#giant!steve

[itsgothgirlthyme]

chapter 3: breakfast for two

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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. 

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[anthonysperkins]

Francesco D'Macho and D.O. Raging Stallion’s Giants: Part One (2011) dir. Chris Ward and Steve Cruz

[morganbritton132]

Eddie follows up his Tiktok of an old home video of him sick with a current video of him sick. He’s congested as hell and his voice is practically gone when he croaks out, “Don’t marry teachers. They carry the plague.”

“It’s allergies. You have allergies.”

Eddie coughs pathetically and then pans the camera over to the other side of the bed. Steve, who will get a fever if you look at him too hard, has his back to Eddie.

Eddie is not reaching for him but Steve says anyways, “Don’t touch me or I will melt like a spider made of people.”

“…What does that even mean?!!!”

[shyjusticewarrior]

*sobbing* he's just a lil guy

[mangywayway]

🦷 Of your fangs, I have made my home 🦷

.

Hello hello, slowly coming back ✌🏻. Enjoy this completely self-indulgent piece (as literally everything I draw lololol)

(here you can find the Steve's version)

[oldschoolfrp]

A huge two-tailed serpent emerges with a hiss (John Blanche, Steve Jackson's Sorcery! 1: The Shamutanti Hills, Penguin, 1983)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[teruel-a-witch]

danny: *exists*

steve: (😍i want to annoy him for the rest of our lives 😍)

[why-i-love-comics]

Ultimates #1 (2024)

written by Deniz Camp art by Juan Frigeri & Federico Blee

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

They're having family dinner at Steve's house when Steve asked Eddie to pass him something. Everyone at the table knew they were together.

Eddie: Here you go, Stevie.

Steve: Thanks, Teddy.

Hopper: Teddy?

Steve: Yeah, because he's my Teddy bear.

Hopper: *snorts with laughter* Your Teddy bear?

Steve: *glares at him and then smiles at Joyce* You know what would be a cute nickname for Hopper? He's like your bunny, your sweet, grumpy bunny.

Joyce: *cooing at Hopper* Are you my grumpy bunny, Hop?

Hopper: What did you do?

Steve: Not so funny now, is it?

It was from that day forward that Hopper never mocked Steve’s relationship ever again. He learned his lesson.

[imthursdaysyme]

Installment of the wrestlers 2/3: Eddie stole Steve’s leftovers

[yikesharringrove]

Billy gets his curls from his mom.

Of course he does. Everything he actually likes about himself is mostly just because of her.

(And everything Neil despises about him is mostly just because of her.)

She didn’t leave many things when she left.

But, she left a dove grey scarf. A soft soil one that she would use to tie up her hair before she went to bed.

She told Billy it made her curls smoother, more defined, less frizzy.

Billy had forgotten about it. It was actually Steve that had found it in a box of miscellaneous items Billy was refusing to unpack, even after being in Hawkins for nearly six months.

Steve had let the cool silk run between his fingers.

“What’s this?” He asked, and Billy always likes how Steve can keep his voice even. Nonjudgmental.

“Scarf.”

Billy’s heart had tightened at the view of that scarf. He had forgotten about it.

“Why do you have it?”

“My mom. It was her’s.”

Steve just gave him a doe-eyed look, holding the scarf in front of him like some kind of precious artifact of Billy’s fucked up life.

“She used to wear them to bed. Tie her hair up, you know? She said it made her curls better.”

It always did. Her hair was always so beautiful. Sometimes she and Billy would sit in the back yard, in the soft grass, and she would brush out her hair. And they’d laugh at how huge it would get, but it was always as soft as the silk that Steve was holding.

Steve smiled, sitting down in front of Billy on his bed.

It was a rare moment of having the house to themselves.

Steve had parked three blocks away and walked, ducking around the back of the neighbor’s house to sneak in Billy’s window.

He reached up, clumsily tying the scarf around Billy’s head, tucking his hair in.

“There.” He smiled brightly, leaning forward to press a kiss to Billy’s heated cheek.

Billy started sleeping with the scarf.

Not only because his curls got better, (smoother, more defined, less frizzy, just like she always said) and not only because Steve liked to play with the thick ringlets, but because he missed her. He missed his mom every goddamn day of his goddamn life.

And sometimes, when he tied his hair up, he could pretend she had just done the knot for him. That she had tucked in any stray hairs and pinned the scarf to each side.

He’d do anything to feel close to her.

[thestobingirlie]

stobin on total wipeout is a need.

what more is there to say.

[pocketsizejade]

Bucky!?!

Who the hell is bucky?

[pinemangoart]

Some IG mon requests :] I like drawing their alt outfits I dunno