#western steddie

[italiansteebie]

something you'd never expect about steve harrington is that he loves halloween.

i mean, he really gets into it.

he dresses up, decorates the house, hands out candy and even goes trick or treating with the kids as an excuse. "i'm keeping an eye on you guys!"

"you didn't have to dress up though,"

"yes i did, dustin. you don't know everything."

even after the upside down bullshit, he still loves it, and maybe he kept his scoops uniform with blood and barf stains so he could use it as a costume. and maybe that was kind of fucked, but he's coping with it.

now, steve's love for halloween is one of robins favorite things about him. especially since his house is equipped for an exceptional party, what with the size and the decorations steve is going to put up anyways? it's perfect.

so the halloween after scoops, they throw a masquerade of sorts. it's quite a rager, despite steve's expectations.

he decided to go as a masked cowboy.

he got the boots, the hat, and he wore a leather vest that ended up giving him a chill for the night since other than some chaps, it was all he was wearing on his body. he did the whole nine yards with a red bandana and some sunglasses.

"hey cowboy."

steve turned, taking in the sight in-front of him.

a guy, with long curly hair, somehow making a jason voorhees costume work.

he tipped his hat, always committed to the bit, "jason." he said simply, thanking the bandana gods for hiding his blush.

"never woulda thought king steve would throw a party like this."

"why not?"

"i dunno. it's cool though, guy seems to have changed."

"for the better?"

jason tilted his head, "yeah man. for the better." he said it as though the decision had been made, and locked in place.

so they sat.

and talked.

all night.

and the rest of the party seemed to fade away. that is until a drunk robin, dressed as micheal myers laid across his lap, "kick everyone out, im tired."

he checked his watch, it was 4 am, probably about time for them to go home. so he stood, gearing up to say his farewell to jason, maybe ask him for his number, but when he turned again, he was gone. only the smell of weed and cheap cologne remained. (and later, he'd find, a lone 36 sided die, that he'd end up asking dustin about).

it's silly to think that steve was falling in love with this guy after only just meeting him, but he'd grappled with his sexuality on a bathroom floor, appropriately, and was ready to dive back into the dating pool. or maybe the puddle, because halloween jason, seemed to be the one.

the only thing is, steve has no idea who the guy is.

that is at least until, none other than eddie munson had a broke bottle pressed against his neck. now he didn't figure it out in that moment, but when they were fleeing for their lives, eddie's hand found a way into steve's, and back at eddie's trailer, steve caught a glimpse of none other than the jason voorhees mask he'd been searching for ever since that party.

and maybe it was a sappy declaration of love, but steve was nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

"don't be heroes."

it was pleading.

steve tossed the dice eddie's way, watching fondly as he struggled to catch it.

"steve- wh?" he could see the moment it clicked in eddie's eyes. steve turned, ready to finish this mess, so he could talk to eddie, to jason, and figure out some shit.

"hey, steve?"

he turned, meeting eddie's eyes.

"make him pay, cowboy."

--

it was done.

they did it.

a few were in the hospital but, hey. they did it. eddie had been in a rough way for a little while, eventually pulling through but not before some physical therapy.

steve was there when he woke up.

had been ever since he'd explained to eddie's uncle wayne how they knew each other and what eddie meant to steve.

eddie cracked open his eyes.

"howdy, cowboy." it came out scratched, and rough.

"eddie," steve breathed, grasping his hand.

"i knew i liked those chaps."

steve rolled his eyes, smiling while tears rolled down his cheeks. "you saved my life." eddie said, reaching a hand to steve's cheek. steve shook his head, "how can i ever repay you?" eddie said, a glint in his eye.

steve laughed, "no thanks necessary," he said, tipping his imaginary hat, leaning into eddie's touch. "there must be someway," he said, southern drawl creeping into his voice. "how about a kiss?" steve asked, eyes flickering down to the metal heads lips.

wayne shook his head at the boys' antics. "will y'all just kiss already? im getting old waitin' for ya!"

eddie laughed at his uncle's testimony, before nodding, "c'mere, cowboy," he said, before closing the gap between him and steve.

"was it rootin' n tootin'?" eddie asked, a cheesy grin on his face as he pulled away. "sure was, partner."

"oh my god."

"hey robs,"

"steve, shut up. eddie's jason! jason from-" robin stumbled into the room. "from the party!" she all but squealed. steve laughed, nodding, "yeah, babe. we figured that one out ourselves."

[arelliann]

My second piece for @blipblot’s Western AU fic ‘A Lick and a Promise’ Which has now finished posting!!! You can read it on a03 here

Blip has been so incredible to work with for the @steddiebang2024 and has done such an amazing job writing, you should 100% check it out, it’s got enemies to lovers sexual tension galore! <3

[xgumiho]

Careful now, best not to linger in this town for the air's thick with ghostly whispers and the undead are close behind ⛓💀🗡 ⚰️

©xgumiho | do not repost/steal/edit/crop/sell

Also, imagine 'Preacher' title theme playing in the background.

[arimakes]

Another one of my pieces for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

I was so fortunate to collaborate with @waldosakimbo and @cranberrymoons for this one!

Each has done such an amazing job of weaving unique and thrilling stories from the artwork, and I'm so excited for you all to read both of them!

[steddieunderdogfics]

For the theme Fics you've reread: Three days on the red planet, by CaptainHoney. Took away my breath the first time i read it, and again when i reread it!

Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney

@grandmastattoo

Rating: Explicit

10,872 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tags: Space Western AU, Sci Fi AU, Western AU, what if stranger things but on mars, literally a bog standard steddie fic but they're on mars, eddie has a mechanical arm, the upside down monsters are all aliens, enemies to lvoers speedrun, eddie thinks it's enemies to lovers but it's actually dumbass4dumbass, non-detailed mentions of medical procedures, injury description, references to blood and gore, this is all reasonably gentle but there's Past Trauma, tommy H the experimental town bicycle that you are, brief mentions of past underage sex, Open Ending, sci fi in the classic tradition in that I made a bunch of stuff up, written with the wikipedia page for Mars open and unperused, completely innaccurate space science, anti-capitalist and anti-colonial themes because fuck the man, implied childhood neglect, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Virgin Eddie Munson, Intercrurual Sex, lots of spit and crass talk, 60s pop culture references because Mars is behind the times, wayne is supportive but very annoying about it, Southern Eddie Munson, they have mcdonalds on mars for some reason but it sucks very much, borderline orgasmic fig eating experience, cyborg eddie kinda, a lot of lotion used as lube but at least their dick skins will be soft, Unprotected Sex, the inherent tragedy of being the only gay man on mars

Summary:

"A hiss as the speeder’s roof lifts and oh, Eddie knows this asshole. Rich boy, pretty as sin, heir to his daddy’s Earth imports business. Papa Harrington has the kind of monopoly there ought to be sanctions against, has his fist around the throats of most of New Indiana. And now here’s the prodigal son, slumming it in the dust of the Munson front yard. A man might get ideas with a thing like that, the kind involving ransoms and the wrong end of a raygun."

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of our Birthday Celebration Challenge Week! The challenge for today was FICS YOU'VE REREAD.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[kennahjune]

I naturally always think of Eddie with a slight country/western accent. Idk why but I do and that’s like— my permanent thought of him.

I’ve never given Steve or anyone else an accent. But it just seems right to give him (and Gareth/Wayne) western accents. It’s so funny to me for no reason.

And I love using it in fics and oneshots for steddie plot because Eddie being really tired and clingy in the morning and his morning voice being all deep and raspy with a touch of a western accent can be so personal to me.

And like he’s always complaining about how Steve gets up too early, or how Steve should just stay in bed a little longer, and Steve nearly always complies because that fuckiNG ACCENT OMGFBFOSMOSMS

It’s just something I want to play around with lol

[mission2mordor]

Where the Wild Mustangs Roam

Western AU

Outlaw!Eddie Munson x Haunted Barkeep!Steve Harrington

Word count: 11.7K

Playlist

Summary:

Eddie Munson, Outlaw, rides into Hawkins one day on a mission, with a plan in mind. . .

. . . Everything goes out the window when he stumbles into a mystery he struggles to solve.

Read the teaser below!

Everyone this side of the west has heard about the wild mustangs that roam the fields and run free where the mountains meet the moon in the early hours of the night, but not many have ever caught wind of one, let alone tame one.

Those who have are often loners. Tumbleweeds with no path or seed to weigh them down. Empty as a husk but filled with just as much emotion as their wounds are with dirt.

Eddie’s always believed the west was meant to be his home. Some people grow up and move off to bigger towns up north or out east. Not him. Not ever. That doesn’t mean he lived by the book and the word, though. He follows his own rules. The only person he ever had any inkling of obeying was lost a few years back. He lives for him now, the legend that Wayne Munson was (and still is) to him.

See, the lifestyle Eddie lives isn’t exactly one that can be learned without a little…extended guidance, so to speak. Thank you, Uncle Wayne, for all that he knows. Truly. No seriously, Eddie is incredibly grateful to Wayne for teaching him how to live without fear, and how to be sneaky. For making him learn to be tougher than the railroad nails and quicker than the wind itself. For teaching him how to get by. For loving him. He’ll cry if he dwells on it any longer.

Eddie sits atop a log at his campsite, watching the fire blow and fiddling with his harmonica as he listens to the coyotes cry to the moon and yip at all the creatures who have yet to turn in for the night. Watches as the orange flames lick at the top of his roasting spit (read: stick wrapped in wet cloth) as the night drags. Listens to the foxes laugh and the vultures circle in the distance. There’s a buffalo herd not seven hundred and some feet from him. He thinks about them, how they travel with everything they’ll ever need and yet they carry nothing but the shaggy mess of hair on their backs. To the right of the fire, a pot of canned food sits, cooling quicker by the second, even in the muggy desert night air. The tent behind him has long since been abandoned for the night, and he debated taking it down before morning and riding out. Leaves it because he knows he’ll crash at some point. There’s a bottle of jack at his feet, a canteen to his left, and a loaded Apache revolver on his hip. His horse grazes at the stray grass next to him, silently leaving Eddie to his own devices.

The midnight hours are approaching, blanketing the red dirt with a sinfully empty dark blue aside from the stars, and the mountains in the distance meet the horizon in a kiss of melded oranges and blacks, just from what Eddie can see with his piss-poor little fire. His hat hangs over his eyes, legs crossed in front of the fire, boots barely avoiding the lick of the bright orange flames. His flannel unbuttoned and buckle undone to wind down for the night. A desert coyote cries as Eddie looks up at the stars, and he swigs some of his jack, chasing it with water and standing to retreat to his tent.

To their knowledge, Edward and Wayne Munson are the only men this side of the west to ever successfully catch and tame two Mustang stallions.

To his knowledge, Edward Munson is the only person who knows where Wayne hid the missing money from some sundowner out a ways on the tracks.

And to his knowledge, he’s the last man standing in a long line of untouchable legends among the west.

[apomaro-mellow]

Dimension Hopping Part 5

If I had a nickel for every time I wrote Eddie kidnapping Steve and his parents didn't care, I'd have two nickels.

Eddie adjusted his long brown coat as he looked up to the sky. He could see the trails above of the rails like they were a cage. People touted the Transplanetary Railway like a sign of progress. And it certainly was for the fat cats able to line their pockets with stock money.

"All aboard! All passengers bound for Portales Station, the Sonoran Rings, and Mars via Flagstaff!"

Eddie boarded the train, tipping his hat down to keep a low profile in the car with the other working class passengers until the conductor got the vessel going. He gripped the arm of his seat as he felt the initial lurch of launch but soon stars were passing by with the smoothness of Mercurian butter.

He checked his watch. It was just about the time for his crew to be ready. Eddie got up and moved to one of the fancier cars. He definitely looked out of place to anyone who looked. Thankfully, rich people tended not to notice his kind until they needed something. Eddie looked for a certain face. One he had memorized while planning this heist. It was different from all the others. He and his gang were used to sneaking aboard, asking for all their jewels and coins and then going ghost.

This time it was more personal.

He didn't see who he was looking for at first, but just as he was going to move to the next car, in he came, drink in his hand, with a leisured look on his face. Perfect.

Eddie took his bandana out of his pocket and tied it to his face. Then came right up to the young man, not giving him time to react as he got behind, put an arm around his waist and held a gun to the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention please?" He knocked a man's wrist with his gun wielding hand, knocking a glass to the floor to get the car quiet. "No, your eyes are not deceiving you. It is I, Back Alley Al Munson. Now I'm gonna make off with your lil prince here and I'd like y'all to let us go quietly. All I want is to hold court with his daddy. So someone make sure the Harringtons get a telegraph asap."

Eddie grinned beneath his face covering when he felt the man in his arms try to struggle. He put a firm hand on his lower belly. The prissy upper crust weren't much in a physical fight but still, he didn't want to bruise that pretty face.

"Settle down, sweetheart. We'll get you back to your manor soon. Just follow my lead."

Eddie nudged him forward with his hips, forcing him to start walking. His target, none other than Steve "the heir" Harrington, looked to all the other passengers in disbelief.

"Is no one going to stop him!? For god's sakes, someone help me!"

Eddie chuckled and took him to the emergency exit door. "Allow me to provide assistance." He jammed his fist on the button, opening up the car to the vacuum of space. Everyone's emergency seatbelts activated as they screamed bloody murder. Steve screamed too when he was suddenly sucked out into space. Eddie went easily right after him, grabbing for Steve as they floated. Eddie counted the seconds.

1...

2...

3-

He let out an exhale as something warm washed over them, pulling them in a new direction. The weightlessness of space was replaced by a solid feeling under them. Steve pushed him off and Eddie let him. He took off his bandana and beamed.

"Told you it would work!"

"Eddie you son of a bitch!"

Steve watched as a trio of men came to them and hugged his kidnapper deep.

"Eddie? I thought you were Al Munson? Isn't he the leader of the Corroded Coffin gang?"

Eddie smirked. "My old man's name is good for something. Helps people take you more seriously if they think you're the scourge of the West Quadrant and not just his scrappy son. Jeffy my man, you did awesome with that tractor beam hat trick."

"Just don't make me do it again", Jeff wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Next time, let's splurge for the helmets."

"What do you all want from me?", Steve said as he stood and took in his surroundings. It looked like he was in the cargo hold of a shipping vessel. A very, very small one. There were crates everywhere, both open and sealed shut.

"Nothing you can give us", Eddie said. "But your pa is kickin' up dirt where he shouldn't. There's way too much land in the Harrington name and now he wants our town."

"Your town?"

"A little place on Earth. Maybe you know it? You stuffed shirts hightailed it out of there the moment you terraformed Mars though." And other places after that. Earth was considered the backwater town of their solar system. Hand been for decades.

"Why would my family be interested in Earth?", Steve asked.

"Hell if we know. We just want him to step off", one of Eddie's members, with a mop of curly hair said.

"You're wasting your time", Steve protested as they started to haul him off somewhere. He got to see more of the ship. It looked like it had been around for a long time. He was taken to a room and thrown inside. Steve had never been in a place with four walls this close together. All the room really had was what looked like an operating table coming out of the wall. Steve felt the thing cushion and realized it was probably supposed to be a bed. He let out a sigh and sat on it.

He had to think of a way out of here.

----------------------

"What do you think he meant by that?", Jeff asked.

The gang was sitting in the bridge. Eddie had taken his coat off and was simply in a shirt and dusty jeans. He was twirling his hat around. "Gareth, Grant? Care to weigh in on Jeff's question?"

The other two were playing cards. "I think he meant by Harrington saying we're wasting our time", Grant said.

Eddie thought about it. Steve "the heir" Harrington. Known as such because his father, Silas Harrington, had significant ownership holdings on several planets, their moons, and even the space stations surrounding them. He had also started diversifying and investing stock in the railways. All that meant was that when he was gone, Steve stood to inherit the universe. The wealth of the Harringtons rivaled that of the last remaining monarchies. Taking their precious son had to put a fire in their belly.

But Steve saying it was a waste of time rubbed him the wrong way. He got up and went to the mess to whip up something for them all to eat. He opened up a sealed pack of jerky, tossed some frozen biscuits to the reactor and boiled up some mashed potato powder. He plated it up and served his hard working crew, then thought about Steve. He was drinking when Steve had taken him, so he'd probably eaten already. And going a day or two without food wouldn't kill him.

Against his will, Eddie thought about the days he'd been hungry. When his dad went off on a score, leaving him alone with the barest of essentials. With a huff, he carried a plate to Steve.

"Hope you're decent", Eddie said. He used a free hand to open the door, prepared with a knife in his back pocket in case his captive got brave.

To his surprise, Steve was lounging on the cot. Eddie felt a bit too close to a servant delivering a meal to a passenger, not a hostage. He tried to ignore the curve of Steve's hip.

"Food, for his majesty", Eddie said, putting on an exaggerated voice.

Steve scrunched up his nose as he looked at it and Eddie felt a little satisfaction and giving this spoiled man a bit of ruffage he wasn't used to.

"It probably doesn't compare to the feasts you have in your ivory tower, princess." He held it out to Steve, who sat up to take it in his lap.

"Not a princess. And no, we don't really eat this where I come from." He picked up the jerky. "Is this food or building material?"

"Both. It builds character", Eddie grinned. "Where are you from anyway?"

"Venus", Steve answered before taking a bite of the jerky, struggling with it a bit.

Eddie whistled. Venus, known for its floating cities and beautiful people. Figures Steve would be from there. "I bet you've never even touched real earth." If Eddie's mother, rest her soul, was to be believed, then her sweet baby Theodore had been born right in the wheat fields. As close to the earth as you could get.

He and Steve couldn't be any more different. He put his hands on his hips, watching Steve chew on the jerky for a moment more before going towards the door.

"Well, you'll get plenty of chances to get well acquainted with all of mankind's roots. We should be home in a few hours."

Part 7

Tag Team

@goodolefashionedloverboi @xjessicafaithx @newtstabber @am-i-obssed-probably

[medusapelagia]

25 Au-gust: Joker (Western)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: mention of violence, mention of raping, use of the world Indians to define Native Americans WC: 2665

Eddie sighs, he knew that, as a first job, they would have sent him to some shit place, but god, Hawkins didn’t even seem like a town!

There was a big saloon, a prison, an emporium, and a few houses.

“They are building the railway.” The coach’s man tells him, while helping him with his bag “Stay away from trouble and you’ll be ok.”

Eddie snorts, that’s the very same thing that Wayne told him when he accepted the job.

“Thanks for the advice, man.” he replies, getting his things and walking into what seems like a hotel but it could also be a brothel.

“What do you want?” An angry woman asks him “I need a place to stay, I’m the new teacher.”

The woman laughs loudly “That’s what they sent us? A teacher? We need a fucking sheriff!”

Eddie shrugs “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about sheriffs, I’m here to teach your sons how to read and write.”

“And you really think we need that? Our sons need to learn how to plow the land or how to take the herd to pasture. The majority of them are working in the mines! We don’t give a fuck about reading!”

Eddie keeps smiling, it’s not the first time that he has had this kind of conversation. These are people who came here, in the middle of nowhere, hoping to find some fortune and find themselves stuck between rocks and Indians.

“Fine. However, I still need a place to sleep. Is this a hotel?” he asks.

The woman studies him for a long time and then he nods.

“Seven dollars a week and you have to pay in advance.”

Shit. He hasn't even started the job and he is already going to spend most of it.

“Is lunch included?”

“Breakfast. And any advanced food from lunch.”

Fuck.

Ok. Ok. It’s not a big problem, as soon as he starts to teach his students will bring him something from their houses. Or at least that’s what Wayne taught him to do when he was young and he really hopes that his new students will do the same because, if not he will die of hunger in this fucking shit hole.

He nods and the woman shows him a little room with a bed, a table, and nothing more.

He sighs, he already misses his home, but he loves to teach and in his hometown,there was no place for him. Maybe his next job will be in a better town.

“Can you show me the school?”

The woman turns toward him and starts to laugh.

***

The school is actually an abandoned barn that still smells like horseshit.

“Are you the new teacher?” a handsome man asks while Eddie is trying to understand if somewhere there are some desks and chairs or if his students will have to sit on the ground.

“No, I’m the new sheriff!” he replies sarcastically.

“For real? I thought… oh… you are joking.” 

Eddie turns toward him, the man seems so sad that all he can do is offer his hand to him “Eddie Munson, teacher, and musician.”

“Steve Harrington, farmer and nothing else.”

“Please tell me, Mr. Harrington, what were you doing in my school?”

“Actually… I wanted to see if it was true that the new teacher has arrived.” he says smiling so sweetly that Eddie feels something warm filling him inside.

“And why is that?”

“My kid, Dust. He is really clever and he deserves an education. You know, I never got one.” he lowers his eyes, playing with the dirt with his boots “My father always said that I was too stupid and he was right. But Dustin is so fucking brilliant! He could do so many great things if given the opportunity! But we only got a teacher for less than a year.” he sighs “Not so many kids here, you know? It is a hard place to live in. But me and Dust, well, we like it here. It’s hard but peaceful. And at sunset, when we sit on the porch smoking, well, I smoke, Dustin just plays pretend but… It’s nice.”

Eddie nods “Seems like that. So I’m going to see your son tomorrow for my first lesson.”

Steve nods, and then he points toward the church “I think you should ask Father Jim if he would let you use the church for your lesson. Much better than this place.”

***

“No, no, no. I will not let the kids play in the house of god!” Father Jim replies, looking deeply offended.

“But the kids need some guidance, spiritual and material! We could join our forces and help them!”

The man shakes his head “You are a nice boy, Eddie, but you know nothing about the people that live here. They don’t care about the tuition of their children, they go to church only because they are scared that if they will not something bad will happen to them. I thought you heard what happened to the Harringtons.”

“Harringtons?” Like Steve Harrington, the cute boy he saw a few hours before?

The priest nods.

“Richard Harrington and his wife, Catherine, were killed in their house. Their son, Steve, escaped death miraculously and came back a few years ago with a child.”

“What happened?"

Father Jim sighs "Nobody knows exactly what happened. Rumors said that Neil Hargrove fell in love with Catherine and tried to kidnap her. Maybe her husband fought back, or maybe Hargrove was looking for blood. In any case, they were both murdered and no one took their farm until their son came back. They live on that farm." the man says, pointing to a big farm far from the town "It used to be the biggest farm we had, but now they have just a couple of cows and some horses."

***

On Monday Eddie starts his first lesson in the barn, and no one is attending.

He has seen some of the boys go to the mine with their fathers and he has tried to convince them to let them go to school, but the fathers refused.

He is sitting, drawing some stupid doddles with a stick, when a curly boy enters the barn.

"I'm sorry for being late! My father needed help with the cows. Well, he said that he did not but he did, so I stayed, and then he had to ride with me to get me here, but everyone hates us so we had to take the long way and... Are you alone?"

Eddie looks at the boy who suddenly stops to talk "Are you Dustin?"

He nods.

"I met your father yesterday."

The boy smiles "I know! I was so excited when I heard that a new teacher was coming, but Steve is really protective of me, so he wanted to make sure that I was in good hands. And I thought he was expecting a lady teacher because he wore his best hat, to hide the scar you know? And then he said that I could come and... oh! He told me to give you this!"

This, Eddie finds out, is an apple a little crushed on the side but that smells delicious.

"You know what? I have a room with a desk and a chair! Why don't we have our lesson there?"

"In your room?"

"It's not the best place in the world but still much better than a barn!"

While he walks toward the hotel with Dustin, he notices how everyone is avoiding them, some of them even cross themselves.

"I can go back home if you don't want to be seen with me."

"Why shouldn't I want that?"

"You know. People talk. And they do not like us. Steve says that they are jealous and envious of my talent, but he loves me too much."

"He told me you are really clever."

"That's because to him anyone who can add two and two is a genius!" he laughs.

Eddie doesn't know what it means exactly, but when he does some little test he easily finds out that Dustin is really clever indeed.

"And you studied with a teacher only for one year, is that correct?"

He nods.

"Miss Nancy was very nice. She gave me many books to read. I read them all but my favorite where about monsters, and knights."

Eddie smiles, he has a couple of those books "Why don't you take this one, and then you tell me what you liked the most?"

The big smile that Dustin gives him it's enough to win him over and he finds himself eager to teach him everything he knows.

***

In a couple of months, he has convinced some of the miners to send their sons to school at least once a week, and Father Jim has finally agreed to give him some space for his lessons while the barn is completely forgotten but Eddie is satisfied, he has a place to teach and he has his students. Especially Dustin, who sits always in the back but is the most brilliant of the class, and when he doesn't see the curly boy for three days in a row he asks for a horse and goes to his farm.

The farm is big and it has a lot of potential, it's obvious that it needs more than one person to deal with the animals, but he can see what a marvelous farm it used to be and how it could return to be.

What he is not expecting is seeing a riffle pointed at him as he gets closer to the farm.

"We don't want any trouble. Go away."

The voice is the same he heard months ago, but the tone is sterner.

"Steve. It's me. Eddie. The new teacher!" he says, removing his hat and letting his dark curls fall on his shoulder.

The man lowers the riffle and looks at him astonished "What are you doing here?"

"Dustin wasn't in class in the last few days and I wanted to know why."

"He is not feeling well." Steve explains to him "But he will come back to school as soon as he gets better.

"Do I have to call the doctor or..."

"No! We are fine! I'm taking care of him! Now you can go back where you came from and thanks for the visit." He replies, not moving from the porch, but Eddie is not going to have any of that.

"I'm not going to leave until I see the boy! You are hiding something and I'll find out what it is!" he replies getting closer.

"Listen, I don't have time...”

"Steve! Steve! They are coming! They are coming!" Dustin screams from inside the farm and Steve turns and runs inside the house, followed by Eddie.

"Hey. Hey. I'm here. No one is coming. Ok? I'm here. You are fine."

The boy is clearly feverish.

"He needs a doctor!" Eddie insists, but Steve shakes his head and takes a strange concoction that is boiling on the fire.

"Can you drink this for me, kid? Just a few sips."

The boy takes a sip, and then he makes a disgusted face.

"I know, I know, it's bitter, but you will feel so much better later, you know that right?" he comforts him, keeping the cup close to his mouth.

The kid nods and takes another couple of sips before falling asleep.

"He needs a doctor Steve." Eddie repeats "If his fever doesn't break soon..."

"It will."

"How do you know that?"

Steve sighs, and then leans on the back of the chair "Do you know why everyone hates us? Dustin and I?"

Eddie shakes his head and Steve continues

"When Neil Hargrove came to our town he killed my parents and left me for dead no one came from the town. No one helped us. They stayed closed in their stupid houses while we were slaughtered.” He closes his eyes for a moment “My father was not the nicest man in the world, but he fought for my mother. Hargrove killed him with a bullet in his head. Then he raped my mother and when he was satisfied, he gave her to his men. But me? He wanted me. More than anything. He raped me and beat me so hard that he broke my skull and thought that I was dead, or dying.

That night the Indians came too." he sighs "Abey told me that she had a dream of a baby deer in peril and when her husband found me she knew I was her baby deer. They nursed me back to health and taught me all I know, but when the railway workers got too close they had to move, and I couldn't go with them because I had a kid who was too white to be an Indian. That's why they hate me. Why they hate us. They consider me a half-Indian, and they know that Dustin is half-Indian too. They would send me away if they could, but the land it's mine and I know things..." he laughs, a dry laugh "You know what the funny thing is? That there is no doctor in this town. If anyone needs medical attention, they come to me. They need me, but they still hate me because I treat them with herbs and the Indians' method." he passes a hand into his hair and Eddie sees the horrible scar on the side of his head. He sighs "That's why I know that Dustin's fever will break." He concludes, getting up and going to the kitchen.

Eddie follows him, like a moth to a flame.

“I will understand if you do not want to teach Dustin, now that you know.” He clears his voice “I’ll tell him that I need him on the farm and he can’t go back to school. He will be made for a while, but it will be ok.”

“Why should you do that? Dustin is a brilliant student, I love to teach him and I don’t care if he is half-Indian or what. He is a good guy. Caring and loving and I’m lucky to have him in my class.”

"He is." Steve agrees, stirring some soup “Would you stay for dinner?”

Eddie nods, getting closer to help him with the plates, and he notices that all the spices have no name but little symbols.

“I could teach you, you know?”

“Uh?”

“To read. And to write. If you want to?”

Steve chuckles “I’m too stupid. Dustin tried to teach me once but it didn’t end well.”

“Because Dustin is very intelligent but he is no teacher. He is a resourceful and clever boy, but he gets too restless. He probably wanted you to learn everything in a day and then got frustrated. But I can teach you. And don’t tell me again that you are stupid because you just told me that you learned how to treat illness with herbs.”

“I… I would like to learn how to write my name. To sign papers you know.” He admits, lowering his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second, he takes a scrap of paper and charcoal and writes down in big letters STEVE, and then turns the paper toward the other boy “Try to copy that.”

They eat the soup in silence, while Steve keeps writing his name on the piece of paper and the letters become less shaky and more firm. They stop a couple of times when Steve gives Dustin his medicine, and when Dustin’s fever finally breaks, Steve is almost able to write his name.

Outside the sun is rising, and Eddie gets back to his horse “Tell Dustin that I’ll wait for him in class.” He says, and then he whispers to Steve’s ear “And I’m always willing to give you some private lessons, big boy.”

He does not turn to see Steve’s expression but he can almost feel the stern half-Indian boy blush.

[medusapelagia]

Oh my god! I wrote a little western ficlet yesterday and this is sooo close to what was I envisioning!

gay cowboys yeehaw

print

[ataliagold]

trouble's always gonna find you baby, but so will i

For Whumptober prompt 10, I used "blow to the head" and "slurred words." Title from Western Nights by Ethel Cain.

Also on AO3.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1546

Tags: post-vecna, established steddie, whump, assault, injured steve, pistol-whipped, hospital, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Summary: Steve's found by some men looking to pass Al Munson's drug debt on to his son.

But he'll die before he gives Eddie up.

___

“You ready to talk?”

The man’s leaning close to Steve’s ear, rancid breath filling his nostrils, his fist caked in blood.

Steve’s blood.

Steve gasps for air, bats at the man’s wrist again, kicks out futilely. He receives a boot to his leg for his efforts, the second man grunting at the force he puts behind it.

His head’s swimming. Distantly, he wonders just how many concussions a person can take before their brain just sort of…leaks out their ears.

Surely he’s almost at the brain leaking stage by now.

Blood dribbles from his mouth, sticks to his teeth.

“Where’s Eddie Munson?” The first man growls.

Steve keeps his mouth shut. He’ll never give up Eddie, certainly not to these lowlifes, these associates of Al Munson looking to pass a drug debt onto the jailed man’s son.

He’ll die first.

When he says nothing, there’s the tell-tale click of a gun being cocked.

Steve really thinks he might actually die tonight.

If no one walks past this back alley, he’s toast.

Cold metal presses against his temple. Lucidity grips him for a moment, and Steve squirms in the grip of the two men, trembling all over.

“No…no, you can’t…I don’t know where he is, I don’t.” It’s a lie. It’s a fucking lie but he can’t.

“I ain’t fucking playing,” the man spits out, pressing the handgun harder against the side of Steve’s head. “You’ve got about five seconds before I decorate these walls with your brain, pretty boy.”

Steve swallows. He tastes rust and salt, coughs as it goes down. Heart hammering, ears ringing, fingers scrabbling at the hand fisted at his collar.

He’s going to die. Here, in the pitch black, in the dankest, dirtiest alleyway in Hawkins, where Jonathan had once beat him to a pulp while his friends looked on.

His tongue darts out over his lips. The barrel of the gun’s against his head still.

He thinks of Eddie.

Of cracked lips and gentle hands, long curls and pale skin that Steve loved to touch.

He’ll die before he gives him up.

In a moment of defiance, he locks eyes with his attacker.

The man curses, raises his hand, and whips the butt of the pistol across Steve’s face.

Steve’s head is slammed to the side at the force, his cheek immediately wet with blood where the skin parts.

“Last chance.” The man spits at the ground beside him, and then the gun’s lowered in front of Steve’s face again.

The world’s a blur in front of him. Steve blinks sluggishly, listens to his pulse pounding in his ears.

Eddie would be home from work by now. He’d be at the cabin by the lake, where he and Steve had been staying after…everything. They’d just wanted some peace in the wake of Vecna, away from the prying eyes of the Hawkins townsfolk, the ones that still blamed Eddie for everything that had happened to the town.

Steve was going to cook dinner for the two of them.

He’d been halfway through when he realized they didn’t have any butter, had driven back into town to buy some. It lay beside him now with the rest of the last-minute groceries he’d grabbed scattered on the filthy concrete. Even when he’d been jumped in the empty parking lot, he’d kept hold of his bag, too shocked to drop it until they’d slammed him up against the wall in the alleyway.

Eddie would be worried, he’d be wondering where Steve was, he’d come looking…

Steve hopes someone else finds him, after. Anyone but Eddie.

“Fuck you,” Steve slurs, with the last of his strength.

The man’s expression hardens.

Steve’s eyes drift close, and he waits for death.

Instead, there’s the wailing of a siren several blocks over.

The other man, the younger one who’d been sending the other nervous looks the whole time, lets go of Steve. He slumps sideways, lacking the strength to stay sitting upright.

“We gotta go,” the younger man urges.

“Nah, he’ll break,” the elder scoffs.

“That’s the fucking police.”

“They’re still a ways off. Probably doing something else.”

“I’m out, man.” The younger one backs away, turns on his heel, and runs.

The older man swears. The siren gets louder, and Steve thinks he can see red and blue lights in the distance, but maybe it’s just his injured brain firing on all cylinders.

“We’ll be back,” he hisses at Steve, kicks him one last time for good measure, and then he’s gone.

Steve sucks in a breath. Winces as everything hurts, his ribs and his stomach and his face all on fire.

He needs to move. Needs to get out to the road where someone might see him, because there’s no way he’s going to make it back to his car.

A whimper escapes from between clenched teeth as he braces against the wall.

He thinks of Eddie.

Shoves himself to his feet, one arm looped against his stomach protectively. His ribs crunch, and he knows there’s broken bone there, cracked under the onslaught of savage kicks the men had delivered to his sides.

It starts to rain.

And that, on top of everything else, has Steve almost breaking out into hysterical laughter. Because of course it’s fucking raining, just when he’d thought his night couldn’t get any worse. Rain mixes with the blood on his face, leaving watery streaks, and Steve slips and staggers his way across the concrete, past the butter turning to a damp mess, past the carton of eggs smashed across the ground.

Several times, he ends up on his knees, everything spinning.

But slowly, every inch of him screaming in agony, he makes it to the road.

There’s a patrol car up ahead, the siren cut now but the lights still flashing on the roof, reflecting off the rain falling.

Steve’s shirt is soaked through as he hobbles towards the car.

“Help,” he tries to call out, but it comes out as a croak, blood spilling out behind it.

He stumbles again, sobs, scrabbles against the concrete with ragged nails and forces himself upright again.

There’s a familiar figure in front of him, hauling some drunk guy to his feet, waving him away from a storefront.

Hopper.

Steve’s crying in relief now.

“Hop,” he rasps.

The chief turns. His eyes go wide, and he runs to Steve, catching him before he can fall again.

“Steve? What the hell happened?”

Steve’s mumbling into Hopper’s chest, he’s trying to tell him, but his tongue’s heavy in his mouth and his words are all merging together.

“In the car, come on,” Hopper’s telling him, guiding him to the passenger seat of the patrol car and easing him in.

Steve leans against the door, shivering, distantly aware of Hopper saying something, but then his eyes are falling closed and he slips into darkness.

*****

He wakes to a steady beep.

There’s a hand on his, warm and familiar.

He’d know it anywhere.

Slowly, he cracks open one eye, then the other.

Eddie’s beside him. He’s pale, bags under his eyes, his bottom lip gnawed to shit, but he perks up now.

“Stevie? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

Steve goes to speak, but no sound escapes his raw throat. Instead, he nods, his head feeling heavy and stuffy.

“Steve, I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s crying.

Steve hates that he’s crying. Hates that he’s the reason for Eddie’s tears.

“Don’t cry,” Steve whispers, his throat rattling. He feels the unmistakable tug of stitches on his cheek when his mouth moves, feels tender skin stretch and flex under bruises.

Eddie only cries harder, scootching his chair closer, forehead finding Steve’s chest and resting there lightly.

“Hopper told me, he said he could barely make out what you said but he heard men, and drugs, and you said my name…Stevie, they wanted me, didn’t they?”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Steve slurs, “promise.”

“Baby, I don’t…I don’t care about that, I’m worried about you!” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, swipes at the tears across his face, before taking Steve’s hand again. “You’ve got two broken ribs, a serious concussion, and two lots of stitches in your head. You…you could’ve died.”

Steve’s feeling…fuzzy. He recognizes the warm, soupy sensation of painkillers pumping steadily through his veins, knows without them he’d probably be feeling a whole lot worse than he is now.

He reaches a hand up, paws at the air a couple of times before it finally settles where he wants it, on the back of Eddie’s head, soothing over his curls.

“S’ok,” he mumbles, “I’m ok. Gonna…gonna make you dinner. When I’m outta here. Promise.”

Eddie splays a hand across Steve’s stomach, tears soaking into the crisp white sheet on the hospital bed.

“No, you’re not,” Eddie tells him softly. “When you’re out of here, I’m going to look after you. Gonna make you your favourite meals, I’ll fucking…spoon feed you, I’m not letting you out of bed until you’re completely healed.”

“Sounds fun,” Steve drawls, halfway to sleep because Eddie’s here, he’s warm and his voice is soothing and he’s safe.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers, “so fucking much.”

“Love you too,” Steve slurs out, and then he’s asleep again, secure in Eddie’s arms.

___

[vecnuthy]

Steddie western au that I might turn into a little multipart something || wc: 846 ||

Steve knew that going to the stream was stupid. The last drop of water had fallen from his canteen to his tongue eight hours ago, though, and the desert sun was ruthless in its gaze.

This land was difficult and unforgiving. It bred people who were cut from cloth as soft as suede but embedded with glass shards, and Steve had been cut so many times. His body and soul bore the scars from his father, his mother, his former fiancée, his former friends that either wanted him to be something he wasn't or tried to force a change onto him. People did what they could to make it, but Steve refused to accept those terms and vehemently stood against those conditions. And they knew it. Knew he was a good guy. Knew they could push him, provoke him, that he'd eventually bite back, wrap his own shard-flecked scarf around their neck and pull if necessary. Steve had lost too many fights, but he'd started winning them, too.

The tracks on the ground weren't terribly fresh, compared to what he and Wendy left in their wake, but something felt off to Steve. Stopping there would mean life, could mean death, but not stopping certainly lead to death.

"We'll be quick, girl," he muttered to his horse as he dismounted, pushing aside the sense of unease in his stomach.

His hands dipped into the babbling brook ahead of Wendy, then he drank. Deeply. Felt the cool water go all the way down his throat and crash into his empty stomach. He made the next handful splash over his face and sighed in relief, breathed in the smell of scrubby grass and dirt.

The cloth around his neck came off, and he dipped it into the water. The wind was warm and dry, but it sent a chill through him as it licked at the sweat-soaked hair against his neck. He tied the rag back on, eyes sweeping the land and seeing nothing but the trees along the water then vast openness beyond.

Steve grabbed a piece of jerky and his canteens. Wendy grazed as he filled them and chewed.

It was quiet. Water gurgled. Wendy's hooves crunched grass. She shook her mane and seemed at ease.

It felt off with no evidence as to why.

They couldn't stay there, he knew that. Shouldn't linger, he knew that. But his bladder was heavy. He took the pistol from his holster, cocked the hammer, saw Wendy's head pick up at the sound. She watched him move toward the evergreens.

Her hooves shuffled.

Steve stopped, the pistol raised at nothing. At anything.

It didn't feel right.

He only moved forward once Wendy's head dropped back down to the grass. He stopped once he reached a tree and listened hard for several moments.

Nothing.

Pistol still ready, he undid his belt buckle and started to undo the front of his pants to relieve himself.

Click

He froze, blood running colder than the creak behind him at the unmistakable mechanical click of a hammer.

Steve turned his head to the side, eye to eye with the cold black barrel of another's pistol. His heart rabbited in his chest, breath coming fast. He only saw the person's hand at first because the rest was still hidden behind the tree. Steve dedicated a split second to noticing the black letters on their fingers before his instincts kicked into overdrive, and Steve knocked the gun away. A resulting shot rang out, but Steve held on to the guy's wrist, snapped his own pistol in front of him, and darted around the tree, only to be met with an apparent second gun and two big brown eyes pointed directly at him.

"Don't," the other man bit out. The lower part of his face was covered by a black bandanna, but his eyes were hard, determined.

"Why not?"

Steve couldn't help but cringe at his less than ideal position. His gun in his left hand touched the guy's chest. His assailant's right arm pressed his own gun against Steve's cheek. Steve dug his thumbnail into the guy's left wrist, which probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it gave Steve a sense of satisfaction in how he winced in pain.

"I'm not the one who pulled the gun. All I wanted was water and to take a le--"

"What allegiance do you have to the Harringtons?"

Steve's face twisted in confusion and annoyance. Why would this guy be asking about his parents?

"The mark on your horse," he clarified gruffly.

Steve clenched his jaw. Wendy's flank still had the family's symbol painted on her.

"None at all. She was the only thing worth taking."

The man studied him, searching his face for something, then his eyes grew bigger. "You're the son," he said himself, clarity painting his voice.

Steve continued to stare the other man down, saw how his sharp eyes crinkled -- he was smiling. Heard it in his voice when he asked low and dangerous, enticing, "Want some revenge?"

Revenge.

Yes. Steve wanted revenge.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 88

Part 1 Part 87

There’s something here with him. In the dark. In the cold. It sends him reeling back. Nothing else has ever been here. It has always just been dark.

But now, there’s something else. Someone else. She’s small with chubby cheeks, hair a curly puffball atop her head. Her eyes are wide as she looks down at him, solemn and sad.

“Steve?” she asks, and it’s the voice that does it.

It rings through his ears like a worm, wiggling into his brain, carving out the shape of the girl and her big, sad eyes.

“I know you.”

The girl nods. She takes a step closer, settling down crisscross, close enough that her knees knock into his. They’re sharp and bony and warm.

“I found you,” she says, quietly. “Before.”

Steve stares at her, tries to remember a time when she’d come, when she’d found him. It’s always been empty here. And yet, he knows her.

“Your friends, they are coming.” The words echo strangely, like she’s saying them one overtop another with two identical sets of vocal cords. It rings through him, until he’s somewhere else.

He’s in a small place, sleeves and coats hanging down around him, as he hides from the thing trying to kill him. He’s always hiding, and something’s always trying to kill him.

The girl’s looking down at him with those same sad eyes, hair shorn to her head, telling him to hold on, that his friends are coming. His friends are coming? His friends –

“Eddie and Will?” Steve asks, breathless.

She nods, curls bobbing. He’s still in the closet.

His life is filled with closets and the subsequent need to crawl out of them.

He wonders if he’ll be able to get out of this one.

Even as he looks the girl in her eyes, he can feel himself slipping into the shadows. He reaches out to her. She reaches back, letting him clasp her hand. It’s warm and soft and real.

“You’re real?”

She nods, not blinking at all as she stares into his eyes. “I am Eleven.” When Steve continues to look confused, the ghost of a smile paints itself across her face. “Eddie calls me Supergirl.”

She draws out each syllable, like the words don’t make sense to her, but she likes them anyway. Steve likes them, too. All of Eddie’s snide little comments about some girl with superpowers stack atop of each other until they form the image of the girl in front of him. Eleven.

“Hi, Supergirl.” He’s choking with fondness, for Eddie, for this girl, for the life he wants to get back to. The words are garbled, but Eleven smiles anyway.

“Hi,” she says, smiling for a second more before her mouth smooths out and she looks serious again. “How do we help you?”

She squeezes his hand, warm and soft, repeating it like a pulse. He can feel it traveling through his bloodstream, heating him up.

He doesn’t think about what he’s going to say, he just says it. “He likes the cold.” Eleven’s frowning, perplexed. “I don’t.” He looks away from her confused face, down to her warm hand. “You’re warm.”

Eleven lets the silence linger for a moment, creeping into the cracks in Steve’s words to pick them apart. “Make you warm?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just squeezes her hand, reaching out to cup her hand between both of his own, and maybe that’s answer enough.

“Will that stop him?” she asks, over-enunciating the word “him” like it’s not the one she wants but it’s the one she has.

Steve thinks about the bits of himself he picks up when Eleven holds his hand, when Eddie cups his cheeks, and Will snuggles into his side. He wants to follow them home, like Hansel and Gretel and their stupid breadcrumbs.

He wants to pull on the tie that binds, and let it lead him back home, to a warm trailer in the middle of winter, Wayne in his armchair watching a spaghetti western that Eddie takes every chance to scoff at.

He wants to sit at Ms. Byers breakfast table, Jonathan popping pieces of toast out of the toaster and buttering them warm. Wants Barbara’s patient tutelage, and Dustin’s enthusiastic hugs, and even Carol’s impatient huffing.

But even as he thinks it, the names flit out of his brain, and he’s left grasping. Breadcrumb trail scatters by the force of the cold wind, cold leaching from brittle bones.

Will it be enough?

“I don’t know.”

He looks up, meeting Eleven’s eyes, cupping her hands fiercely as his fingers start to phase through his own.

“I will save you,” she says.

Steve smiles, involuntary and warm. “You guys always do, no matter what I say.” He moves his hand from beneath hers, tries to cup her face, hold her there a moment longer, but it sinks right through. “Stay safe, okay?”

She opens her mouth, moves it like she’s saying words he can’t quite hear. Something warm and salty drips down from his eyes as she disappears from this place.

Steve shuffles back, lets himself settle into the comfort of his childhood closet.

Eleven’s gone, but Steve swears he can still feel the warmth of her cheek on the tips of his fingers, Will’s warmth curled into his side, Eddie’s calf overlapping his on the other. He doesn’t turn to look. He’s going to hold onto this moment with both hands and hope the memory of his warmth is enough to keep him here.

He can feel pulling sometimes, from the Right-Side up, like Will and Eddie can’t help themselves. Steve wants to loop the connection around himself, tie him up so tightly that he’ll never be free.

 He’s like a recalcitrant dog, begging to be leashed.

But the collar’s getting too loose, the leash to frayed. Steve bites down into it and holds onto it with all that’s left of him, hoping it’s enough.

Enough to keep the shadows at bay until they come for him, the way they always do.

Steve will wait.

Part 89

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[blue-boulevard]

Begrudgingly Steve had to admit himself that even in the dim-lit room, even when drunk and sweaty, Eddie was handsome. Really handsome. He was rocking a simple, western inspired, black attire; leather pants and leather vest with silver jewellery and smudged eyeliner. A little bit dirty, a lot cocky, the perfect hipster fuckboy. But what gave the look a little bit of shine and luxury, was the celestial headpiece placed over his long curls that hung atop strong shoulders. It was a crystal-encrusted halo, a constellation crown of silver stars. Absolutely breathtaking.

And suddenly, Steve felt underdressed perhaps for the first time ever. Lived-in and lanky. He should’ve brushed his hair before coming here, added a little cologne at least…

“You dig my crown?” Eddie leaned in to ask, a sharp smile on his lips. As though this was amusing to him, seeing Steve on the verge of discomposure.

He gained back his composure at the mere thought. “Does it help you feel superior?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie chuckled but then shook his head, the delicate ornament on his head twinkling light as he did. “Nah, just kidding. I’m no king.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Steve put emphasis on the way he looked around the penthouse, judging it like the palace it was. “I’m pretty sure I walked past a champagne tower.”

“Maybe I did all this to impress the real king,” Eddie’s mouth was pursed as he was struggling to hold back his wolfish grin. “The king of my heart.”

“Eugh, you’re so lame.”

“I could order an immediate execution for talking down on me, you know. And in my own kingdom nonetheless.”

“Please, you couldn’t even take me in armwrestling.”

“Off with his head!” Eddie shouted and flung his arms in the air, accidentally smacking someone’s party hat off as people were pressing closer to the DJ table where Doug had paused the music in order to instruct the countdown. The DJ booth was built in front of a very Instagrammable backdrop that had girls literally lining up to it. These guys knew how to party, that was sure.

“Would you stop?” Steve shushed, but a single, short laugh escaped his mouth. And it was nothing like a scoff, either. He cleared his throat to drown the sound. He wasn’t successful.

This more than delighted Eddie, and he made a show of looking around them as though to see if there were any witnesses to this rare occasion. What a goof. When he turned back to Steve, his smile was softer, dimpled.

“Did I mention I’m glad you’re here?”

“I don’t think you did.”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t exactly give me a chance with all your withering stares-”

“Ugh, you are unbearable!” Steve ducked his head down, hiding his grin and the pink heat on his cheeks.

Eddie kept teasing, “I mean, man, I think Medusa wants her petrifying gaze back.”

“Yeah, well, you can tell her it’s not gonna happen before I’m done with you,” Steve bit his lip and lifted his eyes to meet dark, twinkling ones.

“Done with me?” Eddie whistled, “I like the sound of that.”

“Not like that.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Okay, here we go!” Doug’s voice broke through their private moment, carrying over all the party noise. “Ten! Nine!…”

The room began to count down with him. Except for Steve, who felt struck by all the different, confusing emotions clashing inside his betraying body.

“Five! Four!…”

Eddie was watching him closely, no doubt waiting for some signal, some sort of nod of approval.

“Two! One!…”

more shameless self promo #womeninmalefields

a snippet from Chapter Six of my SKAM inspired platonic stobin + ronance + steddie university AU

read more:

[steddieunderdogfics]

A Lick and a Promise by blipblot

@blipblot

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

36,367 words, 10/10 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Western, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Outlaw! Eddie Munson, Bounty Hunter! Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a horse girl, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Descriptions of head injuries, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Mutual Pining, Platonic Stobin for life, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Steve's terrible cooking, non-sexual nudity

Summary:

“It is my honor on behalf of the town of Hawkins, Colorado to tell you, Edward ‘The Freak’ Munson, that there is a warrant out for your arrest not only for your crimes of cattle rustling but now, more importantly, murder.” “M’rder?” Eddie yells through the cloth, trying in vain to once again buck Steve off, cursing and spitting out muffled threats through his gag. “Yes sir, murder-” Steve dusts his hands off on his chaps before standing and placing a heavy boot square in the middle of Eddie’s back. “-and it’s my duty to bring you back to stand for trial.” A Wild West AU for the Steddie 2024 Big Bang

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @blipblot. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

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[vthx]

WIP Weekend

Make me write!

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP! No limits to the amount of emojis you can request.

👑 Goose Girl Boy Steve (transmasc Steve / Steddie)

🐺 Werewolf Steve (Nancy / Jonathan / Steve)

🎵 Lay of the Ashes (Rising Free) - sequel to "Sing if You're Glad to be Gay" (Steddie)

🧪 003 / escaped lab kid Steve (steddie)

A snippet from the lab kid Steve story:

"It's better this way," Steve says. "Really, Munson, I promise. We don't get along. It's easier on all of us when they're gone."

"You're still a kid. They're still responsible for you," Munson protests.

"I'd rather be responsible for myself. You don't know the situation. Trust me, it's better for all of us that they're gone most of the time."

Eddie's look sharpens. "Do they hurt you?" he demands, and memory fragments of being grabbed by his collar and shaken, being shoved into his room, a cigarette…

"Jesus, no," Steve shouts, desperate to stop the images. "We just argue! It's fine, I swear. It's not like that." 

He realizes he's staring at the old burns on Munson's arm when Munson shoves his hands in his pockets and angles his right side away.

"Okay," he says stiffly.

"Sorry," Steve says, not even entirely sure what he's apologizing for, just feeling wrong footed. It’s been years since he’s spent so much time alone around someone he's not, well, adjusting to keep things in Steve's favor. He loves it as much as he hates it.

"I live with my Uncle Wayne now," Munson offers, and it comes with a hurricane of love and safety and affection, with fragments of hot chocolate out of thrift store mugs, late nights watching Western movies, his uncle trying to teach Munson how to throw a baseball even though neither of them had a speck of hand-eye coordination between them.

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