#monster steve harrington

[milf-harrington]

i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from. 

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner. 

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed. 

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like. 

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently. 

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament. 

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

[stobinesque]

held frozen like an angel to me

A birthday fic for the truly incomparable @steves-strapcollection!! Happy Birthday, Gerry, I hope you're having the best and filthiest day imaginable.

If you somehow don't know: Ger is an absolute powerhouse of smutty Steddie creation, and also one of the first people to welcome me so warmly and enthusiastically to the Steddie fandom. It's been a truly wild ride getting sucked back into the obsessive heights of fandom brainrot for the first time in years over the past few months, and Gerry is definitely at least 30% responsible for it (I would be willing to go higher).

Also if you haven't read any of Gerry's work you should absolutely go do that. He's out here writing some of the best transmasc erotic fiction in the English language (I'm intentionally leaving off the 'fan' prefix there).

This fic also has art made by the mind-bogglingly talented @sentient-trash. It's an absolutely stunning piece, and the collaboration with Simon definitely accounts for the richness of detail within the fic as a whole. This story truly wouldn't be what it is without him. Also many thanks to @scarcrossdlvrs and @inairbinad for being my cheerleaders!

A playlist for the fic can be found here.

Steddie | wc: 10.3k | Explicit | cw/tags: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Vers Dom Steve Harrington, Vers Sub Eddie Munson, Monsterfucking, Monster Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Dual POV, Gothic Vibes, Referenced Non-Monogamy, Shapeshifting Genitalia, Dream Sex/Manipulation, Sleep Paralysis, Biting, Aphrodisiac Venom, Blood Kink/Blood Play, Choking, Breeding Kink, Possessiveness/Obsession, Ownership, Collars, Compulsion, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Come Play/Come Eating, Foot Kink (kind of?? including to be safe), Cock & Ball Torture, light gore?? (at least some mildly gory allusions/metaphors), Religious References and Biblical Allusions, Dacryphilia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Tails, Wing Kink, Lactation Kink, Knotting, Good Boy Eddie Munson

[ READ ON AO3 ]

The hall echoes with silence, as it has for weeks now.

Steve stretches his limbs, and the rough sound of stone grinding against stone rends the air.

As marble gives way to skin and scale, Steve’s awareness shifts to a damp trail carving a path down his face. The arm stretched over his head falls, hand brushing over his cheek and coming back wet with the blood of his tears. He brings it to his lips. Licks it away. The taste of his pet bursts across his tongue. The source of all his tears.

At long last, his beloved has returned. He can scent it on the air.

Steve unfurls his wings, letting them open wide for the first time in what feels like ages.

Knowing a mortal has distorted his perception of time.

No matter.

Steve regards the manacle looped around his ankle with an indulgent smile before willing it away into nothingness.

His pet's desire to keep him as a pretty thing never fails to amuse.

Steve twirls the garland of his namesake flower in his hands. Considers disappearing it along with the manacle. But his beloved likes to see him adorned with pretty things.

He wreaths himself in flower and leaf, the tips of his horns holding the white blooms in place.

Steve has always imagined that shaking off his statuesque form must feel akin to waking from that slumber humans seem to love so much. It feels good to be back in his body—muscles tensing and flexing as he turns to regard his stone plinth, tail whipping around him as the stiffness in his joints dissipates.

His eyes rove the space, taking in the finery he rarely gets to see from other angles. He runs his fingers over the filigree of his alcove, careful not to scratch the wood, and smiles with the knowledge that his pet gives him pride of place amongst his collection. That he considers Steve his finest treasure.

But Steve is being too self-indulgent. It's time to welcome his lover home.

The old grandfather clock tolls the witching hour as Steve ascends the staircase. When he reaches the top it’s to find that his lover did not make it past the parlor on his return home.

Eddie is sprawled across his ornate fainting couch—splayed out in a pile of furs. He’s half-dressed in a pair of leather pants that look painted on, while his pale chest gleams in the moonlight.

Steve leans against the door frame, watching as he sleeps. And though no one is there to see it, he beams, wicked.

Oh, how he loves to toy with his food before he eats it.

Eddie is floating; suspended in æther.

Strange lights and shapes of color bend and twist and fold around him.

He chases after them—reaching out to grasp each one. Watching as they disintegrate between his fingers.

And then he’s falling.

No, not falling.

The ground is rushing up to meet him.

To cradle him like a lover.

Eddie stares up into a meaningless sky—void of all but darkness—as hands begin to grasp at his chest. Fingers trail across his torso. Grab at his side. Graze and pinch his nipples with a biting force.

He can’t count them. Can’t see them.

Can’t hear anything.

He is surrounded by disembodied touch—holding him up, pressing him down, squeezing, fondling, grappling.

And he is at sea, searching for an anchor.

He's lost.

Lost without his angel.

His lord.

Eddie casts about, searching without sense.

Stretching the boundaries of himself and pulling.

A wet warmth envelops one of his nipples. A pair of soft lips trail kisses down the line of his stomach. A ravenous mouth sucks a bruise into his neck. Still another descends down, down, and—

Eddie gasps, but still there is no sound.

No breath escaping his lungs.

It's the idea of a gasp, moan, cry sailing through him.

His blood runs hot. Muscles tense.

He’s all sensation with no grounding.

High and drunk on the hands and mouths that travel the expanse of him.

He wants a way out. To escape the sticky web he’s been trapped in.

But a part of him wants to sink.

To drop like a stone.

To drown.

To let The Lord of skies and heavens and seas come to bear him up and pluck him from the depths below.

Where is he?

Angel

His mind echoes with the cry, even while the phantom sense of his body aches and struggles to move. To break free. To fight or flee or float towards the one who loves him.

Angel. My lord.

Eddie wakes with a gasp, air bubbling in his chest. He blinks against the moonlight, sight restored. Yet he still can't move. Pinned in place by some outside force. Alone and petrified—

No, he's not alone. There's a figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the chandeliers he keeps faintly lit in the receiving hall.

Eddie sees the outline of wings. Of horns. A flowered crown.

No sooner has he had the thought to reach out than the figure is stalking towards him. Eddie still can't move, and the beat of his heart picks up its pace. Not yet pounding in terror, but racing like he's just started a chase. He wants to speak. Wants to cry out, wants to—

"Hello, my pet."

Golden-verdigris eyes flicker in the moonlight as the figure hovers over him. It's not enough to see by—not nearly enough—but he knows Steve is smiling by the way it glints off one of his fangs.

A part of Eddie relaxes at the sight of him. Close enough to touch, to kiss—finally, after weeks apart.

But his hind-brain—locked in the throes of disorientation from his dream—still perceives his angel as threat. As monster.

That's what he is, after all.

Eddie's monster.

The talon of Steve's index finger hooks through the one that dangles from the scaled collar around Eddie's neck and tugs gently. "You've been gone too long, beloved." His voice is somehow both honeyed and sibilant. "I ought to welcome you home."

Firm lips press against Eddie's own. He's starting to regain some use of his limbs—can feel his control returning to him at the edges of his consciousness—but the second Steve swipes his tongue across Eddie's lips his mouth goes numb. He lies there, slack-jawed, as Steve kisses him with diluted venom on his tongue. Eddie moans, the sound pulled from his chest like Steve had hooked his talons through his very soul and pried it loose.

He thinks that actually happened long ago.

Steve pulls away, and Eddie wants to chase after him, but he's still held in place by the sleep paralysis. Some corner of his mind still pinned down by Steve's power.

Eddie needs to touch, to feel—to have a voice to speak and beg for it.

He can’t form his mouth around words, but he can make sounds, so he pushes a whine from his throat. Needs to let Steve know how much he’s missed him. How much he ached for him while he was away. How not an hour or minute passed where he wasn't picturing himself wrapped in Steve's embrace, even when he was using someone else to fill that gaping void in him.

And Steve is toying with him. Taking his own welcome by force.

Eddie shivers, and above him, Steve chuckles darkly, eyes flashing again in the silvery light.

Steve straddles his waist, and the faint light from the hall shines through the white blooms of the stephanotis flowers that wreathe the crown of his head. Eddie’s breath catches at the sight. He wants to supplicate himself before his Angel.

Eddie wants. Not just the simple gratification of physical pleasure—though he aches to have his lover’s hands on him—but also just a scrap of light. Steve may be able to see him just fine, but Eddie is still only human, and can't make out anything beyond Steve’s eyes and the occasional glimmer of his smile.

Eddie misses the sight of his face. Wants to drink in every detail. The sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones. The inhuman shimmer of his skin. The flecks of golden scales that dot him like moles—those catch and shimmer in the moonlight when Steve turns his head just right, but it's not enough.

Eddie’s mouth is still numb, but he can feel the severed link between mind and body reforming, and with a twitch Eddie manages to drag his arm up, to press his palm to the stony texture of his angel's skin.

A scaled claw snatches his wrist up immediately, followed by a hissing reprimand. "Now who told you you could move, my pet?" Steve whispers, leaning in close.

Eddie moans, and as the air passes between his lips he realizes that feeling has returned to them. "Lights," he manages to mumble. "Want…to see you."

"Are you making demands of me, my love?" Steve drags a knuckle down the side of Eddie’s face. "I don't think you've earned the right to make such requests, pet."

Eddie closes his eyes, because it is easier to see nothing than to be deprived of the full, glorious sight of his Master. "Please…my Lord. Please, I wish to be graced with the sight of you," Eddie begs around the cotton of his mouth.

Steve hums. "Well, I suppose you do beg prettily enough, even for a creature who speaks so plainly out of turn." Steve leans in ever closer, until the shining threads of his lashes brush against Eddie's cheek. "But I'm going to need you to stay." Steve punctuates the last word with a strain of Command behind it, followed by a sharp bite, fangs plunging into the tendons of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie gasps, arching his back as he feels the burning heat of Steve's venom enter his blood stream. Warmth rushes through him, heart pumping Steve's essence into each corner and every crevice of his being. His vision blurs as his head grows fuzzy and distant.

He feels the weight on him shift. Move. Disappear. Watches as the silhouette of a demon—an angel's retreating form—moves across the room. And then the parlor is awash with a dim golden light.

Eddie's eyes blink against it, thick with tears. It hurts, almost, in spite of how low it is. But it’s worth it for the vision that greets him when Steve steps back into his line of sight.

Steve was always a vision to behold. A creature without compare.

He moves like a dancer. Like a reed on the wind. Like a snake. Even when he’s standing still—even when literally encased in living stone in Eddie’s stairwell—he looks like a piece of art in motion. Like a spirit that can’t be captured.

He is everything the gods and poets speak of when defining beauty—and not just for the sight of him.

But what a sight he is.

Muscles that ripple in the low light. Golden scales that dot his skin like starlight. Hair that flickers like flames. Like there’s a perpetual gust of wind passing through those gossamer strands. Dusky nipples pierced through with golden hoops that sparkle and shine like the wiry metallic strands of hair that carpet his chest.

His arms and legs end in iridescent scales that flicker between green and gold and sapphire when they catch the light. Fingers and toes capped with talons sharp and black as obsidian.

All except the ring finger of his left hand.

That talon is around Eddie's neck.

His love is bare of everything except the token of Eddie's he himself bears—a collar made of gold, with Eddie's first guitar pick attached to the ring that dangles above Steve’s clavicle. He wears not a stitch of clothing while in this form—an affront to its very purpose, Steve explained once—but he allows himself to be adorned with that marker of Eddie's ownership at all times.

Steve stands before him. Lets Eddie drink his fill of the sight of him. And he knows that Steve has missed seeing him as much as Eddie has missed seeing Steve.

For the next tour, Eddie will have to devise a way to bring him along.

Perhaps as a piece of set decoration.

Steve takes a loping step forward and his wings unfurl behind him.

Eddie's heart lodges in his throat. Seeing them makes him want to soar. To fly above the world while they fuck and drench it with their love. They’re unlike any wings Eddie has ever seen or dreamt up in fantasy. Some cross between bat and bird and mythical beast.

Iridescent emerald, just like his scales and eyes, and layered with feathers and scales like beetle wings that ripple and shimmer with every movement. They tinkle as they shift, like dried scarab wings.

And when Steve flies they make music.

Steve stalks forward like a beast hunting prey. His pet’s eyes are fixed on the expanse of his wings, because his lover is weak for pretty things, as all mortals are. Steve preens under the attention—Narcissus took direction from him, after all—letting them flap and flutter behind him as he crosses back to where he has Eddie trapped in his Command.

“Your gaze is covetous, my love.”

“I have no other way to look at you, Master.”

Steve’s face splits into a grin, fangs pressing into the swell of his bottom lip. His pet is flushed a pretty petal pink all over. Cheeks flaring red, blood pooling just beneath the surface of fragile, porcelain skin.

Steve aches to drink from him. He doesn’t need blood to sustain him like certain other creatures of the night. But he already knows that the taste of his lover’s lifeblood is more refined than the bouquet of the finest vintage.

Steve continues his slow approach, savoring how Eddie’s rapt gaze moves with him. Like there's a cord attaching it to Steve.

When Steve folds himself onto his lover’s lap, his pet keens as though he’s only just realized he’s been straining the front panel of his leathers from the moment Steve got his fangs in him.

“Steve…Stevie…Phan. please.” The muscles of Eddie's neck tense as he strains against the venom's paralysis to try to reach Steve.

Steve’s talons clink against the metal bars pierced through Eddie’s nipples as he twists them in rough admonishment. “You speak out of turn, Theo.”

Their private nicknames for each other are for use outside of play.

Eddie’s breath escapes his throat in pained, reedy gasps as Steve pinches, sending twin paths of blood streaming down either side of Eddie’s chest. Steve watches with fascinated delight as Eddie’s body struggles to move away from the pain, but can’t due to the venom flooding his veins.

“S-sorry, Master. Please, I’m so sorry.” Tears bead along his pet’s lashes, and Steve paws his chest with gentling touches.

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, with an impish smile, taking a bloodied nipple into his mouth with a groan, and suckling at it like it was milk pouring from it. Steve moans, letting the warm red liquid pool on his tongue before swallowing it down. His lover’s blood is sweet and fragrant as honeyed wine, and Steve is already drunk on it. His cunt gushes, wet and ready to be filled with even more of Eddie’s sticky-sweet goodness.

Steve slides back until he’s straddling the tops of Eddie’s thighs, and palms a hand over the bulge there. Eddie moans, looking half ready to die a little death with nothing more than the suggestion of Steve’s touch along his length.

His poor foolish pet always forgets how hot his blood runs when he gets a little venom in him.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” Steve says. He hooks a talon through the laces that tie Eddie’s pants shut and snicks them open. “Missed this beautiful piece of work inside me even more.” Eddie isn’t wearing anything under his pants, and the second the leather cords snap, his cock bobs up and hits his stomach, standing proudly at attention under Steve’s ravenous stare.

Steve slowly drags the curved back of a talon along the underside of it, smiling wickedly when Eddie whimpers and tries to buck his hips upwards. Steve tsks, sliding the finger down, down, down—tickling along the seam of Eddie’s sack, pressing carefully against the sensitive skin of his taint, and continuing downward until the second knuckle of that finger is nudged up against Eddie’s entrance, bearing into it.

Eddie whines, and Steve coos gently as he takes the reddening length of his dick into a loose fist with his other hand. “It’s a shame that you humans are so fixed. I’d bet you’d just love to have a tight little snatch for me to fuck.”

A glob of precome spurts from Eddie’s length and Steve tsks, shaking his head. “Messy boy. You already get so wet for me. Bet you’d love to be sopping with slick. So ready to take me inside, isn’t that right, pet?” Eddie lets out a muffled, high-pitched sound of affirmation. Steve smiles. “We’ll get there. For now I just need you to sit there while I get my fill of you.”

Steve rises up onto his knees, positioning the head of Eddie's cock at the entrance of his cunt. He presses his palms to the center of Eddie's chest as he sinks down in one fluid motion, careful not to let his talons break skin. Steve lets his eyes flutter shut as he sheathes himself on Eddie's cock with a satisfied sigh.

Steve loves to take his pet any way he can get him. But he can’t deny that there’s a particular pleasure to the fullness of his prick inside him. Steve can feel Eddie in his guts. Feels greedy as he sucks him down. Wants his cum and love spilled all over his insides.

Eddie whines—and the paralytic effects of the venom must be wearing off, because Steve feels his lover's hips twitch upward from beneath him.

Now that simply won’t do.

Steve curls his fingers so that his claws rip and rend into flesh. His talons drag down the length of Eddie’s torso—nipples to navel—and Steve relishes in the scream it elicits. Rivulets of blood rush to the surface, trickling in small tributaries over the white expanse of Eddie's skin. Steve wanted to loop each around every line of red there and hold him in his hands like they're the threads of fate. Wants to weave the strands together until he has a cerement of blood and love and viscera enshrouding them.

Steve feels the muscles of his back tense and bunch and ripple as his wings stretch wide. He yearns to take to the skies—still wrapped around his lover—and let the blood he’s pulled from Eddie’s veins spill down like rain on the parochial inhabitants below.

None else but the two of them know love and joy and ecstasy like this.

Steve shifts his gaze back to his lover's face, adoration swelling in his chest. Tears stream down Eddie's face as Steve bounces on his cock and he forces himself not to thrust up into Steve's wet heat. With each minute that passes the struggle to hold still will grow stronger. The venom pumping through Eddie's veins makes him insatiable. Even when Steve inevitably milks him dry, his body will want more. This is just the beginning, the heat in his blood driving Eddie to chase after every sensation—pleasure and pain alike heightened to the edges of perfection.

"You're trying to be so good for me, aren't you, pet?" The words fall from Steve's mouth like a challenge. Eddie moans, head tipping back at the words. "Trying to keep your composure even though I can feel the way you're struggling not to shove this beautiful cock of yours as deep as it will go. But you're just a desperate little slut for me aren't you, pet? No better than a mindless, rutting animal."

Eddie snuffles, hips rocking up to meet Steve's with stilted, half-aborted thrusts.

Steve tsks, condescension dripping from his tone. "Did you want to come for me, pet? FIll me with your seed? Get me fit to bursting with a bunch of wingėd little cambions to fly around the empty mausoleum you like to keep me trapped in? As though you are lord over me?”

Eddie sobs, fists clenching into the furs beneath him, as Steve leans in close, trailing his forked tongue over the lines of blood, drinking in everything Eddie had to offer him, and moaning as the sweet taste broke over his tongue. “I let you own me, pet. And you would do good not to forget it.”

It was a truth wrapped in a lie. Or perhaps a lie hidden in the shape of a truth. Lord Stephanotis was not a creature to be ruled by a mortal in mere letter of law. In deed, however?

Despite the irony of it all, Steve had let this curious mortal bend him to his will. Had let the sharper edges of his own power be domesticated and subsumed by Theo's will. Steve was allowed only the meals that his pet’s body provided. He could, ostensibly, leave at any time in pursuit of a wider menu—but why would he, when his Theo was satiating all on his own?

When he was there, that is.

Maybe that was why time stretched to an eternity in Eddie's absence.

Steve rolls his hips with a sinuous motion, moaning as the head of Eddie’s cock hooks behind his navel and drives him wild.

“That’s right pet, fill me up.”

“Master, please,” his pet begs.

Steve’s tail whips out to wrap around Eddie’s neck, cutting off his pleas with a choked moan. “You forget your place, pet. I’ve reminded you more than enough times not to speak out of turn." Steve squeezed his cunt around Eddie's cock on a harsh downward thrust. "If you want to go gallivanting around the world taking any random cock, or stuffing any pretty pussy that flashes your way while leaving me chained here like some common whore, the least you can do is let me use you to get my fill when you return.”

Steve slams down onto Eddie’s cock again and grinds into him, tightening his tail around Eddie's neck and watching with a sick, twisted glee as his face turns a bright red. “That was our deal was it not? You keep me locked away, and in my stead you go and sow your wild oats? If you want to change the terms of our contract, my love, you have to ask. You can’t just go around acting like this cock doesn’t belong to me once you’re back under this roof.”

Eddie let out a sound that Steve was more accustomed to hearing in muck-filled stables. A desperate whinnying sound that makes his clit throb.

“Listen to you bray for me. You’ve certainly got the cock for it, my little stallion. Go on, fill me up. Breed me.”

Sometimes Steve forgot what it meant to hunger.

No, that's not right.

Hunger has become his natural state since falling into the talons of Theodore Munson. He's forgotten what it feels like to be full. To be satiated. He hasn’t had a true feast in what feels like æons. He often finds himself wondering if perhaps Eddie himself was a creature of myth in disguise. If he’d ensnared Steve in some hidden trap and snipped his wings so he couldn’t fly past the bounds of his lover’s estate.

Deep down he knows the truth. That Steve has allowed himself to be domesticated. That he’s buried a piece of his essence in the grounds here, binding him to them as surely as he’s bound himself in his devotion to Eddie.

When they're together the time passes in glorious blips, and long, winding stretches of bliss. Beautifully long and bitterly short in equal measure. The time passes so swiftly because it costs nothing to be with his pet. And so addicting was spending time with Eddie, that time and space seemed to bend around them—create a bubble outside of the rest of the world.

But when Eddie's away?

The first time Steve had been left behind he’d tried to stay awake. He’d paced the lengths of the hall. He’d fucked himself on the toys they used together when Eddie was home. He’d even made one ill-fated trip to the town’s market. But come the third day the need to breed or be bred bowled him over. He'd attempted to have a waitress over a bartop at the restaurant up the street, but the second he so much as smiled at her, the collar around his neck had tightened, stealing away his breath. He’d ignored it. Unconvinced it could truly bring him real harm. And then he’d gone to really lay it on thick and the metal burned around him.

Enough to leave a brand around his neck.

Something that shouldn't be possible to remain imprinted on this form.

That night, Steve returned to the manor, gazing wistfully from the window overlooking the grounds, and settled into place in the small alcove Eddie had situated his plinth in.

It was lowering.

A creature of legend cowed and kept by a humans' weak and flinching hands.

Steve loved him for it.

Steve had curled there, shoved a hand through his hair, and let the ache of missing Eddie turn him to stone.

Never his heart though.

That beat beautiful and black at all times, a steady rhythm calling his lover back home. Back to his Master.

He needed to have his pet in his arms.

Eddie is going wild beneath him. Hips thrashing. Hands grappling at the tail wrapped around his neck as he struggles for breath. When he finally gives up and lets them fall away, Steve groans, throwing his head back and grinding his hips down as he chases after the building tension in his gut.

“Come on, pet. Breed your Master.”

Eddie cries, his hips bucking sharply, and Steve feels his release flood him.

Steve moans, head going fuzzy as Eddie’s cum fills his cunt.

Steve climbs off of Eddie’s lap, letting his softening cock slip out and slap back down against his stomach. Eddie watches as a trail of his cum slides down the inside of Steve’s thigh, and a strangled whine gets stuck in his throat at the image.

Eddie tingles all over. Feels lightheaded and loose-limbed. He’s a puddle on the pile of furs beneath him and doesn’t think he could move if he tried. But there’s still a fire burning in his gut and he wants more. Wants Steve’s cunt back around him. Wants his cock buried in his ass. Wants that clawed hand wrapped around him, stripping him raw. Wants his Master to bite into his chest and rip him open.

Eddie pants, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unseeing eyes. He barely registers Steve moving, arranging himself on the little couch so that he’s sitting next to Eddie’s feet, thighs spread wide. Eddie barely has a chance to consider the implications of how Steve’s arranged himself before he feels himself moving without will at Steve’s hissing Command. “Get on your knees for me, pet.”

The Command overrides any whisper of exhaustion. It blanks his mind. he isn’t Eddie anymore. he is merely the tool by which his Master’s every whim is realized.

he feels himself rise onto unsteady feet, then fall to his knees in supplication. he’s still in the leather pants he’d worn for the last tour show—sticky and uncomfortable from sweat and cum and blood; fly hanging open, framing the flaccid dick between his thighs. he settles into his place on his knees between his Master’s open legs, leather squeaking against the parlor tiles, arms hanging, head bowed towards the floor.

“Look at me.”

The Command shivers down his spine. he loves the way his Master’s commands burrow under his skin and slide through sinew to move his body before thought is known. Loves the way his muscles and bones seem to instinctively follow the exact designs of his Master’s mind. There’s no question whether or not he’s being good enough, because it’s his Master’s will arranging him like he’s the perfect puppet for His desires.

his Angel never asks for anything more than he is able to give—nor anything less than what he needs.

his head lifts, chin jutting up and out, eyes peering up through lashes clumped together with tears, and stares at his Angel. his Master stares back, but His gaze is hard to meet, pupils round and black like shining stones, with only a thin band of viridescence left shining there.

“So good for me, my pet,” his Angel murmurs, slipping His fingers into his pet’s curls. He doesn’t pull, or tug—simply weaves the strands over knuckle and claw, securing His hold. “Now—” his Master tips His head down with a smile that stokes an anticipatory curl of heat in his pet’s groin. “Clean up your mess.”

he moans, diving forward to bury his face in his Master’s cunt. The hand at the back of his head doesn’t quite guide him. Doesn’t quite hold him in place. Just sits there like a promise. If there was any chance he might move away without permission, that hand was there to correct him. If his Master wanted to inflict pain, that hand would wring it. If he tugged against its grip, the claws now grazing his scalp would tear.

“C’mon on, pet,” his Master snarls. “Eat your cum out of me.”

he mewls, tongue darting out to scoop a dollop of cum from his Angel’s pussy and swallow it down. The salty-sweet taste of his own cum mixed with his Angel’s slick drives him wild. he lets out a desperate cry, pressing his face further into his Master’s cunt.

But something niggles at the back of his mind—it feels almost wrong to eat his cum from his Angel’s cunt. Unnatural. He needs it. Needs His pet’s seed to take root. Needs His pet to shove his fingers into his Master’s cunt. Needs to have His pet’s release pushed as far up into Him as it will go. Needs His pet to bully past the tight ring of muscle of his Master’s cervix and force it to take.

he's already hard as nails between his legs again, whimpering with desperation as the pressure in his gut mounts. he can’t take it. Needs release. Needs to come. Needs to fuck. Needs to breed. Needs to fill his Angel up again and again and again until His belly is heavy and round with it. With his brood—their little cambions.

And if he can’t have that—his hand will do.

Eddie doesn’t even consciously realize he’s doing it. Doesn’t make the choice to shove a hand down the front of his pants and curl his fingers around the base of his cock. Didn’t plan to pump his fist over his dick. Doesn’t mean to circle the pad of his thumb over the glans as he slowly and thoroughly guzzles down his own spend from his Angel’s cunt.

At first, his Master doesn’t react. But then Eddie moans, loud and long into the cavern of his cunt as he twists a hand around the head of his cock on an upstroke.

A clawed foot kicks his hand away before pressing down onto his stiff length.

Eddie keens, tears slipping down his face as he sucks on his Angel’s engorged clit and bucks up against the rough texture of his sole. The edges of his Master’s scales catch at the sensitive skin of his shaft, His claws just shy of piercing the skin at the base of Eddie’s cock. The sharp pinpricks of pain white out Eddie’s brain and leave his ears ringing.

His mind goes soft and fuzzy as he drinks down his Angel’s slick, the sharp counterpoint of pain leaving him at the cliff’s edge of utter desolation. The Command keeping his mouth fixed in place does nothing to stop the unconscious rocking of his hips, and Eddie can’t help but thrust upwards as he sobs into his Angel’s cunt, chasing after release at the risk of his own destruction.

“You’re being very naughty, pet,” his Master growls, words broken up by harsh pants and grunts. his Master’s foot flexes, tightening his grip until the claws over Eddie’s cock break skin, and the pain drags a bleating sound from the depths of Eddie’s soul as thin trails of blood drip down the back of his balls.

“I should put you in a cage next time,” His Master growls—so dark and low he’s nearly subvocalizing. “You can’t be trusted to focus on anyone else when you’re this hard and gagging for it.” The hand in Eddie’s hair tightens into a fist and presses him harder into his Master’s groin, nose grinding over the engorged length of his massive clit. “You already got to come once, pet. What makes you think you’ve earned it a second time?”

Eddie wails, heart pounding in his chest as he laps desperately at his Master’s cunt, trying to get every last drop of spend that he left there down his throat. his Angel’s words from earlier flit through his head and a desperate moan escapes him as he pictures himself with his very own sopping cunt, throbbing and ready to take his Master’s swollen cock so deep it punches through his guts. Eddie’s hole twitches at the thought, head going static as sweet, sticky slick pours down his throat.

Eddie can’t control himself. Has no ability to stop the wild bucking of his hips as he chases his second release. Whatever his tongue is doing now is utterly by Command. Eddie thinks his tongue would keep slurping cum from his Master’s cunt even if Eddie were to drop dead right then. Thinks he’d have to be physically detached from this cunt for anything to get in the way of him carrying out his Master’s edict. So every glimmer of actual thought he has is aimed at driving himself over the edge—pain be damned.

Or maybe the pain is the medium and method by which he achieves it. The blood trickling down his balls is just another point of stimulation. The scales dragging along his shaft drive sparks of intoxicating heat through his nerves.

Eddie leans into it, chasing pleasure, chasing pain, even though some part of him knows that on the other side of release lies danger. he trembles and whines, images of his Master bending him over the parlor’s piano to deliver his punishment flitting through his mind. he thinks about the whip Steve keeps coiled down in the dungeon. Thinks about the barbed end of his tail curving in the air behind him. Thinks about the skin of his back breaking open as he takes twenty lashes in penance for the pleasure his Master did not permit.

Eddie wants it. Wants to tip his Master over the edge from the doling out of reactionary pain into calculated torture. Because his Angel doesn’t lose control when he gets truly angry. He sharpens it like a knife. And Eddie wants it sunk right into his heart. Through the gaps of his ribs. Wants to let his Angel cut him open and come inside. Mix His cum and spit and tears in Eddie’s guts and lungs.

Eddie sobs out at the thought, and his Angel comes apart under his tongue.

Eddie isn’t unaware of it happening—how could he be ignorant of the nectar of the gods spilling over his lips?—but he’s no longer in his body when it happens. He’s floating above it all. Or sinking beneath it. High or drowning on ecstasy and devotion, mindless with it. Tears pour down his face, and he’s no longer aware of his own arousal. There is only h,is Master and how to serve him.

To please.

Eddie collapses, unaware of whether or not he’s come.

he feels like his strings have been cut. he’s on all fours, prostrating himself before his Lord.

his Angel’s clawed foot is no longer on Eddie’s cock, but Eddie doesn’t care, doesn’t even register it beyond being able to now lean forward and press his sodden face to the top of it. his tears wash over scales and drip down the crevices between his Angel’s toes.

The hand in Eddie’s hair moves, stroking gently. From far away Eddie can make out his Angel raining praises down on him as Eddie washes His foot with his own tears. Thick translucent droplets twinkling in the dim light of the room.

Eddie uses his tongue to wipe them away, licking across the scales of his Angel’s foot, following the graceful lines of it to his ankle, up his calf. Eddie stares up at his Angel from beneath his lashes, and his Master drops his foot away from Eddie’s mouth, bringing it to rest on one of Eddie’s thighs. Pinning him in place and splaying him open like an entomologist's specimen.

Eddie no longer feels a desperate hunger clawing at him, but tears continue to fall freely from his face. Like his tear ducts know he longs to baptize his Lord in sorrow and joy. Eddie bends his face down to his Angel’s other foot, letting the tears slip free and decorate that one, too.

Steve lifts his foot, tipping his lover’s head up by the jut of his chin. The tears on Theo’s face sparkle in the moonlight, and Steve takes in a deep, steadying breath at the sight of him. His pet is so beautiful, even in greed.

But he’s docile now, seated so submissively at Steve’s feet. He’s taken the time to wash him with his tears. So Steve can’t bring himself to hold onto any tone of reprimand for acting out of turn.

Steve wraps his tail around the length of Eddie’s hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail. He uses that grip to pull Eddie back onto his haunches, and Eddie follows, moving like water under Steve’s command.

He stares up at Steve as though he’d hung the sun, moon, and stars within the heavens—and Steve smiles back. Eddie closes his eyes against it like he’s been blinded.

With a steady hand, Steve take’s Eddie’s face into his palm, brushing a thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip. His pet’s mouth parts for him, tongue lolling out, and Steve presses the talon of his thumb there until a small spurt of blood bubbles up. Eddie whines, sucking the talon into his mouth and laving over it carefully. The soft sound of a claw clacking against enamel echoes in Eddie’s mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Steve unwinds his tail from Eddie’s hair, dragging the tip along Eddie’s cheek before nudging at the corner of his mouth. Eddie's throat rumbles with soft, low, and strung out sound as he turns his until Steve’s talon slips free, and the tip of his spear-capped tail is pressed along the seam of his lips. Eddie sucks the tip of into his mouth, bobbing his head as though he were sucking down the stony length of the prick rapidly growing between Steve’s legs. Eddie’s mouth is warm and wet around him, and Steve’s ears flicker as heat pools at the base of his spine. He always manages to forget how good this feels as gooseflesh raises along the back of his neck, and heat races down his spine. Steve pushes the spear-tip further in, relishing the way Eddie's lips spread wide to accommodate the intrusion, and the soft clack of metal against teeth as the charm tangling from his tail almost enters Eddie's mouth as well.

“You can touch me, pet,” Steve offers with breathy beneficence—and Eddie doesn’t hesitate—trails calloused hands along the curving line of Steve’s tail. Curls one into a fist, stroking back and forth along the shaft in a pantomime of the world’s slowest, most decadent handjob. The other reaches back to settle at his tailbone massage practiced fingers into the muscles that bunch together there.

Steve groans low in his throat, hips jerking forward—thrusting the now fully formed length of his dick into empty air.

Heat coils through him, and the scales along his arms ripple and raise like goosebumps. Steve wants to sink into Eddie’s tight heat. Wants to impale his pet on his cock. Knows that he can’t breed his pet in the way he longs to, but is driven mad by the desire to try anyway. With the urge to rut up into him and make him take and take and take everything Steve gives him until they’re tied together.

The tip of Steve’s tail withdraws from Eddie’s mouth—replaced swiftly, but gently, with Steve’s thumb—to skirt along the mountains and valleys of Eddie’s spine. Eddie shivers and nestles further into the hollow of Steve’s thighs, suckling again at Steve’s fingers. Always happiest when he’s got his mouth full.

Eddie shivers and moans as Steve continues to work his tail down the length of his back, emitting a small squeaking sound as the edge of the speared tip presses against the barbell pierced through sensitive flesh. Eddie ruts down onto it, chasing friction, and when Steve looks back down it’s to see Eddie’s eyes completely glazed over. He makes small little humming, begging sounds around Steve’s thumb, like he’s trying to ask for something without opening his mouth to form the words.

Steve scrapes his free hand through Eddie’s hair, ruffling it gently. “You’re so good for me, love. Such a beautiful pet. So well trained when you choose to be.” Steve adjusts his tail so the very tip of it is pressed against his lover’s opening. Eddie’s hand twitches and flexes against the base of Steve’s tail, almost squeezing there. Steve groans again, dick throbbing and tail twitching in a way that has it breaching just that first ring of muscle.

Eddie yells, sound muffled by the clawed talon in his mouth, and his hips jerk backwards to try to suck more of Steve’s tail into him, in spite of how dry he is.

Saliva pools in Steve’s mouth and he quickly pulls the tip of his tail from Eddie’s ass, sucking it into his mouth to slather with spit and venom. Eddie keens, staring up at Steve with wide, wet eyes, and Steve just smiles as he slips his spit-slick tail back into his lover's hole.

He doesn’t shove in very far—doesn’t want to accidentally snag Eddie’s rim with the bit of jewelry that dangles from his tail—so he shallowly fucks just the tip of it in and out of Eddie’s opening, while his pet attempts to hold himself up on shaking thighs.

“Look at how gorgeous you are for me, my love. So good, even when you can’t restrain yourself from taking whatever you want.”

Eddie’s jaw drops open, dropping Steve's finger from his mouth, tongue lolling out, as he pants and tries to work himself onto Steve’s tail with small hitching thrusts. Tears work their way down the sides of his face, and his eyes have gone glassy and cross-eyed as they fix on the heavy weight of Steve’s thick, erect cock bobbing between his legs. Eddie licks his lips. Stares up at Steve with wide imploring eyes.

“You want Master’s cock, love?”

Eddie nods desperately.

“Get up here, then,” Steve says. But he doesn’t offer a moment for Eddie to move under his own power. Instead he fists a rough hand in his hair, yanking him up onto wobbly feet, and dragging him forward until he’s straddling Steve’s open thighs.

“You look so pretty in my lap, love,” Steve murmurs, drawing Eddie down into a long, languid kiss. Eddie chirps in surprise, but leans into it, parting his lips so his tongue can twine with Steve’s. Steve holds back on mixing venom with spit this time. Wants Eddie to feel every bit of him loving him this way.

Steve flexes his wings wide. Curves them forward. Cocoons the two of them together in a pocket of solitary silence, glittering green and gold.

Steve strokes a hand along the knobs of Eddie’s spine again, carefully tracing their bumps and ridges with the tip of a talon. Along the path downward, he shifts his hand, willing talons to recede, and scales to smooth away from fingers and palm. He brings a human down to the rim of Eddie’s hole, pressing gently alongside the tip of his tail. Eddie shudders in his lap, bearing down ever so slightly, and Steve leans in to press a kiss to his neck.

“Want to take my cock, pet?” Steve whispers into his ear.

“Please, Angel. Please, please take me. I need you. Need you in me, I— “

Steve strokes a hand through Eddie’s hair, shushing him gently. “Quiet, pet. I’m going to take care of you.”

Steve raises the shifted hand up to his mouth, sucking the first three fingers inside to coat them with saliva and venom. When he's satisfied he drops it back down to Eddie’s ass, and pushes his forefinger into Eddie’s hole in one slow, smooth glide.

Eddie moans, rolling his hips in Steve’s lap, chasing the sensation. “Feels so good,” he mumbles. “Tingles.”

Steve nuzzles his nose against Eddie’s cheek and murmurs in his ear. “I know, pet. I know how much you love feeling my spit and venom in you. How drunk you get on my cum. Can’t wait to fill you up, sweetness.”

Eddie makes a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat, bucking down on Steve's hand and tail. His arms reach up to wrap around Steve’s back, laying a flat palm against the space between Steve’s wing blades and stroking along the place where his wings sprout from his back. The other trails down Steve’s back to settle at the base of his tail again, and Steve can’t help the sharp exhalation of breath the sensation punches out of him, or the way his hips rock forward into the space between Eddie’s thighs, even though it offers almost no friction.

Steve presses forward so close to Eddie that the barbells through Eddie’s nipples hook through the rings dangling from Steve’s own.

They both let out twinned cries of shock as their hooked jewelry tugs at both of their chests. Eddie drops his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, hips jerking more erratically as the jewelry in his chest pulls with a steady tension, and Steve begins to press a second finger into his opening.

“Fuck, Theo. You feel so good around me. Around my fingers. On my tail. With your hands on my back. Want to love you so hard.” Steve curls his fingers forward, brushing over the bundle of nerves buried there. Eddie grunts and thrusts forwards, pressing his weeping dick to the solid plane of Steve’s abs. “Want to blot out the sun for you,” he vows. “Stop the next day from coming—and every day after. We can stay just like this. All night. And all night can be all time. I can keep you here just like you keep me. D’you want that?” Steve feels like he’s set his heart out on a silver platter. Waits for Eddie to pick it up and devour.

Eddie nods into Steve's neck, now growing damp with tears. “Yeah. I want that, Angel. Want you to stop time for me.”

Steve makes a rumbling sound deep in his chest, desperate to be inside his lover now. But even though Eddie’s tolerance for pain is high, two fingers and some spit isn’t nearly enough to take him, and Steve doesn’t want to make his cock any smaller. He wants to split his pet open wide around him. Wants to drive him out of his mind with the perfect feeling of fullness that this cock alone can grant him.

“You’re doing so good for me, pet,” Steve gasps, pressing another spit-and-venom-slick finger to Eddie’s opening.

“Thank you, Master,” Eddie sobs.

The muscles of Eddie’s rim clench and flutter around Steve’s fingers in steady patterns. Steve pulls his hand back slowly, and as it draws back it shifts green and gold and black again, nails lengthening and thickening back into sharp claws.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me,” Eddie chants, rocking his hips in Steve’s lap as he whispers his pleas into the side of Steve's neck. A part of Steve wants to punish him for speaking out of turn. For thinking he’s earned the right to demand anything from Steve. But Steve can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing right now, so he wraps his clawed hands around his lover's hips, digging in so that his talons and fingers dig into pale flesh and leave bruises and pinpricks of blood littering the surface. Eddie gasps—the sound pulled out of him like he’s been woken from a deep sleep—as Steve bodily lifts him, positioning his stretched-out hole over Steve’s dick, and watching him sink like a stone onto it.

Eddie has lost all control of his limbs. Sits in the cradle of Steve’s arms and lap limply as Steve rolls his hips up and begins to set a slow pace between them. Their piercings are still hooked together. Every thrust that’s just a little too forceful pushes a surprised burst of air and laughter from one or the other of them.

Eddie’s hands continue their idle petting over Steve’s back, clenching against the base of his tail, stroking over the place where his wings meet his back. Steve trembles, a constant stream of soft breathy sighs that sound desperate to his own ears slipping out between his lips. He feels light all over. High on his lover’s touch. So much feeling and sensation that Steve can feel it start to leak out of him.

He pulls away from Eddie with a gasp when he feels the place where their chests meet begin to grow damp. The barbells studding Eddie's chest slip free from the hoops of Steve’s own with a painful twist. Eddie cries out, ragged and shocked. Steve echoes the sound in ecstasy.

Eddie’s head is still hidden in the side of his neck, but when Steve looks down at his own chest he can see his tits have grown heavy and swollen, nipples leaking milk all over him and the tip of his dick is forming a bulge in Eddie's belly. The sight is overwhelming, and Steve vibrates with the gravelly rumble that passes through him as he bucks up into his pet with punching thrusts.

“You’ve made another mess of me, love.” Steve whispers, low and dark, in Eddie’s ear.

Eddie doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything in response. Makes a small questioning sound into the side of Steve’s throat and pushes further into him. Steve pulls him back by the hair, forcing Eddie to look down at where he’s dripping from his chest. “You gonna clean this one up too, pet?”

Eddie answers by dipping his head down wordlessly and pulling a nipple into his mouth. His tongue pokes through the ring and tugs—pulling a yelp free from Steve's throat—before his wet mouth engulfs a dusky brown nipple. Eddie suckles at it gently, moaning as the taste hits his tongue. He swallows Steve’s milk down, and his chest aches as he feels it tugging through his ducts. His lover pulling his essence from him with greedy teeth and tongue and lip.

Steve could stay here forever. Gorging himself while he feeds his lover. Fucking his fill while his heart beats in his chest at a steady pace. A slow drumbeat of affection. All he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears, Eddie’s whining moans against his chest. Not even the crickets or the wind enter his awareness. Wings folded around them, all there is in Stephanotis’ world is himself, and his pet. His love. Greedy and divine.

Eddie’s head grows heavy against his chest, and Steve takes all of his weight into his arms. He’s still fucking into him, soft and slow. Not in any rush to chase after his release. Time passes without measure, but after a while the breast Eddie is latched to runs dry, and Steve coaxes him free to meet his gaze.

His lover's eyes are heavy-lidded and dazed. He looks like he’s floating high above and far away, and the only reason Steve wants to bring him back down to earth is to have him in his arms.

But Steve can fly. He can meet him where he’s at.

Eddie’s breaths come in shivery gasps, and he seems unaware of the way he’s rutting forward, seeking friction against his flushed red cock.

Steve takes mercy on him, reaching down to curl a scaled claw around his length. Eddie hisses at the way the scales catch along the sensitive skin of his shaft. His hands keep roaming over Steve's body—now following the curve of feather and wing. Stroking along the bones that run through the body of them. Petting carefully at the feathers that tinkle and glitter around them.

Steve strokes his hand over Eddie’s length with a tightening grip as he feels the pressure in his own groin grow tighter and tighter. He feels ready to burst apart. Explode into a cloud of gas and light and stardust. Twin stars on the way to collapse. Steve scrapes the talon of his thumb across the head of Eddie’s cock and his pet screams, long and drawn out, voice going hoarse as he comes and comes, white spunk spurting from the tip of his cock and drenching Steve’s hand. His hole tightens and clenches around Steve’s thick length, and Steve breaks, following him over the edge.

Steve bucks his hips restlessly as the knot at the base of his dick swells and ties them together, and his cum keeps pumping into his lover—making him full and bloated on Steve's love.

Steve tightens his wings around them, blocking out the moonlight. He brings the hand covered in his lover’s release to his mouth and licks it away carefully, groaning at how his love tastes on his skin; stuck in the webbing of his fingers.

Eddie stays curled against his chest, head resting over Steve’s heart.

“I missed you,” Steve murmurs into Eddie’s hair, brushing a hand through it. “The house is too quiet when you’re away.”

Eddie looks out from under the curtain of his hair, blinking up at Steve slowly. “What if you come with me next time?” His words are slow and sleep-soft.

“Oh, Theo.” A melancholic note bleeds into Steve's tone, and he drops a gentle kiss on Eddie’s temple. “Thought you didn’t want to share me?”

Eddie rubs his forehead along the crook of Steve’s shoulder, leaving two quick kisses on what Steve knows to be Eddie’s favorite scales. “You could be asleep the whole time. Could put you on display during the shows.” Eddie trails a line of kisses down Steve’s clavicle. “Everyone can see.” Noses at the pick hanging at Steve's throat. “No one can touch.”

“If you think I’m letting anyone get their hands on you while I’m right there—“

Eddie wiggles in Steve’s lap, shoots him a devilish grin. “We can find a club. Put you in a corner. You can watch as everyone has their way with me.”

Steve growls, fisting a hand in Eddie’s hair. “Careful, pet. Doesn’t look like you’re up for another round.”

Eddie whines, hips rocking restlessly in Steve’s lap. “Please, Angel.”

“Shh, settle.” Steve tucks a strand of hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Let’s get you to bed, love. You must be tired.” Steve loops his arms around Eddie’s thighs and lifts him as he rises, careful not to drop him and tug his knot free. Eddie’s head rests against his shoulder, and his arms come up to loosely circle Steve’s neck. Steve unfurls his wings from the cocoon around them, letting them hang at rest as he makes his way to the staircase that leads to the master bedroom.

When they get to the room, Steve settles at the edge of the bed, keeping Eddie tucked against him like the favored pet he is. “You’re so good for me, Theo,” Steve purrs. They both trace idle patterns into the other’s skin, Steve careful to keep his touch light so as not to break skin—especially while Eddie’s blood is thinner from the venom still working its way through his system. Steve considers switching his hands back to human form, but knows that even when they’ve finished playing, Eddie still revels in the edge of danger Steve’s touch carries.

Steve wants to ask how the tour went. Wants updates on everything the band did and saw together. A jealous corner of his heart wants to hear what he and their backup guitarist got up to on the road—Steve has suspicions of the man’s true nature that he’s chosen to keep close to the chest, but if Eddie is going to bring him along the next time around, that may be a door he has to open. The hungering instincts of his base nature want to feed on the stories of Eddie's exploits with fans and groupies. Theodore Munson has such a beguiling nature for a mere human, and Steve always sucks down recollections of his hedonistic adventures with ravenous delight.

But Eddie is close to snoring on his shoulder. Still has a thick cock shoved up and knotted inside him, and looks like he could do with a bite to eat. Catching up can happen later.

When the swell of Steve’s knot finally recedes Eddie is fully dozing on his shoulder, a thin trail of drool forming there. Steve carefully pulls his love off his softened length, watching with rapt fascination as his cum began to seep out of him. Eddie whines in complaint, eyes blinking open as Steve arranges him on the bed. “Don’ wan'you to leave, Phan,” Eddie mumbles, voice thick with exhaustion.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll be right back. You won’t even miss me.”

Eddie grumbles, turning onto his side. “Always miss you.”

Steve chuckles as he steps away, crossing the room to the cabinet where he keeps all their supplies. When he comes back he uses two human fingers to carefully scoop the cum that has started to trail down the back of Eddie’s legs back into his gaping wide hole. Eddie groans, nuzzling into the pillow underneath him.

“I know you want to stay full of me. Want me to stopper you up with my love. Wake up slick and wet and open from my cock and cum so I can just slip inside you again? Or maybe I’ll use you while you're still aslumber. You still owe me an orgasm or two to even things out, pet.”

Eddie moans. There are few things he enjoys more than the sensation of waking to Steve fucking into him.

Steve smiles and presses a soft kiss to the knob at the top of Eddie’s spine, before slipping a thick, golden plug into him. Inlaid at its base is a smaragd jewel that catches and shines like Steve’s eyes in the light.

Though Eddie says it’s impossible for any jewel to compare.

Once the plug is in place, Steve picks up the damp cloth he’d collected and wipes carefully at the trails of dried cum there. With a second cloth he cleans away any and all traces of blood on Eddie’s chest, ass, and thighs, gently smoothing antibacterial cream over them as he goes.

When all is said and done, Eddie is a soupy mess in their shared bedsheets. But it still isn’t enough for Steve. He climbs onto the bed and gathers Eddie into his arms, so his back is flush to Steve’s chest. Steve grabs the glass of water he'd deposited on the bedside table and carefully presses it to Eddie’s lips, encouraging him to take a sip.

“Go on, drink up, love.”

Eddie gulps it down with giant, greedy swigs, gasping when he gets to the end and letting out a small burp and satisfied exhale.

Steve laughs, and grabs the snack bar he’d brought from the cabinet and hands that over to Eddie as well. “You’re so good for me, Theo.”

Eddie leans his head back against Steve’s shoulder with a dopey smile. “Not doin’ anything, Phan.”

Steve drags a knuckle up and down the length of Eddie’s arms and whispers, almost to himself. “You’re letting me take care of you.” Steve sweeps the hair away from the back of Eddie’s neck and presses a kiss to his nape. “There’s a time when you wouldn’t even have let me try.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Hard to trust a demon.”

Steve chuckles. “Oh no, pet, it’s easy to trust a demon. You know exactly what they want. It’s hard to trust someone that loves you. They’ll surprise you every time.”

Eddie turns in the circle of Steve’s arms and stares at him intently. “You’re the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

A tear slips down Steve’s face unbidden, and he spares half a moment to wonder what color it is. To question after its source. He smiles back, wistful and fond. “And you, mine, Theo.”

The moon fades behind the clouds, and light begins to creep along the horizon. And an angel and his monster fall asleep.

A/N: I genuinely went a bit crazy while writing this, and I've got lots of ideas for other fics in this universe, so watch this space for more demon!Steve filth and devotion 😈

[allthingssteddie]

Steve wakes up in a hospital room being poked with needles and being surrounded by people in hazmat suits.

Background

After Steve was killed by vecna he wakes up in a hospital room with people around him poking him with needles and everyone having hazmat suits no one will answer his questions. After months of being tested and experimented on and things happening to him he doesn’t understand he wakes to Eddie who died just a year ago. And then as they are talking and him trying to figure out what going on Billy appears telling Eddie it’s time to go.

[steddieunderdogfics]

For theme week: Empty Space by Paryton is a FANTASTIC post s3/s4 rewrite with some wild monster stuff!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47126230

Empty Space by Paryton

Rating: Mature

293,928 words, 24/24 chapters

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, sorta - Freeform, Monster Steve Harrington, Fix-It of Sorts, pre-season 4/season 4, Mechanic Eddie Munson, Wingfic, Body Horror, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, eddie adopts the party, Eddie Munson-centric, this might constitute a slowburn but only because steve takes his sweet time getting here, Period Typical Bigotry, Blood and Injury, the claws are sharp but the boys are soft

Summary:

Eddie is walking around in a dead man’s shoes. - In the aftermath of the Starcourt mall fire, Hawkins mourns their dead (Steve Harrington among them), the town’s unsung heroes grapple with grief, and Eddie Munson gears up for his final (fingers-crossed) year of high school and stubbornly tries not to get attached to the party of sad freshmen trailing behind him, bleeding heart be damned.

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[thegoblinboy]

Bark At The Moon

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | you are here | coming soon

Tw; brief mentions of blood but nothing in detail (also contains Billy, but he is a asshole in this but only plays a minor role, I just really really wanted Steve to put him in his place)

Words of this part: 10k

Words total with fic: 40k

Tags; #wolf! Steve Harrington #EddieMunson has a great relationship with his uncle #MonsterAu #Steve goes disappearing like Will does in season one but instead he turns into a wolf

Part: 4/9 (5 and 6 will be up soon)

Summary; Hawkins, Indiana is thrown into a panic when High-school prince, Steve Harrington goes missing. With no trace of what happened to him and no hope that he'll ever be found, he suddenly reappears naked in a snow bank. One Eddie Munson may or may not be curious as to what happened all while trying to figure out what is wrong with the white female wolf near his trailer, who by the way saved his life. Now Eddie wasn't much for gossip, nor was he a fan of trains. What he was very into though was conspiracies. Was JFK really assassinated? Or was the CIA trying to cover up their asses for the Bay of Pigs situation? Questions like those intrigued him in ways that thousand-piece puzzles didn't. As conspiracies could be interpreted in any way you wanted them to, unlike puzzles that were made to create only one understanding and one understanding only. The process of getting to the finished product always the same for each puzzle. Which is how he found himself infatuated with the disappearance of one senior high king, who now would be a super senior high king. Forced to repeat the year that he had missed, along with Eddie who had been there the entire year but just flunked all of his classes.

Note; Hey, so with everything happening with ao3 I decided to make sure that my fic would be easier to read on here instead of being lost in all of my posts. So if you are looking for a steddie fanfic in these dire times I have part 1-3 linked to this post. This part is part 4 which I never posted because I didn’t think of doing it. I was also planning on doing a surprise double update with 5 and 6 but as ao3 is down I’m going to finish them and post them on here as well. Most likely before ao3. The parts are not short, 10k words each. They were made for Ao3 specifically but with the circumstances I didn’t think anyone would really mind. As a writer I’m currently very anxious about receiving the small list of comments that were left on this fic over on Ao3 so as a writer to a reader (you don’t have to for me) go and leave long ass comments on everything a author gives you. It would mean the world to them.

Also the other parts are not organized in the same set up as this one. So you will probably have to come back to this one to get to the other parts. Sorry.

Plant your feet; November 2022

Steve's feet slip from underneath him, the loud squeak of the rubber part of his shoe sliding on the gym floor catching everyone's attention. His footing is lost as his right foot slips further ahead than the other causing him to lose balance. He proceeds to then fall on his ass, he's not embarrassed. It happens. Not like there weren't accidents in basketball. Quite the opposite really. The number of times a kid took a basketball to the face was far more than what Steve could count on one hand.

What was embarrassing was the fact that he fell because of a new kid. Hawkins Highs star athlete fell on his ass over a new kid, who could barely dribble the ball between two hands. The same guy whose greasy curls fell past his shoulders and stuck to his forehead as he held the most obnoxious grin known to man. Licking his lips in a way that was way too much, and maybe a tad suggestive. Steve's heart was racing, anxiety going through him. His representation would be absolutely fucked if he let Billy Hargrove one-up him in basketball as well. Already beating his record at the keg during a party the other night. That he didn't care about, he wasn't getting a scholarship for being able to drink so much beer in one sitting.

He's still frozen to the ground, sweat pooling through his shirt as his breathing stays heavy. He was a bit lightheaded, but he assumes that was from dehydration. Sometimes he couldn't keep up with the amount of water his body needed. Though he isn't completely sure he could rack up all of his symptoms under being dehydrated. It was that time of year again which meant he was going to be coming down with something any day now. Normally the flu hit him a couple of days after Thanksgiving, but this year it didn't seem to be all that forgiving.

There was a dull sore ache in his body, a slight pinch of pain whenever he tried moving his joints. That was probably one of the reasons why he didn't plant his feet well enough when Hargrove came out of nowhere jabbing his ribcage with a dirty hook from his elbow, nearly knocking the wind out of Steve and causing him to lose balance. Making the dirty play more obvious as Billy nearly fell on top of him in the process.

Steve moves sitting up a little with a wince, fighting back the urge to stand back up and start swinging at the culprit who did this. The small ache that had been dull, was now blooming into something far worst. The reason behind the permanent scowl aimed towards Billy, who was currently taking it upon himself to bend down to take his hand and pull him to his feet. "Think you need to learn how to plant your feet, King Steve." He hisses in the most obnoxious tone ever. God, Steve really should have started to swing right then and there. It would bite him in the ass later but at least he would feel better knowing he wiped that cocky smirk off his face.

Steve rolls his eyes in response. Gaining balance as he hears the school bell ringing. His eyes never move away from the other guy as he taunts him, afraid that if he even flickered his eyes from the other, he would only shove him back down on the ground. This is why he stays frozen in his spot watching the other take a step back, still looking Steve up and down like he was the unpredictable one in this situation. The guy was confusing the hell out of Steve. He's never dealt with a guy who's acted like Billy Hargrove. Who constantly held a condescending tone, a flirtatious look, and judging eyes all at once. It was a very confusing combo, normally Steve could read people but that was not the case here.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, feeling his shoulders more tense than normal. He was probably going to have to spend longer in the shower in hopes of the hot water to loosen up some of the knots that stuck themselves to his muscles. Similar to Billy, who has decided to stick himself on Steve's ass like a leech for everything. He wonders if the stress that he has been feeling so much more lately was causing him to feel like shit. With schoolwork, his job, and the anxiety about what Billy Hargrove was going to do he just couldn't catch a break.

Billy was everywhere he went, not giving him a moment's peace. Not even in the showers, where Steve finds himself now. Feeling as if a daze washed itself over him in the gym turning his brain into autopilot and walking him into the locker room and all the way into the next room. Where only a select few were allowed in. He really should be on high alert instead he is naked, sweaty, and focused on not passing out.

The wave of dizziness came out of nowhere. Which was odd. Steve has randomly come down with many things, but not once has he ever felt like this. His stomach was acting like a Ferris wheel, constantly going around and around on repeat. He even drank almost an entire bottle of water before stepping into the shower room, he doesn't understand why he's feeling this way. This was not dehydration.

He has a slight sway to his walk, moving his way to the back of the room to the furthest shower that was hidden mostly. Doing this as he knew the other guys would avoid him, not wanting to piss off their captain. Sighing, he lets his body relax a bit as he realizes that he is finally alone for the first time that day. Rubbing his face, trying to wipe the stress away as he moves forward turning the nozzle on cold, unsure if more heat would help the light headiness.

He doesn't even realize how warm his skin was until he compares it to the cold water, one hand on his shoulder as he tilts his head back in relief. His skin was scolding hot, he wonders if he was running a fever. He would have to check and see when he went home. Not wanting to stay any longer than he had to in this stupid school.

His breathing picks up again, moving his hands onto the wall in front of him to get a better balance. Little stalls next to him on both sides, only covering the bottom half of his body. Shaking his head, a little, and wiping his face he hears footsteps coming in his direction. Then the shower to his right turned on. Glancing over annoyed Steve isn't shocked that Billy Hargrove is staring right back at him with a taunting smirk. "What? Can a guy not shower Harrington?" He tries to sound sarcastic but only comes off as mildly amused. He really doesn't understand what the other was trying to get at, or even what his goal was.

Steve shakes his head with a grumble, "Whatever man." He huffs not wanting to start a fight that he was unable to win. Moving his hands up he begins to play with his hair a bit. Rubbing against the back of his neck as he focuses on cooling down and gaining some control over his body temperature. Proceeding to then reach over to where he had sat his soap. Grabbing his bottle of shampoo and pouring it into his hair. Beginning to scratch at his scalp, determined in getting the sweat out of his hair along with getting the hell out of there as fast as possible.

He was going to take his time in the shower, but his plans had obviously fallen short with the presence of another boy. Who was constantly making some form of noise, whistling a tune loudly, making some form of a comment here and there, and even at some point the guy decides to be an ass a reach over when Steve had soap in his hair unable to see, and shuts his shower off.

Steve's normally a levelheaded person. He really is. But this was pissing him off. He doesn't mean to let it show, but he was starting to feel off, and caring about how he was coming off was his last concern. His hand fly's out and he's turning the nozzle back on, nearly snapping the handle off in the process with brute strength he didn't even know he had.

He could feel how looser it was now, as his agitation starts to Rince from his body, teeth unclenching as he quickly rinses soap from his eyes so he could inspect the damage. He opens his eyes quickly only to close them again when he sees that his vision was spinning causing him to press his palm against the shower wall. His ears were starting to ring a bit, breathing picking up as he focuses on not falling. His heart was racing as he was overwhelmed with nausea.

"Knew you had it in you Harrington. Seems like the king isn't as perfect as he seems." Steve doesn't look over at him. Afraid that if he turned his head he was going to throw up. It was only his luck to get sick on Thanksgiving break. The shower next to him stops, and he can hear Hargrove moving around. Grabbing a towel, and laughing a little as he does. Before he's walking out of the area. Most likely with no towel wrapped around his waist, only in his hair. The guy seemed like one of those guys who wants everyone in the locker room to know he has a big dick.

Steve's heart is racing, and he can feel his hands starting to shake as he finally feels how cold the water really was. Must have been some weird heat flash. He turns his own shower head off, moving and drying off as he moves off to one of the benches. Where he set his bag of clothes. Most of the guys did this, but others also left their stuff in the locker room. Not trusting the other teammates not to steal their clothes. But everyone knew better than to steal Steve's clothes. Only one who didn't have just walked out of the room, and thankfully didn't decide to be a huger dick and steal his clothes.

Twenty minutes later as Steve's parked outside of his big house. It was ugly as fuck, but he had no say. Even though he lived in it more than his parents, who decided how the house was to look. He's a bit light-headed and has to take a moment in his seat to catch his breath. Even though all he did was drive, which possibly might have been a mistake with the way his vision kept blurring randomly, head pounding as he could feel sweat forming above his brow. He was overheated, must be another hot flash. He's never had many of them, except that one time he had food poisoning. Which was why he was confused as to why he was getting them now. This didn't feel like food poisoning. It was worst.

He glances out of his side window, catching sight of his neighbor who was currently watering plants. It felt like something from a movie. But then again no one around this neighborhood was original when it came to being nosey. Grunting, he feels that wave of agitation goes through him again. Like earlier. He grips his steering wheel, for a second wishing that he didn't have eyes on him constantly. His body relaxes after a second, his hands loosen around the wheel. He puts his best smile on and lifts his left hand up and awkwardly waves at Debra. (Of course, it's a fucking Debra, like their decorating skills no one in this neighborhood had original names)

He moves stepping out of the car, legs feeling shaky as he turns shutting his door and locking it behind him. Glancing at the driver's wheel for a second and mumbling a few curse words under his breath when he notices he clawed up the fabric cover. That was definitely going to be a problem for another day as he starts walking up the pathway, to his door. Debra, of course, decides she wants to get his attention when he's one step in the house and one step out. He felt like shit and just wanted to go in and curl up in a ball in his bed.

"Hey Steve, everything okay?" Her tone is sweet, but her voice is way too high as if she was talking to a five-year-old. It felt patronizing and if Steve didn't know he would get his ass chewed out he would snap at her. Tell her to shove the tiny shovel in her hand up her ass. No one was gardening in November, she had only decided to gather up that ruse after Steve had spent longer than five minutes in his car. Which wasn't normal for him in the slightest. Steve tenses up a bit, putting on his best fake smile. Flashing his teeth, knowing that normally did the trick. It was the same trick he learned from his Dad growing up.

"Yeah, just not feeling well." He yells back. The amount of energy it took just to do that nearly knocked him over. Causing him to lean against the doorframe as he could feel his heart beginning to race more in his chest. Vision tunneling a little, going black around the edges. He felt as if the blood was draining from his face, when in reality there was not one cold part of his body. The heat was leaving him in waves, and he was going to have to pull out his AC just for tonight. Something he had put in the box and carried into the basement just at the end of last month.

"Oh? Do you need anything dear? Me and the girls can bring some soup over? It's that time of year again." She smiles tightly. Though Steve was seeing through her. She would set the dish of soup on his porch, ring the doorbell and spring back to the safety of her yard. Not wanting to catch anything with it being so close to Thanksgiving. Which was only a few days away now.

Sure he didn't blame her, but her condescending smile was what really pissed him off. He shakes his head no, hiding his irritation the best he can as he puts the same smile on. Copying the expression of the other on purpose. Watching the same flicker of irritation flash through her eyes. "No, I'm fine. I can make myself something to eat, thank you." Steve says a little too tightly. Quickly walking in the rest of the way before she could keep him any longer, he's confident that if he had stood on that doorstep any longer he genuinely would have passed out. He nearly falls on his face, stumbling forward as he drops his keys in the small bowl on an equally small desk. Leaning his weight against the wall as he quickly starts to pull his shirt up and above his head. Along with sliding his pants off, groaning as  a cold draft hits his skin.

It doesn't last for long, as he quickly bends over and grabs the small pile of clothes off the floor and moves them to toss them down in the basement, where the washer and dryer were. He normally wasn't that lazy, but due to the circumstances, he was unsure whether or not he physically could walk down those stairs without falling down them and breaking his neck. That would be all he needed for his sports career. Then again he would most likely wouldn't be alive to enjoy much of a career.

He closes the door with a click, pausing in his steps as he tries to figure out his next plan of action. Either climb in the freezer, curl up, and hope for the best. Or go upstairs, not push his body any more than what it could take, and sleep it off with a fan blowing on him. This was just a heat flash. That's all it was. Moving and walking up the steps, he gives up on using the railing and pretty much crawls up the stairs. Regaining some balance at the top and walking to his room. Face flipping down on his bed, not even bothering with the fans. All energy was wiped out of him, along with any ounce of motivation he had to keep himself cool.

The panting of his breath never silences down as he quickly drifts to sleep only to sit up with a loud cry a few hours later as his body starts to burn from the inside out. Similar to that of growing pains in a sense. His breathing is still heavy as he turns his head to the left, seeing the moon staring back at him. He rubs his face as he feels tears forming in his eyes. The worst form of pain blossoming and spreading through his veins. Causing him to lurch forward again with a soft sob. Rolling off the bed, slamming into the floor. Trying to grip onto anything as something inside of him takes over.

His limbs are moving without his say so, he felt like he was having a out of body experience as he crawls to his door. Groaning gently, before fighting to stand up. Moving back to the staircase that he had walked up just a few hours prior. Tripping over his feet and landing on his ass halfway down, gritting his teeth even in more pain. His body seemed to be on autopilot, however, it was controlling itself and didn't seem to understand the concept of walking on two feet that well.

Steve blinks as he felt so lightheaded, feeling a little better when the faint light of the night sky dims on his skin. It satisfies whatever itch he's had, as he stumbles dumbly to his back door that leads to the pool. Which has a pool cover over it, to leave it protected from the season that was slowly coming closer and closer. That and the leaves, that were slowly starting to die in piles surrounding the pool.

His hands shakily move on the plastic of the door, opening it with a soft creak, before pulling it shut behind him with a clicking noise. He blinks, eyes adjusting to how dark his surroundings were. Breathing heavily still as his muscles relax, feeling the cold night air hitting him. He tilts his head up, still on autopilot, looking up at the stars with glazed-over eyes. Standing just a few inches away from his house, glancing over at his neighbors instead quickly catching onto the fact that there were no lights on. He doesn't even know what time it was. He moves to check his watch when he feels something snap. Which was strange, and he barely even moved from his spot. His mouth opens up, trying to yell out for help as he falls to his knees.

No sound comes out, as he lands on the palms of his hands. His back burned as he whimpers, the only sound his throat was physically capable of handling. His heart is racing as he feels his jaw locking into place as if something was keeping him silent. The pain is so excruciating that he doesn't notice anything else that happens with his body until a sense of relief hits him. He's exhausted as he comes to. Still feeling off as he pushes himself off the ground. A blissful feeling hits him and once again he's no longer in control.

There was no way to explain what he was feeling. All he knew what that he wasn't alone, and instead of being afraid a calm wave hits him stronger than before. What shocks him more was the fact that he was more excited about not being alone, not afraid that he had little to no control over his body anymore. The only description that could be used for what he was feeling was dissociative. He felt disconnected from himself but knew he was there all the same. He's sure there were better descriptions but for now, he watches through the eyes of the being that he was tagging along with.

Turning his head to the right slightly, he catches his reflection. Wanting to gasp when he sees the most beautiful wolf in front of him. White fur, brown eyes, and a small frame. The creature walks forward, looking at itself curiously. Moved a little too close to the glass and bumped its snout against the glass, causing a soft sneeze-like sound to come out of it. Eyes never break from the glass. It takes longer than it probably should have to realize that the wolf was Steve. And Steve was the Wolf. When the discovery finally dawns on him, he feels more like himself than he's ever been. It was all a strange and crazy feeling, and if the creature would allow him to panic about being a wolf, he would be doing so at that very moment.

Instead, he turns, facing the woods. Silently trying to chant no over and over again at whoever or whatever and fully reign over his body. That same being not listening as they start to run, sprinting into the woods. The wind hits their fur as they race into the woods, the freedom of it all hitting Steve as he relaxes once more. Quickly giving in, he moves into the woods with such happiness he never wants it to end. His emotions were all over the place but that was as expected.

The woods were gorgeous at night Steve quickly discovers. He should come out more when he - if  he shifts back to being human. He's never felt like he's given up so much control before in his life and it was addicting, very addicting. He lets whatever that's controlling him keep on doing whatever they wanted, they both seemed more content that way. Even if that choice lands him sniffing in the garbage next to a beat-up trailer. It was disgusting, but he wasn't going to tell his wolf no (who was currently wagging her tail like crazy). He thankfully could drift off and zone out as she digs her snout into the numerous bags searching for something.

A door slams open, and both Steve and the wolf jump frightened. Steve knows he would have still been there, frozen in his place if he currently held the reigns to his body. But thankfully the animals' first instinct was to run, paws kicking up dirt as she does. Entering the safety of the woods within a few seconds. Proceeding to lurk in the shadows, curious as to what scared them Hearing a soft, "Damn Raccoons." Grumbled in their general direction soon after. It was only one of the trailer park residents. (Not shocking, considering the fact that they were indeed in a trailer park at the moment.) 

They move to the outskirts of the trees, not wanting to be too far in the opening. Hoping that whoever came out to yell at them would go back inside. They were hungry and Steve's pretty sure that there was a half-eaten pizza in one of those trash cans. He doesn't know how he can smell it from all the way over here, but he wasn't going to let it go to waste. Not with his stomach growling the way it was.

They wait for a bit; Steve is unsure how long he can't really tell the time right now. Mentally cursing when he realizes that he had been wearing his favorite watch when he shifted? Whatever he did to turn into this thing, he tore his watch apart. A fact that he was very not pleased with.

When the wolf thinks they are in the clear, they start to sniff out for that pizza. Nose stuck to the grass like a hound dog as they move to every trash can that they could find. Taking one sniff and quickly moving on to the next when they didn't smell what they were looking for. Steve inwardly groans when he realizes that the pizza was coming from the trash can that the older man had come out from. Well- who he assumed was older. But this fact doesn't stop the wolf from getting back into the can. Hopping up on its back legs and clumsily flipping the trash can lid up and bend halfway into the can.

Teeth biting into cardboard as they pull the pizza out. Getting into it within seconds and having most of the pizza wolved down in half the time. (Steve snorts a little as the pun was very much intended.) He was still hungry, stomach growling to eat something when they both heard something moving to their right. And yes, Steve knew that Wolves ate animals, but he still wasn't fully prepared for the animal to move with lightning speed to clench its jaws tightly around a raccoon's neck. Stifling its screams before it could alert the neighborhood. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

Distractions, September 2023

Steve knew the risks of coming to the trailer park during this time of day. The residents were starting to grow more protective of their park, afraid that if they let a wolf run around more would soon follow. Their thought process wasn't wrong, if Steve wasn't whatever he was he wouldn't want a random Wolf lurking around his home. Afraid that it would eat a pet or be feral to the point of attacking at random. This was why he had stopped coming around nearly as much as he used to. As much as his Wolf needed to check and see if Eddie was okay.

Today though, he finally gave in. That was a lie, he couldn't gain control nearly as fast as he normally could. It was like he was a new shifter all over again. Unable to control anything he was doing, letting the animal take complete control. Which was very risky as the wolf was intelligent, but not people smart. Steve wasn't sure he could fully explain it.

His normally white paws were a light grey, and dark brown from running around the woods for so long. Moving a bit too close to a trailer on his way to see his boy. No, Eddie was not his boy. That was just his Wolf's thoughts leaking into his. The line between their consciousness always blurring. Even when he was in his human form. The animal was so excited to see the other boy that she doesn't pay nearly enough attention to the other people around her. Accidentally bumping into a can, knocking it over.

It was like the guy was waiting for her to show up. Flinging out of his door, as if the trashcan was some form of trap to let him know when she had gotten there. Rifle in his hand, shooting before he could fully process that what was in front of him was not a raccoon. Steve processes the loud bang first, before the excruciating pain in his side that was beginning to grow damp from blood. Dying his fur red.

The switch from the wolf to him happens fast, his first instinct is to run. Like he had done months before when he first encountered the Munson family. Paws moving his body as fast as he could with his injury, Wolf gets excited in the worst moment when she sees Eddie stumbling from his steps. As if he was coming down to check on her. She can't stay as they sprint right by him, brushing against his leg gently.  More concerned about not hurting him when she was currently in so much pain.

Steve is in full control when they make it a few inches from the tree line. He nearly pisses himself when he hears another gunshot, the loud snap of the bullet hitting the tree bark close to his body. He wants to stay and make sure that Eddie was okay, but he has to worry about himself. Even if that means running through the woods with blood dripping down his fur, anxiety higher than it has ever been. Knowing that the guy had taken the shot even though Eddie had been so close to the firing range. The thought that the other took a bullet for him was nerve-wracking.

He stumbles into his backyard careful to sneak his way to the back door that leads to the pool. No one should see him, but with the blood lost he isn't thinking clearly. Normally he would stay hidden in the trees, find the bag of clothes that he left out there and change quickly before walking out of the woods as if he only went on a short run. Which was not a complete lie, he did technically go running in the woods.

Instead of doing his normal ritual, he pushes himself through the doggy door that he had installed just the other week. Blood smearing over the side of the doggy door, his paws meet the hardwood floor and start to slip as he falls hard onto the side that was injured. A loud cry leaves him as he does. He hopes that none of his neighbors heard him, or else he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. Something he would much rather avoid when he felt so dizzy and like he was going to throw up.

The shift back was far more difficult than what he would have thought it to be. The mental toll of demanding it to happen causes his brain to go fuzzy from exhaustion. The shift isn't as painful as it once was but the changing of fur to skin was extremely excruciating around the area that was skimmed. His joints were snapping into place as his human hand grip to his side, trying to stop the bleeding. Blood was all over the place, the floor, his hands, and somehow smearing more across his naked body. He blinks, still in the slight daze of transitioning like that as he tries to come back down to earth. To force himself up and to help himself before he bled to death.

He knows that Billy saw him, and watched the whole situation unfold in front of him. It was only a matter of time before he came over to check on him. Not because he wanted to, but because it was a part of being in a pack. Something that Steve was still trying to wrap his head around. They weren't really a pack, just a duo who so happened to be able to shift into wolves. Steves is the Alpha in a way.

He whines in pain as he sits up, tossing his head back as he fights to breathe like a normal person. His chest heaves out and in as he forces himself to stand. Stumbling and nearly falling on his face. He looks down at the floor, knowing he would have to clean the blood up later. For now, he would have to focus on patching himself up.

Steve proceeds to the kitchen, grabbing his first aid kid off the fridge. Placing himself down in a chair before he starts to improv everything that he was doing. He knew that he would heal a lot faster than most humans did but he needed something to clean it up with so that his side didn't grow infected. Ten minutes later he looks a bit paler but at least his side was cleaned and wrapped up with a medical wrap.

He fights to stand up, his head spinning as he tries to keep his balance. Moving his way to his basket of clothes that sat unfolded in front of the basement door. He had no strength in walking up the steps to his room. His hands were shaking just trying to keep a good grip on his shirt as he pulled it over his head. Fighting to step into his boxer shorts without falling, quickly decided he didn't need pants on.

That thought is quickly thrown out the door when he hears his doorbell continuously going off. As if the person was pressing the button nonstop, which was very much the case. He groans as he waddles his way to the front door, his right hand holding onto his side as he hides behind his door so that whoever it was didn't see that he was only in a shirt and no pants.

His shoulders sag in relief when it was only Dustin. His eyes move out a bit paranoid as he pulls the boy in. Who was rambling out a lot of things that were not yet sticking to Steve's brain? The slight buzz in ears was too loud to really catch what the other was saying. The sudden lightheadedness strikes again as the buzzing turns to ring and he nearly falls face-first into the ground. A soft whimper leaves the back of his throat and he can hear his wolf starting to panic as he nearly loses consciousness. But forces himself to stay awake as he blinks confused as he watches Dustin move closer to him.

Hands gripping onto his shoulders in an attempt to push him back against the wall, to give him more balance. His mouth is still running a mile per minute and Steve wasn't processing anything as his mind and body started to melt from exhaustion. The adrenaline rushes no longer there as if his body knew that he was finally in a safe place.

He slouches a bit forward, nearly tumbling and taking Henderson out with him. He's fighting to take back control over his body again, but this was different compared to sharing with his wolf. This he wasn't sure he could fight dominance over. His body needed rest and he was fighting against what his body wanted. His eyes glossed over as he feels more like shit watching Dustin's eyes widen and look like he was on the verge of tears. Obviously begging for something and close to a panic attack. The kid was barely fourteen and he was having to deal with Steve's bullshit.

Bullshit.

God, only if Nancy was here. She would know what to do.

He's barely conscious when he feels an arm wrapping itself around his waist. His surroundings were nonexistent to him as he starts to mumble random things under his breath as he finally laid carefully on his back. Laying as comfortable as he could on his mother's couch.

"Can't get blood on the couch..." he mumbles starting to drift to sleep, a hand carefully starting to slap the side of his face in an attempt to wake him up more. It wasn't working, but his eyes do open a bit more, focusing a bit more as they land on Billy Hargrove's face. "My moms going to kill me if I get blood on the couch." He groans trying to sit back up and get off the couch. Only to be lightly shoved backward again.

Billy's face pinches up in irritation as he shakes his head no. Steve catches sight of Dustin behind his shoulder faintly freaking out. Cursing as he walks back and forth across the living room, with his hand close to his mouth. Hargrove must have caught onto his distraction, turning his head to look over his shoulder. Obviously snapping at Dustin to knock it off. The boy listens, stops in his tracks but proceeds to sass the other back. None of the words are comprehensible for Steve to understand as he lets his head lull back. Giving into sleeping on the couch, deciding just a few minutes wouldn't hurt.

And that is the last thing he remembers before he is sleeping.

When he comes back to, Dustin is curled up in one of his mother's side chairs with a blanket tightly wrapped around him as he sleeps. Steve can't help but smile a bit at the image before he moves to sit up. Whining a bit as he does. His side still ached but not nearly as badly as earlier. He keeps his noises down the best he can as he sits up, letting his feet touch the carpet. Lifting the arm that wasn't affected by the wound up to sweep his hair out of his face. Not bothering to use any product anymore. Not because he didn't want to but because it bothered his wolf when they shifted.

Standing up, with a slight sway to his feet he works his way to the kitchen. In hopes to get something to eat and drink. His throat was extremely dry, and he really wanted to change that. When he reaches the doorway to the kitchen he freezes. The wrinkles on his forehead pinch together as he looks at the sleeping figure for a moment. Billy Hargrove was not nearly as endearing as Dustin Henderson when he slept. His curls fell over his face growing matted the longer he slept. His face was relaxed, something that was a rare sight, and his mouth was open a bit. In the process of drooling a small puddle onto his table.

Steve creeps forward as silently as possible. Making a face as he touches the other's shoulder lightly, not missing the way the other jolts up in a flinch. Eyes glossed over with sleep slowly growing more alert as time went on. His back and shoulders grew stiff as his body prepares to defend itself from any harm. Steve didn't like Billy Hargrove and thought the guy was a royal douchebag. But he had to admit the other came through for him today and he can't help but feel bad for waking him up. Normally he didn't care, the guy was too much of an asshole to earn his empathy but today was an acceptance. The guy looked like a walking zombie. Obviously not getting enough sleep at home. For what reason, that was unknown.

"I have guest rooms if you want to just stay?" Steve comments. Looking at the other a bit wary. Unsure if his invitation would be considered by the other. "Don't really think it's a good idea that you drive like this, you look like a fucked-up Zombie dude." Steve tries to joke as he moves to his sink. Reaching up to one of the cabinets carefully as he pulls out two glass cups for water.

"No," Billy says a bit short. Standing up as he starts to stretch his back out, little popping noises are heard throughout the kitchen. He then moves to leave the room in an attempt to leave but before he passes a threshold a look flashes over his face. Before it fills with agitation. Steve simply glances at the other, not wanting to be caught staring. Recognizing the way, the other try's to push his body forward to only be forced to a stop.

"Wolf causing problems again?" Steve asks carefully. Not wanting to hit a trip wire or something with the other. The topic of their wolves scarcely coming up together. Seemingly sensitive with the other still. He moves his eyes away from the other quickly when the other turns to look at him, trying to act nonchalant about the whole situation.

He turns the faucet on, filling both glasses up with water before setting one on the sink and turning his body to lean on the counter. His free hand moved and held onto the edge, careful not to strain his side too much. Allowing his eyes to land on Billy after a moment of silence. Watching the other's face contort into frustration before he gives in to his wolf. Walking over, his presence was a bit anxious inducing as Steve never knew what the other was going to do. Billy was his own personal wild card if you will.

Billy gets a little too into his personal space, blue eyes skimming Steve's face for any sign of weakness. This was an intimidation tactic, both Steve and his wolf could recognize that from a mile away. Before whatever the hell happened to him and Billy he would have stepped back, would have let the other think he was In control if that meant there was no conflict. Now, his wolf refused to give in. Some hidden meaning to it. Steve assumes that it would be a bit more harmful to give in now than when they were humans.

He watches in real-time as the other's eyes soften along with his tense shoulders and back. As if he had been testing to see if Steve was strong enough to handle him a few moments ago. Lifting the glass from the counter, his eyes never leave Steve as he takes a slow sip from his water. Before setting the glass back down on the counter with a soft dinking noise. Some weird interaction was happening between the two, which seems to be the first positive one since they were forced to hang around each other by the whole weird wolf thing.

Billy steps back, turning around as he helps himself to the refrigerator not answering Steves's answer. The whole exchange seemed to be the answer. Billy takes out the hamburger Steve and pulled from the freezer from the night before. Enough there to feed the two of them and Dustin.

Shit, Steve was going to have to call Claudia before he was arrested for kidnapping. Better yet, he was going to wake Dustin up and force him to call Claudia to either let her know that he was spending the night or on his way home. Most likely the rather as it was growing closer to eight o'clock and the sun was almost down entirely. Soon to be replaced with the moon.

"What is it and your weird obsession with the freak?" Billy asks. Pulling out a pan, seemingly knowing where everything was in Steve's kitchen. That was a bit concerning, but Steve did give the other permission to come here after a night of shifting. So it was no shock the other would actually follow through.

Steve raises his eyebrow as he moves to go sit down at the table. Felt the already familiar dizziness begin to hit him. "You mean Eddie?" he comments.

"Yeah, Munson," Billy says in a sarcastic tone, refusing to call him by his first name. "Now answer the damn question, your stupid obsession nearly got you killed. " He says annoyed as he forms one patty. Placing it on the pan. Starting to make two more but leaves them separate from the other one. Not bothering to season any of it. Probably did not care to do so.

"Why didn't you walk out the door like you wanted to?" Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. There was a point to be made here, and he wanted to make sure the other caught it. Even if that meant agitating him a bit. Watching the way Billy's jaw clenches a bit from irritation only amuses him a bit as he knew he was right about earlier.

"So it's your wolf?" Billy asks tightly. Being a bit snippy as well but Steve chooses to ignore that. Not wanting to put fuel on the already smokey fire.

"Yeah," Steve answers gently. "Don't really have control over it," He admits. His arms stay crossed over his chest as he talks. Letting the silence fall over the both of them with the accepting of the light sizzling of the meat cooking. Cooking the meat all the way through so that Dustin could eat it, while Billy leaves theirs slightly pink in the middle but cooked enough to pass them as normal.

"I'm going to go wake the kid up," Steve grunts a little as he moves standing up from his chair. Feeling his knees popping a bit. Making a few more questionable noises before walking his way out to the living room.

Obsession; September 2023 (two days after being shot) 

Steve knew that the people knocking on his door had their hearts in the right place, but he was growing annoyed by the number of people randomly dropping by to check that he was okay. Even Chief Hopper had dropped in, admitting that he had received numerous wellness checks from concerned neighbors and or fellow people in town who had noticed he missed a day of school.

Steve had decided that with his wound the way it was that he wasn't going to school. Too afraid that If he did go that he would accidentally pass out or something. Or he would reopen the wound up. Which was already starting to heal faster than Steve thought. He can't even imagine what it would have been If the bullet actually hit him. He would not have been capable enough to pull a bullet out of his body. Nor would he have been able to run through the woods back to safety.

The reality that he could have died had started to set in when the first of many knocks started against his door. Now, over thirty knocks later he was ready to shoot himself if it meant getting these people to leave him alone. Constantly forcing him to get up and off his couch to answer the door, interrupting whatever he was watching so many times that he has been stuck on the same movie for nearly six hours. (The movie was only a two-hour film) Not only was that a problem but he could barely walk outside without feeling someone's eyes on him, or getting called to.

He had only missed one day of school and this was the reaction of the town. It was overbearing and he wished there was something he could do about it but there was nothing. He had finally gotten them mostly off his back and now here they were again, worst than when he had first come back home. Sometimes he wishes that he wasn't found. Then he would still get away with running around the woods as a wolf twenty-four-seven. Now he had responsibilities, like Billy and friends that would miss him too much. He's sure Robin would personally pick up hunting and kill him for trying to leave her behind. God only knows how Dustin would react. (Hint; it would not be good)

So when the next morning finally rolls around he forces himself to get out of bed, to slide on clothes. His side was still not in tip-top shape and his skin was itching to shift but with all of the attention on him the day before he didn't dare risk it. His hair was a mess and he couldn't bring it in himself to really care. The day before had been so miserable and exhausting that he didn't even feel like trying too hard for today. Which meant his grey sweatpants and yellow sweater would have to do.

There had been another reason why he had been so interested in going to school. Eddie Munson was its name. He was so worried about him being injured that his wolf was beginning to stress out with the fact they were unable to just strip naked and shift into the woods and find themselves in the trailer park. Where they would only lurk on the edge of the woods for hours, watching Eddie do whatever mundane task. But Steve quickly learned that there was no mundane task with the Munson boy. Everything was done with such craziness that watching him simply bend over and tie his shoe was hilarious. It was hard to explain and Steve didn't have the energy to do so. He did feel like a stalker, but he didn't have much control over his wolf when it came to this area.

Billy had made it very clear to him that Eddie was fine the night before. Said Munson was a little shaken up but no mark was left on him. Though the guy that pulled the trigger had a broken nose from Wayne Munson who immediately punched him the second Steve was gone. Something that brought a bit more enjoyment to Steves's evening.

Going to school in the condition he was in was probably not a good idea, but staying inside all day answering numerous phone calls and knocking at the door sounded more painful. That and his wolf just needed to have one glimpse at Eddie to feel better, after that if he was still not feeling great then he would leave school early. That was the deal he makes with himself as he gets into his car. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes before turning the key in the ignition.

Looking out of his passenger side window catching sight of his nosey neighbor, once again holding a small shovel. This time though she was actually gardening, even though her eyes were trained on his car. She puts on that cheery smile that Steve hates so much and lifts one of her gloved hands up and waves at him. He's tempted to ignore it, instead, he bitterly raises his own hand and waves gently at her with a tight-lipped smile as he begins to pull out of his driveway.

Turning the radio to the same station that had been set in the tow truck that Eddie had driven him in. He doesn't even know whos playing, but he does know that this was one of those songs that Eddie had on repeat in the privacy of his own room. The familiarity of it eases his wolf to a more relaxed state as he drives, more carefully than he typically would. Parking in his normal spot he unbuckled, grabbed his bag from the back of the vehicle, and tosses it over his shoulder carefully. Ignoring all of the eyes that were still more interested in him than the conversations that they were having or the teacher's words, who most times would get irritated with the lack of attention and assign more homework. All because everyone wanted to look at the boy that was supposed to be dead. (A lot of kids were going to get held back at this rate)

Walking through the halls of the school that he shouldn't even be in right now, he heads toward his locker. Taking a long way round so that he could pass Eddie's locker in hopes of seeing him. His eyes skim the crowds as well, stomach doing flips of excitement whenever he sees a head of curls. Only to be disappointed when it's just some girl. When he gets closer to the other locker, he slows down on purpose. In hopes that the other would just come in out of nowhere. His eyes land on the locker that had stickers all over it, wolf keening in disappointment as he heads to his locker to drop off some books to lighten his load, but to also pick up some of his folders of work.

Ten minutes later and he finds himself doing loops around the area trying to see Eddie. He hopes he isn't being too obvious, but the look he receives from Billy says that he was as he meets the other boy near the doors to figure out a plan with getting Steve the ability to go and shift after school. Which was apparently swapping clothes, both of them deciding to wear a hoodie to cover their faces. It would be a bit risky for Steve to shift so close to school but if he didn't do it then he was definitely going to accidentally shift at home. And with the number of eyes on his house he didn't want to risk somebody getting suspicious of the white "dog" running into the woods and trying to drop in to let Steve know his dog escaped only to find Billy there and Steve nowhere in sight.

"You look like a fucking creep," Billy grumbles under his breath for only him to hear. Steve rolls his eyes as he takes the sweater from the other hand. A black zip-up that was going to be baggy on him but should work. He drops his bag to the ground slipping it into the bag before putting it back on his shoulder with an eye roll. Trying to ignore the other's comments.

"How many times are you going to circle his locker before the first bell rings?" Billy scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. Glaring holes into whoever dared look at them longer than a few moments. The guy was back to being a dick full-time as his eyes kept shifting back from Steve to the other kids.

"I don't know, now will you shut up," Steve growls a bit. Wolf grew agitated with the other. Billy's posture goes rigid as something flashes through his eyes. It wasn't fear but it was something that Steve has never seen the other hold in his expression before. It was a bit unsettling knowing that he got Billy of all people to listen to him.

Both of them snap out of whatever heated moment they have as Steve asks, "Did I just-?" He asks unable to finish his sentence before Billy grumbles and starts to turn around to leave.

"Shut up, your stupid boyfriend is on his way. Was just hopping in his van when I left." Billy snaps. Not bothering to be soft with his words. Agitated with whatever just happened between the two of them. Saying it loud enough in an attempt to embarrass Steve. In response, Steve just rolls his eyes and turns his back on him, and starts to walk forward going over the scene that had just taken place.

Steve was slowly starting to realize that he had a bit more control over the other than when they first met. As if their dynamics suddenly shifted and all because of their wolves. His shoulders relax when the other is finally gone and he turns to do one final lap around the hall. Lost in thought trying to figure out how he was going to control his wolf from just snapping Billy's head off like he has done before. Even though he did kind of deserve it.

They were still coming up with theories as to why they suddenly started to shift into wolves, but even that was hard to pinpoint down let alone why Steve was the "Alpha" of the"pack" when Billy probably fit into that role way better than him. Steve had always been more of a follower throughout high school, with the image saying he was the leader of most of the bullying when in reality that had been Tommy. Who was still pissed at him for dropping him the second he came back home.

His wolf forces him to snap out of his thoughts when they smell the familiar scent of weed and horribly cheap knock-off Axe. His lips pull up in a relieved smile when he finishes his last lap of the hallway. Eyes looking at the frantic figure of the boy, not stopping to check if he was okay. No matter how much he wanted to.

The bell finally rings a few seconds later giving everyone their first warning to head to class. This time instead of taking a turn to the right like he had numerous times before he takes a left heading to his first-period class. Wolf was somewhat pleased and his tense shoulders sagging with relief

After School, September 2023

Steve was really nervous about this plan. If Billy somehow messed this up they were both so screwed. It would only take one person seeing Billy's face to know something was off. It would also take one person to see Steve shifting for everything to go wrong. He would have to do this quickly or else it was all over. Grunting he holds the plastic bag, wearing the hoody Billy gave him. It smelt like cigarettes and booze. Though when he pressed his chin against his chest in an attempt to hide his face better he could smell that familiar Billy scent. That overwhelming scent of old spice makes him want to gag but smell more because he just couldn't stop sniffing at it out of curiosity.

It was like spoiled milk, you would smell it to check if it was bad and nearly throw up in the process. Getting your answer. But still going in for a second sniff just in case you were smelling wrong. It was kind of like that for Steve, who knows that after all of this, he was going to have to scrub the scent off his skin. He honestly didn't mind the smell it was just the thought that he was sharing a smell with Billy Hargrove that made his nose scrunch up in disgust.

He's in the process of walking down the small trail that leads through the woods behind the school, trying to get far enough that no one would be able to find his bag of clothes or see him doing something unnatural that would leave to a witch hunt. Or some poor innocent person being locked up in an asylum. He passes the picnic table, stopping when he catches the familiar scent that he had spent twenty minutes that morning searching for. 

He stops in his tracks, listening for anything that seemed off. Catching some commotion happening to the farthest left hidden in the trees. If his instincts were correct there were at least three people gaining up on Eddie. It concerns him that he could know all of that just from his ears. When it should be physically incapable to hear something that was so far away. Before his brain can think logically about being seen in the woods, breaking his plan of not being caught  

Cramming the plastic bag into a nearby tree he jogs over to the place he knows Eddie is. His wolf was seeing red when he catches sight of Eddie hunched up on the ground holding his stomach with Jason Carver standing over him rambling about something that Steve really didn't give a shit about. He only cared about getting the group of jackasses off the scrunched-up boy. 

His side was burning from the extra strain but he doesn't let that stop him as he runs tackling Jason into the ground before he could get another kick in. Steve wasn't too worried about losing, a monster wolf thing against three human teenagers? The fight was pathetic as he holds back. Letting the two guys pull him from Jason before he is elbowing one in the stomach and tossing the other into a tree with a little too much ease. Regretting his decision on doing that as he moves a hand down to hold onto his side. Wincing a bit, showing a sign of weakness. But the boys were way too slow to even get a hit against him.

 It takes giving Jason a bloody nose and injuring one of the other's wrists for them to back off. Cursing him out calling him a spew of nicknames that didn't bother him that much. Steve would give some sass back but he was too busy catching his breath. Panting like a dog as he feels his skin doing that telltale itch, where he knows he's close to shifting any second. Clenching his jaw as he bends over a bit, curling into himself with a soft pained wheeze. Nearly losing balance as he grows a bit pale again. 

"Shit dude, are you alright?" Eddie's voice rings through his head for a few seconds as he nods his head with a groan. Billy was so going to kill him. The one thing he had to do he failed. How typical of him. He tilts his head to the side to look up at the other a little as he nods his head. Not ready to use any more oxygen than he had to. Wincing a bit when he feels the other hand reaching over to his left shoulder to carefully lead him to sit down against the tree. 

Steve was already making a mental note to allow his wolf to piss on Jason Carver's porch. Something that was very disgusting but so going to be worth it. He's in a bit of a daze, fighting back from shifting. He was there but not fully. His wolf slowly grabbed more control over his body and mind. This whole situation was similar to that of Dustin the other night. He could see Eddie's mouth moving but couldn't hear what he was saying. 

He allows his eyes to skim the other, catching the way he similarly grips his side. He takes back allowing his wolf to piss on porches, he's going to allow her to drag a dead animal on the porch. That would get his point across. His ears are ringing as he blinks, trying to come back to earth when he catches sight of it. Well, he shouldn't say it, but her.

His anxiety raises, not liking how close the wolf was getting to Eddie. Her fur was a dirty blonde almost. It wasn't white but it wasn't a dark brown either. His eyes meet her and there seems to be a bit of familiarity in her eyes as they move from him to Eddie. As if she was there for the same reason as Steve. He scrunched his face up a bit still looking at her and not Eddie, who finally turns around to see what he was looking at. Still looking a bit stressed out about the entire situation that was happening right now. When Eddies back faces him Steve hopes the other wolf could understand him.

"Go, he's okay." he mouths. Watching in real-time as the creature freezes like a deer in headlights in front of Eddie. There must be something about him that got reactions like this from wolves. It wasn't natural. A second later and the wolf is sprinting away disappearing into the woods.

Now that was going to be added to a mental list of things to do. What the hell was going on with Hawkins and why was wolf skin becoming the new fad?

[cozy-earthbaby]

It gives me ✨life✨

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, shoving his phone into Steve’s face: Stevie, baby. What’s the wildest thing you’ve done for love?

Steve: Uh… I ditched my childhood best friends for a girl that cheated on me.

Eddie: Was kinda hoping you’d say something about our relationsh- Wait. Steve, you fought a monster. You literally rescued your girlfriend from a monster.

Steve, no big deal: I mean…yeah. I guess. Everybody does that.

[livingfast04]

Monster Au? - Part 7

one two three four five six II eight

TW: Body Horror, Disordered Eating, anxiety, dehumanization, refences to past child abuse, refences to emotional abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, biting (not the fun kind),vomiting.

---

Hi? That’s it Munson? Fucking Hi? Gods above, are you fucking stupid. Steve stares at him, and Eddie stupidly lifts his hand up to wave awkwardly. This was a terrible idea, Steve just kept staring at him, wide eyed- as if. Eddie shifted from foot to foot, this was terrible, this was so fucking stupid. 

“I-” “Ed-” Eddie snapped his jaw shut, his gums aching from the sharp clamp. Steve’s mouth was slightly parted, Eddie could see the points of sharp teeth. They stand there for a little while longer, taking each other in? At least that’s what Eddie’s doing, Steve’s heart beat is much easier to hear from the close proximity, despite Steve’s outward appearance of skin and bone. Eddie- Eddie can’t take his eyes off him- 

He’s almost skeletal, his clothes are too big, and it’s like the other lost over a hundred pounds of weight. Steve’s thin, his eyes are shrunken against his skin, they are mostly hidden behind almost stringy like hair that flops down past Steve’s chin. Like he desperately needs to wash it, but hasn’t- 

Eddie traced over the pale skin he could see, there was a stark almost lack of pigment, as if Steve had never been outside a day in his life- blue veins- and far more freckles than Eddie remembers trace over the younger boy's skin. As if the color had concentrated to tiny little dots-

Steve doesn’t look remotely human, not with his lamp like eyes, Eddie stares at the youngers bones, at the knobbiness of his elbows-

Steve- Steve’s just as supernatural as Eddie is- 

Steve doesn’t smell like he’s dying- Well, Eddie parts his lips, tries not to be obvious about the way he sucks in a mouthful of the air. He still smelled sick, but not, not as bad as before- it was laid over with a hefty amount of sadness, anxiety and a rising amount of stress. Eddie stepped just slightly back, ducking his head slightly, dropping his arm down by his side. Giving Steve space, the stress didn’t ease up- but Steve’s heart rate slowed a little. 

Letting out a soft breath, Eddie swallows, “Shit, okay. I-” He pauses, shaking out his limbs and giving his head a little jerk, hair flying in his face. “Steve, I’m, so sorry.” Steve blinks at him, eyes a little lamp-like, big confused and wide. “I’m so sorry, I hurt you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I got too angry at you to listen to my nose. I got upset and should have realized something deeper was so incredibly wrong-” Eddie takes a huge deep breath, “I was stupid, I was stupid and dumb, and I will regret it for the rest of my life.” Steve opens his mouth slightly, showing off those sharp teeth- Eddie gives a tiny shake of his head. “And I’m not apologizing because you are supernatural, or because I want back in the house. I could give less of a shit about the house. I’m,” Eddie pauses for a moment, catching his breath, vampire or not he does need to do that- “I’m apologizing because we treated- I treated you like shit and you didn’t deserve that.”

Steve stared at him, looking just as confused and lost as he had before Eddie started. Eddie shifted, rocking back on his heels, he worked his jaw, “I- I’m not asking you to forgive me. Ever, not now and not in the future. I just, you deserve an apology, and I’ve already taken too much time to even get here to do that.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t tense, it was just heavy. Eddie shuffled, he didn’t really know what he was waiting for. Maybe for Steve to slam the door in his face, or scream at him. There was movement in the house, and Eddie gave a half step back, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m going to-” “Stephan? Baby? Who's at the door?” Steve’s head twisted around at the voice, Eddie frozen on the steps. Staring at the other. The younger boy glanced at him, back in the house- and then back at Eddie. The confusion was almost gone, and Eddie could smell some of that sad, eased off- loneliness, it flooded his nose.

Steve snapped his jaw a little, Eddie could hear his teeth click twice. “My friend Eddie” His voice was rough, Steve’s light colored eyes met his. Brown- thick, the color there was- The woman, probably Steve’s Mom actually, peaked over Steve’s shoulder. She had the same freckles as Steve did- the same almost lamp like look. She was just as unnerving to witness. 

She looks him over, almost hooking her chin over Steve’s shoulder- “Eddie?” Eddie could almost feel like she already knew who he was. “Eddie Munson.” Steve’s voice was clipped, not detached or that bitchy tone that Eddie remembers from High School. It was tired, stressed, and incredibly rough as if Steve hasn’t been talking almost at all. They really hadn’t spoken to Steve, so it probably wasn’t that far from the truth. The woman blinked at him, tapping her forehead against Steve’s- and then she stood up. She was taller than Steve, at least like this, Steve was shorter this way too now that Eddie was realizing. “Munson? As in Wayne Munson’s boy?” “I- uh, Yes Ma’am?” Eddie chokes out the response. And then she nods, it almost looks disjointed as if she’s not used to nodding. “The Vampire boy.” Steve made a small noise in the back of his throat, Eddie wrinkled his nose at being addressed as such. The Vampire Boy. “The one who was here, with that group.” Her disdain is loud, and Eddie doesn’t even have to fight a bristle, he was mad at them too, her anger was understandable. Steve shrugs, and Eddie- Eddie nods, strong and sharp. He’ll reap the consequences of his actions, and he’ll take those from whoever thinks he deserves the shit beaten out of him. Because honestly he does. 

She glances over Eddie for a minute, “I made hamburgers for Dinner.” She turns around and walks back in the house. Leaving Eddie alone with Steve, her words hanging over them. Eddie looks at Steve for a long moment, and Steve looks at him- his eyes are soft, nervous, it’s all there- A thin scar covered face, scared lips turn up just slightly. It’s wobbly and anxious, it’s an invitation. Eddie gives a wobbly smile in return. Steve steps out of the doorway, shuffling back a little bit leaving the entryway wide open. It’s- it’s an invitation, and Eddie doesn’t want it. He really doesn’t want it- He shifts side to side a little bit, “I- I don’t,” Steve’s smile gets a little bigger, “Come on, she-” Steve’s voice crackles, “She won’t take no for an answer.” Okay, fuck, alright. Eddie shuffles up and into the house.

---

Steve isn’t sure what the hell he’s doing. His skin crawls, but- but Eddie apologized. And that has to mean something, right? The monster in his bones takes it at face value, having more of Pack back. It’s nauseating, it's disgusting, that he and the thing that lives in his brain agree, but Steve hates it, he hates it all. Eddie waits for him to shut and lock the door, doesn’t move from the entry way other than to take off his shoes. Steve doesn’t know what to do with that entirely. Mama has turned down the radio in the kitchen some, at least Steve thinks so. 

He’s not even sure what her reasoning is for letting Eddie in the house. If Dad was home, he’d have probably slammed the door in Eddie’s face with little care for why he was there, or if what the older boy had to say was important or not. With little care for Steve’s feelings on the matter. Mama has a little more tact, but she’s still His mother, she’s just the same as she’s ever been. And Josefina Harrington is still a mega bitch, it’s almost just her general state of being, Steve had to learn it from somewhere. And it certainly wasn’t going to be from Dad. 

Steve is hesitant to pass Eddie, but he almost stumbles past, off balance more today. Eddie’s hands lift up as if to steady him- they never touch him, something cries out in his chest, claws at his skin. Always at arm's length, never touched, he didn’t want him either- Mama is swaying gently to whatever is playing on the little radio in the kitchen, it’s too low for Steve’s fucked ears to pick up on. But she looks calm, happy- not like she’s plotting to murder Eddie. “Have you eaten yet?” Her eyes are on Eddie, she knows that Steve had a bowl of fruit and a yogurt for lunch.

Eddie waves his band in the air, “I had a bloodpop and meat cubs like 25 minutes ago, but I’ll eat again if you have enough for me. Ma’am.” Steve shuffles around the counter towards his Mama, and she hums at him, knocking her head against his when he gets close enough.

She let out a little soft coo at him. Steve didn’t respond verbally to the soothing noise, instead he knocked their heads together again, pressing his nose to her cheek before moving away. Still within arms reach, but not touching. He doesn’t want to corrupt her with his wrongness any more than he already has. 

He could almost feel Eddie’s eyes following him, burning into his skin; Steve wasn’t brave enough to try and turn around to figure out what exactly was hiding in the vampire’s gaze. Mama does it for him, well not really- Steve curls his fingers, leaning against the island counter. “Josefina, or Josie, None of this Ma’am stuff. At least not while Richard isn’t home,” Mama doesn’t even call Dad Richard when she’s at home, at least when they don’t have Guests. He’s normally Richy, or sometimes James. “And of course we have enough, I invited you in, didn't I?” Steve wrinkles his nose, blinking a little sluggish at her. Avoiding Eddie’s imploring gaze, eyes fixated on the patties she was warming slightly on the stove. They were probably the weird frozen kind that Mama buys when she doesn’t want to put them together from scratch. His stomach cramps at the smell and at the idea of eating.

They sit in silence for a minute before Mama turns on Steve with a soft but sharp edged look, “You will sit down, or I will make you get back in bed.” He glanced at the chairs, at where Eddie was standing between the stools there. Steve breathes heavily, his sides ache, and his bones hurt from standing for so long.

He scratches at his wrist. Eddie pulls the stool out next to him, and Steve guesses the choice is made for him. Shuffling across the floor, he tucks up into the chair drawing his knees to his chest. Eddie isn’t warm, not entirely. But he’s solid.

Resisting the urge to lean off the back of the chair and against Eddie’s side draws most of his attention. Mama and Eddie talk about what Steve would never know- it’s, it’s movie nights all over again. Alone, Alone-Letting Eddie in the house was a mistake, this was all a mistake- Steve draws his arms over the top of his knees, biting sharp teeth down into his arm. Locks his jaw, digging into the little meat on his forearm as he can, mouth filling with blood. Copper coating his tongue, laving his tongue against his skin, pressing it there.

It was warm, and with the way he had his jaw clamped around his wrist- swallowing a mouthful of his own blood didn’t sound all that appealing. It dripped down his chin. Steve jerked back at a sharp hiss, tearing at the skin on his arms, effectively dragging deeper lines, blood welling up. Eddie hissed again, twisting Steve’s chair around with a startling amount of strength- fingers pressed against his jaw, as if trying to pry his mouth open. Steve’s mind sparked at the contact, whatever was left of their frayed pack bond bloomed on the edges of his mind. It buzzed in his ears and Steve clicked- 

Mouth full of blood, pressing copper against all his senses, it was spilling down the back of his throat. “Steve let go.” Eddie’s voice was rough, harsh- Steve’s head spins, his heart pounding in his ears. Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, the blood in his throat thick, slimy- too warm- his stomach cramps. “Stevie you have to let go- you’re hurting yourself-'' Steve knows that, he can tell- he digs his teeth in a little deeper, clamps his eyes shut, tears squeeze through he can feel them, the top half of his face getting wet. His teeth scrape bone. A new freshway of blood pools heavily on his tongue, spills down his throat, thick and heavy- 

Steve’s ribs squeezed his lungs, he gagged, what was stuck in his throat filling his mouth. His stomach heaves. Eddie curses, grabbing his jaw and prying it open. Steve gags again, shoving at Eddie, snarling and snapping as he bends at the waist, vomiting all over the floor. The whole room smells like blood. Steve spit a glob on the floor before gagging again. Tears curl down his face, he hates this, he hates all of this. 

Eddie lets out a cooing noise, soft and somewhat like Mama’s sounds- but it’s different, Mama’s not- Mama’s not here. Logically Steve knows she is, but his brain’s all screwy. It's all wrong. 

Steve lets out a loud distressed whine, blood coating his lips as his stomach cramps. All of this is terrible- it hurts, hurts- his arm throbs. “You’re okay Stevie, your mom went to get something to clean up. She’ll be right back.” Eddie’s voice was high, probably panicked, but the older was clearly trying his damn best to make sure Steve wasn’t freaking out. 

His chest heaved, gagging around, his chest hurt, his stomach hurt- and it was- Steve whined again, “I know sweetheart, I know. I’m sorry honey.” the animalistic urge to bare his teeth at Eddie gnawed on his skin, crawled through his bones. Steve felt untethered. Mama comes back, he can smell her more than he can hear her. Lets her and Eddie sit him up, lets her inspect his teeth marks, stares numbly forwards and says nothing as she stiches them up because his arm is basically torn open.  Steve just lets it all happen around him, doesn’t respond to her vocal calls, or Eddie’s soothing tones. His mind buzzes. Steve feels empty.

--- I know I said Untuned Piano first, but this one demanded attention. Probably due to me actually looking at my Asks and having a spark of fleeting motivation. So I scrambled to get it done and then spent the past like 2 days working on this instead of my school work. If it shit I apologize. I've rewritten this portion like four times. Was never really happy with it, but I'm chill with this. Though when this goes up on Ao3 (If I ever get my dumbass around to doing it), I'll probably rewrite a bunch of it, and add some stuff in. So it'll be worth it to read it over there too! :D

Thank you for your comments!! I crave validation and you are all incredibly nice and very motivating :)) <3 Fingers cross Depression doesn't knock me on my ass before I can get anything done.

Tags: @theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches @xtkxkrzrizir @minjintea @potatofist18 @just-a-tiny-void @selune2 @hellomynameismoo @princessstevemunson @plantzzsandpencilzzs @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @dbquills @pheonixashtree @sharingisntkaren @gregre369 @chaoticlovingdreamer @obliosworld

[transmunsons]

Eddie doing a deal with Steve at that picnic table after school. Eddie’s on his second senior year and pissed off about it. He’s trying to be cordial to Harrington, but he keeps remembering how the basketball team messes with his Hellfire kids.

So he up charges him, gets a little petty revenge; he’s sure Harrington can afford it anyway. The extra money can go toward Eddie’s T payments.

Something rustles in the woods and Harrington freezes, listening. Some kind of wet, furless animal jumps out of the trees in a blur.

Before Eddie can react, Harrington grabs his hand and pulls him up, heading to the closest sanctuary, the high school. Eddie’s freaking out. They run into the building, and Harrington pulls them into the janitors closet. He lunges to the back, reaching for a mop, but Eddie hears a wet skittering in the hallway and slams the door shut. Harrington whips around at the noise and the sudden darkness. Eddie holds his breath until the creature passes.

“What the fuck is out there?” He hisses at Harrington. The closet is cramped and the floor is littered with cleaning supplies. They're right up on top of one another in the small space. “This is crazy, this is so fucking crazy—”

“Calm down!” Harrington hisses back, closer than he expects, breath brushing against Eddie's cheek.

“Calm? Why are you calm, what's wrong with you?” Eddie's heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He can't breathe. “We just almost got attacked by some fuckin' thing!” He flutters his hands to emphasize 'thing' though Steve probably can't see it in the dark. He smacks a shelf.

“I've seen something like it before, it's some kind of demogorgon.” Harrington says. Eddie splutters. The king of Hawkins High just made a DnD reference.

“How do you—that is not a demogorgon, Harrington! Demogorgons don't exist and even if they did, they don't look like that!”

“Hey, you asked and I answered. And my name is Steve.” He reaches around Eddie and tries the door handle. He's practically hugging him.

Steve swears and flicks on the light switch, illuminating the closet. “It's stuck.”

Eddie can see Steve's face properly now in all its glory. The overhead bulb gleams off Steve's stupidly long eyelashes. He almost wants to turn the light back off. His breathing is still restricted.

“Guess we're trapped in here until somebody comes by.” Steve says.

Eddie balks at the thought of being stuck with Steve in close quarters for so long. “No we're not, just gimme a second.”

Eddie shoves a hand up under his Dio shirt so he can pull his bindings a little away from his chest.

“What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed. His eyes are wide.

“Don't get excited,” Eddie winks because apparently he has a death wish, “just need to breathe. Get me a flathead screwdriver. The door opens inward.”

Steve snaps his fingers and points at him, “Right, the hinges!” He turns around to rustle through the shelves, which Eddie, uh, doesn’t mind. Goddamn.

He faces Eddie again with a flathead in his hands and a triumphant look. Eddie grabs it with a ‘thanks’ and goes to work prying pins out of the hinges. He can feel Steve watching him. Eddie gets the door loose and shoves it open, catching it so it doesn’t make noise.

Steve stalks past him wielding a mop like a weapon.

“Where are you going?” Eddie stage whispers.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie, hair artfully falling out of place. “I’ve gotta find that thing, I’m not gonna let it roam the school.”

Eddie looks at Steve, looks back at the exit, looks down at the tile floor.

“Shit.”

He follows.

[allthingssteddie]

Lately Steve has been feeling someone or something is after him.

He kept feeling there was something inside him trying to get out and it was always at night and when he would try to fall asleep he would hear “It’s almost time.” This would go on for months and he felt he couldn’t tell anyone not Tommy or Carol. But one night when he’s asleep. He heard a whisper. “He’s here.”

Back story

Steve kept hearing voices and seeing this which was making him feel crazy but when night when he’s sleeping something is telling him to go down stairs and when he opens the door it’s Eddie who’s seems freaked out as well.

[wheatnoodle]

eddie goes up to dustin in the boathouse after they’ve delivered his snacks. just grabs him by the backpack and tugs him to the side.

“woah- what?” dustin stumbles, pushing eddie’s hands off him before he fully trips and falls.

“seriously? this is who you brought to help? red and bucks, sure, but harrington? really? king steve?” eddie hisses into his ear, shooting wide eyes around the room to ensure they aren’t being listened in on.

“uh, yeah, really. he kills monsters,” and dustin scoffs like it’s obvious before he’s dragging them both back to the group.

and eddie thinks the kid’s just talking out of his ass until they’re in the upside down and he WITNESSES IT and he needs a cigarette right now-

there’s just…bodies left in steve’s path, anything that dares to come near them. and at the end, after steve’s had his insides turned into outsides and kept on fighting, he somehow manages to CARRY EDDIE???? OUT THROUGH THE GATE????

months later and eddie tells his cc boys that him and steve are dating. gareth kinda pulls back, eyebrows drawn together and confusion all over his face.

“steve harrington? i mean, really?” says it like it’s something to be embarrassed by.

and eddie just smirks, sucks on his cigarette.

“yeah really. he kills monsters.”

[fastcardotmp3]

Steve is "I have a guy for that" about everything but all of his guys are half feral teenagers with untreated PTSD, a paranoid lesbian, and Nancy Wheeler

Eddie is also "I have a guy for that" about everything but all of his guys are Wayne

[myosotisa]

‖ tags: smut, monsterfucking, size kink, unprotected p in v or p in a (p in hole, if you will), praise kink, knotting, creampie, multiple orgasms, gender neutral reader referred to as 'baby' and 'honey', overstim if you squint

‖ word count: 880

“Honey, I'm – fffuck, I'm gonna –”

You grip his biceps tighter, cross your ankles, dig your heels into his lower back to keep him as close as possible. Shaking like a leaf, panting like an animal from your 2nd orgasm on his thick cock, you don't hesitate to beg. “Please, I want it. Want your cum, w-want your knot, please!”

He moans; a two toned sound of his voice pitching up in pleasure and the rumble of the growl on his chest. You can tell the moment he gives in to the release by the way his head starts to nod in agreement and the grip of his fingers presses in.

“Gonna give you what you want, baby, always gonna give you what you want,” he murmurs, almost mindlessly as the snapping of his hips into yours stutters and loses form. A few more moans and whines fall from his throat as his eyes squeeze shut – his cock kicking up inside you once, twice, and then you feel it.

The moment his nails dig into your skin, he swaps from thrusting in and out of your wet heat to a dirty roll of his hips against yours. The heavy knot at the base of his cock prods and presses against your entrance, the angle of his hips shifting and searching to try and get it inside you as his long groan turns to a whine.

Sometimes he's not able to knot you successfully, your body just not made to take the intrusion – but you want it so, so bad. Want him to plug you up with his cock and cum more than anything.

Maybe it's your determination, or maybe it's dumb luck, but his knot notches at a point that seems to make his animal instincts hone in. He rolls his hips into yours at the same angle again and again and again before it smoothly slips inside you.

You let out a hiss of pleasured pain at the sudden stretch at the same time of his sigh of relief, his expression switching from focused to blissed out as the last spurts of his warm come stay successfully locked inside.

After a single moment to recover, he's lowering himself on his forearms, draping his body over yours. “Did so good for me, honey, so perfect.” He breathes out hot air across the sweat rapidly starting to cool on your skin, making goosebumps appear that he presses open mouth kisses to.

“Thank you,” you sigh, happily dazed and comforted with the feeling of his skin against yours while you wind your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. He shudders when you scratch your nails against the sensitive skin there, a shaky sigh leaving his own throat as he tilts down to nudge his nose against your throat.

“Careful,” he says with a breathless laugh, “keep doing shit like that and the knot will never go down.”

And maybe you're still cockdrunk, still lost in your desire when you purposely do it again, timing his shudder with a clench of your inner muscles around him. He makes a sound between a gasp and a whine, instinctively rolling his hips and shifting the knot swollen inside you.

“H–honey…” He warns pitifully, shifting his head back up to look you in the eye. When he sees the glazed over, smirking expression on your face, you feel his cock kick up again in interest.

“Maybe I don't want it to go down,” your voice is pitched low as you roll your hips up into his again, making both of you gasp as his cock shifts slightly and hits a different spot. “Maybe I want you to fuck me on your knot until you come again, over and over–” Your own filthy imagination makes you clench around him again with a gasp, your nails digging in to the nape of his neck.

He leans back, dragging you with him as he tucks his hairy thighs under yours and sits back on his heels with you still locked tightly in his lap. His hips mindlessly roll, his eyes locked on where you're connected as he watches the knot keep him from leaving your warm, wet hole while he rocks into you over and over.

You whimper, hands gripping his forearms now as you watch him watching you, your mouth hung open to take in air. You're so, so full – like you can feel it in your lungs.

His glance moves up to your face, his cock throbbing once more at the pleasure and want he sees there. “You’re,” he pauses to let out a shaky laugh, in disbelief and adoration. “Baby, you're insatiable.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, triggering him to pull your hips back against his harder, both of you moaning around the small shifts of his knot inside you. “Wanna stay here forever…”

“Fffuck,” he stutters, head tipping back as his face contorts into something that looks like agony. “It's really– We’re really going to be stuck here if you keep talking like that.”

He still doesn't seem to grasp how serious you are, how much you crave him. You purposely tighten around him, a pretty moan tumbling out of his swollen, pink lips before his wide eyes snap to you.

“Good.”

-

-

-

[yournowheregirl]

for this months @steddiemicrofic

prompt: suck | wc: 480 | rating T | cw: lake creature eddie, suggestive language, tentacles

“Is that a hickey?”

Robin’s voice is loud, way louder than it should be and Steve thanks the heavens that Family Video is deserted today. He tries to ignore her screeching, but then Robin sides up to him and pokes at his neck.

“Didn’t you hear me? I asked you—.” Robin says as her eyes zero in on Steve’s neck. “Correction, are those hickeys? As in multiple?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, right.” Robin scoffs. She grabs Steve’s face and angles it away from her, exposing more of his skin. Steve yelps in protest, and from the corner of his eye, Steve can see Robin’s face falling. “Shit… Steve. These aren’t just normal hickeys. What the fuck have you been up to?”

“It’s nothing, Robin.” Steve grumbles, yanking his face from her grip. “Probably some allergic reaction from that new moisturizer I bought last week.”

“You need to see a doctor.” Robin huffs. “This kind of reaction isn’t normal, Steve!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Robin decides to drop it after that, but Steve can still feel her eyes on him throughout the rest of their shift.

After closing off, Steve gets into his car and starts driving, far past Hawkins’ suburbs until he reaches the edge of the forest. He parks his car there and resumes his way on foot, familiar with the forest even in the dark. After only a few minutes, the forest clears and Steve is greeted by a lake, the night dead silent.

But Steve knows this lake is anything but quiet.

After taking off his clothes and shoes, Steve walks up to the pier. He sits down on the edge, inhales deeply to whistle a familiar tune, and waits.

Something splashes in the water then and Steve bites back a grin as the something swims closer and closer.

“Love?”

“Hi Eddie.” Steve says as Eddie’s head pops above the surface, his webbed ears peaking through his wet hair.

“Steve! Surprise!” Eddie smiles brightly then, flashing his sharp teeth.

“Yes, I know I said I wasn’t coming tonight. But I needed to talk to you about something.” Steve sighs. “We gotta be more careful.”

“Careful. Danger? Where?” Eddie all but growls, his eyes growing impossibly darker as he scans the surroundings.

“No, no, it’s alright. No danger. We’re safe.” Steve says. He reaches out and cups Eddie’s cheek gently. Eddie feels cold, he always does, but never uncomfortable. “You just gotta be more careful with your tentacles, love.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side.

“Last night? When you uh— around my neck?” Steve’s face flushes with the memories of last night, of having Eddie all around him, in him…

Eddie nods with a knowing grin on his face.

“Yeah, your suckers left marks.” Steve chuckles.

“Suck less?” Eddie offers.

“That would be a start.”

Eddie swims closer and Steve feels two tentacles circling his calves.

“Try again?”