#but maybe this is just a me thing and i need to get over it

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog w/ jeong yunho

pt2

you live in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighbourhood surrounded by shitty neighbours who seem to make it their life’s work to make your life a living hell

the guy that lives across from you is an aspiring dj, emphasis on aspiring

unfortunately with him working the late shift at his supermarket job, it means he likes to practice late into the night

after the first 5 noice complaints, you just gave up trying to get a decent night sleep; part of you thinks he carried on just as one giant ‘fuck you’

the family that live upstairs aren’t great either

the son—timmy? tommy? who cares—thinks it’s fun to sit on the stairs with his buddies and smoke anything they can get their hands on

your air freshener is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind at them! well, that and the fact that quite frankly him and his friends terrify you

they watch you carefully as you make your way down the stairs, pushing through their congregation with a tight lipped, overly polite smile on your face

usually they don’t say a word, giving you little more acknowledgment than a hum as you thank them for barely making enough room for you to push through them

they make you nervous, you can’t deny that, and half of you thinks that’s the whole point

it’s like it’s some sort of strange power play to keep you from complaining to his parents, or worse, the landlord

not exactly a threat, but not not one

maybe it’s those nerves that made you open up to your friend one day

you’d met up with him at a local cafe, offering to pay for his coffee if he gave you half of the sandwich he’d brought with him

“they just spook me a little, y’know?” you mumble as a few crumbs topple over your bottom lip and onto your chin, “it’s a group of 10 over-grown teenage boys; it’s fucking intimidating!”

mingi just nods along, a small frown on his face as he listens to you complain about your living conditions for what seems like the millionth time

he gets it; moving is expensive, especially in the city, and you need to stay relatively close to where you work since you don’t have a car

it doesn’t mean he has to like it, though

“what about a guar—”

“a guard dog?” you cut him off, “mingi, we’ve had this conversation so many times before!”

it’s the truth; it seems like every single time you see him he brings up the same suggestion; scary dog privileges can get you very far in life according to you friend

“too mentally ill to look after another life, sure,” he reiterates the same point you make every single time, “but what about a hybrid?”

again, it feels like you’re in a constant loop of deja vu, destined to relive this conversation over and over again until you can finally afford to move out of that shit hole

“i can’t aff—”

“—afford a hybrid, yeah i know,” you roll your eyes as he finishes your sentence; jesus, he’s annoying, “but what if i told you i knew a guy?”

it sounds suspicious, but you won’t lie and say you’re not a little curious

perhaps you’re just a little too nosy to not lean in a little closer with a brow cocked a question of ‘who?’ primed on your tongue

“can’t say,” is all mingi says, “he doesn’t like people poking around in his business.”

he says it so nonchalantly as if he’s not your best friend who’s just announced that he knows someone who is almost definitely into some dodgy shit

you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t ask at least a few questions, but before you can even open your mouth, mingi beats you to it

“£200 will get you a hybrid though,” you almost choke on the sandwich at the price; this is some seriously dodgy guy if he’s selling hybrids for that little, “£300 if you start laying down preferences.”

“mingi,” you begin, about to beg him to get out of whatever business he’s getting himself involved in

“i’m assuming it’s a no?” he raises an eyebrow; you don’t even have to nod for him to understand your answer

he concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender like he always does whenever you have this conversation

still, the smirk on his face as the conversation moves onto something else doesn’t fill you with the upmost confidence

a week passes by rather quickly; you work, you come home, you go about your evenings as normal, you sleep

nothing seems any different, and why would it? nothing about your life ever really changes without some sort of built up or expectation

and then your doorbell rings

you assume it’s just your neighbour again, around at yours to ask you some sort of stupid question that could easy be solved using a single braincell and google

you trudge to the door with a sour look on your face and a bitterness already growing on your tongue, just to swing it open to see… not your neighbour

not anyone you recognise for that matter

your gaze travels up from the chest you stand eye-to-eye with, traipsing lazily over the defined muscles on his neck before reaching his face

a jaw set in stone, two steely brown eyes and a pair of jet black dog ears are what immediately catch your attention

that and the fact that he’s very handsome; so much so that it takes everything in you not to stare at him with your mouth wide open

“are you going to let me in?” he says as if the hybrid’s arrival at your door was at all expected by you

“who are you?” is the only response you can

“your guard dog,” he replies, and just like that everything clicks into place

mingi, that bastard

“but i didn’t pay for a guard dog,” you argue, hoping that it’ll be enough to make him go back to whatever creep it is that mingi has gotten involved with

“well, someone did.”

he looks bored as he uses a hand to push you aside and steps past you into your tiny apartment, as if this is just another day for him

maybe it is; you don’t know much about hybrids, but you’ve heard enough stories to know just how many of them go through life without a permanent home

they’re tossed from pillar to post as if they’re not conscious beings with minds and lives of their own

it’s sad, the fact that they can be so easily tossed aside by so many people

it’s even sadder to find yourself relating to that feeling

you shut the door, twisting the lock with a finality that you’re not sure you understand

“what’s your name?” you ask as you turn to face him

“yunho,” he sighs

it’s a pretty name, you think to yourself

one that you wouldn’t mind saying over and over again for the… foreseeable future…

seriously, fuck song mingi

“well i’m—”

“i know your name, puppy,” your mouth snaps shut at the authority that laces itself into his words, “it’s all i’ve heard for the past few days.”

you zip your mouth shut, something in your brain warning you not to speak out of turn

something in your brain seems to forget that this is your own home; surely you can speak whenever you want to

“i wasn’t sure what to expect, but you seem to fit the bill,” dark pupils land on your body, dancing up and down your form before finally meeting your eyes, “a pretty thing like you in a town like this? i’m shocked you’re still in one piece.”

“how dare you, i—”

“where am i sleeping?” he cuts you off like your complaints are little more than the stubborn words of a child

it irritates you to no end, and yet you can’t find the words to fight back

there’s just something in his eyes that has you convinced that maybe you’re not the one in charge here

“the couch,” you point to the ratty leather thing, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that it’s the only thing you have to offer

he takes a glance at at for just a second or two before shaking his head

“no,” he replies, “you have a double bed, right?”

“a double—” your eyes go wide, “you’re not sleeping in my bed!”

“yes, i am,” he insists, condescending and annoying. you hate him already, “because i’m certainly not sleeping on that thing, puppy.”

it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s yet to use your name, instead sticking to that godforsaken nickname

if you thought it would make a difference, you might say something about it, but the stubborn arsehole has already shown enough of himself to make you understand that it would do very little

“the floor is available,” you spit, venemously

“and yet it tempts me even less than the sofa,” he smiles sarcastically and it boils your blood, “you’re just gonna have to get used to sharing.”

he takes a few paces forward until you’re having to crane your neck to look him in the eyes

you can practically feel his breath dancing across your cheeks as he lets out a low chuckle, a darkness washing over his face as he studies you

“you’re gonna have to get used to a lot of things now that i’m here,” warmth spreads across your cheek as his palm moves to cup it, “but that’s okay puppy, i can be patient while you learn.”

[heesimp]

omg yes please write heehoon using that toy (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

part two of heehoon jerking off together…wow okay i learned that i reallyyy like writing this kind of stuff

warnings: heehoon jerk off together again, mxm (kinda), use of a sex toy, sunghoon catches heeseung watching porn and joins, double penetration of the toy, heehoon fantasized about reader again, mentions of sunghoon masturbating, subtly voyeurism, subtle praise.

-

It’s not a surprise that Heeseung and Sunghoon find themselves in this predicament again.

You just had to wear a dress that made your breasts spill out of the cups and while they don’t understand why you told them you needed your bra size remeasured because it was too small to the point where your tits didn’t fit in them anymore, the image of you without your clothes on was enough to make the drive silent on their way home.

But that was last night. It’s Saturday evening and the unusual silence of the apartment makes Sunghoon uneasy. He’s been cooped up in his room for the entire day, too worked up over a wet dream and thinking about you naked in just that little bra you described in such detail. He’s touched himself twice earlier today and willed himself not to make it a third if he isn’t getting any action. The tissues from cleaning up his cum sit in his trash bin as if to mock him so he goes for a drive to get his mind out of the gutter.

When he comes home, though, Heeseung’s door is cracked slightly ajar and Sunghoon can hear the clear sound of porn coming from inside of his room. The younger man laughs to himself and peeks inside to see Heeseung’s eyes closed with his fist wrapped around his cock. Sunghoon retreats into his room to grab his favorite toy—a doll complete with a torso, ass and pussy—before returning to Heeseung’s room.

“Can’t help it, can you?”

Sunghoon’s voice startles Heeseung and his hand momentarily freezes around himself. He’s half naked, bottom completely bare while his chest is covered by a black t-shirt. Sunghoon opens the door wider and folds his arms while resting his shoulder on Heeseung’s doorframe and chuckles to himself.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I know you’re thinking about Y/N,” Sunghoon tells him. He sees the way Heeseung’s cock twitches at the mere mention of your name. The video Heeseung plays on his laptop echoes and women moaning while being obliterated on screen makes Sunghoon half-hard. “You can’t stop jerking yourself off to her too, huh?”

Heeseung relents and averts his gaze back to the video and resumes pumping himself. Sunghoon watches the way his friend’s hand shifts up and down the harder the girls in the video get fucked and walks into his room to peek at the screen.

“Creampie compilation?” Sunghoon asks to himself more than to Heeseung, palming his cock over his pants with his free hand. “That shit’s hot.”

“I want to cum in her so bad,” Heeseung whines, squeezing himself as Sunghoon sits on the bed next to him. Heeseung watches him push the toy on his clothed cock and as he grinds against the silicone. “I need her pussy.”

“I want to fuck her so hard she feels me for days.” Sunghoon moans when he sees cum dripping from the woman in front of him. He squeezes the toy’s ass and bucks his hips. Heeseung moans too.

“Are you gonna use that thing?”

Sunghoon quirks his eyebrow. “Maybe. Why? Do you want to use it?”

“Wanna watch you use it first.”

“Didn’t know you were into that.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Man, let me pretend it’s Y/N. I want to watch you fuck her.” Sunghoon unbuckles his belt and laughs, pulling himself out of his pants and boxers until they’re pooled around his ankles. His cock is hard and he spits on his hand before touching himself to the video before him.

“Got any lube?” Heeseung hands him a bottle without taking his eyes off of the screen and grunts as he watches yet another creampie clip. Meanwhile, Sunghoon squirts some of the lube onto his cock and onto the folds of his toy, using one hand to pump himself and the other to rub it all over the silicone. Heeseung looks at Sunghoon’s hand when he hears the wet squelching.

“I’d stick my fingers in her like this.” Sunghoon pushes his index and middle fingers inside, coating them with the lube while pretending it’s your arousal that touches him while Heeseung keeps stroking his dick. “I wanna see her pussy open up for me.”

“Fuck. That’s so good.”

“I’d slap her little cunt too.” Sunghoon pulls himself back and smacks the tips of his fingers against it until the sound becomes louder than the moans from the screen. “Make her all bruised and sensitive.”

“Shit, yeah.” Heeseung bites his lip. “Put your cock inside. I wanna see her ride you.”

“Like this?” Sunghoon teased, positioning the toy until the folds envelop only his tip. Both hands secure around the waist as he keeps it hovering above him.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.” Sunghoon obliges, sinking the toy right into his hardened dick. He moan and looks up at Heeseung’s ceiling as his eyes squeeze shut.

“She feels so good,” Sunghoon moans breathlessly. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had.”

Heeseung watches his friend lift the toy up and down his cock and notes the way Sunghoon’s balls bounce too. He squeezes his cock harder. “You think she’d let you cream her? For real?”

“She better.” His balls slap against the toy. “I wanna see that pussy all white and sticky. I’d fuck it back into her if she’d let me.”

“Fuck, you’re really good at this.”

“At what?”

Heeseung laughs. “Talking.”

Sunghoon bounces his legs until his thrusts are meeting the movement of his hands. “You like watching me get off?”

“Only if we’re talking about Y/N.” Heeseung rolls his eyes while Sunghoon laughs. His friend gets too inside of his own head.

“I want to watch you fuck her too, you know. I’d kill to feel her mouth around me while you’re inside her.” Sunghoon laughs when Heeseung emits a deep, long groan. “I know you’re into that. Two big dicks abusing her holes like we do to this toy.”

Memories of the first time they jerked off together come back to Heeseung. He thinks of himself and Sunghoon in the living room when he brought out this toy for the first time and remembers the feeling of his cock rubbing against his friend’s as the toy stretched around them. It took only a little bit of convincing. Heeseung can’t deny that he really loved the feeling of Sunghoon’s hardness against his own arousal. It felt otherworldly, almost. That makes his hand move up and down even faster.

“Put her on the bed and fuck her,” Heeseung says in a haste. He gestures to Sunghoon with his head and the sheer desperation in Heeseung’s voice makes Sunghoon click his tongue, but he doesn’t disobey.

He watches Sunghoon pull the toy off of him and sees his cock bounces as his balls glisten from the precum too. Sunghoon turns around, still with his pants and boxers around his ankles, and pushes the toy onto the mattress with its pussy presented to him. Heeseung grunts as his friend smears his tip over the wet folds and pretends you’re looking at him with wide eyes as you grope yourself. That makes Heeseung grip his balls and squeeze them as if your hand could reach out to touch him too.

Sunghoon sinks in slowly and his deep moan is louder than the video on Heeseung’s computer. He doesn’t hold back either, putting both hands on the mattress below while his hips slang to push his dick in and out of the toy. Heeseung’s mouth hangs ajar as he watches his friend fuck the toy pussy and hears the hollow sound of the silicone as it gets pounced into, wishing it was your pussy that talks back.

“I think you like watching me fuck people,” Sunghoon says with an edge to his voice. He looks and Heeseung and moans when he realizes his friend’s hand hasn’t decreased in speed. “Imagine if we both fucked her pussy.”

“I’m so close.” Heeseung squeezes his balls as he twists his wrist up and down his dick.

“Fuuuck. Her little pussy’s gonna make me cum too.”

“I want to hear her beg for our cum.” Heeseung grunts and widens his legs further.

Sunghoon feels himself drawing closer too. “Fuck, fuck. Find a video.”

“A video?”

“Someone begging for cum!” Sunghoon exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as sweat stains his forehead. Heeseung types with one hand and does his best to open his bookmarks without clicking on anything he doesn’t want to see. He’s got enough porn stashed for a rainy day and knows the exact video he needs to get off you.

“You’ll love this.” Heeseung turns the laptop towards Sunghoon, who pulls his cock out of the toy and walks closer to his friend. “It flows out of her.”

“Come here.”

Sunghoon’s command makes Heeseung push his cock towards his friend, who brings his own against him. Heeseung winces at the still-unfamiliar feeling of somebody’s dick pressing against his own but welcomes the warmth when he sees Sunghoon pushing the toy’s pussy over both of their tips. He pretends it’s you they’re fucking.

“Fuck me,” Heeseung moans when Sunghoon starts to thrust against him. “Her pussy’s sensational.”

Sunghoon grunts, eyes focusing on the video beside them. “Good girls like cum stuffed inside of them.”

“Give me your fucking cum!” the girl in the video begs. “I want a creampie. Can’t you see how much I want it?”

“I’ll give it to you,” says Sunghoon. Heeseung, lost in his ability to think and function properly, thrusts against Sunghoon too. “Oh shit, Hee. Keep going. Fuck her pussy too.”

“Need your cum in me now! Please, please, please give it to me.”

“Fuck. I’m cumming.” Heeseung feels his balls start to tighten and clenches his jaw as Sunghoon pushes against his cock with more force.

“Cum! Cum in me!”

“I’m cumming too.” One final thrust from Sunghoon makes Heeseung’s cock burst and the flow of his cum makes Sunghoon cream the toy too, both of them moaning your name as they reach their absolute peak.

They don’t stop thrusting, riding out their collective high as their mixed cum slathers their warm cocks and bubbles out of the toy. Sunghoon feels their combined loads seep down to his balls the more he slaps it against the toy.

The video ends and Heeseung folds the laptop shut as he pulses against Sunghoon, who holds the toy still above them as he finishes cumming. He only pulls it away after making sure both of them have released every last drop and watches as it flows out and onto Heeseung’s softening dick.

“Gets better every time,” Sunghoon whispers, bringing his fingers to rub the toy’s folds and stuff their cum back inside. “You good?”

“I want to try double penetration with Y/N even more now…Is it weird that I liked that? A lot?”

“Nah.” Sunghoon tosses Heeseung a tissue box. “Whatever helps you get off.”

***

please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed :) x

[fastandcarlos]

What Baby Wants, Baby Gets : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: he might try and guilt you for making him go out in the early hours to satisfy your cravings, but you won't let him win

You couldn’t help but smile as Max groaned beside you, his arms stretching up before his hands ran over his face, head tilting to his left so that he could glance across and take a look at you. 

“Morning,” you whispered, resting your head down against his shoulder. “Did you have a good sleep?” You then asked, sniggering as Max scoffed, his head immediately shaking across at you. 

In the early hours you found yourself struggling, unable to push the thoughts of your cravings to the back of your mind. For a while Max managed to ignore it, but eventually he made the mistake of asking if you wanted something, only for you to tell him yes. 

It felt like a figure of speech when you first fell pregnant, with Max telling you to get him if you needed something, wherever, whenever. But he didn’t quite imagine himself actually being woken up at two in the morning with you begging him to help you out. 

“Last night was a one-time thing,” Max told you, covering his mouth as he let go of a yawn. “Do you know how long it took for me to fall back to sleep? Especially with you snoring right beside me.” 

An apology came from you, but so did a chuckle as Max glared down at you. As soon as your craving what satisfied, you found yourself easily able to fall asleep, not worrying about Max and the fact that he was now the restless one tucked up beside you. 

Although he teased, he was relieved to see you resting though, knowing just how little sleep you were getting with your baby constantly reminding you that he was there. 

“I do appreciate what you did last night,” you whispered, brushing your hand gently through Max’s hair. “You didn’t have to get up and run to the store.” 

“I did, because I promised that I would always do whatever I could to help you,” Max reminded you, kissing against the top of your head, “and what baby wants, baby gets.” 

Your head nodded as Max trailed one of his hands down to rest against the top of your baby bump, his smile wide as he felt just how big it was again, knowing that you were already nearing the halfway mark. 

“I know for a fact that this little one appreciates what you do too, they were feeling particularly peckish last night,” you added, pressing a kiss to Max’s shoulder. 

His eyes rolled as once again you used the baby to get to him, knowing that if there was one person that he couldn’t say no to, it was definitely your baby. 

“I can’t wait for when the baby arrives so I can tell you to go and get your own food again,” Max joked, “you won’t be able to treat me like your slave anymore.” 

“You’re so dramatic, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy all of this.” 

It wasn’t exactly his favourite thing to do getting up in the early hours of the morning, but knowing that he was helping you out did fill Max with pride. 

“Maybe I’d enjoy it more if you asked at a decent time,” he laughed in response. 

“I don’t think I get much of a choice, if you’ve got a problem, bring it up with your child instead,” you smiled, tapping against your baby bump. 

Max’s eyes watched over you carefully as you moved closer into his side, moving one of your hands to rest against the small of your back. A groan came from you as you tried to get comfortable again, a game that you had been playing with your child for several weeks now. 

“Do you think the baby knows the most inconvenient times are to be annoying to us?” You asked Max, hearing a chuckle come from him. “Why can’t they be restless at lunch? That would be perfect.” 

“I don’t think they’re smart enough to tell the time yet,” Max sniggered, squeezing around your frame. “It’s going to get easier, hopefully the cravings will stop soon.” 

Your head nodded as Max tried his best to reassure you. Whenever you were struggling, he was right there with you, somehow Max always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better, making sure to hold onto you too to let you know that he was there. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Max whispered closely to your ear, “whatever comes our way then we’re just going to take it on together and find a way to figure things out.” 

You hummed as Max spoke, a lot more doubtful than he was. If he could, Max would read just about every baby book, watch every documentary, absorb as much knowledge as he possibly could to make sure he knew exactly what to do in every possible situation. 

“If it’s not morning sickness it’s cravings, and then once that finishes then it’s going to be the lack of sleep, soon enough I’m not even going to be able to see my feet.” 

Before you could continue, Max quickly shushed you. “And I’ll be there to help you with all of that, no matter where we are or when it is.” 

“I thought you didn’t like the early hours?” 

Max jabbed against your side as you teased him, knowing that regardless of the time he would always be there. It hurt him a lot seeing you so uncomfortable so often, he wished that there was more that he could do to make your life easier than it currently was. 

“If I were you, I’d make the most of me running around after you,” Max grinned, “because once the baby is here, they’ll be the only person I’ll be waking up at three o’clock in the morning for.” 

“You mean to say you’d leave me to fend for myself?” 

“Absolutely,” Max jokingly smiled, “you’re capable of getting up and sorting yourself out, a little baby isn’t quite as developed as you are.” 

“I’m spending nine months growing this child of yours, just in case you’ve forgotten that,” you quickly reminded him. 

“I know, I’m just messing with you,” Max assured, squeezing your frame. “I might have to cut myself in half so one part of me can look after you and the other look after the baby, that way I might just be able to be in two places at once.” 

“I’ll be alright,” you whispered, only for Max’s head to shake, refusing to let you take care of yourself straight away once the baby arrived. 

It didn’t matter whether you were pregnant or not, injured or in peak condition, Max loved looking after you and would always do so, regardless of how much you sometimes protested against him. 

Now more than ever he was glued to your side, he’d tease you and mess with you but he wouldn’t have it any other way, being able to help you was one of the things he enjoyed the most at the moment. 

“I can’t wait to see how things play out over the next few months, how big of a change is about to take place in our lives,” Max mused, resting his head on top of yours. 

“I’m terrified,” you admitted, “no one can predict how this is going to play out, there’s a fear of the unknown lingering in the back of my mind right now.” 

“You don’t need to worry,” Max assured you, “no matter what happens, we’re going to face it together, I’m going to be right here with you.” 

“Even in the early hours of the morning?” 

“Even in the early hours my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[entirelysein-e]

『 Faking it 』

☼ synopsis: you fake an orgasm and they notice so they punish you

☼ characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

☼ wc: 1.0k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, creampie, thigh riding, hair pulling, mentions of fingering and masturbation/toys, degradation (reader being called "bitch", "pet"), pet names, mean!Toji

☼ notes: once again I am daring you to comment and / or reblog to let me know your thoughts 🫶

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Geto:

✧ You were just exhausted from the day and somehow your head was everywhere but in the moment, despite wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to rail you like he was doing

✧ Geto had you on all fours before taking a fist full of hair to pull you up against his chest and you could feel his hips stutter

✧ Not wanting him to hold back you just faked it - giving it your best act

✧ He scoffed and pushed you into the mattress, your hips still high as your head got buried in the surface beneath you, but he pulled out right before he came, letting his seed shoot over the globes of your ass and lower back

✧ You pout at that “you promised to cum inside tonight,” you whined and heard him chuckle while shaking his head

✧ “Only good girls get filled with my cum - and you certainly aren't one,” he hissed before releasing your hair from his tight grip and you knew that he knew

✧ Before you were able to explain yourself to him he patted his thigh, his back resting against the headboard “If you still want to cum you gotta work for it,”

✧ You were pouting but yes, yes you wanted to release so badly, unsure why you even faked it but this was your punishment now

✧ You straddled one of his thighs, his hands having a death grip on your hips to rut you against his leg at his desired speed - slow and with barely any pressure, making sure to let you suffer

✧ “Go ahead, love, thank me for helping you,” He hummed, a playful smirk on his lips

✧ Without thinking much, you started thanking him for being so generous, for helping you to find pleasure. It made you feel so ashamed of faking it but that's exactly what he wanted

✧ “Keep up this slow pace, be a good girl and i might even slip a finger into your cunt,” He breathed against your ear, knowing how much you love to ride his fingers

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Gojo:

✧ Gojo knew something felt off when your moans weren't the same, sounding rather fake so it came as no surprise when you faked it

✧ You don't even know why you did it, things just didn't feel as intense or like you're gonna release any time soon and hoped he wouldn't notice - bot oh he did notice

✧ He just continued as if he didn't know and finished a short while later but rolled off right away, a playful smile on his lips and that's when you knew that you're fucked

✧ “Have fun finishing yourself off then,” He hummed unbothered, that teasing smirk only getting bigger when he saw your mortified face

✧ “Didn't think i would notice, hm bunny?” He asked amused before turning to face you, his head propped up on one arm

✧ You felt like a deer in headlights under his mocking gaze along with his teasing and somehow you really hoped he would help you release

✧ But Gojo wouldn't be Gojo if he wouldn't be a menace, slender fingers dancing over your skin, always close but never touching the areas where you needed him so desperately

✧ “Is my cock not good enough anymore? Do you need your own little fingers now? Maybe even your adorable toy? yeah, i know of your little secrets,” He teases relentlessly, making you flustered but so turned on

✧ “Go ahead and touch yourself for me… let me see,” he giggled, wanting to guide your movements with his voice now

✧ He wouldn't touch you in order to help you, that was your little punishment

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji:

✧ RIP to your little kitty

✧ Why you thought faking it is a good idea? Maybe because you know exactly how mad he gets after

✧ It hurts his ego more than anything that he can't satisfy you to the point where you see it necessary to fake it but you love how he reacts - so you do it anyways

✧ Tojis hips slow down in pace when your walls don't grip him like a vice as they usually do and with one swift movement he manhandled you into a mating press

✧ “Think I'm too dumb to notice, angel? Let me teach you a lesson,” he growls while he pushes your legs tightly against your chest, his cock now deeper than before which made you whimper

✧ “That's what I thought. Crying for me like a bitch in heat,” he continues to degrade you but this is a punishment, you're not getting it the way you want it

✧ His pace is now oh so slow, far too slow for your liking but you feel the tip of his length drag against your walls and brushing against all the right spots which made you lose your mind

✧ You were now stuck, folded in half between your lover and the mattress while he tortured you with slow thrusts, a mischievous grin painted on his face that screamed victory as his degrading words fell from his lips

✧ You were a mess by the time he was done with you, far too overstimulated and every drag of his cock along your walls borderline painful

✧ "Who knew my baby can only cum when degraded into nothing but a hole for me to fuck," he chuckled before pulling out so you won't get the satisfaction of being filled by him

✧ Toji came over your face just to degrade you some more “go clean yourself up. You're such a mess,” he ordered but waited for your return

✧ When you were back in his arms he hummed softly “did you learn your lesson now, angel?”

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[with-my-calamitous-love]

burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's still goofy XD

WC: 1800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You’re sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand, waiting for your friend to finish flirting with the bartender so you can pay your tab, when you hear a familiar voice from behind.

“Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

You glance over your shoulder wearily, instantly recognizing the tall aviator you met at the clinic earlier in the week. Bradshaw, was it? “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, giving him a polite smile before turning away.

Bradley doesn’t take the hint and plants himself on the barstool next to you. “So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to keep calling you Doc? Might get a bit awkward in bed.”

You snort into your drink as you’re taking a sip. Bradley grins, clearly pleased that he’s made you laugh. His slightly narrowed eyes sweep over your face with a quiet confidence, and you find yourself rather enjoying his attention. “Well, for the sake of making things less awkward,” you respond with a small smile, and then tell him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then leans forward slightly to add, “again.”

You bite into your lip to suppress your widening grin.

“I was hoping I’d run into you, actually,” he comments, turning away to flag down the otherwise occupied bartender.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, feigning surprise.

“Yeah,” Bradley responds, tapping on his beer bottle and nodding at the bartender. He turns back to you and shrugs. “Saves me from having to fake an illness to come see you.”

You eye him somewhat reproachfully. “That would be extremely inappropriate.”

Bradley laughs. “If you think that’s inappropriate, I’m not gonna tell you what I planned on doing once I got there.”

Your eyes widen at the insinuation. “Lieutenant!” you exclaim.

Bradley continues chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’d have liked it.” He winks and then nods at the bartender who’s brought him his beer.

You stare at him because his boldness is mindboggling. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” you point out.

He looks at you with amusement. “What head injury?”

“The one that brought you to my office?”

“You know what brought me to your office?” he says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder at a crowded table near the back of the bar. “Captain Maverick Mitchell. My self-appointed father figure,” he says in a tone that’s half-grudging, half-affectionate. “And possibly fate,” he adds as an afterthought.

You blink at him skeptically when he glances back at you. “Wow,” you say. “Pulling out the big guns.”

Bradley laughs again. “I have quite the arsenal.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say with a chuckle. “Aviator, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley responds proudly. Then he nods at the glass you bring to your lips. “Looks like you need a refill.”

You shake your head. “I was about to head out actually.”

Bradley purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “But then I arrived and changed your mind, right?”

You laugh slightly. “Not quite, Lieutenant,” you respond, rising from your stool and waving at the bartender. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Bradley gets out of his seat and pulls out his wallet. “Allow me, please,” he says.

“That’s not necessary,” you reply uncomfortably. You don’t like feeling indebted to anyone.

Bradley gives you a more serious look. “It’s the least I could do for nagging you this evening.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads of its own accord. You find Bradley reasonably attractive, sure. But it’s the way he carries himself that’s really got you hooked. You can hardly pull your gaze away. “Don’t forget about the part where you were the most obnoxious patient.”

Bradley lets out a hearty laugh. “That deserves a whole pint, Doc.”

You give him a smile. “Maybe another time,” you say politely. Despite his persistence, you can’t jeopardize your position at the clinic by consorting with a patient.

But before you turn to leave, Captain Mitchell approaches the bar and, upon perceiving you, he exclaims, “Oh! It’s the doctor!” He gestures in your direction while looking at Bradley.

Bradley gives him a flat look. “No shit,” he says.

Maverick glances between the two of you and then nods in realization. “You’ve spotted her already.”

You press your lips together to conceal a smile as Bradley brings a hand to his face like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his ‘self-appointed father figure’. “Hello again,” you say to the captain, extending your hand.

“Good to see you, Doctor,” Maverick replies with a knowing grin, shaking your hand. “Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

“Oh god,” Bradley groans. “That's embarrassing.”

Maverick looks over at him with a confused expression while you giggle. “I was actually planning on scheduling him in for a follow-up,” Maverick says. “Noticed some concerning behaviors.”

You raise your eyebrows while Bradley watches Maverick’s profile incredulously.

“New behaviors?” you ask, glancing back at Bradley.

“No, no.” Maverick waves a hand nonchalantly as he settles onto a barstool. “Not new.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Why are you such a shit disturber?”

Maverick laughs and claps him on the back. “You buy the lady a drink yet?”

You drop your head slightly to hide your growing smile.

“I was trying to,” Bradley declares. “Before your ass showed up.”

You look up apologetically at the two men who are now watching you expectantly. “I’m not…thirsty.”

Maverick winces while Bradley’s shoulders visibly fall. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?” Bradley says, gesturing at Maverick with his thumb again.

“How is it my fault?” Maverick exclaims.

“It’s not his fault,” you attest, glancing at the captain.

“You should talk some more about my concerning behaviors,” Bradley retorts.

Maverick snorts. “I was kidding!” he says. “She knows!” he gestures at you. “You know, right?”

You glance between the two men patiently, wondering if they realize just how much they have in common. “Neither of you is driving tonight, right?” you ask, feeling, for some strange reason, a sense of responsibility for them.

Maverick turns to face you with a jolt. “I’m sober,” he asserts.

Bradley’s eyebrows converge in a dubious expression before he looks back at you. “He’s not driving,” he confirms.

“And you?”

“This is only my second beer!” he exclaims.

You meet his gaze with a smile because you don’t want him to feel attacked. “Okay,” you respond gently. “Drive safe.”

You start to walk away when you hear Bradley say, “Can I walk you to your car, Doc?”

You turn to face him again, about halfway to the door. “You know my name now,” you say, and he grins at you.

“I do,” he agrees. “That was for old times’ sake.”

You sigh. “Sure, Lieutenant. You can walk me to my car.”

…

Out in the parking lot, Bradley muses, “I’m thinking of maybe dislocating my shoulder next week. That’s an easy fix, right?”

You look over at him sharply. “That’s not funny.”

Bradley grins. “Not even a little?”

You roll your eyes at him and continue walking.

“Come on, Doc!” he calls after you. “My sense of humor is a good thing, remember?”

You smile to yourself and slow your pace to let him catch up. “There are other ways of getting my attention besides injuring yourself,” you remark as he falls back in step with you.

“Such as?” he asks.

You approach your car and unlock the door. “I can’t give away all the answers, can I?”

Bradley presses his lips together and grins. “Does that mean I have a shot?”

You lower your gaze coyly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“That’s not a ‘no’,” he points out.

You smile, glancing back up at him. “No,” you agree. “I suppose it’s not.”

Bradley’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he holds your gaze. “Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

“No,” you reply almost immediately. Then, after a beat, you add, “Not yet.”

Bradley licks his lips, still grinning. “I’ll take it.”

You chuckle slightly, reaching for the door to your car.

“Can I stand here with you a little longer?” he asks, his voice a little more raspy when it isn’t bursting with confidence.

You pause, your hand still on the door, shocked at how desperately you want to oblige. How delightful it would be to just say yes on a whim. Without considering the repercussions or weighing the pros and cons. Without deliberation or apprehension. Impulsively. The word itself makes you flustered. “Okay,” you say, glancing up at him as he shifts a little closer.

Bradley smiles at you and leans his back to the car. He stands quietly for a few moments, just existing beside you, which you find both endearing and infuriating. You don’t have a lot of time on your hands and simply standing around is a colossal waste of it in your books. But something about the warm evening breeze paired with the smell of the ocean and Bradley’s crisp cologne makes the experience less harrowing, and maybe even possibly pleasant.

Still, you’re restless. “So, when you said you wanted to stand here, you actually meant stand here…” you comment.

Bradley glances down at you with an amused expression. “You got something else in mind, Doc?”

You half-snort, half-chuckle. “I just thought maybe you had something else to say. I didn’t realize we’d be standing in silence.”

Bradley grins at you. “It’s called being present.”

You study him with a slight grimace, genuinely trying to keep your cynicism at bay. Being present isn’t a kind of luxury you can often afford. Most days, you don’t even get a chance to eat sitting down. “What does that accomplish?” you ask.

Bradley, who’s still watching you with a smile, replies, “Does everything you do have a purpose?”

“Of course,” you say. “Why else would I do it?”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and puts his hands into his pockets. “That’s very practical of you.”

“It’s efficient,” you point out, trying to highlight the importance of productivity.

Bradley nods patiently. “Sounds like you need a night off, Doc.”

You laugh. “I just had a night off. But it had a purpose – my friend needed help wooing the bartender.”

Bradley chuckles. “Has the purpose ever been to just have a good time?”

You make a face and shrug. “That’s not really a priority of mine.”

“Wow, Doc, you’re a hoot,” Bradley replies facetiously.

“I warned you,” you remind him, opening your car door.

Bradley leans his arm over the frame of your car as you climb inside. “You know you leave me no choice, right?” he says, ducking his head slightly to peer into the vehicle.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“We’re going to have to rearrange your list of priorities,” he says.

You watch him for a moment, marveling at his persistence. His gaze drops briefly to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes again, and you wonder what it might feel like to be kissed by a guy like Bradley. It would probably be sexy and spontaneous. It would probably catch you off guard and possibly even offend you a little. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t mind being mildly offended if it meant kissing Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic goal,” you say. Your tone might be sarcastic, but the statement is fairly accurate.

Bradley grins. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

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[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[wonderjanga]

Kill Licenses

Stargirl was excited! Captain Marvel had just offered to let her fight crime with him in Fawcett. The man was like a big brother to everyone. That included her. He was super nice, was normally the person who first stepped up to diffuse a situation, and overall just a big teddy bear of a man. So it was a little bit a of a surprise when she saw him snap a rapist’s neck like a twig.

Marvel: *drops the body, muttering something about paperwork*

Stargirl: *gobsmacked*

Marvel: *looks over to her for a second before doing a double take* “Oh my gods I forgot you were here!” *sounds horrified*

Stargirl: “You just killed a man!”

Marvel: “I know- I know!” *leads her away from the body* “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” *sounds completely ashamed*

Stargirl: “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You killed a rapist. That’s one less evil in the world, but my question is how are you gonna get away with this?! Cap, you’re gonna go to jail!”

Marvel: “Ah… Well, no. I have a license to kill.”

Stargirl: “Wait, you can actually have one of those?”

Marvel: “Yeah, uh me, and most of the other Fawcett heroes have one. We’ve all had them since the sixties and had to get them renewed a while back. It’s not a bad thing to have for situations like this.”

Stargirl: “…Can I have one?”

Marvel: “Yes? No? I don’t know? You should in my opinion. It’s a good safety net for if you accidentally kill a villain. You just fill out some paperwork and you’ll be safe. Do you want one…?”

Stargirl: “Yes.” *immediate answer*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I mean, you’re a teenager, so you might need a parent to sign or something.”

Stargirl: “Well, I don’t have a parent right now, but I do technically have a temporary guardian at the moment.” *eyes him*

Marvel: “No… you’re not seriously suggesting…?”

And that’s how Marvel ended up taking Stargirl to a secret government base so she could get a kill license. Stargirl got a stellar recommendation from the Captain and passed with flying colors.

As they’re leaving the base…

Marvel: “Okay, so we need to lay some ground rules.”

Stargirl: “Ground rules?”

Marvel: “Yeah, ground rules. Now I know you’re not the type of kid to go around killing people all willy-nilly, but I’ll say it just in case, don’t go killing people all willy-nilly.”

Stargirl: “Well, duh, I’m not dumb.”

Marvel: “I know you aren’t. And now onto the actually important rule. Under any circumstances, do not kill around other heroes. That’s how Huntress got kicked out of the Justice League after all.”

Stargirl: “I can’t even do it around you?”

Marvel: “Well, I guess you could. And I guess you could do it around the other Fawcett heroes, but just make sure not to do it around heroes who don’t have a license, okay? I don’t wanna get in trouble, and I doubt you wanna get in trouble too.”

Stargirl: “Gotcha.”

Marvel: “Nice. Now that that’s out of the way, wanna go for victory ice cream since you got your license?”

A solid four months passed after this incident. The two forgot about it. They were chilling. Then, Courtney forgot that her stepdad didn’t know that she could legally kill a villain, fill out some paperwork, and face no repercussions.

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “YOU TOOK MY STEPDAUGHTER OUT TO GET A KILL LICENSE?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Marvel: “Nothing! I didn’t think it was a bad thing!”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “She’s sixteen. She sliced a man’s head off. CLEAN. With practiced precision. She doesn’t even have a drivers license! What in hell would make you think it’s a good idea to give her a kill license?!”

Marvel: “Okay, her slicing off someone’s head isn’t my fault. I didn’t teach her that, and the guys who gave her the license didn’t either.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Then who did??”

Marvel: “I don’t know! Maybe she’s just bloodthirsty?”

Stargirl: “No I’m not?” *sounds slightly offended*

Marvel: *ignores her* “Look, the point is, I’m sorry for not telling you but please, please, pretty please don’t tell Batman.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Why?”

Marvel: “Oh come on. He’s super anti-kill. If you told him he’d have me removed from the Justice League almost instantly.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Maybe you should be removed! You don’t just give a kid the okay to kill someone.”

Marvel: “I’m not giving her an okay to do anything. I only wanted her to have it as a safety net. I promise.”

It took a lot of convincing for Pat not to squeal to Batman, but thankfully, they got it in the end. Though, the man still ended up chewing the two out.

Inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s repost on my We Thought You Died?! post :) Thanks for the inspo!

[rosesradio]

Hey, I've got questions about your stance against ai

In writing, ik you are against Ai "writing your fic"

But are there ways ai can be used in writing fics that you are okay with?

Like obviously saying "Hey chatgpt, write a (insert fandom) fic where (insert plot) happens" then just copy pasting it, is wrong

But what about getting ideas from ai? Like prompts, or titles (like i did with 1 fic) or having ai re-write like a sentence to make it sound better or other stuff

tbh i don’t think it’s good to use AI like that for anything related to the creation of art. the brain is a muscle, and in order to hone your skills, you need to step out of your comfort zone. i for one hate titling my fics, but i’d rather struggle & then come to the satisfaction of finding a title on my own than asking a bot to spit a title back at me. plus, i’ve titled over 50+ fics, so that skill is strengthened with repetition.

(plus i’m pretty sure chatgpt is regenerative, meaning that if you send it your fic to give a title to, it can use your work as data to write other people’s fics :/)

prompts are even worse tbh. fandom thrives from conversation. if you’re looking for something to write, explore certain tags and post in them, i promise a real person will have an idea you’re interested in, and maybe you can make a new friend in fandom by talking about that idea together.

also, using AI for rewriting is probably the worst thing you can do. again with strengthening the muscle of your mind and honing the skill. you need to reread your work, reach out to others & maybe get an editor/beta reader. you can and should find writing blogs written by real people, and read books to find writing that intrigues you. that’s crucial to the human experience.

of course, i don’t mean any offense when i say this. i can’t stop you. but i for one would never turn to something non-human to aid in something i consider very human & vulnerable, and i don’t think you should either.

[dadvans]

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”

[hoshifighting]

hey baby, these last days I'm thinking so much about a dk (since he is all buffed out 🫦) and a reader so shy and has liked never came before... so the she and dk are dating and they wait a bit to do the deed and she doesn't tell him, but when his fingers are inside her she just moves like so much and try to push it off all because she never felt this much :c, then dk noticed she's a virgin and treats her so well

buff dk changed lifes

WARNINGS: virginity loss, fingering, overwhelming, inexperienced!reader, oral (both), begging, edging.

you’re already feeling flushed and flustered just from kissing, hands tangled in his hair, his lips warm against yours, and when his hand slips lower, fingers grazing down between your thighs, your whole body jolts, he murmurs something low about how horny you may be, and you feel your breath catch as his fingers slip under the edge of your underwear.

the second his fingers slide inside you, it’s like everything kicks into overdrive. your hips buck up all on their own, your mind foggy, and you gasp, hands coming down to grip his wrist like it’s too wet, too much, too intense, too everything. you squirm, legs trying to close, but he just keeps his hand steady, his fingers stilling inside you for a moment, like he’s giving you a chance to catch your breath.

“hey, hey,” he whispers, “you okay, baby?” something curious in his tone, and when you don’t respond right away, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes going all soft when he sees the shy, overwhelmed look on your face. and maybe he puts it together from how tightly you’re clenching around his fingers, how your body’s trembling just from a light fingering. “wait… is this your first time?”

you swallow, cheeks going all hot, but you nod, glancing away like you’re embarrassed. his expression changes instantly—any mischief is replaced by this gentle, almost reverent look, like he’s just discovered something precious.

“oh, baby,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin so tenderly it almost makes your heart ache. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve taken things a little slower.”

you try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a shaky breath. “i didn’t want you to… think i wasn’t ready or something.”

he smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly. “we’ll go as slow as you need. and if anything feels like too much, you just tell me, okay?”

you nod, and he eases his fingers back in, spitting on it to make it wetter, watching your reactions like he’s memorizing every little gasp and shiver. his fingers curl inside you, pressing is ''button''and it’s like a spark goes off inside you, makes you feel so sensitive you almost want to pull away, but you’re already too far gone.

“you feel that, baby? feel how good you’re squeezing me?” his fingers start moving and every time he curls them, it’s like this wave of pleasure builds up inside you, your body reacting on its own, clenching around him, hips lifting like you can’t get enough even though it feels like too much.

“seok—seokmin,” you whimper, and he leans in, lips brushing over your neck as his fingers keep working you open, the sound of everything echoing around the room, soft, slick, wet. he’s watching you the whole time, eyes locked on your face like he’s looking for any sign that you’re uncomfortable, but all he sees is you, flushed and breathless, trying to keep up with how good it all feels.

“you’re doing so good, baby. just let yourself feel it.” his thumb finds the clit, pressing down in these slow circles, and it’s like every nerve in your body fires up, hips rolling viciously, squeezing around his fingers so tight it’s like you’re holding onto him with everything you’ve got. he keeps whispering sweet, filthy little things, telling you how good you feel, his words melting into your skin as you get closer. and when you finally reach that peak, it’s like your body takes over, clenching around the digits,in seconds u are blissfully ruined in his arms.

oh, and he got patience like you wouldn’t believe. he’s not rushing anything; it’s almost excruciating how slow he takes things, like he’s teaching you the art of the dirty 😭, building you up in ways you didn’t even know you could feel before.

every time he’s got you spread out beneath him, his only goal is to take his time, making you wet with his mouth and his hands. fingers finding just the right spots to make your back arch, to make you gasp and cling to him. and he’ll look up at you between your thighs; “this is all you, baby. look at how much you’re already giving me.”

and god, he loves making you beg. the way he lingers between your legs, mouth hot and skilled, dragging you to the edge only to pull back at the last second, grinning when you whine, when you whisper his name all desperate. “you want more?” he’ll murmur, giving you just a teasing lick on the swollen clit, watching you melt. but he’s got that strict patience, only letting his fingers slide back inside when its wet, good and ready, working you slow.

sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly wicked, he’ll make you beg to do something for him. he’ll settle back against the headboard, a smirk playing on his lips as he pats his thigh. “if you wanna take care of me, you’ve gotta show me, baby,” he’ll say encouraging. “gotta know that you’re serious about it. come on, i know you can.” and you’ll find yourself crawling over, nervous but so desperate to please, eyes wide as you look up at him, hands trembling as you reach for his cock.

when you finally get his cock in your mouth, he’s so sweet, so patient, talking you through it, guiding you with gentle words and praise. “just like that, baby… that’s it,” he’ll murmur, trying his best to not moan as. he guides you. “you look so good like this, you know? so good for me.” and he’s got his hand in your hair, not forcing or rushing, just there, guiding you, holding you close. every time you pull back, gasping for air, he just smiles, brushing his thumb over your drooled bottom lip.

but he doesn’t let you get too far.

every time you think tonight’s the night, when you’re all worked up and ready, practically begging for him, he’ll just grin, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep, his fingers sliding right back between your thighs. “not yet, baby... not until you’re really, really ready. until you’re craving me so much you can’t stand it.” and he keeps you there, keeps you on edge night after night, learning every inch of your body, every little sound you make, until he’s got you wrapped around his finger—literally (?).

[scribblesofagoonerr]

the pests are back in town | chaos fc

summary: someone at arsenal made a rookie error and paired the aussie pest and british menace together for media day and it's the usual chaos like always. pairings: chaos fc reader!monkey x kyra cooney cross x arsenal wfc chaos fc masterlist

“It’s a joke right? Tell me it’s a mistake?” You overhear Steph question as you walk nearer to them and you’re curious to know exactly what they’re talking about.

Kim sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I don’t think so.”

“Alright, I’m here now the party can begin,” You joke, hobbling through with your foot still in a boot and grinning mischievously when you spot Lia chatting with Kim and Steph, “Hi, Wallaby! Did you miss me?” You ask, slinging your arm around the Swiss woman’s shoulder with a slight difficulty of her being taller than you.

“Hi little one,” Lia turns to give you a side hug, “How did the hospital appointment go?” She asks, concerned.

“Doc’ is dumb,” You murmur in a low voice, your mood changing instantly at the mention of the appointment you had this morning that didn’t go your way like you thought it would.

You were kind of disheartened by your latest hospital appointment, you didn’t get the good news that you were expecting after all and you were still going to be sidelined for a while yet, since your ankle fracture still hadn’t healed properly yet.

That definitely wasn’t made worse by the fall you had when you and Kyra tried and failed to do a TikTok trend, but that’s a story for a different day.

“Here’s the menace,” Steph jokes, ruffing your hair, “I see you still got the boot on, eh?”

“Unfortunately, I hate it,” You huff while definitely feeling grumpy and deflated about the news, “Stupid doc reckons it’s still not healed properly yet– I just wanna play and I have no chance of it anytime soon, it’s not fair!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried that TikTok trend then,” Kim remarks knowingly as she gives you a pointed look you’ve been on the receiving end of too many times.

“What TikTok trend? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about there, Kimmy,” You play dumb and shrug your shoulders.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kim states while she purses her lips.

Shaking your head, you pull a silly facial expression, “Nope, literally have no idea–  What’re you guys lookin’ so… Irked about anyways?” You wonder, noting the weary looks the three of them share, “What’s going on?”

“It’s gotta be a mistake,” Steph murmurs, staring at the paper with a blank expression on her face, “Right?”

Before you can get a straight answer, Lia jumps into the conversation again, “It’s gotta be.”

“What?” You repeat the question, staring at them while still none the wiser.

“Nope it’s not,” Beth appears, peering over Kim’s shoulder and confirming what you’re already itching to know.

“Oh god,” Steph mutters, shaking her head in disagreement.

You blink, still utterly confused about the topic of conversation they were on about, “What… What is it?” You exchange looks between all 4 of the older girls, but none of them are giving you anything to work with, “What’re you all on about?”

“You and Kyra,” Lia finally decides to be the one to tell you the good news, “You pair are together for media day.” She tells you, biting her bottom lip and clearly bracing for impact.

“Seriously?” Your eyes light up in pure glee, “Yes! Winner!” You're practically vibrating with excitement, and if it wasn’t for your dumb ankle fracture then you would definitely be jumping up and down in joy.

You and Kyra? A dangerous duo on any given day, but today– on media day– things were about to get even more chaotic.

Steph groans dramatically, “We’re all doomed.”

“Who made the mistake?” Beth furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head, “These two together are a nightmare– The last media day proved it alone!”

“Hey! We’re not that bad,” You insist, huffing in offense.

“Yes. You are,” Steph deadpans, “You and Kyra are the worst when you’re together. Need I remind you of Melbourne?”

“Oh, but that was such a fun time!” You exclaim, grinning mischievously, “I don’t know about you, but I personally had a blast out there.”

“I think Kim is still reliving that nightmare,” Lia chips in amusedly as you sneak a glance at your captain who you swear shudders at the memory, “This isn’t a good idea.”

You pout, crossing your arms together, “Oh, come on. You guys seriously don’t think that much about us, do you?”

Beth doesn’t even think to hesitate, “No.”

“Absolutely not,” Steph shakes her head, reinforcing it.

You open your mouth to argue, but then Katie strolls over  with Caitlin while smirking, “Oh you guys just discovered the pests are together for media day?” She questions.

“This is a nightmare,” Beth shakes her head dramatically.

“Well that’s just rude,” You huff in response just as you spot your best friend and instantly perk up, “Ky! Guess what, we’re together for media duties!”

“What, seriously? Yes!” Kyra exclaims, letting out a cheer and definitely buzzing about the news.

“This is bad, so very bad,” Lia mutters to herself, shaking her head in disagreement.

You roll your eyes, exasperated, “Nah, nah, this is a great day!” You insist, “It’s gonna be wonderful. It’s like Christmas morning!”

Steph snorts, clearly amused, “If this is how excited you get for Christmas, you’ve got serious issues.”

You shrug casually, zero shame on your face, “Yeah, I know. I come with a lot of trauma,” You pause for a split second, “Dead dad, mum that abandoned me, blah blah blah,” You wave a hand like it’s not a big deal, “Need I go on?”

“Leah!?” Kattie furrows her brow in concern, “There’s something with your kid,” She glances around to look for the blonde, “I think she’s broken!” She jokes, dramatically.

“Oh no, she’s not broken,” Leah laughs in amusement, slinging her arm around your shoulder, “She’s just… Well, she’s Monkey.” She explains, shrugging her shoulders.

“See? I’m just– Hey, that was still an insult, Malfoy!” You grumble in protest.

“Monkey, we’ve already been over this,” Leah groans in annoyance, “Will you stop callin’ me that?”

“Nope,” You can’t help but smirk, “As long as you still continue to get wound up over it, definitely not.”

“Give me strength,” Leah mutters, rubbing her temples, “What’re you so happy about?” She wonders, noticing the cheshire grin on your face.

“Me and Ky are paired together for media,” You fill her in with a grin plastered on your face.

Leah can’t help but snort and shake her head, “That’s a joke, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Steph exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “Someone must’ve made  a mistake, right?”

“No, no, no,” Leah shakes her head promptly, “You two are… You’re trouble together, look what happened in America!”

“I think you’re overreacting slightly there Le,” You insist, rolling your eyes.

“Am I? Cos’ I think the fractured ankle really speaks for itself,” Leah deadpans.

“Urgh,” You groan dramatically, tilting your head back at the painful memory, “It’s bad enough I have this stupid cast, you don’t need to mention it as well.”

“Wait, does Kimmy still have your skateboard held hostage?” Kyra wonders, curiously as she wraps her free around your shoulder.

“Yeah she does,” The pout currently plastered on your face really just spoke for itself, “Le’s being the captain of the fun police and not allowing me to have any fun.” You mutter.

Leah clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “And risk breaking your neck as well? Yeah, not a single chance am I taking that risk– It stays at Kim’s out of the way since we can’t exactly send it back now.”

“But what fun is it if it just stays in the cupboard?” You don’t relent from this conversation as you huff dramatically, “How about…”

“How about we don’t revisit this conversation and forget about the skateboard instead, yeah?” The blonde cuts in with a knowing look.

“Monkey? Kyra?” One of the media team waves over to you both to get your attention, “We need you both.”

“We’re needed already?” Kyra furrows her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders, “Lets’ go!”

Your eyes light up in glee, “Fantastic, be right there,” Before looking back at the huddle of older girls, “It’s showtime!”

“Don’t be a brat and get in any trouble–” Leah begins to say.

“I’m sorry all I heard then was blah blah blah,” You interject with a mischievous smile on her face, “Come on Ky, let’s go and find out what we’ve gotta do!” With that, you quite literally pull Kyra in the direction of where you need to go.

Katie chuckles lowly at the blondes’ facial expression, “You’ve got your hands full with that one, ain’t you, Le?”

“Don’t even go there,” Leah huffs and shakes her head in response, “That girl sometimes, honestly she’s so bloody cheeky, but I do love her dearly.”

“Hi, I’m Kyra!” Your Australian counterpart jumps in first to speak, introducing herself.

“And I’m Monkey– “ You start but get cut off with the cameraman giving you a knowing look, “What? Seriously, I have to answer my actual name? Oh for *bleep* sake!”

“Monkey!” You hear Leah scold from the other side of the room, which you’re honestly shocked how she managed to hear that so far away.

“Sorry, sorry, anyways…” You quietly mumble your name begrudgingly in front of the camera that’s rolling, “I can’t believe you guys just made me say that aloud. I hate you all.”

The cameraman chuckles from the other side, “Continue.”

You huff and dramatically fold your arms, “Alright, well yeah, we’re gonna play ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?” You pause for a brief second, “This should be interesting.”

“Puts our ‘best friend’ knowledge to the test,” Kyra adds in, grinning teasingly.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes in response as you look at the cameraman, “How do we do this then?”

“One of you will read the cards aloud and answer, while the other sits further back with headphones listening to music,” The cameraman explains, motioning to the large bulky headphones on the table in front.

“Better be good music,” You remark in a cheeky tone of voice.

“Do you wanna go first?” Kyra asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah, sure why not… How hard could it be?” You smirk as you grab the cards in front of you, “Pft, easy, bring it on!”

With that, the camera stops filming for a second before it begins again with Kyra sitting on a chair a few feet away from you while you’re sitting on the chair in front.

“You good?” You question, Kyra responds with a thumbs up when she can’t hear anything and you giggle, “I could say so much right now…” You say, as Kyra continues to look cluelessly at you.

The cameraman chuckles, “Let’s get to the questions.”

You pick up the first card, “Where is Kyra from?” You read the question aloud and ponder thinking for a few seconds, “Australia, well Queensland to be more specific– Yeah I’m sure it is there!”

You switch out the card and scan your eyes over it,  “When is Kyra’s birthday?” You continue to read the next question aloud, “Easy, 15th February, 2002– You know you guys should really make these more easier for me,” You joke, grinning teasingly as you look directly at the camera.

Tossing the card aside, you flip to the third and final one, “When did Kyra make her debut for Arsenal?” You read the final one aloud, “Oo, this ones’ even better! It was last October, the first game of the season, which we unfortunately lost, but I was there,” You pause after giving your answer with full confidence, “I’m surprised I remember, cos’ I was sick, but yeah… her first debut was then!”

The cameraman chuckles, “That’s three for Kyra done,” He declares, turning the camera off and gesturing Kyra back to sit beside you, “Right, now we’ll film it so it’s Kyra reacting to your answers before switching roles. Sound good, girls?”

You wave dismissively, “Yup, no worries!”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kyra adds, planting herself down in the empty seat, as she camera starts rolling again, “How’d you do?”

“The questions were so easy,” You joke, cockily, “Kinda wish I had more of a challenge.”

“You seem overconfident right now,” Kyra smirks, taking a glance at the questions, “Alright, first question, where am I from?”

“Queensland, and now I think… Why am I doubting myself?” You frown, taking a minute to wonder if you have got it right.

Kyra laughs, “That is where I’m from!”

“Phew, first one correct,” You wipe your forehead dramatically.

“Next one– When’s my birthday?” Kyra repeats the question aloud you’ve just answered, “You should definitely know this one, if not then… Well, I don’t think we can be friends.” She jokes.

You pretend to think about it for a second, “Yeah I’m positive I know this one cos’ we celebrated it,” You give pause for the dramatic effect, “15th February, 2002. The day after Valentine's Day. Bleugh– Shit, I’m gonna be kicking myself if it’s wrong now.”

“Monkey,” The cameraman interjects from behind, shaking his head.

You feign innocence and give him a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Kyra snickers at the fact you have no filter sometimes, “Nice, yeah, that’s right!” She exclaims, “You’re doing so well… You know me so well!” She retorts, playfully.

“Well I’d hope so since I’m your best friend,” You respond with an eye roll.

“Final question,” Kyra speaks up as she gazes at the last question, “Tough one– When did I make my Arsenal debut?”

“First game of the season against Liverpool,” You answer way too confidently and immediately pray it’s correct, “Right? I hope so, I was on me deathbed for that game!”

“Nailed it,” Kyra confirms, grinning.

“Yay, go me!” You fist pump the air as you do a little wiggle in celebration and the camera’s stop filming, “So, now we swap?” You clarify with the cameraman.

“Yep, that’s right,” The cameraman chimes in.

Nodding in agreement, the camera cuts while you switch positions so you’re the one stuck with the headphones, and at least the music isn’t too bad.

You can’t hear a single word that’s being said, but you’re just content to listen to the music, singing the song in your head as you do a little shimmy in your seat.

It’s times like this where you wish you could lip-read, it’s not the easiest thing to do though and your attention span wouldn’t last that long sometimes before giving up.

You can’t help but let your thoughts wander away at this current time, “Maybe I can buy more lego soon? I need to add to my collection– You can never have too much lego!”

At last, you're given the gesture of a thumbs up before removing the headphones and get up to sit on a closer chair with the slight difficulty of the boot currently on your foot.

“Was that easy for you?” You joke with your best friend.

“Piece of cake mate,” Kyra grins in response.

You pick up the cards and read over the first one, “First question, what is my favourite drink?” You read aloud, smirking as you know she definitely does know this answer.

“Energy drinks, duh? You love them!” Kyra answers with a knowing smile.

You beam a wide smile and nod, “I do, even if I’m not technically allowed them anymore— Mean Malfoy!” You joke, looking directly at the camera and scowling.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Kyra jokes with a wink.

“Exactly,” You retort with a playful grin, “Alright, next question then– You should definitely know this, and if you don’t then, well, we need to rethink our friendship.” You tell her, jokingly.

“Our friendship’s on the line over this?” Kyra clutches her hand over her heart and faux’s her shock, “Well then I guess I’d better get it right. You adore both Shrek and anything Marvel related of course, and if it’s anything else then I’m not having it.”

“Ding, ding, ding, correct!” You grin, “I have watched them way too many times to count, but who cares?”

“I knew it!” Kyra exclaims, “Phew, our friendship still remains intact.” She jokes with you.

“For now, just as long as you answer the final question correctly,” You continue to wind her up, leaning in dramatically, “When did I join Arsenal?”

Kyra bites her bottom lip in hesitation, “See, this one was hard to remember, so I guessed and went with age 9, so I know you’ve been at the academy before signing the senior team...”

You shook her head in disagreement, “Want a clue?” You joke, amusedly, “Leah’s known me ever since I joined, and that was…” You pretend to count on your fingers, “11 years ago.”

“Oh!” Kyra’s eyes light up in realisation, “So, you were 8 then? I was so close!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “You’ve known her for 11 years? That’s wild! How’s she put up with you for that long?”

“Yeah, I know it’s– Hey, that’s cruel!” The realisation hits finally and you gasp, “Speak for yourself, you’re the Aussie pest.”

“Yeah, and you’re the British Menace,” Kyra jokes, grinning at you.

“Right that does it, this friendship is… it’s under discussion,” You shake your head dramatically, continuing to play up for the camera in front of you, “Two out of three, I suppose it’s not that bad,”

“I’ll take it!” Kyra shrugs her shoulders, “The last one really threw me off!”

You grin and wrap your free arm around her, “Awh, don’t worry. We’re still besties!” You exclaim, before attempting to wrestle her down to the floor as the older girls in the background catch wind of your antics, just as the camera stops rolling.

“Lessi is definitely the clumsy one in the team - she falls over all the time. I know that says a lot, considering I'm currently in a boot,” You say with a gleam in your eyes as a memory lights up, “Oh, oh! We have to tell them about, you know, what happened at training the other day!” You grin mischievously, already knowing the chaos you’re about to stir.

Kyra looks at you, clueless, “What happened at training?”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief, “You don’t remember?”

“No, should I?” Kyra questions, further confused.

“Of course, yeah! About Malfoy,” You retort, a cheeky grin plastered on your face.

“Monkey, don’t you dare,” Leah warns, shooting her a look.

“I dare,” You smirk in satisfaction as you see the daunting look on Leah’s face, “You see…”

Her eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in her jaw. Right as you're about to spill the story, Leah storms over and claps her hand over your mouth, cutting off your words so all that comes out are muffled noises, “Monkey, don’t push it,” The blonde warns in a firm tone of voice.

You roll your eyes dramatically, wiping at your mouth for emphasis, “I was just gonna get the fun bit as well, ” You shrug with an exaggerated innocence, using the advantage of your crutches  to try and keep her at bay so you can continue to yap like you wanted to do, “Anyways before I was so rudely interrupted about what I wanted to say… Oh yeah, Leah completely fell over the other day and it was hilarious to watch!”

“You’re such a menace sometimes,” Leah mutters in disbelief while shooting you a playful scowl.

“Yeah, but you still love me regardless,” You flash her an innocent smile, waving your crutch around in the air, “Come on, it’s okay to admit it that you do.” You add.

Leah arches her eyebrow in response, “It’s questionable sometimes when you come out with things like you do.”

However due to your own clumsiness you end up falling over in the process which causes Leah to instantly drop her annoyed act and immediately becomes concerned instead. 

“Oh my God,” Leah’s eyes widen as she watches you fall to the floor and rushes to help you back onto your feet, “Are you okay?” She questions.

“Ow, shit, that bloody hurt,” You grumble your profound language and completely forget that there’s still a camera rolling so that’s something the media team will have to work on editing out again, “Clearly I’m not stable on my feet, like I thought I was.” You continue to grumble, accepting Leah’s hand to help you up off the floor as you hiss in slight pain.

Leah tuts and shakes her head, her previous annoyance completely forgotten about now, “You really do need to be more careful,” She chides in a gentle tone of voice, “Or you’re going to make things worse for yourself my girl.”

“Yeah,  yeah I know, you don’t need to remind me,” You huff in response and use your crutches to balance your support to save you falling on the floor again, “I’m already stuck on these crutches for what feels like the foreseeable.”

“Exactly, that’s more of a reason to be careful little miss clumsy,” Leah retorts, once she’s made sure you’re okay before she takes the chance to rip into you a bit for your usual clumsiness.

Rolling your eyes in response, “Speak for yourself when you’re the one that fell over at training the other day.” You chip in again as she flash her a cheeky smile.

“Menace,” Leah murmurs now rolling her own eyes.

It’s only now that you realise the whole interaction has been filmed, “Wait… Was the camera still filming, like all of that?” You question.

“Yep,” A member of the media team responds in agreement.

“Urgh,” You let out an exasperated groan and shove your head in your hands, “Great, everyones’ gonna see my clumsiness. Fuck sakes.”

“Monkey,” Leah chides, shooting you a stern look, “Language.”

“English,” You reply while trying to feign your innocence, “Right, shit yeah, no swearing in front of the cameras. Noted…”

“Monkey, you did it again,” Kyra snickers in amusement.

Smiling in realisation, you look at the media time guiltily, “Whoops. I did it again, didn’t I? My bad.” You apologise to them, scratching the back of your head awkwardly, “I guess you guys’ are gonna have a fair bit to edit, eh? Well at least we keep things lively around here!”

© scribblesofagoonerr

[seewetter]

There's multiple things going on in the last goethefaustworld comment:

The first part reveals a lack of understanding of how economic processes work. Rich people are not simply rich, they continuously earn heaps of money. The idea that imposing a steep tax on rich people would "run the well dry" so-to-speak is absurd, because the well gets refilled all the time regardless of tax amount.

The second part ("Maybe stop expecting immediate gratification and actually start planning for the future…") indicates a view where anyone who wants the resources of oligarchs to be put to good use is short-sighted(?) and pursuing short-term enjoyment(???). I can't say what goethefaustworld is thinking, but it sounds a bit like an accusation that people who want reliable living standards to be implemented want this because they are uncomfortable contributing work to society and feel entitled to rewards. It's a character assassination of anyone who suggests large-scale improvements to our standard of living. Immediate gratification? If people thought of this as a cool plan to immediately get things for themselves, I think it would be presented and talked about that way. But the real point is that we can vastly reduce the amount of gratification people receive from committing petty crimes by allowing them to live in a society where their basic needs are taken care of. We reduce the gratification people get from being selfish pricks by making sure that being selfish just isn't that tempting or rewarding. I often encounter Christian conservatives that think they are being very wise by arguing against support systems for the poor with exactly this type of argument and I must say I'm appalled that they can criticize the supposed "laziness" of people who don't have to take work from irresponsible and selfish employers but seem to have no problem being lazy at problem-solving the problems of socially disadvantaged people.

The final point goethefaustworld makes is relevant, however. Because while ending homelessness (for example) is far cheaper than treating it, the economic rationale for maintaining homelessness is either quite complex or quite cutthroat. If it was a really cheap solution that would fix the problem forever and vastly cut costs for the rich...they would have implemented it. There is such a thing as capital flight and anyone who wants to change how the world works needs to account for it. However, what goethefaustworld might like to consider is that on the one hand, communication across societal boundaries (between the rich and non-rich, for example) can, at times, bring about positive change and on the other hand, not fixing these problems exacerbates tensions which eventually result in outcomes the rich can't avoid. Right now, fleeing positive reforms might seem like a great idea for rich people...but technically, they are not losing anything meaningful. We could absolutely live in a society that permits Jeff Bezos to own multiple yachts (and all the other tangible things he has or wants) as a perk for signing up for a new society where Jeff Bezos doesn't technically have control over his own money and where his money is spent on improving society. I don't really care that some people have lots of material perks that I don't enjoy. I don't care that I live in a society where acquiring a yacht costs hard work. Sounds good to me! No problem there. No, I'm just bothered by the suffering the rich inflict. The starvation that exists as the outcome of conscious political and economic choices. The genocide carried out against people who don't have enough economic or political power. The environmental devastation (oil spills, deforestation, whatever you want) caused by economic irresponsibility. These people tell you that they are hard working, yet they don't clean up their messes until forced to. Their companies brag about doing good...that the law forces them to and that they didn't do until the law forced them to.

What goethefaustworld seems to not grasp is that planning for the future is something you can only do when you think at scale. Your budget for what you will spend or earn over the next months can be blown away by forces far beyond your personal control. So we need those large, impersonal forces to work for us -- not because we are lazy, but because otherwise we are dead. A big corporation didn't find it profitable to secure their truck properly? Well you'll be displeased to hear that this truck is driving by you when you cross the street tomorrow and there's a fatal accident. You are not lazy, you are not looking for immediate gratification, if you are critical of where money goes and how it is spent. Should money be spent for more tax breaks for the rich? Because otherwise they'll flee the country, "get the heck out of dodge"? Or should we all be in charge of who gets to "get the heck out of dodge" or not? What are these people dodging, exactly? Policies that might help them save money? Policies that prevent other people from dying? Do they get off on people dying, is that why they call attempts at stopping them predatory?

When will people finally grow up and take societal improvement more seriously than a corporate bottom line that is part of an economic competition game where the winner gets money points?

[userautumn]

He knows he shouldn't, but Buck texts Tommy anyway. Once Jee is covered in chocolate and cookie crumbs, once she's drifting off to sleep against his arm with Moana playing softly in the background, he pulls up their text thread with his unoccupied hand and clicks on the message bar. He ignores the grey and blue messages that sit above, messages—warm, kind, and loving—that speak to a happier time and instead chooses to type out a quick message.

Jee misses you.

He sends off the text and then pockets his phone. Slips out of Jee's sticky grasp so he can start cleaning the kitchen before it's time to put her to bed. He's so deep in thought that he almost misses the way his phone vibrates in his pocket.

What did she say?

"Uncle Tommy come play?"

Tommy doesn't respond for a while, long enough that Buck gets to imagine his face, pinched and in pain, with tears in his eyes. Or maybe Tommy's just fine. Maybe Buck is the one pinched and in pain, emotional and so damn sick of crying all the time.

I'm sorry.

Sorry to her or sorry to me?

It's not fair. Buck knows it's not as soon as he sends it, but Tommy replies seconds later anyway.

Sorry to both of you.

Buck stares at the text until his screen goes blank, trying to decide which of the emotions he's currently drowning in that he wants to feel. He settles on anger.

If you were that sorry, you wouldn't have dumped me three days after our six month anniversary.

Never mind.

This was dumb.

I shouldn't have bothered.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Bye.

Goodbye, Evan.

Buck's heart lurches into his throat at the sight of his name on screen, his eyes widening and his breath quickening. An embarrassing rush of hope stirs deep in his chest before he can clamp down on it and it feels like breathing for the first time in weeks. Another text comes through immediately after.

Sorry. It's a habit. I'm so sorry. Goodnight, Buck. Please tell Jee-Yun that I hope to see her soon.

Buck stares for a long moment, then lets out a laugh, thin and mirthless, as humiliation—so much fucking humiliation—crawls up his gut, filling his mouth with bile and shame. Right. He should have known. Did know, probably, somewhere deep down in his gut. But Evan Buckley has always been a dreamer, a believer in the impossible. Even and especially when it costs him.

I'm not going to lie to her.

Tommy doesn't answer, and this time, Buck knows he won't. He slides his phone back into his pocket and stares down at the countertop. His hands are braced on the flat, smooth surface, the fingers of one hand slick with soapy water. He doesn't cry, but it's a damn near close thing. Hell, with the pain currently slicing and carving its way through his chest, he could probably scream with it, but he won't. He won't scare Jee and he won't wake the neighbors, he'll just... deal with it. Like he has been dealing with it, like he always deals with it.

Buck takes a deep breath. Then he grabs the dishcloth he'd thrown aside and walks back over to the sink. Dips the rag in hot, soapy water and wrings it out before returning to wipe down the counters once more. Whatever. All of this is just... whatever. Tommy breaks his heart—he lets Tommy break his heart—for the second time in a row and it's just fucking whatever. Right now, the kitchen needs to be cleaned and Jee-Yun needs to be woken up so she can brush her teeth before he tucks her in, and life does what it does best: it goes on.

He can cry about Tommy Kinard later. It's not like he gets much sleep these nights anyway.

[capseycartwright]

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

ao3 link

Buck was driving himself to Eddie’s before he could really even think about it, the autopilot of his brain engaging and getting him behind the wheel, and on the road to his best friend’s house without needing much thought at all. Eddie was who he needed, in that moment – not Maddie, and her sage advice, not Hen, who’d be clever, and logical about it all. No, he needed Eddie. Eddie, who inexplicably opened the front door in his underwear and a pink shirt. Eddie, who let them sit in silence, a playlist churning out eighties rock for a full twenty-three minutes (Buck checked) before Eddie said anything at all. 

“So,” Eddie set his empty drink down, gesturing to Buck for a second. Buck twisted the cap off before he handed it over, adding to the pile on the coffee table. “What happened? You said that you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” 

Buck groaned, the sound loud in the quiet of Eddie’s house. “I was supposed to be,” he slumped back onto the couch. “But then he dumped me.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “He dumped you?”

“He dumped me,” Buck confirmed. “Because I am a deeply unlovable individual who is going to die alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think you might be being dramatic there.”

“I’m not!” Buck protested. “Eddie, everyone I date dumps me – or leaves me. That apparently doesn’t even change when I’m dating a man. It’s not – I thought it would be different, with Tommy.” 

“Because he’s a man?” Eddie’s confusion wasn’t judgemental – no, Eddie never judged him, Buck was sure of that much. It was sincere confusion, his best friend wanting to understand where Buck was coming from.

“Yeah? No? I mean – maybe,” Buck huffed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate himself. “I guess – I guess I just thought that now I know who I am, that I’m like – consciously aware I’m bisexual – it might be different. That maybe it didn’t work out before because there was this part of me that I didn’t know, or understand, and that had affected my relationships because I wasn’t bringing my like, whole self to the table. But if it didn’t work with Tommy, then that’s not why. Right? Then the problem is me.” 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I don’t think the problem is you, Buck.”

“It has to me! I’m the only common denominator here.”

Buck wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down on Eddie’s couch and cry until he had nothing left – and it wasn’t about Tommy, really, because Buck had liked Tommy, but the end of their relationship wasn’t what was making him feel so devastated. It was the idea of Tommy, more than anything else – what Tommy represented. A happily ever after that Buck was falling short of all over again. 

“What did Tommy say, exactly? Maybe – maybe you’re spiralling, and he gave you a good reason that you’re not seeing.” 

“He – I asked him to move in with me.” 

“Buck.”

Eddie sounded long-suffering. Buck had earned that. He knew that much. “I know,” he knew it had been the wrong move. The words were barely out of his mouth, and Buck knew it had been the wrong move – but that was sort of his thing, to cling desperately to relationships that didn’t work because he was so terrified of being alone. “I just – I felt comfortable with him, and the whole Abby thing was weird.”

“Really weird,” Eddie agreed, wincing. 

“But not the kind of weird I couldn’t get past. Right? He came over tonight, and I told him – why be apart when we could be together. Then, he said he couldn’t move in with me, because if he did, I would only break his heart,” Buck sighed. He wouldn’t intend to. That’s what Tommy had said – but who ever planned to break someone’s heart? No one was that cruel. Maybe they were – but Buck wasn’t. He’d never wanted to break anyone’s heart, even if that had been the end result sometimes. 

Eddie was quiet for a second. “Did he say why he thought you’d break his heart?”

Buck’s beer burned his throat as he took another gulp, the sour taste lingering. “He said that he was my first, but he wasn’t my last.” 

read the rest on ao3