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storiesbyrhi · 4 months

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Looming doom. 2590 words.

1986

It was all about intention. When an individual is hexed, they are actively fighting the magic. The violence becomes part of the curse itself, making its results darker and stronger, and making it all the harder to break. However, if an individual invites the magic in… If their intention is to let the magic wash over them like a warm blanket in the dead of winter… Well, then wonderful things can happen.

White baneberry. Powdered tacca chantrieri. A little this. A little that. Spellwork and trust and love.

And there he was. Definitely more stoic than the bat you’d once known, his fur a shade or two lighter as well. But, your bat was back.

He looked at you from the floor before climbing out of the piles of clothing around him, clutching the ring you’d made Eddie wear during the ritual. The moss agate stone sparkled. The bat chittered, no doubt complaining that he should have been naked the whole time.

You held your hand out like you used to. The bat didn’t move.

“Please?” you asked, trying and failing to hold back your excitement. You didn’t want vampire Eddie to get a complex about you loving bat Eddie more.

The bat climbed into your palm. Bringing him up to face level, you smiled widely. He’d taken the same form of species - Eptesicus fuscus – but he was not the exact same bat. The lighter fur was the biggest indicator. The leather of his wings seemed a little thicker too. Eddie was a healthier bat, you figured.

“Hi… How did it feel? Are you you?”

Eddie chittered.

“Squeak once for yes, two for no. Are you you?”

One squeak.

“Did it hurt?”

Two.

“Good…” There were more questions you wanted to ask, but his overwhelming cuteness was making your brain go blank. “Eddie… You’re so adorable. It’s like… Like I need to squeeze you so hard you explode.”

With that, Eddie’s wings branched out and he flapped up and away from you, landing on top of the refrigerator.

You laughed. “I’m not gonna do it! I’m just… complimenting you.”

He stayed where he was.

Laughing again, you bent down to pick up Eddie’s clothes and carefully place the agate ring on your makeshift altar in the living room. As you turned back, you thought to yourself that he looked so innocent. So innocuous. So part of the natural world that-

“Fuck!” You crossed the space and leaned against the fridge, looking up at Eddie. “This is it. This is how you come with me when I go see the coven. Not one of them is going to see a bat in a tree and think ‘oh yeah, that’s probably a vampire…’ Right? This is it. It’s genius!”

He began to talk – to screech and chitter and flap his wings – and you couldn’t stop him. He had a lot to say and you understood none of it. When he took flight, you spoke the spell to undo the transformation.

If it happened slower, it would be horror on the grandest scale. Snapping bones and stretching skin and shedding cells. It was over in a second though, leaving a naked Eddie standing in the kitchen a little shaken.

“Sorry,” you said. “But I didn’t know what you were saying,”

“You need to tell me when you’re going to do that.”

The fear was barely detectable, but it was there nonetheless. “I’m sorry.” You reached out, pulling him into you. “You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt. But it felt like falling. A long way.”

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you nodded. “What were you saying?” you asked, voice lulled.

“I was saying that I do not like the idea of walking into a coven of witches defenseless.”

On paper, it was a valid point. Eddie had no control over the spell. Once you turned him into a bat, he had to wait for you to utter the words and reverse the magic. It was ultimate trust, but also ultimate vulnerability.

“Your defense is me.” Your lips were on him, the words mumbled, only just audible.

“And you have all my faith. It’s not you I worry about,” he whispered back, tilting his head so you had better access to his neck. You kissed him over and over. “You are my favourite witch. You are the witch that saved this town, this world. You are powerful and strong and predictably underestimated by your coven… But we cannot make the same mistake as them.”

You kissed Eddie’s sharp jawline, then cheek. “Say that again.”

Confused, Eddie went to repeat his last sentence.

“No. Not that. Who’s your favourite witch?”

“Oh. Oh.” The grin that split his face was a little evil and it made you weak at the knees. “You need me to tell you that you’re my favourite witch in the entire universe?”

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, your cheeks burning with beautiful warmth.

“That every single thing you do is magic… That you are my sun and my stars. That I would bleed the world dry for you.”

You nodded, letting yourself go limp so Eddie had to hold you up.

“My favourite witch. My beautiful, little witch. Such a good witch.” Eddie hoisted you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and took you to the bedroom. He dropped you on the bed unceremoniously. “If you be a good witch for me now, I’ll let you do your little spell later and I’ll sleep in your pocket all night,”

“Promise?”

Eddie was on his knees, pulling you by the ankles towards him. He opened his mouth wide, sharp teeth a flash of white before he bit down on the softness of your inner thigh. A gasp melted into a moan, and when Eddie looked back up at you, his mouth was a blur of red.

“I promise. You be a good girl for me now. I’ll be a good bat for you later.”

…

Practice made perfect and after some fine-tuning, you and Eddie had the spell down to a couple of seconds. He wore the moss agate ring around his neck on a chain constantly. That meant the spell could be cast anywhere, at any time. It also made it easier when he turned for him to find it and fly it to you.

A week of testing showed that the potion that needed to be inside his body for the spell to work lasted twenty hours. Every morning when you woke, Eddie would drink a glass of it. Sometimes he’d down another at sunset if he wanted to remain small and cute overnight.

That was Eddie’s favourite part of it – the sleeping. Not only was he immune to the sun’s burn when in bat form, but he could sleep. Although he often stayed up to read and learn, he loved to fall into a soft nothingness with you.

When the ritual of it all became second nature, you decided it should play a role in the protection spell you were writing for when you traveled to the Catskills to reunite with your coven. Potion and agate locked and loaded, all you had to do was speak “sic fiat” and Eddie would be battified.

He could tell, though, that you weren’t satisfied with the process. He would catch you deep in thought, staring almost through him.

“Unburden yourself.” Eddie was suddenly in front of you, hands cupping your face. “Share your troubles,”

“You’re so dramatic,” you sighed, making no movement to push him away.

“But I’m right. Something is worrying you,”

“I’m not worried. I just… I think there’s something we have to figure out before we go see them,”

“Ah, I see. And presumably, I will not like this something.”

The way you were chewing your lip made Eddie sad. He wedged his thumb between your teeth to stop you.

“We need to know if you’re still… the same… when you’re a bat,”

“We know that. We know I’m still me,”

“No, I mean, if sunlight doesn’t hurt you, what does witchfire do? And if you’re hurt as the bat, does that injury stay when you turn back? And then, when you’re the bat again… Do you scar? And what about the-”

“Hey, hey, my love, calm down,” Eddie hushed. He pulled you into him, rocking you gently. “Fate did not disobey all her rules, only to lead us to doom.”

You looked at him through your tears. “But what if she did?” It had taken 150 years to find your way back to each other and the mere thought of losing Eddie again was enough to drive you mad.

“Come on now. Aren’t you meant to be telling me that this is all connected in some mystical and universal way? That all the pieces are falling into place?”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, the coolness of his skin a balm for your hot anxiety. You breathed out as he kissed down your nose, finding your mouth and kissing you deeply.

Eddie spoke softly. “We will do this again and again, until you have filled a book with knowledge. Then, when you are ready, we will face whatever comes next.”

…

The weather was almost as hot as it would get that year. Eddie didn’t sweat. His cheeks never bruised red with heat. He was your own personal cooling system. That is when he wasn’t swooping through Hawkins with one part grace and one part mania.

“I never truly felt the American sun,” he’d told you one night. You were lying on the bed, naked, lazy, in love. “And summer at night is different. Europe is different,”

“You can get sunstroke, so you have to be careful.”

Eddie laughed. As a bat, he could sleep and fly by day, and as your weeks of testing revealed, go unharmed by witchfire. He felt more alive and more unstoppable than ever before.

“Don’t laugh at me! Remember, when you hide your vampireness from magic, your mortality is suddenly seen by everything else.” He laughed again, so you hit him with a pillow and yelled, “Sic fiat!” before he could retaliate.

Eddie fluttered his wings against your hair, causing chaos and knots.

“Nawww. Is my precious little baby bat angry?”

He perched in the corner of the room, aiming for broody and landing on sulky.

“If you promise to be sun safe, I’ll turn you back.”

Eddie chirped with indignation, but came back to the bed. You broke the spell and kissed Eddie on his human and very pouty lips.

“I promise,” he whispered.

You giggled into him, letting him growl and pull you under the sheets.

…

What if it wasn’t enough? What if the magic, just the bastard daughter of the forest gate spell and other protection charms, couldn’t shield Eddie from your coven’s craft?

“We may not need it at all,” Eddie offered kindly.

Dramatically, you rolled your head to look at him, dead expression, moody as hell. He chuckled and reached out to boop your nose. You swatted him away and turned back to your altar.

“We haven’t talked about…” Eddie hesitated, ever mindful of how you felt. “…what exactly you want or… need from this… meeting.”

The black cat bone was ground to the finest powder possible, but you continued to aggressively smash the pestle against the mortar. Eddie waited for you to reply, but rather than speak, you began to rip sage leaves apart like a wolf with a rabbit.

It was risky, but Eddie asked, “Do you expect them to apologise?”

“I don’t need an apology,” you snapped.

“What else is there but that?”

The ignominy of the coven finding out what was done. Revenge or retribution. Surely you did not seek these things, for the Wiccan Rede demands peace and healing. An ye harm none, do what ye will.

Pushing yourself up off the floor, you walked too quickly to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water too violently for any of it to be normal. Eddie stayed where he was, giving you space to process.

It hurt so much. Your heart ached and body felt heavy with embarrassment. You wanted justice, although its form you didn’t know. You wanted harmony within the coven. You wanted to feel how you did before 1836, brimming with solidarity and in love with sisterhood. You wanted your mother and aunt to fix what they had done.

The scene was so vivid. A picture of a life with meaning. Eddie and your coven and magic with purpose. It could all happen. It could. But your imagination was writing stories in wet sand, the waves threatening to wipe it clean at any moment.

You felt like a silly, stupid little girl.

Eddie tried your name again, after the first few times fell on deaf ears. You turned around, kettle still in hand. He gently took it from you, placing it on the stove and igniting the flame. Tea would do you good.

“It is not impossible,” he comforted.

“I’m… scared… I don’t want to have to choose,”

“You won’t have to,”

“You don’t know that! We don’t know anything.” The mug you pulled from the cupboard was slammed down hard. You threw a teabag in it, which concerned Eddie. You always brewed a mix of loose leaf and herbs. “We don’t know if they’re going to try to kill you as soon as they see you. We don’t know if they’re going to try to kill me.” The water wasn’t boiled but you took it from the stove and poured it haphazardly into the mug. “We don’t know anything!” And it spilled. “FUCK!”

Eddie caught the falling kettle, placing it back on the stove, while hauling you away from the mess before more damage could be done. He took your hand and assessed the burn. It was red and angry, but not as much as you.

“So fucking stupid,” you seethed, tears running down your cheeks. You forced yourself out of Eddie’s embrace and ran the kitchen tap, placing your hand under it.

He wanted to tell you to heal it, but knew better. You didn’t want to be told what to do. You certainly didn’t want to be told what to do with your magic.

Eddie was easy to read. You sighed and looked down at your burnt hand. “Just… let me feel it for a minute. Before I fix it.”

He nodded, taking a tentative step towards you. “For a minute,” he repeated softly.

You let him press you into the bench, pining you to it. He rested his head on your shoulder and arms around your waist. Closing your eyes, you took a shaky breath in and out. In and out.

After two minutes (he timed it), Eddie reached out and turned the tap off. You complied with the unsaid instruction and healed yourself.

“I don’t know if I’m scared of having to choose, or if I’m scared that I know I’d choose you,” you confessed. What kind of witch doesn’t choose her coven? What kind of woman follows a man over her sisters?

“It won’t matter. I will not make you choose. I will take that burden from you.”

Turning around, you buried yourself in Eddie. He held you tightly, just a little too tightly, just how you liked it, then brought you to the couch. Another film on his list, A Nightmare on Elm Street, was pushed into the VHS player, and not another word was uttered until daybreak.

End Note: Thank you to @deathbecomesthem for help with this chapter (ages ago, so you might not even remember helping hehe).

I am beginning to map out how this story ends, so if you have any requests for things you want to see happen, now is the time to send them in! Ideas for dates you want them to go on? Movies you want them to watch? Any weird little thoughts you’ve got rattling around in that pretty brain of yours? I’d love to hear them.

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/You

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