#kas vampire eddie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magnoliabutters · 9 months

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• THE SPIDER QUEEN •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: munson and henderson have a good o’talk...

warning: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; enemies to lovers trope, canon divergence, fluffy-wuff, season 4 spoliers, switching povs, moody boy kas, grief, y/n count: 1, moody boy dusty buns, violence, death/killing, character death, etc.

word count: 11.6k

reblogs & thoughtsy-watsies are appreciated!

• stories of eddie munson • season two • previous part •

note: potential need for tissues, not to toot my own horn or anything hehe, also highly highly encourage noting the dates & time to stay on track (i be bouncing)

grazi grazi grazi to my sweet ladies, ziggy (@trashmouth-richie, one of my fav authors) & miss nack (@nackrosor, loml) for spending the time to beta read & share your incredible thoughts and wisdom! also, doubly credit to nacky-nack because some of these words came straight from her extravagant brain & i love her so much.

i have never been so proud of the stories i’ve been creating and that’s cause of these two extraordinary writers. thank you, thank you for helping me grow! now, on to my longest post yet…

April 7th, 1986. 10:46pm.

Kas never thought he would respect a man in an open white blazer with a bright blue undershirt and yet, here he is - ready to follow him into battle if necessary. He is invested in this “Miami Vice” show. God, even the name sounds stupid, but he finds himself thankful that you had found a channel dedicated to it. A blissful escape from this shitty old thing called life.

There he sits with feet kicked up on the coffee table. A fresh stove-top cooked popcorn on his lap. The beautiful girl he loves sleeping soundly against his shoulder. He could die right here and be absolutely fulfilled. A twisted little smile sprawls on his lips as you curl your arm across his waist. The way your soft hair rests upon his shoulder and down to his bicep makes his heart explode and rebuild in a million puzzle-like pieces.

Who needs a working heart anyway?

Kas’ eyes are glued to the TV screen, desperately trying to erase the presence of the curly haired betrayal of a boy in his peripherals. He may have had trouble accepting the idea of Dustin at first, but now he’s just a nuisance at the bottom right of his eyeline. He will happily admit that he likes it better when the boy’s unconscious.

Although, he refuses to share how the curls of Dustin’s hair bring him back to each and every time Eddie ruffled them up with the palm of his hand. He is reminded of the happiness he felt in seeing the boy every day in school. The nostalgia floods his brain anytime Dustin’s yawning catches his attention.

Relief, another feeling that explodes within his chest. Relief in knowing that Hellfire would have yet another fearless leader once Eddie finally graduated - class of ‘86.

The excitement, unbridled and innocent excitement that followed their party’s adventures flying off the table and becoming a tangible reality. Right before everything got way too real...

The cracks of Crockett’s pistol blasts through the air. A shoot out. Miami’s finest detectives dive behind a brick wall as the fugitive sprays ricocheting bullets.

Kas jumps, startled by the noise, before rushing to find the remote. In his attempts, everything goes beautifully wrong. “Fuck, shit!” The popcorn flies and spills all over your beautiful sleeping body. An accidental kick of his feet and the unfinished beer bottles fall, spilling all over the table and onto the orange tinged carpet below.

In reaching for the remote, he about falls onto his stomach, spread across the floor, before finally hitting mute. With a deep exhale pumped full of exhaustion, he turns over onto his back, spreading his arms out across the carpet. He reluctantly raises his eyes to yours, only to catch you baring holes into his face. A tight lipped smile curls upon his lips as he mouths, “sorry” with nervous bouncing brows.

Another thing he didn’t expect was that the loud noise blaring from the TV would cause Dustin to begin rolling around with fluttering eyelids. The boy mumbles behind him, causing Kas’ eyes to open to extreme widths. He straightens his spine and turns before crawling his way back towards you. His torso flush against the hardened bottom frame of the couch. He bumps your right leg with his elbow, desperate to get your attention.

Thoughts begin to spiral in his mind, his lip quivers - terrified of what may happen once Dustin utters a word. Mortified by the thought of what he will say. It intensifies the frequency of his bumps on your leg.

Kas may not remember the whole story, but he can physically feel how his heart reaches for the boy. He recognizes that Dustin is the closest Eddie ever got to being a big brother. He feels the remnants of pride that regularly overcame him whenever he looked down on the boy. The thought of what he had and who he could become.

Eddie only knew him for less than the school year, but Dustin was so much more than some random freshie who barely learned the true art of Dungeons and Dragons. No, this boy was a pro - just like he was at that age. The only difference being that Dustin had friends, a party to play with before high school.

Henderson was his heir, the fucking prodigy. And fuck, does it hurt when the prodigy betrays the teacher!

Kas watches as your body perks up once realizing Dustin was slowly returning to the land of the living. You quickly stand and crash land upon your knees beside him. He really wished you hadn’t. He selfishly wanted you by his side, to help him not lose his marbles and destroy everything in his sight.

His teeth begin to grind as he watches you care for the boy. Your hands are delicate and soft as you try to help him wake. You care for him despite knowing that he left Eddie behind, the one person you claim to love the most in this world. Some loyalty.

He struggles to pull his eyes away, to keep himself from turning into a red hot ball of rage. Deep breaths have helped keep his mind at a leveled state, but hearing your comforting words crushes him to his core.

Kas returns his gaze upon you two when hearing your voice. “Dustin,” you say as you lightly push a curl behind his ear. He rolls his eyes with a scoff and comically stuffs another fistful of popcorn in his mouth from the thin layer that still rests inside the container. Apparently, you do that move with everyone - brushing hair behind one’s ear. The loving action he cherished so dearly. It feels wrong, undeniably wrong, to see you do that with someone else - let alone with him.

Dustin mumbles something, something that leads you to ask, “what?” so softly. Kas hums a growl at the thought of having to even process the words from his mouth, but he swore to you that he would try. Little did he know it would be this fucking hard.

The fire in his belly is difficult to describe and truly painful. He wishes he could be supportive, to be fully invested in the responsibility you have decided for yourself - to care for this boy. He just doesn't know how to look at you and your serene actions without feeling a sliver of treachery.

This boy is the reason Eddie died and turned into the monster that Kas is: a heinous demon that destroys everything in his wake while wearing the face of an angel.

Why couldn't he just have a few more minutes of paradise with you? To hold you in his arms, to feel you sink deeper into his chest. The sleep he craved beside your supple body was divine. All he wanted to do was grab your hand and rush you back up to that bed. To jump onto it and float the waves with you by his side. To forget there ever was an Eddie, a y/n, a Kas, a darlin’. To forget it all and start again. A new life filled with your sweet smile and endless laughter.

Alas, no. You were reminded of who Kas truly is before any extraordinary, amnesic life could begin. All because of him. Dustin Henderson did this, and he needs to pay.

Abruptly, Dustin staggers with fearful eyes as he pulls from you. Kas could tell that you were startled by the way your chin went several inches back into your throat. He knows that expression of yours very well. He revisits the sight on the backs of his eyelids any time he tries to fall asleep. How much horror he must have caused you while he was figuring it all out. The very same horror he forces you to relive each day. He will regret it all his life.

As an instinctual response to your worry, Kas stands with tightening fists, ready to pummel anything and anyone who troubles you. Your eyes fall upon him in such a way that he immediately disarms. Your gentle hand reaches towards him with a slightly cocked head. “It’s okay, Kas,” you say in a whisper. He sucks his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he shifts his eyes between you and the boy. He lets out a sharp breath from his nostrils before crashing back onto the couch carelessly.

Dustin looks his way with that same annoying terror on his face. It screams, “I’m about to pee my pants.” He had no reason to worry, as long as he listened to you. However, the terror persisting any time they make eye contact is becoming more and more difficult for Kas to bear. He’s positive Dustin never looked at Eddie this way. He’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the sadness that envelopes his chest at the thought.

"W-What is this?" Dustin asks while turning back to face you. His movements are hesitant and slow. Kas scoffs, kicking his feet back onto the table as he lazily reaches for a fallen kernel resting on a nearby cushion. He is almost offended that the boy couldn’t sustain the gaze in spite of his tangible fear.

"You're safe," you comfort, placing a hand on his shoulder but he pulls away harshly, making Kas sit straight up once again. It’s never too late to learn manners.

"No," he states. "What the hell happened?" You turn back to look at Kas, almost for support, but he gives you nothing. Why would he? You messed the bed, make it yourself.

"Maybe I should introduce you two?" you suggest, nodding back to Kas. Dustin's lip pulls up in a mixture of confusion and disgust. It’s clear he isn’t very fond of you. Kas loves the idea of being an outcast alongside you.

Dustin peers back at him with caution, yet eager and watering eyes before clearing his throat and returning to you. That look - jesus fuck, Kas hated that look. An inspirited gaze with raising brows before crashing down into a furrow and welling eyes. It has been some time since you have looked at him with such hope. The ogling stare that searches for something, or more accurately someone behind his muddy eyes. It is usually followed by a depressing combination of shock and hurt once the individual realizes what they were searching for no longer exists.

Dustin searches for Eddie, just like you used to. Apologies to the traitor. Eddie no longer exists.

"This is Kas," you introduce with softness to your voice. Your intonation comes off as though you were entertaining the name. Kas tries his best to remind himself that you had understood. You know that Eddie was gone, but the undeniable anger filling him is indisputable. It leads to the clenching of his teeth, the straightening of his back, and the flaring of his nostrils.

Dustin attempts to say the name, stuttering and stumbling like a child at the unfamiliar word. He continues, desperately trying to understand. “Kas, like - like Kas, the Bloody Handed? Kas, the Destroyer? Kas, Vecna’s most trusted lieutenant?”

Kas could see you wince at the words. You are desperate to keep the conversation calm and avoid all his triggers. But the boy clearly has his own annoying way of processing the information, blurting the sound of his immediate enemy as a result.

He growls as his jaw slightly shakes with how hard his teeth grind against each other. “How about Kas, the man whose aboutta break your nose if you keep yapping?” he spits out. Dustin quickly turns his way at the sound. He shudders in his seat, preparing for another altercation.

In an attempt to deescalate the situation, you slowly answer Dustin’s inquiries. “I’m not sure about all that,” you start, speaking directly to the boy. “But Kas, he’s - he’s different.” He looks at you with one raising brow and forward leaning chin, egging you on to continue.

“He may look like Eddie, talk like him, walk like him, even hug like him - if you’re lucky,” you quickly correct. “But he’s not Eddie.” You pause, dropping your eyes to the hands intertwined upon your lap. “I really need you to understand this, Dustin. Kas is not Eddie. They are two different people.”

As you spoke, Kas slowly moved his attention onto your chapped, pouty lips. Your inflection changed as your words continued. His ears are perked as he struggles to understand how you were feeling. How to help. Your solemn expression sets off a multitude of alarm systems in his mind.

His first thought is to scoop you off your feet, carefully supporting your neck and the back of your knees with his arms. He wishes to take you away from this place, to any reminder of the past and what you have lost.

His second thought, however, fuels the anger and resentment within him. The thought that your sadness, that your pain, is caused by Dustin and his aggravating need to know the truth. Finally, you take a breath as those tears you’ve been holding finally dive off your lashes.

“Eddie is dead…”

“… So please. If we can move on from this - if you can accept that Eddie is g-gone,” your voice hitches, leading you to take a slow breath before continuing. “Then we won’t have to worry about what happened earlier.”

Kas’ head tilts curiously as he observes your behavior. The words are falling easier and easier for your pretty lips, but the heartbreak resonating throughout your body is crystal clear and constant.

He wishes he could revel in the excitement, to celebrate the happiness that followed your understanding that Eddie is gone. The acceptance that has allowed Kas to live without being under his shadow. But how could he ever be happy when you were so sad?

Upon hearing your words, he is reminded of the detrimental actions that ripped the perfect morning with you from his hands. The precious morning and slumber that you both deserved. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through your freshly washed hair and watch as you fell asleep in his arms.

Kas fiercely avoids acknowledging the thought that he, too, is responsible for taking that away from you. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all Dustin’s fault.

April 7th, 1986. 8:12am.

Kas had an uneasy feeling as he took slow and hesitant steps down the stairs. Who could possibly be here? The knock seemed hurried, yet forceful. His first guess would be the cops, that maybe Rick got out of jail again and they’ve come to bring him back. Or what if it was a neighbor? One that saw some movement in the desolate house and called 9-1-1? Either way, a conversation between the police and Kas, Hawkin’s latest serial killer, is not going to end well.

He considers calling you down. A fresh, pretty face that can woo the police away. One that can lie and pretend that she has every right to be in Reefer Rick’s abandoned lake house.

No, he could never do that to you. He wouldn’t dare ruin the incredible image in his head of you resting, naked beneath the warm sheets waiting for his return. He couldn’t wait to drop these sweatpants and curl up next to you.

Nah, man. There’s no way he’s dragging you out of that bed. Plus, he knew, without a doubt, that you would be too busy dry heaving at the thought of lying to the cops to even try. A smile rips across his face. Shit, how he loves you with every fiber of his being.

As he finally hits that last step, Kas dramatically slumps his entire body upon realizing Reefer Dicky Dick Rick doesn’t have a god damned peephole. He’s convinced that peering through the windows like an idiot would be way worse than just opening the door.

With a sharp inhale and roll of his eyes, Kas flings the door open. The wind wafts in, flying his curls back with the intensity of his speed. All to begrudgingly land his eyes on …

“Eddie?”

Kas’ entire body runs cold as his breath is stalled in his chest. The eyes, the hazel innocent eyes before him. Irises bight and clear as day when flush against the pink of his tearing eye. A reddish plump to his nose and cheeks. The trembling lip that slowly whispers a second “Eddie” that Kas is too astonished to notice.

Dustin Henderson. The two comrades, friends of war, partners, brothers were left stunned at the sight of each other.

Several minutes pass and the boy is the first to break the silence. “Ed-,” he starts, but Kas is quick to stop him in his tracks.

“Don’t call me that,” Kas spits out with a deadpan expression. He could feel his entire body shutting down, one muscle at a time. His breath is completely ripped from his lungs as he desperately seeks dissociation, any method of escape from who he must face.

Pain strikes Dustin’s whole, causing the slightest twinge of his brow. He takes a step back with fluttering eyelids as he struggles to comprehend the situation.

Kas, however, is too busy wishing he could disappear to notice. Wishing that he could turn back time, tell you to hide so that you both could giggle under the fresh sheets until the knocking dissipated.

Lost in his thoughts, Kas didn’t see the boy’s extending hand before it was gently placed against his forearm. “Don’t!” he yells, raising his tainted arm as he stumbles back into the living room.

Dustin follows him inside with worried floating hands, prepared to catch if needed. He kicks the door closed with helpful intentions. But the slamming door causes Kas to stop dead in his tracks, which in turn causes Dustin to crash against his torso.

Without a second passing, Kas slams his hands against the mop head’s shoulders. He digs the weak boy into the wall beside the door. Dustin yelps in pain as his hips thrash forcefully back onto a side table. A sharp sound snaps through the air as a glass bowl shatters and keys scatter across the carpet.

“Don’t touch me,” Kas demands sternly. “And don’t call me that,” he adds with a heavy exhale, as though the words have become routine. “I - I won’t,” Dustin blurts out with a fast sucking breath.

Kas slowly nods with fluttering lashes as he stumbles back. Tears well in his eyes as he struggles to discern reality and memory. Dustin Henderson, Dustin. Dustin. The name floods his body with a volatile mixture of Eddie's and his own emotions.

Is he ecstatic? Is he worried for his friend? Why was he crying? Why did he push him against the wall? That must have really been scary. Maybe he should apologize? Apologize?! For what? Dustin left him to die, rotting away in front of his family’s trailer.

“They wished you death …. They watched as you were torn apart.”

Vecna’s chilling voice plays on repeat in his head. It’s all - It’s too much. His head spins despite the debilitating feeling of his skull being crushed. Tears roll down his cheeks like cinder blocks. He cannot control them, cannot stop them even if he tried.

He has never felt pain such as this. A pain so shocking that all bodily systems are stalled. His chest begins to heave just as his sight becomes blurry. Any memories tied to you and your anxiety attacks have rapidly been erased. He has nothing, nothing to help him. No one to support him in this unbearable situation. His heart pulses like the clacking of a horse’s hooves, while also freezing every five beats.

Kas instinctually bends over, falling into a kneel. His chest struggles to rise and fall with each breath taken. His brain is overloaded, cutting all ties with consciousness.

Dustin rushes to his side with a light and comforting touch upon his best friend’s back. He is very careful not to touch the pink scars ripping across his waist and ribs when catching him. “Eddie,” he calls out softly.

“Eddie…”

“…Eddie”

“Eddie?”

“EDDIE!”

“Oh god! Oh god, Eddie,” Dustin cries as he lands his knees harshly against the cold floor. He pulls his idol’s body onto his lap. Tears stream down his face, dropping onto Eddie’s cheeks below.

Eddie’s entire body was on fire. So much pain but all he cared about was that he finally proved to himself that he was no coward. By the look of Dustin’s blubbering crying face and the fact that he couldn’t feel his toes, he knew that this was it. Time to go out like a rockstar.

“Bad huh?” Eddie coughs up. He could taste the familiar metal on his tongue. It wasn’t the first time blood was in his mouth.

“No, no,” Dustin starts. “You’re going to be fine. Just gotta get you to the hospital, okay?” His voice keeps hitching. The boy brushes hair from his cheek with a cold breath on his face.

Eddie nods his head in a desperate attempt to make his little brother feel better, but the blood keeps coming up. He gags on it before muttering, “I think …” The pain shoots up his body in pulsating electrical bursts. “Common,” he utters, trying to hype himself up. He had only a few more words to say before he was done, before he could rest.

“I think I just … I think I just need a second, okay?” He whispers. He struggles to keep his eyes open, slowly becoming more tired as the minutes pass.

He gets flashes of your smile burning bright. Your laugh, how you cock back your head with each giggle. Your fingers intertwined with his, always such warm hands. A loving smile spreads across his devilish cheeks. “Okay,” Dustin whimpers out in between sobs.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” Eddie blurts out with a bit of a chuckle. “No, no, no, no,” Dustin weakly smiles, letting out a bundle of spit with a stifled cry. “You didn’t run.” A cough rips from his throat again. The blood drains from the side of his mouth.

Happiness fills his aching chest as the thought of Dustin as President of Hellfire plays in his head once again. A thought he fantasizes about often. His eyes close as he sees the light behind the boy’s curly head. “You’re going to have to take care of those sheep for me, okay?”

Dustin lets out a soft whale as he struggles to speak. “No, you’re going to do that yourself,” he whispers stubbornly. Eddie’s brows furrow at the words. He uses all of his might to crash his palm against Dustin’s forearm.

“Nah, man,” Eddie grumbles. He hated when the boy second guessed himself. Dustin never saw his potential, never felt the confidence he could easily have. Hey, that was the same shit you would say about Eddie all the time. Funny, full circle.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna look after them,” he demands. “Say it.” He wanted the words to come out harsh and strict, bringing the good old dungeon master voice back out for one last ride. He didn’t expect the coughing fit that would erupt from his attempt.

“I’m… I’m gonna look after…” Dustin starts as the words fall into a jumble of sobs. “Good,” Eddie answers with another harsh cough.

A smile spreads across his face, the smirk that is clearly copyrighted by the Munson family. “Good, cause I’m actually gonna graduate,” Eddie starts. His smile grows deeper and deeper as he remembers those pretty little eyes of yours. “And I’m gonna marry my Lolly. I think it’s my year, Henderson.” His heart warms - he likes to think it’s because of his incredible future with you, instead of the blood pooling in his lungs. “I think it’s finally my year…”

“...I love you man.”

“I love you too.”

“… Eddie”

“Eddie …”

“Eddie!”

Kas moves with a body strictly set on autopilot. His mind is screaming, screaming his name. His heart races, beating thickly in his ears. He could still feel Dustin’s tears falling onto his cheeks. He feels the boy leaving. How his pillow, his knees, quickly fall from beneath him. Dustin’s weeping voice as he is pulled away and Eddie is left behind in the Upside Down.

Before he could stop himself, Kas grabs Dustin’s hands off of his body. He wraps his calloused fingers around his wrists, slamming them harshly against the wall. “What the hell are you doing here?!” He screams into the adversary’s pathetically whimpering face.

“I-It’s me,” Dustin stutters out, but each word that leaves his lips peaks his anger. Kas yells out a grunt as he digs his fist thick into his collar. He lifts the small boy up and throws him against the floor. Henderson went flying across the living room, sliding upon the carpet.

Everything became red. A smashing of his knuckles across Dustin’s cheekbones. It hurt, but not as much as when his supposed friend left him behind. This makes Kas feel a whole lot better.

April 7th, 1986. 11:12pm.

Looking back, Kas definitely needed that 14-hour cool down period. He scans over your crushed frame, but your eyes are fixed upon Dustin’s face. His nostrils flare as fluttering lashes drop a tear. He roughly brushes it away with a single finger against his red cheeks.

With a sniffle, Dustin whispers, “O-Okay, hi Kas. I’m Dustin.” His hand shakes awkwardly as he tries to stand. Your arms reach for him, careful not to let him fall. Despite your unfortunate patient, Kas has always adored your caring soul. The dutiful World War Two nurse tending to his eternal wounds. He loves you, not only due to your very beautiful body, but everything within its gorgeous shell - not that you’d ever believe him.

Dustin looks down at his wavering hands and ripped shirt. His fingertips press against his cheeks. He winces in anticipation of a pain that never comes. “How did I,” he stutters, a gulp thick in his throat. “W-what is this?” Kas finally stands - it was his time to shine. He peers down at Dustin through his cheeks with a lifted chin. The boy stumbles back at his movement, afraid of what may come next.

Just how Kas likes it: seeing his prey shaking with barely contained fear before him. At least they know the truth - that he’s a monster in sheep’s clothing.

“I healed you,” Kas starts with a scoff. “Me, I did that,” he points to Dustin’s weak body. His smirk and bouncing brow shoots your way, making sure you acknowledge his selfless act. That annoyed, deadpanned face of yours returned, it’s one of his favorites.

Dustin looks to you for clarification, some sort of understanding of what the hell happened to his fallen friend. Kas hated it, hated that he looked at you instead of him. Like every word falling from his mouth needed to be fact checked by you.

“Hey, Henderson,” Kas calls out, a whistle to follow. “Eyes over here. Daddy’s telling a story.”

Kas stalls when he sees both your eyes pop out of their sockets. Dustin’s nostrils are flared as he takes a slow inhale. You quickly drop your gaze to your feet, while stifling a cry. What the hell? Why did the world come to a grinding halt?

“Vecna saved me,” he continues hesitantly. The words slowly drop from his mouth, each elongated word. “You know, after you left me to rot.”

The boy’s neck extends as shock fills him to his very core. Fire burns true in his little hazel eyes. Something Kas, nor Eddie, has seen outside of the D&D table.

Oh hello Nog, the Artificer - it’s been a while.

“Who left you?” Dustin challenges with a finger addressed to the man before him. It makes Kas laugh, enjoying the fire burning within him just like the good arsonist that he is. “‘Cause it sure as shit wasn’t me.”

He steps forward in a way that, involuntarily, spreads shivers down Kas’ spine. A shiver not formed due to fear, shock, nor worry. A shiver that inadvertently fills his body with admiration and respect. “Steve had to pull me away from you,” he says sternly, dangerously entering the other's space.

Kas’ left brow raises as a smile sprawls across his face. A slow chuckle erupts from within that could scare away Vecna himself. He is callous and cold. His eyes reddening as each word is spoken. “You’re a fucking liar, Henderson,” a cold stern tone to his voice. Kas takes a step towards Dustin, egging him on. “You don’t want to know what I do to liars.”

Dustin scoffs, suddenly taking the interaction lightly. “Why don’t you start off by telling me exactly who said that I left you?” he asks with rigid eyes. Kas scoffs too, rolling his own, as his lip pulls up on his left side. “Oh,” the boy snickers, making Kas’ entire care-free persona develop into fuel lit fire. “Let me guess, Vecna told you that? Just like how he told you he saved you?”

“Watch your fucking tongue,” Kas spits through gritted teeth. He could barely see your hands or hear your voice as you attempt to calm the situation. All he could see was red. The resilient, fascinatingly familiar color flushing across his sight. He just needed one good reason to wreck that pretty little face of his.

“I watched you die and I was there until the very end,” Dustin yells, completely matching his opponent’s energy. “I would have never left you behind.”

“But you did!” Kas screams into his face. His shoulders raise as he puffs his chest, entirely prepared to destroy the small being. But, fortunately for the boy, you are a sneaky one. A slow palm to his chest, resting with just the right amount of pressure on his sternum. He could feel another hand pressing into his lower back. And somehow he could breathe again. The red slowly dissipating from his mind. All his senses return with lightning speed. It all hit a bit too hard as he struggles to process the next words from his mouth.

“No, I fucking didn’t!” Dustin spit outs with disdain. Your hand still glued to Kas’ hot skin, the only thing keeping the other alive. “Steve ripped me from you, I hated him for weeks…” He loses track of his words as though the memories shot through his precious thinking cap.

“No, no,” Kas mumbles but the flashes ring true. Dustin cried onto his dying body. He screamed, pleading for Eddie as he was dragged away by Harrington. He didn’t want to go, but Steve was following through on his promise - to protect Henderson. They loved Eddie. His friends would never have left him behind.

“No!” Kas shouts, pushing the boy back, but he persists, taking a step forward to show his older brother that he meant every single world.

“It took me so long to see that he was saving my life,” Dustin utters before powerfully pushing two hands against his chest. “I was ready to die with you in front of that trailer!”

Kas bounces back, rocking on his heels with minimal physical damage but holy shit did that fuck over his brain and everything he’s come to know as true so far.

“I should have!” the boy shrieks. Tears stream down his cheeks in a way that breaks Kas’ unbeating heart, in a way he’ll never admit - maybe not even to you. Kas coughs, clearing his throat before plopping back onto the couch. The room is silent until Tobbs calls out to his fellow detective.

Kas clings onto the TV as a tool for his dissociation. A small voice in his head begins to beg for forgiveness. Regret encapsulates his chest cavity as he acknowledges the pain he caused to not only his prodigy, but to you. The betrayal was his own.

He should have remembered, should have corrected Vecna, but he had nothing. Not a single clue as to what was happening. He was lost, alone. He knew his memories were not his own, but he didn’t care. Anger is easier than loneliness. It wasn’t until he saw you and the graceful flash of your smile that he second guessed those thoughts.

All he has now is Eddie’s memories from before. He would only need one hand to count how many he’s got, but that’s no excuse. He should’ve remembered. He had an inkling, some part deep deep within him that immediately rejected the idea of Henderson leaving him behind but he didn’t listen.

Why didn’t he listen? How could the idea that everyone would leave him behind be so believable? That he wasn’t worthy of true friendship? What could he have done to deserve that?

Kas squints before applying pressure from his thumb between his brows. He could feel the beginning of a headache scraping against his forehead. Muffled voices wrack through the air as he struggles to recollect what is true and what he was told.

You and Dustin begin talking about Eddie and his last moments. He now finds distraction from his own thoughts in your conversation.

He, barely, tries to not eavesdrop as you nervously ask, “Did - did he have any message or - or, um, did he say something about me?” His ears perk for an answer that never came. He looks up to see Dustin shaking his head, which forces his heart to sink in his chest.

Kas instinctually seeks your gaze, knowing without a doubt that this answer would completely destroy you. He watches as your face pales and your body stills. He struggles to deny every fiber in his being that screams for him to hold you. As much as they pleaded and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t manage to move from his seat. His own body betrays him in the midst of all this new found information.

“Tell us the story.” Your mouth barely moves despite the power of the words that fall from your lips. Kas cannot deny the excitement he feels upon being reminded of your undeniable strength. You were easily the strongest woman he has ever met, even if he did remember all the women in his life. He turns towards Dustin, awaiting the story that even he is curious to hear.

The boy, however, tucks his hands beneath his pits and crosses his arms over his torso. “What’s going to keep him from punching my face in again?” he spits out. Again, he looks right at you as though you were the handler to the rabid dog that Kas was.

“He won’t hurt you,” you say through grinding teeth. It was enough to make Kas smile and tilt his chin back and forth, like a giddy girl. He sits back, completely relaxed, knowing that you have his back.

Dustin takes a breath, lowering his eyes before him, but not before cracking his neck to the side. “Eddie was dealing with Chrissy,” he starts.

You quickly interject, “Yeah, he had a date set with her.” Your eyes fall as you think further. “It - It was a Friday, right?”

The boy nods his head as he tightens his arms upon his chest. “Vecna killed Chrissy right in front of Eddie.”

The veins in your neck tighten as you clench your teeth. Eyelashes flutter back tears. Kas cannot help but want to protect you. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asks in a low tone. The act surprises Dustin. His eyes flash between you two as he realizes the connection you have.

You take a deep sigh before walking over to the couch beside him. You crash down, hooking your arm around his bicep. You lean into the meat of his arm as your eyes close. “Keep going, Dustin.”

Kas pulls you in, holding you closer than he thought possible. He would do anything to spare you from this hurt, but he also knows whole heartedly that you needed to hear it - just as he does. “After that, Eddie went into hiding. Cops obviously pinned it on him… and Max, well, she saw him leave the trailer in a hurry-”

Your head raises upon hearing the name. Kas turns to you for guidance as it remains unfamiliar. “Wait, Max was a part of this?” you ask in disbelief.

Dustin stalls before answering. He swallows a huge gulp as he squeezes his hands into a fist. “Yes.” Your brain wracks with ideas, struggling to understand exactly who else was involved in this dangerous ruse. “We went searching for Eddie and it led us back to here,” he mutters as he takes a quick glance around.

“We found out Vecna’s past and how to fight him, and we were ready,” he slows down his words. “We had a plan and we were going to stop him.” His bottom lip begins to quiver. A hand catches his balance upon the back of the recliner. “Something went wrong, and we needed more time.”

His eyes suddenly bare holes into yours. You could see the tears welling within them as he struggles to let out the next few words. “He went back,” he swallows, “We would’ve lost so many people if not for him, but by the time I could get back…” He drops his head, shaking it as those fists crash against the tops of his thighs.

Kas observes every inch of Dustin’s face, of his body language. He understood his words to be true, his feelings to be true. He is distraught. Dustin may have made it out of there alive, but a piece of him still rests on that road right beside Eddie. Dead and hollow. A piece he may never recover.

He rallies the courage from within to finish their interwoven story from his blurred recollection. “I-” he starts. The pronoun explodes a combination of familiarity and disorientation. “I died in his arms.”

Kas could see your head immediately shooting his way. It made a small smile burst from his lips and shortly take it away. “But after you left, I heard someone. I thought it was you,” he turns your way with a weak grin. Tears flow from the ducts of your eyes, a steady current. “I don’t think it was.”

His voice hitches before he clears it and attempts to continue. “I died a fucking hero,” his eyes raise forward as he is flooded by the reminiscent feeling of bravery and pride. “I wasn’t a coward - no, not anymore.”

You bite your lip as your arms wrap around his neck. His own tears begin to fall as you pull him into your chest. “You were always a hero, baby,” you whisper into his red, hot ears. "You saved me before any of this happened."

His sobs destroy the very fabric of your being. A sound that will forever haunt your dreams. You take it in waves, all of his pain without regret. Your face slowly becoming stone cold, tears ceasing to exist as you tighten your hold of him.

Kas clears his throat, slowly pulling away from your soaked shirt. Your hands slowly float to his knees. He looks back at Dustin, his close friend, without anger or resentment. “Vecna brought me back. He told me to kill you,” he mutters while shaking his head. “I came back different.” Another frog is stuck in his throat as he struggles to take in breaths without falling into another sobbing fit. His eyes drop to the hands in his lap. “I wasn’t a killer before, but I am now.”

Dustin looks your way in a panic, desperately wanting to know more. “He didn’t make me, you know? He taught me how and I just kept it up.” Kas calmly nods as he feels the blood drain from his face. “Eleven people,” his voice hitches as he meets the boy’s innocent eyes.

“Tammy Thompson, Ryan Trent, Andy Johnson, Carol Carver, Dave McKinney, Paul Richardson, Justine Hutch, Dick Newman, Kristie Peterson, Olivia Wilson, and Vickie McNulty.”

Kas keeps his head down. Not a single part of him wants to see the terror on either one of your faces. The silence floods the air like a stuffy smoke. It’s almost palpable, almost as though you could feel it weighing down on your defenseless body.

“Vickie.” Dustin slices through the smoke, a wavering tone to his voice. “Vickie from marching band?”

Kas nods his head ever so slightly while struggling to swallow the biggest gulp stuck in his throat.

He didn’t want to raise his eyes, no not at first. He could remember her screams, particularly hers as they sounded like they were perfectly extracted from Jason Voorhees’ machete. The red of her hair mixed beautifully with the crimson that drenched her clothes.

He would be lying if he said he had any remorse in the kill. He just saw someone he knew. A poor girl smudged with dirt and muck as she struggled to get out from under the library’s debris. He scared her, just a little, to get that blood pumping quickly into his mouth.

“Yes,” Kas finally answers. “Vickie from marching band.”

Dustin almost collapses backwards, but swiftly rushes to land onto the chair before him. A completely new pain strikes Kas’ heart as he realizes that Vickie meant something to him. Your hand squeezes at the sides of his thigh as you, too, hesitantly land your head against his shoulder. Comforting him, even though you are shocked by his doings.

“I think I need a break,” Dustin mutters. Kas raises his eyes to see that the boy had turned a shade of green. He runs out the front door and vomits off the side of Rick’s porch. A solid tear runs down Kas’ cheek. What has he done?

While the two are inside, Dustin struggles to keep himself upright. His entire torso is flush against the wooden porch. His eyes almost bulging with each retch.

Robin has been searching for weeks to find Vickie. She’s grown so close to the McNulty family, determined to find her across the Upside Down. She refuses to acknowledge the possibility of her death, the possibility of not being able to save her through all the party's efforts and losses.

How is he going to tell her about this?

But amongst the sadness, he cannot deny the feeling of relief in his belly. Eddie is back. Even if it’s some weird, murderous version of him, he can still see him - talk to him. He doesn’t have to pretend to speak to the mist over Lover’s Lake anymore. He doesn’t have to think of a world that Eddie Munson isn’t a part of.

Sure, his mentor looks different. Much more shirtless than usual. Dustin never thought he would see him in anything but ripped jeans. His hair is longer, smooth and less matted. The contrast between his dark locks and skin reveals how much paler he’s become. Red eyes are a nice touch that he can appreciate when they aren’t paired with a beating.

When Kas speaks, the boy swears he could see sharpened canines. Were those the very knives that dug into his skin before he passed out?

Regardless, Dustin has his brother back and the happiness that consumes him is undeniable. He would accept him with open arms in any condition.

A tenacious brotherhood built on fantasy, triumphs, and defeats. A deep connection between a Master Inventor and his Dungeon Master. He wishes he could go back, back to when the worst thing that happened was that D&D got canceled because Corroded Coffin finally got a gig.

All he can do is wish.

September 16th, 1985. 8:43pm.

“Yeah, well Mike’s got a girlfriend cross country,” Lucas shares, desperately running away from the attention placed on his and Max’s relationship.

“What the hell,” Mike gripes as Gareth places a firm hand at the back of his neck. He shakes it while releasing a hellish laughter. “Alright Mike, where’d you meet her? I only slightly think she’s made up.”

The group laughs as Eddie watches them from his Dungeon Master’s throne. His foot hangs off the edge with a knee to his chest, hands playing with a small ripped paper.

He is known for his transparency. Whatever he feels is perfectly displayed upon his face. The mood for today is an abundance of annoyance, clear in how he lifts the side of his lips and his eyes roll with each passing second.

“I met her here actually, she just moved away,” Mike shares. “Her name’s-”

Eddie slams his hand down onto the table with a force that shakes the auditorium floor. “Why are we talking about maidens?” he asks with a booming voice as he stands from his seat. “We should be talking about how the party’s going to fight Lolth tomorrow,” he hints.

Dustin’s eyes widen as he slowly asks, “What are you talking about?” He peers around the room, seeing the entire party with mixed expressions of shock and gaping mouths.

Eddie huffs in response, rolling his eyes in annoyance, as he grabs his books and map. “No jerking off tonight, boys. You’re gonna need your throwing hand.”

The party begins to pack up after a rather rough section of the campaign. Only Lucas, Jeff, and Dustin survived, while the rest await their rebirth. Dustin’s brows pull as he watches his fearless leader. The man who is always moving is now perfectly still. He takes heavy breaths as he grips tightly against the top of his chair.

“You coming?” Lucas calls out as he and Mike begin to walk down the stage’s stairs.

“I’ll just meet you there,” Dustin says, waving his hand for the two to leave. He has been trying to find an opportunity to buddy up with the President of Hellfire, maybe this was his chance. “So, Eddie, do you have a sec?” he asks sheepishly.

Eddie now had his forehead plastered upon the chair as his fingers nervously tap on its sides. He groans as his way of replying to the youngling. Dustin lets out a soft chuckle as he nervously asks, “You okay?”

Eddie slowly raises his head as a smile lifts to the right of his cheek. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says with squinting eyes. “Hangovers don’t feel like they used to.” He raises his arms to stretch them before rolling his neck.

“I was wondering if, uh, I could get your advice on something?”

Eddie’s eyes perk as he drops his arms and slides into his chair like a snake. “Why yes, the doctor’s in,” he beams with his smile.

Dustin laughs while pulling a chair out and plopping into the seat. “It’s about girls - uh, maidens,” he starts.

Eddie nods furiously, gesturing with his hands for him to continue. “What is her name?” he inquires. Dustin drops his head nervously, “Susie.”

Eddie’s eyes close as he smiles. “Ah, Susie,” he whispers in acknowledgement. He leans back into his seat, taking a big whiff of the young love in the air.

“Yeah, she, uh, she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I met her back in camp about a year ago and she lives in Utah, but I, uh, I think I love her and I’ve never said that to someone before,” Dustin rambles.

Humming, Eddie sinks back into his chair. His expression is happy and proud of his little freshman. “Well, little man, it sounds like we’re in the exact same situation. If you figure it out, you let me know,” he dismisses with a chuckle.

Dustin is taken aback. A king like Eddie having trouble with girls, uh - maidens? He’s a rockstar for christ’s sake, what kind of problems could he have? “What’s her name?” he asks, just as plainly as Eddie did before. He snickers beneath his grin as he rests a chin upon his fist.

“Let’s just call her Lolly,” Eddie lets out with a breathless chuckle. A coy smile sprawls across his lips.

Dustin’s brow raises with curiosity as he dives in more information. “Lolly, like … Lolth?” he asks, tucking his chin into his neck in excitement. His eyes widen as he lovingly awaits his DM’s answer.

Eddie blows out a raspberry before sinking even further into the throne. He shakes his head while creasing his eyebrows. “Did you nickname her after our next boss?” Dustin laughs out incredulously.

“Maybe,” Eddie retorts in a sing-songy voice. He scoffs, throwing his head back. “Go ahead, honestly, tell me that Lolth isn’t a smokin’ hot babe.”

Henderson smiles, enjoying his mentor’s flustered face. He shrugs, nodding his head - knowing it isn’t wrong. “She must be a badass,” he utters.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Eddie adds, running his tongue over the front of his teeth. “She’s my spider queen,” he hisses with excitement.

Dustin giggles alongside Eddie. Their smiles fill the room with a rose tinted ambience flooded with nostalgia and happiness between old souled friends. The connection between them was palpable, undeniable. Eddie noticed it the second he laid eyes on the small fella. He knew there was something special about him, and he has yet to be proven wrong.

“In all seriousness, Henderson,” Eddie says lightly, coming down from his laughing fest. “You should tell her. It’s a risk, yeah, but love isn’t really something you can hold onto. Trust me, it eats away at you more than you can imagine. It physically hurts not to say it,” he takes a deep breath. “You’re lucky you don’t have to see her every day.”

His words peak Dustin’s interest. Who is this maiden? Has he seen her before? Does she go to Hawkins High? He’s never seen his DM so vulnerable, and he revels within the precious moment.

“You can tell her too, Eddie,” he whispers, careful not to upset him. The President raises his eyes and stares behind his curly chocolate bangs. “What if she loves you too?”

Eddie’s keen smile pulls to one side as he shakes his head. “She doesn’t even know me,” he mutters, leaning back into his chair.

“Then let her get to know you, man,” Dustin encourages. With a smile, he starts, “A wise man once told me that love was risky but it’s not something you can hold onto-”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Screw you, Henderson,” he mutters with a low hummed chuckle. His head cocks to the side as an idea forms in his mind. He leans his elbows onto the table as he locks eyes with the boy. “Let’s make a pact, right here and right now.” Dustin encouragingly nods. “You tell Susie and I - I’ll tell Lolly,” the words start to lose their muster as he continues.

“You got yourself a deal, Munson,” Dustin slams his hand against Eddie’s, giving him a good shake. A contract that would build the very foundation of their friendship.

April 7th, 1986. 12:11am.

Your mind feels like a dead plane about to crash into the ocean. A slow spiral as you fall from the heavens and dive into the horror show below. First row, VIP ticket. Guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with a true killer.

Without noticing, your hand slowly slips from his arm. Fingers hook onto your chin as you struggle hard to process the information. To make sense of something that just shouldn’t make sense.

“You didn’t know who she was,” you start. Your closed eyes tickle lashes against your cheek. “You - you didn’t.”

Kas’ soft, calm voice breaks through the mist, bringing you back down to that ocean floor. “I did,” he murmurs. “I killed her, and I did it because I knew her.”

You turn to him with tears flooding your vision. The breath is sucked from your lungs, unable to take in more. You finally hit the water - it’s time to sink. “Tell me, just,” you gulp, shaking your head out as your mind screams for you to run. “Make me understand, please.” You turn to him, heaving sobs as you do. “Why did you do this?”

He drops his gaze, not wanting another second of your crying face to be burned into his mind. He hurt you, again. Regret, again. All for an unneeded kill he made so carelessly.

Vickie’s red hair bobbed so effortlessly in the mucky mist of the New World. He immediately recognized her from that unfortunate junior year that he had to take band for his elective. Despite the tragedy, she still was perky and determined to get out.

And that’s why. She had hope, and all he wanted to do was crush it.

Kas hesitantly reaches for you, wanting to comfort you and distance himself from the situation. The very act shakes you to your core, causing you to cower to the other side of the couch. “Don’t,” you say plainly. He drops his eyes while clenching his jaw in pain.

Who did he have to blame this time? It’s not like Henderson was the one who brought up their names. It certainly wasn’t you. You knew he had a list, a list of people who died the way you should have, but he knew you would never want to know who.

And yet, he gave you just that. It breaks any perception that you had of him. The person who took care of you upstairs, who loves you - yeah, that’s a serial killer. Vecna took everything from you. He could care less about how his kills affect other people.

Chrissy died and Eddie became a “serial killer.” Eddie died and … Kas became the serial killer.

“I don’t,” you start but quickly take in a shaky breath. You pinch your brows together, trying so hard to see any future with him beyond this but everything comes up blank.

“I killed because I didn’t know any better,” Kas whispers. His gaze stuck on his hands as they rested between his legs. “I was taught to torture, told that every person in Hawkins would rather see me dead than alive.”

He abruptly stands, practically jumping off the couch. “I had doubts. I - I tested it, you know?” He begins his pacing, desperately trying to stop his heart from exploding his chest with each beat.

“With Kristie and Dick, I saw them. They were under struggling to get out of town hall. I helped them get out,” he slows his movements. “They were so happy to see me. And that made me happy, a-and I thought - ‘yes, he was wrong!’ But they were just happy until I got them out,” he says softly.

“They ran from me, called me an ‘asshole’ and a ‘killer,’” Kas mutters as he stands still before you. “I showed them they were right.”

A wave crashes over you. Weak electricity shoots through your body, tingles that make you feel light headed. Your face falls into your hands as you ponder the thought.

“But then I met you, darlin’,” he says as he crashes onto his knees before you. His big, warm hands pull your palms from your cheeks. “You showed me that there was another way. And - and I don’t want to go back to that.”

Kas takes a sharp breath before clearing his throat. His quivering voice continues, “I still hear their screams.” You slowly raise your eyes to his. His face contorted and solemn as he struggles to hold back heaving sobs.

“I wish you were there,” he drops his head onto your lap. The tears curl around your face. You cannot help the gentle hand that brushes through his hair. “I wish I died in your arms,” he cries. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be in fucking Valhalla or some shit, but I wouldn’t be back here as this monster!”

He sobs into your bare thighs. Your chin quivers as you try to be strong but fail every other second. You feel empty. No worry or remorse toward him or yourself. Just a body floating slowly into the ocean’s depth.

After some time, you whisper coldly, “You are not a monster.” He raises his swollen eyes to you, the innocent chocolate button eyes bow beneath all this façade. “A monster wouldn’t have regrets. Wouldn’t be crying with the person he tried to kill.”

After one last swoop of his soft curly hair, your hand rests at his cheek. Kas leans in as he always does. Those innocent eyes flick up to your hardened gaze. “You are not a monster. Not anymore.” He takes in a shaky inhale through his nose.

“You are going to work hard, harder than you ever have, to make up for what you did.” You gently place your fingers to the side of his chin, squeezing as you guide him to your eyes. Ensuring you are both locked in before finishing your thought.

“But you will never make up for those eleven lives. You will carry them in your heart until you die. And that does not mean you stop fighting to make it right. Do you hear me, Kas?”

His lashes flutter as he unsuccessfully attempts to hold back his tears. He could see the strength within you. The power you hold that has barely scratched the surface. He couldn’t be more in love with you despite the horror of the words that fell from your supple lips.

Kas knows, in this moment, that he will happily die for you a million times. He is crazy about you, completely unhinged and dedicated to your smile. He may never make up for what he’s done, but he will put all his power into trying until the day he dies - not just for you, but him as well. It’s not easy living with a guilty conscience, maybe this will make it a bit lighter.

Regardless his determination is set, your broken heart is more than enough to fuel his intentions.

“I hear you, darlin’,” Kas utters. His hands delicately reach for yours, intertwining your fingers as they should have been from the very start. “I promise you I will try my absolute hardest to make up for what I’ve done.” He pulls your interlocked hands to his lips. A sweet peck with eyes fixed onto you. “I promise you I will work my damned best to be the man you deserve.”

His words pull you right out of your spell. Those worried wrinkled lines between your brow completely smooth out. Eyes fall straight down to your hands. A promise you would never expect from Kas, and one you could count on from Eddie. But one and two are not the same, and fear still encapsulates you.

You want to trust him. To know that he’s that beautiful man who held you in the shower earlier that day. The man who carried you away from danger. The man who saved you from the dangerous, psychotic being he is scared of most in this world.

But he is also the man who took Vickie and all those people from their families. The man who left you in a ocean of your own tears, naked and afraid in that fucked up version of Hawkins. The man who stalked you, hunted you. The man who almost drank you dry to please his own murderer.

“Please don’t break it.” The words fall from your lips involuntarily. You aren’t even sure if “it” is referring to his promise, or your heart. “Please,” you finally raise your eyes to him.

Dustin opens the door, walking into a quiet room. He closes it behind him, locking the deadbolt before landing his back against the wood. It pulls both your attentions, causing Kas to stand and let go of your hand. Your body aches for him, wishing the boy stayed outside just a little bit longer.

“I lied,” he starts. His hands crash at his hips, letting go of a huge breath of relief. “He said something about you when he was …”

It was your turn to release a breath of relief. You are confident, fully confident in the love that you and Eddie shared. Doubt wracked your brain when Dustin told you that he didn’t say anything about you in his last words. For whatever reason, the boy held the information from you. The only way you would get it is if you wait, painfully and patiently. “What did he say?”

Dustin takes a quick look at Kas before returning to you. “He wanted to marry you, after graduation.” You smile with a trembling lip, both taken aback and not surprised at all. The thought of you across from Eddie in a cheesy tux at city hall. It may not be Chicago, or Paris, but being Mrs. Eddie Munson would be an absolute dream that you would choose over the world.

He laughs as he finishes his thought. “I didn’t know who he was talking about before, but, yeah, it’s pretty clear he was talking about you.” The tears hit him again, a tickle at the back of his throat. He tenses his face to hold it all in. “He nicknamed you Lolth, or Lolly,” another breathy chuckle drops. “Pretty badass D&D character, honestly pretty comparable to Kas.”

Your heart warms in a way that turns your body into cotton candy. A sensation you haven’t felt since you last laid your eyes on Eddie. It is almost like he is here. You place your hand upon your chest as you sink into the feeling. “Thank you,” you say with a feverish nod.

Kas watches the woman he loves turn into a rare aurora of orange twinged happiness. He is thankful for the boy, grateful for his honesty. He seeks his eyes to mouth “thank you” himself.

Dustin nods, but quickly looks away as he is too worried to hold the gaze. He brushes a hand through his hair while uttering, “I don’t know what I’m going to tell the others.” Your ears perk up, causing you to jump up and rush towards him. Your hands firmly grabbing onto his. He pulls away, but hones in on your intensity.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Your gaze locked on his hazel brown. Your body becomes a mixture of hot white and cold. You just got him back. No one will take you away from him. No one will hurt him. No. No. No! “They don’t need to know.”

Dustin steps back from you with disgust. His hands are harsh as they rip from yours. It is enough to make Kas take a step forward and let out a thick, heated breath. “They need to know,” he starts pointing to Kas. “He is the last person to see Vecna alive. We need to know everything so we can put that asshole into the ground.”

You turn back to Kas, a slow glance over your left shoulder. His attention is pulled upon seeing your movement. Your brows raise at their tips, trying to discern what he is thinking. A slow smile gradually pulls across his lips. An encouraging nod shoots your way.

The relief filling your chest finally allows you to take a deep breath. You extend your arm backwards with a hopeful expression. He happily reaches for your hand, resting his warm palm against you.

Kas stands beside you, in front of Dustin. In this moment, you realize that he and you are forever. It may not be perfect, it may not be Eddie, but you are in it - for the long haul. Protecting each other against any potential harm. His fight is your fight, just as it should have been with Eddie. There’s no way you’re backing down.

You shake out your hair, taking in a slow breath for confidence and neutrality. “Who are ‘we?’” you ask. One simple question to determine the safety of the journey forward. Dustin looks to Kas, seeking the answer within him. How did this boy not get it yet? He shakes his head. He doesn’t know every thing.

Dustin turns to you, clenching his jaw. “Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, Erica, Mike, El, and Will.” The names float in the air, almost each one recognizable to you. These are the people you see in the hallways. The people in the cafeteria. The people who run the school newspaper. The people in the band. The popular kids. God, how the hell are they all mixed up in this? The only name missing being …

“Max,” you call out. “You said Max knew what was going on. What - Why isn’t she going to be there?” You rake his face, desperate for an answer, only to see him grow solemn. Kas knew that Henderson’s face undoubtedly meant bad news. He squeezes your hand, letting you know that he is here for you.

The silence feels unbearable. Your skin is on fire and about to implode. “J-Just tell me,” you start before taking a deep inhale. “Is she dead?”

“No,” Dustin states. Your heart skips a beat as you gasp in happiness. Max is far too young, far too young to be gone… “But she’s hurt and it’s bad.”

Your body stills as your breath escapes you once again. “What do you mean?” you utter quickly. Another squeeze to your hand.

“She’s in the hospital,” the boy utters under his breath.

You push past him, reaching for the door knob. You don’t even know where you’re going but you are going.

Kas is the one who’s calm hand rests on your forearm, causing you to pause. He models a breath with you before flicking his eyes to Henderson. “Tell the party we’re meeting at Harrington’s at 8. You pick us up at 6 and bring us to Max, then to the party,” he states without a second of hesitancy. Your eyes light up before turning to see Dustin’s reaction.

“Done,” the boy promises.

“Dustin!”

All three of you drop, closer to the ground. The voice comes from outside. You can hear heavy boots onto the steps of the porch before crashing his knuckles against the wood. “Dustin, your mom called.” He groans before knocking again. “Common, I know you’re in there - I can see the light on.”

Steve Harrintgon’s timbre is incredibly clear. He is here, a simple door away to finding out the truth.

Your heart races faster than it ever has, faster than when you thought you were going to die. You panic, thinking what would happen if Kas and Steve come face to face in such an abrupt manner.

When you whip your head to Kas, his face is calm and unbothered. It gives you strength - a chance to take a breath.

“Henderson, please. It’s already midnight and Robin’s in the car. If you don’t come out soon, she’s gonna start holding down on the horn,” Steve says with an exhausted tone. A huge yawn follows his words.

Dustin shoots his eyes towards Kas. He gestures for you both to move, to make your way to the kitchen. Kas nods, and guides you over with your intertwined hands.

“Just wait a damn second, Harrington,” Dustin spits out. “I’m getting my shit.” Kas leads you behind the fridge, squeezing your hand in repetitive pulses until you both are safely hidden.

Dustin swings the door open and steps outside, pushing his way through Steve’s burgundy sweater. “Dude, you gotta stop coming here,” he scolds as the boy closes the door behind him. “How did you even get in?” The voices trail off, but you remain silent, still, and pressed against the fridge.

Upon hearing Steve’s car pull away, you let out a breath of relief. You instinctually let go of Kas’ hand, stretching your arms and cracking your knuckles to release the tensing pressure. “That was close,” you whisper under your breath.

Kas slowly wraps his arms around your waist, digging your hips against his. “It was,” he says as his eyes rake over your features. One hand releases to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. It is almost as though he is lovingly adoring everything but your eyes, leaving them for last.

“Should we finally get that rest now?” he suggests with a smirk.

Your eyes fall on him as though this was your first time ever truly seeing him. The way his lips part when he looks at you. Those eyes that stop your heart every time they land on you. The way his curled locks land right on his collar bones. His alabaster skin, soft and sensual. The spider tattoo on his peck that you love so much.

Before you knew it, your hand was trailing across his torso. Peck to peck, before sliding down his sternum and onto his belly. Your eyes were locked, as though they were in a trance, completely intoxicated by his incredible body. Almost as though an alarm went off, your head perks and returns back to hold his gaze. “I would like that.”

Kas smiles as he leads you back into the living room, back up the stairs, and back into the room that will forever, now, be deemed as yours. He lands back onto the mattress, floating upon its waves, as he guides you down beside him.

Your head rests where it belongs, on your favorite spider tattoo and just above his heart. His arm wraps around the small of your back. A hand lightly tracing dancing fingers against your upper arm as you pull closer into his chest.

A sleep you have been waiting for. A sleep you deserve - you both deserve.

“Good night, Kas,” you whisper against his skin. “Good night, darlin’,” he whispers back.

“I love you.”

note: people really need to stop bothering lolly and kas during their vacation stay at reefer rick's! also, i am physically cringing at the thought of kas meeting the party. I oh so very scared and idk what's gonna happen. get ready y'all.

season two finale • coming soon •

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

Text

IT WILL COME BACK (E.M.)

"honey, don't feed me - i will come back."

summary: when eddie came back from the upside down, he was different. and you finally come to realize just how different the man you saved truly is one night, when push comes to shove.

pairings: kas!eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of BLOOD (in sexual manner), mentions of BITING (in sexual manner), allusions to possible coercion (consent is still explicitly stated - trust me), mentions of death and trauma, mentions of eddie's canon death, taking a lot of creative liberty with expansive vampire lore across all media, mentions of murderous dreams? (eddie dreamt about killing reader idk), oral (f receiving), smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY.

wc: 7.7k+

a/n: i told y'all i'd write a serious biting/blood kink fic one day - today is the day. very lazily edited so beware.

When Eddie came back from the Upside Down, he was different.

There were subtle changes at first. Small, minute details that were easy to ignore. Everyone could turn a blind eye to them — everyone figured they would fade once the boy healed. His healing was first priority, and whatever lingered after could be dealt with.

Get Eddie better. Then question all that lingers.

A simple plan. A genius plan. A torturous plan.

The two of you had been friends, if you could even call it that, prior to it all. Teasing in the hallways, working on school projects here and there when in shared classes, he was your favorite (and only) dealer when you craved something to make sleep come just a little bit easier. He had been familiar — an old ghost you'd grown comfortable with, long before you’d seen those large and wet eyes looking back up at you in the boathouse.

Long before he’d pieced together the puzzle pieces as to why you’d needed the weed to cancel out the nightmares. Long before he’d processed exactly what those nightmares entailed.

But then, you’d fought for him. You’d fought with him. And most importantly, you’d bled with him.

God, you had bled for him.

Something admirable had blossomed in that short time. Eddie’s entire life had fallen apart, thread by frayed thread, and that new planted emotion had been the only solid thing to emerge for him to absolutely cling to. You were more than a fellow classmate to pass by in the hallways. You were more than his favorite customer, always weaponizing fluttering lashes and puckered lips for a discount he’d have given you regardless.

You were a force to be reckoned with, and had ignited a hunger in him like no other.

That’s all he had thought it was when he’d awoken in his living room — not the distorted version but the real one — to you screaming for the others to help you as you’d sealed his wounds. That’s all he had thought it was when you’d come to visit him as wounds turned to scars, and stabbing pains turned to hungering pangs. So he had tried to bury it, listen to Harrington and Wheeler and Buckley when they told him to take time to readjust. He’d locked away that hunger and focused on his healing, just as everyone else had, and told himself it was just residual feelings.

Residual feelings had been bound to happen after seeing someone bloody their hands, with your own blood, for your survival.

And in his burial, he’d never considered a similar hunger igniting somewhere deep within you.

You visited far more often than you should have. Returning time and time again to change his bandages, taking on one too many shifts at the hospital during his unconscious spells and baring your teeth for anyone who got too close. The sweet blood on your hands hadn’t washed away in that first shower; you swore, if you looked closer, you could still see the stain of nearly losing him across your knuckles.

Physical wounds were easier to heal than the internal ones. It was easier to lather on antibiotic lotion than it was to sleep soundly at night. Both of you came to realize that quickly in the weeks that followed Eddie’s return from the dead.

His nights were plagued with bad dreams, with thirst and cravings he couldn’t quite name. He’d wake up, burning up from the inside out with a fever that never existed. Tearing skin. Puncture wounds. Blood spilling across floors and his lips alike. He could never tell if the shivers that traced his spine had been from the cruel visions that had become his nightly visitors or if it was due to his perpetual drop in temperature that had worried Nancy since the very first night home from the hospital, that had concerned the nurses who piled blankets atop him during his week long sleep of recovery.

Your nights were even less kind. Horrific memories were the demons that haunted you — remembering the way you had watched Eddie cut that sheet rope, remembering finding him bloodied on the ground, remembering the warmth of his blood seeping across your palms and how when your ear had turned just as heated with it as you pressed it to his chest. Only to hear nothing. Emptiness.

His heart had stopped for minutes. Plural.

It had been your steady rhythm, your desperate hands and your gasping breaths breathing into his lungs. You’d sunk your claws into him, caught them right between his ribs and had decided he couldn’t leave you.

Some nights, when you wake up screaming, you can still taste his blood on your lips. You sometimes still swore that when you’d checked for a pulse after that, you hadn’t heard anything. Still worried that Eddie Munson’s heart never really restarted and resumed beating.

The worst was when you’d stare through the faded grey of mornings plastering across your room’s walls, and could still remember that initial look in his blown out pupils, once honey brown swallowed in pure black as he’d taken his first breath on his own.

Hunger.

You’d felt it, too. Shame riddled you on the nights you’d come down from the nightmares and remember it; it was as though the Universe had snapped back into place the moment you’d watched his chest first rise. A need so ardent to remain at his side. A chain clicking into place, binding both yourself and Eddie to one another, unaware of just what price had been paid to keep the boy that had laid under you in this world. Unaware of the hunger you had struck the match too that would become both your downfalls.

And so it had been buried. Something alive, even with your doubts of Eddie’s liveliness, and choking on dirt while six feet under. You and Eddie, two sides of the same coin, had decided to not speak of it. He never told you how he had come to be able to pinpoint your heartbeat in every shared room he entered, throat burning as his gaze always settled on you, and you never told him of the matching aches that had shamefully sparked within your chest and between your hips for him.

A hunger to be near one another. A hunger to devour. Neither of you really understood the heaviness.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?” Steve asks as he sits on the edge of the new bed in the new apartment in the new part of town the Munson men now occupy.

Government money could go a Hell of a long way. Especially after your home had been devastated by the aftermath of alternate dimensions and unheard of evil being defeated.

“Fine,” is the only response Eddie can muster.

In reality, every time anyone came near him now, he burned. His throat tightened till it was surely raw, he swore his teeth sharpened until a mere slip of his tongue against his canines could bring the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. His entire body would tense with every person that walked through his door.

Control. Whatever was happening to him, Eddie needed to exercise control.

“Just fine?” Steve continues on, not catching the drift as he puts down the bag of things he’d bought at Eddie’s request. Basic things — painkillers, packs of cigarettes, a 6-pack. Some habits die harder and can’t be controlled, “You look like shit, Munson.”

“Gee, thanks, Stevie.”

Everyone had assumed the dark shadows beneath Eddie’s eyes would fade. They assumed his cheeks would eventually fill back out. They assumed he could wash away the ashen shade his hair now flatly flowed in. It was as if the life had been drained from Eddie since that day, and they had all assumed it would eventually flow back into him.

It never did. Just as his new hunger lingered, so did the look of Death.

“Sorry, man,” Steve throws his hands up, shrugging a bit before he stands, “Just being honest. It’s the best policy.”

“Is it? Is it really?”

If honesty was the best policy, Eddie could have filled the room with it. He could admit about the nightmarish wants, needs, he’d been keeping at bay. He could admit the way his irritation had been growing this last week every time another body, another friend, walked through his doorway and it wasn’t you. You, who had begun to plague the night terrors. You, who Eddie was beginning to crave far more than he had before he’d stared the afterlife down the barrel of the gun.

Steve just looks at Hawkins’ newest zombie boy, sighing, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you pissed off-“

“The whole dying thing, for starters.”

“-or why you’ve insisted on being an asshole to all of us these last few weeks-“

“Again, I died.”

“-but you’ve got everyone but me scared to visit you. We’re all scared of you biting our heads off, dude,” Steve finally finishes with a scowl.

Everyone. It’s unspoken that you’re included in the generalization.

It occurs to Eddie that maybe, just maybe, he should be kinder if he ever wants the ache of yearning to see you again to fade. If that’s what he could call this ache.

By the time Steve has left, Eddie’s still thinking about his warning. About the way he had been unusually cruel since coming back to life, since waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. It made sense initially. But he wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed anymore — he was home, or as close to home as he could get, and he was technically safe.

The issue was that he’d accepted his safety. Everyone who had wanted Eddie Munson dead was now six feet under themselves. No, the bigger issue at hand was everyone else’s safety.

Your safety.

Once he’d realized you were the staring lead in his violent fantasies, he had stopped calling. Half of your absence last week had been his fault.

No one really bothered to look deeper into it. Steve didn’t press as to why Eddie’s fridge had remained empty, Nancy didn’t take second glances at the odd books on vampire tales that were now littering all the free real estate of Eddie’s room, and you hadn’t questioned the coldness of his tone whenever he spoke to you. The chill of his words had grown icier than his own palms, desperate to keep you at arm’s length until he figured out what had changed in him that day he came back to life.

He wanted you near. He wanted to rip your throat out. He wanted your blood to stain his mouth and neck just as his had stained your hands. That was an issue. That wasn’t normal.

Something had changed in Eddie Munson, and it had terrified him to his twisted core, and no one had cared enough to notice. Not yet.

–

It took you two weeks to be fed up with the radio silence.

Eddie stopped calling even Jonathan (the only one of the group he found he didn’t want to devour whole, as it turns out). When everyone had mentioned it in passing, it had only reminded you of the sleepless nights you’d be enduring. That small voice in the back of your head that had called out to you in the dead of night, the whisper of come to me that echoed all the way across a broken town.

Come to me.

Sometimes you swore it was Eddie’s voice calling to you. Sometimes, you nearly left your own new apartment in the dead of night, and let your legs guide you to the undead boy you had single-handedly revived.

Tonight was one of those nights. Your stomach was twisting, your head was pounding, your bones were aching. Every single inch of you hurt as it listened to that soft calling, and at some point, you gave in.

Hunger. You were insatiable with the need and drive to be at Eddie’s side. Warnings from the others be damned.

One thing leads to another. You find your coat, you find your car keys. You find yourself driving the deserted streets of Hawkins in the middle of the night. You find yourself on the Munson doorstep, knuckles shaking and aching with the knowledge that just beyond the wood of the door, he was there. You don’t have to see him to feel him; his thrumming presence, his anchoring existence.

Come to me.

The door swings open before you get the chance to knock. This string tying your two souls together is not a one-way channel, it seems.

“Why are you here?”

You watch him wince as the harsh words leave him. Immediately, you know that the abrasiveness is on instinct. Just as something claws inside of you to be near him, there is something within him howling to keep you far from him.

The polarity of two magnets. Some nights, surely, his twists in a way that would draw him to you, just as yours will twirl with the sensibility that whatever has changed within him should give you cause to run as far away from him as possible.

But tonight, your magnetism only yanks you closer to him. He doesn’t even invite you in, and yet, you find yourself stepping over the threshold of the new apartment.

“You’ve gone quiet,” you whisper as an answer. It’s not what he wants to hear, grimace deepening, nearly a scowl now, “I just… It’s been weeks. I…”

I missed you. I needed you. I heard you in my dreams and I’ve never had much self-control when it comes to you.

Magnets are a useless metaphor for whatever is happening here between you. A better comparison would be the cliche image of a moth to a flame; he’s dangerous, threatening to burn you alive, and you still find your heart fluttering after him hopelessly. You’re going to get scorned, and you’ll still never learn. You’ve fallen victim to a tired narrative that you’d rolled your eyes at in a plethora of books. How many times had you sworn that wouldn’t be you? Just how many eye rolls had you exhausted at the mere idea?

And now, here you were, on his doorstep. Grasping for something you’re not sure either of you can give.

“I’ve been dealing with a few things,” he mutters as he shuts the door behind you, shielding you both from the chill of the night. The room is still cold, especially in his radius, “Didn’t think it would make much of a difference.”

“You didn’t think I’d care if you just stopped calling?” you turn slowly, taking in the state of the living room. Wayne was clearly gone for the night, work most probably, and several books littered the coffee table. Eddie had been the one reading them, lounging on the couch.

The last time you had seen him, he couldn’t even sit up in bed on his own.

He’s keeping an unusual distance, nearly leaning back out of your vicinity, “Figured you were busy.”

He’s never been this short with you. His words are choked up, his body tense with pain. You assume it’s just his injuries bothering him.

You couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re completely unaware.

“I brought you back from the dead, and you think I’d still be too busy for you,” you laugh humorlessly, fully in disbelief at his pitiful excuse, “Eddie, we could find out Vecna didn’t really die, those damn cracks in the Earth could open right back up, and the first person I’d care about finding is you.”

The animal inside that had been yearning for his presence is satiated for now, but you can still feel it lurking in the darkest depths of your mind, ready to call out a new request at any moment. It’s the distraction that has you spilling pathetic truths.

The only response he offers you is a dead stare. With eyes wide, pupils nearly swallowed up by darkness.

“You could have called,” your voice cracks, body shaking with the effort not to take a step closer to him, “You could have just let me know you were still alive.”

“I-”

He cuts himself off when he’s the one taking a step closer. His entire face twists with pain, and you give up keeping your distance. In an instant, you’re at his side as your hand reaches out for his bicep.

He flinches away. Something inside of you burns.

Your hand is hovering in the air between the two of you, and in this lighting, you swear the skin is still stained with the blood that won’t wash away.

“Please don’t,” he begs, “I’m fine, but… please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for. Distance, for you to pull your hand away, time – you don’t know what he needs.

“We should sit down,” you insist, finally pulling your hand as far from him as possible but making no move to put the space back between you two, “Has anyone helped you with your bandages? If your wounds got infected-”

“They didn’t.”

“If you didn’t change the bandages, they definitely could have-”

“They’re not infected,” he grits out, but he’s still walking over to the couch regardless, “They’re healed.”

Healed.

Mere weeks ago, those wounds were still deep enough to keep you from ever achieving a full night's rest. Deep enough to worry you to the core that you would wake up to them finally having consumed him. Deep enough that you all assumed it would take him months, not weeks, to recover.

“What do you mean they healed, Eddie?” you whisper, almost reaching out for him as he sits down.

Your hand twitches, but the echoes of his begging and his flinching keep it at bay as you stand before him.

“I mean, they healed,” he huffs, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. He’s looking anywhere in the room but at you, his gaze subverting you with purpose. As though the mere sight of you, the mere proximity, is painful to him, “Don’t know how, don’t know why – they just did.”

“So why are you still in pain?”

A sharper intake of breath. A hush of silence falling over the apartment. Even the buzz of the building’s AC unit has faded from all your senses. It’s just you and him, and a heavy quietude like no other.

Until he finally breaks the surface tension, breathing out, “You.”

Your heart drops. That tug inside your chest, the one taut as you look at him right within your reach yet still so far away, almost snaps.

“Me?”

He nods with a harsh swallow, “I- Look, I can’t explain it, but when I came back, I came back…”

“Different?”

He doesn’t have to explain it. You’d felt it.

The moment his eyes had opened, just moments after what should have been blissful victory. The taste of his blood heavy on your tongue, a terrible sweetness that had choked you rather than its initial metallic twang. The whispers of his voice in your mind.

He wasn’t the only one changed from whatever had occurred that night.

“Different is a good way of putting it,” he nods, looking up with apologetic eyes, “It’s not you. It’s cliche as fuck, but it really isn’t – it’s me. I died, and you brought me back, but I don’t think either of us knew the cost.”

The yearning. The nightmares. The unmanageable needs. The hunger.

“What was the cost?”

He almost doesn’t hear you. Your voice is a whisper, tone weighed down with the curse of knowing.

You might not have known the cost when you were pressing your palms into his chest through your wretched sobs, functioning as his heart and lungs for nearly a minute, but you think you might have a clue now.

All that had been tethering you to him since he’d come back to you, all those webs and strings that had formed their knots around both of your necks. He’d changed, and you had plummeted right into the chasm of the unknown with him.

His blood on your tongue, sweet as honey.

Blood shouldn’t be sweet.

He grabs one of the books off the coffee table, motioning for you to join him on the couch. Under the weight of your realization, you’re nearly under a trance. All he has to do is wave a hand, and you follow.

You’re at his beck and call. Just like you had been when he’d been calling out for you, yearning for you.

“Don’t make me say it,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the book into your lap the moment you’ve sat down. This time, you’re mindful to keep your distance.

This time, you’re painfully aware of the compromising situation the two of you have found yourselves in.

The book is older, leather-bound and worn from years of readers’ careless hands breaking the spine. The corners of every page are weather, close to disintegration. The entire thing could easily pass for a Halloween decoration.

It’s not. You flip open to the title page, and if Eddie didn’t appear so deathly serious at your side, you would have scoffed.

“Dracula?” you question carefully, running a finger over the delicate script of the title, “Eddie, I don’t-”

“I’m not insane,” he interrupts you, “I’m not fucking- I swear to you. I’ve gathered up every goddamn book about it that I can. Fictional, nonfictional. Just- there’s obviously a Hell of a lot more fictional material to work with, okay?”

A vampire. He’s convinced he’s a vampire.

And even worse – you’re convinced right along with him.

You turn your head to look at him, trying to find the right words, but all you find is Eddie burying his face in his hands, head nearly hung between his knees.

“I can’t eat normal food anymore,” his voice is muffled, “That was the first sign. Couldn’t stomach it, made me throw up for hours when I tried. And then all those nurses kept talking about how I was healing faster than they expected. Most of my smaller cuts – those healed in under a day,” he finally lifts his face just enough to turn and peer at you through all the stray curls that fall into his vision, “My vision and hearing were the next things I noticed. Remember how I had a nonstop migraine those first few days?”

He doesn’t need to convince you, but the argument is compelling, “It… wasn’t a migraine.”

He shakes his head. “Not even close. Just turns out that it’s a killer to get used to fucking superhuman night vision and impeccable hearing. I still can’t handle being out in the sun very long. I don’t… burn up or any of that shit, but… it just…” he trails off, shoulders falling in defeat before he throws himself back against the couch. When he continues, his tone is flat, devoid of all emotion, “I keep having these dreams about you, too. Bad dreams. Terrible dreams.”

You shut the book, toss it back onto the coffee table, and decide to Hell with keeping your distance.

You need it. Even if he’ll only allow you to get an inch closer to him, you need it.

“What do you mean by terrible dreams?” you ask, breath catching at the end of your question as you scoot yourself closer on the couch. Even with such a small movement, Eddie is quick to notice, eyes flicking to you quickly with a sense of urgency flashing behind them.

“Don’t,” he lowly warns.

“What’s happening in your dreams, Eddie?”

Another inch closer. His jaw clenches.

“Sweetheart, do not-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Your knee bumps into his thigh, and you watch him go rigid. Hands turning to fists, eyes pinching shut and face twisting with the same pain he’d worn the ghost of when you first arrived at the apartment.

The moment you touch him, you see it. The flashes of his nightmares, all those terrible actions haunting him every time he closed his eyes. You. Your blood. That hunger.

Like a blackhole in the center of your stomach, it burns viciously as it sucks the air out of your lungs. It threatens to cave your entire being into itself until there’s nothing left. Not even a crumb of who you once were.

But it's not yours. It’s Eddie’s.

That pain on his face is only exhibiting a fraction of what he was feeling. That dizzying craving that he’d miraculously been keeping at bay since you’d simply entered the building, not even yet knocking on his door. You hadn’t even been in the same room as him yet, and he had still known. Had smelt you, had felt you.

He could almost taste you.

“You…” you have to shift your knee away from him, break the touch, break the connection, “You haven’t fed since you woke up.”

“I haven’t fed, period.”

With the connection severed, he somehow finds it in himself to open his eyes once more. You don’t know how – if he’s feeling what you’d just been privy to, you’d be an incoherent mess on the floor. Something feral and unrecognizable.

Although, maybe he was nearly there. You couldn’t see his pupils. That same look when he’d first woken up – a man swallowed whole by hunger.

“You’ve been dreaming about ripping my throat out,” you say it as a matter of fact, not a lick of judgment in your tone.

It wasn’t you scrutinizing him. It was what you had seen, with one simple touch.

His voice is hoarse as he echoes in confirmation, “I’ve been dreaming about ripping your throat out.”

You should probably be afraid. All your survival instincts should be kicking in, your feet should be carrying you towards the door, you shouldn’t be leaning in closer.

“You know what really sealed the whole vampire ordeal though, sweetheart?” he breathes out, your eyes fluttering shut at the lull in his hushed tone.

Just as you’ve been leaning in, he’s been slowly turning his body to face yours, hands twitching at his sides. He’s no longer retreating from your presence, sucking down breaths in harsh gulps the closer you grow to him.

He’s losing control. You’re losing control.

That thread, vibrant red as it draws you near him, is clear as day now. A noose around your neck. A road to your damnation.

A road to your hunger.

You hardly hum in response, completely entranced now. Had he ever been capable of this before? Of holding you beneath such an inescapable spell with such ease?

Probably.

He doesn’t use his words to answer. Instead, he finally takes the plunge.

His head ducks down towards your neck just as his hands lose the war, grabbing onto your hips, dragging you dangerously close to him until his lips hovered just over your pulse point. And by some strength that you certainly don’t possess, he stops there. Letting his lips barely brush against your soft skin, breath coming out in pants for you to feel, to relish, to get lost in. And just as soon as those pants, those waves, become a comfortable pattern to succumb to, you feel them.

His fangs.

Grazing over your sensitive skin. Sharp tips nipping at a surface they could so easily break, pierce with one wrong move. Your pulse is thrumming beneath the surface, heart racing painfully as Eddie’s grip turns bruising.

Come to me.

“Please.”

You’re the one begging now. It goes against every rule you’ve ever seen applied in fiction. If a vampire is baring their fangs against your neck, you should be reaching for a stake. The only noise escaping you should be a scream for help, not the pathetic whimpers beginning to slip out.

“I can’t,” you feel his gasp more than you can hear it. Your blood is too loud, roaring in your ears as you feel the fangs slip with his words, “I can’t.”

That hunger you felt, the one that had called out to you through the night and led you right to his doorstep, is unavoidable now. You need him closer, you need him to do this. For the first time since you had saved his life and tasted his blood after the Upside Down, everything seems to click into place. All he needs to do is let them sink into you, take that final leap of faith and reprieve that ache you’ve battled for weeks now.

You’re so close. So close.

“Eddie, please,” you’re nearly sobbing, hands gripping onto his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer.

But you’re no match for his strength. You don’t know if it’s a new addition with his vampire business or if there was always more to him than met the eye, but he easily stays stoic against your attempts, not moving a centimeter. Still hovering, still just barely making contact with your heartbeat.

“I-” his head drops slightly, tip of his nose beginning to trail down the side of your neck, mouth no longer dangerously close, “You saw my dreams-”

“I trust you.”

You do. You trust him even more now than you had when you first stumbled upon him in the boathouse. More than when he had pleaded his case, promised he hadn’t been the one to kill Chrissy Cunningham. The trust comes easier than breathing as his nose nuzzles into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, fangs now brushing your collar bone, “You really, really shouldn’t.”

He doesn’t stop you when you move to straddle his hips. Your weight settles onto his lap, and he only fights to keep his face burrowed there in your shoulder, arms now moving around your waist to hold you tightly to him.

His self-control is impeccable. You’d admire him and all this impressiveness another time, when something inside of you wasn’t lamenting his resistance.

All at once, it occurs to you how to give him the final push.

“Did I ever tell you how sweet your blood was on my tongue after I brought you back?” you start, sighing, rolling your shoulders to expose more of your neck, grip on his shoulders tightening, “All that blood, all those tears, and I still can’t forget how welcome that warmth of you was in my mouth. How I needed more. How I pictured it every night, after every nightmare-”

He breaks.

One moment, his nose is buried in your skin. And the next, his fangs are.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but relief would have been low on your list. You gasp out in initial shock, but as you feel his teeth dig in, it’s as though something has snapped. The ache has been satiated, preening as you feel the warmth of your blood contrast the chill of his chin pressing into you.

If there’s any pain, you don’t feel it through the haze of pleasure.

Ice shards spread through your bloodstream, but the point in which Eddie’s mouth is connected to you radiates heat. He’s pulling you into him, letting go completely and relinquishing all that control as he nearly purrs against your skin in satisfaction. That connection is back, two minds linking with a heavy click, and you can feel all his pleasure mingling with your own. Satiation, desperation, adoration – the plethora of emotions all swarm your head and block out any better judgment.

You’d let him drain you dry, if that’s what he needed. If nothing more than to hear those soft moans as his fangs sink even deeper.

He pulls back too soon, though, suddenly and unexpectedly. Just as quickly as he had given in to both your desires, he’s putting an end to them. He hadn’t taken much blood, but your head is swimming from the loss all the same. Your grip has gone slack on him, hands slipping down to just barely cradle his biceps while his own touch stays unyielding around you.

You can hear his thoughts. Or rather, maybe more aptly put, you can feel them.

He wants to devour you. Wholly, ruthlessly.

He looks up at you with pupils still blown wide, chest heaving and a small scarlet drip trailing from the corner of his mouth. For the first time since he’d come back to you, he looks alive. Hair fluffed in a halo around his head, skin tinted with a healthy glow and unmistakable blush, bags beneath his eyes faded for the time being.

You were never quite sure if Eddie Munson’s heart had ever restarted, knew for certain that it hadn’t now, but you swear you can feel its pulse finally thrumming for you.

I need more.

It’s his voice in your head, echoing in the empty space as you look down with wild eyes to match his.

But it’s your voice in his head when you respond instantaneously.

Then take it.

Something unspoken lies there in the need. He doesn’t move back to your neck, doesn’t bite down and drink his fill of your blood. He only stares for a few seconds, watching the welt of blood that pools from each puncture wound of his making. His eyes follow when it runs down your skin, as though he might lose it should he so much as blink. Down, down, down. Following the trail that his nose had followed minutes before, across your collarbone until it stains the neck of your loose shirt.

My pleasure.

His hold proves helpful when he quickly changes positions, roughly throwing you down onto the couch before he’s settled between your thighs, crawling his way up your body. He pays close attention to the maroon trail on your throat, his tongue cleaning up after his mess, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

Sweet as honey.

His tongue only pauses for a moment over the bite wound, pressing into it, making your back arch as you press yourself fully into him. Your head digs painfully into the cushion behind you as you expose your neck, wanting and begging and pleading all without words.

“I think we should take this off,” he plucks at the hem of your shirt, tugging hard before he begins to carefully lift. His freezing knuckles brush against your burning skin, eliciting a whimper from you, “Before we make an ever bigger mess. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

A sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. Honeyed words, familiar to how he once spoke, but entirely new in the way they curl around you. There’s a confidence there, a baiting that he’s luring you with.

“Yes, please.”

He could ask anything of you in this moment, and you’d be eager to comply. Fueled by your desire for him before the events of spring break, worsened by his new condition. A bright, red, vibrating thread. You couldn’t severe the tie if you wanted to.

And you most certainly did not want to.

Your shirt is removed, his hands careful despite the way they shake. His words may be smooth, but each move is jagged, the only sign you had that he’s still exercising control.

“And these?” he whispers, lowering his lips to your sternum as he toys with the band of your pants. His fangs scratch down the center of your stomach as it quivers with each breath, careful to not break skin as they make their presence known. You nearly lose all capability to speak until he says, “Use your words, baby. Tell me I can take them off.”

Yes.

His eyes flare, looking up to you, “Use your words. Not your mind. I want to hear how badly you need me – I want everyone to hear you beg.”

The words strike straight to your core. Lashing out in your lower stomach, burning deliciously.

It’s more than putting on a show. He needs to know you want this.

“Take them off,” you gasp out, hands wandering to tangle in his hair, “Take- Take it all off. I’m yours, Eddie.”

Shaking hands perform a dance you had long since fantasized about. In easier days, when Eddie had been uninvolved in the episode down, heart still beating along as he would bounce his knees in front of you and his fingers would idly fiddle with his pencils and pens. A yearning, a wanting, you’d always held for the boy.

He used to be an escape from it all. A pretty thing to daydream about when you weren’t worried about monsters. And now – he was one of the monsters.

Your monster. Tied to you inexplicably, brought back by your hands and your stubborn efforts.

His lips and fangs are one in the same, trailing along your body as he finds a home at the apex between your thighs. Even in undeath, he’s the most beautiful thing your mind could conjure.

You’d forgotten how he was privy to your every thought until he reacts.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, smirking salaciously as he mouths innocently at that sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick a cool stride before he breathes out against it. It has you writhing beneath his hold, “You’ve wanted this all this time, sweetheart? Wanted to see me, between these pretty thighs, making you scream my name?” His mouth falls open a bit wider, the sharp canines pressing but not sinking against where he had just licked. He holds there, eyes locking with yours, until he pulls back to cockily say, “Could’ve just said something, y’know. Didn’t have to bring me back from the dead to have me devoted to you.”

Finally, finally, he lets his fangs sink back into you. The soft meat of your thigh is more pliant in his mouth, and he doesn’t linger as long as he had on your neck. One nick, just enough to start the blood flow, before he’s pulling back and licking hungrily at the scarlet liquid. Less for feeding, more for marking.

Marking you as his, just as you have with him. His methods just appeared a bit more physical.

He’s quick to avert his focus on your cunt, no warning before the tongue still covered in your blood is taking long strides over your entrance and clit. Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you, alternating between indulging in your sweet cunt and returning back to that bite, going as far to even sink his teeth in a second time to take a proper drink of you. His chin and lips grow slick with it all – with the blood, with your wetness, with his own saliva. A starved man with a feast before him.

The way he’s rutting his hips into the couch as he slings your legs over his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s a mess. A wonderful, satisfying, enchanting mess.

Beautiful. So beautiful, all mine.

His voice has you teetering on an edge of new carnal pleasure. Completely consumed by him, your hands tugging viciously at his curls. His face is round once more, eyes and cheeks no longer sunken in, vitality being breathed into him with each taste of your blood.

Let me touch you. Please.

You beg over that connection, trying your best to not buck your hips mercilessly against his tongue. You feel his wicked grin.

“You’re already touching me, sweetheart,” he reaches up, untangling your fingers from his hair for emphasis before he’s pinning them to your sides, “And what did I say about using our words? Hm?”

“Need more,” your voice is wrecked as you tilt your head back, wrists straining against his hold, “I need more.”

You’re fully light-headed now, the blood loss finally catching up. Maybe you were about to let him drain you dry.

And what a beautiful way to die. At the hand, at the fangs, of the one you had fought so urgently to bring back to you.

One last timid lick to the wound on your thigh, and he’s crawling his way back up to you. The mess doesn't phase you as he kisses you hungrily – the blood remains sweet rather than metallic, the remnants of your juices still on his tongue – and you meet him with an unbridled fervent. Nipping at his lips with your own dull canines as if you were the one looking for a bite of vivacity.

You don’t know when he lets go of your wrists, or when your hands find their way up beneath his shirt. The specifics don’t matter once he’s naked before you, clothes discarded messily to the ground with your own. The only thing that matters is the weight of him, the reminder that he was still here as his hips roll into yours and the head of him catches on your entrance.

He had been dead. For minutes. And you had brought him back to you.

The process had taken longer than the mere CPR administered, had taken weeks of whatever waiting game you two had tortured yourselves with, but you had him now. He was yours. You were his. There wasn’t a deity, a monster, an omniscient being in this world that could take that away from you. Not even Death herself.

“Last chance, baby,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up so that not a single inch of his skin pressed to yours. You nearly cried out, missing that connection, missing him. Your hunger, the hunger for him entirely, rattles your bones once more, “Say the word, and I’ll-”

“No,” your hands pause their exploration of skin jagged with scars. Reminders of those few dreadful moments in which the world existed without Eddie Munson in it, that would fade in time but never fully disappear. Always there, just like the stain of his blood on your palms. Always there, just like your desperation to have him at your side. “I meant it when I said I’m yours. I’m not changing my mind. I want this.”

His skin is back on yours, body laid fully along your own road map, and it all comes flooding back. The pain of seeing his lifeless body, the nights spent in an eerie hospital room, baring your own teeth at any one who came too close to the man you had pulled back from the ledge of Death. The anxiety, the fear, the relief, the yearning – it all accumulates as he’s pressing into you, brimming you so full that there’s no room for memories of nightmares.

He’s here. He’s yours. You’re his.

His heart didn’t need to beat for you to accept that truth.

You can’t decipher which chants of your name fall from his lips for others to hear, and which ones whisper in the depths of your mind for only you to bear witness to. Each curse, each grunt, each moan – there for you and only you anyways. You’re entirely unsure if your lips even separate once as he thrusts, cock brushing somewhere deep in you that has you clenching around him.

And if his fangs wander, it only adds to the pleasure.

Blood, sweat, and tears all mingle between your bodies. He’s holding you tighter than water, as though you’re at risk of disappearing from him at any given moment. But that link between your two minds, your two souls, is unwavering. It’s the only thing grounding you to the moment as your half curls around his waist and your heel digs into his lower back. Urging him, pressing him, taking him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says it out loud, this time. You feel his lips brushing against your ear as he does, “Gripping me so tightly. This pussy was fucking made for me.”

Every movement only unlocks something more feral inside the two of you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines to trace over once it’s all said and done. There’s enough shallow bite marks across your neck that you’ll be wearing scarves for weeks, months. The others might question it, strangers might stare, but the pride you feel as he marks you is unmatched for any anxiety about it.

That black hole of hunger is no longer swallowing either of you whole. That debilitating pain, that animal inside, has been tamed.

When his hips begin to stutter, mouth no longer capable of the strength to properly bite you as his lips only smear the soft spattering of blood pooling at the base of your throat, you’re already there. Squeezing him tightly, sucking him in, voice raw as you let everyone know who’s ravishing you.

Eddie.

Hawkins’ newest zombie boy – Hawkins’ newest vampire.

The climax is just as pleasurable as the lead up. The haze lingers long after his spent has dripped out of you, long after he’s collapsed into your body with exhaustion and contentment. The blood dries, the wounds clot – but that haze doesn’t falter.

As long as his skin presses to yours, you feel that caress of his mind against yours.

“Did…” you’re breathless as his face nuzzles into your nude chest, a few mindless hums of gratification still slipping from him as you bring a hand to toy with the curls at the crown of his head, “Did any of your vampire books say anything about… that?”

The connection. The bloodlust. The spell you swear he still has you under, even as it’s all said and done.

He snorts against your skin, “Not that I, uh, recall.”

“What? You mean to tell me in all your research, you never dived into any vampire smut?” you tsk jokingly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He lifts his head, and you swear, those honey-brown irises have threads of a deep maroon now, “You’re slacking, Munson.”

“Why read about it when I can just experience it?” he coos, letting his nose and lips drag across your still hot skin before he rests his chin on your sternum, “Besides, I mean – we’ll need to do this again, won’t we, baby? For research.”

Your head still spins. Your body aches in a welcome manner. There will be a need for explanations to others, for actually researching his condition, later on. But for now, it’s enough.

The pounding behind your ribcage, the one you know Eddie feels for the both of you when his ear presses to your chest, is enough.

Of course, lover.

That thought stays between the two of you. The world doesn’t need to know what can’t hurt them.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #reader essentially became soul bound to him womp womp #don't drink a vampire's blood kids #i really didn't edit that intensely i spent two hours fucking with photoshop #if it's bad it's bad #finally dipping my toes into kas!eddie tho wahoo #vampire!eddie munson #someone requested eddie with this song forever ago but i lost the ask #eddie reading dracula to figure out if he's become a vampire is actually so fucking funny to me

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carolmunson · 7 months

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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obligatedart · 1 year

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I can never resist the urge to draw this babygirl 🥹

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

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steddielations · 1 year

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Steve, Nancy and Robin go back into the Upside Down to get Eddie's body. They come across a fully transformed Kas, fangs snarling, clawed slashing, wings bared. He’s vicious and angry and very territorial, hissing at them. The whole group is really freaked out.

Until Steve steps closer and says, "Ed... Eddie?"

Then this ravenous monster goes full on Bambi-eyed and scampers over to them. Robin jumps back and Nancy slowly lowers her gun, both of them watching utterly dumbstruck as ‘Eddie’ excitedly jumps around Steve's feet.

Confused, but trying to keep Eddie happy, Steve’s like, “That’s it… nice little monster puppy?”

Eddie’s tail is wagging, butt wiggling, nuzzling Steve’s hand and making a purring noise when Steve carefully ruffles his hair, “Good boy…?”

Eddie’s wings flap happily in response.

This is how they find out that not only is Eddie alive, but his vampire-half is not subtle at all. Especially when Eddie finally admits he has feelings for Steve and to his surprise, Steve already knows, mostly because Eddie’s been ‘gifting’ him all the random shiny things he finds for weeks.

#kas eddie: i am dark and dangerous and big and bad and--#steve: who's a good boy?#kas eddie: me!! i am!! i'm a good boy!!#steddie #eddie munson #steddie headcanon #rueswriting #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson headcanon #vampire eddie munson #kas eddie munson #had to repost bc it didn't show in the tags oops

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 7 months

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Eddie, not knowing he's projecting into Steve’s head because he's still figuring out his powers, and he doesn't really know he's connected to Steve. He's hanging out with Steve and Robin, unable to get his mind off of how good Steve looks in his brand-new jeans. Suddenly, Steve screams.

"What? Is it another migraine?" Robin asked.

"No! I can't seem to stop thinking about my own ass!" Steve shrieks.

"Well, look at the time, I've got to get going. Ever since I came back from the dead, Wayne has got me on on a curfew," Eddie yawned and started to leave. "Goodnight!"

Yeah, Eddie figured it out.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #a baby ficlet if you will #vampire!eddie munson #kas!eddie munson

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cholvoq · 1 year

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“Softly you stir, Gently you moan

Lust in the air, Wake as I groan

In the dead of night, Love bites”

Literally the most vampire Steddie-coded song ever—

#steddie #steddie fanart #vampire eddie fanart #steve harrington #eddie munson #kas eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #song is Love Bites - Judas Priest #I’m literally asexual #how did i draw this #I spent way too much time on details

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steddiewithachance · 6 months

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Vampire Pancakes

A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire

🥞🫐

No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.

Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.

Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.

Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.

"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"

Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.

"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."

So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.

Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.

Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.

Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.

He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.

🥞🫐

It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.

"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.

"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.

"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.

Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.

He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.

"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.

"Not even a little."

Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.

"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.

"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"

"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.

"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.

"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."

Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.

"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.

"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

🥞🫐

In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.

The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.

Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.

He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.

"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.

"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.

"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.

Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.

"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.

"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.

"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.

Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."

And it feels like things are gonna be okay.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fluff #soft steve harrington #steve harrington is a sweetheart #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x steve #writing prompt #steddie microfic

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2jihiir0 · 2 months

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let me lick all your scars baby

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fluff #vampire eddie munson #kas!eddie #steddie fanart #based on that pic of hoard #scars

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your-stranger-halfblood-things · 1 year

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Eddie pretends to be offended after Ozzy Osbourne bites a bat's head off. He says that it's animal cruelty and since he's a vampire, it hurts to see humans treating bats like that. But he obviously idolizes Ozzy and names his dog after him. He introduces Steve to a bunch of his music and the younger man loves it- he doesn't quite understand the hype, but he likes seeing how happy Eddie gets

#steve changes into smaller subcultures such as punk #when the move in together ozzy the dog instantly loves steve #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kas theory #kas eddie munson #kas!eddie #kas vampire eddie #vampire eddie au #vampire!eddie #vampire eddie x steve #vampire eddie munson #punk steve harrington #punk!steve #ozzy osbourne #punk steve and punkish metal eddie #steddie and their subcultures

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magnoliabutters · 1 year

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• FEELING EVERYTHING •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: so what kas saved your life?! it’s not like you owe him everything…

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; canon divergence, enemies to lovers trope, season 4 spoilers, previous parts mentioned; sexy angst, slight suicidal ideation, manipulation, child abuse (previous trauma mentioned), toxic ass kas, sexual advances tied with a misunderstanding, hot and cold dynamics, dwugs, depression, grief, anxiety (panic), y/n count: 3, etc.

word count: ~8.9k

reblogs, comments, & thoughts are appreciated 🦇

• stories of eddie munson series • season two • previous part •

note: as always, thank you for the patience! we're almost coming to a close y'all! in this part, i tried to challenge myself to focus more on describing the visuals and the scene. let me know your thoughts! i cannot wait to read your reactions!

note to the note: my partner, who was so kind to beta-read, found an inconsistency around the border of vecna’s “new world.” you may or may not catch it. i just wanna share i am aware, and i am upset haha unfortunately caught it too late 🥲

The dried grass is rough against your shins. A sea of plains ahead that curl into waves with each blow of the wind. The orange streaked sky, a beautiful sight, now a daunting reminder to find shelter before the night. You wish you could have been here any other time. The gorgeous way the sunlight trickles onto the glossy leaves of the trees. The way the sun feels against your skin. The air just cold enough that the warmth of its rays feel nostalgic.

Eddie would have loved this. The opportunity to find civilization, as though it was some challenging quest. He would have compared it to some battle his Dungeons and Dragons character led the party into. His arms stretched out as he passionately tells the tale of how they won the fight with only a sliver of a chance. A heroic and miraculous story that only he could tell correctly.

He always told stories in a way that made you feel as though you were actually there, feeling each and every emotion. All the ups and downs. He had you clinging to the edge of your seat, clinging onto every word no matter the topic. Your heart warms at the thought of that beautiful mouth speaking a million words a second as he excitedly shares a story. God, how you wish you could see him again.

The uncomfortable scratching of the heavy grass continues to remind you that an oversized t-shirt and panties is not the ideal hiking gear. Not that you exactly had a choice. You struggle to step through the field, stumbling along with your arms held out wide for balance.

“You look like a bird,” Kas scoffs as his thick leather boots crunch against the yellow waves of the pasture. His bare chest still littered with pink scratches. He carelessly plows through the tall grass. Your eyes instinctually roll, leaving another muffled chuckle to drop from his lips. Your hands gradually fall to your side as embarrassment seeps into your pores.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” he mutters as he swats away a horse fly. Your annoyance levels have been seriously dampened with the recent events. Kas’ constant “are we there yet” attitude is not helping in the slightest. “I figure if we keep heading north, we’ll get to the highway and,” you bite your lip, tensing your brow as you point over the vast hill. “Um, we’ll just hitchhike.” You shrug, looking back at him with a weakly confident expression. His face deadpanned as he stares back at you with lack lustered eyes.

“Hitchhike?” Kas asks with a monotone. “Yeah,” you grumble in hesitancy. “Doesn’t everyone in a fifty mile radius of Hawkins think I am some satanic serial killer?” he inquires with the side of his lip pulled as he stares at you in judgment. Your eyes fall as you realize your mistake. “Well, um, let’s just find the highway first and figure out what to do from there,” you utter as you push through another bundle of grass. “Okay,” he says in a sing-songy voice as he walks off in front of you.

This is your life now. You try your best not to compare between the two - knowing that would cause you nothing but pain, but it’s hard. It’s so hard to know what you had and what you have lost, and what you have now. A small part of you wishes you had nothing at all.

With great love, comes great vulnerability and despair. You find yourself wondering if it was worth it. If loving Eddie was worth the pain of losing him. Of having his complete opposite inhabit his body and parade the fact that he is no longer the love of your life. In fact, he punishes you for thinking that, as if you could resist the urge. The agony you feel, both physical and emotional, almost pushes you off the edge. The question of “is it worth it?” echoes through your mind.

Kas looks ahead of the pairing. He notes a break in the clear pasture and sees a tree line. His eyes discern its distance, noting that it is a rather thin tree line. Suddenly, he sees motion rushing by behind the trunks. The only vehicles he is used to were filled with and destroyed by Vecna’s blackened veins, but he still identifies the motion as cars. Excitement fills his chest as he hurriedly turns around with a finger pointing at the tree line.

But when he turns, his smile disappears. He watches as your eyes are glued to the ground. Your face is solemn. The edges of your beautiful lips turned downward as your hair covers your face. The excitement immediately shifts to worry as he takes a step towards you. His hand slowly moves to your gaze, interrupting your thoughts.

As your head innocently raises towards him, Kas shoots you a comforting smile. His hands, both naturally and hesitantly, flow to the sides of your arms. You decide to shoot him a weak grin as you appreciate what he is trying so hard to do. And with that, Kas pulls you in - deeply pressured against his chest as his arms wrap around your upper back.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers against your ear. His chin finding a place upon the top of your shoulder. Such a familiar feeling, Eddie’s embrace, and yet you have another reminder of his lost presence. You want him so badly. You wish he could be here. That his true self was holding you, comforting you. Your hands fall upon the base of his spine, pulling him tightly into you. Abruptly, the sobs fall from your lips as you push yourself deeper against the warmth of his skin.

Kas knows you are hurting - who wouldn’t be after what you have been through? The thing is he wasn’t sure exactly how much pain filled your saddened soul, but once he heard those sobs - he knew. It is gut wrenching to feel your body heave against his. The pain is so much worse than the sensation of your nails digging against his skin. His hands smooth out your back as he attempts to comfort your contorting body.

Finally, you feel it. You feel everything you have pushed deep within yourself since you heard of Eddie’s passing. The pain. The anguish. The betrayal. The threat of death. The fear of death - an actual impending death - no longer one in the far off future. You lost the love of your life.

Eddie is dead.

And your heart has felt empty since your realization of this. Your knees give out and both you and Kas fall to the floor. Kneeling beside each other and still stuck in a beautiful embrace.

As tears stream down your face, Kas pulls away slightly to look at you. His brows push together as his thumb traces against your cheeks. “Sh, sh, sh,” he whispers as one of his hands caresses the back of your head. He pulls you gently and closer to his chest. His chin now resting against your hairline.

Abruptly, you pull away, sniffling as you do. You are confident you look a hot mess but you don’t care, not even a little. You wipe your nose as your eyes darken before him. He stares at you in confusion and worry. His body aching for your touch.

“You said you saved me,” you start slowly, attempting to push down the sobs that climb your throat. “That you would have never killed me.” Kas nods with curiosity as your eyes raise to his. “I-I want to talk about something and I don’t want to hear shit about it,” you spit out harshly. However, your expression immediately returns to the vulnerable girl that Kas has grown to love. It leaves a hint of a smile on his face.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asks softly. With a deep sigh, you mumble, “I want to talk about Eddie.” Kas winces at the name, something you immediately notice. Another physical pain shoots through your chest as you prepare your body for his rejection. He takes a deep breath, placing his palms to his knees as he slowly nods with eyes to the ground beneath you both.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. Your heart fills with joy, enough to completely disregard his body language. Soft sobs follow your laughter. Your hand pushes the tears away from your cheeks as he slowly raises his head. “He was beautiful,” you choke out whimpers with an ambiguous smile to your face. “He is easily the best person I have ever met,” you laugh out weakly.

A small, tight smile forms on Kas’ face as his hand slides behind your head once again. He pulls you into the side of his neck. His other hand collapsing around your crying body. “At first, I had no idea how he could be so confident and silly,” a smile emerges on your face as he wipes another round of tears from your cheeks.

“Do you remember any of his rants in the cafeteria?” you ask excitedly. Your inexperience with vulnerability attempting to make the conversation less one-sided. The smile on his face slowly grows as a low hum of a chuckle riffles in his throat. He slowly nods as his grip tightens at your waist. "I remember one distinctly about how the cafeteria stopped giving out corn on the cob," he answers.

In the midst of a laugh, you pull back to look at his face. “What else do you remember?” you ask, placing a hand to his chest. Tears now well in your eyes, as opposed to flowing down your cheeks. Kas takes a deep breath, following the press of his tongue against the back of his front teeth.

The silence flattens your grin. You lean backwards to pull your thighs and legs from his knees. The tightness and excitement in his chest persists as Kas remembers how his words impact you. How your smile grows any time he shares a memory. How his heart flutters at the sound of your giggle.

He winces, disgusted with the warm, cuddley shit that Eddie’s more accustomed to. And yet, here he is - desperate to put a smile on your incredible face. A part of him wonders if you were manipulating him. Show him a grin and he is a puddle between your thighs. He hates the hold you have over him. How your happiness makes his undead heart beat.

Kas wonders if he will ever have autonomy, or if he will continue to be a slave for others as long as his mystical life will allow. His body craves for yours, pushing his mind to find a way back to caressing your soft skin. He sorts through the hazy fog and recollected memories.

With a huff, he shares, “I remember the day you made Mac n Cheese.” He lightly taps his fingers against his thighs as he adjusts to sit cross legged. His eyes were down, but he could see you beaming off-center of his gaze.

“We were with, um,” he hesitates as he looks up. His hands quickly move around, gesturing as he speaks. “Wayne,” the name pops out eagerly from your sweet lips. An encouraging nod to follow. “Wayne, yeah,” Kas agrees slowly, pretending as though he did not know exactly who his uncle, Wayne Edward Munson, was.

“He liked you,” Kas says, lifting his brow as a smirk appears on his cheek. You laugh to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest. “You know, Eddie - I mean - he told me that but I still wasn’t sure,” you end with a chuckle. His eyes lift to yours - those button eyes comparable to your childhood teddy bear. They always left happiness ringing through your body.

He shakes his head. “No, darlin’,” he starts. “There’s no world where you wouldn’t be on anyone’s good side.” With a slight chuckle, he adds, “Hell, I kept pushing you away and I couldn’t stay hating you.” You bite your lip, trying to hide the largest smile since you last kissed Eddie. “I am pretty loveable, aren’t I?” you ask sheepishly. With his tongue stuck to his canine, he lets out a deep sigh paired with a smile. “Yeah,” he says slyly and with a shrug. “I guess that’s true.”

Your eyes flow towards the sky, noting the bright stars twinkling above. The joy you feel is addicting. Something incomparable to the last few days. You dare not disturb it. And yet...

“There was something about your family,” Kas starts with a furrowed brow. A memory floods his brain, something he did not account for. “It was complicated. You had so many locks, to be safe - to feel safe.” Your smile dropped, but he had not noticed. His eyes pull straight, narrowing as he attempts to grab hold of this memory.

“They hurt you,” Kas lets out as a sigh, as though the realization was just then. “Why didn’t he do anything about it?” he asks in an accusatory tone. His nostrils flare as his chest rises and his back straightens. He places his sights on you. Your hands push together, sliding between your thighs. Eyes resting upon them as the sadness sinks in your heart.

“Eddie, you just don’t understand,” you say as you harshly push the tear from your cheek. “No, baby, I understand completely. What do you think my dad did to me before Wayne ran him off?” Eddie whisper yells as he points up the stairs. “They can’t keep doing this to you!” The fire fueling in his stomach is the same firing his clenched fists. How dare they hurt you? How dare anyone lay a finger on you?

“Please, Eddie, please just stop,” you mumble in between cries. Your hand pulling at his arm, creating distance between him and the stairs. Eddie could see your eyes were fixated on your bedroom door. “No, y/n,” he says abruptly. His stance fixed and firm. His eyes unrecognizable.

Eddie pulls his arm from your grasp, causing you to take a step back. But quickly, he grabs hold of your forearm. His fingers squeezing against your skin as he tugs you closer to him. His other hand lightly lands next to the assorted bruises you had up and down your arm. Gently, he raises your arm to show the purple splotches thrown against your ribs that were hidden by your shirt. He expected the surprise on your face, as he knew you thought he only saw the marks on your arm.

“Y/n, there is no way in hell that this is okay,” Eddie says through grinding teeth. Heavied breaths fall from his flared nostrils as he looks up at the stairway again. “Eddie,” you say weakly as tears run rampant down your face. “Please, you’re hurting me,” you share as you lightly push at his hardened grip.

Eddie quickly turns around with horror on his face as his eyes are met with the dark pink imprints of his fingers upon your skin. He stumbles back with his hand placed against his chest. “I-I I’m sorry,” he starts as he backs into a support beam. A small cough exists between you two as he clears his throat. His eyes watering as his chin glues stuck against his chest.

“Baby,” you crumble before him. Your hand leading your body as it lands softly against his cheek. His hand collapsing over yours. Your other rests against his sternum. “Eddie, baby, you didn’t mean it...”

Kas snaps his eyes towards you. Abruptly, he pulls himself from the memory, having seen everything he needed to see. His brows push together as his upper lip slightly pulls. “He hit you?” he asks with shock thick in his intonation. A hand reaches out to your knee.

“Excuse me?” you pull away disgusted. You cannot help but stand and look down at him. “I just,” you chuckle in disbelief, giving up further with each breath you take. Your hands gesturing with a shrug. “I wanted to be happy, remember the times when life was actually good, for once.” A scoff falls, and you shake your head. “It’s like you want me to be in pain - to suffer along with you.” Eyes looking off into the night sky, desperate to go back to that happiness. But it does not come.

Kas pulls his hand away, landing it softly against his lap. A white hot flash spreading between his nostrils and eyes. He meant to make you happy, but he remembered something. He pursued it, like he figured you would want him to. But maybe not this memory. Are there bad memories between the lovebirds?

Like a switch, his anger kicks in. An undeniable defense mechanism that he will continue to deny. “And what pain am I in, darlin’?” he scoffs. Your eyes flick up, searching for some sign of dismay in his. You find absolutely none. “God, just never mind,” you throw your head as you continue forward, brushing the thought off to hide yourself from more pain.

“No, no, no, little lady,” Kas laughs as he grabs your forearm, pulling you backwards. “We’re still talking.” The whiplash of his grip twists your body into his. His other hand quickly falls at the base of your back as he pulls you onto him. “Let go of me, asshole,” you demand brutally as you push against him. He laughs as he lets you stumble back. An ache begins to ring in your wrist.

“You want to talk, Kas, fine,” you yell at him, pushing your palms harshly against his bare chest. His stumble back is met with another condescending chuckle. “Eddie never hurt me.” You can feel your entire face tensing up. Every muscle, even those you didn’t even know you had.

“Don’t forget, I was there,” Kas mocks, pointing a finger to his temple. “You weren’t there,” you spit out. “Those are Eddie’s.” He laughs, leaning over and holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath and in a combustion of sarcasm and genuineness, he softly says, “Eddie’s not here anymore.”

Now, it is your turn to scoff. “And you just love reminding me,” you say, shame-filled. He chuckles, his head swaying side to side as he settles into his suave stance. Confident, boisterous, annoying.

“You do understand though, right?” you ask with confidence. He adjusts immediately detecting that he now has a contender in front of him, as opposed to a weak girl. “Eddie never hurt me,” you say softly. “You, on the other hand, you’ve hurt me every second since I met you,” you end with a hiss.

Kas’ lips fall into a line. His eyes raking over your facial features, processing those sinful words. You watch, pleased with his response. You soak in the pain displayed exclusively on his face without regret. “What was that again?” you exaggerate thinking with a finger bouncing off your chin. “What pain are you in, darlin’? This kind,” you end with disgust as you point him up and down.

He continues to stare at you with widening eyes. His face blank now, as though all the blood drained from it. “Let’s just keep going,” you suggest. The moral compass in your head is wavering. You walk forward, noting his lack of movement.

“Do you remember anything else about that night?” Kas calls out blankly. You turn around to face him, expecting sarcasm but seeing absolutely nothing in those dark brown eyes. “I do,” you whisper.

“Will you tell me?” he asks with his head down as he takes a step towards you. A part of you hesitates, wondering if this is just another trick of his. But you wanted to reminisce on memories. Here is your chance. “Sure,” you say in a lackluster tone. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“It was just another regular day. Eddie came over after DND, like usual,” you shake your head as you attempt to remember. “My dad was a dick that day so Eds had to meet me at the back door.” Your eyes close as you continue, “I snuck him in and we went to my room and we were just talking about our days on my bed eating pizza.” You smile. “When we were laying down, I guess my shirt rolled up and he saw the bruises from earlier that day."

You laugh aloud, quickly pinning your mouth closed and hiding a smile. “He is the most stubborn person I know,” you share, forgetting who you were sharing with. “He wouldn’t let it go. He needed to know where the bruises were from and to see more.”

You stop immediately when you feel hot at your tear ducts. You quickly decide to keep a memory of love between you and Eddie. Another smile emerging as you acknowledge the realization that that was the moment you knew, without a doubt, Eddie Munson loved you. That he was the only person who loved you enough to care about your safety.

“I fucking caved, as usual,” you giggle. “And when I showed him, he got pissed. I’ve never seen him more mad. I saw this fire in his eyes, I saw…” your brain stops working. Your brows crunch together as your eyes fall to the floor, processing the new information.

After some time, you look up to Kas, who has been watching you continually. “I saw you in-in his eyes,” you say in awe. Kas’ flattened lips slowly flicker into a smirk.

You knew Kas? You saw him in Eddie, and you did not run. He existed before Eddie died. You know it to be true. He was there, and he was loved … by you.

Quickly, you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought. You would not dare disrespect Eddie by comparing him in any way to Kas. “Uh, he wanted to beat up my dad for hurting me. I had to talk him down,” you say plainly. “He was feeling all those emotions so he-he just squeezed my arm,” you reenact the movement. “But when I told him to stop, it was like he realized he was hurting me and acted like he had control of it, like he should’ve known better.”

Your eyes fall on Kas’ once again. “He did not hurt me on purpose. He would never hurt me on purpose. And that is what you should remember,” you say clearly.

But Kas will not remember that distinction. He has better things to think about. “Just as long as you remember that you saw me that night,” he says with a chuckle. “God, you’re so damn good at making everything about you,” you throw out with a hand to your hip. “Oh yeah? 'Cause I thought it was all about you later that night?” he asks with bouncing brows. Your eyes darkened. “You remember,” you reply flatly.

“Yes, baby, I remember that night,” Kas smirks as he takes another step, like a lion stalking it's prey. “I remember when he laid you on the bed. How he traced his fingers up your leg,” he says softly as he attempts to do the same. You pull back in disgust, unsure of where this is coming from. He looks at you daringly.

“You liked it when he did it,” he huffs. “Well, what about when he kissed your neck.” He steps forward once more, hooking his arm around your waist and pressing your torso against his chest. Frankly, you were completely done with his manhandling. His lips fall upon your skin like unwanted tickles. Your elbow rests against his chest as you press your weight upon it. But this time, he did not pull away. He continues on.

“Oh, not that?” Kas asks amusingly, clearly not understanding the situation. His hands slowly trickle down your sides and to the front of your waist. “What about when he unbuttoned your pants-” “No, Kas!” you yell, pushing with all your force. He stumbles backwards with arms held out wide. His face both concerned and surprised. "No," you repeat sternly.

“I thought we were…” he trails off, slowly understanding exactly what he was doing. “No, Kas, we weren’t,” you say roughly. “Fuck, man! Why the hell would you even think that?” You push the hair from your face as you await his explanation. Kas’ held out hands slowly raise to a defensive position. “I-l I didn’t mean for any of that, we just, uh, we fight and then we,” he stutters. Wide, watering eyes. Stumbling his words as he continues to step back.

You could see him. Just like that night. Just like when he hurt you accidentally. His remorse. His horror of what he has done. You could see Eddie again.

“Thank you for backing off,” you whisper. You look up to Kas as he sucks his tongue against his gums, pushing tears back into his eyes. He hides his face form you’d “I’m sorry,” he says with a deep voice after a quick clearing of his throat. “Thank you,” you mutter. “Let’s just keep walking, okay?” you suggest, pushing ahead. Kas solemnly follows behind you - at a distance.

It was stupid to stop and talk. The sun is completely gone. That road Kas thought he saw? Yeah, that was a river. A river you both had to strategically hop stones to cross. A river you fell ass first in when you slipped on a mossy stone. His bustling laughter echoing in the emptied space, and yet you trek forward.

An odd gesture but Kas offers you his black boots. The first six times you refused, but once your feet started bleeding you decided why the hell not. They were two sizes too big and clunky things. You don’t even think Eddie would wear these, not outside of his room. But Kas? He does not have a single care in the world.

You figured that after Vecna, normal things like dark forests would not bother you in the slightest. You were wrong. You could hear him in any brush of leaves from the wind. You could feel him when you step on unexpected rocks, attempting to navigate through the tall grass. You could see him in the shadows by the tree trunks. You could smell him in the dry air.

A snap.

“What was that?” you whisper quickly. Your arms are held defensively in front of your chest as though you are ready for something to jump out. Kas looks back at you and immediately rolls his eyes. “I stepped on a branch,” he laughs. You cannot fully trust your eyes, but you swear you saw adoration in his smile as opposed to the usual condescending attitude.

You shake off the jitters, feeling prickles trace down your limbs and up your neck. “It’s cool, I’m, uh,” you say as something catches your eye on the ground. You let out a soft sigh of relief as your eyes return to his. “Yeah, I am a-okay,” you say more convincingly. You could almost convince yourself.

Kas bites his lip, studying you as you walk past him. “Are you afraid of the dark, little girl?” he whispers in your ear as ticklish fingers prance against the skin of your sides. “Kas, stop,” you stay sternly, swatting his hands away. “Seriously, though, what do you have to worry about with me here?” he scoffs amusingly. A smile growing on his face by the second as he catches up and walks beside you.

“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe that flayed piece of jerky back there?” you say pointing behind you as you roll your eyes. “We’re outside of where he can reach, there’s no way he could get us,” he tries to soothe with a smile, but immediately recognizes the thin line growing between your brows.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kas whispers as he gently holds your wrist. He stops you in your tracks. You suck your tongue against your teeth as you avoid eye contact at all costs. “Hey,” he repeats in a deeper tone. His hands now cupped to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Vecna cannot get us here,” he says clearly. “No one will hurt you as long as I am around.”

You cannot help but search for Eddie in those eyes. Just to see him one more time, but you know that will never be enough. Kas will never be enough. But his words help and you are able to take a deep breath.

You nod, and he slowly drops his hands from your face. “Thank you,” you murmur. The word is now way too common in both of your vernaculars. Kas walks off with a smile, not turning back to look at you, not even once.

Staring at the glow of the moon, you would guess it had to be at least 4 or 5am. Not that you would even really know what to do with that information gathered from this view. All you know is that you are getting tired, and the night sky is changing from pure darkness to a deep gray.

“Ok, I know last time I was wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s an intersection,” Kas mumbles as he points forward. Your head snaps, following his gaze, with widening eyes. Your palm lands softly at your forehead as you quietly scoff in disbelief. Do your eyes deceive you? A honk of an 18-wheeler confirms your wish. You turn around with hands up in excitement. He chuckles at how big your eyes have gotten. A hand covering his growing smile.

“That’s a car, Kas, that’s a fucking car!” you scream. You rush through the trees, trying your best not to slide atop of the wet leaves. Alas, you ram your torso against the trunk of a tree in excitement as you watch the scene unfold before you. The pain is unnoticeable.

The street lights illuminate like auras against the misty fog. The wafting smell of cigarettes fleeing the convenience store. The blinding shine of headlights wrapping around the corner every few seconds. Honking, dings, spitting, ringing, a musty old muffler - finally, people.

Not once would you have ever expected the joy of finding people again, and yet here you are. You just needed a fresh look at how shitty the alternative is to know that reality is at least 1% shittier. Hope fills your chest as you take a step forward, only for Kas to pull you back.

“What?” you bark at him, pulling your arm away. “Take a good look at yourself, darlin’. You really want to walk up to that gas station like that?” Kas says with a point as he nonchalantly leans back on a tree behind him. You look down at yourself, remembering your lack of pants, Kas’ ratty shirt and his stocky boots. You take a deep breath as you softly say, “I guess you’re right.”

He stands up, almost immediately, which draws your attention. A smirk growing on his face. “What did you say?” he asks with a leading tone. You roll your eyes recognizing his intention. “Must not have been important if you didn’t hear it the first time,” you murmur with a grin.

Kas slowly walks towards you, making your grin beam more and more with each step. “Oh, I heard it,” he says softly as he leans in closer to you. “I just wanted to hear it again,” he whispers and pulls back. You push against his chest with a laugh, leaving him with a chuckle and a raised chin as he peers down at you.

“Okay, Kas, if we can’t go down there, where are we going to go?” you ask sarcastically. Kas smiles, moving his head to its side. “Oh, sweet girl. I know exactly where we’re going,” he murmurs. Your face deadpans as you watch him confidently strut down the hill and next to the street. “Wait, what do you mean?” you call after him. Rushing to follow him, you slip but Kas was able to hook his arm around you before you landed against the dirt and dust. He relinquishes his hand, faster than you expected and it leaves you confused.

“You see that street? Hudson Ave?” he asks, pointing up at the street sign. You watch him with a perplexed expression, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. “Yeah?” you answer confusingly. “I know Hudson Ave,” he shares, looking back down at you. “We’re by Lover’s Lake.”

You take a deep breath of disappointment as you wipe your palms against your face. “I thought we were closer to the school than that,” you sigh. That would mean at least another 5 to 10 miles before being able to collapse into a bed. “Sounds like we need a place to stay for the night,” he says with excitement, as though he already knew the answer. “Yeah?” you ask again with squinting eyes.

“I know a place. It’s safe, closed off, no one’s gonna be there,” Kas adds with a bit lip and slow nodding. Your face is emotionless as you watch his encouraging eyes. “How far is it?” you ask.

“Kas, you didn’t tell me we were breaking into the place!” you ask with a worried, hushed tone. Your back stands behind Kas’, covering him as he hunches over to pick the front door’s lock. Your eyes scanning for any sign of life as the sun begins to rise over the patch of forest.

Arms are crossed against your chest, attempting to gather as much warmth as possible. “Yeah, I don’t tell you a lot of things,” Kas whispers to himself. A tongue stuck between his lips with pressed brows as he focuses on the clicks within the lock. “Almost there,” he leads.

One click and his smirk grows to an unbearable size. He turns to you with the utmost confidence. You pull your eyes away in an attempt to avoid looking at his sweetness. “Okay, we get it. You’re a badass,” you mumble, quickly moving into a whine. “Common, it’s cold out here!”

Kas chuckles to himself, almost a hum that vibrates within his chest. You could feel it too, in your own, that leaves a spark of something familiar. You push it away, deep within your stomach, refusing to acknowledge it.

“Alright, alright,” Kas brushes off. “I’m hurrying.” With a twist and a push, you were in. The room was dusty. The air was stagnant. Your face showed everything, all your thoughts on the place. Completely disgusted by the state of the place. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

“It’s, uh, it’s cozy,” you whisper as you take a sharp breath. Half drunken beer bottles are left piled in the sink. A bra of unknown origin rests strung against the top of the couch. A rug, if you were so kind, rests tattered and torn throughout the room. A spindle of its fabric lays beneath your foot.

The only pristine thing in the place is a glass cabinet filled with different variations of bongs. As much as you would like to deny it, the sparkles catch your eye. A brown glassed stem filled with peace signs - you imagine it to be at least 10 years old. Another looked like the yellow smiley face that has spread across the world in the past few years - you enjoy that one. One shaped like a dark blue toilet bowl - you are not too keen on that. Lastly, a pipe with a bowl painted like R2-D2 - that might have been your favorite.

Before you knew it, you were standing right before the glass. Admiring the collection. Kas walks behind you. A cool whisper against your neck, “Can you guess where we are?” You shudder at his breath, but a piece of you welcomed his proximity.

“A dealer,” you say matter-of-factly, as you turn to face him. “Rick’s, right?” You knew he wanted to throw you off guard. He pulls back and slowly nods as respect fills the room. Of course, a respect that did not last very long.

“Then you must’ve known that this is where he stayed,” Kas mumbles carelessly. He carefully and judgingly picks up an opened bag of Fritos with his thumb and index finger off of the coffee table. Nuggets of weed organized perfectly upon the surface. Crushed green resting within a silver grinder.

Eddie most definitely was here. You try your best not to let it show on your face, but you wondered if this is where he radioed you. Did he sleep on that disgusting ratty couch? Was that the last place he ever slept? You make your way into the kitchen, careful not to show your haste. Opened tin cans of corn stacked in a pyramid stare back at you. His last meal? A pot is barely balanced on the stove’s burner.

Despite the rush of emotion in your chest, you smile at the thought of him cooking. Eddie was always a mess in the kitchen. You are honestly surprised that he did not leave the gas on. Memories of burnt pancakes and hardened spaghetti fill your taste buds.

He may not have been the best chef, but he made up for it. There is nothing like watching him and that messy bun. Flour on his face as that familiar tongue sticks out while he’s focusing. An apron somehow already covered with syrup, even though there was yet to be any pancakes. His shirt cut off at the sleeves with strings of fabric comfortably against his biceps.

Watching him in that moment, you saw your future. A future filled with laughter and messes. Dancing in the kitchen. Finally, feeling safe - safe in his arms. Maybe he would even make you feel safe enough to give him a little one when you were both older. The world deserved another Munson, another Eddie.

But just like the rest of your dreams, this one will never come true. Another future ripped from your grasp. A happiness you had only a taste of and will never see again. And somehow, you are supposed to be okay with that - to keep moving on. Especially now that there’s some super villain dickwad that wants you dead.

There’s no time to stop and grieve, like you thought. Part of you wishes you could, but another is thankful. Truthfully, you are afraid of what your life would look like if you truly let yourself feel everything. Feel your loss. It would not be much of a life, not after you get your revenge.

Take one step at a time, you remind yourself. Vecna’s death is and should always be the highest priority. How do you kill him? How do you ensure that you are the final blow? What are his weaknesses?

“Darlin’,” Kas whispers. He has been watching you silently as you stand in the kitchen. His intention was to catch you off guard with the information of Eddie’s stay. And he did just that but yet, no enjoyment in the act. What typically brings him happiness, his fucking with you, is not hitting the spot anymore.

He now worries about you. He worries about you constantly. He hasn’t stopped since that night in the diner. If he is honest with himself, these feelings would track all the way back to the night he first saw you.

Kas lays a careful hand against your shoulder. Your head quickly turns to look at him. A shock coursing through your body. “Let’s get washed up,” he suggests softly. You nod, but a slow smile grows upon your face. His expression turns inquisitive as a chuckle leaves his throat. “Dibs on the shower,” you scream as you rush up the stairs. He watches you run and instinctually follows just as quickly behind you.

You both playfully bump into each other as you struggle up the narrow staircase. As you manage to get a two step advantage, Kas grabs onto your ankle. You lightly fall against the wood as he scoots past you. “Fucker!” you giggle as you run to catch up to him. Bouncing off the walls, you push against his shoulder. You gain the advantage as you burst through a door.

Immediately, you are horrified by the sight. A tossed around bedroom with bright orange carpet. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the mirrored ceiling, which then led you to the cheetah print sheets. Your lips part as your jaw hangs open.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as Kas finally catches up. A laughter erupts beside you, but you cannot pull your gaze away. “Oh yeah,” he jokes in your ear. “Reefer Rick’s got bangin’ taste.” You push him away from you with a sneer.

Beyond the disturbing clash in colors, you see a sliding door that leads to a balcony. The wood is of a greenish tint. Ivy covers its banisters. An old copper-rusted chair rests in the middle of the panels. A heavily used bong, tinted brown with tar, rests at its very edge.

But despite all that, the view is incredible. There is no denying it. A gray and purple fog resides just above the black water. You could actually see the sun’s rays refracting within its dense mist. Sights like these have always made you feel better. There is nothing like Mother Nature to make that debby downer within you disappear.

“Shower’s over here,” Kas says as he leans against the threshold bathroom’s threshold with crossed arms. You smile, turning around, and walking into the room. “Didn’t think you would actually respect a dibs,” you share. Thankfully, Reefer Rick seems to have better standards for cleanliness in the shower. You are pleased with its state. “Oh, I can’t mess with the dibs gods,” he scoffs incredulously.

After noting which knob is for hot water, you realize that Kas is still standing beside you. You turn around to him beginning to unbuckle his belt. “What are you doing?” you ask with a nervous giggle. He pops his head up from his hands. His mouth in a thin line.

“Um, getting ready for our shower,” he answers. “Our shower, huh?” you giggle. “Oh, what? I thought you liked taking showers with your men?” he says as he leans in to you. His hands drop his buckle as his belt rests open at his waist. You struggle not to draw your eyes to it.

You quickly recover and smile. “You remember a lot more than you’re letting on, Kas,” you say under your breath. “First of all, there are no men. Only Eddie, and you’re not him, right?” you ask with a leading tone. “So, I’m going to take this shower alone.” You point towards the shower curtain behind you with a smirk.

Kas smiles with a shrug. “I guess I’ll wait my turn,” he says lightly. “Great call,” you whisper. Almost retaliatory, he unbuttons his black jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. Teeth digging into his bottom lip.

You try your best to keep your eyes on his, but you are clearly struggling and he knows it. He loves it. The smirk growing on his face by the second. A hint of blush to his cheeks. “I’ll just be out here, sweet girl,” he soothes. His own thumb pointing back into the bedroom as he slowly walks backwards.

An undeniable, unstoppable grin beams across your face as you close the door. Fuck. The thin wooden barrier gives you enough space to consider the wild things rushing through your mind. How you wish you could just pull those jeans down, get on your knees, and make him forget that Vecna never existed. How you wish you could have dragged him into the shower with you. How he could make you forget that your pain even existed with those hands of his.

You need to cool down. Quickly. Dragging your palms down your face, you walk towards the shower. You turn the knob for cold water, leaving a slight bit of heat to settle in. You slowly raise your arms, attempting to take your shirt off, but the pain hit you like a truck. You wince at the feeling. Immediately, you hear Kas knocking. “You alright?” he asks. You laugh, “Yeah, Kas, I’m good.”

It feels so damn good to take off that ratty shirt. To take off those panties. To take off his oversized combat boots. With a deep breath, you step into the shower. The rush of the freeze was shocking, yet comforting at the same time. The feel of the water splashing against your scalp and running down your temples, cheeks, and chin.

You reach for the soap and are immediately presented with a conundrum. You debate whether or not you should rub it against your skin. You wouldn’t imagine your body being any less dirty than Rick’s bar of soap, and yet, you hesitate. With a shake of your head, you rub the soap against your hands and then lather the suds upon your body.

Feeling the sensation against your skin, you cannot help letting in the trickling thoughts of Kas. The sensation of his hands on your body. His finger tips pressing against your aching muscles. Fixing all your pains. His palms exploring your waist, making their way up your torso and to your breasts. You think of Kas. You wanted Kas.

As you step back, your calf bumps into a bottle that clunks onto the bottom of the shower floor. The abrupt loud noise echoes through the air. A burst of adrenaline fills your chest as you startlingly fling yourself against the tiled wall. The scuffle of your movement is heard from outside the bathroom.

Deep breaths heave against your diaphragm as you slowly slide down to the base of the shower. Rushing cold water hits harshly against your skin. It causes your hair to glue thickly against your face. You can’t breathe. You can’t. You just can’t.

Kas knocks once again. “Darlin’,” he calls out but you don’t answer. You can’t. You were stuck. Stuck against the ground. You could not move. If you moved, you had no idea what would happen. You were safe, barely safe in that shower. Don’t leave that spot. You can’t. You won’t.

He slowly peeks open the door. “Y/n,” he calls out but you are silent. You hear him walk closer. You can see his shadow against the blue mildewed curtain out from your peripherals. He opens the shower curtain to see your arms wrapped around your knees. You were in a tight ball, as tight as you could manage, shuddering in the cold.

“Shit, baby,” Kas hushes. He quickly turns the knobs, adding more warmth to the water pouring against the crown of your head. Without thinking, he hops inside the shower and crouches behind you. His arms tightening around your shoulders. “You are safe,” he whispers. “You are safe.” The words falling naturally, almost scripted.

With the added pressure, you can feel your heart rate slowing. You naturally place your hand against his forearm as he tightens his squeeze. You have not felt this in some time. Your eyes close as slow breaths enter and exit your lungs. The silence is comforting. A reminder that nothing is actually happening. Reality is currently safe. You are safe in Kas’ arms. Your body can calm, can take in the cues of relaxation in this warm shower.

“I am safe,” you whisper as you lightly land your forehead against his forearm. “You are safe, darlin’,” he murmurs. His head laying against your shoulder. And there you both rest. You naked in his arms. Him drenched in his jeans behind you. A tightening embrace underneath a constant stream of warming water.

Dustin has never been the same since that night. He knows his friends are worried about him. That they freak every time he disappears for an hour or two. But they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t understand why he needed to visit him. How he would talk to him, even though he wasn’t there.

He couldn’t even manage to radio Susie back anymore. It didn’t feel right to be happy with Eddie gone. He avoided it, avoided happiness like the plague. He avoided his friends, his family, his mother. He grieves in solitude, unsure of when he will ever be done.

Every day since, Dustin made the trek to Lover’s Lake. To that spot in the woods where Steve, Nance, Robin, and Eddie went to Watergate. It is the closest he can get to Eddie. To remembering him. To wishing he was still there.

After a few trips back and forth, Dustin could make his way there without the compass - not that the compass was that helpful anyway. He would bring his backpack filled with old DND books, some of which were filled with “Munson’s Property” in thick sharpie. Sometimes he would run his fingers over them, hoping that Eddie was there too.

He would talk about the campaigns he wished he could play with Eddie. The one’s he knew the party would have a great time with. He would reminisce about when Eddie said he was “grooming him - grooming him to become Hellfire’s president. To be the Dungeon master. To be him.

That is all he could ever want. Well, that and Eddie being alive.

Another day and Dustin still sits upon his stump beside the lake’s shore. Seventeen rocks still scattered across the dirtied sand. He counts them here and there, ensuring they remain the same number. That everything remains untouched, like that day. But the fog was thicker today.

He could see the purple flecks within the gray mist. He appreciated when it was foggy. It meant he didnt have to think about the gang getting attacked in the middle of the lake. It meant he didn’t have to remember watching his friends and being helpless as they all dove into the dangerous waters. How he watched two of his heroes go in the abyss and never come out.

Sometimes Dustin wonders if he will see the canoe floating out on the water abandoned one day. Or maybe he’ll find it on the shore somewhere. Maybe there’s something on it? A piece of Eddie, something he left behind. He wanted to venture out but felt glued to this stump. Glued to looking out into the water and hoping Eddie might just come out from the fog.

Or maybe something will come out and take him. Take him far away from all this pain. Dustin was at his lowest, and yet he could only imagine going lower. Permanent reds to his eyes as tears continue to fall. It is his new norm. A new world without his big brother, without the person he looked up to the most.

Dustin heard a branch snap behind him. He turns, hoping it’s not Mike or Lucas trying to drag him back to the Wheeler’s, to his mom. He is surprised by the emptiness of the woods. How it reflects how he feels inside. He assumes the noise to be due to an animal. A sigh and he’s turned back around to the lake.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of something odd. His head turns to the structure to his left - Reefer Rick’s. “What a shithole,” he mumbles to himself. He places his elbows to his knees as his palms carry the weight of his chin. A light turns on, clear and bright within the fog. Enough to pull his attention back to the building.

Dustin stands with furrowed brows and a need to investigate. Cops were his first thought. Maybe they were still looking for Eddie, or maybe Rick broke out of the jail? Rick did have a tendency to do that. Although, they would always catch him seeing as he would just go home to smoke more dope.

He walks up closer, trying to get a better look, and catches a glimpse of something on the balcony. Another side step and he tries to look past the tops of the trees. There were no beams of flashlights bouncing around the windows. Maybe it wasn’t a raid. Maybe it was more of Jason’s lackeys? Still looking for Eddie, and yet - they’ll never find him. Or maybe they’re looking for Jason? They won’t find him either.

But who Dustin saw walking out the balcony made his blood instantly run cold. He was frozen, stuck in place, with a jaw dropped and shaking hands. The person is pale with black, wet, stringy hair resting at his shoulders. A familiar stance and posture that Dustin knew all too well.

Large, healed wounds wrapping from his lower back, across his side ribs, and a bit of his front. A familiar spider tattooed across his chest. The figure had a white towel wrapped around his waist. He is looking out - looking out into the lake. Just as Dustin was.

His heart starts pounding. In an unrecognizable world he now finds himself in, he finally sees the one he has missed so dearly. “Eddie,” falls from his lips like a whisper. As though it was a secret that was never meant to be spoken. A secret that only Dustin knows. The hope that he might be back, that maybe he never left.

Before his mind could register, Dustin’s feet were already running around the battered house, faster than he thought possible. His bag and compass left hastily by the shore. He stumbles trying to find his footing against the worn wooden steps as his fist crashes against the front door. All the excitement pumping through his body as he hears steps grow louder behind the door.

It opens. And Dustin feels everything.

note: hi, katrina here. i didn’t feel like it would work in the story (timeline wise), but i wanted to share that i most def wanted eddie to go up there and beat her dad’s ass. let me know what you think, please? ♥️

next part • posting 07/15 at 5pm pst •

taglist: (sorry for the retag, tryin' something) @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @sunnytkm23, @ambthegamer, @bit-of-a-timelord

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfic #Eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #strangerthings #kas vampire eddie #kas eddie munson #kas eddie x you #kas eddie x reader #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson slow burn

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mintcakeart · 4 months

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I saw this and went full brainrot fugue state, so have some Stobin+Kas!Eddie, as a treat

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vivalski · 1 year

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Vampire Slayer 💥🦇

(Available on INPRNT)

#steddie #vamp eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kas eddie #vampire eddie #stranger things #my art #my stranger things art #yeah it's the theseus/minotaur pose #yeah kas eddie is totally into it

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moonlightsolo · 2 years

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eddie the bloody-handed

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

pairing: vampire!eddie x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we can’t do this alone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh my god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“can i kiss you or will you bite me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey?! hey!” hopper and steve yell at you both, watching from the ground as eddie disappears into the clouds.

your body shivers from the below freezing temperatures of the high altitude, gripping his body for some sort of solace.

“hold on, baby. tryna find your house.” he dips beneath the clouds, eyes looking over the area until he finds your home. he drops to the ground, leading you up to your doorstep.

eddie pushes open the front door, letting you walk inside first before following behind. he locks the door behind you both, letting you look around at your home.

“it’s like mine… but different.” you breathe out, walking up the steps to find your room. eddie folds his wings behind his back as he follows you up the staircase.

the door to your bedroom is already cracked open, letting you slip inside easily. the bed is messy and thankfully not covered in vines, “i’ve been staying here. since mine got destroyed by the giant gate.” he clears his throat awkwardly, watching you as you peer at all your familiar things.

“can you sleep?” you ask, turning to look at him leaning against the doorway.

“nope, i tried.” he huffs, rolling his eyes, “doesn’t mean i can’t cuddle with you while you do.” his eyes perk up, awaiting for your answer with a little smile.

“of course, darling. you can always cuddle me.” you plop on the bed, patting the empty space beside you.

eddie sulks up to you, sinking into the soft mattress. “you know, i tried to leave through a gate and it burned me. i mean, i healed quickly, but it hurt like a mother-fucker.”

your worried eyes flash to him, “wait- you can’t leave?”

he shrugs in response, gulping when he notices your emotions growing stronger, “don’t worry ‘bout it right now, babe. we’ll get henderson down here and that nerd will figure something out.” he wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you down into the bed.

“but for now, get some rest, okay? i can tell you’re tired.” he tucks you in under the blankets along with himself beside you.

he stares down into your eyes as he slightly hovers above you, “everything will be okay.” he pecks your lips with a reassuring smile.

“you’re right, we’ll figure something out.” you give him one last kiss before succumbing into his side, nuzzling against him to get comfortable enough to be able to fall asleep.

one of his wings sneaks underneath you, wrapping around the side of your body like a canopy. he absentmindedly presses soft kisses to your face, enjoying watching you sleep.

“i love you.” he whispers to your sleeping self, before he begins to press kisses down to your jaw, making his way to your neck.

eddie let’s his cold tongue poke over your jugular vein, feeling the heartbeat pumping blood through your body. his mouth salivates at the feeling, knowing you’ll be so tasty. you’re his girl, everything about you is tasty.

he’s careful not to wake you up while he drags his fangs across your soft skin. every bone in his body aches to feed, to sink his teeth into you.

the animalistic urges take over, eyes tearing up from being unable to control himself. a hoarse hiss emits from his mouth, making you jolt awake. he presses his nose into your skin as you wake up, “eddie?” your pretty voice whispers out to him, pushing against his chest but he doesn’t budge.

he trembles in your arms, lips opening to mouth at your skin, “eddie, you’re scaring me, baby. get off.” you whimper, pushing more aggressively against him.

“i’m so sorry. i just- i can’t be without you... please forgive me. i love you.” he weeps softly in your ear.

his words makes you go still, eyes going wide when you realize his fangs are pressing into your skin. “eddie!” you yelp once the pain grows hot on your neck, pushing your hands roughly at his chest.

a cry tumbles past your lips, his wings curl around you to hold you steady. his strength is no match against you as he slurps at your delicious blood.

the thick warm liquid hits his tongue, an almost orgasmic moan gurgles out against your neck, “eddie, please!“ your cries grow softer as more blood is drained from you.

the hits against his chest slowly fade to nothing as you go limp in his arms. he pulls back instinctively with a gasp, wiping his wet mouth on the back of his hand.

he cups your face once he realizes what he’s done, “i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” he wails above you, wiping at the seeping blood on your neck with his hand. his thumbs swipe under your eyes to dry up your tears.

“you’ll wake up soon, sweetheart. everything will be okay.”

tags: @authorlovers @powerfultenderness

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #vampire eddie munson #vampire au #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson fic #vampire eddie au #kas the bloody handed #dungeons and dragons #eddie the bloody handed

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