#vampire!eddie x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 years

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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.

/\^._.^/\

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succubusmunson · 1 year

Text

All Night Long

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Your period cramps are horrible but Eddie knows just how to fix them.

Warnings: vamp!eddie, period sex, blood kink, oral (m and f receiving), mocking, begging, praise kink, fingering, biting, choking, spanking, hair pulling, pet names, name calling, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, creampie, little aftercare

WC: 4.4K

(first time ever writing vamp!eddie and period sex, please enjoy it!)

Remember to reblog and support the author!

You and Eddie were on the couch, and while he was comfortably watching the old movie on the television, you were stirring in your seat.

You could feel it the moment it started, the small shock of cramps making you cringe. Out of all the times to start your period, why now when you were with your boyfriend?

Eddie noticed you stirring, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “Something bothering you, sweetheart?”

He knew exactly what was happening, and could smell it before you came into the trailer. It made his mind race with thoughts of what was coming tonight. You were always extra needy while on your period, and his newfound stamina was exactly what you needed.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” You crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“Oh, c’mon,” Eddie scooted closer to you, his face pressed into the nape of your neck. “You smell delicious–you know that? I’ve been so fucking painfully hard since I first smelled you.”

Sure enough, when your eyes trailed down his body is when you noticed it. The bulge in his jeans was so prominent now that he pointed it out. You could see it twitch, and you couldn’t try to hide the pace at which your head sped up. There was no hiding it from him.

“Eddie…” Your voice trailed off as another cramp hit you, and he knew exactly what to do.

His lips were rough against your neck as he kissed the soft skin. Razor-sharp teeth grazed your skin just enough to have your eyes squeezing shut from the pleasurable pain.

“Let me take your pain away,” his ringed hand trailed up your legs between your thighs, cupping your already-soaked cunt through your pants. “I can hear, and smell, just how bad you want it.”

You turned to look at him, pleading with your eyes as your hips bucked up into his hand. “Please.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was throwing you over his shoulders, his newfound strength making it easier to manhandle you just how you wanted.

Your back fell on his bed, his many pillows engulfing your body.

“You look so good,” Eddie popped the button of your jeans, his lips kissing along your waist. “Good enough to eat.”

His words made your legs spread instantly, giving him the perfect amount of room to slot his body between them.

“Eddie, I don’t have the patience for this.”

“Shhh, I wanna take my time with you.” He looked up at you, his eyes boring into yours sent a chill down your spine.

This was your first time with Eddie since he came back as… this. You were scared and horny all at once. Eddie could never hurt you, but the thought that he maybe could? It was making you bite your lip in anticipation.

Eddie knew what you were thinking, a smirk plastered on his pale face. “You love a little pain, I know you do.”

The second your jeans and panties were off, Eddie’s nose was nuzzling against your inner thigh. He was inhaling you, moaning at the smell.

“Shouldn’t we put a towel down, just in case?” You knew how messy period sex can get. This wouldn’t be the first time doing that with Eddie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie crawled up the bed until his forehead rested against yours and his skilled fingers traveled up your opened legs. “A little blood won’t hurt anything.”

Your thighs shook when Eddie barely ghosted a finger over your swollen clit.

That was one of the things he loved most when you were on your period. You are so sensitive that the slightest touch had you putty in his hands. He could breathe on you, and the hair on your body would rise, and your skin would start to glisten with sweat. Eddie, undoubtedly, used your over-sensitivity to his advantage.

“Look at you, baby,” he pressed a kiss to your neck as he added pressure to your clit. You couldn’t help but whine at the contact. “You’re so needy.”

“For you?” You gasped when he added more pressure, rubbing slow but harsh circles. “Y-yes.”

You felt the air of his breath hit your skin when he let out a chuckle. “Yeah? Is that so?”

Eddie slid a finger down your slit, teasing the aching hole of your cunt. “Why don’t you tell me how needy you are? I wanna hear you say it, beg for me.”

You put your soft hand over his rough one, helping him slide a finger in. Your breath hitched at the feeling of something being in you, helping the ache go away just a little. “Mmm, thought you could smell just how bad?”

Using his free hand, he gripped your cheeks, making you turn toward his face. “I do, but I wanna hear you fucking say it.” He gripped harder on your cheeks, your lips now puckering out.

“Eddie… please.” Your voice was muffled, your eyes locking with his. “I need you- anything. Just make me cum.”

He let go of your cheeks, using one hand to spread your thighs further apart, the other sliding more fingers into you. “Now, that wasn’t too hard.”

You clenched around his fingers, feeling your wetness and blood soak them. Your head rolled to the side, giving Eddie more area to bite and kiss at your neck.

Your thighs became a pretty, red mess from squeezing them together as his fingers kept fucking into you.

“I wonder just how much you can take,” his fingers curling up and making you whine. “I wanna see how long you can last before you’re crying and tapping out.”

You gripped at the sheets below you, already so close to the first orgasm of the night. “I-I can do it, I promise.”

The squelch of Eddie’s fingers pumping in and out of you fast echoed off the thin walls of his bedroom. They were almost as loud as your whimpers.

“Always so willing to please me.” Eddie bit harshly at your neck, his teeth barely cutting into your skin.

“Fuck-”

“It's one of the things I love most about you.” You could feel Eddie smirk against your neck, licking up the blood from the bite.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip before biting. Your mouths melted together, tongues dancing around each other. You moaned into the kiss, Eddie swallowing it down whole as if he could keep your sounds playing on repeat forever.

You could feel your orgasm fast approaching. Eddie wasn’t letting up, making sure he was hitting that soft spot inside you with each pump of his fingers.

“You gonna cum for me already, sweetheart?” His tone was mocking.

“Yes, yes!” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your legs shaking against the bed.

Eddie picked up the pace, fucking with his fingers so fast that your body shook. His thumb continued to rub circles on yours, adding more and more pressure with each swipe.

“Do it.” His voice lowered now that you were closer. “Fucking cum on my fingers.”

Your chest heaved as you gushed over Eddie’s fingers, soaking them and the sheets below you.

“Oh-oh!” Your mind only focuses on the feeling, finding it hard to form full words. It felt so good to cum, to ease the pain of your cramps.

“That’s a good girl.” Eddie continued finger fucking you through your orgasm, letting you ride it out until you could catch your breath. “You take my fingers so well.”

When you finally opened your eyes back up, you saw Eddie’s fingers in his mouth. He was licking them clean, collecting every drop so nothing would go to waste.

He hummed at the taste of the metallic blood mixed with your cum, something he could now never get enough of.

“That little taste isn’t going to do.” He moved from the bed, dropping to his knees at the end of it. “I need more.”

“Already?” You had barely come down from your first orgasm. He really wasn’t going to let up tonight.

Eddie gripped your ankles, squeezing hard enough that you felt his cold rings press into your skin. “Yes, already.”

In a swift moment, Eddie had pulled your body down the bed, your legs dangling over his broad shoulders. His face was right next to your cunt, looking like a starved man who hadn’t eaten in years.

“You’re perfect,” he spread the lips of your cunt slowly with his thumbs, examining every part of it. “I’ve been needing this,” his voice muffled as he stuck his tongue out to swipe at your clit.

Almost immediately, your hands flew to his unruly hair. You tangled your fingers in it, growing impatient and pulling his face closer to you.

“Don’t be a tease, not now.” You were starting to ache with need again, and he knew it.

Eddie bit the inside of your thigh multiple times, leaving marks for you and him to admire later. “What’s the rush? I need to savor this moment.”

And savoring the moment he was. He was taking his time, looking between you, your shirt bunched up above your tits, and your perfect cunt. Eddie got lucky when you agreed to be his and took every chance he could to just sit back and stare at you.

You bucked your hips up toward his face, egging him on to do something. “Please.”

Without any warning, Eddie sucked your aching clit into his mouth. He gripped your thighs with his hands, squeezing them while moving his head side to side, pulling your clit with him.

“Fuck- yes, Eddie!” You ground your cunt on his face, his tongue swiping back and forth, from your clit to your hole.

“Taste so fucking good.” Eddie moaned against you, sending the shock of vibrations through your body. You shuddered at the feeling and he chuckled against you.

You pulled his hair, causing him to moan, but not before sliding his tongue inside your cunt. He swirled it around, his pointed and perfectly shaped nose nudging at your clit at the same time.

“Holy-“ You threw your head back against the pillows, the pleasure you were feeling taking over your whole body. “Right fucking there!”

You clenched around his tongue, feeling not only your blood but your wetness drip down the crack of your ass, making an even bigger mess than before.

“Mmmm,” Eddie pushed his face deeper into your cunt, if that were even possible.

He pulled his tongue out and went back to sucking your clit. The slurping sounds echoing in your ears. His skilled fingers went back to work in your cunt. Sliding one, two, three fingers inside you and curling them right against your g-spot.

You let out a high-pitched scream of Eddie’s name as your second orgasm came out of nowhere. Squirting over his face and fingers, coating everything. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

He pulled away long enough to watch as your body shook as you came. Watching you come undone was having his cock twitch in his pants, he could feel the precum make a spot in his boxers. “That’s fucking right, scream my name.”

Eddie wasn’t stopping at all, your clit still nestled in his warm mouth, and his fingers fucking into you so hard that all you saw was white before you came again, fully soaking everything below you.

“Look at you,” he gently kissed over the bite marks on your thighs, soothing you. “So cute when you’re all fucked out from just my mouth and fingers.”

When he pulled away and you looked down at him, you noticed your crimson blood covering the lower half of his face. He used his hand to wipe the mess you made, popping it in his mouth.

Eddie would never get enough of your taste. If he could taste you forever, he would.

“Holy shit,” you weakly sat up on your elbows, giving him a beaming smile. Your body felt amazing, and he wasn’t even done with you yet.

When Eddie stood up from the floor, his cock was eye level with you. Your mouth suddenly watered with a need to be filled. You needed to have his cock down your throat, to make you gag, and cry.

Eddie watched as you got on your knees this time, crawling until you were sitting on the floor in front of him.

“Got something on your mind, pretty girl?” He rubbed a hand across your cheek as you reached up for his belt, ghosting your hand over the growing bulge.

You quickly undid his belt and the button to his cheeks, your tongue coming to swipe over your bottom lip. “I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.” You looked up at him with big doe and innocent eyes.

Once his pants were down his legs, you nuzzled your face into his hairy thigh. Taking your time to run your nails along his clothed cock, feeling the throb of it against your hand.

The hand in your hair pulled your hand back, making you whimper out. “You gonna tease me or put your pretty mouth to use?”

The way Eddie spoke to you like you were a toy made your heart thump in your chest. You loved when he acted this way towards you, like you were nothing but something to use for his pleasure.

Eddie slid down his boxers, his cock springing in front of your waiting mouth. The tip was an angry wet, dripping with precum. Your tongue licked at the leaking slit, collecting what was dripping and swallowing it down. You opened your mouth once you were done, sticking out your tongue to show you that you did a good job.

Taking your mouth wide open as an opportunity, Eddie trapped the back of your head and slid his cock down your throat. Immediately you gagged, your throat not ready for the sudden intrusion.

“Atta girl,” Eddie just laughed at you, mocking your whimpers. “Awe, poor thing. Is it too big for you?”

To show that it wasn’t too big, you took more of him in your mouth. His heavy balls now wetly pressed against your chin. You looked up at him with tear glossed eyes as you swallowed around his cock.

“Shit.” Eddie threw off his shirt and looked down at you in awe.

His cock was fully stuffed in your mouth, your tears staining your rosy flushed cheeks. You looked so good like this, you always looked good in his eyes.

You reached a hand up and cupped his cum filled balls, trying but failing to smirk when he let out a choked groan.

“O-oh, fucking hell.” The grip Eddie had on your hair tightened as he moved your mouth up and down his cock.

He gave you a chance to breathe, fully pulling you away. Your lips were wet, red, and swollen. Strings of salvia strung from your used lips to from his cock and the sight had you grinding against the air.

Eddie leaned down until he was closer to you, his breath fanning across your lips. “Does sucking my cock get you that needy?”

“Yes.” You didn’t even hesitate when you answered.

“What a dirty fucking slut.” The hand on his balls gave a firm squeeze, Eddie’s eyes immediately screwing shut. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re so fucking good.”

You took the sensitive head of his cock back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the leaking slit.

Eddie was close, you could tell by his stomach muscles tensing and his groans becoming louder. “That’s right, use your mouth to make me cum.”

Bobbing your head up and down his cock, you didn’t stop. Not until Eddie was holding your head still, his cock fully in your throat, his hot cum dripping down it. His words came out broken as he could only focus on the warmth and wetness of your mouth as he came.

“I-,” his hips stuttered against your face as he kept cumming in your mouth. “S-so good.”

When you pulled away with a pop! of your mouth, you were in shock to see that he was still rock hard after he had just cum.

Eddie noticed your expression and patted your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. “I’ve got a lot of stamina now, baby. I told you, you’d be in for it.”

He moved to lay on the bed, his cock fully standing up, and waiting for you.

You crawled onto the bed, swinging your legs so that you could straddle Eddie’s hips. His hands came to rest over your own hips, guiding you until your cunt was hovering over his cock, dripping on it.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, you slowly slid down his cock, whimpering at the slight stretch of your cunt. It was blissful to finally have his cock in you, filling you full to the brim.

“God- Eddie, you feel so good.” You braced your hands against his tattooed chest, giving yourself something to sturdy your body on. “Fill me so full that your balls are pressed right against my ass.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved from your hips, coming down hard, and spanking you. The impact was hard enough to have your skin stinging in pleasure, wanting more.

“Again,” you whimpered, lifting your hips.

“Oh, you want more?” Repeatedly, Eddie’s hand came down in harsh spanks, alternating between ass cheeks. Your supple skin jiggled under his hand.

By the time he was done, small tears were falling from your eyes, mouth agape from your silent moans, your ass was now rosy red.

“My pretty baby,” he bucked his hips up into you, jolting your body forward. “Such a tight fucking cunt.”

Your nails dug into Eddie’s chest, leaving behind crescent moon shapes. “Please, give it to me!”

Eddie’s hips kept bucking up into you, rolling your hips to meet each thrust. The little patch of Eddie’s pubic hair was rubbing perfectly against your clit. “Yes, oh my god- yes!”

You had completely forgotten you still had your shirt on before Eddie ripped it right down the middle. Your nipples immediately hardened from the cold air hitting them.

Eddie’s eyes watched, never leaving your chest, as your tits bounced up and down. He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of the buds and sucked it into his mouth as you kept riding him.

“Baby- Eddie!” You wrapped your arms around his head, holding him in place.

Eddie mumbled against your skin. You could only make out the word “beautiful,” making your heart flutter.

Each roll of your hips had your eyes rolling back and your thighs shaking. Eddie’s cock was sliding in and out of your pussy perfectly, bringing you closer to cumming.

“Yeah? You like that?” Eddie’s hands found your hips again, guiding you up and down his cock. “Look so good taking my cock, baby.”

“Eddie- I’m gonna cum!” You clenched around his cock, your head falling into his neck.

“Cum for me baby.” He reached between your sweaty bodies and found your clit, rubbing fast circles on it. “Doing so fucking good.”

You let out broken moans against the skin of his neck as you came around his cock, gushing over it and his balls. You saw stars behind your eyes and your skin was on fire as your orgasm tore through your body, making you shake, and cry out.”

“Eddie!” Your hands gripped onto anything they could.

Eddie grabbed you by your hair and pulled you from his neck to get a good look at you. “Jesus, look at you so cock drunk,” he soothed a hand over your head. “But we aren’t done yet.”

He helped you slide off of him, both of you hissing from the sensation. Your cum dripped from your used hole and down your thighs as he turned you over to your stomach.

Your hand printed ass was now in the air, your holes in display for him.

“You’re so pretty,” his rough hands spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good look at you. “Just wanna use you until you’re passed out from coming so much.”

“Please…” Your voice came out tired, but you were ready for more. That was evident in the wiggle of your hips.

You felt the rough mouth of Eddie as he kissed and bit his way up your back and to your neck. Marking you up more so you know who you belong to. “You just take whatever I give you, huh?”

You nodded your head against the pillow, finding words hard to speak.

His hand swatted at your ass again, making it even redder. “I asked you a question.”

“Uhuh, yes!” You turned your head to the side and looked at him as he looked back at you. “I’ll take everything you give.”

Without warning, he slid his cock all the way inside of your cunt until his balls were slapping against your clit. Your eyes shot open and your back arched.

You were now beyond overly sensitive. Each drag of his cock, each kiss to your neck, everything was sending your body into overdrive. Maybe you couldn’t take everything he gave you and Eddie noticed it immediately.

“You tapping out?” His lips were right by your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“N-no…” You wiggled your hips against his cock, your hands gripping the pillow and your knuckles turning white.

Eddie chuckled behind you, his teeth barred as he let out a low groan. “You’re already about to cum, aren’t you? I can fucking feel it.”

He wasn’t wrong, you were already clenching around his cock again. It just felt so fucking good and holding on was getting harder to do.

“Just- don’t stop.” Tears were stinging in your eyes the closer you got, your toes curling with each thrust of Eddie’s hips.

Eddie didn’t stop, especially knowing you were about to cum again. His hips pistoned into you, his cock bullying your hole. “You can do it, baby.” His sweat was dripping down your back.

You couldn’t, not when your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You slumped back down into the pillows and screamed into them. Every part of your body shook as you squirting over Eddie’s cock and balls, coating your thighs in more of a mess than earlier.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” This orgasm was harder than the others, sending shocks throughout your body and making you convulse against the bed. “I-I can’t stop.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off your cunt. You just kept squirting, making his cock slip out and your cunt now clench around nothing. “Baby, you’re so fucking hot.”

He turned you over, now having you on your back. Your

eyes were fully glazed over, skin red from sweating. You are completely used.

You tried to pull him away, but he pinned your arms above your head with one of his hands.

“You got one more in you,” he tapped the hefty tip of his cock against your clit, your legs trying to close. “Just take it, baby.”

You couldn’t resist it, though, not when it came to Eddie.

The slide of his cock in your cunt burned, but it quickly turned pleasurably. “S-shit.”

Eddie pressed his forehead against yours, but his eyes never left where the two of you were connected. “I wish you could see your cunt taking all of my cock.” He slid all the way out before slamming back in, sending your body up the bed. “So fucking good.”

Your drug your nails down his back, making your own marks on him. “Please, j-just one more.” It was all you could handle, just one more.

“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed, watching as you lost a little bit of your breath. “One more, sweetheart.”

Each snap of Eddie’s hips had the both of you moaning out, your breaths fanning across one another’s face.

“Love your cock,” you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood.

Eddie went to speak but inside let out a throaty moan when he felt you clench around him again and his balls tighten up. This time he was going to cum with you, drain everything he had inside your needy, little cunt.

“Gonna fill you up nice and full- fuck,” the hand on your throat squeezed harder the closer he got to cumming. “Watch it drip out of you mixed with your sweet blood.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin and breathy moans filled the room.

“Keep squeezing my cock,” Eddie’s head fell beside yours. “Just like fucking that.”

“Please, please, please!” You repeated the word like a prayer as the coil in your stomach tightened until it couldn’t go anymore.

Eddie let go of your neck and laced his fingers with yours as you both came together.

You gushed over his cock again, your mouth falling open in broken moans and screams. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth feeling off Eddie cumming inside you, emptying his balls.

“T-take it all.” Eddie’s eyes were screwed shut, his chest heaving up and down with each short breath he took. “God, I fucking love you.”

By the time Eddie was done cumming, you were numb. Your body was worn out and limp, just how Eddie loved it when he was done fucking you.

Eddie pulled out but didn’t move from his position. Instead, he laid his body on top of yours, engulfing you in his arms.

“T-thank you,” you tried to wrap your arms around him but everything felt so heavy.

“You feel better now?” He pressed soft kisses across your chest, the total opposite of how he just acted when his cock was inside you.

Too tired to talk, you only nodded your head, your eyes almost falling shut from the sleepiness taking over your body.

The sheets below your body were covered in your sweat and blood, your thighs sticky with cum. Eddie’s cock was also covered in your blood and cum, but he loved it that way. It was a mess, but Eddie and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before shutting your eyes completely, you noticed the sun start to shine through the blinds on the windows. Eddie had fucked you all night long and into the morning.

You felt Eddie scoop your body into his arms, making his way to the bathroom.

He turned the water to the bath on as you sat in his lap, half asleep.

“You just relax,” Eddie whispered to you.” I’ll clean up you and the mess you made. Maybe later we can go again, if you can take it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #vampire!eddie #vamp!eddie x reader #vamp!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader

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thornsnvultures · 6 months

Text

syrup & honey

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader

summary: eddie needs a place to stay on Halloween night and your window's always open

cw: 18+ nsft, smut, vampire!eddie, afab!reader, flirty!eddie, oral (fem rec), breast play, fingering, p in v sex, blood drinking, creampie, cheesy fluff, steve makes a background appearance as eddie's blood dealer of sorts, 2.7k words

"Can't sleep?"

Eddie's voice is quiet, just barely heard over the rain pouring outside. You look up from your book at your open window. Eddie's perched on the sill, his long, black coat is drenched and dripping on the floor.

"C'mon in Eddie," you sigh, closing your book. You turn on the lamp next to your bed, soft yellow light filling the small space. Eddie happily jumps in and makes for your bathroom where he sheds his coat, dropping it in the tub with a wet splat. At least he has the sense to not throw it over your couch. Again.

When Eddie appears again he's shirtless and you can't help but roll your eyes. He's rubbing at his damp curls with one of your towels, his lithe muscles bunching and stretching. He's flexing on purpose.

"Why are you here?"

"What, I can't drop in and say 'hi'?" Eddie tosses the used towel in your hamper across the room and plops down on the chair by your bed. Your studio apartment feels so much smaller when Eddie's here, all stretched out on your bargain furniture. "It's Halloween, babe. You should be out partying. With me." Eddie grins and his teeth flash in the light of a sudden lightning strike.

"It's miserable out there, Eddie. I'm not getting all dressed up in a slutty little costume just to get cold and wet," you huff, pulling your comforter up over your tits. You shouldn't have said slutty. Shouldn't have taken your bra off either. You knew Eddie would stop by, it's why you left the window open. But now you were cold and you felt... exposed under his hungry gaze. The way he looked at you in your sleepshirt, like he was picturing you in an assortment of terrible costumes that left nothing to the imagination.

"I'm sure I could've warmed you up, honey," Eddie practically purrs, leaning forward on his chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him like it's the only thing keeping him from reaching out and grabbing you.

"What you can do is sleep on the couch. Just close the curtains before you lay down."

"Right," Eddie chuckles and leans back on the chair. "Wouldn't want you to wake up to a pile of ash on your couch. It'd take you weeks to vacuum it all up." Eddie bites his lip with one long canine. "Are you sure I can't help keep you warm, honey? You look awfully cold."

"You never closed the window. And this is a twin bed. Not happening."

"So if I got you a king sized you'd let me in?"

"Not what I said," you shook your head.

"How 'bout a queen? A full? It'll be full of us, that's for sure." Eddie slams the window shut and winks at you and suddenly you're not so sure letting him stay the night was the best idea. You feel claustrophobic with that window shut tight.

"The only thing that's full is you. Full of yourself."

"Oooh, good one, honey." Eddie plops down at the foot of your bed. You move your feet out of the way just in time before he flops backwards and crushes them. Eddie stretches out like a cat, groaning long and loud.

"Eddie quit it," you kick him with your foot. "You're getting my sheets all wet."

"Not the first time these sheets have been wet though, huh?"

"Oh my god, Eddie, shut up." The pillow at your side bounces off his stupid grinning face when you chuck it at him. "I was trying to be nice when you asked for a place to stay for the night. If I knew you were gonna be a little shit about it, I would've said no."

"C'mon, honey," Eddie pouts, sitting up. "We've been friends for how long and this is how you treat me?"

"Eddie, I've only known you for a month!"

"Exactly! And look at how close we've gotten in such a short time," Eddie smirks as he crawls up the bed. You can't take your eyes off his, bright red and glowing. How his teeth shine in the moonlight like pearls. Before you know it, Eddie's knees are bracketing your hips, caging you in with his arms, with you flat on your back.

"Eddie," you caution. "What are you doing?"

You gasp when Eddie leans down and presses his nose to your jaw, nudging it and turning your face so he can breathe you in. You feel him shudder, his hair still dripping around your face. Eddie presses a kiss to your jugular, just light enough that you're not sure if you imagined it. But then he does it again. And again.

"Let me taste you," Eddie whispers into your skin. "I know you'll taste so sweet."

"Eddie," you push at his chest like you don't want this, like you're not aching to feel the hot, wet suction of his mouth on your skin. Like you haven't been dying to know what it was like since Steve introduced the two of you at his bar downtown, the one Eddie was trying to get you to go to tonight.

"Don't make me beg, honey," Eddie groans and licks a stripe up your thundering pulse. "I promise I'll be gentle."

Your grip on your blanket loosens with every soft kiss and lick Eddie presses to your skin. When you arch up into his touch you ask yourself if you're really doing this, letting him touch you like this. You've never... been with someone like Eddie. Before you met him all you knew of his kind was violence, stories you hear on the news, homicidal maniacs and sex perverts. Eddie was one of those two for sure, but he'd never hurt anyone. Not unless they asked. Were you asking? Would you let him just like you let him in?

It seemed your body was answering for you, slick between your thighs, nipples pebbled in the cool air. It was October and your super still hadn't turned the heat on. Without your thick blanket the room would be unbearable, but you could barely feel it. Eddie was radiating heat. He tore the blanket off of you and you could feel it everywhere. Every inch of him surrounds you like a balm to soothe your goosebumps away.

He must've fed before he came here. You hoped it was from the secret bar stock and not one of Steve's other patrons. Though, why that bothered you so much you didn't know. Eddie didn't owe you that. You weren't his. He just wanted to play with you, roll around in your sheets for the night. See if you tasted as sweet as his nickname for you. And you were fine with that, really you were.

You gasped as Eddie tugged up your sleep shirt, his warm hands traveling up your hips to your waist.

"Can I?"

You're moving your body before the word "yes" even falls from your lips. Eddie pulls your shirt all the way off and he's on you before it even hits the floor, kissing down your neck, to your chest. His fangs lightly scrape your skin, scratching at you like a cat pawing at a closed door, begging to be let in.

Eddie takes your nipples in his mouth, flicking his tongue over one tight bud before moving to the other until you're writhing under him. Your hips lift with every nibble and tug, grinding against the obvious bulge in his too tight jeans.

"Eddie, please," you tug at his hair, unsure of what you're begging for. You just need more, something harder and faster before you scream.

"Shhh, I got you." Eddie's warm hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing your spit slick peaks as he kisses you. He's careful not to knick you with his teeth, all lips and tongue, devouring you in a way you didn't expect him to tonight. Not that you were hoping for him to- who are you kidding? You've wanted him since the first night you saw him.

You're panting when Eddie pulls away, inching down your body, mapping out a trail of kisses and bites along the way. The groan that rips from his chest when he pulls your panties down stops you from instinctively trying to close your legs. You're nervous, being looked at like that. Like Eddie's a cartoon dog and you're a pie someone left on a window sill. But his hands push your thighs open. You want to let him in, need to let him in, so you let him spread you wide. He kisses your thighs, up to your knee and back down again on both sides until you're begging again. You can feel his warm breath on your center, your head thrown back as your hips roll, trying to entice him to just put his mouth on you already.

"You're so pretty, honey. Knew you'd be pretty," Eddie mumbles, more to himself than you, and kisses your clit. He rubs it with his tongue, delicious little flicks that have you gasping and tugging on his hair.

"So fucking wet for me," Eddie groans and spears you open on his tongue. And, god, yes you are. Soaking his face when he slips a thick finger into your cunt, dragging an orgasm, then another, out of you with his mouth suckling on your clit.

Those big red eyes of his stare up at you, watching you as you cum, shaking and gasping for air, your whole body seizing. Eddie's fingers work you through each one, not stopping until you're pushing him away, begging him for a break. His face is soaked in your slick, dripping from his chin.

"Did so good for me."

You sigh as Eddie kisses your thighs, still watching you. His pussy soaked fingers reach up to tweak your nipple, grinning when you gasp.

"Can you be good for me again? I know I just ate," Eddie winks and you roll your eyes, too sapped of energy to smack him. "But those blood bags Steve keeps stocked for me aren't enough. I need the real thing."

Your tummy flutters. He didn't feed from anyone else tonight. It shouldn't make you feel giddy but it does. You nod your head pulling Eddie closer to you by your legs around his back.

"If I'm letting you bite me, then I need you inside me, Eddie."

"Fuck. Yes, anything you need, honey, I'll give it to you." Eddie fumbles with his pants, chucking them off a little too hard when they get stuck on his foot.

You laugh when he pounces on you again, settling between your thighs. He peppers your face with kisses and you can still smell yourself all over him but you don't care. Your laughs turn into moans as Eddie ruts against you, his cock sliding between your folds, bumping against your sensing clit.

Eddie sits up on his knees, dick in hand as he tap, tap, taps the head on your clit.

"Can I come inside?" Eddie smirks.

"You're so dumb," you laugh. "Fuck me already, Eddie."

Eddie smiles, one fang catching on his lip, as he slides in. You try to relax as Eddie eases his way in. He's not crazy long but he's thick and he knows it, taking his time stretching you out inch by inch.

"Oh fuck," you shout when Eddie rubs at your clit to help ease you open.

"That's it, honey. Take it all. I know you can. Look at that pretty, little pussy swallowing me up. Fuck," Eddie groans. "Once I'm all the way in, I'll take what I need. I don't think I'm gonna last, honey. Squeezing me so fucking tight."

Eddie's so focused on your pussy, you just stare at him. Your eyes lidded and hazy, you can't help but wish it could be like this all the time. Like he could be yours. All sweaty and shiny in the moonlight. Pale skin and tattoos and strong fingers that know just how and where to touch you like he was born to do it.

Finally you feel it, his hips meeting yours, and you swear you've never felt this full in your life. It sits in your chest, telling you that this feels so, so right.

Eddie lays flush with your body, not crushing you, just holding, rolling his hips into you with delicious little thrusts that send shockwaves up your spine.

"Relax for me," Eddie whispers as he kisses down your jaw. He tilts your head to the left, your jugular exposed. He kisses you there over and over until finally you feel his mouth open wide, his hot breath on your neck. It's quick, the pain. You only feel it for a flash before it's gone and then you feel nothing but ecstacy. You come with a shout, clenching around Eddie's cock and clawing at his back, leaving trails of red on his pale skin. It's like nothing you've felt before, but at the same time you have. You've felt his lips, his tongue, working your clit, sucking your folds, drinking every drop of your juices, and it feels much the same. Devouring you. His tongue lapping up everything, drinking you deep until he's groaning into your flesh.

"Cum inside me, Eddie," you plead, as Eddie's thrusts get sloppier, more frantic. "Please, Eddie."

Eddie pulls off your throat and cums with a shout, burying his face in your shoulder as his cock kicks, his balls emptying inside you in wave after wave.

Eddie stays there as you rub his back. You almost don't want him to pull out. He's tenderly licking your neck, stopping the flow of blood before it ruins your sheets.

"You taste so fucking good," Eddie groans.

"Which? Pussy or blood?"

"Both," he sobs dramatically into your chest. Eddie sits up and smiles at you, licking his lips. His chin is covered in a mix of blood and pussy. It's a little disturbing, but honestly, not as bad as you thought it would be. You shudder when he pulls his softening cock free, feeling his release ooze out.

"Fuck that's a lot of cum," Eddie says in awe. You whine and bat his arm away when he tries to push it back inside.

"S-stop, too much."

Eddie uses the same towel he used earlier to clean the both of you off and washes his face in the bathroom sink and closes your heavy curtains before coming back to you.

"Thank you, honey," he hands you a bottle of water and slides in behind you, pulling you to his chest. "You ok?"

"Just a little sore."

"Thanks for letting me in," Eddie says as he snuggles in closer. "And I don't just mean-"

"I know," you laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

"I want to keep seeing you," he says.

"As friends?"

"Is that what you want?"

You think of Eddie waking around your apartment, being here when you get home from work, reading in bed with him at night, going to Steve's together. It's not going to be easy with his... schedule but,

"No, I want you. I want... us. You drive me crazy, but I like being with you, Eddie. I don't want this to be a one time thing. Or friends with benefits."

You roll over and look at his deep, red eyes.

"Do you want me too, Eddie? For more than just, this," you wave your hand between the two of you.

"Of course I do," Eddie takes your head in his hands and kisses you. "If you said no I'd still come over here and bug the shit outta you until you said yes," he grins.

"Creeping at my window at 2am?"

"Like you weren't up touching yourself waiting for me," Eddie teased, nipping at the tip of your nose. "I saw what you were reading before I came in."

"Oh please," you push at his chest, your face heating. Eddie wobbles, nearly going off the side of your twin. He catches himself, cackling because he's right.

"Next time I come knocking on your window you can give me a show, yeah? Or you could come out with me to Steve's and we can defile his storage closet. Maybe the bathrooms."

"Shut up!" You laugh hitting Eddie's chest as he tugs you close.

"You've thought about it haven't you," Eddie kisses your cheeks, your jaw.

"Don't start, Eddie," you gasp as he licks the tender flesh where he bit you.

"I'm not starting," Eddie shrugs and pushes you onto your back. "I'm continuing. Never said I was done with you."

~~~

🖤🎃 happy halloween!!<<

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson halloween fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson drabble #steve is also there sort of #my fics

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blueywrites · 6 months

Text

we bite (revamped)

vamp!eddie x vamp!reader x steve

you and eddie decide to have some fun when feeding on tonight's meal.

cw: 18+ only. blood kink, blood-drinking, imminent threat of killing/violence, humiliation kink, eddie degrades steve and steve likes it, dehumanization & use of demeaning names (slut, worm, bloodbag, slow/stupid), implied homophobia (eddie accuses steve of 'being in the closet'), allusion to anal sex, unstimulated orgasm. reader has a vagina, but no other physical characteristics are given.

in honor of spooky season, I wanted to revisit and improve this piece I wrote a while ago as part of my 1k follower celebration. I have a part two for this from Steve's perspective half-written already, so look out for that soonish! 😋🦇

3.2k

Your meals always end up undressed, splayed across the black sheets and velvet duvet of the bed you and Eddie share. Once you both discovered that humiliation adds a little fizz to the blood, an acidic tang not unlike the juice of a citrus fruit, it became part of your feeding repertoire to strip your food bare until their softest parts are exposed to your gaze and your teeth. And it doesn’t take much effort to bring that flavor out, too. Often, all you need to do is graze a fang along the thin, tender flesh of their groin— not even breaking skin, not yet— to have that tangy fizz spilling into their blood for your partner to enjoy.

Shame, humiliation, guilt: those are Eddie’s favorite flavors on his humans. You like those fine, but your personal favorite is pleasure.

Quite lucky for you to have found both in this one tonight.

Contentment curls in your chest as you listen to the sonorous sound of Eddie’s rumbling growls, the messy slurp and suck as he feeds on the young man between you. The young man’s name is Steve. You’d coaxed his name from him in that effortless way you always do: by buttering him up all sweet before dragging a sharp nail along the seam between his balls, good-cop bad-cop all in one. You like to amuse yourself by watching men’s sacks jumps up towards their bodies in an attempt to escape the danger of your touch, and this you’d done for a little while with Steve before growing bored with how quickly his shame bubbled to the surface.

You decide to drape yourself over his side instead, twining your leg around his and perching an elbow on his muscular shoulder, lounging as you wait for your turn to eat him. He’s lovely down there, but he’s just as lovely up here. Your fingers drag luxuriously through silky locks as you pet his pretty hair— chestnut-brown, thick and clean, smelling of honey and expensive vanilla. And you’re quite enjoying sucking on his earlobe now; it’s tender, soft and pliant. You like the way he stops breathing— the way his broad chest just freezes mid-gasp— each time you take the lobe lightly between your sharp teeth and let him feel just how easily you could tear it from his head. It’s almost as amusing as playing with his swollen balls.

You can tell that Eddie is still feeding because, every once in a while, the young man between you twitches and whines through his teeth, his body shifting slightly as Eddie flexes his jaw and presses more tightly to his throat. Steve is plenty afraid of you both now, enough to keep that flavor in his blood for Eddie to enjoy, so you decide to change tack: you drag your wet tongue up the shell of his ear, agonizingly slowly, then smirk when the young man shivers in response. A little whisper of anticipation fills you as Eddie hums, tasting the sudden surge of sweetness from his piqued arousal.

You’ve just grasped the side of Steve’s head and slid your wet, hot tongue into the opening of his ear— his little gasp was quite delicious— when you feel his body jostle as Eddie unlatches from his neck. You pull your tongue out hastily, dropping your food without another thought.

Your eyes only brighten for the one who truly matters to you.

Eddie always feeds so sloppily, and this time was no exception. Blood has gushed over his chin, staining the triangle of his pale chest crimson. His half-buttoned shirt is specked with flecks of viscera, and his white fangs glisten from the mess of gore coating his plush lips. With his expression loose from blood-satiation, his deep brown eyes hazy and heavy-lidded, and his hair a wild storm of soft darkness grazing his shoulders, you think your partner has never looked sexier.

“Eddie,” you purr, affectionate and sensuous as you detangle yourself from Steve and slink across his spread legs. You settle in between them, smiling as your lover shoves the other man’s leg aside to meet you halfway. “You’re always such a messy boy,” you pout at him. “Do I have to clean you up again?”

Eddie’s dark eyes glitter as you pay him all the attention, and he hums happily as you lick a thick stripe up the center of his chest to his adam’s apple, collecting the salt of his skin and a bloody appetizer in one on your path to his mouth. Ever the tease, you swipe your tongue delicately over his lips but pull back when he tries to kiss you. You’re hoping to see a glint of possessiveness in Eddie’s eye, and ever faithful, your lover obliges. He growls possessively, fisting his hand in the hair at the back of your head and hauling you up against him as his tongue plunges past your lips; his other hand grabs low at the heft of your ass, bunching up your tight dress in his long fingers. You sigh in bliss as he claims your mouth, licking across your teeth and nipping at your bottom lip, pulling until it snaps back plump and wet.

A stifled moan has you both glancing toward the headboard.

It’s your food.

Steve’s eyes widen as your dark gazes both flash to him, but he can’t conceal the flush high on his cheeks, the quickened rise and fall of his chest where blood has trickled from his neck into the thick hair over his pecs. There is a newfound dew on his golden skin, a fine sheen of sweat caused by his excitement. And he certainly can’t conceal the way his cock is so obviously, painfully hard, veiny and thick and blushed deep cherry red at the tip.

If he was still strong enough to move his arms and cover himself, you’re sure he would. Lucky for you, he isn’t.

"Aww,” Eddie chuckles darkly, bloody lips pooched in a mocking pout. “What? You want a turn, Stevie? Want me to give you a little kiss, too?" Immediately, Steve shakes his head— emphatic despite the blood loss that must be making him woozy.

But you suspect his protests are just an attempt to deny what he’s ashamed of wanting. You giggle as Steve’s face slowly flushes entirely pink when Eddie dips his head predatorily, crawling closer to him on his knees; you watch Steve’s eyes dart down to your lover’s low-slung pants and the tuft of hair revealed at the top of his pelvis, and you smirk when he swallows thickly at the sight. The young man can’t tear his eyes from the exaggerated sway of Eddie’s hips as he stalks toward him, settling at the young man’s side, the same place you’d been while Eddie fed. You slink to Steve’s other side as Eddie quirks a salacious brow and palms his own crotch, canting his hips towards Steve and rubbing slowly and sensually in a mockery of enticement. The show is meant to goad Steve, to pin him down until he admits how much he wants to look. And you’re sure he must want to, because Eddie’s cocky smirk and sizeable cock— clearly sizeable though trapped behind leather pants— are tantalizing you even from such a distance.

In an attempt to preserve his dignity, perhaps, the other man looks away.

Eddie’s hand shoots out in a pale blur and yanks Steve’s head back by his hair. Your plaything winces as his golden neck stretches taut, tendons and veins nearly bulging, but your breath quickens in eager excitement as the action makes that stiffness between his legs twitch. Eddie notices too, his chuckle husky and thick as he says to you, "Look at his little cock, sweetheart. Think he liked that."

Steve’s hazel eyes dart to you, pupils blown wide in arousal and fear. You tilt your head as he meets your eye, and you coo mockingly at your food, "You like it when Eddie plays with you, huh? It gets you hard." You smirk. "You ever been fucked by a vampire before?"

The young man whimpers, and it sparks pleasure and hunger low in your belly. "Dirty boy,” you purr, your voice a sensual hum as you lean in to ghost your breath over his taut neck. You bare a fang and slowly trace it down the quivering artery there, snickering as Steve shakes with the effort to stay perfectly still, lest you cut him open. When you reach Steve’s clavicle, you lick a path back up the wounds your lover has already made, nipping playfully underneath his jaw to make him flinch. “Mmm,” you hum eagerly, “Eddie, look, he's practically weeping now."

And it’s true— pearly beads of precum now drip from the tip of his desperate cock onto your black sheets. You meet the eyes of your lover over Steve’s head, and your heart floods with wicked affection at the mischievousness in Eddie’s wide, dark eyes and the devious smirk curling on his plush lips. "Bet we could get him to cum without even touching his dick," Eddie suggests; his smirk widens to a manic grin when your brows pinch pleadingly and your eyes go soft and wide and eager.

“Oh, Ed, can we? That sounds like such fun.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, holding your gaze, and you shiver with pleasure as he regards you with such palpable affection. “Anything for my girl.” His voice is a caress against your cheek, and you lean into it as if his hand were cupping your skin.

Delighted, you turn back to the golden neck your lover has considerately bared for you, taking a moment to nuzzle against the honey and vanilla of Steve’s touseled hair before trailing your nose in a featherlight line down past his ear to that vein of lifeblood thrumming under his skin. You stretch your jaw with an audible click, and Steve’s eyes dart to you. He gulps at the sight of your fangs, gleaming and white and razor sharp beside his neck. He strains against Eddie’s hold, overwhelmed by fear, but he cannot escape the inevitability of your feeding.

With a sigh of bliss, you dig your teeth neatly into that aching artery.

Steve’s blood spills into your mouth as if eager to escape him and nourish you. It still tastes of citrus from his shame, but now, the floral sweetness of his arousal is the top note. You suck lightly, swallowing one small mouthful; your prey moans as the chemicals in your saliva begin to flood his brain with endorphins. You suck another mouthful, and then another, glancing beyond Steve’s aquiline nose to see your lover’s eyes flash before he ducks to Steve’s ear.

Your food’s entire body tenses and his fists tighten on the sheets below him, as if he’s preparing for a second bite. You purse your lips against an amused smile to keep suction on his neck; you know that Eddie would never take food out of your mouth unless you’d both agreed to feed at the same time, though your prey doesn’t know that, and the little burst of spicy terror settles back to sweetness when all Eddie does is start murmuring to him quietly without even touching him.

“You be good for us, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs. “Be a good little blood bag for my girl, make her happy, and I promise, I promise I won’t rip out your throat. I’ll be so fuckin’ nice to you, Steve; I’ll only hurt you in ways that’ll heal. Eventually. How’s that sound?”

It’s quiet, but you can hear every word that slithers into his ear, hear every little hitch of breath and shift of Steve’s squirming legs against the sheets as Eddie’s words and your feeding begin to arouse him further.

Eddie huffs a little chuckle. “Tell me somethin’, big boy. You ever suck a guy’s dick before?”

Your food groans, and you feel the vibration of his mutter when he answers. "No."

Eddie chuckles delightedly. "Still in the closet, huh? Because I see the way you look at me, Steve— like you want me to wreck you. Well, I’ll tell you what,” he says, low and playful, “maybe after my baby’s done eating you, I’ll allow you to suck my dick. And maybe she’ll even be nice and suck yours at the same time. Wouldn’t that be just a dream come true, Stevie?”

The sweetness in the blood filling your mouth grows thicker, headier. You moan as you suck harder and sustenance gushes warm down your thirsty throat. “That’s it,” Eddie coaxes him, “such a good boy.”

The sweetness in Steve’s blood fades slightly, dulling so that a coppery tang becomes more prominent, and you grunt in dissatisfaction. It must communicate what you intend because Eddie hums in surprise. “Huh.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he purrs, “Praise doesn’t get your prick goin’, does it? You just want me to tell you how fuckin’ useless you are. My little toy to play with.”

That heady, dizzying sweetness surges back, and you growl eagerly, mouth pressing tighter against his trembling throat as he groans— not in pain, but in pleasure.

“I think I’m gonna need a little more from you then, Steve.” Eddie eyes Steve darkly. “Beg for my cock. Ask me nicely if you can pretty, pretty please suck my dick.”

The young man whimpers, legs tensing as his hips squirm up to pump weakly, but he doesn’t reply.

“Are you slow, Stevie?” Eddie asks, mockingly light. “You stupid or somethin’?” He chuckles mirthlessly. “Oh, I get it. You’re just a guy that thinks if he can smile pretty, dress nice, and fuck a pussy good enough, no one will find out what a useless, empty, pointless sack of shit he is. That right?” You shiver with delight as Eddie’s voice goes dark. Mean. “But I already know how worthless you are, Steve. And if you wanna keep that pathetic little cock attached to your body, then you better tell me how much you wanna suck. My. Dick.”

There’s a ragged gasp, a burst of citrus to mix with the sweet floral of his pleasure flooding your mouth. And then Steve is answering in a cracked voice. “I w-wanna suck your dick, Eddie. Please. Please let me suck your dick.”

Hearing your lover intimidate your meal in this way really fucking gets you going. You pulse hard between your legs, your pussy squeezing around nothing as the taste of flowers grows more distinct— honeysuckle and primrose, which accounts for that heavy, heady sweetness.

“Aw,” Eddie coos, sickly sweet with a razor-sharp smile. “All you had to do is ask nice, sugar. Sure, I’ll let you taste me. And guess what?” He widens his eyes, ducking in to whisper conspiratorily to Steve. “I think my girl likes the idea of me fucking your throat. Maybe, if you’re lucky, she’ll even bounce on your cock while you get me all nice and wet.”

Eddie shifts back, lounging against the headboard and raising his voice so that Steve knows you can hear everything he’s saying. “Because I’m a nice guy like that, Steve. I’m a gentleman. So I’m not gonna pound you dry. I’ll let you get me all slicked up before I fuck your ass.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Say thank you.”

Steve whimpers, croaking out, “T-thank you.”

“Thank you for letting me get you all wet before you fuck me.” Eddie sing-songs his cadence, prompting Steve to repeat.

“T-thank you f-for…” The young man’s voice is shaking, quivering as he begins to writhe and squirm. “Thank you f-for letting me get you a-all wet before you…” He forces the words out with a squeak of effort. “…fuck me.”

Eddie throws back his head, cackling manically. “Oh, Steve,” he says, almost fondly. “You dirty little slut. You really are fuckin’ pathetic.”

Your pussy is throbbing now, tempting you to attend to it as you feed. But you refrain, knowing that what will come after your meal will be better than anything you could give yourself right now. Plus, the sweetness in Steve’s blood has begun to heat; you crack your eyes to watch his leaking cock twitch and pulse, dribbling white liquid as he humps the air with desperation, seeking friction he’ll never find.

Eddie’s voice is sinfully dark and forbidding, grit low with husk that makes both you and your food shiver as he says, “You really wanna cum, huh? That’s all you care about anymore. Mindless little worm. I bet she could drain you right now and you'd let her, so long as you get to bust before she fuckin’ kills you.”

You can feel it now— the tightening of Steve’s muscles, the frantic pumping of his heart, the constricting of his capillaries as he approaches his orgasm. You’re unbelievably turned on by the anticipation of his euphoric release, but even more so by the sound of your lover’s voice as he murmurs dark filth in the ear of your meal. You’re burning for Eddie’s touch now— your slit is puffy, clit sensitive like a raw nerve, entrance dripping slick that soaks through the thin lace of your panties, coating the insides of your thighs in sticky need.

“You’re mine now, Stevie, and you’ll always be mine. Mine to play with. Mine to eat. Mine to fuck. Mine to control,” Eddie growls. “Now fucking cum for me.”

The drag of Steve’s blood rushes suddenly thick and sticky like decadent syrup as he moans deep in his throat— a long, pitiful noise of relief as he does what his master commands. His cum shoots in long, hot spurts to paint the hair on his stomach, even jetting up to his chest before dripping down to pool in the dip of his belly button. You drink Steve’s blood down greedily, sucking and slurping almost as animalistically as Eddie typically does, ravenous for the taste of his release. You feed until you feel the beat of his heart quiver once, stuttering a halted rhythm that means you’re quickly approaching the line of no return.

You wrench yourself from Steve’s throat with a ragged gasp. Your hunger is sated for now, but your pussy is buzzing with furious, aching need that demands to be addressed. Hastily, you drop your meal; he slumps back against the headboard, spent and weak. But you pay him no mind. You’re drunk with desire as your eyes find the wild dark curls and pretty pale face of your lover. Your need is a ravenous thing, more dangerous than even Eddie’s hunger.

"We might need to keep this one," Eddie observes to you, ruffling Steve’s head of chestnut hair before slapping his golden cheek a few times; the young man stirs slightly but doesn't move. "He's gonna be fun."

"Sure, babe," you pant, eyes wild and nostrils flared, fighting against your twitching muscles, trying to keep yourself from shredding Eddie’s new plaything to ribbons to get at him. "Whatever you want. But if you don’t want me to kill him, you better bend me over his lap right now and ruin my fucking cunt."

#blueywrites #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #vampire!eddie munson #sub steve harrington #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #kinktober 2023 #tw: blood #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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rainydayathogwarts · 6 months

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ʀᴇᴘᴜᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ - ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ

bi!cheerleader!reader Summary: Nancy leaves you a crying mess after your breakup and you find comfort in the person you least expect. Warnings: angsty at start, fluff, internal homophobia almost, anxiety attack if you squint. Flashbacks in italic This idea has been in my drafts since november 2022 and here we are, one year later. I do have to say, I'm really happy with how it turned out. wc: 2.4k

Seeing Nancy with her was the epitome of having something reach straight into your chest to grab your heart, only to pull it out and toss it away in a dark corner to rot and be forgotten about. Not only did she break your heart, she disgusted you. She disgusted you for trusting her, confiding in her with the secret of your sexuality, one that could ruin your reputation, only to find out she didn't care about it at all.

"No because I got worried about you when you didn't show up to pick me up from practice. Silly me right?" You spoke with a shaking voice, standing in the open doorway, watching as Nancy gasped, pushing a girl you barely recognised from the school band off of her. The girl stumbled, almost falling off the bed as Nancy rushed towards you, throwing her shirt back on. They were both topless and the blonde girl's pants were off. She desperately scrambled for her clothes, covering her chest from you. You tried holding in the tears as you waited for an explanation from your girlfriend. "Look it-it's not what it looks like!" Nancy argued, and you scoffed, but from the look on her face, even she wasn't impressed by that excuse.

A single tear drop rolled down your cheek before you broke down, a sobbing mess in front of Nancy and her side piece, completely humiliated and hurt. "Get out!" You heard Nancy yell at the girl, who staggered out of the occupied bedroom, forgetting her purse. You covered your face from Nancy, wildly trying to wipe away all your tears at once. She stood in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder for comfort but you stepped away from her, sniffling angrily. "How could you? I thought- I thought." You cut yourself off, scoffing at her with a cold laugh before turning on your heels, ignoring her calls for you as you stormed out of her house, face wet and eyes red from crying.

It'd been three weeks. You'd missed school for the first two days after the breakup, dreading the moment you would lock eyes with her in the hallway or she'd come find you, looking to apologise. Even though continuing that routine for the rest of the month seemed appealing, you held an important role in the school, and couldn't possibly miss another day of your senior year.

That's why you stood in the now emptying gymnasium, congratulating the basketball team for winning the game, arm linked with the most popular boy in school, Billy Hargrove who threw you a dazzling smile as you walked out onto the field, where everyone would gather before separating into cars to go party. "Y/N! Ride with me?" Suggested Billy, and you smiled at him, winking in his direction. That what how you kept your reputation, stayed relevant to high school standards. Be popular, show interest in attractive boys, talk about your hook ups, show up to games, be the passionate cheer captain you are, and stay at the top of your class.

All at once.

It was exhausting, but that was who you were going to continue to be, especially for this last year before you went off to college. It was only when you laid your eyes on Nancy and the same girl from the band talking next to her car that you jogged along to catch up with Billy. You ignored the pang in your chest; clearly she wouldn't be looking for you to apologise anytime soon seeing as they were together. Billy was waiting outside his car for you, two other people you didn't recognised having climbed in the back seat of his car. He grinned upon seeing you and you placed two hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly as you got on the tip of your toes, pressing your lips against his. A few people whistled at you while Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss slightly.

"Just for congratulations." You say when you separate, opening the passenger door of his car. As you tighten the seatbelt around you, Billy starting the car engine, you make eye contact with Nancy, who despite everything, looks betrayed. It only makes you feel worse about yourself. Just for congratulations, you remind yourself. It doesn't mean anything, so she can't call you a slut for it. Hell, if it brought you more attention, you would do it again.

The party is great, and you'd really really enjoy it if Nancy wasn't the only thing you could think about, littering your mind like a piece of garbage. Normally, you wouldn't mind it being so sweaty. After all, a game did just end and all of the players were now shirtless inside, to your - and other girls' - advantage. However, your cheer uniform somehow clung to your skin uncomfortably and you felt like you couldn't breathe, tearing your eyes away from the shirtless bodies.

You step outside of the house, taking a deep breath and looking around. The only people around were a couple making out against a wall and some people in the back buying something off of Eddie Munson, famously known as the freak of school, which was ironic because he was extremely popular and well-known because of his side hustle. He even got along with some of the boys on the basketball team, who bought from him and invited him to parties on the down low. The only thing missing for him were the ladies.

You sighed, looking around to see if there was a third option on places to be, starting to get overwhelmed. One hand came up to play with the necklace around you neck and you sniffled, tears starting to cloud your vision. You turned back around to go inside but stopped in your tracks, shaking your head once you were reminded how big the crowd was.

"Hey. You okay?" A hand on your shoulder grasps your attention again, and you bring a hand up to aggressively wipe away the tears, and inevitably, some mascara. Towering over you with a concerned look on his face is the one and only Eddie Munson. You nod "Mhmm, I'm just gonna-" Your voice breaks and your lip wobbles, and only as background noise, you hear Eddie ask "You want to hang out in my van for a bit? No funny business, I promise." And you feel yourself nodding, allowing him to lead you into the back of his van, where he conveniently guides you onto a red beanbag, sitting down next to you on the hard floor.

He lets you sit down in silence, the only sound in the van being your quiet sobs. He plays with his rings the same way you tug at your necklace for comfort, waiting for your sobs to slow when he says "I'm all ears if you want to talk about it."

You should be wary, learn from your lesson, but instead of doing either of those, you find yourself being comfortable and safe around Eddie. That's how it all comes out, every detail from start to finish. How Nancy had asked you if you liked women after you drunkenly flirted with her at a party, to both of you confessing your feelings, to becoming official. You talk about being happy like you never had been before to finding out that she was a cheating scumbag.

Your relationship with Nancy had been so secret for the reason that she was the only person to every find out that you were bisexual, and here you were, spilling it all out to Eddie Munson, who you had never properly met before in your life.

The silence when you were done was astonishing.

You wiped the last of your tears away, finally taking a proper look at Eddie, who just passed you a cigarette, a look of shock on his face. You don't take the cigarette, so to fill in the silence, Eddie puts it to his lips, inhaling deeply, before letting the smoke disperse in the van. You watch the white vapour make shapes in the air, sighing. "Look, I get it." He says. "Well- I don't, but I once dated this dude who-" You looked up at him in surprise.

"You like guys?" And he only nodded, grinning widely and nudging you with his elbow. "Well look at that, we already have so much in common. You like girls, I like girls. You like dudes, I like dudes. Wow, we're just meant to be, aren't we?"

And it's the way he's smiling, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear to show off his dimples and his silver helix piercing that has you grinning shyly, making space on the small beanbag for him, where he joins you, and you finally snatch the cigarette from his lips to take a puff yourself.

It was the security of his friendship that made you so willing to be pulled into it. You were both vulnerable, but knew that neither of you would go around spreading each other's secret because you shared the same one. No one wanted to be outed to everyone they knew without even knowing so. Your friendship built up, became strong. He often sat on the bleachers writing something while you were at cheer practice, and he drove you home, cracking jokes with you in the car. You started talking to him in school, trodding along with him to your classes, and he became comfortable around your friends, joking around as though he was part of your friend group.

And eventually, he was.

Ignoring the odd looks people still gave you, you accepted the arm Eddie offered you, guiding you outside so he could have a smoke. "I have to say, sweetheart, you've made me quite popular." You laughed, shaking your head "You've always been pretty popular, Eddie." But he shook his head at you. "No, no, like people are liking me, openly inviting me to things. Including me in conversations. Hell, today someone even paired up with me in class. And here we thought our friendship would ruin your reputation." He plays his shock coolly, opting to tease you instead, as per usual. You shove him by the shoulder and he chuckles, watching as you jump up to sit on the hood of his van.

You squeal when you start to slip off, but Eddie only moves to stand between your legs, putting a hand on your thigh to help stabilise you. There's a moment of silence, and he looks in your eyes, as though looking for signs of discomfort, but he finds something more. Something good. You lick your lips, putting a hand on his shoulder and giggling. He joins you, turning his head so he can blow the smoke from his joint away from you, and he spots her.

Her. The one who broke your heart.

No matter the rare positive things he's heard about her from others, he can't help but hate her - can't force himself not to glare. You follow his gaze, scoffing at the sight. "I don't know why little band girl doesn't think she'll cheat on her too." You hum, agreeing with him, your free hand coming up to his jaw to turn his face towards you. "You just defending me Eddie?" You tease, head cocked to the side.

He shakes his head angrily, eyebrows furrowing, and he finally stumps out his joint on the floor. "No- I mean yeah but I'm honestly more annoyed sweetheart. Like honestly, everyone knows that if someone cheats on their partner to get with you, the same way that relationship ends is with them cheating on their new partner. No one can be that dumb!" He huffs, gathering his hair into a makeshift bun before letting it all go, looking around in search of his joint. When he realised he put it out, he curses, looking back at you who's smiling down at him.

You push a couple of stray strands of hair away from Eddie's eyes, leaning closer to him. He puts his hands on your thighs and you both hear the giggles of Nancy and her girlfriend, to which he rolls his eyes at. Your heart skips a beat when he does and you open your mouth before closing it shut again, deciding to finally show him how he makes you feel instead of saying anything.

You cup his jaw in your hands, leaning downwards to kiss him, and he immediately reciprocates it, his hands wandering from your thighs to grip your ass tightly. He pulls you closer to the edge of the hood of the van, humming into the kiss when you swipe your tongue against his bottom lip. He gives it to you, immediately deepening the kiss, and taking control by moving one of his hands to the back of your neck, not giving you the space to separate from him. It's all lips and tongue and hands on each other's bodies, that when you finally start to push against his chest to pull away, you're both panting.

You look down at him, wiping away the gloss on his lips with a smile. He does the same, trying to remove your smudged gloss with the pad of his thumb and failing, wiping the residue on his jeans. "Just saying, that kiss better have been for me, not for-" "It was. It was just for you." You reassure, pressing another soft kiss on his lips, only then looking up, realising Nancy and her friend stayed for the show. Eddie turns around, staring at the look of shock on their faces, and he cocks his head mockingly "What? You guys want some of this?" He points at you, a subtle hint to inform them that he knows the whole story.

Your eyes widen, and you grab the finger he uses to point at you, giggling in shock "Eddie!" You gasp, and he shrugs, still talking to Nancy mostly, as he's making direct eye contact with her. "I would want some of you if I were them too." And you both watch in surprise as Nancy's friend storms away angrily. Your eyes widen in shock and you watch as Eddie turns back around, looking slightly guilty, but mostly amused. "I kind of want to say I told you so."

You gasp at his careless tone, wrapping both your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you again. As you lean down to kiss him again, feeling his hands wander up your back, you start to hear wolf whistles.

"And there goes our moment" Mutters Eddie against your lips.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Anyway, serious topic (not really) I was thinking of making this into like a series. Like seeing how Eddie and reader overcome milestones in their relationship kind of and it follows this storyline of their relationship. Like with specifically this eddie and reader in mind. Lmk if you get what I mean or not

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bettyfrommars · 11 months

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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

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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.

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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.

--------

Part 2: When Doves Cry

#eddiemunsonseries #eddiemunson #eddie munson fic #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie x reader #fem reader #true blood au #90s au

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harrywavycurly · 7 months

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Summary: There’s two things Hawkins is known for, firstly it’s incredibly boring and secondly it’s a place tons of Vampires call home. One of those Vampires is Eddie Munson, he was born and raised in Hawkins so it only makes sense this is where he’ll spend his eternity living a quiet and as normal as possible life as a mechanic at a Vampire friendly garage. But all that changes the moment he runs into you on one of his nightly walks around town. You awaken something inside him that he hasn’t felt since his human days and because of that he simply decides he can’t be without you. This is a story all about how you deal with Eddie’s intense feelings all while trying to figure out your own but either way Eddie has already decided he’s obsessed and for him it’s eternal. 🩸✨

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie AU

TW: Mentions of blood, obsessive behavior, cursing

A/N: This is a mini series for Spooky Season! This Vampire!Eddie is a mixture of all the Vampires I love like Edward Cullen, Eric Northman, Spike and the Lost Boys so you’ll notice some similarities and that’s the point, a little bit of every good quality of those Vampires rolled into one! I’ve never really written Vampire anything before so this will be fun✨

Tag List: Open

Conversations: Here

Instas: Coming Soon

Extras: here

*you’ll find everything in the correct order below*

Part 1: Evening Stroll

Part 2: Questions

Part 3: The Van

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thevampirelevi · 5 months

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Adventureland | Part I

Masterlist

"Flight of Icarus." (part 1/7)

cw: vampire!eddie x fem!reader, mentions of grief, mentions of blood, introduction; no actual interaction between reader and eddie (yet)

wc: 1041 ☆

After the events of the Upside Down, a confused- albeit somewhat the same - 'Eddie the Banished' crawls his way back to Hawkins and seeks refuge in the now abandoned theme park, where he one day finds an equally confused - albeit somewhat the same - you.

The horizon ahead of you resembled something of an unfinished Michelangelo project with all of its ‘cadmium orange’ and ‘cobalt blue.’ The further south you drove, the more you found evidence of a burning ‘sienna’ in the mix as well, brushed onto that plaster sky still wet from the rain earlier today. You thought if you pushed the gas just a little more, you might soon start to see outlines of God extending his hand to Adam, but you were going 55 now and the only change in scenery was that the clouds were quickly taking on a darker hue.

The sun is setting and you’ve not even touched the asphalt of the fairgrounds yet. Maybe you should have admitted that you were somewhat lost one ‘Sattler Quarry’ ago, but you were too determined to turn back now. You had your mother’s Lou Reed cassette in your car stereo, playing “Perfect Day” from side A. You could sometimes listen to the whole tape without crying, and you had already had your mind set on today being one of those days.

You were also fixed on reliving some of your favorite memories with her, which is what brought you back to good ol’ Hawkins in the first place. Before the days of factory smoke pollution and L trains, you went through a good portion of your growing pains in Roane County. Then your father’s job pulled your family of three to Bloomington, before dreams of your own pulled you out of ‘Indie’ altogether.

But now you’re back, for the first time since the funeral. Has it been a year already? It felt like only yesterday to you, but so did all of your other resurfacing memories at the very moment you drove into your old hometown. Most of which plagued you the second your car neared that playground. You didn’t dare look in the direction of the schools, it took one year in Chicago and a whole other sabbatical year in New York for you to at least try to forget every classroom you’d ever entered since kindergarten. You had to practically reinvent yourself just to be free of any of the names you’d ever been called haunting every mirror you met. You prayed you wouldn’t recognize anyone, and moreover that no one would recognize you, especially those whomst had made you hate this town in the first place.

“You’re going to reap just what you sow,” sings your janky car radio as you cruise down Morehead Street, passing an abandoned house just as the Roane County Fairgrounds come into view.

It had only just now occurred to you to consider whether or not you were dreaming as you silently sat in your car, staring past your rearview mirror and at the broken bulbs of the large and all too familiar ‘Adventureland’ sign. Last time you had caught even a glimpse of this place was in February of 1986, surely it couldn’t have been completely stranded since then?

The flecks of light snow you’d seen giving the place an almost powdered sugar finish last time, were now replaced with heavy and mangled vines, as well as wilder patches of moss. You could see that a bird had made itself a home in the ‘U’ of the buzzing sign, but there was no telling if it had belonged to the murder of crows that quickly flew away from the pavement at the creaky sound of your car door slamming once you stepped out of your station wagon.

It wasn’t the cold suddenly nipping at your nose that made you regret stepping out just as soon as you did, nor the fact that you were seemingly utterly alone. Rather, it was the slight prick of fear at the possibility that you weren’t.

Be it your intuition or not, you pushed that and all of your other worrying thoughts aside. Catching a peek of sunlight dancing on the broken glass of one of the carousel’s mirrors ahead of you, you used what little daylight there was left and the fact that there was still electricity powering the very broken sign as motivation to tread farther and approach the gates for a closer look at least.

Almost as if a sign to continue and no doubt only fueling your curiosity, you found the undone chain hanging from the rusted iron wickets of the gate to clearly have been cut with bolt cutters or something alike, as if anticipating your arrival. Determined to get at least half of what you came here for, and even more determined not to run away and cry at what might arguably be the biggest roadblock to your plans, you made your way inside the at least somewhat abandoned theme park.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sound of metal scraping against the gravel of the ground made Eddie’s head snap toward the direction of the park entrance hundreds of feet away. Of course, thanks to his annoyingly heightened senses, he’d heard the sound of slightly balding tires screeching to a halt before that - but that itself wasn’t a rare occurrence here.

Occasionally, someone would journey too far past Forest Hills, only to find a more and more desolate and straight up abandoned version of Hawkins. But, like clockwork, they’d all turn right back around and rejoin the rest of society. This, along with the scavenging raccoons in the trash cans and squirrels climbing up and over the fences, or even the whisperings of things lurking in the woods nearby, were all sounds that Eddie had learned to ignore. In fact, most of his time here was spent trying to ignore all signs of life.

But this rare sound, a sound so rare he’d stopped worrying about locking the gates back up long ago, meant that not only was a human nearby, but now they were coming closer.

So close, in fact, that he could smell the iron in her blood and hear just the faintest ‘thump, thump, thump,’ of her heart synchronizing with the steps she made drawing nearer and nearer to his hiding spot; his favorite ride when both he and Adventureland were alive, ‘Flight of Icarus.’

And man, Icarus sure was flying too close to the sun.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x female reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie x fem!reader #y/n #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things eddie #adventureland #flight of icarus

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bangaveragewhitewine · 6 months

Text

blood red bloom

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, established relationship)

Halloween, 1992

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to come up with a prank that will actually scare me, sweet thing.”

Eddie’s voice echoes in your head as you stare at the red inky star in your little leatherette diary.

A late period wasn’t quite what you had in mind, but here you are, sitting on your bedroom floor and staring at the mocking inky red star in your diary.

This Halloween was turning out to be pretty damn scary.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content / Warnings: Pregnancy scare - this is angst-heavy with some brief mentions of Eddie and reader's anxieties of being parents. Discussion of the future. Miscommunication. A fight that's not a fight but they kiss and make up anyway. Brief sex mentions. A reminder that this, and all my fics, are 18+!!!

Please feel free to skip this segment if it’s not your thing!!

Author's note: We couldn't let Halloween pass without an instalment of Happy Hours, could we? This was a toughy, it's been a rough and hectic few weeks, but I hope you enjoy reading the latest snippet! Proof-read by @specialagentmonkey, finished off in the taxis to / from the airports in Dublin and Boston!

Since the first day with a chill in the air, the first fallen crunchy-crisp leaf, your boyfriend had been in Halloween mode. It was your second Halloween together, your first living together after you accepted Eddie’s cute proposal with his spare key in June. Even though he was messy and left the toilet seat up, you loved living with Eddie.

You loved waking up with him every morning and falling asleep together every night. You loved going grocery shopping together, and you adored how he would sit in the bathroom to talk to you or read his book while you lounged in the bath or did your makeup.

Autumn and Halloween meant horror movies, decorating the apartment and planning your costumes together. Eddie was stupidly talented with carving pumpkins, and you roasted the flesh with thyme and sage and onions for a huge pot of soup that warmed your bellies for days.

During your first year together, he had noticed how you scared easily - jumped a little or clutched your chest when he accidentally jumpscared you or purposefully snuck up to grab the squish of your hips with a monster-like growl. It always made him laugh, and his apology was always a kiss that quite often turned into something more.

You quickly learned that you could never get him back.

Yeah, Eddie was jumpy but he possessed a sixth sense for whenever you were trying to scare him.

When he had challenged you to scare him - to really scare him - you’re not sure that realising that your period was later-than-late was quite what he had in mind.

A rare Friday night off, October 30th, had started with another failed attempt to spook him. He was almost condescendingly kind when he said ‘ooh, that was a good one!’ after you popped up from that cramped back seat of his Dodge.

Once you clambered out of the car so Eddie could make it to work on time, he pulled you in for a kiss and cupped your face with such tenderness.

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to come up with a prank that will actually scare me, sweet thing.”

He kissed your pouty scowl away with his wicked smile and left you to enjoy your night off.

His challenge to scare him echoed in your head as you stared at the last inky red star scribbled in your diary. The hardwood floor felt chilly beneath you as you knelt on the ground surrounded by lipstick and pens and detritus from your bag spilled around you.

Thirty-six.

Your period was thirty-six days days late.

The little leatherette diary fell from your shaky hands. If you hadn’t already been on the ground, you are sure your knees would have buckled.

Slumped against the side of the bed, you rested your racing head against the navy duvet - the blood-red blooming rose print seemed mocking as you tried to remember if you had definitely written your dates down correctly. Your periods were pretty regular, never more than two or three days out of sync if even that many.

You hadn’t even thought about your period, or its lateness, until you spied the full box of Kotex next to Eddie’s shaving kit beneath the sink. As the bath filled with lavender bubbles and swirling steamy water, you had pondered on how you liked seeing your things side by side now that you lived together; your dresses hanging next to his nice shirts and jackets, toothbrushes sitting in the same holder, your perfumes and potions lined up and organised next to his new shampoo and conditioner replacing the horror that was 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner and body wash.

As you gave a pot of fresh-green facemask the sniff test, the box of period products had caught your eye.

Eddie had picked them up for you during a particularly bad set of cramps, cramps so bad you had called out of work. He had arrived home with salty Lays and sweet creamy chocolate and the biggest pack of painkillers they would let him buy, and you had cried because it was so kind and thoughtful of him. But that had been well over a month ago…

As the filling bath turned to white noise in your ears, you had flustered to the bedroom to check your diary.

The thirty-six (almost thirty-seven) day lag made you feel like you were going to turn inside out. And not because you were cramping up this time.

The bath was cold by the time you arrived back from a late expedition to the CVS five blocks away, armed with a share-bag of Reeses Peanutbutter Cups and a pink box that promised ‘quick and easy results!’

A year in and neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves. Moving in together had meant that you and Eddie had endless pockets of time together, and rooms and surfaces to officially christen as a cohabiting couple. Eddie’s car had seen some action when you took a road trip back to Hawkins to visit his Uncle a few weeks ago - the driver's seat, that cramped back seat, the bonnet…

When Eddie arrived home from work just after 3 a.m., you still had not touched the test or had a wink of sleep. He crept in like your favourite cryptid and dropped a kiss on your head, trying with all his might not to wake you as you feigned sleep. He settled behind you and fell into a sprawling-limbed rest while you lay awake.

In those dark hours, lit only by the red glow of the clock, you imagined every scenario.

The thought of a little one with dark curly hair and big brown eyes makes your heart ache in a good way, especially when you think of this imaginary little person in Eddie’s arms. That ache twisted like a knife when you imagine him not wanting anything to do with that made-up little person, half him and half you.

You were never set firmly for or against being a mother - of course you got broody sometimes when you saw a cute kid in the grocery store, but equally you had been more than happy to hand back your cousin’s screaming baby when his diaper leaked on you when you visited home back in the spring.

And Eddie? Did he even want to be a Dad?

He had a lot of tangled-up feelings there, held them in his chest like a pulled-tight tangle. That’s how he explained it when his own Dad had come up in conversation. He carried that sadness and hurt with him for almost two decades.

Would he want you to get rid of it, or would he even want you if it was really happening? You tried to be rational, think about how he had promised to love you when you had silver hair and dentures one night when you were both high as kites. Maybe it might be okay, you could make it work…

Sleep came and went, pockets of light dozing interrupted by your heart thrashing in your chest just when you managed to snatch some peace.

As Eddie snored softly, peacefully asleep, you glared at the red-glowing clock, its analogue numbers mocking you until 5:55 blurred behind your eyes. Caged in by the weight of Eddie’s arm, with his hand on your tummy beneath your (his) sleep-shirt, you managed to drift again.

The pitiful pockets of snatched sleep make you feel irritable and wrung out the following day. With a steaming mug of strong coffee, you watched the sun peak through the broad silver-grey sky while Eddie slept on, snoring and unaware.

You still couldn’t summon the courage to sneak the test from your bag and pee on the damn stick. In true Halloween style, it mocked you like Poe’s Tell Tale Heart all damn day from its stowing place in a bag under the bed.

Eddie was unbearably sweet with you from the moment he woke to find you re-reading the same page of your book for at least the eighth try.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out that you weren’t in good form - despite your joint excitement for Halloween - so he tried and tried to cheer you up; a late breakfast sneaking smiley kisses over egg and cheese and home fries. With a wide smile, he shared his ideas for a new drawing for a new batch of Corroded Coffin T-shirts for their gig before Thanksgiving with hot sauce staining his mouth until you wiped it away.

You kept getting distracted when he showed them to you and felt awful when you saw the flicker of hurt on his sweet handsome face. You rallied yourself and helped him pick two to show to the guys when they met to rehearse.

You finally snatched some sleep, cuddled up on the sofa before you had to get ready for work. Eddie hated having to wake you; he was as gentle as he could be, rousing you with light kisses to your troubled brow and warm cheeks.

“Hey, princess. Time to transform,” he whispered, his fingers itching with excitement to don the black velvet and silver chains draped on hangers in your room.

Hours later, you and Eddie walked into Jackie’s carrying a tense air between your joined hands.

You were still the sexiest vampire couple Chicago had ever seen; Eddie in a halfway unbuttoned black shirt and slacks topped with a velvet blazer you had thrifted, silver chains shining on his chest and fake blood smeared like your lipstick on the side of his mouth. Your black velvet dress showed off your curves and made Eddie’s eyes pop out of his skull like a cartoon when he first saw you in it. The bloody puncture marks on your neck dripped onto your chest and cleavage, the perfect blend of gore and sex appeal.

You felt shitty, had snapped at Eddie more times than you could remember while you tried and failed to make your makeup look not terrible.

“You look hot as fuck, baby. Have I told you that?” Eddie squeezed your shoulders as he looked at your reflection in the small vanity he had bought for you when you moved in. He was sweet like that.

“Mhm. Only ten or eleven times.” Tight smile, you met his warm gaze in the mirror. “Not as hot as you, Ed,” you say, pushing off the attention he doled out so genuinely and easily.

The subtle dark shadows below his cheeks and smudged smoky beneath his eyes suit him, gothic and mysterious. You had spent more time on it than you had planned because he couldn’t stop talking and you had (quite seriously) threatened to stab him with your brushes on more than one occasion. Now you were pressed for time with your own makeup. Clock ticking, you were at least thankful that the shadows beneath your eyes didn’t need much more darkening up.

“Nah, fuck off. You’re beyond belief. I can’t wait until after work already.” That glow in Eddie’s eyes that usually sparked hot want in your belly made you feel like prey. Sure, you were dressed as his recently-changed victim but you didn’t feel much like play-acting now, or sex for that matter.

He kissed your head and breathed in your perfume - he loved how you changed it out for the seasons - and the Fall’s scent was rich and warm and sexy.

“Feelin’ okay?” Eddie had asked when you went silent and spaced out again for a few moments, shoulders tensed. He missed your usually returned flirtation when you give as good as you get and then some.

“For the hundredth time, Ed. I’m fine. Please just let me finish this, okay? Please. We’re gonna be late.”

Since then it had been pretty much radio silence.

Eddie stewed, not rising to your bad mood because he might say the wrong thing and make things worse. In the car, he had bit his tongue and held back the suggestion of a weekend away, the idea to book some time off around Thanksgiving and just go somewhere together, alone. He wasn’t sure he could take another unexplained sad sigh or an away-with-the-fairies gaze when you hadn’t even heard what he had said.

So he said nothing and scared himself with his own spiralling ‘what if’.

Instead of eking out the last few minutes before work with Eddie, sharing a cig and trading kisses like you usually do, you leave him to enjoy his cigarette without your dark cloud mood.

“Hey. You’re forgetting something.” Eddie raises a brow at you.

“Oh, thanks.” You hold your hand out for your bag he had carried from the car.

You lean up and peck his cheek, swiping at the mark your dark lipstick left behind.

It wasn’t the proper kiss he had been angling for, but it was better than nothing.

“See you later?” he tries.

“Yeah, if I can get away from the bar. It’s going to be mental busy…” Resisting the urge to rub your eyes and ruin your makeup, you offer a small smile. “Be good. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

Eddie watches you go, his heart hurting in a way it hasn’t since he finally mustered the courage to kiss you in that same dingy back alley. Yeah, you two had your little arguments over the last year, didn’t always agree and got in funny moods with each other, but this felt different. He didn’t like it one bit.

The bar is the fullest you have ever seen it, everyone decked out in their Halloween-best. Your arms ache from shaking cocktails, but the special menu you had curated is going down a treat. The pain is worth the tips and the compliments, the recommendations passed between high-top tables and clusters of costumed customers.

The music is loud, the atmosphere sparky and fun, and yet it isn’t enough of a distraction, or enough to buoy you up when you’re feeling so low. Not the compliments on your costume, or the questions about whether you and the hottie bouncer were matching on purpose. You forced your smiles and laughs, genuine love for your vampire lord on the door made it easy to answer those probing questions. You tried to get out of your head and lose yourself in the best night of the year, but every time you would remember the last inky red star in your diary, the full box beneath the sink, the test you were scared to take.

You weren’t necessarily avoiding Eddie, you had filled waters for him and Jeff and the new guy Trevor, but had barely had time to look for him in the crowd, never mind checking in on him. Your mood had transferred over to him, and your guy twisted tighter with extra added guilt.

It was well after midnight before you took your break; the bar had been rammed with orders and while you could have slipped away, you threw yourself into work instead.

The need to stretch out your legs and hips and crack your back for good measure became undeniable and you slip away with a glass of ice-and-lime heavy soda water for a breath of cold air.

You’re mid-sip when Eddie pulls you into the small staff bathroom, spilling your water down your arm and onto the busted tiles. You yelp as the door clicks, pure fear until you realise it’s him

“What the- Eddie!”

Eddie’s gaze bores down on you, looking like a very pissed-off sexy vampire.

“You fucker! Scared the shit outta me, Ed.” You shake chilled water from your arm as you glare at him. He was lucky not to have glass in that pretty, pissed-off face of his.

“What the fuck is up your ass today?” he asks, arms folded.

Your skin prickles all over, hairs stand on end.

“You’re in a foul fuckin’ mood. What’s up? Did I do something?” Less accusatory now, he just looks hurt.

“Eddie, it’s fine.” You will your voice to stay steady as your stomach drops.

“It’s not. You’ve barely spoke to me, every little thing I do has annoyed you.” “It’s not you…”

That sounds way worse and you see him visibly wince.

“Ed, it’s not your fault, baby. I’m sorry.”

He sighs, shoulders deflated. “Then talk to me. Please.”

“Ed…”

“Am I not making you happy? Is that it?”

“No! Jesus, Ed. Never! You make me so happy..”

“Then what?! Please just talk to me.” His voice breaks.

“I… fuck.” You sigh, breathe deep. Your eyes strong as you speak, say it out loud, “My period is late.”

His brow creases, confused, before folding high under his bangs. Eddie’s eyes are wide, frantic. “Oh.”

Silence settles, no more voices echoing on the tiles.

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Fuck… Are you..? Are we..?”

There’s a sweetness in how he asks, a scared look in his eyes that you recognise from the mirror. It makes your tummy twist and your heart ache. Why had you been so scared?

“I don’t know.” Your voice is cracked and broken. “I don’t know.”

His arms open out to you. You don’t need a second invitation. You practically fall into his arms, gripping him as tight as you can.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers. Eddie’s heart hammers hard in his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

As he holds you close, his eyes cast upward to the grotty ceiling. He has no idea what he’s doing, but right now you need a hug so that’s what he will do.

“I’m sorry.”

His big-ringed hands hold your face, looking into your tired eyes. “Why sorry? Pretty sure it takes two… if you’re. Y’know.”

You sniffle, nod. “I know. I don’t know if I am..”

“You need to piss on a stick or somethin’, right?”

You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, despite the tears in your eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

“Okay. Okay, you can do that. I’ll even hold the stick if you want me to.” He’s dead serious too, not just trying to make you smile. Though it is a bonus, and he melts into a little grin to match. “There’s my princess.”

You cuddle back into him again, “Sorry I was a bitch all day.”

“You know I don’t like that, baby.” He frowns and cups the back of your head, stroking gently with his thumb. “Knew there was something wrong though. Wish you could’ve just told me.”

“I…” Your voice gets caught in your throat, words lodged and stuck like they choke you. “I was scared.”

Though your voice is muffled against Eddie’s jacket, he hears you and squeezes you tighter. His eyes squeeze shut too.

“You don’t need to be scared on your own. I can take it, I’m a big boy,” he promises, repeating it so you know it’s true and real. “We’ll figure it all out.”

His sweetness makes tears flood down your face, that dam holding back every conflicting emotion finally broken. And Eddie holds you. He simply holds you tight and safe and doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know either. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to kiss this better, doesn’t know what he wants or what you want either. All he knows is that you need him like he needs you.

“Fuck, my makeup,” you sniffle, face creasing more when you realise you’re still mid-shift.

“You’re gorgeous,” he promises, kissing your forehead. “Okay so, we’ll work our butts off for another few hours and then we can go home and swing by CVS?”

“I already bought one. It’s at home.” You look down at your toe-to-toe boots before looking into Eddie’s eyes. “Bought one last night when I realised. Too chicken to take it.”

He nods, pinches your chin with sweet affection. “Okay. Well, drink your water so you can piss on that stick, yeah?”

He’s smirking when you hide your face in his neck again, groaning in something like embarrassment. “I’d do it for you if I could. But I can’t, so drink up.”

Eddie lifts your glass from the sink ledge and tilts it to your lips. Despite the warmth of his arms and the stuffy little bathroom, the water makes you shiver as it cools you from inside out.

Hand in hand, Eddie walks you to fix your makeup at your locker as he distracts you with a few of his little anecdotes from working the door. He catches your eye in the mirror in your locker as he tells you about a table of drinkers he heard raving about your cocktail menu.

“Can you make me one later?” he asks, coming to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Course,” you murmur, patting deep Merlot-red lipstick on your pouty mouth.

“Can I get some of that?” He raises a brow in the mirror, and smiles, his teeth glinting, when you tilt your head back to press a peck against his mouth.

A few kisses and the squeeze of his hands on your hips centres you again, helps the tension loosen in your shoulders.

“We need more fake blood.”

“We definitely do. Want me to bite you a little more, my pet?” His voice is wickedly low against your lip; it makes you shiver.

Sexy vampire couple had been an easy pick for you both. Eddie had got really into it when you arrived home with the press on fangs - a hookup from your friend who worked in theatre production and went costume shopping with you.

“You’ll get carried away again, Drac. I’ve gotta go back out in a sec.”

He squeezes your hips and behaves himself as you dab fake blood against the corner of his mouth, letting it drip down his chin, before adding more to your neck and chest.

“Hot.”

“We are.”

He hugs you from behind again, one hand on your tummy, so he doesn’t mess up the blood. “S’gonna be okay, I promise. We’ll figure shit out. I’m behind you no matter what. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d be fucking lost without you, Eddie.”

“Right back at you, sweet stuff.”

A well-aimed kiss saves any blood transferring onto your face before Eddie walks you back to the bar. “If you need a sec, just take it. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

He smiles and steals a final kiss before patting your velvet-clad behind as you step right back into taking orders.

You don’t see the moment he takes, ducking into the back again to process what was going on. You pour cold beers as he sinks against the wall, breathing deeply so he doesn’t spiral into panic.

He doesn't know how to be a Dad, didn’t have a map or footprints to follow. Wayne was a great substitute, but Eddie was nine years old and grown beyond his years by the time he stepped up to try and fill the gaps made by his no-good brother.

Ringed fingers push and scrape against his scalp, tugging hard enough to bring him back to earth. The pain anchors him, reminds him to breathe again.

He doesn’t know what to do, how to feel, how to be what you need. But he does know one thing.

Running away isn’t an option, not when he has you.

It’s almost 4 a.m. before you can leave with Eddie. It’s almost 4 a.m. and he keeps you tucked safe and warm beneath his arm as you walk toward his car. You can see your breath bleed into vapour in the now-November air.

You feel like you have been run over by a semi-truck as you fold yourself into your seat. Everything hurts and yet you’re somehow wired and wide awake, even on the pitiful amount of sleep you managed last night.

Tired eyes stare into the streetlight above the car until you see spots. Brought back into orbit by the squeeze of Eddie’s hand over your fishnets, you share a tight smile with him.

“Okay?”

“Ish. Tired. Need to pee.”

You had been holding it in. No more excuses, or avoiding the inevitable.

You help Eddie click off the little fangs on his already pointy canines and do the same with your own, tucking them into their boxes and into your bag. Shiny gold plastic medals sit on your chests, your prizes for the best costumes among the Jackie’s crew.

He turns the key, squeezes again before hooking his arm works the headrest to reverse out of his spot.

You’re both carrying the weight of the unknown. It doesn’t feel any lighter. Not when you have caught Eddie chewing his black-polished nails and the skin around them, seen him zoning out and pretending he was fine.

Until you know more, have an answer, you can be not okay together, hand in hand in the darkness.

Once you’re on the road, he squeezes your hand and keeps a hold of it as music from the radio fills the silence.

“You hungry?” Your voice is the first to breach the fragile peace.

“Kinda. You want fries?”

“Not really but if you do, it’s my turn.”

He smiles, slight and soft, and squeezes your hand. “There’s some spaghetti left. I’ll heat that up.”

You squeeze back, it’s enough to say ‘okay’ as he sails through green lights and empty streets toward your cosy little apartment.

The walk from the car to the lift to your door, apartment number 8 with its handcrafted Halloween wreath, feels like wading through syrup.

Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand from the moment he helps you out of the car; not when you press the button for the lift, or when he fights with the sticky lock that you have been meaning to call maintenance about. It locks easier from the inside, the bolt slides in easily to double-lock it safely.

Eddie takes your jacket to hang side by side with his own, matching leathers that make you smile through the pressure at the back of your eyes.

“I wanna clean my face and then do it,” you murmur, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“Okay. We can do that. Clean faces and pyjamas.” Eddie nods, a held-in breath puffing his chest up with false confidence.

He eats cold spaghetti from a Tupperware container by the fridge as you strip out of your clothes and change into fuzzy leopard bottoms and a holey She-Ra t-shirt once the fake blood is swiped from your chest.

The pink and white box from under the bed comes with you to the bathroom.

Eddie joins you at the mirror with oily rich red spaghetti sauce slicing through the fake blood around his mouth. You clean your face as he strips down to boxers and pulls on his soft sleep hoodie that definitely has a concoction of questionable stains; toothpaste and your sleep-drool for sure.

Red and black stained makeup wipes and cotton pads fill the bathroom bin and Eddie lets you comb and scrunchie his hair as you ignore the pressing need to pee for a few more moments of normality. He closes his eyes as you rub cleanser into his face as you had your own, gentle touches and swipes of wet-warm cotton until he’s shiny-clean and human-looking again.

With a layer of moisturiser on, there are no more distractions. The boxed test can no longer be ignored.

“Will I go?”

“You can come back in after I pee. We have to wait like..” you check the box for an answer, “Ten minutes.”

Eddie nods, leaning down to kiss you once. “You don’t need me to hold the stick or anything?”

“I have to pee in a little cup-thing and drop it onto the stick. Chemistry shit,” you shrug, cheeks warm.

“Oh yeah, rules me out then.” He drops one more kiss to your lips before awkwardly taking his leave.

You feel less alone when you know he’s lingering close by.

Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s picked up stress-tidying from you until the bathroom door creaks open and you find him crouched amongst a clutter of unorganised tapes.

“Can you time ten minutes on your watch? Or the egg timer?” you ask, hanging against the doorframe.

The tapes are shoved back into a nonsensical stack - not organised by artist or chronology as he had planned to do - and Eddie scurries to grab his old Casio watch before joining you in the bathroom again.

He slightly panics when he sees you sitting on the floor, but crouches to join you with cracking ankles.

“Old man ankles,” you tease, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Mmhm, getting more like Wayne every day,” he murmurs back, dropping his hand in your lap for you to hold.

Cradled between your palms, you lift it to kiss the side of his thumb.

“Wayne is great. Just keep your hair. Please.” “Deal.”

Silence settles across the room and you watched the way Eddie’s socked feet bounce nervously.

“Eddie?” “Yeah?” “What are we going to do?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair, bumping the side of his face against your wobbly scrunchied bun.

His voice is quiet. “We don’t know yet.”

“I know that. But it… I’ve been going crazy thinking, Ed. I know you have too.” You squeeze his hand. “Would you want me to get rid of it?”

That idea plucks something painful in his chest. The knot of tangled emotions feels heavier than ever.

“No. Only if that’s what you really wanted. I’m not gonna make you do anything, especially not anything you don’t want to do.” His murmured words are warm on your head and your heart.

“I feel like I’m being pulled apart. Like… I’m just so confused about what to do, Eddie..” His arms wrap around you, hugging you close.

“That’s okay. That’s okay,” he promises.

After a few beats of silence, you feel like you can breathe deep enough to say the words that have been rattling around your head. “I… I do want kids. Some day. With you.”

He nods, agreeing before going quiet again. He thinks, tries to choose his words carefully.

“If that day is like.. nine months away, is that okay with you?” he asks.

“That’s the scary bit.” “Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be a Mom yet. What if I do it wrong?”

Eddie gives you a sad smile. “That’s how I feel too.”

Your foreheads rest together, eyes closed.

“What if I’m never ready? What if I always feel like this?” you continue, leaning your cheek against Eddie’s steady palm. “I’m so happy with you, Eddie. What if this changes us, fucks us up?”

Dry lips press against your forehead, his thumbs swipe your cheek soothingly as you admit the fears that he has been holding too.

You hug him again, squeeze Eddie hard.

“My mom and dad had me by our age.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper against your cheek. “And… it went so wrong, that I’m scared I can’t do it right.”

You squeeze him tight, brushing loose hairs back from his face as his truth spills, unwound from that knot in his chest.

“I just wanna… I want to do it right. For us. For a baby. I want them to feel so fucking loved and happy. I’m so fucking scared, but… I know what to not do. I don’t want to be like him.”

Your heart breaks for that hurt little boy. You had seen him in photo albums and yearbooks, seen him with your own eyes when Eddie had bad days. He’s with you now, looking lost under the shitty bathroom light.

“You won’t be like him. You’re not him, Ed.”

“What if I am? And I just don’t know it?” There’s a frantic smashed-broken edge to his voice.

You crawl onto his lap, a knee on either side of his thighs so you can hold him properly, see his face. Swiping the beaded tears on his black lower lashes, you return that kiss to his forehead.

“You are not your Dad. You just said it, you know what not to do yeah? That’s so important, baby.” You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs.

He nods, wiping his face with his sleeve. His fingers drop to press against his chest like he is massaging the knot to free up his words. “I don’t want to let you down either.”

“You never have, Ed. Never ever.”

His head rests back against the bath as you hold each other. Both scared, but it feels less utterly impossible and all-consuming.

“I think… maybe, it’s good that we’re kinda scared. Because it means we care.” Eddie looks up at you, smooths his hand up your side.

“And babies are kinda scary.” “Oh yeah. Absolutely terrifying.” “Cute though.” “Oh, for sure. That one in the park last week, with the bobble hat..?” “Cute as fuck.”

You share a smiling little kiss before he brings you back for another long holding hug.

It’s easy to get lost in your head, trying to add up your very minimal savings with the cost of a baby, a bigger apartment.

You had both agreed that while you liked your jobs, you didn’t want to be there forever. Eddie wanted to get some more experience with music technology, maybe take a few courses and start teaching guitar lessons again to make extra cash on the side.

It’s early morning now; your routine is all over the place with your late shifts and sleepy afternoons.

After a few moments of silence, Eddie speaks again, bringing you both back from the meandering paths in your minds.

“I’m gonna marry you, y’know.”

You smile, knowing that you both wanted that happy ending. “Yeah? You gonna make me Mrs Munson?”

“Yeah, for sure. Knew that since the day I met you, baby.” He rolls his eyes, playful and pink-cheeked to distract from how raw he still feels.

The swell in your chest makes you sob-laugh.

“You gonna say yes?” he asks, just in case. “When I ask, I mean. This isn’t me asking, by the way. That’ll be way more romantic.”

“Okay.” You roll your eyes at him. “When you ask me, yeah. I’ll say yes.”

“Okay. Cool.” “Cool.”

Another smiling kiss, noses bumping each other’s cheek as you imagine your future together.

You have this feeling in your gut that this man holding you, letting you hold him, will be a great Dad someday. Eddie thinks you will be a great Mom; with you by his side, he feels like he can do anything.

“Ed?” you murmur against his lip. “They have to look like you or I’m gonna be pissed. Whenever that is.”

“Nah, get outta here. Poor kid.” He pokes gently at your ribs with wiggling fingers, stops you from squirming away with another hug.

“Been thinking about a little baby with curly hair and brown eyes,” you admit quietly, mumbling against his neck.

“You been spending too much time in those photo albums with Wayne.”

“It was one afternoon. Your Mom had hundreds of photos of you, Ed. It’s sweet that he kept them, and started his own albums.”

Your fingers fiddle with the drawstrings on his hoodie as Eddie loses himself down that same path of practicality, lit by glowing reminders that he has to grow up someday soon.

“I’m gonna get those fliers for guitar lessons printed next week. Get some cash together. I have some amps I could sell…”

“Ed, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know but.. we can’t have loose wires and heavy shit around with a baby, baby.”

He smiles at the word-play and your heart swells with how much you adore him.

When your lips meet again, the tinny ring of the timer beeps on Eddie’s watch, eating up the distracted peace you had both found.

“Want me to check?” he asks, seeing the shining fear reflected back at him when he looks into your eyes.

“Yes please.”

You slip off his lap and stand, holding out your hands to help Eddie up before you perch on the side of the bath.

“One line is negative, two is positive,” you say, the pink example lines from the back of the box etched into your mind's eye.

“Okay.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. Pauses to cup your face and kiss you before going any further.

“I love you.” His eyes are sparkling, the set of his mouth more serious.

“Love you.”

“This doesn’t change that, okay? S’a fact.”

You nod and steal one more kiss before letting him go to the counter.

Eddie picks up the stick, checks under the light. You watch his face, see the shadow of conflicted confusion. You know then that it’s negative.

“One line,” he whispers, looking up at you.

You nod, coming over to stand with him. You see the one line, solitary and stark.

“Okay,” you whisper, tucking yourself under Eddie’s arm.

You can’t decide if it’s relief or loss you feel; either way, it pushes you over the edge of the precipice you have been teetering on all day and you sob.

Eddie’s hands smooth over your back in soothing strokes, up and down, as your tears soak into his hoodie. He’s not sure what to say, not quite sure how he feels. Burning pressure pushes at his eyes as he lets his cheek rest against your head.

“I don’t know how I feel,” you manage in a small voice after a few moments.

Eddie swipes your tears, the dripping snot too, and thinks you look beautiful. One day, he knows you will shed happy tears caused by two pink lines and he will kiss their salty joy away with a smile.

“We don’t need to have an answer. I think we got carried away thinkin’ huh?”

You feel bone tired, wrung out. “Yeah.”

“Let’s sleep on it.”

There’s a lingering question about your late period that you can’t fathom yet, maybe the test was a dud? Maybe your iron is low, your hormones are off. But at almost five a.m. on that chilly Sunday morning, it can wait until Monday.

You had felt every single emotion since the evening before when you realised and now that you have an answer to the question that had terrified you, thrilled you too in some small way, you felt like a popped balloon.

“I’m really tired.” Your voice sounds pathetic in your ears and it makes you grimace, feeling mad at yourself for getting so worked up.

“I know, baby. Let’s go to bed, okay? I’ve got you.” Eddie whispers his promise against your temple and bends his knees to lift you up.

“Ed…” you start to complain but you’re too tired to fight, so you wrap your legs around him and hold on.

“Shh, let me.”

Eddie is so gentle, it makes your heart hurt. He lays you down and makes sure you are cosy, leaves ever so briefly to get some water and flick off the bathroom light before joining you in bed.

With the lights off, you seek each other out, hold each other close.

You feel utterly consumed by that confusing feeling, the sad relief.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart.”

“No, I... I got us all wound up and now I feel so stupid.”

Eddie is a steady and sure anchor as your body shakes in the dark.

“You’re not stupid.” He holds you, whispering your name a little firmer to try and bring you back to him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Please, don’t beat yourself up.”

He sows kisses along your hairline as he makes his heartfelt promises. “I meant what I said. I want the future with you, all of it.”

You just nod, promise him that you want him too, forever. Slowly the tears subside, leaving you feeling beyond exhausted.

Eddie fights sleepfulness to make sure you’re okay, already at peace with the fact that you had so much ahead to look forward, to plan.

He thinks of the antique shop windows, packed with trinkets and curios and glittering gems that you’re drawn to, like a magpie, every time you have a free afternoon to wander in the city without worry. You’re easily sidetracked by their beautiful mystery, and Eddie loves watching your awe.

He thinks of a shiny sparkle on your finger, a little ceremony or a flight to Vegas for the hell of it, and of tiny hands to hold and teach.

He thinks it will be okay.

Lulled to sleep by Eddie’s stroking hands, the warmth of all of his adoration he wraps you up in, you feel peaceful and calm, and not at all scared.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #bouncer!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #bangaveragefic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fic #vampire eddie munson #bangaveragefics

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sofiiel · 6 months

Text

001 : The Cutting Room Floor

🖤 Table of Contents | | Next ↝

Warnings: Mentions of death. Mild violence.

Eddie scowled as he watched the crowd quake at the pitched, quivering scream of the ghostly man on the stage. It was a sound that seemed to crawl from the cracks of the earth, where the air was perfumed in sulphuric suffering.

It was the sort of sound that would make nuns abandon their rosaries, skinny-dip in holy water, and still feel sullied.

The audience loved it, that tormented cry.

And indeed, in his melting corpse paint and drenched long hair Pete seemed every bit Abaddon.

"I don't know what Jack was thinking, having us tour together this year anyway," Eddie muttered leaning against the wall.

"Jealous?" A sweet voice called through a bright smile.

Eddie's brows lifted high as he glanced down at Chrissy, her milky eyes giggling even in her silence.

"Tch, as fucking if..." Eddie grumbled.

"You're jealous. He's your opener, relax. It's obvious you're still Jack's favorite." Chrissy reassured, if not a bit cheekily.

"Eddie, you ready? We're on in five," called Jeff, his guitar already slung around his body.

Eddie gave a nod and glanced out to the stage, where Pete and his band wrapped up their set.

"Always ready, man," Eddie said.

He took a step forward to embark on the stage, as Pete sent Eddie a triumphant smirk in passing. His band followed closely behind him. The drummer smacked his shoulder into Grant's as he walked by.

"The hell? What's your problem!" Grant growled.

The Drummer's eyes glinted a violent amber as he released a hyena-like cackle under his breath.

"Don't you know?" asked the dry tone of Kali, the Bassist.

"Axel's not hunted yet. You should be careful," she advised Grant, continuing on behind Axel.

"Keep your dog under control." Gareth warned, giving Eddie a light push, "come on man, let's go before they escalate this." he whispered into his bandmate's ear.

Eddie swallowed back the urge to snap at the confrontational group and headed out to take his place on the stage.

You waited with fighting hands and restless feet in the back of a cramped taxi. Your stomach burned with turning acids as you quietly watched the rain and the passing lights.

Jack had finally agreed to talk about that marriage counseling you'd asked for.

You'd already resigned to the idea that he'd simply become to distracted and invested in his music business. You'd accepted that it was his family legacy and he just couldn't allot time for you and it.

You weren't mad, but you never expected the phone call you'd gotten after Jack found your house empty one early morning.

His mind was always someplace else, it was a shock to your system when you got that tearful phone call. "Ok, let's talk." It was a more powerful statement than anyone could know.

You sighed and fixed your hair and emerald dress, he loved you in that dress.

You could feel the old butterflies flutter in your gut. Hopeful and shy, he hadn't given you these feelings since highschool.

The Taxi came to a slow at the red light as your phone rang in the tune of Jack's favorite song. A way to keep him close while he was away for many days at a time.

You see his name on the caller ID and smile, rushing to answer.

And at the sound your stomach took a deep dive pulling the warmth in your limbs down with it.

"What?" You whisper in shock to the frantic voice on the other side.

"Jacks dead ____, listen you need to go to the office you -"

You cut off Barbara, your husbands secretary "I...what hospital is he..." your dazed words fade out as water stings your eyes and your throat clenches.

"____, sugar...that won't do you any good. Listen to me, ok. You need to go to the office it's safe there. I've called Ed-"

"I'm, gonna go to the hospital and I need to call his mother and...I'm sorry I need to go..." in your daze you cut off barbara again.

"no, no, no! Listen to me you need to-!" Are the final words you hear from her.

Your eyes turn to your driver, stunned as he snatched away your phone.

A thin smirk stretching across his face as he peered down at you, horns honking as he remained idle.

"Sorry, I'm afraid you're taking a bit of a detour." He said as his smirk grew.

Something in that smirk looks vaguely inhuman.

Your fear is written across your face scribbled over your clear confusion.

"Look if this is some sort of prank, it's a really inappropriate time. I just lost my husband. I needed to make calls and get to the nearest hospital. If you're trying to get more money for the miles that's fine just get a move on " you voice is hollow as you speak.

The man laughs, his growing smile had the potential to be charming under different circumstances. He shook curls the color of honey and chuckled.

"Pretty but not smart are you? Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Turns out we don't need you very alive to draw out the idiot king. Shouldn't have snuffed out old Jack though." He said to himself.

A shiver shook your spine sends waves of goose bumps across your skin.

Reality was sinking in fast as the car sped forward and your phone was tossed out the window. It smashed to pieces against the road.

"What's that mean?" You questioned, leaning forward "who are you and what did you want with Jack?"

The man simply shook his head, turned up the music and pressed down on the glass. He pushed the car to zoom at highway speeds, weaving in and out of the cars on the street.

It was clear you wouldn't be getting an answer yet.

But you clearly recognized the song on the radio. It matched the ring tone you'd had set for Jack. The first successful song of the first band taken into his family's label; Zombie Boy of Corroded Coffin's Mordor It Is album.

"who knew the freak would actually kick out some good shit." The man mumbled under his breath.

You shrunk back into your seat, "this is not happening," the frantic mantra in your head as water welled in your eyes.

You needed to seek help, how exactly? Well, that was a good question.

In the electric gloom of the night clubs basement, Eddie sat brooding in his favorite old lazy boy chair. With his legs crossed he watched his collection of thralls dance with Chrissy across the room.

Usually her amused giggles would fight off the bitterness Pete's presence brought on.

Tonight however, it wasn't working.

He absently swirled his drink about in the glass, the quiet moaning from Jeff's dinner date seemed miles away until they fell silent all together.

Eddie frowned, he almost envied the guys, they could sustain themselves purely on blood alone. While he and Chrissy on the other hand needed something more.

Eddie watched as Chrissy cracked the thralls face in her hands and smiled sweetly. "It's time now, I'm sorry. But thank you." Chrissy whispered.

Moments after, with a violet tremble the thrall's eyes grew large, rolled back into her head as her lips parted, and something slipped out. Like a puff of breath in the winter air, and Chrissy inhaled it like smoke.

The thrall then crumpled to the floor.

"oh look, goldie locks made me dinner." Axel chimed as he came down the stairs. Behind him Pete scanned the room.

"Munson," Pete called carefully.

He ignored his drummer who collected the body of the thrall.

Eddie looked up and upon seeing the expression on Pete's face, he got to his feet.

"What?"Eddie asked him.

"Barb called, your phone isn't ringing." Pete scolded.

Eddie rolled his eyes, "you haven't come down here just to be petty." He said.

"No, but you missed a big call runt. Jacks dead."

Eddie froze at Pete's words. Eyes unblinking as his mouth tried to form words but they remained soundless.

"Jack?" The question was quiet as a whisper as a mournful groan exited Eddie's throat.

"Fuck, no. How?" Eddie's words turned cold and sharp, "who." He demanded.

Pete shook his head, "that we don't know. Yet. But I'll flay him wide open, once he's found. For now, you remember what Jack requested."

Eddie nodded, "yeah," he said turning to Chrissy.

"She can find her." Eddie flagged Chrissy over and her face had already contorted with sorrow.

"are you ok? I know you wanted to protect Jack, Eddie." She said softly.

"Rick'll understand, things are so out of hand lately. It was only a matter of time but...." Eddie's words faded and Chrissy simply nodded. She offered Eddie a hug before turning to Pete.

"____ should be at the office, that's were Jack wanted her taken in this event, which means she hasn't made it there." Chrissy stayed

"Barb said the call was interrupted, and that ____ was in shock. Personally it doesn't feel right." Pete said.

"You think someone got to Jack's wife?" Asked Gareth as the boys circled.

"Not just someone." Pete spoke flatly. "This wreaks of a trap."

Eddie crossed his arms, "Clearly, but this is Jack. We can't not carry out his death wish just because it's-"

"Stupid?" Kali asked, "He wants to lure us out. ____ shouldn't matter to him but, she's a good distraction. Stopping the company from tanking with Jack's death is a better distraction." she reasoned.

Chrissy stood uncomfortably off to the side, biting her lip.

"He is supposed to be gone....right? It's been years. No one has seen him in years." she murmured.

"His body was destroyed, He's not something that can simply be killing princess." Eddie sighed.

Pete tapped a faint scar on his temple, "He lives through hosts, and we know well he has many."

"That's not important right now, Jack wanted ____ uninvolved in this. Now she may very well be stuck center stage." Eddie spoke carefully, "We have to fix this."

"I didn't come down here to say we're aren't going to. They've stepped into the wrong territory. I smell blood Munson, so I'm sure you do too." said Pete.

Eddie gave a slow nod.

"We're with you on this," Jeff said.

"I need you guys to head to the Castle, make sure everything ok. We can't afford for it to take a hit." Eddie turned to Jeff who was nearly grinning.

"I'll pack my dice." Jeff hummed.

"I made a few new figures that need painting."

"Well, we're goning with you." Kali chimed in quickly.

"We? we who? look all for lolalty but I don't want to face off with Mr.Friendly." Dottie spoke. Like with Chrissy, a fear shone in her eyes and she kept her distance from the conversation.

"No worries Dots, it's fine. We're staying here." Mick called from the stairway.

"Eddie and I are going alone." Pete instructed clearly.

"The two of us and Chrissy will be enough. He won't want to cause to much of a scene I'm sure. After all when too many people became involved is exactly what took him out last time. right?" Eddie spoke up.

Pete smirked watching Eddie's movement shift from one foot to the other, "You seem nervous runt." He hummed.

"Fuck off, Pete. My heart might be frozen but you're the son of a bitch who doesn't have one." Eddie snapped, the glare on his face more hurt than angry.

"Jack was Rick's boy, Pete." He whispered.

"That man raised you when you had no one else so Jack was practically-"

Pete's gaze hardened and his words calmly pushed Eddie's sentence back into silence, "the son of a dear old friend long gone. You can't afford to be sentimental, Munson." Pete uttered as he turned sharply to head back up the steps.

"If I recall it's what got you killed the first time," he added.

Chrissy rested a comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder, "You struck a nerve, we all know he cares too. Come on, I can search for her in the car." she said.

The taxi driver, and now your captor tore you from the back seat, bound your eyes, and gagged your mouth. You didn't want to think about what said items had been in the glove compartment for and could only pray they'd not been used.

This part of town was strangely quiet, the sound of traffic was faint. Your ears filled with the clomping of your captor's boots and the violent smacking of his chewing gum.

The air smelt of trash, damp, and dryer sheets.

"A back alley?" you thought. It'd been a while since you'd ventured into one. Not since the days when you and Jack first dated. Before he was the owner of a large music label.

It made water sting the corners of your eyes as reality sunk in once more.

"Stop sniveling, we're almost there." your captor spoke dryly, pulling you along.

"Why'd you do it?" You muffled past the gag, when brought to a stop.

A silence lingered in the air and you could have sworn his voice held conflict when he answered, "Because I was told to. The boss tells you what to do and you don't say no."

The Boss? Who's the boss?

A thought that could not process as you were flung forward, crashing knees first onto what felt like a tile floor.

"He wants to make the playing fields even. You do as we say and you'll be fine." said Your captor.

Your vision struggled to adjust to the dark room when the blindfold was allowed to fall from your eyes.

"A legal rep is on the way, you will sign over the label to him and then you nightmare will be over. You decided to do something dumb and things get far worse for you." the warning at the end of his words let you know he could care less about your fate.

Your heart raced as you looked about the room. Eyes finding a few possible escapes. "They aren't afraid of me making a run for it, that's...discomforting." You pondered.

"You couldn't make it to the door. We're not alone here." Your captor chuckled before walking out said door and back into the alley.

"Jack what did you get mixed up in." your mind sighed. Was this why he was so busy all the time? Was it more than mundane work in the music industry?

Had you been blind to it and didn't help?

A sharp ache invaded your chest, that sounded about right. Jack always did try to protect you, even back in his dealing days.

Hugging your knees to your chest you rested your forehead against your arms. You hadn't felt like this much of a failure since your adoptive parents went missing, long ago.

"Let me be wrong," you muttered.

Unsure of how much time had passed, the gloomy quiet of the stale room was interrupted. The door burst open and amused cackling followed a thud.

Jolting back to your surroundings you eyes fell on your captor, his lip trickled a thin stream of blood but he still laughed through a wide grin.

"Petey boy! That all you got? Feeling the last decade or so creeping up on you?" He called out.

"Petey?" Your eyes moved up towards the figure whose thick black boots stomped through the doorway, he wiped his nose with his thumb, leaving behind a red smear.

"You're still weak moron, Billy." the figure said.

Behind him slipping in like a shadow, stood a vaguely familiar face. You'd seen it a few times on Jack's phone and in the posters in his office.

"You?" You questioned, what was Jack's top star doing here?

"Are you alright?" a quiet voice nearly sent your soul from your body in fear. Delicate hands curling around your shoulders.

"Who?" you muffled jerking your neck to look over your shoulder.

"Shh it's ok, we're here to help." A pair of blue-green eyes tried to soothe you as she removed the gag from your mouth.

"Chrissy Cunningham the pop queen?" your words almost slurred in your confusion.

"Well no one actually goes so far as to call me all that to my face." she giggled, "but I guess that is me." Chrissy brow's knitted together in worry "Did he hurt you?" she asked.

You shook your head and Chrissy hugged your shoulders as if relieved.

"She isn't hurt, Eddie!" She called out.

"You hear that? That's good news for you Hargrove." Eddie said, moving with long strides to Billy, he held out his hand.

The man glared at it, "Take it, take it to show this was all some big fuckin understanding and you didn't just declare war." Eddie spoke with a hint of growl.

Billy, however, simply glared. "You're making a mistake. He was going to make this cut and dry," that glare turned into a smirk, "You couldn't protect Jack and now you've ruined what's left of his widow's life."

His words were taunting, and Eddie flinched. In a movement too quick for your eyes to register, Billy was left with three cuts streaming blood on his cheek.

Eddie ripped Billy up from the floor, holding him in place by the arm.

"I won't do this here, because she isn't meant to be a part of this or see any of this." He rumbled in a low whisper. "But you tell him, we'll find him."

Billy matched Eddie's gaze and the two men lingered in silence.

"We tried to welcome you over," said Eddie.

Gritting his teeth Billy held in a scowl, "It's not that simple." he spat, shoving Eddie away. Putting his fingers in his mouth Billy whistled and all around you in the walls came the sound of scraping. Something like rats though by the sounds of it much larger.

"what was-"

"They don't call him the rat king for nothing." Chrissy spoke up quickly.

Billy sent his last scowls towards the two men and exited the building.

Your head hurt, not just in the physical sense but in the mental sense as well. It felt like your world had spun on it's side.

You looked down at your dress, slightly dirty now from being on the floor and rumpled from heavy handling.

The tear ticked the corner of your eyes again. "What's going on?" You asked, looking up at the three faces around you.

"Why-" your voice faltered.

Eddie moved to you and knelt down on the floor. "So, you know," he stated quietly. Big brown eyes smudged with old eyeliner peered down at you sadly.

You simply nodded, "tonight was...supposed to be a new start." you whispered. "But this," you shook your head, "I wasn't expecting it to be this."

"Jack instructed us to watch out for you, should anything ever happen to him," Pete spoke up at a distance. He'd been told enough times something in his presence was frightening, and looking at you in the moment. You didn't need anything else to spook you.

"Why didn't he tell me he was in trouble?" You asked looking between the two men.

They shared a glance, "Because Jack always wanted you to live peacefully, privately. It's not afforded to many in this line of work." Pete said.

"He loved you, ____. He just wanted what was best for you." Eddie murmured.

"Come on, let's get you up. Barbs waiting for you at the office." Chrissy cooed, helping you to your feet and guiding you towards the door. "she's been through a lot." Chrissy said to the two men.

Eddie sighed, "How are we going to explain all of this to her?" he asked.

"Easy, we lie. We'll have until tomorrow. She's shaken. Tonight she will do little but sleep." Pete assured.

"and tomorrow I won't sleep a wink." Eddie puffed, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

"Or the day after, or the day after that." Pete snickered leading the way to follow the two women.

"What's got you so chipper?" Eddie spat.

"Did you get a good look at her? No?" Pete hummed, "I did, and I know why he's really gotten her involved. We're all ghosts, Runt. ____ is no different." the amusement in his voice made Eddie's stomach turn.

For Pete who thrived off chaos, that tone was never followed by anything good.

Table of Contents | | Next ↝

#ITM chapter 001 #vampire!eddie x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader #oc!010 x fem!reader #classic monsters au

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luveline · 8 months

Note

Jade Congrats !!!!! Just yesterday I was thinking about how much I miss vampire Eddie, can I request something w him and shy reader? Maybe when he's feeling like he's dangerous for reader and she has to reassure him that she trust him and adores him <3

tysm lovely! ♡ 1.2k

It physically pains you to call the same person multiple times. Each loop of the trill makes you antsy, eager to shove down the receiver and curl into a sorry, sad ball. You let it ring. When it goes to answer phone, you type in Eddie's number and call again.

It picks up. Breathless, a little surprised, you ask, "Eddie?"

"Hey, sweetheart."

He sounds defeated. You're not perfect with tone but the subtleties of his stick stark like a neon sign. Your boyfriend has bouts of depression that often manifest in a lethargic voice like this.

"Hi, Eddie. I was just calling to make sure you're home before I come over." Usually, you'd ask, but you don't want him to say no. It feels rude and weird and overbearing, but you know what he's thinking. Leaving your comfort zone for his sake isn't easy, and you do it anyway. "I made you something."

"Okay. I can't wait to see it… can't wait to see you. Sorry I didn't answer this morning, I was sleeping."

"That's fine. I'm just happy you're okay, I was worrying about you."

You pack his gift into a bag with a tupperware of cookies and a thermos of hot chocolate. Eddie's home is close to yours. Within ten minutes you're knocking on his door with wind-bitten cheeks, the September cold nipping your heels. Leaves from the trees in the surrounding woodlands dance crispy at your feet, orange and brown mulch that sticks to your treads.

Eddie unlocks the door to let you in. You see his hand first, deathly pale, black obsidian rings crowding his fingers where they curl around the door. For a second it's like he's going to turn you away, but he widens the gap and you squeeze inside.

He forgets whatever's wrong to touch your face. "Hey," he says, his hand slipping to cup under your jaw.

"Hi. You okay? You look pale."

"Am I usually more tan?" he asks, dropping his hand. "Fine. Blood sate in a few days. For now I'm eating rare steak and wishing I was dead."

He's kidding around, but you take his hand and squeeze his cold fingers.

"You're as cold as me," he says.

"It's nearly October outside. You'd know if you left the house."

He hums at your telling off, the two of you toe to toe just behind the front door. He sounds vaguely admonished and more curious, kneading your fingers in his with an unmissable amount of love. "Come on," he says, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, "you need a blanket."

You take off your shoes and coat, following Eddie through his living room, past the bathroom and into his bedroom. It's immaculately clean for once, but when you left the day before yesterday it was chaos. Something tells you he hasn't been sleeping as much as he claims.

"What have you been doing in here?" you ask, putting your backpack on the bed. Eddie moves behind you, taller, a sweetheart through and through as he gets his hands on your shoulders and digs his thumbs in lightly.

"I need to apologise to you," he says.

"That's a big word."

"I lied to you earlier, I wasn't sleeping, but I've been thinking… I needed to think."

Well, what he's saying is nerve-wracking, but his hands aren't telling the same story. He's doing it on purpose for sure. "You don't have to say sorry for wanting time to think. Uh–"

"Relax," he says. "Please. I just want to talk to you about something. Don't be nervous."

"I'm constantly nervous."

"I know." Eddie's hands pause at the space below your shoulder blades. It's strange not to be looking at him. He takes a deep breath. "Is that because of me?"

You take your thermos out of your bag and turn. His pupils are small as they tend to be before a blood sate, his lips chapped. He starts to look poorly when he's hungry. The cookies and hot drink should help.

"If it was because of you, how come I was like this before we met?" you ask gently, offering him the thermos.

"Do I make it worse?"

"Of course you don't." How do you describe it to him? He's handsome and sweet and he makes you feel like you're something special. He's smart. He's fucking funny. Nothing about his demeanour or who he is has ever made you nervous, you've only ever worried you wouldn't measure up.

It's hard to say out loud. Tentative, you put your hands on his waist. When he lifts his chin, you hug him close, strangely close to tears at the smell of him under your nose.

"Eds, why would you think that? Have I made you think that?" you murmur.

"You know what I am." He tosses your thermos on the bed to cover your shoulders.

"Yeah, I do."

"You wouldn't tell me if I scared you–"

You flinch backward. "You think you scare me?"

The starts of his eyebrows rise, his little box of wrinkles pinched, and his pupils slowly widening. When he speaks, it's with the practised cadence of a well-worn worry, "I'm not normal. You don't have to pretend that this is normal."

"It doesn't feel normal to me," you say, placing your hand on his chest, fingertips against his shirt but palm hovering a half inch above. "It just feels like love. I love you, and I trust you. Is that what's worrying you?"

"No," he says, winded. "I'm worried I'll hurt you. I know you trust me too much, you're," —he takes your face into big hands, kissing you very softly between words— "not the problem."

You hug again. Cheek to cheek, an arm slung over his shoulder protectively.

You miss your happy, weirdo boyfriend when he gets like this, but you understand why it happens. You don't resent him, don't mind, really, that he needs to be told these things. You'll be cheesy and soft as long as he needs it.

"You're not the problem, either. You're a really good guy with a big heart and a propensity for catastrophizing," you say, your voice tipping into a teasing ire that borders theatrical.

He laughs like he was supposed to and steps back. Face I'm his hands, you turn your cheek into his left palm and smile into his syrupy brown eyes.

"I haven't given you your gift."

"I love you," he says. Licking his lips, "What gift?"

You made him a coaster out of air dry clay, black and lacquered with a glaze that gleams like mother of pearl. He reads it and snorts, his top lip peeling back to expose the barest hint of a sharp tooth. "I heart my paranormal boyfriend," he reads, his voice gritty with humour. "Bit on the nose."

You get a kiss for your efforts, firmer than the one he'd given you minutes before. Eddie's gonna be just fine in a couple of days, but for now you'll stick close. You don't want him getting the wrong idea —he doesn't scare you even slightly.

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strangemagicc · 7 months

Text

Lucky You

pairings: vampire!rockstar!Eddie x fem!Reader, sort of set in the world of True Blood (but not really)

warnings: smut, smut, smut (again I say 18+ ONLY!), p in v, oral (reader receiving), slight dom!Eddie, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of blood/blood drinking, biting(???), cursing, alcohol

w/c: 4.5k

author’s note: I had a very vivid dream of Eddie as Lestat from Queen of the Damned…it just needed to happen.

The October air blew cold against your bare legs sending a chill down your spine. The streets of Chicago were full, the sounds of the city and the muffled music from inside the club filling the air around you. You and your friend Toby had been standing in line for nearly an hour trying to get into Fangtasia.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He leaned in and whispered to you. You looked to him with a purse of your lips, eyes narrowed as you watched him scan the crowd that stood behind you. Toby wasn’t exactly keen on being in a room full of vampires.

“Will you relax? I’ve been here a million times. They’re just like you and I. Harmless.” He rolled his eyes and looked at you incredulously.

“You mean to tell me that these walking corpses are harmless?”

“They’re not corpses,” you rolled your eyes and stepped forward as the line continued to move.

“Are they dead?” He asked, folding his arms as he waited for your response.

“Technically speaking,” you smirked knowing exactly where he was going with this.

“Walking corpses, there is no argument,” he waved his hands as though his point was proven.

“Toby, it’s going to be fine. It’s all about consensual fun, they don’t bite unless you want them to,” you grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze.

“Why would anyone want that?” He asked as you dropped his hands and reached for your ID. You smiled as you approached your favorite bouncer, Frank. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and biceps bigger than your head.

“Hi, Frankie,” you winked and handed him your ID.

“You know I don’t need to see that,” he scoffed playfully and pushed your license away. You had been a frequent flyer as of late.

“How did I know I was going to see you tonight?” He teased as Toby handed the bouncer his ID.

“Must have magical foresight,” you played along and the man handed Toby back his card.

“Nothing to do with Corroded Coffin playing a not so secret show?” He removed the velvet rope to let the two of you through.

“They are?” You stated with faux surprise.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” Frank laughed, “Enjoy the show, Hubble.”

You walked through the double doors of the club, the muffled music becoming louder as the two of you walked down the hall leading to the dance floor.

“Why does he call you Hubble?” Toby asked as he walked in step with you.

“I don’t know, something about how I always look like I’m lost in space or whatever,” you waved it off, adjusting the hem of your skirt before pushing at your cleavage.

“How do I look?” Toby looked you up and down, mouth dropping as he noticed the length of your skirt…or lack thereof.

“Like vamp bait.”

“Great.” You continued down the hall and Toby followed a step behind you.

“What do you mean ‘great’? Are you nuts?”

“Tobs, I love you, but you need to chill. I just want to have a little fun.” You wanted to fuck the lead singer of your favorite band but he didn’t need to know your every thought.

“Let’s go dance,” he stared at you with his jaw agape as you grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Fangtasia was packed, a mass of people crowding in front of the stage as the opening act played their set. The sound of the instruments and the singer’s voice reverberated off the walls. The room was cast in shades of blue, glimmers of candlelight came from various spots throughout. Couples were in different stages of embrace, canoodling and groping each other on the leather sofas that were scattered throughout. Bodies swayed to the music, sweat glistening under the colorful lights. You took it in, basking in the ambiance as Toby stood next to you unsure.

“What the,” he started.

“Isn’t it great?” You mused before pulling him towards the edge of the stage.

“Do we have to be this close?” He leaned into you and you turned toward him, eyebrow raised in a question that you didn’t need to voice out loud. If you were going to a Corroded Coffin show you were going to be at the front of the pit, practically sitting in Eddie’s lap.

The crowd erupted in scattered cheers as the opening act finished their set.

“Thank you, Fangtasia! You’re always a great crowd. Who’s excited to see Corroded Coffin tonight?” The audience grew louder.

“Yeah, we’re pretty excited too,” the lead singer laughed.

“Thanks again! We’re Hell Hath No Fury and we hope to see you next time we blow through Chicago. Give it up for Corroded Coffin.” The crowd cheered as the lights faded to black, you watched as the opening band exited the stage and the stage hands set up for the main show. Excitement coursed through you like a live wire as you waited for them to start. Toby continued to stand stoic and unimpressed by his surroundings. When Eddie took the stage you could almost feel it, an electricity buzzing in the air. You grabbed onto Toby as you jumped in elation.

The strum of the guitar introduced them, mellow and intoxicating. The room was illuminated in red as Eddie began to sing and it was as if the rest of the room faded away. Your focus was on him, body swaying to the instrumentals as you got lost in the sound. From the corner of your eye you could see Toby bobbing his head, enjoying the music whether he wanted to admit it or not.

The sound of the waves collide

It was as though his vocals were vibrating through you and straight to your sensitive core. You clenched your thighs together as the song continued, head lost in a trance. Eddie’s eyes scanned the crowd, engaging and then they landed on you. It was almost hypnotic the way they pulled you in, piercing brown boring into your gaze. He didn’t pull away and your heart began beating loudly as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Take me one more wave

Take me for one last ride

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze, unable to handle the intensity. It felt like your veins were on fire and sweat beaded at your temples. When you looked back Eddie was smirking, dimples appearing as he continued his set.

“I need water,” you pulled Toby with you to the bar, sweaty palms clasped together. You waved over the bartender when you reached the wooden bar. The brunette nodded an acknowledgment and you reached for your purse.

“That was actually pretty good,” Toby admitted as you dug for your wallet.

“I’ve been telling you that the shows are pretty killer.”

“Yeah but you also like Dido so forgive me for being apprehensive.”

“You just don’t appreciate good music, Tobs.” You poked his side and he winced at the contact. He did not like to be tickled.

“What can I get the two of you?” The bartender asked as she placed napkins in front of you.

“I’ll just take a water and he’ll have,” you turned to Toby.

“I’ll take a rum and coke,” he nodded.

“Got a preference on the rum?” She asked him as she filled a glass with ice water for you.

“Whatever you have that isn’t expensive,” he laughed and she smiled at him.

“Coming right up,” she slid the glass of water towards you and you gulped it down in relief.

“Think she was checking you out, Tobs,” you giggled as you continued to sip.

“Shut up,” he nudged you with his shoulder but looked back in her direction.

“She is pretty cute, huh?”

“A smoke show,” you agreed, “you should get her number.”

“Oh that’s exactly what she wants, another random guy hitting on her while she tries to work,” he rested his hands on the bar and you shrugged.

“Just don’t be a creep about it,” you placed your empty glass down along with a twenty.

“I’m going to the restroom, can you order me the same as you?”

“Sure thing,” he nodded and slid onto one of the barstools.

You navigated through the crowd that remained, the bass of the music slightly lower than it was earlier. The hallway leading to the bathroom was dimly lit by intricate candelabras and the walls were lined with black curtains. The music disappeared into the distance as you continued down the hall passing closed doors for feedings or more private sessions. You could hear faint moans as you leaned closer to the door before you continued on.

“Do you always eavesdrop?” The voice startled you and you looked around unable to place where it came from. Eddie moved from the shadows, eyes glimmering in the light as he did. He was still wearing the outfit he’d worn during his set. The mesh shirt revealed a strong chest and pierced nipples. You could scarcely see the black ink that lined his alabaster skin, tattoos that led to the top of his leather jeans that hugged him snuggly. He moved toward you, gaze taking in your curves. His scent filled the space as he approached, amber and citrus. It was almost intoxicating, making your mouth water the closer he stood.

“Well?” He was waiting for your response.

“Not typically,” you breathed and suddenly he was behind you, nose hovering close as he inhaled your scent.

“Do you know what happens behind those doors?” You’d heard the noises, imagined what caused the sounds but had never stepped foot into one of the private rooms.

“I can imagine,” his hands inched up the bare skin of your arms leaving a trail of goose flesh in its path. His palms were like ice against you and you tried to hide the shiver he elicited.

“Do you want to see?” His mouth was hovering over your ear and you could feel the warmth of his breath as you nodded. He grabbed your hand and you followed him in a daze, feeling as if you were in a dream as he walked you through the door furthest down the hall. He closed and locked it behind him as you turned to take in your surroundings. It must’ve been his dressing room, clothes were scattered across one loveseat and throw pillows decorated the other. It was only illuminated by candlelight, embers flickered as you stepped further into the space. The room smelled like him with a hint of copper. Blood. You turned as he approached, his eyes on your lips. He was even prettier up close.

“I’ve seen you here before,” it wasn’t a question and you nodded.

“What’s your name?” You whispered an introduction and he repeated it back, your name sounding sweeter on his lips.

“Are you one of those fang bangers?” A derogatory term for those who sought out vampires just to sleep with them to say they had. You shook your head but couldn’t find your words.

“That’s too bad,” he chuckled and ran his thumb against your jaw, “I’ve had my eye on you.” His thumb ran across your lip, pulling it down before he lifted his eyebrows in a silent command. You opened your mouth slightly making room for his thumb, lips wrapping around it as it pressed into your tongue. You flicked your tongue slightly eliciting a small groan from him as he watched you. He removed his finger with a loud pop from your lips and he rubbed his thumb along your cheek, watching your eyes flutter close as his face inched closer. His tongue swiped lightly at your bottom lip before he pressed the soft flesh of his to yours. The kiss was surprisingly soft and he took his time as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hands tangled in his curls as you pulled him to you. The moments passed, the kiss growing hungrier and you nipped at his bottom lip, sucking the flesh as he kneaded the dough of your ass through your leather skirt. The hem of it continued to rise until you felt the chill of the room, only the sliver of your thong kept you decent. Eddie pulled your ass cheeks apart, and the air met the warmth of your arousal between your thighs. He inhaled deeply, a groan coming from deep within him and he pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist carrying you to the sofa. He laid you down gently, lips only pulling away from you momentarily as he took his shirt off. You marveled at him, hands reaching out to trace his tattoos and rub against the exposed flesh. Eddie bent back down, eager lips meeting yours before he trailed kisses down your neck and to your cleavage.

“Is this okay?” He asked and you nodded as he pulled the straps of your lace camisole down to expose your naked breasts. Your nipples pebbled as they met the cold hair and he hummed, tongue swiping against one as his hand pinched the other. You moaned and began grinding against his growing arousal as you caged him between your legs. Eddie continued to work your nipple, sucking and biting the flesh as his hand wandered down to your center. You whined in anticipation, wanting his fingers on your sensitive bud. He inhaled deeply as his fingers traced over your wet flesh, teasing your clit before he removed his hand entirely and broke apart from the kiss. You watched as he brought his fingers to his lips, they glistened with your arousal and he flicked his tongue across one letting out a low groan.

“You taste as sweet as you smell,” he brought his fingers to your mouth inserting them gently to give you a taste and you began grinding your hips against him as you sucked them dry.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered watching as your eyes rolled back and you played with your nipples. He began kissing down your chest, across the flesh of your stomach and past your hips. You were spread before him and he took his time with your thighs, leaving hickeys as he inched closer to where you needed him most. You arched your back in anticipation watching as he moved to the other thigh and sucked a bruise into your flesh. The tip of his canine grazed against your skin and you inhaled sharply.

“Can I?” He asked and you nodded, front teeth digging into your lower lip as you chewed on it anticipating the sting of the puncture. Your hand trailed down your stomach and under your panties rubbing your bud in soft circles as his fangs dug into your thigh. You whimpered in pleasure watching as he fed. Blood trickled from your femoral artery and he lapped it up. His eyes were dark and trained on you as you curled your other fingers into his hair. He used the sharp edge of his canine to prick his finger and used his blood to heal your wound. He licked the rest of your blood away from his lips before pulling your panties down. You continued to rub circles into your clit, your arousal pooling beneath you as you edged closer to climax. He removed your hand licking your fingers clean before raking his tongue across your sensitive flesh. It was soft and flat as he dragged it through your folds. You bucked underneath his touch and his nose nudged your bundle of nerves causing you to moan. He prodded your seeping entrance with his finger and you clenched as you thought of how you’d feel if he stretched you open. He continued to work your clit with his tongue as he teased your cunt.

“Please!” You begged, voice going up an octave before he obliged and worked his finger into you. Your hips bucked underneath him, moving with the motion of his finger as he moved it in a come hither motion. You needed more and you keened, voicelessly begging to be stretched more. Eddie began rutting his hips into the couch as you continued to ride his fingers, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit. You were going to come undone, the rubber band at your center about to snap when he removed his fingers from your cunt and you whined.

“You don’t come until I say, sweetheart,” he commanded and you nodded, watching as he removed his leather pants. His length sprang forward and he gripped the hard flesh, stroking as he took in the sight of you.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he continued to pump his cock and watched as you removed your skirt before taking off your blouse. He laid you on the couch and pulled you to the edge, eyeing your tits as they jiggled with the movement. He slapped them, gripped them roughly before squeezing at your pebbled nipple. You moaned, pussy gripping around nothing as you waited for him to stop teasing you. Eddie rubbed the tip of his dick along your folds, continuing to tease you as the sound of your wet slick filled the room. You needed a release and reached your hand down to rub your clit.

“Stop that,” he demanded and you did as you were told but continued to whimper as he continued to tease. Finally, his tip poked your entrance and he inched into you. He held his breath as your sticky flesh wrapped around his length. You gripped his arms, nails digging into his pale skin as you took him in. He was big, the girth of his cock stretching you until he bottomed out. His breath was heavy against your lips as his nose nudged yours. Your hands grazed over his pale flesh and he flexed under your touch. There was electricity in the air again, the kind that was only present when he was and you were buzzing with the thrill of it as he began to thrust his hips lazily, enjoying the way you felt as he pulled and pushed back into you. Your head rutted against the pillows with each movement, boobs jiggling as he picked up the pace and gripped your hips. You knew you’d have bruises from where they dug. A strangled sound came from his lips as he rutted into you, your pussy making filthy, pretty noises as his hips met yours. Your cunt fluttered around his length and he groaned obscenities at the way you felt.

“Fucking Christ,” he pulled back from you, watching as your pussy swallowed every inch of him. He placed a soft peck to your temple before pulling your wrists above your head holding them there as he continued to slam his cock into you. The room was filled with the lewd noises the two of you created and the moans that couldn’t be choked back. White hot pleasure coursed through you as you tightened around him. You snagged your hips up, rubber band winding back as you arched off the couch. Eddie’s eyes drooped with pleasure as he neared his climax and gripped you tightly, hastily unwrapping your cunt from around him. He wasn’t going to let you come, not yet. He flipped you onto your stomach and you arched your back, wiggling your hips at him. Eddie took his time, trailing kisses up your spine and up to your jaw. He bit at your bottom lip and you tasted copper as you bled into his mouth. He kissed you deep as he rubbed his length between your folds.

“You can’t wait for me to stretch you out again, can you?” He pulled away and watched as your eyebrows met as he continued to tease you. You shook your head, eyelashes fluttering shut as you pushed your hips against him and tried to inch him into you. He slapped your ass and you yelped at the sensation.

“I need to hear your answer,” he spread you apart and you keened, nodding at him. He swatted at your ass cheek again, the contact stinging with pleasure and you moaned.

“N-no, I can’t wait,” you stammered and he smirked, already knowing. He knelt down behind you and lapped at your glistening flesh, moaning as his mouth became covered in your arousal. You bucked frantically against him as he teased your cunt with his index finger, moaning as you sucked him in. Your head was in the clouds, fucked out and ready to come if only he’d let you.

Eddie lined his cock at your entrance inching into you slowly stopping to squeeze your hips as you took every inch of him.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he panted and began jerking his hips forward. Your eyes were glassy, a high keen escaping your lips as he quickened his pace. He spread your cheeks more and tested the tightness of your other hole with his thumb, massaging the tight entrance as he continued slamming his hips into yours. The new sensation had you squeezing around him, the tightness making him groan at the feeling. Your legs began to shake, pleasure taking over you and your moans turned to loud whines as the rubber band at your center threatened to snap.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he stated between thrusts and you pushed back to take him deeper. He slapped your ass once more, gripping at the dough of it.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You nodded, his name on your tongue as you get closer to coming undone.

“Please, please, please, let me come Eddie,” he grabbed your wrists and pulled them behind you. His thrusts becoming more aggressive as he edged closer to his own release.

“Shit, right there Eddie oh please right there.” You keened, cries coming from you in wet sobs as you closed your eyes tight and let the pleasure take over. Your jaw went slack, goosebumps spread across your supple skin when as you came. It was ecstasy, a new kind of orgasm that you hadn’t felt before. Eddie tilted his head to the side and he watched you come undone, his nails digging crescent moons into your skin. His moan echoed through the room as he painted your walls with his come. You felt his warmth flood you and he collapsed against your back in a huff.

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathed. Both of you were spent, breaths coming in quick succession as you came back down to earth, hearing the sounds of the club just outside the door for the first time since you entered. Eddie laid ginger kisses up your spine, his touch softer than just a moment ago. He pulled himself out of you and you winced at the loss.

“Afraid I made a mess out of you baby,” he stated and slapped your ass more playfully.

“Stay there, I’ll get a rag to clean you up,” he went over to the adjoining restroom and you listened as he turned on the faucet before quickly returning with a washcloth. He wiped the warmth over your sensitive skin and kissed your shoulder as he finished. You turn onto your side, watching as he tossed the cloth to the side and pulled on his boxers before handing you your clothes. You suddenly felt awkward, like you should’ve left right after he finished and you began to hastily pull your clothes on.

“Having second thoughts?” He asked as he watched you.

“No, no,” you shook your head, “just don’t want to overstay my welcome.” You gave a small smile, buttoning your skirt as you did. His hand stopped yours and he pulled you up from your place on the couch. He kissed you softer than before, his lips lingering on your bottom one.

“Don’t feel like that, sweetheart,” he whispered and nudged his nose against yours.

“I had fun,” he mused and you nodded in agreement.

“We should do it again,” he stated, looking at you to measure your response.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he pulled away and went to grab a pen before scribbling his number onto your arm.

“Call me, we can have more fun or I can take you on an actual date,” he shrugged his shoulder as if it were nothing but you beamed at him.

“I’ll do that,” he kissed you sweetly, and placed another on your forehead. A bang at the door startled you and Eddie shot a glare to whoever is on the other side.

“One second,” he shouted before giving you a quick peck on the cheek and answering.

“What is it?” He blocked whoever was there from your view and you stood there staring at his back curiously.

“I’ll be out in a second, go ahead and start the bus.” He closed the door and turned back to you, wringing his neck uncomfortably before pointing his thumb to the door.

“That was my band manager, we’ve got to head out. We have an early show in Milwaukee tomorrow and we’ve got to hit the road.” You nodded and gathered the rest of your things, heading towards the door. You knew what this was, knew that even if you called that your fling wouldn’t go past that conversation or past this room but you weren’t hurt by his abrupt departure.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” you shrugged as you left the room not waiting for his response. As you walked back down the dark hallway you remembered. Toby. You quickened your pace, straightening out your appearance and hoped to whatever deity that he hadn’t already reported you a missing person. As you approached the bar you noticed his lips locked with the bartender, her hands curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Go Toby,” you chuckled to yourself and discreetly grabbed your drink from beside him. He felt your presence and broke the kiss, eyeing you sheepishly. You raised your hand in a teasing wave, straw caught between your teeth as you held back a laugh at the state of him. His red hair was in disarray, glasses hanging on his freckled face crookedly and bruised lips.

“Sorry,” he whispered to the girl.

“Uh, you know Jade right?” He asked you, his eyes darting between you and the brunette.

“Not as well as you do,” you laughed and he turned a deep shade of red.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” you shrugged and moved away from the bar into the frigid fall night. Toby joined you shortly after, hands coming up to his mouth and he tried to warm himself.

“Did you get her number?” You asked as the two of you walked in step towards your apartment a few blocks away.

“Of course I did,” he rolled his eyes as if it were obvious.

“By the way where the fuck did you disappear to? I almost called in search and rescue.”

“Just out back fucking the lead singer of corroded coffin,” and he laughed at you disbelieving.

“Yeah, okay. Don’t tell me then.” He nudged you slightly and the two of you continued on into the night.

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