Stranger Things one shots

Late Night Talking (Eddie x Reader)

summary of request: Eddie cannot sleep so goes over to reader's house and they hang out and cuddle and talk until he falls asleep 

word count: 1.3

no explicit warnings. slight depiction of anxiety and possibly inaccurate ptsd. Mostly just pure fluff. 

Eddie had trouble falling asleep since he climbed out of that hellhole. Images of the monsters and the vines, not to mention Chrissy, flashed in front of his eyes. Shots of blood-red light that made his own blood run cold. And yet, at the same time, he felt hot all over. Uncomfortable in his own skin, unable to sit or lay still. He barely ever stayed alone at the trailer anymore, still thinking that whenever he would look up at the ceiling, that gate would show up, or he would see Chrissy's body stuck to it again.

On nights like these, when his uncle had a late-night shift and wouldn't come back home until the early morning hours, Eddie played his music as loud as he could until someone from a neighbouring trailer would bang on his door to "shut the fuck up". But he would never turn it off. Instead, he would lower the volume and sit next to the speakers, letting the vibrations of the music distract him, absorbing the lyrics and the melodies, guitar in his lap as he tried to figure out the chords.

But sometimes, that wasn't enough. The tight feeling in his chest wouldn't go away, and the tiny space of his room would feel even more suffocating. He would go on long drives down the dark roads, no particular destinations in mind, just wherever his headlights would lead him.

Although, somehow, that still often ended up in being your driveway. Well, he would park a block away, not to alarm your parents, but he would end up walking up to your house. He'd check if the light in your room was still on, which it was most of the time as you were most definitely a night owl.

You would be sitting at your desk, perhaps, working on some project, or maybe already in bed, reading a book. That's when you'd hear the soft tapping on the window. The first time it happened, you nearly screamed, waking up the entire street, but now you had grown completely used to it. You started looking forward to it, actually.

One more pebble hit your window by the time you finally showed up in front of it. Your room's soft, warm glow illuminated the ground underneath, showing you Eddie's soft smile. You opened the window, letting the cold night air greet your skin.

'Hey stranger,' you said, 'what could you possibly be doing here?'

'Permission to come aboard?' He'd whisper-shout up to you, and you just rolled your eyes, obviously letting him come up.

The first few times, Eddie had struggled, but eventually, he had managed to find the perfect strategy to climb up to your window. You both just hoped that no one would notice the slight dent that had come up near the drainpipes. It was just a small one, anyway. Who knows where that could have come from, right?

You helped him get over the window sill, already having prepared the area around the window for him to get out of, as before, he tended to trip over the furniture and your countless knick-knacks.

Without a word, the tradition quickly formed and was repeated almost constantly. He would get inside your room, and while he took off his shoes and jacket, you would get comfortable in bed, propping up a pillow for him. He would already be wearing some old sweatpants, having tried to sleep earlier, and a worn-out shirt that was very familiar to you. He'd get into bed with you and not waste a second to get to hug you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his lips finding your lips, cheek, temple– any part of you that he could kiss, he would.

'I missed you,' he murmured into the kiss.

'You saw me just a few hours ago,' you lightly giggled.

'I know, but the hours without you seem to be twice as long.'

'That might be the cheesiest thing you have ever said, Munchie.' You returned him a kiss.

'And is that a bad thing?'

'I never said that.' You didn't talk about whatever bothered him. That wasn't what he needed or wanted. Of course, he knew that if he did, you would always be there for him, but he didn't want to think about those things. He just wanted to sleep, have some moment of peace, and that is what you brought out in him. You let him have those quiet moments when his heart and brain stopped going into overdrive and just focused on what really mattered.

While hugging you, he noticed a book lying on the edge of the bed– the one you had been reading for the past few days before going to sleep. He leaned over you, grabbing it.

"Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate–"

'That's the first page!' you interrupted, 'I'm like halfway through.'

'I'm not.' Eddie said before continuing the story. You made yourself comfortable, nuzzling into his side as you tried to read a long with him but eventually felt yourself get increasingly tired as the time went on.

That is when he finished the first chapter and handed the book to you.

'Your turn,' he explained, and while you had been ready to doze off, it had only been a few minutes, so the energy came back quickly. Not to mention, the look Eddie gave you– you could not possibly say no. You grabbed the book from him and opened it up to the second chapter.

"We can never go back again; that much is certain. The past is still too close to us. The thing we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear–" you kept on reading as Eddie had taken up your position of cuddling up against you, with his body close to yours, head on your chest. His arms wrapped all around you from your waist to hips, where his fingers were mindlessly tracing invisible shapes.

"He is wonderfully patient and never complains, not even when he remembers," you kept on reading as Eddie's grip on you got tighter. "which happens, I think, rather more often than he would have me know."

As you kept on reading the chapter, you could tell whenever a part intrigued him the most, as would stop his mindless phantom doodling on your skin so he could really focus on the words you spoke out loud. But eventually, as you went on, all of it stopped, and his grip on you slacked, and his breathing slowed down, evened out.

You yourself had wrapped yourself up in the story so much that you read past the third chapter and the next one (as they were all quite short), so Eddie had more than enough time to let his head get lost in everything you were telling him through the book and relax into a deep and soft slumber. As carefully as you could, not wanting to stir him awake, you put the book away and turned the bedside table lamp off. The moment you had leaned away a bit too far, Eddie's instinct kicked in, because, even asleep, he didn't want you to go.

You pressed a small kiss on his forehead before sliding down to your pillow to get comfortable and fall asleep.

It was probably the most peaceful few hours of rest both of you had ever had, all the way up until 9 am in the next morning when your mother walked in to wake you up and tell you breakfast was ready. Her blood-curdling scream at the sight of Eddie beside you in your bed made both of you nearly fall off the mattress.