Welcome to my new and improved writing blog! I used to be on the blog named @starsthatpiercedthesky but I’ve moved to this account as it is a main account and not a secondary account!
Requests are open!
⛧I'm B, I'm 30 and any pronouns. I'm bisexual and sexually fluid. I post adult content/I am a smut writer. Minors DNI. I won't budge on that.
⛧I like writing, reading, watching TV, anime, music, being in nature and hanging out with friends when I have the time. I have a passion for films and for cooking as well. And I play video games.
⛧I love retro things and I love most things from the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s and 00s. I'm nostalgic as all hell.
You came to water Reefer Rick’s flowers and found Eddie in need of TLC.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut 18+ , oral f receiving, protected piv sex, drug use (weed)
The afternoon sun filtered weakly through the dusty windows of Reefer Rick's lakeside house, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. Eddie Munson had been holed up first in the main house, then retreating to the boathouse when paranoia set in harder, but today he'd risked coming back inside for something resembling comfort. Rick was still in lockup, so the house was Eddie's temporary kingdom: mismatched furniture, posters on the walls, a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on the coffee table.
The door creaked open without a knock, slicing through the stale quiet. You froze in the doorway, keys in one hand, canvas tote with gardening tools over your shoulder. You wore cutoff denim shorts, and a loose tie-dye crop top that showed a sliver of stomach.
Eddie Munson shot upright on the sagging couch, switchblade flipping open in his fist. His eyes were wide, breath sharp, every line of him screaming ready to run or fight.
Neither of you moved.
“Who the hell are you?” The voice was rusty, like he didn’t use it in a long time.
You put both hands up, calming him like a spooked animal. "I used to buy from Rick. He lets me water the plants out back when he's... indisposed. Keeps the flowers alive so the neighbors don't get nosy. I have the key. Didn't expect company."
He didn’t lower the blade. “You know who I am?”
You glanced at his face—wild curls, tired eyes, something haunted flickering behind the bravado. “You look familiar, but I don’t get into town much. Just the lake and work.”
Eddie studied you. No spark of suspicion. No sudden fear. Just honest confusion. He exhaled hard, glancing at the open door—no lights, no cars—then back to you.
The switchblade clincked on the coffee table. Still within reach. “Eddie. Rick’s… friend. Laying low here. Family stuff. Needed quiet.”
You nodded and introduced yourself. “I live two houses down the lake path. Not here to rat you out. I can come back another time… or skip it… if this is bad.”
Silence hung. He eyed the door again. The house had been suffocating him with silence and fear. Even this awkward intrusion felt like a lifeline.
“You’re really just watering flowers?” he asked, half skeptical.
“Yeah. I do real estate—showings, listings. Houses lose value fast if the one next door looks abandoned. Overgrown yards scream ‘problem property.’ I just water, tug a few weeds. Nothing fancy. Keeps the comps from tanking.”
Eddie blinked, then let out a short, surprised chuckle—the first crack in his tension. “Didn’t realize real estate people smoked.”
You smiled, small and wry. “They do when the market’s slow and the clients are assholes. I know Rick keeps his private stash in a shoebox in the hall closet, though. If you’re desperate.”
He studied you another beat, then jerked his chin. “Door stays cracked. Go do your thing.”
You backed out carefully, went around the side. Through the blinds he watched you kneel by the beds: pouring water, tugging a stray weed, unhurried. No suspicious glances back at the house. Just you and the garden.
Eddie told himself he was watching to make sure you believed him. That lasted about a minute.
The cutoffs rode up when you crouched, exposing the back of your thigh — a long clean line of it, catching the afternoon light. The hem of the crop top lifted, baring the small of your back, the soft indent of your waist above the denim. You sat back on your heels and pushed your hair out of your face with your wrist because your hands were dirty, and something about that — the unselfconsciousness of it, the fact that you were completely absorbed in what you were doing and not thinking about being looked at, made it harder to look away.
Eddie had been alone in this house for days. He was aware that this was probably a factor. When you turned toward the house, he moved back from the window like he hadn’t been doing exactly what he’d been doing.
When you returned to the porch, hesitating, he spoke before you could leave.
“Wait.” Softer now. “If you know where that shoebox is… help me find it? I’m not digging through Rick’s shit alone.”
You gave him a warm smile. “Sure.”
You stepped inside, closed the door softly. He followed you to the narrow hall closet. The space was tiny—barely wide enough for one person. You both reached for the top shelf at the same time. His knuckles grazed your forearm, then your hip.
The air thickened. You could feel the heat of him, the quick rise and fall of his breathing, the faint scent of smoke. He didn’t pull away immediately.
Heat rushed to your face. You laughed softly, the sound shaky. “Sorry. It’s a very small closet.”
You rummaged together, shoulders bumping, hands brushing again and again as you shifted boxes and old junk. It wasn’t on the top shelf. Eddie muttered a dramatic curse and crouched lower, his body pressing closer to yours in the tight space. Your thigh brushed his as you both reached for a lower stack. Finally, your fingers closed around the dusty box at the back.
“Got it,” you breathed.
Eddie took it with a murmured “thanks,” but his eyes lingered on you a second longer than necessary, dark and heated.
Back in the living room, he nodded toward the couch. “Sit. If you want.”
You did, leaving space between you.
He rolled a joint with practiced flair, lit it, took a hit, and passed it over.
You inhaled slow, exhaled. The weed was Rick’s private reserve — strong, heady, the kind that hits smooth and then blooms deep in your chest, turning every sound softer and every color warmer. The high settled in like warm honey, loosening muscles you didn’t realize were tense and making the edges of the room glow faintly.
The TV flickered with an old VHS of Fast Times at Ridgemont High already in the player.
Eddie leaned forward as the movie started, he gestured wildly with one hand, hair flipping as he leaned closer to you on the couch. “And Spicoli enters, the stoner messiah, riding the waves of destiny. Legend!”
The weed made everything funnier, sharper, more vivid. Every time you laughed, Eddie scooted a little closer on the couch, closing the distance inch by inch until his thigh pressed warmly against yours and his arm draped casually along the back behind you. His fingers occasionally brushed your shoulder as he gestured, the contact light but electric, sending little sparks through the haze. For the first time in days, Eddie didn’t feel like he was waiting to die—he was just here, with you, laughing like the world outside didn’t exist. The paranoia that had been gnawing at him melted away into the warm, fuzzy glow of the high and your easy company.
Munchies hit hard, you craved something sweet. You raided the pantry together. Bisquick, evaporated milk, syrup.
“Pancakes?” you suggested.
He grinned. “Fuck yes.”
You insisted, “Both of us wash our hands first. I’m serious: never cook with dirty hands.”
“Yes, ma’am.”Eddie raised an eyebrow but complied with exaggerated obedience, scrubbing dramatically at the sink like he was getting ready to perform a surgery.
You worked side by side in the cramped kitchen, giggling. He flipped pancakes with theatrical flair, throwing them high in the air. You laughed brightly. When the stack was done, you drizzled thick syrup over them. Eddie watched you with open lust as you licked a stray drop of syrup from your thumb.
You both ate at the small kitchen table. When you tried to clean up, Eddie reached for the syrup bottle at the same moment you did. It tipped, and a thick stream of sticky syrup squirted across his fingers.
“Shit—” he started, but you caught his wrist without thinking.
Holding his gaze, you brought his hand to your mouth and slowly sucked the syrup from his fingers—one by one. Your tongue swirled around each digit, warm and deliberate, tasting the sweet maple on the rough skin. Eddie’s breath hitched, eyes going dark and hooded as he watched you, lips parted. The playful sarcasm vanished for a moment, replaced by raw hunger.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice rough. “Feels so good.”
Plates forgotten, he stepped close, backing you gently but firmly against the counter. His hands framed your face, thumbs tracing your jaw, still slightly sticky.
“Sure about this?” he murmured, voice thick with desire.
Your fingers clutched in his t-shirt. “Very.”
Eddie lifted you onto the counter in one smooth motion, and kissed deeply, sweet with maple and bitter with smoke. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Clothes came off fast—your top tossed aside, his tee yanked away. His mouth trailed down your neck, teeth grazing, sucking a mark just below your collarbone while his hands roamed—palming your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they tightened under his touch and you arched into him with a soft moan.
He sank to his knees, tugged shorts and panties down, and paused — just for a beat. A slow grin spread across his face.
“Huh.” He glanced up at you, eyes bright with awe. “You really do tend a nice garden.”
The dirty joke, delivered with that signature sarcasm, made you laugh breathlessly even as pleasure spiked.
He ran a finger along the neat edge of the hairline till your clit covered between the folds.
You felt heat crawl up your neck. “Shut up.”
“I’m paying you a compliment.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, innocent as anything. “Let me take care of it.”
And then his mouth was on you, no more teasing, tongue diving in slow circles, then sucking firm till your hips jerked, ringed fingers entered you gently, setting a steady pace. Your hands fisted in his hair, breath quickened, he pushed deeper, faster, with intent, curving right there. You moaned and panted, pleasure building up inside while he ate you out like he craved it since the moment you walked in. Vision blurred and your body convulsed when you came hard with a cry.
He rose, mouth slick, eyes burning. One last glance down, almost fond. “Beautiful”he murmured.
He fished a condom from the wallet, rolled it on quickly, then lined himself up. He pushed in slow, watching your face the whole time, savoring every gasp and flutter of your eyelids.
“So fucking perfect,” he rasped when he bottomed out, buried to the hilt. He stayed still for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in. Then he started moving—deep, rolling thrusts that gradually built into harder, more passionate snaps of his hips. One hand braced on the counter beside you, the other gripped your thigh, holding you open as he drove into you.
You met every thrust, nails raking down his neck, whispering broken pleas—“Yes, Eddie, please—”
He fucked you with hard, dominant rhythm, pace turning desperate and intense, as he was trying to last longer, counter creaking under you. When you clenched around him again, shattering with a cry of his name, he followed right after, trembling as he groaned low and deep into the crook of your neck, spilling inside the condom with incoherent praise.
His arms wrapped tight around your waist. He pressed soft, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, the curve of your shoulder—tender now, giving way to quiet affection.
“Good?” he asked, voice wrecked but gentle.
You smiled against his skin. “So much better than good.”
He eased back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and searching. “Hey… you and Rick. Were you two ever a thing? More than just flowers and deals?”
You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “No. Never. Just neighbor stuff. He’s not my type.” Thumb traced his lip. “You, though… you’re exactly my type.”
Something lightened in his face. He leaned in and kissed you again, slow, deep, full of satisfaction.
Outside, the lake lapped gently against the dock. For now, everything was calm and quiet.
PS: don’t ask me for part two unless you want to fight demobats with a shovel
idk just thinking about inexperienced!eddie going down on you for the first time. how that usually confident voice filled with dramatic bravado and flare has died down to a muttering level, "can i...eat you out?"
obviously the answer is yes, but what isn't obvious is this man's attention to detail.
the way those brown, doe eyes stay fixtated on your gaping cunt, practically crying on his long fingers as he fucks them in and out of you. sucking him in with the most dirtiest squelches coming from your heat.
"hm," eddie would hum. "she's fuckin' soaked for me, sweetheart."
it only gets worse (for you, not for him) when his mouth joins in, tongue lapping at your clit eagerly, the tip of it tracing his name along the sensitive bundle of nerves. he learns quick, and he wants to play you like one of his guitars.
his lips wrap around your clit with a soft suck, dragging his tongue up and down. it's not long before his chuckling vibrates against your cunt as your clench around his fingers and come all over his face.
The credits were rolling on The Thing, the screen casting flickering blue light across Eddie's cramped living room. You were both sprawled on the lumpy pullout couch, a shared blanket tangled around your legs, empty popcorn bowl abandoned on the floor.
"You fell asleep during the best part," Eddie murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He hadn't moved his arm from where it was draped over your waist.
"Did not," you mumbled back, though you had. The warmth of the trailer, the steady rhythm of Eddie's breathing behind you, the comforting weight of his arm—it had all lulled you into a doze somewhere between the blood test scene and the flamethrower.
"Liar," he said softly, but there was no heat in it. His fingers absently traced circles on your hip through your thin sleep shorts.
You were spooning, your back to his front, and you'd been like that for over an hour. It had started innocently enough—the couch was small, and you'd both shifted for comfort until you ended up like this. Neither of you had commented on it. Neither of you had moved away.
Now, in the quiet dark with only the TV's glow, you became acutely aware of every point of contact. His chest against your back. His thighs behind yours. His breath stirring the hair at the nape of your neck.
And then you felt it—the hard press of him against the curve of your ass.
Your breath hitched. You didn't move, didn't dare acknowledge it. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he didn't realize.
But then his arm tightened around you, pulling you back just a fraction closer. And you felt him, unmistakably hard, grinding against you in a slow, sleepy roll of his hips.
"Eddie?" you whispered.
"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing your neck. "Just… stay still."
His hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pressing you back against him. He was fully awake now—you could feel the tension in his body, the deliberate way he was moving.
"You feel so good," he breathed into your hair. "Been thinking about this all night. All week."
His other hand came up, fingers gently tilting your head to the side so he could kiss your neck. Open-mouthed, wet kisses that made you shiver.
"Eddie, we're on the couch," you managed to say, even as you arched back against him.
"It's a pullout," he reasoned, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Basically a bed. And I can't… fuck, I need you. Right now. Like this."
His hand slid down, under the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gasped as his fingers found you wet, already ready for him.
"See?" he said, sounding almost smug. "You want it too. You want me."
He pushed your shorts and panties down just enough, just to your thighs. You heard the rustle of fabric as he freed himself from his own sweatpants. Then he was pressing against you, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly vulnerable.
You nodded, reaching back to grip his thigh. "Yes. Please."
He entered you slowly, inch by inch, filling you from behind. A low groan escaped him, vibrating through your body where you were pressed together.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You're so tight. So warm."
He started moving then, a lazy, deep rhythm that was all the more intense for its slowness. Spooning sex, you realized, was incredibly intimate. You couldn't see his face, but you could feel every hitch in his breath, every tremor in his muscles. You could feel his heart hammering against your back.
His arm tightened around you, his hand splaying across your stomach to hold you close. His other hand came up to cup your breast through your thin t-shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple.
"Like this?" he whispered, his lips at your ear. "You like being filled up while we're all sleepy and cozy?"
You could only nod, words lost to the sensation of him moving inside you, so deep, so perfectly.
"Gonna take my time," he promised, his thrusts becoming slightly more purposeful. "Gonna make you feel so good you forget we're on this shitty couch. Gonna make you come with me inside you just like this."
His words, combined with the steady rhythm of his hips and the skilled movement of his fingers on your nipple, pushed you closer to the edge. You were completely surrounded by him—his scent, his heat, his body claiming yours in the most intimate way possible.
"That's it," he coaxed as you began to tighten around him. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you."
You came with a soft cry, your body clenching around him in waves. He followed immediately, burying his face in your neck as he spilled inside you with a broken groan, his hips stuttering against yours.
For long minutes, neither of you moved. He stayed inside you, both of you breathing heavily in the dark room. The TV had gone to static, casting the room in shifting gray light.
Finally, he softened and slipped out. He tugged your shorts back up for you, his movements tender. Then he pulled the blanket over both of you again, wrapping you tightly in his arms.
"Okay?" he asked, kissing your shoulder.
You nodded, snuggling back against him. "Better than okay."
He hummed contentedly, nuzzling into your hair. "Movie night's my new favorite night."
You smiled into the darkness. "Mine too."
As you drifted back toward sleep, wrapped in Eddie's arms on the lumpy pullout couch, you thought you could get used to this. Very, very used to it.
Release The Bats(Chapter V: There Was Something In The Air That Night)
warnings: dark themes, gore mention, blood mention, gross descriptions, horror themes, vampirism, Mr. Whatsit being a creep
word count: 2k
summary: while the town of Hawkins is plunged into even more horror, two of its citizens deal with opposite sleep issues. Holly Wheeler is plagued with dangerous visions in the night, Dustin Henderson deals with his grief and sees visions of monsters.
a/n: so so so so sorry for the delay on this chapter! Hope you all enjoy so much!!!
Masterlist
Every night is the same. Holly Wheeler dreams the same dream over and over. She’s in her room, her headphones snug on her ears. It’s the only comfort she has as she navigates through this practically apocalyptic world.
The darkness fills her room, the walls illuminated only by the soft moonlight coming through the sheer curtains. Usually, she’d be afraid, but recently, Holly has found a way to combat this fear. She closes her eyes really tightly and thinks of a happy memory.
Usually it’s a memory of Mike, or Nancy or even of her mother, Karen. She sometimes grows melancholic when she realizes how little she has good memories with her own father. Still, these happy memories are what calm her and remind her that the darkness cannot hurt her.
And that’s usually when she sees him. Mr. Whatsit. He whispers secrets in her ear in the dead of night. He tucks her inwhenever she shifts in her sleep and her plushies fall to the floor. He talks to her whenever she feels lonely.
He appears at the window, eyes sharp as he takes in the layout of Holly’s room. Everytime she sees him do this in her dream, she gets the sense that he is planning something or he is trying to figure out a way to undermine her. It’s a foreboding sense of dread that washes over her completely, and it terrifies her. She knows she should trust Mr. Whatsit, as he’s shown himself to be very trustworthy, but it’s still scary.
So Holly tries her best to think of those happy moments with Nancy, Mike or Karen. She shuts away all feelings of doubt and fear, and trades them for smiles and heartwarming feelings. It’s always cut short as the monster crawls through the portal.
The portal opens up on her ceiling, and she’s too frozen in fear to scream. All she can do is look up, her eyes wide in terror as she sees the portal opening up. It’s bright, it’s grotesque in form. Like two hands ripping open skin from the inside. And the middle is like molten lava, sending panic through Holly as she watches it open.
The beast is crude, brutal and doesn’t care for her. She tries to move, but her body is locked in fight or flight. And Holly Wheeler freezes when confronted with fear. The beast opens its flower mouth, the jaws extending as it roars at her. Certainly someone from her family will wake up and hear these noises, but in these dreams, they never do.
As it gets closer and closer to her, almost taunting her by taking things excruciatingly slowly, Holly can still see Mr. Whatsit watching her from the window. He doesn’t make a move to help her or save her. She tries to cry out to him, but no noise comes from her. All she can do is watch as this monster extends its claws and slash at her.
The first rip through her skin is the least painful, but it’s the bloodiest. It streams from the now open wound, spraying her in the face and showering the bed with her own guts. The second slash makes her cry out, and this is what wakes her up.
For months now, Holly Wheeler has had the same nightmare every night. It starts the same and there’s nothing she can do about it. She’s too terrified to even mention it to her parents, though she does think about telling her older brother Mike.
Holly isn’t stupid, she knows this isn’t a good sign. She first chalked it up to everything the town had experienced(along with herself and her family), and how this must have been how her mind decided to deal with it and cope with the horror of the earthquake destroying nearly all of Hawkins.
But the more the dream was recurring, the more Holly knew something else was at play. This is when she finally tries to make it known to someone in her family. She had to find the right words before she could approach Nancy or Mike.
As Holly continued to have these nightmares, she was unaware that this was also plaguing the rest of the town’s children. She wasn’t the only one having dreams about Mr. Whatsit. Even some adults had dreams of the mystery man, though he appeared much different in their dreams.
The whole town was beginning to succumb to a whole new plague.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Dustin Henderson was dealing with grief. He had never truly had a friend die before. He’s had a lot of close calls and there was even the fake-out with Will back in 1983. But never has he felt the pain of this type of grief.
Eddie had been someone different for him. As an only child, Dustin felt like an outsider at times from his own friend group. Coupled with the fact that when he started high school, he and his friends all went separate paths. Eddie took him under his wing, and Dustin felt like he truly belonged with someone.
Finding Eddie and the Hellfire club, it was a solace. It was a calling for his curious mind and his love for Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie had become like an older brother to him at a level that Steve couldn’t quite reach. Dustin loved Steve and even looked up to him, but sometimes even Steve Harrington couldn’t be there for Dustin in the way Dustin needed him.
Eddie had done good by Dustin from the first day they met. While things were always a bit wacky within the Hellfire group, Eddie showed that he very much could be a support pillar for the young nerd. And they developed a sort of older brother younger brother relationship that couldn’t be broken.
And it surely made Dustin lose a part of himself the day he held Eddie in his arms, and he watched the light go out of his eyes. He remembers the way you were shaking right next to him, your sobs cutting through the nearly silent air of the Upside Down. Every catch of your breath in your throat had cut him so deeply.
The way you clung to your loved one, it tore out Dustin’s heart and ripped it in a million pieces. He hated how cliche his sadness felt. He hated how angry he grew with everyone. He hated that he was even pushing you and Steve away. It was like he couldn’t quite control what this grief was doing to him.
There was nothing he could do about it. He just let the feelings and emotions drown out anything else and completely pulled him under. It washed over him, sending him further down in the darkness of grief and heartbreak.
Like a drowning man, he does try to get help. He tries to throw his hands up, grasping at something or someone who will pull him up from this giant tsunami of pain. Through the waves and the fog, one voice often tries to call out to him.
Suzie, his girlfriend. Dustin tries his best to keep her at a distance(a metaphorical one since they are already a long distance couple), but it doesn’t succeed. Suzie often tries to talk to him through the radio.
She knows something happened, and while she knows that Dustin needs more support than just someone talking to him on the radio, she does everything she can to make sure he’s at least taking care of himself. She curses herself for not being able to be closer to her Dusty-bun.
It’s late at night when he hears the radio crackling. He’s been lying on his bed for hours, trying to sleep, but like a lot of Hawkins, he’s developed his own brand of insomnia. The rest of the town either has become like him, sleepless, or they sleep too much to compensate for the fact that they have these horrid nightmares.
The clouds look heavy in the sky, but they don’t quite cover the light coming from the sliver of moon. It shines down into his window, making him roll over so he’s facing one of the posters on his wall. He thinks about how he should have gotten Eddie to leave the Upside Down with him. He should have tried harder. Then the crackling starts up again.
“Dusty-bun?”
The voice is unmistakable. He wonders why she’s awake so late. But then he remembers the time difference. Lately, his brain is working sluggishly. Like he can’t remember every little detail. Certainly odd for someone as bright as Dustin Henderson.
“What is it, Suze?”
“I’m worried about you.”
You and everyone else. He thinks bitterly.
“No need to be so worried.”
“Don’t say that, I can hear it in your voice. Have you been sleeping properly?”
Dustin is cursing himself. He’s cursing his own girlfriend. He should have broken things off with her after Eddie’s death, but he didn’t have the heart to break hers. Suzie might not know exactly what’s going on, but she’s still trying her best to be good to her boyfriend.
“You got me there, Suzie. I haven’t.”
She sighs on the other end. “I know because I’m calling you and it’s late there.”
He scoffs. “It’s only a two hour difference.”
“Nevermind that! Why are you not sleeping?”
He wants to tell her everything, but Hopper had warned them to be prudent. The military would be on anyone’s ass if they dared to speak too freely about what’s going on here. Robin, Steve and even you were taking quite the chance by being on the radio.
“It’s…complicated. I’d tell you if I could.”
She’s not happy with this answer. “You keep saying this. But how am I supposed to help when you’re being so secretive?”
He rubs his face with both hands. “I can’t tell you because I could put you in danger. Do you have any idea how much that would ruin me?”
His tone is too bitter, it’s too rough. He’s hurting himself by trying to push her away. But it’s impossible to push away someone like her. She’s worried about him, and she’ll keep trying to prod at him as if that’ll give her the answers she’s been seeking.
Dustin pauses as he notices something making a large shadow outside of his window. He peers outside, his eyes scanning everywhere to see if he can figure out what’s making such a large shadow. It’s deadly still for a few moments, neither him nor Suzie are even saying a word. Then—woosh! Something seems to fly right by his window. His eyes widen in fear as he finally gets a good glimpse of what’s out there.
Something flying, something humanoid. It’s got these giant wings, and it keeps flying around near his yard. Dustin can’t even keep his eyes off of this thing. And when it turns to look at him, the air is knocked from his lungs.
“Dusty-bun? Dustin?”
“S-S-Suzie-poo…”
There’s a moment of silence when Dustin finally comes to terms with the fact that what he is indeed seeing is the real deal. It’s not a fake, it’s not false. It’s no longer grief coming back to haunt him, but it’s something even more visceral and real.
The eyes glow red, the hair seems matted in some areas. But that is indeed, in fact, Eddie Munson flying around in the sky above his backyard. Dustin wants to scream, but he’s stunned into silence. The scene that’s playing out is much too frightening for him to react properly.
"What's going on?” Suzie’s voice comes through almost too clearly.
“I…” Dustin squeaks.
The flying figure comes right up to the window, and with a confused sort of grace, begins banging on the glass. Dustin’s been pushed into a full blown panic now as he realizes the noise could very well wake up his mother.
“Stop!” He cries out, covering his eyes.
This had to be some sick joke right? This had to be something from the depths of his guilt that’s coming to haunt him. Just a trick of his eyes and the mind. When he opens his eyes once again, he doesn’t see the figure anymore.
“Suzie. I have to go. I—I love—”
But he’s already on his feet and out the door, his mother in her bathrobe calling out to her grief-stricken son as he rides out into the night.
sorry for not posting in a while! I've been reading a lot more recently
The next chapter of Release The Bats is halfway finished and I hope to post it soon, thank you to everyone who's been enjoying it!! I hope it helps you cope with the bad ending of Stranger Things(I know writing it has made me cope better hahah)
And I'm hoping to write the request in my inbox very soon as well as a few new fics for our favorite metalhead
Release The Bats(Chapter IV: I Only Want To See You, Only Want To See You In The Purple Rain)
warnings: dark themes, mentions of death, disastrous weather events, gross descriptions, vampiric themes, military mention
words count: 2k
summary: eighteen months ago, you were a wreck...and you wouldn't get better overnight. while the rain raged on outside, the town of Hawkins did what it could to come together once more.
Masterlist
Eighteen months ago…
The days in Hawkins were very bleak and frightening after the rifts opened up. People tried their best to keep their chin up, wanting to show a brave face to the rest of the world. But it was useless, as even the military seemed to be scared of whatever caused this.
You struggled with your mental health a lot in those days, struggled with the blood that just never washed off your hands. Much shakier than before, people looked at you with pure pity. Others looked at you with hate and disdain, knowing you were close to Eddie.
Eddie “The Freak” Munson, the one wanted for murder, the one presumed dead. They didn’t know the whole story, and you knew they never would. How could they ever understand what happened during these short few days? It felt like such a lifetime, even if it was just a week.
You noticed how people who were in Hawkins High receiving help looked at you. Those eyes bore into you over and over, and you felt like you had to hide. It’s like they could see straight into your soul.
Those days seemed to last the longest, and you recovered slower than most. You watched as families cried over the discovery of their loved ones never returning. You watched as families tried their best to find the ones they were missing…
But you, you would never get the one you were missing ever again.
You’d never forget the way he went limp in your arms. You’d never be able to forget the way it sounded when Dustin sobbed Eddie’s name. The way everything seemed to just slip out of your fingers and you desperately tried to get ahold of everything once again.
It made it difficult for you, especially the days that followed his death, to go see his uncle. You had a good rapport with uncle Wayne. He saw you as someone good for Eddie. He admired your tenderness for his nephew.
The town scribbled on Eddie’s missing posters that Wayne put up, but you tore them down. When Dustin told the older man of Eddie’s fate, he broke down crying. You watched from your spot at one of the donation sections.
It felt like your legs would give out. You were so shaky, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Running away from the world was the only thing you imagined yourself doing. And while you almost took Eddie’s van out of town while you still could, there was something stopping you.
And then the rain came. It was heavy, non-stop and left everyone with a reason to stay inside. At first, people didn’t realize it had kicked up a bunch of stuff, the particles and the dust from the rifts in the ground, and a load of them got sick. That’s when the government went around and issued masks, and a pamphlet on acid rain. But most of you knew this wasn’t acid rain. This was something way worse.
It left lots in the hospital, and lots more sick at home. They were infected with something doctors couldn’t name, and they passed away quickly. It was very ugly to witness. So people stayed inside for the most part, relying on non-perishable food and reruns on the tv to keep them occupied.
The rain used to make you happy, but now it makes you feel even more powerless. The way it came down and drudged up a bunch of toxic material from the Upside Down, it made your stomach lurch. The few times you witnessed someone out in the rain, you had seen them begin to deteriorate from the toxicity of everything. That made you even more sick.
Tales from the hospital made it worse. How people came in complaining of a cough that wouldn't go away, or oozing sores that seemed to seep out black gunk. Nothing could prepare the already overloaded healthcare system of Hawkins for this. Doctors couldn’t even really get these people out to other hospitals, as the military wanted to keep everything hush-hush and swept under the rug. No outside help meant that most people died from these injuries or this illness.
Along with the sick, the ones who were destined to pass came fast. It seemed like whatever was lurking in the air just pushed them over the edge. While some of Hawkins never found the bodies of their deceased loved ones, others had to spend their days with their passing family members while it rained dark particles.
When it finally cleared(and it was weeks before it truly did), people finally started on funeral arrangements. It didn’t matter if there were bodies in those caskets, they’d be buried and the headstones would go up. The ground was still a little mucky and damp from the rain, but the funerals had to happen then. There was a long line of those who wanted to bury their loved ones.
The ones who lost their lives would not be forgotten. This included Eddie, even if people didn’t see him in the best light. You had made sure, with the help of Uncle Wayne, that Eddie would have his headstone in the cemetery. Not far from his burial plot was where his own mother had been buried.
On a cold Tuesday morning, you went over to uncle Wayne’s home in Forest Hills, and the two of you drove together to the Roane Hill Cemetery. The drive up there was quiet, and you could tell that Wayne was in no mood to talk. The only real talk was from the priest, and one of the pallbearers who made a comment about the rain and the caskets.
“Could have had some really badly corroded coffins…”
The two of you wept as the black casket was lowered into the ground. No body, no problem. That’s what most families in Hawkins did. You wondered if having his body would have made it better or worse. You shuddered at the thought of having to lug his body back through one of the rifts.
It pained you to know that you’d never really get that closure. You wanted to see him once more, even if it meant he would be under that ground forevermore.
Wayne invited you back to the trailer for some beers, and when you began to cry once more, you went and laid in Eddie’s bed. The next morning, Wayne told you to stay for as long as you needed and that you were more than welcome to anything that belonged to Eddie.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The world wanted to go on without him, but you didn’t. You often stayed in his room, snuggling his blankets and pillows. You would look out the window, half expecting him to pull in with his van and have that dorky smile on his face.
When you spent the night in your own room, your eyes would stay glued to the night sky. The stars speckled it, almost inviting you to reach out and try and touch them. You wished on every shooting star, you would make a wish on every little eyelash that you’d find on your cheeks.
His presence was so greatly missed, you began to dream about him. You dreamt of his soft touch, his doe eyes, his dorky smile. The way he made you laugh, the way he always listened to you. You had hope that maybe something would come from it, but nothing ever really seemed to.
The loneliness ate away at you, making your depression grow even deeper. Your eyes watered constantly, even at the slightest mention of anything that reminded you of him, and you were in need of a real touch. Someone to pull you into a warm hug.
Those who remained close tried their best, but everyone was aching. This event had caused everyone to lose something or for something to change so drastically in their lives.
When you weren’t with Wayne, you often made your way to the hospital with Lucas to sit with Max. The night you lost Eddie was the night that Lucas almost lost Max. Everyone waited with bated breath to know if she would ever return.
The soft touch of Lucas’ hand on hers made you smile through the pain. The way he diligently played her favourite song, almost as a way to bring her back from wherever she was. He read to her, sang to her, cracked jokes to her. It was really heartwarming, despite the uncertainty of the whole situation.
Nobody knew if she’d ever return, but you wanted to have hope for someone. Even if it meant that you’d have hope for someone else’s love rather than your own, it warmed your heart a little bit.
The constant reminder that you should continue going was what finally got you back on your feet. Despite the gloom that never settled and continued to loom over you, you managed to get your job back at the record store when everything opened back up again.
Well, certainly not everything. Some stores remained barren, never to be opened again. Some were destroyed beyond repair, causing their owners to flee town or to change locations. And to try and get people to shop had been a big challenge. Little by little, people tried to do what they could.
They prayed for no more rain. They prayed for a calmer, normaller life. They wanted peace and quiet. But all they received was heartache and hardship. And it fell on you too, despite the fact that you were picking up the pieces as best as you could.
The record store was a constant, even if hardly anyone came by. Mostly military men came through, and it surprised you because you couldn’t see them with their humanity. Yet here they were, buying Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday records with their cash. The cash that they earned with blood on their hands.
And as the days kept going, the hours ticking forward, some people found the normalcy of this lifestyle. This leads your two friends, Robin and Steve, to eventually find themselves in the radio station.
You remember the first day you entered the WSQK radio tower. It seemed almost like a dream. The glowing tower, the red lights, the walls of records. You knew you could find some relief within these walls.
You became the voice of the night. When you couldn’t sleep(and half of Hawkins couldn’t either), you would play them lullabies. You tried your best not to play metal all the time, but the sounds of shredding guitars and the crash of cymbals brought you closer to the one you love.
Sometimes, you’d have a record spinning in the background, your face pressed to the glass. You were searching for something that wasn’t coming home to you. But your heart held onto the possibility that you had been wrong.
You wondered if somehow Eddie could have survived the ordeal. You wanted to believe that he could be out there, looking for you. And while you continued to look out the window on those long nights, your friends began to worry about you even more.
It had been one thing when you were grieving, but now you had seemed to become delusional in your late night ramblings. Robin didn’t want to say anything, but she was the one who had to endure this. She had to listen to you ramble on about your theories, and she found them to be quite insane.
Steve, who didn’t know how to react at first, became your confidante. He didn’t want to encourage it, but he knew that this was your way of coping with things. He knew that you were trying to heal from losing the person you loved the most.
And though most of Hawkins despised Eddie Munson, there was still one person out there looking for him. One who wasn’t aware that he had indeed returned.
While everyone else decided that Eddie Munson was dead in the Upside Down, you weren't convinced. You held onto the hope that he'd return to you. Even if it meant that something from under that ground would be the one you'd reunite with, and not the man you loved so deeply.
Every night, you watch from your window for any kind of sign of life...or just anything. Waiting for someone who might not return seems foolish to all the rest of your friends, but you have hope. You have heart...
What you realize is that maybe sometimes...dead is better.
Chapter I: And I Dream Of Something Wild
Chapter II: Where Were You When I Was Lonesome?
Chapter III: Hey Mama, Look At Me, I'm On The Way To The Promised Land
Vamp Eddie sneaking into your room at night and failing miserably. He is a mega dork in this one.
Fumbling with the edge of the window from the outside, Eddie manages to hook his clawed hands on the ledge. He can see you in your bedroom, cleaning up the clothes on the floor in the dim lights. Eager to see you he digs his feet into the roof tiles, wings spread wide as he pulls. They flap as he stumbles back and it gives way easily.
You hear the ssss of the window sliding followed by a soft “shit!” Whispered. He tucks his wings in, wiping his hands on his jeans. You turn then, watching with raised brows as he ducks into the open window.
Eddie makes eye contact with you then. Hes cute when he’s flustered.
“Oh- hi.” He starts. “Dont mind me, sweetheart, just gonna…”
“I have a front door.” You reply, laughing a bit at the way he tries to wedge his shoulders through. The wings get stuck.
“God- fuckin damnit,” he twists, putting his hands out as he finally gets them folded enough.
“Are you done yet?” You cross your arms.
“This was supposed to be hot, okay? You told me about the fantasy of a vampire coming to feed from you in the middle of the night and- umpf-“
“Its 7pm.” You correct him “the sun isnt even all the way down.”
He pull his legs through and then pushes himself off the plush carpet of your bedroom. “I wanted to deliver before- that- before that happened.”
“I love you.” You walk over to ruffle his hair. “Dumbass.”
“I love you more.” He states, pushing himself up onto his feet. “Well, arent you gonna uh- freak out and..”
“You just took a full minute and a half to fit into that window.” You reply, fully amused. “Least scary thing a vampire could possibly do.”
“I can be scary!” He steps closer. You smile.
“No you can’t. Prove it.”
The wind from the outside blows, pushing your curtains around. Its cold. Eddie’s eyes glint as he pushes his wings open to intimidate you, baring his mouth full of fangs. You back up. From the corner of your eye, you spot the demobats catching up with him, crawling through your window at his summoning.
“Fear me….” He coaxes, using that goofy voice borrowed from narrating DND.
“Eddie alright, alright.” You press your hands against his chest. “Dont let those things in here!”
“Huh?” He turns, realizing his mistake. His wings knock stuff off of your dresser. “Dude!” He scolds the bats. “Fuck off! I didnt mean to- go, go go,” he shoos them as they waddle along on your bed and scale your walls.
“Sorry.” He sighs. “I suck at this paranormal shit.”
You cant help but feel bad for him. “You do suck, yeah. Just not like that.”
“Funny. Seriously though, Im supposed to be like- the most metal thing a dude can be.”
“You are,” you reassure him. “Look at yourself. You had to cut holes in all of your favorite band tees and jackets for those wings to fit. People who used to bully you give you all the space in the world.”
“Ill never get a fuckin’ job, or a normal life. Im stuck as ‘the devil of hawkins’ forever.” He sulks.
“Stop,” you approach him, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Come here.”
He crowds your space until he’s standing between your legs. The look in those soft brown eyes makes you melt. “Dont pout. Are you hungry?”
“Very.” He replies, pushing you down. “Ive been thinking about this all day. Took you so long to get off work I almost took a bite out of Harrington.”
“Munson,” you scold. “He’s a teacher!”
“Yeah? Thats his karma for choosing a shitty profession.” He noses at you, long curly hair falling over you like a veil. “The education system in hawkins sucks. Those kids are better off with a half eaten teacher.”
You laugh, hands threading in his hair. “You joke too much.”
“Maybe…” he mumbles, his smile all toothy. “where do you want me?”
You give him a small kiss. “Neck is fine.”
“Awe,” he places his hands on your thighs. “I was hoping for the femoral vein.”
“Shut up,” you push him playfully and he hisses at you, fangs bared. Eddie latches onto you then. It hurts- feels like when you cut yourself accidentally. Then it fades into a sting more akin to receiving a hickey. He makes a whimpery noise and you get goosebumps. “Eddie, slow down.” You find yourself absentmindedly grabbing at him.
“Mmmh,” he says with his mouth full. “Mm- hm mh.”
It goes on for another minute until you’re smacking him, indicating that you’re starting to feel dizzy. He licks a stripe up your neck, saliva sealing the bite.
“Ew!” You squirm. He peppers your neck with kisses. “Eddie gross.”
“Oh im sorry would you rather bleed out?” His hands find your sides to tickle you. “Would you? Huh?”
“Ha HA- ed-!” You kick at him, twisting from his hands. “Eddie you fucker! No! No I dont want- to bleed out.” You catch your breath when he stops. He has a goofy smile on his face, lips and teeth stained with your blood.
“Thats what I thought.” He comments softly. Eddie lets you up, standing. “Allllright sweetness, I was thinkin… trip to that diner out on the edge of Hawkins with the milkshakes and the shitty 24 hour breakfast. Get you somethin’ to eat, and then…” he puts his hands on his hips.
“Go scare the kids that have been picking on wheeler’s little sister….” He lists. “And then after that you crash at my uncles new place and we cuddle. Yeah?”
“Scare the- huh?” You ask.
“What? He paid me.” Eddie digs in his pocket for the crumpled bills. “How else do you think I’m taking you to eat?”
Release The Bats(Chapter III: Hey Mama, Look At Me, I'm On The Way To The Promised Land)
warnings: Major character death, Season 4 Spoilers!!!!!, hallucinations, amnesia, vampiric themes, blood, violence, vampire feeding/drinking blood, Eddie is a momma's boy, angst, a little tiny touch of fluff
word count: 2k
summary: he heard you, the last words you said to him. he saw her smile, the smile that always made him feel the best. then he was alone, walking the empty streets of the Upside Down. the only thing to keep him calm was feeding, and he would soon learn of the consequences.
Masterlist
“Eddie, please! Please, Eddie…please don’t go…”
That and the sounds of Dustin sobbing were the final things that Edward Munson ever heard. Then everything went black, and he felt himself floating away from his physical body.
There was no more pain, no more suffering. It was like people often said it would be. Just no more feelings of existence. As he floated away from his own body, Eddie began to feel feelings of relief, despite the sadness of leaving his two loved ones down there on the ground. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t reach for them, he couldn’t feel them near him anymore.
He watched as he eventually couldn’t see them anymore. It made his chest ache in a sense; not like he could really feel that ache anymore. Just that emotion lingered, like a name that’s on your tongue but you can’t say it. And then there was a flash of light.
Before his very eyes was the smile he missed so much. The smile that always made him feel warm inside. His big eyes found hers, and he ran to her. He felt like a little child once more, wanting to feel the warmth and love of his mother’s embrace.
“There’s my sweet man,” she whispers, holding him close.
“Momma,” he sobs, holding onto her. His fingers dig into her skin, and he’s grateful he can actually feel her.
She pulls back only to look at him. No more is the six year old that plays near her bed as she rests while the disease inside of her ravages her. No more is the little child with curiosity and tenderness in his heart. What stands before her is a twenty year old with battle scars and trauma for decades.
“Oh look at you,” Elizabeth whispers once more. “You are…you’re so beautiful, my baby boy.”
“I missed you so much,” Eddie cries, still trying to cling to her.
“You’ve been through so much, Eddie.”
There’s no malice in her voice; there never is whenever she is speaking to her son. She curses her husband for putting their only child through hell and back, but she praises her brother-in-law for being the father that Eddie needed most. It wasn’t perfect, but Eddie still made it out so strongly.
“I hadn’t expected you here so soon,” she admits. “My dream for you would have been for you to live a long life,”
Eddie smiles sheepishly, “I was a hero, momma.”
She tenderly caresses his cheek. “I know, I saw you. While I don’t love the fact that you acted so rashly, you were brave.”
She presses a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie is melting all over again. He can’t help the tears that slide down his cheeks. His mom, Elizabeth, was finally here. He was finally seeing her again, and yes it meant they were both dead, but oh it made him happy to be with her.
“You are so handsome,” she comments. “I see you inherited my good looks.”
Eddie grins. “Y-yeah, I sure did. Didn’t really help that much in the love department.”
“You say that, but I’ve seen the one who has your heart.”
He thinks about you, and how the two of you had become so close in the last year. You’ve always been friends with Eddie, but a love confession changed all of that. It made you both even more in love with one another.
“She’s something different,” Eddie replies. “The only one who saw me for who I truly was.”
Elizabeth smiles. “I am so happy. I wanted that for you. A love that only makes sense to you both.”
He’s thinking about all the flings and hook-ups he had. He thinks about Paige for a moment, remembering how he thought she was the one. But when you finally confessed your love to Eddie last fall, it was endgame. You and Eddie were destined to stay together forever. The only real issue was what happened with Chrissy, Vecna and the rest of the victims. It put a kink in your plan.
“I let them down.” Eddie’s voice is so close to crumbling. “I meant to buy time, but all I did was make a shitty hero.”
Elizabeth strokes her son’s hair. “You will always live in their hearts, Eddie.”
He’s about to say something when everything goes black again. Inside of himself, he’s screaming and begging for his mom again. It’s like when he lost her the first time. Wayne and Alan said he was too young to truly understand, but Eddie still has nightmares from that time.
She had looked so sickly. The disease took everything from her, making her appear almost corpse-like. And when Eddie sees her once more, it’s the same image he sees before him. He screams in fear, and in heartbreak and in pain. Then her corpse begins to crumble away, leaving a pile of dust.
When he wakes up again, he doesn’t remember anything. There’s pain all over his body, and his throat is burning. Eddie doesn’t even know his own name. His mind is blank, almost like everything has been wiped clean.
With shaky legs, he stands up. His Hellfire Club shirt is mostly torn, and it’s stained with blood and slime from the Upside Down. As he begins to regain his physical bearings, Eddie discovers two large wings that protrude from his back. They flap a few times before folding in on themselves.
He’s amazed with the way the Upside Down looks too. It’s much brighter, and everything seems to be pulsing. The vines don’t seem to reach for him, the demobats are gone. The smell of blood permeates the air, and he looks down. His body was lying there, but for how long?
He begins to walk around, finding something to jog his memory. His throat continues to burn and he feels so antsy. He doesn’t know what this means, but he wants it to end. He wants it to stop.
Then he finds the scent of something. It’s got a strange stink, but it seems to be tempting him. Maybe whatever this is, it can help with the feelings of anxiety and that strange sensation in his throat.
Eddie walks for what feels like forever. The scent moves further and further away, but when he finds it, he’s disappointed to see it’s just one of those demodogs. He doesn’t know the word for it, but he knows that maybe if he sinks his teeth in it, that stubborn feeling will go away.
It lets out an inhuman shriek as his fangs pierce the skin. The fluid that comes from it isn’t very tasty, but it does seem to soothe part of the burning. It seems to render him a bit more capable. And like a flash in his mind, he sees the death of Chrissy Cunningham. He doesn’t know who she is anymore, but he knows that this is something that was important to him.
The hunger slowly subsides and Eddie finds himself walking the streets of Hawkins. Except it’s not quite the same, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why he feels trapped in this strange world.
His voice stutters as he tries to speak. There’s nobody here but he is trying to communicate regardless. All that comes out are sounds and grunts. Not real words, but primitive noises that could become words if he really tried hard to think about them.
With a disappointed sigh, Eddie allows his wings to unfurl and flap. He kicks off the ground, flying up in the air. Though trapped in the Upside Down, he’s going to find a way out of here.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
He found a way out and into the real world. The smells hit his nose fast and hard, making him growl. There was way too much stink here, but all of it smelled way too good to pass up. The ground seemed to just open up for him when he separated it with his claws.
Particles and slime oozed from the wound-like opening he created. The air was cool on his skin, and he swore he could hear voices from so far away. The words made sense, but he couldn’t speak them even if he wanted to right now. All that he could think of was to get that burning sensation in his throat to stop forever.
He walks around the houses, peering into the windows. Families having dinner, kids playing games together, elderly people on their porches after a nice meal. All of them smelled so sweet, but this isn’t what he wanted.
He clutched at his throat, cursing himself for becoming so hungry. Then he climbed the first trellis he could find. Since waking up a while back, he found himself to be so incredibly strong. Stronger than he could remember, and that was something he could remember.
He looks in the first window, noticing that nobody is there. So he shimmies over, finding the next window. Inside, there is a young woman lying in her bed. Judging by the way her eyes are closed and her breathing is steady, Eddie knows she’s asleep. He can even hear her heartbeat, which is slower.
He opens the window, slinking in as best as he can. He’s a lot quieter than he thought he would be. Part of him remembers not being the most graceful before…this. His nostrils flare when he catches the scent. It’s blood, and it makes the burning in his throat even worse.
Tiptoeing towards the bed, Eddie stops to take in his surroundings. There’s no pulsing, no colorful things. Not like it is when he’s in that place. Right now, it’s just him in the dark with the young lady.
His hands brush back her hair and she stirs, but ultimately stays asleep. Eddie leans in, sniffing to get a better whiff of that scent.
Carefully, he places his hand on her mouth before he pierces her skin with his fangs. Her eyes shoot open and she’s about to cry out, but the venom in Eddie’s saliva enters her system and quiets her down.
He begins gulping her down, draining her of almost everything she has. The taste of human blood is much better than Demo-blood. It tastes rich, and it makes Eddie dizzy. It’s like drinking the finest wine and getting the best buzz in the world. He can’t even begin to pull away.
Inside his mind’s eye, he begins seeing something. It’s a hint of a memory, but he doesn’t know that yet. The hallways of Hawkins High are always packed with students, and Eddie has always been the butt of a lot of jokes. He sees her, the one he’s drinking, looking at him in this memory.
A shy smile, a wave of a hand, her disappearing behind the library doors. He manages to pull away just in time, and he notices just how much blood seems to be pooling on her sheets now. The wound in her neck is leaking, and he presses his hand to it. Something within him snaps, and he feels some sort of compassion.
Her eyes won’t open, but he can hear her heartbeat. Faint, but still there. He panics before just leaving the room, wiping the blood off of his face. He flies away, the sound of his wings flapping filling the night air. And then he finds the spot he came out of, it’s still pulsing and glowing.
Eddie dives in, tearing open the two parts and the portal becomes visible. He doesn’t even think twice, he just shoves himself through it. And it’s when the ground begins to join together once more that he notices his hands.
Stained in blood, claws looking sharp. Eddie spots a window and looks at his own reflection in it. The long, messy hair, the dirty and stained Hellfire Club shirt, the sharp fangs that are glistening with blood.
While everyone else decided that Eddie Munson was dead in the Upside Down, you weren't convinced. You held onto the hope that he'd return to you. Even if it meant that something from under that ground would be the one you'd reunite with, and not the man you loved so deeply.
Every night, you watch from your window for any kind of sign of life...or just anything. Waiting for someone who might not return seems foolish to all the rest of your friends, but you have hope. You have heart...
What you realize is that maybe sometimes...dead is better.
Chapter I: And I Dream Of Something Wild
Chapter II: Where Were You When I Was Lonesome?
Chapter III: Hey Mama, Look At Me, I'm On The Way To The Promised Land
Chapter IV: I Only Want To See You, Only Want To See You In The Purple Rain
Chapter V: There Was Something In The Air That Night
NOTES: It was fun writing this. I read the book 9½ Weeks, but I've never seen the movie 👀 i hope you like it 😊
Eddie knew that if he went straight to fucking you, he would come in less than 20 minutes and you wouldn't be able to have a single decent orgasm.
He was many things, but he wasn't a fucking stud. He had had sex very few times in his life, and most of the time it had barely lasted in the portable toilets at a heavy metal concert.
Pleasing those girls had never been his priority. He always felt pathetic when one of them looked at him with a "Is that all?" look after he took off the condom and released his thick semen onto her back.
But now that he had started dating you and things were getting pretty serious, you were his first real girlfriend in his entire life, and he didn't want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes after he came after five minutes of thrusting.
So he decided to study up on female pleasure. It was difficult because he didn't have many people to turn to. He wasn't going to ask his uncle Wayne about it, and most of the guys in the Hellfire Club were virgins, so he would never bring up the subject.
He went to the Hawkins library and looked through the anatomy books. Some were quite old, but they had very useful diagrams.
He wasn't stupid. He knew that the clitoris was a sensitive part of a woman's body, and rubbing it until you had an orgasm was a good option.
But he needed ideas to make things interesting, to keep up the pace.
Then that controversial erotic movie called 9½ Weeks with Kim Bassinger and Mickey Rourke came out, and everyone was talking about it. Eddie decided to see it for scientific purposes. He went to the theater alone, and when he came out, he felt different.
Yes, it hadn't changed his life, but it had added a layer. He knew the basics about BDSM and had never been interested in it, but he started reading articles in magazines, as everything else, including D&D, was the devil's work.
He had to drive an hour to Central Indiana to go to a sex toy store, bite his tongue, pull himself together, and buy things for the special night you and he would have.
It's not like you demanded sex from him; you hadn't even talked openly about it. You two had kissed, but you two had never gone anywhere.
When he masturbated, he thought of you, imagining how wet your velvety folds would be, and he came in less than 10 minutes. He tried not to do it, to prolong the movements with his hand, to think about his problems, but it was inevitable when he stained everything and felt pathetic. How could he please you if you stuck your tongue out at him and he was already hard and about to burst?
He needed to take control, nothing really as hard and crazy as real BDSM, but maybe some ideas.
That afternoon he was ready, he had studied enough, he had some things he had bought in his backpack, and you tow had Uncle Wayne's trailer all to themselves.
You and he were watching TV and you were laughing at something when he started kissing you, you noticed it, determined and desperate.
"Ed, honey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just want to fuck you."
You smiled, thinking he was just joking. There was something very dark in his gaze, nothing like your cute Eddie.
At least not the one he had shown you in the last two months.
He and you were quite different. You had never played D&D, and until he explained what it was about, you thought it was something satanic, at least because of the spell books, but it was actually pretty nerdy.
Eddie wasn't dark or rough or any of those layers he had put on to keep going and make sure the shitty comments wouldn't affect him.
So when he and you started dating, things felt right because he was sweet and attentive, and seemed desperate to please you, so different from the other guys out there.
"Yeah, sure..." You couldn't finish your teasing because he was already kissing you again.
His full lips, his tongue inside your mouth, the sound of saliva, he easily pulled you onto his lap and you trembled as you felt his hardness through the thickness of his black Levi's jeans.
"Eddie, really, what are you doing?"
"Do you trust me?" he asked, cradling his hand on your cheek, the coldness of his metal rings on your hot, red skin.
His lips were red and swollen, he looked like he was pouting, his dark brown eyes seemed expectant and sad, so you smiled to calm him down.
"Of course, silly, you're my boyfriend."
Eddie relaxed and gave you a toothy smile. He continued to caress your cheek with his thumb and his hand slid gently down to your neck, and you began to let out little nervous giggles.
"My little lady, look how you're rubbing your pretty ass against me." His voice was hoarse and soft.
You hadn't noticed until now, but it was true, you were writhing on top of him, rubbing your already wet panties against his lap.
"Lady?" He had never called you that before.
You just let out more nervous giggles, and Eddie felt it, what he was looking for: control.
Eddie leaned back on the old sofa as if he were a god, a god who was screaming inside, feeling your wet panties and about to burst.
All he could think was, "Think about ugly things, stupid pop music, sad movies... anything, just hold on."
"Let's play a game."
"A game?" you asked curiously. "What kind of game?"
"A very fun one, my lady." He went back to caressing your neck and you squirmed between giggles. "Yes, that's it, my babygirl, look how you rub your little wet pussy on my leg."
Eddie grabbed you by the waist and placed you right there. You felt his thigh between yours, your pussy throbbing with desire for him to rub it a little, but when you instinctively reached a hand under your skirt, Eddie grabbed your wrist hard and stopped you.
"Nuh-huh, no hands, my little lady." He looked at you with that devilish smile, his eyes narrowed, and continued caressing your neck, then your chest, getting too close to your tits, and he squeezed them through your sheer blouse.
You closed your eyes and your hand sought to relieve the pain of your needy pussy, but he stopped you again.
"What did I tell you, baby? No hands!"
"Eddie!" you complained, genuinely upset. "Please."
He kept looking at you with that smile, biting his lower lip, trying to restrain himself, squeezing your tits again and you moaned so loudly, the movement was almost an accident, your pussy sought comfort and only found it on Eddie's thigh.
You began to grind against him desperately, bouncing your pussy through the thin fabric of your wet panties.
You moaned, feeling his hands on your round buttocks bouncing again and again against his leg.
He began to spank you gently, his large palm against your buttocks, the sound of skin like a whip.
The delicious burning sensation only brought you closer to the edge. You were about to come. You could feel it rising from your belly, the divine liquid of pleasure flowing through your body. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you upside down with your ass on his lap.
"I didn't give you permission to cum, baby. You're being very disobedient..." he growled in your ear.
The pain, the burning, the need, everything was mixed together and it was overwhelming, you wanted to cry.
"Eddie..." you let out a sob. Eddie was scared, maybe he had gone too far, maybe he should have just let you come, he felt so stupid until you moaned, "Please, I need cum, please."
Your pleas made him smile, his confidence returned, and he began to spank you gently. The perfect view of your round butt, your lush buttocks, your wet panties, and your raised skirt drove him crazy. He bit his lip and sighed, letting out a gasp.
"So my little lady wants to cum."
"Yes, please... please..." you begged, trembling and letting out a small scream every time you felt a spank. You could feel your ass burning, but your pussy was throbbing, so neglected. "Please..."
He easily pulled aside your panties and caressed your lips, his fingers sliding into your opening.
He growled your name like an animal.
"Are you really that desperate?" Without thinking, he slapped your pussy with his fingers, the sensation and sound of the blow making you shudder.
"It hurts... Eddie, please..." Eddie smiled, although you couldn't see it with your cheek pressed against the furniture.
He unzipped his pants and freed his erection, his hard, veiny cock. He gently grabbed your hair and made you arch your back and look at him while he pumped his cock with his hand. He wasn't shaved, and dark, curly hair ran from his belly button to his balls.
You saw his face; he was as desperate as you were. That only made you feel even more on edge.
"I wanted... I wanted to do other things, but I can't hold back," he said defeatedly as he closed his eyes.
There was the Eddie you loved so much, the sweet one.
"It's okay... please..." you begged on the verge of collapse, feeling too close, rubbing your pussy against his thigh.
He stopped you, took you by the hips and got behind you. You felt the tip of his cock hitting your wet folds.
"Oh fuck, you're... you're perfect," he said, letting all his hardness go inside you.
You didn't need much more. You came, your body began to shake, your legs were weak, and Eddie held you by the hips as he grunted with each thrust, feeling your tight pussy squeeze even tighter around him. He wasn't being fast or explosive, and yet he knew he wouldn't last long.
"Shit... Do you want to kill me? I'm not going to last long if you do that," Eddie stammered, unable to even think clearly. "Too soft... God... the softest, smallest, wettest pussy in the world."
Eddie reacted; he needed you to come at least one more time.
So he caressed you, your little clit between his two fingers, rubbing it, and you clung to the furniture, feeling on the edge again, and he hadn't even let you rest. You were moaning and sobbing when you came again.
"Eddie, God... Eddie."
He groaned, closing his eyes as he heard you moan and squeeze yourself against his cock again.
He turned you around and pinned you against the furniture, and seeing you so red, trembling, sweaty, needy, and on the verge of tears only made him feel worse. He took off his black Iron Maiden T-shirt and let it fall to one side, took your wrists, and came so close to your face that you could feel his hot breath, the determination in his dark eyes, his curly baby hair stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat.
The movements were slow, steady, Eddie leaving you without him and then filling you completely over and over again, with depth and determination.
You felt like you were going to come for the third time, but this time it felt different, something running through your lower belly, you felt the pressure of his abdomen against yours, his lips against your ear, whispering your name.
"I'm gonna cum..." he gasped, and that was enough to release you.
He felt it emanate from you like a waterfall, but he didn't stop being inside you until he came.
Your bodies didn't stop trembling.
"Fuck..." he whispered as he pulled out of you and spilled semen on your lower belly.
You stayed there for a moment recovering, and so did he. You felt him soften against your skin and then slowly pull away, looking at the mess he had made.
"Holy shit..." His semen dripped from your pussy, and with two fingers he wiped away the thick white liquid that mixed with the water still dripping from you and put it back inside you. You squirmed again as he pressed his thumb against your small, swollen clit.
"Eddie, stop, it's too much..." You closed your legs against his hand and he laughed.
"I thought my lady wanted to come..." He took his long fingers out of you and then put them in your mouth.
You tasted them and sucked them, looking into his dark eyes. Eddie was pretending he didn't want to scream. He had never made a girl come like that before. You were soaking wet, you had wet everything. He took his fingers out and caressed you, kissing you on the forehead.
"I think I need a shower..." you said as you felt how sticky and wet you were. "And I think I ruined your uncle's furniture..."
"Nope, that was already ruined," he helped you up and cleaned you with his black Iron Maiden shirt, he was just so sweet.
"You know? I've never come like that before..." you confessed and he smiled broadly.
He felt like the fucking god of sex.
"I think I peed myself..." you said, looking at the puddle on the furniture while covering your face in embarrassment.
He rushed to take you in his arms.
"What? No! I'm sure it's not pee, at least it doesn't smell like pee..."
"Then what is it?" you asked as he caressed you and guided you to his bed so you could rest together.
"I don't know, you know, I'll have to research." He took his backpack and left it in the corner, his backpack full of sex toys, he hadn't even had to use them... yet.
"Research? Where? At the library?" you laughed as you lay down next to him. He hugged you, looking quite tired, and stroked your hair.
"Shut up, you can question my methods but not my results," he said mockingly.
And you knew he was right. His results had been very good.
STEVE HARRINGTON would 100% be the most pathetic, drooly, pussy-drunk mess the second he gets between your thighs after rolling a blunt.
he’d start off trying to be cocky about it, all “you’re gonna love this, baby” smirks and teasing licks, but two minutes in? that bravado evaporates. now he’s just moaning into your cunt like he’s starving, big hands gripping your thighs so hard you’ll have bruises tomorrow, spreading you open wider so he can get deeper. nose buried, tongue working sloppy, desperate circles, sucking your clit like it personally offended him that he can’t live inside you 24/7.
and the sounds—god. wet, obscene, filthy noises every time he drags his tongue through your folds. he’s not even trying to be neat anymore; your slick is smeared across his chin, dripping down his neck, catching in the collar of his shirt. every time you buck or pull his hair harder he just groans louder, rutting his hips against the mattress because he’s so hard it hurts but he refuses to stop until you’ve come at least twice.
then when you finally do come on his face? he fucking whines. full-on pathetic, muffled, “fuck—fuck—give it to me” into your pussy while he laps up every drop like he’s scared you’ll take it away. chin glistening, lips swollen, looking up at you with this dazed, blissed-out expression.
after? he’s not moving. just stays there, face still pressed between your legs, breathing hard against your oversensitive skin, occasionally giving lazy kitten licks.
you’re fucked the second you walk into the living room.
steve’s sprawled on the couch in nothing but those stupid grey sweatpants, legs spread wide like he owns the whole damn space, one arm thrown over the backrest, the other lazily holding a half-empty beer bottle against his thigh. the fabric clings in all the wrong-right places. you can see the thick outline of him, soft but still obscene, the waistband sitting low enough that you catch the dark trail of hair leading down.
your eyes betray you immediately. you try to look at his face—really, you do—but they keep dragging back down. and down. and down.
he notices. of course he fucking notices.
a slow, mean little smirk curls his mouth. “you good, baby?”
you swallow. nod too fast. “mhm.”
“liar.” his voice is low, amused, that classic steve drawl that makes your knees stupid. he sets the bottle down without looking. “c’mere.”
you hesitate maybe half a second before your feet move anyway.
when you’re close enough he doesn’t ask—he just reaches out, big hands clamping around your hips, yanking you forward until your thighs bump his knees. the grip is firm. possessive. you squeak.
“words,” he says, tilting his head, eyes dark and expectant. “use ‘em. tell me what you’re staring at.”
your face burns. “but steve—”
“nah.” one hand slides up, thumb brushing the underside of your tit through your thin shirt, teasing. “say it. or i stop touching you.”
you whimper. it’s pathetic. it’s perfect. “your… your dick.”
he chuckles, low in his throat. “good girl.” his fingers dig in harder. “you want it?”
you nod again, frantic.
“then take it.” he pulls you down until you’re straddling one thick thigh, then drags you forward so your clothed cunt settles right over the fat bulge in his sweats. “go on. grind on it like you’ve been eye-fucking it since you walked in.”
you try to hide your face in his neck but he grabs your jaw—quick, not gentle—and forces you to look at him.
“eyes on me while you hump my cock, baby. don’t be shy now.”
the first roll of your hips is shaky. embarrassing. you’re already soaked through your panties and he groans when he feels it, head tipping back for a second before those hazel eyes snap back to yours.
“that’s it. fuck—look at you. so desperate you’re dripping on me and i haven’t even pulled it out yet.”
you moan, high and broken, hips stuttering faster. the friction is brutal through the layers—the soft, worn cotton dragging against your clit just right. he’s so big under you, so solid, and the size difference makes your head spin. your whole body feels small against him.
he spits once—right onto his fingers—then smears it messily over your bottom lip before pushing two digits into your mouth. “suck.”
you do. sloppy. eager. whining around them while your hips keep rocking, chasing.
“god, you’re disgusting,” he murmurs, almost fond. “my pretty little slut humping my dick like it’s the only thing that matters. bet you’d come just like this, huh?”
you nod around his fingers, eyes glassy.
he pulls them out with a wet pop, then cracks his palm across your cheek—not hard, just enough to sting, enough to make you gasp and clench.
“say it.”
“i—i’d come,” you choke out, voice wrecked. “just like this. stevie fuuck please—”
“yeah you would.” another light slap, then he’s gripping your face again, thumb pressing into your bottom lip, opening you up. he leans in close, voice dropping to a growl. “go ahead then. make a mess all over my sweats. show me how bad you want it.”
you shatter almost instantly.
the orgasm hits like a fist—sharp, overwhelming, your whole body locking up as you grind down hard, soaking the grey fabric dark. you’re loud, shameless, little punched-out moans spilling out while he holds you through it, one hand fisted in your hair, the other bruising your hip.
“there she is,” he breathes, watching your face like he’s hypnotized. “fuckin’ beautiful when you fall apart.”
you’re still trembling, panting against his mouth when he finally kisses you—slow, filthy, tongue pushing in deep like he’s claiming the sounds you just made.
when he pulls back his eyes flick down to the wet spot you left on him, then back up to your flushed face.
“you’re cleaning that up with your tongue later,” he says, casual. like it’s already decided. “but first…”
he shifts you just enough to tug the waistband of his sweats down, thick cock springing free—red, leaking, way too big for how fucked-out you already are.
