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unhappytimeleaper · 8 months

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Character analysis; main concepts

A lot of this references some hints to lore and stuff I found. Not a lot are direct spoilers, but since Venti is built on his vagueness to his past, this likely will be able to be subject to change as time goes on.

Also, I wasn't sure if I asked if anyone would reply to whom to pick for my analysis. I asked some friends on a Yandere discord server, and in passing, one of them mentioned Venti, so I just went with it. Shout out to them. I hate making decisions. And leaper lore, but Venti is the reason I got into Genshin, so I guess it's fitting he is first.

Anyway, that means sending who I should do next. I'd prefer to space Genshin characters out, but anyone on my lists can be requested, as well as general requests being open.

The final quick personal note is I wanted to thank everyone for the 150 followers. I know it's not a lot, but I am thankful for the handful I know have been around for a while and for those who have considered following; Tumblr and most other SNS are rough for creators as reblog ratios are so low and other issues, but I am very grateful for those who keep coming back.

Venti [Barbatos]; Unedited. Gender neutral reader. Part 1 of 3

Warnings; yandere!! It touches on every main category of the troupe, so if you are sensitive to manipulation [emotional and mental], alcoholism, codependency, guilt [even self-imposed], obsession, lying, stalking, some general creepy behavior, breaking and entering, possessiveness, delusional thoughts, unwanted touching [sfw], and anything else you can think of being related to yandere troupes, then it's best to just not read. Also, a massive warning for talks about religion, idolization in the 'church,' and abuse of power within religious settings.

Word Count: 8.4K

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

Maxed Stats

General manipulation

As a key component, Venti is a general trickster; he comes naturally with the skills of forgery, fabrication, pilfering, and illusion-making. These tools under his control make him naturally an enigma but build into easy traits of manipulation as he needs not just to you but to anyone. And for an early establishment, Venti's natural manipulation is not just tied to these specific skills. Still, it almost comes coded into how he exists as more of himself is revealed. Though these particular skills of lying are much harder to pick up on, between the riddles of his words and decent, innocent appearance, it's easy for him to pull off a twist of words or lie his way out of a situation.

As pointed out, manipulation is a skill that Venti can best use against anyone. To you, he is likely able to find excuses to keep up his actions. Outside of the wall of Mondstadt, he can quickly find reasonings as to why he's there, too. More often than not, he's somewhere close. While in areas like Windwail and Brightcrown, he can stay hidden, only needing to reveal himself if you find yourself in trouble, in regions like Starfell and Galesong, you can often see him not too far off in the distance. Even if you doubt his reasoning, it's hard to find proof of his stalking, making the moments unsettling, but his cuteness and way of words make it hard to get upset. Guilt festers as he looks so sad with accusations of something more sinister and that he has ulterior motives. Or how within the walls Venti is quick to find you and cling on, either in close proximity of walking or physically bound to you somehow— it's easy to tell when he's been drinking as he tends to be much more touchy in those moments. While it takes a lot for him to truly get drunk, he likes to play it up as there are so many more benefits and things you let slide. You have to take care of him in some way, and he always has a reason to be around longer.

In cases of late nights together, Venti sometimes lets you feel as if you have the upper hand, too. Pretending to be more drunk than he is and more open, allowing you to handle your chance at burning questions as he wistfully gives answers. Often, they are still vague but do let you delve more into his past, the trauma he has endured, or the loneliness that has come into his life. The more you learn, the more guilt grows at the idea of rejecting him. Of leaving Mondstadt in favor of exploration or answers. It's also not one where everything he shares is a goal of manipulating these feelings or actions.

Venti's love is absolute; for that, he wants to share what he can, with his goal of being bound to you, which means sharing these personal moments. For him, learning about you is so much easier with his status and age. Still, you can seldom learn about him in the same way, even more, as he can't fully spill his guts about his past at a moment's notice. However, he can think of this as an added benefit; manipulation, even if it's not the goal, is still emotional manipulation.

These times, there often are levels of manipulation about other places and people he puts in place. Different regions and gods aren't free from their past either, and Venti is known to share moments of these in his riddles. Aspects of how the lands have changed, how they have changed, but the imposing struggles carry through their lands. It's not really shit-talking them, nor a full-on slander campaign, but the language and words he uses are often dulled in favorability of what they could be. Similarly, he might often find ways to weave in things that could cause greater fear in you to manipulate you into thinking you are much too weak for the creatures that lurk there. While some parts you can chalk up to his story-telling nature and that by making it more dramatic, it sounds better, there often is a growing uneasiness about how vicious parts it could really be. More than countless times, there have been moments of your own danger, only saved by the grace of the wind and Venti nearby… In contrast, he speaks of Mondstadt and its people much more positively, and while he has some jealousy of those in his region you gain closeness with, he also tends to have a much more positive relationship with them, allowing those to be better tools to help in his love life than those in say Sumeru or Inazuma. He tends to maybe add in some more lighthearted jabs that can have an air of jealousy in them, even more if Venti feels you've been around them a lot recently, but in the way he talks, it often is more of playful bad-mouthing than down right insults.

As touched on, Venti's manipulation of you isn't always intended or done with negative goals. One side of this is again linked generally to how he speaks. Being this enigmatic person whose words are always wistful and hold more profound meaning, there is a natural draw to learn more. It's only made more of something that is hook when he doesn't often go around sharing this self-lore to someone so known but distant in Mondstadt to just anyone. It's almost like a balloon or bubble; the hints that are added build up little by little as time goes on without seeking out Venti for more until it pops. A droplet of information at a time until it consumes your mind, going back looking for more details to answers to the questions you'd had running in your mind for days. Soon enough, you are the one asking where the mysterious bard is to the townspeople, only cementing more in their minds the nature of your relationship being more than platonic. It also, again, just makes you feel special, a self-imposed superiority that you are the person who knows him best [which this ego can be inflated more if you know him as barbatos as well]. Venti knows these actions are manipulative in a sense, and again. At the same time, it doesn't truly harm anyone; it's still manipulation at its core in building this unique reliance on him.

And Venti's manipulation is ever present in the town and the people of Mondstadt. The key ways he uses these are to get more information about you and, as usual, get away with things. However, as briefly stated, Venti uses the wind and himself as a factor in starting rumors that there is naturally more to what is happening between you that can be exploited for later use. But back to the first point, Venti is able to once again use his 'charm' and way of speaking to easily coax others to give out more information about you. He literally likes things about your past, interests, personal relationships with others, likes, dislikes, and such through his friendly demeanor and guiding the conversations. And while he can easily track and monitor you through the wind, by talking to others around and having them tell him where you are, it helps set up a close alibi if you were to question him later. Essentially, in this case, the guards and townpeople become effective scapegoats for his stalking if needed. Furthermore, these questions end up helping intensify any rumors as the questions, over time, can become more and more romantic.

His manipulation does also be a benefit as he really is one with the people, if not distant in details. By having personal connections to groups like people in the Adventure's Guild and Knights of Favonius through people like Jean & Kaeya, they easily can be tools to help with his… well, propaganda. Even the temple with Rosaria. You ask about traveling and other nations to people in the Adventure's Guild, and they tend to often only share more gruesome or darker aspects of their stories. Of have plenty of tragedy by the time they reach the 'positive goal' that it's a natural persuasion to not want to often venture too far outside of Mondstadt. Or say you are one to leave; Venti could use points of manipulation he's built to have, say, Rosaria or Kaeya go with you, depending on where. The wind can always join you, but Venti isn't up and one to fully be able to run off from Mondstadt for long periods of time. If you plan to go on just a trip for travel, it's one thing for him to run off and join you, but freedom itself in Mondstadt is unique. It's not necessarily true freedom, and while he's awake with a purpose, he can't in his heart run from Mondstadt to travel with you. And while he'd be able to do anything in his power to persuade you to not leave, he's one to physically force it unless you're genuinely trying to run off for something dangerous. However, if someone else were to go. Friends of you and Venti… you'd have to come back, right? Kaeya can't leave his post forever, and it was him who accompanied you for this task, so it would be unfair to go on alone and not see him back… Yes, through others, you'd always be lured… guilted into returning home to him eventually.

Manipulation is also used here in more of a test; he does this often with people but imposes an idea or thing involving you. Those he wants to use in a way of getting close, he bluffs some lies out, and their reaction or steps they handle in regards usually is how he tests to see if they are reliable in what he needs. It's nothing extreme, but it's best to know if he can trust their feelings and opinions on you before letting you get too close. If they fail, well, a little bending of the truth to make it so neither of you wants to interact and never really hurt anyone.

This all helps build into how appearance tends to help. Not only for the general public but even for you, as his boyish charm and looks naturally tend to frame him as innocent. People are quick to brush off his questions even if they progressively get more concerned as 'puppy love' or that it's simply 'too cute' to see the young love from the bard. Many might even favor this as they see it as him likely being willing to turn a new leaf and grow into something worth settling down [i.e., get a job and place to live, though really, instead, it grows more into him crashing at your home and still playing song for whatever he can— money or alcohol]. His verbal actions are easily brushed off, but even the physical side of things, too. Pilfering is a great talent of his, but when caught with your items or breaking in when you're out, he tends to be pushed aside if he plays up his demeanor and lies. Scolded with warnings, sure, but scratching his head and sighing with a 'promise I won't do it again' tends to get everyone to roll their eyes and back off. As mentioned, his appearance can even present him as harmless to you; if someone brings it up, you might also awkwardly laugh and brush off the events. It's just Venti being Venti. He truly is primarily harmless, and he's stayed over so much at this point him breaking in was likely just a result of a habit of being in there…

And the limits of manipulation can be pushed if he so chooses. Call it divine intervention, more or less cause while he does so more with a dirty conscience, he can be driven as Barbatos to truly step in. Religious intervention. It seems weird when the Church of Favonius suddenly comes in contact with some old documents, ones with never seen details of an old love interest to their beloved god. The news and rumors sweep the nation, and even weirder, most of the details and notes recount someone… like you. Things seemed to get stranger, and from there, only more documents could be found of this exact figure appearing throughout history, like some sort of reincarnation. The fascination of it all quickly became the center of the topic, and with the likeness you bared in the story and aspects of appearance, you're status seemed to shoot up within the night. Not so much a holy figure but deemed with some strange uplighting in the way people spoke. That is, or how Barbatos ever seemed to come back to Mondstadt, you'd need to be there just like how the past reminisced. For those who do know, it weirdly only pushes you away from them if you ever seek help, that that story must be bound to fate, and that Venti can't be as much of a nuisance if you give it time. The problem is only dug in worse as Venti creates poems and ballads of the sort, claiming he actually had heard of these but never sought to share them until now. As the stories grow, you're pushed more and more to the church with the idea of gaining barbatos' favor and attention. Leaving… just became much more complex.

Dependence [reversed]

Dependence comes in a weird form, at least compared to others. While in general fashion, dependence typically is the idea that they want you to solely rely on them for everything, not only for power and love, it can even be with money, housing, or other necessities. While Venti likely would be much more dependent on him being really the main source of your love and affection, the rest… he doesn't care so much about. Power may be a little; he doesn't need or want you to depend on him for it, but it does give him a little ego boost when you have to or ask him. And too many other aspects of actual dependence go against aspects of his belief in freedom. Venti's course of manipulation never truly prohibits your own freedom; again, less you actively seek to do something he knows poses a threat; it just often forces you to rethink and become more hesitant in actions or thoughts.

As for other forms of dependence, well, Venti doesn't have them. He steals, only really eats apples, to your knowledge, and is homeless. It's quite pitiful in a humorous way. However, as you get closer and bond more with the bard-friendly nature, it is hard for you to let him live like this. Well, in certain ways, stealing alcohol or bribing others to give him some with songs you can't really stop unless you plan on going bankrupt. But more frequently, you invite him for meals and shelter him in your place. Even more frequently if the weather is bad or as winter approaches. Venti isn't manipulating you necessarily into these tasks, but dependence some with a factor of self-guilt. He's your friend, someone you've gotten close with, and with that, he's come to truly rely on you for these things. He was fine in the past, but to leave for who knows how long and let him fall back into such a life would make you a bad person. Right?

Logically, Venti knows he doesn't need to depend on you for these things as they don't have any real effect on his life, but it's so domestic. He gets access to all your items; you put time and love into meals, or even sharing what you purchased from Good Hunter fills him with warmth. On cold nights, he finds it easier to slip under your blankets and, even if it's fake, pretend to sleep like how couples would. Being a god comes with a lot of good but a lonely life, and after seeing so many, there comes a time when it's nice to indulge in it. Gluttony has always been a crime of his, it seems, such as with alcohol, but this also can't be that bad if no one is getting hurt. So just let him depend on you a little longer. At least until he can find out some solution before he sleeps again.

Self Harm

Similar to dependency on basic things, one form of manipulation that Venti doesn't do on purpose but knows that there still is a benefit to his actions is his indulgence in drinking. While it takes a lot for him to truly get drunk, as noted, he does like to play it up for you, and it's not uncommon for you to have to take care of him or come help him. In all sense, Venti, while not necessarily drunk, is an alcoholic, and to a detriment, it is a form of self-harm. Through learning more and hearing the tales and songs of his past, it's apparent the wounds run deep, and Venti's only way he knows to deal with them is through drinking in an attempt to numb or forget. The reality of knowing this is hard; you see it with others you've likely gained closeness with and how drinking has affected the lives of so many.

This leads to two outcomes: this, again, guilt that breeds when thinking of leaving. The connection Venti has formed is tangible with how deep it is to you, even if you don't reciprocate in that way. That's if you were to leave, would things only get worse with his drinking problem? Unlikely, he would died from drinking, but it's more than just drinking; it's the mental state of him in that position and how the loss of more people would rip the wound open even more. Furthering, if you had actually spent time talking about his past and working to unpack and find better ways to cope with the trauma outside of alcoholism, leaving would be a dick move and revert all that progress no matter how you explained it. How much could you're conscious take knowing this? How far could you make it without the guilt of him back home as the stories of his past cloud your mind? The wind tickling your skin and almost like a whisper reminding you of it. It's one thing to share a drink or two with the bard and have a fun night in the tavern, listening to his songs and dancing. It's another to picture him alone under a tree, empty bottles scattered from stealing from him alone, reminiscing about his lost friend and the imagery of war. The wind gets colder, licking the back of your neck, and the guilt is painful, ready to burst out your chest for even thinking of it. Some wounds you cannot heal, but the idea of making them worst or abandoning the person who's come to need you most is mentally crippling.

General obsessiveness

Venti doesn't necessarily read as obsessive. Not outwardly, at least, though it's easy to blame his charm for that. Okay… well, maybe not charm, but within his manipulative nature and looks, his actions and questions regarding you don't play as obsessive to those who listen. It's unlike many others who you can just look at them and feel in your bone there is something off, or in how they speak, they care just a little too hard. His sharp tongue and trick of words allow people to very easily give up information without thoroughly having them aware they have, making his tendencies go far under the general public's radar still. And for those who do somewhat witness it, he doesn't mind playing up his role a little more. Just a young, helpless bard looking to woo someone. It isn't a crime, right?

The mask he wears holds many layers. The bard, the god, the lost wind. Not many will ever get a look at what really goes on and what is an exaggeration. Or under exaggeration when it comes to you. In most cases, Venti stretches his stories up, his words riddled and larger than life that people have to dim down to work out the true meaning. So when he sells his obsessive love as much less, people are quick to brush it off or dim it down further to avoid those actual layers of emotions being peeled forward.

A chunk of this also extends to the shame and questions it brings out of freedom. Venti has never tried to take it away in a solid way, but is it true freedom to either of you when you fill so much of his thoughts that you can't really do anything without him? It is the thought that replays and replays of you and him doing things; it's the obsessive nature of having to know where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. Are you safe? Are you planning on leaving? Should he come to find you just to be sure?

What about the images. The visions he remembers from the wars, from the people he's lost, and that truly, at any time, perhaps something will happen, and you'll be next. The flashes of violence and fear that only make the goal of getting his next drink to numb them go away— or you. The sight of you, the smell of you. Having you hold him and remind him that the past is gone.

You'd be able to see it, maybe not the full extent, but you've come to know the bard enough to tell when the cogs in his mind are turning and the way he tries to drown out aspects of himself. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but you know some of it is tied to the past as he holds the stolen wine in one hand and grips you so tightly with the other as you try to stumble back to your home and out of sight. You can tell something is off when he's snooping through your things early in the morning as you're just waking up and when he's clearly been inside your place while you were out with a friend. Or that he's been leaving more and more questionable lyrics? No, less like poems or lyrics but ramblings about love and fear and what can only be aspects of you on the counter as he runs around god knows where. It's worrying. It's uncomfortable to an extent, but not enough or in a way that you can just cut him off. Kick him out. Maybe just talking or setting a little break, but the pressure in your chest and bile in your throat at the thought of cutting contact brings you to a sobbing mess each time.

But, what does keep him from being fully obsessive is that Venti still has things to do. Freedom of Mondstadt and giving up his title as the god doesn't mean he's abandoned his role truly, and if he's awake, that means between drinking, being with friends, telling stories, and everything about you, there is something he has to do. He still is out fulfilling a duty no one, but he knows of, and really, part of that seems more scary than anything he's done to you. You know he'd never hurt you; it's not a fear of that, but as Venti opens up more to you, the parts he still keeps hidden remind you that this is only a fraction of what you know. Guess it's good that you still have some time and space to yourself, but as obsessive as he is in his thoughts and other flaws, he can dial it back if needed for a short amount of time. At least from your perspective.

Wrong idea; type 2

In a sense, Venti is give an inch; he'll take a mile. Like a stray cat. You feed him once he keeps coming back for more. One thing is that this wrong idea can start more slowly, but the second you mess up and do something more romantically affectionate, it instantly becomes much more intense in the progression of what he's willing to take or do.

As mentioned, for anything to start, you need to be at least on a friendship level basis with Venti, and a sorta higher level of one. Nothing extreme, but the type of friends who do spend a considerable amount of time together and, for example, willing to open your house to him to stay in occasionally. Not even in a 'stay in the same bed' type way, but he knows aspects of your personal life, and to a level, you learn more of his 'Venti' side for any of his traits to really start manifest. However, it is already very easy to set off more and delve into the realm of leading him into the wrong idea territory.

Some ideas of how this might be are such as gaining more physical contact. While the intent is friendly, Venti is from a different time, and being touchy already seems less common than you already have a 'flirty' aptitude. Grabbing his arm or hanging off of him when sober makes his heart flutter that there could be more. Certain gifts, flowers, or making uniquely special foods just for him. Not just any meal, that's normal, but if you were to make something sweet with apples that wasn't a typical dish, it leads his heart to beat just a little harder. Or that one time when he did stay over and you fell asleep holding onto him rather than the usual routine of wandering off to your own spot after putting a drunk Venti 'to sleep.' You must have been exhausted… but this is his first time really getting to see you up close.

You must be doing all this with some… ulterior motive. Sure, he's heard of courting; he's older than people think and knows more of the ins and outs of things. People treat him like someone far more innocent by these looks— not just with drinking. And yeah, it comes in handy sometimes, but not when people talk down to him about this. At first, there was some apprehension. Teyvat was in a dangerous time, and as carefree as he plays himself up, he's always guarded about his next move.

Obsessiveness starts more simple. His questions are more of curiosity about many things, and what is better than to trick it out of people and you. Sure, he knows most basic things of your life, but that couldn't mean you aren't linked to more questionable things and had figured out he was Barbatos, either. He comes off a nosey at best. When digging to see if you'd ever been caught doing 'bad things' most inform sure— but in the sense you had been a kid and teen once. You'd easily gotten into trouble more than a few times but never was it for anything imminent or serious. He digs more into the lineage of your family and the other people you associate with. Nothing strange… fine, but perhaps a different route. He remembers some old common courting techniques, and he's seen some of them in this era, too. He's not blind to it, but as he shares more of the details, the more people tell the 'young' bard. It's probably a hint that he should reciprocate. I mean, he already hangs off of you like a hangover anyway. It's surprising he isn't already attached at your hip with how much you both sort of rely on each other. Although you tend to treat him more as a companion than him, he depends on you like a leech.

And the switch flips.

In certain aspects, if you did have some sort of crush, it likely would melt away with how quick his obsessively wrong idea notion takes over. What was harmless flirting testing the waters is instantly blown into a large scale. Even if you didn't like him in that way and other signs were one of platonic closeness or accidents, it doesn't seem to make a difference. His touchiness is insatiable, and the amount of time he starts demanding you spend with him is much more intense. If you try to brush him off, his poutiness damps the air, and things just an uneasy tingle. You find him trying to make all sorts of snacks and now haggling not just for drinks but for gifts. Every story he tells, every song he sings, and every poem has some romantic undertones that, paired with former questions and actions, people know it is about you. And the stalking doesn't help.

Venti's turning point makes him feel like there is more and that there could be more. He's not fully delusional. There are aspects of a lucid point that you're pulling away, but that just means he needs to try harder, right? He's seen so many relationships go like that. If you stop trying, if you let them pull away, that's really how you lose them. It's obvious how much time he puts into this, how much he thinks about how to move forward, and how he can use things like his skill sets of manipulation to keep you bound to him [not literally but in a figurative state]. However, it is only time before you get worn down from trying to fight and redirect… adapting does become just so much easier. Conversations, trying to explain, just don't seem to reach him. Lucid and all, you can't understand him or his goals anymore, and even when he does calm down back into a slight breeze, the second you give him a bit of that former closeness back, it picks back into a blustery.

Stalking

While Venti's stalking habits have mostly been pointed out, there is one other big thing that needs to be recognized. Sure, in Mondstadt and the borders of other regions, he often can find himself about to sneak away and physically follow you around for extended periods of time [days, weeks, etc.]; what happens if you leave. Of course, Venti can easily manipulate others to go with you as a safety net and use it to get you back home, but things are rough when you're gone. Luckily, or to your dismay, you aren't ever really alone as the wind follows you. No matter how far you go, how pleasant the weather is, or how rough the wind is a constant companion following in your wake. It's often a nice breeze, though it picks up a significant amount if you're nearing danger or in danger. Though a strange pattern of it picks up when you spend a little too long talking with locals…

Yes, the wind itself can't do much, but its following reminds you of your faithful companion back home, the one you'll have to eventually return to. And while 'freedom' is given, it's never truly 'free' as the wind follows far and wide until you come back to your love.

Final [unique]

Where final comes in is related more to Venti's 'sleep.' From the context, it seems Venti has less control over when he sleeps and for how long. It's not that he chooses to abandon his land in the time. It's that he cannot fight when he goes into his slumbering state. For hundreds of years, and the times he wakes up are only that when there is something of great importance. This wouldn't be much of a problem before you— Mondstadt was given their freedom, and it was just how it was. He awoke, he came, he helped, and he left; nothing more or less.

However, he had been awake for longer than usual. There was something, even outside of you, that had brewing. Something deeply important kept him awake, even if he didn't know what. And he established a life. A true life this time, with friends in the taverns and everyday 'enemies' with his habits. He found a 'job' and a 'home' within his city as one of the people. And he fell in love. It's one thing to become intrinsically a part of an environment, and even if you don't feel the same way, have that connection knowing any moment it could be lost. To go back into a long-standing sleep with every person, even facet of that life is potentially gone when you are to wake up again. To lose that loved one to time.

Venti has lost so much, each person he's established a bond with passing or having to move on to more incredible things. When he awakes, everything is different; every person is mostly a new face, with few exceptions of those only being a few like him. Is it wrong for love to be so fragile when he knows the change of fate of it being lost is greater than the reward? That if he were to fall asleep, you would easily be able to move on. Find someone new, forget about him, or at least be nothing more than a distant memory. He knows other types of love can be platonic, that the affection you give to the city kids isn't the same, or the way you play with the cats as he watches from a distance. He knows that when he sees the couples in Mondstadt, he's supposed to be happy for them, and imagine if it was you two rather than have the breeze pick up ruining their outing. That he shouldn't be this jealous or bitter; it's unsuiting of his persona, but how else are you supposed to know when love is useless if not with you, the one person he could so quickly lose. When you're not around, this gets worse. Celestia, be damned if he were to fall asleep without at least getting to see you one more time.

This acknowledgment does considerably bring out more of his obsessive nature, almost like paranoia, but in a way that no one can quite place. That he needs to have knowledge of where you are and how long you've been gone, or that he needs to be with you to make up for the time. The obsession leaks into you're time together; since he doesn't need sleep, he'll just lay there watching you. Hands sometimes ghost your face as he pulls you close, worrying about if he can't save you if he were to suddenly fall back asleep tomorrow and never see you again. It's the way sometimes he grips your arm a little too tightly and breathes in too deeply when hugging. That he needs to find a solution to keep you immortal so if he does sleep, you'll still be there when he awakes, or even better, you can sleep with him [and awake] at the same time. You'd never have to be alone, he'd never have to be alone. And sure, it's a stretch, but it's not a loss of freedom because once awake, you can still go anywhere you want together, and even with this idea, you still have full mental awareness and control over your mind.

General Delusional [unique]

Venti isn't delusional. His perceptiveness to things around him and his need to protect himself, plus his lifetime, has made him more or less hyperaware of things and life around him. He hears the prayers of people and the lives of others, and being lucid/logical is simply a must for that of a god. But he hears the prays, he hears the others speak, and he yearns in a sense to be able to have the luxury of being delusional. Of just being able to let everything go and pretend things are good or that you like him back in that way. It sounds nice. Easy. To be able to imagine your life together as some fantasy story, he's the knight who'd come and save you and live happily ever after.

Scratch that. barbatos isn't delusional, but Venti can be. The mask, the person he's playing can be. He isn't just a storywriter; he's a storyteller. An actor, a character of his identity. So no, deep down, he knows the truth; he's extremely aware of that, but why not just play the part. Let him play as if he was lost in those delusions and that whatever it is can be that way. When you're cooking dinner for each other, Venti knows you're just making a meal as always, but why not play it up. That you're coupled and that this is making a meal together as a such— it was a little weird when he came over to help, but you didn't question it. At least he was doing something. But meal times together when he would help progressed weirdly. Putting his arms around you as you try to cut things, holding out utensils for you to try things on. It got very strange the one time when baking, he leaned over and licked a crumb off your face. You didn't bake for a while after that.

Or going out. What once was normal progressed into him inching closer and closer, then hands briefly touching. You didn't think much. It's the bard unless your Diluc. He's been pretty much harmless around the city. You think. So what if he was one to try to hold hands or brush arms that just matched his bubbly personality. Though the linking of arms and leaning into when waking, staring into your eyes with such affection did change things a lot.

It's nothing more than a role, or sort of game to Venti. The delusion is there, but it is more like oil sitting on top of water. He can turn it off at any moment, but where is the fun in that when everything in his life is so serious. With you, it's easier to just pretend. At least he still has all the control and lucidity of the problems when needed.

Projection

This has been touched on already, but to relate it back, Venti isn't so much delusional in the sense he believes it's real but that if he projects the message hard enough through stories, through songs, and to the people of Teyvat that you're together then in some way, that will be true. The projection of his words he knows are false, and he knows in some way, even if it isn't true, that if a story is spread enough, people take it as fact. And if everyone takes it as fact, then it's just easier for you to accept it as well. He really doesn't have to do anything to force you. It's not taking away anything. It's just altering it so that way things work out in his favor. Much like the general sense, it pairs as well. If he tells himself it's true, perhaps he can force that delusion to cloud the lucidity he feels about all of it. It's almost like in a state of being drunk, where you know what's going on to a certain level, but it's foggy. It's rose-tinted enough that if everyone thinks it, he can, too.

This projection is only made worse if he gets involved as Barbatos. It changes things from just the slightly weird couple who, honestly, the people of Mondstadt can't really explain how they ended up that way. They remember bits of it, but it seems like someone through someone, though some random grandma just mentioned you were taken, and everyone ran with it. But if the church were to find the falsified relics and stories, then there just is nothing you can do. Now, it's not only Venti trying to project something there but the whole church following, believing that you are some saint and by having you married? Honestly, you aren't really sure what all this goal is to have you 'connected to Barbatos' even means, but whatever it is… it doesn't sound good. The expectations of you are doubled, and the projection of you being more than human is suffocating. But it's only made worse when Venti comes forward as Barbatos to you, saying you should just play the part. Stay with the church as some saint and with him. You'll still have a life of freedom outside of it, just with some more expectations about how you interact with others. You'd be bound by the marriage of some sort, and he'd find a way to make it eternal. It doesn't sound too bad, right? Freedom isn't truly free, but it never has been. It's an elusive concept, something subjective, but if you still have the right to enjoy your life and the good of being such, then it should be okay. You can still leave the church figuratively and travel, arguing it's on some journey for something. You aren't restricted in how you speak or think, but things like infidelity and how you speak of love need to be more kind. Yet you'd live a life of peace, one of never needing to be allowed and have the blessing of a god in your favor.

If not, think of the projection people will have if you say no. If you try to run away, you lose everything. That would be the true loss of freedom. The loss of your friends, your loved ones. Your home. Venti projects this idea of love and what love should be for you two, not between you and him necessarily, but to everyone else, making it all the more terrifying at the consequences when he finally does. Not if, but when.

Monopoly

This is where things get rough because Venti is possessive in a way that can't be controlled. He feels it settling in his chest when he spends too long talking to the shopkeeper or giggling a little too hard at a friend's joke. He hates it when you work and when you dedicate your time to the kittens outside The Cat's Tail. He whines when you have to leave in the morning and when you turn up to Angel Share just a little too late, begging to know who you are with. It hurts him. He can't explain it in the way it crushes his soul, seeing you give your time to others, your energy, and your care. It pains him so deeply to see you run yourself thin for the world around you, for those who could never understand you like he does.

Venti knows it would be easy to whisk you away. To use his godly powers to keep you safe, to keep your attention and love only on him. How things would be so much better for you, for each other, if you could just monopolize your time for him and you and no one else. The idea weighs on him like a pile of bricks. He knows it's wrong; he knows it goes against everything he stands for. And call him childish, but he can't help how he feels.

It's true he never really acts on it. Clinging onto you and carping over it, sure, the way he tugs slightly on your arm after you keep talking to the passerby you bumped into, an old friend, ready to drag you off to somewhere in Mondstadt, you can be alone. How he holds on just a little too tight when you talk about events at work and the people you chatted with, quickly wanting to move to a more interpersonal topic.

Venti never really monopolizes you or your relationships, but his bratty and more childish act really is brought out more with you around. You still get the socialization and ability to be around whoever, but it always needs to be rightfully compensated with some alone time with the god as well, so pick your battles sparingly and just go with him when his fuse starts to burn out.

Bizarre Seeking [unique]

Tying back to his sleep issue, the case of bizarreness only relies so much on how far he's willing to push to keep you immortal, either through godhood or other means. It's surprising he'd even consider it; his testament for Celestia is apparent in conversations, and the path to godhood is not seen in a much higher light based on conversations. But Venti knows sacrifices need to be made to get what you want, and if that means the pursuit of godhood or immorality to not lose any more of his loved one, then that's a sacrifice to be made.

Because of this, Venti ends up pushing you into countless more and more weird scenarios. You end up visiting a certain alchemist more, not really ever knowing the reasons why, and stranger things of yours seem to be going missing. What is that strange bruise on your arm, and why does this one piece of hair seem slightly shorter than the rest? You also swore that Caramel Pinecone tasted weird last time, but even when you ordered the Love Poem instead, it was still off…

The limits of Venti's morality are very much pushed with the goal of finding a way to extend your life more permanently, and while the actions he takes are questionable, they aren't anything he would do less deemed necessary. Beyond that, once he finds the key to unlock it, his bizarre-seeking tendencies end up dying down or stopping altogether.

Also, while he considers and will try to push for a Celestia ascension if push comes to shove, the ability to actually achieve godhood this way is much more complicated and dangerous. Something he might keep trying for, but this way is much less likely to succeed, and he knows this, which is why other bizarre tendencies take priority.

General protectiveness

Overall, protectiveness is a standard feat. Venti doesn't want you to get hurt and will do nearly anything to prevent it, hence a considerable factor of his stalking outside of walls of the city or towns. Even with others, if he thinks they pose some physical threat, Venti has little fear of stepping between you and 'the threat.' It's not so much a protective coating or an extreme case where he needs to check everything you do, touch, eat, drink, or interact with. Still, there is a natural sense of him wanting to protect you and watch over you to make sure that nothing can gravely hurt you. This mirrors why the wind follows you if you travel and picks up to warn you and redirect you away from dangers, a protective aura of Venti that trails after you. It's not even a doubt that you can't, but the inherent need to make sure you make it back in one piece.

There is, again, only one primary reason Venti will use full force to intervene, and this is if he knows you are purposefully trying to run off somewhere that will put you in danger for any reason. Often downplaying his strength of wind, the storm, if needed, will border Mondstadt making it. Hence, nothing gets in or out until you agree to drop it, tearing nearly everything that comes in contact with the barrier if you don't agree to listen to him first and think of a genuine plan. The wind sees all, and while terraforming isn't much on his bucket list anymore, Barbatos has no fear of proving his worth and power if in the name of love and protection. Even if it hurts you to know whatever your goal is foiled, if it's the one-stop against your freedom, there are some things not worth being risked.

Lowest Stats

General [none]

The one trait Venti inherently lacks is sadism. Nothing he does to you or others is derived from the pleasure of hurting or seeing others hurt. And while those such as the abyss creatures for fatui foot soldiers are at the whims of his fighting, it's not done with the goal or satisfaction of a battle but rather a necessity for 'his' people and you.

It's apparent that actions that long-term hurt you or have serious effects, both mental and physical, that fundamentally change you aren't truly a goal. Yeah, the immortality would literally change you, but not with the goal of making you conform or transform into a new mental mindset. At least not right away, as he knows that a long life naturally changes people, but there never is a purpose to rid you of traits. To tie you down and break you until you love him the way he loves you.

Freedom, as touched on, is never truly free. Not of people, not of actions, or even of mindsets. But is it that Venti wants you to be you; be the self you choose to be and the freedom that comes with that, even if aspects of it hurt him. It's why if he has to let you go to Sumeru for a festival he knows wouldn't be possible for him to also attend, he lets you know you'll come back to him without the burden of being changed or conformed to have to come back. It's why, in every case, Venti does whatever is in his power to keep you from being genuinely hurt, even if he can't always fulfill that promise. It's why, despite everything, he can't hurt the people who create the fires of jealousy in his core being.

Venti has an awareness that many of his actions are immoral and that he has dirtied his hands in the past just as much. he knows of the guilt you struggle with, and then he is using his skills to manipulate and play everyone like a fiddle, but in the eyes of a god and one who believes in freedom, it is not in his role to harm anyone in the light of you. It's a turning point he could never come back from if he were to directly hurt you or anyone else with the goal of keeping you with him, and it would be a dishonor to everything he was created from. A stain on the nameless bard he honors so deeply, so while the envelope of what is okay is pushed every day with his other actions, there is never once a hand that is laid on you for the sake of 'love' from Bardatos.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Statistic diagram; Venti [Barbatos]

#leaper.analysis #yandere #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere genshin #yandere genshin headcanons #yandere genshin impact #yandere venti #genshin.leaps #genshin x reader #venti x reader #tw: yandere #tw: manipulation #tw: alcohol #tw: stalking #tw: religious themes

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jo-harrington · 1 month

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As Above, So Below - Chapter 6: Revelation

Previous Chapter: Chapter 5 - Via Domus

Summary: More secrets are revealed to you as your reunion with Eddie comes to a close, and in their wake, a covenant is made between the two of you.

Word Count: 18.2k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Gore, Body Horror, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Monsterfucking, Slight Pain/Discomfort/Injury due to Monsterfucking (short lived), Unprotected PinV Sex (he's undead it doesn't matter), Oral Sex (M Receiving), Bloodletting, Defiling of Religious Grounds/Paraphernalia, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Note: On March 27th 1986, Eddie Munson was left to his fate in the Upside Down and a year ago today I began this journey with Hell, the story of how he was left to his fate under Vecna's control. Now here we are, finally able to "see" what he became. The man turned monster finally revealed in his entirety. And all the...trouble that entails for him and his love, the Knight. Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far, who has listened to me rant and rave, who has stuck with me for this long. I love and cherish you. This one--hell, the whole story actually--is for you.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.” - Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

November 6, 1983 October 15, 1987

It was dark and, although it wasn’t a place you would choose to rest, there you lay.

It was a welcome rest. All rest was welcome when you hadn’t had any for an eternity.

Countless days and nights you’d spent trying so hard to save him. Save yourself. Where did it get you?

Back into the darkness once again.

Fate was cruel.

And you were lost.

“Sweetheart?”

You could hear his voice faintly, and tears involuntarily escaped the corners of your eyes; he never called you sweetheart anymore.

"Angel, come on," he cooed softly, closer now, and closer still the longer it took. "Time to make the donuts, open your eyes for me. Please."

You took a rattling breath and you trembled all the while, as the fear that your mind, or maybe even this place, might be playing tricks on you became overwhelming.

Hands grabbed for you reverently--hands, not claws--and pulled you over and up, til you were sitting, and then a solid form slid behind you. The gentle soul let you rest back against them, and then caressed you.

You whimpered as those hands and fingers paid special attention to the most wounded parts of you, as they willed some kind of healing, and made you whole again.

You felt it slowly fill you. The light. So soft and pure.

It was something that you'd long since resigned to losing someday, your light, but here it was again. Not yours but made to be yours, because he was yours. Just like you were his. The light, given freely, returned all of the pieces of you that were missing, bit by bit.

The piece that had vanished from your sternum, the gaping hole that was taken from your side, the jagged incisions at every joint. They were filled and sealed and suddenly you were like new again.

Your eyes shot open, and you released a startled gasp as your lungs were allowed a full breath for the first time in ages.

And just like an infant experiencing the overwhelming majesty of the world for the first time, you sobbed.

"Shhhh," Eddie whispered into your ear. His nose and lips gently brushed the shell of it, and he left a kiss there when you finally relaxed against him. "I've got you. It's alright, it's gonna be ok. I’m here. I've got you."

November 6, 1983

“…and there’s this ice cream cake called Viennetta.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It is! It’s…vanilla and chocolate and the ice cream does this swirl thing.” You waved your hands for dramatic effect. “It’s delicious. Nonna got to try it before she passed. Said it was better than tiramisu.”

“Fuck, I miss ice cream.” Eddie groaned and tilted his head back.

It wasn’t said in a bitter way, more for dramatic effect.

You'd been shut away in the secret little house in the Upside Down for a few days now; making love, talking, and eating the little snacks that Wayne had brought Eddie previously. When he’d gone to bring you more sustenance from the kitchen after that first night of sex and reconnection, you’d asked him if he could eat normal food. He explained that he had never thought to try. All he craved was blood. But it was the idea of food that he missed more than anything. The variety. The choice.

You'd squirrel that thought away for later.

For now, the two of you lavished in the comfort of each other and you regaled Eddie with the less-adventurous aspects of your life--and he his--that you'd both missed out on.

Topics jumped back and forth between lazy kisses and frantic fucking, sometimes even right in between, interrupting your most intimate moments. It felt reminiscent of those early days together, where you couldn't get enough of each other and couldn't get enough of talking to one another.

Especially when it came to the things in life that passed him by while he was stuck in this infernal dimension.

People and events.

"This...nuclear reactor almost exploded."

"What the fuck? Like Ten Mile Island?"

"Worse."

"How much worse?"

"Like the Vatican almost wanted to send the Knights in to investigate."

"Damn."

Food and music.

"Van Halen is back together."

"Oh shit, they are?"

"Yeah."

"Soon as I'm out of here, I'm challenging Eddie Van Halen to a guitar duel."

"They have a new lead singer though. I think you'd hate them less now to be honest."

"Fuck David Lee Roth. Remember when I got you to admit you had a crush on him?"

"I was coerced. It was said under duress."

"If I had your phone number when I found out that they had broken up, I would have called you and laughed right in your fucking face, sweetheart."

Television and movies.

"There's a new James Bond movie coming out," you broke a heated kiss and pushed yourself to sit upright on Eddie's hips, groaning at the change in angle as you sunk further down onto his cock. He stretched his neck and then grabbed at your hands to kiss your knuckles as you took the lead in both the pace and the conversation. "And a new James Bond."

"No more...what's-his-face?" he asked, panting. "Roger Moore."

"No, Timothy Dalton," you said, looking at his face expectantly for some type of reaction. You rolled your hips into his roughly, almost as punishment, when you got no response other than pleasure. "You remember, the guy from Flash Gordon? You made me watch that movie a hundred times. Prince Barin? What about Jane Eyre?"

He stilled beneath you, brow furrowed in concentration.

"You made me watch that one a hundred times."

"No, there were just a hundred episodes. Remember I said you would make a good Rochester? And you said it was because you were..."

Eddie grabbed your hips and canted up into you, a feral grin on his lips now, fangs glinting in the low light.

"Because I'm handsome and mysterious," he recalled. "And a desirable bachelor."

"And I said no," you collapsed back against him again, lips brushing against his. "It was because your name is Edward."

You reconnected for a bruising kiss before he got the upper hand once again and got you beneath him.

It didn't matter what or when, every moment and every word was of the utmost importance; the actions that they were preceded or punctuated by simply added to the depth of your reunion.

In those private little moments, between silly banter and declarations of your devotion to one another, you promised never to be apart again.

"Once we get you out of here," you said, words hushed against his cold skin. "We can go to concerts and see movies, drive anywhere you want. Get the hell out of Hawkins and never look back."

"Once I get out of here," he parroted as he broke away from his intense feeding. "We'll go everywhere and do everything. Start a new band together or just find a place with a nice couch to sit and never leave. I never want to let you go."

"All I want," you and Eddie echoed to one another over and over, "is to be with you forever."

It took three days before the two of you emerged from the peaceful solitude of Eddie's childhood home.

The watch on your wrist beeped at some supposed midnight every night signaling the end of another day, and Wayne's visit was soon upon you. You figured, instead of just asking for Wayne to fetch your bag, you'd just return to Hawkins with him and get it yourself. Maybe some books you'd abandoned in the trunk of your car too.

Then you could really get to work remedying this whole situation, and getting Eddie home.

Eddie was loath to let you go, though; he watched as you got dressed in your ripped and stained clothes, arms crossed behind his head comfortably while enticing temptations leached from his lips.

"I can just go," he offered. "Wayne'll have fresh food for you and then you don't need to leave until three days after that. How does that sound? Stay with me just a little longer."

"Eddie," you groaned. "I've already been gone long enough. As nice as that sounds, I'm sure your friends--hell, my friend--is wondering where I've disappeared to. They've found my car by now too."

"I can send Chrissy or Fred to tell them you're ok."

"That'll go over well," you rolled your eyes.

You shrugged your jacket on and in a blink, he was standing before you, still naked, eyes wide.

"Jesus," you jumped, startled.

"Guess again," he teased tensely.

"You're...fast," you squinted your eyes at him, motioning between him and the mattress.

"I have a few tricks that I take advantage of when I'm in the mood for them. Some things Vecna showed me; y'ain't seen nothing yet sweetheart."

You hummed a noncommittal response and just stared at him, let your eyes rove over his form once again, taking in as much detail as you could before you left him.

"Pretty sure I'm seeing a lot of you, actually," you told him, voice laden with appreciation for the sight before you.

You reached out and ran a finger over one of the seams along his skin, around his wrist; so much time over the past few days had been spent reacquainting yourselves, and you wondered if you spontaneously lost your sight, would you recognize him by touch alone?

So much time had been spent with the phantom presence of him around over the years, though, that it really didn't matter either way; your soul would sing simply by having him nearby.

"Alright," you sighed lamentingly. "Put some clothes on Romeo. Time for me to go back to Verona."

Another blink and he was on you. His hands cupped your face, fingers splayed across your cheeks and jaw, edging the exposed bite wounds.

"Promise me," he muttered and leaned closer so your noses brushed and breaths mingled. "Promise me you'll be back."

"I promise," you agreed.

"Tomorrow."

"Yes."

"When the watch beeps at midnight again, I need you back here," he pleaded. He pressed the lightest kiss to your lips. "Please don't leave me here."

"I won't," you said with finality, as you looked into his eyes with the fire of promise and determination. "Nothing could keep me away."

Satisfied, he moved in a blur, and then stood before you again, fully dressed in a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shrugged his jacket back on and then gestured for you to take the lead.

The walk back into the Upside Down's version of Hawkins seemed quicker this time. Probably because the two of you actually talked, a continuation of the conversations you'd started over the past few days.

Eddie was more eager to show you the sights around Hawkins again, less fond memories and more "could have beens" that turned into "will be one days."

"Some days."

It filled you with hope.

You were also much more comfortable with the creatures that roamed around. The bats overhead and a herd of demogorgons that ran alongside you at one point; they largely ignored you and so you ignored them too.

A curious little demodog approached you though; well, it approached Eddie, jumping and whining to get his attention. He let go of your hand and knelt down to give it a few pets, and then even took your hand so it could sniff and receive a pet from you on its slimy head, which it eagerly accepted. The creature was much friendlier than the demodogs you'd encountered previously, and you wondered if it was Eddie's influence that affected it, much like Dustin and his pal Dart.

You weren't nearly as hesitant as you had been with the bats; you trusted Eddie, which meant you had to trust them too. And he was just as gentle with the demodog as he had been with any of the cats or critters around Forest Hills, like Lucy and her kittens.

"Cerberus," he grinned proudly as he introduced his friend. "Not the first of his name, unfortunately, but a loyal friend nonetheless."

Once Cerberus was on his way, you both continued.

"Wish there was a faster way to get around here," you commented about halfway through the journey, feet starting to ache in your sneakers. "Do any of these cars work?"

"I, uh, never tried them," he admitted. The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a smile. "I honestly get around quick enough."

"Uh huh," you rolled your eyes. "Mr. Speedster here. Who runs faster, you or The Flash?"

"I'm more partial to the Reverse Flash, actually," he reminded you.

"Nerd."

Before long, you arrived at the dry waste that was this world's Lover's Lake and stared at the glowing, smoking fissure that originated at the center and ran towards the center of town.

"Where'd all the water go?" you wondered aloud.

"I dunno, the lake was dry when Nancy and the Wonder Twins and I crossed over way back when," Eddie sighed. He got that sly look on his face again. "I could try to open the gate a little wider. See if I can drain the real Lover's Lake?"

"Don't you dare," you backhanded him across the arm, but he pulled you into his embrace.

"Just say the word and I'll do it."

"No!"

"I'll give you anything you want."

"Stop."

"What is it you want, Mary?" he quoted, taking on Jimmy Stewart's vocal cadence. "What do you want? How about the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

"I hate you."

"You love me," he grinned proudly and then kissed you again.

It felt like a kiss of finality, a goodbye kiss, like the one you shared when you left Hawkins; it was bittersweet and left a painful ache in your chest, even though you knew you'd be back in a day. Eddie must have felt the same though, because when you pulled away and looked into his eyes, you found they were wet with tears, just like they had been then too. He blinked and one lone tear--made of thick blood instead of water--rolled down his cheek. You reached up to wipe it away, and he grasped your wrist so he could kiss the droplet.

"And I love you," he whispered against the pad of your thumb. "Love you so much I'd give you the moon."

"I'll take it."

"Well look at that," a groan of a familiar voice interrupted the sweet moment, and you both turned to find Wayne pulling himself through the gate at the shore of the lake. You quickly rushed forward to help him to his feet, as he stumbled and wheezed and coughed. "Fancy seeing you here honey. Guess the cat's out of the bag."

"No thanks to you," you ribbed him good-naturedly.

"You figured it out on your own, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he teased and then looked past you to Eddie. "Good to see you kid."

"Hey Wayne," he greeted his uncle.

"Looking more like yourself," Wayne nodded appreciatively.

"Feeling more like myself."

"Hmmm," Wayne clapped a hand on your shoulder and then winked at you. "Wonder why. Makes me feel almost silly that I'd had the brilliant idea to bring some of Rick's old tapes over today."

"C'mon, you know I'll take whatever music I can get my hands on. Everything here is pretty much covered in gunk anyway."

You watched their interaction fondly as they bickered back and forth like they always had. Eddie clapped a hand on Wayne’s shoulder and made him laugh, and Wayne cupped the side of Eddie’s head affectionately, the closest they would get to a hug for now.

Eventually, Wayne hefted the backpack from his shoulder and unpacked all sorts of items for Eddie: clothes, food--more of Eddie's favorites--tapes, and a new book.

Suddenly what he said back at Rick's the other day made a lot more sense.

"Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

He hadn't been talking about what he'd done when Eddie was wanted for murder and was then believed to be dead; he was talking about this right here. A futile effort to bring Eddie comfort while he was stuck in the Upside Down.

That sinking feeling that you had felt when he'd said that to you was back, worse now knowing that it wasn't just grief he'd experienced, but the constant reminder of his failure to run with Eddie while he could.

You found yourself even more determined to fix this; not just for Eddie, or for you. But for Wayne too.

October 16, 1987

It had taken a little time.

A little elbow grease, a little prayer, a lot of Wayne's mechanical knowledge and jumper cables, but before long you were back in the driver's seat of the Marquis, headed for the Harringtons.

Driving through town had a different weight to it now. There was no insidious evil lurking beyond sight and understanding, it was just Eddie.

Yes, there were still many obstacles to face before things were made right again. But it wouldn't be such an impossible, herculean task anymore to fix things, would it?

But people still died. There were still dark creatures roaming about. Eddie was stuck in the Upside Down and had still resurrected any number of people, which was a big deal in and of itself.

And you were still burdened by your family's curse.

"Right," you muttered to yourself. "All of that. Fuck."

What you wouldn't give to return to the bliss of Eddie's arms right now instead of face that ever-growing list.

"One thing at a time." You nodded and tried to keep your eyes on the prize. "First let everyone know you're alive, then figure out how to get Eddie out of there. The rest will follow."

If only things could be that easy.

You almost--and quite literally--ran into Steve's maroon BMW at some point on your drive. Tires screeched, curses shouted, and then you followed the gang back home. Dustin and Robin bickered in the back seat of Steve's car and you watched their animated expressions, arms flailing as they did. It warmed your heart, made you realize how much you had come to care for them and miss them, even in a few short days.

You beamed brightly as one specific scathing remark from Dustin made Steve turn around in the driver's seat to give a warning glare.

By the time you parked behind Steve at the Harrington's, Dustin had bolted out of the car to greet you and, in a full 180 from his behavior in the car, essentially tackled you in a hug.

"You made it back," he sounded relieved, "We were getting worried."

"First off," you scoffed and flicked the bill of his hat. "I wouldn't expect any less, you little worry wort, especially after three whole days. And second, mister, you have some explaining to do."

“Three day—wait,” he stumbled over his words. “Me? I have some explaining to do? Why? What’d I do?”

He twitched and shifted nervously, then his eyes roamed over you, really taking in the beaten, bruised, and bitten nature of your appearance. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something when a car door slammed heavily and another voice chimed into the conversation.

“Actually, I think it’s you that owes us an explanation,” Nancy announced, arms quick to cross over her chest. You could feel the ire come off her in waves. “Did you think Claudia was gonna keep Billy a secret from everyone else just because you decided to stay with Wayne Munson instead of here?”

Maybe it was the reunion with Eddie that made you more patient. Forgiving. You already gave Nancy the grace that she, understandably, didn't seem to have for anyone else outside of her inner circle, and you thought, once again, about how much the two of you were more alike than different.

Maybe in a different world, you might have been friends.

Instead here, she very much felt the need to be your enemy.

Because the entire world was her enemy thanks to the shitty hand it dealt her.

You could be whatever she needed you to be until she saw that you were not against her, the way she believed you were.

"It's good to see you too Nancy," you deadpanned. "I didn't think it was going to hide the truth from everyone if I left."

"So you just wanted to leave the others to the consequences of your decisions rather than face them yourself," she accused.

"No I thought it would be easier if you all didn't see my face every day, especially with how royally I was fucking everything up," you told her. "See? I can admit when I fuck things up. This isn't the first time. It happens a lot actually."

Her face crumpled in a scowl.

"I know it isn't a surprise," you continued. "Because you seem to think I'm the one who continues to bring misfortune to Hawkins but we both know that it's been here regardless of my presence or not. Just like Kas would still be around whether or not I was. Isn't that right?

"Or should I say Eddie would still be around?"

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stared at you with wide eyes, but Nancy smirked and threw her hands out with a sarcastic laugh.

"Thank God, now we don't have to keep that secret anymore."

"I don't know why you thought it would be ok to keep it a secret in the first place," you shook your head. "As if I wasn't going to find out at some point."

"It was me," Dustin insisted, stepping between you and Nancy with his hands out to placate you both, as though you were about to lunge for her or something. Or maybe Nancy was going to lunge for you.

Whatever foresight he had, it was unnecessary.

As was the ashamed look on his face.

"I didn't want you to know what he's become," he explained. His voice was low and he refused to meet your gaze. "I didn't want you to know--"

"He didn't want you to know Eddie's an evil monster," Nancy chimed in. Steve and Robin both shouted her name in shock. "Am I wrong? Look at everything he's done? Done to Hawkins? Done to us."

"He helped us!" Dustin argued. "Helped us defeat Vecna."

"And look how many people died Dustin! How many people he killed?He's a monster! Don't tell me you'd rather have him back. Don't tell me you never thought that he should have just stayed dead in the Upside Down, instead coming back to kill everyone we love."

"Hey!" You shouted at her now. You stomped your foot, hard, against the concrete driveway and drove enough of your power into the ground to cause it to shake. The reverberations threw Nancy off-balance for a moment, and she fell against the car for support. "That's enough! Don't be an asshole!"

"Yeah," Dustin nodded his agreement with a glance back at you, before he turned back to Nancy to restart his own onslaught.

"You either," you pushed his shoulder to get him to stop. "Fuck, we're not gonna fix this if we're too busy arguing with one another."

"Fix this?" Nancy scoffed. "You think you can fix this? Fix Hawkins? What's next? Can you time travel? Go back to 1955? Kill Henry before he can become Vecna? What else? Can you bring back the dead?"

"I can, actually," you said, a shocked silence falling over the driveway. "Maybe not in the way you think. Maybe not everyone. But Eddie brought the dead back, didn't he? Brought Max back. Eleven did too. So is it really a stretch to believe I might be able to.

"I can't bring back all of your loved ones, but maybe I can help fix this. Put this town right. Close those gates for good. Help you get closure. Move on with your lives, instead of being under this constant...shitstorm of death and destruction."

Nancy recovered from her shock and took a few calming breaths.

"And what does that all entail?" she asked. "You gonna bring Eddie back to this world too? Fix him? Does he get a clean slate? A fresh start? In spite of everything?"

"Not in spite of it," you told her. "Because of it. Everyone gets a fresh start. A second chance."

"Forgive me if I find that a little too good to be true."

She turned on her heel and stormed into the house with Robin hot on her heels.

You let out a relieved breath and relaxed your posture.

"I'm running out of these motivational speeches," you said aloud.

"You're really good at them," Steve offered as he joined you and Dustin. "Better than I am."

"I usually just tell people to run and they listen."

"You're really good at that too," Dustin added. You put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

"You could have just told me about Eddie," you said to him gently. "Honestly, I think it probably would have worked out a lot better if you did."

"I didn't...I didn't want to hurt you," he sighed.

"First of all," you let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Clearly I needed help figuring it out. And second, I hurt myself more by trying to fight an invisible enemy than if I just knew he was Kas. I could have started fixing it from the get."

"Can you fix him?" he asked hopefully. "Get him out of the Upside Down?"

"I can try." You jumped at the sound of Eddie's watch beeping on your wrist. You looked down at it and frowned; the display read midnight...but it was the middle of the afternoon. Weird. You pressed the button to silence the alarm. "I just need to get back."

"You, uh," Steve pointed at his neck. "You've gotta fix yourself first. Need a little first aid there bud?" You had half a mind to flip him off.

"Yeah, Jesus," Dustin reached up and pulled at the collar of your jacket to reveal your bite wounds; he blanched at the sight of them. "Did...did Eddie do that?"

"Uh," you nudged his hand away. "No comment. But yes, uh, maybe some first aid. And some dinner. Then I can head back to Wayne's for a good night's sleep. But uh...a good shower and some disinfectant cream would be great."

The three of you headed inside.

"We just set up a makeshift infirmary yesterday, actually. Pretty well-stocked and everything," Dustin announced matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah? What for?" Both boys stopped in their tracks and you felt the guilt oozing from them. You shot them with what you were sure was a withering stare. "What's the infirmary for, guys?"

"What do you mean you got struck by lightning?"

"I got struck by lightning," Mary Victoria shrugged from her place in bed.

She was propped by many pillows, had a stack of comic books beside her--courtesy of Dustin--and was scribbling in a fuzzy purple diary when you walked into the room the two of you had been staying in. She looked relieved to see you for a literal second until she saw the worried look on your face, and then immediately devolved into making excuses and saying she looked worse than she felt.

But truly, she did look terrible.

Her neck and the visible part of her right arm were bandaged up, eyes concerningly bloodshot, and the ends of her hair singed.

You offered to heal her one moment--and she denied you, claiming she'd have a cool scar to show off and guilt people with--and then demanded the story the next.

The story, unfortunately, seemed unbelievable.

"I pissed God off, and he smited me," was her explanation. Simple as that.

Great.

"That's not a thing," you scoffed.

"Are you sure about that?" Mare narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion.

"Alright, it sort of is, but," you sighed. "It's not God. It's usually some...I don't know...other being of higher power. Angels...Jesus Mare, you're a nun. Sodom and Gomorrah. You should know this."

"I never claimed to be a good nun," she shrugged then winced. "You know this."

You reached across to take her hand and you willed a sense of soothing from your body into hers; not enough to heal her wounds, but to give her some relief.

"So...an angel smited me then," she shrugged again, easily this time.

You snorted for a second thinking of Gabriel, bored of watching your eternal struggle and smiting Mary Victoria for fun just to spice things up a little bit. He didn't have that much of a sense of humor though.

“I’m gonna bank on it being coincidental; what did you even do to incur some holy wrath?”

“Called Him an asshole.”

“You’re fine. I do that all the time.”

“You’re also doomed to Hell. So I don’t think smiting is gonna do much to change you.”

She closed her eyes and leant back against the pillows.

"There's something else," she announced.

"Ok..."

“I know I’m already here and it’s already too late, but what if I don’t want to be a Knight?”

“Then you don’t have to be,” you told her immediately with a gentle smile.

She popped one eye open and then frowned.

“Seriously?” She asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

“I mean, you didn't take an oath or anything, and yeah you're here. It's not like I can send you home so we need to see this through but," you tilted your head back and forth. "You're allowed to choose. Everyone is allowed to choose what it is they want. All of the Knights made a choice, even me."

"But I think this is why I got struck by lightning. Because I changed my mind. I chose to come with you, I left everything behind, and I still chose to change my mind."

You opened your mouth to speak, to refute her belief and spout something that she'd already heard from you a hundred times--how fate was stupid and God didn't have some master plan--when Eddie's watch beeped and interrupted that train of thought.

You glanced down at it and pressed the button to silence it.

Midnight again.

There was a split second where you thought it was funny; either time was moving slower, or the watch was moving faster. But that led you to another thought, more relevant to the conversation at hand.

You sighed and let it roll around in your head for a moment, let it marinate, before you spewed some bullshit on your friend.

"I'm gonna say something a little hypocritical," you offered. "And you can take it any way you want. What if...what if the lightning wasn't a punishment. It seems like a punishment, that's how you're choosing to believe it. But what if it was a sign that you're making the right choice by deciding you don't want this life."

"That's kind of a funny way for the universe to tell me I'm doing the right thing."

You looked back down at the watch.

"I guess it's all just a matter of perspective."

You left Mare to her thoughts as you went to shower, tend to your wounds, and change your clothes. You took your time with it too, hot water be damned; you deserved the time to yourself, to take care of yourself.

The sustained damage and grime of several days in the Upside Down made the shirt and jeans unsalvageable; however, the sentimental side of you couldn't bear to part with your jacket. You hand washed it in the sink, wrung out as much of the dirt and sweat and blood and muck as you could, and laid it over a chair in the dining room to dry as you shared a hearty meal with Dustin and Steve.

They waited to eat with you, instead of the other inhabitants of the house, who--as Nancy had revealed--all knew of the situation with Billy and were less than pleased with your involvement or your return.

So the boys spared you another bombardment of questions and accusations, and chose to eat with you instead.

It was...normal.

Or as close to normal as you were gonna get.

And it was nice.

"You need a break," Dustin said as he scooped now-cold mashed potatoes into his mouth. "We all do, honestly."

"Mmm, I don't think my boss is gonna let me have that," you snorted a laugh. "But it's a nice thought."

Conversation flowed easily, and of course strayed to Billy, who you learned was doing alright, but was still tied up in the garage for the time being.

"News travels fast through the Hawkins grapevine," Steve said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "But, uh, now Max knows he's here."

"And she wants to come and talk to him," Dustin added.

"So, you should let her," you suggested.

"I thought we already established that wasn't going to happen," Steve argued.

"Hey," you held your hands up defensively. "You brought it up. All I know is, something is going on with Billy...some side effect of his resurrection. Maybe even his death. Maybe seeing Max...talking to her will help him work through it."

"I brought it up so you could ask Eddie to undo whatever the fuck it was he did to bring Billy back in the first place."

"Uh huh." You pursed your lips and dragged your fork lazily across your plate. "I'll add it to my to-do list."

"I'm surprised that you hadn't asked him about Billy already."

"You know, my boyfriend who I haven't seen in 3 years, who I thought was dead for the last year and a half...asking him about Billy Hargrove wasn't a top priority."

Steve groaned and made a gagging noise. Dustin turned in his chair and wrapped his arms around himself as he made kissy noises to mock you and Eddie making out.

You laughed and thought of the many times Gareth or Mickey would do the same things--any of the guys really--when you tagged along with Eddie during their hangouts or band practices.

You missed the feeling of belonging, of having these pseudo younger brothers. And you knew Eddie must be missing them as well, Dustin especially.

You had half a mind to ask them where the Corroded Coffin boys had disappeared to, if they knew Mickey or Jack's families, if they were still in town--

Beep beep. Beep beep.

"What's that?" Dustin asked as you groaned and hit the button to silence the alarm. "S'that Eddie's watch?"

Midnight again.

"Yeah he gave it to me to...I dunno, prove this point that he only sent the creatures to feed every third day," you shook your head and then did some mental math. "So I guess they should have hunted yesterday. Right? Sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth. But the watch keeps saying it's midnight. I don't know. I think coming through the gate fucked it up and now it runs fast. It's the nineteenth and the watch says it's the twenty-first."

"Today's not the nineteenth," Dustin frowned. "It's the sixteenth."

"No it isn't. It's the nineteenth, I was in the Upside Down for three days. Maybe four?"

"That's why you said three days earlier?"

"Why else would I say three days if I wasn't gone for three days?"

"You were gone for a day," Steve explained. "Barely a day. You left last night before it started raining."

"No I didn't, I--" Your words fell short when Dustin shoved his own wrist in your face, and you looked at the flashing digitized date and time.

"You know," he swallowed thickly. "Way back when, we figured out that time is stuck in the Upside Down. Like, it's perpetually stuck on the day Will first disappeared. November 6th, 1983. And for a little while, before Vecna came back, we thought that we could...restart the timeline or something. Save all of our friends who died. If only we could...I dunno, access the past."

"I've seen a lot of shit," you muttered. "But time travel definitely isn't one of them."

"Obviously, it didn't work," Steve deadpanned.

"No shit!"

"But maybe," Dustin continued over your and Steve's quick bickering. "Maybe it didn't work because time isn't really stuck in the Upside Down. Vecna manipulated the Upside Down. Will did too--"

"And Eddie," you cut in. "He...he created a house from his memories. From when his mom was still alive."

"So the Hawkins in the Upside Down is stuck in the past, but time is actually moving faster."

You could feel the electric buzz as the three of you considered the implications of it all.

Time moved faster, which meant Eddie might not have just been stuck in the Upside Down for a year and a half...but years. Your heart ached at the thought of him there, alone except for the creatures and Vecna. Years. Maybe decades.

And you...you'd only been there a few days, sure. It felt real. The hours, the days...they had felt real. You slept, you got hungry, you ate. But in this world it was only one.

You looked at Eddie's watch again, and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

The watch had beeped three times. Signaled midnight three times.

"Fuck!" You bolted to your feet and grabbed the still-damp jacket from the chair beside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"What? What's going on?" Steve shouted.

"I need to go," was your only explanation. You briefly considered grabbing extra supplies--food and first aid--you thought of the books in your trunk, and your bag full of clothes. But it didn't matter in the end. You threw the jacket on and ran for the door. "I need to go. Don't wait up...I'll be fine just...fuck, I need to go!"

You were not precious about getting in the car or backing out of the driveway, and you might have even clipped the Harrington's mailbox as you threw the car into drive to race to the nearest gate.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered except for getting back to the Upside Down.

Because you had told Eddie you'd be back tomorrow. You'd promised him.

But to Eddie, you'd already broken your promise.

To him, it had already been three more days without you.

November 6, 1983

Crossing from the Upside Down into the real Hawkins with Wayne had been difficult.

He'd warned you about what to expect before he led you through the gate back home, and he was right, it had been strange. It felt like a weight was slowly lifted off your shoulders, but something invisible pinched at the backs of your arms and legs all the while, trying and failing to get you to stay.

It was worse crossing back through, though.

That heaviness settled back onto you, heavier than the load you already carried, with your bag laden with books and weapons that you'd taken from the car; the weight of an entire dimension and all of the beings that resided within ripped through the membranous barrier and settled onto you and into you as you forced yourself through to the other side.

No wonder Wayne had struggled to stand when he had crossed through earlier in the day.

The toll you needed to pay to enter this world was almost too much to bear.

Still, you made it through, wearily.

Your body ached, your half-healed wounds throbbed, and something deep down inside of you felt almost...abyss-like. Suddenly a little emptier than it had been just minutes before.

But you made it.

Thanks to a bit of foresight, you crossed through the gate at the Creel House, figuring it would be your best bet to find Eddie right away.

The towering pillars--now empty of their inhabitants--the mangled silhouette of the house behind it, and the swarm of bats that circled overhead made you a little nervous, though.

Not from fear, necessarily, but worry and doubt.

Maybe Eddie thought you'd cross back at Lover's Lake and was there instead; there was no reason for him to expect that you'd cross through here, especially since you had departed with Wayne. That would be a trek to walk all the way to Lover's Lake, and you knew you wouldn't be lucky enough to find a bicycle or something. And you might have been on this side of the time warp, but that didn't mean time was on your side.

The bats, surprisingly, gave you hope.

If they were here...did that mean that Eddie was nearby? You had seen how fond he was of them, and vice versa. Maybe he was just inside? Or, if anything, were they flying overhead looking for you?

There was only one way to find out, and you were motivated by a singular focus.

A singular thought that was riddled with guilt.

It. Had. Been. Days.

You dropped your backpack and shook off the heavy, weary weakness that the Upside Down had imparted upon you and began the trek into the house to see if you could find Eddie.

You retraced the steps that you'd taken during your initial descent through the Creel house the other day, trying to ignore the frightening flashes of movement that occurred in your peripheral vision.

You knew they wouldn't hurt you, so you couldn't get distracted; you were on a mission.

Distraction, however, was inevitable; you found that, although the path you had taken still remained, the vastness of the maze of rooms had only grown. Grown in size and in scale. In how convoluted the entire house seemed to be, like something out of a horror movie.

Or maybe something out of the Munsters, really, because as unsettling as it all was, there was an air of...humor to it all.

And that brand of humor screamed of Eddie Munson.

Sure there was a living room and dining room--several of them now, actually--and each one was more elongated and warped than the last, like reflections in a house of mirrors. Funhouse mirrors. You passed a bedroom where the bed floated from the floor and then settled on the ceiling. And beside it was a room with a closed door that seemed to expand and contract as though it was a living, breathing creature.

Had he done all of this to the Creel house in boredom? Morphed it into something comical and new as he waited for your return.

What was not comical, though, were the sounds. An unsettling ambience of hissing and grumbling and groaning that only got louder and clearer as you ascended levels and hopped across the cavernous breaks in the stairs.

It was promising at first, then concerning, as the sounds morphed and seemed to sound like words.

They weren't any words you could understand or fathom; you were pretty well-versed with languages--if not through speech, through recognition, at the very least--and this didn't sound human. They were words in some infernal devilish language made to accommodate many teeth and tongues and mouths that stretched wider than a human's could.

Some language that originated here in the Upside Down. Made of chittering and clicking and screeching.

You finally reached the landing at the bottom of the steps that led to the attic, and you tip-toed over the vine-laden floor, only to halt in your tracks by a sudden cacophony of roar and screams.

A shadow suddenly flooded the wall that followed up the steps, and you watched as the contrasting darkness and light fluttered like a wing, then stretched into a clawed hand whose nail scratched along the length of the banister. You could see the sharpness of that claw with such clarity that you were almost shocked that the wallpaper didn't split as it moved.

Finally, the shadow turned into the silhouette of an elongated figure.

"Do you see what happens," came a muffled voice above. "Do you see what happens when you fail me?"

You frowned; the voice sounded familiar.

Eddie?

"How have we failed?" Another voice this time, easier to identify: Patrick.

"She's out there, and you've yet to find her."

Guilt crept in again; were they talking about you?

You could have gone up there, could have made your presence known but you were curious--

Alright, you were nosy.

--but in your curiosity, you were frozen in place.

"She isn't out there." There was a broken, slurred quality to this speech, but you could still tell it belonged to Fred. “You’d know. We would all know.”

"She's lost."

"She left you," Chrissy hissed, her voice having the most clarity of all three brides. "You're just in denial Eddie."

There was that roar again, and you startled at the sound, but Chrissy's simpering whimper cut through the roar, and it stopped abruptly.

"Don't fear me," Eddie sighed. "Everybody else fears me...please I need the three of you on my side."

"We are on your side," Chrissy continued with bittersweetness. "The only ones. You made us, you healed us. We'll always be on your side. But your little knight...left you here. Again."

"She's lost," Eddie repeated insistently.

"She left you all alone to bask in your loneliness. Tricked you into thinking you were alone without her, when you have us Eddie. Left you here with nothing but the smell of her on your skin. You stink of her."

"Then it should be easier for you to find her," Eddie shouted, rage returning.

The shadow moved from the wall and the infernal speech began anew, with the screams and screeches quick to follow.

Until, Eddie's voice boomed with finality.

"You will go out there and find her! And you won't rest until she's back here. Nothing is as important as bringing her back to me."

"Nothing," Patrick groaned. "Do we mean nothing to you?"

"Are you really such a heartless creature?" Chrissy questioned.

"Yes," Eddie hissed.

The ceiling shook above you as a booted foot stomped overhead.

"I have no heart. Without her."

Stomp.

"I feel no love without her."

Stomp.

"I feel no joy." Stomp. "No sorrow." Stomp. "I am hollow. And I will live here--be stuck here--forever."

The roar emanated again, loud enough where you had to cover your ears. When it was over, there was a flurry of wings as, you could only assume, the brides took flight through the cavernous hole in the attic.

You broke from your reverie, and took a step forward; your sneaker-covered foot caused the floor to creak.

You winced and froze again as the shuffling overhead stopped.

The infernal speech sounded once. Then again. Then the stomping crossed the attic towards the stairs and you swallowed your hesitation to speak.

"Eddie?" you called out. "That you? Are you up there?"

"Sweetheart?" he responded, relief obvious in his muffled voice. "You're back."

You took another step upwards.

"I am. I'm sorry, I didn't realize--"

"Stop!" He shouted. "What are you doing? Stay there."

"Why?"

"Don't. Move." He groaned.

The sounds that followed were sickening.

Crunching and stretching and clicking; you could hear him groan for a moment before an agony-filled cry echoed through the stairwell and caused goosebumps to erupt along your skin.

Whatever hesitation you had was gone; it vanished as soon as you believed Eddie to be in pain. In danger.

You took the steps two at a time until you found yourself just feet away from Eddie's heaving, hunched form, teetering near the cracked precipice in the floor that split the attic in two. You crossed the distance and knelt beside him; your hand found his shaking shoulder and you pulled him into you, away from the dangerous edge.

"What happened?" you questioned frantically. "What was all that; what's wrong?"

"How much did you hear?" he ignored you to ask instead, voice weak and dry.

"Does it matter? What is this? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he breathed out. "The others...I'd sent them out to find you, I thought--"

"I'm here." You interrupted him. You snaked your hand around to cup his cheek and lifted his head so he could look at you. His eyes were blood-red and shined with a wet glassiness. "There's just...there was a misunderstanding, but I'm here now."

"Don't go," he muttered desperately, turning his face into your touch.

"I won't."

"You were gone for so long. You promised. Don't leave me again."

"Eddie I promise--and this time I swear I will keep it--I'll never leave you again."

November 6, 1983

You woke the next morning--or at least, you thought it was morning; it was never actually daytime in the Upside Down, it seemed--alone.

Eddie had broken the news that the two of you needed to stay at the Creel House for the night, and despite your hesitations, you were also tired enough that you couldn't object. Any bed seemed appealing enough, after several days of little to no sleep. Even if it wasn't that makeshift bed in his childhood home, that cozy safe haven he'd made, it was alright as long as he was there.

But you'd spent the evening talking, discussing the time warp between the Upside Down and the real Hawkins.

Eddie had a hard time understanding at first, and he confessed that his feelings were affected by the belief that you'd either gotten lost or hurt or abandoned him again. But after a stretch of pensive silence where he squeezed you tightly and ran his nose along your hairline, he admitted that it made sense.

"I used to think time didn't exist here," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "First it was...the endless suffering and torture Vecna put me through to make me into this. And then it was endless waiting. It felt like an eternity."

Your throat tightened at the thought that it felt like an eternity because it probably was.

"I guess that just means," you spoke in a hushed and hopeful tone. "That just means we have more time to figure out how to get you out of here. More time together before I need to go back."

And that sent him into a panic, because you'd just promised him that you'd stay.

His hands clutched you tighter, tips of his clawed fingers biting through your clothes and the slightest bit into your skin. He pressed his body further into yours, as if you meld the two of you together.

It took a lot of soothing, a lot of explaining, to remind him once again that you had very human needs. Like food, and sleep, and hygiene.

"There's not exactly running water here Eddie," you joked and he huffed stubbornly. You let your eyes roam about his skin, somehow not covered in grime like the rest of the dimension. "I don't know how you keep so clean."

"I could show you," he teased seductively, lips brushing against yours.

It was obvious he was trying to change the subject, trying to make you forget the idea of leaving him. And you let him, let him kiss away his worries and yours.

Lying awake now, though, you considered what the consequences would be if you simply stayed.

You observed your body, really honed in on your sense of self. That heaviness that had settled on you upon entering the Upside Down hadn't faded yet; in fact, you'd felt it when you'd woken up the first time, but had simply attributed it to the Brides' attack on you.

Would you get used to it over time? Had Eddie gotten used to it? He seemed comfortable in his skin, in this realm; there was no heaviness about him. Had whatever...transformation he'd undergone at the hands of Vecna contributed?

There was just something about him though that seemed extreme; he'd always had very volatile emotions--normal for a young adult, just like you--now it seemed he teetered back and forth even more than you were used to. Happy and affectionate one moment, distant and miserable the next, and sometimes...there was nothing at all.

What had he said to the brides? He was hollow?

You certainly felt a little bit of that hollowness, but then again...you had for quite some time now. Since you had left him in '85. And it hadn't gone away until the moment you were reunited.

Maybe it was just the connection you had, your reliance on each other and your love for one another, that made it feel this way.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and you startled, then quickly relaxed as Eddie crept inside; the hollowness in your chest suddenly seemed a little lessened thanks to his presence.

Yes. That's what it was; what it had to be.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," he whispered as he shut the door behind him.

"Gross," you whined with a giggle. "When did you become such a romantic?"

"Excuse me, I've always been romantic," he said, hand flying over his heart with mock insult. "You, my love, have never even gotten me a Valentine's Day gift."

"We've never spent a Valentine's Day together dingus." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He hemmed and hawed for a minute and then his figure blurred across the room as he closed the distance and jumped onto the bed, smothering you in kisses and raspberries and little affectionate nips. You squealed and tried to bat him away, with no real force or effort, until he cupped your face and gifted you with the sweetest kiss filled with as much loving reverence as he could.

Your heart soared and that hollowness faded more and more with every second. Faded, but didn't disappear altogether.

And you realized it wouldn't be gone until you made this all better; until you could really be together.

In the real world and not this...purgatory.

"Speaking of conformist, capitalist holidays only meant to sell cards and candy--" Eddie broke the kiss and you flicked his ear.

"I have to have a lecture now? Instead of more kisses?" you scoffed.

"Yes, because you said it's October. And we might not have had a Valentine's Day together, but we've definitely celebrated Sweetest Day together."

"Is that even a thing?" you narrowed your eyes at him. "Sounds like something you made up."

"No," he shook his head back and forth. "I promise. We have had a Sweetest Day together. Remember I told you about the Sadie Hawkins dance at the middle school once upon a time? It was on Sweetest Day."

"Uh," you tried to recall him saying something about it at any point in your relationship. "No."

"I tried to butter up Principal Coleman to get Corroded Coffin to play at the dance?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"And he said no."

"That sounds familiar."

"But then we spent the day together anyway and I got you McDonalds breakfast? Angel, come on."

"You got me McDonalds breakfast a lot of times," you giggled. "Get to the point!"

"I'm trying to ask my girlfriend out on a date," he rolled his eyes at you. "But she is the least romantic person on the face of the earth, if not in all of time itself."

You ignored his dramatic insults and instead fawned over the sweet gesture with some confusion.

"A date? Eddie...what date? We're in the Upside Down. We gonna go out to the quarry and makeout? I'm sure there are cars parked up there, even frozen in time like this, if we wanted to fuck in the backseat."

He froze for a second and looked a little embarrassed, and if not for the low light of the room and the deathly pallor of his skin, you were sure he'd be turning red.

"I, uh," he coughed and tried to recollect himself. "No, not the quarry. Something better. Something perfect just for you, specifically."

"Do I need to wear a dress?"

"Do you have a dress?"

"No."

"Good, neither do I," he laughed. "And I don't have a tux either. So jeans and t-shirts it is."

"Uh, Eddie..."

"Hey listen..."

"...when you said romantic date..."

"...hear me out..."

"A church wasn't the first thing that came to mind," you finished and stared up at the steepled structure before you.

You pointedly avoided anything religious when you lived in Hawkins; Eddie had asked you about it when he'd first seen your cross necklace. You had told him you wouldn't be caught dead in a church, and at that time, it had been true. Because of that, the two of you had mocked Hawkins Presbyterian Church with its pristine white exterior, and its attendees with their John Winthrop-inspired holier-than-thou exceptionalism.

This church, though, was certainly not like that. And although your faith was still shaky at best, begrudging at worst, you felt more at ease here.

Maybe it was the fact that you were in the Upside Down, and maybe because it was clearly a Catholic Church and the stained glass window felt familiar. But aside from the window that reflected all manner of colors at the distant lightning, it was unassuming. Quiet and square and austere, with dull brown bricks that made up the small chapel's exterior, and a steepled bell tower that didn't even look like it had a bell.

Much like you did with Nancy, you felt some kind of kinship to this forgotten little building.

Still, it wasn't your ideal location for a date.

"I knew about this place before I even met you," Eddie explained. "Out past the plant, been abandoned for years. Mickey and Jack and I used to come and throw rocks at the windows. Even broke in once to see if there was anything cool inside."

"Seriously?" you laughed at him. "Yeah, no wonder people thought you worshiped Satan."

"No one ever knew," he held his hands out innocently. "Not even Wayne. And we didn't even steal anything. But uh, I dunno...after you left...I even thought about coming here to pray once. Not even to pray for you to come back. Thought about your grandma all of a sudden one day; drove out here. Couldn't find it in me to get out of the van."

"Maybe that was around the time she actually got sick," you wondered aloud.

"Like I had some psychic powers or something, even before all of this?" he gestured to himself with a laugh. "Hey, stranger things have happened."

He cleared his throat and led you inside.

Although didn't look much better inside--peeling plaster, overturned pews, and the chains to hang a cross over the altar but no cross itself--the interior at least didn't seem to be touched by the vines and tentacles and muck that covered the rest of the Upside Down.

"Maybe God does exist after all," Eddie laughed as he walked backwards down the aisle, responding to your observation almost like he read your mind. "Or maybe Vecna was just afraid of churches or something; places of worship like this...are generally left alone."

"I'm sure religious trauma isn't that far of a stretch to assume with Vecna," you agreed. "My power is a little strained in the Upside Down though; makes me think if...I dunno...there even are any higher powers here."

"I'm sure there's gotta be something out there. Like the Force in Star Wars."

You snorted and shook your head as you followed him.

Contrary to your previous statement about your abilities, you didn't hesitate to ignite the remnants of candles in the votive racks beside the altar. You conjured the warm, ever-present burn of the core of the earth and the wicks lit aflame, bathing the chapel in a warm, illuminating glow.

It was with this new light that you noticed the blanket and pillows that had been set up in front of the altar table, along with a pile of snacks and a puzzle.

A perfect little date, just like you used to have camped out in the living room of the trailer.

You felt your own loving glow emanate from within, as you were filled with adoration for Eddie. That he would try to bring you some normalcy, even if your lives were anything but normal.

"I found a World's Best Boyfriend mug when I was exploring once," he said matter-of-factly after you voiced your gratitude for the setup. "There's not much to do here when we aren't actively feeding or fighting. But, uh, you can give it to me as a gift if you want; I'll even act surprised."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind," you promised him, and then settled on the blanket.

Eddie started organizing the pieces of the puzzle as you dug through the snacks--more of Eddie's favorites, courtesy of Wayne: slice soda, Hostess pudding pies, cool ranch Doritos and...

"Wha--" you hesitated at the items hidden at the bottom of the pile. "Ok, I know we're in a church but all joke's aside, seriously?"

You picked up the bottle of sacramental wine and package of communion wafers.

"I found them while I was setting up," he shrugged and laughed. "Saw the crosses on the packages, thought it would be a good pun. I'll even try them if you want, food aversion be damned."

"I doubt they're any good."

You were about to set them aside so you could open a can of soda, but then a wicked little thought wormed its way into your head. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling, but Eddie was quick to notice.

"What? What's that look?"

"Nothing," you tilted your head to the side and contemplated telling him. "It's nothing just...I don't know if I ever told you...probably not but...I've never had communion before."

You explained the principle to him, the way you were denied your own First Communion in favor of the revelation of your family's curse, how you still would take your Nonna up whenever you'd go to mass with her...but were never even offered the absolution for yourself. Even by the priests who didn't know who and what you were, as though there was a stain on your soul that they could simply tell would never be washed away by a simple mouthful of bread and wine.

"To quote my mom, that's a bunch of horseshit," Eddie laughed. "Everyone deserves to be forgiven. You're telling me Loudmouth Linda who curses at the waitress at lunch after church on Sunday's deserves it more than you who's literally fighting evil every day? Baby, if you don't open that pack of crackers and eat one right now I'm gonna have to hand feed one to you."

"Well," you hummed, "this is supposed to be a romantic date. Ed--Eddie I was kidding."

He snatched the packet of wafers from you and sliced it open with his claws without hesitation; he brought the package up to his nose to sniff it and then plucked one wafer out and held it in front of his eyes.

"It looks plain," he noted.

"It's supposed to be plain."

"And it smells stale."

You took the package from him and sniffed gently for yourself.

"Yeah," you agreed. "That's what they smell like."

"Then I don't know what all the commotion is about," he announced dismissively. "I mean...damn I thought it was pretty metal, actually. Everyone going someplace every Sunday to eat someone's flesh and drink someone's blood in a ritual. But it's just...this."

You couldn't help but laugh at him.

He cleared his throat and knelt before you; he held one hand over your head and spoke your name aloud. He projected his voice and it echoed throughout the chapel, the deep reverberation penetrated deep into your bones.

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

"I'm forgiving you," he spoke normally for a second.

"You...you can't," you laughed in disbelief.

"Who said?"

"Uh, I don't know," you scoffed. "Only every priest, bishop, cardinal, pope everyone in my family has ever met. We have to earn our own forgiveness. End this curse ourselves. And it's gonna end with me, one way or another."

"Well, I think that's bullshit because it sounds like no one has ever tried." He closed his eyes and held his hand out again.

"It's not even gonna do anything," you argued. "The wafer is symbolic."

"I'm channeling my holy energy sweetheart. I can't hear you."

"Alright," you waved dismissively. "Whatever, go ahead and try."

He hummed deeply and recited the monks' chant from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, complete with smacking the top of your head with the palm of his hand. He even had the audacity to shush you as you giggled.

But the longer it went, the more he waved his hands and whispered blessings from this book and that movie, the more you felt...something.

Something inside of you stirred, felt different, lighter. Even the weight of the Upside Down wasn't as prominent. And you knew, logically, that nothing had changed in you, that the curse would still be there after whatever-this-was was over.

But in the moment, you couldn't help but close your eyes and bask in the feeling, especially as you started to feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

"Alright sweetheart," Eddie whispered after a few more moments. "Open the hatch."

You snorted and opened your mouth, hands coming together in prayer almost instinctively; he laid the wafer on your tongue and then cupped your face in his hands.

"There," he whispered and pressed the lightest kiss to your forehead. "You're forgiven."

You choked a sob and opened your eyes to look at him, tears immediately running down your cheeks and over his fingers.

"God," you sobbed and laughed simultaneously. "Fuck."

"I'm not God, I'm Eddie." He shot you his idiotic, crooked grin and then thumbed over your cheeks. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. Sit down now, before you ruin our date even more," you hiccuped.

You silently wiped the tears away and tore into the snacks, joking that the junk food tasted a lot better than the wafer did. Eddie hesitantly put a wafer of his own into his mouth and then immediately stuck his tongue out and scraped the remnants of it away.

"God, I really can't eat real food, can I?" he lamented once he'd spat out the taste of it enough times.

"I think it just tastes like that," you offered as a consolation.

"Expectation almost never meets reality, I guess. You should try the wine too; prove that grape soda is better. Or maybe don't, that way I don't have to miss it that much."

You laughed and swatted at him, and then got an idea.

"Hang on," you got to your feet and held your hands out to stop him from following you. "Hang on, don't go anywhere, keep working on the puzzle, I'll be right back."

You skipped back past the altar to the little rectory hallway that led to the sacristy. The door was already cracked open and although it was mostly barren, there was a small pile of cloth that must have been vestments, and...

"Bingo," you muttered and crossed the room to grab your prize. You blew dust off of them and then turned back the way you came.

"You know," you exclaimed when you arrived back in the chapel. "When I say you're an idiot, you really are an idiot, Eddie Munson."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," he responded. "But what did I do to earn such an honorific?"

"You come to a church in the middle of the Upside Down, you set up a picnic for us, you even find holy bread and wine for me. And you don't even bring us the proper drinking vessels."

You held out two golden chalices, ornately etched with crosses and flowers and vines.

"You know," you dropped to your knees and placed them on the blanket. "You and I spent an entire weekend way back when making chalices for Hellfire club; I'm honestly surprised if you went pillaging for goods for this picnic, you didn't immediately cream your little nerd pants at the sight of these. Something might actually be wrong with you."

"Excuse me, I was only trying to find the best things for you, your highness." He did an exaggerated bow as he sat. "Wasn't thinking of finding any treasure for myself. But now that you mention it, these could be an awesome addition to the Hellfire repertoire. If only I..."

He trailed off and cleared his throat as you opened the bottle of wine and began to fill one of the chalices for yourself.

"If only what?" you asked. He shrugged dismissively and refused to meet your gaze. "What? If only you get to play with the guys again? You will. I'm getting you out of here. Or I'll die trying."

"Don't say that," he hissed, head snapping back towards you. "Don't."

"Then don't be such a negative Nancy," you said, intentionally thinking of your would-be-nemesis back in Hawkins.

"It's more than just getting out of here, alright? I've done things. Terrible things, actually, speaking of Nancy.

"You know I killed her boyfriend? Jonathan Byers. He was the first one. The worst one. But Vecna wanted me to send a message, so it had to be him. I killed her dad too. And this kid Lucas' dad. Both of them in one swift slash."

He jutted his arm out, hand curled in a claw, talons razor-sharp and glinting as they cut through the air. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, mouth wide open in a hiss, fangs extended.

Then there was a beat and he seemed to realize himself; he drew his arm back against his chest and cradled one hand in the other. He clicked his claws against one another pathetically and then sighed.

"I killed Mickey," he murmured, voice so low you could barely hear. "I killed Rick. Watched the life leave their eyes. And I think...I know...I enjoyed it."

The chapel was silent after those words, save for the roar of lightning outside, and your heavy, pensive breaths.

Your heart ached. Ached for Mickey and Rick, but more for Eddie.

You knew that feeling. Knew that guilt. It was an old friend.

You looked down at the chalice filled with wine, and then at the other one, which you were about to fill despite Eddie's lack of need for food and drink.

And you were struck with an idea.

You set the bottle aside and scooted closer to him, you took one of his hands in yours and ignored his questions as you leant down and kissed his palm and each of the pads of his fingers.

You then maneuvered his hand so his clawed thumb pressed into the meat of your palm, and then dragged it deep through the middle of it. You created a cut deep and long, despite Eddie's protests, and then let the blood drip down into the empty chalice.

"What are you doing?" he snapped at you. "What is this?"

"You forgave me," you answered, voice heavy with determination. "And now I'm forgiving you."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to--"

"Don't have to do this?" you repeated your own words from earlier. "This isn't going to work? Eddie...just...if I'm not doing this for you then I'm doing this for myself."

He looked like he was about to argue again, but you weren't going to let him.

"You never know," you quickly stopped him. "This could get us a step closer to getting you out of here."

He closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth, and motioned for you to continue.

You didn't have as much theatricality as Eddie had before. You simply let the chalice fill to an acceptable amount of blood, and then grabbed it with both hands and held it slightly raised before you.

"This is my blood," you recited words that you'd heard thousands of times. You looked at Eddie and shared a shaky smile as your eyes locked together. "The blood of a new and everlasting covenant. It has been shed for you, Eddie, so that your sins may be forgiven. Now and forever."

You lowered the chalice and tried to pass it over to him, but he backed away quickly. Quicker than the eye could see.

He was suddenly across the room, pacing with his head in his hands, shaking.

"What is it?" You watched as he muttered to himself and shook his head. "Eddie, what?"

"I don't deserve this," he said. "I don't deserve...your forgiveness."

"Yes you do. You said it yourself, what makes you any less deserving of forgiveness than...I don't know...than me, than Nancy Wheeler, than anyone?"

"Because I'm a liar!" He turned back to you and shouted. "I'm a liar, I'm a coward, and I'm a monster."

"Don't say that."

"I am."

"You're not! You're my boyfriend. You're Eddie Munson. You're...the silliest, stupidest, bravest boy I know. You take care of everyone you love, much more than you think to take care of yourself, and you...you were lost. And all of those things that you did...you did them when you were lost. So you deserve a chance to make it alright. You deserve forgiveness."

"I'm not talking about what I did when Vecna was still alive," Eddie told you through gritted teeth. "I'm talking about now. I'm a coward now. I'm a liar now. I'm a monster now."

"Eddie..."

"And you'll never know how much I don't deserve this," he waved at the altar, at the chalice, at you. "Until I show you what's become of me. Who I am now. What I am now."

You were stunned silent as he shed his jacket, as he kicked off his boots, as he took several breaths.

And then he screamed.

You tried to get to your feet, tried to get to him, but the sight before you prevented you from moving at all.

His clothes ripped first, then his skin; they stretched until they couldn't stretch any more. The seams of his shirt, of his jeans--the seams that you'd traced along his limbs--all split as his body bulged and stretched in an utterly inhuman way.

But where his clothes shredded and tore gave way to thread, his skin just made room for more skin, more bones.

His legs elongated, raised him higher off the ground, and his feet practically uncurled to become longer, more dexterous, with claws of their own that could slash and grab like his hands.

And speaking of his hands and his arms, they were next; you felt sick to your stomach as you listened to his bones snap into pieces, as he groaned with each snap. But they were quick to shift into new places, and soon he stretched to find comfort in this new, elongated wingspan that matched his towering height; he flexed his fingers, now sporting longer, knife-like claws, and extra phalanges that could bend in any direction he chose.

On and on it went, as his shoulders got wider and broader, as his torso stretched and rippled, as his neck became unfathomably long.

He threw his head back and the seams of that scarred Glasgow smile ripped open anew, dripping blood down his cheeks and throat. The unsettling smile he now sported wasn't complete though, not until rows and rows of fangs--not just the two sets you'd seen and grown used to as they smiled and bit into you--grew and settled along his jaw. Razor sharp, glinting in the firelight, promising to bring about a creature's demise if they weren't careful.

And finally, just when you thought it was all over, the skin along his abdomen rippled. You had thought there was something wrong there, when you'd run your hands along his ribcage over the past few days as you'd held each other in bed.

There was something wrong. Something terribly, horribly wrong.

Eddie fell to his knees, and his talons anchored into the stone floor of the chapel as he hunched over. The scars you had felt along his back split, and from them grew two massive, bat-like wings, unfurling from where they'd been tucked away in the cavity of his body. They were made of bones and muscle and a thin, veiny, membranous skin that you could practically see the light of the votives through.

Eddie twitched on the ground and the wings flexed and flapped; the droplets of blood that had coated the wings sprayed around the chapel; onto the altar and the pews, dousing a few of the candles with a steamy hiss, even pelting your skin, causing you to flinch.

At the end of it all, when this metamorphosis was complete, and something new had emerged from the body that had once belonged to Eddie Munson, he rose.

With a great wide mouth and clawed hands raised to the heavens, the creature roared.

It was an ear-splitting sound, bellowing and shrieking all at once.

And then it turned to you.

He turned to you.

Eddie turned to you.

Because you might have made the mistake of thinking him a creature once, but you vowed never again.

All of the thoughts that had halted as you watched the spectacle with unblinking eyes suddenly flooded your brain. All manner of logic and emotion, fighting and contradicting one another, as you struggled to reconcile what you had seen, what you had felt, and what you knew all into one truth.

How many things had you faced like this before, with too many teeth and claws that slashed and tore? How many countless names of creatures had you memorized over the years, not just of being a knight, but of being alive? You could name them all now, if you dared, but no name would ever match up to what was on display before your very eyes. Nothing like this.

But what was this?

This...it...he...was your boyfriend. The love of your life.

He wasn't just what he was once or had ever been; this was what had become of him, what had been done to him in the name of evil. This was the result of his trauma, but also his survival. And because of that, or maybe in spite of that, he wasn't inherently evil himself.

Contrary to your instincts--contrary to what had been taught to you all your life, all you had ever faced or ever known--you knew he was good. In fact, good was all you ever knew him to be, even during the brief stint where you believed there was a Kas, a dastardly nemesis who'd vowed to kill you.

This image certainly could conjure that belief...but it simply...didn't.

You thought back to something that you had told Mary Victoria. That Eddie was good, but you didn't know if he was good enough for Heaven.

Heaven, though, was not just a place for good people. It was a place for forgiveness, a place of peace. And didn't Eddie, by the grace of all the atrocities that he had been a part of, that had been imparted onto him, also deserve that peace? Deserve that forgiveness.

You stood on shaky legs, chalice still held in your wounded hand, and approached him.

His shoulders heaved with labored breaths as he watched you, and he flinched as you got close enough.

"Please," he growled, and you recognized the muffled quality of his voice from the previous night, talking to the Brides, and you realized that he had to talk through the mouthful of his teeth. It was different, but still his voice. "Please I don't want to hurt you.

"You won't," you assured him, shifting to try to meet his gaze; you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye at this new height. "I trust you. I believe in you."

"I'm a monster. I told you."

"No...you're..." You paused and let your eyes roam over him again, closer this time, and you were able to see the small details now, illuminated by the candlelight. The throbbing of veins, the texture of his skin, the ripple of muscles, yes...but also the soft curl of his hair, his musicians fingers--even with the claws--and the bulbous tip of his nose.

He was still Eddie.

And Eddie Munson was many things.

But not a monster, not a creature, not a beast. No.

You reached out to grab one of his hands and you wrapped his elongated fingers around the rounded bowl of the chalice.

His red scleras shined wet with tears and he took the chalice from you fully; he raised it to his mouth, then tipped his head back, and drank your blood in one exaggerated swallow.

Was this what happened when someone looked upon the true form of a God? Were they fully unprepared for the sight before them? Was that the true test, to see something so unfathomable and horrific and still find it...

"Beautiful," you muttered. "God...Eddie, you're beautiful."

He was quick to grab you, quick to haul you into his arms and run the edges of his claws along your face and down your neck reverently; he made quick work of your clothes, ripping the seams of them like his transformation had ripped the seams of his. With you, however, there was surgical precision.

He was almost too gentle in this new form, not wanting to hurt you, but you'd welcome the hurt, crave it, if it meant you could be one with him quicker. You desired it now, desired him, all of him, every part of this new version that he had revealed to you.

How many times, before the Upside Down, before Vecna, had he been ridiculed and mocked because of his appearance? Because he seemed rude or dangerous or rowdy...evil. But those closest to him--the people he belonged to, that belonged to him--always saw the true him. Recognized it, celebrated it.

Now, it was only amplified; the startling appearance, the danger, the fearful exterior. But it was still Eddie.

How could you not embrace him entirely? Want to bask in him? Consume all of him? You'd changed entirely in his eyes--maybe not in appearance, but in fundamental definition--and his want for you never faltered.

It was still Eddie, and he was yours.

And you were still you, and you were his.

Body and soul.

You swatted his hand away from you so you could touch him for yourself, so you could explore and caress him, kiss him.

You were hesitant at first, running your fingers gently along his lips, then further back along the cavernous maw that had been revealed.

"It hurts you," you noted; not a question, an observation. "To do this...it hurts you."

"It's easier to hide it," he tried to make the excuse. "They don't look at me like I'm...a monster when I still look like Eddie Munson."

"You still look like Eddie Munson, though," you tilted your head to the side in quiet contemplation. "Same eyes, same hair, same dumb jokes...just a little more..."

"Metal?"

"Bitey."

You touched the tip of one of his fangs with a finger and watched how easily it punctured your skin as a droplet of blood pooled there. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the apples of his cheeks round and pleasant; he nipped at your fingers gently, playfully as his shoulders shook and there was a hissing, chittering sound that rattled inside of his chest along with a deepened chuckle. You listened in awe, and basked in the sound of his new laughter.

When you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the bow of his upper lip. He huffed and you kissed it again, and again, until he shifted his jaw and was able to kiss you back properly.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the contrasting plush of his lips and the unforgiving hardness of his fangs just below; strange to navigate, actually, but it made for an interesting time. Just when you thought there couldn't be many more new or first experiences together, this change presented so many possibilities.

Possibilities that you both seemed eager to discover.

The kissing was something mastered quickly, which was relieving as you seemed to always want your lips on him, or his on you. His teeth nipped and cut when the excitement overwhelmed you both, but it wouldn't matter really. You'd heal, just like all of the other bites and wounds he had inflicted on you in the past few days slowly healed. Eddie was incredibly apologetic though.

That was where his tongue came into play.

At first you thought he licked the cut that had carved your bottom lip to lap up the bit of blood that pooled there, and you had half a mind to offer your neck to him to feed, or your wrist or some other part of you. But soon it became soothing, and you almost craved the calming back and forth over the stinging wound, as you stared up into the deep, warm, blood-and-chocolate abyss of his eyes.

But he didn't stop at your lip.

You offered for him to feed from you, as you had intended, and he had laid you down on the altar in order to do so comfortably. Comfort was not the word that you would use, though; the sensation of more fangs piercing your throat was almost troubling, and the pain was borderline unbearable, but you resolved to soldier through it for him.

Anything for him.

His tongue made itself known once again, and your eyes, that you had shut to keep stinging tears at bay, shot open as you tried to fathom the sensations you felt.

His teeth had punctured your skin, and he drew mouthful after mouthful of your blood, but then there was his tongue, snaking over the bite wounds as well, pressed against his teeth from the inside of his mouth...and then the outside.

"Eddie!" you exclaimed in shock, and with a wet squelch, he pulled away from you and you saw it.

Long and wet, patchwork and mottled, his tongue was elongated and lolling out of his mouth; it began to retract, back into his mouth, and his throat seemed to bulge with it.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

And you should have been scared; instinct told you to feel fear. Especially because the image he presented right in this very moment--the combination of the teeth and tongue and his wings extended behind him--conjured thoughts of the manananggal.

The creature that killed your father.

"I'm not afraid," you told him truthfully.

You weren't.

There was that dark little whisper inside of you again, only this time, it basked in some invisible triumph over your father. He had faced countless dark creatures and failed. Perished. And here you were, despite everything you had been through because of him...facing the dark and dangerous thing Eddie had become and still seeing the good, the light, the love in him.

You and Eddie were basking in something greater than the light of "God's forgiveness," you were basking in the light of each other. A forgiveness you crafted together.

You reached out to Eddie to bring him to you again, so you could soothe the worry that he'd scared you; however, he took the gesture to mean something else.

He lowered himself to you again, rubbed his nose along yours gently, only this time, he allowed his tongue to snake back out. You watched, entranced, and allowed yourself the moment to get lost in the feel of it, lapping at the still-weeping bite on your neck, then down the valley of your breasts, the soft slope of your stomach, right down to the core of you.

You gasped and Eddie's cold breath fanned across your face as he huffed in triumph.

You let him play with you for a moment, tease your clit, your weeping slit, but just as he was about to breach your entrance, you stopped him.

His tongue retracted as he pulled back, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"You don't want that?" he teased. "Don't want me to eat your pussy; you always want that, sweetheart. Fuck, I always want that."

"I want to take care of you," you confessed with wide-eyed wonder as you trailed a finger along his arm. "I want to learn everything I can about you, want to explore every inch of you."

Like a great adventurer exploring a new and unknown world.

His eyes shifted back and forth between yours--nervously and full of uncertainty--and then he melded your lips together again, a desperate kind of gratitude emanating from him through the kiss.

You switched places then.

Him laying comfortably on the altar, propped by the pillows he had brought for your comfort.

But not before you got a full glimpse of him.

Tattered clothes shed, he stood there for your pleasurable observation, proud and preening and practically purring as you circled him like the predator he was meant to be.

You found that all the bleeding wounds that had split open during his transformation had healed now. And the scars, the seams of him that you attended to over the past few days and had been susceptible and weak before, were now strong; yes still scars, but mountains along the topographical map that made up his skin. And where the scars were mountains, the visible veins were rivers.

You stood on your tip toes to kiss along his spine, and that was when you found his wings to be especially sensitive. They fluttered at your touch, and he chittered and shook again, spoke your name with a delicious groan.

Amused, you tried the move again, but he seemed to have enough. He flapped his wings in several great beats, the power of which carried him forward, toes just grazing the stone floor. He turned as he settled into the little love nest on the altar to give you some faux withered stare, and that's when you got to see the effects of your attention.

His cock stood proudly against his belly.

And as arousing as it was to know that he was hard for you, because of you, the mood was effectively ruined momentarily as you snorted, all sense of seduction gone.

"What?" Eddie chuckled along with you, clearly happy to see you smile. "What is it?"

You shook your head and stalked forward, finding the perfect seat upon his thighs as he leant back into the pillows.

"All of these...upgrades," you tsked. "And Vecna didn't touch your dick."

The chapel suddenly filled with laughter as the two of you shared in the absurdity of the moment.

"Can't mess with perfection sweetheart," Eddie winked at you, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Did you tell him that?" you teased. "Was that a formal request?"

"If I'm being honest, I don't even think he had a dick."

"Seriously?"

"He walked around naked. Never saw one."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe that's why you're stuck here. You're not adhering to the uniform requirements of King of the Upside Down."

"Castration?" he asked.

"Nudity," you clarified.

"Is that a formal request from you now?" He licked along the seam of his lips and then grinned that unsettling, feral grin. "Because I can make it happen just for you, angel."

"I know you're joking but you forgot one thing," you leaned closer to him, stretching so your lips could brush his. "I like your cock."

You suddenly rivaled Eddie for speed as you denied him a kiss and shifted further down his body to take the head of his cock in your mouth, fingers squeezing the length of him, making him choke on the sudden and unexpected pleasure. The noises that he made as you devoured him were sinful, feral, guttural though, and you couldn't help but feel an arrogant sense of pride about it.

Great strategist that he was, he should have known better when it came to your escapades. Your seductress tricks, as he’d called them once.

You closed your eyes and savored the taste of him. The taste of his skin and sweat, remnants of whatever detergent or cologne that clung to his clothes...but conspicuously no musky taste of sex.

You considered, once again, the cleanliness of his body.

And the lack of water in the Upside Down.

And then that impossible tongue.

You hummed as you released him and then kissed down the side of his shaft so you could glance up at his face; he usually liked to watch but his eyes were wrenched shut, nose scrunched, as he panted. A clicking purr roiled somewhere deep in his chest.

"Naughty boy," you hummed and his eyes shot open. "Licking yourself clean like a cat."

You emphasized your accusation by running your tongue, flat, up his length. Then you flicked at the head once, twice, three times until he had the good sense to look bashful.

"W-what else w-was I supposed to do sweetheart?" That naive schoolboy routine wouldn't work on you. No silly crooked smiles while he sported so many razor-sharp fangs.

No puppy eyes, no innocent act.

Especially not when waves of guilt and desire emanated from him implicitly.

He knew exactly what he was and what he did.

Perv.

You snorted at him but went back to sucking the head of his cock; then, ready to make him beg, your teeth scraped ever so tantalizingly until his breath hitched. You let up to lave at him to relieve the slight sting...

"That's enough of that," Eddie hissed at you and pried you up and away from his cock, despite your whining protest.

You were underneath him before you knew it, and his teeth were buried in your shoulder, pad of his thumb working at your clit to pull an orgasm from you at the same rate that he pulled your life's essence from the bite.

The mixture of pleasure and pain boiled in your veins as you climbed higher and higher and you were sure that Eddie could taste it on you, because every hitch in your breath, every moan, was parroted right back at you from him.

A hiccup matched with a huff.

A soft yes followed by a delicious snarl.

And the moan that ripped from your throat as you came was answered with a roar as he released you from the bite and stretched to his full height, head tossed back towards the heavens, announcing his victory to whatever demon or deity dared to listen.

Your euphoria was short-lived though, as he positioned himself at your entrance and drove into you. He grabbed you and hunched over to press his forehead against yours and began thrusting wildly.

It was sweet for a moment.

But you weren't ready.

You weren't ready for his trusts, the raw power that he possessed in this body that he couldn't seem to control after his frenzied feeding, or the way he pistoned into you so roughly that your hips knocked yours in a way that would bruise.

You weren't ready for his talons to puncture your skin and the flesh of your torso, digging painfully deep into you, tearing through muscle and sinew and organs in an otherwise-devastating way.

You weren't ready for your own blood to drip from his fangs onto your own lips and into your mouth as you opened it in pain and shock.

You weren't ready and neither, it seemed, was Eddie.

It only took seconds of the rough uncontrolled fucking before instinct kicked in and you shouted. Your hands grabbed him and your body channeled the surrounding flames of the half-dead votives to burn deep into his skin and the meat of his shoulders.

He pulled out and away from you with a cry that echoed yours; his wings propelled him backwards and across the chapel instantly, where he crashed into the pews and crushed them.

There was a beat of tense silence, as you collected yourselves, and then you stared at each other in shock.

"What was that?" you asked in tandem.

You wrenched your eyes shut even further, brow furrowed in concentration, and dug deep to try and channel the healing energies within. The flesh of your sides and your palm began to knit back together, any bruising and internal injury healed instantaneously, and the bleeding of the bites sluggishly stopped.

But the bite wounds themselves remained, just as all of the bites you'd endured remained; healing at a glacial pace. And that worried you more than any of the injuries you'd sustained, or how they came about.

You took a few deep breaths and returned to the present, opening your eyes to find Eddie's concerned and guilt-ridden face before you. You startled, and so did he, but you shushed him as the apologies fell from his lips and bloody tears began to leak from his eyes.

"Sweetheart, please," he stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't know, I didn't realize."

"It's...it's ok," you nodded.

"It isn't," he shook his head. "I hurt you. I'm a beast, I'm a monster." His clawed hands came up and his fingers buried into his hair.

"Stop," you shushed him and grabbed his wrists to try and get him to let go. "Stop it. You're not."

"I am."

"You didn't know," you told him.

"I knew I could hurt you if I wasn't careful and I did it anyway."

"And I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm made of tougher stuff. And you stopped; I was hurt and you stopped. A monster wouldn't stop when they hurt someone."

His chest heaved but he nodded and let you pull his hands away and into yours, held tenderly between you.

"You drank my blood Eddie," you reminded him. "Blood shed for the forgiveness of your sins. Now and forever. It'll be ok. We'll be ok."

Your gaze shifted from his eyes to his shoulders then, to the shape of your hands burned onto his skin.

"Besides I hurt you too," you muttered with a tense smile. "So I guess we're even here. Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"They'll heal; it doesn't matter."

"Do you know how to heal yourself?" you asked. "Or does it just happen?"

Eddie was silent.

"Let me heal you then," you told him softly. "It'll go much faster."

You held his clawed hands tightly in your smaller ones and instructed him to close his eyes. You felt a brief and sudden doubt; he wasn't human anymore, not entirely, would it be any different?

What if it didn't work?

If you were going to fix this momentary hiccup, if you were going to fix all of him, you at least needed to try.

"Do you feel me?" you asked him. "Do you...feel my presence here?"

"I do," he nodded, and then his mouth quirked in a smile. "Your light."

"Good," you nodded and shifted closer. You closed your eyes and reached out to feel him too. "Do you feel us together?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

"That means you can feel yourself. Shut up, I can hear you laughing."

"Means I'm not upset anymore," he argued.

He had a point, still you weren't going to let it go.

"When you resurrected..." you hesitated.

"My brides."

"I'm not calling them that." you scoffed. "When you resurrected Max...what did you feel? Did you feel her light? And yours?"

"I did." He snorted. "It was silly. I imagined a pitcher pouring into a cup."

"That's a good way to think about it," you encouraged him. "Healing is such...a special act of goodness, act of light and love. When you...resurrect someone, you take part of yourself and you use it to spark the light in them. It's like...jumpstarting your car though. All the parts need to work right if you're gonna bring someone back. Their body. Their soul. Otherwise...otherwise it's like they're driving around without a windshield."

"Like the Marquis."

"Focus Eddie."

"Sorry."

"To heal someone, like I'm about to do to you though...it's easier...and it isn't. You just...shine your light on them. It fills them, warms them. You share a part of yourself with them, like sharing a blanket. There's a hole in them--"

"I think there's a few holes."

"Alright you're fine then." You tried to pull away from him but he gripped your hands tighter and pulled you closer again, practically onto his lap. "You gonna interrupt me again?"

"No, I promise."

You loosened one hand from his grasp and, on instinct, laid it over the burned handprint on his shoulder.

"When you're hurt, there's a hole that needs to be patched up. And your body can heal in time, but sometimes it's easier for someone to pour their light into you."

Just like you had with Mary Victoria the previous day, you willed the light inside to stir, to pour into Eddie, and to heal the burns. You opened your eyes and released his shoulder, and the burn was gone, the skin pristine, save for the scars that had already been there.

"There," you announced with a smile. Eddie opened his eyes and stared at you. "How does it feel?"

He inhaled deeply.

"You..." his eyebrows knit together. "You feel...I still feel you."

"I'm sure. It'll linger for a while."

"But I feel that way whenever I'm with you," he continued. "I think I've always felt that way with you, even when you weren't next to me, when you left...when I was still alive. When I was still me. And when you...when you left the other day and you went back to Hawkins...I needed you...I was desperate for you."

"I thought you said I've always been there with you," you reminded him.

"This is different," he whispered as softly as he could, and it came out as a rasp. "I need you more than anything now. I feel like I'm empty. And I need you to fill me back up."

Your breath hitched as you thought about the weight of the Upside Down and the hollow feeling; was that what he felt too? And you lessened that feeling for him, just as he had done for you?

Yes. That must be it.

"I need you too Eddie," you agreed. "In whatever way, shape, or form I can get you. Man...or monster, I need you."

He leaned closer, pulled you closer too, pulled you to straddle his lap. He watched you, you assumed, to see if you would flinch or push him away. But you never pushed him away.

You let him take your lips with his, let him kiss you, let his claws rasp along your skin again, trace along the very spots that he had pierced. You let him maneuver you, drag your center along his length to get you both ready for this connection once again.

This union.

This promise.

Just like the promises you had made since he returned to you; like the promises you made since the moment you met.

He broke your kiss and looked to you for reassurance, for consent, before he pulled you onto him, before you moaned in tandem at the feeling of being joined together once again.

If there was something about Eddie, he was a quick study; the things that had hindered you just moments ago--the sharpness of his claws, the untethered power of his body, the strength of his wings--suddenly became tantamount to your fucking.

He anchored those claws deep into the sturdy softness of your thighs, no vital organs at risk; his long arms wrapped around you so you'd feel safe in his embrace despite the ever-present sting as he maneuvered you up and down his shaft at a steady pace.

When he grew bold, he used those wings to propel you both forward, back to the altar, to cradle you in the soft safety of the nested blanket and pillows. He used the strength that this body belied to drive himself home within you over and over, twisted and contorted his body to bring you to the height of your pleasure repeatedly.

All the while he vowed to give you his sweet devotion.

Words spoken in hushed tones and then desperate shouts and then world-altering roars as his teeth snapped just inches from your face.

But there was no danger, no fear, no doubt.

Only love and worship and reverence and awe.

And then the moment came where you and Eddie reached the peak of your bliss, and your bodies ceased to exist. The moment where, in one instance he stilled deep within you and you clenched around him, and then next your beings melted together in a whining, chittering, quivering mess of light and being and consciousness.

When you returned to the universe, renewed once again by the presence of one another, Eddie fed from you again, from your wrist this time. He didn't even have to ask; you hues knew. You sensed that need within him, a hunger you wished to satiate, and you urged him to take what he needed.

It was the gentlest that he had ever bitten you; you barely felt a thing. Until he pulled away and you saw the matching, gaping, red wounds of your wrist and his mouth.

You pulled him to lay against you, and you carded your fingers through his hair as he thanked you repeatedly, whispered and kissed his gratitude against the skin of your chest.

You realized, as sleep began to overcome you, that something was different now, and you wondered if you had even descended from the height of your climax yet. Or if you were still there in the afterglow.

And if you were, was Eddie still with you?

Then you had another thought.

Was this what being normal felt like? Was this the outcome of his forgiveness? Had he really broken the curse?

You closed your eyes and figured that you might never know, might never make it to Heaven.

But this moment here, with Eddie, was the closest you would ever get.

And it would be enough.

It was a dance.

Quite literally.

A dance with Eddie. Just you and him in this place deep and dark and hidden from the rest of the world.

Well alright, that was not quite the truth, not when there were thousands of glowing eyes and glinting claws and mouths dripping with hunger along the perimeter of the room. But it might as well be just the two of you; your love was enough to protect you. They didn't dare cross the veil of security while his hand held yours and you circled one another.

No music could be heard, no rhythm to speak of.

Just you and him. Jumping and head banging and twirling. He spun you, dipped you. Made a joke for you to dip him too, which caused you both to tumble to the ground in a fit of laughter.

Unadulterated joy.

You felt whole. Healed. Complete.

And you knew he felt the same.

This was where you belonged. Together.

"Let's try a waltz," he suggested.

"I don't know how to waltz, how do you know how to waltz," you laughed.

"PE, obviously. I can square dance too; you wanna do that instead?"

"No, no, show me how to waltz, Mr. Rochester."

"Gladly, my beloved Jane."

He did some wild and intricate bow, over exaggerated in the way only he could, and all the while you appreciate the sight. Full of life and energy and love, and it glowed from within him, practically illuminating the room.

He took your hand in his, grabbed your waist with the other, and led you with gentle instruction and encouragement. Once you had the steps down, he urged you to move, to spin, to traverse around the room, practically flaunting your invulnerability to the monsters that lay in wait on the outskirts.

Your combined laughter overwhelmed the clicking and hissing from beyond the dark veil.

"Alright, let's try this," Eddie instructed you with a chuckle. "I'm gonna dip you again."

"Oh Jesus ok, I'm not ready for that I don't think," you tried to dissuade him.

"You can't do any worse than Jeff did. Come on."

Unfortunately you did, your combined momentum from a spin was too much, and as Eddie went to dip you, you both fell in a soft pile of limbs and giggles and love. You rested your head back against the cold ground as Eddie rolled to the side, and when you opened your eyes you saw it.

A grand mirror, the frame of which was a dull and tarnished gold and layered in vines and slimey excrement. The edges of the reflective glass were scratched, but in the center, there you were.

The laughter and joy died in your throat as you stared at yourself, alone.

No monsters, surely, but no Eddie either.

You felt a familiar panic settle within you as your eyes darted back and forth around the reflection. A familiar hopelessness. And dread filled you because you knew, instinctually, that Eddie was still behind you...but was he?

"Sweetheart what's wrong?" Eddie questioned softly.

What if you turned around and you were alone again?

Lost again?

"Talk to me." You felt his hand on your shoulder, saw the indent of his touch in the reflection...but didn't see him. "What's going on?"

You wrenched your eyes shut as he fully grasped you by the shoulders and hovered over you.

"C'mon baby please," he sounded desperate. "What's wrong? Nothing's gonna happen. It'll be ok. I promised you, I'm here, it's gonna be alright. Trust me. Have faith in me."

Faith.

Was this a test of your faith? A test full of temptation? You taking the place of Orpheus as you sought safety in this underworld? And Eddie your Eurydice, continued existence hinging on that fragile string of faith?

But you knew deep in your heart, if you didn't have faith in anything else, you could have faith in him.

You slowly opened your eyes.

And witnessed a terrible sight.

Eddie, your Eddie, your soul and your salvation.

Broken.

Bleeding gashes on both sides of his neck, a slash on his wrist, a tear in the side of his shirt revealing a terrible wound, and lips that bubbled with blood.

"There you go," he muttered as though nothing was wrong. As though there were no droplets spattering onto your face as he spoke. "There's my girl."

You screamed.

"But if you bite and devour one another, watch out, or you will be consumed by one another.” - Galatians 5:1

#aasb #as above so below #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #Eddie munson smut #kas!eddie #Eddie munson x oc #tw: blood #tw: smut #tw: gore #tw: religious themes #monsterfucking #dead dove do not eat

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