#Jonathans Forest Au

[snowangeldotmp3]

time for even more Lore for the ouat au: jargyle edition!!

ok so in the real world, jonathan dresses similarly to how he does in the show, especially in season 1. he’s the photographer for the local paper, and he loves doing that! he just kind of wishes he had more opportunities than just the paper, you know? he’d do anything for his mom and his kid brother, and often helps them out as much as he can.

in the enchanted forest, the byers are not anybody special. they’re not rich, they live just on the outskirts of the kingdom, but they do what they can and they’re happy. jonathan dresses very plainly, and he doesn’t normally carry weapons. as i mentioned before in the weapons post, he likely carries a short sword—only because joyce asked him to. on the right is what i’d imagine he’d look like if he had to fight, of course he wouldn’t really want to, but he’d know it had to be done, especially to protect his family. i like to think he also carries a shield of some sort(likely left behind by his no good father) but i couldn’t find a good enough reference photo for that 😅

in the real world, argyle is a pharmacist. well…kind of. he does own and operate a pharmacy, but he also sells that purple palm tree delight and other…products upon request. but other than that he knows exactly what people need to cure whatever ails them. i also don’t think argyle dresses any different than he does in the show, so just imagine these outfits with like, a pharmacist’s coat/apron over them

in the enchanted forest, argyle is THE healer. he knows the forest best, and he creates all these balms and salves and creams and whatever else people may need. he doesn’t like fighting, and actively avoids fights if he can manage it. he doesn’t even carry a weapon, save for a knife he carries to cut some herbs from the ground. i will say, in the enchanted forest i imagine that long hair can get troublesome, so i like to think he wears it in braids when he can. this is the only photo of eduardo i could find where he’s actually wearing his hair in two pigtail braids, so i hope that’s a decent enough visual. as for the other two, the green outfit is what i imagine he wears on the regular, and the apron outfit is what he carries all his important salves and occasional potions with.

(tagging @perceivedregret for brain rot sharing purposes!!)

[fairysteve]

Steve has always had an affinity for water. The pool in the backyard was as much a gift to him as it was something for his parents to brag about; the heated waters welcomed him year-round, like the embrace his parents wouldn't give him. He sometimes thinks he has spent more time by the pool than he has done inside the house.

He never expected the water to respond to him.

-

Nancy has only viewed fire as a tool, something to light candles, and cook food. She's familiar with the warmth of her parents hugging her, the warmth in her chest when her younger siblings achieve something. And she can wield her pen with a passion only likened to how fire consumes.

She didn't think her fear and rage would ever burst into sparks.

-

Jonathan has tried to be a cliff for his mum, and for Will, for as long as he can remember. A steady presence to ground them when things are rough, with Lonnie, with school, with anything. He thinks things through unless his family is involved; then everything inside him rushes like an avalanche.

He barely notices the rocks tumbling alongside him in his single-mindedness.

-

Robin has always felt out of place, in her family, in school, in Hawkins. She wants to see the world, find somewhere she fits in, wants to find change instead of forcing herself into a mould. There's pressure in trying to melt in and adapt when the norm is the opposite of your truth.

She isn't all that surprised when the mud bursts like her words.

-

Eddie never shies away from being himself, from being loud, from being brash. He wants to be heard, with his words, with his movements, with his music. There's a rush to be found in doing what he wants. And he knows how to fill a room just with his presence, knows how to bring a sense of family to the people who need it. But he can appreciate the quiet too, the moments with his uncle, the moments with a new song. He doesn't have to be loud to be known.

He shapes the wind as easily as he plays the guitar.

[emily-mooon]

I finished watching Over The Garden Wall about ten minutes ago and now I cannot stop thinking about Jonathan and Will getting into the same situation.

[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

— If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don’t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 43

Part 1 Part 42

Will’s loitering around the school, Dustin, Will, and Lucas plastered to his sides like burrs as he waits for Jonathan to get out of school and pick him up. The hallways are almost empty – everyone else allowed to take buses, and ride bike, and walk home; Will left the odd one out.

Even his friends who are dawdling by his side as they walk the empty parking lot have bikes chained up at the front of the school. They’re only still here because Will’s not allowed to be left alone. By anyone. 

The air is crisp, biting into his cheeks, but it’s too crisp to be the other side. Snow is on the horizon, not ash. He can smell it.

Mike’s talking about El in a hushed voice, moaning about Hopper blocking all access like the protective Father he isn’t. Will wishes his problems felt as small as Mike’s are,, and promptly feels bad about the thought.

It’s just, winter is in the air, and the sky is getting darker earlier each day. In a few more weeks, Will’s not sure he’ll even be able to get home after school without the specter of the Demogorgon hunting him from the shadows between each tree.

He wishes he didn’t live so close to the woods.

He wishes he could live in Steve and Eddie’s pockets like they live in each other’s. He only feels covered when he’s looking at Steve Harrington’s broad back.

Jonathan’s car pulls into the empty parking lot, and Dustin, Lucas, and Mike run off with shouts of goodbye. Only Dustin looks back, waits for Will to shuffle into the passenger seat before waving and peddling quickly to catch up.

Jonathan’s heat is up high enough to hurt. Will sinks into it, puts his frozen hands up to the vents to dethaw. 

“How was school?” Jonathan asks, The Doors playing near silently from his crackly radio.

“It was okay,” Will says, thinking of Zombie Boy shouted out at him like a slur in the hallways. Thinking about how sometimes he’ll walk up to his friend’s and be greeted by abrupt, strained silences, like a few days in the Upside-Down has made him a freaks among the freaks.

Jonathan hums, but doesn’t press. WIll loves him for it. As they drive toward home, the long-familiar fishhook feelings hooks and yanks his stomach. In a moving car, it’s almost a queasy thing, like he always imagined being on a sailboat would feel. He’s being pulled in two directions and his organs are sloshing around with it.

“Can we go see Steve and Eddie?” Will asks quietly.

Jonathan’s hands clench hard, shitty steering wheel vinyl creaking. He sighs, like a dog when you won’t share a piece of your dinner no matter how hard it begs. He takes a u-turn without a word, heading toward Forest Hills, knowing just like Will does that if they’re not already there, that’s where Steve and Eddie will end up soon.

Will knows they’re not there yet before Jonathan parks in the vacant spot where Eddie’s van usually presides. He puts it in park, doesn’t take the key out of the ignition, turns the heater down just a hair.

“I just don’t get it,” Jonathan says, looking at the Munson’s closed front door, not looking Will’s way at all.

“Get what?” Will asks, even though he knows. 

Jonathan sighs that same sigh. “Just��” he runs a hand through his discheveled hair until it partially covers his eyes, “you spend a few days with them and now it’s like they’re all you think about.”

Will looks down at his lap, can’t meet Jonathan’s eyes even when he feels his brother turn to look at him. Left unsaid in the space between them is that Jonathan doesn’t get them, doesn’t get him anymore, when they’re all each other has had for years.

“You weren’t there,” Will says. He knows it’ll hurt even before Jonathan breaths in like he’s been shot.

The heater and radio static break up the silence. Will can still feel it. 

“Can you–” Jonathan srarts. Will sees, out of the corner of his eyes as Jonathan reaches out toward him before dropping it. “Can you try to explain?” Will looks down at his dirty sneakers, thinking. He doesn’t have the words. But hten Jonathan says, “please?” all quiet and desperate and Will turns.

He pulls his feet up onto the seat, arms wrapped around his knees,  turning his body to face Jonathan as Jonathan does the same. Jonathan’s knee bangs on the bottom of the steering wheel, but he gets it all the way up to mirror Will’s posture, both their shoulders hunched, both of their arms around their knees.

“I was really scared,” WIll says, for the first time admitting something that was obvious. “And then they saved me.”

Jonathan nods, meeting his eyes. “And that’s it?”

Will shakes his head, looks down at the stick shift separating them. “No,” he says, fidgeting his fingers anxiously. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Jonathan reaches across the car, covering Will’s knee with his big palm and squeezing. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He doesn’t understand, Will can tell.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, eyes prickling. The fishline is slackening now. He can feel it. They’re on their way. “This isn’t like that.”

“Like?”

“Like, a stupid teenager thing,” Will says. How does he say this isn’t about puberty, or growing up, or a fight with his friends, or even the isolation of the school halls where everyone treats him like he’s oil and everyone else is water. 

“Okay,” Jonathan says in that calm, quiet way that always calms WIll down. “What is it then?”

Will looks back down at the stick shift, Jonathan’s foot now propped up against it after he’d stretched it out. His sneakers are too small – Will can see his pinky toe pushing up against the side. 

“Like, there’s something in me,” Will says. “And it’s in them too.” Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but Will can feel his eyes on him. “I can feel them, right now.” He whispers it out, a secret in this car confessional of two.

“Feel them, how?”

“It’s, itchy? When they’re too far.” WIll says, struggling to find words he’s not sure exist. “And I can tell they’re turning into the trailer park right now.” He touches the hollow just below his ribs, looks up into Jonathan’s eyes. “Right here.”

Jonathan’s brows are furrowed, eyes intense, just as Eddie’s van comes peeling into view, parking haphazardly in front of Eddie’s trailer. Jonathan’s eyes go wide. He hadn’t gotten it until this moment. Will can see it hit him in the dilation of his pupils. “Like El?” he asks, quiet as Eddie tumbles out of the driver’s seat and rushes over to open the passenger side door for Steve like a goofy knight.

“I don’t know.”

Jonathan glances over just in time to watch a wan-faced Steve take Eddie’s hand to hoist himself out of the van. “Do they?”

Part 44

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad AU

Part 3!!!

Tag List: @jaytriesstuff @jackiemonroe5512 @netflixisacopingstrategymom @finntheehumaneater @redhoodandhellfire @blackpanzy @blu3stars @goodolefashionedloverboi @strawberryyyenthusiast @bebopbabyy @forest-fogg @silenzioperso @lololol-1234 @thestarslittleking @lingeringmirth @moomkin77 @dragonmama76 @mentallyundone @salty-h0e @sapphireoceansoc @geekyfifi @sirsnacksalot @subversivecynic @rebellatio-03 @thelittleclare @pinkrabit @thelittleclare @jamieweasley13 @just-a-tiny-void @strangeforest @hunterbow04 @fiddledeedee85 @bookworm0690 @pinkrabit @grimmfitzz @irregular-child

…

Steve went to school on Friday with a pleasant pep in his step. He’d be leaving early at 1:30 for work and then leaving work at 5 to go officially move into the trailer. He’d have the whole weekend off to get properly moved, to.

People still eyed him in the halls. They still whispered and they still looked. And yeah, it wasn’t with the same respect as it was before. But Steve found he didn’t care. He stopped by his locker, number 276.

Nancy and Jonathan were already there, both leaning against the lockers and talking quietly.

Steve didn’t say much to the two of them. He’d put away what he didn’t need in his locker and then simply went to first period.

.

There wasn’t ever much to say about school. Sure it was different from his home life, and yes it was different from his work life, but it wasn’t anything special.

It stopped being special when he decided to stick with Louie nearly 7 months ago now.

He left at 1:30, as he usually did. He typically got Nancy or Jonathan to stop by and grab the work he’d be missing for him so that he wasn’t absolutely failing.

At work, Steve couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. A couple of the regulars— Abby, a sweet lady in her thirties, and Mandy, a sassy black lady in her fifties— congratulated him on the new trailer and tipped extra.

Steve was positively vibrating with nerves his entire shift. Every time he went back to pick up an order from Mason and Gwen they shot him cheeky grins and gave him claps on the shoulders.

Everyone could see how excited Steve was, and his moods were usually rubbing off on everyone anyway.

When 5 finally hit, Steve hung his apron, counted his tips, and gave everyone the usual goodbye hugs and high fives. Mason held on a little tighter than usual and even gave him a little spin that had Steve leaving in high spirits.

He took his usual dinner and baby Louie out to the car, talking excitedly to the small child all the while.

“We finally have a new home, Louie! Aren’t you excited baby? You’re gonna sleep in a bed, and sit on the couch, and have floor time!”

Louie babbled back just as excitedly. Steve was giddy with joy.

The trailer park wasn’t too far from the dinner. It was a good 5-7 minute drive, tops.

But by the end of the night Steve had officially moved into number 2718 New Bird Ave.

.

The first night was as rough as expected. The previous occupants left behind most of their furniture so Steve was left with a couch, a bed, and an old dresser that was ready to topple.

Steve took the smallest bedroom, it was barely bigger than his old closet but the tight fit was comforting in a way. He moved the mattress from the left-behind bed into the room, leaving the frame. It wouldn’t fit through the door despite being just smaller than a twin.

Steve took Louie around the trailer, holding him close and happily showing him everything there was to see.

“And this, my dear baby, is the kitchen. I’m gonna get real nice curtains and a small table. I’m thinking yellow curtains. Whaddya say Lou-Lou?”

Louie babbled excitedly and gripped Steve’s hair.

“I’ll take it you like yellow. Me too.” Steve smiled brightly.

The kitchen took up the entire front of the trailer. The windows were large and nearly floor-ceiling and already had blinds set on them. They let in plenty of sunlight and gave a beautiful view to the other trailers and the woods surrounding the park. There was a pantry where he could eventually set up a washer and dryer. And a small area between the pantry and windows where he’d be able to fit in a table and maybe three chairs.

“Now—“ Steve let Louie down on the floor and crouched right behind him, holding him up. “—this is the living room. This is where we’re gonna listen to music and dance and sing.”

Louie immediately started babbling and gurgling, wiggling and bouncing in Steve’s hold. Steve laughed.

“Exactly baby! Dancing just like that. You get your moves from your daddy don’t you hunny?”

Louie gave his best belly-laugh that had Steve scooping him up and holding him close.

“You’re such a sweetheart, Lou-Lou! You’re my sweetheart aren’t you, babyboy?” Steve smothered kisses across Louie’s face and grinned when the baby laughed and pulled his hair.

.

“Alrighty, Louie. What to do now, huh?”

Steve had propped Louie carefully on the couch. The baby sat watching him closely, and vaguely tried copying Steve’s hands on his hips. Steve grinned.

“Do you wanna go to the store? We can see about getting you an actual crib.”

Louie stared blankly.

“You’re right, you’d just end up sleeping with me anyways. What about a new bed for us then, huh? Something that’d actually fit in the room?”

Louie made a squeaking sound.

“And plans have been made!” Steve declared, throwing his arms up. His hand his the ceiling but he didn’t mind the pain when Louie copied him and threw his hands up as well.

“To the store we go!”

.

Steve was pushing Louie around the store in a stroller he’d found in the baby section. Yes, he was going to buy it when they went up to pay.

Why hadn’t he bought a stroller to begin with? It was so much easier than carrying around the car seat.

Little Louie was babbling away and reaching for just about anything they passed. However, he made a particularly loud squeal when Steve passed a certain bed frame. Steve paused and looked it over with Louie.

It was a simple white twin with a high headboard and a low, almost not there bottom board. It almost looked like a wooden princess bed.

“That one?” Steve asked Louie.

Louie answered with a gargle of spit and his fingers in his mouth. Steve grinned.

“That one.”

.

Putting the bed together was the biggest pain in the ass Steve ever had the displeasure of going through.

He’d never been a strong reader. And he’d always needed visual help references in front of him for him to learn properly. The instructions provided pictures that Steve was confident he himself could’ve drawn better.

“I mean look at this sh— crap. I’m sure you could’ve drawn something better, huh bub?”

Louie gurgled and nodded sagely.

The bed was put together with much failure and cursing and input from baby Louie.

Steve stood back with his hands on his hips and snorted delightfully when Louie copied him as best he could with his baby hands. The bed was done and Steve’d finally out the mattresses on. Now he got to sleep in it.

.

Steve entered the back door to the diner in a flurry of limbs. He was pushing the new stroller he’d gotten Louie and was desperately trying to hold open the door at the same time.

Gwen rushed to help, grabbing the stroller and baby Louie and pushing him into George’s office. Steve sighed in relief and let the baby be taken while Mason helped him with the diaper bag.

When they dropped off the bag and baby in the office Steve was surrounded by Michelle, Gwen, and Mason.

“So? How’d it go, kid?” asked Gwen with a cross of her arms.

Steve grinned at them, baring his teeth and gums in a way that showed his giddiness in full force.

“It’s a nice place. I got a bed set up and Louie likes dancing in the living room with me. Isn’t that right bubba?”

The baby in question immediately started bouncing in place on his butt. Steve laughed and picked him up. Louie continued bouncing in his grip, dancing his best baby moves.

“Just like that, lovebug!”

Mason and Gwen cooed.

“You got those moves from your daddy, huh sweet thing?” Mason teased, poking a finger into Louie’s side. Louie grabbed it and messed with the ring there.

“You are just the sweetest freakin thing ever!” Gwen cooed in a baby voice.

.

And for a month it went like that.

Steve and baby Louie got settled into the trailer nicely. They filled up the living room and bedroom with Louie’s toys and as many pillows as Steve could afford.

Back at his parents’ house, the pillows his mother bought were only for show. They were only there because they had looked good. Steve bought his pillows because he liked them. Because they were pretty or cute. Because they reminded him of people he knew. Because they simply caught his or Louie’s eyes.

They got the curtains for the kitchen— a soft yellow with white stripes. Steve hung them while Louie had floor time a few feet away in the living room.

During the month they settled in, Nancy had been watching Louie every Wednesday and Thursday after she got out of school so that Steve could take the closing shift at the diner. She’d watch him early Sunday mornings so that Steve could take the opening shift.

And they built a steady routine.

It was mid-morning on a Friday. Steve was buckling Louie into his car seat and humming Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears to himself when a loud thunk vibrated through his car.

Steve righted himself immediately, hitting his head on the roof of the car in the process. While he rubbed the back of his head to soothe the inevitable bump he turned and came face to face with 2 kids barely older than 9.

They stared up at him in silent fear. Steve saw the offending ball rolling somewhere down his driveway— they must’ve hit the ball into his car while playing.

Steve didn’t think. He simply jogged down the driveway and into the street to retrieve the ball. Then he jogged back to his car and handed the little girl the ball. She took it hesitantly.

“You two alright?” Steve asked gently.

They both nodded. Steve was starting to get a little freaked out.

“Um—“

“We’re really sorry!” the girl suddenly shouted.

Steve startled. “Oh! It’s—“

“We didn’t mean to hit your car, the ball kept bouncing and it wouldn’t stop!” the boy explained. The girl nodded.

Steve huffed and put one hand on his hip. “It’s alright, seriously. Look: no damage done, see?”

And true to Steve’s word, there was no damage done to his car, just a mark from the mud caked onto the ball.

“You’re not angry?” the boy asked hesitantly.

Steve smiled sweetly and shook his head. “No, I’m not angry. Just be careful next time, someone else is bound to be angry.”

They nodded in sync. Baby Louie spoke up at that moment with a gurgled babble.

The kids’ heads snapped to the back seat in scary unison, the girl’s blond pigtails bouncing.

“Is that your brother?” she asked, setting the ball in the grass by her feet.

Steve chuckled. “No, he’s my son. His names Louie,”

He stepped aside and let the kids peer at the car seat. The boy grinned.

“Hi, Louie! I’m Noah!”

The girl smiled sweetly and held her hand out for Louie to grab. “I’m Casey! I’m the older twin.”

Steve watched fondly. Louie didn’t get to interact with many people outside of him, Nancy, and they people at work.

“Noah, Casey! What are you two doing now?” Came a call from behind them. Steve turned with the twins to see an older lady walked over to them.

“Gran, look! He’s so cute!” cried Casey.

Noah and Casey made way for their Gran to look at Louie. Little Louie seemed to be thriving in the sudden attention, babbling nonstop and grinning his gummy little smile.

“He’s quite the charmer indeed.” Gran agreed with a nod and smile. “Now, come along you two. Let this young man leave.”

Noah and Casey turned to Steve with a simultaneous “Bye!” before running off with their ball to the trailer next door. Gran sighed.

“It’s nice to finally meet the new neighbor. I’m Margaret, Margaret Bottomette. Those two are my grandchildren, they usually come over for weekends and breaks.”

Steve smiled at the lady, Miss. Bottomette.

.

Miss. Bottomette and the twins became a new constant in Steve’s life alongside the middle schoolers he’s forced to cart around occasionally.

Noah and Casey are sweet kids, albeit feisty. They come over to the car every time Steve’s out, whether he’s with baby Louie or not.

And it’s sweet, is the thing. It brightens Steve’s day just that much more when he sees the beaming smiles on their faces while they play with Louie or while he listens to them talk about their days.

It was early October of 1984 now, Louie being officially 8 months as of October 14.

Steve wasn’t prepared for the upcoming months.

.

And that’s a wrap!!

Tag list is open always (until I reach a limit or finish the series) so feel free to ask!!!!

Edit: TAG LOST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED!! Sorry guys, I’ve reached the limit :,)

Part 4:

[luveline]

hello jade! i just want to say i absolutely adore your writing!! if you have the time, could we see some more grumpy steve in the zombie au? id love to see anything from before the college, i just miss that grumpy era! <3

thank you my love!! steve zombie au —you try to make sense of why steve is so grumpy. 1k, fem!reader

"No," Steve says. 

You sigh and turn away from him, hands braced either side of your face. Steve doesn't talk much, but when he does, his favourite word is no. 

"Why not?" you ask. 

"There's nothing left in Hawkins," he says, stepping with ease over a huge puddle of diesel, the expelled gas strong enough to make you feel nauseous. 

"There's, you know, our homes." 

"What's the point?" he asks. "I'm trying to be fair here. What's the point in going back when everyone is gone and half the town was burned to the ground?" 

You ease over the diesel puddle with much less ease, muttering expletives to yourself when your left foot sinks into the instep. Now you'll smell like diesel for the next week. Great. 

There isn't any point in going back home, but that doesn't mean you don't want to. There really is nothing there, half the town was on fire when you bolted, the Hawk, the school, anything that would catch. It was an organised arson by the escape group you and Steve were supposed to be in (or rather, just Steve, flame to draw the geeks attention. You hadn't known anyone who knew anyone that knew the plan, so you hadn't realised everybody was leaving until they were already gone, the sound of what must've been fifty cars departing northward your lone clue. 

You kick the floor as you and Steve step out of the road and back onto the dirt path beside it, hoping the grass and mud will soak up the acrid smell stuck to your shoe. You'd brought Hawkins up because you're still grieving. Because you want someone to talk to about what you've lost, and Steve isn't abiding. 

"What guarantee is it that the world isn't just as razed as Hawkins?" you ask without pep. 

"There's no point thinking about it that way. We keep moving or we die. We go home, we die. We need to keep going and if we're fast enough, we can catch up to the Hawkins group. It'll be safer when it isn't only the two of us." 

And you'll never have to speak to me again, you think morosely. 

Steve is handsome. He went to your high school, though that was, like, four years ago. He's not the kind of guy who wasted time with girls like you, you know that. You guess you'd been hoping he'd be nicer alone. 

"You're not how I remember you," you say. 

"I don't remember you," he says. 

"Why would you?" you ask. You pretend to mess with the zipper on your jacket rather than look in his direction, worried he'll meet your eye, and see the actual hurt in your expression. "I was nobody, and you were a jock. Everyone knows how that goes."

"It's not like that," he says. 

You bat a rogue insect away from your cold cheek. You hate the forest. "What's it like?" you ask. 

"It's not about what kind of person you were. I had a lot going on back then." 

"Like what?" 

"Like getting beat up so bad I had a concussion twice in the same year," he says. 

"Woah." You look at him through the corner of your eye. "You got beat up that bad twice?" 

Steve doesn't answer you. You continue following him, making your way across a big stretch of road, the next crop of buildings about twenty minutes away if you had to guess. The weather is brisk, the sun occluded by grey clouds, and the air smells like ash. The sky is a hazy shade of white.

"Wait, by Jonathan Byers?" 

"No, he's the one who didn't give me a concussion," Steve says contritely. 

"Oh. Hey, you don't have to look so down about it, Harrington, this is a good thing. I can trust you, now." 

"You didn't trust me? I've been feeding you for the past week." 

"Yeah, but you're a guy I don't really know. I was worried you might try to kill me and eat me in my sleep or something when the food ran out, but now I know you're bad at fights, I'm not so worried." 

"Fuck off," he says dryly. 

"I'm bad at fighting too, if you were wondering." 

"I wasn't." 

"Hmm. Who beat you up the third time? I know that jerk Hargrove got you." 

"Just some guy."

"Must've been an angry guy," you mumble, looking at him with your head tilted. 

Steve is an asshole often and unapologetically to you, but you don't think you want to hurt him. He's shown you that, while he sucks, he knows how to be nice. He makes sure the blankets are covering your shoulders before you fall asleep, and he gives you bigger portions if he hears your stomach grumbling. Plus, no guy so eager to find their best friend can be evil, you think. He must have a whole lot of love stored up. Or stored down. Deep down inside. 

"Stop staring at me," he says. 

"Okay." You stare at him some more. He has a nice nose. He has really nice eyes, kind of hooded and almond shaped at once, brown irises that look dark as tree bark as the sun goes down. "Well, I won't beat you up." 

"Thanks," he says. He sounds less grumpy. You try to push it further. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, slowing your steps a touch. He slows to match you. "That someone hurt you like that. Twice. I know concussions aren't funny, that it must've sucked to recover from them." 

"I had a perforated eardrum," he says. "It hurt like hell. All of it did."

"I'm sorry," you say gently, offering him a sympathetic smile. 

He smiles back. "Not your fault," he says quietly. Then, louder, "Don't walk so slow. We need to be inside soon, the sun is setting." 

"Yes, sir," you say, saluting him sarcastically. 

He doesn't speak to you for half an hour. You don't mind so much, especially when, the next time you come across a puddle of diesel (someone seriously needs to learn how to syphon gas properly), he holds out a hand and helps you cross it, even though you could've easily walked around.

[le-sluagh]

Batman AU Medieval - Jonathan the Scarecrow

The little story of the Scarecrow under the cut.

Happy Halloween everyone ! 🎃

Scarecrow was brought to life by a wizard named Crane, but before the wizard could complete his spell, the wizard was chased by the militia, and had to run away. Thus leaving the scarecrow that he had begun to bring to life. Scarecrow was then imperfect as the spell wasn't finished, he could not speak or read, and learned to walk on his own.

Scarecrow didn't know where to go, or who or what he really was. When he went to the villages, they chased him, they cried out in fear, so he stayed wandering in the forests, before coming across a hatter, kind but a little crazy. The hatter was afraid, obviously, witchcraft was forbidden and punished, but this scarecrow seemed so lost that the hatter decided to welcome him discreetly into his home. He taught him to read, to understand the language of the kingdom, and to speak.

“What is your name?” asked the hatter one day.

“Scarecrow I think.”

"Scarecrow? It's noy a name? That would be like calling myself human. You need a real name."

"…Like what ?"

"I've been thinking for a while now, tell me, what do you think of 'Jonathan'?"

“Jonathan?”

“You don’t have to accept that name, of course.”

"No, no. I really like it. Thank you Jervis." Jonathan smiled.

“Your welcome, Dear Jonathan.” Jervis smiled in turn.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Not So Complicated

AN: Yes, I just realized that Robin and Steve didn't get the Family Video job until the Byers started to move, but this is an AU, so anything goes. . . I really couldn't help but write this. . .

He hated the idea of leaving Hawkins, just as much as Will did, but his mom wanted them to be safe, and it wasn't just that. They knew how Mom felt now that Hopper was gone, and Jonathan knew how hard it would be for her to stay. If they asked her, she would choose to stay for them, but in the process, she would be miserable. He had thought about Nancy. . .what if she died. . .would he be able to stay? Jonathan never wanted to find out. He hated leaving her, but it comforted him to know she was still alive. They had a month before they left, and Jonathan was determined to make the time he had left with Nancy count. It's how they ended up at Family Video. Movie night.

"Do you know what you want?" Nancy asked as they walked through the door, the bell ringing rather loudly.

"No, why don't you pick something out? I need to ask Steve something," Jonathan said.

"You're really going to ask for Steve’s number for Will?" Nancy asked in amusement.

"Why did you ask it like that?" Jonathan huffed. "I'm just going to talk to him."

"You know I know his number, and Dustin knows his number, so it's safe to say Will knows his number," Nancy said. "This is just an excuse. . .isn't it? You know, what? Why am I stopping this? I'm going to pick out a movie."

Steve had his back turned, his eyes on the computer screen. He hadn't even noticed that they had come in. Jonathan leaned on the counter and rang the bell. Steve sprang up immediately.

"Ahoy, ladies, I'm Steve Harrington, and I'll be your - !" He yelled, startling Jonathan. "Shit, Jonathan, you're not a lady."

"Last time that I checked," he said, laughing.

"Robin made a bet that I - you know what, it doesn't matter," Steve said, blushing. "It's a Scoops Ahoy thing."

"Yeah, I saw you in the outfit. Kind of wish I had gone to Scoops at least once to see you in action," Jonathan said. "Bet you really put it to work."

It was supposed to be a sarcastic comment, but Steve’s cheeks turned pink, and Jonathan suddenly wondered if he just accidentally flirted with him. Steve smiled softly as he gazed at him, and he was thrown for a moment. He always thought that Steve’s eyes were brown, but as he looked at them more closely, they weren't just brown. . .they were green, too. They reminded him of the forest.

"Something wrong?" Steve asked.

"Are your eyes hazel?" Jonathan blurted out.

"Last time I checked, yeah," he said in amusement.

"It's. . .nice. . .your vest really brings out the green. It reminds me of the forest. . .I like trees," Jonathan said.

I like trees? Did he suddenly turn into an idiot?

"I like trees too," Steve said, grinning.

"This is going to sound weird, but can I have your number?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Steve said in surprised and scribbled it quickly on a piece of paper. "Here."

"I know your name, and do you usually draw a heart over the I?" Jonathan asked.

"Only in special circumstances," Steve winked.

"I just - it's for Will, you know, in case he wants to check in," he said quickly.

"Sure, for Will," he said laughing.

"Why do you sound like you don't believe me?" Jonathan said.

"Because it sounds like you don't even believe it," Steve said as he leaned on the counter, getting closer to him and inflating his eyes.

"What - stop doing that with your eyes," he said.

"I'm not doing anything," he said innocently and stood up.

Suddenly, Nancy appeared beside Jonathan with a grin on her face. Jonathan jumped.

"I found a movie," Nancy said, and he stared at her. "Jonathan?"

"Yeah, that's great," he said, blinking rapidly.

"Is everything okay over here?" Nancy asked as she looked between the two.

"More than okay," Steve replied. "I see what you see in him, Nance. He's pretty adorable. If I were another girl, I'd be stealing him away from you."

"You're an idiot, Steve Harrington," Nancy said affectionately.

"Cute boys will make some people do stupid things," Steve said, batting his eyelashes rather obnoxiously, and Nancy giggled.

Just for a moment, Jonathan wanted Steve to steal him, but then, for another moment, he wanted Steve to steal Nancy, too. That was such a weird thought, and he was so focused on it that he didn't even notice that Nancy had dragged him outside. Did he just hit on Nancy's ex-boyfriend, and did Steve flirt with him back? No, that's crazy. Meanwhile. . .back in Family Video, Steve was leaning against the counter, watching the door rather intently.

"Well, any luck?" Robin asked as she came out of the back.

"Huh?" Steve asked, looking at her.

"Any luck meeting someone special?" She asked.

"Have you ever looked at someone for one moment and not see them, not really, but then this one small moment changes everything?" Steve asked her.

"Well, you know I always thought you were an asshole but clearly, you showed me," Robin said.

"Not like that," he said. "You know, romantically."

"Okay, so, a pretty girl walked in who you never thought was pretty before?" Robin asked.

Steve looked back at the door and thought about Jonathan. He thought about his dark brown eyes. . . The color of coffee and just like coffee, it woke something up inside of him.

"Yeah. . .he's very pretty," Steve said with a sigh.

"Alright, so, who is this girl?" Robin asked as she started putting away video tapes.

"Robin!" Steve exclaimed.

"What? Am I missing something?" She asked.

"I'm going to give you a minute," Steve said as he turned back to the computer.

Robin rolled her eyes before continuing to put away the tapes. Steve sighed and gave her a look. He crossed his arms and began tapping his foot. His best friend was still a genius, right? Robin gasped and dropped the tapes. She turned around and ran around the counter, grabbing him.

"Steven, did you say what I think you just said?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Steve said grinning.

"Did you mean what you said?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, okay, okay. . .what does this mean?" She asked.

Steve thought of Nancy's smiling face, her blue eyes, and the way she sounded when she called him an idiot. . .the way his heart still beat when she called him that.

"Well, I still like women so I don't know," he said.

"Hmm. . .well, can you tell me something you do know like. . .who is this guy you think is so pretty?" Robin said with a grin.

"You're going to flip," he said.

"Steve, this pancake has already flipped. Time to take it off the griddle," Robin said.

"Well, it's complicated. . ."

A month or so later, Jonathan didn't call Steve until after they had moved. It had been a lot of sleepless nights lost thinking of him, thinking of Nancy, and sometimes thinking of the both of them. After a long phone call with Nancy, he nervously called Steve.

"Hello?" Steve asked.

"Hey, it's Jonathan," he said.

"Hm, I thought my number was for Will," Steve said in amusement.

"It never was," Jonathan said.

"Knew it," Steve said.

"Don't get cocky or I'll hang up," he said.

"I'm not, just happily stating a fact," Steve replied.

"So, how are you?" Jonathan asked and winced at how awkward he sounded.

"Better now that you called," Steve said.

"Oh, well, I'm glad I can make your day better," Jonathan said, grinning.

"My parents are home. . .so, I'm really glad you called," Steve said.

"Are they really that bad?" Jonathan asked.

"Steven!" Jonathan could hear another man's voice on the other end of the line. "Are you making an appointment to get your hair cut? I swear, it's bad enough that my son is too much of a dumbass to get into college. Now I have to worry about him looking like a girl. It's like you want to embarrass this family. You should at least make an effort to look like a man if you can't be one."

"I'll make an appointment after this phone call, Dad," Steve said through gritted teeth. "It would be rude to hang up on this person."

"You better," he said. "Your mother is medicating again. She just had to listen to Sandra brag about her child going to Harvard. You don't want to disappoint your mother again. You remember what happened last time?"

There was a long stretch of silence, and then suddenly, he could hear Steve let out a breath.

"She did that because of you," Steve muttered.

"Jesus, Steve, are you okay?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm fine, I will be fine," Steve said. "I guess I'm going to have to make an appointment though."

"Don't cut your hair," Jonathan blurted out.

"What?"

"I mean, do you want to cut your hair?" He asked.

"Well, no," Steve said.

"Then don't. . .you look good. . .really good," Jonathan said softly.

"Okay. . .I won't. I look good, huh?" Steve asked.

Jonathan smiled at the tone of his voice, how much happier he sounded because of him. He never thought that he would have something like that in common with Steve Harrington, and he kind of hated that his dad was such an asshole but there was a part of Jonathan that felt a little less alone knowing that there was someone else who knew what it was like to have a father like that.

"Hey, so we're going to tell Nancy that we're. . . friends now, right?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Steve chuckled.

"It's good. . .that's good, but maybe we don't tell her that she was right about us getting a long," he said.

"Why? She's going to figure it out anyway. You know how she is. . .especially when she's right," Steve said.

"I know, I know. . .she just gets this twinkle in her eye. . .," Jonathan said.

"That's both obnoxious and beautiful at the same time?"

"Yeah. It makes you feel like you want to be wrong all the time," Jonathan said.

"Tell me about it," Steve said softly.

"Are you still . . . Never mind, forget I said anything," he said.

"Always, I think," Steve said, answering his incompleted question.

There was a heavy silence that followed. It said everything and nothing at the same time.

"I wish I was there," Jonathan said.

"Yeah, me too," Steve said softly.

They talked longer than they should have and didn't stop until Steve’s father practically yanked him off the phone. Jonathan had flopped on the bed after that, feeling everything come alive for him in that moment. He liked Steve, a lot more than he should, but he also still loved Nancy. . .what the hell? He hugged his pillow close to his chest and sighed.

"Hey, Jonathan," Will"s voice broke through his thoughts. "El wants to play a board game. Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," he replied.

"Are you okay?" Will asked. "Did you and Nancy have a fight?"

Jonathan sat up and looked at his brother. He wanted nothing more than to tell him. . .to tell Will that he wasn't alone, but he also didn't want to make him feel like he was pressuring him to tell him anything he wasn't ready for. Jonathan sighed, opened his mouth, and closed it again. He also wasn't quite ready yet to say it outloud. It's not that he didn't trust Will. . .he just wasn't ready yet because while he was quite aware of himself now, Jonathan hadn't really quite accepted it yet. He was feeling quite overwhelmed, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. There are just too many emotions swirling around in his head all at once. He just needed to breathe.

"Everything's perfect."

Days and weeks passed, and Jonathan and Steve were still in this dance that neither one would mention. Nancy now knew they were friends but had yet to see them flirt or notice the way they talked about each other. Nancy was happy to be a part of Steve’s life again, but she missed Jonathan, and she felt less alone in knowing that she wasn't the only one. Currently, Nancy was leaning against the counter, talking to Steve while Robin put away inventory.

"I don't know, Steve, I just feel like there's something he's keeping from me. Do you have any idea what it could be?" Nancy asked.

"No, and even if I did know, I'm not going to be the kind of friend who goes blabbing to the girlfriend," Steve said. "There's a code, Nance."

"What if I did this?" Nancy asked as she inflated her eyes and poked out her bottom lip.

"Those powers of yours don't work on me anymore," Steve said, lying.

"He just seems troubled about something," Nancy said with a sigh.

"Maybe it's the fact that he's miles away from you, and he doesn't know how to say just how much he misses you. You know Jonathan, he's better with the camera than he is with words," Steve said.

"Well, he hasn't actually picked up the camera in a while. Too busy smoking weed with his new friend Argyle," Nancy said.

"Maybe he needs to find a balance. Photography and spending time with Argyle," Steve said and tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

"Maybe he's just blocked creatively. . .that happens sometimes, right?" Robin asked..

Nancy huffed and rolled her eyes. Steve wasn't sure what it was, but Nancy seemed to have a problem with Robin.

"Maybe," Nancy begrudgingly agreed.

"Well, maybe I can talk to him and get him to talk to you. . .gently, you know?" Steve said. "But if he says he's not ready to talk about whatever ever is bothering him then - "

"I'll back off, I swear!" Nancy exclaimed and then paused. "You don't think maybe he doesn't love me anymore, do you?"

"What? No! That would be crazy! Our boyfriend's an idiot but he's not that stupid," Steve said.

"What did you just say?" Nancy asked.

"I said Jonathan's an idiot but he's not that stupid," Steve said.

"That's not what you said. You said: "Our boyfriend's an idiot," Nancy said.

"What? No, I didn't!" Steve exclaimed.

"Yes, you did!" Nancy yelled.

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"Robin, tell her," Steve said.

Robin froze like a deer in headlights as she cradled the tapes against her chest. She glanced at Nancy and then at Steve.

"You. . ." Robin started to say but looked at Steve for a moment, and her head snapped down to her watch free wrist. "Oh, would you look at the time. . .it's my lunch break!"

Robin dropped the tapes and ran right into the break room.

"See! You did say it!" Nancy asked.

"That doesn't prove anything! Robin is always squirrelly," Steve scoffed.

"You said it. I heard it. Robin heard it," Nancy smirked. "You called Jonathan our boyfriend."

"Hey, I mean, it's technically true. He's a boy, and he's my friend," Steve said, blushing. "You're never going to let me live this down. Are you?"

"Never," Nancy laughed.

Steve appreciated the fact that Nancy thought it was just a slip of the tongue. He wasn't ready to admit her about anything else his feelings for both her and Jonathan. How could he ever explain that? So, he let the bit go on for a while. . .up until the spring break from hell. Everything was perfect, Steve was on the cusp of revealing his feelings to both Jonathan and Nancy when shit hit the fan. He saved up money, working extra shifts, doing what his father asked of him, and then he was going to surprise Nancy with two plane tickets to Lenora. Of course, Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie got pinned for the murders, but the real culprit was a new monster from the Upside Down. . .or rather an old one. Now, here he was, in Max's kitchen, trying to fix his bandages and trying not to cry over the image of almost losing Nancy.

"Hey, man, you alright?" Eddie's voice startled him.

"Yeah, yeah, all good," Steve said, adjusting his bandages and wincing when he decided to pat his stomach.

"Clearly, seeing Wheeler like that shook you up," he said. "Maybe I was right before."

Eddie's words sprang into his head again, and they kept spinning around in there.

". . .unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. . ."

"You weren't wrong. . .about me anyway," Steve said. "I don't know about Nancy."

"She didn't waste a second going in there," Eddie said.

"That's just who she is," he said.

"Maybe, but Dustin told me about how she infiltrated the lab. . .stormed the gates of hell to get justice for her friend, Barb. . .she loved her, too. Maybe risking her neck out for people she doesn't know is something she does, but she's just as determined to do it for the people she loves. . .man, she's my new favorite superhero," Eddie grinned.

"Mine too," Steve blushed and paused. "It's complicated. . . She's still dating Jonathan Byers."

"So, he's all the way out in California, right? You're the one that's here," Eddie said, and Steve gave him a look. "Well, you're a better man than I am."

Steve glanced down at the hanky in his pocket. After his awakening and coming out to Robin, they had both been determined to find out any information they could find. They took off during Christmas break and traveled up to Indianapolis as well as Chicago. Steve smiled as he remembered the little bar in Chicago they had found, tucked away from everything else practically. This nice young woman who explained the hanky code to him before proceeding to make out with his best friend. It had been the best Christmas for the both of them.

"It's complicated because - " Steve started to say.

"Steve?" Nancy's voice spoke from the doorway.

Steve jumped, his heart practically leaping into his throat.

"Nancy? Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"I should be asking you that," Nancy said.

"I think it's safe to say that none of us are okay," Eddie replied.

"Are your bites hurting you?" Nancy asked, and he didn't say anything. "Steve?"

"Yeah, okay, they hurt like a bitch," Steve winced.

"We need to put some medicine on it and re bandage the wounds," Nancy said.

"I think I saw a first aid kit under the sink," Eddie said and bent down to retrieve it. "Here you go."

"Help me?" Nancy asked, and he nodded.

Steve shrugged off the vest and handed it Eddie. Nancy grinned at him and giggled.

"What?"

"I know who you reminded of in Eddie's vest," Nancy said. "Tom Cruise from the Outsiders minus the teeth, of course."

"Really. . .you know, I always thought Tom Cruise was hot in that," Steve said, and Eddie nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Yeah, me too, especially with the tattoo," Nancy said as she took off his bandages. "You should get a tattoo."

"Yeah, what would I get?" Steve asked. "Your name?"

"Oh, yeah, our boyfriend would love that," Nancy giggled.

"What?!" Eddie exclaimed, his eyes comically wide.

"It was slip of the tongue," Steve explained, and Eddie didn't ask any questions.

Nancy put the bandages on him, wrapping her arms around him as she did so. She stood on her tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"I think you and I both know that it stopped being a joke a long time ago," Nancy whispered, and it took everything in him not to shudder. "We're going to get out of this, Steve, and we're going to see our boyfriend again. Our boyfriend."

She made sure the road rash wounds were cleaned thoroughly before patching them up as well. She kissed his cheek, put the vest back on, and went off towards the bathroom. Steve leaned against the kitchen counter, wondering if she really meant that.

"It's complicated because I'm also in love with her boyfriend," Steve said.

"Shit! Okay, yeah, I didn't see that coming," Eddie said with wide eyes. "Wait, I know we've been through hell together, but why are you telling me this?"

"I thought that maybe you might be a little safer than others," he replied.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because, you know. . .do you really want me to say it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah!"

"You're, you know. . .the hanky," Steve whispered.

"You mean this one?" Eddie asked, pulling it out of his back pocket. "It's just something I wear because I saw another heavy metal guitarist wearing one just like it."

"Oh. . .oh, shit," Steve said, and then he laughed. "Sorry, man, I thought you were like me."

"Nah, those are just rumors," Eddie said, flashing his dimples. "I never tried to deny them, though. They hated it when I acted all flattered and not like it was an insult, which it isn't."

"Thanks, man," Steve smiled.

"So, when did you know that it wasn't just girls?" Eddie asked.

"One day, Nancy and Jonathan just walked into Family Video. . .I looked into his eyes, and I just knew. I realized then it wasn't just Jonathan that I noticed. I looked at guys and girls over the years, checking out every bit of them. . .with my eyes glancing at their lips and the way their clothes fit and wondering what's under them. . .what they look like and what they would feel like," Steve said. "It hit me all at once."

"Wait. . .does everyone not do that?" Eddie asked.

"Uh, no, dude, they most certainly do not," Steve said.

"Oh. . .OH!" Eddie exclaimed and paused. "So, it's not normal to be a little into ot when you kiss your guys friends?"

"Normal, yes. Straight? Hell no," Steve laughed and slapped his shoulder.

"They were fucking right," he breathed and paused again. "Oh shit, okay. . . I feel like half gay isn't the proper term. . ."

"Bisexual," Steve said. "Only if you prefer labels."

"Okay, okay," Eddie rubbed his face and pushed his bangs up.

"You okay over there?" Steve asked.

Eddie leaned against the counter, his whole body relaxing as he exhaled. He smiled.

"Yeah. . .so, are you going to tell them how you feel?" Eddie asked him.

"I don't know," Steve said. "I mean, I had plans before, you know, but everything is so messed up now. . ."

"If you don't take the chance now. . .you'll might not get another, especially with everything that's happening now," he said and sighed. "I had so many chances to get to know her. . .but I thought she was like every other popular person who hated me . . . Then she surprised me, and we had this one moment, then she was gone. Life is short, man. Don't let your insecurities get in the way."

"Yeah, that's true," Steve said. "You're pretty smart for a third time senior."

"Fuck off," Eddie said laughing. "You're pretty great for a jock. I was glad I was wrong that all jocks are the same. . . I think I'm starting to like being proven wrong."

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve said softly.

"Anything for my fellow bisexy," Eddie winked at him.

"No! No! Absolutely not!" Steve exclaimed and Eddie laughed.

It was that moment with Eddie, that moment in the Upside Down too, that Steve clung to after he died. His words echoed in his head after Max was put into a coma, and the Upside Down came to Hawkins. He held onto them even after all that and tried not to think about Nancy's face when he told her how he felt. He tried not to think about Dustin's face when he told them that Eddie had died. Steve tried to desperately cling to the hope that the metalhead had left him with, that Robin continued to drill into them. He tried not to think about Nancy's worried expression and the words that they would talk whenever they saw Jonathan again.

He showed up two days later when they were gathering donations for the 'earthquake' relief that they were holding at the high school. A yellow pizza van pulled up, squealing loudly. Will, El, a man with long hair, and Jonathan spilled out of the vehicle. Steve watched as Jonathan and Nancy ran toward each other, Jonathan twirling her around in his arms. Steve smiled softly, watching them for a moment. Before he knew it, Jonathan was grabbing him and pulling him into the hug. No one else was looking, too busy hugging each other. Everything else seemed to fade into nothingness for a moment, blurry shapes in the background as Steve pulled back to look at them.

"Our boyfriend's home," Nancy said softly.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"Slip of the tongue," Steve blushed.

"It was an accident then, but I think Jonathan needs to know if you mean it now," Nancy said.

"Do you mean it?" He asked Steve.

"Yes," he said. "Yeah, definitely. I love you. . .both of you."

Suddenly, Jonathan is crashing his lips to his. . .in front of everyone. Steve didn't care about that, though. All he cared about was the fact that Jonathan was kissing him, and Nancy was with them. . .in between them. He smirked as he kissed Jonathan back when Nancy let out a delightful gasp. Dustin shrieked.

"OH MY GOD!"

Steve quickly broke the kiss with Jonathan to look at everyone. They were all staring at him in shock. . .everyone except Robin and the man he assumed was Argyle. They were both grinning.

"What?" Steve asked. "I'm welcoming our boyfriend home."

"I thought that was just a joke!" Dustin exclaimed.

"It never was," Steve smirked. "Not really."

"Oh. . .and everyone involved is okay with this?" He asked.

"Well, I was the one who kissed him, so, yeah," Jonathan grinned.

"I'm definitely okay with this," Nancy said.

"I'm happy for all of you," Dustin said.

Dustin did look happy, but it killed Steve to see that there wasn't the same light in his eyes as before. It was tinged with sadness, and he could tell that Dustin was trying his hardest to be happy right now, but they were down a member, and it was difficult for him not to feel that. Steve pulled himself away from his partners and hugged Dustin tightly. The guy he had come to love like a brother was in so much pain right now, and he would give anything to fix it. Anything.

"Thanks, man," Steve said.

"I love you," he said. "You're my brother."

His heart clenched at those words. He loved hearing that but at the same time, they sounded so sad.

"I love you, too," Steve replied.

Steve pulled a way from the hug and ruffled Dustin's curls. He turned to find his partners being hugged by both their siblings. In this moment, his group of friends felt more like a family than his own parents ever did. They were going to face this thing together, and looking at them now, he felt like they could really accomplish something.

Two weeks later. . .

Steve’s vision was fading, the edges going dark as he tried to stay awake. He could feel his own blood in his hands. . .at his sides. . .just when his bites were starting to heal. He coughed, and now he could feel blood in his throat. Nancy and Jonathan were by his sides, crying.

"Stay with us, Steve! Please!" Nancy screamed.

"Steve!" Jonathan cried. "Come on, no, don't close your eyes!"

"Tired," Steve gasped.

Nancy was kissing him. Doesn't she care that she was going to get blood on her lips? Jonathan didn't either, apparently, because he kissed him too. Suddenly, he heard more footsteps. Joyce and Hopper's face swam above him, their faces pale blurry shapes.

"Let's get him in the van, hurry!" Hopper yelled.

Hands reached for him, and everything went dark. The last thing he saw was a large winged creature flying overhead. Did it have Eddie's face? Memories of his life swam before him. . .memories of playing with his nannies. . .meeting Tommy. . .joining the basketball team, the swim team, the baseball team. . .hoping each time his parents would be there to cheer him on. Then came the memories of meeting Nancy, falling for her, and the dreaded memories that came after. Her smile and her voice called to him like a beacon along with Jonathan's. He remembered getting to know Dustin, getting to Robin, and realizing that there's more love in this world than just romantic love. . .he wasn't alone anymore. He had a family. The kids and everyone else. Suddenly, he was standing in a forest. . .a mixture of green and brown swirled around him. Nancy and Jonathan stood holding hands in a clearing.

"I like trees," Jonathan whispered, his voice echoing in the empty forest.

A demogorgon stood behind them, and Steve started running towards them, trying to call out. He wasn't moving, though, and he couldn't speak either. Just as the demogorgon jumped on them, Steve woke up. A bright light overhead nearly blinded him, and suddenly, people surrounded him and pulled something out of his throat. Oh, he was in a hospital. . .hopefully. He glanced at the doctor trying to talk to him, but everything turned black again. When he woke up, he was a little more alert this time. His eyes landed on two people in the corner of the room. Eddie and Chrissy?

"Oh god, am I dead?" Steve asked.

Eddie laughed, and Chrissy giggled into his shoulder.

"No, you're very much alive," Eddie said.

"Then what the fuck?" Steve asked.

Dustin appeared at Eddie's side and into Steve’s view. He launched into the story of how Eddie (now a vampire) and Vecna's victims (who weren't actually dead) had helped El save the day. The gates were closed, and Vecna was no more. Steve hung onto every word, smiling at the light, though a little dim, was now back in Dustin's eyes. When Dustin finished telling him, he burst into tears and threw himself into Steve’s neck. Steve groaned.

"Careful, Dustin," Eddie said.

"No, man. It's alright, worth it," Steve smiled and carefully wrapped an arm around his brother.

After Dustin finished crying, he pulled back and wiped his eyes. Eddie patted him on the back.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dustin sniffled, and then he gasped. "Oh, shit! I need to tell Nancy and Jonathan! They've been back and forth between your room and Max's room. She's awake, by the way! I'm going to go get them!"

Dustin paused for a moment as if he was thinking about staying before shaking his head and rushing out of the room.

"He's never going to leave our side, man," Eddie said. "Not that I'm complaining."

"It's cute. He's happy you guys are alive," Chrissy said.

Steve grinned and laughed when he saw the markings on Eddie's neck.

"Is that a hickey, Eddie?" Steve said teasingly.

"I did that!" Chrissy said proudly.

"She went after me harder than the bats did," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"I can't help it if you're so yummy," Chrissy said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him to her.

Eddie moved his arm behind her and tugged her closer, brushing his nose with hers. Chrissy giggled softly.

"Not as yummy as you are," Eddie said and paused. "Wait, is that still cute to say coming from a vampire?"

"Yes," Chrissy laughed.

The door burst open. Nancy and Jonathan came running in, breathing heavily. Nancy burst into tears and threw herself at him, climbing in beside him. Steve groaned again and laughed, wrapping an arm around her. Nancy pulled back a little.

"Oh! Did I hurt you?" Nancy asked.

"A little, so worth it," Steve said.

Nancy laughed. She began kissing his face all over, and finally, she landed on his lips, kissing him deeply. Steve smiled even though he could taste her salty tears on his lips. Nancy broke the kiss, letting Jonathan in to do the same, his own tears intermingling with Nancy's.

"We love you," Jonathan said softly.

"Love you too," Steve said weakly and cleared his throat.

"You're an asshole, though. That demogorgon was coming for me," Jonathan said.

"Cute boys make people do stupid things," Steve replied. "You're so worth it."

Jonathan started crying again and kissed him, running his fingers through his hair.

"Uh, we're just going to go and give you a few moments," Eddie said with a grin. "Glad you're alive, Steve."

Steve peered over Jonathan's shoulder to match Eddie's grin. He walked out the door with Chrissy. Clearly, they were going to make out or judging by the way that Chrissy pinched Eddie's ass on the way out, they were going to fuck. Steve smiled and buried his head into Nancy's hair.

"You know, I think there's room enough for you too," Steve said to Jonathan.

"I'm not risking pulling on anything," he said, and Steve laughed.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and plopped down in the chair next to Steve’s bed. He took his hand hand in his before taking Nancy's other one.

"It's okay, Jonathan's new bed is big enough for both of us," Nancy said.

Steve opened his mouth to say something when the door burst open, and Robin came running in with Vickie. Dustin was breathing heavily behind them.

"I tried - I tried to stop her," Dustin gasped.

"You're awake! You have no idea how scared I was. The thought that I would never see my best friend again. . . You are a sacrificial idiot! How many times do we have to go through this? You're important, too!" Robin yelled and burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," Steve said softly.

Jonathan moved out of the way and let Robin hug Steve carefully. Robin pulled back to stand at the edge of the bed with Vickie.

"You're not allowed to do that again," Robin sniffled and then paused. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No, you're good," Jonathan said.

Steve looked at the shirt Robin was wearing and then at Vickie. He tried to hide the knowing smile on his face, but apparently, it was pretty evident.

"Oh my God! He knows!" Vickie blurted out with wide eyes. "Although, I don't think I really care that he knows, unless you do, of course, Robin. How does he know, though?"

"He knows about me, and now they know about me. . .I think. Did I tell you guys or just think about telling you guys?" Robin asked, pointing to Nancy and Jonathan. "Do you really not care if they know about us?"

"If you trust them, so do I," Vickie said. "Besides, if they can keep something like this a secret then anything is possible."

"Wait, how did you know about me and Vickie?" Robin asked.

"Well, first off, you're wearing a pink shirt that's definitely not yours, and Vickie's wearing the shirt that I let you borrow that you never gave back," Steve said.

Vickie and Robin looked down, cursing when they saw he was right.

"Is that what you were doing in the on call room? Switching shirts?" Dustin asked.

"No, buddy. We were not," Robin said, slapping his shoulder. "We're dating."

"OH! Is that why you wouldn't date Steve?" Dustin asked.

"Hi, I'm Robin Buckley, permanent resident in the lesbian department," she said, wiggling her fingers at him.

"Nancy, you told me Steve and Robin had dated!" Jonathan exclaimed.

"I thought they had!" Nancy exclaimed defensively. "I know now that they are strictly platonic."

"Wait, were you both jealous of Robin?" Steve asked, and they blushed. "Well, that's cute."

"It's okay, I was jealous of Steve at one point," Vickie said.

"You were?" Robin asked.

"I had this whole plan where I would send back Fast Times to Family Video, hoping Robin would somehow notice that I had paused it at a specific moment, letting her know that I liked women. Of course, I overhead Steve and Robin talking their relationship to the next level. . .they wanted to get married! I didn't know they were talking platonically. Without even thinking, I got back together with Dan. Even though he was an asshole, he's still a person with feelings, you know. . .I can't believe it, but as it turns out, he was using me too. . .so, no hard feelings, I guess. My head was just spinning. . .you make my head spin," Vickie sighed. "I'll stop talking. . ."

"Don't you dare, I could listen to you talk forever," Robin said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Vickie squealed, stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Robin's neck, and kissed her deeply. Robin sighed against her mouth, smiling into the kiss. Dustin grinned as he moved past them to stand on the other side of Steve’s bed.

"They are so cute," Dustin said. "Hey, I saw Eddie and Chrissy go into the on call room. . .you think they're going to "switch shirts" too?"

"Definitely," Steve snorted.

"I don't think so, I saw Argyle and Eden go in there after them," Vickie said, breaking her kiss with Robin for a moment before continuing.

"Eden?" Steve asked.

"Suzie's sister. Suzie and her family came down to help when they heard about the earthquake," Dustin said. "OH! I should bring her here to meet you! She's been dying to. . . Wait, hold on, you don't think that they're all switching shirts in there?"

"Argyle is a very. . .loveable person, and he doesn't deny it either," Jonathan laughed. "I wouldn't put it past him. Eddie is his type."

"How would that even work. . .those beds are very small. . .WAIT, WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT THIS?" Dustin yelled. "Eddie's my brother! Gah! SUZIE!"

They all laughed as they watched him storm out of the room. Vickie and Robin had finally broken the kiss. Robin's arms were wrapped around her waist, supporting her on her tiptoes, as Vickie trailed her fingers up Robin's arms. They beamed at each other.

"I think we're going to find another room," Robin said. "Glad you're alive, Steve!"

She took Vickie's hand, and they left the hospital room, giggling. Steve smiled after they left, staring at the doorway they left through. Everything was falling into place for everyone. . .including Steve. . .he could believe it. . . They had won. He looked at Nancy and Jonathan. Nancy's eyes twinkled as though she guessed what he was thinking.

"Can you believe we're here now?" Nancy asked.

"No," Steve said. "But also, yes."

"You know, this could have been the solution to our problem back then," Jonathan said.

"Don't dwell on that," Nancy said.

"We're here now," Steve said.

"We just - made things so complicated," Jonathan said.

"Well, they're not complicated now, and we have all the time in the world," Nancy said. "We have more time."

"Yeah," Jonathan grinned.

Steve laughed. He doesn't know why he was laughing, but it suddenly bursts out of him. He was so deliriously happy.

"Steve?"

"Everything's. . .perfect."

[soli-nepenthe]

A Rafayel/MC/Sylus triangle fic idea:

set in the Victorian era/fin de siècle/Dracula-inspired AU

where Rafayel is an opera darling, a sensation across W. Europe; madly in love with MC (secretly a Lemurian)

MC is part of a hunter society -- a precursor to the Hunter's Association -- the Van Helsing society (?), forms a strong attachment to Rafayel but as yet not engaged...

MC investigates supernatural phenomena in an unknown region known for its forests, mists, and medieval castles...(like the one described in Midnight Warmth)

MC is saved and begins a tenuous connection with the mysterious Graf Sylus (secretly a Vampire or other supernatural creature)

After a lengthy delay in her mission, MC finally returns to the City of Lights altered from her experience which worries Rafayel all the more...

IN SUMMARY: The Gothic romantic potential that is Rafayel/MC/Sylus....⚘

(*probably more Dracula-esque than intended but preferably MC doesn't undergo the same mind break as what happened to Jonathan...)

[see-arcane]

Blood of My Blood: The Law's Delay

Shout out to @ibrithir-was-here for putting up with my never-ending goal of overfilling the glorious Blood of My Blood AU with my ramblings and extra shout out to @everchangingfungusthoughts and @animate-mush for tripping me down the slope of Writing Another Text Brick. Specifically via this whole thing.

Summary: Jonathan Harker, now fifteen years deep into his life at Castle Dracula, finds himself the unwilling guest of yet another frightful host and his company. Talk and violence and time tick by.

The sun sinks low.

The dead travel fast.

And a vital Lesson is taught regarding the Law of the land.

Warnings for graphic violence, suicide, and murder.

Jonathan’s head ached.

Partly from the agonized spot at the back of his skull where the cudgel had struck. Mostly from the state of his current company.

They were nomads, he knew, but not Dracula’s men. This lot were too fresh for that. In fact, some wore tailoring that the locals weren’t accustomed to apart from tourists and the occasional city dweller passing through. He wouldn’t bet money on how many were ‘donated’ from past victims and how many were afforded through helping themselves to said victims’ purses and personal cheques. They were a dapper group, whichever the case.

From what he picked up while feigning unconsciousness, there was someone missing from their assembly. Someone’s…paramour? Wife? A young woman close to the presumed leader. Some grousing about superstitious idiots. Counter-grousing about precaution and history and how somebody’s cousin’s friend was slaughtered by the ‘superstitions.’ A third sect was grumbling about how thin Jonathan’s pockets were for a supposed noble, monster or not.

“A half-full purse and a few strips of dried pork don’t particularly line up with your theory, Jacob.”

“Props, idiot. Would some common huntsman be wearing what he wears? Would he have these?”

Jonathan heard the heavy jingle of his set of the castle’s keys. They had taken the ring of them from its chain among a handful of other lightweight treasures. All that and his wedding ring. That would cost them.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Because all the revenants who run a swatch of the Carpathians’ government are surely wandering around with frightful things like jerky and house keys.”

“Are you blind? Do these look like house keys? Half of them look older than the mountains!”

“Well, perhaps that is the ‘prop’ of his property, eh? A fancy set of keys made to look old. They certainly haven’t any rust. It wouldn’t be a terrible gimmick these days. Everyone is a fiend for the local bogeyman or a good haunting. I would do tours with my own castle, dribble a little red sauce on my lip, charge a fee for the thrill and the courtesy of not killing anyone on the way out.”

“You talk like it’s a joke. This, when I was raised in these godforsaken crags, and my own neighbor lost their newborn and its mother in the same night! The father blew his brains out when he found what was left of them in the forest. His forest.” The words were hissed in Jonathan’s direction. “God! If we had known how easy it was to take him by daylight!”

There was a snort. The leader’s voice. Sour.

“You say ‘we’ like you weren’t still in nappies, Jake. Like the castle in question isn’t a fortress on a cliff in the dead center of the mountains, all covered with wolves and your frightful bloodsuckers. What would Mama and Papa do if they knew better back then? March all the way up with the neighborhood and hope they made it in time before sunset? That’s assuming the advised tools of the trade actually mean anything against the bastard in question. If he’s as old as legends claim, throwing himself through a hundred wars’ meat grinders with his head and heart and all his other giblets getting minced, with him still standing after it, who’s to say an axe and stake are enough?”

A kick was delivered to the chair Jonathan sat bound to.

“Assuming this piece of work is said bastard.” Spoken with equal parts resignation and frustration. “I’ll grant he looked a bit off in broad daylight. Sure as hell would pass for a cadaver. But if this is the man who had your slovenly little villages soiling themselves after dark, I’m not impressed.”

Snickers from most of the room. A few grimmer sounds from the believers.

“If you don’t believe us, then—,”

“I believe in precaution, Jake. There are strange things in the world. If we want to believe that talking pile of dust, Vordenberg, who I’ll admit was a museum exhibit in his own right, we had us a near miss back in Gratz. So, fine. We finish this in the fashion of the locals. We can even set the pieces on fire if it makes you happy. Not the point. The point is—,”

A hand caught in Jonathan’s hair and wrenched his bowed head up, making the back of his skull throb anew.

“—we know Katrina was seen with you last, you ghoul.”

Jonathan opened his eyes. It had a noticeably sobering effect on much of the room. His host even eased his hold enough to stop trying to rip Jonathan’s hair out. A glance was spared for the assembled party. Easier now that he wasn’t doing it through his lashes. They really were a well-dressed bunch. One of them even wore the silver watch taken from Jonathan’s pocket quite well, though it clashed somewhat with the dagger he was fiddling with. He’d sprung for a handle with a gold hilt.

“Well?” He received a last yank before the man flung his head against the back of the chair. “Where is she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name. Could you describe her?”

“Oh, I doubt if she would give her real one out to anyone. But we know you know her, Count.”

Jonathan felt the headache blossoming into a migraine.

“Count?”

“Dracula,” the one called Jacob grated out. He stood close to the table with his hand near the aforementioned tools of the trade. A wood axe. A sharpened garden stake and a sledgehammer. Matches. But he, like the rest of his friends, was content to leave his other hand resting on the pistol at his hip. “Don’t think you can throw your word games around here, you leech. You are not boyar here. You are not even a monster by daylight. Just a man—,”

“A man I am talking to, Jake,” from the leader. He turned back to Jonathan. “You see we have some bias in the retinue. Now, Jake and his cadre believe you are, in fact, the same awful old man who likely played out his Báthory fantasies by killing off a few local rustics for kicks once upon a time. Same white hair, same carcass complexion, and some properly unhealthy-looking windows of the soul. As an aside, you have the same body heat as a slab from the butcher. If you had a chance of living beyond today, I might have recommended you see a doctor about your circulation.

“Because I, like the bulk of the room, am of the belief that you are Count Dracula in the sense that the original Count and some Countess loved each other very much and managed to squat your malformed self out into the world before croaking. And, before departing, father dearest passed on the family tradition of idly killing off whoever was convenient as a little hobby. Am I near enough?”

Jonathan said nothing. Chiefly because he was fighting a wave of nausea, but also because it allowed him to keep his gaze steady. The westward window was visible over his host’s shoulder.

“I asked you a question.”

“I will answer if you tell me how you possibly concluded that a middle-aged man walking in the woods was a nobleman.”

To his surprise, the man revealed his evidence: the tarnished gold clasp of a dragon sitting against a garnet setting. This would also cost them.

“Hard to imagine the average hiker idling around in that corner of the wilds with this particular emblem on his coat.”

“That’s true,” Jonathan nodded. “I am not a hiker or a hunter any more than I’m a count. I am only the castle’s retainer.”

“Ah, well. That’s different. We are men of the people, sir, and we take pride in doing our fellow servile class the courtesy of a quick death. It’s only the aristos and nouveau riche who get the extra effort. Them and bleached out old bastards who go around taking what’s ours. What’s mine.” Jonathan watched the man slide a handsome pearl-handled blade from his pocket. It had a very fine edge. “Case in point, a certain young lady, of the flaxen and doe-eyed variety, being spotted in town with an older man of very unique description, not two days ago. Who she left with in his goddamn caleche.”

The blade came down in a gleaming arc. It sank cleanly into Jonathan’s left shoulder. Jonathan screamed at this and at the blade being flicked out. The steel was wiped clean on his sleeve.

“It should go without saying,” the leader said over Jonathan’s noise, steadily dwindling into hard breaths behind his teeth, “that the locals have a few choice theories about just who and what the man driving those horses is. Human? Dead? Dracula or one of his cohorts? Anyone who’d know for certain is either underground or a living antique themselves. Oh. But they did point out you seemed polite enough, according to most. Not someone anyone is eager to shake hands with, but fair. If you are the old devil of before, the younger generation are relieved you’ve gone mellow with the new century. Well done on the new leaf.”

“They were lying,” Jacob intoned, the picture of exasperation. “We all used to lie about him! He had eyes and ears everywhere! You didn’t mention him aloud unless you wanted to wake up to your child missing or you yourself being drunk dry or taken apart! I’m telling you, Katrina is already gone or worse!” His hand clutched eagerly at the whittled garden stake. “Let us be done with this, Anthony.” 

Anthony gave his blade another cleaning swipe. He opened his mouth—

“The stake is wrong.”

—and closed it. He and the others peered down at Jonathan as he righted himself against the chair. The migraine was marching in circles around his head now, lighting fireworks and banging pans. At least his shoulder was a small distraction.

“Say again?”

“The stake. You haven’t finished the end of it. If you don’t burn the point down, harden it, the wood will just splinter if you don’t get it in one blow. One of you took the flint lighter from my coat, yes? Use that and save yourself the matches.”

The room looked owlishly at him. Jacob and his small band especially. Awkwardly, one of the latter fished out the stolen lighter and began cooking the point with its steady flame.

“See that? He’s already feeling accommodating.” Anthony clapped his palm with heavy chumminess against the wounded shoulder. Jonathan winced appropriately, stealing another squinting glance at the window. “Care to keep in this giving mood, or would you like me to even things out?” The blade pointed airily at Jonathan’s right shoulder.

“No need. I said before, I do not know anyone named Katrina. But I did give a ride to a young woman two days ago. Not ‘flaxen,’ though. Her hair was red.”

Anthony abruptly straightened. The blade twisted and fidgeted in his fingers.

“Red,” under Anthony’s breath. His brow furrowed. “She took the wig too?” There was a low murmur from the less vampirically-invested portion of the group, of that specific tone that declares ‘I told you so’ by vowels alone. Anthony whirled on these members like a viper. Several mouths snapped shut. “Did you lot have something you wished to share? Hmm? I’m all ears.”

Interest increased in the state of each other’s shoes, the floor, the lovely view of the mountains, and the progress of the stake. It was now neatly blackened and free of loose slivers. Jacob stood by with it, toying with it as Anthony had his knife. He kept trying and failing to meet Jonathan’s gaze.

“Ah,” Anthony grinned mirthlessly, “that’s what I thought you said.” The blade flashed. “Now, Count, Retainer, Whoever or Whatever, while you are being forthcoming, is she alive or dead? I confess I might be just as happy with one or the other at this point, so no need to fret over a lie.”

“She was alive the last time I saw her. I dropped her off outside Bistritz,” Jonathan said, clearly recalling turning the horses toward Bukovina. He winced again as Anthony laid a hand on the bleeding shoulder, driving his thumb against the wound as he leaned.

“And? How did the bitch pay for her ride? Did you introduce her to necrophilia or did she just throw my money at you?”

“Neither. I am a married man and you can tell I had no bank vault in my pockets. In any case, I must assume whatever she took from you was fair recompense.” Jonathan felt a shift come through him. The old cold tilt that made him lean three-quarters of the way out of humanity and into something else. Whatever it was that lit his eyes and froze the air around him. That made the entire room shift an unconscious inch back. “Considering the state of her face.”

Anthony’s own countenance squirmed between aggravation, anger, and a surreal flash of embarrassment. As if leaving the girl’s face mottled with patches in shades of plum and charcoal was the equivalent of friends overhearing a marital spat in the next room. The man’s lip curled, making the well-trimmed whiskers twitch.

“Do forgive me if my decorum isn’t up to your standards, sir. I tend to get a touch irate when the thankless sow I’ve been bedding not only comes within inches of blowing our cover over some brat who went and poked his head out at the wrong time, but has the gall to try and resign after a few threadbare months. As if I didn’t scrape the little strumpet out of the gutter with my own hands.” A storm roiled in the man’s face. “Had a whole life of gold ahead of her, getting to play out her idiot actress dreams, and she thanks us by taking off with three hotels’ worth of work. Over a goddamn toddler. But that is the way with women, isn’t it? Always falling apart over a babe.”

“Men as well, in my experience,” Jonathan hummed. His line of sight drifted back to Jacob, whose attention was now firmly split between Jonathan and the view from the west window. Even halfway through spring, the sunsets did still tend to rush in the mountains. Shadows were already starting to stretch.

“Personal experience?” Anthony asked with an appraising glance that saw value in the negatives with Jonathan’s mien. “Is there a little Dracula pup crawling around nursing on the countryside?”

“Oh, no. He’s grown out of crawling. Apart from roaming along the castle walls, when he wants to surprise me. There’s no getting away with it with his mother.” Jonathan swallowed a bitter lump, knowing it had to be heard aloud, “Or his father.” Jacob was looking at him now. This time Jonathan held his eyes as they grew an increment wider. A slight dew of sweat had formed on the young man’s brow. “I only know where they are half the time. But they can always find me.”

Anthony barked an acidic note that tried to be a laugh.

“Is this the part where you tell us you’ll be missed? That there’s some cavalry who will come seeking vengeance? Please spare yourself the storytelling. If you were anything other than a relic living off a skeleton staff you wouldn’t be driving your own horses or puttering around by your lonesome. Really, what we’re doing here is a public good. What’s the loss of one more parasite riding into the twilight of peerage’s relevance?”

“Regrettably, he has thought ahead on that,” Jonathan admitted. “The gold he’s already sitting on is kept partly for emergency seed money, but mostly as a memento. He’s been on top of the capitalistic pulse since 1652 going by the oldest records. Given another decade, I believe he’ll be a magnate in a dozen industries from here to the United Kingdom.” A genuine moue puckered his face. “He calls it investing in the live-stock. No, I didn’t think it was funny either.”

This he addressed to Jacob.

Jacob, who had to set the stake down because his hand was shaking.

Jacob, who had been keeping watch of him and the window and seen how blandly Jonathan greeted the approaching dusk.

Jacob, who had finally taken a closer look at what Jonathan wore under his coat. His coat, worn because he was always cold—a chill that he truly felt. Covering an ensemble of boots, long sleeves, and a high collar. In mid-April. 

“…You still have time,” Jonathan told him gently. “If you had your childhood here, you know there’s time. You still wear your crucifix, yes?” Jacob flicked his gaze up to Jonathan’s. His whole face seemed to shine with perspiration. He did not know what was wrong yet, what piece was missing, but he scented something. “Do you? Any of you?”

Jacob nodded jerkily. The men behind him did likewise. Some fidgeted at their shirts.

“That’s good. It sickens them, did you know? Stings them away from the throat.” Jonathan smiled for him. A sad curl. “Hold it out before you if you like.” He tipped up his chin. Just above the shirt collar was a glimpse of sickish color against the maggot-white skin. Something worse than a bruise. “You can check. Or ask one of your friends. But it does help to know for certain. To have it confirmed.” The smile grew worse in its apology. “There have been no vampire attacks in Transylvania for the past fifteen years. The youngest around here take it all as local legends. Parents’ and grandparents’ fairy tales. Because they grew up without knowing what you do. Without realizing why people stopped disappearing after dark when Count Dracula still rules here. When there are still sharp mouths to feed up in his mountains.”

Jacob gawped openly now. He looked strangely like the boy he might have been fifteen years ago, hearing his neighbors whisper and moan about the latest loss in the night. Fifteen years ago, when a foolish young Englishman had come to Castle Dracula, and everyone had known. No one had seen him again…supposing one belonged to a family who had moved away at last, daring their monstrous master’s ire to save their son.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what is this? Are we playing theatre now?” Anthony and his handful of fellow eye-rollers looked between Jonathan and Jacob as if expecting to spot some invisible party holding up script cards for them. “Jake, if you want to play at slaying the vampire, you are welcome to it. Get your stick and your hammer and have at it. Erik, take the axe.” He waved his blade like an impatient conductor with his baton. “Well?”

Jacob moved forward without the stake. His crucifix was held out as far as the cord would allow.

Then he hooked Jonathan’s shirt collar and pulled it open.

Jonathan hadn’t been able to get a good look at the full state of himself in some while. Occasionally he might steal a glance in a mirror for sale or a clean shop window in town. There was rarely anything good to see as far as his development went. Age was not weathering him the way it would an ordinary man. What should have become the easy creasing of crow’s feet and smile lines had given way to something sunken and grey. More than a few children had come to nickname him ‘Herr Geist’ when he passed through. On one occasion, he’d been approached by an American claiming to be a talent scout for a circus who thought Jonathan could easily bill as, The Walking Corpse.

But that was all just the effect of his face. He hadn’t seen his throat or a clear view of his shoulders in years; the real estate with the greatest number of visits for fifteen years. It had to be at least twice as unpleasant a sight as his forearms, pocked by only one hungry mouth’s nursing. To judge by the shudder of revulsion that jolted the entire room back on its heels, his neck was apparently quite the visual.

To judge by Jacob’s expression, the discolored map of ruined skin and old punctures was his own obituary in all capitals. Nor was it a very peaceful end it spelled out. His eyes rolled up to Jonathan’s like wet marbles. Jonathan could no longer maintain his smile, however somber. There was only condolence in the look.

“I told you. I am Castle Dracula’s retainer. At least, in the sense of a retaining wall. I have played the role of its inhabitants’ personal bloodletting pantry for a quarter of a century. Which would be cause enough to worry. But I am also a married man and that is worse.”

Jacob wobbled on his feet like a sapling in a high breeze. He almost fell over with a cry when the first thunderclap boomed over the cabin’s roof. A horrified look shot to the westward window. Sunset was less than a jagged slit across the mountaintops, already erased in the smear of a rushing storm. Lightning drew livid eyes in the clouds.

“I am sorry. You might have had a chance if you hadn’t been cautious,” Jonathan went on. “There would have been a coin toss if you had simply shot me dead in the forest. I fear I am testing everyone’s patience in that household by keeping to my contract against turning until the twenty-year mark. Special occasion and all that. But if you had gone with a bullet or a slit throat, that would mean that I would be undead by sundown. You would still be slain for trespassing on private property,” he gestured to himself as best he could with his bound hands, “but it would have been tidier. They might even be grateful for ripping off the plaster and booting me over the threshold. A mere snapped neck apiece.  

“Unfortunately, I saw your tools of the trade. I heard your plans for ‘destroying the vampire,’ or the madman playing pretend as such. Heart staked, head removed, burn the body. All very thorough. But because I saw and heard these things, they saw and heard these things. Just as they know your faces now.”

Thunder snarled again. An explosive sound joined with a noon-bright flicker of lightning. Wolves sang a violent song. Close.

Jacob’s friends within the gang were talking in frantic tones to each other. The rationalists of Anthony’s side of the room seemed a touch less comfortable where they stood, grasping at their holsters. Anthony himself looked as if he was waiting to wake from a particularly confusing dream.

Jacob’s eyes were running. Pleading. A man only five short years past being a boy.

Jonathan still could not hold a smile for him, but he spoke in the tone he had for Quincey the time he’d came across a bat with a half-broken neck in the forest. Wings smashed, head cracked open, it had been alive in the worst way. Quincey had been thirteen then, considering himself practically a skip away from adulthood. He had still gone to his Papa, eyes dewy with blood trying not to spill, asking please…please…

Jonathan thought back to how his son had hidden in his coat sleeve while he ended the creature’s pain with a brisk twist.

It was quick, you see? It won’t hurt anymore now, shh, it’s alright, son.

“It’s alright,” he said in the present. “You still have time.” Not much. A few minutes at most. But still, “You’ll be safe from it. From all of it.”

Jacob nodded with a twitch. A puppet on a caught string. His hand trembled as it held up the crucifix again.

“…May I keep this? After?” Jonathan nodded. “Thank you.”

Jacob kissed the Cross and tucked it under his shirt.

“Jake, I swear to God, if you don’t drop this act, I will—,”

Bang.

The sound was almost lost in another thunderclap. Not so for the sound of Jacob’s corpse hitting the floor, the new tunnel in his head oozing a scarlet pond out from under his skull. There was a moment of quiet.

Then the wolves bayed again.

The men bayed too. Curses and questions of equal inanity whirled around the room.

Bang.

The sound of Anthony’s own pistol firing a hole through the ceiling.

“Shut. Up. Every one of you, bite your idiot tongues.” The barrel swung to point at Jonathan’s temple. “He says he has people on the way? He says they’re vampires or werewolves or the Four Horsemen a-riding? Then it would perhaps behoove us to think rather than squeal like women over this,” his shoe struck Jacob’s corpse, “fool’s choice of exit. Coward.” He snapped his fingers at the room. “Come on! Block the windows, set up arms! Move!”

And so they moved. Some men scrambled and shouldered into each other trying to cover the windows. Chairs were broken into pieces for stakes. Guns were unpacked and loaded. Erik held the axe as if his hands were welded to it. Anthony, meanwhile, took one of the unbroken chairs for himself and perched at Jonathan’s side. Something between supreme irritation and a baffled sort of wonder shaped his face.

“I do have to give you credit if this is all improvisation on your part. You should have been booked at the Grand Guignol instead of rotting up here.”

Jonathan watched Erik begin to pace, gripping the axe as though it doubled for a shield.

“That or one of those hypnotist acts. Jake was always a nervous one. An easy mark, ironically enough.”

Jonathan’s peripheral caught on Erik’s figure as he came to a stop by the door. There was no peephole to spy through, yet he inclined his head toward it. His ear was cocked as if listening for something under the thunder and wolves.

“But supposing this amounts to something more than an act, I admit I’m curious to see what these things are supposed to be like outside the pulp on the bookshelves or clogging up the stage. Everyone has their opinion on them these days.”

Erik first frowned, then nodded at the bolted door. The anxious creases of his face began to smooth. A smile tugged his lips up as the axe lowered.

“Are they the same kind of horror show as you?”

“Usually quite the opposite,” Jonathan allowed. “But that is by choice. They make some rather impressive exceptions when the occasion calls for it.”

Erik set the axe down. His freed hands moved the wooden bolt aside and reached for the key on its hook. This didn’t go unnoticed. The nearest man, one of Jacob’s friends, jolted toward him.

“Erik, what the hell are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” Erik spoke over him in a dreaming lilt. “The girl outside. Lovely voice.” He turned the key in the lock. “She and her brother got lost in the storm.” He turned the knob. “Wouldn’t be right to leave them out th—,”

Bang.

Erik dropped like a felled tree. Jacob’s friend whirled on the rest of the room, his gun and free hand up. He had his crucifix worn outside his shirt now.

“I had to! You know I had to! Jacob and old Vordenberg laid it out, didn’t they? You invite the things in and it’s all over!” He pointed at the door with the new stain on its timber. “One of them is out there right now, trying to worm into our heads, so we’ll let it over the threshold.”

As every eye nailed itself to the man and the door and the second corpse within five minutes, no one paid attention to the fireplace. They had not lit it, having opted solely for lamps. Chimney smoke would give away their location to anyone happening by the area.

Only Jonathan stared at the open stone mouth of the hearth. Watching what crawled out. Watching it watch him.

Anthony swatted Jonathan in his bad shoulder. He looked up and realized he’d been asked a question.

“Pardon?”

“Is he. Telling. The truth. Or did Erik lose his brains over nothing?”

“A vampire cannot cross the threshold of someone’s home without invitation. I think, at a stretch, you could call this temporary base of yours ‘home.’ Strict definition is tricky for travelers. But if you declare this place yours—,”

“We do,” insisted half the room in unison.

“We do,” Anthony echoed, somewhat dryly. “Our lovely domicile, this. And we are strictly against welcoming any visitors tonight.”

“Understandable. But there’s still the trouble of this afternoon. It’s hard to be more insistent about an invitation than resorting to abduction.”

“And? What of it?”

The fireplace continued to purge its contents out and out and out. Cooling the room like a thin and steady gust. Heads finally began to turn as gooseflesh spread and the sight became unignorable: A thick mist had been pouring into the room since Erik’s brains splattered on the door.

“You thought I was Count Dracula. Whether I was him or not, he was the man you wanted here.” Jonathan looked Anthony in the eye. He was not surprised at what he found there as it squirmed and sweated. “I’m afraid you invited him in two hours ago.”

The lamps guttered. One snuffed. Then its neighbor. A third, a fourth. Voices raised in tandem with the weapons.

“Light them!” came the universal cry. “Turn them back up, come on!”

But the room blackened and blackened until it came down to one canny fellow who’d dived for a lantern. The same man who’d pocketed the flint lighter. He lit the lantern and set it shakily on the table, its glow seemingly safer than the lamps’. The lighter was almost as bright in his hand, making a spotlight for himself in the ruddy gloom.

“What? What is it?”

Every head was turned to face him. Every eye wide enough to show its whites, like the stares of startled horses. The man opened his mouth to utter a third query—and stopped.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold. Far colder than the man he’d taken the lighter from. Its fingers ended in claws.

Above his head, the firelight caught on what might charitably be called a grin. It was, in fact, the default state of Count Dracula’s jaw in this shape. A medley of the wolf and the bat and the nightmares that are born when children’s imaginations first start to sketch the things that will eat them in the dark.

Jonathan wished he could have closed his eyes for all that followed. He did try. But there was an implicit order sunk into his mind that demanded he watch. Had this been a decade ago, this may have been for the sake of an object lesson.

This is what I can do. This is what I would have done to your little hunting party at the right hour, with your guard down for an instant. This is what I will do to any sheltering cattle you try to run away to with wife and child. Watch, my friend. Watch.

But that was practically a lifetime past. They were coming up on a mere five years until the wait was over and his free will and the final fig leaf of humanity was forfeit. Which suggested that he was a captive audience solely for the fact that an audience was desired. There was some artistry to it all, in a medieval sense. Some of the acts performed with the makeshift stakes and the barrels of guns and certain repurposed bones reminded Jonathan of old woodcuts left out for him to see once upon a time, back in that first summer alone with the castle’s Master.  

By the time one of the men died choking on his own severed arm, the rest of the lot stopped shooting and herded themselves to the door, desperate. To their relief, there was no vampire at the threshold. They fled.

A heartbeat passed before the screaming began anew. Gunfire mingled with it. The screaming dwindled down and down, the choir thinning to a single shriek that ended on a terrible sound. Wet and crunching. Wolves were heard soon after.

Anthony had not moved from his position behind Jonathan’s chair. He’d resumed his grip on his hair, this time holding his blade just below the Adam’s apple.

“If you don’t have a head,” Anthony panted at the Count, now busy picking gristle from the spades of his nails, “you can’t be undead. The plays make a lot of fuss about staking the heart, but this?” He tugged Jonathan’s head back another inch and pressed the blade’s edge until the skin broke. “I figure it’s a fair bit more vital. I am a practiced man at my profession and quick when I need to be. You want him in one piece instead of two, you leak yourself out the door, call off your pets, and I’ll send him on his way come sunrise.” Though he couldn’t see him, Jonathan was certain the man was trying to smile. “If you’re amenable, perhaps we can even get a silver lining out of this whole thing.”

Dracula sucked a piece of sinew out of his thumbnail.

“I am accustomed to getting my hands dirty. While I’ve been in the habit of leading assorted hapless dregs around, I can easily see myself following someone worth respect. Your friend here indicated he’s on the edge of retirement anyway, and I imagine you could do with someone to step into the role. Or add to the ranks.”

Dracula busied himself with scanning the floor. He plucked up the silver watch still chained to a torso that was twisted like a wrung washcloth. A scowl was spared upon retrieving the key ring from a puddle of a head. Then the pouch containing Jonathan’s allowance. He deposited each bit of treasure found on the table. The last thing he discovered was Jonathan’s wedding ring. He seemed to ponder flicking it aside, but saw Jonathan watching. The ring was dropped in the pile the way one might discard a clump of dirt.

“Well?” from Anthony. “Do you talk or not?”

“I do,” from the Count. “Though not usually to vermin. Especially ones who raid my pantry.”

“Honest mistake on our part. I hadn’t realized you were the one-in-a-thousand legend that isn’t just the fumes of an invented ghost story.”

“I see.” Dracula bent and retrieved the stake that had its point burned. It left the holster of a man’s sternum with a damp sound. “And this too was a mistake?”

“Just trying to placate the skittish sorts in the party. You saw how Jake was.”

“I did.” The Count tapped the stake’s point against his chin, pondering. “In fact, I think I recall a face like his. A sailor I met once. He took to the sea, having no bullet in reach.” He leveled the stake at Anthony’s head. “You called him a coward for this, yes?”

“Am I wrong?”

“There is a fine line between cowardice and wisdom,” Dracula shrugged. “It moves more than you would think. Little Jacob was wise tonight, if sadly mistaken in his target. He was not the first of his type. Likely not the last. The same goes for you, vermin. You, who squeak and chitter about preying upon the predator, and then try to sell yourself to the cat.” Though much of his face had reset to a human shape, the Count’s teeth remained a bristling forest of white needles when he grinned. “I have had this land in my jaws for half a millennium. I have not gone a single century without your like slinking underfoot, thinking to kiss my cape and offer a tithe of others’ throats to win my favor. My power.”

“Way of the world, isn’t it? Strong bows to stronger. What makes this cadaver,” another jerk on Jonathan’s hair, another throb in his skull, “so special? Better resumé? Seasoned arteries?”

“A number of things.” Another shrug, a twirl of the stake like a toy. “He does so hate to hear it anymore. It has been so long since any kind of praise heartened him and age has made him shy. But he cannot shush me, so I can say he does far more than bleed, be it himself or his victims of old. He certainly has a more impressive history than robbing and gutting tourists for a living, and so is far more attuned to the Law of this land than any other. Not the yapping dogs of mortal authorities. Not your jailor or judge or bureaucrat. Not even those of the sciences, such as they are.”

Thunder cracked and lightning danced. The Count’s eyes burned brighter than the lantern.

“He knows that I am Law in these mountains. That my will, my word, and my want order all that is here. He knows that there is no escaping consequence for trespassing upon what is mine. But.” The Count clapped the stake into his open palm with the joviality of a cruel teacher with his yardstick. “Beyond all this, he is something which guarantees his value over yours or any other’s. He warned you himself.” The jagged grin turned almost saccharine. “He is a married man. And you have kept him out far too late for his spouses’ liking.”  

Anthony shifted behind the chair. The grip on Jonathan’s hair shuddered a moment as if suddenly repulsed to be touching it.

“God. Even the monsters are in on that depravity up here?”

“Depravity is a pastime of mine. But I am not so low as to debase myself by touching filth like yours.” So saying, the Count raised both hands in mock surrender. “I shall not waste my time or teeth on you.”

“Fine. Fine, you say that and I can believe you. Once you’re out the door.”  

The door, still open.

The door, which Anthony had not dared to look at for fear of taking eyes off the Count.

The door, full of mist.

“Ah, but I cannot go yet. There is a show I have been so looking forward to. You mentioned the Grand Guignol. Such a promising establishment! I plan to see it in person some night. But for now, we must content ourselves with your meager scene.”

Anthony opened his mouth to ask something. Say something. Maybe he was just drawing breath. Whatever the reason, his mouth froze in a voiceless O of epiphany.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold.

It distracted him from the other, decorated with its simple gold band, locking around the man’s forearm; the one responsible for holding the blade.

Snap.

Anthony’s mouth dropped open wider, belting a screech that left Jonathan’s ears ringing. Then the man was torn away from the back of the chair and all the noise of him was pinned and shrilling on the floor. Laced over the ensuing sounds of his dismantling, both vocal and visceral, was a voice that threaded through the mind more than the ear:

He cut you. Twice he cut you.

“I’ll be fine, Mina.” Said because there was concern in the statement. There was. But, more pertinently, there was the accusation. The condemnation. The citing of the crime.

He cut you. He meant to kill you. He meant to unmake you out of reach forever.

Anthony made a new and piercing noise. The kind just an octave short of a dog whistle. Jonathan winced.

“And he failed to. It’s alright, Darling.”

“Hardly,” from the Count, now turning Anthony’s abandoned seat around to face the slaughter. “You are too soft as always, my friend. Even when it comes to a rightful culling. Or do you think they deserved to live after their crimes?”

“I think this was excessive.” Jonathan withheld a sigh as Dracula hooked the back of his chair, hoisting and turning it so that his back was no longer to Mina’s work. She seemed to have an innate understanding of what could be taken apart and to what degree, the better to leave Anthony still clinging miserably to a thread of life. “And I also think I’m ready to have these off.”

He flexed his hands and feet as far as they could go against the ropes.

“Have what off?” Dracula asked as he swiped a finger into the shoulder wound. A child stealing cake icing. He clicked his tongue. “This would happen just after a feeding. All this guilt-free cuisine and your knights-errant are too full to enjoy the banquet. A pity. Have you eaten?”

“If I had my hands free, I could get my—,” Jonathan pursed his lips as Dracula brandished a bouquet of the retrieved dried pork. Deciding against waiting for the mesmer to prod him into it, he opened his mouth a crack. Bit. Chewed.

“Do you suppose the Grand Guignol has concessions? Any actual blood used in place of the stage swill?”

Jonathan swallowed. A nauseous feat, considering the piece Mina removed from Anthony in the same moment. 

“I doubt any director is so dedicated, Sir.” Anthony was growing quieter now. There wasn’t enough air in him. Jonathan could tell by the glimpse of lung through his ribs. “Does Quincey know about this?”

No. It was blocked from him. He believes we are out on business.

Crunch. Twist. Rip.

Anthony went silent and still at last. Dracula afforded this a light round of applause.

“Not wholly a lie, you will grant. Though I suspect the boy thinks it was code for a more,” the Count made a face caught between glee and disdain, “intimate excursion. Which should be an easy enough ward against any prying you fear from him. You may have made a sickening romantic of the boy, but there is never a child alive or undead who wishes to know what his parents get up to out of his sight.” The Count craned his head, squinting at what was left of Anthony. “Did you come across it?”

That depends. Where’s mine?

Mina stood with the dragon clasp in one red hand and her other held out and open. Dracula idled a moment or three longer than was necessary before the stolen wedding band was produced. Clasp and ring were thrown rather than exchanged. Jonathan had each reattached to him. Though the Count spared a curse in three different languages at finding the coat not only mangled at the shoulder, but torn where the clasp had been ripped away.

“As if they could not understand the mechanics of a brooch? You should have pinned this in his eye.”

You should have fed him the stake. Look at this.

Mina touched the nick on Jonathan’s throat.

I know you count my wound as a blessing, but I would think you’d not risk losing his voice.

“I had to stall while you cleared up the leftovers outside. I may as well have left you with the boy.”

And lost your show and your diversion.

“You—,”

“I cannot feel my feet anymore,” Jonathan announced. “And I would like to stitch and plaster myself before we head out. Whatever Quincey may think we’re up to, it will be easier to lie without me looking like I just left,” he gestured as best he could at the room, “this.”

A minor miracle came and went as there was no suggestion made that they simply lay a new bite apiece over the wounds. The ropes were cut, what was filched was returned to its owner, give or take a little scavenging of their own. Jacob and the others were left with their tokens of the Son. Outside, the wolves went on enjoying the meal Mina had left for them. Up until a titanic thunderbolt struck the cabin and sent them scrambling. The building went up like a great bonfire.

“I know, my friend, you were clearly looking forward to digging more graves. But you must admit my method is quicker and far more thorough in erasing evidence.” The nettling cadence waned. “I suggest you avoid wandering away from the castle for some time. Considering your state.”

Not while dressed in this, at the very least. It’s clear this insignia draws as much ire as it deters.

“A fluke,” the Count huffed. “Such degenerates as those are rare. The chattel know better. Besides, the folly was in drawing attention by playing Good Samaritan to the wrong victim and her maudlin pleading. Something else to keep in mind.” Jonathan tried and failed to keep his head down as the hook landed in his mind and turned his eyes up. Dead blue against burning red. “At least for as long you insist on holding to your last few years as…this.”

Jonathan bit into his last strip of the dried pork. Loudly.

“Five years. That’s all.”

“Four and a half.”

“Four and a half I mean to savor. In-between being waylaid.” The careful placidity fractured as his free hand drifted up to the back of his skull. Still aching. “I think I shall finish off the Golden Mediasch tonight.” His hand was plucked away by Mina’s own, her chilled fingers seeking out the tender place under his hair. Her fingertips felt the scabbing patch.

I should have skinned him.

“You are welcome to stroll through the fire and do so,” the Count hummed. But his smile stopped short of his eyes and his own hand swept Mina’s away to thumb at the ache. “The Mediasch is barely more than fruit juice. You will want something stronger.”

Jonathan didn’t argue. Nor did he protest when the horses of his ex-hosts were commandeered for the return to the castle. Quincey thrilled at the sight of them almost as if they had arrived riding wolves. Was this the business they went on? Tunet and Pretekár were quite new—and solid obsidian as the horses before had been—but it was good to see them gain more company. And they’d picked piebald this time!

“They’re beautiful. Do they have names yet?”

“Thought we’d leave that to you,” Jonathan managed lightly enough. Or nearly so. Quincey frowned at him, nose pricking at the smell of dried blood.

“Papa, are you alright? You—,” his eyes landed on the coat, “—what happened?”

 “Just a quick lesson from our new friends about minding their moods. I was tossed and landed in a less than opportune pile of rocks.”

Quincey scowled at that and scrutinized the stallions.

“Which one? I’m not riding him. Or petting him, even.” He considered. “At least for a month.”

“Seems a cruelty too far. I suppose I just won’t reveal the guilty party.”

“And what if I get on the wrong horse and I get tossed and land on a rock somewhere? What then?”

“Then you will get back up and be perfectly alright. Or am I misremembering the night you fell asleep on the side of the north turret and fell through half a tree on your way down?”

“Yes, well. They were fairly soft branches.” Quincey fought and lost the attempt to keep his smile up. “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“The horses weren’t the actual business, were they? You could have gotten them yourself.”

“That’s true. The horses were only picked up afterward. Quite a bargain, not counting the lumps.”

“Then what happened?”

Jonathan looked at his son. His Sweetheart, though the boy had finally started to bud into that stage that visits all adolescents, demanding a shedding of childhood names. There was a dusting of stubble barely fringing his jaw and his mother’s own whorls outgrowing the edges of his last haircut. But the eyes were still a child’s. Bright and molten as the sun at dusk.

“…There was some trouble two days ago. I aided a girl trying to leave behind some people who hurt others. Who hurt her. They had some less than scrupulous plans for the future and had already bypassed local authorities to get where they were by the time I crossed them. So I reached out for some assistance.” And, because he felt the air prickling with observation, “Your Father was very keen to educate them on the difference between the laws of other lands versus the Law of his land. And your Mum has always been of a rescuer’s bent as a rule. So.”

“So Mum and Father caught them? Together?” The sunset eyes gleamed at the prospect.  

“They did,” Jonathan nodded.

“Were they bandits?”

“Of a sort. But they won’t hurt anyone now.” Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye how the boy, so near to a young man, glowed over the notion of being a son to heroes.

He got to the tower before he felt his eyes begin to sting as sharply as his head.

[strangerquinns]

Deadly Reunion| Chapter 11

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 2.7k+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

The sun beat down on your warm skin as you walked along the side of the road of the one prominent highway that ran lead out of Hawkins. It had roughly been half a day since you, Robin, Eddie, Steve, and a couple others from camp headed out to continue the run for the supplies. Not before making sure Jonathan and one of the other guys, Josh, were set up well on getting Mike back to camp.

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” Robin spoke softly from beside you, the two of you more in the middle of the group.

It had been entirely since leaving the tiny home, the bodies of flayed littered across the forest floor, but all of you had your weapons out and on alert. Your eyes scanned the road slowly as a deep sigh passed through your lips, your gaze moving to her. You could see the clear worry in her brown eyes as she stared at you.

“I think Mike will be ok. He seemed like he was already coming out on the other side with the infected bite gone.” You spoke, before looking back ahead, “But time is only going to really tell. He’s gonna have to make a new normal with only having one arm.”

“Suck, he was so excited to finally be able to go on raids,” Robin shook her head, “Can only imagine how Mrs. Wheeler is going to freak when they get back.”

“Nancy and Mike still have their parents?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Mr. Wheeler died during the outbreak, he was at work in the city and never made it back. But Karen is still around, working with Joyce in the medical wing. Their little sister Holly helps in the daycare.”

“Daycare.” You let out a soft laugh, “Can’t believe how you guys were able to create the town all over again in a matter of years.”

“I mean…didn’t really have much of a choice. It was that or die.” Robin shrugged.

You nodded your head, “And you? Do you still have a family?”

“Uh…no…no, it’s just me.” Robin frowned slightly, “I have Steve. He’s practically family, and everyone at the Camp has been amazing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” You spoke softly, a saddened look casting over your features. “I lost everyone too, so…I understand.”

Looking over his shoulder at the sound of voices, Eddie couldn’t help the flare-up of jealousy once again as he watched you and Robin talk together. He was far enough ahead that he couldn’t hear what you were talking about with Buckley. But it didn’t matter. Eddie hated that you were willing to speak to another, not him. Though he had a minor breakthrough for a small moment, Eddie knew he had a long way to go in getting your forgiveness.

“Not really able to keep an eye out of your looking back behind you, Munson,” Steve spoke, causing Eddie to quickly move his head forward. Giving Steve a slight glare. “Don’t get mad at me, just cause she didn’t want to pair up with you.”

Eddie shook his head, moving his rifle to be strapped across his back as he adjusted the bandana on his head, using it to hold his curls back from his face.

“Robin isn’t gonna steal your girl,” Steve spoke up after a moment of silence.

“And I don’t think she will,” Eddie rolled his eyes, moving his gun back into his hands once he was more comfortable. “Buckley isn’t really her type…and she’s not my girl.”

Eddie muttered the last part with a hint of sadness in his tone.

“Well there is obviously something there,” Steve spoke, “I don’t think I’ve seen you look at a girl since Sarah.”

Eddie winced slightly at the mention of her name, “She’s nothing like Sarah.”

Steve looked toward him with his brows pulled tightly together in confusion. What Steve didn’t understand with that statement was that, as much as he cared for Sarah, how he felt for you was much larger than anything he had with Sarah. You were his everything, and Sarah was the last bit he had of you when he thought you were gone.

“Sarah was her best friend,” Eddie spoke, giving that bit of information to Steve, before continuing. From the corner of his eye, Eddie could see the shock that washed over Steve’s face. “We all sort of…grew up together.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded, “So what she learned Sarah was gone? Pissed off you didn’t protect her or something?” Steve’s voice became tense as anger started to build within himself, his mind thinking of a scenario that wasn’t the truth. Trying to pull it out of Eddie. “You couldn’t have saved her even if you’d sacrificed yourself, Eddie. No one blames you; it was those fucking intruders that caused her death.

Eddie pressed his lips together tightly and nodded his head, “I know that. And…she doesn’t blame me either. It’s…deeper than that, Harrington.”

Steve nodded his head slowly, “Well, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, bro. Whatever had the two of you being tense with each other will be able to work itself out.”

Eddie swallowed thickly, “Yeah, maybe.”

But Eddie also knew that if the roles were reversed he wouldn’t forgive himself at all.

“Let's set camp,” Steve spoke, coming upon a small gas station off the road slightly, “Night is falling, and we should get some rest.”

Everyone followed one another toward the entrance of the station that was left slightly propped open. The station wasn’t big, a quick sweep of the front saw there wasn’t any monster hidden within, and the back office and break room also cleared. Steve and Mark collaborated to slide an old shelf in front of the front door, barricading anyone from entering. The moment the fresh air was cut off from the building, the dusty, mildew smell of the station quickly invaded your senses. You couldn’t help the twisted look of disgust on your face for a moment. But honestly, you’d stayed in worse.

“Think there is anything worthy in here?” Robin asked, slowly moving through the aisle that was mostly barren.

“If there is, it's most likely gonna be in someplace tucked away,” Steve sighed softly, taking off his pack and digging through it. Most likely for something to eat.

You watched as Eddie moved and took a seat at the counter, you hesitated for a moment, wanting to go to him, but instead, you held yourself back. You bit down on your lower lip before turning and finding an empty spot near the back where the empty beverage coolers stood.

“How much longer till we reach Redding?” a voice asked, “You looked up to see the other girl, Caroline.

“Another day, maybe two depending on if we have any more delays.” Steve sighed heavily, taking a bite of the jerky in his hand. “Pray we don’t hit another pack,”

“I don’t know, think we could’ve come out the other side worse than we did,” Robin spoke, now laid out with her pack as a pillow. "Mike was saved in the end, and now has a chance."

“Agree with Buckley,” Eddie’s voice sounded from the other side.

“Well, not taking chances,” Steve spoke looking around the station slowly, his eyes landing on you for a moment. There was a long pause before Steve spoke your name, along with Eddies. “Why don’t the two of you take the first watch? Have someone come and replace you in a couple of hours.”

You missed the look that Eddie shot toward Steve as you looked at Robin with wide eyes. She shrugged her shoulders slightly with a sympathetic look. You groaned slightly before grabbing a few things from your bag and moving to stand from your spot.

“There was an entrance at the back that lead up to the roof,” Steve spoke as he moved to lay back against his pack.

You followed close behind Eddie as he pushed through the backroom door, another door placed at the back wall. Opening the two of you were welcomed by a back staircase, leading up toward the roof. Eddie pushed on the maintenance door, gun drawn, and sweeping across the top of the small building. And just like inside, it was clear.  

The sky was filled with reds, oranges, and yellows as the sun started to set. Eddie walked over to sit on top of a unit, looking out toward the vacant road as the cooler wind moved around the two of you. Once again, you hesitated for a moment before walking over to sit with him. From the corner of your eye, you noticed his body stiffen.

Wasn’t long till you both were sitting in awkward silence.

It wasn’t till the sky was mostly purple and blue that either of you spoke.

“So…” Eddie cleared his throat, “Want to have that conversation now?”

You side-eyed him for a moment before shrugging your shoulders slightly, “Don’t really think we have much else to do.”

Eddie nodded, his lips pressed together tightly, as he scooped slowly over the horizon. “How much did Gareth tell you?”

“Not much,” Your voice was tight as you spoke, anxiety brewing within you. “Just mentioned that you two were together, didn’t take much to place the pieces together.”

“I didn’t tell you about us because I didn’t know how…I-I wasn’t ashamed of it. But what Sarah and I…what we had was nothing but comfort.”

You couldn’t help but scoff slightly, suddenly standing from where you sat beside him. Eddie’s eyes moved to follow you as you paced.

“What? You don’t believe that?” Eddie asked, defensive as he spoke. “She’d lost Jeff and I had come home to find that nothing else of our old was here. We both were seeking out something and found it with one another.”

“So what? She was your girlfriend?” You couldn’t stop the way your voice sneered as you said, girlfriend.

“What?” Eddie’s face screwed up slightly, “No. It was physical. We both cared for one another as friends.” Eddie paused for a moment. “What I can’t seem to understand is why you care so much? I told you Sarah had passed, and I thought that was a little more important than knowing that we had slept together.”

You couldn’t help the physical reaction to his words. Eddie hated himself as he saw the pain flash through your eyes. He moved to stand and move directly into your path, causing you to shuffle back from him. Eddie looked down at you with an intense stare that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“We weren’t together,” Eddie spoke. “So please…tell me why you’re so pissed off that I kept something that was really only between Sarah and me.”

Eddie knew the reason, but he wanted you to say. Wanted you to admit it. Finally, bring a conclusion to what had been haunting his mind all these years. That your drunken confession was the truth.

You opened your mouth a few times as you looked up toward him, a deer in headlights kind of look on your face.

“Sweetheart, come on,” Eddie spoke again, “Tell me? Cause I’ve been trying to think over and over again about what could possibly have caused you to be this mad at me? I didn’t break a bond or something, so tell me.”

“I can’t be mad at her,” You spoke, rubbing your hand over your face for a moment, before turning away from him and walking to the other end, “Because it wasn’t you that broke something, it was her. But Sarah isn’t here for me to be pissed off at.”

“So, I’m paying the price?” Eddie chuckled in disbelief, “Now how is that fucking fair?”

“You don’t get it, and you’re not going to.” You shook your head, feeling the burn of a headache behind your eyes.

“What did Sarah break,” Eddie pushed, walking closer to you.

You turned your eyes down and shook your head, hearing his footsteps grow closer and closer. Eddie could tell from your body language alone that you were fighting with yourself.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie reached and gently grabbed your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Talk to me, please.”

“You wouldn’t get it, Eddie,” You sighed, closing your eyes tightly.

“Try me,”

“Eddie, please…”

Eddie spoke your name firmly, “Tell me.”

You shook your head stubbornly.

“We aren’t going to be able to fix this if you don’t tell me,” Eddie spoke firmly, his voice rising slightly at the end. “Just speak!”

“Because I was in love with you! Fuck!” You snapped and stepped back away from him further, your eyes wide as you stared toward him, “Because I was in love with you, and she fucking knew that.”

Eddie looked as shocked as he stared at you, listening to the words he dreamt of hearing once again for years.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much it hurts…to know that she got to have you? She knew, Eddie, she knew how I felt and that wasn’t a thought in her mind.” Your throat itched with the burn of tears behind your eyes. Eddie started to become a blur as tears slowly moved down your cheeks. “So, I can’t be mad at her, I can’t scream at her for fucking breaking the number one rule in friendship. I don’t care if you guys thought I was dead,” Anger moved back into your words. “I would have never done that to her.”

Eddie stood there and watched you as the silence started to fall between the two of you once again. He felt frozen for only a moment before his body reacted to your words. Eddie took a few steps across to you, before grabbing your face gently with his hands.

You didn’t have a moment to think, let alone speak, as he pulled you toward him. Eddie’s lips pressed firmly against yours. You stood stiff in his arms before your hands moved to caress his forearms and melted into his touch. One of Eddie’s hands moved down along your body before wrapping his arm around you. Your body was flush against his as his lips moved against yours.

Eddie reveled in the feel of your lush lips against his, the taste of you, the feel of you pressed into him.

Nothing else mattered in the world to him at that moment.

Just you, and him.

The soft whimper you made as his tongue ran against your bottom lip shot straight through his body. The two of you stood there lost in the other before the need for air won and caused the two of you to pull away. But not far from the other. Both of you panted slightly as you stayed close, Eddie’s hand caressing your cheek.

“You have no idea how much I prayed to hear you say those words to me,” Eddie spoke, pressing his forehead against yours. “I thought I had dreamt it all this time,”

You looked up toward him with your brows pinching slightly in confusion, “Dreamt it?”

Eddie nodded and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, “You remember your 21st birthday? The same day the scout came and saw Corroded?” You nodded your head slowly, “I took you back home, do you remember anything else happening that night?”

“Uh, outside of passing out and waking up with the worst hangover of my life the new morning? No.” You chuckled slightly.

“You told me that you loved me,” Eddie spoke, causing your laughing to die slowly. “I was washing your face for you, and you muttered it under your breath. I waited…hoped, that you’d remember it in the morning. But you never did.”

“I did?” Eddie nodded his head slowly, taking a small step back from you, but not too far. “I never said anything, scared that I’d heard you wrong. Or it was a mistake. But then it came time for us to leave for LA a year later, and you didn’t come…and I thought…I thought if you had loved me you would’ve come.”

You closed your eyes tightly, “Oh, Eddie.”

“You still only mad at Sarah?” He whispered softly, terrified of the answer.

He pulled out of your arms, before grabbing the pack from his pocket. You felt frozen as you stood there, still with the taste of Eddie on your lips, unsure now of how to feel. He lit a cigarette before bringing it to his lips and taking a long drag. The smoke moved through the air before him.

Not gonna lie, struggled a little with this one. I didn't wanna drag that impending "conversation" much longer. Love a good angry love confession. So please let me know your thoughts on this. Eddie and Reader aren't 100% out of the woods, but we're making progress. But hey, they kissed, that's something....right?

thank you for the support, it's deeply appreciated!

taglist:

@mopeymopeymouse / @aris-house / @brxkenartt /@akiratoro420 /@stylesxmunson / @aactuaaltraash / @fandomgirl17 / @ches-86/ @chaoticcancer / @munsonology / @bellamy-barnes / @theonlyh3artbreaker / @idkidknemore / @familyvideowithsteve / @eddiesdingus / @thefemininemystiquee / @the-world-is-a-mess-and-so-am-i / @xdarkcreaturex / @lunr-flwr / @cherry-omi/ @im-emma22@munson-enthusiast / @munsonmecrazy / @jupitar-jul / @katiemrty/ @maddie-luvs-eddie /@eddiemusworld/ @ih3artdanielle / @eddiesguitarskills / @hargrovesswifee /@chaoticcancer / @rh1nestonecowg1rl / @atombombbibunny /@munson-enthusiast / @hellf-1-re / @fangirling-4-ever / @corrcdedcoffin /@sidthedollface2 / @emma77645 / @eddiiiieeee

[evajellion]

SMRPG AU where Smithy wins

OKAY HERE IT GOES-

So hypothetically, let's say Mario, Peach and Bowser just completely vanish after Exor crashes down. Either they straight up died or got isekai'd to Smithy's realm by accident, idk I will let the rest of you figure it out.

Years and years pass, Geno can't really get the Star Pieces without Mario and co. so… Smithy just, straight up takes over Star Road and lets his minions do whatever.

Here's what we thought up-

Smithy: Bowser's Castle was nice, but after learning what the Star Pieces did, Smithy went directly to the source and took over Star Road himself as its new overlord. He built an entire factory around it and over the years, is now known as "he who grants wishes".

Of course, much like the main villain in "Wish" (terrible movie btw), Smithy only grants wishes that he likes. He ignores wishes that are selfless or relevant to one's family, and only grants stuff relative to wealth, gain, or wanting to win.

It's less out of malice and more out of ignorance, really. He doesn't see any value in wanting things that have no material value or glory.

Mack/Claymorton: After ambushing the castle, Mack became the new ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom, but he said the name was stupid and changed it to the Claymore Kingdom.

There are, a lot of parties, almost every week. He's a complete tyrant who threatens and torments the Toads to the point where the Chancellor actually wishes Bowser would come back. If he gets bored? He decides to wage war on another kingdom "for fun".

He's getting an ego about it too, which some joke is just "him compensating for his size".

Bowyer: Honestly no one has any clue what Bowyer does. Some treat him like an actual forest cryptid that haunts the maze because he's been in there so long. People who enter the forest now never come back.

Bowyer doesn't understand the concept of killing anyone really, so it's not like forest intruders are dead. He just thinks it's fun to play "freeze tag but you're frozen for good" with anyone who comes by. Essentially, it's all a hunting game to him.

He probably views all his immobile visitors as trophies more than anything else.

Yaridovich/Speardovich: Eventually, he succeeds in duping someone to fight Jonathan and takes the Star Piece for himself. Smithy grants him his promotion and he is made mayor of Seaside Town, and he is a captain of his own crew of Drill Bits.

Jonathan is none too happy about this and makes beef with Yaridovich every day over what he had done. Jonathan prides himself on being a good fighter, but unfortunately, Yaridovich fights dirty.

Eventially, Yaridovich made a habit out of pirating other incoming ships himself. He wonders if doing this will get more promotion from Smithy, but… Smithy seems to have been ignoring him.

Axem Rangers: After beating up the Czar Dragon, Smithy suggests they take care of Nimbus Land since it's "uncomfortably close for his liking". They immediately make themselves known by exposing Valentina's lies and kicking her out, inadvertently making them heroes.

Axem Red and Pink take a lot of pride in removing Valentina and being adored by residents of Nimbus Land, but Black isn't happy with it at all and wants to go back to causing chaos. Green is neutral about the whole thing.

Axem Yellow meanwhile, managed to turn Dodo to their side simply by calling the large bird a "good boy" and giving him legumes as a treat.

Boomer: He's the shogun of Bowser's Castle, but nothing more. He guards Exor as he always did, and commands Smithy's Army, striking down anyone who dare cross his lord.

However, he isn't exactly happy with his position. He knows not to question Smithy, so he just… remains quiet about it. At the very least, he's humored by Axem Red's new heroic personality.

But he also fears if Red will turn on Smithy since he's so bent on appearing as "hero" for Nimbus Land. Boomer dad moments. :')

Exor & Count Down: Stationary. Exor is happy but Count Down seems bitter he cannot do more, he's kind of stranded and stir crazy.

Cloaker & Domino: They moved out of Smithy's dimension (much to Count Down's further frustration/loneliness) and settled into Marrymore for… obvious reasons.

Smithy doesn't mind so long as they can distribute. Domino quickly took advantage by becoming the most well-known medicine/potion seller in the land, kinda like Fairy Godmother. Excuses to depict Domino in sexy business glasses for my one friend who thirsts for him lmao.

Factory Chief: A second factory was built up in Star Road, that Smithy had taken charge of, so the Chief is now fully in charge of the old one inside of Exor! He's pretty happy about it.

The Director's son (because he has one for some reason?) is also working in the new factory while his father, the Clerk, and the Manager remain in the old one with the Chief. They all seem very happy, but the Director's son wonders if what Smithy is doing is right…

Gunyolk: Not used to having brothers. He was created by the Chief exclusively, and is now being mass produced, but… he liked it when it was only him and "papa".

Hypnosis Priest: She resides in Star Hill, discarding of wishes that Smithy tossed out. Essentially, she turned the entirety of the Mushroom Kingdom into a cult that worships Smithy as their Star Road overlord, with her as the leader of it.

And that's all I got, hi, feel free to throw anymore suggestions!!! :D

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: I Just Really Hate Your Face

summary: Top Student Damian Wayne is assigned to tutor his high school's resident Juvenile Delinquent, Jonathan Kent, who seems less interested in his work and more interested in his handsome tutor.

Damian is *not* having it.

aka the Bad Boy x Good Student Jondami AU no one really asked for but i delivered anyways

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, sir?” Damian gritted out, unbelieving. 

Oblivious to the pain in his voice, the principal repeated what he had said just moments before in an overly-cheery tone.

“You are being assigned to tutor Jonathan Kent. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get his grades up by the end of this year, for both semesters. And perhaps you may be able to corral him into actually showing at his classes.”

Damian controlled the scowl beginning to show on his face. Jonathan Kent was the worst possible student he could have gotten. What would merely associating himself with a boy like that do to his spotless reputation? Surely, this would be placed on his record, and he didn’t see how tutoring the school’s resident juvenile delinquent would appeal him to universities.

And he was supposed to influence him? Gods above, help him.

“Sir. With all due respect, why is he even in this program? Certainly there are many other viable candidates…more respectable people that would benefit from my teaching.” he attempted to phrase this in a way that was not outright insulting.

“Damian, you are well aware, I'm sure, that you are this academy’s top student, and you’ve worked hard to get to this spot, unlike many other kids. I think that you can give Mr. Kent a push in the right direction, if not outright change him for the better. You signed up for this program, did you not?”

“I did, sir.” if not only for the nice view if would give his college admission.

“Then you will work with the student assigned to you. However, if there is no improvement, or you truly can’t manage him, you will have the option to switch, or drop the program completely. Is this more reasonable?”

Hm. It would have to do. “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

Let it be known that Damian Wayne was not a quitter, and stubborn enough to move a mountain with a single word if he so chose. Jonathan Kent would be a changed student by the end of the year, if he had his way.

Jon Kent rolled into school at approximately 12:37 on a saturday morning, already fifteen minutes late to his tutoring session. It was absolute hell for those forcing him to go to even make him get dressed, and he was prepared to stall as long as possible. Hell, if he was lucky, the tutor would be pretty and he could score himself a ticket outta there with a wink and a few well timed smiles. 

He entered the library, doing a quick once over, straightening his jacket and checking his eyeliner.

“Your studies are much more important than your appearance, Mr. Kent.” a voice drawled from behind him, and as he turned, a smirk came over his features.

Hello, Gorgeous.

The boy in front of him had delicately sharp features, striking green eyes framed by long lashes. His skin was a tantalizing carmel, clashing beautifully with the forest sleeves of his sweater. 

“If you could remove your jaw from the floor, we should begin.”

He had a mouth on him too. Perfect. 

“No name for me? Guess I'll just have to call you Beautiful.” Jon purred, the other boy’s face twisting in something that was definitely not a blush.

“It’s Damian. My name is Damian. We’re fifteen minutes behind already, if you could please take a seat.” 

Jon sidled up to his side as they walked towards the table with a sheaf of papers. 

“Damian, huh?” he tested the name out, rolling off his tongue pleasantly.

“Sounds familiar. Have we had a class together? I could swear we have chemistry .”

Damian looked torn between strangling Jon and strangling himself, settling only for a glare.

Jon was getting slightly annoyed. This guy was not taking the bait, and that was an excellent line for a nerd. 

“ Sit. ” Damian pointed to the chair, Jon muttering ”Bossy.” under his breath.

“Let me make myself extremely clear, Jonathan, I have one job here, and that is to raise your grades. If I don't, it will not look good for me, and will look even worse for you. I’m not here for you to flirt with, make friends, or be stared at, nor roped into whatever it is you have going on here.” Damian gestured to his whole with a manilla folder in hand.

Well. If that wasn’t both flat out rejection and  warning all at once, Jon'd be dammed. It hurt his pride slightly and added more fuel to the slowly building flame of annoyance.

“And what is this , exactly? Is that why you’re here? Teacher’s Pet turns the bad one into a brand-new man ?” 

Damian snorted. “As if anyone could part you from your disastrous fashion and life choices. No, as I've stated, I'm here to make your grades better, by having you do all the work.”

“That’s a contradictory statement.”

“Would you look at that, you’re already using your big boy words.” He deadpanned, flipping open the folder to show Jon’s transcripts.

“Honestly, just looking at these makes me want to burn them. The only class you are currently passing is AP Physics, with an 89%.” 

Huh, apparently he wasn’t completely dense.

“I can taste the approval, do good grades turn you on?” Jon taunted. “Must be so great, getting all the way to the top with only Daddy’s money.”

A dangerous scowl overtook his face and Jon quickly realized that was too far for today.

“For your information, Kent , not everyone has managed to stay in this school based on money and reputation alone, despite your clearly projected opinions. Now, should we get started, or do you have any more poorly based comments to share with the class?”

Jon glowered at both him and the papers, shaking his head once in a firm “No.”

“Good.” Damian’s smile was predatory in a way where he knew he had already won.

The other boy put up a stubborn fight when it came to learning, purposefully answering questions wrong and poking at Damian to watch him snap.There was a self-satisfied smirk when he did so, the older boy looking as if he wished to slap it off his face. 

After the third or fourth time of this, Damian slammed the math book closed.

“Kent, I’d like to pride myself on endurance when it comes to annoyances, due to several older brothers and sisters. However, should this continue, I have no qualms about leaving you to repeat your next two years five times over.”

“Can’t handle the heat, get out of the oven.” Jon challenged.

Damian, to his annoyance, appeared unfazed. “I should be saying this to you, when a few years from now, you’ll still be here. Now, should I go, or will you at least look like you’re attempting to be competent?”

Pretty face, pretty form, ugly words. 

Jon bit at his bottom lip, face turning into more of a petulant pout then a scowl. “Fine.”

What a child.

Damian made a dismissive ‘tt’ noise, and began the lesson again.

Two hours later, they emerged from the school, one with his pride flattened and brimming with emotions, and one with a folder and a smug smirk.

Jon spotted his elder brother Kon in the corner of the parking lot, perched on a motorcycle. He had a stupidly knowing grin on his face, causing Jon to scowl.

He swung a leg over the side and held onto his brother’s jacket.

“Next week, I expect you to be on time. Understood, Kent?” Damian tapped a pen to the large folder he held. He seemed completely undaunted by the fact that there was a motorcycle being driven by the school’s ex-local bad boy in front of him.

“Whatever.” 

“Try again, Kent.”

Jon huffed. “Yes, I'll try to make it on time.” 

“Good.” Damian flipped through the folder in front of him. “Your superiors will be pleased with these results. If you continue like this, we’ll be seeing a significant increase in your performance marks.”’

He nodded towards Kon as he closed the folder. “Have a pleasant evening, Connor. You as well, Jonathan.”

He walked away and the moment he was out of earshot, Kon pulled off his helmet and began to howl with laughter.

“Oh my God, you are whipped !” 

“Shut the fuck up, Connor, I am not and I hate his guts! Self-righteous little brat .” Jon hissed.

“He has you wrapped around his finger! At this rate, he’ll have whipped you into shape by the end of the semester!” He wiped away tears of laughter, chuckling still.

“I will resist.” Jon scowled. “And you’re smudging your eyeliner.”

“Am not! Brat.” Kon then returned to his knowing smirk. “Bet five bucks you thought he was hot, tried to hit on him and he rejected you to high hell.”

Jon’s silence was proof enough, sending Kon into another fit of laughter.

“Those Wayne boys, Jonno. The way you were headed, I’m surprised fate’s taken this long to send one to you. First Wally, then Roy, then me, and now you.”

“I will continue where I'm headed, and no stupid, annoying, pot-stirring stuck up good boys with pretty eyes are going to change me. Now drive.”

He kicked his older brother’s leg, Kon pulling his helmet back on. “Whatever you say, superbrat. But when you come crying to me when you can’t get past their straight A’s no-time-for-feelings exterior, I’ll have a bigass ‘told you so’ waiting for ya.”

Jon glowered as the bike started up. “Well, you can save it, cause it won’t happen!”

“Can’t hear you!” Kon sing-songed over the roar of the bike.

“Asshole!”

[uncannyoceanz]

Some basic things about my Creepypasta au!

Ask me or the creepypastas anything! PLEASSEEE I NEED SOMETHING TO DO WITH MY LIFE 😭💀

Ships:

Jeff the killer x Eyeless Jack

Candy Pop x Jason the Toymaker

Jane the Killer x Mary Vaughn

Bloody Painter x Puppeteer

Nathan the Nobody x Ciara

Suicide Sadie x Roadwalker

Clockwork x Nina the killer

Nurse Ann x Dr. smiley

Pinkamena x Rainbow factory

lulu x the skroll

Homicidal liu x Hannah the killer?

Ben drowned x Lost silver

Luring Lyra x Kate the chaser

Candy Cane x April fools?

Masky x hoodie?

Weeping Forest x Ally SlenderDoll

I don’t know a lot about marble hornets btw so…. :’)

Pasta groups:

circus pastas: Papa Grande, Jason the Toymaker, Candy Pop, Candy Cane, Laughing Jack, Laughing Jill, Puppeteer, Nathan the nobody.

The killerz: Jeff the killer, Homicidal Liu, Asylum Nancy, Nina the killer, Clockwork

The girls: Jane the killer, Nina the killer, Clockwork, Sally, Suicide Sadie

These people idk what to call them: puppeteer, Bloody painter, Zero, Nurse Ann, Judge Angel

Slender family: slenderman, Splendorman, Trenderman, Offenderman, Surrender, Slendrina.

The monochrome crew: Zero, Laughing Jack, Puppeteer, Kagekao, Hobo heart.

The doctors: Nurse Ann, Doctor smiley, Doctor pain, EJ.

The dumbass trio: Jeff the killer, Ticci-Toby, Ben drowned.

Slendrina is Slenderman’s daughter. Lazari lives with Sadiya and Puppeteer.

Puppeteer doesn’t really work for slenderman nor Zalgo. He’s just there honestly lol

Homicidal liu lives by himself in a cabin in the woods.

Jane and Mary live together

Slender’s main proxies:

Masky, Hoodie, Ticci-Toby, Weeping Forest, Kate the chaser, Ally SlenderDoll, Rogue.

Zalgo’s main proxies:

Sonic.exe, Dr. locklear, Mr. Wide mouth, Stripes, Dark link, The Skroll, glitchy red, Jane Arkensaw

Boys:

Jeff the killer (Jeffery Woods)

Ben drowned (Benjamin Lawman)

ticci-Toby (Tobias Rodgers)

masky (Tim Wright)

hoodie (Brian Thomas)

eyeless jack (Jack Nyras)

laughing jack

Lost silver (Gold)

Papa grande

herobrine

Dr.smiley

Homicidal Liu (Liu Woods)

hobo heart

Jason the toymaker (Jason Meyers)

Vine the dollmaker

julius the dressmaker

Candy Pop / Night terrors

X-virus (Cody)

Smile dog

Nathan the nobody (Nathan Lux)

Puppeteer (Jonathan Blake)

Bloody Painter (Helen Otis)

Kagekao

Wilson the Basher

Girls:

Jane the killer (Jane Richardson)

Sally Williams (Sally Maryam Williams)

Nina the killer (Nina Hopkins)

Judge Angels (Dina Angela Clark)

Lulu (Lucile Tiffany gracefield)

Nurse Ann (Ann Lusen Mia)

Clockwork (Natalie Ouellette)

Laughing Jill

Candy Cane

Zero (Alice Marie Jackson)

Suicide Sadie (Sadie Marie Bennett

Roadwalker (Zayner Nanook)

Jane Arkensaw

Nula

Mary Vaughn

Ally the Slenderdoll (Adeline Abendroth)

Weeping forest (Jennifer Ryhnes)

Rouge (Heather Marshall)

Lilly the Jester

Ms. P (Ms. Pencilneck)

Stripes (Eloise Sarah Bellarose)

Sadiya

Lazari (Lazari Natalie Swann)

Lifeless Lucy (Lucy Jones)

Lily Kennett

Ellison Burns (Ellison Wright)

Rose (Rose Fairen)

Elizabeth Vazquez

Anna (Anna Schurks)

Kate the chaser (Kate Milens/Hayes)

April Fools

Emra

I feel fantastic / Tara

Hachishakusama

Kuchisake-Onna

Sadako (Samara Morgan)

Kayako

Hanako-San

Yuki-Onna

Beings of the forest… (That hold a lot of power)

Zalgo

Slenderman

Splendorman

Offenderman

Trenderman

Slenderwoman

Hachishakusama

Candy Pop (Mostly Night Terrors)

Zalgo’s Family:

Sadiya

Lazari

Stripes

Kaidy

Senora

Cynthia Ezelle (My oc)

Realms (Within the slender forest and such)

The Slender Forest Itself

The slendermansion

Homicidal Liu’s Cabin (In the slenderforest)

Granny’s house

Slendrina’s Mansion

Zalgo’s territory and base.

Roadwalker’s clearing

Sadiya’s house (Puppeteer, Sadiya, and Lazari)

The old abandoned Hospital

Jason the toymaker’s realm

The Abyss (Candy Pop’s realm)

The Mindscape

The lake

Cynthia Ezelle’s house

The old abandoned treehouse (Slender proxy Base)

The Circus Realm

Please dear god ask me something😭 I’m too lonely and bored man 💀💀💀

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 61

Part 1 Part 60

Some of Eddie’s hair rips out as Steve pulls his hand free. Eddie groans, closing his eyes as they water involuntarily with the pain. “Fuck, Steve, ow,” he whines, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

“Steve?” Jonathan calls. It’s the tone that gets Eddie’s attention. He sounds bewildered, even in his hazed-out state.

Eddie opens his eyes, sits up straight just in time to see Steve disappearing from the yard, blending in with the trees of the forest that seems to haunt every resident of Hawkin’s backyard.

Eddie’s up and stumbling off the porch in seconds. His breathing is already ragged with panic, and his feet feel like lead. What a fucking time to be blazed to all hell. “Steve!” he yells, voice cracking with the volume.

He’s stumbling after him doggedly heading for the trees until something wraps around his bicep, squeezing hard. He’s already snarling before he turns around and sees Jonathan’s bleached face and red eyes.

“He’s gone, man.”

“We can’t just let him—”

Jonathan interrupts, “go get in your car.” His eyes are hazy, barely focused as he stares into Eddie’s own. “We’re way too high to catch up with him. He’s like—” he trails off, waving his hand in the air, as if he can catch the word he wants in his fingers. As if any of this matters right now. “—sporty.”

Eddie spins, running back through the back door and into the fray of drunk teenagers. He shoves through, Jonathan stepping on his heels in his effort not to be left behind. Jonathan is yelling, “Nancy!” loud enough to be heard over the music, right in Eddie’s ear. He keeps moving.

He hears Wheeler yell, “what?” somewhere to his left, words slurring together. Eddie doesn’t turn to look, just keeps pushing his way through.

“It’s Steve!” Jonathan calls.

The people around them start murmuring, gossip already spreading about the fallen king and whatever antics he’s up to now. Eddie doesn’t give a shit. He just needs to find Steve.

He doesn’t care until Carol is blocking his path, arms crossed as she glares up at him. “What’s wrong with Steve?”

“Fucking move, Perkins!”

She doesn’t, just stands there, feet planted like he has time for any of this. The throngs are closing in around them, bloodhounds to the scent of a scandal in the making.

Eddie’s breathing picks up, panic mounting as he’s boxed in from all sides, and Steve gets farther and farther away.

Like she thinks it’s at all helpful, Wheeler bumps into his side, standing toe-to-toe with Perkins. “Why is it any of your business?” she demands, somehow sounding firm even though she’s obviously three sheets to the wind.

Perkins, clearly unimpressed, rolls her eyes. “I have more right to—”

Hagan interrupts her. “Just leave Harrington to his new boyfriend, Carol,” he says, sneering at Eddie in disgust as he yanks Perkins’ wrist hard enough to send her sprawling into his side.

“What the fuck, Tommy!” she snarls, elbowing him hard. “Stop acting like you don’t give a—”

Eddie doesn’t wait to see what Hagan doesn’t give. With Perkins pulled to the side, the front door is in sight. Eddie bolts for it. He wrenches it open, is out and through back into the night.

Thank god for Tommy Hagan’s asshole tendencies.

His van is three houses down, parked haphazardly by the curb, one wheel up on the curb. Eddie runs for it, ignoring the sound of running feet following him. He fishes for his keys in Steve’s tight jean pockets as he runs, scraping his fingers as he pulls them free.

His hand is shaking as he tries to unlock the driver’s side door, key scratching up the paint along the edges of the lock. Finally, he shakes it into the right place, slides it home and twists the door open.

Eddie falls more than climbs into the driver’s seat. Before he can slide the key into the ignition, a hand snatches them from his palm. He gasps, feeling the world crash around him. Without his keys, he can’t get to Steve. His brain’s ticking against itself, ground down by the panic and the weed, feeling Steve’s loss like a limb.

He's shoved out of the driver’s seat, goes sprawling in the small space between the front seats, cheek smushing uncomfortably into the dirty carpet.

“You're high, you idiot.”

Eddie looks up to see Barb already in the driver’s seat, sliding the key home and turning it with ease. She slides the seatbelt over her shoulder as if that matters at all right now, clicking it in place as Eddie lays there like a dead fish.

The back door opens, Nancy and Jonathan pouring in over each other, both clearly too inebriated to function. Then, the passenger door opens, and Perkins slides into the seat like it’s her rightful place, sitting prim and proper like the stained seat is a throne.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, looking up at her. “Get out of my van.”

But Barb’s already started the car. He can feel the first bump as she dismounts from the curve before it smooths out into the usual bumpiness that comes from riding in his piece of shit van.

Perkins glares down at him, crossing her arms and shifting around in her seat, like she’s getting comfortable. “I’m not leaving until I know why you losers looked so freaked while shouting Steve’s name!”

“Shut up,” Barb shouts. “Where the hell am I going, Eddie?”

Eddie doesn’t even have to think about it. “The Harrington house.”

Not Steve’s house, no. He belongs in the Munson trailer, swaddled on their ratty couch. He belongs tucked safe and warm into Eddie’s bed. He belongs laughing at their small table, Uncle Wayne ruffling his hair.

But when the chips are down, he knows now where Steve goes when he’s scared. The Harrington’s left a legacy, and it leaves Steve crawling into closets like they’re his final resting place.

The Munson trailer doesn’t have any closets. But once, Eddie had come home from band practice to find Steve huddled by his dresser, a blanket draped across it to hide Steve from view, only his bare feet poking out.

Eddie had pulled some of his own woolen socks onto Steve’s feet and crawled in with him. They’d never talked about it again.

Barb swerves, turning on a dime to get to Steve faster.

“What the fuck is going one?” Perkins asks. No one bothers to answer her.

“Jonathan?” It’s coming from Jonathan’s pocket, staticky from the distance between walkie talkies, and muffled through the material of his pants. “Are you there? Over.”

Will’s voice, tinny and quiet trickles in from the back of the van. Eddie turns, feels the rug burn into his exposed stomach with the movement.

They all stare, at Jonathan’s pants pocket, too drunk, and high and panicked to comprehend what’s happening.

“Jonathan!” Will shouts, sounding panicked himself now. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

That seems to kick Jonathan’s latent brotherly instincts into gear. He fumbles clumsily for it, wriggling it free from his pocket and pressing down the button to talk.

For a second, he just sits there, mouth flapping and wordless as he transmits dead air. “Uh,” he says. “Steve’s missing.”

“What?” Will cries. Something inside Eddie cracks, pulled in two directions until he feels like he’s splitting down the middle.

He crawls forward, barely registering Wheeler’s offended huff as he accidentally kicks her in the calf. Eddie snatches the walkie-talkie out of Jonathan’s hand, pushing that same button that Jonathan had used to talk.

“Meet at the Harrington house,” he says. His voice comes out deadened, like he went so far into panic that he came out the other side numb. “Okay, baby Byers?”

As soon as he lets go of the button, there’s a clamor of children’s voices overlapping each other in their demands for information. Eddie switches it off, drops it on the carpet by Jonathan’s legs, and turns back toward the front.

He looks out the windshield, determined to jump out as soon as the Harrington house is in sight.

Part 62

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