#paranormal romance au

[candyheartedchy]

Another for that one AU! 🦇👻

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Okay this idea has been rotting my brain all night and i need to get it out; i may turn this into a full fic (there’s so much more to eddie and how he died), but here’s some paranormal romance steddie! (with a nod to the @azrielgreen -verse at the end 😉)

edit: i've started posting the full fic! on tumblr | on AO3

—

imagine ghost!eddie haunting the estate that was built overtop where his trailer had been

ghost!eddie becoming corporeal(ish) every halloween, letting his rage fuel the poltergeist rumors at the old estate.

the forest hills estate sits empty since being completed, until Steve Harrington moves in from Indianapolis.

Steve Harrington who uses the inheritance from his grandfather to fix up the old place, not knowing the rumors, the stories, that have been floating around the last nearly 40 years.

Steve, who ends up learning about them from a pack of young teens riding by the front gate on their bikes.

“You know that place is haunted as fuck, right?” says the red head.

“Language!” he scowls at her, only to get an eye roll from her and the gangly, greasy looking one. “And no, I didn’t know that. Is that why all my cabinets are open every morning when I wake up?” he asks. And they really had been, he kinda figured that there was something going on in that house but hadn’t felt threatened by whatever presence was there.

He relishes in their spooked faces.

“A girl died there and her boyfriend killed the guy who did it soon after.” the one with the high top fade said earnestly.

“Allegedly, Lucas! Allegedly!” this time it’s the one with the curly hair and cap. “He always thought it was him but there was literally a letter.”

“He could’ve faked it, Dustin!” the gangly one snarks at his friend.

“It’s not likely, handwriting forensics concluded it to be her handwriting.” oof, this kid desperately needs a haircut.

“POINT IS.” the red head yells over the boys. It must’ve been a regular occurrence though, as they all fall silent (or silent enough while still bickering). She turns back to an amused Steve, “He likes metal music. If you play it, I’m sure he’ll leave your cabinets alone.”

“He who? The ghost?”

She nods, “Yep!”

So he does, picks up some retro vinyl to play (along with playing some tracks from his phone over his speaker while he works on the house), figuring if the guy died in the 80s, he’d probably like the sound of them better.

He plays the music, finds he likes some of it, talks to this mystery ghost as he goes about the house finishing projects. Throws some classic rock on sometimes too, saying “Hey ghost man, I’m sorry but I can’t listen to this much metal at a time. Hope Zepplin is okay.”

ghost!eddie who will always use some of his ghostly persuasion over things to spin the vinyl backwards on the turntable during ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

Steve, who does some research and learns about his supposed ghost, yells in greeting as soon as he’s back from the library, “Hi, Eddie!! I’m home!” reveling in the swirls of cold air that spin around him in response along with just a ghost (hah) of a whispered “Hi, Stevie..” in his ear.

Steve and Eddie, who get closer and closer over the months, learning anything and everything about one another. Steve goes through a lot of paper in the first couple weeks, asking a question and waiting for the paper with ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ written on it to flutter in an unseen breeze. Which paper scribbled with a different color marker to fly up into his lap (Eddie’s favorite color is blue, Steve tells him his is yellow).

Steve, beginning to see the shadow of another person in the corner of his eye more often the not as the summer winds into fall and the repairs he needed done are wrapping up.

By September there’s no denying the figure he sees reaching a hand out to flick up the answer to a question, or the laughter he hears coming from it after a particularly bad joke.

The shadow is Eddie; and Steve is starting to make out details about his ghost.

The long fluffy hair, the slim waist, the dark eyes that pierce through shadow against the slowly brightening skin beneath.

Eddie, who realizes Steve must be able to see him and starts staying away more often then not, afraid of what he’d see in that beautiful face when he’s finally his old boring self again. Can’t bear to see that disappointment on the face of this man he’s come to care so much for (read: fully crushing on).

He retreats fully by mid September, sticking to the far less quantifiable shadows in the house and between the walls.

Steve still tries, bless him. Leaves questions all over the place, hoping to see them answered. Eddie does, every night, wanting Steve to know he’s still here.

A week later, “Eddie, I know you can hear me, can you make sure to answer this one as soon as you can? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I figured we maybe show off our house—the house—now that everything’s done.”

‘Our house!! He said our house!!!’

Eddie looks at what his Steve left on the new kitchen counter that night.

“Halloween Party?” is scrawled on an open page of their now worn notebook.

Something hot floods his chest at that. Steve wanting to make sure he’s okay with that many people being here at once. Eddie knows damn well what the feeling is and he’s not about to waste his corporeal time this year, he’s going to do something with it besides wreaking havoc (on the house at least).

Halloween arrives, and many in the small town want a glimpse into the old estate. There are people everywhere, costumes and all.

Steve’s proud of all the hard work he’s done to the place but he still misses Eddie. Wishes he could be here to see what had become of the place he’d hated for so long. See it for real.

Halfway through the night is when it happens.

The party is in full swing, his ballroom full of people and music and food. His playlist changes over to Bowie.

Steve smiles to himself at the memory the song pulls forward. Still soon after learning about Eddie and staring their questions and answers thing, Steve had put on Labyrinth, laughing at how frantically the “i LOVED it!” paper had swirled around in the air after asking Eddie’s opinion.

A new face he hadn’t seen in the crowd before catches his eye. This man coming down the staircase is striking. Long, dark, curly hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, lean legs in off white pants, sparkling dark blue jacket, slim waist… He’s so gorgeous, so ethereal, he can’t be real.

Okay, nope, everyone else in the room is parting for this man. So, definitely real.

Steve stands as the man approaches, a hand extended. Keeping their eyes locked on each other, the man leads Steve by the hand to the center of the room.

The man smirks at Steve, still stunned, and arranges their arms. Then they’re dancing, swirling around the space the crowd created for them.

Steve feels like he’s floating.

He’s dancing to As The World Falls Down with a breathtaking man he now realizes is definitely dressed as the Jareth to his Sarah.

Steve finally finds his voice, “Hi..” It’s barely a whisper.

The man smirks, scoffs a laugh, but whispers back: “Hi Stevie.”

Steve’s brain screeches to a halt, and the man’s eyes sparkle with mischief (and a little bit of apprehension).

He can’t compute the information right away, frantically scrambling for a logical explanation. Some way for someone to know about Eddie enough to imitate him, to know about ‘Stevie’..but comes up with nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

“Eddie…is that really you?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s really me.”

Eddie brings their foreheads together and they sway to the rest of the song, Eddie softly singing along.

The song ends and Steve pulls Eddie through the crowd and out into the garden.

His mind is still swirling, so he clings onto Eddie’s arms just as much as Eddie clings to his.

“Eddie—“

“Wait, Steve, let me..” Eddie clears his throat and explains everything. How he died, how long he spent his one night of reality trying to keep people away from where he and his best friend had died. “I don’t want to waste tonight, but I’m afraid if I—if I tell you how I feel about you…I will be complete. Done with my unfinished business and all that.”

“How do you know?”

Eddie chuckles. “The Moon.”

Steve now fully, painfully aware of how little remains of the night, how little time he may have with Eddie altogether, decides he doesn’t have time to unpack that. So he says “Kiss me. Eddie, please, kiss m—“

Eddie does, and the Moon smiles down on her beloveds.

[blackwood4stucky]

WIP Poll Game 🤭

Y'all see what I did there? 😏

Tagged by @metalbvcky 🩶

Game Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

Y'all go please vote in my other poll too, it's for "the sun also delights in moonlit nights"!

No pressure tags: @kingofsorrow20 @katie-delaney @gyokujyn @readmymindao3 @dvrkblooms @museaway

[mkstrigidae]

Coming back from the dead is the kind of thing that can really fuck up your weekend, as Jon has recently found out (especially considering that he’d paid a mint for those concert tickets, thanks). On one hand, the bureau paperwork is horrifying, and the less said about his skyrocketing health insurance premiums or this year's taxes, the better. On the other hand, though, Sansa Stark, the pretty head of the medical/pathology research division and long-time object of Jon's affections, has insisted on giving him her utmost attention until she’s sure he’s back on his feet and fully among the living.

[jhsgf82]

Death Is Not the End Chapter Three Posted!

Cover edit by @mrspeetamellark

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Story Synopsis: Paranormal AU. Katniss, an immortal countess, travels to America for the funeral of her beloved sister, Primrose. However, Katniss is not simply there to pay her respects; she plans to steal Prim’s body in hopes of later resurrecting her. While there, she meets a nosy reporter, Peeta Mellark, who seeks an exclusive interview with her. When he won’t take no for an answer, she decides to give him the inside scoop-at her castle. Loosely based on Netflix’s Dracula (2020).

~It doesn’t matter how much you learn about me, Peeta Mellark; it’ll do you no good. You may be clever and articulate, but you haven’t even realized that you’re never leaving this place~

Chapter Three: The Castle Teaser: Peeta couldn’t believe he was on a flight to another country right now, and what was more, he was seated next to a gorgeous young countess.

He hadn’t intended to get involved with her beyond a simple interview. Was he enticed by her? Yes. And that brought him endless guilt.

He hadn’t expected anyone to catch his fancy. When he originally heard of her, he was merely eager to uncover her story, but it quickly became much more than professional curiosity. He became driven, obsessed, even. He’d only approached her on the street to inquire about a few things that’d been gnawing away at him, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he was not going to get the answers he was searching for.

Peeta Mellark was no fool; he knew he was playing with fire, and he didn’t care.

Read on AO3 HERE

[angelasscribbles]

The Dark Kingdom Chapter 6: Bonded

Series: The Dark Kingdom

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake, Riley x ?

Word Count: 1,360

Rating: MA

Warnings for this series: mature themes

My other stuff: Master List.

The tension hung thick in the air as the door shut behind Leo.

Riley glanced uncertainly from Liam to Drake and back again, “What’s going on?”

The two men’s eyes met, and some unspoken communication passed between them. Liam recovered himself first, “I apologize for that unseemly outburst,” he gestured to the table, ladened with uneaten food, “Please, sit, eat.”

Riley didn’t move, “You called me your mate….”

A strangled sound issued from the back of his throat and an anguished expression fell over his features, “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean to scare you...I just….he threatened you and I reacted on instinct.”

“Why would your instinct tell you to call me your mate?”

“I…” Liam sighed heavily as he sank down into the chair he had previously vacated, “I don’t know.”

She took a step sidewise, away from Drake and toward the door, “Maybe I should leave. Coming here was a mistake-“

“Riley please!” Drake’s hand shot out to stop her, but he halted his momentum as he watched her flinch away from him. He drew his hand back and then held both of his arms up in front of him, palms open, “I’m sorry! I understand what you’ve been through and I would never do anything to-“

Her gaze swung wildly from Drake to Liam, “You told him?”

“No!” Liam looked aghast, “I mean, not exactly…not like you think!”

“What other way is there? Either you told him, or you didn’t!”

Liam met her eyes with equanimity, “You told him… when you told me.”

“I…don’t understand….”

Drake’s gaze bore into her, but he didn’t attempt to grab her again, “Please give us a chance to explain!”

The rational part of her brain told her to turn and run away. That these were men, whatever else they were, they were still men, powerful ones. She had run away from a bad situation to a worse one.

But her heart was screaming something else entirely and she had no idea why. Something deep inside of her recognized this place though she had never been here in her life. This was home, Liam was safe!

Something had called her here. Something had told her to scale that cliffside, an endeavor that had been sheer insanity, yet something inside her had whispered that it would be her salvation.

She hesitated, torn between running for the door and listening to what they had to say. Not as torn as she should be though, all things considered. Her instincts were telling her to trust them.

Her instincts had gotten her this far.

She walked back toward the table and both men let out a sigh of relief. Drake moved to pull out her chair but a sharp look from her and he backed away.

She seated herself carefully then looked at Liam expectantly, “All right then. Please explain.”

“First of all, I would never betray your confidence like that!”

“Then how does he know-“

 “I’m getting to that!” Liam held a hand up, “You know what I am?”

“You’re a vampire,” everyone knew what he was.

Liam nodded then gestured to Drake, “Do you know what he is?”

“I…” her eyes darted to the other man then back to the Dark Lord with a shake of her head, “No.”

Drake’s response was so soft, she almost thought she’d imagined it, “I’m human.”

Her head turned to gape at him, “But…that’s not possible…” her gaze swung back to Liam, “You said he swore an oath to you centuries ago!”

“Yes, he did. Do you know what a human servant is?”

“I know what a servant is…but you don’t mean a maid or a butler I’m guessing.”

“No. A vampire’s human servant exists to watch over and protect him during the day and to carry out any activities that need to be done when the sun is out.”

“That makes sense…”

“Indeed. In order to carry out the duties correctly, the human and the vampire must be bonded. Psychically entwined, if you will.”

Her eyes widened as she turned to Drake again, “Oh! So all those times you looked like you were having a conversation I couldn’t hear…you were!”

“I was,” Drake nodded.                                        

She turned back to Liam, “So…what? You can read each other’s minds?”

“That’s a gross oversimplification. We don’t hear each other’s thoughts unless we are specifically trying to communicate, but we feel each other’s emotions. So, when you confessed your situation to me this morning, the overall concept that you had been hurt and the overriding emotions that provoked in me were transmitted automatically to him. I can’t turn that part off.”

“You feel each other’s emotions?” The previous day's events spilled through her mind. Drake’s sudden change in attitude toward her now made sense. It was because Liam’s attitude toward her had changed.

“Yes,” Liam watched her face carefully as he explained, “Our very life forces are conjoined. If one of us dies, the other will most likely perish as well.”

Riley’s body jolted in shock, “But….isn’t that dangerous for you? If he’s really human, isn’t he easier to kill? Couldn’t someone who wanted to kill you just kill him?”

Liam nodded. “In order to keep that from happening, the bond endows the servant with many of the master’s attributes. Drake has vampire speed and strength, enhanced senses, and immortality.”

Drake smiled at her, “I’m not so easy to kill.”

“Okay, all of that makes sense,” her body relaxed at the sight of his smile even though she was sure it shouldn’t. Why neither of these beings frightened her was a mystery. She returned his smile tentatively before asking, “So you said I was your mate because Liam did?”

Drake nodded. “I feel what Liam feels.”

Her cheeks colored as she directed the next question to Liam, “And you feel a mate bond with me?”

She had grown up in next to the Black Spire Mountains, every human schoolchild had at least a passing knowledge of how the creatures that lived in them worked. She knew that vampires and werewolves formed mate bonds. She wasn’t sure exactly how it worked but she was pretty sure no esseri had ever had a mate bond with a human.

“Yes, but I don’t know why.” Liam’s eyes traced her face as if the answers he sought were there.

“You don’t know?” Riley’s gaze swung back and forth between them. If they didn’t have the answers, how was she supposed to?

“He doesn’t know because it’s impossible,” Drake answered for him. “He can’t feel the mate bond with you, or anyone else for that matter, because he is already mated.”

Riley felt an inexplicable pang of loss and jealousy flare through her. Her voice was shriller than she meant for it to be as she demanded, “To whom?”

“No one,” Liam stood abruptly and stalked across the room, keeping his back to her, “She died.”

Her heart plummeted, “Oh no, Liam, I’m sorry-“

“It was a long time ago,” he cut her off, “But the bond I forged with her never seemed to really go away after her death. And you’re human, so this shouldn’t be possible.”

She stared down at her hands twisted in her lap for a long time, biting her lower lip.

“What is it, Riley?” Drake’s voice came from behind her, impossibly gentle, in complete contrast to the man who had delivered her to the castle just yesterday.

Liam’s voice was just as gentle, “Please talk to us.”

She lifted her eyes slowly to meet Liam’s and whispered, “I feel it too.”

A myriad of emotions exploded across the Dark Lord’s face. Confusion, denial, elation. He held her gaze as a smile curved his lips up. He seemed to consider something for a moment then he moved back to the table and took the chair next to her. He held his hand out toward her, palm up.

Her eyes never left his as she placed her hand in his.

“We’ll figure this out, together, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Liam’s gaze flicked up to meet Drake’s, “We need the witch.”

“On it,” Drake replied and before Riley could blink, he was gone.

[magical-mistakes-vm]

20

Chapter 19

Reality is setting in for Mahala

“Vollrath, what is really going on here? With you? With us? With all of you?” Mahala’s voice seemed small and frail. She was terrified suddenly of him, of them, of everything. Nothing seemed to be making any sense, and she so desperately wanted it to. While she had slightly lied that she didn’t trust or forgive Baldur or Elmar, the only one she trusted implicitly was Vollrath. She couldn’t even have explained why she did, but she knew without a doubt that he would never hurt her.

He sighed heavily, not even really knowing where to start without making her fear worse. Vollrath wanted to reassure her, to make her feel safe with him, but nothing he was going to say would do that. “My darling little witch, there is something wrong in the Coven. We don’t know what it is, but Baldur, Elmar, and I need to make a plan forward after what happened today to you from one of our own. Balor is the last person I would have expected to walk in here and be an ally, but he is. He is my brother and while we do not always get along, I do trust him to keep you safe. I would not let you go otherwise.” He gently kissed her forehead. “The prophecy, the one you’ve heard at least twice now, he knows it as well as I do but there are parts of it that we’re forgetting. So, what it means right now? I can’t say, I’m not hiding that from you.” He gently held her face in his hands as he spoke, his eyes never straying from hers. It was as if he was trying to memorize her in case this was the last time he saw her, a thing he did not truly want to imagine. “What started last night between you and me, we felt it from when we first touched. I’ve never had that with anyone. Already you are so special to me, and it scares me that someone could hurt you because of me. I don’t understand it all either, but we’re all going to figure it out together. Tonight though, tonight I need you to trust me, and trust Balor. Please.”

“Why would someone want to hurt me?” She was keeping her questions simple. It was her hope that she’d at least understand the answers then. Most of what Vollrath had just said was putting things she’d already heard in order to make sense of them.

“You are very, very, powerful, Mahala. They might want to keep me, or the Coven, from having access to your power. Then there is the fact that it is now known that you are special to me. There are many that know of the prophecy of our family, it would not take much for those that do, to figure out exactly who you are from that. I wish I could say that it protects you, but it makes you a target just as much as it offers protection.” Vollrath closed his eyes and brought his forehead to hers. An ache was starting in his chest, one he didn’t like. It was the reason he never let people close, it hurt. The thought of pushing her away already had that ache getting worse. He wouldn’t ever be able to do it, and he knew it.

“Who is going to protect you?” Vollrath’s eyes snapped open to meet hers again and she saw the worry in his. The beautiful hazel she was coming to adore shifting almost every second to a slightly different color with his warring emotions and thoughts. She had to wonder if he knew how open he was to someone who knew how to read them.

“I’m pretty good at protecting myself, Mahala. I also have Bal and El here with me. You’ve got my brother. Not an equal split, but I need both of them here with me, or I’d send Baldur with you. That and the humor in the two of them tripping over one another’s name.” Now one corner of his mouth ticked up in amusement. “Trust me, if they keep getting along, it may be the most amusing thing about this situation.” He tipped his head to kiss the end of her nose, then pulled her in tight against him and kissed the top of her head. The last thing he wanted to do was let her go and send her off with Balor; but the longer he waited, the later it would be when he made it back to the two of them.

Reblog banner - @cafekitsune

[jhdanes]

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[bilolli]

I have yet another idea for a new au.

Tw for typical violence of the FNAF franchise. Even if it's for another concept.

y/n is an attendant in a casino. Their role is to do maintenance to the slot machines in the part of the casino that's dedicated to them and do a minimum of customer service. They work mainly at night and are not really a social butterfly.

One day they have a day shift because someone was feeling sick and they discover from their collegues that, in another casino, there was a robbery in the middle of the night some time ago which escalated to murder when three of the attendants were killed by the robbers. Said casino was then closed and the equipment sold or distributed to other casinos of the same company.

The night after, you find three new machines in your slot machine hall. They work with a different sistem from all the other machines so you ask for info from your boss via message (because you won't call them in the middle of the night just for that), who obviously doesn't answer, it is 3 am after all.

Strange things start to happen. The new machines, lined one after another and themed around the Sun, the Moon and the Eclipse sometimes reboot or turn off by themselves. You chalk it up to the main server trying to update them or something like that, it isn't unusual but it sure is annoying when they happen to do it for several times with screeching sounds from the cards/bills readers every time.

You finish your shift with an impending headache and you forgot to check your phone before going to sleep the entire day.

Before your next shift you manage to read the answer from your boss who's eager to know how the new additions to his casino are doing rather than answer your initial questions. You refer what happened the night before and when your boss starts complaining you come to know of how he got the machines on sale because nobody wanted to buy the machines where people died on or in, deeming them to bring bad luck or something when obviously they are just machines which had the bad luck to be in the way of a blood spill or which got used as a weapon. You decide to try your best to ignore how the message makes you feel really uncomfortable and go to work.

In the next days things start to be weirder and weirder: the 3 machines turning off and on with screeching sounds at random times, screens glitching and displaying pixilated, unrecognisable and distorted images, tickets and bills being shot out form the machines...and the more they stay in the casino the more this "virus", as you starred to call it, is spreading to the other machines. Sometimes you catch a series of errors popping out in other machines like they were following a path, like something was messing with them in their way.

You can't help but remember from where they came from and what happened to their previous maintainers. You are scared.

What if one of them died because of this malfunctioning machines? Your boss had mentioned how someone met their end inside one of them.

You start to avoid the machines and things esclate.

All the other machines are now extentions of the original three and you start to recognise different "behaviours": the sun themed one usual problems were overheating to the point you couldn't touch it and vibrating in some way like a crazy washing machine, the moon one usually turns off and on at random times and shots out bills and tickets and the eclipse one, the one you think is the main problem and probably the machine where somebody died in, straight up sends out (not deadly but still annoying) electric charges, shows distorted imagery and screeches at every reboot.

You tell everything to your boss who doesn't believe you because nothing happens during the day. The machines just work normally and are even starting to be the customers favorite to use.

Annoyed, stressed, lacking sleep and upset you decide to yell at the machines after the eclipse sends you a particularly high charge that bruises one of your hands. You don't care about what the two or three costumers still inside the hall may think of you, but when you finish yelling you are alone. The gaming hall is completely silent. Witch unnerves you because it's never completely silent, there is always at least the light sound of machines working or stupid game jingles playing.

That's when a light "bip" comes from the 3 machines with a prompt from the eclipse one asking you to insert a dollar. You almost brush it off but then you find a dollar on the ground behind you and it wasn't there before.

So you give it a try. At the beginning you don't understand the purpose of playing...hell, if your boss discovered you played you were definitely getting fired, but then you start seeing it...words being formed in the dash at every roll:

"Hello attendant"

[kurokrisps]

I feel that he mostly conveys love. An inviting presence ”

“ But I also sense darkness inside him. I feel like that if I get too close to him. He will whisp me away to a land to which I could never return from ”

💚Based on Eldritch Blue by Gracyn💙

[everyforkedroad]

Love So Dark - Covers and Aesthetics

I made a few covers and aesthetics for Love So Dark, my ghost story/paranormal/myth retelling. A huge inspiration for this fic came from Mile Phakphum's Men's Folio photoshoot. Here's a link to the shoot below:

Men's Folio - The Story of Mile Phakphum in Three Parts https://www.mens-folio.com/112279/the-story-of-mile-phakphum-in-three-parts/

If you like paranormal/supernatural romances that has elements of the classic ghost story, reincarnation, and soulmates, all based on Greek and Norwegian myths, check out Love So Dark on AO3.

[candyheartedchy]

Based on this post and giving @firstgenerationdelioncourt full credit of this AU for Scratchyenne! >:D

Basically in this AU, Scratch haunts the castle my vampiresona lives in and they both are constantly at each other’s throats (pun intended lol).

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

There's Such a Sad Love (Deep in Your Eyes) - Chap 3

<- prev | start at the beginning | next -> | AO3

Eddie’s gonna kill him.

Not even exaggerating, he’s gonna kill Steve dead.

How hard is it to wake the fuck up? His dumb flat phone has been ringing for the last three hours!

…Okay, fine.. Eddie doesn’t know exactly how long it’s been ringing, but when you’re used to head-achingly constant quiet, any interruption becomes a nuisance immediately.

“Hello?”

“Fucking finally.” Eddie grumbles when Steve finally stirs enough to answer the phone.

“I’m sorry?” Steve says to the person on the other end of the line.

“I forgive you.” he grouses.

“No, no, I got that, but you were supposed to be here tomorrow, not today!” he struggles off the sagging air mattress and into his jeans, not even bothering to button them.

“Shit, shit, okay, yep, I’ll be here, I’ll—” His voice gets louder “Yes! Deliver! I’ll be here! Alright, bye.” 

He tosses the phone onto the sagging mattress and scrubs his face with his palms, mumbling “Stupid fucking phone signal..”

Eddie follows Steve out the bedroom door and down the stairs into the kitchen.

He smiles to himself when Steve stops in the doorway; He’d worked all night to get the damn cabinets open again.

“Good morning, Mr. Ghost… Ms. Ghost? Ghost Friend.” is what he finally lands on, unfreezing from the doorway and grabbing a can of something from the fridge.

Eddie breezes past him a bit too close, just barely brushing against him. Steve shudders against the chill. “I’m not sure if that’s a ‘Hello’ or a ‘Get the fuck out of here’.”

In response, Eddie pushes the sleep-mussed fringe of his bangs back off his forehead.

Steve smiles. “Hello...” Then he seems to remember something, “Oh, hey, the delivery guys are coming with my stuff soon.” He pauses a moment, “I’m guessing you’re gonna try something, but can you please not cause any injuries at least? I don’t want any more ghost-y roommates.”

“Aw man, but I do!” Eddie groans.

Steve tilts his head to listen to the quiet of the house for a few seconds, then calls out again. “Can you make some sort of noise so I know you aren’t gonna kill anyone?”

Eddie rolls his nonexistent eyes, “Sure, handsome, anything for you,” and knocks his knuckles on the open cabinet door beside Steve’s head.

Steve startles at the noise, “Jesus fuck! I’d also like to not die today, thanks.” he says, adding on a grumbled “Give me a damn heart attack, why don’tcha..” as he starts back toward the front of the house.

A laugh escapes him and Steve falters, stopping a couple steps away and turning back toward the kitchen.

If his word meant anything, he’d swear that Steve looks right at him.

His laughter stutters to a stop, and Steve shakes his head minutely as if to shake off a thought.

‘Did he hear me laughing?’

“....No, he couldn’t have, it’s way too early..” Eddie answers himself.

He watches until Steve’s out of sight, then floats through the hallway wall and into the closet under the stairs.

It’s one of Eddie’s favorite places in the house; small and quiet, and the place he feels most..solid (the most real?)..no matter what time of year it is. It gives him time to breathe, ironically, and no matter how untethered he might feel after Halloween, he feels like himself again here.

He’s done some long, complicated ciphering about why over the years, and he thinks the stairs and closet are positioned right over where his bedroom used to be in his and Wayne's trailer. He can get his thoughts together here, can think the clearest.

There's some commotion from outside his closet, so Eddie pops his head through the door to watch Steve and the moving company travel back and forth between the front door and the rest of the house.

Looks like he was in the closet longer than he thought (There’s definitely a gay joke here somewhere, Eddie thinks to himself), the hired team of movers are here and already carting in boxes and pieces of furniture.

Steve is helping the movers for some reason, carrying boxes further into the house, and Eddie finds his way back to the man’s side without even thinking about it.

Suddenly, Steve yells, “Nope! I have to do some work on the place, so everything but the bedframe and mattress can go in here!” in response to some question Eddie hadn’t heard. “The master is up the stairs, last door on the right. That one big dresser with the mirror can go there, too.”

“Hope you have some help lined up after they leave, pretty boy. You know I can’t help you.”

“I think I do, actually. Some kids already asked to help with the house anyway, so.”

“...What?”

“What?” one of the movers echoes.

Steve sets down the box he was carrying (‘clothes’ according to the large marker letters on one side) and turns back to the mover, confused. “I’ll have help to move it all again after I’m done with the remodels.”

“That’s..great man, good for you.” he says, equally confused.

Eddie’s frozen. “Okay, what the fuck.”

Steve can’t help but help the movers; he carries in some of the unimportant boxes, and grabs up the important ones he’d labeled when he packed up everything. Which was also something he couldn’t help but do even though the company he hired would pack and unpack his things as part of the cost anyway.

One of the five man team asks him about putting his furniture in their respective rooms, at least.

“Nope! I have to do some work on the place, so everything but the bedframe and mattress can go in here!” he calls back, carrying the couple of boxes of clothes in his arms into the foyer to the right of the front door, “The master is up the stairs, last door on the right. That one big dresser with the mirror can go there, too.” he calls over his shoulder

“Hope you have some help lined up after they leave, pretty boy. You know I can’t hel...”

Steve huffs in irritation, why are they trying to talk to him while walking away? “I think I do, actually. Some kids already asked to help with the house anyway, so.” he calls back to where the voice seemed to be retreating to.

“What?” the mover asks, sounding closer again.

Steve sets down the box of clothes he carried in, and turns back to the man who’s looking at him like he’s grown another head. “I’ll have help to move it all again after I’m done with the remodels.”

“That’s..great man, good for you.”

“You’re the one who asked..” Steve grumbles to himself when the guy walks back out to the truck.

There’s not much in the moving truck, so while the team is bringing in the larger pieces, he borrows one of them to help him empty his little trailer so he can take it back that afternoon.

The crew is done within the hour, and Steve sees them off, following them down the drive and turning to head into town. He stops in at the deli across from Melvald’s for lunch, and heads into the one internet provider’s office in town to set up his services (which was as easy as flipping the proverbial switch to turn them on, very nice), then heads to the hardware store because of course there wasn’t already a washer and dryer in the house.

Getting delivery scheduled for his new washer and dryer ends up taking forever, and it’s already late afternoon by time he’s done, so Steve heads back out to the big box store for groceries, heads home to eat Joyce's leftovers, showers, puts some sheets on his bed, then (finally) calls Robin..

“Finally got interwebs hooked up?” her forehead says in lieu of a ‘Hello?’ (that’s the only thing he can see on his screen at the moment).

“Yep, didn’t take too long, luckily, and good news for me: apparently the people who built this place decided to put in fiber cords? Which is really good I guess?” he says, flopping down onto his mattress on his stomach.

“Uh, yeah, that’s real good Dingus; Fiber is still one of the better things for internet connections, so congrats! You lucked out.”

“Then the guy at the hardware store took forever to schedule my laundry shit to be delivered, so I’m out a washer and dryer until next week. Yay.” he deadpans to her forehead (still the only thing he can see).

“But you’re settled in better now, right? At least now you can get started on that DIY board you’ve been hoarding onto since you first saw the place.”

“That's true, that’s true,” he concedes, swapping his video call app out for the one that holds all his inspiration boards, “This place is going to be amazing once I’m done with it.”

“I thought you already thought it was amazing.”

“No, no, it is..it’s just..” he pauses, scrolling down the hundreds of ideas he’d saved for just this moment…all of them not quite right. Even the simplest color palettes he’d liked look drab and boring when he thinks about actually using any of them on the house.

“None of it fits anymore, does it.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, “None! How is that even possible? What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“What indeed..how in the world are you supposed to start changing things if you don’t even know what color paint your ghost roomie likes? What if they start haunting you even more after you paint the dining room sage instead of mustard??”

“Right?! He likes metal music for fucks sake, I can’t paint my whole house red and black or whatever just so he doesn’t haunt the fuck outta me!”

Robin’s silent for a moment, then “Wait, backup. One, how do you know he likes metal music, and two, ‘he’? How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

“Oh my god! So much has happened, listen,” Steve explains everything to her, shifting onto his back as he does.

He tells her about the kids (“You better take them up on the offer, Dingus, that’s a lot of help.”), the girl Max who said “He likes metal music.”, the way his speaker turned down on its own when he asked ‘Jeeves’ to, the damn acknowledging knock he’d heard when Steve asked the entity not to hurt any of the movers as they brought in all his stuff.. All of it.

“I even heard a laugh, Robin. A goddamn laugh! It’s definitely a ghost.”

“Okay. Yep. That’s it, I’m never coming to visit. Mm-mph. Nope. No way.”

“Oh yeah, and the Hawkins Chief of Police said it might be a murderer!”

“Ah! What?! Steve. Steven. Steeb. You need to move. Pack up all your shit and get the fuck back here.”

He only partially heard her; Now he’s focusing on trying to look up any murders here in Hawkins over the years.

“Are you listening to me, Dingus?”

“Huh–yeah, yeah of course I am.”

“No you’re not, I can see you thinking.” Steve hears her type something into her phone. “The Creel murders, a death by rabid dog, death to cancer…”

“Are you reading the same things I am?”

“...No?”

“Uh huh, sure–ah ha! Listen, listen, listen,” Steve exclaims, sitting up and crossing his legs in the middle of his bed. “‘Hawkins High cheerleader, 18, found deceased at Forest Hills trailer park. Authorities say she was found by a resident of the park along with another body late on the night of the 31st. There is no further information at this time.’.”

“....Holy shit..holy shit..Ah! Okay, I found some more, Halloween, 1986... Uh….” she trails off, mumbling along as she reads. “This one says it’s called the ‘Forest Hills Murder’, and that there was, quote, ‘one suspect, two bodies, and conviction for one count of second degree murder.’.”

“Second degree?”

“Means that it wasn’t planned beforehand.”

Steve hums in understanding, continuing to scroll. “Why are there no names! I want to know who my ghost is, dammit!”

“Maybe…you should go to the library? Does Hawkins have a library? Maybe they’ll have old papers or something.”

“Yeah, it’s basically smack dab in the center of town....Do you think I should go to the library?”

“I think you should go to the library.”

That night, Steve once again dreams of that vast black place. He opens his eyes to it, and instead of being scared like last time, he’s somehow…comforted by it. 

The loud splash of water that comes from his right, however, makes him jump.

“Hi!” the girl with the ponytail says, bouncing to a stop in front of him.

“Uh, hi? I saw you last time, I think…Who are you?”

“I’m Chrissy!” she grins, her smile bright yet slightly crooked.

“Hi Chrissy, I’m Steve, uhm…what the hell is going on? Why are you in my dream?”

“I assume it’s because I died at Forest Hills.” She shrugs, as if it was the most benign news in the world.

Steve blinks at her in the darkness, takes in her uniform– “Oh my god, you’re the cheerleader who died! Are you–are you my ghost?” It’d be a surprise if Chrissy was a metal fan, but who’s he to judge? Maybe Max got the ghosts’ pronouns wrong? 

Chrissy waves him off with a laugh, “Oh, no, I’m not,”

“Wait, are they the one who killed you? I better not be living with a murderer ghost..”

She looks appalled at that, “Absolutely not! Where on earth did you even get that idea?”

“I’ve only read a little bit about the–your case so far, and all it said was that there were two bodies.” Steve scratches at the back of his neck nervously. What kind of protocol is there for talking to a dead girl about her death? “Rumor has it that the second one was the person who killed you. That your boyfriend killed him right after…?”

The cheerleader is silent, gazing at him sadly. 

“His name is Eddie.”

There’s a pull in Steve’s gut at the name. 

“Who’s name, your murderer? Your boyfriend?” She’s fading into the darkness that surrounds them, and Steve knows he must be waking up. “Please, tell me!”

Chrissy’s mouth moves, but Steve’s already falling out of his dream.

Groggily, he reaches for his phone, 6:04am. 

He huffs as he flops back against his pillows, but freezes in the next moment.

Out the door to his bedroom from where he’s laying, he can see part way down the hall and the last half of the staircase where it comes up to the second floor.

And what he sees glide up the steps onto the landing out of sight is what freezes him to his spot.

It was barely there, but there nonetheless. A shadow, just dark enough to be seen in the low light of the morning, the dark of it standing out against the pale cream of the wall next to the steps.

His heart hammers in his chest, his brain screaming ‘Holy shit, holy shit, he IS real, oh my god there’s a real life ghost in my house.’ at him (Wait, duh. You already knew this?? You heard the speaker lower on its own, you felt that cold breeze, heard that laugh?? He thinks, his thoughts rambling on without him.) when the shadow reappears, drifting into view in his doorway and it itself freezing under Steve’s gaze.

The shadow is still only just barely visible; not freakishly tall, Steve figures it’s about his own height, actually, and the edges of it flicker and move.

Heart still pounding, Steve speaks, his voice coming out in barely a whisper. “Eddie?”

As soon as the name is out of his mouth, the shadow disappears, looking both like it was swept away by an invisible breeze, and as if it dropped straight into the floor.

“Holy shit!”

After throwing together a whole two pieces of toast for breakfast, and leaving the strips of color he thought to pick up while at the hardware store out for his roommate with a note, Steve takes himself and the name Eddie with him to Hawkins Public Library.

His hopes of scouring old newspapers and records seem at least ten times more likely when he steps over the threshold and immediately feels like sneezing at the smell of the dusty old books around him.

He steps up to the front counter, “Good morning Mrs….” Steve leans in closer to read her name tag; ‘Claudia Henderson - she/her!’ is printed onto the plastic tag in permanent marker and punctuated with a fading yellow smiley face sticker “…Henderson—Henderson? Why does that sound familiar?”

“I’m not sure, hon–”

“HEY MOM!”

They both startle at the sudden yell, turning towards the noise; Dustin, that kid with the cap that had harassed him on his driveway yesterday, is running towards the front counter. 

‘Ah. Henderson.’

Mrs. Henderson tsks at her son, “Dustybuns, this is a library! Use your inside voice.” 

“Where’s th–Steve!”

Steve smiles at the kid, “Hey bud,”

“What’re you doing here?” he questions, then his face brightens exponentially. “Are you looking for stuff about ghosts?”

“Dusty, you know better than to ask that,” she chides, “What people are looking for at the library is no one’s business but their own.”

Dustin, however, chooses to ignore this. “It’s ghosts, isn’t it? Hang on, I know of a couple books that might help you!” 

Both Steve and Claudia attempt to stop him, “Dusty, wait—!”, “No, I’m oka—”, but Dustin’s already disappearing between two tall shelves.

“Damn, he’s quick.”

Claudia sighs, “I’m sorry about him, hon, he just gets super excited about whatever thing he’s fixated on at the moment.”

“It’s alright, Ms. Henderson, I know he means well.” Steve says with a smile.

“Well, let’s get you settled then, you need a library card, I assume?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She gets him set up with a card (‘Harrington? Oh, you must be Patty’s grandson! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you; your gran and I were in the same knitting club, you know.”), then points out an empty table by one of the front windows he can use if he’d like. Where each section is, what their return policy is and about the book reserve program, then finishes with a warm “Let me know if you need any help, Steve dear.”

“Actually, can you tell me where you keep your newspapers?”

She hmms thoughtfully for a moment, “Well, that depends on if you want the actual papers, or if you would like to scroll through them on the microfilm…what are you looking for, exactly?”

“I’m looking for information on the house I just bought? I’ve been told there was a death on the property previously and I wanted to look into it if I could. Library seemed like the best bet.”

“Oh, that’s just terrible! Sure, hon, let's get you set up at one of our machines and you can scroll through whatever year you’re looking for,” she beckons him to follow to another long row of desks. There are a couple other people with name tags like Claudia’s sitting at the computers behind it. “Do you have a timeframe?”

“Mid-80s I think?”

“Let me see what I can find for you,” Claudia nods, sitting down at a large white machine.

She shows him how to operate the clunky device, then disappears through a ‘Staff Only’ door.

Steve’s alone at the machine for five whole seconds before Dustin finds him.

“There you are! Okay, here, these are my favorites on the subject,” he hands him a small stack of books with mostly dark covers, one even has a lenticular image of a fanged skull, “These are a couple that are more fanatical,” two more are added to the pile, “and these two are more scientific in nature.”

He keeps ahold of the last two, stepping to the side to reach for and slide a chair from another machine next to Steve’s. “Are they a poltergeist too?  Are you trying to get rid of them? If so, I’ll need to pull some material on exorcisms too. Do you know why they would be sticking around? We need to figure out what their unfinished business might b—”

“Dustin! Dude!” Steve cuts him off with a laugh, “What happened to “Hey Steve.”, “Didja get unpacked already?”, “How’re your projects coming along, Steve?”...I just got here, my guy, lemme breathe for a second.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, “Did you figure out what colors your ghost likes?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No, not yet. I put some out for him, so we’ll see if he decides to get rid of any.”

Claudia returns then, “Okay, here you are, sweetheart—Dusty! What’d I tell you about bothering Steve!”

“I’m not bothering him!” Dustin complains at the same time Steve says, “It’s been non-stop.”

The kid shoves at Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, shut up!”

He mimes nearly falling off his chair, “Do you see this, Ms. Henderson? I am being harassed in a public library.” he manages to say before breaking out into a grin.

“Shut up, asshole!” Dustin laughs.

“You shut up, buttface.”

“Okay, okay, settle down you two, Now Steve, do you have anywhere we can start? A date?” Claudia asks, loading up the first film in her small stack.

“I have one,” Steve nods, giving Dustin a final playful shove and reaching into his back pocket. “This article I found about the trailer park that used to be there?” He shows her his phone, open to the article from last night.

She scans it, then nods, scrolling on through the first film. “I say we check obituaries first, see if anyone sticks out? Then we can try birth announcements.”

“Would they have had an announcement printed if he was a murderer though?”

She looks at her son curiously.

“What?”

“Dustin is convinced there is a ghost on the property from the death there,” Steve explains as if he doesn’t already believe it himself, “And apparently the stories of the place include a possible murderer.”

“That’s why we need to figure out who it was so we can get him outta Steve’s house!”

“Well…” she gives them both another odd look, “Everybody has someone; this person’s someone may have had them printed as well.”

The first film ends up being the one they needed, for Chrissy at least.

“Here’s your cheerleader, Steve.” Claudia gestures to the machine’s screen. Half the front page of the Hawkins Post from November 1st, 1986 is dedicated to her. 

The crooked smile, the bangs, the ponytail. “That’s her alright. It’s gotta be.”

Dustin squished in from Steve’s left to read the tiny text. “‘Chrissy Cunningham, 18, was found dead early this morning by local 440 chapter president Wayne Munson at his home in the Forest Hills mobile home park.”

“‘Wayne Munson.’, Who’s Wayne Munson?”

“Not sure, but he’s involved somehow. Write that down.”

“‘Police say they have one of two suspects in custody, the other was found dead alongside Ms. Cunningham.’.”

“That’s gotta be the ones, remember? She died and the boyfriend found the guy right after!”

From there, it’s easy to find the information for one Jason Carver.

“Is he the guy?” Dustin squints closer at the small yearbook picture. “Wait, if he’s the boyfriend, then he’s the murderer! Then who’s this other guy…?”

“What about Eddie, is there anything about anyone with that name?” Both Hendersons give Steve curious looks, “I was given that name from…a reliable source.” Very reliable. 

“Why don’t we go back to that Wayne fella,” Claudia says, standing from the machine to move behind a computer nearby. “If it was his trailer she was found in, maybe the other person has something to do with him?”

She clicks into her computer and starts to type at an alarming rate.

Steve glances over to Dustin, who’s wearing a bewildered look. He turns around in his chair, “Thanks for helping with this, Ms. Henderson.”

“Yeah mom, I didn’t know you would be this interested in something like this.”

“Oh pshh,” she scoffs, “Who doesn’t love a good mystery? Now, read off that last name again?”

“Munson, M-U-N-S-O-N.”

“Let’s see…says here that Wayne was President of our Local 440 branch until…oh, 1986.”

“What’s that?” Steve and Dustin ask in tandem.

“The 440 is the local union! Some of those guys come through here twice a month for their book club.”

Steve takes the name to his phone, typing in ‘wayne munson + indiana’. “‘New UA President Elected!’, obituary, oh! There’s a birth here…and it has a paywall.”

Claudia rolls her eyes and mutters a low “Of course,” then louder, “Let's find it here then, what’s the date?”

He gives her the date, a Friday in mid June 1966, and she sets up the corresponding microfilm roll, scrolling into the birth announcements.

“Ah, here it is: ‘Beloved former Miss Indiana and Hawkins native Elizabeth Munson (ne’ Johnson) and husband Albert Munson welcomed a bouncing baby boy to the world this past Saturday. ‘I am just plumb overjoyed,’ Wayne Munson, Al’s older brother and well-known face of Hawkins’ local branch of UA 440 said Saturday evening. Both mother and little Theodore Munson are happy and healthy after their short hospital stay.’. That’s just lovely, I didn’t know Hawkins had a Miss Indiana!” 

“But that’s Theodore though, not Eddie. Did she have any other kids?”

“Uhhh..” Steve draws out, typing ‘elizabeth munson miss indiana’ into his phone. “No, just the one son apparently..” He reads further, “Says she died in 1974 due to ovarian cancer.”

“Damn.”

“Poor Teddy..”

“Teddy?”

“Well sure, short for Theodore?” Claudia tsks sympathetically, “He was so young when she died..”

“Poor kid, I can’t imagine.”

“Wait! Teddy, Eddie!”

“Huh?”

“I dunno, maybe that’s your connection? Theodore to Teddy to Eddie. Maybe Wayne’s nephew is your Eddie?”

It took some more searching, but Dustin was right on the money; Steve finds the first mention of both names in a 1982 Hawkins High yearbook under a black and white picture of five teens in the book’s club section.

“‘Theodore “Eddie” Munson (far left), leader of Hawkins High’s newest club, Hellfire, with fellow sophomores Ronnie Ecker, Jeff Monroe, Frank Zuiwiski, and freshman Gareth Emerson.’.” Steve reads off. “‘The tabletop, pen-and-paper game Dungeons and Dragons (“D&D?” Dustin yells, attempting to pull the book from his hands, making Steve twist around in his chair to avoid him.) is the club’s main focus and is largely math based.’.”

Dustin pulls the yearbook from Steve’s hands as soon as he’s finished reading. “How did I not know Hawkins had a D&D club?!”

“Oh my god, my ghost is a nerd.”

“What the fuck?? What the fuck??”

Eddie had not expected Steve to be awake when he drifted upstairs that morning. Nor did he have any inkling that the man would whisper out a trembling “Eddie?” when he arrived at his door.

It’s only March, how in the hell can Steve even see him?

He sounded so scared too… damn it!  He only just got here and now Eddie’s gone and ruined everything.

Instead of bright sparkling happiness or burning hot rage, a deadening, sinking, cold melancholy seeps into his core. The dreadful feeling sinks him further down into the house, all the way to, and into, the floor of his closet under the stairs.

Eddie stays hidden away while Steve shuffles around that morning and for two mornings after that. He’s aware of the living man’s movements through the creaks of the floorboards and hinges as he goes about his day each day, unpacking boxes and accidentally cutting his finger, shocking himself when he sets up his fancy-ass TV in the master bedroom, listens when he sings along to the Spoofy he’s been playing for Eddie and some of his own modern-sounding songs.

But Eddie doesn't make an appearance.

For three days, he wallows, alone.

Late into the night of the second day, well, early in the morning on the third, technically, the Moon reaches to him, asks him what is wrong.

It’s still dark outside, the sky just beginning to lighten, when he leaves his confines and breezes out onto the back balcony.

He notices belatedly that were are boxes and dropcloths littered around the great room as he passed through it; seems like Steve had been busy.

Again, the moon reaches softly to him, What are you afraid of? her soft hold on him asks, the encouragement bleeding through her glow over him evident.

“My heart may be dead and gone, but that doesn’t mean I want it broken.”

He regrets his words immediately, her amusement at his slip up skitters all along the planks of Steve’s balcony.

“Nononono no, not like that, he doesn’t–I don’t–He just…” why is he trying to lie to her? “Okay, so what if I have a big fat crush on him? ‘Ooh everyone look the lovesick dead guy’,” he mocks. “It’s not like jack shit can happen, so what if I do? It’s only a stupid crush anyway.”

Eddie listens to the sounds of the night as the sky lightens a couple shades more, the Moon’s continued amusement apparent to none but him.

Her jovial mood dies off after a shade or so more, then turns questioning once again, though tired, apparent from her low seat in the sky.

Eddie’s gut twists, “He could see me…Why can he see me already?”

The confusion persists, a new drop of encouragement comes and goes.

“I’m sure I scared him with the…” he gestures to the wispy all of him, “I don’t want to freak him out more…”

She grows exasperated with him; Eddie can picture his late Uncle’s good-natured eye roll and practically hear the fond tongue-click behind her new irritation.

“What? What’d I say?”

The Moon all but bowls him over with one more blast of encouragement before she disappears behind the trees and under her sister’s glow.

Eddie huffs out a sigh. Message received…

Eventually, later in the morning, the stairs above him creak with Steve’s weight, and Eddie listens to him hum as he passes outside his door toward the kitchen.

He’s there for a little bit, probably eating something? Then the sound of Dio filters down the hall to him. 

Steve started the Spoofy for him again.

Soon after, the door into the garage opens and closes, and only after the garage door itself shudders to a stop, does Eddie leave his spot.

He wanders the house, taking in everything Steve had moved, or even torn off in his absence (“That wallpaper really was horrible, good on ya Steve.”), but eventually ends up back in the kitchen, thinking this time he’ll open a couple drawers for Steve instead of his usual cupboard fuckery, show him he’s back in action in a “Didja miss me?” type way, but stops short when he notices something laid out on the counter beside the speaker.

Color swatches. 

There’s a couple shades of green, some blues, a deep red, and even a bright sunshine yellow laid out with a slip of lined paper.

Eddie eases forward, clipping into the countertop as he does, to read the note.

He stares dumbly at it for what feels like weeks.

Steve wants to know what he thinks? What Eddie would pick? Why? This is Steve’s house, why does his opinion matter?

‘It’s because he likes you.’ his not-actually-there brain tells him

“No the fuck he doesn’t, I’m dead. A ghost. I’m a nuisance at best.”

‘He knew your name.’

That happy sparking feeling returns, shooting through where his heart would be.

“He knew my name.”

Bright yellow flashes in his chest briefly. 

How did Steve figure that one out?

‘He said your name.’ he thinks to himself, then the sound of Steve saying his name starts to cycle across his thoughts.

“Eddie?”, “Eddie?”, “Eddie?”, “Eddie?”....over and over again until it stops sounding like a real word.

“Eddie.” Steve says, his tone no longer questioning, but welcoming.

“Eddie.” Steve’s smiling this time.

“Eddie..” Steve’s happy to see him.

It takes him a handful of minutes each time, but he manages to flip over about half of the colors Steve had laid out.

“I must be outta my mind,” Eddie grumbles, glowing bright in the middle of the kitchen.

It took three days for Eddie to tell Steve what colors he doesn’t like. 

He left the swatches alone until something was done to them but eventually, on the morning of the third day since he’d put them out (after more decisions about where he’d use each if they weren’t vetoed, deciding which room he’d tackle first (the kitchen), and getting the rest of his furniture and TV situated in his room), Steve comes downstairs to find three of the blue shades and one each of the green, red, and grays flipped over on the countertop.

He smiles down at them as he eats his bowl of cereal; he’s not sure where his ghostly roommate is right now, so he sets down his bowl, fishes a pen out of his junk drawer, and adds a line to his note

<- prev | next ->

i can't believe i didn't do this on the first part, but tagging everyone who was interested in reading the whole fic from my first post w this concept!! (i think some of you already found pt 1 though!!): @gothwifehotchner @puppy-steve @babydollbaron @a-bun-danceoflove @after-the-end-times @mightbeasleep @shapeofaperson @val-from-lawrence @madigoround @steviebats @nburkhardt @scoops-stevie @kas-eddie-munson @i-less-than-threee-you @milf-harrington @khalesprix @matchingbatbites

and also tagging those interested on the last part <3: @little-birch-boy

[blackwood4stucky]

from what i've tasted of desire, i hold with those who favor fire

the dark twilight x stucky au

😈 from what i've tasted of desire, i hold with those who play with fire

Leaving his home, his family, behind fill Bucky with a sense of melancholy, it had been brewing in his stomach ever since he sat in his seat on this plane. He supposes that leaving and going to live with his father is the best thing he could have done given the situation. After all, he’s only a halfling.

next up in the series: the sun also delights in moonlit nights [2025]

@iholdwiththosewhofavorfire

the ship dossier | prequel playlist

[alexapiperwriter]

Hopefully, the townies weren’t some kind of post-apocalyptic cult geared toward survival out here with nubile men strapped to the hoods of their cars. That would be bad. I was sort of nubile. <--One of my favorite lines from this flower shop/tattoo parlor AU. Art by Sheilkuroi.

[angelasscribbles]

The Dark Kingdom Chapter 5: Fated

Series: The Dark Kingdom

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake, Riley x ?

Word Count: 1,555

Rating: MA

******TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Assault mentioned, physical, verbal abuse/assault described. Lead up to sexual assault described*******

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley tossed and turned uneasily as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Her body twitched as soft whines of pain and fear slipped from her.

The fingers twisted painfully in her hair, as putrid breath hit her in the face, “Did you really think I’d let you marry my son?”

“I…ow! Please! I didn’t…how did you-“

He yanked her forward hard enough to separate a hank of hair from her scalp, “He came to me asking for my blessing, the stupid boy. What have you done to him you little whore? Have you been spreading your legs for him? Seducing him with your filthy commoner ways?”

She tried to scramble away from him, tears and snot streaking her face as she backed into the corner with no way to get past him, “No! I…I love him, he loves me! We-“

“There’s no way I’m letting my son marry common street trash! You’ve been given all the privileges of royalty but that doesn’t make you one of us!”

“But…but you said that if I made a good enough marriage match-“

A harsh laugh accompanied the stinging backhand across her face, “No nobleman is going to want to marry you. You’re only good for one thing. And if you go near my son again, I’ll fucking kill you. But not before I tell him how you’ve been fucking his father all this time. Now get back over here and let me remind you what you’re good for. Now!”

“NO!” Riley bolted upright in her bed, sweat drenching her nightgown, heart thundering in her chest. Her hands grappled at the covers, fighting off an attacker who wasn’t there.

“Riley!” Liam was suddenly in her room, in her bed, wrapping her in his arms, “Riley, Riley, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe now. It was just a dream!”

She pitched forward into him, clinging to him as all the pain and agony of her whole wretched life poured out of her. She shouldn’t have felt safe in his arms, but she did. She had no reason to trust him, but she did.

“It wasn’t just a dream,” she sobbed into his chest.

“What was it?” There was nothing but concern in his voice as he held her tightly against him and rocked her back and forth.

“A memory,” she whispered.

He stopped moving as he considered that. His voice held some kind of barely restrained emotion when he spoke, “What happened to you, Riley? Who hurt you? Please tell me.”

“What good would it do?” She hiccupped.

Liam pulled back so he could look at her face. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up so she was looking into his eyes when he replied, “Because I will kill whoever did this to you.”

She shook her head, “You can’t.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can!”

“No, I mean you can’t! The treaty….”

“So, someone did hurt you. A human.”

She nodded.

“And this is why you ran away?”

She nodded again.

“Please tell me why you scaled my mountain. I can protect you, but I have to know who my enemies are.”

Life had taught her not to trust people, especially men, but something deep inside her told her she could trust this one. She felt as drawn to him as she did to the mountains themselves and she had no idea why.

Besides, not telling him certainly wasn’t going to absolve her transgression of crossing the partition and breaking the treaty. She had to try, “I want to. It’s just not easy to talk about. The man who raised me-“

“Your father?”

“That monster is not my father!” she spat with a vehemence that took him aback, “My parents…they died when I was quite young…I don’t even remember them.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I was sent to live at the…I was sent to live with a different family…”

“And they abused you?”

“Not at first. The woman who raised me, she was kind and loving. She didn’t treat me any differently than she treated her own children but then she died…” Riley broke off as renewed sobs racked her body.

“Take your time,” he soothed.

“Everyone told my foster father to remarry, but he never did. He started coming into my room in the middle of the night-“

Liam cursed in some ancient language she didn’t understand, “You don’t have to give me details, I get the idea. How old were you when it started?”

“Twelve,” She whispered.

“Christ,” he ran a hand down his face as he struggled to maintain his composure.

And they called the Esseri monsters. Not a single species under his domain would treat a child, any child, in such a manner.

She had been brutalized by the man who should have protected and cherished her. And she had risked certain death to get away from him. She had literally scaled a mountain, shredding her hands and feet in the process, for a bare chance at freedom.

He couldn’t punish her for it, nor could he send her back to the person who had hurt her.

He pulled her closer, pressing her against his chest, “You’re safe here. No one will ever harm you again.”

“But I broke the treaty-“

“Don’t worry about the treaty. You had good reason for your actions. This wasn’t a violation; it was an act of seeking sanctuary and I grant you asylum.”

“You’re not going to punish me?”

He laughed bitterly, “I think you’ve been punished enough and for no wrongdoing on your part.”

“And you won’t send me back?” She held her breath, not daring to entertain hope. Hope that had so frequently been ripped from her in the past.

This was not her first escape attempt, just her first successful one.

“This is your home now, for as long as you want it to be,” Liam released her and propelled himself away from her bed, unwilling to do anything that she might interpret as unwanted touch, “Please join me downstairs in the dining room when you’re dressed. I’ve had the kitchen prepare breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” She laughed as she glanced out her window at the deepening night sky.

“We’ve both just woken. It is breakfast,” he rummaged through the small desk in the corner of the room and came up with paper and pencil. He quickly drew a map to help her find the dining room then slipped out her door and disappeared.

Joy filled her heart as she bounded out of bed and got ready for the day…well, night. Whatever the future held, she was never going back to Cordonia and that was the best news she had ever been given in her entire life.

After a couple of wrong turns, she found herself in a grand dining room lit by golden candelabras. Liam rose from his chair as she entered.

She had taken three steps into the room when the door on the other side burst open and Leo stormed in with Drake hot on his heels, “Leo, you need to calm down!”

Liam turned toward the source of the commotion calmly, “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there’s a problem!” Leo spat as he glared in her direction, “We went into one of the human towns and scouted as instructed and the humans are in an uproar over their missing princess and if they figure out that she’s here, there’s going to be a problem! There are already rumors circulating that she has been kidnapped…by us!”

Liam’s head swiveled back toward her, “You didn’t tell me you were their princess!”

“I’m not! I was raised by the royal family, but I am not one of them!” That had been made abundantly clear to her. “Barthelemy Beaumont is not my father!” Angry tears sprang into her eyes.

Leo strode toward Riley as his voice rose, finger pointing at her accusingly, “She shouldn’t be here! I should have killed her where she stood and thrown her body back down the mountain!”

Drake moved from Leo’s side and almost instantaneously appeared at hers, a low growl issuing from his throat in warning.

She flinched, then moved quickly, angling to put herself behind Drake as he stepped between her and her would-be attacker, but Leo never made it to them.

There was a resounding thwack as Liam intercepted his brother, the back of his hand sending him flying across the room to slam into the far wall. “You will not touch her!” His voice rolled like thunder across the room.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Leo demanded as he picked himself up off the floor and rubbed the back of his head, “Why are you protecting some random human who’s going to get us embroiled in a war?”

“She is not a random human!” Liam’s fury coalesced all around them, like a living, breathing thing as he roared, “She is my mate!”

“Mate!” Drake snarled in Leo’s direction as one arm curled behind him, wrapping around her waist.

Leo froze, eyes wide as they flicked from Liam to Drake to Riley then back again. “I apologize, Stăpâni,” he said with a stiff bow before backing through the doorway.

Riley stood rooted to the spot, a heavy thickness still hanging in the air, the sound of both men’s labored breathing filling the room, “Uh…guys…what just happened?”