#ghost!steve harrington

[kookygranger]

Sparks Fly

Ghost!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Series Masterlist

700 words

You rub the pinched spot in your lower back, waiting for the wheat pack in your microwave to finish heating up as you stare at the half-packed boxes and all the little bits and pieces that still need to be wrapped and boxed up.

“I can help.”

His voice makes you jump, still not used to one outside your head interrupting your space. You turn and watch him over your shoulder, arms crossed and biceps squished under his tight striped polo.

“Go on then.”

His eyes flicker towards you, wavering in his unfounded confidence before he walks to your desk. His hand stretches out, veins that seem to become clearer every day moving under skin that could easily pass for sun-kissed and animated, if anyone else could see him. It flexes for a moment above a ceramic teapot, hesitating before he makes a grabbing motion that passes right through it.

You click the side of your cheek, “Close one,” and move back to the kitchen when you hear the beep of the microwave, missing the way Steve’s shoulders deflate. You can feel his presence behind you as you press the heat into your lower back, sighing with relief.

“So uh, why is it you’re leaving again? This place really…fits you.”

You turn around, watching him take in all the tweaks of personality around your kitchen with a shoulder to the doorframe.

“Some of the coven is parting ways, and I sided with Rhi and her vampire lover. I can’t stay here with a good conscience, besides,” you shrug as you place a kettle over the stove, “it’s just stuff. It can all come with me.”

Steve hums, and you turn back towards him.

“What did that noise mean?”

“Nothin’” he shrugs, “Just I was wondering,” his hazel eyes burrow into your soul, making you squirm under his gaze, “can I come with you?” He shifts at the ill-hidden shock on your face.

“You want to come with me? Shouldn’t you be,” you waved your hand in the air, “moving to the next place? I thought you talked to Rhi?”

“I did. She told me to stop freaking you out and let the light consume me or something.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to. I wanna stay with you.”

You frown, “Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to,” he clears his throat. “I guess I could…go.”

You shake your head, “No, I mean–if you want to stay, you can. It’s your…afterlife.”

“And go with you?”

“If it’s what you want?”

“What do you want?”

You take a deep breath, your chest puffing before exhaling slowly. “I’ve almost gotten used to your…” warmth, “commentary.” He smirks and your eyes drift to the permanent shadow of fuzz that frames his pink lips. You wonder if he regrets not shaving on the day of his death.

“So, I’m coming with you?” You shrug in a non-committal yes, and his face morphs into a frown, “How do I do that?”

You roll your eyes, moving to grab a mug out of the cupboard as the water begins to boil. “Figure it out, ghost boy.” You can feel his smile without needing to see it, a tingle spreading down your spine in its wake every time.

***

The familiar warmth was the first thing you’d noticed when you’d walked into your new apartment, following a trail through to the living room until you came across his ethereal form, more real than ever, leaning against the wall. Arms and feet casually crossed with that smug smile plastered on his face.

“Found ya.”

It was closer to the city, your new place. An easier route to the nightlife and music scene but entirely lacking in the coating of magic that had been left over the hundreds of years you’d spent in the house situated in the coven’s community. It was a blank canvas, but you’d sprinkle some of that cosmic energy into the space in no time.

You groan as your back clicks, stretching out another day of moving pains and surveying your progress. You’d gotten the kitchen and essentials unpacked in one day, just books, records, frames and crystals left.

“Alright, I’m ordering takeout for dinner.” It was weird. No longer just talking to yourself. Feeling another presence in your space.

His hand reaches out in reflex, motioning to squeeze your arm, and you feel a hot point of contact, flinching at the zap that travels through your arm. Steve frowns, staring at where his hand had touched you, then looks back up at you, mirroring your look of shock.

“What the hell was that?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #ghost!steve harrington #witch!reader #stranger things fanfiction #she writes

[quixoticall]

The View Between Villages

Summary: Steve Harrington offers to be your ghostly tour guide after your mysterious, unexpected death.

AN: Hiiiii, if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been then, first of all thank you for thinking of me, and secondly, I have been sick with bronchitis for weeks. Tbh I never understood in Regency novels where they would make such a huge deal about someone being sick until now. That shit took me out. Anyway, in my convalescence I watch the show, School Spirits and I couldn’t help but see the similarities between Wally and Steve—both men of the 80s, hot labrador retriever jocks with a compulsive need for parental approval? So, that’s how this lil piece was born. I would love to continue writing in this universe so please, if you have any requests, send them in! In the meantime, I am hard at work on This Could Get Ugly and a lovely lil Eddie number inspired by another Noah Kahan song.

Warnings: School Spirit!AU, Major Character Death, talks about own death, brief mention of violence and death, angst, this is sad! Ghost!Steve and Ghost?Reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

WC: 2K

It’s Steve Harrington who first declares you dead. Admittedly it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize, it wasn’t like they sent out notices for these types of things either, as convenient as a note would’ve been:

To Whom it May Concern:

We regret to inform you that on February 12 of this year, you will unfortunately perish under unclear circumstances in the city of Chicago, Illinois at Northwestern University. Please make sure to get your affairs in order before the set date.

No, none of that, instead you had attended three whole lectures before noticing that no one was acknowledging you—not your professors when you raised your hand; not your classmates when you asked if they could loan you a pencil; not even your best friend when you ran into him in the hall. You thought it could’ve been a weird prank. Then the news began to spread, you were missing. Reported by your roommate after not having come home from a late-night study session at the library. And then they found traces of blood in the boiler room of the library’s basement.

Still, you thought to yourself, maybe you were having a really long terrible dream. Or maybe you were in a coma. Or doing one of those VR headset things. Or maybe you were dead and cursed to spend the rest of eternity haunting the very campus where you died.

Your friends were never the gym type, which is why you end up at the school’s pool in an effort to avoid the pain and desperation you feel every time you see their tired but still-hopeful faces.

That’s where you see him. Or, more importantly, where he sees you. You first spot him sitting at the edge of the pool, observing the ongoing swim team practice and are immediately struck.

Sure, you may be stuck in some weird reality where you may or may not be dead but you can still appreciate a hot person. Especially one as handsome as Pool Guy who’s striped swim trunks sit low on his hips and he has a smattering of dark hair trailing from his belly button almost up to the base of his neck. Thick, chestnut-colored hair swoops in his handsome face in golden-touched waves and gracefully frame a pair of honey-hued eyes. Of course you were going to stare.

You’re sure you stare for an indecent amount of time, but it wasn’t like that mattered, you remind yourself, you’re invisible to him like you are to everyone else.

Except you’re not invisible to him because Pool Guy was making eye contact and worse, he was waving, solidifying the fact that he is very aware of your presence. He can see you.

“Hi, you must be new here. I’m Steve Harrington, class of ‘86,” he introduces himself, with way too much verve once he swims over to where you’re still frozen in place.

“You can see me?” You ask, once you find your voice, “How can you see me?”

You reach out to grasp his offered hand and to your shock, your fingers don’t go straight through his, like it would with anyone else’s. Instead you’re enveloped in the warm solid grasp of his hand.

He cracks a smile at this, “because I’m dead too. Which, I totally get you’re probably wondering how someone this good-looking could’ve died so young but i will—“

“Dead?” you squeak out.

“Sorry,” he says with an awkward grimace, “I know not everyone likes that term, um, how do you identify—?“

You cut him off once again, “I didn’t know I was dead.”

It’s his turn to be confused.

“Really? Most people are really quick about putting it together. When they see their body the memories all come back. I mean even I put it together and I was never the smartest even before the accident—oh, shit. You’re the missing girl. The one from all the flyers.”

Clearly he’s referencing the myriad HAVE YOU SEEN ME? flyers with your face on them that paint the campus. Up until now, you had been categorically missing not dead, and now that someone has spoken your fate out loud, you’re certain it is all but sealed.

“Listen, I am so sorry. Let me go get someone who’s way better at this than I—“ you cut off his apologetic rambling,

“I need to leave right now.”

Before he can say anything else you’re running in the opposite direction as quickly as you can.

You don’t go back to the pool after that.

Being dead wasn’t so bad. Sure, you had spent a solid five weeks distraught over the loss of the life you had once lived and mourning everything you will never get to do. And yeah, it was a uniquely painful type of loneliness getting to see all your friends and never getting to interact with them, especially during those first few weeks when your disappearance was hot on everyone’s lips and heavy in the hearts of your friends. But outside of all that, being dead was okay. At least, you didn’t have to submit any more papers or do laundry.

After your encounter with Steve Harrington, class of ‘86, you decide to hole up in the library. You desperately convince yourself that if you search the shelves enough you’ll be able to find something in one of the many books that talk about the afterlife that might provide you some clarity about your newfound ghostly status. Surely there’d have to be something helpful. Anything. A ghost manual, perhaps or some graduate research paper about being stuck in between realms. You’d easily settle for a Chicken Soup for the Ghostly Soul.

Or you think traitorously to yourself, a tour guide to the afterlife, someone who has experience with being dead and a great set of abs. Every time you’re close to convincing yourself to go back to the pool, the embarrassment of your mortifying first encounter pulls you back. No way you were going to see him again. Just because you were dead didn’t mean you’d lost all your dignity.

Your internal back-and-forth ends up not mattering because he ends up coming to you.

You spot his well-coifed head maneuvering through the tall shelves from where you’ve holed yourself up on the fourth floor mezzanine and watch as he weaves through the unassuming crowd, completely unnoticed, just like you.

He’s wearing clothes this time, which both disappointing and surprising since you haven’t quite figured out the mechanics or social expectations of how often ghosts should be changing clothes. In a pair of snug-fitted jeans with a Northwestern Athletics sweatshirt and a pair of high top Nikes, he takes the winding steps up to your unofficial perch two at a time . If this is what he looks like some 40 years dead, you can’t imagine what he looked like when he had a pulse, it must have been like staring into the sun.

“Hi,” he offers tentatively when he approaches, like he’s sure you’ll run off spooked.

“Hi.”

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just, well, my friend Robin told me she saw you here and I wanted to come by and apologize for what happened. At the pool. I truly had no idea, sometimes I just say things without thinking, which I am working on, trust me.”

You smile, appreciative but defeated, part of you was hoping he was coming up here to tell you that there had been some sort of mistake.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, it was just a bit of shock, is all. I guess I’m still adjusting to this whole being dead thing,” you joke weakly.

“Yeah, about that, if you ever need help adjusting or learning the ropes or anything like that, I—we are always happy to help. There’s a few of us that band together and we’d love to have you. Truly,” he claws nervously at the back of his head as he makes his offer the tip of his sneaker digging into the worn library carpet.

“Thanks,” you say, genuinely, “I really appreciate that.”

He looks at you now, finally, and his gaze is golden, warm honey and it’s like a shot to the chest. Like you’ve promised him the moon. A hand is extended towards just slightly, a twitch, and you realize he’s expecting you to take it.

“I can’t right now, though,” you say, lamely and you watch his smile waver. Quickly you add, ”I need some time, I think, before it becomes permanent. If I go with you, I’m dead. Alone up here, I’m still just missing. Does that…make sense?”

He nods, furiously, “It makes total sense. You can come find me by the pool whenever you’re ready. I will be there.”

He makes a move to leave and you register the paper in his hand for the first time. It’s a flyer with your face on it, different than all the ones before.

“Wait, what is that?” You ask, fingers skimming the plush of his sweatshirt to get his attention.

“Oh, um,” he swallows thickly, “they’re having a vigil for you tonight, I wasn’t sure if you’d seen or if you were going, but if you were going, I was going to see if you wanted some company. “

His voice is small now and the regret is etched thickly on his face.

Fingers shaking, you extend a hand out for the flyer. Steve sighs but gently places it in your trembling grasp nonetheless.

It’s true, what he said about the vigil, you had no clue. You’re not sure how long you spend staring at your own face, long enough for the words to stop making sense, but not long enough for them to stop meaning anything.

Steve stays the entire time and when you sink to the floor, tear tracks heavy on your cheeks, he sinks with you. You cry, and he stays.

“I can’t go,” you admit, and then, in the same breath, plea, “How can I go?”

Next to you, Steve lets out a shuttering sigh.

“When I died, they did something similar, my parents came down from Indy and everything. I couldn’t bring myself to go either. But shit, maybe if I did, I would’ve gotten what I needed to move on from here. Closure or whatever. Or maybe not, who knows? But I will never know and I would hate for you to never know.”

It’s still too hard to go you decide, but you can’t pretend it’s not happening. Instead, the two of you sit on the roof of the library, feet dangling over the ledge watch a river of candlelight flowing through the center of campus. You can hear, faintly, as your friends make speeches talking about how kind you were, how good, how funny and undeserving until their voices fail from holding back tears.

You cry the whole time, but you don’t regret it.

The two of you stay sitting there far past the end, Steve’s arms wrapped around you, holding the pieces of you together.

After, when you’ve had enough of it all and the last candle has gone out, you turn to Steve and say, “thank you, that did make me feel better. You were right.”

He chuckles wryly.

“I don’t hear that I’m right very often,” he admits before cracking another smile, “but I could get used to hearing it, especially from you. Now, what do you say about getting some ice cream? No offense, but that thing was a total downer.”

You laugh, genuinely, not only at his joke, but the absurdity of it all before playfully shoving his shoulder. In response, Steve pretends to lose his balance and almost fall of the ledge and you both know it’s silly but it makes you smile so it’s worth it.

Dying is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to you, but at least you are not alone.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #Steve Harrington imagines #Steve Harrington x yn #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #school spirits!AU #ghost!steve Harrington

[cryptidcasanova]

Here is a list of all the spooky stories posted for Hellfire Haunts! Happy Haunting!

Eddie Munson

Like a Secret in Your Throat Written by @imagine-you Vampire!Eddie. Prompt 2 “The freaks come out at night.” Where Eddie is tormenting you from beyond the grave.

Love Bites Written by: @portaltothevoid Vampire!Eddie x Reader. Prompt 1 “I’ve waited lifetimes for you.” A charming play on Kas. Let’s just say they took the Kas theory and turned it on its head!

A Ghostly DM Imagine Written by @residentdormouse Ghost!Eddie Munnson. Prompt 3 “Did you think they could protect you?” Even in Death, Hellfire still needs it’s DM.

Skull Rock Reckoning Requested by @ashdoctor Demon!Eddie x Reader. Prompt 1 “I’ve waited lifetimes for you.” A sacrifice at Skull Rock turns into the chance for a wayward soul to find his one.

Master of Mortals Vampire!Eddie x Reader. Prompt 2 “The freaks come out at night.” Eddie made sacrifices to save his friends from Vecna. Now he’s hungry for them to return the favor.

Haunted Hearts Ghost!Eddie x GN Reader. Prompt 1 “I’ve waited lifetimes for you.” A soft realization that even the dead can be rescued. 

Steve Harrington

Unfinished Business Written by @asirensrage Ghost!Steve. Prompt 3 “Did you think they could protect you?” Steve has a bit of a revelation. 

Love Bites Written by @ladyfallonavenger Vampire!Steve x reader. Prompt 3 “Did you think they could protect you?” Where Steve is trying to maneuver his way through vampirism.

Billy Hargrove

In The Midnight Hour Written by @imagine-you Demon!Billy. Prompt 3 “Did you think they could protect you?” Where the reader finds help in the most unlikely places.

Nancy Wheeler

Practical Magic Witch!Nancy x Reader. Prompt 6 “Magic comes at a price.”

Argyle

Wild Times Written by @asirensrage Vampire!Argyle. Prompt 8 “Death is only the beginning.” This is the most fun Argyle’s had in centuries.

Bogus Bites Vampire!Argyle. Prompt 8 “Death is only the beginning.” Where Argyle is struggling with the rules that come with vampirism.

Jim Hopper

Aftermath Written by @asirensrage Demon!Jim. Prompt 6 “Magic comes at a price.” There was one real truth to the world. You don’t threaten a demon.

Hound Dog Werewolf!Jim x reader. Prompt 4 “You’re the devil in disguise.” The full moon meant more trouble than you realized, but you couldn’t have known it until it was too late.

Back to Hellfire Haunts

#hellfire haunts #writing challenge #masterlist #stranger things masterlist #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #vampire!eddie munson #demon!eddie munson #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x reader #ghost!steve harrington #nancy wheeler imagines #witch!nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler #argyle imagine #vampire!argyle #jim hopper x reader #demon!jim hopper #werewolf!jim hopper #billy hargove x reader #demon!billy Hargrove

[asirensrage]

Title: Unfinished Business Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: PG Pairing: None Word count: 1166 Warnings: mention of death. angst. swearing. Summary: AU. Steve has a bit of a revelation.

Notes: Written for @cryptidcasanova's Hellfire Haunts Challenge. The prompts chosen for this were Steve Harrington, Ghost and "Did you think they would protect you?" This is the first of my horror/halloween prompts.

horror prompts masterlist

"You know you're dead right?" She's staring at him expectantly. 

"Just because I'm flunking with these ladies doesn't mean I'm dead in the water. Just wait. The right one will come." 

Robin sighs and leans against the counter. "No, like dead dead. They're ignoring you because they can't see you." 

“Oh ha ha,” he says dryly. It’s not that funny. He feels invisible sometimes since school ended. He’s failed more than he thought he would and his parents are never home. He’s no longer King Steve but since he broke up with Nancy, it’s like he doesn’t exist. Or maybe he’s just been so focused on her and the way he seems to see her everywhere with Jonathan. Hawkins isn’t a big town but it feels smaller lately. 

“Steve…” her voice is uncharacteristically serious. Robin frowns at him for a moment before she walks around the counter and closes the door. She locks it before she turns to him. 

“You can’t do that.”

“I need to,” she says. She walks back to the counter and hops up on it. Steve just sighs because he’s going to have to clean it. “Steve…did something bad happen? Like, recently? Or in the last few months.”

He thinks back to everything. Being drawn back into the chaos of monsters and telekinesis and the end of the world. Trying to save a bunch of asshole kids who didn’t even know how to say thank you. 

“Uh…no?” If he tells his coworker the truth, she’ll think he’s insane. 

“You didn’t, I don’t know, fall down the stairs? Get in a car accident or something? Wander off with a stranger to help find their puppy?”

He gives her an unimpressed look. Did she think he’s stupid? Scratch that. The answer is probably yes. “No.” 

“Steve. Think about it. The only one who’s been talking to you, who’s been looking at you is me. You don’t think that’s weird?”

“I mean–”

“We’re not friends, Steve. I don’t even know why you’re here because you’re not getting paid. Where did you get the uniform? The boss didn’t hire you. So what happened? How did you die?”

“I didn’t die!” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes! Stop trying to bullshit me!”

“Steve, I’m not–”

“I’m taking my break.” He throws his hat on the counter and leaves, ignoring the way she’s calling his name as he goes out the back. 

It’s a cruel trick. Another way to make fun of the fall of King Steve. Like it’s not bad enough that he’s stuck working at some stupid ice cream shop because his dad…he hasn’t actually seen his dad in months. Or his mom. He knows they’ve been around, in the house. Things have moved and dishes appeared in the sink but he hasn’t actually seen them. 

He moves through the mall easily. Or it moves around him. He can’t seem to get Robin’s voice out of his head. “How did you die?” 

He didn’t die. It’s a stupid question. He leans against the railing, looking out over the mall. He’s just having some bad luck. It’s the stupid hat with that uniform. It’s…it’s the fact that no one’s looking at him. 

Steve has always attracted some kind of attention. Most of it good until the disaster with Nancy. But now that Robin’s words are echoing in his head, he’s noticing that no one has even glanced his way. No one’s…he swallows tightly. 

He looks over at the couple next to him. “Hey, you know what time it is?” 

They walk away. 

“That’s rude,” Steve mutters. “Hey!” he calls out to one of his teammates from basketball. “Hey! Kyle!” He raises his voice but they don’t look. No one does. Fear settles in Steve’s chest, sitting heavy like lead. “Hello!” His shout echoes across the mall, but it’s buried in the sound of the mall. Or at least it seems to be. No one reacts. 

He runs back to the ice cream shop, noting the way people seem to step around him before he runs into them. Even as he reaches to touch one, they move or duck out of the way. It’s weird. He’s never noticed it before. He stops, standing in the middle of the walkway. Things were fine. He was fine. 

“Are you okay?”

He’s back in the ice cream shop, sitting on the floor behind the counter. 

“Yea–” he stops, actually thinking about what she says. Things haven’t been the same since that night. The night when Billy beat the shit out of him and he woke up in the backseat of a car, vision blurry and head feeling like it was going to explode, with some kid driving. He ended up in some fucking tunnels that smelled like smoke and rot. He remembers getting out of them. He thinks. He helped the kids up and then…he remembers being by the car, sitting there on the ground while the kids cheered and looked back into the hole and…wait, how did he get home? 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Robin says softly. 

“…I’m dead?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Sorry.”

“Bummer.” 

She snorts slightly at him. “So what…what happened?” 

Steve rests his head back on the wall. “I don’t know.” He closes his eyes. He wouldn’t normally say anything, wouldn’t tell some other poor soul the truth about this town unless he had to. He never wanted anyone to think he was insane but what’s the risk now? He’s dead. The girl he thought he’s been working with sees ghosts and now…he’s dead. So he tells her. Everything. 

“Did you think they could protect you?” 

“No, it wasn’t like that…it was about protecting them. I just needed to make sure the little shits were safe.”

She stares at him for a moment, her chin resting on her knees as her legs are pulled close to her. The store has been closed for hours now but they’re both still here. Still talking. She sighs for a long moment. “You know, I never would have thought that Steve Harrington was a good dude.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean it!” she says, grinning at him. “You’ve been risking your life to save some kids, to save the town and now you’re…” She doesn’t say it. It’s not like they both don’t know but he appreciates that. 

“So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I do?”

“Go into the light?” she suggests. “How should I know?”

“You’re the psychic!”

“I’ve never been dead!” She motioned towards herself. “I just see the dead people. Most of them have unfinished business before they move on. So? You got some unfinished business?”

Steve thinks to himself. He thinks of the way Nancy smiles, of Dustin’s enthusiasm about finding a girl he likes, about the way those kids clung to him for help. He thinks of the way he was needed for once and how the bullshit never seems to end in this town. They need him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding more to himself than her. “I do.” 

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @cantfighthemoonknight @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

ST tag: @happinessinthedarkesttimes

#hellfire haunts #ghost!steve harrington #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

#bucky barnes x reader #spencer reid x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #dick grayson x reader #eddie munson x reader #tate langdon x reader #tommy shelby x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #steve harrington x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #astarion x reader #bellamy blake x reader #daryl dixon x reader #din djarin x reader #ghost x reader #jake sully x reader #joel miller x reader #neteyam x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #kaz brekker x reader #mike schmidt x reader #peter parker x reader #sirius black x reader #marc spector x reader #rafe cameron x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #steven grant x reader #x reader #matt murdock x reader

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

#smut #relatable #neteyam x reader #jake sully x reader #lo’ak x reader #tonowari x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #draco malfoy x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #ellie williams x reader #harry potter x reader #rick grimes x reader #dean winchester x reader #neytiri x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #five hargreeves x reader #leon kennedy x reader #gojo satoru x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj mayback x reader

[shelbybyr]

When you run out of fics to read

#jacob black x reader #seth clearwater x reader #edward cullen x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #draco malfoy x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader #damon salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore x reader #jax teller x reader #opie winston x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #kylo ren x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #ben hanscom x reader #joel miller x reader

[ffuscous]

There are ghosts in Hawkins...

#my art #comic #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st #haunting #ghosts #tagging this to hell cause I spent so much time on it lol #uuuuh should I tag steddie? sure #steddie #fan comic #horror #horror comics

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

#simon ghost riley x reader #damon salvatore x reader #soap x reader #tanjiro x reader #scott mccall x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #clark kent x reader #emmett cullen x reader #leon kennedy x reader #steve harrington x reader #giyu tomioka x reader #captain john price x reader #loran x reader #ulysses x reader #original character #könig x reader #all u did was go to the grocery story and my guy was in his feels #like dude!!! GO WITH HER #dick grayson x reader #gojo x reader #spencer reid x reader #deunmiu dessie #anime x reader #ghost x reader #alien x reader #monster x reader

[unspecifiedfigure]

like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close🌅

#SWAY ME MORE #look up the ghost cover of sway you’ll thank me #it’s SO GOOD #and by ghost i mean the call of duty man sorry not sorry #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #my art #the sun coming through the window lighting strikes again

[kookygranger]

Ghosts, Grimoires and Gigs

Ghost!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader It was a mistake. The ghost of Steve Harrington wasn't supposed to appear in your house, but now he was here and he couldn't help watching you in your space and falling a little bit more in love every day. AKA The story of music journalist witch reader and the lovesick ghost of Steve Harrington told through a series of blurbs.

This is a love letter to the magic of @storiesbyrhi, especially that created in the world of Burning Yarrow ✨💌

Masterlist

✨ The Original Appearance ✨ He Came From Hawkins ✨ Notes On Progress ✨ Sparks Fly ✨ Let Touches Shake ✨ And He Was

Warnings: death, witchcraft, fem!reader, swearing, ghosts/mentions of the afterlife

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #witch!reader #stranger things au #ghost!steve harrington #she writes

[rowanswriting]

[ A horny little Drabble on this fine Thursday] 18 and up only!

warnings: choking, throat fucking, general roughness, if I missed something lemme know! Thank you for reading!

“That’s it baby.” He drawls out, his veiny hand grabbing the back of your hair with such force you’re sure he was pulling some of it out. Your eyes roll back into your head so far you’re sure they’ll get stuck that way as he fucks further and further down your throat. You stay on your knees for him, compliant and just how he wants you, the urge to pull of for air is overwhelming but you couldn’t stop yourself, the only thing running through your mind is getting him off. You want to look up and see the moment when he finally breaks, how his jaw will clench, his thighs tensing up as he struggles to keep going. You splutter around him, moaning out as he lets absolute filth spew from his lips. You let your mind wander as he uses you up like some filthy sex doll, not caring about the whines that are practically ripping themselves from your throat, muffled from his thick cock stretching your mouth as wide as it can possibly go. “Gonna cum down this perfect little throat, you ready for it sweetheart? Actually, I don’t care if you’re ready or not, you’re gonna drink down every drop and say thank you after.” He growls out, reaching a hand down to choke your throat, he can feel himself underneath his hand as his hips jerk wildly, his cock throbs inside of you, threatening to spill at any moment.

#eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #spencer reid smut #ghost smut #felix catton smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut

[quixoticall]

Y'all

would it be crazy if I asked for some in-universe requests???

You know, maybe some snippets from the Upside Down Tour, or maybe reader meeting some of the ghost!gang in the Views universe.

That would be crazy right?

#steve Harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x yn #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!steve harrington #ghost!steve harrington #rockstar!reader #this could get ugly #tcgu #views

[secretlocket]

BOYFRIENDS WHO…are very wild sleepers. barely give you space in bed, always yanking the covers away from you, and love rolling their big bodies on top of yours, suffocating you with their warm weight.

simon “ghost” riley, MIGUEL O’HARA, john price, KÖNIG, john “soap” mactavish, eddie munson, peter b parker, leon kennedy, jj maybank, steve harrington.

#simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john price #john price x reader #könig #könig x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader

[ghost-proofbaby]

the tik tok trend of flashing your boyfriend unexpectedly would have both eddie and steve like 😵‍💫🤤😵‍💫

oh my god.

but hear me out. yes, both boys would absolutely drool, but they’d also react just a little bit differently.

(i got carried away beneath the cut my fucking bad minors dni)

with steve, i can see you doing it during a fight. he’s saying something like “it was your turn to do the dishes, baby-“ and then you’re suddenly yanking up your t-shirt that had once been his and he’s just blanking. rapidly blinking, mouth agape and brows slack before furrowing them up. “what’s the matter?” you’d tease him.

and he just starts huffing in frustration because “no. no way. nope. not fair. you still have to do the dishes.”

and so you’d jump a little, smirking at the way his eyes are widening before he just starts pacing and you’re being even more of a fucking tease.

“are we sure about that? can’t we renegotiate terms, baby?”

“renegotiate? reneg- fuck off. fuck right off. i-“ and he’s tugging at his hair, torn between continuing the small argument that he can hardly recall the premise for now as you continue to grip on the hem of your shirt and smirk so proudly at him. “fine. you wanna renegotiate, honey? let’s renegotiate.”

you think you’ve won until he’s suddenly grabbing you up and taking you to the bedroom, treating you like the brat that you are. and by the end of the night, he’s just smirking at you and your chest littered in flowering bruises as he says, “guess you’ll have to clean the sheets instead now, baby.”

but then…. but then with eddie. oh dear god.

it’s not over a fight. no. it’s not a distraction — it’s your attempt to gain his attention. he’s been paying attention to planning a campaign or his guitar or just anything but you the entire day. and by the end of it you’re just so damn needy. it was either this or full on climbing into his lap, and flashing him was just the easier of the two options.

“hey, eds?” would be your innocent start to it, but honestly? he’s not even listening. he doesn’t even hear you as he’s focusing on his damn notebook.

he doesn’t even notice when you raise your shirt, or when you huff with annoyance as he continues to be so fucking oblivious.

“eddie.”

no response.

“edward.”

still no response.

“edward munson-“

when he finally hears his full government name you have half his attention, but not enough of it. he wouldn’t even glance up from his notebook as he says, “just a minute, sweetheart. i just figured out this new NPC and really need to-“

“how the hell do i have my tits out and you’re still talking about that fucking game?”

that would get his attention for a few reasons — the promise of tits and your tone of voice for starters — but even more so, the fact that you rarely lose patience or understanding when it comes to his hobbies. he’d be looking up in an instant, you could probably have heard a crack from across the room at how intensely he’s suddenly snapping that damn head up just to catch you dropping the shirt back down.

“wait, no, wait- what? where’d the boobs go?”

“sorry, only boyfriends who pay attention to their lovers get boobs.”

he’s never tossed that fucking notebook to the side so quickly as he spins around his chair, full focus on you entirely now, “who said i wasn’t paying attention? i’m paying attention, sweetheart. i’m paying so much attention.”

he’d prove just how much attention he’s paying to you when his head is buried between your thighs, only pausing on rare occasions to breathe and sometimes spout out new ideas for that stupid campaign, which only makes you tug harder on his damn curls and cut him off with his own moans before he returns to giving you his full attention.

#thank u ily #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #ghost is drunk and on some nonsense #none of this will probably be coherent when i wake up tomorrow oh well

[alleiwentcrazy]

The point is, Steve can’t hear.

A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.

His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.

But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.

He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.

He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.

Wait for the grief to pass.

They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.

He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.

Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.

At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.

Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).

He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.

But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.

Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?

It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.

It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.

He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—

Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.

It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.

“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.

Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”

Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.

He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.

*

They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.

It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.

The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.

Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.

He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.

So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.

He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.

Things change suddenly.

Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.

Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.

It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.

“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”

“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.

Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.

He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.

It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.

Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.

Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.

Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.

Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.

He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.

When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.

When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.

Just the right thing he needs.

His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.

“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.

Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.

Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.

When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.

Until it beeps again. And again.

“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”

The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.

They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.

“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”

The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.

And it’s Eddie. Eddie’s here with him.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #is he a ghost??? is he a zombie???? #a vamp- is he a vampire?!?!?!?!?!? #well he's definitely a creature #robin buckley #dustin henderson #dustin and his dads #!!!!! #steddie #stranger things #st4 #fix it fic #of sorts???? at least a beginning of one #im telling you people.... there are explanations #hard of hearing steve harrington #hoh!steve #platonic stobin #because i love them