By Theonly_fin

you must like me for me (yeah, i want you)

pairing: steve harrington/eddie munson

rating: teen

word count: 50.8k (4/13)

summary: This is not how Steve expected to spend his summer. After graduating last year, he’d been working nonstop, saving up money to get out of this shithole town since college is definitely not in the cards for him. He had plans. But no, Robin had to corner him after he watched her walk the stage at graduation, saying she found them the perfect summer job. He was supposed to roadtrip to California in his beat up BMW, not babysit kids for weeks at a time. Steve really needs to learn how to say no to her.

Or, Steve’s roped into working at a summer camp and falls in love over the course of thirteen days—give or take.

READ ON AO3

haven't got a penny, haven't got a dime || rated t || 1.3k words

[read on ao3]

for the one and only, my dearest @judasofsuburbia <33 i simply could not resist writing a little cowboy wild west something for your birthday!! hope you like it!! shoutout to lou @cheatghost for beta reading fic and title inspired by a bank robber's nursery rhyme by goodnight, texas

"I need to make a withdrawal from my father's safety deposit box," Steve says, sliding a crisp sheet of paper across the polished counter to the teller.

The man eyes him over a pair of reading glasses, skimming over the paper, lingering on his dusty boots and jacket. "I'll have to get the bank manager…"

"Please do," Steve waves him off and leans an elbow on the counter.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as the two converse in hushed tones, throwing pointed looks his way. But the only thing they'll find on that sheet are the account numbers and precise signature of one Richard Harrington, detailing exactly what should be given into the trustworthy care of his son.

or: steve walks into a bank...

[keep reading on ao3]

Selfish as he may want to be, and as badly as he wants Steve there with him, he can’t stomach the idea of Steve pushing through just because he feels he has to. Sure, Eddie might not be the best at making friends, and maybe this isn’t just friendship on Eddie’s end anyways, but whatever it is, he doesn’t want Steve to be uncomfortable. It’s a cardinal rule, really.

He’s halfway through his thought spiral when Steve wiggles his fingers a few inches across the countertop, landing on top of Eddie’s right hand and gently clasping around Eddie’s fingers. Squeezing, just twice, just enough for Eddie to know it has to be intentional. The pad of Steve’s thumb is a bit calloused against the inside of Eddie’s pinky, probably rough from all of the hand washing at work, but the way Steve touches is so achingly tender. He can’t even imagine what the rest of his touches might feel like.

Eddie’s eyes flicker from their connected hands to Steve’s face, still looking down, and back again before Steve responds.

“Coming here to hang out with you and eat pie filling is all that got me through the day. Being here helps. You help.”

When Eddie was younger, Wayne used to call him a great little helper when he’d fix something around their trailer, or hold the flashlight just right beneath the hood of a car Wayne was fixing for a neighbor. He’d done something concrete, done a task, and felt helpful. But sitting here in the diner with Steve’s fingers wrapped around his own, nothing he’s done is a tangible help. All he’s done is exist in the same space with Steve and Eddie’s never felt like his presence is soothing. Always too much, too big, too loud.

He doesn’t know what to do with Steve wanting to be with him, or with their hands clasped together, so he just stays the course.

“Well, shit. Good. That’s, yeah. That’s good to know. Ready to test some cherries?”

read the rest of what's mine is yours (to leave or take) here on ao3!

@tboyeddie I'm so so so sorry this is like, a solid week late but COVID got me and ate an entire week of my life. I hope you enjoy!! 🎄✨

read this fic for steve losing his fucking mind

“You don’t have to be afraid, Eds, it’s just me,” Steve whispered, covering Eddie’s hand with his own.

“That’s exactly it. It’s you, Steve, it’s you.”

Me to the barbies: NOW KITH 💋

Pas de Deux Chapters 8 & 9, come and get 'em!

Worthy of A Celly

By Asexual_Asshat on AO3

The guys all shot-pointed looks at Eddie, Jeff being the first to say “Eddie has a huge crush on this one NHL goalie.”

Eddie felt his face slide into a pleased grin as he nodded. “Steve Harrington. Toronto Maple Leafs.”

The interviewer's eyebrow crooked. “Oh yeah? You a big hockey fan?”

His mouth opened but Gareth beat him to it “No, you don’t understand. He had never watched a full game before this in his whole life. The only things he knows about hockey is what has to do with Steve.”

Words:1,360 Chapters: 2/2 Language: English

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Gareth (Stranger Things), Jeff (Stranger Things), Unnamed Freak (Stranger Things), Freak AKA Grant

Additional Tags: NHL player Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Getting Together, Canadian Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Gay Steve Harrington, First Date, First Kiss, Famous Eddie Munson, Famous Steve Harrington,Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Famous Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things)

Times Like These

(The Anniversary Edition)

Link to anniversary post

When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused.

-Or-

What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

Chapter 1: The Hell Loop

WC: 2,902

Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. He tried to keep it together for Dustin’s sake. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt or have to see something like this, hence the cutting of the rope, but traumatized was a hell of a lot better than dead, so he couldn’t regret either of the choices he’d made.

“I love you, man.” 

Eddie forced the words out, coughing and sputtering

“I love you too.” Dustin replied.

Eddie couldn’t see anymore, but the tears in the younger boy's voice were hard to miss. 

It was the last thing he heard before he died.

Dying didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually. Eddie could pinpoint the exact moment he passed on, because it was the same moment the pain stopped. He found himself floating away into an unfamiliar blackness and couldn’t even bring himself to be scared. He was too relieved at being free of the agony and guilt.

Before he could do much more than wonder where he was floating off to, a loud almost overwhelming rushing sound hit his ears. Instinctually, he tried to cover them to drown out the noise, only to realize he didn’t exactly have a body right now. No ears to cover, no hands to do it with.

With that frightening thought his eyes shot open, -oh thank fuck he had eyes again- and his feet hit solid ground. Inexplicably, he was back in the trailer. He looked up to find that the ceiling was intact, and Chrissy Cunningham– whole, and alive, was standing just a few feet in front of him, looking nervous and jittery. 

“Are you sure you have it?”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Chrissy! You’re alive?!” Eddie gasped.

Her face twisted up in confusion, a feeling Eddie was also becoming intimately familiar with. What was this? Some life-flashing-before-your-eyes-on-the-way-to-the-grave bullshit? But he was already dead, he was sure of it, so that could only mean…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. 

Why he was apologizing to some visage of the past that probably wasn't even real, he did not know, but it felt appropriate. 

She’d been through a lot. 

“You’re probably not alive, actually, if you’re here. Since I'm, y’know– dead, and all.” He continued, letting out a frankly deranged sounding laugh as he began to pace around the room.

“But why are you here?” He mused, thinking out loud.

It could actually be her, he reasoned. She was dead too, right? But that would mean they wound up in the same place and that was absolutely ridiculous. 

A sweet little thing like her? 

Guaranteed one way ticket to the good place. 

And Eddie? 

Well, he never had any doubts about where he was going to end up.

The realization hit him like a Mack truck, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Oh my god, I’m in Hell. This is Hell. I ran away. I ran– I didn’t even try to help you and then I fucking died!” Eddie let out a painful sob as he dropped to his knees on the floor, hands covering his face. Now that he was back here, having to face her again after what he’d done, It was all hitting him at once. 

His voice shook as he continued rambling. “Right in front of Dustin too… and- and now this is my Hell. I’ll probably have to watch you die, over-and-over-and-over again.”

He felt the air shift, heard the light footsteps as Chrissy took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Watch me die?” She said, voice cracking, sounding so, so small and scared. “Eddie, please… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shit, he really couldn’t stop fucking this up could he? 

Even if Hell-Chrissy wasn’t real, he still felt horrible for scaring her. None of this was her fault. He rubbed at his face hard and took a deep calming breath before looking up at her again. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore though. She was rigid, staring straight ahead at something he couldn’t see, only the whites of her eyes visible as they rolled to the back of her head. 

He jumped to his feet, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, again, but fuck that. He was already dead, probably, and none of this was real– he was almost sure none of this was real, but maybe he could still try to help her. 

Music had snapped Red out of it, maybe it would work for Chrissy too. 

Eddie raced to his bedroom, snatching his Walkman off the bed before sprinting back to the living room. He knew it was pretty fucking unlikely that the head cheerleader of Hawkins High was a secret Metallica fan, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He gently placed the headphones over her ears and pressed play, the volume loud enough that he could just make out the sound of the opening riff to Master of Puppets.

-

It didn’t work. 

He hadn’t really thought it would.

He forced himself to watch as her body began to float.

Listened to the sickening snap as each of her arms and legs were twisted, and broken.

Stood frozen, a silent witness, unmoving until her body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.

He didn't even scream.

He’d tried, and he hadn’t let her die alone. It was all he could do.

Hell or not, Eddie wasn’t keen on hanging out with a dead body if he could help it. So finally, he let himself go, grabbing his keys off the counter, and rushed out to the van.

–

Eddie drove slowly, aimlessly around town, at a bit of a loss for what to do next. It was a far cry from the way he’d peeled out of the trailer park and sped down the road on the night of Chrissy’s actual death, heart racing like a trapped rat desperately seeking shelter from a predator he couldn't even see. This time around he just felt numb.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to follow his previous course of action. If he was right in assuming that he was being made to relive his greatest hits from the last 7 days, at least this way he knew he’d get to see Dustin’s face again. He drove towards Lover’s Lake, already dreading spending another night at Rick’s.

–

The morning after a sleepless night found him back in a boat, hiding under a tarp, and clutching tightly to the neck of a broken beer bottle. The numbness had faded hours ago, leaving the door open for anxiety and terror to return in full force. In short, Eddie was freaking out. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left Chrissy's body to grow cold on the living room floor, but the second he heard the voices outside the boathouse he went into panic mode, just as he had the first time, unsure of what or who might be coming for him. 

Would it be more visions from the past? Or had the devil finally sent his minions to collect.

A few confusing moments, and a jab to the ribs with a fucking wooden oar later, Eddie was, for the second time in his life, throwing Steve Harrington violently against a wall and shoving a jagged edge of glass close enough to his throat that one deep breath would draw blood.

He stared into the other boy's eyes from inches away, and he wanted to drop the bottle. He remembered every single thing Steve and the others had done for him as he faced down the worst week of his life, but this could very well be Hell. 

And that might not be the Steve he’d come to trust.

The one he’d come to know wasn’t the same stuck up asshole he remembered from high school, who had proven time and time again that he was a good guy.

And he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

“Eddie! Stop!” The thing that looked like Dustin shouted. “Eddie, it’s me, it's Dustin. This is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Eddie, wanting to believe it so badly, actually did lower the bottle a little, only to accidentally drop it to the ground, his only weapon shattering at his feet. 

He fisted a hand into the front of Steve’s shirt. 

“What are you doing here man, what do you want from me?” 

Steve dropped the oar, all the breath whooshing out of him at once. “Dustin and Max wanted to find you. I’m just here to keep the little shits safe, I swear.”

Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Robin and Max began to approach from the side cautiously. Right, they had been there too, he'd almost forgotten. 

“We just want to know what happened, Eddie. We wanna help,” Max said.

It was the earnestness in her voice that got him, that made him finally break and move away from Steve, allowing Robin to rush to his side. 

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it trembled. 

He was sure they wouldn't believe it. If it even mattered, if they were even really here, if any of this was even real. 

He was still pretty convinced this was all just some form of divine punishment, and only happening in his own head, after all. 

It wasn’t about what happened to Chrissy. He knew they would believe that, they had once already, but whatever else was going on here? This deja vu flashback thing or whatever it was? They had no reason to trust he was telling the truth about the fact that he was dead– or had died temporarily? Or that this had all happened to him before. 

It was, admittedly, unbelievable. 

So, he made a choice. He didn't tell them that part. He told the same story he had the first time around and they in turn told him a very short history of the Upside Down. It didn’t hit so hard this time, since he’d already heard it all once before, but it was still wild to think about everything this group had been through. He couldn’t believe it’d all been happening right under his nose.

Despite himself, he watched Steve through most of the explanations. Eddie had been so focused on his own experience at the time that he hadn’t paid much attention to him after the attempted throat slashing. He looked dejected, sad, already resigned to the fact that the monsters he’d been protecting these kids from for years now were back, again. Eddie sympathized.

-

The week flew by in a blur of blood, sweat, and tears, events unfolding in the exact same way that he remembered, and he never said a word about it to anyone. 

He kept expecting it all to end somehow. 

On the rare occasion that he fell asleep,  he thought for sure he would wake up from this nightmare either back in his bed after having the longest most fucked up dream of his life, or somewhere– else, preferably on a fluffy cloud after having served his penance for petty crimes.

Unless god actually did hate the gays… then he was fucked. 

It wasn’t until he and Dustin were alone, after fortifying the trailer and getting his guitar set up that he decided– maybe he’d been an idiot to just keep going along with the script like this. It’d been days without so much as a hint of fire and brimstone, so either he'd been sold a bill of goods his whole life about what Hell would be like, or, this was really happening. 

Again. 

At this point, neither possibility was a particularly good one. If he’d been somehow sent back in time and given a second chance, he had absolutely screwed it up. 

Fuck it, he might as well tell Dustin now at least. See what happened.

“Alright, uh, listen, I have to tell you something– and I’m not sure you’re going to believe me but I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Dustin laughed, bright and incredulous as he checked the plugs on the amp one last time. “After everything we’ve been through the past few days, and the shit I’ve seen over the last three years, do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe?”

Ok, kid had a point. 

Eddie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been through this before, all of it, with you guys. For a while I thought I was in Hell, y’know? Doomed to relive Chrissy’s death over and over again, and between you and me I’m still not totally sure that isn’t the case, but then you guys found me in that damn boathouse just like before, and everything else has happened exactly like I remember, and I-” 

His speech was cut short by Dustin screeching, “Are you serious right now?! You have to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you… you’re in a time loop and you didn’t say anything?!”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised up nearly to the bandana he had tied around his head. “Wait, you believe me?! Just like that?!”

Dustin put his hands on his hips, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of a certain babysitter that Eddie definitely hadn't developed the habit of staring at at every given opportunity. 

Not the time!

“I wouldn’t say, just like that.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers. “If it was anyone outside of the party I would think they were crazy, but this is you we’re talking about. And like I said, after everything? This is not that hard to swallow. I mean, why would you make something like that–”

Dustin stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor changing on a dime as if he’d just discovered something awful. Belatedly, Eddie realized his mistake.

“Eddie, why would you think you were in Hell? Did you… “ The kid trailed off, and when he spoke next his voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do we lose? Did you…die?”

Eddie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t think– I guess there’s no way to tell you I might be repeating time without admitting it. Yeah, I… died. As far as Vecna, I have no idea. I was gone before Steve, Robin, and Nancy got back.”

Before he could respond, the Walkie in Dustin’s hand came to life, with Robin’s voice crackling through the small speaker. “She’s in, move on to phase 3. Over.”

“Guess that’s it. Time’s up.” Eddie muttered.

Dustin bit his lip as he looked at Eddie, eyes questioning and full of fear.

Eddie shook his head, silently answering the unasked question. He didn’t want Dustin to tell them, or try and stop this. It was too late. He refused to risk the kid, or somehow make things worse by changing the plan this late in the game. 

Dustin squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the button on the handset to reply, “Copy that, initiating phase three. Over.”

Eddie gave the kid his best reassuring smile as he pulled the guitar strap up over his head and with shaking hands began to play, knowing there was no time to waste. 

-

Bleeding out wasn’t any more fun the second time around. 

Eddie had given it his all, fighting tooth and nail against those flying leeches, but there was no use. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him. Just as he had the first time he took off on that bike to lead the bats away, he’d known the fate he was resigning himself to. The difference this time was, he actually had a sliver of hope. 

If the impossible happened once, maybe it could happen again. 

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie said, choking back blood as he watched Dustin limp towards him. “Didn’t notice the leg last time–“ He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath. Talking had already become difficult. “Shouldn’t have cut the rope, s’not like it stopped you.” 

He forced a smile, trying so hard not to let it show on his face just how much pain he was in. Not that there was much point, the kid had eyes. He could surely see the red ruin Eddie’s body had become.

Dustin sobbed openly and it broke Eddie’s heart. 

“God damnit, Eddie!” He shouted, shaking his head and pounding the ground with his fist. “Promise me if you get another shot at this that you’ll tell me. Tell me as soon as you possibly can about the time loop. Please! We have to come up with another plan.”

Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to scoop the boy into his arms and comfort him, might have tried anyway but he couldn't move. “What if you don’t believe me?” He choked out.

“I'm adopted,” Dustin blurted out through his sniffles. “My mom only told me last year. No one else knows, not even Steve, but… I trust you, Eddie. I’d believe you without it, but if you need to, tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Eddie nodded, or tried to, and felt Dustin’s hand slip into his. 

“I love you, man”

“I love you too”

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Shoutout also to @theheadlessphilosopher @withacapitalp and @hitlikehammers for the help and encouragement to do this.

Tagging a few friends that expressed interest or I think might be interested? I am ALWAYS happy to tag or remove - just let me know!

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiemicrofic.

Mordor It Was

Steddie Microfic January Prompt: New || Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 517 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Post-Bat Attack | POV: Eddie | Tags: S4 Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Will Make Sure Of It, And Then Not Go Away. Pre-Steddie

The darkness takes hold faster than Eddie imagined. He didn't think one bite, followed by another, and another, could fuck up his whole world this much. But it has, and now he's faced with the reality that he's gonna die here. On the ground, having run in the wrong direction.

Having failed.

And that's something he's gonna have to live with. Just, not for very long. He can feel his pulse hammering, beating in his chest. His neck. As the blood pulses out of him, spilling onto the filthy ground below.

He wanted to do better, wanted to not run away this time, but he still managed to fuck it up. 

Goddamnit.

He's made peace with it, even if Henderson isn't as accepting of what's coming. Maybe it's the blood loss making Eddie feel serene when he should be fighting, panicking.

It doesn't matter.

Steve Harrington is here, fighting for him. 

Eddie kind of wishes he wouldn't. He's floaty, no longer feeling pain, and anything Steve can possibly do will disturb that, surely.

"Eddie, for fuck's sake," Steve's saying, and Eddie tries to open his eyes.

"Eddie!"

His eyes snap open. Steve is hovering, "Good. That's good. I'm going to pick you up. Don't fucking die."

He's definitely gonna die, but he nods. He'll try his best.

Steve tugs on him, and the pain that sears through him is above and beyond anything he's ever felt. He lets out a hoarse scream.

"I know, I'm sorry," Steve says, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all, repeating his previous order: "Don't fucking die."

But Eddie thinks he'll do just that.

When he wakes up, he's in a sterile hospital room. Machines are beeping, whirring, and he thinks this has to be the calm before the storm.

But Steve Harrington's sitting in the chair next to him, looking comfortable, his feet propped up on Eddie's bed, reading a book.

Harrington reads? 

Eddie squints, tries to look closer, to see what he's reading, and realizes it's not a new book. No, it's his own copy of The Return of the King. He recognizes his own paperback's well-worn, dog-eared cover.

"My book," Eddie croaks, and Steve startles so bad, the book goes flying, skittering across the tile floor.

"I'm sorry. Wayne left it. I was bored," he starts, then immediately changes direction, "You're okay, it's okay," already pressing the call button, hammering it with his thumb, as if he's convinced Eddie's gonna drop dead in the next five seconds without help. 

The way the room fills, maybe he will. Steve has backed up against the wall, the book clutched to his chest. 

There's poking, and prodding.

Wayne rushes in, and Steve still stands there.

Finally, the crowd thins. Apparently, he's gonna live.

Steve sits back down.

"So, what's new?" Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. His throat is hoarse, dry. Steve pours water from the pink, plastic pitcher, directing the straw to his mouth. 

Eddie takes the longest, best drink of his life, then says, "Not much. You?"

Steve holds up the book and grins, "Learning about Mordor."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part three)

(part 2) (part four)

Robin was sprawled across the couch, glaring into the tea that Steve had brought her, her feet propped up on the opposite armrest as she looked up at him. “What is this?”

“Tea,” Steve said simply, shrugging and kicking her legs gently out of the way before sitting down. The documentary was on the TV, and this was the first time she had torn her eyes away from it in the last hour. 

“This is not tea, Steven.” She muttered, stretching over to place it down on the coffee table.

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up enough to reach over and grab the cup, some of the liquid running down the side of the mug and onto his hands. It wasn’t hot, because Robin didn’t like hot tea. Or iced tea. She would only drink kind-of-warm tea, which he thought was weird, but never commented on.“You didn’t even drink any, how do you know?”

“Because it’s the stuff from the advent calendar, and that stuff is horrid.” She sat up, which jostled the couch cushions and made more tea spill onto him, and he sighed.

“It’s horrid?” 

“Yes, it is horrid.”

Steve took a sip and forced himself to swallow, gagging slightly. “What the fuck is in this.”

“I told you!” Robin shouted, throwing her hands in the air and flopping back down on the couch, which made even more tea spill into Steve’s lap. “Why did you even keep the calendar? It’s October!”

In truth, he had only bought it because it was on sale last year and he thought it might be fun to try, but every bag tasted slightly like licorice and it really was horrid—he just wasn’t going to admit that to Robin, because he hated when she was right. And he was not about to throw away ten dollars of perfectly (disgusting) fine tea bags just because Robin was picky about what she drank.

“If you drank the tea more than it would be gone sooner—“

Robin reached over and took the tea out of his hands, getting up and pausing the documentary before going into the kitchen and, presumably, dumping down the sink.  

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, and Steve had to stop her from putting it on again, before going up to change. He had slept in jeans before, and he never wanted to do that again, even if he didn’t have a choice, like the last time. Because honestly? The shorts from his old work uniform would have been more comfortable to sit in the bottom of some creep's dingy basement with, but the two of them hadn’t known that when they had changed into their normal clothes before leaving.

Robin was still laying on the couch, but she looked half-asleep by the time Steve came back, and he considered waking her up to drag her to bed with him, but she probably would have hit him with the pillow if he tried. So he let her stay there, trudging off to bed and trying to find a place to lay that wasn’t covered in Robin’s things—books and her little shark stuffed animals that she insisted he get her for Christmas. And he never argued with Robin when it came to sharks.

Steve dropped onto the bed and huffed, his face pressed into the pillow, his eyes closed and his muscles trying to relax. Sleeping had always been hard, but it got worse—especially when he slept alone. He was seconds away from deciding it was best to squeeze on the very little part of the couch that Robin wasn’t taking up when the doorbell rang, and he shot up, flinching slightly. The strangled noise from the living room let him know that Robin had done that, too. 

“It’s okay,” He rushed out, getting up and hating the way his body sagged slightly as he made his way back through the hallway. “It’s just the door. I’ll get it.”

He looked over to Robin, who had pulled the blanket over her head and curled up beneath it, some of her hair peeking out the only indicator that she was actually under there.

He was so fucking tired. If this was their neighbor here to complain about their bushes one more time, he was going to strangle the old woman. 

The entire world was yellow underneath the blanket, which was still dark, but light enough for Robin not to feel panicked. She could hear Steve grumbling to himself as he walked past her, and it took her a moment to calm her breathing.

It was only the doorbell, right? She wasn’t going to die, there was no one out there that wanted to kill her. Again. It was probably just their elderly neighbor coming to tell them that their bushes looked ugly, which honestly? It was kind of rude, but it was fun to see Steve trying and failing to be nice, when he really just wanted to be a bitch to the woman. 

Robin liked Ms. Hilda, though, because sometimes when Steve went out by himself (which rarely ever happened) she would come over with food and hang out until Steve got back—and Robin loved the company, even if all Ms. Hilda talked about was how Robin needed to be less dependent on that boy, because she was her own woman and could do her own things.

And that was true. To…some extent. She could do things on her own, it just always kind of felt like the world fell apart without Steve and then she would get panicked,and then she would probably cry because she really hated being alone, and—oh, now she was thinking about this all too much.

“Hey,” Steve said, his words short and clipped, muffled through the fabric of a blanket, and there was a quick ‘hey’ said back at him, the other person sounding out of breath—and Robin knew that voice. 

She shot up, the blanket falling off of her and messing up her hair even further. There was Vickie, standing in the doorway, her short red hair swept to the side slightly in the little curls that they were always in, her pale skin flushed and her freckles looking like stars. Robin liked stars. She was wearing a green t-shirt and a long skirt that fell to her ankles—a picnic skirt, Robin thinks it was called—a yellow one with little buttons that went all the way down the front, her black boots a bit muddy at the bottom. She smiled at Robin past Steve—but it wasn’t the crooked little smile that made Robin’s heart flutter—it was a small, guilty one. One that looked sad.

Robin’s face flushed and she practically ran into the bedroom, hearing Steve sigh as she slammed the door behind her and sunk to the floor, her face pressed into her hands. What could Vickie possibly want with her, now? To embarrass her further? In front of Steve? In her own house?

(Well—technically it was Steve’s house. And even then, it was technically his parents house. It wasn’t big like the one he used to live in—the one that Robin had always refused to go inside because it made her feel very, very alone and tiny—this one was small with wooden floors and white peeling paint. His mom and dad had bought it, and continued to pay the bills for it, as an ‘apology’ for not helping look for him when he and Robin had gone missing—even though they had looked appalled at the idea of their son wanting to live in ‘this….thing.’ )

She heard footsteps in the hallway and Steve muttering some kind of apology to Vickie before there was a knock on the door—one that rattled through her fucking spine since she still had her back pressed to it. “Hey, Bobby?”

“Hm?” She choked out, her throat already feeling tight and itchy as her skin crawled and her bones ached. She got like this when she was sad. Steve said it was okay that she felt things with all of her, but she fucking hated it.

“Do you need me to come in?” His voice was gentle and it made her want to sob—so she did. A little bit, her finger tips pressing into her palms and leaving marks, little half-moon shapes that she smoothed over as she sighed wetly.

“No. I’ll be out in a minute, just—just let me change, first.” She sat up and waited until she thought he was back in the living room and grabbed her headphones, shoving them on and taking…probably the deepest breath she’d ever taken in her life—one that made her cough slightly as she cleared her throat and put on her music to just relax for a second (even though she ended up skipping through songs for a good minutes while she slipped on some jeans and a t-shirt—that was probably Steve’s—so that she wouldn’t have to talk to Vickie in a tank-top and her underwear).

Then, when she could hear Steve walking back towards the room—probably to drag her out of the room by her ankles if she wasn’t ready already—she opened the door and he jumped back slightly, squinting slightly as he took in her frazzled appearance.

“Do I look okay?” She whispered, pulling at her hair slightly.

Steve reached over to smooth it down slightly and then paused. “Yeah, good enough. Also stop taking my clothes. That’s my Beatles t-shirt.”

Robin looked down, and sure enough, she was wearing the brown tie-dye with John Lennon’s face in the middle. “It’s not a Beatles t-shirt, Steve, it’s a Beatle t-shirt. Singular. There’s only John.”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck off and go talk to your girlfriend—”

“—Language. And she’s not my girlfriend—“

“—And I have a shirt with all of them on it, it’s just in the wash!” He called over to her as she walked to the living room, which got him flipped off over her shoulder as she sat down on the couch. Vickie was sitting opposite of her in the armchair, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, her knees pink and her socks green with little yellow flowers. 

“Hey.” She whispered, her eyes watering slightly, and Robin wanted to reach over and touch her, but she didn’t, her hands clenched into fists in a way that she knew was making Vickie think she was mad. She wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry—“ Vickie started to say, at the same time that Robin started, “I’m not mad—“

“Oh,” She whispered, laughing quietly and wiping her eyes. The rim of them went red when she cried, and her nose went all pink-colored, and gods, she was fucking pretty. “Sorry.”

“Don’t—don’t say sorry,” Robin rushed out, her hands reaching over the coffee table before drawing back against her chest quickly. “I—I get it, I really do. I know I’m not the most…date-able person alive, and I’m really not the best person to live with either, I mean, I-I’m surprised Steve hasn’t kicked me out yet—“

“I would never do that, although I have thought about it,” Steve muttered as he stumbled into the kitchen, looking exhausted. Robin rolled her eyes but turned around to face where he had just been standing.

“You can go to bed, Steve, you don’t have to stay up for me.”

All she got was a mumbled, “I’ll be fine, Robs.” In response.

“Anyways, as I was saying—“ She started as she turned back around to face Vickie, but she was cut off when Vickie grabbed her face and pressed her lips against hers, putting most of her weight against Robin. And oh shit—when had she gotten up? Where was she supposed to put her hands? Was she supposed to kiss back? How was she supposed to kiss back?

All of those questions were short lived when Vickie pulled away, her nose even more flushed. It wasn’t the best kiss, because Vickie was crying, so it was kind of wet and tasted like tears, but holy fuck, Robin wanted to do it again. With less tears this time. 

“I—“ she tried to speak, but Vickie only squished her cheeks in her palms lightly and kissed her again. 

“No—you don’t get to say that stuff about yourself.” She whispered, eyes searching over Robin’s face in such a caring way that made her insides twist into knots and her organs want to explode. “You…I…I really don’t know what to say right now…”

“That’s…you were apologizing for something…? Before I interrupted…?” Robin whispered, hooking her arms around Vickie’s waist, and it felt normal enough, plus Vickie didn’t pull away, so maybe that’s what she was supposed to do with her hands?

“Oh. Oh, right! I—I’m sorry I missed out date, I really didn’t mean to stand you, up—“

“—I know—“ 

“—but I volunteer at a food donation place, and they needed more people to come in and help sort the produce, and I—they called me this morning, so I came in, and I totally forgot to call you and tell you about it! And I swear, the organizations who donate wait until some of the food starts to go bad to send it in, which is so screwed, I mean—we could hardly use any of it!” She paused and took a slow breath, sighing. “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Only a little bit, but it’s okay.” Robin whispered, sounding out of breath even though she wasn’t the one who had been talking.

“But I—I think…I think I might be falling in love with you.” Vickie laughed slightly when she said it, but she looked serious enough.

Robin felt her heart stop, and she tightened her hold on Vickie’s waist, if only slightly. She could tell that Vickie noticed, though, in the way that she moved just a bit closer, which made Robin whisper out a small, “Really…?”

Vickie nodded. “Really. Really really, Robin.”

Robin tried to speak, but she felt like dying. She wanted to peel off her skin, crawl back under the blanket, and let her bones just rot. After a few moments of watching Vickie’s lips, she started to whisper, “I think I might—“

Before she was cut off by fucking Steve, coming out of the kitchen. “Hey, Robs, I’m going to head off to—“

“Steve!” She hissed, turning around and glaring at him, and when Steve noticed how Vickie was practically in Robin’s lap, his face went bright red and he cleared his throat. 

“Shit, uh…sorry, sorry. Carry on…whatever you’re doing.” He cringed slightly and looked them over before walking down the hallway.

Once Robin heard the door close, she looked back at Vickie. “I’m not…I don’t kiss a lot, so…”

“I could show you?” Vickie rushed out, looking down at Robin’s lips, her hands slipping from the sides of her face to her shoulders. “I have—I’ve done it before.”

Robin nodded and stood up, bumping into Vickie slightly and taking her hand. Fuck, her hands were sweaty. Was Vickie weirded out by that? She didn’t seem to be. “We have a guest room? It’s more comfortable than the couch.”

“Mhm. That, uh…that sounds nice.”

Fuck, why did she put on jeans? Of all pants? Steve’s t-shirt was off and kicked to the edge of the bed, and her hands were fumbling with the button. These jeans were…probably a bit tight on her, but she hadn’t thrown them out yet because then Steve would have taken her to get new ones, and she really hated going to the store. No—her and Vickie were about to have sex (if she was reading this whole thing correctly) why was she thinking about that right now? She just needed to focus on getting her fucking pants off, and—

“Robin?” Vickie’s lips moved off of hers for a moment, just far enough away to say something, and Robin practically gasped for air, pressing her forehead to Vickie’s shoulder. Vickie’s bra was slipping off, and for a moment Robin felt guilty for staring, but wasn’t that the point of getting undressed like this? To admire the other person?

“Hm?”

“Do you need help?” 

“I, uh…no, no, I’ve got this.” She muttered, finally undoing the button and pushing the jeans past her hips before tossing them somewhere near the door.

Vickie’s eyes glanced down slightly, and Robin felt her face flush, shifting uncomfortably. “I…”

“You…you know we don’t have to do this, right? We can just…we can just kiss.” Vickie sounded slightly guilty when she said it, but there was a faint trace of disappointment in her eyes as she looked back up and kissed Robin’s shoulder.

Robin shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around Vickie’s waist. “N-no, no. We can, if you want. It’s fine.”

Vickie looked at her for a moment—like, really looked at her—and it was really cute the way her eyes scrunched at the corners when she thought. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m sure.”

Robin woke up that morning with her face pressed into the pillow, someone else’s leg over her’s, and almost all of her clothes gone. Her bra was slipping down her shoulders, almost completely off, and her underwear was…somewhere. She sat up and gently moved Vickie’s leg off of her before getting up and putting some clothes on—grabbing Steve’s t-shirt from the floor and muttering, “Sorry you had to see all that, John.”

Steve was in the living room, sat on the couch and drinking tea. He kept making a face every time he took a sip. Robin still didn’t understand why he kept the calendar. He could have just thrown it out. 

“Morning.” She muttered, tossing Steve’s shirt to him as she plopped down in the armchair. Was she supposed to wait for Vickie to wake up, too? 

Steve fake-gagged and threw the shirt back at her. “I’m not touching that thing until you wash it.”

“We didn’t even do anything—“

“The walls are thin, Robin, I heard everything—“

“—plus you’ve offended John.”

Steve nearly spit out his tea, which didn’t really mean anything because the tea was fucking gross. “I’m sorry?”

“No, don’t say it to me, say it to John.” Robin muttered as she picked up the t-shirt off the floor from where it sat at her feet.

“I am not apologizing to a John Lennon t-shirt.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

She tossed the t-shirt back to him, and it hit him in the face. “Fucking apologize to the John Lennon t-shirt.” 

Steve held the t-shirt at arm's length and frowned. “This is so fucking stupid. I’m sorry.”

She smiled and stood up, taking the t-shirt back from him and going to put it in the wash. Everything felt…weird, now, but she wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or not. She just couldn’t wait for Vickie to get up so that she could change the sheets and stop worrying about it.

Pinterest board!

Hallo! I really hoped you guys enjoyed this part, because it’s the longest part I’ve written for this so far, and i spent all day working on this instead of hanging outside in the snow :)

comments and reblogs are appreciated, and feel free to send me asks and stuff because getting them makes me very happy ⭐️

IF YOU SAY ANY MISTAKES. I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. I DON’T HAVE A BETA READER FOR THIS I JUST WRITE AND THEN IMMEDIATELY POST. SORRY.

if you’d like to be tagged, let me know in the comments, and if you don’t want to be tagged but still want to follow along with the story, you can either follow my blog, or follow the tag “Radio Star by Finn”

taglist!:

@strangersteddierthings @an-atlas-or-other @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff

@itsthestrangestthings (so…I scrapped the make-out scene, lmao. And I got…whatever this was…? Also not as many sharks as I thought there would be…but there will be more throughout the rest of the story 🦈)

@5ammi90 @absolutegremlin

I think that’s everyone, but if I missed you lmk!!!

also I know there was no steddie in this part but I’m still tagging it as that because I like to use the same tags for fics regardless—just in case someone stumbles upon this part intending to read a steddie fic (since there’s some in the other parts)

some of my fave buddie fics for anon in no particular order! please mind all the ratings, tags, and warnings of these works while browsing:

plot-focused:

about the present series by Amiril

The day of the shooting, Eddie got stuck in a time loop. But that was three months ago. He's completely fine now.

boys, when my baby found me by nondz (pinkjook)

Three months later, things are mostly back to normal.

And then there's an accident.

the city is a jungle and i’m a beast by putanauhere (TRUST ME.)

“There are no wolves in Southern California,” Buck states, another bit of trivia. He just doesn’t know it’s a lie.

The Things All Come and Gone by moodlighting

“I didn’t—it’s not that I couldn’t be alone,” Buck explained, pausing to find the right words. “I just. Wanted to be here.”

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings

Evan Buckley wakes up without eight years of his memories with some guy named Eddie Diaz on his bedside. Which could mean nothing.

lonely little love dog by littleghost

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much.

kerosene by mandolare

He doesn’t— need more of Eddie. This is enough. This is plenty. This is more than anyone else has of him; he can deal with the marrow-deep want that’s begun to choke him every once in a while.

all my little words by youbetsya

Eddie: Did you just send me an email??

Buck: yeah lol

Eddie: Why…

I dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. Just stuff to print when your printer is broken

Buck: did you read it?

Eddie: Not yet

Too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me

Buck: just read it dude 🙄

instructions on not giving up by Wildehack (tyleet)

Eddie gave up in July.

Live and (Don't) Let Die by xylodemon

The guy gets straight to the point, asking, "What do you need?" in a dull, bored voice.

"My best friend is going to die. I want that to… not happen."

"No small feat, bringing back the dead. And it comes at a cost."

It's Eddie. Buck says, "Yes," without a second thought.

good pretender by likeshipsonthesea

“Okay, but what are the rules?”

Ravi stares. “The rules for…?”

“Casual sex.”

Ravi continues to stare. It is 5:39 in the morning.

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by Talls

In which Eddie keeps secrets and Buck is incredibly normal and rational and even brave about his reaction to this.

here’s my hand, there’s the itch by signetsealed

"I wasn’t kidding when I said I could talk about Chris all night,” Eddie says. His voice is quiet and close in Buck’s ear. “But that’s not why I called.”

been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later.

Downward Facing Doggy Style by Survivah

Eddie and Buck pick up a new hobby while Chris is in Texas.

slaughterhouse by kithmet

Eddie announces he’s leaving. Buck, naturally, begins a slow descent to madness.

Choosing Joy 'Verse series by ithilien22

In which Eddie mends fences with Chris, starts something new with Buck, and navigates the complex emotions he has around his parents.

 the sweetest apparition by hyruling

Eddie moves to Texas. Buck keeps accidentally telling people Eddie's dead. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

pluperfect by unreckless

Buck is always good for a ride to the airport. He’s good at lots of things, like being a good friend and goodbyes.

beating the horse by doitgently

Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants.

Burn a bridge, learn how to swim series by WatermelonShots (AvocadosUnderTheEaves)

In which there is some unexpected making out, some pining, one third of an existential crisis and a lot of unhelpful advice. Not necessarily in that order.

you drew stars around my scars by ladieslunching

Someone at the 118 doesn't know how to leave Buck's clipboard alone. Buck would be a lot more upset about it if it didn't bag him the love of his life.

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind.

ripples all the way down by iriswests

This is the tumultuous road to finding out what Buck truly wants, paved by pebbles.

throw a bone, i’m finally home by fleetinghearts

“Oh, Buck,” Eddie says softly, torn between unbearable fondness and an ache that threatens to crack his breastbone.

when everything's on fire by beartowns

Eddie and Chris move in with Buck after a fire. Buck breaks up with his boyfriend, buys a house with Eddie, and realizes he's in love. In precisely that order.

ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies

The problem is—well.

Actually, backtrack for a sec. There were a few problems.

Eddie’s got a whole lot of them, lately, and maybe that was The Problem.

Something in the Air (Is Giving Me Bad Ideas) by paramountie

After Christopher comes back from Texas, Eddie makes an important decision: he is not going to blow up his life anymore.

crossed the muddy line by Anonymous

Eddie Diaz is from El Paso, Texas; a fact which accounts for both more and less than he ever expected it to.

the tortured poets department by colonoscopys

The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up.

still by brewrosemilk

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing.

somewhere to stand and stay by teaspoon

“What are you doing right now?” Eddie asks. He sounds distracted; Buck can tell immediately that he’s driving.

authentication by v_greyson (greyson)

"Yeah, Eddie picks the guys so I don't make stupid decisions," Buck says, flicking through menus to pick a new racetrack.

The combination of Hen munching peanuts and looking back and forth between them makes Eddie feel like he's a zoo exhibit. Best Friends, captured in the wild, still feral, exhibiting behaviors heretofore unknown to science.

"Well, good luck with - all that," Hen says pointedly to Eddie. She is definitely not talking about the video game.

keeping score by arcanaphora

After getting dumped, Buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. Eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. All's fair in love, war, and trivia.

if i said you could never touch me by marviless*

Eddie pulls back from him with a half-confused, half-concerned furrow in between his eyebrows. “Buck?”

Buck sags against the wall. “Sorry,” he says, wiping the back of his forearm against his forehead in a mixture of frustration and newfound exhaustion. “Sorry.”

Counting Pulses by tinyydancerr*

Eddie Diaz’s life is going great. He’s in therapy, he’s got a great girlfriend, a great kid, his friend is getting married to the woman of his dreams, and his best friend just came out to him.

Now his best friend is dating their new friend.

Things are going great. He promises.

porn-heavy (only a few of these are straight up pwp though):

Feel You Forever by semperama

“Is this…” Eddie meets his eyes again. “Is this new?”

a mess of my creation by Anonymous

They’re in the fucking bunk room. There’s someone snoring in the bed over by the bathroom, a good twenty feet and two beds away, and Buck doesn’t know if it’s Hen or Chimney or Bobby, but they’re in here, they’re asleep, and this is awful, this is so fucking unprofessional and if they get caught they are going straight to HR.

blood in the highs and count the stars by seachanged

“Go on,” Eddie says, nosing into the soft spot under Buck’s jaw.

Buck laughs, a little hysterically. ”You’re not serious.”

look straight ahead if you like it slow by hattalove

“This gets you going, huh?” Eddie grins, propping himself up on his elbows so he can move higher on the bed, reach the pretty pink bow of Buck’s mouth. “Devotion? You being it for me?” He stretches up toward Buck’s ear, whispers: “Monogamy?”

hang me up on your bedroom wall by eddiegettingshot

“You’re going to be a great father someday,” Eddie says eventually, because he’s worse than he used to be and Buck’s reverent eyes make him feel—they just make him feel.

“Eddie, I—”

“You are,” he repeats, firm. “Don’t you think I’d know better than anyone?

buck and eddie's red hot infidelity summer series by cranberrymoons

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not. He’s definitely not.

the moon like a spotlight by dykeries

Three months after Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck comes to visit.

this ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living by glorious_spoon

"You guess," Eddie repeats under his breath, but he sounds amused. He sets the boxes down and kicks the door shut behind him to wind through the chaos of Buck's half packed away kitchen. "You're insane."

love's not a game by thatbuddie (talktothesky)

“So that goal, huh?”

Buck groans, his hands clawing at the sheets beneath him as his toes curl up, the fire that’s been building up inside him for what feels like hours sizzling and uncontrollable in its path through Buck’s body.

i might kiss you on the back of your neck (because it’s christmas time) by sibylsleaves

Five Times Captain Diaz and Recruit Lieutenant Diaz fail to sleep together and one time they do.

would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? by brattybuckley

Evan Buckley is currently on cloud nine. 

Well–

Honey on the Vine by sirencalls

Buck wakes up to an Eddie with stubble for the first time in months and refuses to let a good opportunity to go waste.

lock me down tonight by lecornergirl

Buck tells everyone Eddie talks him into it, but when it comes to Eddie, he’s never needed much convincing.

Mind Blowing Mess by EtoileGarden

"I’d like to have a threesome. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah,” Taylor eyed him for a moment, and then leaned a little further over the table, her chin in her hand. “Have you ever had one before?”

songs and poems and promises by lesbianrobin

“It’s crazy how different sex is with men,” Buck says, and everyone around him groans.

rodeo queen by okanus

“What’s the saying again? Save a horse…hm, y’know, I don't quite remember the rest of it.” Eddie can’t help the smile curving up the corner of his mouth.

“You’re an asshole,” Buck says, scowling. The tips of his ears are pink.

yes god don't speak by detectivemeer

“You’re staring.”

“What.” Eddie says. “No I’m not.”