#Vampire!Lucas

[knackfandomarchive]

OOO I'm gonna get my ao3 invitation tomorrow!

[kawacy]

Lucas

[tikvin]

🖐✨Hands✨🖐

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Snow Elf Sanctum

Concept art for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Dawnguard DLC

Art by Lucas Hardi

[oddsconvert]

Shattered #10 - Happy Birthday, August! Part III

Previous / Masterlist

CW: kidnapped whumpee, captivity (kinda/kinda not), defiant whumpee, whumpee thinks caretaker is a whumper, forced to kidnap references, vampire caretaker, threat of violence/death, weapons, adult language (pls let me know if I've forgotten any!)

AND FINALLY! THE LAST PART FOR AUGUST AND LUCAS' BACKSTORY! 🎉 Thank you so much for your guys' patience, with this one - it means everything <3 We resume with our usually scheduled Declan next chapter! 😍 And a mahoosive thank you to @darkthingshappen for her beta and help!

---

August feels like a stranger in his own home. A prisoner in his own home; his sanctuary now nothing more than a gilded cage. He is forever and always a captive of his own compassion and a victim of his cowardice. 

But August curses himself for daring to think like that. It’s unjust to think like that, especially on a night like tonight. The frantic hammering of a human heartbeat upstairs is his bleak reminder that he’s not alone anymore, and yet somehow… he’s never felt more alone in his life. The quiet has never screamed so loud, and the walls stretch to endless empty space around him.

For decades, August has been a ghost haunting this house. Lost in the in-between, a nobody with nobody. For decades, August has been at peace with that. Or at least, he had convinced himself that he was - if he dared to admit that the solitude was crippling, then the silence would drag him under and swallow him whole. Contentment was a convenient lie for the last century, but August’s loneliness is a glaring truth rearing its ugly head. He isn’t ready to face it.

Despair gnaws at his insides, sharper than the bite of the cold nipping his skin. Daylight has been and gone, and now moonlight bleeds through the dusty drapes. The ornate windows have blurred over with swirling white as the blizzard wails like a banshee and rages outside. August waits and waits, the grandfather clock in the corner ticks with a maddening slowness. He waits for something, anything and nothing all at once. He doesn’t know what. His comeuppance, perhaps? A wooden stake plunged straight through his spine? 

The human is still hidden away upstairs. Hours have bled by without a sound, not a whisper of movement and not a creak of the floorboard. No doubt he is plotting and scheming, waiting for his perfect chance to strike. Who could blame him? If August were in the human's position, trapped and desperate, the only natural urge for survival would twist his mind too.

August repeats his earlier vow in his mind like a broken record, over and over. When the snowstorm clears, the human will be released, and not a second later. He is a healer, not a gaoler. Every fibre of August's being aches with the need to atone. He will right this wrong no matter the cost. 

A sudden chill snakes down August's spine. A different kind of chill than the frosty air that fogs his breath. He snaps around, his eyes zeroing in on the dark figure lurking in the doorway. The human. They hadn’t made a sound, they’d just…appeared. Materialised out of thin air. Their sunken-in and bloodshot eyes lock with August’s in the dim light. His stance is imposing, his demeanour threatening. August feels strangely diminished by the very sight of him, as though he’s two inches tall.

"Hungry."

A single grumbled word is all that leaves the human's lips. Barely audible but the demand is crystal clear. Not a beg for scraps or a plea, it’s a demand. An attempt to claw back a sliver of control in a situation spiralling wildly out of reach for both of them. The terse delivery, the lack of a complete sentence - it speaks volumes. August isn't worthy of conversation, of any respect or dignity. He isn’t human, afterall - why should he be treated with any humanity?

The realisation eats away at him more than the rumbling of the human’s stomach.

That’s another thing. August forgets how quickly the human’s digestive system and their metabolism works. It’s a miracle how they live as long as they do. It’s as though the second they swallow, their belly immediately roars for even more. It must be impossible to keep up. August can’t keep up.

"I-I'll see what's in the pantry," August stammers, his voice cracking under the weight of the human's burning stare. "It- It won't be much, but..."

He shuffles towards the kitchen and its meagre cabinets. A can of chicken chunks, a tin of kidney beans, cobwebs and layers of dust line the shelves. The human catches a glimpse of the miserable sight, his expression drops to a mix of disapproval, offence and somehow, something akin to pity.

“If you plan on keeping me prisoner, you need to feed me, vamp,” the human snarls with contempt, “That’s human biology 101. Didn’t you claim to be a doc?”

August's jaw clenches. That hit a raw nerve. He wants to retort, to defend his capabilities, but the accusation lodges itself deep in August’s gut. He feels a flush of shame and embarrassment fill his cheeks, because the man’s words were a bitter truth. How can he call himself a doctor? When all he’s responsible for is pain and misery? He can’t even provide basic sustenance.

August finds himself at a loss for words. He can’t even look at the human. Instead he hangs his head and anxiously picks at the skin on his fingers.  “I-I …I didn’t p-plan this. Any of this-”

“-Food,” the human makes his demand again. His fuse running short.

“H-Help yourself. You don’t have to ask. Please, just make yourself at home.”

“This will never be my home,” the human spits venomously, his hands balled tight into fists.

“No - I - I didn’t mean tha-”

The human tears past August in a huff, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. His shoulder slams into August with deliberate malice. August, however, stands firm and absorbs the shove without a flinch. He watches as the human throws himself at the kitchen with the ferocious hunger of a starved lion. He wrenches the cupboards open with bone-jarring bangs and slams them shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“So what’s your plan?” the human side-eyes August, squatting down to the lower cabinets and flinging them open. They’re empty too. They all are, really. He groans in frustration and slams them shut. “Earn my trust to break it? I’ll be a mindless zombie in days?”

"My plan is to return you to where I found you. As soon as I possibly can. Without hesitation." 

“‘Without hesitation?’” the human scoffs, a bitter and humourless laugh, “what a fucking joke.”

He snatches at cans and packets, what few there are that he can get his hands on. He crams a half-empty bag of dry pasta and a tin of peaches into his arms - god knows how long they’ve been there. Nothing that constitutes a full meal but his stockpile will stretch to a couple days, at least. August feels a weight settle heavy on his chest at that. He knows with a devastating certainty that the bridge of understanding between them is crumbling away. The human will surely disappear upstairs again, never to be seen. There will be no getting through to him. Strangers, they will remain.

The human fills his arms and races back towards the stairs. August scrambles after him, his voice tight, "Please, can we just talk? Before you-”

“NO! Don't follow me! Don't talk to me. Don't you dare come anywhere near me. Don't even knock on my door. You want to make good on your promise? I don't want to hear from you or see your face until we’re heading back to human territory. Comprende?!”

If August had a tail, it would be between his legs. His shoulders slump as he nods solemnly, shamefaced.

“I understand,” August croaks,  “I’m so sorry. I won’t come near you until it’s time to go.”

“Not a moment before, and not a damn second later,” the human growls with a point of his finger, veins bulging in his neck that August can’t help but notice.

One moment he’s there and the next, he disappears up the stairs in a flash. He slams the door like a hormonal teenager and August hears the unmistakable screeching and scraping of furniture being dragged across the room all over again.

*!*!*!*!*

Lucas doesn’t count the days it’s been. He doesn’t need nor want to. Even if he tried, the numbers would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He refuses to be one of those prisoners who scratches tallies into the walls until there’s no space left to etch, until their sanity crumbles to nothing.

Either yesterday, or three days, or a week ago - Lucas can only guess, everyday has turned to mush - the storm knocked out the power lines. The house plunged into pitch-black darkness and stayed that way ever since.

It’s now or never. The vampire or him. Lucas knows no-one is coming to save him. No-one is looking for him. He can’t afford to be the damsel in distress and wait for a saviour or a miracle. The gnawing ache in his stomach and the dwindling rations remind him that his clock is ticking. 

Only one of them walks out of this alive.

Lucas grits his teeth, his resolve hardening like steel. He will be the last one standing. He dismantles his barricade, and the stake finds its way back to his palm again. His fingers curl around the splintered, shaved wood. On tip-toes, he sneaks through the shadowed hallway. A too-loud creak of the floor and Lucas freezes on the spot, his ears pricking. When nothing comes of it, he creeps on towards the stairs.

How will it feel? Brief hesitation coils around his gut. His hands turn clammy. How will it feel to take another’s life? There’ll be blood on his hands for the rest of his life - maybe guilt will eat him alive. But needs must. If he doesn’t slay the monster, there’ll be no life left to be wracked with guilt. How many countless other lives will this save aside his own?

Lucas holds his breath, cautiously poking his head through the bars of the stairwell railing. In flickering candlelight, the vampire hunches over a worn chessboard. Its face etched with an ageless ennui, it tediously moves the black knight across the squares. Somehow, its pale skin seems even more ghostly in the dim light, but Lucas notices how its dark eyes seem to hold a profound loneliness and deep despair.

The vampire was playing all by itself; the opposing white pieces stood sentinel in their starting positions. A ragged sigh escapes its lips as it captures a white pawn with a languid grace. The victory, if it could be called that, brought no spark of joy or satisfaction to its eyes. The vampire simply reset the captured pawn. And played on.

Lucas watches the vampire, his mind in turmoil. This isn’t what he envisioned; being kidnapped by a vampire. He’d imagined a life of forced subservience, drained for every drop of his blood. He saw himself fighting tooth and nail for a life no longer worth living. A life as livestock, waiting for slaughter. His grip on the stake loosens, and he stares down at it with deep contemplation.

This doesn’t feel like the nightmare Lucas had always feared it would be. This vampire, this monster that stole him… has kept to every promise it’s made. Lucas can’t believe that he’s admitting that. It hasn’t used persuasion. Why? It would be so easy, like taking candy from a baby. Lucas would have no choice but to grovel at its feet and offer it a drink from his neck. But the vampire hasn’t even tried to feed, claims it doesn’t want to feed. The vampire hasn’t laid a hand on Lucas. It’s given him peace and solitude, food and drink, endless promises to return him to human territory, safe and sound. 

A wave of doubt crashes over Lucas. Could he dare to trust the vampire’s word?

“Care to join…?”

Lucas jumps out of his skin. The vampire is looking right at him, its gaze fixed and intense. For a moment, Lucas fears the worst. Has he angered the creature? But as he looks closer, he realises that the vampire's expression was not one of anger. Instead, there’s a raw desperation and longing in its eyes, a look that Lucas had never seen or maybe cared to notice before. He quickly and discreetly shoves the stake into the waistband of his jeans, and grabs the bars of the stairs like the prisoner he’s been so convinced he is.

“What do I win?” Lucas calls down. There’s still hesitation to his voice, an air of stubbornness. He’s not fully prepared to let his guard down just yet.  

For the first time, the vampire actually smiles. “Bragging rights. I never lose.”

Lucas hesitates, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation coursing through him. Perhaps this game of chess would help pass the time before he goes back, and maybe, just maybe, it would give him a chance to glimpse into the mind of this vampire. He nods and heads down the stairs as the vampire frantically and meticulously restarts the board.

“I’ll let you go first, of course. Give you a headstart. It would be unfair otherwise,” the vampire lightly teases.

Lucas moves first, his fingers hesitating slightly as he places a white pawn forward. The vampire responds with equal care, its movements precise and deliberate. They play in pregnant silence, the only sound the soft click of the pieces against the board. An eternity and a half passes before the silence is dared to be broken.

“I’ve been thinking,” The vampire ponders, “when the power is restored, is there anyone you could call? Just to let somebody know you’re safe? That you will be back as soon as you can?”

Lucas leans back, his eyes glued to the board, and without looking up, simply replies, "Nope."

“No-one at all? Not a single soul?” the vampire presses.

“That’s what nope means, don’t it?” Lucas takes a pawn, and the vampire uncomfortably shuffles in its chair. “You know that no-one’s looking, that’s why you chose me, remember…?” a condescending smirk curls on Lucas’s lips. Like he can afford to prod and jibe. He’s feeling more at ease, his confidence growing with each passing moment.

"Anyway. You must be the softest leech going. Either that or you're playing the long game. The self-restraint is mind-boggling... don't you want a bite? Bet the smell is driving you almost cuckoo," Lucas outstretches his arm and waves it underneath the vampire's nose.

Lucas doesn't know how much he even believes what he’s saying anymore. His thoughts are a whirlwind. He has been so hellbent on survival, on staying one step ahead of the vampire, that he hadn't had a second to breathe and take a step back to really think about what was happening. He watches the vampire's face closely, searching for any sign of weakness or desire. Is the restraint genuine, or is it just a facade?

Instead the vampire’s face falls and it gasps, reaching out for Lucas’s wrist, “Your wound-”

The gash on Lucas’ palm is deep, the edges jagged and uneven and the skin around it is inflamed and swollen. Lucas had bigger fish to fry than worrying over a silly little cut, but now he notices it, he feels it throb with dull pain.

“That’s not looking good. Would you let me take a look at it?”

Lucas quickly retracts his arm and cradles his hand defensively. His eyes narrow. “If you win. If you win, maybe I’ll let you. But what do I get if I win?”

The vamp seems satisfied by that. So certain of its inevitable triumph. “I told you. Bragging rights.”

Lucas isn’t so certain that the vampire will best him. He remembers the long days spent practising his moves against the undefeated champion. His grandpa was tough, but Lucas had always held his own. There were times when he thought he might just be able to beat him, but the old man always managed to pull through.

A flicker of nostalgia and a flicker of grief passes over Lucas's face.  “My grandpa. He was the undefeated champ. But I got pretty damn close on occasion. This will be childsplay.”

The vampire’s face softens, its voice gentle, “Is he…still with us?”

“If he was, do you think I’d be sleeping rough on some sopping wet cardboard?” Lucas makes another sharp move, capturing one of the vampire’s pieces. Silence fills the air, and Lucas sighs.

“Why aren’t you using persuasion? You could easily win this. Make me move my knight and the game’s all yours,” Lucas suggests, shrugging. The vampire lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scanning the board as he calculates his next move. But Lucas's words lingered, a nagging thought in the back of his mind.

“No…but, in all seriousness…why - why aren’t you using persuasion? Like, at all? I’d be powerless to stop you. I’d… be y-yours,” he stutters. “Entirely at your mercy. You wouldn’t have to follow through on your promise to free me.”

The vampire's ruby-red eyes widen in shock. Its mouth drops open as though he’d been struck. It averts its gaze down to the flickering candlelight.

“Why would I?” the vamp laments, “I don’t want to use persuasion. To what aim? I’ve made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. I value your trust, and I would never do anything to jeopardise it. You deserve your free will. Your choices and your thoughts are, and will always be, your own.”

“I didn’t choose to be here-” Lucas' lips respond quicker than his brain can comprehend. He can tell those words cut like a knife to the vampire. 

“No… you didn’t.” The vampire whispers, its tone heavy with guilt. “And that will haunt me for as long as I shall live.”

Lucas is taken aback. He’d always assumed that vampires were cold, unfeeling monsters - devoid of all emotion. But here, he saw something different. He feels something different. The vampire’s words were filled with a mournful regret. He fears he’d been too quick to judge, too eager to paint the vampire as a villain. Maybe there is more to this creature than meets the eye.

The wind suddenly picks up outside, it howls and screeches, whipping against the glass. Lucas stares out the window, a chill running down his spine as he watches the snow swirl and fall.

“I hate to say it… I am glad you are here. Not out there tonight,” the vampire says, watching the blizzard too with a heavy heart.

"Yeah. Me too,” Lucas mumbles. 

"What would you do?” the vampire frets, dragging itself back to the game’s attention and playing its turn, “If you were? Where would you go?"  

"I...I don't know,” Lucas shrugs, “Loiter somewhere warm inside until they chuck me out?" 

"Is there truly no-one you could go to?" 

"No-one. I – I don't have any family left. And try making friends in a nomadic lifestyle. I'm never in one place long enough to keep friends. And if I'm honest? I'm shocked one of you lot hadn't snapped me up sooner. I was...kinda expecting it." 

Every night was a gamble, every morning was a blessing. Lucas always had to be careful, to seek refuge in shadows and find safety in numbers wherever possible. He knew it was coming sooner or later. He was always a sitting duck for a vampire to come along and nab.

“Forgive me if I do say, I am glad I was the one to snatch you up. And not another.”

The walls Lucas put up seem to be slowly knocked down brick by brick. He doesn’t feel like a hunted animal or a captive anymore. He doesn’t feel like he has to look over his shoulder at every turn. It feels almost…safe. 

“Yeah… guess I probably lucked out, huh?” 

Silence falls once again, Lucas looks down to the board. But now he sees an opportunity. With a swift and decisive move, Lucas advances his rook, placing the king in check. The vamp’s king is trapped, cornered by Lucas's pieces.

There’s no escape. The vampire’s face falls as it realises. Lucas has won the game.

“There’s no way-” the vamp mutters, shaking its head in disbelief. “Well played,” he concedes, offering a hand out to shake. Lucas takes it readily. 

“I - I know we made a deal, but please may I look at your wound?” the vampire tries its luck.

“Finee,” Lucas rolls his eyes jovially, “Guess I’m feeling benevolent. Coming off a high from my win.”

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

The human sits on top of the examination table, swinging his legs nervously like a child. His eyes flitter around the room, eyebrows furrowed. There’s no sign of the destruction and chaos he unleashed last week. 

August approaches him and gently lifts the human’s hand, examining the slash across the palm. “This looks deep,” he murmurs to himself, turning the human’s hand to different angles and reaching for a bottle of antiseptic.

“Luckily, I don’t think it’s infected. Just a bit swollen. I have some antibiotic ointment - neomycin - and we’ll dress the wound. Shouldn’t give you too much trouble.”

As August pours the antiseptic onto the wound, the human flinches and hisses through his teeth. His eyes squeeze shut, snatching his hand away. The sudden movement startles August, who flinches back too, his heart hammering at his ribs.

"Are you alright?" August asks once he’s caught his own breath, his voice filled with concern. He tries to appear confident and in control, but the truth is, he’s just as nervous as the human.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the human replies, his voice a bit shaky. "It just stung a bit, is all."

August nods, his eyes filled with a strange intensity. "Want to know something?" he asks. The human nods, his own eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"I used to be terrified of humans," August confesses.

The human’s eyebrows shot up. "You? Scared of humans? A vampire?"

“My mother spun tales of hunters, mobs, and lynchers. I was taught hell hath no fury like a human. I grew up believing our own blood bags would tear me limb from limb should they grab hold of me. I thought humans were my natural predator."

The human is silent for a moment, his mind racing. "…when it was the other way around," he finally finishes. “I’ve lived my entire life in fear of you - of your kind.”

“Me too. Our practices are cruel-”

“What makes you so different?” The human cuts in, desperate for answers, “Why - Why are you being kind to me?”

August gently applies the ointment to the human’s wounded palm, then a clean bandage securing it with a strip of medical tape. He places a cold compress on the area to help reduce swelling and pain.

“Kindness costs nothing, but means everything,” August explains, “You were not put on this earth to suffer, or to be my food. Nor would I ever want that. You deserve your freedom -  your humanity. I will live my life, and you will live yours.”

“Why-Why did you take me? If you never wanted me, if you never wanted this … why am I here?” the human croaks, tears brimming in his eyes. 

“I was left with no choice, I promise you. I - I took you to save you. My family - they forced my hand. They said they would take you if I didn’t. They would hurt you. They would make your life a living hell. It was the only way I could stop them - It was the only way I could make sure you made it home again-”

A tear freely rolls down the man’s cheek, he quickly swipes it away. “You…You saved me?”

“I’m so sorry it had to happen this way. But I would do it ten times over if it meant I knew you were safe in my hands.”

The human closes his eyes, and exhales a deep breath of relief. August can see the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. “T-Thank you,” the human whispers.

“Please,” August shakes his head in abnegation, “Don’t thank me. I don’t deserve gratitude. You deserve every apology I could ever utter, and still it would never be enough.”

August scuttles across the room to his cabinets, rummaging around for the painkillers he knows are hiding in there somewhere.

“August?”

August’s heart leaps. He stops still, the world stops still. It’s the first time the human has spoken his name. Not vamp, not leech, or monster. August. It’s like music to his ears.

“My…My name is Lucas. Lucas Slater. I - I thought if I gave you my name… I was giving myself away. But I trust you with my name.”

It’s not much, but it’s more than August could have ever hoped for. It feels like the sun rising after a long, dark winter. His legs feel as if they might give out beneath him, he has to lean against the countertop to steady himself.

“Lucas.” August whispers to himself. He can finally put a name to the stranger.  “It’s - It’s nice to finally meet you, Lucas.”

*!*!*!*!*!*

The day finally arrived. The day Lucas had been waiting for was finally here. Hometime. To where or whatever his home is supposed to be. But home has never been just a place to Lucas. It’s always been a feeling, a sense of belonging. This house, that was supposed to be his prison, has become more of a home in this short time than he has ever known in his entire life. The days spent with August felt like a new lease of life, their connection grew day by day. At night, Lucas slept like a baby, without a care in the world. In a toasty bed, and not on cardboard and newspaper. With a warm belly, and no starved rumbling. For the first time, he feels that sense of belonging he’s craved.

He’s never belonged anywhere, and neither has August, it seems.

The snow has melted, revealing a landscape that was both familiar and foreign. It looked so much like human territory but felt worlds apart. As they drove through the countryside, Lucas couldn't help but think about all he would leave behind. The vampire's old, dusty house had become his asylum, a place where he felt safe and protected. He had grown to trust August, to rely on him.

Lucas couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had been gnawing at him all morning. He knew his time with August was coming to an end, and the thought of leaving filled him with a sense of loss. He had grown to respect the vampire, more than he ever thought possible. He glances at August in the rearview mirror. His expression is unreadable, dormant. He’d been quiet all morning. He stares absentmindedly out the window, lost in thought. Lucas wonders if August feels the same way. They both live such lonely lives. A nobody with nobody. What if he stayed? Would that be so awful? 

They continue driving in silence, the only sound the gentle hum of the car’s engine. Lucas watches the road pass them by from the window, edging closer and closer to human territory. Lucas feels his stomach sink. Going ‘home’ shouldn’t feel like that. This isn’t right.

"Stop the car," Lucas blurts out.

"You want to get out here? We're still miles away yet!" August queries.

"No, I... I've been thinking," Lucas stammers. "How do you... feel about a new roommate? I guess I'd feel bad leaving you to your lonely, boring self with your dusty, old books."

Lucas silently scolds himself, using his humour as a shield. He lets the mask slip, and his lip wobbles with impending tears.

"I - I have nothing back in human territory. You plucked me from the streets, my cardboard bed, my only possession was a paper cup with a few coins... I'll do anything. Odds are another vampire will find me again in no time and I - I doubt I'll be as lucky to get another one as kind as you - it'd be like lightning striking the same spot twice."

"If you truly wish to stay, you're more than welcome..." August began, his voice soft. "The guest bedroom is yours for the taking, stay as long as you need or want. Please do not stay on my account, or out of fear of me. You truly are free to go."

Lucas hesitates, a thousand what if’s fill his mind. This is quite possibly the most idiotic choice he’s ever made, but it just feels right in his gut. It’s the path he’s meant to take.  "I - god this is so stupid, I barely fucking know you but... I think I trust you. If this kindness is all an act or a game then hey, props to you for keeping it up this long, you deserve to feed off me."

August can't help but smile, a gentle expression that warmed Lucas's heart. "Only if you're absolutely, positively sure. You can change your mind at any time. But...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

Lucas takes a deep breath. He rests his head against the window.  "Turn the car around. Let's go home."

---

Shattered taglist: @octopus-reactivated @whatwasmyprevioususername @ramadiiiisme @darkthingshappen @whumpsday  

@thecyrulik @t0rture-me @redwhump  @the-cryptid-finch  @snowstuffscuff

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump   @wolfeyedwitch   @interdimensional-chaos  @termsnconditions-apply   @whump-blog  

@leyswhumpdump @not-a-space-alien   @onlybadendings   @darlingwhump @sparrowsage   

@flynnswhumpprompts @whumpcereal  @wolves-and-winters @ashh-ed  @idkmansomeusername 

@whuarri  @33-sdtr-45 @pigeonwhumps  @canislycaon24  @the-whumpers-grimm

@damienxozmoze @predacon-skydrift @morning-star-whump @neverthelass @espresso-depresso-system

@only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @androgynousqueenie @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @fiifii000 @that-one-small-world

@doodlepoodle154 @sodacreampuff @cupcakes-and-pain @topsheepstudent @mylovelyme

@anonfromcanada @astrokea @turn-the-tables-on-them @bloodredfountainpen @fleur-a-whump

@tobiaslut

[harringroveera]

I think it’s because Billy’s obsessed with you Steve but I’m not sure

[thinkingimages]

Theodore Brauner, Gherasim Luca

LUCA, Gherasim et Théodore BRAUNER, 1945

papier orange

Originally published in 1945 by Les ditions de l'Oubli in Bucharest, The Passive Vampire caught the attention of the French Surrealists when an excerpt appeared in 1947 in the magazine La part du sable. Luca, whose work was admired by Gilles Deleuze, attempts here to transmit the "shudder" evoked by some Surrealist texts, such as Andr Breton's Nadja and Mad Love, probing with acerbic humor the fragile boundary between "objective chance" and delirium. 

Impossible to define, The Passive Vampire is a mixture of theoretical treatise and breathless poetic prose, personal confession and scientific investigation it is 18 photographs of "objectively offered objects," a category created by Luca to occupy the space opened up by Breton. At times taking shape as assemblages, these objects are meant to capture chance in its dynamic and dramatic forms by externalizing the ambivalence of our drives and bringing to light the nearly continual equivalence between our love-hate tendencies and the world of things.

[chickenbutts-posts]

"Corporate needs to you to find the difference between...this picture:

and this picture:"

Me: They're the same picture.

[taninininini]

with and without blood versions! + lineart at the end

these days, there's the edluca week on going and the second prompt was either vampire au or fashion

safe to say, the vampire au was a lot more inspiring to me than the fashion prompt, and I somehow speedran this in five hours (tho this post still flopped on twitter rip😔)

it's the first time I post something like this in here (considering it's also my second post) so please let me know if there are warnings I should use, or anything else when it comes to similar drawings! I tend to paint blood in a lot of illustrations so it'd come in handy for future posts

[confirmeddead]

Season 3 Armandaniel if Rolin loved us

[parrythefloof]

🐺Small Energy🐺

Lucas is not actually that small. he is smaller then Mitch however!

[suikamelon6]

I love comparison photos. Sam Reid is something else.

IWTV fandom, please listen to Em Rusciano and Michael Lucas in Emsolation podcast talking about IWTV, TheNewsreader and Sam Reid as Lestat and Dale Jennings.

And about how lovely Sam is to his fans. The fact that he said this "I really appreciate it. This is why we do what we do."

[daintyprinc3ess444]

i want you to eat me. i want you to feed! bones and all!

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Throne of Vyrthur - Auriel's Chapel

Concept art for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Dawnguard DLC

Art by Lucas Hardi

[oddsconvert]

Shattered #10 - Happy Birthday, August! Part II

Previous / Masterlist / Next

CW: kidnapped whumpee, captivity (kinda), defiant whumpee, whumpee thinks caretaker is a whumper, forced to kidnap references, vampire caretaker, unwilling whumper, forced to be whumper, ALOT of self-loathing and fucky thoughts and guilt and all of it, weapons, adult language, mentions of blood, brief mention of vomit/nausea, reference to toxic/abusive family dynamic (if I've missed any, please let me know! <3)

Part two! A long time coming! The final part should drop in the next few days/this week! :D thank you to the amazing @whumpcereal for her AMAZING beta on this 🥺🫶

---

August has always dreamt of cake on his birthday, the warm scent of sugar and butter taunting his vampiric senses like forbidden fruit. The cake would be chocolate, of course. Every human loves chocolate; it must be the tastiest thing on Earth. This year, there would have been one hundred and thirty candles, barely fitting on top of it. And August could blow them all out and make his birthday wish. Just like the humans do.

But if the flickering flames on his imaginary cake could really grant his wishes, he wouldn’t wish for chocolate. With a single puff of breath, he’d wish to rewind time and erase this horrific day out of existence. Or, perhaps, he’d wish for a clean slate - a life free from the regret that eats him alive. But above all, he would wish to finally be happy - whatever that means. But where does August get the gall to wish for his own happiness when he is the catalyst of another’s misery? 

He stole a human being tonight. He crept through the streets, snatched them from where they slept and locked them away. He’d lurked in the shadows and all, like a true monster. As far as the human is aware, they saw the stars for the last time this eve and they’ll never feel fresh air stream through their lungs again. August could see it the moment their eyes first locked - the human feared the blood coursing through his own veins was his no longer, that he had become nothing more than food.

No, if August had birthday candles, he should be wishing for the human’s pain to stop, not his own. He should pray for any memories of this miserable night to fade away, and for the human to feel nothing but warmth and safety for the rest of his days. How dare August make this about himself?

How dare August call himself a doctor?

Really, if August is anything other than a feral creature, he is a coward. He can’t find a drop of courage in his selfish core to face the human. Of course not. That would mean facing up to what he has done to the human.

Instead, August kneels in the bathroom, and he hugs the toilet bowl tight in his arms. He sputters and heaves as spit dribbles from his lips. It’s a battle against wave after wave of never-ending nausea. August is sickened by himself. Repulsed by the cruelty that he and his kind are capable of. Even if he earned his family’s stamp of approval tonight - something he’s always dreamed of and strived for - it wasn’t worth it. Not one bit. He refuses to hurt, abuse and sacrifice an innocent life for a scrap of their regard. Curse their prideful smiles and damn their hollow praise.

CRASH! Shattering glass pierces through the silence in-between retches. August’s heart leaps up into his throat, and his gut clenches.

His human is awake - no! August shakes that insidious thought from his head. Not his, and never his. The human does not belong to him. 

August wills the ground to open up and swallow him whole. The thought of skulking down to that basement with his tail between his legs and shame swelling in his chest - it turns his already churning stomach with bubbles of dread. Still, he must. He peels himself from the bathroom floor, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and makes his way downstairs to greet his guest. There’s not a second spare to wallow and drown in self-pity.

He grips the stair bannister for dear life, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Still, he forces his dragging feet to move one step at a time down to the basement. There’s no backing out of this, no turning and running now. August needs to face the music–or face his victim, rather. He must fix what he’s done to this poor human.

There is the sound of a jarring crash, and then another dull thud resonates from behind the locked basement door. August’s shaking hands fumble to fit the key in the lock. With a click, the door opens, and he cautiously descends into the dimly lit basement, every footstep echoing in the sudden, eerie silence.

That is until he hears the human’s heart. It pounds like a war-drum in August’s ears, each beat louder and more erratic. August flicks the light switch, and as the basement floods with light, he freezes on the spot, beyond horrified at the scene before him.

His life's work, decades of dedication, lay in ruins. His surgery looks like the aftermath of an explosion. All the furniture is flipped over, and shards of shattered glass sparkle across the floor like jewels amongst the blitz. Charts and graphs once meticulously hung on the wall now dangle in tatters, their scientific data reduced to meaningless scraps. His medicinal cabinets have been ransacked; trails of viscous liquid snake across the concrete floor from countless broken vials. The air is thick with the acrid smell of chemicals.

And there, behind his masterpiece of destruction, cowers the human, pressed flat against the farthest wall, a scalpel gripped in trembling hands held out before him. Its sharp tip is pointed in August’s direction, glistening against the surgery's harsh strip lights.

August has seen fear in human eyes more times than he can possibly count, but he has never seen fear like this. The human’s eyes burn with such primal terror that they touch the very core of August’s being. In the man’s eyes, August sees his own fear, his own isolation and his own despair. But August stays there, unable to look away no matter how it hurts him. He is trapped in this man’s stare, lost in a labyrinth of his own reflections.

But August feels something else too. A raw and untamed emotion. Rage. All-consuming anger that makes goosebumps prickle down the vampire’s pale skin. Rage courses through the human’s veins like a river of molten lava.

“You stay the hell back!” the human roars until his voice wavers and wobbles. He swings the scalpel into the empty space between them, stabbing at the air. “Don’t you dare come near me!”

August’s hands fly up in surrender. Words escape him. What could he possibly say to make this right? Where does he even start? Surely nothing he could say could do justice to his regret.

“I’m sorry-”

That’s the first thing that blurts out of August’s pathetic mouth. Because it is the only and the most sincere thought that comes to him. As though his apology could ever mend the damage or heal the pain he’s caused tonight.

August is shaking now. He can’t stop. His palm slams against his mouth as he chokes back a guilt-warbled cry. “I’m - so…I’m SO sorry. I - I don’t - I…I -I never. I didn’t want to hurt you. I - I won’t hurt you! I don’t want this. Please - y-you have to believe me. You’re safe here-”

August moves without thinking, over the rubble and glass shards. He moves barely an inch closer, and the human erupts into panic. Like a great cat, the human swiftly pounces and flips the table in front of him to form a barricade, stopping August dead in his tracks. Surgical instruments clatter about, and yet more glass scatters across the cement floor. 

“I SAID STAY BACK!” the human brays like a feral animal. His chest heaves dramatically as his lungs seem to fight for breath, and he takes an unsteady step back to create even more distance between them. Gingerly, he cradles his hand, still clutching the scalpel. A gasp escapes his lips as crimson wells from a sudden gash. The tang of iron hits August’s nostrils, drool coats his tongue and his fangs tingle, ready to feed. He wrestles with his animalistic instincts and pushes back the unwanted and primal hunger that threatens to take over. He knows he doesn’t want it, but his body thinks he needs it.

The human had hurt himself in his own destructive frenzy. August can’t help but feel responsible for that too. But that doesn’t seem to deter the human, in fact, it fuels him. He launches himself at the countertops. In one fluid motion, sweeping his arms  across the surfaces, clearing it of every single object in a deafening cascade that shatters across the floor.

“HUMAN! PLEASE STOP!”

The human doesn’t speak, but a slow, cold anger radiates off him. Brows slam together, his jaw clenches until the muscles stand out starkly. A single word, each syllable dripping with disdain, finally leaves his lips:  "'Human'?"

August immediately realises his mistake. Guilt eats him from the inside out. You utter barbarian; he scolds himself.

“I have a name, you know!” The human snaps incredulously, bloody hands curling into fists.

“Of course, of course! Just…” August breathes, “What is your name?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?!”

The bookshelves are the human’s next victim. He doesn’t bother pulling or ripping at them; he just bulldozes them with a barge of his shoulder. The shelves topple with a cacophony of splintering wood and flapping pages. His gaze is already fixed on his next target: a framed diploma hanging on the wall, defying the human’s rampage.

“Wait, no! P-Please, not that!” August begs, hands clasped together in supplication. The diploma represents his proudest achievement, everything that he’s worked so hard for. It is the only proof August has that there may be good in him somewhere. “Please! Don’t destroy anything else! I just need you to hear me out!”

“Open the door and let me walk out, vamp,” the human scowls, glossing over August’s pleas. “Or do I have to go through you?”

August swallows hard, the human’s casual threat sending a fresh wave of terror through him. He doesn’t doubt the human’s raw strength or willpower for even a second. The destroyed furniture and the fiery defiance in his eyes promise more violence. A heavy silence stretches between them, thick with tension.

“I - I want to help you - please just let me explain all of this-”

The human slams his fist into the nearest wall, a crater of dust left in its wake. August flinches into himself. Then, the man lets out a sound that no soul should ever have to hear. It’s a keening cry - a grieving wail for the life he fears he has lost. It rocks August to his core. It’s bloodcurdling. 

“Why’d you choose me, huh?!” The human seethes, damn near foaming at the mouth. “Is it because I sleep rough on the streets? Is that it? Because my life is so fucking expendable?!”

Then, it’s as if a dam has burst. The human’s face just crumples as a choked sob croaks from his lips, barely even audible. Slowly, he slides down against the wall. Head in hands, shoulders slumped, any bravado completely drained from his posture. 

“You knew no-one would come for me… didn’t you?” The human manages a whisper, his head hung low in defeat. Words just seem to keep failing August time and time again, he can only watch miserably and quietly. 

“DIDN’T YOU?!” the human bellows, eyes bloodshot and wild as his head shoots up. August flinches at the outburst.

“What gives you the right to play god?! What makes my life worth any less than yours, or any other person you could have plucked from the damn street. It was a shitty life. But it was my life! There was nothing left to take from me, and you took it all anyway. You’re a… you’re a parasite.”

August bites his lips and nods, a silent, pathetic apology. He is a parasite. Every word burns like a red-hot fire poker but he knows he deserves every scorch. Scarlet-shame colours his cheeks. Monster, parasite, animal - he’s all of the above.

“I won’t stop fighting you,” the human huffs through tears of fury. “I won't stop until I kill you, even if it kills me. You're right. I have nothing, and no-one. Nothing to lose but everything to gain. So if I’m going to go down, I'm going down swinging. Do your worst…leech.”

Leech.

August has always thought of himself as a healer. A protector. It is here, in this moment, he finally realises he is nothing more than the predator he was born to be. Afterall, there is no denying what he has done. He did take the human, he took away everything the human had to take.  He, too, sinks to the floor in devastation, landing heavily in a cross-legged slump opposite the tear-streaked human. 

Worst birthday ever.

August is drained and depleted, but he won’t waste any more breath on defending himself; he isn’t worthy of any defence. But the very least he can do is comfort the human - help him to weather the storm and be the anchor he needs right now.

“You can keep the scalpel,” August sniffles, “if it gives you some comfort. If it helps you to feel safe.” It’s an impotent gesture. A scalpel would be useless against him in combat if it really did come to that, but hopefully the human can see the sentiment behind the offer. “All I ask is for a minute of your time, and I promise, I will explain everything to you.”

The human stares at the scalpel in his hand and then locks eyes with August’s in a silent duel. No accusation, no defiance this time - only a deep well of desperate inquiry burning in their depths. A million silent questions hang in the air. He begrudgingly nods for August to go on.

“I will take you home tomorrow morning. I swear it. I wish I could open the front door for you and let you stroll free and wave you off into the world, but we’re deep in vampire territory right now. You wouldn’t last five minutes out here on your own. You’ll be snatched back up in a heartbeat, and by a creature less...inviting than myself. We will go after sunrise tomorrow and not a minute later, you have my word.”

“Your word,” the human spits, “Your word means jack all to me.”

“Then let me prove that I am who I say I am - a man of my word. Let me show you to a bed for tonight. Let me give you food and water, and a pillow to rest your head. And then I will leave you be, to get all the sleep you want and need, and I will keep to myself. The next time you see me, it will be to make our journey back to human territory.”

“...Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking for your trust.” Heaven knows August doesn’t deserve it, could never earn it. “I’m asking, from the bottom of my heart, for your leniency. You could, and probably should, drive a stake through my chest for what I’ve put you through. I cannot say I would blame you, if you did. But…why don’t we both survive the night, and come tomorrow we go our separate ways?”

Relief floods in as the human seems to reluctantly ponder the deal. It’s just a night. They just need to make it through the night, and then they can both go back to their separate lives and try to forget each other's faces. The human must realise that too, because his boiling anger seems to simmer down. August rises to his feet and slowly moves across the room to extend a helping hand. The human only grunts his curt refusal and snubs the offer, forcing himself up off the cold and unforgiving ground. 

“Spare bedroom. First floor. It’s all yours for the night. I’ll show you to it.” August nervously beckons the human over as he heads towards the basement door. The man sluggishly follows behind, keeping a distance that feels like miles. August feels distrustful eyes burning into the back of his head. He half expects to feel the scalpel pierce his spine any second.

But it doesn’t. As August leads the way upstairs, their unified steps echo strangely in the emptiness of the house. With each turn, the sheer scale of this place, his home, hits August anew. In the company of this poor stranger he’s pulled from the grime of the street, the house feels absurdly oversized. Every step reveals yet another opulent space – a bathroom, a bedroom, a study, a library, another bathroom.  August marches him through this excessive display of wealth with a sinking heart. Does he truly need all this, especially when the man trailing behind him apparently doesn’t have a penny to his name or a roof over his head?

August pauses before what is now the third bedroom door they’ve come across, this one already ajar. Inside, the air is stuffy and still, as though the room hasn’t been disturbed in decades, and it hasn’t; it is  untouched and unslept in. A sliver of moonlight creeps through the drawn curtains and slices across the four-poster bed. 

“This is yours,” he motions the human through the doorway, “for the night-” he quickly repeats. He chooses every word with due care and diligence, to reaffirm that this situation is by no means permanent.

Hesitantly, the human steps inside. His eyes flit across the ornately carved furniture and over thick layers of dust. August takes his moment to disappear down the hallway, returning minutes later with a tray holding a jug of water, a glass and a bowl of steaming chicken soup - he was lucky to find the tin of it at the very back of his cupboard. A strained smile tugs at August’s lips as he sets it down on the nightstand. 

Again, the human recoils from him, pressing himself into the corner of the room.

“I’ll go now, okay? I-I hope you can get a good night's sleep. If you need me, for anything, my bedroom is on the very end of the hall, on the left”.

“I won’t need you,” the human scoffs. “Go. Leave.”

The rebuff curdles August’s smile, his lips twitch nervously. “As you wish…” he mutters, stalking towards the door with defeat. Hand on the doorknob, he pauses, “My name is August, by the way. Could I please at least know your name, too?”

Rooted to the spot, the human squares his broad shoulders, a challenge radiating from his posture. “Names are sacred, leech,” he declares, teeth gritting together. “I plan to keep that secret for as long as I can keep my mind.”

The human’s words strike August like a physical blow. The air whooshes from his lungs, deflating him like a pricked balloon. Regret, sharp and bitter, settles in his chest. He can’t stay a second longer, not with the humiliating spark of unshed tears threatening to spill. His family is right, he’s a weak and pathetic excuse for a vampire. With a twist of the doorknob, he flees down the hall to his bedroom. He collapses onto his bed and buries his face in the pillow.

— 

For the human, however, sleep will be a stranger tonight. Any last vestige of drowsiness flees as the vampire vanishes. Sleep just isn’t in the cards. He has to hold out until dawn. He scrambles for anything he can get his hands on to barricade the door. It’s his first line of defence overnight;it will give him a fighting chance and an advantage over the creature.

The heavy dresser groans in protest as he drags it across the room to block the door, scratching and scraping the floorboards along its path. He doesn’t think twice about the damage, if the vamp gets to destroy his life, then he gets to destroy it’s property. Then the rickety chair and the desk it sits at gets pushed into the barricade. And the bedside tables, the bookcase too. Finally, his gaze falls on the bed and its sturdy oak bedposts. He pulls his scalpel from his pocket and digs his scalpel into the wood, feverishly wedging a chunk out of it with all the strength he has left. Shavings rain down as he whittles it down to a sharpened point. Slapdash, but a stake nonetheless.

Every creek of the settling house, every rustle in the wind sets the human’s teeth on edge. He crawls into the bed and slips under the blankets. He’s pleasantly surprised at how soft they are, and how the mattress feels like he’s floating on a cloud and how warmth seems to instantly envelop his fatigued body. He’s not felt this much comfort in…in, well, years.

But he can’t afford to let his weary eyes slip shut. He stays watching the door like a hawk from his bed, his staked clutched close to his beating chest.

Morning can’t come quick enough.

*!*!*!*!*

Dawn finds the human bleary-eyed but alert. His crafted weapon is still clutched tightly in his palms as he half-stares and blinks drearily at the barricaded door, as ready and poised to attack as he can be. Moonlight has dwindled and now sunlight beams through the velvet curtains instead. He leaps up, rips the curtains open and basks in the sun’s kiss. It’s something he thought he’d never feel again,

He survived the night. It’s nothing short of a miracle. A silent thank you rises in his throat as a single tear slips from his eye. Someone, he thinks, has to be watching over him. His parents, he hopes. There’s no way he would have made it through this without them.

Now the vampire just has to hold true to his promise. If his word holds any weight, the human will be back in human territory before dusk. Yet, the whole situation defies any logic. The human can’t wrap his head around the absurdity of it all. Why would a vampire snatch him, just to return him by nightfall, less than twenty four hours later? He can’t fight the feeling that a deeper motive lurks beneath the surface, a sinister plan at play. Suspicion clings to the human like cobwebs. Beyond the hospitality and kindness… the vampire has to be up to something.

The human dismantles his barricade and heads out to go downstairs. Every fibre of his being screams ‘it’s a trap!’...but the human can’t deny the smallest sliver of hope in his chest, piercing his bubble of suspicion. The vampire had kept true to its word so far, it had left him alone and untouched, fed and watered, a bed to sleep in. It hasn’t laid a hand on him nor tried to feed. In fact, it had kept far away.  Maybe the vampire deserves the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, there isn’t anything more to this than meets the eye, and there are no strings attached? 

But hope is a dangerous thing, tempting him to lower his guard and leave himself vulnerable for thirsty fangs to sink into. No, he thinks grimly, tightening his grip on the makeshift stake. He will not trust, cautious acceptance will have to do. He’s ready to fight with all he’s got when it all heads south.

He reaches the landing and sneakily peeks over the railing. The vampire stands by the front door, guarding it like a troll bridge. To stop the human from escaping? The vampire meticulously folds up his sleek, black umbrella and places it back in his stand. He looks so tall, impossibly tall, even from the human’s vantage point. The vampire is dressed in a three-piece suit and leather dress shoes that seems more suited to an office boardroom than house wear.

As the human strains for a better look, a sudden creak of the floor makes the vampire snap his head up. Chilling red eyes lock with the human’s in a way that sends a jolt of pure terror down the man’s spine. Would he be punished for this? Would the vampire strip him of his free will and send him marching down to the basement for punishment? He’s heard they can do that–and worse. All the fear sparks anew. He can’t catch his breath - he’s panicking.

But the vampire's eyes aren’t actually filled with the predatory and furious glint he expected. Instead, a swirl of emotions flickers within them - concern, sorrow,  even…anxiety? It’s a disarming sight. This creature looks nearly as worried as Lucas feels…

—

"There's been a change in plans,” August laments.

August could literally hear the human’s heart drop in his chest, like a lead weight falling into a deep well. The human’s eyes are wide with despair, and his mouth drops open as though he’s been struck across the cheek. A wave of guilt crashes over August, and he isn’t oblivious to how this looks. It looks like the betrayal and deceit the human has anticipated since he first set eyes on August.  August is well aware he just crushed the man’s hopes to dust, and confirmed every doubt and fear. But it’s out of his hands. Mother nature is a cruel mistress.

“No-” the human rasps, nearly falling down the stairs as his legs give out on him.  “No, vamp. You said you’d take me home. You said today. You promised-”

“That’s not the element that’s changed. My promises are sworn and imperishable. There is, however, a delay.”

"A ‘delay’…” The human repeats incredulously, a hint of sarcasm to his tone. His suspicion eats away at him, misplaced though it is. August is many things - a liar, he is not. But there’s no way the human could know that. Not yet, anyway. The human takes a cautious step back from August, staring him up and down with disdain. 

"A storm is raging outside. The streets are thick with snow and ice, and the skies are dark with thundering clouds. It’s too dangerous to make the drive.”

“I don’t care,” the human snidely retorts. “I’ll walk it if I have to. Just open the door for me, and I’ll be on my merry way. I’ll be out of your hair and you can have your big, lonely mansion all to yourself again.”

Yes, his lonely mansion. All to himself. The words sting more than August cares to admit. He winces like a knife is twisting in his belly. When the human goes home, he will be all alone again. It was nice…is nice…the company. Talking to someone that’s not a suffering patient or his own reflection in the mirror.  He already feels the emptiness settling over him once again. He longs for companionship, for someone to share his home with. He sighs, knowing that he'll have to wait a bit longer for his wish to come true. He can’t keep the human here–at least not indefinitely. But he will have to make the human understand that tonight is non-negotiable. 

“You can’t-” August shakes his head. The man would never make it home. Not with the minus temperatures and the blankets of snow.

“I can. I am. Move,” the human growls, his hands balled into fists. Only then does August notice the crude stake in the human’s white-kncukled hand. No, this human will never be his friend, but even still, August has a duty to him.

The human storms towards the door and tries to push it open. It doesn’t budge. He barges his shoulder into the door, desperately ramming it. Still it doesn’t give. Soon, he’s kicking and shoving and a warbled cry rockets up his throat. Despite his frantic assault, the door only cracks open slightly.

“Snow,” August chimes in, pointing to the falling white powder crumbling through the gap in the door. “We’re snowed in. Must be at least twelve inches of it, I would think.”

“No. This can’t be happening. We-We climb out the bedroom window!” The human’s eyes light up at the idea, sprinting towards the staircase in a panic.

“And then what will you do? Trek all the way back to human territory in this snowstorm? Do you know how far out we are?”

In the blink of an eye, the human tumbles to the floor in a heap, screaming into his hands, pulling at his hair. The blizzard howls like a banshee outside, a gust of snow blows in from outside. The human knows he’s stuck here. He’s trapped here, with a bloodsucker. He’s going to die. Or at least that’s what he must believe. 

“I can’t stay here. With you. I won’t do it.”

“Please,” August says. He resists the urge to move closer; there’s no point in riling the human any more than he’s already riled himself up.  “My word is my bond. I won’t harm you. But I can’t in good conscience return you to where I found you. I’m a physician. I can’t put anyone in harm’s way. To sleep rough on a night like tonight–it would be a death sentence.” 

The human laughs coldly. “Was this your plan all along? Crush my spirits? Delude me into thinking it’s my choice to stay?” 

“I don’t control the weather,” August sighs. “This doesn’t change a thing. I will still take you home as soon as the roads are clear.”

The human remains silent, his jaw clenched. With a final, hate-filled glare, he storms towards the stairs, and, like a sulking teenager, stomps upward in a whirlwind of fury. The slam of his bedroom door reverberates throughout the house.

But the human is still here. He is still safe. August hasn’t failed entirely. 

An exhausted breath escapes August’s lips. He isn’t used to this, the vulnerability of sharing his haven and bearing the weight of responsibility for another life. A knot of unease tightens in his gut. These forced close quarters may at least offer him a chance to ease the human’s fear and earn a crumb of forgiveness, but August can’t help but wonder –  will they be able to bridge the chasm between predator and prey?

This is going to be a long couple of days…

---

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[jadoue1999]

The monsters in the shadows part 2

Part 1 Part 2

Note: Here is part two of my Fae Steve and Vampire Eddie story, I hope you enjoyed the story!

***

They walk in silence and Kas refuses to talk. Because he’s not safe or saved, he’s being led to his execution.

He doesn’t know how he knows but he is certain that Harrington is not going to let him walk free, he’s got to have some ulterior motives to make this deal. Speaking of his new captor, he’s walking without a care, determined, yes, but he’s not stressed or scared. Kas thought that the vines or the creatures would at least try to attack him, but it seems that even they can’t do anything to stop the fae. That’s when he realizes that it’s all on him. If he can take out Harrington, maybe Creel will forgive him. Maybe not, but he has to try.

He takes a few steps quicker than the rest and tries not to bring attention to himself. Then he brings a clawed hand to Harrington’s neck and watches in anticipation. He wants to see the blood flow. He wants to see Harrington writhe on the ground in pain, he wants to see him scared, he wants to see him lose.

Except his hand never makes contact.

It’s like there’s an invisible wall between the two of them. He tries again quicker this time, stronger, but he really can’t do anything. Eventually, Harrington notices his efforts and he turns to him.

“Are you done?”

That takes him off guard because if he knew he was trying to hurt him why didn’t he try to stop him? “What?”

The brunette rolls his eyes. “You’re not going to be able to hurt me.”

“Why?”

“Because you gave me your name,” explains the teen.” That means I have power over you, that means you can’t actually hurt me.”

Kas feels his heart dropping in his chest, and disbelief fills his core, and Harrington simply stares at him. “But our fight— you cheated.”

Steve smirks at him. “I never said it was a fair fight. “

Everything starts coming together, and his brain is horrified at the picture it presents. “So, from the moment I told you my name—”

“You were mine,” completes the teen.

A strange mix of emotions feels his body, he feels betrayed, he feels horrified, but most of all, he feels disgusted. “You— you won that fight before it even started.”

“I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to defeat Vecna,” confesses the brunette. “But I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave without you.”

Kas frowns. “Me?”

The teen shrugs. “Yeah, the kids all miss you, I miss you. We all thought you were dead.”

“I am not Eddie,” he snarls in frustration.

The other guy stares at him for a moment, and Kas feels minuscule under his gaze. “Maybe not,” eventually agrees Steve. “But I’m not going to let you rot in this place forever.”

Kas glares at him. “So what? I’ll rot in your house instead? Stuck being your prisoner forever?”

Harrington stares back with eyes cold and unwavering. “If that’s what it takes.”

Then the fae turns back and starts walking again. Kas can only stare daggers at his back as he follows reluctantly. He is too consumed by anger to even think about running away, and he doesn’t think it would work even if he tried. He hates this, he hates being cornered, and he hates that he can feel the threads that bind him to Harrington. They’re replacing those previously created by Creel that Kas hadn’t realized even existed before the switch. As they continue walking, it takes him far too long to realize that they’re not heading towards any of the main gates.

“Where are we going?”

Harrington doesn’t even grace him with a look. “Home.”

Kas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you said that before, but there’s no gates in that direction. I would know.”

“Not one Creel created,” ominously answers the brunette.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve sighs in annoyance and for the first time since this mess started, he sounds like his old self again. “It means that this place is much older than Creel, so there are cracks in other places. My house is one of them.”

“Why?”

He sees him clench his hand in annoyance. “Because cracks tend to form wherever Others live, it’s how we visit home.”

There’s so many things going through his head, so many questions, and most of all— confusion. And that’s saying something considering he died and was brought back to life by a mutated former child experiment. “‘Others’? What?”

“That’s what we call ourselves. We’re not human, or animals, so we’re Others,” the teen explains too casually for the subject matter. “And this here, the ‘Upside Down’ as the kids call it, is where we live.”

“And yet I’ve never seen any of you.”

Kas doesn’t miss how Harrington tenses at that. It’s obviously a touchy subject. “Yeah, because Creel took over and corrupted the whole place. The vines, the creatures— that’s not what this place usually looks like. Everyone fled instead of fighting, it’s easier to simply wait until he’s gone.”

“Why not just kill him?” He didn’t exactly want his old master to die, but murder wasn’t all that hard right? After all, Steve had threatened him just before leaving.

“I can’t,” he bitterly answered. “Because this place is technically his for now, and no Other can intrude without first being allowed in. Doing that means war.”

“But you’ve been trying to kill him for years and you’ve been here what, three times? You had no problem.”

Harrington laughs, and while he can feel it’s genuine, it still feels wrong. “Trust me, I tried to stay on the bench when the kids dragged me into the tunnels, but I was assigned as their protector, so I got a pass. Then, I knew we had to find the gate in the lake and that we’d need to investigate, that’s why I let that vine drag me through it. It gave me permission to explore. And for when we actually attacked him well… Robin and I made a deal, wherever she goes, I protect her, so as long as I follow her, I don’t intrude.”

It’s scary, how airtight his strategies are, how many loopholes he had jumped through to be able to protect. However, something wasn’t adding up. “But you came here today, isn’t that intruding?”

Harrington smirks. “Sure, but war is already upon us— well, was. He could have killed me if he wanted to, that’s why I made the deal.”

“To save yourself?” He asks although he doesn’t remember the teen including himself in that deal.

“To make him scared,” he replies, eyes glinting unnaturally in the red lightning strikes around them. “There’s power in being feared. But Creel also knew that breaking the deal in any way would give me the permission to attack him.”

Kas hates how thought out everything is. Harrington is supposed to be stupid, that was his reputation in high school; a pretty face with not much brain. Was that all a facade? Speaking of facade…

“Why do you look different?”

Steve quickly glances at him. “Because you’re not human anymore, the illusion isn’t as effective on non-human creatures.”

“Can you even bleed?” It’s a stupid question, because Eddie has seen him bleed before, but he has to make sure. He wants to know if he would have had any chance at winning that duel if he hadn’t given his name.

“Too often,” snorts the teen. He extends a clawed hand and pierces his skin. It’s a small cut, barely bigger than half an inch. “See?”

And yes, Harrington does indeed bleed, but Kas watches the small drop of blood, transfixed by its strangeness. “It’s silver.”

“Yup.”

“But I’ve seen you bleed red,” he points out. “Was that an illusion too?”

The teen lowers his arm and smiles at him. “See? Now you’re getting it!”

They continue walking and Kas slowly starts to recognize the place. Eddie had gone to Loch Nora a few times during Harrington’s party years; drunk kids always paid more than sober ones. The imposing Harrington house slowly appears on the horizon in a sort of twisted reversal of their earlier roles. The brunette brings him to the edge of the woods, where he can feel the ghost of the crack in the empty pool. Steve doesn’t bring them there though; he stops next to the only tree on his property. It’s just as he expects from anything in this place; dead and twisted, but the trunk slightly straightens up when Harrington gets close. Small silver and gold leaves sprout, just big enough for him to notice the sudden growth, and then the teen extends his hands toward him.

“Grab my hand, it won’t let you through if you don’t.”

It might be a trick, but Kas doubts it, so he takes the offered hand. Going through this gate is nothing like going through Creel’s. Creel’s gates are violent, they press on the mind seemingly determined to break it, but this one makes him feel like he’s falling on the softest cloud. It observes everything he is and promises in the most tempting voice that he can be so much more. He’s tempted to give in. But hands suddenly grab him and pull him out of that place, and Kas is left to stare at Harrington in confusion.

“It’s meant to be soothing,” Steve explains. “It’s easier to keep someone if they don’t fight back.”

The teen only lets him grasp the horrific truth for a few seconds before telling him to follow him. It’s only then that he notices that they’re in Hawkins, the real one. There are lights coming from the big house in front of them and Kas can hear the voices of Eddie’s old party. Dread suddenly fills him when he realizes that he’s really going to see the gang again, and they will get to see him for what exactly he’s become. Would Creel be able to take him back if he took care of the party himself?

“Stay here, wait until I tell you to come.”

That’s an order, and Kas knows he can’t disobey, he can quite literally feel it in his body. He watches Harrington enter his house and hears the kids questioning why they’re there. Henderson in particular sounds very annoyed; Robin had mentioned that the teen didn’t get out of the house. Steve is trying to prepare them, but they don’t seem to be very willing to hear him out, it seems like Eddie’s loss really did weigh on the group. Buckley is pitching in every once in a while, but it doesn’t do much. The kids are mad, and as much as Steve is trying to make them understand that he is trying to fix things, they keep reminding him of how much he failed them. It’s funny, really, for as in control as Harrington was back there, he’s got no powers with the brats.

“I swear to you guys, I just want to help!” pleads the fae.

Someone snorts, it’s Dustin. “What? Like you helped Eddie?”

There’s a pregnant pause, and even Kas is surprised that the kid went this far. Harrington sighs, defeat apparent in his voice, and then he hears him stepping closer. His head pops out of the backdoor, and Kas meets his eyes, he knows he’s heard everything, and Steve looks as human as ever.

“You can come in,” he says without the pride he had just moments ago.

Kas doesn’t even think about disobeying him, and honestly, he kinda feels bad for the guy. There’s still the lust to kill, but he’s ready to wait for the right moment and play his cards right. Or maybe he should try to attack them before Harrington can order him to stay put? He steps inside and instantly feels his fury melt into a dull hatred as he’s met with many pairs of eyes opened wide in disbelief. There’s the kids of course, but there’s also Nancy, and Jonathan and he doesn’t know how to act. A part of him he had buried along with Eddie is excited and relieved to see everyone and Kas despises it.

“Eddie?” Says the quiet voice of Dustin.

The boy looks vulnerable. His eyes are tired and sad and desperate and Kas grins. If he can lure him into a false sense of security, if he can make Harrington think that he’s going for a hug, maybe he can start the bloodshed. Maybe he can spill the blood that allows Creel to attack Hawkins and burn it once and for all… So as the kid gets up from his seat and ignores Harrington’s warning to be careful, he stays still and smiles. He smiles like Eddie used to. Kas wraps his arms around the curly haired boy and lets him take comfort in the embrace for a moment. The kid sobs into his shoulder and his neck is so close. Steve is on his opposite side, strategically blocked from view so he opens his mouth, fangs ready to tear Henderson’s throat out—

“Don’t move,” hisses Harrington, suddenly on the opposite side; he hadn’t even heard him move. He holds his arm in a vice grip and Kas can do nothing but obey. “You cannot attack anyone in this room, no one gets hurt directly or indirectly. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” he grits through his teeth.

Henderson is extracted from their embrace and his eyes are wide in horror. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that he could have hurt him, and Kas had been betting on exactly that. He clenches his jaw as the group stares at him in horror and disbelief. He wants nothing more than to paint the walls red, but he can’t even move his feet.

“Steve, what did you do?” Asks Nancy, her previous shock now replaced with anger.

Kas is surprised to see Harrington look unsure, but he supposes that he’s always been that way with his ex, according to Eddie’s memories. “I got Eddie back— well Kas. But Eddie’s in there somewhere.”

“He is no—” he starts, but Harrington shushes him, and his next words die on his lips. Anger burns in his veins, and he swears that he’s going to make him pay. He may not be able to hurt the guy, but he was going to make sure to be as much of a nuisance as possible.

“El, do you think you could fix whatever Creel did to him?”

It’s only at that moment that Kas realizes that the girl— Eleven— the enemy is standing in this very room. He should have focused on her first. She looks determined and her eyes are locked onto his. She seems to reach into his soul in a similar way that Harrington had before she nods. “I think I can.”

The brunette seems satisfied. “Can you do it now?”

There’s a look shared between the two and he can’t help but think that the girl can probably sense that Steve isn’t entirely human. “Yes.”

“Guys!” Yells Jonathan, momentarily breaking the tension. “Can someone please explain what’s happening?”

It’s at that moment that Kas knows he has to speak up. Steve shushed him earlier with the intention of him staying quiet until told otherwise, but he hadn’t mentioned it had he? It was time for him to exploit this loophole.

“Steve Harrington is a fae,” he says with a grin. He stares at each person in the room before continuing. “He’s been lying to you this whole time.”

He can feel Harrington’s eyes on him, and it seems for a moment that he’s going to rip him apart but Mike speaks up before he can.

“What?” It’s a simple reaction, and there’s honestly not many other reactions that fit at the moment.

“Come on, you don’t know what a fae is?” Admonishes Dustin. “It was one of our enemies during Will’s campaign!”

Mike scoffs. “Yeah, obviously I know what a fae is.” The kid points at the teen who seems pissed that his secret got out. “But why the hell is he saying that Steve’s one of them?”

“Steve?” Questions Nancy and the guy’s resolve melt in seconds.

He sighs deeply and passes his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but it was the only way I could get him out.”

This time, it’s Jonathan who speaks up. The guy seems distrustful at the very least. “So you are..?”

Harrington nods. “A fae.”

“Since the beginning?” Lucas sounds as impressed as he sounds betrayed.

“Born that way.”

Kas delights in the way that the brunette shuffles uncomfortably. So much for being done keeping up appearances.

“You can control Eddie,” remarks Will, and Kas clenches his jaw at the old name. “How?”

Here comes the difficult part, let’s see how Harrington handles it. “He gave me his name.”

There’s a sudden tension in the air and all the brats straighten up. It’s great to know that everyone knew what giving their name to a fae meant but him.

“So, he’s yours?” Asks Lucas with a noticeable fear in his voice. He gulps loudly when his question is confirmed by Steve’s nod.

“But…” starts Dustin, brow furrowed in worry and confusion. “We all gave you our names!”

“No, you didn’t,” quickly denies Steve as the panic in the room grows. “I knew them before I met you and I never asked for them. You’re all safe, don’t worry.”

“Not with Vecna hanging over our heads,” snarks Mike.

Harrington seems to hesitate to answer, but he shares a look with Robin and it’s enough to motivate him. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore. I made a deal with him.”

“A deal?” Nancy sounds unimpressed and he has to wonder if she knows what it means to make a deal with a fae.

Steve nods. “I fought against Creel’s champion, if I won, he’d stop trying to take over the world. And I won that fight.”

“Who was his champion?”

Kas glares at Will, who asked the question and the boy recoils in fear, but the party seems to understand the implications. They understand that he’s Creel’s champion and that the mark on his face is Steve’s doing.

“And he won’t break the deal?” Questions the older Byers. Apparently, he didn’t get the whole shtick when it came to making a deal with a creature like that either.

Steve chuckles lightly. “He’s not that stupid.”

The group falls quiet once more, but Kas decides that his captor shouldn’t get off that easily. “Ask him to show you what he really looks like.”

“Shut up,” finally snaps the teen, and Kas complies with a smile. The damage is already done and he’s going to watch the fallout with great satisfaction.

Everyone looks confused, everyone but Robin. He’s not surprised that she knows. It’s Nancy who speaks first, ever the leader that she is. “What does he mean?”

“It’s nothing,” dismisses the brunette but it’s obvious that it’s not convincing anyone. Harrington is clearly looking for some kind of excuse that would put their worries to rest, but it quickly becomes clear that only the truth will do that. So, Steve sighs. “This isn’t what I normally look like.”

He struggles to find his next words and Kas simply observes his blackened fingers with a barely concealed smile. Harrington might have thought that he had won by having his name, but he was not prepared for what it meant. Because Kas might not be Eddie anymore, but he still knows how to be insufferable.

“Can we see?” Mike asks and for the first time since this started, he doesn’t sound like he wants to insult Steve.

The teenager presses his lips together, hesitant but he nods, nonetheless. Unlike the instant change when they made the deal or when Steve finally revealed himself, this one is gradual. The teeth lengthen first, and then his eyes get bigger, and his pupils are nothing but slits. His eyes shimmer unnaturally in the artificial light of his home. The ears are next, their pointy corners peak out of his hair. Harrington gains a few inches in height and his limbs lengthen just as his fingers grow thinner and his nails sharpen.

Then he stands there and waits.

He’s nervous, Kas realizes. Even in his true form, Steve doesn’t look as proud as he did when he had faced Creel. There’s a twitch in his fingers that shows just how scared he is of being rejected and Kas delights in his suffering. It’s like seeing King Steve fall all over again. The party tries to hide their reactions as best as they can, but it’s obvious that Nancy is reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.

“Steve,” says Robin after a few seconds of stunned silence.

He looks at her and the girl gives him a shrug. Kas has no idea what it’s supposed to mean but Harrington seems to understand. He takes off his shirt, and Kas narrows his eyes when he realizes that the bite marks on his stomach are gone too. But he has a feeling that the brunette isn’t taking off his shirt just to show off. Sure enough, Steve rolls his shoulders and Kas watches with wide eyes as wings sprout from his back. This reveal seems to go over the group better than his real face, which Harrington seems to notice as well. In a blink, his face is back to the more human looking one while the wings stay out in the open. Kas remembers some of the drawings Eddie had seen that depicted faes, of how peculiar their wings were usually drawn. The wings in front of him are not like those of a butterfly or a dragonfly, but more like a mix of the two. While Steve’s real face looks uncanny, his wings are beautiful. They’re iridescent and the light reflects on them as if they’re made up of multiple panels of stained glass.

The kids stay quiet for a moment before Dustin speaks up. “Are they… real?”

Harrington rolls his eyes in annoyance but there’s an unmistakable hint of relief on his face. “Henderson, you literally just saw them sprout from my back, and you still think they’re fake?”

“I know, but it’s crazy!” The others seem to agree, but no one dares to speak up yet. Kas knows it’s only a matter of time before they do though.

“Watch the wings,” Steve warns as Dustin’s hand gets dangerously close. “They’re not done healing yet.”

“Healing?” frowns the kid.

“Yeah, I got dragged on my back in the Upside Down, they got torn.”

His explanation only seems to confuse them more. “But all your other injuries are gone! And how did they even get torn if they were hidden all the time?”

“I tried to fly away when I got to the other side, but the vines didn’t let up. I didn’t have time to hide them again.”

“They were treated,” remarks Lucas with a frown. His hand brushes the wings until he touches where it’s sprouting from his back. “You couldn’t have reached all the way there. You had help.”

Kas narrows his eyes at the deduction. He hadn’t noticed at first but now that it’s pointed out, he does see tiny rips and half healed cuts.

“From who?” wonders Mike. “Your parents?”

Harrington chuckles bitterly. “No, my parents wouldn’t do that.”

“I did,” says Robin.

He’s not surprised that she knows, but the others sure are. They keep looking at one and then the other and no one knows what to say to whom. Kas on the other hand, only just realizes that he owes his defeat to Buckley. Harrington hadn’t tried to get him out before because he hadn’t known that he existed; until he had cornered and threatened Robin. If Harrington is the weapon forged through the honor of the fight, Robin is the poisoned blade that strikes between the ribs when you think you’ve won. Easier to conceal, but just as deadly.

When she meets his gaze, her eyes glint unnaturally in the light. She’s not quite fae but she’s definitely not human.

What is she?

His frustration is momentarily broken by Jonathan’s exasperated sigh. “Do you guys keep any secrets from each other?”

The pair share a look before shrugging. “No,” replies the girl. “You’d be surprised at how much we know about each other.”

There’s a shared understanding between them and Kas somehow knows that they’re not just talking about Harrington here. There’s a few more questions that he doesn’t care enough to listen to until Steve has suddenly put away his wings and stares straight at him.

“You guys keep your questions,” he says, interrupting whatever Lucas was in the middle of saying. “We just have to take care of him first.”

The fact that he knows Harrington isn’t about to kill him doesn’t reassure him in the slightest, because technically, they are going to kill him. They don’t want Kas, they want Eddie. Eleven swiftly walks next to Steve and the brunette orders him to get up and follow him, and he complies through gritted teeth. The teen brings him to a bedroom that’s covered with a godawful amount of plaid and while there isn’t much to indicate whose bedroom it is, Kas would be ready to bet his name all over again that it’s Steve’s bedroom.

Harrington pulls out a chair and gestures to it. “Sit down, don’t move, let Eleven do her thing.”

Three simple orders.

Three orders that mark his execution.

Kas wants to snarl, he wants to lash out to defend himself, and rip apart the entire party that has been destroying Creel’s plans for years, but he can’t move. So, he’s stuck glaring at the two people who represent judge, jury, and executioner.

The girl turns to Steve, her eyes fierce. “Are you sure Henry will not attack?”

The brunette’s eyes soften the way it always does for one of his kids. “Yeah, I’m sure. he’s basically signing his own death penalty if he breaks the deal.”

Eleven doesn’t say anything and Kas is sure her sad eyes would have moved Eddie, but he doesn’t care. It does grab Harrington’s attention though.

“Why? You wanted a war?”

Her eyes go wide in shock. “No. But I am afraid that he might find a way to attack.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulder and gives her a side hug. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t. I’m giving you my word, that’s unbreakable. Can you feel it?”

Eleven closes her eyes and so does Kas, he doesn’t feel it as strong as the bonds tying him to the fae, but he does feel it. The bond of an unbreakable promise. He opens his eyes just as the girl does too.

“I do,” she says with a bright smile. She finally leans into the embrace and Steve smiles brightly. “Thank you.”

“You deserve everything nice, El.”

The moment lasts for a few more seconds before it breaks. Suddenly, both of their focus is on him again and he feels so very small. He feels angry, yes, but he feels impossibly vulnerable too. Harrington stands behind Eleven as she approaches him, a silent guard to make sure nothing goes wrong. His face is half shrouded in the shadows and he can see the way his eyes glow like two burning stars. He’d be scared if he wasn’t already terrified.

Eleven puts her hands on either side of his head and everything goes black.

***

When he wakes up, he’s lying on a bed. The light is barely filtering through the curtains so it’s either very early in the morning or late in the afternoon. He feels… weak, human. Everything is fuzzier, details are less defined, and most importantly, he doesn’t feel the hive mind anymore. There’s a dresser to his left and he quickly gets out of the bed to examine his reflection in the mirror.

He looks human.

His eyes aren’t scarlet red, and his skin isn’t as pale as it used to be. He’s still pale, sure, but he doesn’t look like a corpse. His fingers aren’t black, and his teeth are dull without a single trace of his fangs. He doesn’t know how to feel about being Eddie again, does he even want that? He’s back in a town that hates him and wants nothing more than to see him dead all over again. Can he face that again?

“Welcome back,” says a voice from the shadows.

Eddie whips his head around to see Harrington standing in the corner of his room. Has he been there the whole time? He looks… normal. Normal enough that he could fool himself into thinking that he dreamed up the fact that Steve was a fae. But even without being able to see through the illusion, he knows something is off about him. It’s in the way he stands, the way he’s looking at him as though he can read his mind, hell maybe he can since he’s technically his.

“You look normal.”

The brunette chuckles and extracts himself from the shadows. “That’s what happens when you’re human.”

Eddie presses his lips tightly and lets the silence stretch between them. It takes a few seconds to realize that the entire house is silent. “Is everyone gone?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “You were unconscious for a few hours. I told them to go get some rest and I’d update them on your situation whenever I could.”

The words sound nice, caring even, but he can read between the lines. “You were guarding me. In case whatever Eleven did didn’t work.”

Harrington looks sheepish for a moment. “Doesn’t matter, you’re back.”

He nods, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. He remembers the rage he felt toward the group, how he was ready to kill them without remorse. He had nearly attacked Henderson for god’s sake! How was the kid ever going to trust him again? And now that Harrington had his name, could he even leave the house? Would the fae ever let him leave town? What about Wayne? He’s sure the gang told him that he was dead. How could he possibly explain his sudden resurrection without revealing the Upside Down to his uncle?

“Are you okay?” Suddenly asks Steve. He looks worried.

Eddie goes to sit on the bed and the other teen joins him, his eyes never leaving him. He shuts his eyes and sighs deeply. “What happens now?”

The brunette seems taken aback by his question but tries nonetheless to answer. “Well, we could say we found you stuck somewhere and barely surviving. Hopper, who is alive by the way, already cleared your name. Sure, most people don’t believe it but most people are gone anyway. We can contact your uncle and—”

“I mean us,” he interrupts. He’d be delighted in the way Harrington suddenly blushes if he wasn’t so damn scared. “You have my name. What happens now?”

“I don’t have your name.”

He frowns, almost offended at how he dismisses his concerns. “Don’t bullshit me, man. The whole reason I’m here is because I gave you my name.”

Steve grabs his hands to stop them from trembling. “Kas gave me his name. You didn’t.”

“What?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide, and he stares at the brunette in confusion as he answers. “You were very adamant about being two different people. And it’s true. You were a different person, and that person gave me his name, but Eddie Munson didn’t.”

He blinks at him, momentarily speechless. It takes a few seconds for him to manage to form words again. “Did you know that all along?”

“Yes,” smiles Harrington. “But I didn’t know if it was actually going to work, but when Robin told me you didn’t use Eddie anymore, I knew what I had to try.”

His chest feels warm at the thought that someone would do that for him. “You opened a whole can of worms, that’s for sure, but I’m still glad you did it. Especially before I managed to kill anyone in the group.”

Steve laughs, but he can see that there’s something on his mind. He’s worried, uncertain even. “So, you’re not too freaked out? The others are…” He trails off for a moment, his eyes dulling in sadness. “Well, it’ll take a moment for them to get used to it. Especially Nancy and Jonathan, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Eddie can only sympathize with him, being the freak was never fun, especially when the resentment came from friends. “I wasn’t scared when you ripped a bat apart with your bare hands, you think finding out you’re not human is going to push me away? No way. You’re going to get sick of all of my questions before I get tired of you.”

Harrington blushes, and he’s reminded of the way the teen had reacted in a similar fashion during their talk in the Upside Down. Back when he had realized that his jealousy might have more layers than just plain old rivalry. That talk had felt liberating, but also terrifying. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a crush on a guy, but why had his heart chosen Harrington out of everyone? He’d nearly told Steve before he had left to kill Vecna, but he had chickened out because that’s all he knew what to do. Well, until he’d sacrificed himself.

The brunette eventually breaks the silence, and it seems like he’d been thinking along the same lines as him. “Now, for as arrogant as Kas was, he did mention that you also had feelings, even if we were both too cowardly to confess.” Steve grins with the charming smile he’d seen him use on girls for years. It’s a travesty that it’s working on him too. “Maybe we can talk about that?”

The teen is looking at him with hopeful eyes and Eddie has a few seconds to decide if he lets himself actually give in or deny his feelings. If he dismisses Kas’ claim as taunting, he’d have to go back to playful flirting and trying to push him toward his ex because he’s scared of what would happen if he actually made a move on Harrington. But he has the perfect opportunity right now. And hell, with everything that’s happened, he’ll be damned if he wastes it again.

Despite the voice in his head telling him that it’s never going to work out between the two of them, he smiles at Steve. “I’d like that.”