#Sorry for not putting Brad

[b3stial3]

KTM 2025 lore

[ex0rin]

Anyway...

[exdeputysonso]

Final Judgement (1992)

[13thspectre]

Long ass ramble on Mariner and Boimler and their relationship

I think the first step in why Mariner comes to care for her purple dork is the fact that he surprised her. These two idiots knew each other for about a year by the first episode, had probably been around each other a lot being bunk mates, so Mariner probably had a confident idea of who Boimler was deep down. She saw him as a product of propaganda and social engineering. The kind of guy who would sell her and a ship of refugees out for a superior's nod of approval. Someone who saw rank as the end all be all of what Starfleet had to offer.

So, when he ends up not ratting her out on that first episode, I think that may be one of the first times since she'd become more cynical towards Starfleet that Mariner had gotten someone wrong, that they proved them to be a little bit better in her book. So from there, she becomes attached, thinking there's hope for this bootlicker. Maybe, if he turned out to be better than she pegged him for, he could be trusted. Maybe this organization where she's been listlessly dragging herself up and down the ranks in some kind of administrative limbo can really do good. And some part of her that's been questioning if she belongs here at all, doesn't even believe she could really belong on her own mom's ship, thinks that maybe she's found somewhere and someone with whom she does belong.

Boimler's side of things is... very similar. Mariner surprises him. Constantly surprises him. She breaks protocol, disregards authority, spits in the face of the Prime Directive. She's an ensign, same as Boimler himself, but Mariner is easily one of the most frustratingly amazing and impressive people he's ever met, having stories rivaling many starfleet legends, and having the skills and contacts to back them up. And she shows him that she's not just some tantruming rebel, she actually does care, wants and is willing to go the extra mile to help. To do the kind of things that Starfleet often professes to do, but so often just never gets around to.

Mariner challenges everything that Boimler thought was concrete: the infallibility of starfleet, the concrete importance of established protocol, the belief that the achievement of rank is the most certain sign of purpose and importance. She is everything he wants to be and not. She is sociable, likable, able, strong, witty, quick on her feet, and yet she also possesses none of the bigger-picture ambition to do something widespread and worthwhile with her ability. Mariner lacks some of the sensitivity and cautiousness that comes with avoiding unnecessary disaster, and the desire to achieve a higher rank to actually combat the shortfalls of Starfleet she complains so much about.

It's in that mutual challenge that their mutual importance is found: they're each other's anchor. Mariner anchors Boimler so he doesn't get swept up in monotonous idealism, and Boimler anchors Mariner so she doesn't wash away in listless despair.

And I think that's why Mariner is so angered by Boimler's leaving for Titan. It's why despite professing some kind of cool when it comes to dealing with disappointment, she is so stuck up on him that she leaves him dozens of angry messages, demanding an explanation. Why, months after he left and no chance of him returning, she still keeps onto the idea that he's still there or will be back, like keeping spaces for him in the showers. Because it wasn't just that he betrayed her, and right after professing friendship. It's that him leaving her, and so coldly, implies that she was right about him from the beginning. Boimler leaving for the Titan proved her instincts right, that other people, especially those in starfleet, couldn't be trusted. To do what really matters. You couldn't trust others to not hurt you if you trust yourself to them.

Boimler, I think, does not realize he's lost his anchor. He doesn't realize it for a while. On the Titan, trying to survive every batshit crazy operation Riker sets them on takes precedence. When he isn't screaming his lungs out in a wordless prayer to the cosmic koala for survival, he's trying to reconcile what he thought he joined Starfleet for and what he actually wants to do. Boimler isn't in this for the missions, or even the glory (mostly, he still likes to brag a bit, I mean who wouldn't). Boimler wants to be an explorer and a diplomat. Someone who wants to learn what there is to know about this insane deadly universe they're somehow prospering in (he's someone excited for anomaly consolidation duty, and sometimes has a close to encyclopedic knowledge of the things they're dealing with, like Tendi and the cube). He wants to find and learn about other cultures, wants to find and learn how to make new friends (even if his execution on that last bit is clunky and awkward at best, at least for now).

Boimler realizing how important Mariner is to him doesn't come until 2x5, when only he is able to get into Starfleet's biggest party with its biggest names. The shouting pulls through, the hurt comes back, and Boimler and Mariner go separate ways again. But when Boimler finally has his dream of rubbung elbows with the top brass, he sees the party differently. Maybe a little more like Mariner would. Boimler doesn't see people schmoozing and networking. He just sees a party, full of people enjoying the company of those they trust and love. This is where Boimler realizes some of the true weight of his leaving, and just how much it affected him in turn, not having his anchor with him.

Now I'll be honest here in that I haven't really watched much TOS, so I'm missing some of the full gravity of the comparison betwen Kirk and Spock and Mariner and Beckett. What I do know is that they were combative but also complimentary, one was the charismatic daredevil that flounced the rules, and the other was more by the book and research-oriented, though the LD dynamic duo I guess has much more in the way of neuroticism and personal dysfunction. I know I'm doing a bad job of distilling Spock and Kirk's dynamic, so please let me know if I'm off the mark, or elaborate on how this might fit into my little spiel. But the point is that here is when both realize how important they are to each other. Seeing those names carved into the counter of a bar, following perhaps a similar story of how Kirk and Spock ended up there, Mariner and Boimler now realize that they can come back from this. They have the potential to do great things together, but more importantly, they just want to be in each others' lives again.

When they get stranded, there's once again the issue of trust. Mariner still clings to that idea that she is the mentor and better of Boimler, and so she has to look out for him, whether or not he realizes or wants it. She doesn't trust hum to do well on his own or to make the best decisions. At the same time, we see Boimler stepping up a bit. He takes the douche-bot AI with them against Mariner's idea to just bury it (at first) to keep monitoring AGIMUS, he tries to climb the tree to get fruit himself because Mariner is injured, and even just shuts Mariner down a bit when she's anguished that that shithole planet's fruit somehow also tasted like black licorice. We see hints of Boimler being a bit more confident, a bit more capable and sure of himself, without empty pride being the only thing in his arsenal. And when it seems like Mariner was right all along and Boimler fell for some manipulation, it's revealed that he was playing AGIMUS, playing both of them like a fiddle. Boimler had a plan, executed it flawlessly, apologizes to Mariner for deceiving her, and gets them rescued. Now, both of them still know Mariner is far and away the more capable of the two in most areas, but Mariner now doesn't see Boimler as some hapless naive child. She'd still go out of her way to save his butt, but not because he's her self-proclaimed responsibility, rather because he's her friend.

In 3x1, Mariner is depressed and angry. Her mother's in custody, in a public trial, and she can't do anything, except apparently trust the system. Despite empty assurances from her father, Mariner is unable to find hope for her mother. So she goes to her anchor, Boimler, to try and find hope where none exists. And here, we see the growth of their bond. Even stuck planetside, they find each other. They're anchors, in a sense. Through Boimler, Mariner is able to find some kind of hope thst she can save her mom. Through Marjner, Boimler finds a new purpose so doesn't waste away at his family's vineyard. Hell, Boimler is so ride or die at this point that he helps Mariner steal a fucking amusement park starship and board a locked down Cerritos!

During the season two finale when Mariner is about to go down in cetacean ops to release the final panel, Rutherford, Tendi, and Boimler all talk sense into Mariner, convincing her to make up with her mom before they all die or never see Captain Freeman again in what I think is a very satisfying intervention. But something I want to point out is what Boimler tells Mariner. Boimler says they'll all either die soon, or Mariner's mom will get promoted and the two may never speak again, and he asks Mariner if this is how she wants things to end. It makes me think that Boimler's talking about when he left. He left without clearing the air, without saying goodbye, without anything. He knows in retrospec how painful that actually was, how much it hurt both of them to never really try and reconcile things until the party, and he doesn't want Mariner to go through that again with her mom.

In 3x5, Boimler tries his best to keep Mariner calm and out of trouble, but he loses it, throttling conspiracy weirdos' necks like Mariner would, despite attempts by Mariner to try and calm him down. And while that is fun, something that really catches my attention is how once people start coming to their tent in genuine interest, impressed by Boimler's confidence and defense of Starfleet, Mariner actually seems genuinely interested in finding ways that people could join Starfleet. It's some kind of inversion of their roles, with Boimler being the impressive act of violence that wows everyone, and Mariner being the eager one to bring it all up to protocol.

Crisis Point 2 comes around, and even without knowing what's up, Mariner still tries to stick things through with Boimler for a while, knowing Tendi and Rutherford are off actually having fun on something with Boimler's holomovie, something she had just been teasing him about earlier. She can easily tell that he's going off his own script, but she still goes with him, not yet realizing that she's watching her friend go through an existential spiral. When she does learn about William's death, Mariner immediately goes to Boimler to be his friend. She tells him that the story may not be a good one, but it is a Starfleet story, so it's worth telling, and so they should try to find the ending they're after. This brings up two ideas: one is that Mariner hopes the holodeck can provide the same kind of therapeutic realization it gave her. The other is that she's telling Boimler that his story, irrevocably a Starfleet story, may not be glamorous or exciting the way others' are or the way he wanted it to be, but it's still important.

When Mariner leaves, things apparently get a little weird. By Rutherford's own admission, Boimler loses grasp of reality without Mariner around. He's lost his anchor, and he's a bit adrift. For Mariner, things are going well. It's honestly a bit like the Titan all over again, with Mariner having her own adventures. But something still feels off. She tries to find reason to distrust Petra and this new purpose, but it's just Mariner trying to find a reason to return. Back to Starfleet, back to the Cerritos, back to her friends and family, back to her mom, back to her anchor. In saving the Cerritos, Mariner brings back every California-class ship. In one act, she demonstrates her faith and trust in Starfleet, or at least the people in it. She finds the others that had been given up on and gives them another chance. Similar I think to the way Boimler did for her in not reporting her that first episode, and again when she welcomed him back to the ship. When she comes back on board, the first thing she does is rush and hug Boimler, finding her anchor. And what Boimler does is own up to his own lack of trust and action, apologizes, and promises to make up for it. Afterward, Mariner changes direction and wants to try her hand at making her way in Starfleet again, finding hope in her purpose in the same way she did when Boimler first decided to trust her.

*edited a bunch of typos and some weird wording

[quiznak-ofgrayskull]

Could you draw the Darkleys kids??

Them <333 I love Gene and Brad so much actually they’re so fun hhhsjsjssjs

Just drew some random guys in the background for the sake of visual interest but I still tried to give them personality!

[moralchampion]

Just the symbolism of it all

[gmanweatherreport]

Ok was planning on doing this with ashe b4 i realozed someone else already did so ill just keep this in my art tag or a non main one BUT it was funny how easilly i could revert to the old styles twas kind of fun. template by @ sapgoon_ on twitter

[flovverworks]

(through tears) u should read promise of wizard

[gh0stsp1d3r]

penalty box

warnings: fighting, major penalty, mentions of wounds… suggestive !

MASTERLIST

Rafe glanced down at the puck he had on his stick, looking up to his teammate, Marchand, making sure he was open before passing it to him. Brad began to skate over to the goal, before he was shoved into the dasher board by the opposite team.

Rafe had already been pissed off at some of the dirty plays the other team had made, and today was not his day. He had already gotten eaten up by the coach earlier, and this game was not helping.

Rafe clenched his jaw, seeing the person skate away with the puck, following after him quickly. Rafe was hot on his tail, before someone else slammed into him, knocking him off his skates, causing him to fall on his ass. You winced at the sight, your face twisting up, silently hoping that he was okay.

But, Rafe stood up quickly, beginning to shove the man, shouting at him. The man shoved his back, before the both of them started to throw punches, the crowd erupting into cheers and shouts. Rafe threw his own helmet off, the other man doing the same. Both sticks were forgotten about on the ice.

You stood up quickly, watching as Rafe pinned the guy to the ground, punching him in the face multiple times, the other man trying to retaliate. The refs and the other players attempting to get Rafe off of the man.

You shouted Rafes name, despite knowing he couldn’t hear over all the noise. Rafe stood up, heaving and grabbing his helmet, stick and gloves, shoving his teammates hand off his shoulder, before skating to the penalty box.

Rafe knew where you were sitting, being directly in the first row, he glanced at you, seeing you look back at him worriedly. You weren’t too far from the penalty box, so it was easy to talk. You threw him a thumbs up with a furrowed eyebrow, as if asking him is he was okay. He looked back at you, nodding and giving you a small smile, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head to himself, glancing back at you every once in a while.

“Hey, tough guy,” you whispered teasingly, your breath warm against his lips as he stepped out of the locker room. The door swung open, revealing him with a small smile, the thrill of the game still evident in his eyes.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, the anger and frustration of the game disappearing, and instead, a spark of joy lighting up his features, replacing it.

“You did good today.” You told him when he wrapped his arms around you, him shrugging his shoulders.

“I did okay.” He murmured, turning his face away, giving you a view to the damage done.

You grabbed his face, examining the wounds and bruises forming on his face.

You frowned, seeing you look at him, and grabbing your hand, putting his rough palms on your skin.

“I’m fine, baby. I told you, you can’t worry about this shit.“ he told you quietly, pressing his lips against your hand, kissing it softly.

"Rafe.."

“Shh.” He told you, pressing his lips against yours suddenly, his hands traveling to your back before moving down to your ass. Your worries dissipated, him pulling away for a moment.

“How ‘bout we go home, yeah?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, you nodding in agreement.

“Hey, Cameron!”

He turned around at the sound of his teammates voice. “What’s up, man?” He asked, turning around and stopping in his tracks.

“You coming to the bar later?”

Damn post game celebrations. You thought, looking up to Rafe, who glanced back down at you.

“Nah, not today, sorry. I got plans of my own.” He said with a small smirk, his teammates laughing and nodding, one of them whistling as you both walked away, laughing with each other.

[mrrharper]

Elevator Malfunction

Greg was walking along the corridor. He had just finished his last lecture for the day and was ready to leave the campus and go get something to eat. He got to the staircase but decided he didn't feel like walking down all these stairs, so he pushed a button for an elevator instead.

As he waited for it to come to the floor he was currently on someone walked up to the elevator and stood next to him, also wanting to give their legs a break. Greg looked to his left, then quickly moved his head back. That was Brad Petrović, one of the stars of their university's soccer team.

One look at the jock was enough for Greg to feel his cock hardening in his pants. He felt he was turning red and he hoped no one would see him getting a boner. From his perspective Brad was a perfect male specimen, and exactly Greg's type - clearly muscular but not bulky, tall with a masculine jaw, short hair, thick thighs, that permament arrogant smirk on his face, a constant aura of sweat and musk. Greg, a closeted gay man and an obvious nerd, knew that the chances of getting a guy like that in bed with him were very slim, but he could always dream.

He took another quick glance at Brad. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, which allowed Greg to just barely see his hairy armpit and chest. He was now sure his boner would not disappear for as long as he was in close proximity with the soccer bro.

The elevator had finally arrived and the doors opened. Brad went in first, followed by Greg who constantly made sure there was distance between them. And he made sure his shirt was hiding the bulge in his pants. The jock then pushed the "ground floor" button and the eevator began slowly moving down.

Greg turned his eyes for a split second and saw a few beads of sweat run down Brad's arm. Fuck, he was hot. He wanted to look again, but the more rational side of his brain prevented him from doing that, aftaid the athlete would notice, call him a perv or maybe beat him up.

They were around halfway down when the elevator wobbled. Both guys looked around but saw nothing that would suggest something was wrong. But then the lights flickered and the elevator suddenly stopped. Greg, who wasn't expecting this sudden change in velocity didn't have the time to grab anything, so he lost balance, fell down on the ground, bumping into Brad and then crashing his head against the floor, loosing consciousness for a moment.

A few moments later Greg opened his eyes and was instantly blinded by the light shining from the elevator's ceiling. He blinked a few times and put his hand over his face, trying to shield his sensitive eyeballs from the bright lamp above him. He slowly dragged his body off the floor and sat down, already feeling pain radiating from the back of his head.

He turned his head and-- he blinked quickly a few times, because he couldn't believe what he saw. He saw himself, his very own body standing up and looking towards him. Greg was sure he also saw confision on his-- his body's face, but it was quickly replaced by concern.

"Brad, you're alright? Oh my god, I'm so sorry I bumped into you. Are you okay?"

Brad? He wasn't Brad, he was-- Holy fuck! Greg looked down and saw the jersey Brad was wearing on his torso. He almost jumped and turned towards the mirror on the back wall of the elevator. A confused Brad Petrović looked back at him.

"Jesus Christ, what happened?" he asked aloud, then flincked, surprised by the deep voice that he was apparently in control of.

"I... I don't know" He heard his own voice behind him and turned around to see... No, he was certain he was looking at himself. This must have been a result of a concussion. He's never experienced soemthing like this but this was the most logical explanation. Yes, this would end in a moment. "I think the elevator stopped suddenly for some reason and I lost balance, and then... then I fell onto you, and then we both... Are you sure you're okay?"

"No" Greg muttered under his breath.

"Oh god, you have a concussion? Crap, we need a doctor to have a look at you" his body stood next to him. This was a reasonable suggestion. But Greg was not really thinking straight right now.

"No!" he barked a little louder than he wanted to. "I... I need to get home."

"Oh, uhm... of course, of course" The other Greg quickly took a few steps back. Then they heard a ding and the doors of the elevator slowly opened. Greg watched as his very own body walked out of the elevator and was gone in justa few seconds. The real Greg, now seemingly occupying the body of a soccer jock bro, stood still, failing to comprehend what was happening around him.

The doors started to close and Greg quickly jumped out of the elevator. He took a few deep breaths and thought about what should he do. He had now convinced himself that all this was the result of him injuring his head during the fall and it would all go away in a few minutes. Maybe hours. Hopefully not days. Oh god, he wanted to go home so bad. He quickly left the building and made his way to his dorm on the other side of the campus.

As he walked he realized his dick had been hard this entire time. And since he seemed to be wearing gym shorts it was way more visible. Greg looked around, hoping there weren't many people who would witness him with a hard on in public. Thankfully the area was not very busy.

He got to his room, unlocked the door and-- wait a minute! This wasn't his room. He took a step inside and instead of his small and tidy space, he saw a fairly large room that almost certainly belonged to a jock. A bunch of posters of various athletes hanging on walls, dirty gym gear laying everywhere, the table covered with empty beers, boxes of protein powder, a few condoms even, and of course the smell of sweat. This was Brad's dorm room. How did he get here?

A thought appeared in his head. It was muscle memory that took him here. Brad's muscle memory. This was not a concussion. Greg's mind was currently occupying Brad Petrović's body. He closed the door behind him and looked around, then grabbed his head with both hands. This couldn't be happening, this was just a dream!

He slowly went further into the room, then stopped as he felt he stepped onto something. Greg looked down and picked up a pair of boxers, with clearly visible sweat and cum stains. The smell was intoxicating. He suddenly thought about smelling, maybe even licking the underwear that was clearly used by the real Brad fairly recently. His cock reacted positively to this possibility, but Greg wouldn't allow himself to use his terrible position like this.

Although... would it be that wrong? It would get rid of his boner, allowing him to think more clearly. No one would have to know, he was all alone in this room.

Greg sat down on the couch standing in the middle of the room and took off his shorts and briefs in one, brief motion, freeing his hard cock. He then put the dirty boxers up to his nose and breathed in loudly. It felt like getting high, the manly smells filling up his nostrils. His hand gravitated to his dick and started stroking it as he imagined worshiping this body, all of its hard muscles, the armpits, the thighs, the crotch.

He sped up his hand movements and moand loudly, still pushing the underwear against his face. He started licking the material and another wave of lust came over him. He was overwhelmed with what he was feeling, his brain overridden by his horny instincts. He thought he could taste the cum and it got him even more excited, if it was even possible.

As he continued stroking though, something happened. The images he had in his head of Brad's flexed arms that revealed two sweaty armpits turned into a topless woman waving her boobs in front of him.

This would be enough to raise concerns, but for the moment Greg was fully controlled by the horny part of his brain, which didn't allow any critical thoughts to arise. He just continued jerking off, not realizing that his dick got even harder the moment the images in his head changed.

It didn't stop there. Next came a memory (wait, a memory?) of Brad eating pussy of some random chick. Greg continued stroking and licking the cum off of the boxers while his head became filled with images of Brad Petrović having sex with a bunch of women. No alarms went off in his head, he seemed to get more horny the longer he played with his dick.

A certain scene got stuck in Greg's head - Brad fucking a blond haired girl, letting his primal instincts control him. As he leaned in to touch one of the girl's breasts Greg finally got over the edge. He came harder than ever before, his jizz landing on his hand, jersey and the couch.

Brad cleaned his hand with the boxers he was holding for some reason, then threw then on the floor and immediately forgot about them. Instead he thought about that blond chick - Beth. Fuck, he needed to find her again. He heard his phone ringing. Oh fuck, he was supposed to meet with Garrett and Trevor at the gym! He quickly stood up and ran out of his room with only his phone in his hand. It was time to get jacked, then find some pussy later. Shit, Brad loved his jock life.

[changetyre]

Make a wish

SUMMARY: It's Ivy's 2nd Birthday and her birthday wish is a little bigger than you'd expected. Part of Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: None?

A/N: Requested over on wattpad ;)

"Oh no Max the party hats, I forgot to get party hats." Your heart sunk to your stomach. 

"No, I bought some." Max calmed you down. 

Today was Ivy's 2nd birthday and she had been so insistent about celebrating her birthday at a race with her Papa and Uncles despite you telling her she could have a big birthday party at home with her friends. Ivy almost cried when you suggested something else wanting nothing more but to be at the "waces!" for her birthday. 

Despite this, you still wanted her birthday to have somewhat of a little celebration so you'd spent days making and decorating cupcakes to take to the paddock and buying some decorations for Ivy. 

You'd wanted everything to be a surprise so you'd mostly work at night so that the girls didn't see you because you also knew that if Lea saw anything she would definitely say something since she was as good at keeping secrets as her uncle Lando.  

But Max could tell how stressed and tired you'd grown with trying to get everything perfect for her and he was glad it was finally the day so you could relax a little. You'd woken up earlier to get the stuff in the car so that Brad could drive it to the track before you arrived with Max, Ivy, and Lea. 

"Okay, I'll go now." Brad got in the car to drive off. 

"Wait no did I bring down the streamers?" You asked. 

"Yes," Max answered waving Brad away. 

"Wait what about the-" 

"Schatje, everything's there." Max cupped your face to get you to look at him. 

"But what if-" 

"If it's not she won't even notice darling, it'll be perfect because we'll be there." Max kissed you not letting you argue further. He could feel you relax in his arms. 

"I'm sorry, I just want everything to be perfect." You hugged your husband tightly. 

"You'll never reach perfection baby, trust me I've tried" Max kissed your head. "But you're close enough and Ivy's gonna love whatever we do for her." 

 __________

"PAPA WOOK!" Ivy yelled excitedly as she ran out of her room. 

Max turned to see his daughter in a big puffy Belle dress which she had begged him to buy for her birthday. 

"Oh my god is that Belle?" Max gasped dramatically. 

You stood by the door watching the interaction with loving eyes. 

"No Papa is me Iby!" Ivy ran up to her dad who lifted her up and twirled her around. 

"How's my gorgeous birthday girl?" Max kissed her cheeks. 

"Papa I tuwn two." Ivy held up her tiny hand trying to hold up 2 fingers but her third finger kept slipping out of the grasp of her little thumb and pinky finger. 

"Yes, you do and you need to stop growing." Max hugged her closer sighing at the idea of his girls growing up. 

A few seconds later Lea peaked her head around the corner of her room. "Mamma?" She called your name. 

"You ready baby?" You asked your daughter whom you'd also bought a dress for since you wanted to make sure she didn't feel left out. 

She nodded shyly, she'd started growing shy around you and her dad lately whenever she showed you something which you found adorable. 

She walked out wearing her Belle dress too except hers was the blue town dress and you'd helped her put a blue bow on her hair. 

"What a gorgeous princess!" Max also sighed dramatically while holding Ivy who clapped in his arms happily. 

You had breakfast quickly, the girls and you having pancakes as a treat for Ivy's birthday while Max had to eat something else to keep his weight down for getting in the car later. 

You strapped everyone into the car and off you went to the race track. 

________

As soon as you arrived there were cameras everywhere but by now the girls were used to it especially Lea who liked to pose for the cameras despite Max and you telling her to keep her head low. 

"Mama Wando?" Lea pointed down to the McLaren hospitality as you approached the Redbull hospitality. 

"Maybe we'll see him later Ivy he's not here yet." You lied and heard her sigh sadly as she rested her head on your shoulder.

You'd arrived at the track pretty early since Max didn't have to be on the track until around 4 today but as a surprise for Ivy's birthday, You and Max had asked the boys if they could arrive early to surprise Ivy for her birthday knowing she would just want to spend the day with her favorite people. 

You walked into the Redbull hospitality and Brad, Vicky, and other staff members were there ready just like planned. 

"Ivy look!" Max called out to his daughter who lifted her head from your shoulder to look towards her dead. 

"SURPRISE!" They called out as party poppers went off and confetti flew everywhere Ivy's eyes and mouth were wide open as she looked around the decorated room. 

She squealed in your arms squirming for you to put her down and as soon as you did she went running to where there were presents and a huge cake with a small fondant F1 car where Ivy was the driver wearing a tiara. 

"PAPA LOOK!" Ivy called out to her dad pointing at the top of the cake. 

"Wow, Ivy." Max gasped surprised as if he hadn't specifically asked for her cake. 

You looked around to look for Lea just to find her munching away at the snacks that were laid out across the snack table despite eating breakfast not long ago. Just as you turned again you noticed Lando, Dani, Carlos, and Charles at the door, Ivy too distracted looking at her cake with her dad to notice. 

"Come in." You waved the drivers over. Max had previously discussed all of this with Christian and he'd gladly accepted having the drivers over at the hospitality for a few hours for the celebration. 

"MY BABY!" Lando yelled as soon as he was inside. 

Ivy's head snapped immediately in the direction of her favorite person. "WANDOOOO!" She yelped as she ran as fast as her little feet could carry her towards her godfather. 

Lea hearing the commotion turned around and also ran towards her godfather, Daniel scooping her up in her arms happily. 

It didn't take long for the rest of the drivers to pile in and Ivy excitedly greeted everyone although always kept coming back to Lando's arms. 

Although you'd insisted they didn't have to bring anything you weren't surprised to see the gift table had doubled in numbers at all the gifts the drivers had bought only hoping they hadn't spent ridiculous amounts of money on a 2-year-old. 

"Happy Birthday dear Ivy! Happy Birthday to you!" Everyone finished singing as Max held Lea in his arms, you holding Lea in yours as you stood behind the birthday cake. Antoine, Louis, and Joris moved across taking pictures and videos of your family per their own request as you'd told them they didn't need to take any pictures and you'd be happy with simply their presence but they insisted. 

"Make a wish princess." Max lowered Ivy so she could blow at her candles. 

"I wish for a widdle broder!" Ivy yelled out unashamedly blowing out her candles afterwards. 

You and Max looked at each other in shock as everyone around you burst out laughing. "Uh, you're meant to say your wish in your head baby," Max told his daughter not really sure how to proceed. 

"hmm." She shrugged unbothered as she squirmed for Max to put her down. "Wando Cake!" She called out to her godfather who gladly came over to help Ivy start cutting the cake (horribly). 

After everyone got a piece and Lea sat sharing her piece with Lando on his lap you all sat and relaxed for a while, Max by your side as Lea played around with Joris and Charles whom she still had an obsession with. 

Max turned to you blinking hard three times, his little I love you gesture. "So what do you think about Ivy's wish huh?" Max asked you. 

You laughed at the thought. Max laughing with you. "If it's with you I want it all." You told him lovingly. 

"In another year?" Max dragged your chair closer to him so there was barely a gap between the both of you. 

"Sounds good to me." You smiled before Max kissed you lovingly. 

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[haveihitanerve]

I request Bruce chasing his children down to put on scarves and gloves in the cold ass winter of New Jersey because despite being some of the strongest people (martial arts wise) on earth, they refuse to believe in cold temperatures and keep getting sick.

refuse to believe in cold temperatures is my new favorite sentence

anyway your wish is my command-

Kevin did not know what he was expecting to see on a Friday night at three am, but it was certainly not Nightwing and the fucking Red Hood running as fast as their legs could possibly carry them as the Batman chased after them, holding scarves and gloves in his hands.

He reached them just before they could round the corner and Kevin watched in amazement as Batman forced the gloves onto the two grown men who squirmed like five year olds.

"Don't-! wanna!" Red Hood screamed petulantly, trying very hard to escape the Bats grasp. "Your brother already has a cold!" Batman snarled back, winding a scarf around his head like he was trying to choke him.

"He doesn't have a spleen!" Nightwing argued, attempting to pull off the gloves that seemed to have some sort of suctioning power and would not budge. "They come off when its not cold. So finish patrol with them." Batman offered them both a sweet smile before grappling away before they could hit him with snowballs.

It was, probably, most arguably, the craziest shit he'd ever seen, and he lived in Gotham and got robbed by dudes wearing purple and green and asked questions before ordering their coffee.

And then it happened again. This time he was staying with his brother on the other side of town, when Orphan and Spoiler showed up. Neither seemed to be particularly cold, but Kevin remembered vividly how he and his siblings used to pretend "no its not cold!" to their mother because they had made such a fuss before but it really super was cold.

And then Batman showed up. Orphan melted into the shadows and Spoiler made eye contact with Kevin, flying across the street in an instant and pushing past him inside the apartment. His brother, wide eyed on the couch, looked between them.

"I'm not here." Spoiler hissed, forming an X with her arms. "I'm not here!" She ducked behind the couch just as Batman landed on the balcony and Kevin, he was raised in Gotham man, but he still flinched.

"Sorry," Batman grumbled, voice rough and low and also a little pouty. "I know she's inside. This won't take long." He stepped off the railing onto the balcony, but Kevin, telling his fear and survival instinct to fuck off, stepped in his way.

"She's uh- she? There's no she in our building sir. Believe me, we've tried." He swallowed, looking up into those endless white slits. The slits narrowed, and he turned to look inside. Brad was pale, but his brother, bless his heart, lifted his beer in a salute at the bat, before turning back to face the TV.

Batman looked about two seconds away from not being apologetic and screaming, but he finally gave a nod to Kevin and hopped off the balcony. Kevin didn't even bother to watch him hit the ground, because he knew he wouldn't, and cracked open the door instead.

"He's gone-" Spoiler poked her head over the couch hissing, "NO!" but it was too late. Batman appeared, one hand flinging him back up onto the balcony, and he was past Kevin before he even had a chance to scream, tackling Spoiler to the ground.

"I! Don't! Need it!!!" She screamed, struggling against him as he pinned her down, panting, legs trapping her lower body as his hands snagged her hands. "It's... for- your.. own good!" He grunted, pinning her hands down with one finally.

And as Kevin watched her buck, fruitlessly, and watched Batman slide gloves onto her hands and wrap a scarf around her neck, not effortlessly, he realized just how much of a threat Batman truly was. Sure, he had seen the Bats in action, and everyone knew the Bats were trained and raised by Batman, but he had never actually seen Batman work.

Old friends, goons, told him how he skilled, how efficient, how brutal he could be. But Kevin had laughed it off as propaganda, as some more bolstering of the Bats ego's. But now...

Batman's work wasn't effortless. Spoiler was fighting him every step of the way. But he wasn't struggling either, moving quickly, but also carefully, his hips pressing down enough to keep her still but not enough to hurt, hands pinning hers down but not enough to bruise....

Kevin knew Batman didn't kill. But he had never considered the amount of strength, precision, capability, it required. Not killing over killing had always seemed, to him, to be the easier thing. Not anymore.

Batman finished his work, standing and lifting Spoiler in one swift movement, and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She had stopped struggling at this point, and Kevin was fairly certain she was just hitting him because she could. Because she wanted to. The look on Batman's face revealed he was aware of it too.

"Thank you for protecting her." He growled, voice low but not hard. At that, Spoiler finally stilled. Kevin blinked in surprise. That was not what he had been expecting. He didn't know what, exactly, he had been, but a thank you was nowhere on his bingo card.

"N-no problem." Brad stuttered out when it was clear Kevin couldn't answer. Batman nodded to the both and left, setting Spoiler down on the balcony next to him, and wrapped his cape around her shoulders, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed, then stuck her tongue out at him, but Kevin noted how she leaned closer, wrapped herself in the warmth he provided.

Orphan materialized at their side and Batman tugged her to his side too, muttering something that sounded like admitting defeat, and Spoiler fist pumped, high fiving her. Orphan grinned and Batman rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders and jumping. This time, Kevin watched until they disappeared.

[inchidentally]

some things I rly liked finding out about from this Oscar interview

- even as young as he is he doesn’t talk about Lily in terms of her performing some kind of role or service to him and his job, she’s a person not a “part of his life” etc

- when Dax seemed to be leading it to “but you must be lonely” and kinda seeming to imply that Lily should be at more races etc Oscar just went nah I’m not lonely I’ve got a team of people looking out for me thanks lol

- Dax creaming himself over Brad Pitt [SORRY OMG this was supposed to be David Beckham but I was exhausted and got my rich white men mixed up] clearly expecting Oscar to do like other men and fanboy with him and Oscar’s just like haha yeaaaahh ok

- god do I love that Oscar owns being shy and an introvert but every single time Dax tried to create a self pity moment Oscar shut it down and said this is my job and I love my job even the parts that don’t come naturally

- and in particular emphasizing that his mum and sisters - and then his dad - shouldn’t have their lives affected by him chasing this crazy dream, they’re at races when they can be but it’s on Oscar himself to pursue this career that’s taken him so far away and has such narrow margins for success

I just seriously remain more and more impressed at how Oscar’s cool and maturity isn’t remotely an image. he isn’t going to get caught up in anything messy and it speaks a lot to Alpine being at fault for making assumptions without talking to him first. he’ll put his foot down when needed!

and not to landoscar the whole thing but god. Lando is so beautifully open about what he struggles with and his trajectory was so steep and so fast and he’s so young to be considered the seasoned driver in a team. and then he gets Oscar who is fully deferential to him and takes nothing for granted but also is this steady constant for Lando throughout a crazy season. I just love this more and more all the time.

[ellebakers]

☆ Too bad | Part one

Ethan Landry x reader

NEXT

Summary : Ethan hates your new boyfriend. Luckily he has a knife and a phone.

Warning(s) : Death + Blood + Mention of sex.

You had been lying, naked, under Bradley your boyfriend for six months, his hands wandering along your body when your phone started ringing. Your lips parted and you groaned as you answered.

"Hello ?"

"Y/n, where are you ?"

Your best friend, Ethan sounded annoyed.

"I'm at Brad’s, why ?"

"We were supposed to study together, I've been waiting for you at the library for an hour."

You hit your forehead, how could you forget? But watching Bradley lower his mouth between your legs you remember.

"Damn, I'm so sorry e. Brad needed my help." You gasped when without warning, he thrust his tongue inside you.

"But-"

Your back was arching, but it was out of the question for you to get licked while on the phone with your best friend.

"Look, the test is in two weeks, we'll study later, bye." And you hung up, or so you thought. But the truth is that in the rush, you didn't check to see if you had hung up.

That's why Ethan found himself sitting on one of the sofas in the library with his headphones listening to you moan.

Bradley continued to devour you harder and harder. Knowing what turned him on, you tugged his hair lightly, making him groan against your pussy.

"Damn. Baby I'm close."

That's when your boyfriend stopped, you were about to ask him why, but he sat down and took you on top of him. "I want you to ride me."

You bit your lip, nodding. "With pleasure."

And in one movement you're impaled on his hard cock. You opened your mouth wide, the pleasure being intense, then you started to move your body, Tommy groaned, took one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked it.

You hadn't noticed, you were so taken by the wave of pleasure that washed over you, but Bradley knew that Ethan was listening, he also knew that your best friend had a crush on you, that's why he discreetly took your phone and put the call into FaceTime mode, revealing Ethan's red face.

Brad smiled at him while thinking show time.

"Sweetheart, you're so tight."

Your moans were pornographic.

"Look at you, all wet. Your nipples are so hard, I could cum just looking at them."

"Brad-I'll-oh shit, I'm going to cum."

"Go ahead baby, cum and scream my name." And in a stronger thrust you cried his name while cumming on his cock. Bradley hung up on Ethan's face, then he cum inside you.

After both of you took a shower, you went home and fell asleep peacefully.

But, it was going to be a long night for Bradley.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

Bradley was watching Evil Dead when his phone rang, without bothering to look who was calling him, he picked it up.

"Hello ? "

"Hello, Bradley."

The voice was deep and unrecognizable, Bradley frowned and looked at his screen.

"Who is this ?"

"Guess."

He sneered. "Y/n ?"

"Oh no, I'm much less hot than your girlfriend."

"So who are you ?"

"I'm a little curious, by the way, do you like the movie ?"

"What movie ?"

"Evil Dead."

Bradley froze. "How do you know ?"

"I know, because I'm at your house."

Bradley paused the movie and went to check that the doors were locked. He brought his phone up to his ear again.

"You couldn't come in without me seeing you."

The persona laughed coldly. "Maybe I came when you were taking a shower after fucking your girlfriend on your fucking couch."

Bradley stopped in front of his bedroom door. "Ethan is it you ?"

He didn't let the person answer and laughed "Damn it's you ! So did you like my little video huh ? You want to know something."

He paused, then whispered. "I fuck her like this every day."

The caller's breathing became heavy.

"You could never fuck her like that. You really thought I wasn't going to notice the way you looked at her. I know you want her but she's my girl."

He wanted to piss off Ethan and it worked, but his reaction was different than he expected, in a soft voice he told him.

"But if I kill you, she'll come cry to me. I'll wait as long as it takes and when she's ready I'll fuck her and believe me she won't have to fake it. With Me."

"Damn! You'll never get it, you're just a little bitch, she'll never want to-" Bradley didn't have time to finish his sentence, Ethan, dressed in ghostface came up behind him and slit his throat. He watches your boyfriend fall to the ground choking on his own blood. He got on top of Bradley and removed his mask, his face dripping with sweat he smiled at his victim and whispered to him. "I'll say goodbye to her for you." Then he repeatedly stabbed Bradley in the face with his knife.

After draining Bradley of his blood he got up and admired his work. Without your boyfriend in the running, you'll be his and his alone.