Acquired Taste // Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

"Where are you taking me?" You ask quietly as the van rattles down a dirt road, bumping and shaking as it fights against the elements outside. Eddie hums low in his throat, that same mischievous smirk on his lips as he reaches out a hand to smooth over your cold cheek. 

"It's okay. We'll be there soon, just relax, baby." He coos before reaching into his pocket to bring a cigarette to his lips, lighting it and filling the back of the van with a wealth of acrid smoke. 

Your fear was rising more and more with every unanswered question, with every venomous glare from his band-mates. Robin was right. You should have gone with her. You knew that now, and you so desperately wanted to make it back to her but it was too late for that.

A shaky, terrified breath slips free of parted lips, the gloss on them long gone leaving behind a tacky sheen that tasted disgusting. 

You look around, hoping to lay eyes upon a weapon perhaps but there was nothing but some old books and trash everywhere. "DEMONIC RITUALS" one of the books read, another flashing its title with a sense of dread, "ANCIENT INCANTATIONS." 

Lightheaded and overwhelmed with fear, you swallow thickly, thinking back to when Eddie himself had been at your school. He never graduated, dropping out before you had the chance to know him to pursue his music career, and everyone had always labelled him as the town freak. The town satanist. How right they'd been, it seemed.

Fuck.

"Please, just let me go home - I just want to go home." Your voice cracks with a sob as you plead with them, eyes rimmed with pools of tears as you look to Eddie. He just smiles that same false saccharine smirk at you, lips pursing slightly to release a breath of toxic smoke as he leans closer to you, the heat of his breath fanning over your cheek as he presses his lips to it briefly. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Where you're going... Nobody will ever hurt you again. Promise."

Despite the honeyed words, the way he said it felt like more of a threat than a blessing and you whimper in your trepidation, a tear springing free to roll over your cheek.

"Is she a virgin? You checked, right?" One of his band-mates spits bitterly, upper lip curled in disdain at you. 

"Yeah, I am. I don't know anything about, uhh.. about sex. You should find someone less inexperienced." A lie. Steve Harrington was the proud owner of your virginity, and had been for a couple of years now. You'd figured at the time that if you were going to lose it to anyone, well... It may as well be the hottest guy in school at that time. King of Hawkins High. It was the best you could get, or so you'd thought then, and the bonus was that you'd never talked to him again after.

Whatever was about to happen, it was going to end badly for you and you had no way out. You felt hopeless and trapped like a caged animal, predators snapping at your heels just waiting for the chance to gobble you up whole. 

"We just need your help with somethin' is all..." Eddie begins to explain to you, brown pools doing their best to settle the unease in your gut but it wasn't working at all. As a woman, you should have known better. It was a stupid mistake, fueled by alcohol and lust and the disorientation of what had happened to The Hideout and those trapped in the blaze. But a mistake nonetheless. One you were sure you were about to regret as Eddie is cut off by the van pulling to a stop. 

"This should be far enough." The drummer who was driving the van grumbles to himself but you catch it all the same, your whole body tensing in your refusal to let anything happen to you. "No..."

"Alright, let's go, sweetheart." Eddie says, as the van door is slid open once more. When you refuse to get out, the others drag you kicking and screaming. You claw and kick and bite and howl until your throat throbs with ache.

It was no use.

Before you know it, you're strapped down to a large and flat rock in the middle of the woods, sobbing and crying and begging through the tears coating your cheeks. "Please, please, you don't have to do this." You plead, but are simply met with hushing sounds and gentle touches as Eddie runs his ringed fingers over your face, his body dipping to lean close to you. 

"I am sorry, for what it's worth...I really am. But I will never, ever, be forced to live in this shithole of a town again." He says gruffly, fingertips skirting over the wetness on your cheekbones. "You seem like a sweet girl. Beautiful as hell, too, but... Nothing can stand in our way. We have to do this. We have to make something of ourselves."

"Fuck you," You seethe at his attempts to settle you, a glob of spit collected on your tongue which you release onto his face. He just exhales through flared nostrils, wiping the offending fluid from his jaw as it dripped along it, voice strained upon his response. "Buy me a drink first next time, baby." 

One of the others pulls out a scrap of paper, unfolding it and perching it between his fingertips. He chants in another language, Latin if you had to guess but you honestly have no idea, his other hand pulling a knife from the back waistband of his jeans and holding it up to the moon which sat full and bright in the sky, engulfing you in her comforting light as you focus on it now instead of what was about to happen.

Save me, you beg her, knowing there was nothing a celestial orb could do but praying with all your might regardless.

Eddie was half-laid beside you on the rock now, large hands smoothing over your hair, your cheeks, your upper arms. Gentle hushing sounds to try and ease your crying do absolutely nothing, nor do the words of encouragement. 

"Please..." You beg the moon, God, whoever was out there that was listening, lashes overflowing with rivers of torment that stream over your delicate skin, throat hoarse from your unrelenting howls of fear. 

Eddie takes the knife from his friend, ringed fingers scraping against the hilt as he holds the very tip of the chilled metal blade to your clothed abdomen. His other hand lay atop your head, thumb tracing over your forehead as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. "Thank you for your sacrifice, (Y/N)."

Your crying stops as the blade pierces through the thick skin of your stomach, winding you and cutting off your frantic pleas with a strangled groan. "Shh, shh..." Eddie hushes, eyes finding yours as he twists the blade. You choke on a rise of blood in your throat, hardly noticing it as it splutters down your chin and neck in your delirious state. You could taste the copper in it, like licking a penny, and you recoil as best you can to no avail. There was nowhere to go.

The knife embedded in your gut pulls free, allowing the blood within to spurt out and coat your clothes. "I'm sorry, baby." Eddie tells you once more, lips peppering your face with kisses so tender they contrast with his actions. "Go to sleep. It'll all be okay, you'll be okay. You'll be safe once you go to sleep."

"Why are you being so nice, dude?" You faintly hear one of the others say, "She's dead either way."

You don't hear his response, the loss of blood from your gut finally too much to survive as your vision goes black. Your mind departs as well, settling into the unfamiliar release of death.

Or so you thought.

It's dark still when you wake up with a gasping breath; like your lungs were desperate for oxygen. What felt like barely moments for you had actually been hours, your limbs released from their restraints and your company long since departed. 

You were alone, basked in the cool glow of the moon and still on the chilled rock you were so brutally attacked on. 

Remembering the moment, frantic hands roam your stomach, searching for the wound which had hurt so much. They find purchase in your torn blouse which you pull open in your search only to find nothing but blood-stained skin. No cut, no wound, not even a scratch.

"What the--" You murmur in your shock, looking around for any sign that someone had helped you. There was nothing. Not a sound over the chirps of insects and the wind as it blew through the trees.

You should feel happy. You knew that. You should feel elated and overjoyed that you hadn't died, or even contrasting feelings of sadness for what had happened, or confusion as to how you were even still here. 

But there was none of that, no. There was only one thing you felt.

Hunger.