19 Lando fluff and smut please
Secret Desires - Lando Norris
Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️
Masterlist
↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader
↳word count: 4,6K
↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more.
↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings
↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"
You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.
You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.
Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando
Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?
Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.
Lando: Y/n…
Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵
Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss
Lando: *1 image attached*
You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.
What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.
You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂
you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.
Lando: Drunk on love 🤭
Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.
Max’s name flashed on the screen.
You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”
“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)
You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)
“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)
“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)
You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)
“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)
“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)
“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.
"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.
You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.
With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…
You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—
You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.
Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.
"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.
He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'
“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.
Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.
You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉
He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.
Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.
A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.
You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆
Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.
Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—
You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.
Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.
Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.
You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?
He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.
Lando: Yeah, sure.
But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.
You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.
Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.
Lando: Stating the obvious.
He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.
You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?
Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.
He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.
Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.
You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.
He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.
You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭
His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.
Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉
You: Shut up.
He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.
Lando: Where are you?
You: In bed. Why?
Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.
Lando: Just curious. 😉
His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.
Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.
His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.
You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉
Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.
Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.
The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.
When it comes, it’s more than he expected.
You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣
His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening?
Lando: Yeah?
You: Yeah.
He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.
Lando: What about this? Still hot?
Your response is almost immediate.
You: Fuck, yes.
The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.
Lando: Your turn.
There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling.
He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.
Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.
You: Good.
The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.
The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.
He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.
You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?
His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.
Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.
His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.
Lando: Show me more.
There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.
Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot
Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.
“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.
“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.
You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”
He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”
Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.
“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.
You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”
He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.
You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more.
“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.
You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”
“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”
Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.
“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.
Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.
“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.
Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”
He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”
You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.
“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.
“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.
His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.
“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.
“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”
You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”
“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”
“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”
He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”
“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”
His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”
“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.
“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”
Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"
“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.
Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.
For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.
“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”
“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”
“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”
You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”
His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.
“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”
The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him.
“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.
“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”
His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”
You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”
His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.
“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.
Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”
He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”
You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”
A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”
You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”
There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.
“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.
“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.
"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.
And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.
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Pitiful, You're Pitiful
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ch. vi
group : ateez
pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader
genre : angst, mature
word count : 2.8 k
warning : argument, mentions of cheating, negative depiction of wooyoung, mentions of loss, calling an adulteress an assortment of names, idk what else tbh lmk if there is anything else I should add
a/n : I FINALLY UPDATED !!!!! this chapter might be slightly shorter compared to the others but trust me when I say it's very much intentional because I just want to focus this chapter on this one specific interaction. some sort of catalyst or like break from the obliteration of pyp!woo's image ig lmaooooo BUT YAY I DIDN'T FORGET TO POST PYP THIS MONTH !!!!
buy me coffee ?
After the fiasco that was your unveiling of a VERY important information about a staff of the academy, Wooyoung was immediately pulled in to get his side of the story. And of course, unfortunately, you. Luckily, you didn't get chastised by anyone because you were CLEARLY the victim in this situation. Heck, the HR team even reached out to apologize to you for the inconvenience you experienced due to their staff's "misconduct" because you're one of the founders's wives. It was an interesting way of saying that their staff is a cheating whore without any redeeming value but you'll take what you can get out of them and the situation. Which also includes his own friend group contacting you every now and then to make sure that you are okay and some (Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho) even going as far as swearing to denounce their familial relations with Wooyoung which was sweet.
Speaking of Wooyoung, he had been shoved into the heap of horseshit that he had piled on himself. You honestly have never seen him so down because he was "suggested" to take an extra two weeks of break to "settle down from the issue" which was really code for HR still having to clean up his mess because Harin decided to not go quietly. From what you heard from a reliable source (Jongho over pastry and coffee after he ditched his vocal classes to gossip), Harin came back the day after she officially got fired and made a ruckus. Literally, she went crazy and made a mess of the lobby; throwing chairs and tables around, scattering pamphlets, breaking vases, and screaming random weird things like how the company is a misogynist for firing a woman for something that was beyond her control. Safe to say, because Harin refused to move to a quieter spot, Hongjoong had to step in and reiterate all the mistakes she had made including but not limited to her having an affair with a married man who was her boss. Hongjoong had even told her that while there was another party involved, another party that acknowledged the mistakes that he had made and agreed to accept whatever disciplinary actions were required, it was also her choice to partake in such behavior. Long story short, a student uploaded the whole thing on YouTube and as of today, there were 15 different TikTok remixes ranging from EDM, screamo, and even a Donald Trump edit. Without Jongho pointing it out, you could imagine that Harin's career in South Korea was over, not because of the cheating, but because of her disorderly conduct.
You found yourself spending time rather peacefully in recent times which was surprising since your house seems to always be in a state of chaos. For once, Wooyoung didn't try to make you talk to him or about him. In fact, he had the decency to be very considerate of you and your feelings, particularly about being in the same room as him. It made you feel slightly bad to be honest because although you both were going through something, he was in the middle of being the butt of the joke and jab by everyone at the company. It was sad and pathetic but also very much deserved. Sure you sometimes found his isolation to be sad, pathetic, and downright pitiful, but then you remember what he did and you remembered how he put himself in that position without even considering the repercussions.
The same could be said about Dayoung. Well, only in the sense of her isolation seemingly from the rest of the world. Your outgoing, extroverted daughter seemed to spend a good chunk of time locking herself inside her room after school. Usually, you would have to turn into a negotiator three times a week just to get your daughter to come home right on her curfew. This time around, you had a worse time trying to get her out, even making her run some errands just so she could get some fresh air. It wasn't until a while later that Wooyoung clued in on why Dayoung was acting like that. The way you went off on Wooyoung for breaking the news in such a manner without you present or even consulting you. You did try to understand that maybe he just... slipped or that he was so emotional that it just slipped out but the point stood that he waited until you were trying to piece things together to finally tell you. Yet another secret he kept from you. Considering the frequency of things he said but hid away from you, you had to think if this was some sort of behavioural pattern that he hadn't exhibited even if you both had been married for quite a long time. Maybe he had became a master a suppressing it and all it took was you forcing the truth out of him to make said behavior to come back to the surface.
On the other hand, Woohyun was turning into a more mature and responsible version of himself. the day you both came home from confronting the slut, Woohyun became so very helpful towards you. The first thing he did was took your bag and brought it over to the kitchen table before he dashed to the bathroom to wash his hands, cleaning himself up before you had to tell him to. Then he made himself very available for you by making sure that he spent almost every single waking or available moments with you. When you;re in the kitchen doing the dishes or cooking, he would be on the counter or the dining table doing his homework. Sometimes he would even try to do chores like one time he tried to help you bringing his sister's laundry basket from the second floor and he ended up scattering everything down the stairs. Woohyun was upset and worried that you would be mad but instead, you laughed it up and helped him clean up before teaching him how to carry items that are heavier than him down. Although you couldn't find it in yourself to bring it up in case you ended up accidentally telling him yourself, you had a feeling that Woohyun was trying to distract you from the reality of what was going on with your husband in his own way. One of the things that solidified your assumption was the fact that Woohyun had limited contact with his dad significantly. The two of them used to spend time together playing games or pulling pranks on one another and even on you or Dayoung but he had suddenly refuse to spend elective time with Wooyoung no matter how much Wooyoung tried to negotiate with him with everything that he got. Despite that, Woohyun dudb't lose respect for his dad.
"Mom?"
You almost dropped the plate you were washing when you heard a voice come up from the doorway. It was surprising to see Dayoung standing there, timid like a deer because she was always happy, lively, and rambunctious, even straight-up disrespectful to you, your space, and your boundaries. But never this. She had been so... quiet for a week and it would've made you freak out had it not been for Wooyoung letting you know that Dayoung knew. That was all he said, she knew. You did not know what had gotten over you to not deck Wooyoung right then and there but he should absolutely consider himself a lucky bastard.
The sight of your own daughter standing there made you feel... anxious. You probably (most likely) should not be afraid of a bitty teenager, but how can you not? It's not like you thought that she was going to attack you or worse, ask you to give Wooyoung a sponge bath. But you just never saw your daughter this... Muted. It was as if she had stepped into an old TV where there was nothing but black and white. You silently wished that Woohyun had not gone to the zoo with his playdate friends because he would be a great buffer. Or witness for whatever that was bound to happen.
"D-do you need help with the dishes?" She asked, stepping closer to you slowly. At first, you were surprised, not exactly expecting that the first thing she would say was an offer to help you with a chore. But, you welcomed her with a smile and nodded, stepping to the side so she could come next to you and start wiping down the washed dishes.
There were no words exhchanged between the two of you for the first five minutes or so but it wasn't awkward. It was the first time that the silence was peaceful when it was just the two of you. Usually, the silence would always only come from Dayoung and it was because she was mad at you for something. Not at you and Wooyoung, just you. You were always the receiver of her animosity even when she was mad at her dad for whatever insignificant reason there could be, but this time was different.
"Mom..." she called you suddenly but what came next surprised you instead, "I'm sorry," she started, not looking at you which was unfortunate because you were staring at her with a very priceless dumbfounded expression. "I- I- what?" "I'm sorry for... This, my part in... Whatever's going on with you and dad. I'm really sorry for making you take care of him. Had I known, I wouldn't have made you take him in," she confessed and you could see that she was starting to tear up. Your heart broke and you really wanted to pull her in and give her the biggest hug that you could muster just to show your support for her but you knew that it would just make yourself feel better for accomplishing something and not actually help her feel better. So you took a step closer to her and breathed out a sigh of relief when she didn't push you away. "I'm really, really, REALLY sorry mom. He's the worst husband ever," she sniffed which made you chuckle as you blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall, "Well, I would say that Emperor Peter, Catherine the Great's husband is a far worse husband than your father."
Your attempt at making light of the situation was met with Dayoung squinting her eyes at you. "Mom, I'm serious. I've heard about my friend's dad cheating but not like this. Not in your situation, and not with someone dumb enough to think she can substitute a hand wrap for martial arts with boob tapes," she scoffed, annoyed. You sighed and shrugged, "Well, people are complicated, sweetie. I... I'm not mad, annoyed, or angry that you wanted me to take care of your dad because, in retrospect, it WAS the absolute right thing to do. I mean, your dad was injured and he's facing such a hard time at work. It would be absolutely wrong to just toss him to someone else. Who would we even toss him to? His friend? His parents?" "His whore, mom. We could've tossed him out and have his whore handle him."
The very second the words left Dayoung's mouth, your eyes widened and your neck snapped in her direction to see her frowning, staring up at you. "He's a cheating bastard and we have the right to not even be in contact with him anymore," she curtly stated. "Jung Dayoung," you started shakily. Dayoung simply shook her head to cut you off, "No, mom, oh my God, you need to stop being a doormat." "Dayoung!" you exclaimed, surprised that she was able to say such a thing and perhaps slightly offended. "It's true! God, mom, how long have you known that he has a side piece who's as dumb as a bag of rocks? How long have you held everything in and just let him walk all over you? He fucking CHEATED on you mom! When you were so down in the dumps to the point that you couldn't even take care of yourself properly! You used Woohyun and I as a distraction, shoving all the attention and care to what, fill in the void over the loss of my would've-been sibling? And where was he? He was with some other woman because he is the worst of the worst and I will never forgive him for what he did to our family!"
Maybe it was the volume of her voice or the massive weight of her words but you felt your blood boiling and before you even realized it, you had shoved a plate into the sink and you were huffing, "Jung Dayoung that's enough, you should not talk about your father that way." "Why? Why shouldn't I, mom? My God, this is the first time in like, maybe ever that I'm standing up for you, this is me protecting you and yet you're still trying to make excuses for that pathetic son of a bitch who betrayed his family!?" "He did not betray our family, okay? He betrayed me, Dayoung!"
Just like it was the first time Dayoung defended you, you had experienced your first time screaming at her and to say that she was scared was an understatement. Dayoung shut her mouth and stared at you with sadness in her eyes because she had yet to comprehend why you were still trying to stand up for your cheating husband.
"Your dad did nothing to our family, sweetie. He did this to me," you sighed, closing your eyes and exhaling shakily as you used both of your hands to hold onto the counter to stabilize yourself. "Sure, he might have altered the dynamic and whatever else in our family but he... What he did was nothing against our family but it was just against me. At least, that's what I think. I don't think I have it in me to find out exactly why he did what he did because I'm weak, Dayoung. I'm a coward like that." you turned to her and shed a tear, breaking Dayoung's heart as she realized just how strong you were all this time.
"Then why, mom? Why are you still letting him off?" Dayoung asked, her voice cracking. You tearily chuckled and shrugged, "Who said that I am? I'm doing this, ALL of this, not because I want to. I did it, because for the longest time, that was what we have agreed on in our marriage. He deal with the monetary stuff and I deal with the family stuff. As much as it hurts, no matter if I like it or not, he is still my family because his behavior be damned, he... He gave me you and your brother and that is something I would never regret. For that, I will always be thankful to him and that is also why you should still respect your father. You can be mad at him, you can be hurt by what he did, but your respect should be non-negotiable not because he deserved it, but because your dad an I taught you better than that. He truly loves you, Dayoung. He might not love me anymore but you and Woohyun are the apples of his eyes, you are his stars in the dark night sky, and you are the best thing he had and would ever achieve. Do you understand me?"
Dayoung groaned and dropped her head on your shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your waist. "Damn it mom, why do you have to make it hard for me to unleash my wrath on him?" You couldn't help but chuckle and return her hug, "Sorry sweetie, part of my job is to make sure you grow up to be a decent human being and sometimes I have to make or say things you don't like," you chuckled, making Dayoung roll her eyes but nudge her hips with yours.
As you spend a heartwarming moment with your daughter, you can't help but let your mind slip and travel somewhere else. You couldn't help but think about how you and Dayoung would probably not have experienced such a changing moment in your life. So as much as you hate it, there was a silver lining in this whole shenanigan.
Beyond the heartwarming scene in the kitchen, alone in the dark and cold emptiness of the living room, Wooyoung stood with his back to the wall. Having come down when he heard the commotion, Wooyoung initially thought he might have to step in to get Dayoung off your back. But when he heard you yell back at Dayoung, he stopped in his tracks and debated If he should stay or leave until his interest was piqued and he ended up listening in on the conversation which left him feeling broken down. Despite the gnawing pain that made him feel like he couldn't breathe, he knew he deserved that and more. He should not complain and instead, he should just accept the harsh truth. Not just the facts that you laid out to Dayoung, but also the truth that your action further proved that he was truly the devil in this equation. And perhaps he doesn't deserve to be forgiven.
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date night.
a/n: a random, unedited post I forgot to share.
🌺masterlist🌺
pairing: jude bellingham x reader
summary: graceful on the pitch. off the pitch? not so much.
The roller skating rink was a vibrant mess of flashing lights, thumping music, and laughter. The air hummed with energy as couples and groups whirled by, lost in the rhythm of the music and the fun of the night. Kids whizzed past, making your boyfriend wonder what they thought seeing someone his age wobbling around.
Jude, was decidedly not having an easy time of it. For a man who seemed to effortlessly glide across the pitch, the sight of him clinging to the railing of the roller rink for dear life was something out of a slapstick comedy.
"I agreed to this date thinking it would be fun," he grumbled under his breath, trying to push off the wall without wobbling like a baby deer.
His eyes darted around, scanning the rink for you. You had disappeared earlier to swap out your skates, leaving him to fend for himself. And while he waited, struggling to stay upright, the rink felt like a war zone of expert skaters zooming past him.
Then he spotted you, and suddenly, all the chaos melted away. He watched your eyes scan your surroundings, your face lighting up once your eyes met. You, unlike him, were skating effortlessly, a sight to behold.
To Jude, you looked as stunning as ever, your natural curls pulled up into a bun, with a few loose strands framing your face perfectly. His latest gift—subtle but beautiful gold earrings—hung delicately from your ears, catching the light every time you moved. He had given them to you earlier in the night, just before you left for your anniversary dinner. Skating was part of the date you had picked to celebrate this special moment.
The stress of the recent weeks the motivator for your picking of the roller rink. You knew, once he got out of his head, Jude would have some much needed fun.
Now, seeing you in his England sweatshirt, slightly oversized on you, paired with the fluttering fabric of your skirt as you glided effortlessly across the rink, Jude couldn’t take his eyes off you. You moved with such ease, singing along to the music, your body swaying to the beat with confidence and joy. Watching you like this, so carefree, made him smile. It was moments like these, the small, intimate ones, that reminded him why date nights were so important.
“Show-off,” Jude teased, though he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
You skidded to a stop right in front of him, your lips twisting into a grin. “Still holding on for dear life, huh?”
“Yeah, well,” he replied, glancing down at his skates with a raised brow, “these things don’t exactly come with football studs. And why does it feel like the floor’s out to get me?”
“You're just out of your element," you teased, reaching out and tugging his hand from the railing. "But you're not getting out of this."
“So,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he caught your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “Do those earrings let me off the hook?” His voice was playful, his lips brushing gently against your knuckles, sending a little flutter through your chest.
You gave him a mock glare, a smirk playing on your lips. “You think you can buy me off with jewelry? Unlucky for you, I’m not blinded by your money, Bellingham.”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose that’s a blessing, isn’t it?” He kissed your knuckles again, slower this time, and you could feel the warmth from his lips spreading through you, making your heart skip a beat.
Your eyes flicked over his appearance, taking in his casual outfit—just a plain black hoodie, jeans, and a snapback worn backward, an attempt to blend in with the crowd. But it was him, through and through. Despite his simple attire, he had a presence that made it hard not to stare. You could never get used to the feeling of eyes on you when out with Jude. But for once, it seemed Jude paid it no mind.
Because the way he smiled at you, right now that easy, relaxed grin that was yours and yours alone. It didn’t matter that he was out of his elements. He was happy here, with you.
You raised an eyebrow, your smirk turning into a smile. “Besides,” you teased, “I distinctly remember you saying I could have whatever I want tonight.”
His grin grew, eyes gleaming as he leaned in a little closer, that mischievous spark dancing in his gaze. “I meant it. I just hoped you’d take that in a… different way.”
You rolled your eyes with a giggle, shaking your head. “Jude!” you chided, but your smile didn’t fade. “First, I want my boyfriend to relax. Get out of his head and stop overthinking everything. Two, just focus on me.”
Jude nodded, still grinning as he squeezed your hand gently. “Okay, fair. I can do that. And I’ll focus on you—I can definitely do that part.”
You smiled, your heart swelling as you saw the sincerity in his eyes. “Good,” you said softly. "Come on—let’s get away from the wall. You’ve got this.”
Jude shot a wary glance at the other skaters zipping by. Suddenly remembering where he was. “I use my feet for a living, you know, I need these things in working condition.”
"You're the Golden Boy,” you said, laughing as you started skating backward, pulling him along. “Aren’t you supposed to be good on your feet?”
“Skating doesn’t count,” he replied with a crooked grin, trying his hardest to keep his balance while being pulled away from his safety net—the wall. "And why are you skating backward? You’re showing off now.”
"For you?" You winked. "Of course."
Jude's hand instinctively tightened around yours, his wobbling getting worse as he tried to find his balance. His other hand flew to your waist, a last-ditch effort to steady himself, but it was too late. Before either of you could react, his footing gave way, and with a sharp squeak from you, he toppled backward, pulling you down with him.
The two of you hit the floor with a soft thud, the moment almost in slow motion. Jude winced, the embarrassment flooding his face as he lay there, sprawled on the rink. Meanwhile, your laughter bubbled up, bright and carefree as you giggled, still sprawled across his chest.
“Are you alright?” you asked between giggles, pushing yourself up slightly, your hand resting on his chest.
Jude groaned, running a hand over his face. “Not my finest moment,” he muttered, feeling the flush creeping into his cheeks.
You sat up, your eyes sparkling as you took in the sight of him blushing. Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your hand cupping his jaw.
“You’re doing great,” you whispered against his lips, the warmth of your voice soothing his bruised pride. “And honestly, it’s kind of cute seeing you like this. You had me thinking you were perfect.”
"Not around you," Jude let out a breathy laugh, his cheeks still burning, but your words and that kiss had a way of melting his embarrassment away.
"Don't worry," you giggled. "Your secrets safe with me."
"Come on," you said with a grin, standing up and offering your hand. "Let’s get you back on your feet.”
Jude took your hand, letting you pull him, feeling steadier once he was on his feet.
You slowly began skating, gently tugging him forward.
"Relax, Bellingham," you smiled softly, skating effortlessly as he gripped your left hand, looking like he might topple over again any second. Guiding his right to your waist, you watch his eyes instinctively drop to his feet again. The warmth of your fingers finds his chin. “Stop staring at your feet, Jude. Look at me.”
He let out a breath, eyes locking onto yours instead of nervously watching the floor. His nerves didn’t entirely fade, but having your hand in his gave him a little more confidence—enough to stop wobbling for a second time.
His nerves came back, though, when he realized you were still skating backward. "You’re gonna fall,” he warned, eyeing the rink behind you as if it was full of unseen dangers.
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, silencing his worry. “Trust me.”
You spun around gracefully, pulling his hands to your waist. With your body in front of him, his grip on your waist, he found himself getting the hang of it. He could follow your lead, letting his movements mimic yours. It was a strange, wobbly dance, but it was progress. By the end of a lap around the rink, Jude's fingers no longer pressed into your skin.
“See?” you called over your shoulder. “I told you—you’ve got this. You’re practically a pro now.”
Jude let out a shaky laugh. “Pro? Not sure about that. More like... less embarrassing than I was five minutes ago.”
You slowed down, finally bringing the both of you to a stop in the middle of the rink. Skaters passed around you, but it was like you two were in your own little bubble. You turned in his arms, your hands finding his cheeks, your thumbs brushing softly against his skin.
"Hey," you whispered, leaning closer, your lips brushing the tip of his nose before they hovered over his. "You’re doing great. Now relax. Stop worrying about falling. I’m right here."
Jude couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling his tense muscles begin to unwind. He leaned into your touch, the warmth of your hands on his face anchoring him.
“You’re right," he murmured. "But it’s a little hard not to worry when you keep skating backward like you're trying out for the Olympics.”
You laughed, your breath ghosting over his lips before you closed the space between you, kissing him softly. The world around you kept moving—skaters rushing past, music booming from the speakers—but in that moment, it was just the two of you. His hands rested on your waist, pulling you a little closer, the warmth of your body against his easing his nerves completely.
Date night had become something Jude looked forward to more than anything else. It was officially set—every two weeks, no exceptions. With the whirlwind of his career, the media, and everything that came with being him, those nights were like a breath of fresh air. Most people would assume he'd want to go all out on those nights—high-profile dinners, glamorous venues, the works. But in reality, date nights with you were his safe haven, a chance to just be without the world watching.
What he loved most was how normal he felt with you. No cameras, no expectations—just the two of you, lost in your own little world. Your presence grounded him, reminded him that this, you, was what mattered. You had a way of making him feel lighter, more carefree. With you, he didn’t have to be "Jude Bellingham, football star"—he was just Jude, the guy who couldn’t stop staring at the love of his life and thinking about how lucky he was.
As the kiss broke, he sighed. “Alright, alright. I guess I can trust you not to let me crash.”
You grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “See? Told you. Now, come on, show me what you've got, Mr. Bellingham.”
With that, you pushed off again, pulling him along. This time, Jude didn’t feel the need to look down or grab the railing—he just kept his eyes on you, laughing softly as you danced and twirled in front of him. For once, he wasn’t thinking about his feet.
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Afterlife Jobs and Civil Service
Seen a few theories and "plot hole" accusations flying around after Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and thought I'd add my own hypothesis on what the deal is with jobs in the afterlife.
This will contain spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.
TW: This post will discuss suicide. Please only proceed if you are comfortable.
The short version:
I think (for the most part) jobs are a choice and available to those who need to hang around due to unfinished business (even if they themselves don't know what that is). I think those who commit suicide do have to work for some time as it wasn't their time to die yet. They can't just board the soul train and move on to better plains. Instead, (and though rather sour in the mouth), they're met with the shock that it isn't over. This is Beetlejuice, after all. Death and life is hard.
Now, for the long version (and it really is long), read on!
Despite the fact I do personally think it's canon that those who commit suicide end up having to work (at least for a while) in the afterlife, we can't believe that purely because Otho said so. Firstly, the guy is living, pompous and has zero evidence for that statement. Secondly, he's not a credible source. He may have been "one of New York City's leading paranormal researchers until the bottom dropped out in '72," but his interest in anything can be boiled down to obsession with image and aesthetic more than a desire to get into the nitty gritty.
What we as the audience do see is people working in the afterlife that could have died by suicide.
There's the Road Kill man ("Thanks, I've been feeling a little flat!"), Juno (*who I will come back to) and most obviously, Miss Argentina. These people are working and likely (if not outright confirmed) died by suicide.
It's a weird thing to pick up on, but what about the skeleton workers?
Besides being a great visual gag, there's not really a clear indication of death by suicide here. We could, of course, suggest they died this way and have since been "worked to the bone" - as this is the Beetlejuice franchise after all, and lord knows pun-based humour is...well, pun-damental - but no other ghosts seem to have permanent alterations to their state. In the Beetlejuice universe, once you're dead, you're stuck that way. (Unless you get your soul sucked that is).
Well, that clears things up, right?
Maybe not.
For a long time, a lot of us in the fandom accepted the whole "in the afterlife they become civil servants" thing because, well, that was what we were told. But with the recent instalment of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice this is now dubious.
Why?
Betelgeuse himself.
Betelgeuse was largely assumed by many to have died by suicide. Various headcanons over the years include strangulation, hanging, poison, drowning, electrocuting himself - the list truly goes on. part of his charm is the mystery. But with the sequel, it is suggested that he died by poison from another. Delores.
Why is this an issue?
Well, if Betelgeuse didn't commit suicide, why was he Juno's assistant?
I have two theories for that.
Firstly, in line with this entire post - he died after Delores poisoned him and then chose to work up from the bottom to become Juno's assistant. He claims himself that his heart was pretty much blackened before he met Delores, so what's to stop him from wanting to take over in the afterlife after finding himself there ahead of his time? He probably feels robbed of life and hella opportunistic. It would support the theory of unfinished business and explain the random jobs we see him doing in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. From Guide to working Immigration, man's got one hell of a resume.
Then there's my second theory, which muddies the waters quite a bit.
We didn't actually see him die after he was poisoned.
I'll let that fester for a bit...
Ready to move on?
Let's talk about *Juno!
Juno, my beloved.
Despite recent questions surrounding her cause of death, I do personally feel the cut on Juno's throat was self-imposed. The issue fans have with how deep the cut is can be answered fairly reasonable. This is more practical rather than an effort for believability. Beetlejuice is high camp and smoke pouring from the throat of a ghost only adds to its ridiculousness. Plus, it helps back up my theory that those who commit suicide are required to do some type of work in the afterlife to make up for their shortened time on earth.
The reason I believe this is that Juno seems to really hate her job - or at least hate the crap that comes with it. If she had chosen to be a caseworker, (or been given a job similar to what she did when living), we'd perhaps see her be a little more understanding to everything that was going on. Instead, she's burdened by her paperwork, sick of having to deal with issues from baby ghosts and their "routine hauntings," and the poor woman is constantly haunted by the knowledge that Betelgeuse is out there.
(While we don't know their history, we do know that Betelgeuse ended up with a bit of a liking for Bio-exorcisms. I don't think she believes him evil any more than she considers him a nuisance, so we can only assume he got caught up in trouble that threatened Juno's line of work, leading to him getting fired.)
The real reason I can suggest that jobs are largely a choice are the recent additions to the Beetlejuice universe. I'm talking about Richard, Wolf Jackson, the Shrinkers, the Janitor and all of Wolf Jackson's squad, (plus a handful of others). They all have jobs, with some having more legitimate jobs than others.
This is where my theory really comes into play.
I think all of the above characters (possible with the exception of the Shrinkers) chose their jobs. Why? They have unfinished business - just as Barbara and Adam had unfinished business in Beetlejuice.
(Of course "they found a loophole and moved on" but this is more-so to explain their necessary absence in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. From a lore perspective, they could very well still be haunting the house for another 89 years. I (like many others now) believe the loophole was unfinished business. They had the family (Lydia) that they wanted all along and when she moved on with her life, they felt complete. Next stop: The Soul Train and The Great Beyond.)
When looking at these new characters, here's what I theorise for each of them:
Richard - Unfinished business: a family reunion.
Richard died in the Amazon, away from Astrid and likely didn't get a proper goodbye. After saving her, thus seeing her once more, he could move on. It's possible too that he's not going to move on after Beetlejuice Beetlejuice due to waiting on more family to see again. But we don't know that, so I'll keep it short.
Wolf Jackson - Unfinished business: "keeping it real."
Wolf Jackson seems slightly in denial about his situation. Janet has to continuously remind him that he in an actor because he gets too into the bit he's currently doing. I think the man gets completely convinced he is a spy/detective/investigator/whatever it is he is hyper-fixated on becoming. He's method, dedicated to his craft and won't move on until he feels he has fulfilled every cast-type possible for his range. He's gunning for a Gross-cer.
Wolf Jackson's squad (including Janet) - Unfinished business: supporting cast.
Judging by how useless they all are, I'd hedge bets that they are actors too, waiting for their "big break" or recognition to feel satisfied with life (or death). In the Toonverse, celebrities are canon. If these universes are more aligned than previously thought, this could be a possibility.
The Shrinkers - Unfinished business: think big.
These poor sods got on the wrong side of a witch doctor (although I really do think a certain B-man is to blame for this). We saw what happened when the portal to the living world opened. Those suckers saw a bid for freedom and went for it. I'd wager that they're somewhat forced to work for Betelgeuse. Maybe he's promised them 'head' (not that kind) if they do his dirty work. After all, he got his head back to normal size. Who's to say he hasn't promised them the same if they work for him? (Let's hope they read the fine print in that contract).
The Janitor - Unfinished business: a taste for revenge.
To be honest, I think this guy either died by suicide or totally on accident. Either way, it was from ingesting something toxic. He's got a hankering for bleach and chemicals, who's to say this was just in death? I think he was content working in the afterlife, consuming these deadly toxins with zero repercussions.
Much of the same can be said for the Dry Cleaner. People need their clothes cleaned, he was good at it in life. Why not carry on if you're not ready to go?
Speaking of ready to go...
All aboard The Soul Train!
Another key point in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that (aside from Astrid, who was semi-forced to board), The Soul Train is something you board when you're ready to depart. Maybe some people are forced here and there, as there are guards stationed, but we are also reassured that Hell is an option for those who do truly fucked up shit.
(It's worth noting also that The Soul Train has other stops. The Pearly Gates, Elysium and another stop (my memory fails), all of which were DELAYED. Time works differently in the afterlife; maybe some people get jobs because the wait is truly an eternity.)
WOW, you made far! Congratulations for enduring my ramblings, here's a beetle for your trouble 🪲
After all that, here's what we do know:
If you died within a certain radius of your home, you're left to haunt it for 125 years.
If you died by suicide (and if Otho is correct), you have to work for an unspecified amount of time as a civil servant in the afterlife.
If you died via a horrific accident (Wolf Jackson, Janet and Richard), jobs are there for you and you don't even need the credentials to back up your experience.
You cannot leave the afterlife unless you are confirmed "dead dead", board the soul train, attempt to swap souls with a living person or get sent to Hell.
In summary:
Jobs are available in the afterlife. There's no expectation to "work" but there's not much else to do. If you're not ready to leave the afterlife, (perhaps you're still processing death, waiting for loved ones to meet you on the other side or even enjoying the weird and wonderful atmosphere), why not get a job?
Well...unless you're forced into one by a horny poltergeist. But that's a whole other post.
But hey, what do I know? I'm only living.
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