#vampire!eddiemunson

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi lovely !!! i have a prompt request- number 11 or 13 with eddie? anything vampy and him is so cute- you can pick which one fits im very indecisive !

Hi! Thank you for your request! I’ve gone with number 13 so I hope you don’t mind <3

“Are you leaving in that?” You ask as you pull a hot tray from your oven.

Your roommate, Eddie, is supposed to be going out with his friends. A Halloween party, you’d been invited too, but your thesis paper was due in two weeks and you still had about 15,000 words to write.

Eddie looks down at his outfit- a simple muscle tee and ripped jeans but Hawkins was uncharacteristically cold for late October.

“Yeah? Isn’t this what I usually wear?” He can’t remember everything from before he was turned, but he remembers his big, fat crush on you.

Vampirism seems to have doubled his ability to charm you, though you don’t yet know how.

You nod, offering him a cookie you know he can’t have- it’s a habit you’re really trying to break.

“But it’s almost nine degrees, a human would be freezing.”

Eddie scowls, clearly unhappy with having to change. “But it’s a good outfit.”

You laugh at how petulant he sounds, a cookie trapped between your teeth as you motion for him to follow you to your room.

Eddie likes your room, even if he can’t feel the cold, he can tell your space is warm. With all the little lamps, the trinkets that tell him about you, your books- your entire space reminds him of the sunsets you enjoy.

“I have a leather jacket that goes with your pants.” You rifle through your closet, smiling when you find the blood red jacket.

“A little on the nose don’t you think, dollface?” He asks, fangs hanging down over his lips as he shucks it on.

You shrug, “They’ll only find you out of you don’t freeze to death like they are.”

Eddie grins, his fangs cuter than ever, especially when he dips his chin a little and tugs you close. “Well there’s a flaw in that already, I’m already dead, baby.”

You roll your eyes, kissing his cheek. “I don’t like that one,” Eddie rolls his eyes this time; you forget he can hear your heartbeat. “Don’t forget to eat before you go.”

He nods, fingers to his forehead like he’s in the army. “Is it warm?” You shudder as his finger trails your collarbone.

“Yes, Munson. Now get a move on so I can enjoy my cookies and cry into my laptop over my thesis.”

He laughs as you push him out of your room. “I’ll try to bring you back something nice. Maybe a cursed ring.” He finds his emergency blood and drinks an entire bag.

“You’re not digging up another grave just to scare Dustin, Eddie!”

His giggle bounces off the walls of the house long after he’s gone and you know Dustin’s going to be traumatized.

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

True Blood AU

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader

Dead Again 4.4k

When Doves Cry 6.7k

The Taste of You 1.6k

I Love the Darkness in You 5.7k

The Baptism 6.8k

Bloodstream 3.4k

Cry Little Sister 4.4k

Warm Hands, Frozen Hearts 4.6k

Heads Will Roll - 3.6k

The Man Who Made a Monster - 7.6k

Strange Blood - 12.4k

PLAYLIST

❤️‍🔥18+Only❤️‍🔥

Summary: Vampires are coming out of the Upside Down and going mainstream in Hawkins. Because of that, the town has become a bit of a tourist destination for people fascinated by vampire lore and the supernatural. Trying to outrun the dark secrets of your past, you decide to lay low in the small town and get a job at a human/vampire crossover bar called Main Vein. You are a recluse who drives a hearse; you have plenty of scars both internal and external. It's been 10 years since Eddie was turned, and the trailer park he lives in is nothing but vampires, that is, until you move in next door. Typical you: running from danger only to find it again.

[darknesseddiem]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In the midst of what was anticipated as an ordinary school excursion to Romania, little did you and your friends anticipate the descent into darkness and bloodshed that awaited. The innocuous journey swiftly morphed into a harrowing odyssey as you delved deep into the enigmatic depths of a local legend, its ancient whispers beckoning you towards an abyss of chilling secrets.

What commenced as a lighthearted escapade swiftly spiraled into a nightmarish reality. Grotesque and inexplicable deaths cast an ominous pall over the once jovial atmosphere, while the fabric of reality itself seemed to fray at the seams. Disappearances plagued the tranquil neighborhood, shrouded in an eerie silence broken only by the unsettling whispers of the wind.

The Hawkins gang found themselves ensnared in a web of intrigue and dread, as unsettling dreams wove themselves into the fabric of their waking lives. Each night brought visions of unspeakable horrors, foretelling a fate intertwined with the ancient curse that gripped the land.

As the veil of ignorance was lifted, long-buried truths clawed their way to the surface, revealing a tapestry of forgotten loves and bitter enemies from lives long past. It became evident that the specters of history were not content to remain confined to the annals of time, but instead sought retribution and resolution in the present.

Amidst the chaos and despair, a flicker of hope emerged—a beacon of possibility amidst the encroaching darkness. Could you, a mere schoolgirl thrust into the heart of an ancient mystery, unravel the tangled threads of Romania's cursed legend? Dare you confront the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows, and strive to liberate a poor soul ensnared by the chains of destiny?

In a land where the echoes of the past reverberate with haunting intensity, the fate of the Hawkins gang hangs precariously in the balance. Will you succumb to the seductive whispers of despair, or rise to the challenge and confront the darkness that threatens to consume all in its path? The choice is yours, as you embark on a journey that will test the limits of courage, resilience, and the enduring power of the human spirit.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heavy content, dark themes, violence, blood, murded, witchcraft. More will be added

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,3k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: So, this is is the rewritten version of my old series "Strolling Through Romania", I have an obligation to warn you that this version will be a little more explicit and a little harsher for certain readers. Please, if you are sensitive to these types of topics, do not read. I have other fanfics that you can read if you don't feel comfortable with this one.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ali-r3n @birdysaturne @maedesculpaeusoubi

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: In the heart of the ancient woodland, a frantic escape unfolds as shadows whisper of ominous fates. Reality warps, concealing a lurking malevolence. Amidst chains of torment, an eternal curse is woven, binding a soul to endless longing. In the haunted depths, a mysterious tale unfolds, shrouded in darkness and secrets, known only to the silent forest.

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲: As Arcadia High School diligently readies its senior students for an academic expedition to explore Romania's renowned museums, anticipation crackles in the air. Yet, amidst the buzz of excitement and preparation, you finds yourself haunted by a chilling nightmare that lingers like a specter in your mind, casting a shadow over the forthcoming journey.

Meanwhile, across town, the Hawkins police force grapples with a harrowing investigation—the savage and enigmatic murder of a young boy, a crime so brutal it sends shockwaves through the city's core.

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟: Caught between nightmares and a shroud of chilling secrets, you uncover truths long veiled by your parents and grandmother. Meanwhile, Hopper, haunted by his own past, recognizes the ominous pattern of history destined to repeat itself. As you navigate the murky waters of family deceit, a race against time ensues, urging you to unearth the hidden truths before the shadows of the past envelop you in their unforgiving grasp.

[thevampirelevi]

Adventureland | Masterlist

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the events of S4, 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 finds an equally confused-albeit somewhat the same-you.

WARNINGS: 18+, eventual smut, slight violence, mentions of blood, grief, story takes places in 1987

Part I | "Flight of Icarus."

Part II | "Da Vinci's Dream."

Part III | "Dive to Atlantis."

Part IV | "Leviathan."

Part V | "Apollo's Chariot." (Coming 12/15)

Part VI | "The Phoenix."

Part VII | "Ferris."

also on my ao3.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

an: this is inspired by the movies Adventureland, Zombieland, and The Lost Boys ;)

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Moodboards

Eddie munson

Eddie with a hyper feminine partner

Eddie with a hyper feminine partner obsessed with horror

Pirate!Eddie x mermaid!reader

Ghostface!Eddie

Rockstar!Eddie

A board for Eddie's pretty eyes

Kas!Eddie

Dating Steddie

Early mornings with Eddie

Pov corroded coffin board

My bloody valentine au

Halloween!Steddie

Holidays with Eddie

Joseph Quinn

Soft moodboard

Soft moodboard

Steve Harrington

Dating Steve

Dating Steddie

Halloween!Steddie

Joe Keery

Soft moodboard

[madaboutmunson]

MadAboutMunson's One Shot Steddie Fics

Fics are below Keep reading :)

Are You Experienced

Summary: Everyone knows Steve Harrington, a local rich kid jock, the previous king of Hawkins High School. He's got it all, money, a respectable family, and chicks love him. He's even spending the summer learning what it's like to be a real working man before taking on a role in his Dad's firm because its builds character and empathy. Or is he something else entirely? Is Steve a down-on-his-luck guy, stuck in a job he dislikes because his dad is teaching him a lesson, repeatedly striking out with the ladies, that his co-worker is fond of reminding him about? Under all the many layers and masks, he uses to survive the day-to-day, Steve has secrets. The main one is how passionately he loves music. How it moves him in ways nothing else does, and he's sure no one else could possibly feel the same, until his Mom gives him $50 to spend at the new record store. Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Never Too Much

Summary: Just a little something that wormed its way into my head, because I just love the whole Steddie having an extra love language of music thing Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Policy of Truth

Summary: Please read the tags and warnings before reading this one 💚 After saving the world, everyone heads home, but not everyone has a place to go back to. Realising that they potentially could have lost their son Mr & Mrs Harrington, make an effort with Steve and open their those in need. But its not just friendships blossoming at The Harrington's, and soon Eddie and Steve have a secret to keep. Ao3 Link

Eight Frames a Week

Summary: Eddie catches Steve in his glasses one time. Just one time! But that is all it takes for Edward Munson’s brain to spark a new hyper fixation. He must have Steve in glasses, whenever he possibly can, because….well…. 1. He looks cute as a button in his glasses. They are so delicate. Thin golden wire frames and large round lenses accentuate the puppyish nature of his eyes. 2. Steve gets shy about them, which is also so adorable Eddie could spontaneously combust. Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Keep You From The Cold

Summary: Eddie Munson is finding out that being a Vampire isn't as badass as some of the movies would have him believe. It's difficult enough trying to figure out what bits of lore are correct or complete nonsense, but when he sees his only willing source of nourishment (his boyfriend Steve) is struggling, he decides it's time to look elsewhere for sustenance. Fortunately, Eddie learns there is a very undesirable person in the vicinity, who has very bad intentions towards his very desirable Steve, and he means to put a very final stop to that. Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Wishin' and Hopin'

Summary: In which Eddie realises he might have some residual power from The Upside-Down and plans to use it in the best way he knows how, to impress the guy he's had a crush on for months Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

Devil Gate Drive

Summary: In which Eddie fixes a spooky campfire story that Steve mis told, sending them on a quest for a wish to be granted. Well, once, they get to Devil Gate Drive that is :) Tumblr Link Ao3 Link

[redlegumes]

@melonalemonade 's Master of Puppet Eddie and subvvaytovenus' Steve with star pants

It's so beyond late but I think I'm ready to post these boys

When I tell you I debated Steve's butt size for so so long

Zoom for body hair :p

Butts close up

[gimmedemosteve]

i love kas eddie with twisted steve

steve is human, but he loves eddie a lot, he doesn't care if eddie needs to kill to live, it starts with just drinking to survive, but steve... Steve thinks eddie deserves more, so he helps eddie, he brings people to his house, he tells Eddie to feed from them; just enough to Eddie feel good, but never enough to kill, steve and eddie fuck after it, while the people are drugged in the floor, asleep, waiting to wake up alone in a dark alley without knowing what happened last night and why they have bites all over their body, but alive.

And... Eddie looks so pretty when well fed, Steve wants to see his vampire boyfriend shining even mode

Eddie often asks Steve if he is afraid of him, but how could Steve be? If Eddie is so beautiful covered in blood...

It is Steve who convinces Eddie to kill for the first time. "It is enough, if I drink more, I will kill her"

But Steve doesn't like her. She was a girl looking after his boyfriend for the whole night, wanting him, flirting with him non stop and when Eddie finally said he has a boyfriend, she laugh and thought he was lying.

Steve doesn't like her.

So Steve holds Eddie's hands, whispers in his ears. The girl is crying, she is awaken... They usually aren't awaken, but Steve wanted to see how much she could suffer bc of fear.

"She deserves it." It is what Steve says. Eddie wants to deny it. He wants to preserve what is left from his humanity. But how could he?, when his boyfriend looks so stunning while talks to him.

And Steve kisses him, kisses his mouth full of blood, touches him and moans in his ears, telling him dirty things that mess up with Eddie's mind. A twisted and dark desire. Eddie bites again, after all "She deserves to be killed, and you deserves to be fed"

It doesn't stop. Eddie finds out his boyfriend is great at bringing people to their home, and hiding the bodies in the next day.

Eddie notices how Steve's eyes shines when he sees Eddie drinking every drip of blood from someone, he notices the sparkles on Steve's eyes and smiles. He likes when Steve holds his hand, touches his body when he is feeding.

Eddie doesn't care at all, if this makes his boyfriend happy, then he is happy too.

[protectingrose]

ψ♡

•• He ate my heart , He ate my heart ..••

••That boys a monster.. ••

. T H A N A .

Coming soon ..🩸

This story will be 18+ ..

Are you ready ?

-Chp1- that boys a Monster ..

[seexyyprincess]

fuck i just want him all over my skin sucking licking DOING EVERYTHING HE WANT

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

vampire!Eddie Munson x supernatural!Reader

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

------

Death Becomes Us - Part 1 - Dead Again

------

Daytime in Hawkins was safe; that is when the living walked the streets. You were turned down by several different places while looking for work, including the gas n’ sip, the hardware store, and Family Video. You were just about to head back when you saw the blue neon on the side of the next building, bricks painted black, windows heavily curtained. The sign said “Main Vein” in cursive blue letters and there was a red and white sign hanging underneath that read: HELP WANTED.

Because of the floor to ceiling, black out curtains, you couldn’t get a glimpse inside, and when you tried the door, it was locked. You noticed there was more written in cursive on the Help Wanted sign: Humans Needed for Day Help, and then a phone number.

You bent your knee to make a table for yourself and wrote the number on the back of the application for Family Video in blue ink, along with the name of who to ask for: Bob.

You took one last look at the place before returning to your ride that was parked on the other side of the street. It was the 1976 Cadillac hearse that your father drove for 15 years as a funeral director before he passed on, and then he had one last ride in it.

Your hearse was your house at the moment. You’d made a cozy little bed for yourself on top of a bedroll in the back where 2 decades of corpses had been escorted to their final resting place.

You’d been parking (living) at the Love’s Truck Stop that was just off the freeway about ten miles from Hawkins. They had showers there and you could brush your teeth, and splurge on a muffin and coffee in the morning. You should’ve moved on by now, but for some reason, you couldn’t. Hawkins had a hold on you unlike any town you’d happened upon in the past few months. Maybe it was all the death.

You’d called Bob at Main Vein from one of the payphones inside Love’s earlier and he told you in a chipper voice to come by the next day at a designated time after sunset, and that he was looking forward to meeting you.

Propped up behind the single bench seat in the hearse, you heard the motorcycles before you saw them. The windows around the coffin hold of the hearse were covered to ensure your privacy, but then their headlights lashed through the cracks in the black velvet curtains as they passed, shooting bright shafts of light across your face.

You poked an eye out to see the same vampire boys on motorcycles that you’d witnessed the night before. They always raced down from the hills, headed for the bridge and into town, long hair and black coats flying out behind them, howling and calling out to each other.

You drank the rest of your Yoohoo, hoped it wouldn’t make you have to pee before morning, and tucked yourself way down in the blankets, covering your head.

-----------

Sure, you were one of the living, but the sun had never agreed with you. You shielded your face with your arms, as if it were raining, as you dashed in and out of your hearse to do some errands the next day, including stopping by to check out a trailer for rent in an area that was mostly vampires. The human manager on duty was a woman in a floral muumuu and iridescent pink lipstick; her name was Dolores. She looked you up and down with unapologetic judgment.

“You’re not from around here, I take it.” She put her hands on her slight hips and exposed her pearly dentures to you in a bit of a grimace, squinting at the sun, her short, orange hair in perfect curls from her rollers..

You bit the inside of your cheek and told her you’d only been in town a few days.

She paused to indulge in a painfully drawn-out appraisal of the visible scars on your body. Thick, pronounced, railroad scars around your wrists that you tried to cover up with leather cuffs and bracelets, one that came up from the middle of your chest and peeked out from the collar of your shirt, one that looked like a long lash from the side of your mouth to your ear. Your left eyebrow was also cut in half by a line of scar tissue. There were other scars that you always kept covered up, and would never let anyone see: you were the freak of the human world, and you didn’t have an excuse to hide like the vampires did, but you secretly envied them for it.

“You’re not a damn tourist, are you?” Dolores asked, gesturing to the Polaroid camera you had in your hand.

“This? No,” you assured her. “I don’t really care for vampires.”

This was a relief for Dolores, because ever since families had started flocking to Hawkins to get a glimpse of the bloodsuckers, the whole town had become a nuthouse of folks wanting a tug on Satan’s proverbial ball sack. People wanting to rent the vacant trailer just so they could see the Fangers come out at night and smoke their cigarettes and fornicate with each other?? Didn’t these idiots know that they killed humans for fun? Drank their blood? All of it was an abomination and a sin against god and Dolores was one of the most god-fearing woman in the county.

She fumbled with her keys as the two of you came up onto the porch of the rental. The exterior was yellow, which was probably your least favorite color, and the porch was wobbly, bare wood, and the first step was cracked like someone had stomped on it a little too hard. There was a small, round metal table with two metal camp chairs with a used ashtray sitting in the middle.

“The ad mentioned that the rental is furnished?” You wanted to confirm because you had no furniture of your own and that particular detail was a huge selling point. Otherwise, you were doing just fine in the hearse, even if the coffin rollers stuck in your back at night.

Dolores nodded as she turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Previous resident couldn’t take it all with him when he moved up to Heaven to be with Jesus, so you’ve got a sofa, kitchen table set, TV, microwave,” she went over to stand by the pea green, formica island that jutted out as a divider between the living room and kitchen, opening her palms to the sky. “Gas stove, baseboard heat. Standing shower only, no bathtub.” There was a large velvet painting of geese in flight over a pond above the wagon wheel design, orange and brown couch.

You followed her hand gesture down the narrow hallway. “Plenty of storage space. Brand new toilet, just had it installed. First months rent plus $100 deposit, $25 deposit for each pet. Garbage and cable included. Rent is due on the 5th of every month, no exceptions.” She came in close to say the next part, whispering it, covering her mouth. “Might want to turn the mattress over before you sleep it, though. Poor thing passed away in there and it was a week before anyone realized.”

The unpleasant odor hiding under a mask of Glade room freshener you’d been trying to identify was suddenly explained. You could also hear flies buzzing down the hall.

Dolores stepped up to pull back one of the brown curtains of the front window, exposing the glorious expanse of the sparse, dead grass that separated you from your neighbors. “It’s quiet during the day, you won’t hear a peep, but I advise you to lock your doors at night and don’t go out unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she turned to make serious eye contact with you. “Or unless you’ve got some kind of death wish.”

You came over to look out of the window as well, taking note of a garden gnome statue flipping the middle finger on the weathered porch steps across from yours. “I thought vampires and humans were successfully co-existing for the most part since we offered them asylum from the Upside Down? It made worldwide news. With the invention of synthetic blood substitutes, I heard it’s been going fairly well, considering.” You could feel Dolores frowning at you, upset that you didn’t want to engage in her rhetoric. You cleared your throat. “Like I said, I don’t care for them myself. I'm sure there are a few bad apples who ruin it for everyone."

Dolores wiped her face of any emotion. “Those bad apples you speak of? Well, you’re in luck, hunny, because they’re all right here in this trailer park.”

You lifted the Polaroid camera to your eye from where it hung around your neck, and snapped a photo of the vulgar gnome on your neighbors porch before you followed Dolores to the office to sign paper work.

----------

You got out of of your hearse in front of Main Vein just as the sun set, tall trees tucked cozily in the hazy purple sky, and there was an immediate shuffling of feet, opening of windows, and mumbling of voices all around the town as humans locked their doors and the dead were rising.

You were about to touch the metal handle on the curtained, glass door to Main Vein, when someone pushed it open from the inside, startling you.

A stout, cute man appeared with sparkling, eager eyes, and rosy apple cheeks. His skin flushed with the vibrant color of someone who was alive, just as he flashed a mouth of vampire teeth.

“Don’t vorry,” he said in an attempt at a Hungarian accent. “I von’t suck your blahhhd,” and then the plastic white teeth in his mouth slipped and he caught them in his hand, sucking back a line of saliva, smiling at you, chuckling at his own joke, skin crinkling around his eyes.

You were too confused to speak, your mouth moving like a fish out of water, hand paused in the air.

“I’m just kidding, it’s a joke,” he said, holding up the teeth in his hand to assure you they weren’t real as he held the door open. He had on a plaid sweater vest over a white shirt and trousers. “I’m not a vampire. But a lot of my friends are. Come, come, let’s get you some tea or something. Do you like sweet tea? I just made some. Is that your car out there? That’s amazing!”

You didn’t get a chance to introduce yourself as you shuffled in, smiling and nodding.

The inside of Main Vein looked like a hip dive right out of a movie: exposed brick on one wall, dotted in artwork, a long bar on the opposite side that appeared to serve beer, wine, and cocktails, classic, original wood floor, and a small area toward the back where some microphones and instruments were set up. The blue neon repeating the name Main Vein above an open space behind the bar where the kitchen was.

“Are you musical?” The man you assumed was Bob asked over his shoulder as he gestured for you to take a seat at a table where it looked like he’d been jotting things down in a spiral notebook.

“I sing sometimes,” you cleared your throat. “In the shower, mostly.”

Bob Newby laughed so hard he threw his head back. “Oh, you’ve got a sense of humor, I like it. We need more of that around here. Don’t we, Argyle?”

You hadn’t noticed him at first, but on a stool behind the bar, a tall guy with long, straight black hair sat a bit hunched over, engrossed in a celebrity magazine.

“Totally, man,” Argyle agreed, but then he looked up. “Wait, what was the question?”

“That’s Argyle, he really is a vampire. He lives upstairs. He’s also the best bartender in town,” Bob moved his hand between the two of you. “Argyle, this is---”

You told them your name.

“Rad,” Argyle said, hoping from the stool, flapping his magazine down on the counter, squinting across the bar to see you better in the dim, blue light. “It will be nice for Bob-a-roonie to have another human around. I like your scars, they’re sick.”

You hadn’t even been interviewed yet, let alone officially hired, so you weren’t quite sure how to respond, but you nodded at what was intended as a compliment.

Bob adjusted himself in the seat across from you, and you asked if he preferred to be called Bob or Bob-a-roonie, to which he responded: “You can call me anything you want, just as long as it’s not late for dinner.”

When Argyle brought over two glasses of sweet tea, his sharp fangs shot out when he winked at you, and you weren’t sure if it was a threat or something flirtatious. One thing unnerving about vampires was how the irises of their eyes went completely black when their fangs came out; that was something that would take you a while to get used to. You’d heard about the phenomenon, but in person it was particularly jarring.

Bob asked you a few standards, polite questions, but then the curiosity was killing you, and you had to ask: “What type of food do you serve? I thought vampires only subsided on blood?”

Bob smiled and wagged his finger at you. “I knew you were a smart one. You ask good questions!”

He came forward in his seat, excited. “This place,” he gestured around the building. “Is about to be one of the first crossover Human/Vampire establishments in the area. I asked myself one night, I said Bob, what is missing in Hawkins? And then I went to make plans with my girlfriend, who just happens to be a vampire, and there was nowhere we could go out on a date together where the menu accommodated both of us.”

Okay, you could see where this was going.

“So, here we have it,” He sat back, giving himself a bit of double chin as he smiled. “Our menu offers a selection of blood substitutes like Fang Tang and LifeForce, as well as some ethically sourced blood from local donors, and then we have a full bar and an appetizer menu. We’ll have an open mic night, maybe a bingo night. Vampires and humans having a laugh together. It’s perfect, right?”

Your eyes didn’t know where to settle as you took in the information, imagining vampires on dates with humans, and human/vampire hybrid families all clinking silverware and slurping their meals like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a scenario you’d never imagined or heard of before, but hey, if Bob was excited about it, well, then, you were excited about it too.

“It’s great,” you cleared your throat, taking a sip of tea. “When do you plan to open?”

Argyle heard your question from behind the bar and he snorted a laugh, flipping the page on his magazine.

“Well, we are open, technically. We’ve been open for a week,” he stuttered but then gave an approving sniff. “but new concepts like this take time to catch on.”

“Plus,” Bob continued, eyebrow raised. “That’s where you come in. I want to start opening earlier on the weekends, see if we can get a bit more human traffic in to try out our happy hour menu that Argyle worked so hard on. What does your availability look like?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to work whenever you need me,” you assured him. “I don’t have any restrictions.”

“What about kids? No family?” He asked it innocently enough, but still it put a lump in your throat for some reason. You were almost 30, and you weren’t falling in line with the standard human breeding ritual, so it made people curious.

You lowered your eyes as your index finger started to work at a piece of skin on your thumb. “Nope, just me.”

“I’m sorry,” Bob’s brow creased. “I didn’t mean for it to sound…I just wanted to know if you could work weekends, that’s all.” He exhaled a breath, slapped his hand to his thigh, and then asked you when you could start.

You were on the verge of telling him you could start immediately when the door to the outside opened, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Argyle’s face light up at the sight of whoever it was.

“Yo, Eddie, man, what’s going on, my dude?”

“Not much,” a deep voice muttered as you peeked over your shoulder to see who it was, trying not to twist around fast and make it obvious.

But it was still obvious, and his eyes snapped to yours as he stood in the doorway, hesitating with his toes at the threshold, holding the door open with his body.

The guy called Eddie was at least 6’3” with a strong, but thin build, long wavy dark hair passed his shoulders and across his forehead. There was a tattoo along the side of his neck, and on the backs of his hands, while the rest of him was in all black: boots, jeans, leather motorcycled jacket, and a tattered Type O Negative shirt underneath with ragged edges around the neckline where the collar had been ripped out. His skin was not chalk white, more like vanilla ice cream, and his plump lips were somehow pink.

Eddie was a vampire.

“Come on in, Eddie,” Bob swung his hand over his head, gesturing for him to enter. “Fang Tang cocktails are half off until midnight.”

At Bob’s formal invitation, Eddie stepped into the space, and made his way over to the bar to straddle a stool and talk with Argyle.

“What do you think?” Bob’s voice brought you back to reality.

“Sorry?” You swallowed awkwardly as you turned back to him.

“Tomorrow? Can you start tomorrow?”

------------

As you parked your hearse at an angle next to the trailer, you took notice of how changed the scene was from earlier that day. Every single curtain in the 10 or 12 trailers were open, exposing vampire lives being lived, television being watched, couples kissing, and there was a bonfire in the middle of the courtyard. A few heads atop dark shadow figures turned at the beam of your headlights before you flicked them off.

You were safe in your rental from vampires, you knew this, and it had been confirmed by Eddie pausing at the door of Main Vein earlier.

They had to be invited in.

But, you were fair game out in the open, so lingering there after you slammed the hearse door was possibly, as Dolores suggested, a death wish.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe you didn’t care anymore.

You were cautious not to land your foot on the broken stair as you made it up to the porch and put your new key in the lock. All around you floated the soft existence of a summer evening: crickets and frogs sounding their alarms while the incense of charcoal briquettes filled the air and the occasional tipsy laugh cackled in the distance. Bottle rockets zoomed off at a shrill speed and then exploded into tiny gold bursts in the sky.

A few minutes later, you stood staring at the dark red and yellow stain on the mattress in the wood-paneled bedroom of your trailer while you ate a few salted peanuts from a jar, deciding in that moment you’d rather sleep on the sofa for a night than do the work of scrubbing it, turning it over, and dressing it with new linens. You were too exhausted for that shit.

You washed your face and unpacked a few things, but that was the extent of your energy. You decided it was time for a beer on the porch before bed, and that is what you went out to do.

To your delight, there was a black and white cat walking the plank of your porch railing. Not much older than a teenager, with handsome yellow eyes. You held your beer in one hand while you stroked her from head to toe with the other, grinning and cooing as she bucked against your touch and purred. Your porch light was broken, but the glow from inside your trailer lit the expanse of her long whiskers.

“Dio,” a deep voice said from somewhere in the darkness, startling you.

You stepped back, closer to the door of your trailer, eyes adjusting to the outline of a silhouette at the bottom of your stairs.

Vampire Eddie flicked his lighter, and you caught his face in the flame, just long enough for him to ignite the end of his cigarette before it was dark again. His eyes lifted to meet yours at the last second before he fell into shadows again.

“Her name is Dio,” he repeated, introducing his cat. “She doesn’t like anyone but me.”

As he said it, the Dio in question sprang down from the beam to circle your legs, purring, rubbing her face on you. “Well, I don’t know about that,” you started. “She looks like she---”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie’s voice interrupted.

You glanced around, wondering if someone else had walked up.

“You don’t belong here,” he continued talking to you, specifically. You watched the cherry of his smoke light up as he inhaled, and then a plume of white smoke on the exhale, like you were having a conversation with The Invisible Man.

You leaned your shoulder against the railing and laced your fingers around your beer. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t belong here,” you countered, meeting his eyes as best you could in the darkness, tension sparking like electricity in the space between. “This is my porch.”

Eddie scoffed, flicking ash to the ground. “You have no idea what you’ve stumbled onto here, Princess.”

You wandered over to close the distance between the two of you, down the three rickety stairs to the dead grass, as another bottle rocket fizzed like pop rocks overhead.

Eddie stood his ground, even though it was insane Human behavior to be so casual with a vampire like that. Did you have a wooden stake you were going to try and drive through his heart? That was one of the only myths that held true for slaying his kind: wood and silver and sunlight; the trinity of vanquishing. Holy water was a joke, he could drink that all day long, and crosses were everywhere in his home décor.

There you stood, within arms reach of a supernatural killer. He could rip your throat out in the time it took for you to steal your next breath, but instead, he shifted his mouth to exhale his smoke to the side so it wouldn’t go in your face.

His eyes never left yours.

Chocolate brown peepers, rimmed in long, dark lashes; you could see the fine details of his face now that you were closer. You waited for his irises to go full black as Argyle’s had done when his fangs came out, but Eddie only parted his lips as the muscles of his throat jerked in a reflexive swallow as you matched the intensity of his eye contact. You intrigued him in a way that no one had in a very long time.

“So, what do you want?” You asked, point blank.

He used the hand holding his cigarette to jerk his thumb over his shoulder. “Dio and I live here,” he said, referring to the trailer with the vulgar gnome on the steps. “I’m just having a smoke before I go inside. If that’s alright with you?”

“Oh,” you felt a bit foolish, but how were you supposed to know? Earlier, you’d noticed an old van parked in his spot next to the trailer, but now there was a black BMW there, and you weren’t a car expert, but it appeared to be one of the newer models.

“Whose car is that?” You asked with a jerk of your chin. There was a better way you could’ve asked it, but that is just what slipped out of your mouth in the moment.

Eddie turned his head to stare at the BMW for a blink, cigarette secured between his lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he told you with a squint.

You regretted ever trying to make conversation. “Great, well, enjoy your evening. Or the start to your day. Whatever the hell it is,” and then you stuffed one hand in your pocket and spun on your heel.

His heightened reflexes had a hold of your arm in a flash to catch you and stop you. His touch was icy on the crook of your elbow, and when you spun around, you regarded him with eyeballs that were milk white, void of iris or pupil. “What the hell…” he hissed under his breath, fascinated. But then you blinked, and your eyes were back to their natural state, and it made him question what he’d just seen.

He noticed your scent was different too, come to think of it. You smelled human, but there was also something else mixed in with your tissues, swimming in your bloodstream. It hinted to rain and static and firework sparks.

“What are you?” He called from the bottom of the steps as you booked it up the stairs and across the porch.

With your hand on the doorknob to your trailer, you responded, “don’t worry about it,” calmly, without looking back, and then you fumbled the door shut behind you and locked it, frantically, as if you were being chased.

“What are you?” His question repeated in your head, as you worked fast to make sure all of the curtains were closed. You didn’t want anyone to see you. You stopped in the hallway and put your face in your hands, trying to catch your breath, trying to figure out why that question had bothered you so much; it’s not as if you’d hadn’t been asked it a millions times before. Why did he bother you so much? He was just an ordinary vampire for fucks sake, you demanded that you get a hold of yourself.

Absently, your fingertips traced the ridge of the long scar across your cheek, and you prayed to whichever deity was listening that any interaction with your neighbor Vampire Eddie from there on out would be minimal.

--------

Part 2: When Doves Cry

[darknesseddiem]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: As Arcadia High School diligently readies its senior students for an academic expedition to explore Romania's renowned museums, anticipation crackles in the air. Yet, amidst the buzz of excitement and preparation, Y/n finds herself haunted by a chilling nightmare that lingers like a specter in her mind, casting a shadow over the forthcoming journey.

Meanwhile, across town, the Hawkins police force grapples with a harrowing investigation—the savage and enigmatic murder of a young boy, a crime so brutal it sends shockwaves through the city's core. As detectives delve into the depths of darkness shrouding this heinous act, whispers of malevolent forces and sinister secrets echo through the streets, leaving the community gripped by fear and uncertainty.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18, heavy content, dark themes, volence, blood, child death, child torture, gore, witchcraft, disfigurement, murder, nightmares, Reader takes meds to help her sleep, cruelty, allusion to eating disorder.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,9K

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (open): @ali-r3n @maedesculpaeusoubi @birdysaturne

As your gaze drifted beyond the classroom window, the gentle sway of leaves seemed to beckon you into a world far removed from the monotony of Mrs. Bennet's lecture. Her words, once a beacon of guidance, dissolved into an indistinct cacophony, overshadowed by the enigmatic maelstrom brewing within your troubled psyche.

Lost in the labyrinthine corridors of your mind, you found yourself ensnared by memories of the night prior—fragments of a haunting dream that had invaded your restless slumber like tendrils of darkness creeping into the corners of your consciousness.

It had been an eternity since such macabre visions tormented your sleep, ever since the fateful disappearance of your parents—an event veiled in obscurity that had cast you adrift in a sea of unanswered questions and whispered rumors. The memories of that night haunted you like ghostly apparitions, their specters lurking just beyond the veil of consciousness, waiting to pounce upon your unsuspecting mind.

Prescribed an arsenal of antidepressants and sedatives to assuage the relentless onslaught of nightmares, you had sought refuge in the solace of pharmaceutical oblivion, hoping to drown out the echoes of your past with the numbing embrace of chemically-induced tranquility.

But even the most potent medications could not silence the whispers of your subconscious, nor quell the restless yearning for answers that gnawed at your soul like a ravenous beast. And so, as you sat amidst the dull hum of the classroom, a sense of unease gripped you, the memories of the night prior clawing their way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged, to be understood.

As the day unfurled its weary hours, a dense fog of uncertainty descended upon you, enveloping your senses like a leaden shroud. Within the mundane fabric of daily life lurked a disquieting sense of foreboding, blurring the lines between what was real and what existed only in the recesses of your troubled mind.

From the moment your eyes blinked open, a suffocating pall of dread hung heavy in the air, casting a long shadow over your every thought and action. It was a sensation that clung to you like a second skin, a haunting reminder of the gaping void left behind by the sudden disappearance of your parents—the day your world fractured irreparably.

Throughout the hours that followed, an unsettling presence loomed on the edge of your consciousness, a phantom specter that seemed to stalk your every movement with unyielding persistence. Its intangible grip tightened with each passing moment, weaving a tangled web of apprehension around your fragile psyche.

As daylight waned and the world bathed in the eerie glow of twilight, the tendrils of unease constricted ever tighter, wrapping around your soul like vipers poised to strike. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, each heartbeat echoing the ominous drumbeat of impending doom.

Were your fears merely the byproduct of a fractured mind, haunted by the ghosts of its past? Or was there a more sinister force at play, lurking in the shadows, waiting to ensnare you in its malevolent embrace? Only time would tell as you stood on the precipice of uncertainty, teetering on the edge of a darkness from which there might be no return.

With each fleeting thought, doubt gnawed at the fringes of your sanity, its whispered tendrils weaving a tapestry of uncertainty within the recesses of your troubled mind. Perhaps you were indeed teetering on the brink of madness, your senses distorted by the relentless trauma of your past. Or perhaps, as the therapist had suggested, your mind had erected formidable defenses against the horrors of your reality—a defense mechanism to shield you from the overwhelming weight of your own memories.

But as the shadows deepened and the night unfurled its ebony cloak, one thing remained certain: the inexplicable sense of being watched, the disconcerting feeling that eyes unseen bore witness to your every move. In the labyrinth of your mind, the line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty where truth and fiction intertwined in a tantalizing dance of shadows and secrets. And as you grappled with the enigmatic forces that conspired against you, you couldn't shake the haunting suspicion that the darkest truths were yet to be revealed.

As the rhythmic din of exuberant voices reverberated off the classroom walls, you found yourself reluctantly torn from the labyrinth of your contemplations, abruptly thrust back into the bustling present by the jubilant commotion surrounding you. Tables vibrated beneath the force of pounding fists, jubilant exclamations pierced the air like shards of shattered glass, and the infectious energy of your peers permeated the atmosphere, suffusing the room with an electrifying pulse of excitement. How long had you been ensnared in the enigmatic recesses of your thoughts, oblivious to the jubilation unfolding before you?

"S-silence, please!" Mrs. Bennet's voice, a beacon of authority, cut through the tumult like a blade, commanding attention as she rapped her desk with a ruler.

As the uproar gradually subsided, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuated only by the soft shuffling of restless feet and the rustle of papers. All eyes turned expectantly toward the authoritative figure at the front of the classroom, Mrs. Bennet's solemn countenance casting a pall of solemnity over the room. With deliberate grace, she traversed the length of the room to stand before the imposing expanse of the blackboard, where she inscribed a single word in bold, commanding script: "RULES."

The chalk, now depleted of its purpose, returned to its designated holder with a hollow clatter, its echoes reverberating through the stillness of the room like a portentous omen. Mrs. Bennet, her posture rigid with resolve, turned to address the assembled students, her voice a solemn symphony of authority and expectation.

"Rules," she intoned, her words laden with the weight of significance. "Rules that shall delineate the boundaries between aspiration and stagnation, determination and defeat."

A ripple of apprehension swept through the room, the air thick with a sense of foreboding and anticipation. Undeterred by the murmurs of discontent that rippled through the room like the ghostly whispers of unseen phantoms, Mrs. Bennet pressed forward, her gaze piercing through the veil of uncertainty that hung heavy in the air.

"And so, the first decree," she proclaimed, her voice echoing with an unyielding resolve. "Only those who have ascended beyond the confines of mediocrity, those whose grades soar above the threshold of adequacy, shall be deemed worthy of passage on this journey."

The jock's frustration permeated the air like a tangible force, his exasperation evident in the furrow of his brow and the tightness of his jaw. "Man, I hate the way she talks, like some sort of... I don't know," he grumbled, his tone tinged with irritation and disdain.

His companion, mirroring his sentiments, offered a terse nod of agreement. "Stupid bitch," he muttered, his voice a low growl of shared frustration.

A palpable commotion erupted in the wake of Mrs. Bennet's pronouncement, casting a veil of confusion over the classroom as you struggled to decipher the elusive topic of discussion.

"Silence!" The teacher's voice thundered with palpable frustration, commanding the attention of the unruly students.

"Second rule," she continued, her tone firm and unwavering despite the uproar, "those fortunate enough to be chosen shall be entrusted to the care and supervision of the school. Hence, they are obligated to adhere to the established guidelines and regulations, even upon arrival at our destination." Pausing briefly to gather her thoughts, she drew a deep breath before proceeding with her discourse. "And lastly, but by no means least: refrain from engaging in any behavior that may jeopardize our collective integrity. Violators risk immediate repatriation to Hawkins." With a final authoritative sweep of her gaze across the room, she concluded, "The list of selected students shall be posted on the main bulletin board tomorrow. That is all."

The piercing chime of the bell reverberated through the classroom, signaling the cessation of the lesson and prompting a flurry of movement as students scrambled to gather their belongings and vacate the premises.

"Don't forget to inform your parents or legal guardian about the upcoming trip!" Mrs. Bennet's admonition, delivered in a hushed tone, barely penetrated the rush of departing students.

You rose from your seat, methodically collecting your belongings and slinging your backpack over your shoulder before approaching the teacher's desk.

“Um...Mrs. Bennet, may I ask you a question?” Your voice, scarcely above a whisper, carried a note of uncertainty.

“Of course, dear!” Mrs. Bennet's kindly smile lent an air of reassurance to her response.

“I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention, but where exactly is this trip taking us?” The admission of your inattention weighed heavily upon you, a pang of shame tugging at the corners of your conscience.

“We will be journeying to Romania, dear,” came the gentle reply, causing your blood to run cold and a shiver of unease to course down your spine.

“Oh...yes, thank you…” You offered a weak smile of gratitude before hastily exiting the room, the word "Romania" echoing ominously in your mind.

Romania? In Europe? The revelation sent a chill down your spine as you pondered the implications of this unexpected destination.

As you made your way through the bustling halls towards the cafeteria, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled through your mind like leaves caught in a tempest. Recollections of your class's recent selection to deliver an in-depth presentation on Romania and its rich history flitted through your consciousness, casting a faint glimmer of understanding upon the enigmatic decision to embark on this unexpected journey. Perhaps the school board had deemed the excursion a fitting complement to your studies, an opportunity to immerse yourselves in the culture and heritage you had diligently researched.

Yet, despite the logical rationale behind the trip and the ample resources at Arcadia's disposal, an unsettling sense of disquiet gnawed at the fringes of your consciousness. It was a feeling as elusive as mist, shrouded in ambiguity yet impossible to ignore—a silent whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your mind.

Was it the abruptness of the announcement, or the eerie coincidence of your class's recent academic focus? Or perhaps it was the inscrutable aura surrounding the destination itself, veiled in layers of mystery and intrigue. Whatever the reason, a foreboding sense of unease lingered in the air like a thick fog, refusing to dissipate despite your best efforts to dispel it.

With each step forward, the weight of uncertainty bore down upon you like an oppressive burden, casting a shadow over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the school corridors. And as you approached the cafeteria, the bustling chatter of your peers faded into the background, drowned out by the persistent echo of your own apprehension.

Something was undeniably amiss, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

As you entered the bustling cafeteria, the familiar sight of your friends, Robin and Steve, caught your eye, their animated discussion drawing you in like a moth to a flame. With a smile playing at your lips, you approached their table, the lively debate over the prowess of Rhea Ripley and Io Shirai serving as a backdrop to their camaraderie.

"Look, you don't understand anything about fighting, you only watch it because you like to see women," Steve retorted with an air of exasperation, his frustration evident in the tousled locks of his brown hair.

"Doesn't matter! Rhea is the best fighter and—" Robin's fervent defense was abruptly cut off as her gaze alighted upon your arrival, a warm smile spreading across her features.

"How's my little bee buzzing around today?" Robin's affectionate greeting enveloped you in a tight embrace, instantly flooding you with a sense of warmth and belonging amidst the bustling ambiance of the cafeteria.

You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes at the endearing nickname, a remnant of childhood escapades that had evolved into an inseparable part of your identity. The moniker stemmed from a mischievous encounter with a beehive during your younger years—a venture that ended with a painful sting and a memorable trip to the hospital. Initially coined as a teasing jab by your friends, the nickname had since transformed into a cherished term of endearment, emblematic of the bond you shared with Robin and the rest of your inner circle.

"I'm alright, Robs," you replied softly, offering a small smile as you gently extricated yourself from her warm embrace.

Steve's question cut through the air with a hint of concern, his penetrating gaze triggering a twinge of guilt within you. "Did you eat something?" he inquired, his tone carrying a subtle note of accusation.

"Um, yeah, I did," you responded hesitantly, attempting to mask your discomfort with a faint smile as you noticed both Robin and Steve crossing their arms in unison, a silent testament to their shared concern.

Robin interjected, her voice a gentle blend of calm reassurance and genuine worry. "You know it's important to take care of yourself. We don't want a repeat of last time," she reminded you, her words tinged with a poignant reminder of past struggles.

Closing your eyes momentarily, you couldn't help but be transported back to that difficult period, the memory serving as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between health and neglect, and the profound significance of prioritizing self-care.

A subtle tension hung in the air, tangible yet unspoken, as you deftly navigated the delicate balance between reassurance and concealment, acutely aware of the worry etched upon your friends' faces. Each glance exchanged between you carried the weight of unspoken concerns, a silent acknowledgment of the struggles and scars hidden beneath the surface.

"I know, I know, but honestly, I'm fine. Promise," you offered with a bright grin, hoping to alleviate their concerns even as uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your own resolve.

Steve's protective instincts kicked into high gear, his expression shifting into what you affectionately referred to as "mom mode." "What about your meds? You're staying on top of that, right?" he pressed, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow and the sharpness of his gaze.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you replied with a smirk, "Of course, Steve. I've got it all under control," the familiar banter between friends serving as a welcome respite from the weightier aspects of the conversation.

As Robin chuckled at the playful banter, you found yourself teetering on the edge of whether to broach the topic of your unsettling dream from the night before. Before you could reach a decision, however, Robin jumped in with a question of her own, effectively diverting the conversation.

"So, have you heard the news?" Robin's inquiry snapped you back to the present moment, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"And seriously, who hasn't heard about it, Buckley? But Romania? What the heck are we doing there?" Steve's incredulous gesture mirrored the bafflement echoing in your own thoughts, prompting a shared moment of bemusement among friends.

"Well, I don't think it's going to be some leisurely trip; it's probably more about enriching our curriculum," you murmured softly, casting a fleeting glance downwards as you contemplated the upcoming excursion.

Noticing your subdued demeanor, Steve's tone softened as he probed gently, "Hey, what's on your mind?"

"It's nothing, really. Just... had another one of those strange dreams," you admitted reluctantly, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you confided in your friends.

"Tell us about it," Robin urged, her eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and empathy, inviting you to share the burden of your unease.

With a deep breath, you began to recount the haunting details of your dream, your words painting a vivid picture of mystery and foreboding. As the narrative unfolded, the tight knot of apprehension in your chest gradually unraveled, replaced by a sense of catharsis and relief in the comforting presence of your closest companions.

In the depths of the dream, you found yourself wandering alone through a dark and mist-laden forest, the heavy fog shrouding your surroundings in an impenetrable veil. Above, the moon cast an eerie glow, illuminating the gnarled trees that swayed ominously in the chilling breeze, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers clawing at the night.

As you navigated the shadowy landscape, a sense of unease settled over you like a heavy cloak. It was then that you caught sight of a figure lurking behind a nearby tree, seemingly concealed by the very darkness itself. Before you could even muster a word, another presence emerged—a striking ginger-haired woman, towering before you like a sentinel of the night. Draped in a billowing cape that seemed to dance in the ethereal moonlight, her gaze was fixed upon the hidden figure with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

In a swift and hauntingly graceful motion, the ginger-haired woman darted towards the tree, her silhouette slicing through the dense mist like a specter in the night. With a predatory speed that sent shivers down your spine, she seized the hidden figure by the neck with a vice-like grip, her fingers coiling possessively around his throat.

Your heart lurched painfully in your chest as the reality of the situation unfolded before your eyes. It was a child, no older than ten, his tear-streaked face contorted in terror as he stared helplessly into the eyes of his captor.

In a gut-wrenching moment of horror, the ginger-haired woman pressed her lips to the boy's exposed neck, her fangs elongating into deadly points as they pierced his tender flesh. A strangled cry tore from the boy's throat, his screams reverberating through the eerie silence of the forest like a harrowing echo.

Frozen in terror, you could only watch in stunned disbelief as the woman drained the lifeblood from the child's veins, each desperate gulp sending a chill coursing down your spine. The sickening sight unfolded before you like a nightmare brought to life, leaving you paralyzed with dread as the darkness of the forest enveloped you in its suffocating embrace.

As the boy's limp form crumpled to the forest floor, a chilling transformation swept over the tall woman, her features contorting into a grotesque mask of cruelty. With a disturbing calmness, she descended upon the lifeless body, her movements devoid of remorse or humanity.

With chilling precision, she began to snap the boy's fragile bones, each sickening crack echoing through the stillness of the forest like a macabre symphony of horror. With merciless brutality, she twisted his limbs into grotesque angles, her actions a twisted mockery of tenderness and care.

The sickening sound of bones breaking reverberated through the air, drowning out your desperate cries for mercy. With each agonizing snap, the boy's form contorted under the weight of her relentless assault, his once-fragile body now a twisted canvas of pain and suffering.

Your screams tore from your throat in a raw torrent of anguish, your voice a futile plea for the mercy that would never come. But your cries were lost amidst the cruel cacophony of violence, swallowed by the darkness of the forest and the merciless hands of his assailant.

In the cruel grip of terror, you could only watch helplessly as the boy's fate was sealed by the cruel hands of his assailant, his innocence shattered beneath the weight of her unfathomable cruelty.

In a moment of chilling clarity, the woman's dark gaze pierced through the shadows of the forest, locking onto you with an unsettling intensity. A twisted smile danced upon her lips, a sinister curve that seemed to mock the very fabric of your existence. With an accusatory gesture, she pointed towards the lifeless body at her feet, her voice dripping with venomous accusation.

"Look what you made me do..." Her words hung in the air like a sinister taunt, each syllable laden with malice and contempt. The weight of her accusation bore down upon you like a leaden weight, sending a shiver of terror coursing down your spine as you recoiled in horror.

With a sudden jolt, you snapped awake, your heart pounding in your chest like a thunderous drumbeat. Drenched in a cold sweat, you lay frozen in the darkness, the lingering sensation of dread coiling in the pit of your stomach like a serpent poised to strike. The nightmarish vision that had haunted your sleep refused to release its grip, its tendrils of fear winding around your consciousness with relentless tenacity as you struggled to shake off its suffocating embrace.

The two of them stood frozen in the aftermath of your harrowing account, their faces contorted with a mixture of horror, fear, and disbelief. Steve's voice quivered with concern as he broke the heavy silence, his words laden with genuine worry.

"Oh my God, this... This is horrific. You shouldn't be having these kinds of dreams again, it's like a nightmare!" His voice carried a tremor of unease, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"I know, but the..." you began, your words trailing off as another voice cut through the tension, interrupting your attempt to explain.

"Y/n... Have you been messing with that stuff again?" Robin's expression was grave, her gaze probing as she referenced the dark history tied to the old diaries of your great-grandmother.

The mention of "that stuff" sent a chill down your spine, evoking memories of the ancient diaries that had once belonged to your great-grandmother—an enigmatic figure shrouded in tales of witchcraft and tragedy. The mere mention of those forbidden tomes dredged up a host of unsettling memories, stirring the murky depths of your family's hidden past.

"What? No! It's all been stored and locked away in the attic since... since my parents disappeared," you explained in a rush, the words tumbling out in a mixture of denial and frustration as you sought to reassure your friends.

Relief washed over Steve and Robin's faces, their expressions softening as the weight of suspicion lifted from their shoulders. Yet, despite their reassurance, a lingering unease lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging sense that there was more to your unsettling dreams than met the eye.

Steve, ever the master of lightening the mood, broke the tense silence with a grin. "Know what sounds like the perfect antidote to our nightmare-induced stress?" he asked, his voice infused with a hint of excitement. "Let's shift gears and head to my place. We'll dive into a marathon of movies, raid the junk food stash, and engage in some lighthearted banter."

"Count me in for the movie marathon and junk food fest!" Robin exclaimed eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious as she swiftly gathered her belongings and trailed after Harrington with a bounce in her step.

"Sure, sounds like just what we need," you agreed with a half-hearted smile, your thoughts still weighed down by the unsettling visions that plagued your sleep.

As your friends exited the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, the lingering sense of disquiet intensified. Despite the facade of normalcy and the promise of distraction, a nagging feeling persisted—a whispered reminder of the deeper mysteries that lurked beneath the surface, waiting to be unraveled.

Meanwhile, across town, the tranquil facade of Hawkins was shattered by the brutal aftermath of a crime, sending shockwaves rippling through the community. Oblivious to the ominous shadows that loomed on the horizon, the police department and residents found themselves thrust into a harrowing ordeal.

Police cruisers dotted the perimeter of the forest, their flashing lights piercing through the darkness like beacons of distress. Amidst the dense canopy of trees, yellow crime scene tape crisscrossed between the trunks, marking off the area like a sinister web woven by unseen hands. Reporters and news vans swarmed at the edges of the containment barrier, their clamor echoing through the stillness of the forest as they vied for a glimpse of the unfolding tragedy and hungered for a sensational scoop.

At the heart of the chaos stood Police Chief Jim Hopper, his rugged features etched with a mixture of shock and apprehension. This was undoubtedly one of the most chilling crimes to have ever befallen the city, and the weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon him. With every passing moment, the mystery deepened, casting a pall of uncertainty over the once-peaceful town of Hawkins.

"Sam Prescot, age 8, last seen taking out the trash last night," one of the officers reported grimly, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air like a leaden weight.

The man nodded gravely, his tired eyes fixed on the scene before him as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips, the bitter liquid offering little solace amidst the unfolding tragedy. An investigator approached, his expression grave as he delivered a somber report on the grim tableau that lay before them.

"According to reports, the boy was last seen taking out the trash, but none of the neighbors witnessed any commotion or unusual noise," the investigator explained, his voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and frustration as he led the sheriff towards the boy's lifeless form.

"Some residents mentioned hearing the screams and cries of a child in the vicinity, but none dared to investigate," he continued, his words a sobering reminder of the community's collective fear and reluctance to intervene. The two men came to a halt a few feet from where the boy lay, their hearts heavy with the weight of the unspeakable tragedy that had befallen young Sam Prescot.

As Chief Hopper beheld the harrowing sight before him, a sickening feeling gripped his stomach like a vice, his heart heavy with grief and anger at the senseless tragedy that had befallen young Sam Prescot.

Sam's once-vibrant form lay twisted amidst the shadowy undergrowth, a grotesque tableau of suffering etched upon his contorted features. His limbs, once full of youthful energy, were now bent at unnatural angles, bones jutting out through torn flesh like jagged shards of agony. Wide-eyed in terror, his mouth hung open in a silent scream, a grim rictus of horror frozen upon his pale face—a haunting testament to the unimaginable pain and fear he had endured in his final moments.

Chief Hopper clenched his jaw tightly, his fists trembling with a mixture of sorrow and righteous fury. This was not just a crime scene; it was a desecration of innocence, a betrayal of the very fabric of humanity.

Chief Hopper's heart plummeted as he beheld the gruesome sight before him, his breath catching in his throat at the savage evidence of unspeakable violence inflicted upon young Sam Prescot.

Prescot's once-whole torso now bore the cruel marks of brutality, a gaping wound that cleaved him from neck to pelvis, his shattered ribs protruding like jagged teeth from the torn flesh. The very core of his being lay exposed, his innards strewn about in a macabre display of carnage—a tangled mass of torn flesh and viscera, intermingled with the shattered remnants of vital organs that had once sustained the vibrant life of a young boy.

Yet, amidst the horror and devastation, it was the savage mutilation of the boy's genitalia that elicited a guttural gasp of horror from the seasoned lawman. In a cruel and depraved act of barbarity, the innocence of youth had been violently ripped away, leaving behind a gaping void of despair and revulsion—a desecration of innocence that shook Chief Hopper to his core and ignited a blazing fury within his soul.

As Chief Hopper recoiled in shock, a chilling realization settled over him like a shroud of darkness: this was no ordinary crime scene. It was a stark testament to the depths of human depravity, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within the shadows, waiting to consume the innocent and the unsuspecting. And as he stood amidst the twisted wreckage of a young life torn asunder, Chief Hopper knew that this was only the beginning of a nightmare that would haunt him for years to come.

"Sweet Jesus…"

The investigator's voice quivered as he examined Sam's lifeless form. The boy's legs contorted into a twisted "W" shape, the bones crushed so brutally that fragments protruded from his mangled toes, twisted at grotesque angles. Each new detail uncovered seemed to deepen the horror of the scene, adding another layer to the incomprehensible brutality inflicted upon the young victim.

Chief Hopper's jaw clenched tightly, his fists balling at his sides as a wave of revulsion and fury surged through him. This was not just a crime—it was an atrocity, a vile assault on everything decent and good in the world.

"We're still in the dark about what could've done this. Could it have been some kind of animal attack?" The investigator pondered aloud, his gaze fixed on the grim tableau before him.

"Not even the fiercest beast would inflict such brutality," Chief Hopper replied, his tone tinged with a grim certainty born of years of experience. "Cover the body and ensure no one stumbles upon this scene until we have answers."

As Hopper turned to depart, a sense of unease settled over him like a heavy cloak, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with an instinctual warning. It was as if unseen eyes were watching his every move, the oppressive weight of the forest bearing down upon him with an almost tangible presence.

Little did he know, perched high atop a nearby tree, a mysterious figure observed his every action with keen interest, its presence cloaked in shadow as it remained concealed from sight. With a silent and calculating gaze, it watched as Chief Hopper made his way through the underbrush, a harbinger of unseen dangers yet to come.

[evangelinefanfics]

Red Lights - Eddie Munson (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/344859857-red-lights-eddie-munson?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=EvangelineHP1&wp_originator=ljF%2B1XHWcmkbq0uqPUtA7yC%2BpU4RR2fj%2FW%2BHxKzqMvPuitsv4cy%2FgZSGPtmtfMnXdYX7FQRJ0oFYVMKDPuYKOOmCiRZlpB%2B29ifH9yAZBDB%2FiHjTJasUp04Jb6dUyGAP "Você vai querer me deixar entrar." Steffie é uma estudante universitária de jornalismo buscando seu primeiro furo. Quando estranhos assassinatos assolam a pacata cidade de Pacific Valley durante as férias de verão, ela se muda para a casa da sua amiga de infância, onde encontra o fascinante e misterioso Eddie, um vampiro do mundo invertido que cria uma obsessão instantânea por ela. Essa fanfic se passa depois dos acontecimentos da saga em uma cidade fictícia, outros personagens não serão mostrados. Dark Romance, cautela ao ler. Me sigam no instagram @evangelinecarrao

[userchai]

new theme new URL but same old me,

chrrymunson is now

impmunson 🧚🏼

tagging some moots to boost!

@voyeurmunson @corrodedcherry @hellfiremunsonn @mmunson86 @lofaewrites @queenimmadolla @keeksandgigz @urlbitchin @wroteclassicaly @melodymunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx @bimbobaggins69 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @userdebora @ajokeformur-ray @destroya2005 @eddiesxangel @thebejeweledwatercat @stqrgirl3 @hellfiremunsonn @prettyblondguys @munsonology @babygorewhore @mothellie @strangerthingsbible @ryan-waddell11 @kermit-the-hag @agrownupgeekgirl @oatmilk-vampire @woahlifehitsyahuh @jasminelafleur @hunter-in-the-upsidedown @str4ngergirlw0rld @lavendermunson @moonbeamsandmayhem @moonchildquinn @gravedigginbbydoll @saltyseagoat83 @justsheerfilth1 @asimpforthe80s @ashyyboyy @taintedcigs @purplehazed-h @gri959 @munsonsbtch @eiightysixbaby @cinemabean

[madaboutmunson]

Eddie Munson Bingo 2023 Masterlist

Here are all the links for my fills for Eddie Munson Bingo 2023 @eddiemunsonbingo

A1 - Steve with Glasses

Eight Frames a Week - One shot fic - Words = 1,822 Tumblr Link AO3 Link

A2 - Telepathy

Wishin' And Hopin' - One shot fic - Words = 2,744 Tumblr Link AO3 Link

A3 - Teasing (Photo Manip/edit)

Tumblr Link

B1 - First Kill

Keep You From The Cold - One shot fic - Words = 9,155 Tumblr Link AO3 Link

B2 - Free Space

Devil Gate Drive - One shot fic - Words = 12,198 Tumblr Link AO3 Link

B3 - Rescued (Photo Manip/edit)

Tumblr Link

C1 - Bisexual Character

I See You - One shot fic - Words = 2,606 Tumblr Link AO3 Link

C2 - Dreams are Soulmate's Memories

Dream Weaver - Part 1 of series - Words = 633 Tumblr Link AO3 Link

C3 - In a Stranger's Bed (Photo Manip/edit)

Tumblr Link

[redlegumes]

Gifs I made from my post

wif silly wittle fangs

that's how Eddie would say it the first time Steve extends his and then he'd poke one and go 'boop'