#Sharing a bed

[girl-named-matty]

Sharing a bed with the Boys (Hogwarts Legacy Headcanons)

Sharing a bed with the boys. Tags: Fluff, Sharing a bed, gn!reader, Sebastian x Reader, Ominis x Reader, Garreth x Reader, Leander x Reader. (this is barely proofread haha) Rating: General Audiences

Summary: My Headcanons for sharing a bed with the boys!

Sebastian:

When you first asked him if he wanted to share a bed, he practically jumped straight in it. He was so excited. 

But that was just the first time. 

He stays up reading almost every night so good luck getting him into that bed in the first place after that. 

And by late I mean genuinely unholy hours of the night kinda staying up and he wonders why he looks so tired. 

If you do eventually get him in bed, it doesn’t take him long to actually fall asleep. Aside from the constant lack of sleep he usually gets, he’s always been one to fall asleep quickly. 

He is a human body heater. 

Some nights you may not even need a blanket because he’s just that warm. 

I feel like Seb would be the kind of guy to practically sleep on top of you. Like not enough to crush you but instead it feels like a really nice weighted (and warm) blanket. 

Except for this blanket snores. 

Loud 

I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. 

Sometimes it's really annoying to share a bed with him and other times it's really nice. 

If he ever comes to bed early, it’s how you know he’s had a rough day and just needs to be in your arms for comfort. ..

Ominis:

Unlike Sebastian who would totally be up to sharing a bed, he would be more hesitant. 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to, per se, but he’s used to having his own space and he’s not necessarily the most touchy person. But eventually, he says he’s ready. 

Kinda awkward the first few nights. He slept with his back towards you and didn't make any physical touch at all. 

But after a couple of nights, he slowly starts making the shift to get closer to you and he comes to enjoy it. 

After that, he finds it hard to sleep without you. 

Due to not having the best childhood, he often has nightmares. And for him his nightmares are extremely unnerving due to the fact that he can’t see anything, only hear things. 

But one of the best parts about sharing a bed with you is the fact that whenever his nightmares wake him up, you’re right there next to him. 

He often finds himself reaching out for you in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still there. 

 He’s definitely a side sleeper so sometimes you’ll sleep in the spooning position together. This also reassures him a lot that you’re still next to him. ..

Garreth: 

Didn’t take long for you two to start sharing a bed at all. 

Since he has so many siblings he probably had to share a bed with one of his brothers at some point in his childhood anyway. 

But just because he might be used to it does not mean he’s easy to share a bed with. 

This boy is a BED HOGGER. 

If you are quite literally not right up against him, you’re falling off the bed. 

You thought Seb gets hot when he sleeps? 

Well, Garreth has him beat by a LONG shot. 

You could probably fry an egg on this man's back just saying. 

But we all know Garreth has that soft tummy action going on so he’s super comfortable and when he’s not hogging the bed, it’s really nice to cuddle up to him. 

When you too are cuddling, he wants to be as close to you as possible. 

So, really, just the sweetest boy to ever exist. ..

Leander: (because he deserves his place on this list) 

He’s similar to Ominis and opposite of Garreth. 

Had very few siblings growing up, probably only one or two so he was used to having his own space. So it took him a while before he was all good with it. 

This boy is lanky af. 

It’s obviously okay. He’s tall, long, lanky, whatever you wanna call it. 

So he probably sleeps with his legs up somehow to keep his feet from hanging off the bed/smacking into the headboard. 

It probably took him a while to get used to cuddling with someone in bed but now that he’s used to it, he loves it. 

He loves it when you sleep on his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you close. 

He’s definitely not a morning person so have fun getting him out of that bed.

Also has really bad bed-head. How do I know this? No man would style his hair the way he does unless he has bed-head so take my word for it. 

100% a cuddler now. ...

Who should I do next? I was thinking Andrew and Amit but lmk in the comments!

[grimesgirll]

sometimes you loathed sleeping in the middle just for the difficulty getting out of bed. if you were sandwiched between rick and daryl, then you had to peel their arms off - if you could manage to shrug off rick - and scootch to the end of the bed, using your arms even to bring yourself forward without making too much of a commotion.

“where’re you goin’, sweetheart?”

“bathroom.”

you send him a smile and peel his arm off once again to push off the bed and pad over to the en suite.

he’s all over you once you return to the bed and crawl on hands and knees back to your spot. before your head hits the pillow, rick’s hands are on you and wrapping around to lock you into his embrace.

rick needs you to sleep. you’re his soft, pliable paperweight. it’s just something you’ve picked up about the man. being the number one person he wanted in his arms flattered you. however, you weren’t prepared for how often rick took advantage of this access.

you’re choking back sweet moans once his two fingers breach your walls. you want to be shocked at the forwardness but rick knows you too well. instead, you’re grinding your hips back into him.

“you’re getting me all flustered again,” you mumble.

rick picks up the pace. “what? you don’t wanna cum all over my fingers before you go to bed?”

you nearly double into daryl hearing the sheriff’s words. “yes!”

“man, you’re keepin’ her up.”

rick clicks his tongue. “i don’t see her complainin’.”

you want to chime in with some smart comment but you’re too busy getting rick’s thick fingers jammed up your pussy.

“i don’t think you’ll be complainin soon enough.” rick remarks playfully to the other man. he lowers his lips to your ear. “wanna help us all sleep better, sweetheart?”

you shake your head sure.

next thing you know you’re on your hands and knees facing daryl. a hand in your hair guides you to his clothed cock.

“why don’t you show daryl how much you like us keepin’ you up?”

daryl sends you a look like he feels guilty that you’re freeing his pants instead of soundly sleeping but any remorse is gone once you flick your tongue against the side of his shaft.

rick lining himself up and subsequently knocking the wind out of you with a rocky thrust drives you right down daryl’s dick. you gag and daryl nearly jumps out of bed at the sudden feeling.

you feel like you’re being split open with rick ramming into you from behind. every thrust bounces you further up and down daryl’s cock. his hands find your braids. you braided your hair at night to lock in moisture not that rick didn’t love tugging on them so hard they unraveled.

stuffed to the hilt with cock, you’re finding it hard to think about anything else than the men pistoning you between them. all to sleep better. god knows they needed it though. the weight atlas had on his shoulders was nothing compared to what rick and daryl were saddled with.

at the very least, you could offer your ever accommodating pussy. it wouldn’t solve all of their problems but you could help.

and when they take such good care of you, how can you refuse?

circling back to your pleasure, rick reaches down to linger a finger or two strategically against your clit. you know it won’t be long for you once he maintains the same excruciating pace he liked to subject you to in order to get you coming twice on his cock; once to get started and once to finish him off.

after that, daryl would cum down your throat and bring you in for a heated kiss, nearly forcing you back into rick- still inside of you. eventually, rick’s pulling out to grab a soft towel to clean you off with while daryl lifts your hips for you so you can focus on his tongue between your teeth.

rick will bring over your favorite oversized sweatshirt of his to drown in. then you’ll be back, hugged to his chest.

daryl eventually rolls closer so you can lay your head on his chest. the position may require some reconfiguring as the night goes on but they’ll probably just shift you in your sleep so you don’t worry about it.

it won’t be long again until you’re waking up feeling needy or they are or you’re met with something hard beside you.

and this is why you love sleeping in the middle.

[devondespresso]

Restless (Ed, go to fucking sleep)

G | 431 words | ao3 link | Steddie | no cw, just sleepy boys 💤💙

STWG Prompt: only one bed

Thanks to @tinytalkingtina for checking the clarity for me!! Graphics by @/saradika-graphics

The small bed shook again, the third time in the past minute. Few minutes. Steve had no fucking idea.

He breathed out deeply but quietly, trying to relax and keep his frustration discreet. Steve buried the side of his face further into his pillow, pressing into the fabric underneath him, wishing he could just be surrounded in the still, deafening softness.

The bed shook a fourth time, and the huff that escaped was neither relaxing nor discreet, so he went ahead and pushed up to flip himself around.

"Sorry..." Eddie muttered, sitting up a bit to flip his pillow. Again.

Steve settled down and squinted his eyes open towards him, trying to figure out what the hell Eddie kept struggling with.

Eddie flopped back down, arms crossed, the position he landed in looking comfortable enough. He held it for several seconds, long enough for Steve to think he was finally comfortable, until Eddie jerked them around again, straightening them out before folding them back.

"How's this 'sleepin like th' dead'?"

"Sorry, sorry, normally it's fine, I just... trying not to... make this weird..." Eddie said, stressing 'weird' like he wasn't himself.

"Ed, 's fine."

"Yeah. Yeah, just..." Eddie tucked his arms in awkwardly, crushing them under his torso in a way Steve's never seen him do before.

Eddie shoved an arm into a different, even more painfully uncomfortable looking spot, shaking the bed again.

"Ed, I swear to god–" Steve reached out and grabbed one hand, stopping Eddie in his tracks. Steve pulled it a little and Eddie got the message, unfolding his arms and letting them lay out in front of him.

Steve let go and dropped his arm wherever felt comfortable, then closed his eyes and exhaled into his pillow.

Eddie stayed for a second, then moved a little, though not as restless as before, the bed shifting, sinking differently ever so slightly.

Steve peeked his eyes open to find Eddie much closer to him, lying openly on his back with only one hand scrunched too close against his side, eyes wide open and trained on him.

"Is this oka–"

Steve hummed into his pillow, a tired agreement.

"'Kay..." Eddie muttered, barely there. Steve reached out again and grabbed his hand, gently pulling it out to hold it in the space between them, and again Eddie understood and followed his lead.

Eddie let out a breath, finally, as his hand let go of the tension and slotted more comfortably in Steve’s hold.

The bed stayed perfectly, blissfully still as both of them finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

[moon-language-0]

"If they're sleeping here, some of them are gonna have to double up..." "Yeah... that's not gonna sell."

'There Was Only One Bed' Stony AoU manip for through fire below, and fire above, and fire within by @fohatic

[kuzoowl]

Night in the city💫

[hairmetal666]

Steve and Eddie don't like each other at first. Or, no, that's not quite right. They're still bonded from everything. They're friends, sort of, but they don't spend time together outside the group, have trouble talking one-on-one.

Steve doesn't think about it much. So, he and Eddie won't ever be real friends, okay. He's a little disappointed, but mostly he doesn't understand how he feels about the other guy. He's always anxious when Eddie's around, clumsy and stuttering, infected with Robin's tendency to nervous chatter. It doesn't make sense. It's just Eddie. But that's the thing. It's Eddie and Steve doesn't know how to act around him.

And Eddie? Well, he spends a lot of time avoiding Steve because the fucking cascade of butterflies he gets every time Harrington is around. He knows what it means, knows even he isn't immune to the Harrington charm, but he needs to be. He needs to keep his heart safe. So, he keeps his distance because Steve Harrington is not for him and never will be.

It changes during movie nights. First it's teasing Dustin and Mike, mocking whatever horrible movie the kids put on, and then it's inside jokes, and playful bickering, and evenings with just the two of them drinking beer and sharing joints.

Then it's August. It's too hot everywhere and Steve's parents are home, so they're in Steve's car, driving with no destination, a couple joints in Eddie's jacket pocket and a six-pack in the trunk. They're listening to a mixtape Eddie made Steve, a bunch of metal. Steve still doesn't get it but there are a couple of songs he enjoys. Rainbow in the Dark starts--this is one Steve likes, reminds him of Eddie and not just because it's Dio. Sun filters through foliage and into the car windows, backlighting Eddie's curls like he's some kind of deity, beautiful and ethereal, not part of this world.

Steve starts singing along to the music, can't help himself. His friend throws him a beaming smile, big enough that Steve thinks his heart stops. He smiles back. He and Eddie sing the rest of the song together, and Steve is...he's content. He's happy. He hasn't felt this way since--well fuck--since 1983. Their eyes meet again, gazes linger, warmth pools in Steve's chest and low in his stomach.

Oh. He thinks. That's what this is. It settles something inside him, the knowing.

Time passes, they get closer, share a bed most nights. Doesn't matter where as long as they're together. Sleep better this way, both of them.

They're at the trailer when it happens, sharing a joint, loosely tucked against each other in bed.

"I've never had a friend like you," Eddie says. His eyes stay fixed on the smoke he exhaled. "I know you and Robin are--like, I get it. But you're--for me--"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He flushes from his chest to forehead. "For me too."

It's enough, they both think. They're standing on the edge of more have been for months, but this? This is good. There's no need to push, to force. They're hurt, Steve thinks. They're healing. And they have time.

Corroded Coffin plays their first show back at the Hideout in December. Steve's never seen Eddie like this, performing. His shirt is cropped and artfully torn, his jeans more rip than pants. He's wearing eyeliner and his hair is wild. And the way he moves, sinuous and sleek, hips thrusting in a tantalizing rhythm as he shreds on the guitar. Steve wants so badly he feels it in his teeth.

He finds Eddie smoking behind the Hideout after the set. His eye are too bright, his smile manic, the adrenaline keying him up to the highest setting of Eddie. Steve knows he matches the energy, can't help it.

Eddie throws himself into Steve's arms, wrapping around him tight enough that no space lingers. The musician presses his face into Steve's neck, nuzzling, lips pressing against his pulse point. They touch always, share a bed and cuddle, but never like this; nothing like this. Steve pulls Eddie closer, and groans at the mutual swivel of their hips.

Eddie's breath comes in panting bursts, and Steve thinks, "here it is, finally, finally," but the door next to them bangs open and they jump apart at the noise.

Their friends and the rest of the Corroded Coffin guys come out, frolicking and shouting, complimenting Eddie on the show. If anyone noticed them embracing, notices the way they both adjust their clothing to hide their matching arousal, they don't say anything.

Steve wakes early the next morning, early enough that Eddie doesn't even stir beside him, hair wild and eyeliner smeared.

He gets out of bed, starts breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, Eddie's favorite. He's so intent on cooking that he doesn't hear the other man come up behind him, doesn't realize he's even awake until a warm body presses to his back, long-fingered hands slipping under his t-shirt, tracing the scars on his stomach. He leans into it without a thought. They touch all the time, but they don't touch like this.

"Watcha making, sweetheart?" Eddie whispers.

"Your favorite," Steve answers.

Eddie makes a little sound, almost a whimper, and presses his face to Steve's neck. Steve lifts his chin, leaning into Eddie and offering more. Warm lips press against his jaw, down to the moles on his throat. A moan slips from his lips as he grinds his ass into Eddie's hardness. The other man groans, grabbing at Steve's hips.

Somewhere in the press of their bodies, Steve has the presence of mind to turn. He lifts his hands, cups Eddie's jaw, thumbs caressing the stubbled, scarred skin of his cheeks. "Okay?" He asks. His voice shakes.

Eddie's eyes are wide, shining, and he swallows hard. Steve knows he's overwhelmed, knows that the words won't come. Instead, Eddie nods, and finally finally they kiss.

Steve is flying. His blood soars in his veins, his heart lifts off. It was always supposed to be this. Always supposed to be them.

It was slow. It was easy. It was small jokes, and long looks, and little touches, and singing in cars and best friends and sharing beds.

His heart belonged to Eddie Munson for months. It will belong to him forever.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of sharing a bed prompts

“This line mustn’t be crossed or I’m going to kick you off the fucking bed.”

“Why must I share a bed with them out of all people?!” 

“It’s cold, get under the covers.”

“C’mere… Want snuggles.” (Featuring grabby hands!!!)

Character A waking up to Character B, their faces inches apart and them wondering how the fuck someone could look so beautiful while sleeping. (Bonus: them freaking out when Character B wakes up and catches them staring.) 

“Why’d you push me off the bed?!” “B-Because you’ve crossed the line!” 

“…You’re staring.” “I was not.” “I could feel the intensity of it, even with my eyes closed.” 

Character B being a blanket hogger and Character A letting them hog the blanket. 

“Why are you curled up like a prawn?” “Because you stole my side of the blanket!”  

Character B, being someone who likes to hug something in their sleep, ends up using Character A as their makeshift pillow. Character A isn’t too keen on it at first but they end up accepting their fate. (It’s the best night of sleep they’ve probably ever had since they were a kid.) 

“You were snoring the whole fucking night and I couldn’t get a wink of sleep because of that!”

“You were sleep talking last night.” “…What did I say?”

“Why the fuck is the bed wet?” “…I just happen to sweat a lot.” 

Character A begrudgingly letting Character B snuggle up to them but secretly enjoying it.

Character B spooning Character A even though Character A is usually the big spoon. 

“You’re so warm…”  “Fuck do you think I am, a reptile? Of course I’m warm.” 

“You’re so nice to hug.” 

“I like how soft you feel in my arms.” “…Thanks?” 

“How did we end up with your feet in my face?!” 

Their limbs getting all tangled up while they’re sleeping and then them waking up and literally falling off the bed when trying to disentangle themselves from each other while fully freaking out about it.

Character B hugging Character A immediately, sobs racking through their body after being shaken awake from their nightmare and Character A not knowing what the hell to do with their arms so they awkwardly pat their back, saying, “There, there…” 

“Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Come over here, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It’s okay, I’m here.” “You’re not going to leave, are you?” “I won’t.” “Promise?” “Promise.”

Character A enjoying sharing a bed with Character B but would never admit to it.

“We should do this more often.” “No fucking way, once is enough.” (They do it often after that.)

“Oi! Wake up!” “What? What happened?” “Why did you just moan in your sleep?” “…What, were you turned on by it?” “What?! No, of course not! Disturbed, but definitely not turned on.” 

“Your feet are so cold. What the hell?”

“Stop sticking your feet down my pants!” “It’s not my fault your asscheeks are hella warm.”

“Just… Please hold me for tonight. Just tonight, that’s all I’m asking for,” Character B whispers, arms tightening around Character A.

Character A sharing their bed with Character B so often the sheets and pillows are starting to smell like Character B. (Bonus: Character A missing their presence whenever they don’t wake up next to them.)

Character A waking up to Character B clinging onto them. Instead of waking them up to tell them to get off of them, they decide to let them be. 

Character A wakes up to Character B’s face right near theirs. They’re leaning in, still drowsy and not thinking straight, ready to risk it all, when Character B opens their eyes and Character A’s first instinct is to smack their face away. “That fucking hurt, you imbecile!” Character B cries out, glaring at them as they rub their nose.

“Do you remember us spooning last night?” “We did what?”

“Why am I naked, and most importantly, why are you naked?” “…I’m hurt. Do you really not remember what happened last night? Did I not give it to you good enough?” “Fucking excuse me?!” 

“I wanna be big spoon this time.” “But you’re tiny.”

[sorcerous-caress]

Could I request Karlach, Shadowheart, and Alfira and Lakrissa together (if you’ll write for them together), when an embarrassed Tav nervously asks to sleep with them for the night because back home they shared a room with people and sleeping alone makes them paranoid which is causing them to lose sleep?

Asking to share a bed

[Fluff, suggustive, cuddling, nb!reader]

[Karlach, Shadowheart, Alfira / Lakrissa]

Karlach

She greats you with the same military nickname she gave you since the start, endearing in her own way as she fights back a yawn.

Your nervousness doesn't go past her, and wasn't it for the curl of a smile at the corners of her lips, you wouldn't have guessed she noticed either.

"Hell yeah, gods know I'd take any excuse to cuddle." Is her enthusiastic reply after you explain your situation. "Well, only if you're cool with cuddling, it's on the table, right?"

She takes your nod as permission to wrap her arms around you and playfully throw on you on the bed next to her, you softly bounce against the mattress before settling in.

It doesn't take long for her to drift off. The glow in her chest dimming, and the engine sounds muffling.

The heat is comforting, you realise as your eyes grow heavy, like a warm bath after a long day. Her big arms secured around you and making you feel safe, nothing bad could ever get to you whilst she held you this close, protected you from whatever lurks in the darkness.

The next morning, you wake up while still in her arms. She rubs the sleep from her eyes as she takes you in, a smile bright enough to rival the morning sun as she asked how was yout sleep, is she was scary enough to chase away any nightmares, her sharp teeth peeking through her lips.

Shadowheart

She's usually the last to go to her tent, preferring to bask in the darkness of the night. Linger amidst the shadows hidden from the moonlight and appreciate the beauty found in the allure of the unknown, the swirls in the shadows, and the fading of one's self to join a bigger and greater purpose.

It's when she'd usually get on her knees and pray, grovelling with her face to the sky.

You waited for her to finish, and the intimacy of the act felt almost forbidden to say wasn't it for her reassurance that it was alright before.

There's gratitude in her eyes afterwards, for the acceptance you've offered her, for the indifference you've gifted her with.

The answer to your question is met with hesitation.

"Just share a bed?" There are undertones to her words, "or do you mean like the bottle we shared?"

Heat flares up towards your cheeks at the memory, you play it cool. "Just share a bed, i promise."

Her covers are soft, princess like almost. A flowerly smell with fluffy pillows and layers of blankets neatly stacked at the end.

The smell of her shampoo is easily identified on the cover of her pillows. A half empty bottle of wine sits on the table nearby, next to a pocket-sized book.

As the two of you lay motionless under the covers, sleep doesn't come easy. There is an uncomfortable empty space between you.

And then you feel it, just under the covers, her hand moving towards yours, her pinky entangling with yours.

Shadowheart looks at you with anticipation, the space between the two of you close. You can feel her heartbeat falling into rhythm with yours as you drift off to sleep.

As the night fades and the morning comes, you wake up to the same hand hand still holding yours, on top of the covers this time. Shadowheart's focus on the small book she took from the bedtable, whispering and practising her spells for the day, preparing the healing ones beforehand.

Alfira / Lakrissa

The laughter and humming of a melody comes to an immediate stop as you knock on the door, the sound of clothes shuffling and the string of a lute being accidentally pulled follows.

You wait patiently, looking around the hallway to pass the time as your eyes glance over the various oil paintings of the elfsong tavren. Feeling disappointed when you came to the realisation that despite its name, their paintings weren't just of elves.

"Hello there, Hero." The door swings open as you're greated with the sight of Lakrissa in her night attire. Behind her, Alfira quickly came into view as she realised it was you waiting in the doorway.

With a smile, she urged Lakrissa to invite you in, the other obliging with amusement.

The mellow atmosphere from before slowly returned, both women feeling at ease around you as if you were a long lost friend.

As the conversation went on, Alfira sat next to you.

"Thank you so much for allowing me to stay in your camp that night." Her words wer sincere, "Adventuring really wasn't for me at the end but, still, I'm grateful you didn't turn me away in the morning."

"How sweet." Lakrissa's arm wrapped around Alfira's waist, giving her cheek a small kiss. "Were you waiting for the chance to thank them all that time?"

"Hey don't laugh" a blush coloured Alfira's cheek as the other women teased her, "I just...well...yes so what if I did?"

"Then I'd say that's exactly just like you." Another kiss, this time a tender one to her forehead. Lakrissa let go afterwards.

Both of them made it clear that they'll be here if you ever need anything.

So when you stated your request with embarrassment, Alfira enthusiastically agreed. Lakrissa was pleasantly surprised at seeing her usually introverted lover so welcoming and eager.

Alfira is in the middle, Lakrissa hugs her back close to her own chest while you're held by the bard. Her hold is careful and loose, as one would hold a bird so gently in fear of damaging your wings.

You're so fleeting in both of their eyes, so close yet so out of reach. So even as they bodies entangle with yours, they keep your need for freedom in mind. Heros like you never liked to be tied down, and they never want to be a burden.

As the sunrays filters through the outside curtains and announce a brand new day, you slowly wake up the strumming of the lute. Lakrissa still sleeping, having moved to where Alfira used to be and cuddled into your warmth.

The bard is at the end of the bed, humming a soft melody as her fingers strum the cords.

[teddylovestea]

taking the night train II

bonus:

characters © Yana Toboso

[metalhoops]

Everyone who’s touched grief knows it’s bigger than two hands can hold. The inexperienced try to string together the right words to lighten the load and those who grieve wear a momentary mask of comfort, feeling instead heavier. Those who’ve experienced grief know there are not enough words in the world to replace something as simple as a small action. 

You don’t remember the platitudes and false virtues strangers assign to the dead, but after a long day when you find your fridge full of precooked meals, you’ll remember who dropped off the potato salad. Max was sick of people who didn’t know her, telling her how kind her brother was. How funny he could be. How talented he was. 

No one, save the rare few, know what to do with complex grief. Max didn’t know how to unpick her thoughts, let alone put them into words and hold them up for someone else to see and understand. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to be understood.

She didn’t know how she could miss someone so deeply while being in some small part, glad they were dead. No one tells you what to do when your thoughts betray you. 

By the time Max and her mother moved into the trailer park, people had stopped telling her how much they missed Billy, which was a small blessing. They’d also stopped dropping off food or offering to do their laundry. Max and her mother had been too proud to take anyone up on that offer, but she missed the thought. 

Two months had passed, and it felt like everyone forgot Billy existed, that anything had happened. Lucas and the other boys had started asking her to hang out again. The unspoken grace period given to her and her mother for mourning had ended. Now it was back to business as usual. Her mother returned to work, and Max was left alone in an empty trailer full of boxes. 

That was when Steve arrived with a Tupperware container under one arm and a fancy untouched toolbox under the other. 

“Figured you’d need some help,” the boy muttered, kicking off his shoes, not waiting to be invited in. 

He knew better. If he’d asked, Max would’ve told him to piss off. She couldn’t understand why Steve of all people was able to read her moods so well. 

Steve hadn’t been much help rebuilding the furniture, but he’d supplied the Allen key and screwdriver so she couldn’t complain. He was good at unpacking boxes. With the two of them working, the task had taken a day, as opposed to the week it would’ve if she’d done it on her own. She was meant to be in school that day, but she couldn’t bring herself to go. She’d expected that to be the last she saw of the older boy but instead, he made a habit of checking in on her. 

Steve kept dropping off meals. After a week he started driving Max around on the days the mere mention of school threatened to topple her. Sometimes she’d hang around the back of the video store. On other days he’d drop her off at the arcade and she’d play Dig Dug until her eyes burnt and her fingers cramped. 

She didn’t know exactly when it’d happened but somewhere along the way, she found herself getting strangely attached to the guy. She’d lost one brother but gained another. 

That was why when Steve stopped driving home at night, she’d sent Eddie to get him. 

Max didn’t know much about Eddie Munson. His uncle and Max’s mother infrequently drank coffee together at the communal picnic tables. Nothing ever happened. Max knew her mother and how she acted around her boyfriends. This was different. They just sat together, mostly in silence, watching the sun go down. It kept her mother from drinking so much or so early. What Max did know about Eddie Munson was that he owed her. 

One night when her mother was out, the cops came poking around the trailer park, asking her if she’d seen anything suspicious. Max wasn’t dumb, quite the opposite. She knew Eddie sold drugs. She also knew the cops wanted to pin something on him. She wasn’t altogether sure why, maybe there was some pressure to put someone behind bars from the kinds of places that had neighbourhood watches. 

It was only when crime started to leak into the suburbs that people went searching for the culprits. Some rich kid spikes a girl’s drink in Loch Nora and the next thing you know, they’re looking for drug dealers in trailer parks. The guy will get a smack on the wrist, while Eddie? He’ll get thrown in jail and the people of Hawkins will sleep a little better at night, knowing all is right and just in the world. Until the same guy does it again. Then another trailer park kid is marched off to the stocks. 

Max had learnt how the world worked young. It’d been out of some strange sense of solidarity that she’d kept her mouth shut about Eddie. When the cops split, she’d given him the heads up to keep his nose clean while there was blood in the water. She hadn’t done it for a favour. But if nothing else, she was opportunistic. 

Steve wasn’t driving home most nights. Max knew because she’d take note when the Beamer shot past the trailer park. Some days it was in the dead of night, others, the early hour of the morning. He wasn’t staying over at girls’ places like she’d first thought. Even if he wasn’t the golden boy he’d once been if someone slept with Steve Harrington, the whole town knew within the week. 

She’d followed him one afternoon, riding her skateboard at a safe distance. He’d drive around, past their houses, as though on his own neighbourhood watch. He’d finish his patrol and pull up at any number of odd locations, the train tracks, the junkyard, the woods. At first, she’d worried he, like Billy, was possessed. After long days of silent observation, she realised the kind of ghosts that possessed Steve were of his own making. 

Max didn’t know what to do until she saw the light on in the Munson’s trailer past midnight. She stalked across the way, pounded her fists on the fly screen, and called in a favour. She asked Eddie to check on Steve. He’d looked at her like she’d grown a third head but agreed. 

Eddie Munson didn’t do favours but Red was a good kid, so he’d made an exception. He began his quest by driving past the Harrington’s manor, hoping for his own sake to find the BMW parked in the drive but Max had been right, Steve wasn’t home, nobody was. 

Eddie was tempted to check all the usual spots he’d go if he were a meathead jock with ample time and money. There was skull rock, the notorious Harrington make-out spot and a has-been jock party was going on in the next suburb over from Loch Nora, but Red’s instructions had been clear. If Steve wasn’t at home, she’d rattled off a list of places he might be, each one growing stranger. 

That was how Eddie Munson ended up in the junkyard. The place was surprisingly well-lit, despite the late hour. He worked his way through an overgrown thicket, cursing himself for wearing his white Reeboks. He’d be scrubbing out grass stains with a toothbrush for the next week. 

Mounds of trash and scrap metal shot out of the dried grass like rocks rising from the ocean. Amongst it all, burning bright as a lighthouse was a rusting yellow school bus. It stood in stark contrast against the blue, black night. A dull glow bled out of the vehicle’s shattered windows. 

Eddie found himself drawn to the little island of light as a moth flocks to a flame. His feet moved swiftly, eager as a young child at the prospect of adventure. He slipped in through the half-open door of the bus and was greeted by another body slamming into his. 

Eddie’s head cracked against the metal bus frame, making him groan. It wasn’t until he tried to move that he realised there was something sharp pressed against his neck. Against all his better judgment Eddie swallowed, feeling a broken bottle nip at his skin. 

Eddie’s eyes flickered to the wielder of the weapon. A once mighty king had fallen like his surrounding kingdom, into a state of disrepair. Steve Harrington. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

“Harrington,” Eddie spoke, keeping his voice soft and even, as though speaking to a wild animal that could startle. 

There was a manic look in Steve’s eyes Eddie knew well. He’d never thought he’d see the ghost of himself dance across such a pretty and foreign face. The days before Eddie moved in with Wayne were better left alone. He knew the wide-eyed vigilance of people who’d grown used to fending for their lives. It was a look he’d never imagine Steve Harrington capable of. 

A glint of recognition shifted over Steve’s face and the eyes of years long past were gone as though a trick of the light. The bottle disappeared from his neck, shattering as it dropped against the floor of the bus. 

“Shit, Munson. Sorry,” Steve uttered, moving out of Eddie’s space. 

Eddie was surprised Steve remembered his name. Across the six-odd years the two had gone to school together, Harrington had spoken to him a grand total of three times. The first, to ask for a pencil in Spanish. The second had been a disgruntled ‘hey, man’ as Eddie sidestepped his lunch tray on one of his biweekly jaunts across the jock table and the third, which Eddie only now recalled, had surprised him. 

He’d gotten a D in history. It’d been the final nail in the coffin, solidifying the fact that he’d once again have to repeat his senior year. Eddie spent the rest of the class carving his name into the underside of his desk with his thumbnail until it was bloody and covered in splinters. 

He’d almost lasted until the end of class before he had to excuse himself with little plan of where he was going or what he was doing. He knew he wanted to get away, that he needed to be anywhere but there. He wasn’t sure what’d tipped Harrington off but as he shuffled past the former king’s desk, his eyes downcast, a hand shot out to snag Eddie’s forearm. 

“Hey, Munson? There’s always next year,” Steve muttered under his breath.

From anyone else, it would’ve sounded condescending, but Steve genuinely meant it. Eddie hadn’t known what to say. He’d felt a sudden lump rise in his throat. He took off, thinking it’d be the last time he’d see Steve Harrington. He’d wished he’d been so lucky. 

“So, Harrington, what’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” Eddie asked when his heart rate returned to a regular rhythm. He heard a snort escape Steve’s throat as he leaned back against the opposite wall of the bus. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

Eddie wanted to know when Steve had started to sound so world-wearied. Nineteen-year-olds shouldn’t sound so worn thin. The closer he looked at Steve, the more he saw. His eyes were chaliced with the kind of purple, blue bruises that came from weeks of sleeplessness. There was a pale pink scar, slicing a line from his bottom lip to his jaw. In time, it’d fade into obscurity, but for now, in the cold of the night, it stood out like a crack in fine china. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, sliding down the wall to a seated position, as though once again settling in for the night. Eddie heard glass tinkle and grind under Steve’s body. 

Had his parents kicked him out? Was he hiding from someone? Eddie knew fuck all about Steve Harrington and he’d liked it that way. Screw not doing favours. Red owed him one after all this was said and done. 

“Finding a new place to pedal goods. New chief of police has been riding my ass,” Eddie lied. It wasn’t as though he was going to tell Steve he was sent on a fetch quest by a fourteen-year-old. 

A flicker of pain shifted across Steve’s face before disappearing. It was a moon sinking below the horizon line, leaving no trace of the momentary night as a false smile painted his face the colour of a sunrise. 

“Can’t say I’d recommend this old rust bucket. Isn’t drug dealing in a junkyard a little cliche?” Eddie rolled his eyes and sank to the floor of the bus, nudging Steve’s foot with his. 

“Keep giving me lip and you’ll have to pay double.” 

Harrington never brought from him. The freckled asshat, he used to hang around with would buy weed once in a blue moon, but never Steve. 

“You got anything on you?” He asked to Eddie’s surprise. He hadn’t exactly come prepared. He searched the depths of his pockets, finding two small ziplock bags and half a pack of rolling paper. He threw them Steve’s way. 

“On the house. Looks like you need it,” He mused and watched as Steve’s fingers worked, quick and methodical. Hagan had obviously shared his stash with Harrington.  

“Got a light?” 

Eddie fetched his Zippo from his back pocket and leaned over to light Steve’s joint. The guy looked surprised. He should’ve handed the lighter over. Too late now. 

Steve’s lips were poised so close to Eddie’s fingers. His face illuminated by flame, caused Eddie to shift closer. He lifted a hand to Steve’s cheek, acting under the guise of trying to shield the flame from the breeze filtering in through the broken windows and half-open door. 

“You got anything stronger?” Steve spoke, breathing a plume of smoke into the night air. Eddie wasn’t sure it was wise, but he’d never counted wisdom as his strong suit. 

“Back at my place.” Steve snorted, smoke billowing from his half-pursed lips, his eyes beginning to haze over. 

“People’ll talk.” 

People always talked when it came to Steve, but surely not in the way the boy was implying. Ramrod straight, Steve Harrington couldn’t make a gay quip, not about himself. Maybe he was embarrassed about what being seen with Eddie could do to his dwindling reputation. 

“I’m pretty good at keeping a low profile,” Eddie supplied, and Steve nodded stoically. 

“Stealthy, like a ninja,” Steve replied. 

It was Eddie’s turn to choke out a laugh. Goofy had never been a quality he’d assigned to Steve Harrington. He supposed the trait had its charm. It worked on Eddie. 

“Like a ninja,” Eddie echoed. 

When he’d said yes to Red, he’d assumed he’d drag Steve’s likely-intoxicated, ex-jock ass home and call it a night, but looking at the boy across from him with the joint tucked between his lips and the thousand-yard-stare, Eddie had to admit there was a change of plans. 

“Have you heard about the world’s best ninja?” Eddie asked, his once pristine shoes nudged themselves beneath Steve’s Born in the USA style blue jeans. 

Steve shook his head, a flicker of curiosity dancing over his face, his stupid floppy hair, falling in his eyes. 

“That’s why he’s the best,” Eddie insisted and felt his insides grow warm when Steve cackled. He was pretty when he laughed. He looked more like the guy he’d been back in high school, more carefree. 

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to sitting with people and talking them down on their worst nights, but a relative stranger was new. 

Eddie stood and extended a hand to Steve. The boy clasped onto his ringed fingers and pulled himself up. 

“My van’s parked half a mile up the way, you coming?” Steve shrugged and followed close at Eddie’s side.

The two walked in relative silence, standing so close their hips played the role of balls in a Newton’s cradle, knocking against one another in a rhythmic pattern. 

Back in the familiar landscape of his van, Eddie was once again hit with the strangeness of the situation as he watched Steve slide into his passenger seat, snubbing out the remains of the joint in the ashtray. He thought of their spit mingling in the little petri dish and pushed that thought aside. He’d always been good at holding back those kinds of thoughts. It came with the territory. 

“Why do you need something strong?” Eddie asked as he turned the ignition. 

If he’d learnt anything from his uncle, it was that hard conversations were best had behind the wheel. That way no one could storm out. He’d admitted to his uncle he’d failed his first senior year as the two sat at the juncture between Maple and Main. He’d come out to Wayne along Lakeside Dr. 

“Why did you really come to the junkyard?” Steve countered. He was smarter than he looked, or at least, smarted than Eddie had assumed. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Eddie quipped after a second, watching as a bemused smirk twitched onto Steve’s face. 

“It’s been a hard year, man. Hard couple of years,” Steve confessed. Eddie wasn’t going to let him get off that easy. 

“Is this to do with you getting unceremoniously shunted off the top of the Hawkins’ High totem pole?” Eddie asked.

He had a feeling whatever it was ran far deeper than just popularity, but this was Steve Harrington. Steve was pretty and popular. He wasn’t allowed to have real problems. That’s not how the rich and stuck-up operated. 

“Honestly? No. Think that might’ve been a good thing.” Steve drummed his fingers against the passenger door. 

“Then was it the thing with Wheeler?” Eddie asked, watching Steve cringe. Maybe he should leave it alone. 

“Part of it. I don’t know.” What followed was a loaded silence. 

Eddie kept casting glimpses from Steve to the road, watching as his face screwed in concentration as he searched for words. 

“I feel like it’s my job to protect everybody,” He admitted, his voice barely raising above a whisper. 

“And I don’t know how. I feel like I’m supposed to have all the answers but I just... I feel like a kid, who’s in way over his head.” Steve pulled his knees up to his chest, and settled his chin on them, not daring to look in Eddie’s direction.

He was a year older than Steve and he felt like a lost kid most of the time, as though he was an imposter masquerading as someone who knew what the hell he was doing. He wondered if that feeling ever went away. 

“Red sent me to check up on you. The kid’s worried,” Eddie confessed watching as Steve’s head snapped to look in his direction. 

“She’s got enough on her plate without worrying about me.” 

Steve didn’t need to say what Max was dealing with. Eddie knew. Hawkins was a small town, and Billy Hargreaves was infamous. Eddie had a bad feeling about the guy from day one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel sorry for him, dying in a mall fire. Hell of a way to go.  He’d heard rumours Max had been there when it happened. Then again, he’d also heard talk of Steve slinging ice cream at the mall. Eddie could see a picture beginning to form. He didn’t like it. 

The two didn’t speak for the rest of the drive back to Eddie’s trailer. There was nothing left to say. Steve continued to tap his fingers absentmindedly, so Eddie leaned over, turning on the radio. The tape deck played the thrashing guitar and pounding beats of the latest Slayer album. Eddie liked it well enough, but he cringed, preparing for Steve to chew it up and spit it out. He didn’t. He shut his eyes, rested his head against the passenger window and promptly fell asleep. Eddie would be damned.

Unsure of what to do with the sleeping boy and the blaring music, Eddie drove in circles around all the familiar back roads of Hawkins, steering clear of the potholes and dirt tracks. It wasn’t until Eddie’s eyes started to droop that he called it a night, pulling up outside his trailer, flicking his floodlights twice in the direction of the Mayfield’s, letting Max know he’d gotten Steve home safe. Well, he’d gotten Steve to his home safely. 

Eddie was contemplating the logistics of getting Steve out of the car when the boy began to stir. His eyes fluttered open for a second to meet Eddie’s before he groaned and turned to bury his face into the car seat. Damn it all. Eddie had managed to go for years without developing a crush on Steve, it wasn’t goddamn fair he was about to do it now. 

“Good morning, Starshine,” Eddie teased, walking around to open the passenger door for Steve. 

“Welcome to my humble abode. I have drugs or you know... a comfortable bed. Pick your poison,” Eddie spoke as the two made their way to his trailer. 

As they stepped into the main room, Eddie watched as Steve’s eyes scanned the place, lingering on Wayne’s collection of mugs and novelty hats, a ghost of a smile on his face. Eddie grabbed onto Steve’s wrist and led him down the hall. 

“The drugs and the bed are in my room,” Eddie explained as they went. 

Eddie nudged the door to his room open with a flourish of his hands. 

“This is where the magic happens,” Eddie explained and watched as Steve quirked a brow. 

“Mind out of the gutter, Harrington. I was talking about literal magic.” Eddie smirked gesturing to his stack of Dungeons and Dragons’ manuals, handbooks, and campaign notes. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Steve grumbled flopping onto Eddie’s bed. 

Maybe it was the high that’d made him seem looser, but Eddie liked a Steve who took charge. He crawled under the covers, making himself at home in Eddie’s bed. 

“Demogorgons suck ass,” Steve uttered after a moment, his face muffled by Eddie’s pillow. He wondered if he’d fallen asleep on the ride home and driven them into a ditch, because there was no way Steve was in his bed, talking about D&D. Eddie liked demogorgons, something he elegantly articulated by muttering,

“You suck ass.” As he flopped beside Steve in bed. Steve snorted.

“That’s one thing I haven’t tried,” he confessed. Yes, he was high. Eddie couldn’t imagine a sober Steve making that confession openly. 

Eddie settled on top of the covers, hyperaware a sober Steve might not be as receptive to waking up beside Eddie. He was in over his head. 

“Are you okay with this?” Eddie questioned as he rolled over to lay on his side, propping his head up to get a better look at Steve, half smothered in his sheets. As much as people talked about Steve’s love life, they also talked less favourably about Eddie’s, or his lack thereof. 

“You’re not going to punch me in the face in the morning?” Eddie concluded, voicing his concerns. His heart was tugging him closer to Steve, but he wasn’t willing to do anything they’d both regret. 

He’d been shockingly open to letting the boy into his innermost sanctum. Maybe he had a saviour complex, but he wanted to know how much of a commitment the two would have, how long was the piece of rope that tied them together? Was it a momentary truce or the start of something? 

“No,” Steve breathed after a beat, seeming equal parts understanding and offended Eddie had asked. 

The two lapsed into silence. Eddie was left wondering if Steve had fallen asleep again, but the rise and fall of the boy’s chest was too shallow. Steve eventually let out a groan and rolled to face Eddie. Whatever momentary reprieve had allowed him to sleep in the car had passed. 

Eddie’s gaze was once again drawn to the growing blue beneath Steve’s eyes. He had stuff that could help Steve sleep, but he knew from experience, drugs could only do so much. They were numbing jell on a knife wound, a momentary relief from pain without fixing the real problem. 

“Can’t sleep?” Eddie spoke, trying to get inside Steve’s head, to unpick what was going on with him. Steve nodded miserably. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Eddie wondered. 

There were no guidelines for the strange turn the night had taken. Steve opened and shut his mouth, gaping like a fish on dry land. He had some thoughts, it appeared, but none he was willing to voice right away. Eddie felt strangely endeared to the boy in his bed. He’d give him anything he asked, even if he didn’t think it was smart. 

“Is it true, what people say about you?” Steve asked after a long pause. 

That wasn’t what Eddie had expected. He blanched and watched as Steve’s eyes swelled, his panic rolling off him in waves, crashing head-on into Steve. 

“Never mind, don’t answer that. Christ, that was invasive. Sorry,” Steve fumbled, sinking further beneath Eddie’s sheets to hide his face. It appeared it was a night for confessions.

“Were you asking about the satanic shit or the gay thing?” Eddie spoke candidly, his fingers knotting in the covers. 

You didn’t come out to just anyone. You sure as hell didn’t come out to someone like Steve unless you had a death wish, though Eddie was quickly learning the Steve Harrington that existed in his head and the one lying in his bed were two different creatures. 

“Forget I asked,” Steve repeated, rolling over to turn away from Eddie, a faint flush dusting his cheeks. 

“I don’t worship the devil and I’m not gay,” Eddie found himself confiding.

He watched as Steve’s body went still. Eddie couldn’t see his face, but he could tell his mind had kicked into overdrive. 

“Oh, cool,” Steve spoke sounding suddenly distant, as though that hadn’t been the answer he was looking for. Eddie didn’t know Steve Harrington at all. 

“But I’d be lyin’ if I said you were the first guy I’ve had in here, Steve,” Eddie continued, giving away more than he’d intended. 

Steve peered over his shoulder and quirked a brow. He didn’t look shocked or disgusted as Eddie had anticipated. He looked relieved. 

“Like Bowie?” He wondered aloud. Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, like Bowie- I mean, I have a preference. Guys suit me better, I guess. But sometimes a girl’ll surprise me.” 

The conversation felt intimate, surprisingly more so than when he’d admitted it to the guys in Corroded Coffin. With them, there hadn’t been follow-up questions. The guys had been supportive, but they hadn’t known what to say. It’d been another fact about Eddie they’d taken in their stride without much acknowledgement. He hadn’t felt the need to explain himself. He didn’t know why, but when it came to Steve, he felt like he needed to explain the whole thing in intimate detail. 

“Me too,” Steve muttered, sounding entirely unlike himself. He was quiet and unsure; two traits Eddie had never assigned to the Steve that lived in his head. 

“I mean... for me, girls are easy. Guys are... new?” Once more, Steve sounded unsure. 

“Maybe not new because it’s always been there but I just left it alone.” Eddie wondered what’d spurred on the change, whether it was a near-death experience or something else entirely. Eddie was good at reading between the lines. 

“Steve, I’m going to ask you again, okay? What do you want me to do?” 

Steve sucked air in through his teeth, gripped the sheets and finally let his shoulders sag. 

“Can you just... hold me, for a bit?” Steve asked at last, sounding as though Eddie had placed a loaded gun to his head. Of all the things Eddie had been expecting, that wasn’t it. 

Eddie moved closer, lining up his hips and Steve’s back, throwing an arm around the boy’s waist. It was different. Eddie was used to closeted guys wanting to have sex with him, but they didn’t hang around long after. 

He thought back to Steve’s words. The guy wanted to protect everybody, from god knows what, but who was looking out for him? He hooked his chin on Steve’s shoulder. He smelled faintly of cologne and something chemical, hairspray. 

“This okay?” Eddie clarified. Steve’s body felt stiff and unresponsive in his arms. 

Steve hummed. It took him a moment to relax but when he did, he practically melted into Eddie. The boy pushed back, fitting their knees together. Eddie was thankful they’d decided to keep their jeans on, fearful of what any more skin-to-skin contact would do. Steve cradled Eddie’s palm to his heart and dropped his chin to his chest, so Eddie could feel the ghost of the boy’s breath dance across his fingertips. Steve was a renowned good lay, but the Harrington charm went deeper than that. The guy was good at cuddling, something Eddie hadn’t thought was possible until he had every inch of Steve pressed and curled against him. 

“This okay for you?” Steve asked after a moment, his breath tickled against Eddie’s knuckles. 

“Great for me,” Eddie confirmed sounding as breathless as he felt. 

Steve’s heart beneath his hand thundered, letting Eddie know the boy wasn’t as cool and collected as he was pretending to be. He didn’t point it out. He did two things very out of character for Eddie Munson. He remained still and silent. Steve’s breath grew deep and even. Eddie leaned closer, pressing his face into the nape of Steve’s neck as the boy began to whimper in his sleep. 

“I got you,” He assured. 

“You’re safe. M’not going to let anything happen to you.” Eddie promised. 

It took time, but Steve settled and at last, Eddie let the long night swallow him whole. 

Max decided Eddie Munson was useless. She’d watched him pull up outside his trailer around three and she hadn’t heard from him since. She’d thought the idiot would at least give her a heads up on how things had gone with Steve, but it appeared she had to do everything for herself. 

At 10 a.m. when there was still no sign of life from the Munson’s trailer, save for Eddie’s uncle pulling in around six, Max stalked over and wrapped her knuckles against Eddie’s bedroom window. After a moment a mop of curly brown hair popped into view. 

“Wha?” The boy grumbled, still half asleep. 

“How did things go last night?” Max asked, taking the tone of a scolding mother, talking to a very small, very dumb child. 

“Good,” Eddie confided a goofy grin crossing his face. It confirmed Max’s suspicions. Everyone else, save her, was useless. 

“Well, where the hell was he? Did you talk to him? Did he seem weird? Is he okay?” Max rattled off a list of rapid-fire questions only to be hushed by Eddie. 

“He’s sleeping, Red. Keep the volume down.” 

Max opened her mouth to ask what the hell Eddie was talking about when she caught a familiar glimpse of styled, sandy hair peeking out from beneath the sheets. Max, unlike most people, wasn’t an idiot. She’d grown up in California, she knew the way the world worked. She didn’t need anyone to spell it out for her. 

“Gross,” She grumbled. Not because Steve and Eddie were both men but because Steve was like her older brother and Eddie was- she didn’t want to think about it. 

Max let out an elongated sigh, squared her shoulders and spoke. 

“You like scary movies, right Munson?” He seemed like the type. 

Eddie nodded. 

“Michael Myers hasn’t got a thing on Max Mayfield. You do anything stupid with Steve and I’ll show you how I got the nickname Mad Max.” 

Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded. It was all for show, but someone had to say it. Someone should always be in Steve’s corner. Max had the feeling Steve wasn’t used to people looking out for him. She knew the feeling.

“Sir yes sir,” He breathed, faking a salute. Max rolled her eyes. 

She had a feeling she was going to regret bringing Steve and Eddie together but when hours later, Steve showed up at her house with a Tupperware container full of spaghetti and a secret smile on his lips, she had to admit, for once she might be wrong. 

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

Thanks for your hard work keeping your system organized! Really helps during my 3AM reading sessions lol.

I was wondering if there are any “and there was only one bed” fanfics for Aziracrow? Thanks!

We have #there was only one bed and #sharing a bed tags, so take a look at those! Here are some more to add...

Away by HopeCoppice (G)

They can command reservations at the Ritz at a moment's notice. They can perform miracles, or the demonic equivalent, for- well, for Somebody's sake. There is absolutely no way that they should ever be able to find themselves in a situation where there is only one bed. And yet.

Welcome to the Petty Party by Mimsynims (E)

Oh fuck. It was him. Crowley tried to make himself smaller where he was sitting in the back of the Greyhound bus. It had been almost a year - and another continent - since he last saw him, but there was no mistaking that blonde fluff of hair or those strong shoulders on the man entering the bus. It was Aziraphale. Fortunately there were very few other passengers, and Aziraphale chose a seat in the middle of the bus, sitting down without spotting Crowley further in the back.  Seeing him now catapulted him back in time, to that fateful night in Birmingham - the one and only time they’d met.   Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves stranded in a motel for the night - sharing a room. Last time they met, they spent the night together. Now they are both - wrongfully - convinced that the other never wanted more than a one night stand. (Basically, this is a "there was only one bed" PWP)

Warmth by HolyCatsAndRabbits (E)

The excitement of spending a day traveling with Crowley had turned to deep embarrassment. Rather than a flight followed by a late dinner somewhere and then a night apart, Aziraphale was cold, wet, hungry, and injured, in the wrong city, and facing a night sharing a room with his secret crush in which there was only one bed. And— Aziraphale looked down at what he was holding. Flannel pajamas, tartan ones. He was going to have to go back out there and face the ever-elegant Crowley in his night clothes.

No Such Thing As An Omen by FeralTuxedo (E)

On a snowy New Year’s Eve, rock star Anthony Crowley arrives at Tadfield Manor Hotel to check into his room. Under a fake name, naturally. But to his dismay, it has already been claimed, and the deceptively angelic impostor with the audacity to have stolen Crowley’s alias as well as his room doesn’t appear to want to vacate it any time soon.

Romancing The Tome by Anti_kate (E)

Romance novelist Aziraphale Wilder is pulled from his carefully ordered life when his sister is kidnapped and held to ransom. With the help of antiquities forger Anthony J Crowley, he braves the wilds of Scotland to rescue her and keep a priceless book from falling into the hands of dangerous book thieves.

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth (E)

“Then you’ll just have to come back with me," Aziraphale said. “You what?” “You’ll have to come and isolate with me, at my cottage.” The thing about messing with people, Crowley thought, was that sometimes, they genuinely surprised you. After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

- Mod D

[artofdeductionbysholmes]

okay so before you two continue the petty bickering over parenting, could you elaborate on the cuddling thingy? In summer?

Excuse me? 'Petty bickering'? What is so petty about it.

And allow me to enlighten you on the benefits of affectionate touching— or 'cuddling,' as you so simply put it:

Cuddling triggers the release of oxytocin, commonly known as the 'feel-good' hormone. This not only reduces stress and elevates mood but also offers mild pain relief. Such physical connection also lowers blood pressure, improves sleep quality, and strengthens relationships. By stimulating sensory nerves and activating the brain’s reward centres, cuddling promotes a profound sense of calm and well-being.

Since John @johnhwatsonblog and I began sharing a bed, we’ve both noticed an improvement in our sleep quality—John experiences fewer nightmares, and I’ve found myself actually seeking out regular sleep. When John’s shoulder flares up, cuddling seems to alleviate his pain and discomfort.

Admittedly, cuddling is less appealing in the summer heat, so I tend to stay up during those unbearably warm London nights.

SH

[teambyler]

Hey if Will has to stay at the Wheelers because they have no house in Hawkins, then let's do the Mike and Will have to share a bed trope.

What would it look like?

A scene from the movie Beautiful Thing (1996) that you might enjoy :)

-teambyler

[emlan]

Geppetto and his two beautiful house cats.

[zukkaflowers]

middle aged zukka have to share a bed but they lie parallel, untouching, both their minds racing thinking about i’ve loved him for years and years and years it’s too late to do anything; if i move he will know if i touch him he will know if i breathe he will know and. i can’t let him know. if i look at him from this short distance there’s no way he won’t be able to tell in my eyes that he’s the center of my soul. if our hands brush and he hears the hitch in my breath. if we wake and i am curled towards him. maybe he can hear my thoughts; maybe he already knows. maybe he can feel my pounding heart forcing ripples through the mattress. maybe he remembers my blush as the lights went out. maybe he knows and he’s embarrassed. maybe he knows and he’s repulsed.

i can’t let him know.

[ink-through-her-veins]

Merlin and Arthur go on a diplomacy mission to another kingdom. Their antics are known far and wide and rumors of them being ‘destined for each other’ and ‘two halves of the same coin’ spread like wildflowers. The Queen, being astute, has the servants prepare one set of guest chambers because she can see the subtext. Her husband however doesn’t understand.

So, when Arthur and Merlin arrive to one bed it’s a bit chaotic.

“Where will Merlin sleep?”

There’s a bit of floundering and apologies for the misunderstanding but Arthur just knocks a few pillows to the floor and declares that Merlin will make it work. Everyone pointedly ignores Merlin fuming in the corner.

Of course those pillows don’t get used and the King owes his wife a foot rub because Arthur and Merlin were found in bed curled around each other like they’d slept intertwined every night of their lives.