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graysmiles-world · 8 months

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1800s Steddie Vampire AU

The moon was high when Steve entered the cemetery, as it was most nights. It led him down the path, past the already dug up and reburied graves of many who had already passed. Despite the fact that he did not believe in the resurrection from those beyond the grave, a job was a job. And this was a job that paid particularly well. No one wants to come and speak to the dead, much less to exhume their bones and check for any fresh blood in their veins.

He picked up the shovel when he passed it on his hike. It always moved locations, night after night. Sometimes by the pine on the hill, others near the back of the cemetery with its handle stuck through the fence. And once, propped up so nicely, waiting for him, at the iron gate.

Yet Steve ignored these peculiar things. Just as he ignored the way that he felt cold hands trailing across his shoulders, and tiny hands tugging at his coat. If one were to stop and think of everything strange that occurred in the cemetery in the moonlight, they would stand there until they themselves were just another one of the bodies buried beneath the living.

The dirt was dry and crackled underneath his boots as Steve walked, matching the dead leaves upon the branches above him. The land had suffered drought in the many previous months, not helping the already awful curse that had struck the town and many more like it.

But the night was humid, and Steve could smell the petrichor as he moved about to his assignment. There was a storm brewing in the distance, making the already terrible gooseflesh rise even more along the back of his arms and neck.

Finally, he reached the grave of the man he was to dig up. Edison Munson, Steve was told earlier that day by his supervisor. The first to die in his apartment building of consumption, over a year before. His uncle had followed, and so had numerous others. And now little Maxine was sick, so her mother pled for help - and the doctor had sent Steve. Luckily, Edison’s uncle was a soft man, and he placed a marker next to the mound of dirt with the initials EM and 20.

Steve heaved one great breath of fresh air before pulling up the cloth around his mouth and nose. He had learned that the stench of the dead was highly muffled by the dirt. And once that was gone, it felt like the curse itself was reaching inside one’s lungs and squeezing it to its death.

Steve set down the lantern he’d been carrying all this way next to the marker. He placed the tip of his shovel into the dirt and leaned down, bearing all his weight onto it. The sweat gathered on his brow and dropped onto the dry earth, leaving a darkened spot behind.

He worked for over two candle marks, jumping at the clang of the metal against the bottom of the lantern. Thankfully, the light had not gone out yet. Multiple times, when Steve had been in the middle of digging - his lantern had gone out and would not be able to be relit. If the moon was bright enough he would continue by its light, but if not - he would be forced to return on the next evening to resume his work - praying that the cemetery would allow him to finish his job.

Robin wouldn’t be able to last a minute in here, he knew. She had tried once, months ago when Steve first started. She was able to make it twenty paces in before something tickled the back of her neck and she was racing out of there. Steve, who had already grown used to the strangeness of the area, only looked at her with confusion. But ever since then, she had refused to come back: claiming that she was only to return in a coffin herself.

Instead, she found work as a laundress, marking the end of two years of them working only together. Steve would have been happy to quit himself, but the job made too much and Robin made too little to be able to support both of them in their one-room apartment.

She was deathly afraid of dying of consumption, and living on the street would only exhaust that risk: so here Steve was. Digging up dead people to check if they were the carriers of this malediction. He hummed as he worked, a jaunty little tune he’d heard in a tavern a few nights previous. It wasn’t Steve’s usual preference, but the song was catchy and he felt it was great to entertain himself while working.

Steve finally finished, setting his shovel aside and moving to get a better view of the plain wooden coffin. This was usual for many who died in the past few years, except if they were extremely wealthy. What was not usual, however, was the way that the edges of the top curved up, and the lightened scratches among the wood.

Steve lowered himself to his knees beside the coffin and checked his mask before wiggling his dirtied and cracked fingers between the top and the bottom of the coffin and yanking up. The nails came out much easier than expected and experienced, but Steve was too busy looking at the body within it to particularly care.

Steve has had this job for a while now. He’s seen bodies new and old, crumbling and still rotting. But never in his life had he seen a body that looked like this.

It was the most beautiful person Steve had ever seen. More beautiful than Nancy, his ex-fiancee, and more gorgeous than any other woman he’s courted or any girls working the street.

His skin was pale, glowing in the moonlight. His hair was dark, darker than Steve’s, and curled - reaching his shoulders. His fingers, long and thimble, crossed over his chest. Steve wished he had seen this man alive if only to catch sight of his eyes and to feel his gaze upon him.

But this was impossible, Steve knew. A body that was dead for this long would be only bones. No soft tissue left.

Hell, even recently deceased persons were not as otherworldly as this man. Steve had attended Nancy’s funeral and he could still remember how gaunt her cheeks were, how flat and limp her hair was. He remembered the rest of her family’s funerals as well, the thinness of Micheal’s hands, the way baby Holly’s chest seemed to cave into itself.

Steve looked around him, not knowing if what he was seeing was real or not. Perhaps he was only dreamin, or had been so sleep-deprived that his mind made up this man because he was so touch-starved for affection. Or maybe he was now cursed, and hallucinations were the first stage.

But whatever it was, it was still there when he looked back at Edison. Steve’s shoulders slumped, and his head went foggy.

It was like when he and Robin were prescribed some strange medications for a fever a while back. It made everything so loopy and he felt like he was about to float up into the air and far, far, away.

This was similar, but instead of feeling like he was floating off into the atmosphere, Steve felt as if something was tugging him down to Earth. Deep into Earth. To Edison.

There was a pulling sensation at the center of his chest, at his beating heart. Like a string was wrapped around it and yanking out from behind his ribs and out of his chest. His body was a sacrifice, made and grown to be consumed by Edison. Steve reached out a shaking hand and placed it atop Edison’s. It was ice cold, freezing the blood in his veins and traveling up his arms. There was no way that Edison’s heart still beat. Yet, still, Steve’s own heart was pulling him closer and closer. He slowly reached up to remove the cloth covering his nose and mouth, leaving it dangling around his neck.

Steve leaned up and over the side of the coffin, closer to Edison. He was a ballon, being tethered to place. His head bounced all over the place but was still steadily moving towards the corpse.

Something in Steve knew he should be freaking out. Thoughts screaming for him to get out of there, to run, overturned by the pressing thought of closer. Steve needed to get closer.

All anxieties were out of view. Being disowned and left by his parents, not being able to find someone to love, the fact that he was a grave digger, and that his eyes dragged towards boys as often as girls.

Nothing mattered except Edison.

Steve was close enough to Edison’s face that if he were breathing, Steve would be able to feel his warm breath on his cheek. A stone dropped in his chest when he realized he couldn’t. His lips we magnets, moving towards Edison’s until they were pressed together.

Cold and chapped, and Steve just breathed out into Edison’s mouth once before the trance broke.

Steve lunged back from the coffin. He whipped his head around wildly, searching to see if someone, anyone, had seen the sin he’d just committed. He didn’t know what he wanted the answer to be, and so his breathing settled when he realized he was still alone. His lantern had long since gone out, and he looked around himself with only the moonlight.

Nothing had changed. The Earth had not shaken from his actions, and his heart, and lungs had not leaped from his chest.

He laid back in the dried grass and dirt, uncaring of how dirty his hair was becoming and how annoying it would be to try and wash it with the water from the basin.

Steve just worked on just breathing. In, out. In, out.

After a few moments, he felt alright enough to raise himself onto his hands, looking back at the coffin and how it lay so unassuming in the dirt.

He sat up completely and moved to his feet, creeping unsteadily towards the wooden coffin. I’m just going crazy, Steve told himself. There will just be a body there, and then you can do your job.

Steve looked over the edge of the coffin, convincing himself that Edison would still be there: dead as a doornail.

There was nothing there. Not a scratch, not a tuff of fabric or hair to show that the coffin had been used in the first place.

Steve felt like his throat was seizing up, and he stumbled back, trying to get away as fast as possible. He just needed to get out of there, and then he could flag down a carriage and get to his apartment. He’ll wake Robin and tell her what happened and in the morning they’ll go out looking for new work.

But his plans were foiled when he rammed into something solid frigid.

“Well,” warm breath ghosted against his bare neck. The cloth around it felt more like a noose than protection now. “I never expected to wake up to someone so pretty.”

Steve turned around as quickly as possible. He’s heard and felt lots of things in this cemetery, but this was the most real by far. It seemed the dead didn’t want to stay buried when a living, breathing, person was there.

“Edison,” Steve breathed, eyes darting around the corpse that was just lying in the coffin minutes ago. They stood toe to toe, Edison moving forward with every step back Steve took. Edison was the same height as Steve, so his eyes stared directly into his own.

They were dark, glinting like stars in the moonlight and Steve was enamored.

“I go by Eddie, actually,” Edison - no Eddie smirked, one corner of his mouth tugged up and revealing some rather sharp teeth. Steve couldn’t help the stuttering breath he let out at that, heat tugging in his gut. “And what do they call you big boy?”

Steve gulped. “Steve. Steve Harrington” He doesn’t know why he introduced himself with his first and last name. A last name that isn’t even his anymore.

“Well Steve,” Eddie slid his tongue between his teeth on the word, dragging it out. Steve felt rooted to the spot, unable to move from such an intense gaze. Suddenly, Eddie sprung back, his movements gay and flowing like a marionette on strings.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” he bowed, a deep bow with the tips of his hair touching the dirt. Steve burrowed his brows and opened his mouth to say something but Eddie had already sprung back up and around before he could make a sound.

He whooped and wiggled, screeched and screamed, and looked out to the world with such mischief in his eyes. And Steve knew, whatever he was - he wasn’t human.

While Eddie was seemingly enjoying himself a few paces before him, Steve crouched down to grab his shovel, standing back up slowly. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with it, maybe hit Eddie over the head and run for the exit.

Before a plan could be formed fully in his mind, Eddie turned and spotted the shovel and the white-knuckled Steve had on it. In a moment, Steve’s back was against the trunk of a tree with Eddie holding a broken bottle to his neck. He wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it. Maybe it was in his jacket, or maybe he’d picked it up from the ground while slamming Steve against this tree.

“Don’t even try it, honey,” Eddie whispered to Steve. His eyes held no amusement, and seemed to reach deep into his soul and down to his stomach. It clenched and rolled with fear, and Steve decided to focus on that instead of the toiling heat gathering in his chest. “I’ll suck you dry and leave you in the coffin instead. No one would ever know where you’ve gone.”

Eddie moved forward until they were pressed together, head to toe. Eddie’s thigh was wrenched in between Steve’s, and his mouth was now placed around his Adam’s apple. Now Steve was able to feel the sharpened teeth against his skin and shivered. Just a little pressure, one wrong move, and Steve was bleeding out - dead in seconds. It shouldn’t have given him the reaction that it did, with Steve trying to resist writhing against Eddie’s thigh and pressing his throat harder against his fangs.

Steve felt Eddie laugh against his skin, dampening the area with heat and moisture. He leaned back, so there was just enough space to breath and speak. He ignored Steve’s whine at the lost. “Awh, you poor baby,” Eddie grabbed Steve’s cheeks and squished his cheeks together. He was still able to feel the press of the grass against his side. “Digging up bodies in the middle of the night, just trying to find someone to take care of you - is that it?”

Steve didn’t know how to answer, how Eddie wanted him to answer, so he just whined again. Eddie’s nails, which felt a little more like claws, dug into his cheeks. “Say you’re sorry, and I’ll take care of you.”

Steve whined again, and then tried to speak through his squished cheeks. “‘M s’r’y,” he slurred. Eddie tilted his head, amusement filling his eyes and curving his lips.

“I didn’t hear that, can you repeat it, sweetheart?”

“I’’ so’ry,” Steve cried, feeling the hot rush of tears filling his eyes. He was so frustrated, but he didn’t know by what. The weapon against his side, Eddie at his front, the tree at his back. The toiling heat in his chest or the fear creeping up his throat.

Eddie groaned and pressed his face against Steve’s cheek. “Now drop it.”

Steve, who hadn’t even realized he was still holding the shovel immediately dropped it. Blood rushed back into his palms and it tingled down his arm. Pins and needles slid into his skin.

Eddie groaned again, deeper, louder. He pressed his thigh higher up against Steve, up against his groin - where it was heavy and wanting.

“Good boy,” he panted against Steve’s cheek. Steve preened from the praise, breathing in stuttering gasps. He tilted his head back against the tree, giving more of his throat for Eddie to do with as he wished.

“Eddie,” he gasped, “please.”

Suddenly, the heat was gone. Without anything to hold Steve up, he slid to the ground, ass on the dirt. Eddie was a few feet before him, eyes dark as he stared at him.

Steve just panted, gasping for breath. He didn’t know what to say.

Eddie gulped, “You’re crazy, Steve Harrington.”

With that, Eddie disappeared into the night.

Everything was quiet. For once, Steve wasn’t surrounded by the ghosts of the past waiting to take a bite, to pull and poke and prod. He was completely alone.

#fanfiction #ao3 #archiveofourown #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #vampire #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #i listened to a podcast about the vampire panic in the 1800s and had to write about it #yes this is what they did #tuberculosis was called consumption back then #and they thought was vampires going after others in their families #it was a wild time

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