about you when boom, there's blood running down his chin.

"You should be," he says. "You suck. Are we almost done?" 

"We're done," you say, climbing off of his lap to grab your handheld mirror. "Lookit." 

You've actually done a great job. He looks awesome, smokey and sparkly like a glam metal rockstar. 

"Flash the fangs," you command. 

He flashes the fangs. You put both hands out in front of you and make a pleased sound. He intertwines your fingers. 

"You're so cool. You look cool. Can I take a photo?" 

"Just for you?" 

"Especially for me." 

He lets you take a polaroid, smiling with teeth, hair pushed behind one ear. He looks good. A little pale, 'cause he's a week away from a blood sate and his body is taking it hard as it always does, but that's not a bad thing. He'd fit right in at a KISS concert. 

You tug the photo out of his hand. "Just for me, you said." 

He can't even be mad. 

#love bites universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #vampire!eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fix it

[obligatedart]

Eddie got peckish and went for a little midnight snack

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #joseph quinn #vampire eddie x steve #portrait #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie fanart #vampire eddie munson #vampire #vampire eddie au #kas theory #bloodaesthetic #blood.

[moonlightsolo]

eddie the bloody-handed II

summary: eddie gave into his urges to feed on you, but when you wake up, are you going to be upset with him for his choice?

pairing: vampire!eddie x female reader

warnings: mention of blood, angst, depictions of pain, insinuated smut at the end, lil suggestive, reader and eddie being a cute lil vamp couple

note: thank u sososo much for all the love on the first part ily all!!!!

the venom introduced into your cardiovascular system is attacking the last of your blood cells, sizzling out the rest of the life from inside of you. your body is unable to move from being paralyzed in your own mind, your nerve-endings and consciousness screaming at you to wake up. 

blazing fire burns in your veins, as if molten lava is being pumping into your body through an intravenous needle. the severe burning sensation travels deep through your body. it's the most excruciating pain you have ever experienced throughout your entire existence.

once you change, that addicting blood of yours won’t tempt him anymore. even though, a little part in the back of his brain is whispering to him to bite you again, to get one last taste, but he refuses to hurt you. guilt sits heavy in the boys heart, making the dormant organ ache in his chest. 

once you change, that addicting blood of yours won’t tempt him anymore. even though, a little part in the back of his brain is whispering to him to bite you again, to get one last taste, but he refuses to hurt you. guilt sits heavy in the boys heart, making the dormant organ ache in his chest. 

once you change, that addicting blood of yours won’t tempt him anymore. even though, a little part in the back of his brain is whispering to him to bite you again, to get one last taste, but he refuses to hurt you. guilt sits heavy in the boys heart, making the dormant organ ache in his chest. 

-

“i can’t believe you went down there without me. i wanted to go!” dustin’s hormonal voice squeaks dramatically as he shouts at hopper and steve. his eyes are teary from just hearing the news his best friend has risen from the dead. 

henderson paces in the cabin’s living room, mumbling under his breath. his brain is working a mile a minute, using his smarts to figure out the situation.

“look, he took her. i don’t know where… but he flew away. it’s not that easy to chase after him, you know.” jim attempts to calm down dustin, hand resting  his forehead and temple. hopper sucks in deep breaths through his nose, nostrils flaring out of frustration.

“flew?” will, dustin, and mike yell in unison. 

“he has wings!” steve exclaims, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly. 

“so you’re telling us.. eddie is alive? and he’s some sort of bat, slash vampire, slash upside down monster?” dustin rambles on, hands moving erratically as he talks. his wild eyes are still trained on the ground as he strides back and forth.

“yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” steve shrugs. 

“screw all of you, i’m going down there.” dustin storms off, pushing angrily through hopper and steve. mike, eleven and will quickly follow him to their bikes, not listening to hoppers protests. they’ll find an open gate somewhere in this cursed town.

-

everything in your body goes silent, the pain fades away, and your heartbeat ceases in its wake. the ringing in your ears goes mute as you gradually awaken, the sound of muffled thunder drawing you back to reality. 

the feeling of wind whooshing above you makes your eyes flutter open, squinting at the blurry silhouette of a person hovering above you. 

eddie is staring at you, his doe-like eyes are wide as he tries to read your emotions through your awakening face. his wings are extended from flying himself over to you, curiosity and fear written on his features. 

at first, you’re unsure of what happened. there’s an uncomfortable feeling of your hair pulling on the stickiness of something dried on your neck, “eddie…” your voice is hoarse, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut. 

one of his hands come down to cup your cheek, but you instinctively pull away from his advances. his dark eyebrows furrow in confusion, wings curling up coyly behind his back, “baby, are you alright?” 

you weakly slide your hand up your body to your neck, touching the side of it to peel away your hair. even with your blurred vision, you can’t help but notice your blackened fingertips. something isn’t right. 

your eyesight clears as the past events finally rush back to you, everything clicks into place; falling asleep in his arms, him waking you up by biting you, the pain of his fangs feasting on your neck, and then your memory goes black. fury grows hot throughout your chest, rising up to your ears and settling on your cheeks. 

“what did you do?” your voice drops in octave, making eddie wince from your irate tone. you begin to sit up slowly, almost nose to nose with him as you stare him down with pure anger in your eyes. 

“eddie, what the fuck did you do to me?”

“baby, please- just listen-.” he tries to plead to you, backing up as you follow him closely. the look in your newly reddened eyes terrifies him.

your tongue runs across your top row of front teeth, feeling the sharp pointed ends of your canines press into the muscle. your eyes flash back up to him, arms reeling back to push roughly at his chest.

from your brute strength, he stumbles backwards off your bed. his eyes blow up even wider and mouth falling slightly agape in shock,  “sweetheart, please.” your newfound power catches you and eddie slightly off guard, but you could care less- all you want to do is scream at him, maybe even punch him right in that perfect jaw of his. 

your leg slithers off the side of the vine ridden bed, shoulders rising and falling as your anger  builds higher, “do NOT call me sweetheart!” you shout at him, pointing a shaky index finger at him. eddie shutters from you raising your voice at him, face dropping dismally in return.

in the span of seconds, every thought about your future rushes to your head. 

has the choice to have children of your own someday been taken away? are you ever going to see your family again? or even be able to feel the sunlight kissing your skin?

your bottom lip quivers, hot tears building up on your waterline, “you had no right to do this to me! no fucking right!” your voice shudders, gulping down the lump growing in your throat. 

“i know. i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry, baby.” his hands tremble as he reaches out for you, feeling his own emotions building up from the overbearing regret squeezing at his heart.

all you want to do is be in his arms, for him to comfort you and tell you everything will be alright. you stare down at his hands for a moment, admiring his familiar rings that you wish to feel pressing into your skin.  

instead of reaching out to him, your fingers rise to gently press against the wound on your neck. no pain surges from your tender touch, realizing that the two marks from his teeth has already scarred over. 

your eyes glance behind you to look at your back, noticing two smaller wings drooping low and mimicking your saddened emotions. they aren’t as large as eddie’s, probably not strong enough to hold your body weight in the sky. 

“i got carried away, something else came over me… something- something like a wild animal. i should have fought it, baby, but i didn’t… never meant to hurt you, or cause you pain- i was just so hungry, and so lonely.” he hurriedly rushes out to speak, his perfectly plump lips turned down as he rambles. 

something about him begging for forgiveness makes you yearn for his touch. you’ve never gotten into an argument with eddie, other than small ones about stupid things like who gets to sleep on a specific side of the bed.

guilt bubbles in your chest from shoving eddie away from you, realizing some sort of otherworldly anger had taken over your body. 

you shuffle towards him, hanging your head as you weep silently. his arms hesitantly wrap around your smaller frame, hands squeezing your shoulders before bringing you into his chest, “i love you so much.” his hand caresses the back of your head, smoothing over your hair. 

“i love you.” your voice is quiet, shaky from the soft crying still exuding from you.

“i’m sorry i put my hands on you.” you mumble out into his chest, arms finally snaking around his slender waist. 

“i deserve it.” he almost chuckles out, sniffling slightly from his running nose. your tears soak into his dirty shirt, hands gripping the muscles in his back as if you’d fall away from him. 

eddie’s hand carefully rest upon the dip of your waist, thumb rubbing circles against your skin under your shirt, “now we’re the same temperature.” he points out, which makes you lift your head with a scowl on your expression, “too soon?” he questions with his lips stretched tight. 

“way too soon.” you slightly laugh, dipping your head back underneath his chin to snuggle into him. after a few moments of standing in silence together, eddie pulls away to grab your hand. 

“wanna fly?” 

his words make you perk up, glancing back at your wimpy wings before looking back at him questionably, “mine were like that too, but trust me, they’re stronger than they look.” he flashes his sharp pearly smile at you, excitedly tugging you out of your room. 

once you’re both stood on your front doorstep, your head reclines to stare up into the eerie sky. eddie’s wings begin to flap behind him, sending his body upwards to hover above the ground. 

“here goes nothin’..” you roll your shoulders back with a shaky nervous breath. you focus on trying to move them first, easily making them open behind you. it’s almost like using a new limb. 

you attempt to jump into the air, but your feet still hit the ground instead of flying up beside him. 

“before you can run, you have to learn to walk, baby.” eddie touches down next to you, a sly smirk on his face. he wraps his arm firmly around your waist, holding onto you quite securely, “what are you doing?” you ask, but before you could protest he takes off into the sky.

you squeal loudly, hands desperately fisting at his shirt out of fear that you’re going to fall. your legs lift to wrap around his hips, gripping onto his body for dear life. he throws his head back to cackle like a mad man, “open ‘em! let them free!” 

you do as you’re told, extending your wings so the current of air expands them even more. the feeling is cold, yet so freeing. eddie slightly pushes you off of his side, making you shoot a nasty glare at him. 

“trust me. i will never let you fall.” he stares down at you with his infamous grin. the sight is amazing- his dark unruly hair whipping everywhere, his eyes that seem to glow in the dark, his ghostly skin that still shines under the moonlight. 

as you’re busy admiring at his beauty, he’s slowly inching you farther away from him. his fingers still threaded with yours, but your arms are outstretched between your bodies. wings keeping you afloat as you glide through the air.

“oh my god!” you screech when you realize you’re actually flying- well sort of. a toothy grin pulls up on your face as you look around, feeling liberated by the wind flowing against you. 

eddie snickers proudly at you, squeezing your hand before yanking away from your grasp. your eyes blow wide from the loss of contact, but surprisingly you don’t spiral down out of the sky. 

he soars back and forth, swooping underneath your body to swap places with you. he winks cheekily as he flaunts his tricks, blowing you a kiss. 

“show off.” you laugh loudly at him, flipping him the bird. eddie grabs at his chest as if he was stabbed, turning onto his back in the sky with his tongue sticking out and eyes closed.

before you could react to his theatrics, something woven into the wind catches your attention. your eyes dart around the terrain of the alternate dimension, actively searching for whatever it is. all you know is that it smells amazing. your mouth begins to salivate, the only thing you can think about is getting to sink your teeth into it.

it seems as if eddie has noticed the smell too, but his eyes are full of worry instead of hunger like yours, “don’t do it.” he warns, flying forward to grab your hand before you could do anything you’d regret. 

pure instinct takes over as you nose dive away from him, searching out the smell with your nose and ears. 

“awh fuck.” eddie huffs, rolling his eyes as he follows you downward out of the clouds. he calls out your name repeatedly as he chases you, but you tune him out. 

you notice flashlight beams swinging in the withered forest, your wings flapping loudly to hover yourself above the trees, eyes scanning the area. 

a group of people are walking through the foliage, cracking fallen sticks under their heavy footsteps. the sound amplifies as you listen into their conversation:

“they could literally be anywhere! i can’t believe i followed you in here, henderson.” mike groans in annoyance, “we need to find them. she’s in danger.” eleven adds. 

you drop through the woodland, the wind whooshing past your ears as you dodge astray limbs of trees. you land directly in front of them, fist and knee hitting the ground to break the harsh fall. their conversation goes silent as they examine your every move, mouths hanging open in shock. 

your wings frame your body as your eyes flicker up to them, standing tall on your feet. they almost gasp from your appearance, the color of your irises horrifying them to their core. 

“y/n…?” dustin calls out, taking a step forward with his hand raised cautiously. 

“dustin!” mike hisses at him to warn him as he grows closer. you gulp down your ravenous hunger, stomach growling angrily at you to launch yourself at them. 

your hands tremble by your sides, using every amount of self-restraint left in your body to hold yourself back. you can’t hurt them, you just can’t.

“hey, kids.” you flash your pointy grin, making their eyes grow even bigger, if that was possible. 

“you… turned?” eleven asks, eyebrows furrowed as she looks over you inquisitively. 

the sound of air kicking up behind you causes the kids to flinch, loud purposeful footsteps crunching on the leaves grow closer as they walk up from behind you.

eddie peeks his head out from the side of your wings, showing off his fangs with a big grin and an excited wave, “henderson!“ he exclaims, arms opening for the boy to run to him. 

dustin wavers on the possibility of this being a trap to suck his blood, but seeing his best friend alive in front of him makes him sprint right at him.

“holy shit, eddie!” dustin wraps his arms around his torso, hugging him with all his might. 

“missed me?” he chuckles, patting the top of his curly head awkwardly as he hugs him back. you can’t help but smile at them two, looking back over at mike and eleven. 

the two love birds are staring you both down, especially eleven. she doesn’t buy your fake smile and laughs, and can feel how much pain you’re in by holding yourself back. 

you keep eye contact with her, glaring at the girl as your whole body begins to tremble. a little voice is urging you to lunge forward and grab her, to sink your teeth into her carotid artery and feed on her blood. 

eddie calls your name out worriedly, slipping away from henderson to carefully glide himself over to you. 

the overwhelming smell of blood fills your senses as more people find there way to the clearing. hopper, steve and joyce are running up, flashlights flickering as they jog. 

there’s too many. 

you stare at eddie with glossy eyes, holding your breath. he goes still when he sees how much you’re struggling to hold back, almost wanting to cry from the look on your face. he knows exactly how you’re feeling, and when he felt it last, he couldn’t hold back; turning you into a monster- just like him.  

and that was only one person that tempted him. he doesn’t know how you’re controlling your thirst during this moment. 

eddie steps forward when you slightly teeter, gripping your hips as he steps in front of you. his hands cup both of your cheeks to have you focus only on him, “hey, hey… it’s okay. you’re okay, yeah? you’re okay, baby.” he whispers to you, slightly smiling for your sake. 

“i can’t- i can’t do this.” you whine softly, nuzzling against his palm with your face screwed up in distress. your arms wrap around his waist, taking a few reluctant steps to press yourself into him. you stuff your face into his neck, breathing in his scent to calm yourself down and mask the other smells. 

eddie’s arms immediately encase your body, letting out a relieved sigh. his eyes dart to the people around him, “let her go.” hopper demands. 

“jesus christ...” eddie groans obnoxiously, craning his head back to the sky before turning around to stare annoyingly at him.

“first of all, you kids need to go home, and she can’t be down here any longer. she’s going to die!” the ex-police officer shouts impatiently, hand resting on the gun in his holster. 

“well, she’s already dead!” dustin yells back at him with his snippy attitude. 

hoppers goes silent, looking between everyone. “she’s… dead?” joyce questions, one of her eyebrows raising as she stares at you. 

you lift your eyes up from the crook of eddie’s neck to look over his shoulder, your red eyes on full display to everyone. 

joyce instantly gasps and hides her face in jim’s side, “my god…” he mumbles in disbelief, his hand falling from his gun as he gawks at you. 

“he turned you?” steve points out the obvious, making some of the kids go, “duh!”

“look, i don’t mean to scare you when i say this, but she’s really hungry and if you guys don’t leave now, you’re all going to… well- get eaten.” eddie bluntly tells the truth to them. it keeps them silent for a moment, their eyes darting throughout their group of people.

“what if we bring her food from our world? drop it through the gate so she can eat without hurting anything that’s human.” dustin ponders on the thought. 

“like what?“ you blurt out with desperation evident in your voice. 

“like an animal? a deer, a bear..?” 

“oh, a bear? where are we going to get a bear?” will mocks his idea with a small chuckle, making dustin stutter over his words as he tries to explain his reasoning. 

you stifle a laugh in eddie’s neck from their bickering, making him laugh along with you. “bleh! kids, right?” he playfully mumbles into your ear, hands squeezing your hips. the adults join the argument, attempting to diffuse the tension, but it’s just making it worse.

“let’s get out of here.” he mumbles against your skin, bending his knees to launch himself upwards into the sky. the force of his wings picks up the dirt on the ground, twirling up leaves and twigs and leaving a cloud of dust in his place. 

“wait! where the hell are they going?” hopper yells, silencing the numerous conversations. everyone’s head looks up into the sky but your bodies have already disappeared into the clouds. 

“let’s go get them some food so they don’t make a u-turn and turn one of us into those things.” hopper grumbles, motioning with his hand for everyone to follow him back to the gate.

eddie casually sails through the sky with you, his hand holding onto yours tightly as you glide parallel to him. a wide smile on both of your faces, just basking in the peacefulness of the wind flowing around you. as much as you despised his choice to turn you, now you realize how hard it was for him to hold back with you right under his nose. 

some part of you is happy to be like this, especially with him. you don’t exactly know all the details of being an inter-dimensional vampire, whether you’re immortal like fantasy books have fabricated, or maybe you’re subjected to death after a couple hundred years… but who cares when you’ve got him back. 

eddie squeezes your hand gently, making your eyes open to see that he’s aiding you in descending slowly back to your darkened home. he touches down with you directly in front of your doorstep, hand instinctively resting on your lower back to guide you inside. 

once you make it upstairs, you choose to use your family’s guest bedroom instead of your own, since it’s most likely still a little bloody. eddie lays your trembling body down, slotting himself between your open legs. he leans back on his heels to admire your body, red eyes hooded and a dopey smile on his face. 

“gooooorgeous, baby!” eds cheers, dimples sinking into his cheeks as he leans down and catches your lips with his. you laugh into the kiss, arms lazily draping around his neck to pull him closer. his chest presses against yours, chain hanging from his neck above you. he’s obviously trying to get your mind off of eating all your friends, and it’s definitely working. 

your index and middle finger wrap around the looped metal when he goes to pull away, tugging him right back to you. 

“oooh, feisty.” he purrs, leaning forward to tug your bottom lip between his teeth. he savors the sight of it bouncing back into place, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“can i call you sweetheart now?” he almost moans into your mouth when your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him flush against your center. 

“yes, eds… of course you can.” your hand grips the root of his hair, tugging on it softly since you know he likes it. the movement earns you a delicious moan that tumbles past his swollen lips. 

“you better be ready for the best night of your life, sweetheart.” a sly smirk pulls up on his lips as his hands find the seams of your top, tugging on it so it rips into two.

after countless rounds of endless pleasure, a few new dents in the walls (from taking advantage of being able to fly), and a broken bed, your bodies are completely and utterly worn out. your nude chest is pressed into eddie’s side, tiredly resting your head on his bare abdomen. his hand absentmindedly twirls a few pieces of your hair as he hums a tune to a familiar song. 

“that was…” he breathes out, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. his brain won’t comprehend what vulgar things he just did to you, and vice versa. 

another bonus of being immortal, is very high stamina and absolutely no sweat. 

“…so amazing.” you continue his sentence, gazing up at him through your eyelashes with a sluggish smile on your lips. 

never would you have ever imagined your boyfriend, the one you tragically mourned for, would come back to life as a vampire. somehow, even with his piercing red eyes and fangs that definitely bite, he’s still the most beautiful person you have ever encountered. 

you may be eternally damned to the upside down, but hey, at least eddie is stuck down here with you too. 

-

tags: @eddiemunsonslovelife @eddieussy @kylee-munson-barnes @llmae @vanessasweetie @lillyof-thevalley @taylorjqy @oscarisaacwhore @bellajg21 @explosiongamora @sadbitchfangirl @skyfullofsong123 @e-van-halen @shadowluna25 @whatinthefreshhellisthis @vllowe @gh0stboombox @shamidreamer @4l1fersss @xsuvs @barnaclebeeshive @simpinformunson @gooblerstan @0temp-erance0 @subjecta13-thefangirl @slut-for-sevika @sleepyb1txh @maskedmistress @weluvveddie @maddiethebanished @cjzelaitis @basiclassy @fuggiamodaqui @ap2x @bellsarmos @stiles-argent24 @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @elainavmarie @arminsgfloll @demo-bats @prettysbliss @slut4edd1emunson @erensslut @bootlegmothman420 @uuinter-soldier @m00nlight101 @korekiyoss @sllimyelim02 @sanitysfallisamazing @tubble-wubble @blairsbooktime @eddiemunsonsgfreal

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie #eddie the bloody handed #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson fic #kas the bloody handed #dungeons and dragons

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

vampire!Eddie Munson x supernatural!Fem Reader

(Slightly) True Blood au

Series Masterlist

🚨: 18+Only, mature themes, blood, enemies to lovers, mention of a rough past, brief homelessness, eventual smut. Reader has visible scars, and an important history to go with them, but the specific skin tone is not mentioned. The Upside Down exists but is also very different from how it was in the show. Bob Newby is alive and well. Reader and Eddie are around 30.

Word count: 4.4k

Playlist: here

A/N: I came up with this during another True Blood re-watch, but as I started writing, it morphed into something else. If you are a fan of the show, part 2 will start to feel more familiar to you. I'm still deeply involved writing a different series atm, but have been dipping into this piece as I sink further into the sea of insanity. I'm not entirely sure how far I will take it🫶 Idk, it's just something fun and random. Hope you enjoy xoxo

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Death Becomes Us - Part 1 - Dead Again

------

Daytime in Hawkins was safe; that is when the living walked the streets. You were turned down by several different places while looking for work, including the gas n’ sip, the hardware store, and Family Video. You were just about to head back when you saw the blue neon on the side of the next building, bricks painted black, windows heavily curtained. The sign said “Main Vein” in cursive blue letters and there was a red and white sign hanging underneath that read: HELP WANTED.

Because of the floor to ceiling, black out curtains, you couldn’t get a glimpse inside, and when you tried the door, it was locked. You noticed there was more written in cursive on the Help Wanted sign: Humans Needed for Day Help, and then a phone number.

You bent your knee to make a table for yourself and wrote the number on the back of the application for Family Video in blue ink, along with the name of who to ask for: Bob.

You took one last look at the place before returning to your ride that was parked on the other side of the street. It was the 1976 Cadillac hearse that your father drove for 15 years as a funeral director before he passed on, and then he had one last ride in it.

Your hearse was your house at the moment. You’d made a cozy little bed for yourself on top of a bedroll in the back where 2 decades of corpses had been escorted to their final resting place.

You’d been parking (living) at the Love’s Truck Stop that was just off the freeway about ten miles from Hawkins. They had showers there and you could brush your teeth, and splurge on a muffin and coffee in the morning. You should’ve moved on by now, but for some reason, you couldn’t. Hawkins had a hold on you unlike any town you’d happened upon in the past few months. Maybe it was all the death.

You’d called Bob at Main Vein from one of the payphones inside Love’s earlier and he told you in a chipper voice to come by the next day at a designated time after sunset, and that he was looking forward to meeting you.

Propped up behind the single bench seat in the hearse, you heard the motorcycles before you saw them. The windows around the coffin hold of the hearse were covered to ensure your privacy, but then their headlights lashed through the cracks in the black velvet curtains as they passed, shooting bright shafts of light across your face.

You poked an eye out to see the same vampire boys on motorcycles that you’d witnessed the night before. They always raced down from the hills, headed for the bridge and into town, long hair and black coats flying out behind them, howling and calling out to each other.

You drank the rest of your Yoohoo, hoped it wouldn’t make you have to pee before morning, and tucked yourself way down in the blankets, covering your head.

-----------

Sure, you were one of the living, but the sun had never agreed with you. You shielded your face with your arms, as if it were raining, as you dashed in and out of your hearse to do some errands the next day, including stopping by to check out a trailer for rent in an area that was mostly vampires. The human manager on duty was a woman in a floral muumuu and iridescent pink lipstick; her name was Dolores. She looked you up and down with unapologetic judgment.

“You’re not from around here, I take it.” She put her hands on her slight hips and exposed her pearly dentures to you in a bit of a grimace, squinting at the sun, her short, orange hair in perfect curls from her rollers..

You bit the inside of your cheek and told her you’d only been in town a few days.

She paused to indulge in a painfully drawn-out appraisal of the visible scars on your body. Thick, pronounced, railroad scars around your wrists that you tried to cover up with leather cuffs and bracelets, one that came up from the middle of your chest and peeked out from the collar of your shirt, one that looked like a long lash from the side of your mouth to your ear. Your left eyebrow was also cut in half by a line of scar tissue. There were other scars that you always kept covered up, and would never let anyone see: you were the freak of the human world, and you didn’t have an excuse to hide like the vampires did, but you secretly envied them for it.

“You’re not a damn tourist, are you?” Dolores asked, gesturing to the Polaroid camera you had in your hand.

“This? No,” you assured her. “I don’t really care for vampires.”

This was a relief for Dolores, because ever since families had started flocking to Hawkins to get a glimpse of the bloodsuckers, the whole town had become a nuthouse of folks wanting a tug on Satan’s proverbial ball sack. People wanting to rent the vacant trailer just so they could see the Fangers come out at night and smoke their cigarettes and fornicate with each other?? Didn’t these idiots know that they killed humans for fun? Drank their blood? All of it was an abomination and a sin against god and Dolores was one of the most god-fearing woman in the county.

She fumbled with her keys as the two of you came up onto the porch of the rental. The exterior was yellow, which was probably your least favorite color, and the porch was wobbly, bare wood, and the first step was cracked like someone had stomped on it a little too hard. There was a small, round metal table with two metal camp chairs with a used ashtray sitting in the middle.

“The ad mentioned that the rental is furnished?” You wanted to confirm because you had no furniture of your own and that particular detail was a huge selling point. Otherwise, you were doing just fine in the hearse, even if the coffin rollers stuck in your back at night.

Dolores nodded as she turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Previous resident couldn’t take it all with him when he moved up to Heaven to be with Jesus, so you’ve got a sofa, kitchen table set, TV, microwave,” she went over to stand by the pea green, formica island that jutted out as a divider between the living room and kitchen, opening her palms to the sky. “Gas stove, baseboard heat. Standing shower only, no bathtub.” There was a large velvet painting of geese in flight over a pond above the wagon wheel design, orange and brown couch.

You followed her hand gesture down the narrow hallway. “Plenty of storage space. Brand new toilet, just had it installed. First months rent plus $100 deposit, $25 deposit for each pet. Garbage and cable included. Rent is due on the 5th of every month, no exceptions.” She came in close to say the next part, whispering it, covering her mouth. “Might want to turn the mattress over before you sleep it, though. Poor thing passed away in there and it was a week before anyone realized.”

The unpleasant odor hiding under a mask of Glade room freshener you’d been trying to identify was suddenly explained. You could also hear flies buzzing down the hall.

Dolores stepped up to pull back one of the brown curtains of the front window, exposing the glorious expanse of the sparse, dead grass that separated you from your neighbors. “It’s quiet during the day, you won’t hear a peep, but I advise you to lock your doors at night and don’t go out unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she turned to make serious eye contact with you. “Or unless you’ve got some kind of death wish.”

You came over to look out of the window as well, taking note of a garden gnome statue flipping the middle finger on the weathered porch steps across from yours. “I thought vampires and humans were successfully co-existing for the most part since we offered them asylum from the Upside Down? It made worldwide news. With the invention of synthetic blood substitutes, I heard it’s been going fairly well, considering.” You could feel Dolores frowning at you, upset that you didn’t want to engage in her rhetoric. You cleared your throat. “Like I said, I don’t care for them myself. I'm sure there are a few bad apples who ruin it for everyone."

Dolores wiped her face of any emotion. “Those bad apples you speak of? Well, you’re in luck, hunny, because they’re all right here in this trailer park.”

You lifted the Polaroid camera to your eye from where it hung around your neck, and snapped a photo of the vulgar gnome on your neighbors porch before you followed Dolores to the office to sign paper work.

----------

You got out of of your hearse in front of Main Vein just as the sun set, tall trees tucked cozily in the hazy purple sky, and there was an immediate shuffling of feet, opening of windows, and mumbling of voices all around the town as humans locked their doors and the dead were rising.

You were about to touch the metal handle on the curtained, glass door to Main Vein, when someone pushed it open from the inside, startling you.

A stout, cute man appeared with sparkling, eager eyes, and rosy apple cheeks. His skin flushed with the vibrant color of someone who was alive, just as he flashed a mouth of vampire teeth.

“Don’t vorry,” he said in an attempt at a Hungarian accent. “I von’t suck your blahhhd,” and then the plastic white teeth in his mouth slipped and he caught them in his hand, sucking back a line of saliva, smiling at you, chuckling at his own joke, skin crinkling around his eyes.

You were too confused to speak, your mouth moving like a fish out of water, hand paused in the air.

“I’m just kidding, it’s a joke,” he said, holding up the teeth in his hand to assure you they weren’t real as he held the door open. He had on a plaid sweater vest over a white shirt and trousers. “I’m not a vampire. But a lot of my friends are. Come, come, let’s get you some tea or something. Do you like sweet tea? I just made some. Is that your car out there? That’s amazing!”

You didn’t get a chance to introduce yourself as you shuffled in, smiling and nodding.

The inside of Main Vein looked like a hip dive right out of a movie: exposed brick on one wall, dotted in artwork, a long bar on the opposite side that appeared to serve beer, wine, and cocktails, classic, original wood floor, and a small area toward the back where some microphones and instruments were set up. The blue neon repeating the name Main Vein above an open space behind the bar where the kitchen was.

“Are you musical?” The man you assumed was Bob asked over his shoulder as he gestured for you to take a seat at a table where it looked like he’d been jotting things down in a spiral notebook.

“I sing sometimes,” you cleared your throat. “In the shower, mostly.”

Bob Newby laughed so hard he threw his head back. “Oh, you’ve got a sense of humor, I like it. We need more of that around here. Don’t we, Argyle?”

You hadn’t noticed him at first, but on a stool behind the bar, a tall guy with long, straight black hair sat a bit hunched over, engrossed in a celebrity magazine.

“Totally, man,” Argyle agreed, but then he looked up. “Wait, what was the question?”

“That’s Argyle, he really is a vampire. He lives upstairs. He’s also the best bartender in town,” Bob moved his hand between the two of you. “Argyle, this is---”

You told them your name.

“Rad,” Argyle said, hoping from the stool, flapping his magazine down on the counter, squinting across the bar to see you better in the dim, blue light. “It will be nice for Bob-a-roonie to have another human around. I like your scars, they’re sick.”

You hadn’t even been interviewed yet, let alone officially hired, so you weren’t quite sure how to respond, but you nodded at what was intended as a compliment.

Bob adjusted himself in the seat across from you, and you asked if he preferred to be called Bob or Bob-a-roonie, to which he responded: “You can call me anything you want, just as long as it’s not late for dinner.”

When Argyle brought over two glasses of sweet tea, his sharp fangs shot out when he winked at you, and you weren’t sure if it was a threat or something flirtatious. One thing unnerving about vampires was how the irises of their eyes went completely black when their fangs came out; that was something that would take you a while to get used to. You’d heard about the phenomenon, but in person it was particularly jarring.

Bob asked you a few standards, polite questions, but then the curiosity was killing you, and you had to ask: “What type of food do you serve? I thought vampires only subsided on blood?”

Bob smiled and wagged his finger at you. “I knew you were a smart one. You ask good questions!”

He came forward in his seat, excited. “This place,” he gestured around the building. “Is about to be one of the first crossover Human/Vampire establishments in the area. I asked myself one night, I said Bob, what is missing in Hawkins? And then I went to make plans with my girlfriend, who just happens to be a vampire, and there was nowhere we could go out on a date together where the menu accommodated both of us.”

Okay, you could see where this was going.

“So, here we have it,” He sat back, giving himself a bit of double chin as he smiled. “Our menu offers a selection of blood substitutes like Fang Tang and LifeForce, as well as some ethically sourced blood from local donors, and then we have a full bar and an appetizer menu. We’ll have an open mic night, maybe a bingo night. Vampires and humans having a laugh together. It’s perfect, right?”

Your eyes didn’t know where to settle as you took in the information, imagining vampires on dates with humans, and human/vampire hybrid families all clinking silverware and slurping their meals like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a scenario you’d never imagined or heard of before, but hey, if Bob was excited about it, well, then, you were excited about it too.

“It’s great,” you cleared your throat, taking a sip of tea. “When do you plan to open?”

Argyle heard your question from behind the bar and he snorted a laugh, flipping the page on his magazine.

“Well, we are open, technically. We’ve been open for a week,” he stuttered but then gave an approving sniff. “but new concepts like this take time to catch on.”

“Plus,” Bob continued, eyebrow raised. “That’s where you come in. I want to start opening earlier on the weekends, see if we can get a bit more human traffic in to try out our happy hour menu that Argyle worked so hard on. What does your availability look like?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to work whenever you need me,” you assured him. “I don’t have any restrictions.”

“What about kids? No family?” He asked it innocently enough, but still it put a lump in your throat for some reason. You were almost 30, and you weren’t falling in line with the standard human breeding ritual, so it made people curious.

You lowered your eyes as your index finger started to work at a piece of skin on your thumb. “Nope, just me.”

“I’m sorry,” Bob’s brow creased. “I didn’t mean for it to sound…I just wanted to know if you could work weekends, that’s all.” He exhaled a breath, slapped his hand to his thigh, and then asked you when you could start.

You were on the verge of telling him you could start immediately when the door to the outside opened, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Argyle’s face light up at the sight of whoever it was.

“Yo, Eddie, man, what’s going on, my dude?”

“Not much,” a deep voice muttered as you peeked over your shoulder to see who it was, trying not to twist around fast and make it obvious.

But it was still obvious, and his eyes snapped to yours as he stood in the doorway, hesitating with his toes at the threshold, holding the door open with his body.

The guy called Eddie was at least 6’3” with a strong, but thin build, long wavy dark hair passed his shoulders and across his forehead. There was a tattoo along the side of his neck, and on the backs of his hands, while the rest of him was in all black: boots, jeans, leather motorcycled jacket, and a tattered Type O Negative shirt underneath with ragged edges around the neckline where the collar had been ripped out. His skin was not chalk white, more like vanilla ice cream, and his plump lips were somehow pink.

Eddie was a vampire.

“Come on in, Eddie,” Bob swung his hand over his head, gesturing for him to enter. “Fang Tang cocktails are half off until midnight.”

At Bob’s formal invitation, Eddie stepped into the space, and made his way over to the bar to straddle a stool and talk with Argyle.

“What do you think?” Bob’s voice brought you back to reality.

“Sorry?” You swallowed awkwardly as you turned back to him.

“Tomorrow? Can you start tomorrow?”

------------

As you parked your hearse at an angle next to the trailer, you took notice of how changed the scene was from earlier that day. Every single curtain in the 10 or 12 trailers were open, exposing vampire lives being lived, television being watched, couples kissing, and there was a bonfire in the middle of the courtyard. A few heads atop dark shadow figures turned at the beam of your headlights before you flicked them off.

You were safe in your rental from vampires, you knew this, and it had been confirmed by Eddie pausing at the door of Main Vein earlier.

They had to be invited in.

But, you were fair game out in the open, so lingering there after you slammed the hearse door was possibly, as Dolores suggested, a death wish.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe you didn’t care anymore.

You were cautious not to land your foot on the broken stair as you made it up to the porch and put your new key in the lock. All around you floated the soft existence of a summer evening: crickets and frogs sounding their alarms while the incense of charcoal briquettes filled the air and the occasional tipsy laugh cackled in the distance. Bottle rockets zoomed off at a shrill speed and then exploded into tiny gold bursts in the sky.

A few minutes later, you stood staring at the dark red and yellow stain on the mattress in the wood-paneled bedroom of your trailer while you ate a few salted peanuts from a jar, deciding in that moment you’d rather sleep on the sofa for a night than do the work of scrubbing it, turning it over, and dressing it with new linens. You were too exhausted for that shit.

You washed your face and unpacked a few things, but that was the extent of your energy. You decided it was time for a beer on the porch before bed, and that is what you went out to do.

To your delight, there was a black and white cat walking the plank of your porch railing. Not much older than a teenager, with handsome yellow eyes. You held your beer in one hand while you stroked her from head to toe with the other, grinning and cooing as she bucked against your touch and purred. Your porch light was broken, but the glow from inside your trailer lit the expanse of her long whiskers.

“Dio,” a deep voice said from somewhere in the darkness, startling you.

You stepped back, closer to the door of your trailer, eyes adjusting to the outline of a silhouette at the bottom of your stairs.

Vampire Eddie flicked his lighter, and you caught his face in the flame, just long enough for him to ignite the end of his cigarette before it was dark again. His eyes lifted to meet yours at the last second before he fell into shadows again.

“Her name is Dio,” he repeated, introducing his cat. “She doesn’t like anyone but me.”

As he said it, the Dio in question sprang down from the beam to circle your legs, purring, rubbing her face on you. “Well, I don’t know about that,” you started. “She looks like she---”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie’s voice interrupted.

You glanced around, wondering if someone else had walked up.

“You don’t belong here,” he continued talking to you, specifically. You watched the cherry of his smoke light up as he inhaled, and then a plume of white smoke on the exhale, like you were having a conversation with The Invisible Man.

You leaned your shoulder against the railing and laced your fingers around your beer. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t belong here,” you countered, meeting his eyes as best you could in the darkness, tension sparking like electricity in the space between. “This is my porch.”

Eddie scoffed, flicking ash to the ground. “You have no idea what you’ve stumbled onto here, Princess.”

You wandered over to close the distance between the two of you, down the three rickety stairs to the dead grass, as another bottle rocket fizzed like pop rocks overhead.

Eddie stood his ground, even though it was insane Human behavior to be so casual with a vampire like that. Did you have a wooden stake you were going to try and drive through his heart? That was one of the only myths that held true for slaying his kind: wood and silver and sunlight; the trinity of vanquishing. Holy water was a joke, he could drink that all day long, and crosses were everywhere in his home décor.

There you stood, within arms reach of a supernatural killer. He could rip your throat out in the time it took for you to steal your next breath, but instead, he shifted his mouth to exhale his smoke to the side so it wouldn’t go in your face.

His eyes never left yours.

Chocolate brown peepers, rimmed in long, dark lashes; you could see the fine details of his face now that you were closer. You waited for his irises to go full black as Argyle’s had done when his fangs came out, but Eddie only parted his lips as the muscles of his throat jerked in a reflexive swallow as you matched the intensity of his eye contact. You intrigued him in a way that no one had in a very long time.

“So, what do you want?” You asked, point blank.

He used the hand holding his cigarette to jerk his thumb over his shoulder. “Dio and I live here,” he said, referring to the trailer with the vulgar gnome on the steps. “I’m just having a smoke before I go inside. If that’s alright with you?”

“Oh,” you felt a bit foolish, but how were you supposed to know? Earlier, you’d noticed an old van parked in his spot next to the trailer, but now there was a black BMW there, and you weren’t a car expert, but it appeared to be one of the newer models.

“Whose car is that?” You asked with a jerk of your chin. There was a better way you could’ve asked it, but that is just what slipped out of your mouth in the moment.

Eddie turned his head to stare at the BMW for a blink, cigarette secured between his lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he told you with a squint.

You regretted ever trying to make conversation. “Great, well, enjoy your evening. Or the start to your day. Whatever the hell it is,” and then you stuffed one hand in your pocket and spun on your heel.

His heightened reflexes had a hold of your arm in a flash to catch you and stop you. His touch was icy on the crook of your elbow, and when you spun around, you regarded him with eyeballs that were milk white, void of iris or pupil. “What the hell…” he hissed under his breath, fascinated. But then you blinked, and your eyes were back to their natural state, and it made him question what he’d just seen.

He noticed your scent was different too, come to think of it. You smelled human, but there was also something else mixed in with your tissues, swimming in your bloodstream. It hinted to rain and static and firework sparks.

“What are you?” He called from the bottom of the steps as you booked it up the stairs and across the porch.

With your hand on the doorknob to your trailer, you responded, “don’t worry about it,” calmly, without looking back, and then you fumbled the door shut behind you and locked it, frantically, as if you were being chased.

“What are you?” His question repeated in your head, as you worked fast to make sure all of the curtains were closed. You didn’t want anyone to see you. You stopped in the hallway and put your face in your hands, trying to catch your breath, trying to figure out why that question had bothered you so much; it’s not as if you’d hadn’t been asked it a millions times before. Why did he bother you so much? He was just an ordinary vampire for fucks sake, you demanded that you get a hold of yourself.

Absently, your fingertips traced the ridge of the long scar across your cheek, and you prayed to whichever deity was listening that any interaction with your neighbor Vampire Eddie from there on out would be minimal.

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Part 2: When Doves Cry

#eddiemunsonseries #eddiemunson #eddie munson fic #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie x reader #fem reader #true blood au #90s au

[thegoblinboy]

Pirate Steddie | Interactive Reading |

And I’m just going to announce it now, the pirate au won the poll! I have had a few ideas for where to start but first I’m going to give you a summary of the few plot ideas I’ve had that you guys get to chose. Whatever one has the most votes after a couple of days will be what I write. (Side not if you can please reblog and interact so that this does float around, this won’t work to well if I don’t have people interacting lmao)

Vampire Pirate Au - Eddie has been running the ship for years, accidentally steering himself and his Uncles crew in the Bermuda Triangle tragedy hits as most of their crew is taken out (whether Wayne lives or dies is up to readers) Mysteriously Eddie finds himself locked away in a small area of the ship, where no one is allowed. He’s still captain, but none of the crew has seen him in years. Due to feeding habits he likes not having more then a few crew members on ship, most quitting within days or mysteriously disappearing with the acceptation of a few who were there the fateful day they lost most of their family. What they don’t expect, is to receive two dorks, dingus and butthead who are on the run from the law.

Undercover Prince au: trying to find his best friend Robin, Steve finds himself running away from all of his responsibilities. Not a fuck given about what the king, his father; thinks. Dropping the princely act, he finds himself meeting another prince who has decided to be done with all royalty. Eddie Munson was nothing like Steve had expected, but they do find themselves tagging along and connecting with each other in search for something. Landing on a ship, sailing across the see being lead by a constantly drunk/ high captain Argyle. Steve is quick to discover that he’s not the only one keeping secrets. Hiding the fact he’s a prince from Eddie was one thing, but discovering that the man you’ve been with wasn’t really a man but in fact a fae… yeah that’ll do wonders.

Polly want a cracker au; when Eddie, captain of the sabbath receives a parrot as a gift he doesn’t realize that said parrot was in fact a man cursed to be a bird forever. He goes numerous years in bliss, until they pass through the Bermuda Triangle and said parrot shifts into a man. A pretty man, with many moles. But it doesn’t last long as he shifts back when they were out of the triangle, and now Eddie has a mission. Find whoever cursed this Steve Harrington and force them to shift him back. (There’s probably more but I’m falling asleep typing lol)

Betrayal; (inspired by nimona) When the Queen is brutally slain, a rift Is created. Between one Eddie Munson and one Steve Harrington. Childhood best friends who were on the peak of more up until Steve was accused of treason. As Eddie chases who was once was his first love; he finds that he can’t go through. Allowing years to go by instead of searching. As a lead is found, Eddie is forced to go investigate. Only to find a hollow out shell of a thief that he once knew. Steve has decided to fully commit to the whole villain arc while dragging along one Max Mayfield. A girl who can shift into whatever thing she wants, older then Steve and Eddie combined. Leaving a trail of flames behind them, they lead the most legendary pirate ship out there. While Eddie learns that the forced conformity he’s been bitching about? He’s been apart of it his entire life.

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list! I may or may not also create a tag for this as well.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #pirate au #interactive reading #you choose what happens #Prince Steve #pirate Eddie #villain Steve Harrington #knight Eddie Munson #shapeshifter Steve Harrington #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie au #Gareth will be in these because his character is amazing