#c: ghost writer the ghost

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

One of those "Danny needs a consort" fics where a bunch of people are invited to a mass speed dating event. The invitation uses prettier words but thats what this is. Now Batman wants to go get a look a this super powerful being and see if he's a threat or ally, and would you look at that, most of his children fall into the age bracket the invitation specifies 

(or maybe the batkids have just been touched by death enough they're viable candidates and got personalized invitations. Either way Bruce wants to go)

So Batman says a few of his kids will go and he's tagging along as a "chaperone". Maybe a few other JL members do the same with their proteges. The hard part for Bruce is actually getting his kids to agree to go. The biggest surprise is Jason finds out and demands to go.

Now Jason, a known lover of regency period romances, read a copy of the invitation the JL got and knew exactly what this was. There will be a ball. The word "courting" was used. This is a chance to live out his secret romance novel dreams and nothing is getting in the way of that. So he calls the batfam to say he's going

The batfam are like flabbergasted that Jason wants to go to a spooky speed dating event but it has the added bonus of getting the kids to start volunteering bc they have to know why Jason is so excited about this

[the5n00k]

Yknow I almost hope we never learn Scratch's human name. It'd be so weird having this character we knew as this thing for so long actually having been named this other thing the entire time. And would Molly have to call him by his true name? I'm so attached to Scratch and got so used to it that any change would be so jarring (especially to new viewers stumbling upon new episodes on Disney channel)

(I hate beating a dead horse but I think that's why I really really don't like wraith theory, or at least one of the several leading factors)

[totallynotreadingatwork]

Out of the Attic, by V.C. Andrews

...except it's actually ghost-written by Andrew Neiderman because the real Virginia Andrews has been dead since 1986 and this book came out in 2020. It is also just... not very good.

Spoilers ahead.

TW: rape, abusive relationship, controlling behaviour

Out of the Attic is a tie in to the popular Dollanganger series by Virginia Andrews, the first book of which was Flowers in the Attic, which was published in 1979. Andrews wrote 5 books for the series before she passed away, and then in 2014 the series was revived for another 6 books by ghost writers hired by the family. Out of the Attic is the 10th book written for the series, but chronologically takes place before Flowers in the Attic and focuses on Corrine Foxworth, Malcolm Foxworth's mother, as she marries into the family and has her son.

I think Neiderman was aiming to make Corrine a more likeable and relatable character by having her be married into the family against her will and feel isolated and alone as she is whisked away from the family and friends she's known all her life and taken to live in the grand and unwelcoming Foxworth hall. She is plied with alcohol and raped by Garland Foxworth, which results in a pregnancy that means she has to marry Garland or face ruin.

She obviously marries him, and things are going well at first but soon end up with her all alone in this huge house, sections of which she is too scared to go into, and with an infant son that she feels no maternal connection to. Corrine spends five years rattling around doing pretty much nothing but shopping, keeping up with the latest fashions, and making herself look beautiful every day whilst a nanny raises her son, whom she by now actively dislikes, until one day she meets a woman whilst out shopping who says she should join their ladies club.

Corrine then finds out Garland is cheating on her, goes to a Halloween party dressed as a nun, takes her son and the nanny to the beach, hires an artist she met at the Halloween party to paint her portrait, has an affair with said artist (his name is Beau and he seems very nice), gets raped by Garland again, then flees to France with Beau where she discovers that she's pregnant with Garland's child. The end, thank god.

Now, on reading that brief summary you may be thinking 'yeah, that doesn't sound like a very fun life, I feel like I could sympathise with this character', but the way that Corrine is written and portrayed really just makes you dislike her. You sympathise with her in some aspects, where in others you're just sort of left thinking she's actually a horrible person.

Take her relationship with her son, for instance; Corrine believes that Malcolm is evil and conniving and and manipulative. He misbehaves, he tries to wriggle his way out of punishments, and he asks questions and keeps pestering her for things.

Malcolm is also 4 years old.

Now, I'm not particularly fond of young children myself, so I understand her not wanting to be around him 24/7 or finding him a bit overwhelming at times. However, I don't think calling this behaviour 'evil' is quite correct. All 4-year-olds ask a ton of questions, all 4-year-olds will try to escape punishment for things they've done, all 4-year-olds will pester you to go places and do things, especially if you've promised them such things earlier in the week (Corrine is on several occasions annoyed by Malcolm asking to go to the seaside... after she herself suggested they go to the seaside but didn't tell him when that would happen).

I know that Malcolm Foxworth grows up to be the grandfather of the Dollanganger children who are then locked in the attic (and Neiderman even tries to foreshadow that by having him very briefly lock Corrine in the attic in this book) so Neiderman is obviously trying to plant the seeds of a very disturbed person, but it's like the man has never met a toddler before. We're supposed to be on Corrine's side, to look at Malcolm and say 'ah, so he's always been evil and bad', but Malcolm just isn't ; he's just a child who's a little bit spoilt. The most 'evil' things he does are destroy a wedding photograph album belonging to his mother (which certainly isn't good behaviour but children have definitely done worse), and lock her in the attic... when she's chasing him round the house threatening to beat him with a belt for destroying the album. This woman is not likeable.

Obviously it goes without saying that a book character doesn't have to be morally good in order to be a compelling and interesting point of view character, but the framing of the book so often seems like it's trying to portray her in a positive light that it just... I don't know. It doesn't feel very good to read. We don't linger on Corrine's trauma or her feelings of loneliness or isolation long enough to develop as much sympathy for her as I think the author would like. There's quite a bit of telling and not much showing.

Also, Neiderman is very 'men writing women' in places. There's a lot of hot flushes rushing to breasts of course, but also there's... this???

Image description: Quote from the book that reads as follows;

"What are they?"

"Open and see."

Children and women are so distracted, so mesmerised, by surprise presents that they'd ignore being in a burning building, I thought. I was disappointed at how excited I was and how quickly my pride and indignation had weakened, my fury and determination along with them. I had stepped in here ready to demand answers to questions I knew would stir his rage. I was more than willing to do that than ever I had bee, but right now all I could think was What's in those boxes?

Image description end.

So yeah, apparently women will disregard their own safety for shiny presents. This, by the way, is when she's going to confront him about cheating on her.

Overall, a thoroughly mediocre reading experience that I do not recommend to anyone. If you liked Flowers in the Attic then this will just annoy you and taint your memories of it, and if you've never read the Dollanganger books then there's no point in picking it up because nothing substantial happens in it!

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Honestly I'm more into the JayTim and Tim being jealous of how well GW and Jason get along but like.

I could absolutely see Jason and GW.

clockwork: *shows up with no warning*

cw: here's a list of tutors for his majesty

cw: *disappears after patting danny and elle on their heads*

jason: his fucking WHAT ??

Baby Danny: I beated up bad King now I prince.

Jason: WHAT?

Elle: *baby babbles*

Baby Danny: yesth!

Jason: *crisis* *Looks at paper* Okay, so TIM is on this. Alright, alright... how do I convince him to help?

Babs: *over coms* well, you accidentally left your coms on so all of us know.

Jason: ... oh.

[mari-beau]

Privileged White CIS-Het Male Literature Writers: So-and-So said I should write a novel, so I rented a million-dollar cabin in a remote forest (with internet) for three months to isolate myself and try to find the story in me to tell.

Genre Fiction Writers: There's a thousand stories screaming to get out of my brain but I can only squeeze in half an hour a week to write between my full-time job, my part-time job, all my responsibilities and sleeping.

[chasing-stardust-22]

New emotion unlocked: realizing a new popular post floating across the dash includes an addition from your old dream stan/c!inn.iter twitter/tumblr mutual you haven't spoken to in years

[tomybubba]

at the darkest hour of the night

I read our conversations all the time, the good, the bad, the horny, and the sad;

and for a moment it’s like I’m there with you experiencing what it was like to be loved by you

oh how lucky I was to have gone through that, and how lucky I am to be able to say that I loved someone and they loved me back.

except, you don’t love me anymore, you love her, isn’t that why you chose her?

then my heart, that is swelled with the small joy that our past brought, turns blue again, my eyes well tears, and I’m painfully reminded that you’re no longer here

and here I am, dancing with the ghost of you

i miss you forever bubba,

forever and always

[ratsummer]

I'm honored to have been thought of for this 🥰🥰🥰 Honestly, I lost interest in fanspaces after college and even before then I've never really been an active tumblr/social media in general user. But then my FREAKING BEST FRIEND got me into Ghost, and for shits and giggles we decided to see if there was any fanfiction for them on AO3, because the band had a great cast of characters so it wouldn't be the kind of real-people fanfiction that makes us both uncomfy... and boy what a treasure!

I am so inspired and amazed by all the people who pour their love and creativity into the Ghost Fandom. There's so much fun and joy here, enough that I actually felt comfortable trying to get into Tumblr as a non-lurker for the first time ever. From those of you who write full, novel-length fics to sweet, silly little one-offs, to just a couple lines of a headcanon, thank you for sharing your thoughts!!! You are all beautiful artists, and I love to be around you all. I am thrilled to finally have stories coming back to my heart, because for a long time I didn't have the energy or inspiration to write anything at all. Keep doing what you're doing!! Though I can't make a comprehensive list to save my LIFE, some of the ghesties who have touched me with their work (silly, funny, serious, horny, tragic, I love it all!!) include (BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO!):

@wrathofrats @cirrus-ghoulette @st-danger @coffeeghoulie @madangel19 @damagedghoulette @miasmaghoul @hypnoneghoul @tinymoon-beam @purlty23 @thelampisaflashlight @flower-among-the-stars @divine-misfortune @lilypadlys @dewdrops-whammy-bar @forlorn-crows @papaslittlesunshine @ghoul-slime

Thanks for being you!!! Much love, ghesties 🥰🥰🥰

nothing will ever amaze me the way fanfiction authors do. like, you wrote silly little stories about my favorite little guys? and i can read them?? for free??? that’s fucking wild.

you poured your heart and soul and very being into your writing and then put it out there for anyone to read? insane.

you spend a truly incredible amount of time writing novel-length, high quality stories, again, FOR FREE, that anyone can read, again, FOR FREE??

shoutout to every single fic author in existence, you guys are fucking incredible and i love all of you so much

[chrisshields18]

Ghost Writer Ha.

[lunamugetsu]

Bruce gets an alert from the batcomputer saying that the alarms at Arkham are going off.

When he gets there he sees that none of the criminals have broken out, someone has broken in. When looking at the footage he finds Danny and Jazz sitting in the cemetery holding a ouija board in front of Amadeus Arkham's (the founder of Arkham Asylum) tombstone.

Batman: what are you two doing?

Jazz: I have a paper due and I wanted to ask some questions about the article Amadeus wrote. (she turns back to the tombstone) So I have some questions about page three paragraph 2. I don't know if it's slang for your time or just a terminology we don't use anymore. But you wrote about scribbling walls that talked. Any chance you could provide context on that.

Batman: (turns to Danny) And what are you doing here?

Danny: she needed help with the ouija board

Batman who was about to scold them for trespassing on Arkham Asylum grounds stays quiet as the planchette on the the ouija board starts moving spelling out the words.

I C A N E X P L A I N

M A K E S U R E Y O U R E T A K I N G N O T E S

This idea comes from that when you're writing research papers you're going to need to reference articles and some people say that they reference articles that are over a hundred years old. Combine that with that some people will contact the writers of the articles to ask them questions about what they were writing and you got this story!

Also in the Arkham Asylum game, there is a cemetery on the property, which I presume consists of inmates. Because you can find Amadeus Arkham's grave there. And Amadeus was the one who created Arkham Asylum who later had to be committed himself because he went insane.

This story can either go comical or heart wrenching. Just various scenarios of seeing Danny just bringing the ouija board with him everywhere so he could chat with the ghosts that are around Gotham. Who are surprisingly pretty tame when compared to the ghosts he sees at Amity. Maybe he has weekly lunches with Lady Gotham. Heart wrenching if you want to go down the path of Danny talking with Bruce's parents or any of the deceased parents from the batfamily.

[ceilidho]

masterlist

hi! i'm ceilidh (she/her); late 20s; writer

some housekeeping:

follows and asks are not from this blog sorry!!!

i write nsfw and some dark fics; please read and heed the tags i add

18+ only please

i actually write for quite a few fandoms (cod, star wars, shadow & bone, the rings of power, etc), but this blog is going to be primarily cod

where you can find me:

✨✨ support me ✨✨

twitter

bluesky

ao3

carrd

links:

general writing tag

prompts: ghost, ghoap x reader, soap, price, gaz, soap x gaz reader

141 headcanons

series & masterlists:

ghost prompts (ao3 series)

take me home, country road | masterlist

sirius c | masterlist

landscape with honey | masterlist

buttermilk | masterlist

ongoing:

fear of god | masterlist

still wakes the deep au | masterlist

collar your desire (take me as I am) | masterlist

my ao3 fics:

saltwater (17k, rated E, ghost/reader)

Petrichor (Emphasis on the Ichor) (2.6k, rated E, soap/reader)

come with me to a place I've been (3.5k, rated E, ghost/reader)

desire paths (6.9k, rated E, soap/reader)

birdsongs, or advice and symphonies for your children (5k, rated E, price/reader)

in the cauldron boil and bake (5.5k, rated E, ghost/reader)

the terrible nature of ghosts (25k, rated E, ghost/soap)

catch and release (4.5k, rated E, ghost/soap/reader)

landscape with honey (10.5k, rated E, price/reader)

superstore (12k, rated E, soap/reader)

dogteeth (2.4k, rated E, ghost/reader)

sundog (8.5k, rated E, ghost/reader)

sirius c (27k, rated E, ghost/soap/reader)

hound dog (6.7k, rated E, ghost/reader)

take me home, country road (75k, rated E, price/reader)

Buttermilk (14k, rated E, price/reader)

fig. 1. hand in dog mouth (10k, rated E, soap/reader)

FEAR OF GOD (ongoing, rated E, gaz/reader)

Over Troubled Waters (ongoing, rated E, soap/reader)

[runa-falls]

reciprocation

part 1 | part 3

pairing: best friend!steven grant x reader

cw: smut (18+), fwb relationship, PWP, face sitting, mutual-pining but their idiots so..., 69, cumming untouched, cum eating.

w/c: 3.4k of SMUT AHHH

a/n: ignore how this is suddenly typed with capital letters :0. THIS ONE IS FOR MY FAVORITE STEVEN ANON WITH THE 69 REQUEST FROM A MONTH AGO -- i'm sorry it took so long 🫠

also special shout out for @whatthefishh for reading over it like half-a-month ago 😭🙏🏻 i was going through a major writers block :^)

masterlist

----

“Are you sure about this?” You watch him warily from a few feet away, shifting from side to side.

Steven is laid back on the bed patiently waiting for you, hair fluffy and soft under him. You can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while now, eager to start. 

His voice is soft as he appraises the timid energy surrounding you, “I’m sure. I want it–you. I promise.” For once, Steven seems to be the least nervous between the two of you. You're not used to him being in charge or even initiating anything remotely affectionate, let alone sexual. “Do…you?”

You can already see the prominent outline of his erection pressing sweetly against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. No matter how loose and comfortable he dresses, he can never manage to hide his need for you. 

“I do, but I just… don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You wring your hands together, still unsure if you should approach him. 

Steven looks at you with trusting eyes, “You won’t hurt me, darling.” His comforting words help you relax a little, almost making you forget what you agreed to, what you’re so apprehensive to attempt. He offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you closer and guide you onto his lap.

His voice lowers as desire drips from his lips, “Though, even if you did,” His dark eyes look up to meet yours, pure need bleeding through the gaze. You eagerly drink it in, body buzzing on top of him with flustered energy. “I think I’d be okay with it…” Your breath hitches.

You know it’s true. Steven has never shied away from pain; he even invites it in the heat of the moment. He likes to be under your control, letting you use his body to drive him crazy, even if it means teasing and denying him until he’s sobbing under you.

He loves seeing the possessive marks you leave when he wakes up in the morning, fingers ghosting over them as the night before replays in his mind, or feeling the residual sting of scratches down his torso when he takes a shower, letting the warm water draw out the sensations until he’s hard and aching for you again, and he has to seek you out, hoping you'll notice him.

You regularly get carried away, so desperate to have all of him, that you don’t even realize how intensely you devour his eagerness to please you. But Steven is more than happy to indulge your hungry advances.

He especially loves it when you soothe him after, lightly kissing each bruise and mark as you whisper sweet words, apologizing for how rough you got.

He takes it with a shy smile, basking in your affections and your gentle touch, sighing as he’s surrounded by your energy, by your undivided attention. 

Sometimes he likes to pretend like you're his, like you're doing this because you love him, not because you think you're being a good friend.

It's not hard for him to imagine it when he closes his eyes, especially when you're moaning around his cock or grabbing his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss.

But when it's all over, when he's pulling his jeans back on -- still thrumming with heat -- the spell breaks and you go back to being just friends.

Now, he's going to pleasure you. Make you feel the euphoria of his mouth, so you'll want him just as much as he wants you. This is his form of reciprocation for all the favors you've given him. And he hopes it will convince you that he'd be a good lover for you. That you could be more than just friends with him.

He lets out a hushed, “Please,” as he leans into you, enticing you to follow him and capture his lips hungrily.

Steven knows exactly what he’s doing when he uses that tone, that soft shade of himself that can bring you to your knees even when he’s falling apart harder and faster than you are. 

You moan against his pouty lips, feeling the softness, his gentle press, you pull him closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He lets you have control over him, merely following you as you slide your tongue against his, delicately tasting you, tenderly holding you by your waist.

Steven is always gentle with you, no matter how clouded his mind gets during these heated moments, no matter how lost in pleasure he gets or how desperately he needs you, he always handles you with delicate care.

You nip at his bottom lip, drinking in his soft mewl as you start to roll your hips against him. His grip on your waist tightens, holding you more insistently against him, letting you feel how desperately he needs you.

His lips are pink and plump when you pull away, parted ever so slightly as he stares between your bodies, working your body over him. His eyes are glazed as he cants his hips to chase the exquisite feeling of your soft center against him.

You tease him, lifting yourself just enough that he can’t grind himself against you. He whines when he can’t feel you anymore, gripping your waist with frustration.

“Love, please!”

You break the kiss and climb off of him, appreciating how ruined he looks from a few kisses and light grinding. He huffs out a breath in frustration, hands fisting with the need to touch you. To have you close.

You stand next to the bed, hair in disarray, fiddling with the hem of your large shirt to garner his attention. His bronze gaze soaks over you, flashing dark when it meets the short hem of your pajama bottoms.

“Your shorts, p-please, take them off.” It’s not a demand, Steven doesn’t make demands, it’s a request, a plea, one that you’ve heard time and time again, and have seldom refused. 

Your fingers find the waistband of your shorts and drag them down until they’re pulled the rest of the way off with the help of gravity. A breathy sigh can be heard under you when you step away from the pooled clothing, leaving you in an oversized t-shirt that barely brushes at the top of your thighs. 

It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time – he’s always like this.

His eyes sparkle as you shuffle closer to the bed. “Come’ere, darling.” He pats his chest, “Right here.” You timidly crawl over him, delicately straddling his chest, legs parted just above his ribs. Your knees pull in towards each other, trying to hide what your shirt can’t cover, but you don’t get far before warm fingers pry you apart. 

“Show me.” It’s a bare whisper, as light as his touch gliding over the outer sides of your legs.

You reluctantly let yourself relax on him, hands gripping his soft shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Heat prickles under your skin as he cranes his neck to look at you, lashes nearly brushing the tops of his cheeks with how lustfully heavy his eyelids are. He takes that moment to breathe you in, devouring every inch of what you’re offering. 

His touch disappears from your thighs, and you hear quiet ruffling behind you, then a broken groan under you. You look over your shoulder and spot his hand pressing desperately against his covered hardness. 

“S-Steven…” He doesn’t stop his actions when he meets your eyes, utterly shameless with his need for you. 

“Beautiful.” 

His breaths become heavy, and his chest moves deliciously under you, right against your hot center. You attempt to squeeze your legs together, hoping to abate the intensifying sensations, but you can’t, his chest keeps you spread, open, and quivering just for his eyes. 

Steven is barely touching you, but even the slightest hint of pleasure has you craving him.

You can’t help but close your eyes as you subtly shift over him, drinking in his soft grunts as he continues to touch himself under you. It makes you throb with heat. 

Steven watches you suck your lip into your mouth to hold in wanton moans as you experimentally slide against his firm chest, hands pressing into him to support your movements.

Your initial timidness crumbles as you roll your hips over him again and your head tilts back as you begin to lose yourself in the way your clit presses so perfectly against him.

Steven’s gentle voice cuts through the carnal fog infesting your brain and pulls you back to reality. “Sit up higher for me.” His hands are back on you, urging you to scoot up. “Let me taste you – L-let me fuck you with my tongue.” You press your dripping center to his shirt-covered torso with a soft moan, feeling the small spot right in between his ribs where you’ve soaked through. “Please, baby?”

You nod wordlessly, letting him guide your body until you’re hovering over his face. Your body shivers as you feel his warm breath brush against your center. 

It’s a bit daunting looking at Steven from here. His face is nestled right in between your thighs – which is not an unusual sight – but this time you are on top. You can barely see his eyes since your shirt is so big it practically drapes over half of his face. What if you suffocate him or break his neck?

“Maybe… we should rethi-” A gasp falls from your lips as strong arms pull you down to his face. “Steven!-” Without hesitation, wet heat laps at the seam of your cunt, greedily dragging over any slick that threatens to drip down your inner thigh. 

Your words are effectively stuck in your throat as Steven begins to eagerly nip and suck at your softness, drawing out deep whines instead of coherent sentences. You can only hold on to the headboard to support yourself, holding back your urge to grind against his supple lips. 

You moan as Steven tentatively nudges against your entrance, laving his tongue over the sensitive opening just to tease you. When he finally pushes into you, you have to hold yourself back from grinding against him like you’re riding his cock. He licks and thrusts his tongue into you, humming at your taste as you drip over his lips, down his chin. 

Your hips uncontrollably buck against him as his tongue flicks at your clit. A hand drops into his hair, tugging frantically at the ends before pushing him further against you, begging – no, demanding for more. He gets the memo and focuses on your most sensitive bud, delicately suckling it until your thighs are trembling by his ears. 

A ball of heat quickly blooms in your lower stomach and flushes under your skin. Familiar sparks of energy thrum up your spine, enticing you to clench around nothingness with promises of unspoken bliss and ecstasy. 

Calloused fingers lift you away from the molten heat of his mouth just as you were reaching your climax. You’re gasping for a breath as Steven holds you back from toppling off the edge. 

You can feel it, his breath, barely ghosting a sigh over your center, and somehow, even that slightest brush of air has you pulsing helplessly over him. He’s breathing as hard as you are, mouth glossy and plump as he stares back up at you, face flushed, and eyes glazed. 

Utterly pussy-drunk. 

Your grip on the headboard tightens intensely and your eyes roll shut. You can’t stop it. 

A stilted cry rips from your throat as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you in full force, crashing over you like a wave. Steven can only watch, lips parted in awe, as you shatter completely untouched right above him.

His fingers grip harsh bruises into the skin of your thighs as he feels himself throb dangerously close to his own euphoric end. You moan harder at the tender marks he paints on your trembling legs. The sharp feeling travels up your legs and straight to your center.

His hands rub your thighs comfortingly, apologetically, before he starts to drag his tongue over your messy center with a hum, doting on you with kitten licks that make you shiver. 

He cleans you up slowly and methodically, making sure to avoid your most sensitive area. Your body still thrums from your unexpected and intense orgasm, and his soft licks quickly become too much, even with how light and sweet he is being. 

You lift yourself away from his tongue, “S-steven…no more. It’s too much!” 

“You can do it again, darling…” He coos, trying to pull you back down onto his mouth. “Just one more. For me, please?” 

You're head is fuzzy as you steady yourself on top of him, gripping the headboard tightly to ground yourself from the lingering sparks of mind-numbing pleasure.

Steven groans as he watches you struggle to get a grip.

“C-can’t. It’s too much…” You get off of his face and sit next to him on the bed, squeezing your legs together to suppress the bout of overstimulation that almost overtook your senses.

You look down at him when one of his hands wraps around your thigh and squeezes, a simple act indulgence that drives you crazy. Your lips part as you take in the view. 

Puffy lips and glassy eyes, blown out with lust, meet your stare, begging you to climb back on, but you're still shaking where you sit. He's drenched in your slick from his chin to his neck and the collar of his shirt is soaked through, sticking sweetly to his chest.

Your eyes drift down to his sweatpants, to the prominent bulge that throbs under your gaze. He palms himself, whining lightly at the feeling of his neediness and desperation. He's so hard, begging for your touch without even saying a word.

“Okay, now it's your turn.”

His shakes his head, “No, I want more.”

“Steven…”

“Please, I want to taste more of you."

"But--" Your eyes dip down to his covered erection that you've been neglecting all night.

"Just...come back, we can do it at the same time if you want.” 

Your face heats at the implication. You don’t know why you’re so coy, you just came right above his fact. You've just never seen Steven like this: so insistent and hungry.

“S-sure, ok.”

You whimper when he eagerly tugs you closer, urging you to straddle his face again. Careful to not knock your knee into his cheek, you swing your leg back over his body, but this time you situate yourself so you can take care of him at the same time.

He immediately dives back in, tongue thrusting into your sensitive channel before you're even settled on top of him. You falter and almost collapse over him, hand grasping at the bottom of his shirt for support.

"Steven! Gentle, please!" You groan out, eyes already threatening to roll back as he continues to drink you in. He hums in response, but doesn't actually let up, if anything, he becomes more insatiable, suckling every stimulus point until you're shaking above him.

You struggle against your pleasure to pull his sweats down, freeing his cock from the restraining fabric. Your mouth waters as his tip weeps for you, spilling silky precum with every breath he takes.

You've always loved Steven's cock. How responsive it is when your breath ghosts over it and how it desperately throbs for you as you swallow around him. How perfectly it fits in your mouth and how deep it can fuck your throat when he allows himself to let go.

Sucking his cock was the furthest you allowed yourself to go. You convinced yourself that these one-sided interactions would keep you from revealing your feelings, that you could deal with the friends-with-benefits bit if you didn't have an actual 'relationship'.

So you deemed actual sex as too intimate and barred letting him touch you (you just weren't sure you could handle it).

But then one thing led to another...

You failed to reject his soft kisses and couldn't resist marking him up like he's yours. And now here you are barely able to handle it as he fucks you with his tongue, hands gripping marks into your thighs as his nose nudges against your wet center.

You don't know if you could go back to just being friends when he's given you unfathomable pleasure. When he talked to you like this. Looked at you like this.

You're a mess and you're struggling to hold on to your original plan.

You try to block these thoughts from your mind as your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing it gently just to get a reaction out of him. He groans against your cunt, movements stuttered as your touch distracts him away from his task.

You unconsciously sit up on your knees and lift your hips off of his mouth to get closer to his cock. Steven barely notices, too focused on holding his orgasm off as you diligently taste him, one lick at a time.

You drag your tongue up his shaft, licking the precum that slowly cascades over his silken skin. You feel his body quake as you lave and kitten lick against his tip, gently coaxing shortened breaths and whimpers with every touch.

You dip down to engulf him into your hot mouth, enjoying the slick feeling of his cock gliding easily against your tongue and the top of your mouth.

His hands frantically latch onto your upper thighs, unintentionally pulling you back onto his mouth as he squeezes at the softness, desperately attempting to control himself.

He has to actively keep his hips from snapping against your face, you just feel so sublime, so soft and hot.

Steven cries against your cunt when he reaches the back of your throat. He can't help it when he feels you struggle to swallow around him, so tight, wet, and hot. He's just so sensitive -- especially when it comes to you.

You keep laving your tongue against the underside of his cock as you suck him in, ignoring the your jaw begins to ache as you open wide for him.

"Uhh!" His stomach tenses under you and he twitches against your tongue.

He can't be cumming already...right?

Fingers grip into your hair and you're suddenly pushed down, forced to take him down your throat. You choke slightly, eyes watering, before letting yourself relax against him.

He's lost in pleasure, grinding and thrusting his cock into your mouth like it's your cunt, shoving it deeper than you're usually comfortable with and you let him.

Steven spurts warmth at the back of your throat. You try your best to swallow it down before it dribbles from your mouth and makes a mess. He whimpers as he fully lets go, thighs tense and trembling under your touch.

He's still cumming when he tugs you back onto his mouth, feverishly lapping through your center before taking your clit between his lips. You orgasm explosively as he avidly sucks you in, already half-way there from the mere feeling of him spilling in your mouth.

Even after he has emptied himself, he continues to gently fuck your face, not yet ready to leave your warmth. His hips stutter and his breaths become uneven but he ignores the overstimulation, too attached to this closeness, to this illusion of mutual affection.

He also continues to lick you clean, despite your whines of discomfort. He lovingly places gentle kisses against your inner thigh, wishing he could stay in this position forever.

He huffs out disappointedly when you climb off of him, even tries to lock his arms around your legs to keep you there, but you were adamant to get away from his insatiable mouth.

"One more?"

You gape at him, "Steven, we already did 'one more'." You shiver, suddenly cold without his body against yours. "What has gotten into you? I've never seen you so...horny before."

He looks at you sheepishly, "I dunno. I guess, once I got a taste I wanted more." He sits up, hand wiping your slick off his face. "How 'bout later?"

"You're already thinking about later?"

He nods, "I'm always thinking about you."

Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as blood heats your face. You try to ignore it. Try not to look directly at him. Try to pretend like he didn't just say that because he probably doesn't even understand the impact that his words have on you.

He's always thinking about your favors. That's it.

"Later, then."

[megamagimugi]

He's-a Gone

Luigi time! To suffer, that is.

(CW: character death)

This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!

Lore:

Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.

Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.

Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.

So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.

Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.

Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.

But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.

[Good night]

…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.

Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!

But alas,

You can no longer play as Mario (warning: this is a video with sound)

Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.

@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!

@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.

Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.

@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf

@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117

And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Ringo

@heiterhund >> #1 writer & Ringo Starr lover/expert.

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...) 

• You can count on him cleaning you up after. 

• A gentle wash cloth rubs up your leg, cleans your stomach, and gently wipes down your sore cunt. After doing all the cleaning, he tends to pepper your face in kisses and praises you for how well you did and how lucky he is to love and have you.

• If the sex was particularly rough, he will hold you to him until you get so sweaty you have to push him off! He can't help it, you're his girl, he wants you to feel loved! 

• He is known for his quick jokes and smartass quips, so expect some of that thrown in during the aftermath of sex. 

 

“Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost, love! I didn’t fuck you that hard, did I?”

     

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours) 

• Ringo is an ass man. 

• He loves your ass, he can’t keep his hands off of it. Grabbing, smacking, spreading - whatever.

• He'll smack it and grab it randomly, you'll giggle and tell him to stop.

• Usually if you both are alone, and you’re laying over his lap as you lounge - he’ll play a silly, little beat on it.

• He also loves the way it looks when you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else to lounge in. 

 

“Y’know, I think your arse makes better beats than my drums do.” He mused, slapping your butt with two fingers, before going back to playing the beat to one of the many songs stuck in his head.

     

C is for Cum (Everything to do with cum!) 

• Ringo loves a good cream pie. 

• He loves to feel the warmth of your cunt flutter around his length as he spills his seed deep into you.

• He sometimes massages your lower stomach with his thumbs as he pumps you full of cum, usually comes off as sweet - but it’s more possessive in his mind, he owns you and your womb. You’re being held in place while he takes what’s his.

• After he cums in you, he loves watching it drip out of you. 

 

“Say, birdie, do you usually take it like some filthy whore?” He was between your legs, watching as the pearly liquid oozed slowly out of your used hole.

His thumb and forefinger spreading open your folds, nose brushing against your flushed labia as his tongue poked out to lap up his seed.

     

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did and/or does/and or wants to do behind your back.)

• He used to sniff your panties. Before you two were together and were only friends.

• He took you home when you got drunk. You insisted you were perfectly capable of getting to your bed.

• Your pubes looked nice, he liked that. But it was highly inappropriate for him to gawk and drool over his drunk friend. 

• And yeah, he still does when you’re gone or asleep. When he’s away, he usually pockets a pair and jerks himself off with them after he sniffs them.

• Filthy, filthy man.

 

“Nuh uh, Richie, I-I can…can do it! Seeee?”

You stumbled up the stairs, knees knocked together as you nearly toppled over each step.

“Love, you’re about to fall. Let’s get inside, yeah?” He sighed, ushering you into your room.

“If I was soooo drunk, could I do this?”

And before he had time to get you to lay down, you were taking your clothes off. And there you were, lounging on your bed naked.

“Oi! Hey! Get your clothes back on!”

He turned around, hands covering his eyes as he tried to lose the boner he was sporting.

He eventually got you tucked in, you only agreed to sleep if he stayed until you slept. and so he did.

You were knocked out cold, and he went to clean up the mess that you made before you rested.

All that was left was your cute panties.

They were frilly and dawned with a cute bow at the top. He didn’t want to grab them, not with his hands. But he had already put all your clothes away in the hamper.

He eyed them for a moment, before his baby blues locked onto a slick spot in the middle of your knickers.

He sniffed them. 

     

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?) 

• Ringo was sick most of his young life, and never properly lost his virginity until he met his first girlfriend when he was in his 20s. 

• The most he did before was kissing and fumbled touching, perhaps a bit of fingering. He’s always been good with his hands.

• Now, with that being said, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to fuck.

     

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you.)

• Ringo is a romantic guy. He adores missionary.

• Sure it’s a bit boring to some, a classic, but he can see your tits bounce each time he rams himself into you. 

• He can also see your lips quiver as you try not to moan, your eyes rolling and your lashes fluttering as you whine and cry.

• It's also his preferred position because he can see the outline of his dick poking in and out of you - filling you up balls deep.

• He thinks you look like a beautiful angel splayed out beneath him. His beautiful angel.

• 10/10 position.

• He also likes doggystyle, but that’s usually reserved for his days when he needs to relieve stress. Or when he simply wants to fuck the shit out of you.

     

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?) 

• Ringo tends to crack jokes at the worst times. His humour is just like that, so he will totally be joking during sex.

• Your cunt made a slick sound that sounded funny…you bet he already has a comment to make about it, something silly. 

• When he eats you out, he does the little head shake his bandmates are known for. And after he’s done, he looks up at you with a dopey grin.

“She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Followed by the head shake.

 • After being a bit goofy, he'll go right back to being serious…and serious means making you orgasm. 

     

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex.) 

• His goal is to make you walk with a limp, his goal is to fuck you way past orgasm. 

• With how big his dick is (8 inches!!!), he definitely leaves you sore. But oh no, that’s not good enough, not at all.

• He wants you limping and waddling the next days, hell, if you’re not whining that you’re sore in the morning he’ll pin you down and fuck you until you do.

• He absolutely adores over stimulating you with his cock - until your eyes roll into the back of your head, until you can't breathe, until the sheets are drenched with bodily fluids.

     

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• He barely has leg hair, let alone chest hair. so his pubes are well kept.

• They’re not curly and unruly, they’re straight and aren’t too long.

• Also, don’t worry if you have pubic hair. Ringo doesn’t mind.

 

“Well, I don’t mind…y’know, I always fancied having a moustache!” 

     

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• He is a hopeless romantic. He wants it soft and slow, and usually that’s how it goes.

• He never calls it fucking. It's always referred to as ‘making love.’

• His hands are always on your body, whether that be holding your hands above your head while he rocks into you - or his hands being placed on your hips as he thrusts.

• Will play some old vinyls of his during it, too. Usually some old Elvis records. The music really compliments it all. He'll sing the lyrics to you - whisper it in your ear as he does. a bit cheesy, but it makes you both smile.

• He won’t cum unless you guys are kissing, or unless he's looking you dead in your eyes - or both…

     

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon.) 

• He barely masturbates. Will only do it as a last resort of sorts.

• He spent his teenage years jerking off, so it’s just not as stimulating anymore. It's almost boring. 

• But if you guys are away from each other for too long, he’ll call you up on the phone and do it. Not really phone sex, but just hearing your voice will soothe his ache for you.

     

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you.) 

• Ringo has a humiliation kink. He loves embarrassing you. Even if it’s something as little as making you beg for more. 

 • But most of the time it’s him making you masturbate in front of him and letting him watch. He loves to see your flushed face look to the side, as you bite your lip and nervously touch yourself.

• He has some weird pet play kink too, but not in the way you think. He’s not into collars or cages, none of that. He just loves calling you his pet. Depending on the partner, they’re either called his puppy or his kitten. He loves treating and spoiling you like some fancy poodle.

     

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed.) 

• Prefers the bedroom. He gets embarrassed doing it anywhere else. 

• You once tried doing it in the back of the car during a long ride to the hotel, and he kept getting nervous and mumbling about how the press would go absolutely wild if they saw.

• Of course he’s fine with doing it with you anywhere where there are four walls and a door. So, a broom closet would work as well. But his favourite has to be the bed, any bed.

     

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..) 

• Your hands. Your hands get him going.

• They’re so soft and small compared to his dry and calloused hands. He loves how smooth they feel against his skin, and how they radiate such warmth. 

• If you brush his hands with yours and give him a look full of love, he’s ready to pounce. 

• Your smile also gets him going. You’re just so beautiful that he can’t help but feel lucky - and feeling lucky gets him going.

• Honestly, the easy answer could've been you.

     

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..) 

• If you make a remark about his nose. 

• He knows everyone does, but it hurts coming more from you. If you make a joke involving it - he will not even think about touching you until he does. 

• He’s an insecure guy… 

     

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?) 

• Ringo loves eating your pussy. 

• He loves slotting his tongue against your core and licking up in harsh stripes. Also enjoys biting your clit once or twice, just to keep you on your toes.

• He doesn't favour oral sex on him too much. He got a lot during his prime, and it was boring to him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy it every now and then.

• He’s big, he knows his dick isn’t fitting in your mouth comfortably. 

 • You wouldn't be able to deep throat him without literally choking. He wants to go balls deep into your mouth, but he knows you wouldn't be able to handle it. You always swallow him a little less than half way.

 • When you suck him off, it's nicely dragged out. You trail your tongue up and down his shaft, you suck his tip, massage his balls.

     

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Ect.) 

• Ringo is usually a slow lover - at the start at least. His thrusts are gentle and soft starting out, they only get rougher the longer you fuck and the closer he is to cumming.

• The clapping noises fill the room. 

• He likes it to feel romantic and full of love. Like stated before, his rough and fast pace are reserved for his stressed days - which is almost everyday.

     

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• He doesn’t like quickies. Nuh uh.

• He wants you all to himself with all the time in the world, with all the space in the world.

• Buuut, if you are desperate enough, he’ll cave in and fuck you.

     

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• The most he’s willing to do is fucking you in a shared hotel room with either John, George, or Paul.

• He still is hesitant to do it, but he’d rather fuck you around people he knows as opposed to any prying eyes and ears he doesn’t.

• You're both probably a bit drunk as well. 

 

His hand was covering your mouth, as your knees dug into the bed below you both.

George was asleep in the other bed, not too far from yours. His face was turned the other way, he seemed to be snoozing - you hoped he was. 

That made Ringo feel a bit better about fucking you in the same room as him.

Your eyes were shut tightly as he slowly slotted himself into you, a finger pulling your panties to the side. 

He began his light thrusts, desperately trying to avoid the creak of bed springs as he did so.

“Mmph!” You softly moaned against his hand.

You were unable to shake off the feeling of his cock stroking your walls. It was an instant pleasure, his tip rubbed against your g spot nicely and consistently. 

“Fuck…” You breathed, feeling it clenching around him.

He tightened his hand against your mouth and leaned into your ear. “Keep it quiet, birdie, Hazza might wake, you don't want that do you?”

Ringo sped up a bit, your wetness started sounding as he did so. His free arm pulled your hips up so you could better meet his thrusts. 

“Do you? Do you want George to hear you getting fucked?” He asked again, wanting an answer.

He slowed down, going from tip to balls at a moderate pace. 

“N- no.” You whispered back, strained. 

You fucked him back, he'd only thrust back harder - the soft, clapping noises ensued. 

Your toes curled, Ringo continued his forward movement. 

It got louder and louder with each thrust, now it sounded like you were both full on fucking. 

“Baby…” You mockingly warned, mindful of the younger man not too far from you. Though it sounded more like you were just moaning.

“Mmhm…shh…shh…I'll make you cum, don't worry.” He groaned, sounding cocky.

Shit. 

Did George just cough?

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• It feels like an Olympic sport keeping up with him. He lasts way longer than you, by the end of most of your sessions you're breathless, sweaty, dazed, confused. 

• He can do two rounds, at least. 

• He lasts around 20-50 minutes each round.

• But his foreplay can go on for hours if he’s in the mood and has the time for it. 

• He cums around two times. Usually once in the first round (between the 15-25 minute mark. Then the second time he cums is around the 45 minute mark.) As for the second round? That's usually when you’re about to orgasm.

• He’s a generous guy, really.

• He rarely ever cums quickly. That's just impossible for him. This is why he hates quickies, he always leaves rock hard.

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?) 

• Oh, he owns toys. 

• He has a cock ring that he bought personally, it helps keep him harder, like rock hard. He loves the ache of being hard, he loves his stiffness. The ring makes his cock all red and veiny, and makes his balls heavy. And it's all for you (and your holes).

• He also has encouraged you to buy some for yourself. He doesn’t think it makes him less of a man - even a dildo bigger than him. Whatever makes you feel good, makes him feel good.

• He’s once tried your vibrator. He was curious…it didn’t feel too good against his dick so he never spoke of it. 

• He likes using your toys on you. Fucking you with your own dildo, using your vibrator on you as he fucks you.

 

You were out shopping with him, your arm linked tightly around his.

You stumbled upon a small, curious shop on the high street. He seemed to know exactly what it was because he didn't even let you think before he dragged you into it! 

You looked around, realising, the innocent looking shop was a filthy one, a haven for pleasure.

“Buy something.” Ringo said, taking your hand.

“What?” 

You laughed, almost stunned.

“We aren't leaving this shop till you buy something for yourself, sweetheart.”

“Something? Like what...” you teased.

     

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..) 

• He’s super fair. He hates teasing you. 

• If you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun. 

• He teases in some kind of way, but it’s never for long or never torturous… it’s usually a quick touch, or a sly remark. He falters as soon as you give him that look that says stop.

• So he’s a bit whipped in that sense, definitely.

     

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..) 

• He’s not too noisy, but he groans and huffs, like a bear almost.

• He does those long, deep sighs when he finally gets himself settled in your walls. You feel so warm and snug around his length, he can’t help but let out a sound.

• But it’s never loud enough for anyone but you two to hear unless they're in the room or something.

• Grunting and praising you through it all.

• “Such a pretty girl, taking me so well.”

     

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.) 

• He's really into humping just as much as he is into being inside of you. He likes the sloppy pace and how desperate it is.

• He once had you sat in his lap, and you both got handsy. It ended up with you grinding yourself against his thigh and his stiff cock like a dog in heat. He'd bounce you up and down, practically fucking you with his clothes still on.

• He was into it. Definitely into it. Definitely creamed his pants.

     

X is for X-ray (His cock.) 

• Let's be straightforward here. 8 inches, thick, uncut. 

• Yeah, he is very hung. 

• It definitely slaps his stomach when he pulls it out.

• It’s awfully obvious when he has an erection too. Even when he's flaccid his bulge is still obvious. 

• Ringo Starr is not a grower, it’s usually 5-6 when soft.

I want it in me so bad 

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?) 

• His sex drive isn’t too high, but if you’re not by his side when he’s asleep he finds himself missing you.

• He tries to have sex with you three days a week, he doesn’t think sex is a need. He’s more into soft intimacy and gifts.

• But this doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. He just loves you too much to not only crave you sexually. 

• He craves you in a way a man craves water. It’s a necessity to have you, whether that be sexually or not.

     

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• After sex and cleaning you up, he wants to rest with you. Not in a sleepy way. He just loves basking in the afterglow.

• It usually takes him a while to fall asleep anyway. He doesn’t mind it though.

• He gets to watch you sleep peacefully and that’s the best way to end his night. You, curled into his side, and him, smiling like an idiot.

@legendaryskeletonpicklewolf

@zeppelin-groupie

🩷

Aaaaand that's the end of this alphabet, but of course, more to come.

Check out the masterlist for more works!

[itsthestutterforme]

Glad You Called 2/2

Summary: Reacher kept something hidden from you for those two years. And it was right under your nose the entire time.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, here’s the part 2 you guys asked for :) @cookiemonsterboss

Any tips for writers block anyone??

Part One

**

Blowing a long, satisfied breath, you descend down the stairs pressing your locs dry with your towel. You were about to watch an episode of Supernatural when someone sitting on the couch caught your attention.

“What are you still doing up, Reacher?” You said with an annoyed sigh.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” he said, looking up from the computer he borrowed from Neagley.

“I’m going to watch my show,” you sat down and the couch across from him and took the remote into your hands.

Signing onto Netflix, you scroll down and click on Supernatural, making sure to lower the volume.

You secured your locs tightly in your bonnet you had brought with you when you catch Reacher staring.

He pretends to scroll on the laptop as if you didn’t catch him staring at you seconds before.

It took you all of five minutes of him looking at you through your peripheral for you to speak up.

“Oh my God, just say what you want to say, Reacher.” You finally say, breaking the silence.

“I.. don’t have anything to say,”

“Your eyes are telling me something different.”

“I missed looking at you,” he confessed after a moment of silence.

“Should have thought about that before you ghosted me,” you state, not even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“It was my choice and I have to live with the consequences. But I never meant to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Bullshit,”

“It’s not bullshit. I thought I was doing you a favor by leaving-“

“No, you took the easy way out. I’ve been in enough of these situations to know. But what really burns me to the core?” You finally look away from the TV to glare at Reacher.

“Is that I told you everything about my fear of people leaving. I told you how deep rooted the pain was, and you left anyway.”

“There’s nothing I can do to fix what I broke. I know that.”

“I’m done convincing people that I’m loveable. I’m at point in my life where I prefer to be alone than to have bad company.”

“I know,”

“Then why did you come back?”

“You know why,” he says.

“I know you won’t say it,” you say, standing from your place on the couch.

You crossed over to where Reacher was, barely towering over him even when he’s sitting down.

“I hate you,” you seethe. Hurt flashed across his face and for a moment, you felt guilt nipping at you.

“I could never hate you, Y/N.” He confesses softly, his hazel green eyes searching your Y/E/C ones.

Your face grew hot the longer he stared at you and you finally realize your proximity.

Damn it, why was your heart racing? Why was your body betraying you like this?

“When this is over, I never want to see you again.”

“I respect it,”

You didn’t know how to feel about this. A part of you wanted him to fight back like he did before.

Because at least you wouldn’t feel bad for treating him this way.

Especially since he more than deserved it. The air grew thick with tension and you held his gaze when he slowly stands from the couch, standing in front of you at full height.

You catch him bringing a hand up to caress the side of your face with his thumb.

“You don’t get to come over here talking all soft and think you’re somehow forgiven,” you whisper, your heart skipping a beat when he leans in closer.

“Would you forgive me if I gave you an apology?” He leans in an inch away from your face.

“No,” you body tenses under his touch and your eyes fluttered closed.

“If you tell me to stop, I will.” His breath fans against your lips. You could feel a heart racing pattering in your chest.

Everything stood still for a moment. The show playing in background was long forgotten.

Just as your lips were about to connect, you said, “I can’t do this.”

He lets you pull away from him, watching as your legs rushed you up the stairs and into your room.

The door creaks closed and you linked your hands above your head, consequently pacing in your bedroom.

What the hell was he thinking? What the hell were you thinking?

Deciding to give Reacher a piece of your mind, you pulled the door open to find him standing before you, raising a hand to knock on your door.

Turning your walk back inside your room, Reacher took that as an invitation to come in. He closes the door behind him and starts, “I want to confess something.”

Your ears perk at his words, that was a phrase you’ve never heard him say before.

“Okay,” “I’m tired. Tired of being the leader. Tired of needing to fix things all the time. Tired of being strong for everyone else. I haven’t met anyone who really understood that besides you.”

He comes around the bed to where you were, dragging a chair over and spun it around to sit down.

“Aren’t you tired, Y/N?”

“You want to know what I’m tired of?” “I’m tired of the influence you still have on me after all these years. I hate it. But at least it taught me one thing. Never let a man get too close.” You added before he had a chance to answer.

“You think you don’t have an influence over me?” He challenges. “Obviously not, Jack. You left me. That’s as crystal clear of an answer you can get.” You state, noticing the visible wince when you call him by his given name.

He presses his lips together as he contemplates something. You lift a brow, daring him to challenge what you had just said.

He stands up from the chair and took his pocket knife from his boot. Flicking the knife open, he knelt down to and popped out a piece from the wooden leg of your vanity.

He slid his hand into the opening, your heart sank when he took out a navy blue, velvet box.He drops the box into your hand and you brushed off the dust that had collected on the top.

You spared him a glance and he merely crossed his arms, waiting for you to open it. Opening the box, a periodt pear cut diamond ring winked at you under the dim lighting.

“Reacher, don’t tell me this is-“ “I planned an entire getaway trip to New York City where I would have asked you to marry me with that ring.” He interrupts and suddenly your mouth felt dry.

This was your dream ring. This was your dream man. So where did it all go wrong?

“What made you change your mind?” You asked after a brief silence.

“I watched my father deteriorate when my Mom died. I knew that.. one day that would be a possibility. Reacher men have terrible luck,”

“So.. let me get this straight. You left me because you’re worried I might die?” “Yes. And I know how it sounds, but-“

“That’s your first mistake right there, Reacher. You were too caught up in the what ifs that you missed what was right in front of you the whole time: a home- our home.”

“I know,” his your gaze fell back down to the ring in your hands. “You should try it on,” he suggests and you find yourself taking the ring out of the box, hesitantly sliding the band on your ring finger. It even fits perfectly.

“How did you know I wouldn’t throw the vanity away?”

Without a second thought, he closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a warm kiss. His massive hands covered your face as he continued to kiss you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you get lost in the way his lips felt against yours. He pulls away just enough for the two of you to get air, resting your forehead against his.

“Because I know you,” he says, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

[starchants]

THE WAYWARD HOME

beetlejuice verse x female!reader ; the deetz house.

word count — 555.

themes + warnings ; established relationship with lydia deetz, beej is here and is bestie coded, also reader can feel energies and see ghosts when she channels into her ability!

author’s note — i love lydia sm and i wanted to make a really small ramble about the beautiful house that the deetz found and took from barbara and adam after their passing plus how beej would react to lydia finding someone <3!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

the moment that lydia had brought her home, she had felt a safe comforting presence in that seemingly interesting house that everyone was curious about. y/n had felt at home, alongside her girlfriend.

there was something, some form of energy that resided here, one that made her happy and the poor girl couldn’t figure out what that was. maybe it was the deranged artwork that was put outside in the front yard.

maybe it was the nice dark wooden tones mixed with the pretty wallpaper upon the walls that gave it a similar sense to a nice little funky shaped cottage. maybe it was the small yet sensible kitchen that had been redone and made more modern by lydia’s step mother who hadn’t fully destroyed the previous style of the home during a second remodel.

it seemed like a lot of memories were made in that kitchen even with the remodel and it made the young woman smile softly to herself as she stood there while lydia awkwardly explained the situation of changing up the kitchen. the energy that sounded throughout the kitchen made y/n perk up even more as she felt someone staring at her from the entryway of the kitchen. she knew that lydia and herself were the only ones in the house and perhaps it was one of the rumored ghosts that the town had spread around.

her (e/c) eyes scanned around the room until it lead her to the doorway where she saw a man dressed in a black and white striped suit grinning wildly at her and she knew it meant trouble. “oh dude, the green really doesn’t go with the outfit.” y/n remarked before she could stop herself and her girlfriend immediately stopped rambling about some appliance in the kitchen before turning to face the (h/c) haired woman.

“lydia, babes, how dare you break my heart like this?” the ghoulish man remarked as he placed two hands over his heart to make a jointed fist and collapsed onto the ground upon the sight of seeing his beloved lydia with someone else. “you are quite literally the most dramatic thing i’ve seen.” y/n quipped with a grin as she saw the green haired man look up at her with quirked brows and a smirk upon his face.

“you can see him?!” the raven haired woman nearly screeched as she looked between her ghostly bestfriend and her lover. “surprise i’ve seen ghosts and others since i was a child.” the other woman replied as she chuckled and helped the ghost, who was begging her with a look similar to puppy eyes, off of the ground and he was quick to pull her down with him. “oh babes can we keep her? please, oh please, oh pretty please.”

beetlejuice had glanced over at lydia whom was grinning and trying to stop herself from laughing about the situation. “hmmm i guess she’s alright to keep around.” lydia teased as her girlfriend gasped at the absurdly of her teasing words which was nearly drowned out by beetlejuice’s loud cackling as he grabbed lydia’s hand and pulled her down with them, leaving the three of them intertwined in a weird embrace upon the marble flooring, which was the sight that had greeted barbara and adam, a few moments later.