#s4 fix it fics

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Stephhh,

Im looking for some good post s4 fix-its, friends to lovers. Preferably smutty obvs, and under 50k (if its reeeeeeaallyy good but long ill read it but its gotta be like an 11/10)

I believe in you 🙏 thank you in advance lol

Hi Lovely!!

I've a lot of Post-S4 fics, and if I can say so, I think all of the fics on my lists are fantastic and MORE than 11/10's, but subjective, hahah.

I'm also needing a list for the weekend, so I'm using your ask as the one I'm posting the next part for, so I HOPE some of these appeal to you, as well as the fics on the additional lists!! I put word counts next to all my fics which should help you out!

And if y'all have S4 fics to suggest, please do, as usual! I've another part I'm compiling of MFL fics, so I will add them to that as well! Enjoy!

POST-S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 5

See also:

TFP Is Canon

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 2

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 3

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 4

S4 Rewrites

S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics (March 2019)

Post S4 and Mental Health

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4,  5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

fulfilling for other people by missselene (E, 3,957 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Unhappy Fic, Unrequited Love Confession, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock decides to act on John’s advice regarding romantic entanglements, the results are far from what John expected. Part 1 of fulfilling for other people

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Winter’s Storm by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Multiple Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #post s4 fics #s4 fix it fics

[mrsjellymunson]

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part One

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars , @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts event.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter summary: It’s all hands on deck to try and help your unexpected visitor. You come up with an effective, if unexpectedly intimate, solution.

WC: ~4.41k

C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, descriptions of minor injuries, allusions to hypothermia.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, just comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💗 Also, I proofed this as much as I could but my brain isn’t braining very well at the moment so if you spot any errors please let me know 💙

My masterlist

Prologue

PART ONE

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and the now-driving rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence.

You all stand at the door, mouths agape. Initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet with mud and rain and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaked clothes, the wet material seeming to drag his frame down even further.

You glance down and notice he’s barefoot, his feet the same mid-brown mud colour as most of his clothing, other than where thin rivulets of scarlet run down his skin.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they always were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems even lighter now, almost translucent.

His face is downcast, and he doesn’t make eye contact with any of you.

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure astonishment, as he yells over the sound of the rain, “Eddie? EDDIE!”

He starts to rush forwards, but Steve puts an arm out to stop him, protecting Eddie’s obviously frail and vulnerable state.

There’s murmuring and chattering and quiet squeals as everyone processes the sight before them.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate have brought him here, all of you only caring in this moment that he’s here. He's here! He’s here!

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle. They don’t seem to focus on anything in particular, and before any of you can work to bring him inside, he mumbles something that sounds a little like your name, sways a little and collapses, his knees connecting with the wood of the front stoop with a hollow thump.

Steve reacts first, stopping Eddie from falling sideways as he rushes forward, yelling, “Get him inside. Now!”

You hurry outside to help Steve whilst Robin opens the door fully and shoos the teens out of the way. Steve instructs you to grab under Eddie’s arm, and you both drag him inside.

You don’t have Steve’s lifeguarding or athletic skills and you’re not used to manhandling people, and you stumble over the threshold and flop backwards into the hallway. You end up sitting on your ass with Eddie half over your lap.

There’s a cacophony of confusion and the kids want to help, but they end up crowding you both. They want to touch Eddie, see if it’s really him, see what’s wrong.

The only ones who hang back are Will and Jane, you assume because although they’ve heard so much about him they don’t really know him. No one notices their somewhat tense demeanour, or the way they subtly keep glancing at one another.

Robin closes the door to keep out the weather, and out of the corner of your eye you see her covering her mouth with both hands.

You run a hand over Eddie’s form, checking for any obvious injuries. You spot his arms and hands are in a similar state to his feet, utterly filthy, with cracked and split nails and torn, bloody skin.

He’s bedraggled and shivering, has curled in on himself and is practically convulsing.

You speak above the clamour.

“Steve, he’s freezing! What do we do??”

Steve panics a little, pacing the hallway with one hand on his hip and raking the other through his hair. He makes a few incomprehensible noises before he remembers something, stopping suddenly and turning to face you. Clicking his fingers and pointing, he reminds you,

“Wait, didn’t you go on some outdoor survival course once, or something? At a summer camp? You told me about it when you got back. Something about how to help people who’ve fallen out of canoes into icy rivers? I remember because you were really sarcastic about it and said, ‘It was sooooo useful. I mean, I go kayaking all the time, right?’”

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck, fuck!”

Slowly, some of the information comes back to you.

“Okay, we have to warm him up, but it has to be gradual, though. There was something about too much heat too fast maybe causing shock?”

You start to panic, screwing up your face and trying to remember all the things they taught you. ”Oh fuck, think, think!”

Robin puts an arm around your shoulders as Steve says your name, softly, reassuring you that you’re doing great and that anything you can remember will be better than the absolutely nothing that any of the rest of them know. Give him a swimmer in difficulty or someone choking on a gumball at the video store and he’s in his element, but any of this outdoorsy stuff is way out of his comfort zone.

Suddenly and from nowhere your brain kicks into high gear. You remember some of the training, and start barking orders.

“Will, get blankets, lots of blankets. I remember something about hot, sweet drinks…” Eyes wide and flicking between the stunned people standing around you, you ask, “Which of you makes the best hot chocolate??”

Mike and Lucas state in unison, “Dustin!”

“Okay. Dustin, Jane, you go make hot chocolate. Make a lot of it, and make it really sweet”, figuring you could all use some, and that there’s likely to be more than one person suffering from shock this evening.

Turning to her, you say, “Robin, help me take his jacket off and hang it in the kitchen by the stove. Mike, help Will with the blankets. Steve, Lucas, help me get him into the living room, in front of the fire. And anybody and everybody, go get more wood!”

Robin crouches next to you, helping you to ease Eddie’s jacket from his trembling shoulders, glancing at you as she does so. You’re guessing your concerned expression is mirroring hers, but you don’t want the kids to see so you keep it between you.

She gets up and moves to the small kitchen, placing his sodden jacket over the back of a dining chair and setting it in front of the old but functional wood-fired oven (one place in the house that’s almost always warm).

Steve and Lucas help you move Eddie into the living room, where the open fire gets stacked high with fresh wood.

Robin brings a bowl of warm water and some washcloths, and you sit eddie between you, both cleaning mud from his face and gently bathing his damaged hands and feet.

Jane sits on the floor behind you. Initially reticent and hanging back, she’s now sitting nearer to Eddie, carefully removing some of the twigs from his hair with characteristic diligence and gentleness.

You make Eddie take sips of Dustin’s (frankly, excellent) hot chocolate, and make sure all the kids have got some before asking Dustin to bring mugs for you, Steve and Robin.

Once he’s a bit cleaner and has had almost a full cup of Dustin’s healing brew, you all gather cushions and lay Eddie down on his side, facing the fire. You try to get as much heat on his front as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s still trembling and his skin is blue and icy to the touch, and he seems to be getting drowsy. You can’t remember much more of your basic emergency training, but it’s enough to worry you. Something about sleeping or going unconscious being a Very Bad Thing…

He’s wrapped in the blankets Will and Mike brought, but you fear the wet clothes he’s still wearing may well be hampering your efforts.

You have another idea, not sure whether it’s the done thing or if you’ll be able to convince any of the others to help you but willing to try anything at this point. You say, to no one in particular, “This isn’t working. Can we get him into the bathtub?”

Your eyes look up and scan the room, flicking mainly between Robin and Steve, and to your immense relief you see everyone nodding, trying to figure out how to make this work.

Dustin’s the first to stand, and you hear his voice crack a little as he tries to say with confidence,

“Tell us what you need us to do.”

You nod at him, once, before beginning,

“Dustin, Will, can you run a bath? Make it warm, but definitely not hot. Mike, Lucas, get towels. Hurry!”

After a few minutes, Dustin and Will return, letting you know they’ve filled the tub with warm, but not hot, water. Steve and Lucas reprise their roles as patient transport, and start to move Eddie towards the small bathroom.

As you follow them and traverse the narrow hallway you glance at the weather hammering outside the window of the back door. Something seems off, and it’s only after a few moments of consideration that you realise the leaves and rain are travelling in the opposite direction to those at the front door. This doesn’t make sense - surely the storm should be pushing them all the same way? It’s almost like you’re currently somehow in the centre of a swirling storm…

You don’t have time to dwell on this as Steve calls to you, asking what they should do now. You hurry to the bathroom and see that Steve has balanced Eddie’s butt on the side of the tub.

You reply,

“We need to get him out of these wet things.”

Grunting as he shifts position, Steve nods once and barks to Lucas, “Hold him up.”

Lucas does his best to stabilise your almost-unconscious friend. Kneeling in front of him, Steve fusses with Eddie’s waistband, grunting, “Sorry, buddy, it’s for the best”, as he unceremoniously yanks off Eddie’s jeans. New-looking, unripped, black 501 jeans.

Relieved to see he’s wearing boxers, they both balance Eddie as they work to remove his shirt. His Hellfire shirt. He only had two. Okay, this is officially getting weird…

As Steve and Lucas work you start to strip off your clothes, ending up in just your underwear and bra. You don’t even care that they’re in the room, reasoning that not only have they all seen you in your bathing suit before, but also that this was definitely not the time for bashfulness or self-consciousness.

Steve asks you what you’re doing, and you explain that you’re getting in the bath with Eddie, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Steve, he’s practically unconscious. You want him to slip under the surface and drown? Come on, let’s get him in here.”

Without waiting for any replies, you step into the water, relieved that the younger boys heeded your instructions and it is indeed warm, but not too hot. You wave your hands in vertical circles, as if it would bring Eddie closer faster.

The old bath is short, but wide, and you’re pretty sure you’ll both fit.

As the boys manhandle him you’re momentarily stunned as you see the outlines of Eddie’s ribs and shoulder blades brought into stark relief by the harsh lights of the room. But you’re jolted back to reality as you hear Steve grunting a little as he starts to manoeuvre Eddie’s legs into the water.

You help Steve and Lucas to get Eddie in, slowly lowering him in case even this is too much of a shock. You slide down behind him and sit with him between your legs, supporting him with his back against your chest. You rub his arms gently, and murmur, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Please warm up, Eddie. Please.”

Gesturing to your now-muddy garb and Eddie’s discarded garments, you ask, to nobody in particular, “Can someone get these clothes in the washer?”

Lucas bundles them up in his arms and heads towards the door, calling for Robin’s assistance. Steve thanks him as he leaves and closes the door, staying in with you and Eddie.

The water comes up around your mid torso. You use your hand to slosh the warm water around Eddie’s upper chest, but eventually decide that’s not enough.

You use a small jug that you and Robin use for hair washing to run warm water over Eddie’s skin, gently trying to warm him, but also carefully working to remove what mud and detritus that you can. He still feels cold to the touch, but after quite a few nerve wracking minutes he appears to be shivering less.

You and Steve share concerned glances, and Steve comforts you as you comfort Eddie, crouching down and reaching over the side of the tub to stroke your shoulder, reassuring you, telling you that you’re doing good, that this is helping.

Eddie sighs a little as you run water through his hair and down his torso, picking out the leaves left from Jane’s efforts and throwing them onto the floor.

Though it’s still cool, and preternaturally pale, Eddie’s skin seems to have warmed a little.

Hearing chattering and commotions outside, Steve stands, and you can tell he wants to check on what chaos might be transpiring in the rest of the house.

“I’m gonna go check on the others. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Okay, good. Just make sure you do. I’ll be back soon.”

Steve gives you a small smile as he exits, leaving you two alone in the tub.

After the door closes you allow yourself a moment of pure self-indulgence and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s body pressed against your own. His back nestles against your chest, his spine between your breasts. His pelvis is slotted between your thighs, and you can feel the jut of his hips and his coolness on the delicate skin there. There’s a subtle pressure on your centre, but you try your best to ignore it.

You tilt your head forward a little, just enough to rest your nose amongst Eddie’s wet tresses, and run your hands gently down the outside of his arms. Not necessarily to clean or warm them this time, but just to feel them. To feel him.

The circumstances are so far from ideal, but part of you can’t help but revel in this proximity, this intimacy. You always wanted to be like this with Eddie, to have this closeness, but you didn’t think he’d ever want the same with you. You indulge yourself further and start to daydream, imagining it’s just you and him, that it’s a lazy weekend, and you’re enjoying a bath together just for the fun of it. Maybe you’re in your own shared apartment, the sun is bright outside and the scent of summer flowers is drifting in through your open window. No worries, no dramas, just you and Eddie, and the only thing on your minds is the promise of a romantic evening together.

A noise outside the room, possibly something clattering in the kitchen, breaks your trance. Taking a deep breath and looking up again, you shake yourself out of your reverie. Wanting to take full advantage of the warm water whilst you still can, you take a chance and lean back against the sloped end of the bathtub, taking Eddie with you, submerging you both a little more. You continue to use one hand to scoop warm water over Eddie’s shoulders and collarbones, occasionally running your fingers over his chest and throat.

You use your other hand to run your fingers through his wet hair, and as you stroke him he turns his head to one side and nuzzles ever so slightly under your chin. His breathing is regulating, and he’s even humming a little. The physical pressure of his body resting between your legs is increased, but you manage to keep your focus on the matter at hand.

After a few more minutes Eddie’s hands seem to warm and regain a little function. He stills the movements of your hand on his chest and clumsily interlaces his fingers with yours, gripping as tightly as he’s able as a couple of fat tears run down his cheeks. He’s still not able to talk, but just by his actions he’s telling you so much.

You hum into the top of his head,

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’m here. You’re with us now. You’re safe.”

You feel him relax a tiny bit more.

You sit in stillness for a few more long minutes, and, using the opportunity to observe him further, you notice more changes.

He was always wiry, but his muscles had a soft bulk beneath his ivory skin. Now, they’re solid and taut, and you can almost see striations running their length. The skin stretched over them is thinner, and the healthy layer of subcutaneous fat is completely gone.

As well as his altered skin tone and skinnier, but somehow also more muscled, physique, you notice the angry silver and red marks in his skin. Sharp, starburst patterns that look like chunks of his flesh have been ripped out of him.

Of course, they were.

You shudder at the memory of the altercation with the demobats, watching Eddie bleed out, dragging him through the gate but none of you able to do anything to save him.

You so want to know what happened to him after you were all whisked away in ambulances and trucks and black SUVs. You’re sure you saw him bundled into a black body bag, lifted into one of the Hawkins National Laboratory vans, but where he went after that you had no idea.

Wanting to be closer to him, and inveterately curious, carefully, so carefully, you run a fingertip over one of the scars on his neck.

He tenses, and flinches slightly.

Okay, we’re not doing that just yet.

You both sit in the stillness for another little while, and the bath water begins to cool. Before you could call him for help, Steve comes back in to check on you both.

When he’s satisfied that neither of you have drowned, you check in and ask how everyone else is doing. Usually, when they stay over, the kids sleep on the floor in the living room in their sleeping bags. Steve lets you know that for tonight, Robin’s decided to sleep on the sofa in there with them. She says it’s for company, or reassurance, or whatever, definitely not because she’s at all freaked out and not wanting to sleep alone. He tells you the kids have enthusiastically agreed, that Robin’s calming them, placating their rampant questions and desires to see Eddie, and is managing to get them to at least lie down, even if they don’t sleep. You and Steve are supremely grateful.

As confident as you both can be that the immediate emergency is tackled, and with the bath water continuing to cool around you, you’re aware that you and Steve need to think about practicalities, and discuss quite what you’re going to do next.

Steve’s the first to broach the subject, drumming his fingers lightly on the side of the bath as he checks Eddie over once more and says,

“So, uh, what’re we gonna do with him now?”

Remembering more of your rudimentary training, you decide to make another unusual request.

“Well, uh… This is probably gonna sound kinda weird, but…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I remember something from the training that said body heat is the best thing for warming someone up. Like, consistent, reliable body heat.”

You pause to assess Steve’s response. His brow is slightly furrowed and he’s looking a little pensive, but he nods for you to continue.

“And there was something about how skin to skin contact is even better. So, I mean I totally get it if you don’t wanna do this, but I thought I’d we could maybe get him into a bed and then sleep either side of him. Like maybe even spoon him or something… I dunno, I guess this sounds pretty crazy…”

You shake your head and look down into the tub, noticing that your fingers are still laced with Eddie’s, and he’s gripping your hand like he doesn’t want to let go.

“No, uh…” Steve clears his throat. “Y’know, I can totally see how that would work. Uh, okay, uh yeah, I guess we could do that.”

He gives you a half smile, his other hand running down his cheek, as he processes what he’s just agreed to.

The one-storey cabin has three bedrooms. A single, one with a double bed and one with a king. Steve, the tallest out of the three of you and, apparently, the most likely to starfish, got the king, whilst Robin opted for the coziness of the single (the one with the good view), leaving you with the double. The only sources of heating in the cabin, other than the open fire and the stove, are two clunky old electric heaters, which you try not to use too often, and if you're honest are a little scared of. Steve runs hot so he insisted you and Robin had one each in your rooms.

After a few more moments of deliberation Steve seems to have made a plan in his head. Nodding to himself, he stands, and says,

“Well, my bed’s the biggest, so I guess we’ll go in there. I’ll get the boys to move the electric heater from your room for extra warmth. And don’t even think about telling me no. I’m fine to overheat for one night if it helps Eddie, okay?”

He gives you a kind smile as he goes to leave the room, and you give him a relieved one in return. That was actually far less awkward than you thought it was going to be, and you’re thankful that you and Steve now have a plan.

You dislodge the plug with your foot and start to drain the bath, sluicing as much of the mud and detritus down the plug hole as you can, and Steve returns to help Eddie to stand and get out. You both dry him off, wet boxers notwithstanding, and do what you can to blot some of the dampness from his hair. While Steve holds Eddie up, you give a cursory wipe to your shoulders and feet and wrap a large towel around your middle, figuring the most pressing matter now is getting Eddie into bed.

Eddie shuffles from the bathroom to Steve’s room, supported between the two of you. He’s still not speaking, and can only manage a few moans and whimpers as you manoeuvre him. You see the kids peering intently at you all from the living room, and they seem comforted by the fact that Eddie’s at least upright and making noises.

You sit him on the edge of Steve’s bed, and as Steve bustles around the room getting the heater set up you examine Eddie’s injuries again. The scrapes and cuts on his hands and feet look raw and painful, but not deep, and they’ve stopped bleeding. And you’re relieved to see that he doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Not fresh ones, at least…

You ask Steve if he can loan Eddie some dry clothes for the morning, and he chooses a few things from the drawers across the room.

You help Eddie to lie down in the middle of the mattress, whilst Steve lifts his legs onto the bed and pulls a sheet over him. Brandishing the clean boxers he’s retrieved, Steve says, in his best Team Captain voice, “Okay, we need to change these. Sorry again, buddy, but it’s for the best.”

Steve manages to change Eddie’s underwear under the covers, explaining it’s for his modesty, as Eddie grumbles but doesn’t resist.

Steve turns around whilst you dry off and change into the fresh underwear Robin delivered for you, and you slide under the covers and sit at the headboard as Steve does the same on the other side.

Eddie’s breathing is more regular, and he’s no longer shivering, so you feel safer now letting him drift into sleep. You move some strands of drying hair from his cheeks, and gently stroke the side of his face. Steve gives you a moment before pulling the comforter up and placing extra blankets on top of you all.

In the quiet, you notice that the wind and rain have died down, leaving only the hum of the heater and the delicate, rhythmic patter of drizzle on the window as the soundtrack to your evening. It’s oddly comforting.

You move down under the covers, and as the two of you organise the blankets and start to settle around Eddie, you say in a low voice,

“Thanks, Steve. You’re a true friend.”

He responds, kindly,

“Hey, I’m not the one who just got into a muddy bath with him and pulled half a tree out of that jungle he calls his hair. I think that title most definitely belongs to you.”

You snort quietly at Steve’s observation as you snuggle into the bed. You both encourage Eddie to turn so his front is against your back, feeling his cool skin down the length of you, as Steve slots himself around his back, pulling up the covers and turning off the bedside lamp as he goes.

In the darkness you reach behind you and pull one of Eddie’s arms across your torso. You clutch his hand to your chest, wrapping both of yours around it, telling yourself it’s to warm him up, but knowing deep down it’s because you desperately want to feel him around you, and imagine he’s holding you.

You feel his breathing regulate, puffing rhythmic exhales against your neck. As exhausted as you are, a million questions still run through your mind. So many unknowns, whats, whys and hows.

What happened? Where’s he been? Why is he dressed in the clothes you guys picked out to bury him in? Does Owens know about this? What the fuck is going on?

All you know for sure is two things:

One, you’d do anything to keep Eddie safe.

And two, tomorrow is going to be a very, very interesting day…

ICYMI, the Prologue is here

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part.

Comments and reblogs keep writers writing, I’d love to hear from you.

My masterlist

I now have taglists for ‘everything’ and for each of my ongoing series, let me know if you’d like to be included!

Taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256

Extra tags: I’ve rather presumptuously tagged everyone who enjoyed or reblogged previous parts, just let me know if you’d rather I didn’t! @nicolothy @mmunsonsstuff @songforeddiemunson @kookygranger @lovingonthemoon @elegantkoalapaper @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn

#knock at the cabin #eddie munson #strangerprompts #eddie munson x reader #supernatural Eddie Munson fic #dark fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #S4 fix it #dark fanfic #Eddie lives #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #lucas sinclair #jane hopper #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #KATC #post S4 #post s4 fic #Mike wheeler #the party #stranger things S4 #stranger things S4 fanfic #hypothermia

[iworkforthescoops]

ST4 Vol2 SPOILERS

Listen, I LOVE Steve (he IS my favourite ST character after all), but honestly I’d rather they had killed Steve this season, because the way Eddie died? FUCK THAT.

This just shows that the whole purpose of Eddie‘s character was to be a filler death because the Duffer brothers are unwilling to kill one of their main characters. We saw it happen with Bob and Alexei and now with Eddie and we’ll see it again when in season 5 they’re going to introduce a loveable new character whose sole purpose is to be there as a cheap cop-out death, because god forbid that one of the main characters actually dies.

And the way that apparently Dustin and Eddie‘s uncle are the only ones who’re actually mourning him? They way that they just left Eddie‘s body in the upside down? The way Eddie died to protect a whole town that was out to kill him? Fuck that.

And this is just one of my many issues with volume 2 (looking at the whole mess that was Will‘s feelings for Mike being used to further the Mileven relationship).

God, I’m bitter. I need a fix-it fic. Or possibly a whole lot of them.

#joe keery #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #st4 vol2 #byler s4 #will byers deserves better #st4 vol 2 was a joke #joseph quinn #steddie #they did will byers dirty #they did eddie munson dirty #fix it fic #fix st4 vol 2 #st4 vol 2 rant #claryrants #st4 spoilers

[stevesbipanic]

Title: If I Could Turn Back Time

Word Count: 3448

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Wayne Munson, The Party

Tags: Temporary Character Death, Temporary Amnesia, Character Briefly is a Child, No Romantic Things Happen while they're a child, Childhood Trauma, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Aged Down Character, Romance towards the end when they're both big, Pinky Promises, POV Alternating

Summary:

"Hide somewhere, somewhere you felt safe."

After the battle the party realises their fallen friend isn't so fallen after all, just a lot smaller.

Eddie likes these new people, especially the boy with the fluffy hair and a nice smile.

Together can they return Eddie to his original body and work through their pasts?

Beta Read by @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

Art and Banner by @maikaartwork

Read it here!

#stranger things reverse big bang #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things s4 #st4 #ao3 #fix it fic

[toomanyacorns]

Summer '86 @goditsmeagain

P L E A S E read the fanfic this is based on because it's art and I can't stop sobbing

Summary:

After everything that happened during Spring Break, life for everyone in Hawkins returned to somewhat normal. Well, aside from Steve's new friendship with one Eddie Munson.

The gang decide they all deserve a break and head to Steve's family beach house for a week, featuring copious amounts of fluff, found family bonding, blurring (or completely ignoring) the line between platonic and romantic, and bullying being considered flirting.

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #stranger things s4 #steve harington #fix it fic #steddie fanart #steddie au #steddie fix it fic #stranger things fanart #fruity four #everyone is gay and so am i #ao3 #eddie munson fanart #steve harrington fanart

[eddiesbug]

request: eddie doesn't die, but he just barely makes it, and visiting him in the hospital with his favorite music and foods and giving him soft cuddles and yeah

FIX-IT FIC

content warnings: STRANGER THINGS VOL 2 SPOILERS, sum light angst but not rly (just lots of relieved crying), reader is totally emotionally crippled, soft cuddles, just loving on the bestest boy

“Mmph…” Eddie’s little grumble has you stirring from a light doze, face pressed against his warm hand on the hospital bed. “Baby?” he calls, voice rasping. The relief his voice gives you is palpable; you really thought you’d lost him and no one has been able to console you for days. You’ve been planted firmly by his side for the entirety of the time he’s been at the hospital, waiting, praying for him to wake up. It seems your prayers have been answered.

He’s disoriented at first, grappling for purchase against your t-shirt. The hospital gown itches and it’s so bright and you’re the only familiarity in the foreign, clinically sterilised room.

A wet sob looses from your throat and your shaking hands cup his face, tracing the curve of his brow, the dip and bump of his nose, the swell of his lips.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you breathe out, tears from your waterlogged lashes obscuring your view of your boyfriend. You feel you need to commit his features to memory now. Just in case. “Thought you were gone, Eds.”

“What a way to go it would’ve been though, right?” he laughs, though his voice is scratchy and strained. Everything hurts and despite that he’s still cracking jokes. Only your Eddie.

You scoff, grabbing his jaw with no real malice and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. It makes you ache to even think about him being gone. You don’t think your heart could take it.

“It’s not even funny. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It really looked like you’d died, baby.”

“Couldn’t leave my favourite girl, could I?”

“Better not. I need you, idiot.” You growl playfully, lacing your fingers through his grubby ones and kissing each of his knuckles in turn. He draws your hand up to his face, opening your clenched fingers and pressing his face to your warm palm. You stroke across his cheek soothingly as he seeks your touch.

“Brought you some stuff.”

“Oh, do tell.”

You begrudgingly leave his side to swipe the basket from the floor. You pull out each item in turn: a Walkman, some of his favourite music (Ozzy, of course, Metallica, Iron Maiden), some chocolate, cake, chips, anything you think he’ll eat. He gazes at the pile of items in awe.

“You brought all this for me, baby?”

“‘Course I did,” you murmur, trying to push back the tears brimming behind your eyes. You really can’t help it — you’ve spent the past days wound tight with stress and terror, and now that he’s okay, you’re crumbling.

“Oh, my angel. I’m okay,” he croaks.

“Don’t you ever leave me. Ever.” You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his hands. Anywhere you can reach. “Never ever.”

“Never.”

“Okay.”

He watches with rapt attention as you pile everything back into the basket bar a few snacks, before toeing your shoes off and shuffling into the bed next to him. You tremble as you move, needing to touch him, to feel him, warm and breathing and alive.

It takes him some effort to manoeuvre into a position where you can cradle him the way he likes, but once his head is resting in the juncture of your neck, he relaxes.

“‘ve got you,” you mumble. “Got you here. Safe.” He nods along, eyes following your hands as you tear open a bag of chips. “Hungry?”

“A little.”

“Okay,” comes your soft acknowledgment. You pinch a small chip out of the bag, placing it into his awaiting mouth. He grins, pointed teeth protruding past his lips. Even his dimples show themselves. Your heart clenches.

“Gonna take care of me? Feed me and nurse me back to health?” he teases.

“You bet I am. Not leaving until you’re better.” Your dead seriousness contrasts greatly with his jovial tone. You can’t leave him ever again.

“Nurse y/n.” He ponders the silly nickname, that spark in his eyes you missed so much finally returning. “Think I know a few ways you could make me feel better.”

You giggle, kissing his temple.

“Perv.”

“You love me.”

“I do. So much.”

#stranger things s4 spoilers #stranger things spoilers #fix it fic #fanfic #imagines #writers on tumblr #writing #fiction #fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson concept #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson is the love of my life

[helloliriels]

We're ready to watch S4 again ...

(as long as you promise to read this)

And the Award goes to ...

@discordantwords for

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea

🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊

Read the fic critics are calling: "Cathartic, Heartbreaking!", "This fic absolutely HEALED me!", "So deeply satisfying", "God. WOW.", "This could actually happen, I can SEE this happening!", "Magnificent", "Endless Kudos", "I'll end every rewatch of Sherlock by reading your fic!", "This fic felt like coming home."

Nominated by @raina-at and @bakerstmel (and many more besides!) You were bound to win for at least one fic* this round!

*My nom was set to be Whirlwind, but the fandom has SPOKEN! (and this word art was hella fun to make!)

@chinike @rhasima @whatnext2020 @loki-lock @justanobsessedpan @topsyturvy-turtely @what-even-is-thiss @iwlyanmw @neverlet @riverwithoutbanks @ithinkthereforeiamaswell @thesunandherflannelcurtains @daltongraham @ileenhaddockhawkins @lisbeth-kk @inatshej @mxster-jocale @bakerstreethound @ninasnakie @tiverrr @im-erin @escapingthereality @arwamachine @bisexualmindcabin @summerfly-blues @lhrinchelsea @belles-magnetic-violin @chriscalledmesweetie @eclectic-confusion @iamjustreading @dw91165 @scrub456 @mrb488 @glows-n-the-dark @keirgreeneyes @anyway-kindness @peanitbear @missdeliadili @colourfulwatson @eplapourdissant @impalaparkedat221b @theresnoescapingfromtheheartache @itsadeathfrisbee @wizama @johnlocky @scarves-and-jumpers @sgam76 @janetm74 @winchester-1895

#hello award season! #sherlock s4 #sherlock fix it fic #angst and feels #discordantwords #never turn your back to the sea #it's award season baby! #_large

[babygirlharrington]

Steddie Fic Rec #1

Eddie Munson The Silvertongue - Cherrycolatree @rasberrycolapop

Summary: The events of the last few years of his life have left Steve Harrington a wreck. He feels as alone in life as he imagines he would in death. Things begin to change after he’s rescued from a drunken stupor by sort-of-friend Eddie Munson.

Explicit, WIP. TW for alcohol abuse. Eddie helps Steve find healthier coping mechanisms for his trauma.

Wasteland, Baby! - coloredlove8 @goblinthefrog

Summary: “You can't see how you look at him." "How do I look at him?" He whispered. Her right thumb swiped against the sensitive skin under his eye, "Like you looked at me."

Explicit, Complete. Sexy, consensual S&M between bros.

Feel this Burning, Love of Mine - @judasofsuburbia

Summary: Vecna is defeated. Steve Harrington stays in the hospital to be with Eddie Munson, despite everyone's confusion, including his own. After Eddie gets released, he has his first night terrors and immediately calls Steve for help. How can Steve resist?

Explicit, WIP. Steve takes care of Eddie following the events of S4V2. A fix-it, canon divergent. 

When There's Still So Many Things To Say Unsaid - BlackUnicorn

Summary: Steve and Eddie's relationship as seen through the eyes of their family.

Not rated, Complete. What it says on the tin. Eddie & Steve’s blossoming relationship as told by their found family. 

It struck me deep (it brought me to my knees) - Gorgeousgreymatter @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Summary: It’s not even the nightmares most of the time. At this point, Steve would totally settle for some up close and personal time in his brainpan with the Upside Down if it meant he could actually fucking sleep.

Mature, WIP.  Eddie and Steve help each other with their night terrors through totally platonic bed sharing.

Put My Heart at Ease - Chaoticbitch033

Summary: Eddie is having trouble sleeping because of his nightmares. Steve tries to help, and gets more than he bargained for.

Not Rated, Complete. Another plausible fix-it. Hurt/comfort.

#this was hastily thrown together #but i really like these ones! #hello authors if youre seeing this! i like ya shit #i'll do another rec when i read and bookmark more I like #steve harrington #BI STEVE #steveddie #bi steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fic rec #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #stranger things fix it #nobody follows this blog quite yet but this is for yall in the tags #caspar certified post

[malacandrax]

“Explain shotgunning to me”

I read 'The Affliction of the Feeling' by nondz on ao3 and it absolutely killed me, I had to get this scene out of my head.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanart #Truly I have read the fic like 3 times already... the characters are so well written #sts4 #stranger things s4 #st #stranger things #listen the joint is backwards but it was too late to fix it #its fine he's a freak who smokes weird #process vid will go on patreon soon #steveddie

[velocitytimes2]

Synergist (come. over.)

Rating: E Word Count: 8.7k. Pairing: Steddie

Read on ao3!

The line doesn’t flip to static, but stays on and lets Steve hear the clack of Eddie’s rings as his fingers jostle his hair and Steve wonders when he learned to discern that one specific sound. Then, oh but then. Then every noise that has ever been and will ever be is tramped out of Steve’s brain and all he knows, all he ever wants to hear again in his goddamn life is the soft groan that sounds like it’s been yanked from Eddie’s gut. “You’ll be the death of me.” - Or: the misuse of radios by teenagers in the 80's to get their rocks off.

The nightmares never really followed a discernable pattern.

And it fucking sucked.

It would be one thing if they were just replays of the events Steve had gone through the past two years. Those memories Steve had lived.

He’d fought and used his fists, and a bat, and cunning, and a jaw that ached when it got cold, all to get out of the sticky moments. The flashes of memories he had from every moment of the last three years were tamed with the knowledge that he had lived. 

He’d gotten to the other side. 

In all theorem he should come out victorious in his dreams and his nightmares. He’d seen the worst of it and at the end had been okay. He’d lived. He should be able to come out on top in the battles that raged in his head just like he had in reality. He should win.

The fucking issue is, he never did.

It was never that easy. It was never a simple replay. 

It was new monsters every time; a different animal bastardized and remorphed. Mountain lions with loose maws stalking him from between cars in the parking lot of Hawkins High. Sharks jumping out of Lover’s Lake and wriggling their bodies until they grew the legs of alligators to chase and chase and chase. Monkeys without eyes raining from the trees in the woods behind his house, diving into his pool after him and tearing into flesh with fleshy, razor-fanged mouths. 

Never Steve’s flesh, though. Always the person running or swimming just a step behind him, his shouts of warning never coming in time.

And damn if that wasn’t the worst part. 

Always rows of teeth and claws striking out; blood oozing from a different person each night. Their screams the most haunting thing, the thing that kept Steve up when he heard them reverberate in his skull like they were right there. It wasn’t the blood or gore or wriggling tentacles that kept him up, shocked him back awake. It was the fucking screams.

Dustin.

Robin and Nancy.

Max. 

Max and Billy combined as the Mind Flayer strikes true.

Mike and Will. 

Lucas. 

El as she holds both hands in front of her, their only hope.

Eddie. 

Eddie’s heart stopping.

Steve screaming when he found them.

Steve’s hands clawing it back to life.

Eddie not breathing even as Steve begged.

The silence that followed.

It was the screams that haunted Steve. 

They’d won, they were okay. Mostly. But he still heard their screams.

It usually happened every few nights. The nightmares pressing deeper and deeper until he’s suffocating with lungs ripped out of his body as he slams into the offending thing. Fully ready to sacrifice himself in the place of someone he loves so deeply he can’t fucking breathe. It’s Steve’s purpose in the part; it’s something he’s come to complete terms with. He isn’t smart like the younger boys, doesn’t have the uptake of Robin or Nancy, doesn’t have powers like El and isn’t willing to flay himself for the greater good like Max and Billy. He was Steve. He was strong and a bit stupid and would always – always and forever – put his body in between danger and someone he loved. 

So, every few nights the him in his subconscious would try to die in a new and spectacular way, the sacrificial lamb for the good of the people who he loved. 

It was an inevitability Steve was okay with. It had been something he’d accepted as he walked down train tracks with Dustin Henderson for the first time. That if something jumped out of the woods and screeched at them, Steve would be in between the kid and the beast. He would die there if the gods looked down and deemed that he should. 

It was an odd place to exist, the one between scrambling to survive and being willing to go belly up if it meant a friend would live to fight another day.

It was the reality Steve survived in, somehow found himself constantly enduring perils to shield the ones who were truly important.

So he lets the nightmares be a thing, lets them shock him awake, tries to dull them with weed and booze and cigarettes but that only ramps his mind up for worse, so he really doesn’t do that much anymore either. 

They’d been a plague since the Demogorgon had first burst in at Jonathan’s in fall of eighty-three. Back then they’d been vague things that Steve could wake up and chase away with a few gulping pulls from his father’s whiskey. 

Three years and too many gasping breaths later it was an expected reality. 

The sun rose in the east. 

The tides follow the moon. 

Steve Harrington can’t sleep, because any time he gets more than three hours he wakes gasping and sweat-drenched. 

It’s one of those nights; the ones where Steve can feel the terror itching to get out from under his skin as he throws his body from side to side, twisting in his sheets until the panic pulls him under completely to choke him out to the point of waking up gasping. It’s one of those nights when the walkie-talkie the kids had bullied him into keeping close to his bed snaps to life and shocks his half-asleep brain into consciousness. It’s Mike’s voice, pitched low and shaking that comes first.

“Sound off. Over.” 

Steve feels himself groan as he yanks the duvet over his head at the sound, almost asleep and chasing the calm that comes for a few moments prior to the terror taking the reins. 

“Buckley over and out.”

“Max. Safe. Over.”

“Lucas. Over.”

Steve can distantly hear thunder rolling. The rain’s been tapping its nails against his window since noon. Storms always seemed to set Mike off. Probably something about Will talking about thunder for so long.

“El and Hopper. Safe and over.”

“Dustin. Over.”

Steve knows he should answer the call, it is the right thing to do, the thing he’s always done. But. But, this night, a storm brewing in the woods and his brain heavy with the fears of what’s hiding within, he feels overwhelmed. So close to the possibility of a few moments of rest prior to the fear gripping his chest. Just another minute. Five more in the quiet. That’s all he needs.

“Will. Over.” Will’s voice is the most sleep heavy, consonants dragging and slurred together. 

“Jonathan and Nancy.” The exhausted and rough sound of Jonathan’s voice seizes something in Steve’s chest still, all this time later. Steve isn’t sure why. He'd gotten over his romantic feelings for Nancy a year prior but it still gave his heart a tug when she and Jonathan so easily fit into the box of a couple.

Least of his worries, romance. Shove it aside for later. 

“Munson, over.” 

It was sometimes still a shock, hearing Eddie’s voice. It’s the one that haunted Steve the most, when the nightmares came. Dustin screaming, begging, Eddie’s blood gurgling. 

But. 

But. 

He was alive. Everyone was alive. Steve hadn’t let anyone with him die during spring break. The sirens and the hospital and the government doctors had kept them all alive - after. Steve had got the heart started again. Cracked sternum, blood on lips. Eddie’s breathing a crackle but there.

He was close to sleep, so close to a few soft moments of reprieve. He was chasing it, head heavy. 

Safe. They were all safe, confirmed so. 

His eyelids are so heavy.

It’s his turn. He knows it’s his turn. ‘Steve, over.’ It’d be so easy, but something stops his hand, his mouth, his entire being. He’s frozen and exhausted, caught between sleep and awake and maybe he’s dreaming this, hopefully the coming silence meant he was dreaming this. Could sink deeper into bed.

“Steve?” Dustin’s voice cutting the night air, “Do you copy? Over.” Three beats. Let it g- “Steve. Do you copy? Over.” Steve counts them this time. One, two, three. “Steve!” Dustin’s voice has pitched up, worry coating it. “Do you copy?! Over!” One. Tw-

“He’s probably gettin’ all cozy with a pretty gi-“

“Ew, Eddie!”

“What the fuck man!” “Nope, nope, nope.” 

“Look dweebs, I’m just saying, there’s reasons guys don’t answer late at night and it’s usually because of-“

“I’m not having sex, Eddie.” Steve feels like he’s suffocating, so fucking done with all of this and he’s heavy with the sleepiness of insomnia that won’t fucking leave his head. “Over.”

“Steve! What the hell! We called a sound off, are you okay? Over.” Dustin’s voice has a panicked quality and part of Steve feels bad, feels guilty. Part of him wants to scream. Just because. 

“I was trying to sleep, Henderson,” Steve sighs, throwing an arm over his face, “Something you all should be doing, too.”

The line’s static fills the silence, radio silence. Maybe Steve will actually start screaming. It’d be cathartic. 

“You gotta say over, sweetheart,” Eddie jeers, and Steve can see the smile on his face like a burn on his retinas, Cheshire-wide and goading, framed by black hair haloed across a pillow. “Over.” It made Steve’s sleep rattled brain trip on itself, the ease at which he could picture Eddie splayed out summer warm in bed. 

“Yeah Steve,” it’s Robin’s voice now, “at least use proper radio protocol, come on. Over.” 

“None of you did when Eddie was talking about-“

“No! No Steve!” Dustin’s voice had the pitchy height it got any time Robin or Eddie brought up Steve’s dating life. “No talk about fornication on this line! Over!”

“Just this line that’s banned?” Eddie’s voice dripped with mirth, even in low quality and volume from across town.

“Eddie, I swear, you saved the world and-“ 

“How about this,” Steve cuts in and rolls over to prop himself on an elbow, feeling like it’s more of the right positioning to take his frustration out in, “everyone goes to sleep now. Over.”

He flops down, face smashed into his pillow, listens as the kids all trickle off, El then Mike because he’d follow her lead to hell – fucking literally – then Lucas and Max, reluctantly Dustin. Robin, wishing everyone ‘sweet dreams loud-ass motherfuckers’, until it was just Eddie who hadn’t signed off properly. And himself. 

“Hey Stevie, switch channels for me, over.”

“No. Over.” He knows that tomorrow, in the daylight, he’ll probably regret the blunt push off of his friends, but now it was taking everything in him to just choke words out. 

“Steve,” Eddie draws his name out, a whine tinging it. Ever since the recovery, ever since getting everything back to Not-Upside-Down, Eddie had been plastered to Steve’s side. An incessant little thing. Steve hadn’t minded, because an Eddie in his line of sight meant consistent confirmation that Eddie was alive. What Steve had been taught his first-year lifeguarding had worked. Stayin’ Alive, thirty pumps, copper taste of blood on his lips, chest inflate, chest deflate, a coughing body in his arms, not a corpse.

Their friendship had started with Eddie sitting in Family Video with Robin and Steve as they worked. Because apparently saving the world or some shit from an evil superpowered thing didn’t mean you could just… not work. Well, financially it did, actually. The stipend for keeping your mouth shut was astronomical. 

Spending it was an astronomical task. 

Leaving Hawkins was an astronomical task.

Sitting at home, doing nothing, was an astronomical issue.

So. Job. 

Eddie had infiltrated it, then got a job at the music and record shop that opened down the road as the town rebuilt.

Spent his lunch with Steve, watching a half hour of whatever he was watching that day. 

Steve had started to bring the movies home each night, so Eddie could watch the end with him when he came over with a six pack, a rolled joint, and two pizzas.

That turned into talking through shit movies.

It turned into Steve telling Eddie about the dreams, about why he didn’t want to sleep alone at his own home. 

It turned into Eddie telling Steve he sometimes still felt like his sides were wet, like they were still bleeding even though the scars had healed. 

Had continued with Eddie crying, a little drunk, pressed into Steve’s side, thanking him for getting his heart restarted and dragging his body through the gate. 

Had continued with Steve telling him he would have done anything but leave Eddie’s body in the fucking Upside Down.

It ended with Steve seeing Eddie every day. Spending their days off driving around or lazed in Steve’s pool or with Steve cooking dinner while the Hellfire Club met in his dining room. 

It ended with Eddie in Steve’s life, orbiting him as he orbited Eddie.

It, apparently, ended with Eddie annoying the fuck out of him over a walkie-talkie at two in the goddamned morning.

“Pretty please, Steven? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again ever and ever and-“

“For fucks sake! Will you shut him up, please!” Mike Wheeler’s screech comes through and Steve screams a groan at his ceiling, “Over!” 

Steve grapples with his walkie blindly and presses the stupid little button. “Fine. Fine! Munson. What fucking channel? Over.”

“Twenty-seven-point-two-seven-five,” Eddie’s voice is much too smug, Steve is too much of a pushover. Steve can see a clear image in his mind of Eddie curling over his radio, the smile he used in Steve’s dining room when he was DM’ing a campaign showing all his teeth. 

Steve changes the channel.

“Yes, Edward?” He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. A beat of silence. 

A beat longer.

Steve screams. 

“I’m not doing that nerd fucking shit, Eddie, I swear, I’m not playing this game tonight, okay? D1. I’m fucking dead, or something.” 

“Did you… just make a reference to-“

“Please, Eddie.” Steve’s exhausted, his skin on too tight and he cannot. Deal. With. This.

“Bad night?” Eddie asks next, instantly knowing, voice snapping into something caring, softer. The edges are blurring. “You sounded awful.”

So, yeah, Eddie knew. Eddie knew Steve and Eddie knew about the nightmares. Eddie orbited Steve. He’d known since he found Steve screaming on his uncle’s bed, Steve unwilling to drive home in the dark because something had been prickling the back of his neck and he was scared. Didn’t want to be alone. Eddie had sat up with Steve that night, pulling out a stash he had Argyle bring from Colorado that worked quick, and let Steve suck down the entire joint himself while Eddie told him about all the nights he woke up, shaking but unable to sit up, scared he’d actually died and was stuck laying down and alone for eternity. 

They’d forged something then, some kind of comradery that only came when you’re found with tears in your eyes and holding a pillow tight to your chest. It had taken three weeks after they’d both been discharged from the hospital before Steve had tried sleeping in his own damn house again. 

“Yeah, man.” Steve scrubs a hand over his face, letting it fall to his chest with a thunk, letting his lingering animosity fall away with it. “The fucking wasp one.” Tiny bugs swarming the kids and crawling down their throats in the tunnel system, stinging their eyes and crawling between their teeth when they screamed. Rearing tiny teeth-rowed mouths back and taking chunk and chunk until blood made Steve’s feet slide on the floor. By the end of it he’s surrounded only by corpses filled with holes as the wasps turn to him in unison.

“When’s the last time you got some real sleep?” Eddie sounds tired, too, his words loose and open, voice pitched low as he sheds the persona that always got all shined up for the kids and becoming the lazy thing he spoke with when no one but Steve was in the room. 

“You first,” Steve goads, rubbing his sternum in a circle, something feeling stuck in his chest easing talking to Eddie. Eddie got it. Eddie saw him, saw it all. Eddie didn’t hide from it. Steve orbited Eddie.

“Tuesday morning.”

“Shit, Munson.” Steve admonishes. It was early in the Saturday morning hours. It really never got that bad often, not to the point of almost a week of sleepless nights. It had been months and it was getting better but not whole. In the beginning it had been bad, Eddie’s record just three hours over Steve’s when they had finally drunk themselves into oblivion on Steve’s couch, waking up slumped together, hungover but at least somewhat rested.

“Yeah Stevie,” Eddie sighs and Steve can hear it because he keeps his finger pressed on the button through the pause, “C’mon, I showed you mine. How long?”

“Slept most of Thursday, but since then it’s been spotty.” It’s easy to be candid with Eddie, he’d seen it first-hand. Seen the broken shards of Steve shattered in the aftermath of the apocalypse. He’d been there. Robin had an idea but everyone else just didn’t talk about it the way Eddie did with him. 

“You think you’re going to sleep tonight?” Eddie asks.

“Not now that I know the kids are still scared,” Steve admits, already feeling the fitful feeling of constant vigilance scratch behind his eyes, slowly understanding that Eddie wasn’t really here to annoy him. He wanted Steve the way Steve wanted Eddie right now. Someone there in the alone, in the wakefulness. Someone there to keep you warm while shaking to death under the weight of monsters and smoke and bats and red lightening. 

Two suns, orbiting, chasing, on a collision course.

“Me either. Still got some of the last shit I gave ya?” Eddie asks, and as he talks the radio rustles with his movement. 

“Yeah, Eds.”

“Roll one, smoke with me.” And Steve isn’t sure why, if it’s the need to be Very Much Not Alone Right Now, if it’s Eddie’s tone – the silent beg Steve knows is hidden there, if it’ll even help but not above fucking trying to stave off the demons, he agrees. He lets the walkie list to the side as he opens the bedside table, sitting up and starting to grind the flowers. “Stevie?” 

“Yeah man,” Steve mumbles as he licks the paper to seal it, “I’m fuckin’ rolling, Eds. Hold your horses.”

“You are the slowest fucking grinder, I swear.” It’s said with a snigger, and Steve flicks his lighter to take the first long lungful before responding as he blows it out.

“The fucking mouth on you around the kids, dude.” He doesn’t let his button go as he takes another long, slow pull, knowing Eddie will wait for him if the static doesn’t come back. “Stop making the kids think about sex, Eddie.”

“Oh, mom,” Eddie laughs when Steve finally allows the rumble of static to return, his voice taking on revelry even when tired, “you don’t think their little brains are just chugging along with pure and wholesome thoughts twenty-four-seven, do ya?” There’s a breathless laugh and then Eddie’s choking and coughing and Steve knows it’s from laughing as he inhaled, having seen it happen on the edge of his pool too many times to hear the sound and think of anything else. “Have you seen the way Wheeler looks at El? Or how Byers looks at Wheeler? Kid’s probably-“

“Eddie come on man!” Steve groans, throwing his head back. Eddie’s cackling on his end when Steve chokes on his own pull. 

“Come on, Steve, you don’t remember being a fifteen-year-old kid? Creaming your pants when you saw boobs for the first time?” Eddie can barely get the words out through his laughter at Steve’s disgusted noise, a hint of sleepless hysteria lacing it all.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Munson, what the fuck?” But Steve’s laughing anyway because Eddie’s laugh is an infectious thing, you catch it and the symptoms take over within seconds. 

“Where’d you see your first pair of titties, Steve Harrintgon?” Eddie’s giggling, and Steve has an uncensored, weed-addled urge to reach through time and space to be able to touch Eddie then, feeling the giggles shake his body. 

Collision course, creeping closer.

“Oh shit,” Steve says, holding the joint up and watching the smoke curl from the end of it lazily in the moonlight. “Fuck probably a movie? I dunno.” He thinks maybe Jaws, when Tommy had stolen it from his older brother and they’d watched it at twelve. “Maybe a Playboy I stole from my dad? Fuck, I was, I did that for years.” He’s laughing, the weight of the weed starting to press him down into the mattress on his back. 

Eddie tsks as Steve giggles, “Oh Stevie, what a naughty little rich boy.” 

“Oh fuck off, what was yours?” 

The static crackles for a few moments and Steve’s worried he’s said something wrong, the anxiety that bubbled under his skin every moment of every day after that night in the Byers’ house years ago flaring up to a boil.

“Found one of my old man’s VHS’s when I was fourteen.” Steve closes his eyes to look at his mental image of Eddie, seeing him scrunching his nose up as his hands fidget. “That was an interesting damn day.” He sounds a bit short of breath when he adds, “Definitely learned that I was into one over the other pretty fucking quick.” 

Steve’s not dumb, this time, he thinks. He gets it in a second, gets it because it makes things slot together in his brain in a way that hadn’t been there before. It’s the opposite feeling of when Robin had said just as little to him. He’s not sure how or why it feels that way, now.

“Yeah?” He probes, tries for as gentle and soft he can, even with his heart rate stuttering heavier in his ribs.

“Yeah, Steve.” Eddie in Steve’s mind curls in on himself and Steve can’t have that, doesn’t want that. “Robin told me she told you and you didn’t yell.”

“I was blindsided by that one.” Steve says simply, pulls again, joint half gone.

“And not this?” Eddie’s laugh has turned sour and Steve feels pushed off kilter by that. 

“I mean, I’m not saying I expected it? But it… I dunno man it makes sense?” It feels right, is something he doesn’t say, unsure of how to even quantify it in any way except his stomach feeling settled by it all. “I’m cool with it, Eddie, if that’s what you’re fuckin’ chewing your nails over right now.” 

“How did you?” But there’s a little laugh coming back, Eddie’s voice softening back down into warmth again. 

“You do it when you're stressed.” Steve says simply, taking a deep breath, because it was that simple to him. Just part of Eddie that everyone had noticed at this point, they had to have had. Steve had. Knew the way Eddie’s teeth tore at cuticles as he watched a room he wasn’t comfortable in, always feeling like the outsider, always in motion. Knee jumping, head shaking, fingers twitching. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, Harrington,” Eddie’s breathless as he laughs at Steve from the other side of town. “Full of goddamn surprises.” 

“I contain multitudes or some shit.” Steve rolls his eyes, parroting Nancy’s words from some time junior year when things were easy and he was happy and the world hadn’t ended and he could sleep through the night and look at his pool without imagining Barb or see a blue car and not feel terror tug on his gut. 

“That you do, Stevie.” 

“I mean,” Steve feels loose, too loose because Eddie’s always giving him the good shit, and his mind is unlocking and picking up pieces he’d tossed aside haphazardly to look at later, “I get it, you know?”

“You… get it?”

“Yeah man, I mean, dudes, right?” It makes sense to Steve, so it has to make sense to Eddie, who was smoking the same shit. “Like, yeah. Guys can be hot.” The aerobics instructor comes to mind, arms that bulged out from a ripped shirt. “Girls are hot, too. But not to you. Guys are hot, but not to Robin.” It makes sense, Steve thinks. Total sense. Something he’d toyed with and rolled around in his brain for months and months now. Tried the taste of it when his parents had drug him to some party in the city and he’d immediately left after, found a bar that was dark, and hidden, and didn’t card him. It had been eye opening, not shocking when the man had kissed him. Not really. “I guess for some people it’s both.”

“O-kay,” Eddie drawls the word, stretching it longer than Steve really thought necessary as he sucks in a breath of smoke. “How about we resume this train of thought sometime else, Steve?” And there’s a shake in his voice, something that Steve hasn’t ever heard lately, in the Rightside Up. It sounds like uncertainty. Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like an Eddie who isn’t sure footed, isn’t commanding the room. 

“Sure.” Steve rocks from side to side gently, feeling the mattress shift under his body. “Tell me what’s got you so worked up tonight.”

“Well I just came out to you,” Eddie laughs and Steve doesn’t like that it feels more forced than their previous giggles, “so there’s fucking that.” 

“You didn’t die, Eddie.” Steve says, jumps three steps forward, knows that’s where they’re going to end up. 

They always ended up there. With Eddie shaking and scared and with Steve holding his hair back as he pukes out the demons all while telling Steve the entire time he’d been gone, heart stopped, body ripped apart in an alternate dimension. 

“Stop doing that, Steve.” Eddie’s voice is smaller, and Steve hates it, hates when Eddie isn’t laughing or smiling or full of levity and confidence. 

“No.” Steve smiles small as he says it, feels a little less hollow because he’s needed, he’s here, Eddie’s here. Two suns on a collision course. Creeping closer. Impending doom. “You’re alive, Eddie.”

“I don’t particularly feel like it right now,” Eddie whispers, voice almost too low for Steve to hear over the walkie, his ears having to strain some to catch all eight words. 

“’s okay,” Steve’s words are starting to slur just a bit, the weed finally washing over him in the big waves, full strength. Boom, crash, heartbeat slow. “What makes you feel alive, Munson?” 

“I don’t-“

Steve cuts him off, knows what to say because he’s said it so many times. “Music. Eddie, music. D and D with your friends,” he starts listing things, “what else?”

“Playing with the band,” Eddie starts, voice already more even keeled. “Watching horror movies with Robin?” Steve laughs and he feels his own flame of life flicker at that. 

“That’d make anyone feel alive, shit,” Steve responds, hoping the smile is coming to Eddie’s face, loves how it looks when it cracks his face open, like the sun finally bursting from behind the trees at sunrise. 

“Good booze,” Eddie’s got some of the old him back, clawing a bit back to normal. It had gotten easier as the time had moved forward, to get themselves back when the Upside Down tried to drag them under. “Shit, this shit? Weed and music and booze and sex.” The last word is a groan and Steve feels a flash of heat all over. 

They’d never discussed it, probably because of the elephant in the room Eddie had just shot with coming out, but now… now Steve wants to. Steve wants. It’s a terrifying realization to have with a head swimming with weed and insomnia. He has no other word for it, no clarity, but he wants. 

“Have you…. Have you slept with anyone since everything?” he asks, feeling almost wild. Because the weed’s made his tongue loose and the radio static keeps the conversation just far enough past his grip to scare him. 

Boom. Sudden impact.

Eddie’s voice has changed when it comes back through, sounding lower and headier and Steve’s lost in it. Fucking drugs. “Nah Cassanova, I haven’t. Have you?”

It would normally be so easy, so simple to turn on the typical Harrington charm to the point of casual deception. Of course, he had, of course one of the many, many dates had turned into something that sparked enough life in him for Steve to bring them back to his house where only ghosts of happiness followed him down the halls. 

But, they hadn’t. The candle that had heated his heart up, had made him want in that way had been snuffed out two years prior, something final had fractured with the bullshit and left him drafty, hollow.

“Nah, Munson, you’re the only one to see the gifts those bats left me up close and personal.” He answers, head sinking further into his pillow as he sucks on the end of the blunt, the smoke warm as it traps itself in the recesses of Steve’s lungs. He holds it there, tries to remember what falling into bed with someone felt like. Tries to imagine hips, curves, tiny waists. 

It really, for some reason he can’t find, can’t name, can’t finger, doesn’t work. 

But when Eddie’s voice comes back, fills his ears and his mind and his ribcage, Steve catches a spark trying so very hard to flicker in his chest.

“Oh Stevie, you’re a damn flatterer.” 

The breath whooshes out of Steve’s chest, smoke billowing from his lips and his nose at the same time as a laugh is dragged out from the place below his sternum. 

“How’s it feel to be on the receiving end of some of then infamous Harrington Charm?” Steve asks, giggling, loving the way the static on the other end of the line doesn’t feel like an empty space, but a comfort. Like if he tried hard enough he could feel the weight of Eddie dipping the bed beside him, warming the sheets with his skin, thigh pressed into Steve’s.

It wouldn’t be like they hadn’t been in that position before, hadn’t been high and wrapped up with one another. Save the world, see a guy die, snap his breastbone with chest compressions in a hellscape while their other friends try to convince him to drag the body – the fucking body because that’s all Eddie had been for too many fucking seconds that drug and drug and drug ­– out, finally get his heart and lungs back online long enough to hoist the limp weight through a portal… well. The idea is there. 

Steve had started the spring break with no interactions with Eddie Munson.

Now the lack of him next to Steve leaves something twisting raw and ragged in his stomach. 

“I’m swooning,” and Steve thinks he hears Eddie’s voice catch on the end of the word, imagines smoke of his own trailing out from between Eddie’s lips.

It is a thought that shouldn’t trip Steve’s brain up so much. Yet.

“Well, you’re the first in…” Steve’s own voice trails and a giggle scratches his throat as the absurdity of it well and truly hits him. “Since Nancy. You’re the first one to swoon since- since Nancy.” It’s there, out in the open between them now, radio waves drifting through Hawkins, over roofs and between the clouds. Or however the fuck radios worked, he didn’t have a clue. Didn’t need to when Eddie’s voice is back, worming its way into every sliver of open space in Steve’s head. 

“Then you must’ve only been dating blind broads, no idea what they’re truly missing.” Eddie’s voice comes with a tsking sound, the rustle of something in the background causing Steve’s brain to pop an image of Eddie lying in bed, a hand behind his head, all long lean muscle, tattoos crossing paths with scars, smoke hanging low in the air.

Steve’s heart jumps, because his brain had omitted a shirt on Eddie’s chest, had put the other boy in just boxers and socks because Steve had seen him like that. Sleepy eyes and ruffled one morning when Dustin hadn’t been able to get Eddie to answer on the walkies and Mike had pleaded Steve to drive. To make sure the gate was closed still, even though the old trailer had been gone, burned, the ashes watched over in a secure facility. The government had supplied the new one Eddie and Wayne lived in now. 

Wayne had thrown a fit when the feds had offered a house closer to the size of Steve’s, saying they could take their hush money and double it, put it in an account so Eddie could have the best doctors in the world as he healed. His nephew had tried to die for them, it was the least the fuckers could do. Wayne’s words, not Steve’s. 

Steve, however, had been inclined to agree.

Owens had a furnished trailer on the lot five days later as Eddie still lay prone in the ICU. 

His guitar had been the only thing that had gotten out of his home before the feds had hauled it off to scorch and torch the big bad evil gate. Dustin had made sure, had delivered it like a trophy to the hospital and Eddie had made the most delighted noise around the breathing tube the doctors had refused to remove until the blood and fluid had completely drained from Eddie’s lungs. 

Steve had also slept next to Eddie in that outfit. Two arched backs curling towards each other when the world got to be too much, too loud, when the backfire of a motorcycle down the road had Steve’s hands shaking. When the flapping of birds nesting outside the window had Eddie’s head whipping around. 

Bare chest, curling tattoos sliced with scars, black hair across a pillow, long fingers-

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice shocks Steve out of the drugged train wreck his brain was hurtling towards, imaging Eddie without all his clothes. Alone. In bed. “You there, babe?” 

“Sorry,” Steve’s voice has changed and thickened and he really has nothing else to say, nothing he can say. Luckily, Eddie’s good at filling silence, pulling Steve’s brain from the sand it traps itself in on nights like this.

“Don’t be,” Eddie’s tone is still low and soft, scratched over by static, a buzz that Steve can feel vibrating under his skin. “You never got anything to apologize for, Steve.” He listens to the words Eddie gives him freely, kindly, woven in the hush of too late night or early morning, Steve’s lost the time in the haze the joint has put him under. He lifts it to his lips again, just for something to do. “Wanna know what I think?” 

Steve’s brows crease together and he forces the smoke out of his lungs to answer, “Think about what?”

“Your dry spell.” 

The laugh that is pulled from Steve is genuine this time. Eddie Munson had never met a topic that felt off limits. It had grated on Steve for a day, maybe two. Then they had had bigger shit to deal with and now… well now it felt like it was safe. Nothing flapped Eddie. He just said the thing he wanted to say, didn’t fuck with the thought of consequences. A stark contrast to how Steve had been raised.

“Fuck’s sake, fine, sure,” Steve’s still laughing when he answers, stubbing out the rest of the joint on an ashtray and turning on his side, “because even if I say no, you’ll tell me anyway.” 

Eddie’s laughing again too, when Steve releases the button and the radio is able to pick up his voice again. It’s warmer than any high Steve’s felt and he doesn’t really even try to fight that thought off too hard, tonight. 

“I think,” Eddie starts, and Steve shuffles in his sheets, shoulder popping as he pulls the blanket up closer to his ears, like if he covers his face and the walkie this conversation can keep existing in the floating place Steve feels his head is in right now. He can almost hear the lick Eddie gives his teeth as he’s getting ready to dive into something he feels will crawl under someone’s skin, “I think you just know none of those girls will touch you as good as you deserve.”

Steve’s breath hitches, high in his throat and he’s so so glad Eddie can’t hear it. Glad that Eddie doesn’t wait for a reply as he trucks right the fuck along. 

“Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, now that’s a man who deserves to be savored.” Steve isn’t sure if it’s the connection or the weed, but Eddie’s voice is getting strung out, pulling on the syllables, making the blood coursing through Steve’s heart heat up, warmth filling his ribs. He knows, in some logical corner of his brain that isn’t high, that it’s the feeling he got when Nancy had kissed him that first night they had in his bedroom. Desire, unfurling in his muscles, flush squirming its way over his skin. “You aren’t a quick fuck, pretty boy, are you? Need it nice and slow, hm? Seems like you, to want every touch savored so you can really feel it.”

It takes Steve almost too long of a moment to realize his fingers have drifted down to trail over the strip of stomach left naked from his shirt, fingertips skating over heated skin. “Christ, Eddie,” he’s able to choke out of his throat, words too tight to hide the shock in them. “You can’t just say that.” His heart had taken to speeding itself up of its own accord, blood thrumming deep in the veins. 

“Mmmm,” Eddie drawls, “I did though.” It’s coy, so fucking coy and so fucking Eddie that Steve’s lungs are punched out because yeah. He did. “Should I stop?” And there it is, the easy out, the one Steve usually throws at a girl when she pulls back for air while kissing her on his couch, more than usually praying she says yes. They all have so far. 

Steve though, Steve doesn’t want this to stop. His fingertips have tucked themselves, resting, in his waistband. His other hand is gripping the walkie-talkie like a lifeline, a preserver in the tide of Eddie Munson’s voice. 

“Should I stop, Stevie?” Eddie asks again, sounding breathless, just as gutted as Steve is, and he isn’t sure, can’t think of a moment when this switch had flipped in the conversation. It’s sudden and feels like whiplash and it’s so incredibly hot that Steve’s dizzy with need and want and a high. He wonders if the weed’s been laced, but knows Eddie’s better than that. Wouldn’t, not unless Steve asked. Wouldn’t do anything unless Steve asks because he’s Eddie and Eddie is good and all-encompassing and here, alive. He was dead and he came back to life under Steve’s hands and maybe his voice will revive something deep and dormant in Steve. 

So, Steve clicks the button on the side of the walkie and the word rushes forth. “No.” He squeezes his eyes shut and his hand presses a hot brand against the lower half of his abdomen. “You shouldn’t stop.”

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie’s words are a breath as soon as Steve’s finger releases, then the line doesn’t flip to static, but stays on and lets Steve hear the clack of Eddie’s rings as his fingers jostle his hair and Steve wonders when he learned to discern that one specific sound.

Then, oh but then.

Then every noise that has ever been and will ever be is tramped out of Steve’s brain and all he knows, all he ever wants to hear again in his goddamn life is the soft groan that sounds like it’s been yanked from Eddie’s gut. “You’ll be the death of me.” 

The static is back now, and so Steve chases after Eddie in the ether, chases the noise, prays it comes back. “You started it, Eddie.” And he should leave it there. Absolutely should. He doesn’t. “Don’t tell me you can’t finish it.” 

Steve counts to five before the crackle of the line shifts, letting him know to anticipate Eddie’s voice. “Baby, I play to win. Always.” There’s a giggle there, something in the high that Steve’s body echoes without permission just because it feels good, it feels right, and that’s terrifying, dizzying; Steve leans into the feeling. 

“Didn’t know this was a contest,” Steve butts in, thumb brushing the hair that scatters down his stomach and into his pants, wets his lips. “What’s the prize?” He isn’t even sure what the game here is, just knows that his skin is too hot in the greatest way possible and his cock is a thick weight below the hem of sweats and it’s all due to Eddie’s fucking voice. 

None of that even touches the fact that it feels normal, feels like an extension of something they’d been circling for months, since Eddie’d gotten home and they’d taken to spending days in Steve’s pool or in a boat in the lake or on the top of the hill outside of Hawkins, joints and cigarettes and brushing fingers. 

“Interesting question,” Eddie muses, and Steve closes his eyes again so maybe he can hear Eddie’s voice better, trap it in the space between his ears. He can hear Eddie click his tongue, and the sound jolts across Steve’s nerves like a shock. “The prize for me,” he draws it out, makes Steve hold his breath and he doesn’t even know why, “would be hearing you fall apart, hear the pretty little noises Steve Harrington makes when he finally reaches the breaking point.” 

“And for me?” Steve asks, should hate the way his voice goes up and breathless and how his hand is inching down further into his pants. 

“Well, I’d think, darling, that you’d like much of the same.” Eddie pauses, doesn’t let the static come, doesn’t let go of the button, Steve waiting like he’s about to leap from the ledge of the quarry. “Is that what you want?” And there’s a touch of uncertainty there, like Eddie is coming to and Steve’s fast to jump in.

“Yes, Eddie.” It’s a plea, a reassurance, it’s a little too close to everything, but Steve will worry about that in the sober light of morning, when his head isn’t being enveloped in the sound of Eddie’s voice and the hot rise of want in his veins. When his hand finally stretches down and he takes his dick in his fist, Steve goes completely taut, a moan ripped from his lungs. 

“Holy fuck,” Eddie’s voice grounds Steve as he strokes down for the first time, thumbing the slit and catching the slick of precum that had beaded there. “That sound has to be illegal.”

“Your voice,” Steve tells him, shaking his head and squeezing himself on the next downstroke, “is a weapon.” 

 “Do you like the way I talk to you, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, doesn’t wait a second for Steve to answer as he groans and Steve echoes it, mind racing with snapshot images of Eddie in the same position as he is, splayed out in bed, sweaty and restless from nightmares and no sex, listening to Steve’s voice. “Want me to tell you how I’d take care of you?” Steve’s nodding until he realizes that Eddie isn’t here, Eddie’s hands aren’t on him, Eddie isn’t whispering in his ear.

“Ye-yeah. I. Yeah.”

“Oh my god, shit, this is-“s Eddie cuts himself off and Steve feels heavy, limbs unable to move when Eddie’s voice isn’t there. “I don’t think you know how much I want to devour you fucking whole, Steve,” he admits and Steve is breathless and never wants this moment to end. “I want to take you apart with my fucking hands and tongue and-“ he cuts himself off again and Steve whines, knows how the sentence ends but isn’t willing to fill the blanks in on his own.

“Thought you played to win,” Steve pants, his pace picking up, toes curling when Eddie comes back on and it isn’t words but a moan that Steve gets in response. He wants to swallow the sounds Eddie is making, wants to feel them against his tongue. He hasn’t been this keyed up in months, in years, maybe ever. Christ. 

“God, I want to shut you up with my cock.” And that. Well that’s something entirely. It’s debauched and crude and Steve is so into it that he has to bite his hand to keep from coming undone right then, backing off from his strokes so he doesn’t have to stop hearing the things Eddie’s telling him. “The mouth on you, I fucking swear, gorgeous. Those lips were made for it, all pretty and pink?” Steve’s breaths are getting caught in his throat now, panting little things that he can’t control as he squeezes his cock at the base, tip leaking a puddle on his stomach. “Mess up that damn hair, shit I’ve wanted to pull on it since junior history. So fucking pretty, Steve.” 

Steve can picture it, can feel the weight of Eddie on his tongue and the press of hardwood under his knees. They’re in his foyer, Eddie not being able to wait to get upstairs and Steve just sinking down to his knees because who says no to Eddie? Why would they? When he sounds like this? They’d be fucking crazy.

“Don’t-“ Steve grits out when the silence stretches too long and his squeeze on himself too hard and the whole thing too much, “holy fuck don’t stop?” He asks, unsure if he’s allowed, if he’s broken this thing between them but he hasn’t, thank fuck he hasn’t, when Eddie starts speaking again.

“You, fuck, Steve, god you’d be stunning. You are stunning, but god, fuck, I can’t, the way you’d look on my-on a bed.” Eddie’s voice pitches up and Steve can feel it, can feel the energy in his veins, can hear the energy sparking through Eddie’s, something deep in him unlocked and spilling its contents between the two of them and Steve finds himself chasing the little pieces, any little bit of Eddie he can find in the words as they static their way between houses, between worlds. 

“Do you want to fuck me in your bed, Munson?” Steve asks as he starts stroking himself again, unable to stave off the need to touch and feel and chase the heat of Eddie’s words with his movements. He means it as a joke, as a little bit of a poke into Eddie’s side, but it comes out wanting and high pitched and needier than Steve’s ever heard himself sound in his life. He can’t take it back, but he doesn’t want to and that’s a problem but it’s a problem for morning because right now Steve is on the edge of and orgasm and something that feels a whole heap bigger and he’s gripping it, clutching it, chasing it down with gritted teeth and loose lips and holy shit. Eddie Munson is going to kill him and he’ll probably say thank you at the end of it all.

“Oh my holy fuck, baby,” Eddie’s tone is so close to sending Steve over the edge and he moans to the ceiling of his room, the blades of his fan spinning around the raw edge to it. “God yes, in my bed. On the fucking couch. The back of your car. Anywhere. Steve, anywhere.” And Steve’s imagination is working overtime, popping images in his brain of every scenario and he hasn’t gone there, hasn’t done that (yet, his brain goads, yet), but he wants so deeply his balls ache and his fingers tremble. Eddie bending him over, Eddie with one of Steve’s legs over his shoulders, Eddie sprawled on a pool chair with Steve on top, hips grinding down, cock spurting spunk across Eddie’s chest-

“Holy fuck, Eddie, shit, I’m going to-“

“Yes, baby,” Eddie’s voice cradles him as Steve’s hand speeds up, breathy moans punctuated by each stroke of his thumb over the head, “just like that. Lemme hear you, please, fuck, let me hear.”

And so Steve does. The line crackles for less than a second before he’s pressing his button down, panting into the receiver and then moaning throatily, head thrown back, hips fucking his fist as cum soaks the inside of his sweats. He thinks Eddie’s name is on his lips, thinks he sobs it, the weed enough of a dampener that he isn’t sure. He sees white, toes curl into the bed as his hips chase his fingers, oversensitive and pulsing in his fist.

“Holy shit.” Is what he gets when his body calms down enough for his hips to settle, for his breathing to fill the open space and his finger to relax, letting the static fill the room before Eddie’s back. “Holy fucking shit, Steve.” He’s high enough to soften the blow of it all, the realization that Steve just came from Eddie’s voice and nothing else something that he’ll have to deal with - of course he’ll have to deal with it sometime but not now because Eddie’s pants are matching his own and Steve feels like he could float away without Eddie’s voice anchoring him - rooting him to his bed. 

“Guess I lose?” is what he finally is able to say after the line crackles for a second, his chest still heaving and hand rubbing off the cum on his sweats. 

“I think we both did,” Eddie’s still breathless, and some part of Steve is so fucking proud that he did that, but also panicking that he did that, “I, um, well, yeah. When you did.” 

He doesn’t let Eddie hear the absolute heady moan he lets out at that, cock twitching heavy in the crease of his hip and thigh. Holy shit. He’d cum to Eddie’s voice and Eddie had cum to him cumming. Steve was in heaven, this was too good.

“Fuck,” is all he gets out in response, because really nothing real had rebooted yet and his nerves were still pulsing from orgasming harder than he had in years. 

“Yeah. Fuck, Steve.” Steve is shocked when he realizes he wants to chase those words with a kiss. Wants to kiss that tone from Eddie’s lips to see how it tastes. 

So. Okay. It didn’t go away with the orgasm, the warmth in his chest and ribs and stomach. Noted. 

“You good?” He asks instead of acknowledging it all because acknowledging it didn’t feel good with the wash of weed pressing in on him. 

“Better than,” Eddie mumbles and Steve feels it too, feels his body lax enough to crave getting pulled under; to maybe close his eyes. He does.

“That was…” Steve trails off, grips at his hair before realizing how gross that was and shaking his hand away from his face.

“Hot as shit.” Eddie responds, and Steve can still see him, behind his eyelids, sprawled long limbs with tattoos, sheets kicked to the base of the bed, orgasm flush. 

Oh god. This was going to be an actual problem.

“Yeah,” he agrees, feels the word thick in his throat.

“Yeah.” Eddie echoes, voice thick, maple syrup in winter, a worn soft quilt, the most comforting thing Steve can think of when it sounds like this. “Feel better?” Eddie asks, voice almost sheepish.

“Kinda, yeah,” Steve whispers back, head swaying gently. “You know, who knew weed and cumming would relax me?” He jokes, huffing a laugh.

“Real fuckin’ bewildering shit, huh?” Eddie asks, some of the swagger coming back to his voice, coaxing another laugh from Steve. He laughed so much around Eddie. 

“Yeah man, yeah.” It’s all his brain can say, all it feels safe to say because if he starts talking he’s not sure what else will come out of his mouth. He’s high, and pumped full with endorphins and he thinks he’s a little bit in love. 

Well, huh.

He must let the silence stretch on for long enough that Eddie thinks he’s fallen asleep, because as he blinks into the dark, hoping that each time he opens his eyes Eddie will actually materialize next to him for him to reach out and get to touch (he really, really wants to touch right now), Eddie says quietly, “Night Stevie. Sweet dreams only, ‘kay?” And then static. Nothing but a long, crackling line of it between him and Eddie. 

He drifts in and out of sleep, starting awake any time Eddie talks in his dreams, thinking maybe he’d shown up in Steve’s bed after all. 

Collision course. 

Implosion. 

Carnage. 

No survivors. 

Steve wakes up alone. 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #lexi writes #stranger things #stranger things s4 #fix it fic #pwp #smut #steddie smut #Steve x eddie #walkie talkie sex #you know at least one of them misused the thing come on #stranger things fanfiction

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Heya, i wonder if there's any fic about the scene when John is about to leave after Sherlock said he can stay without supervision for 20 minutes, and John or Sherlock makes himself the first step to talk. (thx Irene ngl to send a message at this moment) Thank you :')

Hi Lovely!

Oh gosh I'm SURE that I have a fic or three, but none of the S4 fics I've read come immediately to mind... I'm SURE people have written "missing scene" fics for that scene, so if anyone have a fic for Domo, please let us know!!

I'm sorry I'm not much help otherwise, but I hope you'll still enjoy your time here and continue to enjoy sending me asks! <3 *HUGS*

#steph replies #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #s4 fix it fics #missing scene fics #tfp fics

[cupidford]

The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow

Sherlock's case will surely be solved quickly...in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting her from school, and preparing for her sleepover at 221B

Johnlock Love Letters #2313

#jl3 #johnlockloveletters #johnlock #love letters #The Man With the Cartier Frames #JRow #parentlock #post s4 #s4 fix it #friends to lovers #happy ending #case fic #pining Sherlock #POV Sherlock #Rosie Watson #<50k #johnlock fic recs

[cherrielip]

separate ways (worlds apart)

pairing: eddie munson x fem reader

summary: fuck the ending, just an imagine of what Eddie deserved

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds; angst; not beta'ed

p.s highly recommend listening to separate ways by journey.

p.s.s once again I'm just having fun writing and now this is just a needed pick me up after that idiotic death, sort of fic it fic

part 2

Here we stand Worlds apart, hearts broken in two

Oblivion had its specific advantages Eddie thought. He was floating away. Away from the darkness, the fear, the pain, the anger. There was no comprehension of time or space, no sense that the world has existed before while Eddie lay motionless, balancing on the line between life and death.

The void was swallowing him whole. And he simply just was.

Burning, expanding heat inside his chest almost cracked it open, threatening to release his bloody insides. His hands trembled just a bit when he’d found enough courage to open his eyes for the last time.

Blood-burgundy skies raged above him as The Upside Down opened up its gaping black arms and welcomed him.

Losing ground, I'm reachin' for you

‘Eddie!’ a desperate cry rose from the gushing winds roaring inside his mind, swirling around, overlapping his own heart pounding in his chest weakly.

A veil of moisture burned in your eyes as you moved into a dark, shadowy space of distorted Hawkins.

‘Eddie!’ your voice broke down, a frantic echo just remnants of the strength you had left. Your lungs burned as you inhaled deeply as if a needle had punctured the skin. Your mouth was tacky. Feeling a drowsy shadowiness swim around you, you moved towards Eddie’s body which seemed to be lifeless.

‘No. no. no. no’

The fear. Fear of losing him.

It ran in the bloodstream igniting each fibre like a fierce lightning bolt travelling from nerve to nerve. The pain was inside, burnt deep behind your eyelids, coating your throat, shredding the lungs.

If we can't go on To survive the tide, love divides

Your vision blurred, eyes straining with the effort. You felt dizzy. A flash of moisture burned your eyes when you kneeled down to Eddie’s slouched form. ‘Come on, baby’ your voice choked and shuddered with grief settling inside you that you forget how to breathe. ‘Come on, darling’

With your hands vigorously shaking you managed to prop up his head over your thigh as you fell to the ground.

‘Come on, angel’ a whisper, a cry for help that nowhere was to be found.

It felt like millennia that he was frozen.

Someday, love will find you Break those chains that bind you

It was dark and soothingly warm. There was no existence of Eddie, whoever he has been before. He was nobody, motionless and still. Perfect in its hollowness. There was no time nor space but quiet buzzing filling his senses. He just was. Swimming in the endless distant land of nothing. But then there was something. Growing inside his solar plexus, spreading its roots in his bloodstream. Running under the surface of his bloodied skin. Trying to break out, the pressure of it clawing at his heart. Leaving a flow of blood soaking trail.

That’s when his eyelashes fluttered.

Slowly, he managed to open his eyes. His vision swam dizzyingly, and he let the heavy lids fall shut again before they’d fully opened. Then he saw there was something beyond the darkness.

‘Don’t you dare to die on me, Munson’ half sob escaped your lungs, you couldn't even register it.

Igniting with white-hot agony, Eddie coughed, blood staining his lip. He couldn’t move. Body shuddering, convulsing.

‘Hey, hey, I’ve got you’ hot tears run down your dirty cheeks, falling down the column of your neck.

Troubled times Caught between confusion and pain

‘I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’m here’ lips trembling you tried to quickly scan his body only to realise that he was wounded pretty badly.

‘STEVE!’ it was a roar, such a cry you didn’t know you had in you.

You knew they were behind you, somewhere very close. If only they came on time, you’d get Eddie hell out of here.

‘That bad, ha?’ Eddie’s voice gurgled, blood leaking out down his chin.

Vision blurred, tears wouldn’t even let you properly look at him.

‘No, no’ you whimpered weakly, thumb running lightly across his clammy forehead. ‘You’ll be okay, I promise, Eddie, I promise’

His lips twitched slightly, as he managed to look up at you.

‘I didn’t run away this time, right?’

You shook your head, lips trembling.

It was as if a knife had been stabbed inside your heart, twisting around, gutting deeply into the tissue of its beating leftovers.

‘A fool, Munson’ you sobbed, choking on air ‘You’re such a fool’

His hand reached out to your cheek, fingers weakly brushing over bloody cheekbone.

‘You know I still love you’ Eddie whispered ‘I still love you, girl’

‘I know, I know and you’ll continue doing just so as soon as I get you out of here’

His eyes were rooting into yours and somehow without words spoken you knew what was in his mind.

True love won't desert you You know I still love you Though we touched and went our separate ways

‘Angel, you know…’ his body violently shook as he tried to speak ‘You know I’m a goner’

‘NO!’ you growled, gasping for air.

You could spend a thousand years and never be able to describe it: the raw agony reflected in those fathomless brown eyes. Echoing ache it roused in the very marrow of your bones.

‘Steve and everyone are coming, we’re getting you out of here’ you sobbed, hugging his weak form tightly.

The sound of your voice like a soft burr made him feel all warm and he weakly tried to fight the urge to give in to this inviting darkness.

‘Couldn’t ask for more than to die in your arms, love’

You couldn’t even muster an answer. An excruciating jolt of pain ran through your body as you pressed your cracked lips against Eddie’s flushed skin.

‘I’ll die with you here’ you thought to yourself before the rest of the world swirled into nothingness.

2 days later

When you stepped into the ICU room Eddie was awake. You froze in the doorway just looking at him. Dustin and the rest of the kids encircled him, talking over each other.

Eddie just smiled. Listened to their excited voices telling him everything about Vecna and what was happening in Hawkins, the gang rescuing him.

Oh Someday, love will find you Break those chains that bind you One night will remind you

‘Eddie?’

He looked up.

Your heart just dropped down.

You’ve never seen him looking at you like that.

He moved his lips but no sound came out. And in a matter of seconds, you flew to his bed, arms bracing over his neck.

His hand slowly came up your back, gently touching the nape of your neck. He was still very weak you could feel it.

‘Oh baby…’ he sniffled, fingers curling into your skin ‘I was so scared, so scared that you…’

‘I know I know but I’m totally fine’ you tried to smile ‘I’m whole and I’m here’

You jumped off the bed, threw your hands up and twirled around to show Eddie that you were fully okay.

‘Not a scratch, see?’

Eddie smiled softly, gesturing for you to come back.

‘You always were such a bad liar’ his thumb gently touched a scar that appeared on your cheek. His eyes darted to your dress skirt that traitorously revealed a bandage covering a bloodied wound over your thigh.

‘It doesn’t matter’ you whispered brushing a stray hair off his pale face ‘All that matters is we are all safe. You are here. You’re safe’

‘Yeah, Munson, that was pretty badass what you did there’ Steve’s voice came from behind and you both looked back.

Everyone stood there awkwardly smiling at you two.

‘Like a real Ozzy move, hey?’ Harrington chuckled, winking at you two.

‘Yeah man, I didn’t run after all’ Eddie smiled.

The smile that beamed and it made your heart squeeze.

And then you knew that it is all going to be okay.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson #stranger things #x reader #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fix it fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson oneshot #SoundCloud #Spotify

[hawkins-losers]

Wake up | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You and Dustin gets Eddie out of the Upside Down. He is now in a coma 

Word count: 0.8k

A/N: Let’s ignore the finale and say this is what happened instead, okay?

-

The beeping of the heart monitor and other machines attached to Eddie’s sleeping body echoed in the quiet hospital room. His face was pale and he had a few scraps from the demo-bats.

When you and Dustin got him to the hospital, he was unconscious. The doctors said he got a hemorrhage from the demo-bats’s deep bites and was suffering from severe blood loss. He had been given a lot of blood transfusions, but he was okay now. 

All that was left was for him to wake up. 

It could take a few hours, or days…or months. It was all up to him. You just had to wait. 

You had called Wayne early in the morning, telling him that his nephew had been ‘found’ and was at the hospital, sparing him all the unnecessary supernatural details. He showed up, still in his work clothes, tears welling in his eyes when he saw Eddie in the hospital bed. It was an emotional morning. 

You stayed at the hospital everyday since he was admitted, holding his hand so he wouldn’t get cold and so he wouldn’t think someone had abandoned him. 

Dustin came around too and you took turns in the small hospital room while you waited for Eddie to wake up. He switched between Eddie’s room and Max’s, the latter having been admitted a couple of minutes after Eddie. The poor girl had her arms and legs broken, and lost her sight, according to Dustin. Your heart was aching for her. 

One of the nurses said that stimulating an unconscious person’s senses - by talking or touching - could help their recovery so Dustin talked to Eddie about D&D - unsurprisingly. You, you talked to him about a bunch of things. Some happy stuff, like Jason dying - in your opinion, it was a positive thing - and your acceptance letter to college. Some heavier stuff, like how hard it was without him and that he needed to wake up soon because you didn’t want to have to learn to fall asleep without him.

You stayed at his bedside at night, falling asleep in this uncomfortable plastic chair. Your neck was strained and your back was in so much pain, but you couldn’t leave him. The only times you left his bedside was to use the bathroom, or shower and change at home. 

Wayne came around between his shifts, bringing you some food as a thank you for watching over Eddie. He also knew you were rarely leaving the room, therefore barely eating. 

‘’You gotta put nutrients back in your body. Or else you’ll end up next to him in a bed.’’

You weren’t very hungry, but made an effort to eat because Eddie’s uncle was right. One person in a hospital bed was well enough. 

Sometimes, you had small conversations with Wayne. 

‘’When he told me he got a girlfriend, I almost didn’t believe him. Can you blame me? He spent twenty years as a single man and boom, he drops me this news and tells me he’s got plans with his girlfriend.’’

You laughed lightly. That sounded like Eddie. 

‘’I’m happy he’s got a girl like you. Someone who cares for him, someone who loves him for who he is.’’

Two weeks later, the scratches on his face had healed well and were almost closed. The bites were another story. They were taking longer to heal, being much deeper. 

One night, while you were dreaming of demo-bats and thunder, you felt something twitch in your hand. You didn’t think too much of it, assuming it was just a body twitch. The doctor said it was common among comatose patients. But then, you felt a gentle press on your hand. A twitch happens once and lasts a second. This was not a twitch. 

You forced yourself to wake and tears welled in your eyes, seeing Eddie’s doe eyes finally open. 

‘’Eddie.’’ You laced your fingers together and brought his hand to your lips, kissing it as you started crying in relief. He was awake. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his dry lips and he wiped your tears with his thumb, making you want to cry harder. 

You helped him drink water to relieve his extremely parched throat - not drinking anything for two weeks does that to you -, then pressed the button to call for a nurse, informing them that Eddie had woken up. 

After the nurse had checked his vitals and asked a few questions, she left. 

''Come here. I want to hold my girl.'' 

He hugged you tighter than he ever had before, ignoring the pain radiating from the bites healing.

‘’Don’t leave me again. I…I thought I was going to lose you.’’ 

Eddie kissed your temple, being the only place he could reach with your head in his chest. ‘’Worry not, Sweetheart. I don’t plan on fighting other demo-bats anytime soon.’’ 

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk​  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1  

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #fix it fic

[stevesbipanic]

Home for Christmas

MY BIG BANG FIC IS FINALLY HERE!!!!

Chapter 1 is now up on Ao3!

Excerpt:

“I’m fine, Robs, really, this is normal for me; as long as you bring back some of your Nan’s gingerbread, I’ll be just as happy as last year.”

“I just feel bad thinking of you in that big house, Steve, should’ve snuck you into my suitcase.”

“You’re home in four days; you’ll barely notice my absence.”

“I’m worried about you noticing mine.”

“I’ll see you on Monday, Robbie, love you.”

“Love you too, dingus, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Art by @rasberrycolapop

More chapters to come with the final chapter on Christmas Day!

#steddiebang23 #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things s4 #st4 #fix it fic #st christmas #fic #ao3 #steddie christmas #home for christmas

[thebattleofstarcourt]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

“give it up for eddie munson, a free man at last!” robin yelled, holding her glass up in the air as everyone cheered.

“i was in jail for two days.” eddie said, sipping his beer.

“it was the worst two days of my life.” you pouted, putting your head on his shoulder.

“yeah cause fighting interdimensional monsters is so fun.” steve said, rolling his eyes.

“don’t be such an anti-cupid, steve.” nancy teased.

“yeah,” robin said. “young love is beautiful.”

“hear that, baby?” eddie asked you, pecking you on the cheek. “we’re in love.”

“‘course we are.” you said. “i wasn’t gonna call up my asshole cousin to get harrington out of jail.” 

“woah, woah.” steve protested. “what is it? hate on steve day?” 

“no, that’s february 4th.” robin said.

“that’s your birthday, robin.”

“i’m assuming you won’t get me anything, so i took matters into my own hands.”

“you’re so — ”

the two began arguing as an annoyed nancy got up to escape to the bathroom, leaving you and your boyfriend virtually alone.

“thank you.” eddie said. “i don’t think i would’ve been here if it wasn't for you.”

“don’t thank me, eds.” you said. “i was lying before, i would’ve done it for anyone. including steve.”

“i’m not talking about the lawyer,” he said, turning around to face you completely. “i mean, that was really fuckin’ helpful, and i immensely thank you for that, but i’m just talking about in general. believing me ‘n shit.”

“i’ll always believe you.”

“yeah, you say that, and i’m really flattered, but i’m just saying it would’ve been really easy to not believe me. But you still did, and you got everyone else on board… if you didn’t then i probably would’ve been face down in a ditch, bludgeoned to death by the basketball team or something.”

“i’ll always believe you, eddie.” you repeated, cupping his face in your hands. “even when it’s crazy, or unbelievable, or if everyone else in the world doesn’t – i’ll always be right here.” 

he smiled, his cheeks squishing in your hands. “i think you’re way too good for me.”

“so i’ve heard.” you laughed. “i missed you so much.”

“can’t go two days without me, baby?”

“after all this shit,” you said, “i can’t go two minutes without you.”

“‘m not opposed to that.” he said, releasing his face from your hands and resting his head in your neck. “you can’t get mad at me for blastin’ my music at 2 am when you’re tryna sleep, though.”

you grimaced. “maybe i’ll just sleep at my parent’s house.”

he whined dramatically, the vibrations on your skin giving you goosebumps. “fine, but you’ve gotta listen to somewhere in time with me, ‘kay?”

“i guess they say love’s all about sacrifice...”

“that reminds me.” he said, looking back up in your eyes. “i love you too.”

“was waitin’ for that.” you smiled, pressing your lips against his. what started as a teethy, chaste kiss turned deeper when he slid his tongue in your mouth.

“woah, gross!” robin yelled, pulling the two of you out of your moment.

“thought you were pro-love today, what happened?” you asked.

“that was before i saw eddie’s tongue enter your mouth.” she said, fake gagging. “now i’m disturbed.” 

“that’s a funny way of sayin’ you’ve never been frenched before.” eddie said, laughing at his own joke.

“gross.” robin mumbled. “dudes are gross.” nancy laughed and threw her arms around her, patting her shoulder in reassurance.

“mmhmm,” you said, the cheap beer you were drinking finally hitting your head at you leaned into eddie for another kiss. “let’s show ‘em how it’s done, munson.”

he smiled and kissed you again, dramatically ramming his tongue into your mouth over and over until he could hear steve and robin’s cries for them to stop.

#wc:623 #robin is an aquarius she told me herself #the teens (sans jonathan bc i didn't know where to put him in i'm sry bby) hanging out >>> #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson drabble #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie the freak munson #stranger things season four #stranger things s4 #stranger things 4 fix it #fix it fic #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joseph quinn drabble #joseph quinn fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n