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#and then BOOM A playboy
whaliiwatching · 1 year
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don’t talk to him ever again
based off this by riibbon on tiktok
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milesworld96 · 4 months
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You guys think a queer coded this?
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theyellowhue · 1 year
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Prapai: Ohhh i have strong broad shoulders and big arms, i bet theyre perfect for cuddles
Sky: the audacity of this man
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Being a 9-1-1 fox fan and a teacher is so interesting and fun bc we took our preschoolers to the local fire station today and one of my only thoughts was about the 118 going offline for a bit just to give local schools and daycares tours. Special interest brain rot.
#we're a small town and only have the one fire station and there are clearly vast differences between the TV station in LA versus here#but that just made me want a midwest 9-1-1 spinoff more than ever#picture me this: 9-1-1 heartland or some bullshit. opening scene is the playboy young captain on his first day#we get to see him and his crew start their shift they arent in a big city like LA but they're in the twin cities or madison or cedar rapids#and we gwt to see them have a normal day. they go to a few calls. they have a class come in. they go to more calls. but its boring#boom. disaster. five-alarm fire#center of town. our crew is the first on scene but uh oh! flashback. hot playboy captain is a kid now. we see a similar five alarm fire.#the captain in charge? same last name as our current hotshot captain. its his mother. we see her lead her team. a few people from when#she was around are still there#helping out the kid. we go back to the flashback. she's leading the charge. she isnt captain but shes in the running#and shes trying to prove herself. she pushes herself too hard. she ends up injured. paralyzed from the waist down.#flash back to current day. our new captain who has been cocky all day backs down and keeps a level head. but as soon as hes in his office#he bursts into tears. his mother killed herself two weeks before his promotion to captain. no one knows yet#idk some more drama#but like imagine#i also like the idea of a smaller town station where everyone is volunteer firefighters bc there's not enough reason to keep a group#full time while there arent emergencies every day. but i did think that might get boring and hard to write for. but like what a real story#one a lot of peopme see#anyway
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lizthewriter · 2 months
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get him back! / theodore nott
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PAIRING  theodore nott x fem!reader
SUMMARY  after playboy mattheo riddle dumps you for another girl, your best friend motivates you to get the best revenge - be the girl he would always want, but could never have. you take things to the extreme when theodore nott offers you a deal you can't say no to.
TAGS  theodore nott x fem!reader, past!mattheo riddle x fem!reader, modern!au, university!au, ginny is your best friend, fake dating, college parties, gluna / linny, part 2?
QUOTE  "yeah i pour my little heart out, / but as i'm hitting send, / i picture all the faces of my dissappointed friends, / because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do, / he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," - get him back! by olivia rodrigo
WORD COUNT 2.2K
WRITTEN  12.15.2023
hey, mattheo, how are you? i know it's been a while but i thought i'd -
No. What the hell are you doing? You hold the backspace, watching as the words you had just typed out disappeared. This was ridiculous - you couldn't keep doing this. Ginny would be so dissappointed in you. He had cheated on you, multiple times. He had spent all his time flirting with other girls. He lied to you and then his apologies were just fancy, elaborate gifts soaked in wealth and champagne. How could you still want him, need him, so viscerally?
"What are you doing?" You threw your phone over to your bed and turned around to face Ginny with a sickeningly-sweet grin.
"What? Nothing," you responded innocently. She narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion and made her way over to your bed, picking up your phone and glancing at the screen. You had forgotten to turn it off. Shit.
"Oh come on, seriously? Riddle? That douchebag?" She asked incredulously, sending you one of her famous looks of dissappointment. You got up and snatched your phone from her hand, only to crash on your bed.
"I know, I know," you responded with whine. "And I hate him too . . . but I miss him." You snatched one of your pillows and planted your face into it. The muffled scream was still louder than it ought to be, making Ginny cringe, but still rather satisfying. You let out a huff of breath. "I don't know what to do. I want to punch him in the face but at the same time . . . I want to kiss his stupid fucking face. That piece of shit."
You stared at his picture and let out a sigh. He was so damn complicated.
Ginny snatched your phone from you yet again. "All right, here's what we're going to do. We're going to come up with a plan to make Mattheo Riddle the most jealous man on the planet and in the process, find you someone new and much better. All right?"
You groaned. The thought of it sounded exhausted, but even you had to admit that there was a certain appeal to showing up at some party he was at, dressed to the nines, and bringing home another guy all while he watched. You sat up and stared at Ginny, before hesitantly saying, ". . . Go on."
-
"I know darling it's upsetting, darling, but . . . you're just not my kind of girl."
The words rang out in your head as you stood before a large mansion belonging to one of the many wealthy students at your campus. Cars were parked around the enormous driveway and the music from inside was booming so loudly that your could feel your bones vibrate with the beat.
Ginny slipped her arm through yours and flashed you one of her adventurous smiles. "Cheer up - you're going to be the prettiest girl they ever did see," Ginny said mockingly, pinching your cheeks. You barked out a laugh, playfully shoving her arm away.
"You sound like some posh grandma."
"But I'm your posh grandma," Ginny responded with a pout as you two began to climb the stone steps to the completely open front door. (I mean, seriously, who leaves the door to their house open? It's like they're asking to be robbed.)
The music steadily became louder upon approach, making it almost impossible to hear your own voice as you entered. The sleek wooden floors were bathed in a variety of disco lights, an odd contrast in comparison to the lovely home that looked like it belonged to some stuffy old Oxford professor.
"Hello ladies," said a jubilant man leaning against the doorframe leading to the foyer. He looked Ginny up and down before pushing himself off the wall and approaching Ginny. "Lovely to see you again." He sent a wink Ginny's way, which she responded to with a playful roll of her eyes. You finally recognized him - he was a sports major, friends with some of her older brothers. Lee, you remembered his name was. He was a flirt - he had tried with you once, when you were with Mattheo. It didn't end so well for him.
"I'm glad to see your nose is doing better, Jordan," you spoked with a friendly smile.
He pinched it and then looked down at his hand. "Good as new, I suppose, but there's still a scar on my heart," he claimed dramatically, walking wistfully away with the expression of a lovelorn, heartbroken lead in a Victorian drama. You and Ginny giggled and delved further into the lion's den. Numerous people greeted you, but especially Ginny (she had always been the popular one). A paticular boy, Harry, had his eye on her for quite some time. You wouldn't be one to say he was unattractive - he was fairly pretty. He was a Criminal Justice major and a pretty nice guy from your understanding. But you knew Ginny wasn't interested.
When Ginny stopped walking, you did too, as your arms were intertwined. You followed her line of sight and smirked at what - well, who - she was staring at. A wistfully odd girl with pale blonde hair down to her waist and an odd sort of dress adorning her body. People gave her odd looks, whispering to their friends. Why is she here? No one likes her.
You nudged Ginny multiple times to grab her attention once more. "Hey, you can go on without me. I'll be fine."
"What? No! I'm not abandoning you, you're my best friend and -"
"Go," you insisted. "I promise, I'll be fine."
She looked rather torn, glancing between the two of you before stomping her feet and letting out a groan. "I hate you," she whined.
"I hate you too," you responded with a grin. You turned her around, your hands on her shoulders, and pushed in her in the general direction of one eccentric Luna Lovegood. "Now go! Don't worry about me, we've been planning this for days!"
"Good luck!" She shouted at you before she disappeared into the sea of people. A few moments later, after much difficultly trying to see her, you saw her chatting up the girl. All right, my turn, you thought.
You scoured the room - you wouldn't say you were the most introverted person in the world, but you definitely weren't the most outgoing either. You needed to find someone who would really pull at Mattheo's nerves, make those prominent veins pop out of his head. You wanted him to feel the anger and the pain that you felt. You wanted to get him back!
There was no one on the bottom floor that caught your eye, so you climbed the stairs to where the more . . . elegant students were. (Rich, more like.)
They weren't anymore sophisticated than the people downstairs, but there was still that air of refinement that made you feel slightly out of place. You wandered around the many rooms for a bit before you found a kitchen (they had one upstairs and downstairs?) Grabbing a drink, you wandered around some more, making friendly conversations with some of your peers. As you were talking with Neville, a very kind boy from one of your general education courses, someone in paticular caught your eye and everything clicked.
Theodore Nott. He was the son to a rather rich Italian man, the CEO of one of the most well-known designer shoe brands in Europe. His mother died rather unfortunately of illness at a young age. He's been very prominent, especially in recent years. He's been a model for his father's company, he was in the top 5% of your class, and he's - well - he's known as the most handsome boy in your year.
You definitely weren't going to deny that - he was drop-dead gorgeous. His eyes were so . . . alluring. Dark and sexy, a pool of emotions shrouded by mystery. Okay, so maybe you were going far too overboard with your description of him, but for the love of God, was he attractive.
Somehow, he could feel your gaze upon him. He had been sitting on a couch, telling a story to a tight-knit group of friends, Mattheo included you noticed, that you had taken your eyes off of him. You felt embarrassed, pretended to look around the room, and then turned your attention back towards Neville with an encouraging smile that pretended that you had been listening to him rant all along.
"Excuse me," you heard Nott say, standing up from the couch. The champagne flute in his hand was rather empty so you deduced that he was probably going to go fill it. An educated guess, but an incorrect one. He did something you never expected. He approached you.
"Longbottom, I hear Greengrass has a question about a Geo-sci class you two share. She seemed rather distressed by it. I'm sure she'd appreciate your help," Theo told Neville - you glanced at Daphne Greengrass. She looked nowhere near distressed, but Neville perked up in excitement.
"R-really?" He asked nervously, wringing his hands. He gave you a sheepish smile. "Talk to you later, I've got to go help Daphne."
"Yeah, see you later Nev," you replied. Nott looked down at you for a moment before raising his glass.
"It seems we're both in need of a refill. Care to join me?" His expression was nothing more than emotionless, except perhaps the tiniest smirk that remained upon those rose-dusted lips. You shrugged nonchalantly, only just noticing the vacancy in your glass.
"Sure, why not?"
You followed a quite Theodore Nott to the kitchen again, where he poured himself champagne from a very specialized fridge unit filled with distinguished bottles of liquor - merlot and pinot noir and all those fancy alcohols you would have assumed people like him drank. He silently offered you some by tipping the bottle towards you. You offered him your glass, which he poured a fair amount in, not too much, not too little. Just right.
"I'm suprised to see you here."
You arched a brow in response as he took a light sip from the flute resting in a delicate balance between his two fingers. Precariously, a smile dained your face. "And why is that?"
"Your Riddle's ex-girl, aren't you?"
He asked in such a way that seemed as though he didn't care much at all.
The smile from your face disappeared, replaced by something much more bitter. You shrugged, but the action was much more passive-agressive than you had intended it to be. "So what? Does that mean something to you?"
He placed the flute down, the glass clinking against the marble countertop. "Riddle and I have a . . . complicated relationship."
"You mean, your dear old daddies are both relevant, rival shoe designers?" You said it so innocently. Nott smirked at you.
"Yeah, something like that. Listen," he leaned in close to you, leaning his arms against the counter in an attempt to lower himself to your level. He was rather lanky and tall, which you supposed was good for a model, but hard for when you want to actually talk to him. "You and I both want something from him."
"And what's that, Nott?" You asked with mock curiosity, placing your chin in the palm of your hands with a tilt of your head.
"Well, let's just say you didn't come here tonight, dressed like that, in the hopes that he would fuck you," he responded, quite bluntly. Well, you supposed that sort of honesty was an inherited trait. "Everyone knows what went down between you two - he aired out your dirty laundry for all to see. No, you came back here to get revenge."
"Astute," you said with a tone of disdain. Taking a sip of your champagne, you found that it actually had a much more delightful taste than any other alcohol you had. You smacked down the glass on the countertop. "Really, Nott, thanks for that." You began to leave but Theo grabbed you by the arm.
"Wait! Just . . . listen," he said, panting slightly. His brows were scrunchdd together in frustration - he seemed genuinely distressed. The only reason you stayed was because you realized something rather odd.
You turned towards him with furrowed brows. "Is Theodore Nott . . . desperate for something?" You asked with a disbelieving scoff. At the sight of his jaw clenching, his eyes avoiding yours, you let out a shocked laugh.
"Shut it," he muttered, sending you a dark glare.
"Now that's certainly out of character," you said, slugging off his iron grip. "All right, you've got my attention. What is it?"
"My father's been trying to score one over Riddle for years. Rumor is Mattheo's father wants him to marry a good woman, someone that won't tarnish his son's so-called good reputation. And well, you . . . slipped through his fingers like sand. Stealing him from you would make my father more . . . proud."
You crinkled up your nose. "You're not proposing to me, are you? Cause the answer is no."
"No, no. I'm just asking you to date me, at least for a bit."
The sound of it seemed ridiculous, but then you thought - you were both getting something out of it. It was nothing more than a partnership, and a good one at that. Either way, you'd be pulling one over Mattheo and that would be good enough for you.
"How much is 'for a bit'?"
-
"Everyone." Theo had walked back into the room, you snuggled comfortably into his arms. He had tapped a fork against his glass, gathering the attention of his friends. Mattheo's jaw dropped, the hand swung around some girl you had seen around slithering it's way back to his side. "I want to introduce you to my girlfriend."
That's right, you smug snake. I win.
part two coming soon . . . <3
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steviewashere · 20 days
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Rhetorics and Bad Days
Rating: General CW: None apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Time, Steve Harrington is an Ugly Crier, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Forehead Kisses, Slight Love Confessions, Getting Together (Sorta Kinda/More Implied Afterwards)
Tripped and fell last night and wrote 3.2k words. Inspired by @scoops-aboy86 idea and my stupid little headcanon from this post!
💕—————💕
It seems like everyday was a bad day when you were somebody like Steve Harrington. Considering the good majority of his life the last four years, give or take, has been a cartwheel of nightmares and torture and blood and injuries—And, well. Obviously he has bad days.
Though, typically, it can be resolved and done over with a hot shower, maybe some stupid movie that he honk-laughs at, a warm blanket and a freshly dried pillowcase. Little things. Little good things that are able to calm him some, at least. Give him something else to think of, at most. He doesn’t have to do anything like cry or breakdown or yell until his voice is hoarse, that’s what he tells himself. Because, what’s been ingrained in his head, men don’t cry. Men don’t get hysterical. Men don’t break that emotional mold.
Though those words are definitely booming and deep and flat like his dad’s. That’s not his brain. Those aren’t his words. But it sure as hell is what he’s been exposed to for far too long.
And maybe that’s why, standing in the barren living room of his brand new (albeit worn down, caulked heavily, all too warm) apartment, he finds the rhetoric silenced. In a fresh space. With crooked blinds and awfully filled tack holes. A kitchen fit for a (former) king. Little breakfast nook that only allows for two dining chairs under the south facing windows. Barely any sunlight able to stream through. His bedroom cramped with just a queen sized mattress placed haphazardly on the floor, definitely crushing some well-loved Playboy magazines, crooked to the wall at his head because the movers carrying it were too tired from the recently odd mid-fall heat, and a decently sized freshly made spiderweb in the corner—he shivers at the thought of something alive and crawling watching him sleep at night. And the glorious bathroom—preemptively marked with darkened piss stains on the floor and a smell birthed from over-indulgence on alcohol. 
It’s his, though. Well, his and Eddie’s.
Eddie has his own bedroom, similar size to Steve’s (think of a shoebox used to bury that poor hamster from your youth, dead from eating too many baseball cards), ceiling light stained with god worshipping moths, and a window that half-opens if he jiggles it the right way. They share that grimy bathroom. And he brought the living room couch, something that had been sitting on his and Wayne’s back porch for some time, definitely a little mud stained and mildew smelling from rain, but it’s not the worst. Not the best. Not even good. But it’s their space, freed from the confines of Hawkins, new and shiny for all of Indianapolis to see.
The rhetoric is gone in Steve’s brain. Like skin shed from his sunburned body. Peeling and crackling to every surface he finds himself on or leaning against or standing with. It evades him. Leaves him with something viciously young and terribly hungry.
Steve Harrington is prone to bad days. Bad weeks. Bad things.
The unfortunate luck begins anew an exact week from when they move in.
October 20th, 1986 is his first day back at Family Video. He’d been transferred, referred much to Keith’s dismay, but probably his pleasure, too. (Considering how immediate his response had been to Steve’s question.) But it was his first day back. Didn’t need to be trained. Just hooked like a fish to deceased worm bait, thrown out to the river that is their block’s neighbors and strangers and mere acquaintances that feel no better or worse about having new people take residency on their street, but he’s also not reeled back in at the end of his shift. If anything, he’s tangled in his own wire, flopping, gasping for water, drying to the gravel by the shallow give of the river’s flow. He is stranded behind the register. Returning customers telling him he should know what they like, or what discount they need, or how many movies they’ve checked out previously. That he should know that a particular customer is friends with the owner of the Family Video he so sorely resides in. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. So he makes do. He powers through it. Feigns mundane annoyance like gum flavorless between his teeth, though he’s biting his tongue to not sob.
That’s not where the bad ends. No. Of course not.
He’s within walking distance to their apartment. Which should be fine. In fact, it’s incredibly handy because even if he were running late to work, he could blame it on something stupid. (‘My key broke off in the lock, had to bother the landlord.’ ‘Yeah, had a leak in the bathroom this morning, have to report it just in case it tries to flood the downstairs neighbors.’ ‘It’s odd, seems like the lock loves to devour my keys.’ Nervous laughter.) But just because he’s within walking distance does not mean that life is plainly simple. No, what happens is he gets soaked with dirty road rain water. Was it mentioned that it’s been raining all day? No? Well, it has been. And it’s a downpour. Forecast said it would happen tonight, not midday, not while he’s trying to power walk home so he can make the peanut butter and jelly sandwich of his dreams. But it does. Because of course. And some asshole, screaming out their window to tell him that he should’ve worn a raincoat, speeds by. Coating him from collarbone to toe in the mucky rainwater of a city that’s too busy for a place like bumfuck Indiana. At least in Hawkins everybody knows your name; at least they have the common decency to let you stroll on by before they make a major move like that. But in a city bustling with busy, selfish, awful people—because aren’t all city inhabitants like this, should he have realized something like this was bound to happen? Well, he did. Just didn’t think it would take less than a month for it to occur.
Sopping wet. Exhausted and burnt out. Hungry like a rabid stray dog. He walks briskly. Skipping over the cracks and lines in the sidewalk, no matter how much disdain he tastes for his mother. Missing freshly spat out gum by mere centimeters. Shoulder checking a few too slow pedestrians, their sneering faces burning into his back. And the next awful thing comes in like a planned prank on some mocking little sitcom show. Dog shit. Pure dog shit, brown and putrid and soft on the sole of his right Adidas Superstar. His brand new shoes. The shoes he got himself less than a month ago. Shoes that he had been eyeing for years, but couldn’t muster the courage or the reason to buy them. And now there’s dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. He smears it on the concrete, squishing it further into the ridges of his sole, scraping it against the harsh ground. Tries his best. Checks the bottom of the shoe precariously. And without missing a beat…topples down onto his ass, thankfully away from the smeared shit, but down onto the ground nonetheless. He prickles, stands up on his shaky legs, dusts off his ass, and storms the rest of the way home.
Maybe he shouldn’t slam the door. But it’s barely anything in comparison to the rest of his day. He shouldn’t do it. He knows that it could get them a noise complaint. Though, the way it vibrates against his back, settling deep into the wood, stepping out of his sneakers to wash in the tub in a few—it’s all too good. 
The anger begins to dissipate from him in just that small action.
Then, again like a well-mannered sitcom scene, in barrels Eddie from his bedroom. Arms crossed over his chest, hip popped to the side, harsh scowl to his face. “Man, are you fucking serious?” He spits.
“What?” Steve asks, panting, breathless, absolutely done with today. With tomorrow. With the rest of this week.
“I told you this morning that I was going to be studying in my room! All day! Told you that I wanted it to be quiet, and the first thing you do when you get home is slam the door shut?!” He growls. Snarling, he continues, “And what about the noise complaints?! We can’t afford any of those, we need this place! Could you not—“
Steve pushes past him, shoes in hand, work bag slung down like a bomb to the floor. Leaving its contents scattered. A copy of Airplane! on VHS, some stickers reading ‘Be kind, rewind’, measly three dollars, and his Family Video vest. All of it strewn about their place. Pooling murky water on the surface, just as Steve’s clothes were dripping everywhere else. He closes himself in the bathroom, but doesn’t lock the door. In fact, that stupid fucking lock doesn’t even work. Nothing works. He stays in there anyway. Really, they should clean in here. Clorox the hell out of every surface. Maybe see if the piss stains will come up with a harshly gripped mop. But instead of those important things, he tosses his sneakers into the bathtub, and sits with his head in his hands on the closed toilet lid. Mushy socks to the tiled floor. Pants uncomfortably drying and chafing on his legs. Underwear like a second skin to his balls. His polo tight across his back and terribly moist.
Shoves his palms harsh into his eyes and whistles through his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters, lip wobbling with the word.
A tentative knock to the door startles him. “Steve?” Eddie’s voice rings out. It’s murmured, careful, testing the syllables on his tongue. “Hey, can I come in? I’m—“ He sighs, the anger he had before blowing away from him. “I’m sorry,” he sincerely apologizes. “I’m sorry that my first instinct was to get mad. I—“
“Just come in,” he croaks. It’s not very loud, but it must be enough because Eddie pushes the door open mere seconds later.
He sighs, mouth downturning when he sees Steve on the toilet. Meekly holds up Steve’s also brand new messenger bag. Stained like the tiled flooring under their socked feet. It’s sodden and depressing. “Hey,” he mutters. 
Steve just hums in return. Looking up to Eddie from the toilet, he must be a sorry sight. All soaking wet, spine hunched and scrunched in a horrifically twisted amalgamation, hair limp in his eyes. Something has to read on him for Eddie to be gazing at him the way he is. All big eyes and sorry mouth and his shoulders slouched like he’s admitting defeat. Part of Steve doesn’t want him to, wants him to keep getting riled, yelling about their lease and the slammed doors and the forgetfulness that seems to flow through Steve just as easily as blood. Wants to be called names. Wants to have a non-delicate conversation about how much of a screw-up he is, how he should’ve listened to his father and never moved away, why he’s a disaster of a person. Tell Steve all the ways in which he’s deserving of the bad days. Deserving of their frequency. Deserving of misery.
“Are you—No, you probably aren’t, but I’m asking anyway. Are you okay, Steve?”
That—Well, that breaks something in him. The final block on his wobbling tower of everything and too much. Under his skin, like weak twigs, his ribs are snapping. Crumbling beneath him to make room for the way his lungs expand with the need to gasp. The need to hiccup his way through a terrible explanation.
His mouth twitches, lips pursing. Looks away. “I—“ Steve rasps. “No,” he sobs.
Warmth crowds him, all too sudden and all too much. Hands gravitating to his magnetic pull. Squeezing his shoulder and pushing back his stringy hair. Though, immediately and dizzyingly, he is reminded of that stupid rhetoric. He shouldn’t follow it. Shouldn’t even allow it to have the vice grip it does on his brain.
But he shakes Eddie off, standing uneasily from the toilet, walking around him. He paces into the kitchen, hungry and shaking and needed to do something. Get his energy out one way or another. Fight off the tears, no matter how relieving they would be. Clatters through the cupboards. Finds the cheap, shitty, generic white bread. And an already half-eaten jar of peanut butter, odd peaks and valleys in it as if somebody’s been chowing down on it with a spoon. That doesn’t matter, though. At least there’s any peanut butter at all.
Eddie’s not too far behind him. Standing in the kitchen’s entryway, hands floating in front of him, reaching out for Steve. “Hey, Stevie, I can make you a sandwich. Y’know, if you want to change out of your clothes. Must be uncomfortable,” he’s placating.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve lies to himself. Because he needs this to be true. Just this one good thing. One thing he can do for himself. Make something he wants to eat. Something he’s been thinking about all day. Something that plasters an easy enough smile to his already half-puffy face, tears encroaching and sobs clawing their way up to his throat. But when he grabs for the jelly, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He slams the door of the fridge closed. No jar in sight. Not a single kind. No marmalade or strawberry jam or even the nasty grape jelly he bought for when Robin visits. There’s nothing. “Are you—“ He groans, huffs, and hiccups.
Attempting to cover himself, he shoves his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes.
The one thing he can’t let Eddie see, because crying is going to happen whether Steve likes it or not, is that he’s an ugly crier. The ugliest, and he knows that. All bubbled snot and dripping its residue over his top lip. Lips bitten red raw from muffling the sobs. Spit burbled in the corners of his mouth. Choking on wet gasps, hiccuping with his whole body, trying to drink the air around him. Skin going splotchy red and hideously swollen, the swelling still apparent even two hours later.
With the first sob, he knows it won’t be possible to hide this breakdown. Eddie’s already inching closer, hands still out in front of him. Steve is a wounded animal, it seems like. He cries loud and shameful, mouth dropped open, his saliva bubbling between his teeth. Already choking on his first gasp.
“It’ll be alright, Stevie,” Eddie tries to soothe, “We can get more jelly, it’s alright.”
“No,” Steve cries, “No! It’s not—“ A series of short, hiccuping, wet gasps. Followed then by a snotty snort, bubbled and causing his breath to whistle. “Such a bad day,” he attempts to explain, voice keening, high pitched in the back of his throat. “Everybody was so mean—Clothes are—All wet and gross—“ Heavy swallow like trying to consume large shards of glass. He flaps his hands at his sides, scrunching them, trying to squeeze himself back to his ordinary box. But instead, more snorting sobs leave him.
Eddie places a warm hand on the back of Steve’s neck. Thumb digging into a knot that’s forming. He puts his other palm on his bare arm, coaxing him over to one of the dining chairs. Settles him down and crouches in front of his sob-riddled, hiccuping, contorting body. Holding Steve’s face with one hand, he reaches for the crumpled bandana in his back pocket, raising it between them. “Look at me, Stevie baby,” he murmurs, “Let me help you.” Steve drags his eyes away from where they’d been zeroed in on the floor. Locking with Eddie’s own sad and soft gaze. “There you are,” Eddie whispers. He gently strokes Steve’s cheek with the edge of his bandana. Gliding it over his skin, patting at the drying tear tracks. His other hand, thumb wedged near the corner of Steve’s mouth, wipes away at the spittle. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he mutters, “But we’ll get it back on track, alright? You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise you’ll be okay.”
Steve’s lips wobble. “I thought you were mad,” he nasally whispers. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Stopping his slow and careful work, Eddie stares in heartbreaking dismay. “You deserve nice things, Steve. It doesn’t matter that I was mad. I’m not mad anymore.” And then he runs his bandana over the snot trails under Steve’s nose. Looking on with an odd mix of sadness and reverence. Thumb not even wiping anything away anymore, simply caressing over Steve’s heated, swollen skin.
He swallows glass again. Blinks sluggishly. Calmed down, oddly. This is probably the quickest cry he’s ever had. He chuckles, “God, I’m such an ugly crier, man.” Sighs. “Can’t believe you’re willingly wiping at my snot right now. ’T’s nice.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself, sweetheart. I don’t even think you’re ugly.”
Steve snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“What—I’m being honest!” Eddie quietly exclaims. He shifts the hand on Steve’s jaw, palm cupping his cheek, fingers splayed over his ear, holding him in a sweet yet fragile way. “Steve, you’re, like, gorgeous. I hate seeing you so upset, but you’re like an angel or something when you cry.” He draws his bandana away, but brings it back to cover the end of Steve’s nose. “Blow into this,” he instructs. And so Steve does, blowing out whatever didn’t already leave him in his crying episode. Eddie pulls it back again, not even grimacing at what is surely a squelching snot-covered mess in his hand. He massages his fingers into the hair around Steve’s ear. Gazing. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, reiterating. “And you deserve nice things, especially after what a clusterfuck of a day you must’ve had. And you deserve to breakdown every once in a while. Don’t have to hide just because you think you shouldn’t cry or because you’re ‘ugly’ or whatever.”
“Thanks, Eds,” Steve squeaks. Face flushing with heat, gratefully not from tears. He flashes a small smile, modest but there, for the first time today. “You really mean all that? Even when you called me sweetheart?”
Eddie is bashful, smile stretching, going red in the face, tilting his head as if assessing. But the lovesick sheen to his eyes says he’s already made up his mind. “Yeah,” he murmurs, careful and devoted, “yeah, baby. I do mean all that I said.”
“Can I have one more good thing?” Steve tentatively asks.
“What’s that?”
He touches between his eyebrows. “Forehead kiss?” (And sure, maybe he does pout a little, but can you blame him?)
Eddie, without missing a beat, leans forward, fiercely cupping Steve’s cheek, pressing a slightly damp kiss to Steve’s skin. Then under his eyes. The tip of his nose. Corner of his mouth. Pulls back, whispering, “You can have all the kisses you want, sweetheart.” Still caressing Steve, he offers, “How ‘bout I go get you some new jelly while you take a warm bath? And when you’re out, clean clothes and not shivering, we can curl up on the couch and watch that movie you got?”
“Okay,” Steve mutters.
“Okay,” Eddie murmurs back. He presses one more kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Let’s make this a good day, baby.”
💕—————💕
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whorediaries-09 · 3 months
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okay but popstar!reader and rockstar!sirius where reader performs a song, and wears sirius' leather jacket while doing it and screams "yes i'm his girlfriend, do what you want with that information"and sirius is SHOCKED or in which reader is in an interview and get questioned abt siri and she's like "he's the love of my lifee" and he is all gooey and melty
eep! i'm sorry i've been inactive, i hope you forgive me. i was on a little trip and also have my exams. anyways, i hope you like what i've written.
smoke on my clothes;
pairing- rockstar!sirius black x popstar!reader warnings- fluff, 18+ content (i had to incorporate it cause its him-) use of y/n (aghhhkdjci4utcisn). let me know if i should add more a/n- okay so i mixed both the ideas like-um- idk how to explain, you'll see.
the slut club
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lovelorn and nobody knows love thorns all over this rose
he was known for his notorious dating history. he was known for his "sex appeal". he was known for cigarettes after sex. he was known for his black leather jackets. he was known for his distinct rough voice, booming through stadiums. and through the years, he had a gained a reputation of being nothing but a man who seemed to a 'playboy' of sorts.
that pushed the media to slut shame him. but what happened behind close walls remained in his memories, and only he knew. while he could usually laugh it off when asked in interviews, he still felt hurt. he wasn't a man of commitment, and whenever he took a woman to his bed, he specified he didn't want any emotional bonding. it was supposed to be just a one night stand.
that was until he met you. you had agreed to collab with him on a project he had been working on. while the both of you rehearsed different genres of music, sirius wanted to experiment with his style a little bit. you were truly a sight to behold, clad in your cream oversized sweater and black jeans when you walked in the studio. there was something so mesmerizing about you, something that truly enchanted him.
that is how you got to know him. the sobs behind his smiles, the addiction behind the smoke on his clothes, the kisses behind his stage. he'd hold your hand under tables, kiss your pretty face stupid in private, he'd braid flowers into you hair. and in the perception of the hues of dark oceans, his gray stormy eyes would melt into your tear flooded haze when his cock was buried into you, hitting spots you'd never knew existed. his well defined abs would be soaked in sweat, lit under the moonlight. his lips would melt into your lips, his fingers pressing into your skin as your walls would clench around his cock, hinting the arrival of your orgasm. he would ghost his fingers at your clit, your moans and screams of his name falling like a cacophony of a melody into his ears. you'd shudder, shake and curl your toes with your breast heaving as you'd come down from your high euphoria, hitting you as he'd paint your walls with his hot white cum. he'd pepper kisses upon your hot skin, murmuring phrases of affection and falling asleep with his arms wrapped around your body.
he was a liquor you could be drunk on. but loving him was like holding a love thorned rose.
****
you wrapped the jacket around your body, hugging it closer, smelling sirius' scent upon you. the interview consisted of the same old questions but you still had to answer them with a faux smile on your face. sirius wondered how you could manage to do it all the damn time.
you shuffled with the cards, reading the tweet by a fan. you looked into the camera,
'so sirius motherfucking black just collabed with y/n? i think i'm about to faint. oh holy lord, they'd be the hottest couple if they dated.'
sirius almost about fainted. bells started ringing in his ears, as his heart thumped against his heart. truly against your wishes and his, the love you had for each other was hidden. once when you had brought it up, he'd laughed it off by saying it would blow up on your pretty face. but deep down he wanted the world to know how amazing you were, and maybe being slut shamed for you, would be worth it, for once. and while you had the image of a sweet popstar, and the world wanted you, it felt like it would be a crime to confine you with him. but his love knew no boundaries. he'd kill for you, he thought when you were so accepting of him and his flaws when he revealed that he was so 'imperfect'.
he gripped on the edge of his table, his knuckles almost turning white when you opened your mouth to answer. you smiled, holding up a finger as you did so.
'actually he is the love of my life,'
the sentence slipped so casually from your lips, as you proceeded with the tweets and questions. if he could, he'd hug you. but you were behind a screen on his phone. he felt wanted, accepted and desired. without his realization tears pooled into his eyes. he felt loved.
because you didn't care about the smoke adorned on your clothes. you didn't care about getting lovesick all over your bed. you didn't care about handprints in wet cement. you didn't care about that he was rose with thorns. you were truly drunk in love, and maybe it would be worth it even for once if it blew up on your pretty face.
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i-am-baechu · 5 months
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Preview
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・Title: Bad Boy
・Paring: Playboy! Yoongi x Namjoon’s little sister! Reader
・ Summary: Yoongi has been best friends with Namjoon since he was seven. He knew his little sister was always off limits but Yoongi never followed the rules.
・ Rating: Explicit (18+) 
・ Genre: Playboy! Yoongi, bad boy! Yoongi, best friend's little sister! reader, college! au, music major! Yoongi, Biology major! reader, fluff, romance, smut, and angst
“I guess sometimes you have to lie to find the truth...” – Scott Westerfeld....
He turned his head and saw Y/N standing there holding a tray of sweets. Y/N was three years younger than Namjoon and four years his junior. He saw her as a piece of glass. She was so sharp but one push and boom, shattered. They didn’t really talk that much because she was always busy with her friends or school. He also didn’t know what to say to her. Like at this moment. 
She gave him a small smile and glanced down at the tray, “I got some pastries for your study session. I also started the coffee machine, you should have some soon. Hopefully.”  
Yoongi nodded his head and put his hair in a small ponytail, “Thanks Y/N.” 
He glanced at her and saw that she was in a simple white loungewear set with matching slippers. Her hair was braided and out of her face giving him the perfect view of her eyes. When they were younger, her eyes were like a doe. So wide and filled with hope. Now that she was older they matured with the sparkle of hope that never truly left her. Hoping that life wouldn’t hurt her and everything would turn out right for her. She had all the tools to make that happen and Yoongi knew this. 
Y/N glanced over her shoulder and then back at him, “Namjoon is waiting. He’s grumpy today, be patient with him.”
“Is it because of his girl?” 
“Heejin-unnie? Did they get into a fight?”
Yoongi let out a small chuckle and realized that Y/N had no idea about her brother’s love life, “I guess you can say that.” 
Y/N tilted her head at him, “Should I be worried? I just want to make sure he’s alright.”
Yoongi shook his head at this and put his hands in his pant’s pocket, “He’s alright. He’s a big boy.” 
Y/N nodded her head and smiled at him, “Plus, he has you in his life. Come in before Namjoon gets angrier.” 
Yoongi wanted to ask her what she meant by that but she walked away from him. There were moments where Yoongi found himself wanting to talk to her but he always stopped himself. She was always there but instead of being a wallflower he saw her as the charming painting that could brighten up any house. Only a few can understand art and he was glad he could.
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minispidey · 5 months
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if you do one shots, could you do one where bimbo gf (reader) and steven get halloween costumes. i’ll try to explain best i can, but reader puts bag of their costumes in the bathroom . reader got a playboy bunny, but it is still in the bag. reader tells steven to change into costume but steven gets confused and changes into the playboy bunny one and is very flustered. ik this is a very long request but i NEED more bimboxsteven
YOU'RE A BUNNY, DUH!
Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader.
warnings: suggestive content, bimbo is really horknee okay??
a/n: hi babes! ty for requesting this! had to do this before october ended for halloween because duhhh it's halloween! i had such a huge writer's block (plus i got sick) and this is as good as i can write at the moment. again, ty for the request! so sorry it's short!
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If there's a season your little bimbo heart loved more than spring, it's definitely autumn. The smell of the fresh cold air, the pumpkins, the leaves falling down on your hair, and of course— halloween.
It was your first halloween in London. You planned like crazy to have the best night ever with your boyfriend (which consisted of non stop fucking in your flat at first) and bought costumes for you two to hit up a couple pubs.
Knowing how shy Steven is when it came to how sexy you are, you wanted to wear something revealing. You wanted to drive him crazy and make him fuck you right there at that very moment he looks at you.
"Stevie!" your voice boomed in his flat, following the sound of you shutting his door "I'm back, baby!"
"I'm in bed, love!" he responded. Steven sets his book down and takes off his glasses, watching you walk towards him.
"Hi, Stevie. I missed you so much!" you straddled him and cupped his face "I got your costume~"
"You went shopping for three hours, love. I'm just here. I could've come with you if you wanted." Steven then rests his head in between your breasts, taking in your scent.
"Why don't you go try it on? It's in the bathroom. I'll show you mine later."
"It's that much of a surprise that you left it in the loo? Is it naughty?"
"Later." you began to squeal when Steven began blowing raspberries into your breasts "Stevie! I promise, later!" you giggled before playfully pushing him away.
Steven laughed at your reaction and smiled at you "Alright, alright. If you got me a ghost face costume, you're in for a rough night."
"I'm counting on it~"
"Cheeky."
Steven got up and watched as you lied down in his previous position and smiled. He walked inside the bathroom and closed the door behind me before digging into the pink shopping bag.
His eyebrows furrowed before his eyes widened "What the..." he takes out a pink corset and pink silk panties, along with pink stockings.
"She has to be kidding." Marc says from the headspace. Steven looks up into the mirror to find Marc judging him "No way are we coming out of this place wearing that."
"Come on, she probably looked for it for hours... I don't wanna make her sad..."
"Honesty is the best policy."
"Honesty hurts people sometimes." Steven sighed before taking his shirt off.
"You're serious?!"
"Stevie? You've been in there a while considering all you needed to wear was a sheet and a mask..." you knocked on the bathroom door before pacing back and fourth again, waiting.
The lock of the door clicked and the door opened wide, Steven stepping out in a pink playboy bunny costume, complete with a bunny tail and ears.
You covered your mouth and held in your laugh "Steven?"
"Does it look bad?"
"No no! It's just that..." you giggled "That's actually mine."
"Wait what?" Steven's eyes widened.
You walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck "But you know... you look so fucking hot..." you breathed into his neck. Your left leg hooked behind his leg and you started placing kisses along his collar bone.
"L-Love?"
"I want you to fuck me. Right here right now."
Steven froze for a moment before slowly nodding and started to pull down the silk panties and stockings. Your hand stopped him.
"The costume stays on, Stevie... take your cock out."
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sussysluttyscorpio · 1 year
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Random Astrology Observations (Venus Edition) Part-4
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(This picture does not belong to me) (Please take only what resonates)
~Capricorn Venus men has this "I hate everyone except her" vibe for their women. Just Chef's kiss. Love this placement.
They take full responsibility for their loved ones. That Saturn determination actually shows in their demeanour.
They are the one who'll not run away from a fight as well. (this can also be influenced by other placements) They'll sit and talk through their problems. Keepers!
EXCEPT when their ego kicks in... Then they just leave-
~Another similar placement with this vibe can be a Scorpio Venus or a Virgo Venus. (Scorpio is Sextile Virgo and Capricorn)
Except a Scorpio Venus person is prone to become over-protective or over-possessive which might get icky for some people.
They wish to divulge in the deep passionate aspects of the bond. Like the secrets, the deep dark occult side.
They're the people who see red when someone touches their person. Top it up with Aries or Scorpio mars and BOOM!
~While with a Virgo Venus, these people might become too practical in matters of the heart. And you know what they say, there are no logics in love.
~Libra Venus. Well, technically since Venus is in its own sign, it is considered good, but I don't know why Venus in Libra have a tough time settling down with someone.
Their expectations is, I don't know, too high yet unfulfilled mostly? Just something I've witnessed.
(Leonardo Dicaprio is a sidereal libra Venus. I expected a Gemini Venus but eh)
~And what should I say about Gemini and Sagittarius Venus. I really don't want to stereotype but the commitment issues keep popping up.
But that's not just it for these placements.
~For Gemini Venus natives, the reason these people date many people is because they are trying to search their perfect one and when they find one, they DO commit.
These people have that seductress vibe. They have a way with their words. They know what to say, what will make a person to lose their mind. That's why many people with this placement give a playboy-ish vibe. (even if they are not) Also these people are super attractive. 
(Did I read somewhere that Meagan Fox has this placement too in her sidereal chart? Not sure though)
~Sagittarius Venus natives, on the other hand, love knowledge. Receiving and giving. They might have a thing for knowledgeable people. They are the people who are like, "good body? Okay, but what about brains?"
Plus, they are ruled by Jupiter, and well, Jupiter expands which makes a person's expectations from love gets expanded. So, after things go south, they might go down in a huge emotional pit, which many-a-times manifests like sleeping with many people or something which propels them to move on.
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sorrowfulmuse · 5 months
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Hi! Could I request a Sub-Zero x reader where the reader is sweet and fun to everyone but him (they treat him and ONLY him the same way he treats literally everyone else) and they basically have some rival/romance thing going on?
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♡:: sub zero (bi-han) x gn!reader (hc? blurb? im not sure)
✩:: FINALLY BIHAN REQUESTSSSS and you asked for the perfect prompt 😭, i kinda made this more bihans pov if that’s okay? also i apologize if i closed the requests yall! your girl is employed again saur now i have responsibilities 😞 right now i’ll be catching up on requests and will be opening requests maybe tomorrow night! STREAM CHASING THAT FEELING YALL and i hope you enjoy! remember to like and reblog pls! ☺️💞
♡:: warnings/mentions: nada
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀🫐 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀
the amount of glares that is shared in a close space because of you two is very uncomfortable.. just ask kuai liang and tomas! no but seriously, if it wasn’t oblivious enough that you and bi-han were naturally born enemies with a dash of attraction for each other is no lie.
"i expected more.." bi-han taunts you in a practice match, "well, i'm sure you can hit me if you try hard enough. i'll believe you." you snapped back. bi-han was irritating to be around half of the time but yet.. why did your eyes immediately meet his whenever you were around each other? anyways..
you’re not sure where both your rivalry started but you sure weren’t backing down to ending it. bi-han hated the way you played the game with him and that was by.. putting him in his place. kuailang would personally thank you for this sometimes.
although you started to notice the amount of times you caught bi-han near you. not physically but he was definitely near you enough to make you irritated by his presence, although seems like he was also irritated by your constant presence around other people.
he hated the way you treated others with such kindness, the way you would gleam a smile when tomas came to greet you or when johnny would indulge in a conversation with you and your laughter would be so anxious! he hated that he craved it in some way. craved to be.. he doesn’t know.
he doesn’t why he feels the way that he does for you.
so he intends to crush it, the feelings to not exist or so he claims doesn’t exist. you’re making him feel a way and he doesn’t like it.
there is times you both can coexist peacefully which is rare but very much needed considering he likes to hear your soft voice and how gracefully you speak.
a secret he’ll never tell but he'll watch you from afar while you attend to your duties or just relaxing during your training sessions, he finds himself staring a little too hard
his brothers would definitely be the two to first notice everything between you two but they’ll never say anything to bi-han especially since they didn’t want to feel his wrath.
so que the playboy johnny to steal your attention away! and boom, they have their answers: their brother has feelings for you but won’t admit it but on the other hand, do you feel the same way about him? is there a way they can get the truth out of you?
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wontontrap · 4 months
Text
Fast & Loud | 18+
90s Eddie with a goth raver
AU where they won and everything is normal 🥲
This is my first smut, enjoy! ♥
Word count 2.6k
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TW: rough sex, choking, manhandling, semi-public sex, hallucinogenic drug use (descriptions of uncomfortable trip symptoms), unprotected sex (fuck responsibly irl folks), mentions of knife play, mentions of gangbanging, mentions of human sacrifice
Middle of nowhere and fucked in the back of a van by the Hawkins Cult Killer. Yet she was the dangerous one.
♰ smut under the cut ♰
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Once the charges of '86 were dropped, everyone wanted to see Corroded Coffin live, and every girl with a bad boy fetish wanted to fuck the Hawkins Cult Killer.
Eddie was a lover at heart, and it took him a while to get used to the women who wanted it violent. He retired his handcuff belt a few years ago. It both aged him and made him look kitsch, but he realized now that the past groupies who complimented him on his belt leaned towards the more macabre ways in the bedroom.
He remembers the night a bombshell blonde asked him to put his bowie knife to her throat in the back of the van. She was completely bare with a body like a playboy centerfold. Sick in the head with the wettest pussy he'd ever been in. He came quick that night, railing her hard. It was absolute abuse. He never played dangerous games in the bedroom again but when he was alone at night, or when he was having trouble finishing with a partner, he'd remember it. It always made him wonder if he was really the terrible person everyone still thought he was.
He eventually tired of the women who asked him and the other band members to sacrifice them, gangbang them, or worse. He quit the music scene and dissolved the band in 1990, after four years of touring the small circuit. They could've been big, but he hated to be thought of that way - to sell out in that way. To sell his soul he worked so hard to save, that others had laid their lives and reputations on the line to protect. He took the money from the two years of touring and bought he and his uncle a real home, allowing Wayne to retire early. He took a respectable job at a local factory and even joined the union.
It was now 1994 and the metal scene was almost non-existent. It had been choked out by the monotonous drone of the grunge era and something called nu-metal was beginning to seep into the zeitgeist. Cobain was gone and labels scrambled to fill the Nirvana void. Some months ago, Eddie received a phone call from someone claiming to be a label scout wanting to discuss rebranding Corroded Coffin to "Corroded", and dampening their sound. He impolitely declined.
There was one new genre that Eddie didn't mind.
Trance.
House.
The music played at raves. It was fast and loud like metal. Booming base and intricate electronic melodies reminding him of the solos he used to play on stage. The more illegal the venue, the better. He loved to lurk within them, a wallflower. The drugs were free, and the people were freer. Tonight he drove all the way to downtown Indianapolis. A large abandoned building in the old coal district.
No one was ever watching the door at these things. He made his way up to the main entrance and heard a hushed toned behind him say, "Do you think that's really him?"
A much harsher but just as hushed tone responded, “You'd think he’d at least change his look. Sad really. How obvious.”
He was used to still being a pariah back home, but hearing that interaction made him feel a moment of deep despondency. Still, he persisted through the crowd, finding the perfect spot to smoke the rest of his cigarettes while feeling the deep base within his chest. He was incredibly lucky to have found another genre as cleansing to him as his first love of metal.
He scanned the dance floor, raves being a perfect place for so-called people watching. His eyes fixated on a young woman dancing atop a metal platform. medium height and black hair dressed in a leather skirt and corset. Already she had his attention. The sleeves of her cropped sweater were torn to shreds, held together by a scattering of safety pins and her torso was somewhat exposed, the corset putting her chest on full display for him. She had on the darkest of makeup, and her hair was gathered into two small buns, chopped up bangs framing her doll-like eyes. She looked liked something out of a corner store comic book, he thought. Her movements were quick and fluid and the flashing lights matching each beat gave the illusion that with each new sound she was magically in a new position.
She was entirely his type. The industrial gothic style reminded him of the metal babes he enjoyed so much back in the day.
She noticed him noticing her. And after a few glances she began to stare at him. He felt exposed somehow and turned his eyes away. He began looking for a path out of the crowd.
She jumped from the platform, jogging over to him. She grabbed his arm and called out “Wait, I know you!"
He turned to face her.
"You're Eddie Munson. You were Corroded Coffin's guitarist. She says with a smile, "I'd know that face anywhere.”
He responds with a crooked smile, bringing his nearly spent cigarette to his lips and taking a final drag. He flattens it between his thumb and forefinger as he begins to answer her, "Listen, you're not one of those-"
"I'm not a true crime groupie," she says, "I swear. I just recognized you from your band. I saw you play in ’89."
“Granted,” she begins again, “I used to dream about that face between my legs."
She laughed now, a bit awkwardly, which he thought was adorable.
He stays silent, letting his eyes do his talking. He scans her body from her cleavage, to her hips, hugged by that poor excuse for a leather skirt, and back up to those bright eyes.
She smiled ever so sweetly at him before saying, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look lonely. I can fix that."
He watched as she carefully placed a small tab of ecstasy on her tongue.
"Take this" she said, cupping his face in her hands.
She pulled his face to hers and he immediately opened in submission to her kiss. He hadn't tripped in some time, and there was no better time than now. This dark beauty already so down for him. When she pulled away he felt the tab begin to dissolve on his tongue, bitter and electric. She placed a different colored tab on her own and took his hand, leading him to dance.
His tolerance for harder drugs had diminished now that he was practicing the art of the upstanding citizen, rather than the depraved rockstar. In only minutes, the music began to muffle in his ears and his arms and legs began to grow heavy with tingling in his fingers and toes starting to follow. He felt the sweet swell of his cock hardening as she moved her body against his. He was never much for dancing, so he stood there with his head thrown back, basking in the flashing lights. He was only her prop and he was enjoying it. She put his hands where she wanted them, moving them closer and closer to the band of her leather skirt. She was only teasing him before she turned around to face him. She wrapped her leg around his waist and leaned backwards, dipping herself almost to the ground. In a flash, she was now inches away from his face, hands on his chest.
She kissed him again, deep, and he responded in kind. She pulled away from him and took his hand. They threaded themselves carefully through the crowd as she led him out of the venue and into the field of parked cars.
"Where's yours?" she asked, breathlessly.
Eddie tried to get his bearings, the cool night air returning some semblance of coherent thought to his mind, but his whole body still throbbed with ecstasy. He sounded the van's alarm and they soon made their way to the rear doors. He opened them and ushered her into the back. Once inside he fumbled with the latch, the drug she'd slipped him now in full effect. In the enclosed space he began to breathe heavily, and flopped himself on a heap of nearby dusty blankets.
He felt as if he were cooking from the inside out, and he needed to touch himself. He shed his top layers before unzipping his jeans and wrapping his hand around his cock. He sighed in relief. He stroked himself and continued to sigh and hum.
"You sound so sweet, killer." he heard her say.
In his haze he'd forgotten she was there. He turned to find her laid on her stomach, ass up and moving it up and down slowly as her soaking wet cunt swallowed her fingers over and over again. Her heavy boots thrown into the corner, she hadn't taken off her fishnet stockings. Nothing was stopping her from delving her first two fingers into herself through the large holes. No panties, he thought.
In complete drug lust, he crawled over to her and tasted her. She removed her fingers, sighing deeply. She raised her body into a better position, giving him full access to her. He quickly brought her over the edge with his tongue while she let out the most gorgeous moans. She returned the favor in kind, swallowing his cock over and over again until her makeup ran from her doll eyes and he dripped from her chin. Still reeling from the X, he wasn't surprised he was ready to go again so soon. Those damn tights, he thought, as they laid bare her center. They were perfect for him to push right into her, but he couldn't help ripping them from her body.
“Has anyone ever told you,” she starts, “that you are the most beautiful color.”
He stares into her eyes, her blown pupils threatening to overtake those bright irises.
"You sound different than I feel,” he remarks.
"Because I didn't take X,” she says laughing, "I dropped acid."
"Brat", he rasps.
"What're you gonna do about it, killer?" She asks, undoing her corset and tossing it to the side. She gave him the greediest look.
He lifted her hips to his and easily pushed into her soaking wetness. He began a relentless pace.
“Such a sloppy cunt,” he told her.
"Such a sloppy, sloppy cunt for such a gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”
She mewled for him, reaching her hand down to rub her clit.
“You like to fuck criminals?” he asked her, “You like to fuck killers? That turn you on?”
His tone was reprimanding.
“No,” she replied, with a small giggle, “I like to fuck musicians.”
He cracked a smile then and pounded her even harder. She screamed and moaned and somehow wound up on top of him bouncing on his hard cock. She squeezed him hard like this, cumming with a small gush onto his pelvis. His rough hands played with her tits. Her cropped sweater was still on and without the corset it landed just at the swell of them. She leaned forward to grind against him as he continued to pound into her from below, both feet on the floor and back arched for leverage. She came again, shaking.
"Get on your knees for me,” he says.
She obliged him and once in position, he entered her again. With his pants still around his thighs, the metal of his belt made a rhythmic *clink* sound with each hard thrust, grazing the back of her thighs. He noticed when it did, she gave him an extra, more delicate moan. Just like all the rest of them, he thought.
The new position giving him better purchase, he continued to punish her sweet cunt the way she deserved. She showed him her appreciation by gushing again all over the van's carpet, while she screamed obscenities.
He leaned forward and whispered into her ear harshly, “Some mouth on you.”
She nuzzled into the side of his neck then, and he turned her face to his and kissed her deeply once more.
She let herself fall gently forward, rolling over, her legs still spread wide for him. He entered her more slowly this time, wrapping his hand around her neck and giving a small squeeze.
"This alright?" he asks, "You like this shit?"
She gave a small nod of approval before saying, "Do it, killer. Use me up."
At that, he relentlessly pounded her.
Through her loud whines and those mewls again, he asks, "You ever shut your mouth?"
"Shut it for me,” she snaps, and he continues his assault with one hand on her throat, and the other covering her mouth.
It's things like this that always did it for him, and he felt his end approaching. Quickly he pulled out of her and came on her still flushed chest. He continued to stroke his cock, riding out his own orgasm as his drug addled body shook and his brain drenched itself in every pleasure chemical. Below him, she reached her final orgasm by rubbing her swollen clit while looking him dead in the eyes.
Middle of nowhere and fucked in the back of a van by the Hawkins Cult Killer. Yet she was the dangerous one, he thought.
"Do you know what color you are?" she asks him, after a few moments of silence.
"Go on, tell me" he says, as he tucks himself back in.
Legs still spread, fingers ghosting over her sensitive cunt, she says "You're fire, killer. Fiery red, but sometimes you're all orange embers and black ash."
He had to get her out of here. The X threatening to creep up on him again. He didn't think she could take another round, not with what he'd want to do to her now that he'd tested her waters well beyond his imaginings.
The complete surprise of this night began to set in as she sat up to dress herself with what was left of her outfit. No, he could never settle for lackluster head at the edge of the dance floor again.
He intently watched her finish dressing, and immediately after she threw open the van's rear doors. The chilled air ran over him and he put his flannel back on before hopping out and lighting a fresh cigarette. He offered it to her and she took her fill before starting her walk back to the ongoing rave.
"Hey!" he called after her.
She turned around to face him.
"What's your name?"
"Miranda," she says, through that adorable laughter.
"Lemme see it one more time, Miranda.”
She leaned back on the hood of the car next to her, and spread her legs wide. No panties and no stockings now either. She teased him by spreading her pussy for him. He flicked his cigarette onto the ground, and crossed the space between them.
He dropped to his knees and gave her pussy the sloppiest kiss. Soon he was flicking his tongue over her clit while her cunt swallowed his fingers knuckle deep, stopping at his large rings. She shivered at the cold sensation each time.
“You ring so red!” she cried out.
She grabbed a handful of his curls and started to grind on his face. He removed his fingers from her and she heard the distinct sound of his belt being unbuckled. He stood up, cock ready once again. He grabbed her corset at the plunge and ripped it clean in half, revealing her tits to him again. She gasped at the action.
"That's better,” he whispered.
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thewriterg · 6 months
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𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞
pairing(s); tony stark x fem!reader, thor odinson x best friend!reader
summary; Tony knew he fucked up but what could pumpkin spice food not solve nothing he hoped —flufftober day; 9—
word count; 1.0k+
warning(s); reader not taking Tony’s shi, small argument, Medusa coded reader, fluff, pet names, kisses and language
playlist; moment by vierre cloud
A/n:—GIFs; @animusrox— Gif does not determine race!
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“Goldie!? Hey! Where’s my girl?” Tony called out to the blonde who perked up at his set in stone selection ‘assigned name’ his steps thundering into the floor no pun intended as he approached the brunette billionaire
“Lady Y/n is not fond of you at the moment Stark I suggest you steer clear” Thor’s voice naturally loud and booming carried through the practically empty hallways and Tony fought the urge to thank him for staying the obvious
He knew you were pissed at him he had six different voicemails to prove it but he didn’t expect his meeting to run over, he should’ve seen it coming
“Yeah I got that, just give me a hint where she is blues clues?” The Asgardians face turning up in confusion at the connection a sigh falling from his pink lips shaking his head at the former playboy and the god of thunder began to think of a hundred and one ways to you as the answer spewed through his teeth
“Training room.” Thor began to walk away before Tony could respond but he wasn’t fawning over the thought as he headed towards the elevator down to the training area
Your hands were wrapped in white tape thin gauze underneath blotches of crimson seeping through your knuckles grazing the skin of your opponent as you spared with a shield agent and and Tony noted how close you were to not pulling your punched line you usually do when you trained with someone else and how your eyes flickered that dangerous white that made you look blind
The snakes in your hair nipped and hiss at the dirty blonde opponent their emerald green scales shining under the light
Throwing a kick to the man’s side causing his stance to alter before swiping your feet under his causing him to fall downward towards the mat your eyes changed back to their original color as you started down at your counterpart as he held back a groan in his throat
“Sorry about that Brent” You mumbled holding out a hand to the dirty blonde as he waved you off taking your hand to stand nothing to sweat about in his eyes he stepped out of the the ring grabbing a folded towel slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way towards the locker room a hot shower on his mind spotting Tony leaning against the door frame of the hall
“Tried to work as much steam as I could off her, good luck man” Brent clapped his hand on the billionaires shoulder before walking off just You and Tony in the room now as he watched you sigh stepping out the ring before turning to face the brunette the pythons in your hair got hostile at the sight of him your eyes turning blind white
“You have some nerve” Your head quite literally rang with hisses and defensive sounds a common misconceptions was that your reptiles had a mind of your own and it wasn’t completely true nor false but they structured off of your emotions
“Hey honey! Woah! Girls are mad at me too huh!? Woah! I know please just let me explain” He stepped backwards to avoid the snakes while you took a step forward that looked like they would make a man meal out of him
“Thirty seconds” You hissed the pythons doing the same their pink tongues out a slithering at him but slightly backing down nonetheless while you glared your eyebrows furrowed
“My meeting ran over and I know that’s not an excuse but I’m sorry even in technically it wasn’t my fault” The billionaire rushed out
“Fifteen” You growled
“And I will make it up to you anywhere you wanna go, anything you wanna do. What is it Tuesday?”
“Wednesday” You corrected with a grumble
“Wednesday, I’ll get Happy to cancel everything for the rest of the week everything we can do whatever you wanna do” The brunette knew how to sweet talk you and deep down you knew it was working but you weren’t going to show him that
“I want to be on the jet by 6, France. No bags packed we shop when we get there” Tony knew deep down you really meant when you both got there you were going to shop and his credit card would be the victim
“Whatever you want honey” Your hands were brought into his before you took them away walking away from the billionaire as he watched the sway of your hips in your joggers being distracted he wasn’t quick enough to catch the towel you through at him that was once slung over your shoulder
“Six o’clock!” He called out to you just to get no response from you
💌💌💌💌
You walked out onto the walkway the jet set in stone less than twenty feet away from you Tony stood at the stairs to the entrance of your flight as you walked the way your pump hitting the concrete with a click a dark green trench coat on your arms and over your shoulder the cold air multiplied as the sun began to set
Once you approached the front of the stairs you ignored the pale hand held out for you loading the jet yourself with no help and you missed the small borderline grin the billionaire gave you before loading into the jet behind you sitting next to your frame
“Gonna sip something nice with me?” When you turn to face Tony you expected to be a flute of champagne thrown down your throat what you didn’t expect was the familiar coffee cup of your favorite coffee shop to flood your senses its sweet smell clouding your judgement
“Pumpkin spice everything nice huh?” That was one of the things that kept you in trouble when it came to Tony that shit eating grin and terrible timing sarcasm
“What’s not gonna be nice is the meeting with your bank you’re gonna have” You mumbled trying to hold a smirk back from etching its way on your face and the brunette couldn’t hold back a chuckle his chocolate eye gazing over your features
“Yeah I plan on it honey”
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©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify
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pinkpicket · 2 years
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What's beautiful about you?
Okay uglies i hope u like this reading 🥰🥰🥰
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And i know my aesthetic is ugly 💀💀💀 but I can't worry about aesthetic when i dont even know how to use this goddamn app 😩 like why is it so fuvking complicated😭😔
Also why tf is everyone in my readings so hot??? Im actually kinda offended rn 😩
1. I see you as someone very open, like you know how there’s people that are open about their opinions and thoughts without being afraid of being judged? Yes that’s what’s so beautiful about you. Like the type to not be silent about the mistreatment of someone only bc everyone else is or bc it’s not in ur advantage, almost like a truth speaker. The defender of the truth. Veryyy fair, i genuinly love this so much bc it reminds me of the type of people that stand up for the underdogs( id like to mention not just underdogs but anyone that’s the victim in the said situation even if the person in general is not a good person). And you absolutely have very good judgement, u dont get fooled easily u can see through liars and deceivers which explains why u stand up for the innocent bc u can detect honesty just as easily as u can detect deceive.
2. Your duality. Someone that can fall to the lowest of lows just to stand up again and try all over till u reach the highest of highs. But the saddest thing about this is other people cannot see this, they dont see the hardships u go through just to get to that (king) position. After all u r the “hot stuff” the successful almost too careless person to them, but baby they never see what u go through deep down, and all of this makes a very big portion of ur beauty. The beauty of a person standing so tall and proud only on inside to find a very vulnerable hardworking person.
3. A person with sooo many good qualities. Honestly idk if u know jungkook from bts, but that’s how u r. Like u have so many good qualities that i dont even what to mention, almost like someone that is just good with whatever they set their mind on ( personally to me this is the hottest thing in the whole world im not even kidding 😫🥵) u know how some just pick up something one day and boom they’re good at it? Lmao that’s u ( tbh very virgo energy). altho lmaoooo u can be just a bit insensitive but tbh that also makes u so hot, like damn mf can anything truly effect u negatively??? Or do u just keep winning no matter what? Lol biggg winner vibes. *** now whoever u r, hit me up bc 😈😈😈😈😫 damn baby***
4. Pfffff we got a playboy\girl 😂😂 ok u mf u kinda manipulative, ok maybe a lot. Like u can woo anyone if u really want to ( tbh u not the most dependable person if we being honest 😶 like u just wanna play after all ). This careless act( yes it’s an act i knowww🫢) of urs really makes u attractive to others. U really are one hot toxic mf? Aren’t u?
5. Ooofff. Strength that’s ur beauty. Have u ever met people that are just so strong but low-key? Yup yup that’s u. Like u know u strong and u dont need to prove it to no one. ur so gentle and patient but so strong, im actually amazed by how someone can maintain such balance 🥰 but im not surprised considering u have reasons to be like this. U went through a lot and people were not the nicest to you about it, there was no one u could’ve relied on so now u have become that person others can rely on. And not only they can be dependent on u when they’re not strong enough but u also do it so selflessly and lovingly. Im actually in love with u 🥹
6. Damn this is the big group huh? Okay probably some from group 5 will read this too bc i exactly got group 5 cards plus two extra( so remember how i group 5 are lowkey? This group is anything but lowkey 😂😂) cards. The only difference between the two groups is this group is not as gentle as the other one. This one is rougher, almost sharper ( i get snake vibes, you know like someone that was forced into so many bad situations that they finally were like fuvk it imma do something about this myself this time, and ever since they haven’t stopped. So snake vibes like a transformation that roughened your edges).
Ohhhh also I'll do a Whats ugly about u later on, so check that too soooo u know follow me so u find it later on 😈
Ok bye that's it yall hot but not as hot as me tho 🥰🥰🥰
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esthersinclair · 1 month
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the fucking vine boom that happened when ivy told fabian he “missed his shot, playboy”
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lolotheparagon · 9 months
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You are given the chance to completely revamp one (1) DC character. You may change whatever you want about them, along with their relationships with other characters, but only they and their relationships change. All other aspects of other characters, minus their relationship to the changed character, remain the same. Who do you change, what do you change, and why?
Bruce Wayne/Batman. Since he’s DC’s biggest character, outside of his Batman alter ego, he has a lot of elements that have been unchanged since his inception in the 40s. From his dead parents backstory, to being a Gotham billionaire, having a butler as his surrogate father and being a playboy in his civilian life.
I want to change the Bruce Wayne, since I believe Bruce should be a reflection of Batman, not a distraction from Batman. People these days really divorce Batman from Bruce Wayne entirely cos the idea of a playboy billionaire nowadays is just alienating to a lot of people. Maybe in the 40s this was acceptable but this is 2023. Bruce Wayne’s character really needs an update, since we need to feel like Batman is Bruce Wayne under that mask, not a completely different person wearing the cowl.
First off:
I would make Thomas and Martha Wayne neglectful parents. Keep the dead parents backstory, that’s important. But I like the idea of Bruce believing that his parents always loved him and puts them on way too high a pedestal. Like he would recount all the times his father took him to the local comic book store or his mother would shower him with hugs and presents. This is why Bruce holds them in such high regards and did crimefighting in the first place.
But during the first couple years being Batman, Bruce developed an obsession with keeping his parents’ memory alive by keeping his parent’s old bedroom just the way it was before they died. And he would often cry himself to sleep in the living room whenever he had failed to stop the Joker or any supervillain he had trouble dealing with.
Per Alfred’s request, Bruce goes into therapy. This is where we meet Leslie Thompkins (a recurring character in the Batman story) as his therapist where she helps him realise a lot of things. Bruce realised that whenever he remembered his stories, his view of his parents was always a blur and and aside from his stories, he didn’t know his parents that well. We realised from his repressed memories that it was actually Alfred who cared and raised Bruce since childhood. Alfred was just a butler for the Wayne’s but quickly became a surrogate father to young Bruce.
We (as the audience) finally see Bruce’s childhood, Thomas and Martha were actually neglectful towards Bruce. Sure they were respectful people in the Gotham community, but they were rich and constantly bought Bruce’s love with presents. They only saw Bruce as a future heir to Wayne Enterprises and a meal ticket. The only reason they went to the theatre with Bruce at all was because his fave movie was showing and he wouldn’t stop talking about it.
Alfred always wanted to tell Bruce it was he who actually raised him all this time but kept quiet cos Bruce always looked so happy talking about them and he was fighting crime everyday for them. But as soon Bruce realised who the actual parent in his life is still with him and has been with him all along, Bruce encourages Alfred to stop being his butler and be his full-time dad. To which Alfred replies: I always have been…Bruce.
Boom. You get an infinitely sadder and more sympathetic reason why Bruce is so obsessed with making his dead parents proud and you get him recovering from his neglect and being with a parent who has always loved him.
Next:
I would make Bruce Wayne a well off businessman instead of a billionaire. In light of billionaires like Andrew Tate and Jeff Bezos being scummy towards their employees and people setting up guillotines outside their mansions, it’s really not comfortable to show a billionaire in a positive light anymore, even if he’s progressive. Again, this isn’t the 40s anymore. It might have been quaint to see a billionaire actually care about the common people but after the two CEO twats I mentioned above, try telling a modern audience that you can make a billionaire sympathetic.
I feel like we need more suave businessman side of Bruce Wayne. Outside of the BTAS and the 60s Batman show, we don’t see a lot Bruce being a cunning yet reasonable and tactical guy. I know his alter ego is the World’s Greatest Detective, so he can’t be too smart to give the game away, but at least have him roasting the hell out of greedy corporate bosses and giving his employees good pay and advocates against sexual/racial harassment in the workplace. I know it’s a romanticisation of businessmen and bosses but hey it’s better than romanticising the morbidly rich. Just write a good businessman who cares about his employees and respects women.
You can still have Bruce well off in terms of wealth, just not isolated mansion with 100 acres of inherited land levels of rich. Heck, you can just have the Batcave be a hidden cavern Bruce found nearby when hiking and spends a good chunk of his inheritance building it. Maybe it would be an abandoned railway which would be how the Batmobile would find a connection to the main roads of Gotham.
Maybe he can give the rest of his wealth to charities, the city so they can refurbish the more worn down streets. I’m just spitballing here
Finally:
In terms of personality, I liked Bruce Wayne in the early seasons of BtAS or the Batman 2004 series. Snarky, witty and playful as Bruce, but is cunning and serious. He does have that brooding energy when he’s donning the Batcape but he’s not an angsty asshole (cough cough unlike the TNBA Batman cough). Maybe this is why, as Batman, he’s always very moody and stoic. Because he knows that he became Batman in the first place to avenge two parents who didn’t even love him in the first place and now has to live with this being his second job because he’s saving people and that’s what matters to him. He’s very kind and caring to everyone (this ties into him caring for kids who are orphaned like him like Tim Drake or ones who are abused/neglected like Jason or Barbara.) but carries off this mysterious vibe.
I like the idea of Bruce being very cool and suave to the public, but is still a loner and even his employees don’t know him. He wants to open up to people but after how his parents treated him and doesn’t have that many people in his life, he keeps people away in fear of rejection and abandonment. (Even in childhood, Bruce never had friends that stayed longer than a day, cos they were all paid to play with him.) He has very nerdy side he doesn’t show to a lot of people. He reads old 50s comic books, he even has lunch that Alfred always makes him. Cos why bother with high class cuisine when you can have your dad’s home cooking?
Also have Bruce be a friend to all animals. I want him to adopt a bunch of bats he found in the cave and he names them after all his fave comic book heroes. Also have him be in a romance with Clark Kent. I need my Superbat
And finally: Make Commissioner Gordon Bruce/Batman’s rival
I know Commisoner Gordon is Batman’s ally and all that but I always thought he was just Alfred 2.0 and it’s not fair that a lot of the interesting stuff regarding Batman’s care and concern for others always falls to Gordon or his daughter when you got Bats’ surrogate dad standing RIGHT THERE. Also much like with romanticising rich people, Commissioner Gordon isn’t helping with his whole “NOT ALL COPS ARE BAHHHD!!” schtick when the GCPD is the most corrupt police force in all of fiction.
So I would have Gordon be like the J Jonah Jameson of Gotham. He hates Bruce Wayne for being a spoilt brat busybody and constantly makes fun of him. He knows he can’t arrest Bruce Wayne without good reason but that doesn’t mean he won’t give him parking tickets for no reason or rant about him on Twitter. Bruce in public would shrug and be above it all. But when the cowl comes on…shit goes down.
Gordon doesn’t know Batman’s identity so Bruce can intimidate him as much as he likes and can get away with it. Gordon can’t refuse Batman’s help cos he needs him to take down the supervillains. So it’s wonderful catharsis for Bruce.
Heck, Bruce can learn about how neglected and miserable Gordon’s daughter Barbara is and inspires her to take up a course in coding, which leads her into become Oracle (her lone hero identity when she’s old enough would be Batgirl)
I could go on forever about all sorts of changes but those are the main ones I would change to make Bruce Wayne a more interesting character, so when he puts on the cowl, we don’t just see Batman, we see Bruce Wayne
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