#midnight-radio-host

[unclemoony]

Just started Midnight Burger... Is Casper okay?

[facesofthefog]

Artfight attack for @midnight-radio-host <3

[contentabnormal]

This week on Content Abnormal we present Basil Rathbone & Nigel Bruce in The New Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes adventure "The Unfortunate Tobacconist" followed by a spooky tune from our good friend Buddy Keys!

[ethereal-maia]

did u guys know I’m literally obsessed with terrestrial radio

[nmakii]

How about yandere! Alastor (human) with a reader who ran away from him... Reader and Alastor are married out of obligation (because of the decade), but what no one counted on was that Alastor really fell in love and was obsessed with his wife, but the reader didn't ...because of work and his secret (that he killed people and devoured them) Alastor hardly spent time with the reader.. Reader then began to fall in love and have a secret relationship, without Alastor knowing.. . So even though reader didn't want to hurt Alastor, since she saw him as a friend (more than her husband), reader ran away with her lover and passion... Leaving behind a very angry Alastor... (reader doesn't know what Alastor It's true)... What would happen?

NO ONE’S BETTER THAN I AM

— the feeling of a fresh love— oh, how wonderful. you only wished that man would have been alastor, just so that he wouldn’t have hunt your true love.

— hey pals 🔥🔥!! i took manipulation tactics from my social studies class and mother gothel, did i do well? HAHAHA :]

being married to alastor, the radio show host is quite the sensation in your town. you grew to be quite a local celebrity, many women even attempting to befriend you to get closer with your husband.

although, because of your marriage, many assumed you were a woman of many talents and high intelligence. but, unfortunately… it appears as if you have the perfect life; beautiful home, wonderful husband, a comfortable life— and, while most of it is true, it is still very far from the truth. the sad truth of it all was that this was a marriage of convenience

it was the only thing that made sense. you and alastor were close in age, you were both still single, you refused to marry a man as old as your father, alastor simply wished to rid himself of the many women throwing themselves at him, and you were already quite close to him since your parents were close, it was the best-case scenario.

when both of your parents had learned of the news, that alastor proposed to you, they were more than delighted. alastor’s mom immediately welcomed you into the family as one of her own, and alastor had grown to be fond of your father.

in front of cameras and watching eyes, alastor played the role of a loving husband well; keeping you safe with an arm wrapped around your waist, giving you his coat in cold weather, and speaking nothing but lovely worship in your name.

you played the ‘doting wife’ role surprisingly well too. the only thing that was different was alastor didn’t stop the act when you were behind closed doors.

‘what if someone is spying on us, hm? they may reveal our little secret to the media!’ that was his excuse. and your reason to let him kiss you, hold you against his chest, and even join you as you bathe occasionally. it always felt weird though. to you, alastor was nothing more than a friend, even something like a brother. doing all these intimate and romantic things with him, it felt wrong.

and even despite all the intimacy, you still felt lonely. here in your large house, you felt lonely; cooking a dinner for two, eating as one, and always having to leave the pot simmering over the stove, so that it’s still warm for your husband. warm for him up until midnight, when he’d usually come home— sometimes even returning home later…

and, on these late nights, you’d remain sleepless. what could he be doing? his radio broadcast only lasts up until 9 in the night. could he possibly be engaging with a mistress of sorts? doing all kinds of scandalous things before returning to your bed, bringing your back close to his chest and resting his face on the nape of your neck.

although it was unlikely… considering how you always wake up to a love letter from alastor in place of where he should be in your bed, but nonetheless, it didn’t stop those thoughts.

eventually, life began to grow boring… chores day and night before going to sleep again— it was just a boring cycle that filled your life with despair and simply just making you miserable.

that is, until you met eugene. quite the handsome man, he may even be a model! you ran into him when he was in a luxury shop, inspecting various items for purchase.

his fuzzy eyebrows, his big brown eyes, and his charming and gorgeous american smile— it’s hard not to fall for such a man.

it started off so innocent; just meeting him to shop together, then it escalated into lunch together, and then that night…

alastor brought you to a club he frequented, and just by coincidence, eugene had been there with some of his high school friends. under the influence of alcohol, alastor had climbed up the stage and danced along. laughing at your silly husband, you pointed him out to eugene as well.

and, in that moment he turned you around and kissed you. you tensed, fearing the sudden infidelity; how media would cover this kind of news for months. oh wait… everyone’s wasted, aren’t they..?

your breath heaved in fear, eyes darting to your husband, not even glancing at you— that was when you melted into his kiss.

after that night, the two of you had made an agreement to rendezvous every now and then at your house while alastor was still busy as ever at ‘work’.

and as these meetings with eugene became more and more frequent, the two of you may have… fallen in love. despite that, you still felt guilty; cheating on your husband who has done nothing but be a gentle and loving provider, how could you repay him like this?

but, then again, it is simply a marriage of convenience… alastor doesn’t love you, he couldn’t possibly… the two of you are best friends! so, if you told him, would he mind?

still, you couldn’t possibly risk it. this isn’t a relationship that will last long if the two of you keep it a secret, you have to find a solution soon.

“run away with me.”

“what?! are you insane?!?” you frowned at your lover. “you need to get away from him, and you’re too scared to tell him, aren’t you? it’s the perfect solution.” he argued back.

“alastor… won’t accept it that easily… he’ll probably try to hunt us down, then take me back…” your nose scrunched in fear at the thought. “isn’t it worth the risk, my love?” he took your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on your fingers. “ah, f…fine…”

a week later, that was when you decided to leave. you packed a suitcase filled with your belongings. honestly, it was not much. most of the things in the house were bought by alastor before he had married you.

you were just about to leave, your lover right outside the door with a getaway car, prepared to leave your life in new orleans behind when your husbands voice stopped you.

“going somewhere, my love?”

“alastor! w-what are you doing up?” you jumped, turning around to face him. “i’d like to ask the same thing, my sweet darling. why do you have a suitcase and a car waiting for you?” he grinned wide, tilting his head.

“ah— i was gonna go out of state for a surprise for you…” you lied, breath shaky. “were you now? was this surprise that i’d never see my beautiful wife ever again?” he scoffed, walking over to you and grabbing you by your chin.

“did you think i’d really be so ignorant as to not know when my own wife is sneaking out? especially to meet other men…” he raised an eyebrow. “alastor! t-this isn’t what you think it is…” you frowned, tears building up in your eyes.

“oh, my dear, how pretty you look when you cry…” he smiled, taking a finger to wipe your tears and putting his finger against his tongue. “fine then, leave your loving and sweet husband behind… just know that— i’ve already corrupted you for any other man to enjoy. no one will love a divorcee, will they?” he moved his hand to cup your cheek, gentle despite his harsh words.

“i’ll let you have your fun, darling. soon enough, you’ll realize that there is no man who can love you better than i can.” he pulled his hand away from you, moving to your hips and leaving a lasting kiss on your lips.

unlike how he usually is, this kiss was harsh, possessive, and brutal. so devoid of any love, it was a pure, unadulterated obsession.

“i know what is best for you, darling. i’ll see you home very soon.”

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series. 

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host. 

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night. 

---------------------------

Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions. 

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it. 

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now. 

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job. 

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely. 

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks. 

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard. 

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley." 

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt. 

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

--------------------------

Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too. 

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction. 

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer. 

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink. 

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool. 

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip. 

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer. 

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested. 

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

--------------------------

Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again. 

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning." 

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time." 

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned. 

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer. 

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold. 

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it. 

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked. 

"Immediately," he promised. 

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will." 

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute. 

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article. 

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here." 

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him. 

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink." 

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead. 

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk. 

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed. 

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?" 

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

--------------------------

The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him. 

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him. 

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed. 

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too. 

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room. 

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches. 

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him. 

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them. 

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off. 

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time. 

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort. 

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight. 

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper. 

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off. 

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you. 

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders. 

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself. 

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more. 

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back. 

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic. 

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair. 

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good. 

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly. 

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly. 

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing." 

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered. 

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again. 

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you. 

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

-----------------------------------

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

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@katiebby04

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@little-wiseone

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@thedroneranger

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@cherrycola27

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@desert-fern

[darl-ings]

midnight radio | jeon wonwoo

pairing: wonwoo x reader

genre: fluff, college au

warnings: none

word count: 2390

summary: in which you are a new host for your school’s midnight radio broadcast and wonwoo makes a call to the show

a/n: this has been in my drafts since 2021…

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to KU’s Midnight Radio. The song you just heard was Sabrina Carpenter’s Bed Chem. I’m Y/N, your host for this semester. As you may know, Midnight Radio is usually hosted by Soonyoung Kwon, or DJ Hoshi, our favorite eccentric dance major, but he’s studying abroad in Japan right now, so I’m here to host the show for him until he comes back in January. 

“You know, I’m actually not that nervous right now, even though I’m alone. I don’t know if any of you know me, but I hosted the show with DJ Hoshi and DJ Hong for a bit during last fall semester. I had a great time since I got to chat with my fellow peers during the late hours of the night. By the way, I hope you’re all having a good night so far. The first week has been really hectic for me, so I’m sure it was for a lot of you too. Make sure to get some rest. After the show, of course.”

You winked at the camera filming you, watching as the comments of the show’s Twitch stream began flooding in. You leaned forward, squinting your eyes to read them.

“Welcome, welcome. I see a few song requests, so I’ll make sure to play some of those later. Does anyone want to have a chat? The number is in the pinned comment if you guys want to talk. I get it if you don’t want to though. I’m having a pretty good time by myself.”

It took only a few moments for the phone to light up next to the laptop. A grin appeared on your face as you reached out to answer it, pressing the speaker button before leaning back to get comfortable in your chair. 

“Name and social security number please,” you joked, crossing your arms over your chest as you smiled over to the camera.

“Wonwoo, 738203830,” the voice answered back, causing you to gasp.

“Did anyone get that? Surely someone wrote that down,” you asked, grinning happily as you leaned forward to read through the flood of comments. “Some people caught that number, Wonwoo. Anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry to Kim Mingyu for outing his social security number,” the person stated, his seriousness making you laugh. The person on the phone chuckled too. “It’s not his actual number, by the way.”

“I’d hope not. If we’re thinking of the same Kim Mingyu, I’m positive he wouldn’t let you live another second if you gave that information away,” you laughed again, thinking about your good friend, Mingyu. 

“You’re right. Do you know him? Tall, good cook, thinks he’s good looking?”

“I do, but I’m not going to fuel his already big ego by talking about him during the show.”

“Good idea.”

“So, Wonwoo. Tell us about yourself. Anything interesting going on?” you asked, anticipating the stranger’s answer. Wonwoo hummed to himself in thought.

“My name is Wonwoo. I live off-campus with a few of my friends, Mingyu included. My major is--”

“Sorry to cut you off, Wonwoo, but if I have another awkward conversation about majors my head might explode. I said tell me something interesting! What are you doing right now?”

“Oh thank God, I wasn’t ready to have someone ask what classes I take and why I choose KU as my school. I hate when they ask that, by the way. Why do they care so much?” he questioned, making you chuckle.

“They don’t care. They’re just trying to fill the awkward silence with an awkward question.”

“Right. Well, what am I doing right now? Hm, I’m in my room watching your stream and talking to you. Mingyu’s cooking ramen for our other roommate Vernon, so I might steal some of it when he’s done making it.”

“It’s the right thing to do. But also, why are they cooking so late? It’s 11:30pm right now.”

“Vernon skipped dinner to go to the Asian-American club meeting. He’s one of the club leaders so he had a lot to do tonight.”

“That’s the best club on campus, by the way,” you pointed out to the camera. “Anyway, did you want to talk about anything, Wonwoo?”

“Hmm, let me think of something interesting. Should I ask an academic or existential question?” he asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you thought. 

“While I do love existential questions, I think since it's the end of the first week of school, we should talk about academic things. Don’t make it boring though. Maybe some advice?”

“Advice is a bit boring though…”

“I could just ask the next caller…”

“How do you get close to your peers?” Wonwoo quickly asked, making the smile on your face soften. “I mean, maybe we could give a few tips on making friends?” he suggested. You nodded along, clapping your hands gently.

“I like that, yeah. I know a lot of people, including myself, who had or are currently having a hard time getting close to others. Are you the same, Wonwoo?”

“I am.”

“Really? You don’t seem like it. We’ve had a good conversation so far, I think.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier to talk when you’re not face-to-face with the person, you know?”

“That’s true. Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable talking to a stranger right now.”

“Maybe… Look, I know we said we weren’t going to talk about Mingyu, but he’s a good example for our question. He’s a talkative person, right?”

“Very talkative.”

Wonwoo laughed. “I met him halfway through my sophomore year. He was a freshman but he was more popular than anyone I knew. He came up to me in the cafeteria when I was eating alone and just struck up a conversation with me. I’m surprised he didn’t stop talking to me after that since I was very quiet and gave him short answers. He’s my best friend now, so I’ve witnessed a lot of encounters when he just goes up to someone randomly and talks to them. We went to the grocery store earlier today and he just started a conversation with a worker in the bread aisle…” Wonwoo paused for a few moments, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I guess I’ve always wanted to have his voice. Not like–not his actual voice, but his ability to talk to anyone and keep them interested.”

You hummed at Wonwoo’s words, eyes on the comments as you spoke. “It seems a few listeners have friends like this too. But, yeah, I get it. My friend Yuqi is very extroverted as well. I wish I could make friends as easily as her, but also, I can tell it’s exhausting for them to talk so much. I don’t know about Mingyu, but Yuqi comes back to our apartment after a party and immediately crashes. She pushes herself to talk to all these people, but it just tires herself out. I’m sure if I tried to be that extroverted, I would probably die.”

“Same. I remember after my freshman orientation week, I slept for twenty-seven hours straight. I was going to sleep for more, but my roommate at the time called the on-campus police saying he thought I was dead.”

“Twenty-seven hours? Jeez, you practically were dead! But seriously, talking to people is so exhausting. Especially during freshman orientation! The amount of people I talked to during then was more than I’ve talked to in my entire life.”

“Of all those people I met, I only talk to one of them today. All of it was pretty pointless, but I’ve heard some people meet their best friends during that first week.”

“Yeah, I met a few of mine during then too. But, anyway, back to the question. How do you get close to people? Well, my advice is to remember that whatever you’re insecure about, whether it's your personality, your body, whatever, it does not matter. When you’re meeting someone, don’t focus on the negative things, like if you’re making a fool of yourself or if you look bad. No one cares that much, and if they do, they aren’t a good friend.”

“This is why it took me so long to make friends. I always felt that no one was listening to me when I spoke, so I convinced myself that I had nothing important to say. But my friends now teach me that my voice matters. Vernon especially. He doesn’t talk much, to begin with, but when he does everyone focuses on him, because we care about what he has to say. And when I talk, everyone looks at me and I feel like they’re listening.”

“That’s important, by the way! Make eye contact when you’re speaking with people. I feel so shitty when people aren’t looking at me while I’m talking. I always trail off and just stop talking. Make eye contact, and don’t multitask when someone is talking to you. It’s rude.”

“Don’t get me started on that. I hate when people are doing other things during a conversation, especially if we’re talking about something deep or important. And I really hate when people don’t listen to me after I just listened to them.”

“Please, everyone, listen when people talk. My self-esteem gets so low when people don’t listen to what I have to say. So please, listen to people and be active in the conversation.”

“Being active in the conversation is really important.”

“Exactly. So, in conclusion, listen, be active, and make eye contact. If you make people feel good while you’re talking, they’ll want to talk to you more,” you stated while pointing at the camera with a stern look on your face. You heard Wonwoo chuckle, causing your hand to falter. “Why are you laughing?”

“You’re just cute,” he answered simply, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks. You looked away from the camera, suddenly feeling very shy. “Wow, really? All it took was calling you cute to stop you from talking?”

“It caught me off guard,” you whined slightly, hiding your face with your hands. Wonwoo laughed at your reaction, causing a wide smile to fall on your lips. You removed your hands from your face, smiling at the phone. “Did Mingyu finish making the ramen?” you asked, resting your arms on the table. 

“Yeah, a while ago.”

“What? Why didn’t you go eat it?”

“Because I was talking to you. But I should go now. I think they’re watching Single’s Inferno without me.”

“Alright, Wonwoo,” you pouted slightly, sighing as you traced your finger on the table’s wood. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Y/N,” Wonwoo chuckled softly. It was embarrassing how easily a stranger could make your cheeks redden. The conversation with Wonwoo was the best one you’ve had in a while, and you were sad to end the call.

“I’m not,” you denied, sitting up to scoot closer to your laptop. You read through a few comments before speaking up. “The people don’t want you to leave.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you answered, reading a few more comments. “Someone said you should co-host the show with me,” you giggled.

“That sounds fun. Maybe I’ll look into it for you.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” you muttered with a smile, switching your laptop tabs from the Twitch stream to your Spotify. “Before you go, any song requests?” you asked, trying not to sound sad as you spoke. Wonwoo hummed in thought.

“I’ve been listening to SUHO’s album recently, Self-Portrait?”

“I love that album,” you smiled.

“It’s really good. Could I request a song from it?”

“Of course.”

“Okay… maybe, Let’s Love,” Wonwoo suggested, your heart doing a million flips as you typed the song into the search bar. 

“I’ll make sure to play it next. Thank you for this lovely conversation, Wonwoo. Eat well tonight and get some rest,” you stated. “Tell Mingyu to make me ramen sometime, too.”

“Will do. Thanks for talking with me, Y/N. Goodnight, sleep well after the show.”

The line ended shortly after, a sad smile resting on your face. You sighed, looking back to the camera with a wider smile. 

“Now, I will be playing Wonwoo’s song request. It’s one of my favorites off the mini-album, Self-Love. This is Let’s Love, by EXO’s SUHO.”

You held two more shows on Saturday and Sunday night, silently wishing Wonwoo would call again. You had good conversations with other students, but none were as riveting as the one you had with Wonwoo. It was probably easy to search him up, and you contemplated doing so during your free period between classes on Monday as you sat in the campus cafe with Yuqi across from you. Your finger hovered over the Instagram search button, where you had typed in Wonwoo’s name, but to avoid being a creep, you exited out of the app and placed your phone on the table.

“Dude, found your mystery man,” Yuqi spoke up, causing you to nearly spit out your drink. You looked up at her, raising your eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“Wonwoo, that guy you talked to during the show on Friday. He’s in Mingyu’s recent post. They went to some water park,” Yuqi stated, still scrolling through her phone. “They all have really good bodies…” she trailed off, staring dreamily at her screen.

“Are you not going to show me?” you questioned, leaning forward to look at her phone. She giggled at your eagerness, turning her phone to face you.

In the photo, Mingyu was standing next to three other guys, including Minghao, who was a partner of yours in your Photography class. You tapped on the picture, revealing the tags of the others standing with them. There was a person tagged vernon_98, who you immediately identified as the Vernon that Wonwoo talked about during your call. Which meant, the other person tagged as everyone_woo was Wonwoo.

You blinked at the picture, taking in the visuals of your mystery caller. You noted his black hair and his glasses which made him look surprisingly good. You blushed slightly at how the wet suit he wore was tight against his muscles, revealing his large biceps and pecs. He held up a peace sign, your eyes trailing to his hand. He was so incredibly handsome, and you just had a conversation with him like it was nothing. 

“Oh my God,” you muttered. “He’s hot?!”

[paradisecouture]

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH ALASTOR.

From the moment you crossed paths with Alastor, you were ensnared, captivated by a presence that was as entrancing as it was unsettling. His perpetual smile—sharp and almost sinister—held an allure that was impossible to resist, while his old-fashioned charm made you feel like the leading character in a story of timeless romance. He lavished you with attention, his gaze holding a veiled intensity, and his words, laced with elegant irony, wrapped you in a cocoon of admiration. It was as if he saw through you, past the superficial, and found something worth cherishing, something he alone could appreciate.

As the relationship deepened, you began to see past his polished facade, discovering hidden layers beneath his playful dandy exterior. Behind that radio-show host persona and dark humor, you sensed a heart shrouded in shadows, yet beating with fierce, almost dangerous passion. Alastor, in his strange way, made even the simplest moments feel like scenes from a hauntingly beautiful romance: candlelit dinners where the shadows danced as much as you did, serenades that carried the echo of another era, and midnight strolls through the eeriest corners of Hell, which, with him by your side, felt less foreboding, almost like home.

Though he was fully aware of his demonic powers, Alastor revealed to you a vulnerability that few could ever imagine. In moments of rare intimacy, he shared fragments of his past life—his ambitions, his regrets, his twisted hopes. He showed you a side of himself that he kept locked away from others, as if entrusting you with his most hidden secrets. His smile rarely faltered, yet his eyes often spoke volumes, a flicker of longing, perhaps even melancholy, hinting at an internal struggle between the darkness of his soul and the genuine affection he had come to feel for you. There was a rawness in his gaze, an intensity that felt both thrilling and dangerous, as though he was waging a war within himself.

Despite his occasional aloofness and his humor as dark as the underworld itself, Alastor left no doubt about his devotion. He would surprise you with gestures so thoughtful, so precisely tailored to your desires, that it was clear he knew you deeply, perhaps even more intimately than you knew yourself. His affection was tangible, almost palpable, wrapping around you like a warm, surreal haze that seemed to defy the infernal flames surrounding you. In his presence, Hell ceased to be a realm of torment and became a sanctuary, a secret refuge where happiness, however fleeting, felt possible.

Every day with Alastor was an adventure, an exploration of the countless facets of his enigmatic nature. His love, twisted and shadowed as it was, was fiercely genuine, a passion that seemed to transcend the very laws of the underworld. You knew that life with him would never be a fairy tale, yet the intensity, the rawness, and the strange beauty of your connection made every dark, surreal moment feel like it was worth everything.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

another radio script for Billy

The Whizz radio intro tones-

Billy Batson then starts speaking through a slightly crackly radio as Fawcett is a city someone lost to time, given its connection to the Rock of Eternity.

Welcome to WHIZZ Radio: Where we give the latest news, truths, and views of Fawcett City. Brought to you by your host, me, Billy Batson.

Today we’ll begin with our community news! Atlas would like to thank the people of Fawcett for their influx of offerings. We will all find a little more endurance this week. Captain Marvel also expressed thanks for the offerings left at his shrine and will continue to try his best for our city. 

Tonight is the new moon; a good time for spells of renewal, fresh starts, and seeking a way out of the darkness. Keep an eye out for candle sales so you can perform your renewing rituals at a reasonable cost. Beck’s Storehouse is running a sale on all black candles and as always a percentage of their sales goes to the local soup kitchen. Be sure to make a pit stop there before midnight tonight. I know I will!

Onto traffic! Currently, there are still delays on Mainstreet, but the fissures to Hades have been sealed up. Major thanks to Persephone. There are no other traffic delays to report.

Heres the weather! There has been a lot of Milfoil flowers springing up from Cap’s lightning strikes lately. Watch the skies for oncoming war. There will be a thin fog tonight, watch out for strangers lurking in the mists. Only go home with those you are sure are your friends and family. Spirits might pretend to be the people that you know. 

Right into the Capes and Crooks news bulletin. Dr. Sivana is still missing and will likely stay so for a while. Arson Fiend is back on the streets. Double check your fire insurance and keep an eye out for the pryokentic man. He has a tendency to go for businesses not insured by Sheild & Stone Insurance despite being fired from said company after his first arrest. You’d think hed stop showing company loyalty after the checks stopped coming, but nope! That dead hoofer seems set on getting everyone to sign up for Shield & Stone. Wild. 

This radio program is brought to you by Eloise’s Herbs and Verbs. A shop for all your cooking and spell-casting needs. If there's anything you need from Sunday dinner to Wednesday night curses, Eloise has you covered. Don't get your materials from the chain stores, get it from a local. Grown with care and sure to work every time.

*Little jingle*

Welcome back to the program. Time for our daily sister city’s segment. 

Annnnd….  

*sarcasm fills Billy’s voice*

I, Billy, your host, has been told that I need to apologize officially to Black Adam and state clearly that, my, Billy Batson’s, opinions do not reflect the opinion of WHIZZ radio. 

Im sorry for calling Black Adam a kook and someone bearing a grudge unbecoming of a king and calling him a ancient man-child.

There. Happy?

*indidstict producer noise*

Perfect. Onwards and upwards. 

Kahndaq continues to thrive despite the work of the UN and lack of response from the Justice League. Queen Bee has attempted to launch an attack on their northern border. Black Adam was quick to remind the world that while an ex-champion out of the good graces of the Wizard, he is still a champion with his own patrons' support. 

He threw a tank fifty feet and none in Kahndaq died from the attempted raid. The Justice League has expressed some worry over this feat of strength, but this reporter would like to remind people that Superman has been tossing robots for years. To me, it seems like a bunch of floy floy. 

Fawcett still stands with Kahndaq and recognizes the country as sovereign while most of the world sees it as illegitimate. Hold in there.

Adam has not been seen in Fawcett for a week. Which is good. Means he's focusing on what he's supposed to instead of harassing Cap like a stalker. Good for him. Maybe he actually going to anger management. Good for him!!

Guest speaker- interview or!! Opinion peoce- billy raving about anyone. Anyone. Good or bad.

Now its time again for Billy's opinion of the day!  

So!  Id like to take a moment and chatter about our other midwest hero, Flash! He’s been around town a few times and Im sure everyone heard about his big charity race with Supes! 

He’s a lot like Cap in how he helps out around his home town and he’s a great listener.

Just listen to this recent Facebook post by Nancy; ‘Flash recently helped my son find his way home. Joseph got turned around on the opposite side of town, without any phone battery. He was so nervous about trying to find any help, as most of the stores on the street were closed. Flash saw Joseph trying not to cry and helped him on his way home. Was nice enough to tell him what to do if it ever happened again. Real sweetheart, he is officially our family's favorite hero.’ What a story.

He also comes to help when Mercury gets in a racing mood, which is always nice. It helps keep drivers and random runners from randomly getting whisked to the racing stadium. 

Please dont forget to donate to the Flash drive that Central City is hosting tomorrow to help feed their speedsters. All that running makes them real hungry!.

*Mercury intro* 

Ah hello Mercury!! Here, a few viewers sent in a few gifts for you as thanks for yesterdays warning.

*chimes* 

 New mail? Thank you, Mercury! 

*shuffling papers*

Ah! Keep an eye out for a Victorian-looking child with an orange cat and pointed black hair. Klarion is back in town and may wish to cut a chaotic deal with you. Hopefully, he’s listening in. hey, Klarion! I didnt forget about our dinner plans. Please meet me at the Waffle House at 5. Please please dont forget that we planned to hang out because you got distracted with making chaos. Thanks pal! 

With that, our show comes to an end.

Do good, and good will follow.

And keep an eye on the sky for lightning!

This has been Billy Batson, signing off!

[rhiannonsknife]

── ❆ DAY 04: christmas with shauna shipman

— summary: christmas with shauna shipman hcs.

— warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff. established relationship. not a warning but shauna’s mom is a sweetheart in this. gn!reader. the last hc turned into its own little blurb, i fear…

the shipmans and their holiday traditions and habits…

shauna’s mom takes holiday decorating very seriously. the moment the clock strikes midnight on december 1st, she’s on a mission. boxes of tinsel, lights, ornaments, and wreaths are hauled out from the garage, and she’s already made a list of things she needs to buy to outdo last year’s setup. shauna insists she’s not a christmas fanatic like her mom. “it’s too commercialized,” she claims with a dismissive wave. still, you catch her humming along to christmas songs on the radio when she thinks you’re not paying attention. and once, when you glanced over at her watching tv, you realized she wasn’t just mindlessly flipping through channels; she was fully engrossed in some cheesy holiday commercial. when her mom found out about the two of you, it didn’t take long before you were roped into the shipman family holiday traditions. “more hands make light work!” she’d chirped, thrusting a box of ornaments into your arms before you even had a chance to decline. now, as far as shauna’s mom is concerned, you’re part of the christmas prep team, and there’s no escaping it. “y/n,” shauna’s mom calls to you, standing on a stepladder as she adjusts a string of lights. “do you think this looks okay, or does it need more sparkle?”

“uh…” you glance at shauna, who smirks. “looks great to me!”

“don’t encourage her,” shauna mutters under her breath, sliding an arm around your waist. “next thing you know, she’ll be ordering glitter spray for the whole house!”

speaking of which: going to the christmas tree farm with shauna and her mom.

the place is already bustling with families when you arrive, the air crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. rows upon rows of evergreens stretch out before you, their branches snow-dusted. shauna’s mom heads off to inspect the taller trees, leaving you and shauna alone to wander through the rows. “okay, which one screams ‘shipman family christmas’ to you?” she asks, gesturing dramatically at the nearest row of trees. you pause, pretending to consider. “that one,” you say, pointing to a sad, crooked little tree that’s missing half its branches. shauna narrows her eyes at you. “you’re joking, right?” her lip is twitching as if she’s trying not to laugh. “absolutely not. It’s got…character” she counters immediately: “it’s got issues! come on, we’re not bringing that home!” eventually, after hours of roaming the rows of trees, you do settle for one: shauna stops in front of a tall, full tree with perfectly spaced branches and deep green needles. “what about this one?” she asks, glancing at you for approval. you nod, smiling. “it’s perfect!” shauna grins, clearly pleased with herself. “knew it!”

holiday nights with shauna and the yellowjackets.

the yellowjackets throw a holiday party this year (it’s always jackie or lottie who hosts it, of course). when shauna invites you to come along, she reassures you with a small smile, “don’t worry, i’ll stick with you. they’re not that scary.” and, true to her word, she stays by your side the entire night, guiding you through conversations and quietly explaining inside jokes when you feel out of place!! at dinner, she makes sure you sit next to her, her hand brushing yours under the table whenever she senses your nerves bubbling up. ever so often, she catches your eye, giving you a small, reassuring smile that grounds you and reminds you that she’s grateful that you’re there with her <33

later in the evening, when everyone has finished their food and jackie starts rallying everyone for a game of charades, shauna gently tugs your sleeve. “come on,” she lures, her voice low. she leads you out the back door to sit on the cold steps, away from the chaos inside. the sharp winter air bites at your cheeks, and you can see your breath misting in front of you as you both laugh softly, huddled close together for warmth. she drapes an arm over your shoulder, offering her jacket for you to wear.

“i’m really glad you came tonight,” she says quietly, her knee brushing against yours. as the muffled sounds of the others continue inside, shauna reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours again. this time, she doesn’t pull away or has to hide. instead, she lets your hand settle into hers, her thumb tracing small circles against your skin.

shauna, whose presents are always bordering on too perfect.

she pays attention to all the little things you’ve mentioned wanting, even in passing. she’ll take mental notes of every fleeting comment you make, tucking them away for when she has the chance to surprise you, whether this is for christmas or your birthday (or any other occasion). yet, when it’s time for her to open her own gifts, shauna is endearingly shy about it. no matter how small the present is, she’ll blush furiously either way, hiding her face behind her hands for a moment as though to collect herself. then, she’ll wrap you in a tight hug, murmuring how much she loves it (and you). her soft spots are 100% handmade gifts: even the ‘smallest’ things, like a handwritten note or a card you decorated yourself, mean the world to her. she keeps every single one of them tucked between the pages of her journal so that, on the nights when she feels particularly overwhelmed, she can flip through them, tracing the edges of the paper and rereading your words as a quiet reminder of how much she’s loved. other than that, you definitely get her new clothes (like a new signature flannel) or a burned cd with all of her favorite songs!!

stealing shauna’s cozy, knitted sweaters and/or flannels.

okay i’m definitely projecting here, but maybe you’re always dressed in only a shirt/top even though it’s freezing outside. shauna doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or concerned by your complete disregard for the freezing weather. it’s the middle of winter, and while everyone else is layered up in jackets and scarves, you’re walking around like it’s spring. you practically leave her no other option but to offer her clothes. she doesn’t mind the cold at all and she always has to make sure you’re bundled up. “are you actively trying to get hypothermia?” (…🧍🏼‍♀️) she mutters, already taking off her own flannel before you can protest. shauna drapes it over your shoulders, tugging it snug around you before you can argue. “don’t even start,” she says firmly when you try to give it back. “i’m fine. you, on the other hand, are a walking ice cube” (you know, now that i’m thinking about it, maybe this wasn’t the best shauna headcanon…) it becomes a habit after that: if you’re underdressed, shauna is quick to shove one of her jackets or sweaters at you. sometimes it’s a hoodie she pulled from her bag, other times, it’s something she’s wearing herself. she doesn’t say much about it -just rolls her eyes and hands it over with a soft, “put this on before you freeze to death” (okay now i’m pushing it) what shauna won’t admit, at least not out loud, is how much she secretly loves the way you look in her clothes: her oversized sweater hanging off your frame, or the sleeves of her jacket covering your hands!! the sight sends a little flutter through her chest every time she sees it!!

shauna, who might be really good at picking presents for her loved ones…

…but who procrastinates until the very last minute, which is weird, because she’s usually so determined to get everything done in time. so christmas shopping really seem to be the only exception here. a few days before christmas, she’ll call you with a casual “hey, do you want to come to the mall? i need help!” which really means she wants someone to keep her company while she panics over what to get jackie, tai, and the rest of the team (yours is the only present she already had prepared long ago.) it doesn’t come as a surprise that the mall is a nightmare of holiday chaos, and shauna grumbles about it the moment you walk through the doors: “why do people wait until the last minute?” she mutters, completely ignoring the irony in it. and, oh, by the time you’ve wandered through literally every store in the packed mall, you’re loaded with more shopping bags than you thought you could physically carry. “thank you for putting up with me” she tells you back in the car. before you can respond, she presses a soft kiss to your cheek “i owe you. big time!”

shauna who takes you on walks through the neighborhood.

once the first snow falls and her neighbors have put up their decorations, she loves bundling up and walking through your neighborhood with you; her gloved hand is snug in yours as your boots crunch softly against the frosty sidewalk. the air smells crisp and your breath comes out in little clouds as you both take in the glow of twinkling christmas lights decorating every other house. “okay, but why does that santa look like that?” shauna asks, nodding toward a giant inflatable santa slumped slightly forward, his grin crooked. you laugh, tugging her hand lightly. “it’s supposed to be…festive, i guess” “festive?” she echoes. “that thing belongs in a horror movie. if it starts moving, i’m running!” it’s always like that with the two of you; either enjoying your walk and the other’s company or occasionally poking fun at the neighbors’ decorations.

shauna, who spontaneously spends the night at your place because you’re snowed in.

at this point, your parents are used to shauna hanging around, especially since you two have been dating for a while. they wave it off without a second thought, telling you both to help yourselves to the kitchen if you need anything. “i guess that means I’m stuck with you,” you tease, already heading to the living room, where the fire in the fireplace crackles warmly. shauna follows behind, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “you’re lucky,” she grins. you smile too and grab the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over both of you as you settle in beside her. shauna leans against you, her usual teasing demeanor melting away in the warmth of the room. “everything okay?” you ask, glancing at her. shauna shifts slightly, her voice quieter than it normally is. “yeah” she assures. “just…i’m glad i’m here. with you, i mean!”

okay but winter mornings with shauna?

on the mornings when the weather is especially cold, shauna will wrap herself around you like a blanket. her arms are snug around your waist, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against your back before you’re fully awake yet. you stir slightly, shifting in her hold, and shauna tightens her grip with a quiet, drowsy murmur. “don’t move,” she mumbles, her voice muffled and still thick with sleep. “you’re warm. and it’s freezing” you can’t help but smile, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of her messy hair and soft, half-closed eyes. shauna’s face is pressed against the curve of your shoulder, her nose brushing against your skin with a cold touch that makes you shiver slightly. “good morning to you too,” you tease, your voice hushed in the early quiet of the room. “mhm,” she hums, her lips curling into a faint smile as she nuzzles closer, her legs tangling lazily with yours beneath the blankets. “too early for mornings. let’s just stay here!”

snowball fights with shauna are inevitable.

she claims that she’s ‘above it’ but will surprise you with a sneak attack the moment you let your guard down. “we’re not twelve” she’ll say with a dramatic sigh, though the grin she’s trying so hard to oppress instantly gives her away: the second you turn your back to collect some snow for your own ammunition, shauna pounces and a snowball slams into the back of your head. you whip around to find her already grinning at you. you retaliate by tackling her into the ground next: sprinting at her, breaths coming out in clouds, and launching yourself right into shauna, tackling her to the snow-covered ground. shauna lets out a yelp of surprise, but the moment you hit the snow together, the laughter comes; loud and contagious. once it started, she can’t seem to stop, her cheeks flushed from both the cold and the giggles.

shauna who also insists on taking you ice skating.

we‘ve talked about ice skating with jackie, but i feel like shauna would also want to take you out on some fun christmassy couple‘s activities. except that, for some reason, i can’t picture her being as good at it as jackie is. in fact, you both end up stumbling all over the icy rink, giggling and laughing the entire time as you try to hold each other up right: the rink is lit up with christmas lights strung along the edges, and holiday music plays faintly over the speakers. it’s the perfect kind of cheesy, festive date, and honestly, you’re surprised shauna wanted to do this in the first place. she usually rolls her eyes at stuff like this, calling it ‘too cliché’.

“okay, full disclosure,” she says as she laces up her skates. “i haven’t done this since i was, like, eight. so…don’t judge me if i totally suck!” as soon as you step onto the ice, though, it becomes obvious that neither of you are good at this. the moment shauna’s skates touch the rink, her legs wobble, and she grabs your arm with a laugh. “oh my god, this is worse than i remember!”

the two of you end up shuffling awkwardly across the ice, your movements more like walking than skating. every so often, one of you slips, sending the other off-balance, and you both collapse into fits of giggles.

christmas eve with shauna!

spending christmas eve at her house is quiet and cozy. the living room smells faintly of cinnamon and pine from the tree her mom insists on putting up every year. you’re curled up on the couch together under a shared blanket, watching cheesy christmas movies that her mom picked out before disappearing into the kitchen to finish wrapping some final presents. shauna pretends to hate them (“how many times can two people accidentally bump into each other under the mistletoe?”) but is absolutely humming along to the soundtrack by the end of the night. she’s also made it her mission of the night to steal sips of your hot chocolate every chance she gets, even though she has her own mug sitting untouched on the coffee table. “yours tastes better,” she insists with a grin, leaning in to take another sip before you can protest. by the end of the night, her head is on your shoulder, her hand resting lazily on your thigh beneath the blanket. she’s stopped trailing circles a while ago and, as the credits of the last movie roll, you’re almost sure she’s fallen asleep. that’s also when her mom finally reappears. she pauses in the doorway, smiling at the sight of the two of you curled up together <33

but also; christmas dinner with shauna.

when mom invites you to christmas dinner for the first time, you’re SO nervous about making a good impression! you know she already adores you: she’s always been kind, welcoming, and maybe a little too interested in whether or not shauna’s “special friend” would be joining them, before she figured you two out. (let me have my moment and believe that her mom would be your biggest supporter ever!!). but this is christmas dinner. a different level entirely.

“i don’t know why i’m so nervous,” you mutter as you smooth out your sweater for the hundredth time in shauna’s bedroom. “i mean, your mom already likes me…right?” shauna, sitting on the bed and watching you fuss, laughs. “likes you? she’s obsessed with you. you could probably drop the whole meal on the floor, and she’d laugh it off!” you roll your eyes, swatting at her playfully. “not funny! this is important. it’s christmas! what if i screw it up somehow?”

shauna stands and walks over, her hands gently finding your waist to stop your nervous fidgeting. “you’re not going to screw it up. she already loves you, trust me. but…” her voice drops into a teasing whisper as she leans in close, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “compliment her mashed potatoes. trust me on this one!”

you blink. “her…mashed potatoes?”

“yep!” shauna grins and pulls back, giving you an exaggerated wink. “it’s her signature christmas dish. she’ll melt. works every time.”

“you’ve tested this theory before, i take it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “oh, absolutely,” shauna says, deadpan. “it’s practically a rite of passage in this house!”

she remains right, as it turns out, and the dinner goes on smoothly once you’ve gotten through the initial nerves about it.

shauna keeps finding little ways to steady you regardless, grounding you in her own quiet, way. a squeeze of your hand under the table, her knee brushing against yours. at one point, she even reaches over to brush a stray hair out of your face, her thumb lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“you’re doing great,” she whispers during a lull in conversation, her lips curving into that soft smile she saves just for you.

by the time dessert rolls around the nervousness that had gripped you at the start of the evening are completely gone. shauna’s hand is still in yours under the table, her thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. when her mom leans across the table to pat your shoulder and say: “we’re so lucky to have you here this year,” you feel your heart swell.

later, when you’re helping shauna load the dishwasher, you turn to her with a small, sheepish smile. “okay,” you admit proudly “you were right. she does like me”

shauna snorts, nudging your shoulder. “told you so. she loves you more than me at this point. i should be worried!”

“never,” you say softly, and before you know it, she’s leaning down to press a quick, tender kiss to your lips. “merry christmas” she mumbles and you can feel her smile against your mouth without needing to open your eyes.

[fuctacles]

sports au!!!!!

Part 2

The booth was stuffy and smelled like it’s been forgotten for a decade. But the equipment was new and the glass pane was cleaned up, giving Eddie a clear view of the court.

“Is this a good moment to say I don’t know the rules?”

The coach, and his PE professor, looks one step away from murder.

“Just remember our team is wearing green.”

“Yes sir!”

The man squints at him with clear distrust so Eddie gives him his widest, purest smile.

“Good thing nobody’s listening to the campus radio.”

The joke’s on him; Eddie has garnered a lot of listeners over the past months. Listeners that he might lose after hosting a live sports event. 

“Don’t be too weird. I might send you someone to help with the rules so you don’t completely ruin it.” He pats Eddie on the shoulder, his palm so heavy it feels like he’s trying to pin him into the chair, before disappearing behind the door in the back. Seconds later he’s visible walking down the steps to his team.

Eddie looks at his watch. It’s going to be the longest four hours in his academic history. 

He turns to the concsole, frowns at the unfamiliar dials and switches and focuses on the ones he knows. Tunes everything to his best ability, takes a breath, and clears his throat before starting the broadcast.

“Hello, students of Indiana University! I know it’s a Friday night and you were hoping for some nice tunes to party to, but prepare your pillows for a nap instead because you’ll be listening to a football match. No, wait, basketball. I’m pretty sure. 

Anyway, dunno why you’d listen to a match instead of going to see it, but ya boy needs to pass PE this term so here we are. 

And here comes our team! The green ones. It’s greens against blues tonight, folks.”

“Tigers versus Roaches, actually.”

Eddie turns around and sees a tall boy enter his studio.

“First of all, who the fuck names their team Roaches. Second, we have an intruder in the studio.”

The boy extends his hand unfazed.

“I’m Lucas, your interpreter. Since I’m benching for the first half anyway.”

“Booo, I was just going to make up rules as I go. Now you’re gonna make it boring.”

But he shakes his hand anyway and lets Lucas sit on the chair next to him.

“Careful, I’m a dedicated listener. My friends too, you’d probably lose your whole audience.” He smirks. Eddie scoffs.

“I’ll let you know, tiger cub, that many people listen to Munson’s Midnight Metal Madness.”

“I meant the DnD show.”

Eddie looks at the boy, his neat haircut and team jersey.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I’d love to talk more about it later, but now let’s introduce my teammates.”

Eddie hands him the microphone to spit out names he’s never heard before and whatever their bearers' positions were. He hopes the coach doesn’t mind it. All Eddie could do was like, comment on their appearance. Which…

“Where did you get that one from? America’s poster boy catalog?”

He watches Lucas’s face twitch with the effort not to laugh.

“That’s Jason Carver. He’s vice-captain now and will take over the team once Steve graduates later this year.”

“Which one’s that?”

“He usually comes out last.”

Eddie asks about the important stuff - the team's average height and where Andy got his haircut. He looks over the group of young men appraisingly.

“You know what, if I knew y’all play in these funky white socks and guns out I might have gotten into sports commentary earlier.”

Lucas chuckles, but Eddie's on a roll. 

“Especially with such a great co-host, Lucas Sinclair! He’s not on the court yet but he’s being an invaluable source of lore in the studio. Don’t think I’d forget about you, man.” He nudges the younger student. “What’s your specialty on the team?”

“Well…” Lucas scratches his cheek sheepishly. ��I’m probably the fastest and my throws are pretty good,” he admits. “Oh, that’s Steve!”

Eddie looks to the right, where a dude with Harrington on his jersey walks in, smiling wide to friends and families watching. 

“Damn, that’s some magnificent hair,” Eddie whistles.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what he’s known for. This hairdo lasts through the whole game, dunno how he does it.”

“He’s gotta give me some tips, because I look like a wet rat by the end of the day. And I don’t even do sports.”

“I’m pretty sure you look like a wet rat no matter the time of day.”

The jab was true but even if it wasn’t, Eddie had a more important thing to focus on right now. 

“Does your captain have a tattoo?” he asks, squinting through the window. He was pretty sure it was ink that was peeking from the bottom of Steve Harrington’s shorts, but it was so out of place on a college athlete, he needed a triple take and the ‘ask the audience’ lifeline to make sure.

“Yep. The coach says it makes him look like a criminal,” he snorts, showing what he thinks about it. “Steve said he regrets not getting it somewhere more visible so more people could see tattoos are not for criminals and rockstars only.”

“Your captain is a smart guy,” Eddie grins, almost sighing into it, to his utter horror. Just a glimpse of a hot guy from afar, a peek of a tattoo, and hearing of his liberal views was apparently enough to make his heart beat faster.

“The best I ever knew,” Lucas admits and it sounds like a Story, capital “s” and all. His next words confirm that. “Our friend group is planning matching tattoos and we are still talking him out of getting it above the neckline.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. 

“Sounds like a savage. I gotta meet your captain sometime soon.”

It’s at this point they notice the coach gesturing at them angrily and they get back to commenting on the game that’s about to start.

“Okay, so explain to me which laundry basket is ours…”

“Okay okay okay. So number four is a tank, yeah? He blocks the other players. Six is a rogue, who slips between the cracks. And number one, your captain, is a warrior who goes for the attack.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s like LARPing for normies,” Eddie realizes in awe and Lucas laughs so unexpectedly he starts to cough. 

“Sinclair! You’re in!”

They both jump at the sudden appearance of the coach. Lucas springs up from his seat.

“Yes sir!”

“It was a pleasure to host with you.” Eddie smiles at his new friend.

“You too. Catch you after the game?”

“Sure.” He smiles brightly, his head already swimming with ideas of how to fuck over Lucas’ future DnD character. Because playing together was inevitable, the dice were thrown, and the plot was in motion. 

Lucas passes by the coach who now turns his attention to Eddie.

“You’re doing good, don’t ruin it.” He looks in pain admitting that. “I might send someone else to help you out.”

“Thanks, coach.” Though Eddie doubts he’d be vibing so well with anyone else on the team.

Just five minutes later though, he’s proven wrong.

“Heard you’ve been curious about my tattoo?”

Eddie's so startled he knocks the microphone down and yanks out the cord in his haste to turn around. 

“Captain!” he yells like a dumbass, faced with the hair and boyishness of no one else but Steve Harrington. 

“Radio-man!” Steve yells back with a wide and teasing smile. “I’ve heard so much about you, man, you have no idea.” He steps closer. “My kids love your show.”

“Your kids?”

“My, uh, younger friends. I used to babysit them and it kinda stuck,” he admits with an awkward smile. Steve is nothing like the typical jock he’s come to expect and he’s everything Lucas advertised.

“That’s adorable, man.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” he pouts. He honest to god pouts.

“Not laughing!” Eddie raises his hands placatingly. “There’s nothing bad with a family-tight friend group.”

“Damn straight.” Steve smiles and sits on the chair vacated by Lucas. He eyes the microphone lying prone on the desk. “Technical difficulties?”

Eddie rushes to fix his equipment.

“You could say so,” he murmurs, trying to busy himself with the tangled cord. But a hand stops him before he can plug it in.

“We’re off the air now, right?”

Eddie looks over the control lights on the console.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

“What?”

When Eddie woke up today, he knew his day would be weird. No day spent in a sports facility could be normal or pleasant. It was confirmed when he made a new friend with a member of the team, who was a listener of his DnD podcast. But the team captain hitting on him? That’s not your regular weird, that’s a bad strain of weed kind of weird.

“Lucas sent me over claiming a guy my type might be hiding here.”

It takes everything from Eddie not to take a look around. Logically, he knows there’s no one else in the booth. But his brain refuses to connect the dots. He licks his lips and cringes at the wet noise his mouth makes.

“What’s your type?”

Steve tilts his head and hums like he’s in thought.

“Weird, smartass nerd, as it turns out. With big brown eyes and great hair.”

“Uh, thank you?”

Steve only smiles at him, soft before it turns teasing.

“Wanna see my tattoo up close?” he offers. 

“Gosh, yes,” he admits with zero shame, eyes flitting down to the man’s legs. Was he curious about what type of tattoo a gorgeous sport-type guy would get? Yes. Did he want to ogle some hairy thighs? Also yes. It’s a two-in-one kind of deal.

The coach waves at them angrily to get back on the air, but Steve promises to tell him everything about S.S. Robin after the game. And no, Robin is just his best friend, Eddie doesn’t need to worry about her.

“In fact, wanna be my date to the after-party later? The kids will freak out when they meet you.”

How could Eddie say no to his fans' worship?

And to Steve’s hopeful eyes and the slight squeeze he gave his hand.

“Mingling with jocks in my free time?” Eddie turns his palm up to squeeze back. “Sure, let’s make this day even weirder.”

[contentabnormal]

This week on Content Abnormal we present Boris Karloff in The Inner Sanctum mystery "The Wailing Wall"!

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober Day 19: Dirty Talk

warnings: smut, dirty talk, alcohol, swearing, slight daddy kink, oral sex(male receiving)

word count: 0.6k

pairings: Hizashi Yamada x Fem!Reader

teaser: “You taste fucking good,” you whine. He smirks. “Heh, you wanna taste more of me?”

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist:  @thissaintjessi, @cherryblossombankai, @yourfavstalker25789, @amajikisbabygirl, @sindulgent666,

@awkwardchick87, @shinysp4rk @chilichopsticks

Everyone knows that you and Hizashi have the hots for each other. Ever since your days in UA together, people know that you two are just one step away from getting together. All it was going to take was a little nudge from either Eraser or Midnight to get you two clueless lovebirds together.

But still, it never seemed to be the right time for either of you. You two were head over heels for one another; that much was certain. Life just always seemed to get in the way. His career took off as a radio host, and you put yourself into being a good pro hero. Though you two saw each other often with Hizashi juggling the radio work and the pro hero work, it just never could get past a few “hi how are you?” types of conversation.

Until you two became teachers at UA. It was instantaneously too, the way you two started flirting with each other. Hizashi was happy to have you back in the fold. Shota was happy to see his friend not lamenting over you anymore.

After that, it only took just the smallest bit of coaxing from Midnight and Eraser to get you two on some sort of date. And did you two ever truly hit it off. You two were stuck together like glue. You shared drinks, had fun dancing at the bar, and you two decided to go on stage and sing karaoke together.

When you and Mic stumbled home, you knew that you needed him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

Once inside your apartment, he attacks you with hungry kisses. You wrap your arms around him, moaning as his tongue slips into your mouth. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes and you know you want more. You crave more.

“You taste fucking good,” you whine.

He smirks. “Heh, you wanna taste more of me?”

You nod eagerly and get on your knees. Hizashi swears he’s going to pass out from the sheer excitement of it all. He’s watching as you toy with his belt buckle. You rub his growing bulge through his pants.

“Careful, beautiful,” he grunts. “Gonna make me bust fast.”

You look up at him. “So what? I need to taste you.”

He watches as you unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants and take out his cock. Your eyes widen at the sheer size of him, and he chuckles smugly. He knew you’d be surprised at what he’s packing.

“Like what you see, pretty girl? Come on, suck my cock.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You wrap your lips around his girth, hoping not to choke too soon. Desperately, you take more of him into your mouth. His legs are shaking and his knees are about to buckle.

“Calm down, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got such a greedy little mouth.” Mic pants out, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You begin to deepthroat him, wanting nothing more than to make him cum just for you. You want to hear those sweet cries of love and lust as he blows his load down your throat. When you look up at him, he lets out a string of curses.

“Fuck, oh fuck…baby girl, you’re really going to make me blow my load so fast.” He’s pushing you down just a bit more. 

Hizashi can’t stop moaning your name and the most lewd things as he feels his balls drawing up. It’s to the point where you’ve rendered him mostly speechless as he gets even closer to his orgasm. He looks down and that’s when he loses it.

“Fuck yes! Fucking swallow daddy’s cum!”

He growls loudly as shot after shot of his thick, hot cum spurts down your throat. You swallow it all eagerly, even sucking well past his orgasm. He’s shaking and whining, wanting to push you off but he can’t quite bring himself to do so. When you finally pull off of him, you look up at him and wink.

“I knew you’d taste good,”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[facesofthefog]

midnight-radio-host

Eli perks up at the idea of Nathan of all people having a story that would fall into that category. The killer has always struck him as too logical to even consider the idea of something existing outside of the documented. After a nod of his head he was quick to readjust himself, laying down with his head in Nathan's lap, well and ready for the story he was about to be told.

It was true, to some degree, that Nathan never gave into the stories of the fictional monsters lurking around. Because most of the time, those monsters were just the imagination playing tricks on the weak or the stupid. A shadow, an animal, a paranoidal hallucination. Never a real thing. But after arriving at the Entity's realm, how could he deny the existence of the weird and the unknown?

As Eli made himself comfortable with his head in Nathan's lap, the killer looked down at him. It felt like being stuck with a cat. For now, he'd allow the other to stay that way. He would even gently brush his fingers into that soft hair, but it made him feel stupid for doing it. His gaze softly shifted over the area around them, but they were covered pretty well. And he still had his mask on his face.

"When I left Roseville, I stayed in a cabin in the woods. Just for a few days to plan where to relocate," he hummed, his voice low. This was a story only for Eli to hear. "But one night, I heard a woman's voice. And I felt the pull to follow. She felt like a perfect victim. Someone to chase down."

His story continued. A shadow in the woods. A face with no features. Pale skin. A being that already looked dead. One that made him halt and consider if it was safe to approach. But whenever he tried to walk away, she was always there. Just standing. The fog was becoming thicker, and soon he found himself in the realms. He never saw her again, but the image remained clear in his mind.

It was only when he told the story did he realize he knew who that woman was. It was... It was his mother. He knew by the hair and the locket around her neck. But that was a part he didn't share. He just stopped talking, the story concluding.

To stargaze together.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Radio Googoo

Stephen King: guys i'm kinda bummed today King: as you know i own 3 radio stations in the Bangor maine area Poe: Barker: Koontz: Lovecraft: King: but unfortunately i have to shut them down

Poe: steve! no! Stephen King: sorry edgar, it's time King: i love radio but they keep losing money Barker: why? do you just play the rock bottom remainders on loop? King: Poe: clive Barker: no seriously Barker: do you?

King: of course not, clive! King: we play hard rock for people who like to rock hard! King: i'm talkin' all the hits King: from the 80s, 90s, and today! Barker: were you bringing people that same great rock day after day? King: you better believe it!

King: guys, it's the end of an era King: why don't you come on air with me for a very final send-off episode? Koontz: oh! oh! Koontz: can we talk into the big microphone??? King: yes, dean, you can even talk into the big microphone

Stephen King: hey rock n' roll fans, it's another beautiful morning here in Bangin' bangor maine King: you are listening to WKZON FM, rockin' with the king King: the king of rock and roll Koontz: you mean elvis? King: no dean i'm talking about myself King: cuz of my name Koontz: stephen? King: King: no

King: no! king! Koontz: King: stephen king! Koontz: King: goshdarnit dean are you telling me this whole time you didn't know my last name was king?!

Koontz: elvis is the king of rock and roll King: yeah i know dean King: i mean i know that NOW King: if it'd known that 30 years ago i would have come up with a different nickname Barker: you didn't know about elvis? Barker: how did you not know about elvis? King: look it's not like he's a big name! King: i mean, he's no blue oyster cult!

King: i'm your host Stephen "the king" king King: joining me for a very special final broadcast King: i have with me edgar "ravin' mad" poe Poe: cute. King: and clive "barkin' mad" barker! Barker: that's the same nickname! King: no no they're totally different King: one raves, one barks Barker: they're ontologically the same, steve!

Barker: this sucks, i want a better nickname Barker: call me Barker: the hell priest Poe: oh that's way better Poe: hey i want a new nickname too King: oh don't you start edgar

Barker: steve play this mix tape King: "music for sluts" King: what is this, clive? Barker: what do you mean? Barker: its music for sluts King: Barker: i think the label is pretty clear

King: okay live but i swear if this is another compilation of sex noises Barker: oh i would never do that to you twice steve King: ok clive i'm gonna trust you on this one [King plays tape, it's sex noise] King: damnnit clive! Barker: ah ha ha!

Mary Shelley: hey steve can you play my mix tape? King: "music for libertines" King: King: did you title this? Shelley: it was Byron King: King: is this sex noises? Shelley: yeah, what else would it be? King:

King: well i guess we'd better pack it all up King: i don't know what i'll do from here Koontz: you could go on Adam Cesare's vidcast King: oh yeah there is that King: it's been so long i forgot that was a running gag

[foursaints]

hi <3

first of all, i wanted to tell you i'm always stalking your blog (in a non creepy way) because i love everything about it. mostly i love how you use your big brain™️ to share some insanely detailed headcanons about some silly dead gay wizards (i mean that in the nicest way possible. i'm a little bit in love with you actually . anyway i'm digressing)

second of all, i wanted to know if you could share some of your thoughts about bartylily🤲🏻 because i'm fairly sure you're the main reason i'm hooked on them

much love <333

ANYTHING for bartylily... lately i've been attached to the idea of a college au where they're Rival Campus Radio Station Hosts.

barty is a spectacularly unmotivated senior who dropped out of a prestigious engineering degree to study practical SFX for horror movies instead. everyone has vague, peripheral knowledge of him after an incident where he was found passed out naked in the campus fountain. his apartment with the slytherins isn't technically a frat house but there's a structure in the kitchen affectionately referred to as the "Leaning Tower of Miller Lite" & barty has a nearly imperceptible crescent-shaped chip in his front tooth from a keg-standing mishap. he wears a lot of chains and has several john carpenter themed tattoos and he REEKS like cigarettes. so many pairs of mystery panties turn up in his laundry hamper that his housemates have started calling it the Lost And Found.

he has a deeply beloved & charmingly unpolished radio show in the primetime spot which mostly consists of him having his friends on, spotlighting terrible underground bands, and making drily ironical, beautifully mean jabs.

lily is an overzealous sophomore who's triple-majoring in three equally unmarketable degrees (it's, like, polisci & international affairs & communications) who's blessed with the gift of taking every single thing that happens on campus WAY too serious. she runs their Model UN like it's the navy. she's the RA who is always marching around her floor in a spaghetti-strap tanktop & bunny slippers with a scrunchie on her wrist, shaking her fist at people. there was a period following her breakup with james where she was literally reading Machiavelli for inspiration. she's right on the precipice of the cool-girl academic meltdown that will lead to Serious Character Growth, but she isn't quite there yet.

her well-made and well-researched radio show is relegated to the midnight timeslot, and even though all her friends listen to it she probably got into a spat with them for saying something along the lines of "obviously i dont care if its just YOU listening to it, remus!!!". she hate-listens to barty's show which she considers (lily voice) An Affront To Collegiate Journalism

they trade barbs at every function and absolutely nobody but the two of them takes their insane imaginary Radio Beef even remotely serious whatsoever. but it's dead serious TO THEM!!! lily is probably camping out in actual bushes with actual binoculars to sabotage his show, and the worst part is that it's actually working. she ISN'T obsessed with him (shut up!!!!!), and barty is mostly just aggravated on principle that the Uptight Lowerclassman Ruining His Life has such nice legs.

and they absolutely bone like crazy about it