#human!Steve

[itsgothgirlthyme]

chapter 3: breakfast for two

previous chapter

next chapter: n/a

stranger things g/t

a/n: heavy on the dialogue. reader gains confidence but has no faith in steve. and steve is trying not to prod too much (but also he wants answers…)

borrower!reader × steve harrington

You sat on a marble kitchen table with your legs splayed out in front of you. Soft clinks of cutlery and something sizzling made you more than alarmed. Yet the food being cooked up was mouth watering, considering you hadn’t eaten in days. You watched the human hum to himself with his back turned to you. It had taken quite some convincing for him to carry you here with your permission. His round brown eyes pleaded and he muttered promises you couldn’t keep count of. Stubbornly you’d gotten off that damn pillow, and fell into soft sheets. Luckily you were fine, other than for your bruised ego. It was then, you crossed your arms, huffed, and agreed to be carried by Steve. 

You no longer shook like a leaf under the presence of him, and kept eye contact as long as possible. He smiled first in the morning as you demanded his attention. A rush of heat rose to your ears but you kept eye contact. 

“And breakfast is served,” he said as he slid his plate on the counter beside you. You eyed the plate the size of his palm, quite big for you though. There was steaming, steaming, fresh food awaiting you. You raised a brow and looked up at him. He had a towel swung over his shoulder, and his hands were on his hips. He nodded towards the plate and you got up quietly to the plate. Sitting with one knee pulled to your chest, and your broken one in front of you. 

“I know it’s kinda big, the plate,” he cringed, “but it’s the smallest thing I could find,” he said as he dragged a chair next to the island. “It's one of my mom’s china teacup plates,” he added and he ate from his own plate. 

You were silent as you ate, but internally you were celebrating. The food was delicious, the best meal you’d ever had. You devoured the big chunks in peace, despite how ravenous you were for them. 

“Hello?” Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “Hungry huh?” he asked with a laugh. “Makes sense actually,” his brows furrowed and he pursed his lips together. 

Dustin, and even the time before that. You’d never had a warm meal, and a beautiful plate to eat it from. 

“Since you liked that so much, I’ll try to cook more actually,” he said as he got up from his chair, “would be good for me anyways,” he mumbled. 

You wiped your hands as he picked up your plate. He put the dishes in the sink and turned back to you. His lips formed a thin line as he put his hands on his hips. He looked down at you expectantly. 

“What?” you asked. 

“… what else am I supposed to ask?” he paused, “what are you?” he asked.

Your eyes went back to your makeshift casket around your leg. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, feeling his eyes on the back of your head. 

“Borrower?” you muttered.

“Sorry, what?” he asked.

“A borrower,” you looked up at him.

“A what?” he squinted his eyes at you. 

“A borrower, people who borrow secretly in order to survive,” the words just rushed out of your mouth. You clasped your hands over your mouth, oh yes, tell the giant of your own people who want to be kept secret. Not that you had even seen anyone like you for years, the memory of your parents was faded at this point. You’d been alone for, god knows how long. 

“Oh good,” he let out a breath, “that’s good,” he ran his hand through his hair. 

“Wh-what would be bad about it?” you squinted at him.

“It’s complicated,” he dismissed with his hand. 

“Okay…”

You both were in the kitchen, not moving, and the only thing you could hear was a clock ticking. You filled your cheeks with air and blew it out. 

“So,” you clicked your tongue, “what are you gonna do with me?” you asked.

“Do with you?” his brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, I mean… eat me, torture me. Whatever humans do,” you said. 

“Woah woah what?” he scoffed, his hands rested by his sides. “I’m I’m not going to eat you.”

“Torture? Or–” you were cut off.

“Stop, stop,” he shook his head, and his hands were on each side of you, “I’m not going to hurt you. Remember, I promised?” he lowered his head to meet your gaze. 

Your heart hammered but your hands didn’t tremble, and you didn’t want to flee. His warm breath gently pressed on to your skin. You blinked and felt your heart swell.

“I guess,” you looked down at the smoothed marble. 

“Okay good,” his voice still soft. 

When he backed away from you let out a breath of air you’d been holding in.

“Where were you living before Dusting found you by the way?” he asked.

“Uh,” for some reason you took a second to answer, “Dustin’s home. In his walls.”

“What?!” Steve asked wide eyed. 

#g/t #stranger things g/t #fanfic #g/t writing #g/t stranger things #g/t thoughts #giant/tiny #g/t art #g/t community #giant tiny #tiny!reader #tiny!y/n #giant!steve #human!steve

[theladycarpathia]

“I don’t really think this is magic,” Steve gasps weakly. 

Billy licks his lips, a slow drag over his plush cupid’s bow. His chin is red from kissing, lips slick with saliva. Billy has such a pretty mouth that it should be illegal. Steve’s been fixated on it - the curve of it, the pink from the cold, that full bottom lip. Kissing that mouth has been heaven. Watching Billy do sinful things with it has stolen Steve’s soul right from his body.

“How would you know?” he asks, reminding Steve that before Billy arrived in Hawkins only four months ago that Steve had no idea of magic, or spells, or witches. Billy was born a witch on his mother’s side, enough magic running in his veins to cast curses, summon rain or have flowers grow right up out of the ground. Steve never would have had any idea of it, would have kept on living his mundane life, had he not seen Billy that night at the Halloween party. Shortly after that, he and Nancy had imploded. A relationship doesn’t work when both parties want other people.

It had taken weeks. Billy wasn’t quick to trust - not as a gay witch in a small conservative town - and especially with a father that despises everything that you are. To everyone else Billy dates around, a different girl after every basketball game. He’s the jock, the asshole, just the same popular guy you get in every high school.

But in the quiet of Steve’s bedroom, when they lie together on Steve’s bed and Billy casts glittering lights that dance on the ceiling, Steve can see who Billy really is. Something wild and magical, someone beautiful who wants to grow vines around his fingers and makes it snow in Steve’s bathroom while they lounge in a steaming tub. 

“I just don’t…you’ve never cast magic like this before!” Steve sputters. Because Billy is hovering over his bare crotch, wearing that smile and looking like sin. Even with Steve’s limited knowledge of magic, this feels more like foreplay.

“I've never needed to cast magic like this before,” Billy corrects, tracing a single finger over the delicate skin by Steve’s hip bones. The soft pad of a finger, followed by the sharpness of a long fingernail, weaving patterns into Steve’s skin makes his cock twitch. 

“Right,” Steve pants, feeling vulnerable and desperate and drowning in love all at once. He’s completely naked on his bed, while Billy hovers over his dick, closely enough that he can feel Billy’s warm breath on his skin. They’ve never done this before, not like this. The few short weeks that they’ve been officially dating have been entirely brief, frantic hand-jobs underneath their clothes, making out that has ended with them coming in their jeans. Steve’s never stripped off for Billy before and the process has left him feeling exposed and more turned on than he’d ever admit.

But he trusts Billy. He adores Billy. And he wants more than anything to have Billy know that, truly know that so he never doubts it. He needs Billy to know. 

Billy’s mom left years ago, leaving her small son with an abusive father and growing powers, all of his magic inherited from her. There’s no magic in Neil Hargrove but plenty in his son. That combined with her bright blue eyes, her golden curls, is enough to ensure that Neil hates just about everything Billy is.

“And this will make a bond between us, right?” Steve asks, because he’s still fuzzy on the details. He doesn’t really get how magic works, even when Billy tries to explain it to him. And tries, because magic is mostly instinct to Billy and the process doesn’t really translate into words. Billy had turned up this evening, with another dark bruise on his cheek, eyes glittering with fury and tears, and had crumpled into Steve’s arms the minute he’d crossed the doorway. Fuck knows what Neil had done it for, Billy hadn’t wanted to talk about it. But Steve had said anything and everything to the man curled up in his arms, just wanting Billy to know that he was loved.

It had worked, somehow. Billy wanted to do a spell, something that bound them together.

And now they are here.

“Right,” Billy agrees, and licks a stripe down Steve’s belly. The sound that Steve makes is something feral, a high wail that is pulled from his lungs. He wants Billy so badly that he’s red and leaking, and the mere idea of Billy’s delicious mouth on him has him half ready to come. 

“It’s something witches used to use for their familiars,” Billy continues, as though Steve isn’t spread out and dripping obscenely right in front of him. “So they always knew where they were and what they were feeling.”

“You’ll always know what I’m feeling?” Steve asks, trying to wrap his mind around it. It half terrifies him, sure that Billy won’t want anything in his heart.

“Not always,” Billy amends. “Just the really strong ones. Like pain or joy or anger. That shit, you know? And you’ll always be able to find me.” This last part is said quietly, hesitantly, like he’s not sure that’s something Steve even wants. Steve reaches down to wind his fingers with Billy’s.

“And bodily fluids are required?” Steve asks, because this is the part he’s skeptical of. But Billy gives him a wicked flash of teeth.

“Hey, sex magic is powerful shit, you know, Harrington,” he purrs, eyes turning dark. “That’s why we haven’t fucked yet, as much as I want to.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, heat climbing up his body. He’s clinging to Billy’s fingers like an anchor.

“That’s important, powerful magic. Not to be fucked around with,” Billy explains, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s. “Do something like that without thinking it through and you’ll lose control of it. Magic runs on emotion - gotta have the right fuel behind it - so I have to be prepared for the first time we do it or I’ll blow out every street light in the neighborhood or turn you into a frog or something.”

“That would be the weirdest fucking fairy-tale I’ve ever heard,” Steve quips and Billy snorts.

“I’m definitely not fucking you to turn you back,” he says bluntly. “So we’re doing this first, so I can get a taste of you. Get used to how you feel…how you make me feel.” Steve flushes and then remembers something. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Billy in the faint moonlight. 

“But you’ve had sex before,” Steve says, hoping he’s not about to completely kill the mood. Bringing up other guys this close to a blowjob and sex magic is a risky idea. “You slept with Tripp Heskin at the camp out by the lake.” And Steve’s gut had been squirming with jealousy, staring into the bright fire and knowing that at that moment Billy was being licked open, spread out on someone else’s fingers, moaning on fucking Tripp’s dick. Tripp’s an asshole.

“Yeah but that’s not the same,” Billy says hurriedly, brow furrowed with anxiety. “Fucking like that doesn’t matter. It only counts when I…with the person I…” He stops, the words going unsaid, but it doesn’t matter. Steve stares at Billy’s red face, trying to let it sink in. Billy loves him. 

“Oh,” Steve says, overwhelmed, and tugs Billy up so that they can kiss. Billy digs his fingers into Steve’s hips for balance, licking into Steve’s mouth like he’s starving. His belly rubs against Steve’s dick, the soft cotton of his t-shirt setting Steve’s skin on fire. Steve whimpers into Billy’s mouth, almost crying with the stimulation. Billy bites down on his bottom lip and shushes him, gently stroking Steve’s hips with his fingers.

“Not yet, not yet,” Billy whispers gently, peppering kisses against Steve’s jaw. “Save it all for me, yeah?” Steve nods weakly, tears gathering against his lashes. He chokes down another breath as Billy slides back down his body, clearly deciding that it’s time. Whatever conditions he’d been waiting for have been met.

When Billy licks up Steve’s dick, a long, slow drag up Steve’s overheated skin, he stops to wind his tongue around the tip, gathering the taste of Steve on his tongue. He sits back, face rapturous like Steve’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every salty drop. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasps. He’s not going to last, not when Billy makes faces like that from sucking on his dick. 

“Here we go, baby,” Billy whispers and lowers his head.

#harringroveweek #harringrove week #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #witch!billy #human!steve #witch au #prompt: ritual sex #harringrove #I might add to this later #Luna add to masterlist #I love this au too

[a-little-unsteddie]

🪐im so normal about this au i swear

eeee ty apo <3 im not normal abt this au so if you weren’t normal that’s okay wkfjdhxbsb also there’s an unintentional chrissy wake up reference in this, which is funny.

first ask

Then came the arduous task of waking everyone up without panicking them. Which, with one Dustin, Son of Hender on board, was nearly impossible. Eddie decided waking him up last would be the best course of action, and set about waking Jeff.

The bulkier alien grumbled at the botheration, attempting to ignore it in favor of more sleep. Eddie felt guilty, but knew that ultimately, Jeff was the best one to wake first. Then Gareth, and while Jeff was comforting Gareth and calming him down, Eddie woke Chrissy up. Then he woke Robin, and let Chrissy calm her down while he woke and then calmed Dustin down.

—

🎤 make me write, send an emoji! 🪐

#also expect things to be changed #because i will probably add more to places #and remove some ogher stuff #so all these wips may be scrapped or expanded upon at any point ahdhshah #eddie munson #alien!eddie #human!steve #untitled humans are space orcs au #it has a title now tho #but it’s a secret #wip weekend #unsteddie writing #apo tag 🍂 #haso au 🪐

[rockatanskette]

One of the running themes in "humans are space orcs" circles is the idea that humans will bond with anything. I can think of plenty of stories of humans making friends with wild animals, alligators, predators, creatures that aliens would immediately recognize as too dangerous for contact. But I was reading a story about two orangutans released back into the wild today and there's a certain element to that story I haven't seen so often: humans will bond with animals regardless of whether the bond is reciprocal.

For every story of a human making friends with some unlikely creature, there are dozens of stories of conservation specialists tranquilizing animals, tending to their wounds or illness, and releasing them because they're too dangerous to handle consciously. Stories of tagging birds of prey and timber wolves and Siberian tigers. Fat Bear Week? Any of those bears would rip your face off without hesitation. But they're round and fluffy and intimidating and beautiful and we love them even though they hate us. We make an effort to protect our monsters, because we love our monsters.

Imagine an alien planet that's experiencing ecological degradation. Their flora is dying, and they can't figure out why. And, offhandedly, in a diplomatic mission, an allied planet mentions that humans have successfully reversed similar devastation on Earth. So they reach out and Earth sends some experts to check it out. And what do they suggest? Reintroducing an apex predator that used to be a scourge against alien settlements. The species still exists in other regions of the planet, but it is slowly disappearing outside of its native habitat.

The aliens are askance. They've told bedtime stories to their young of these creatures: how they tear apart their prey, how they've eaten their organs and rip apart their homes. Some suggest that it's a trick—that the humans are trying to prompt them into destroying themselves.

But there are many alien cultures on this planet, with many different stories and some of them agree. The world watches in anticipation as the humans help their predators. They seek them out, these fearless otherworlders, putting them to sleep and tending their wounds. They keep track of the beasts, not to harm them, but to protect them.

At first the doomsayers' prophecy seems to come true. The predators devour prey animals like a feast, like a slaughter to people who have never been so close to the circle of life. But then, slowly, not over months but over years, comes change. The prey no longer eat the leaves and buds of every tree; some are left to bloom and fall. The refuse rots in the dirt, and the floods cease as the soil grows thick with compost and rotted bone, thick enough to hold water. The shapes of rivers change to protect their surroundings from the rain. The pollinators rebound.

Decades later, other cities and nations begin to accept this human myth of "conservation." Champions arise, alien champions, now, who go into the depths of the wilderness and the seas to protect those predators from the apathy of time.

Not all of them make it. This is something else the humans teach. Sometimes the tranquilizers are not enough. Sometimes the timing is wrong. Sometimes accidents happen. And when they do, the aliens look to humans for an answer for why they should protect these creatures who have killed those they love?

"Because they knew the risks," the humans say. "Because they would be the first to speak to save them. Because they taught you to see the beauty in the wild and you must not close your eyes."

So, despite themselves, they don't.

#humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #humans are space australians #this wasn't originally about steve irwin #but it turned into being about steve irwin #i'm crying about stingrays now #it's fine

[corrodedbisexual]

A modern world with vampires being widespread, but still less than 1% of the population. They are mostly indistinguishable from humans at first glance, but most celebrity vampires (singers, tiktokers etc) try to keep up the whole traditional image of a cool gothic aesthetic for popularity.

Eddie, who is obsessed with the whole vamp culture and dreaming of one day meeting a vamp who will fall in love with him and turn him. And then he meets Steve, who is literally Just A Dude in old-fashioned polos and blue jeans, works as a PE teacher at a middle school, and has two adopted kids. The only reason Eddie finds out he's a vamp is because the kids are fucking teenagers while Steve himself looks no older than early 20s, so when Eddie asks about it, Steve just comes out to him. Turns out he was turned when he was 20 during a drunken one night stand in the 80s.

Steve is the lamest vamp Eddie's ever seen. Granted, Eddie's only seen other vamps, that he knew of, on tv or tiktok, so he's very much biased, but still. Steve drinks his daily blood out of a plastic sippy cup because "blood is really hard to wash out of clothes", and he doesn't wear black (which would have solved the blood stains problem, in Eddie's opinion), and his bed sheets aren't black silk but cotton in a hideous light green color ("they were on sale"), and he has an actual fear of bats (undignified shrieking and all). And he's an absolute goof who makes dad jokes and dances to 80s pop music while making breakfast for the kids and Eddie.

Eddie falls head over heels while cringing the entire time.

#steddie #writing inspo #we need more vampire steve / human eddie

[juiceicicles]

Steve having a sexuality crisis is all good angst and realistic writing, and Steve having known for a while and being confident and learned is great too, but I love Steve “just skipped the crisis part” Harrington.

Because really, who gives a shit if he’s gay when he’s fought monsters?

His best friend is a lesbian, and he loves her, so it’d be hypocritical not to accept this part of himself.

He’s had to protect his friends from mind demons with Kate Bush songs, this is not even a blip in the crazy shit he’s had to deal with.

One of his children friends has telekinetic powers and can go into your mind to figure out your location and save you from giant spider demons.

He almost died, everyone he loves almost died, who cares?

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things 4 #steve harrington x eddie munson #I want to add that if you are gay #and have gay friends #and love them but struggle with interlized homophobia #you are not hypocritical #I added that because it is something I’ve seen done before #not because having self worth issues about your sexuality is homophobic to anybody but yourself #also please don’t be homophobic to yourself #you are perfect and lovely #and regardless of your gender or sexuality #you are a valuable human being and deserve love and happiness #juicepost

[piratefishmama]

Lil Prince Steven going on an impromptu very unexpected adventure during an outing with his parents where he followed a weird bug too far into the woods and got a little lost only to come face to face with a very awkward, very lost, and very frightened little black dragon, just a bit bigger than he is, hiding in a much too small for it bush.

the adventure is Steve accompanying the little dragon to find his (steve discovers this through this little dragon, who he also discovers is called Eddie, being very talkative once he feels he's safe) guardian, an exhausted elder dragon currently turning over every tree and pile of rocks he can find looking for his little escape artist rascal of a nephew.

#Steddie #they meet again years down the line #when Eddie's an adult and can shift into a more 'human' state #and Steve can get all hot under the collar for this handsome dragon man #maybe they kiss about stuff #y'know #just Steddie things #Baby dragon Eddie just adding years to Wayne's life #out here giving him gray scales!!

[asmodeus542]

You know what? I like our chances.

Watch out Belos!

#aka the catts #the owl house spoilers #toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #luz noceda #luz the human #eda clawthorne #eda the owl lady #lilith clawthorne #amity blight #willow park #Hunter #gus porter #king clawthorne #hooty #toh steve #darius #toh catts #hexside #principal bump

[cldhead]

i seek out your warmth on cold winter mornings <3

[kofi]

#eddies not a morning person but he follows steve when he gets up early (before 10 am) #bc steve is a human heater so eddie just falls asleep against him standing up #steve loves it he thinks it's super cute when eddies all grumpy and bleary in the morning #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

[flowercrowngods]

something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind. 

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually. 

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch. 

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. 

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset. 

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up. 

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?” 

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him. 

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now. 

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom. 

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now. 

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now. 

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic." 

No. 

"You know you are." 

Shut up. Go away. 

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way. 

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him. 

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always. 

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore. 

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck. 

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice. 

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

—— 

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes. 

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up. 

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes. 

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open. 

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched. 

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again. 

 “Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it. 

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers. 

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking. 

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening. 

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling. 

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?” 

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…” 

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already. 

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch. 

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently. 

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual. 

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness. 

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two. 

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move. 

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.” 

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either. 

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room. 

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next. 

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be. 

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons. 

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not. 

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room. 

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?" 

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods. 

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand. 

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?" 

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe. 

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand. 

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night. 

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation. 

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself. 

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay. 

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too. 

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough. 

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety. 

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?" 

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time. 

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?" 

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours. 

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #kas eddie munson #kas takes care of steve fic #this part is downright short for me lmao #dio words #something so monstrous #i have a lot of things to say about pain and monstrosity but instead i just juxtapose them with an actual monster #and then bend the understanding of humanity around that instead #if the tag list doesn't work pls lmk some of these tags be looking wonky on mobile #the end of this is super rushed but 1) steve is still disoriented n weak 2) the mortifying ordeal of having been taken care of must be fled #3) too many thoughts too many realisations and things rearranging overwritten by the need to leave #so pls know it’s intentional and real life is abrasive like that sometimes hdhdh

[itsgothgirlthyme]

tiny!reader x human!steve x human!eddie

3inch tiny!reader

this is a draft that i randomly kind of finished, so i’ll just post. if you seriously have any requests let me know, i’d love to write away :)

word count: 1,037

i do wanna write something better btw with these three :,)

info:

You’re a borrower and overtime have been revealed to the party. You meet Eddie for the first time after Dustin practically forces you and leaves the trailer without explanation.

It’s just really awkward now.

—

Inside of the trailer which Dustin has deserted you in is a giant (human) and you. You’re standing on the coffee table in complete awkward silence.

“So… have you always been like this?” Eddie asked.

You looked up at the curly haired man with curious eyes. He rested his elbows on his knees. He fiddled with the rings on his hands when you tried holding eye contact he looked away. His dough eyes made it to the objects around. Though he didn’t look at you.

“Yep,” You responded.

He nodded his head. You were surprised at how non eager he was to look at you, ask rapid fire questions like Dustin, or even touch you. You didn’t let your guard down though. Your eyes were on him and even if your few friends trusted him it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

The crack of bone made you flinch and take a step back. Eddie shifted his knuckles and continued to crack them. Until he noticed your small figure moving back out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” He apologized immediately and dropped his hands to his sides.

Your back was straight as a ruler and the fight or flight was kicking in. You’d drifted to the edge of the table farthest away from Eddie. His size would make it easy to nab you but reaching over would spare you a couple seconds. To escape, if needed but you remembered Dustin’s promise.

He promised you Eddie wouldn’t hurt you that he was actually a really nice guy. That apparently “high school” gave him a bad reputation, which still confused you because you didn’t know what that meant. Dustin also promised he would be back soon but he seemed to be running late, and that put you on edge.

You did not want to be stuck with a stranger longer than you had to.

“I’m not going to hurt you and I’m sorry for being… awkward,” Eddie’s booming voice hit your ears. “I’m just not usually used to meeting a couple inch tall people I guess, but you’re cool though…” His words drifted when you stared at him blankly.

You were one step away from stepping off the ledge and using your lovely hook to hop off the table. Though he seemed genuine, dangerous, but genuine. Eddie pressed his back against the couch and looked away from you shyly.

“It’s three inches tall actually,” You said with a grin.

Eddie's dark eyes flicked to you with surprise.

“Dustin insisted on measuring me,” You shrugged. “I actually didn’t know giants had so many forms of measurements,” You said.

You scratched the back of your neck and laughed at yourself. The memories of Dustin explaining different “metric” systems to you exploded your brain. It was another reminder this world wasn’t made for you, it was just too damn big.

“How much do you know about… giant stuff?” He asked.

He seemed amused now and less scared of you running off.

“I mean, I’ve recently learned how your electronics work,” You said with air quotes around “electronics”.

The word didn’t roll off your tongue that well but you tried anyhow. You were quite eager to learn the functions of a toaster or television up close. Dustin was happy to teach you of course as well, but the moment Steve discovered you he disapproved of your excitement for “dangerous” things.

You continued to ramble about anything that came to mind. Eddie would comment or nod his head for you to go on. Eventually it turned to you describing the world from your eyes. You didn’t touch on your life in the walls but you continued.

Eddie shifted in his seat and now loomed over you. You actually had to catch your breath from how much you spoke. You hadn’t had someone to listen to you for so long, engaged and encouraging. The shadow over your gave you chills and Eddie’s eyes looked black from the lack of sun. Though his eyes twinkled with a kindness and softness you weren’t expecting.

You stood up looking up at him. Neck craned up to meet his face. His knuckle rested under his chin with eyes down on you. Your heartbeat rose and your face felt hot all of a sudden.

Though the gazes were lost when there was banging outside of the van. You immediately jumped and looked around for the best exit. Habits die hard you supposed.

Eddie watched you frantically look for a safe spot to hide. He frowned at your panicked state and got up. You did find a spot behind a tissue just in case.

When Eddie opened the door he was baffled to say the least. You heard your name be called out by none other than Steve. A breath of relief escaped your lips.

He was loud and upset as he shoved passed Eddie. The brunette continued to call your name while Eddie tried to calm him down. Assure him that you were okay, but that didn’t do it for Steve.

It wasn’t until he saw you on the scratched up wooden table that he dropped to his knees. His face being the only thing in your vision. Immediately bombarded with questions if you were okay, and after minutes assuring you were okay he seemed at ease.

Steve then put his hand behind your and scooped you up. Warmth enveloped your body as your stomach flipped. His thumb gently pressed on the left side of your face.

“Oh my god, Steve,” You huffed.

He was still making sure you were okay. You couldn’t help but smile at him being careful. Him cradling you in his hand had become routine. Of course he usually asked but when he was in a panic he couldn’t help it.

“Ouch, I’m not crazy Harrington,” Eddie said from behind him.

You looked behind Steve’s shoulder to see Eddie fiddling with his rings again. Steve turned around and his shoulders dropped.

“Sorry, just wish Dustin told me what he was planning. The kid is doing whatever he wants these days,” He said in response.

“Oh trust me I know,” Eddie said and crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s an attitude problem,” You chimed in.

…

a/n

i didn’t know how to end this so oh well lmfao

psst— here is more

#g/t #g/t stranger things #stranger things g/t #tiny!y/n #human!steve #human!eddie #g/t writing #gianttiny #tiny!reader #itsgothgirlthymewrites

[stabberghost]

we as a society need to make more creativespark art

#dhmis #dont hug me im scared #dhmis paige #paige the notepad #dhmis electracey #electracey #creativespark #dhmis tony #tony the clock #tony the talking clock #dhmis mean steve #dhmis duck #dhmis yellow guy #dhmis red guy #dhmis humanization #dhmis human #stabberart #stabberscribbles

[a-little-unsteddie]

🪐 please :)

hello! of course! if you notice any inconsistencies between this and previous asks for this fic it is because i’m trying to work things out and i keep writing and rewriting stuff. wjdbhsbf

—

The Hellfire during the night cycle was always creepy. It came with the territory when you were coasting through space, between trading planets and unknown stars. The lights were dimmed, which wasn’t that much of a problem to Eddie, he was able to see in the dark fairly well. The air circulation system kicked on periodically, which sounded like metal creaking. It all contributed to the unsettled feeling that fell over the ship during the night cycle, which Eddie would usually be awake for at least part of it, as he was technically nocturnal.

This was all to say, Eddie was used to being a little uncomfortable when he was awake, alone, while everyone else slept the night cycle away.

—

🎤 make me write, send me an emoji! 🪐

#eddie munson #steve harrington #humans are space orcs au #haso au 🪐 #human!steve #alien!eddie #wip weekend #unsteddie writes #eddieseyelashes 👁️

[inklessletter]

Oh, sweet summer boy. You seem to be feeling that you are exactly where you're meant to be.

And if you're observing the sky from the very same heaven, then you might be right, angel.

🌷

Keep trusting the process with me, yeah?

#inklessletter #trust the process #fanart #stranger things #st fanart #steve harrington #steve fanart #sketch #stevie boy #this is turning out so sweet #i might be falling for him #ok #maybe i should stop falling for every drawing i do #but what can a girl do #i have an hiperfixation for shiny brilliant little things #so i will draw shiny brilliant little things #it is not my fault #i am only human #pink

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to Part One

Link to Part Three

“Again? Seriously?”

Eddie knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows he should. He just...doesn’t seem to be able to.

It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is one hundred percent done with this. This isn’t a life. A gilded cage is still just a cage, and Eddie’s getting to the point where antagonizing the guards is a hobby.

“Wear it, or I’ll make you wear it,” the lackey snarls, shoving the flimsy white fabric against Eddie’s chest.

“You fucking wear it!”

And that’s it. The guys an Alpha, he’s like, literally twice the size of Eddie, and it all happens so fast Eddie’s winded by the floor before he knows what hit him. And then it comes, the whistling noise of the cane singing through the air. Eddie is intimately familiar with the noise.

And just like usual, Eddie can’t keep his noises in, he curses, he calls the guard every name under the sun, he screams and starts to cry but in the end is reduced to a compliant heap, the same as every other time.

They strip him naked and splash freezing water on his face, gets rid of the snot and tears and no doubt the flush he has on his cheeks. His feet are burning, throbbing, and Eddie wants to collapse back to the floor to take the pressure off.

He’s shoved into the white dress, “you so much as blink wrong out there and you won’t be standing for a fortnight.”

Eddie dips his head; he knows it’s true. They’ve done it before. So he gives in. They’re breaking him more and more easily. Eddie doesn’t want to give up; he just doesn’t feel like he has the energy any more.

He’s been here the longest, he’s the only one that’s never sold. It’s only a matter of time before his body ends up in a shallow grave out on the ranch somewhere.

He limps into the dining room, freshly sprayed with heavy duty scent blockers. Eddie’s vaguely aware they’re eating lunch, and if his feet weren’t fucking stinging the way they are, he has no doubt his stomach would growl at the smells.

Eddie doesn’t make it that far before he catches Hagan waving a hand at him, “get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug.” Eddie does his best to oblige, but he can only move so fast with the injuries on his feet.

Hagan, out of everyone here, is not someone you want to piss off. Eddie learned that too, very early on.

"Him," someone says behind Eddie, "I want him."

Eddie turns back again, despite the fact that it can’t possibly be him the Alpha is referring too, there are other male omega here, after all. But no. The Alpha is standing now, and he’s looking right at Eddie.

Well, fuck.

Because as much as Eddie has dreamed of this day, of getting the fuck out of here...that Alpha could be worse. The possibility is always there. This could be a frying pan into fire type situation, and there’s fuck all Eddie can do about that.

Hagan makes a noise, scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

The Alpha is irritatingly good looking at first glance, and he becomes even more so in Eddie’s eyes when he flashes a look of irritated disgust at Hagan, "no, he'll do."

Oh, Eddie ‘will do’ will he? Okay, maybe the Alpha isn’t that good looking, after all.

"Oh," Hagan laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Eddie is ice cold with fear. Hagan called this guy Steve; clearly they know each other. Is that the type of Alpha this Steve guy is?

Everyone else is shooed out of the room, and Eddie stands there on his throbbing feet, hearing, to the dollar, how much he’s worth.

More than he thought, if he’s being honest.

Alpha Steve doesn’t even flinch at the price.

Eddie’s certain Steve must be doing fifteen over the limit, which, honestly, he doesn’t care. It means Eddie’s traveling fifteen over the limit away from a place he never wants to see ever again, so it works for him.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," he answers, but only because he genuinely doesn't want to antagonize this guy right out of the gate.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie just sort of sits there for a moment, feeling stupid. FBI. Rescue??? Maybe he hit his head or he's dreaming or something but...no, his feet are stinging like a bitch and he can very clearly remember how the whole day has gone so far. He’s awake, and this is real.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

The Alpha’s...rambling. Which, Eddie kind of figures now that this guy wasn’t joking when he said he doesn’t work for the FBI. He looks nervous, actually, white knuckling the steering wheel. In Eddie’s experience, if something seems to good to be true, then it almost definitely is. This guy is giving off no scent, and there's no scent in the car anyway. Either it's a rental or something, or this guy wears blockers most of the time. There's even one of those fancy scent diffuser things plugged into the dash. So other than being visibly unsettled Eddie’s got nothing to go off of.

But then, why would he lie? He’s bought Eddie fair and square, and like most Alphas, he’s probably carrying double Eddie’s body weight, plus he knows Eddie's already injured. Eddie could be going from one prison to a...worse prison. But...again, this guy has no reason to lie, right?

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know,” it’s pretty true, without giving too much away. The possibility that this guy could be serious is...it feels to big of an idea to absorb. Eddie might be free? He'll maybe see uncle Wayne again? This guy is going to just...let Eddie go? Eddie's known, for literal years, that he had two ways out of the ranch, out front, bought and paid for, or out back, in a body bag. The sudden possibility of a third option is so out of left field Eddie doesn't know what to do with it.

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie has absolutely no fucking clue what a ‘Hopper’ is, but at the sight of the beautiful golden arches, his priorities shift drastically, "oh fuck me yes," Eddie says it with such vehemence that Steve laughs, he’s got a nice laugh, this Alpha. And unless he’s playing the long con...why the fuck would he even worry if Eddie’s hungry? "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

Steve’s expression changes in an instant, he looks genuinely horrified by what Eddie’s just revealed, “you can have absolutely anything you want.”

Eddie takes him at his word and orders half the damn menu.

Well, Eddie figures, the FBI thing is true, and this is a Hopper, and man he looks like he’s had enough, "you were not supposed to buy a human being," he very clearly tells Steve. Eddie’s feet are stinging a little on the asphalt, but as long as he doesn’t move too much, it’s bearable. And even though he’s still wearing the fucking nightdress, like hell was he missing this conversation.

"I know but-" Steve starts to protest, which Eddie thinks is kind of brave, because if Steve is twice Eddie’s weight, Hopper is basically a giant. Hopper stops him dead with a glare, and Steve hands over his phone and strips off his suit jacket and hands that over too, leaving him in a pristine white shirt.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back and then turning his attention to Eddie, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out." And that sparks a twinge of...fear. Eddie has lived with a group of Omega for years, and the ranch was a lot of things but...they had meals provided, they didn't have to think about money, or clothes, or anything mundane like that. The prospect of suddenly being completely alone...completely alone and potentially vulnerable, is not in any way appealing.

"He can stay with me." Steve suggests out of fucking no where, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off, looking kind of sheepish that he even suggested it. At some point, somewhere between the rescue, the McDonalds, and right this moment, Eddie kind of decides, tentatively, at least, that Alpha Steve might just be an alright guy.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, playing down his relief, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card to Steve, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. Steve fiddles with the card Hopper just gave him, and Eddie can see it says FBI and all that good stuff on it. This is feeling more and more real as time stretches on.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?" Steve asks him.

Eddie feels kind of bad about the sheer amount of money he’s already cost Steve today, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

And that...makes Steve laugh, like really, makes him laugh. And Eddie joins in, not that he thinks he’s funny particularly, but because Steve is just so...well. Maybe it’s a relief too, that Eddie is finally out of that place, and the truth of that is finally sinking in. He’s free. Feels a little delirious with the possibility of freedom.

And there’s only one way to celebrate something like that, “can we get milkshakes?”

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @cryptid-system @weekend-dreamer7

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #fbi agent jim hopper #long suffering hopper #jim hopper #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #human trafficking #steve to the rescue

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 3.2k | tags: werewolf!Steve, Human!Eddie, hurt!Steve, Eddie taking care of Steve, minor characters death | @steddielovemonth prompt: Love is feeling safe by @novacorpsrecruit | AO3)

He runs for his life, his paws hitting the snowy ground with heavy thumps. His flank hurts where the bullet buried itself, but it's distant, drowned out by his instinct to survive. He can't afford to slow down, so he pushes through, letting his instincts carry him as fast as his legs will take him.

His pursuers are only human, not equipped to keep up with a nearly grown wolf. But he's hurt, and he's exhausted, and they have guns.

Part of him wonders why he's even trying to save himself.

They killed the whole village. His parents, his friends, his neighbors. They all burned to death, and those who managed to escape the flames were slaughtered by the hunters. All except him, who managed to escape through the secret tunnels beneath their home, while his parents stayed behind to fight off the invaders.

The Harringtons had been the alphas of their pack, and it was their responsibility to protect the pack with their lives.

None of them deserved to die. No one in their pack had ever hurt a human. They hardly ever saw one, choosing to live as far away from their settlements as possible while still being able to trade with them for the goods they couldn't produce.

It didn't matter to the hunters who came late at night and ambushed them in their sleep. In their eyes, they were monsters. His parents always warned him that humans would never understand them, would always fear them, and fear breeds hatred. Humans couldn't be trusted, they weren't safe.

Back when that meant he couldn't be friends with the daughter of the blacksmith his parents did business with, he refused to believe them. But now it seems that they were always right.

Humans are not to be trusted. They're not safe.

It feels like Steve has been running for hours and still he hears them following him, following his bloody trail. They're not even stealthy, branches snapping, shouts and the occasional gunshot. He's not sure how much longer he can keep going, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He's so focused on listening to the hunters behind him that he doesn't really look where he's going, just runs and runs and runs.

Suddenly the world turns upside down, the pain in his flank flares up, white-hot, and then everything goes dark.

He comes to slowly, his senses catching up with reality one by one.

It's warm where he lies, the sharp smell of burning wood heavy in the air. Panic rises in his throat and he can't stop the whine falling from his muzzle, it must mean he didn't make it out after all, he's still trapped in the burning ruins of his home. He's going to die here, burned alive like everyone else he's known since he was a pup.

His ears pick up other sounds over the crackling of a nearby fire. Someone is here, Steve can smell them. Smell him. It's a human, a man. His scent is strong, clinging to the soft blanket Steve can feel beneath him. He's humming a familiar tune, his voice deep and melodic, and Steve can't believe he's about to die with the tune of a nursery rhyme stuck in his head.

Heavy footsteps are coming toward him, and Steve hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he thinks the guy is wearing heavy boots. It's winter, after all, and humans don't run as hot as wolves, completely unprotected from the harshness of the season.

His whole body aches, every limb is heavy, and exhaustion is trying to drag him under again. Steve knows he's in no condition to fight, that he won't last more than a few seconds before the human kills him, but he won't die without a fight. That's not who he is.

So when he feels the human stop in front of him and fall to his knees beside Steve's motionless body, Steve attacks.

Well, he tries. But his body won't cooperate, the pain makes him so dizzy that he almost loses consciousness as he tries to rise enough to sink his teeth into the human's soft flesh. He sinks back down, with pained whimpers he tries to suppress but can't.

"Shh, hey, it's okay, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise. I'm trying to help you, but you are gonna have to stay still and let me, okay?"

It doesn't make any sense, none of it, but he's so tired and the voice talking to him sounds so nice, warm and soothing. It makes him want to lie still and let it wash over him. With the last of his strength, he blinks his eyes open to look at the man who is about to end his life, no matter what his alluring voice promises.

The last thing Steve sees before the pain and exhaustion pulls him back under are the man's eyes. They were a rich, dark brown, like melted chocolate under a gentle heat. Their warmth held a soft depth, inviting and comforting, reminiscent of a cozy fireplace on a chilly evening. With each gaze, it was as if the soft flicker of candlelight danced within them, creating an aura of quiet reassurance.

The next time Steve is awake, he feels better. He's still weak, but the bone-deep exhaustion has eased. So has the pain, a dull ache rather than a white-hot agony that sets his nerves on fire. As he comes more and more to himself, his brain clearing the haze of sleep, he takes stock.

He's still alive.

He's still surrounded by the scent of the man who found him.

He's comfortable, a soft surface and blankets beneath him.

He's starving.

As if he heard Steve's thoughts - or more likely his growling stomach - Steve hears the man approaching again. Opening his eyes blearily, Steve sees him standing in the doorway with a plate in his hand, and the smell that hits Steve's nose makes his empty stomach cramp with hunger, and saliva floods his mouth. Roasted chicken, Steve's favorite.

"Look who's awake," the man says, and Steve wonders if he knows who Steve is or if he's one of those guys who talks to animals. He really hopes it's the latter, because that makes his chances of survival at least a little better.

The man takes another two steps towards him, but then stops and looks at him cautiously.

"Okay, last time didn't go so well, huh?" He asks, but Steve thinks it's more rhetorical. "I've got food for you, so please don't bite me? God, it's a good thing Wayne isn't here or he'd think I'd finally lost it, talking to a wolf."

Shaking his head, the man comes closer and Steve takes in his appearance. He doesn't look particularly dangerous, rather slender with dark curls and a pale complexion. He doesn't carry any weapons, but he does have an ugly scar on his face. It must have been a deep cut, and it runs in a jagged line across his cheek.

Steve tries to lift his head when the man is close enough to strike, but he only manages a few inches before sinking back down with a soft whine.

"Hey, hey, hey, you shouldn't move yet, sweetheart. It's a miracle nothing's broken, as far as I can tell, but that bullet really did a number on you, almost like it was poisoned. Bastards to do this to another being."

Silver bullet, Steve thinks. That explains the intense pain and weakness.

Then he forgets all about it the moment the smell of the chicken intensifies as the man reaches out to Steve's muzzle with a large chunk of meat between his fingers. The man, if you can call him that, probably about Steve's age, looks terrified as he does so, but he doesn't stop until Steve can close his teeth around the meat and pull it into his mouth. When the meat is gone, Steve chewing happily and the guy still in possession of all five fingers, his host breathes a sigh of relief.

"Shit, man, that was scary," the man laughs, his dimples popping. He beams at Steve as he hands him another large chunk of chicken.

This human is so weird, Steve thinks. Talking to a wolf like it's a human, chastising hunters for wounding it with what he thinks is a poisoned bullet. Feeding it its own rations by hand, during a harsh winter, no less.

Whatever plan is behind this: Steve doesn't understand it. But he's too weak to think much about it, because as soon as the plate is empty and his stomach comfortably full, Steve sinks back under.

He dreams of soft hands stroking his fur, and of someone softly singing to him the lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was a pup and woke up from a nightmare.

It becomes routine as Steve's body fights off the effects of the silver bullet.

The man, whose name was Eddie, as Steve learned during one of the many times he was sort of talking to himself, fed him meat by hand, and sometimes broth and potatoes. Every two days he would also dress his wound, always clicking his tongue at the state of it and muttering about asshole hunters.

Eddie always talked while tending to Steve, at first telling him how his body was healing and what Eddie was doing to help him. But after a while, he began to tell Steve about his days and his chores, regaling Steve with tales of his adventures while gathering firewood or preparing meals for them. It was surprisingly comforting to listen to Eddie talk, his stories always funny and dramatic, with a hint of self-deprecation.

It didn't make sense to Steve why Eddie was doing all this until one night he started talking about his uncle, who had gone to the city to find work to better support them and hadn't been home in months.

It was then that Steve realized that Eddie was lonely.

He'd been alone in that cabin in the middle of the woods for months until he found Steve lying in a ravine and carried him home.

Steve was the closest thing Eddie had to a companion in months.

Knowing that eased some of the apprehension he felt toward Eddie, because it seemed that as long as the man didn't know that Steve wasn't an ordinary wolf, he didn't have to be afraid of him.

Three weeks after Steve first woke up in Eddie's cabin, he manages to get up on weak legs and take a few tentative steps before collapsing again.

Eddie is there to catch him and by then his hands are welcome on Steve's body.

They are always gentle with Steve, stroking his fur and snout, scratching behind his ears just right. Eddie touches him all the time now, and Steve has no idea how he feels about it.

That's not entirely true, he has an inkling of what the warmth means that spreads through his body when Eddie lies down behind him on the mattress he'd put in front of the fireplace so Steve would be warm while he healed. Every night, Eddie would bury his face in Steve's fur right at his neck, a vulnerable place only close members of a pack were ever allowed to put their snouts, and stroke Steve's side and belly with gentle hands until they both drifted off to sleep.

Everything smelled of Eddie. Steve smelled of Eddie.

And Eddie had begun to smell of Steve.

It made his inner wolf purr with satisfaction, and that was such a phenomenally bad idea.

That's why Steve is trying to get back on his feet as quickly as possible, so he can leave before these feelings that have started to grow in his heart get any worse.

Eddie is human.

Humans are not to be trusted. They are not safe.

But Eddie feels safe.

Worse, he is starting to feel a lot like mate, and Eddie has no idea what that even means.

"Careful, Koda. You're still healing. There's no rush, y'know. You can stay here as long as you want, okay? This is your home now, too."

Steve whines softly at the ache in Eddie's voice and licks his neck and face to comfort him. The wet tongue probably tickles because it makes Eddie laugh, and he buries his face in the thick fur at the front of Steve's neck.

And Steve just lets him, lets him press his mouth against his throat while he nuzzles behind Eddie's ear and breathes in his scent.

Steve is fucked.

It all comes to a head a few weeks later.

Steve is now back on his feet and uses his new mobility to follow Eddie around and keep him company while he does his chores, often dozing next to him while he cooks or chops wood or sorts through their rapidly dwindling supplies. Soon Eddie will have to go hunting to keep them stocked with meat, and Eddie hates the thought. He doesn't want to hurt another creature.

That's why Steve decides to go hunting for his human. He can provide for him.

A week later, he leaves in the middle of the night, carefully slipping out of Eddie's arms around him and trotting through the little door that Eddie built into his door so that Steve could relieve himself whenever he needed to.

It goes better than Steve expected, his muscles still not back to where they used to be, but stronger and faster than he would have thought after weeks of lying around. He follows the tracks of a deer for almost an hour before he finally finds it. The hunt itself is short, the wind comes from the right direction, and the deer clearly doesn't sense him until it's too late.

Steve kills it as quickly and painlessly as possible, sure that Eddie would want him to. He thinks he would do anything to make Eddie happy.

When Steve comes back from the woods, he's dragging the deer's body with his snout, wishing he could just shift back into his human body because it would be so much easier with his hands. But the shift takes a lot out of an already weakened body, and he can't risk it. In a few weeks it will be as easy as breathing again, he's sure of that, but right now it could be a serious setback in his recovery.

He can already see the cabin through the trees when he hears Eddie's voice calling for him. He sounds panicked and Steve immediately drops his prey to run to his mate.

Eddie is not even wearing a jacket, his breath coming out in clouds of condensed air as he stumbles through the glittering snow, calling for Koda.

He calls for his wolf with panicked tears in his voice and Steve barrels into him without a second's hesitation. Eddie falls to the ground, his arms full of Steve, his hands clutching Steve's fur as if he's afraid this is a dream and Steve will disappear again.

"Koda? Oh my God, where the hell have you been? I was worried sick. I thought you just disappeared." Eddie sits up, his arms never letting go of where they are wrapped around Steve, and Steve can smell the tears on his face. He carefully licks them away as more and more follow. "Please don't leave me, please, please, please," Eddie keeps begging him, his whole body shaking and Steve wants to shift so badly. He wants to take his mate in his arms and hold him, soothe his pain and fear and promise him that he'll never leave him.

So even though he knows better, he does.

One moment Eddie is holding a big, brown wolf in his arms, and the next he is holding a very human, very naked man in his lap.

If Steve wasn't scared to death of how Eddie will react, he would laugh at the high-pitched squeal Eddie lets out when he realizes what has happened.

"Hi," Steve says, waving at Eddie with fluttering fingers. Not his smoothest moment, but to be fair, this isn't how he usually approaches someone he's attracted to. For once he is usually wearing a lot more clothes.

"Uhhh, hi?" Eddie asks, stunned. "Who... Wait, not important right now. Where is my wolf? My Koda. I just got him back."

Steve is pretty sure that Eddie must be in shock and not thinking clearly, but it warms his heart how attached he is to Steve's wolf. He hopes he can get him to like his human side just as much.

Deciding it's best to just come clean with Eddie, Steve exclaims, "Tada," and does a very silly imitation of jazz hands.

Eddie just blinks at him with big eyes.

Okay, Plan B it is, Steve thinks. "I'm him. I'm Koda. Or, well, no, I'm Steve, but you couldn't know that. But, um, yeah, I'm your wolf?" Steve cringes at the your, but it's too late to take it back, and besides, he really wants to be Eddie's wolf.

He wants to be Eddie's everything.

"I knew it!"

Eddie's sudden outburst startles Steve so much that he almost falls off Eddie's lap before Eddie's arms tighten around him.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just... my mom told me about wolves that could turn into humans. She used to tell me stories about how they used to be the protectors of villages and towns, the friends and companions of humans, before some humans turned against them, jealous of the admiration and status they had with the villagers, and drove them away. Mama said that when a wolf chooses you as a mate, you are blessed for life. She always wanted to meet one of you."

Steve knows about Eddie's mother, another story he told Steve under the protective cover of night as they lay on their mattress, Steve's fur soaking up Eddie's tears as he talked about losing his mother when he was only ten.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Steve still has to ask, his heart beating as fast as the wings of a bird taking flight.

Eddie looks at him as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Afraid of you? Koda... I mean, Stevie, can I call you Stevie?" at Steve's nod Eddie continues, "Are you going to hurt me?"

Now it's Steve's turn to look at Eddie in disbelief. "What? No! Never! Eddie, I promise I would never hurt you. I just thought that you..."

"That I would hurt you if I found out what you are?" Eddie asks quietly, his thumb stroking Steve's collarbone.

"Yes," Steve admits in a low voice. "But not anymore."

"No?" He sounds so hopeful when he asks this, so trusting in the way he holds Steve in his arms, even after learning of Steve's true nature. Steve smiles down at the man who saved him, who tended to him, who cared for him.

His human.

His mate, if Eddie will let him. Steve thinks he might.

"No, I feel safe with you."

Eddie's answering smile is blinding, and Steve has to kiss him, right here in the snow, sitting buck naked in Eddie's lap, the morning sun bathing them in its hopeful light.

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