#Jason was one unlucky character

[somewhereincairparavel]

Jason's lack of backstory is easily bc we got introduced to him as an amnesiac tbh. New characters like Leo immediately had past flashbacks within a few pages into his POV about his mom and Tia callida. Now I'm just realising how different it would've been if SON was published first with everyone mentioning the mysterious perfect, Jason Grace, and included a few "leader Jason" flashbacks from reyna, or just general childhood flashbacks of how he refused to join the prestigious first cohort and joined the twelfth instead to bring glory to it, while defending the unpopular kids from getting bullied, when he led the battle of mount orthrys and killed krios, and THEN we got to meet him in TLH. Where he's all clueless and silly, nothing like how "heroic" he's described by Reyna and others, he'd be unaware of how much ppl look up to him in a camp that's miles away, and noble he actually is, while we know it. It would make him more endearing to read about since we know everyone knows him as the mighty golden boy.

He'd even be considered stronger if rick has done this, to the point that even the brick jokes wouldn't affect the reputation against Jason's power. Since we got to SEE his fighter moments in flashbacks. So we KNOW he's a tough guy.

Gosh that would've fixed everything. Ppl would've loved him.

And the majority of the readers only hated Jason bc he was introduced so randomly, making ppl wonder where Percy was, causing nobody to care about the new protagonist, so by releasing SON first, that would've been solved as well, since we'd know where Percy is, and would gain curiosity as to what's going on at camp half blood with this mysterious new boy as a camper. Making us interested in Jason, I feel like the audience would've gotten much better reactions to this as well, and the Thalia being Jason's sister revelation would've been even more epic.

[theodorecanaryhood]

The Arkham Knight chapters

Part 1

Planning a new series with my man Jason Todd from Arkhamverse.

Arkham Knight / Red Hood / Jason Todd x Male Reader

18+

The Neon Light hit your eyes as you yawned, sleep fighting with you as you tried to force yourself to stay awake a bit longer.

Sleep was hard to come by lately as there was always something keeping you up at night, but the passing nights you would’ve been able to fall asleep with ease, had it not been for you being awake so long you grew adapt to it.

‘More coffee darling?’ Shelly, the waitress asked you.

You nodded as she refilled your cup, maybe caffeine would be enough to keep you going.

You saw a guy in a red hoodie sitting in the end booth. Looked as if he was smoking.

Guess he didn’t realise it’s illegal to smoke inside buildings nowadays. I mean, it’s 2015, it’s been about 20 years since the law was changed.

Spotting a man in uniform approaching the smoking man, that’s when you were surely wide awake.

Chaos broke out in seconds and there was screaming, gunshots, people tumbling into each other and the furniture surrounding.

You ducked and hid safely under the table as you witnessed Shelly and Darla, another waitress, fall lifelessly to the floor.

The terror in their open eyes, blood coming from their bodies. You covered your mouth in the hopes no one would hear you.

Silence filled the diner for a few seconds that felt like hours, then a final gunshot. The police officer shot himself after causing bloodshed and chaos.

You sat knees to chest for a while before you found the courage to move again, slowly crawling out from under the table.

Seeing the bodies laying on the ground, not knowing whether or not anyone was alive but also not wanting to make any noise, mostly in case someone bad was still there.

Just an innocent kid in a diner that night, simply wrong place at the wrong time.

The sleepless nights that followed were caused by the faces of the dead. Those who fell that night.

Gotham City was on lockdown as the crazed Scarecrow and this Arkham Knight character tried to take over the city.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself armed with guns and weapons to defend yourself, being one of the unlucky few who didn’t make it to transport away quick enough.

It also wasn’t long until you found yourself stranded in the streets, trying to get to safety.

You gasped as you shot around to see the Arkham Knight behind you, you panicked a little as he placed his finger up, signalling for you to stay quiet.

‘Find anyone?’ A militia member called out, the Knight turned his head slightly to call back.

‘That’s a negative’ he responded as he disappeared from your view.

‘The fuck?’ You mumbled a little, confused as to why you were so lucky to have gotten away that easily.

He had a chance to grab you but he didn’t, why? Everyone else had been gunned down or abducted. What made you special?

Batman saved the City and was unmasked for everyone to see, you couldn’t say you were too surprised it was Bruce Wayne under the mask.

It made sense with all the expensive gadgets he uses, only fair a rich guy was under the influence of the Dark Knight.

Then suddenly, as quick as it started, it was over and you were back home. Your house seemed so empty and different.

Your parents were lucky and got away, they were also very reluctant to come back. They made it clear they wouldn’t yet.

No time to tell how long it would be as they decided to flee the States all together, selfishly leaving you where you were. But then, not the first time they’d done that to you.

As quick as the flash could run, your night marked the rest of your life. The diner Neon lights were bright again.

The diner seemed so strange after that night, you could still remember where Shelly and Darla lay. In fact, your foot could reach the spot from where you sat.

‘More coffee sweetie?’ Angela smiled, sadly as you nodded.

You didn’t come to stay awake anymore, you came to try to forget what had happened.

It was no use, the more you sat in the diner the more you remembered the carnage from last year.

You strolled down the streets of Gotham, trying to forget the hell you’d seen until you bumped into trouble.

‘Oh look here, a little boy is lost’ a thug called out with a smile, pulling out his baton.

‘Just trying to make my way home’ you responded, half assed as the thugs approached you.

Weapons ready to make contact with your skin, your body waiting for bruises as you sighed.

A figure appeared with a red Helmet on, guns in his hands already.

‘The fuck is this clown?’ Another thug asked, amusement in his voice.

‘Don’t even talk to me about clowns’ Red Hood growled, pulling his guns up at the ready.

6 against 1 seemed too much but Red Hood pulled it off, knocking 4 down with ease and little to no effort. Taking no damage.

Red Hood turned to witness you, his eyes widened under his mask.

You were lifted off the ground and held over a thugs shoulder, you swung your leg round the thugs neck and wrestled him to the floor.

Doing a backflip as you took the last thug out with a swift kick in the jaw.

Red Hood stared at you in disbelief as he’d never seen someone take care of themselves, he’d never thought he would not have to save someone completely.

‘What?’ You asked, Red Hood continued staring as he cleared his throat.

‘Where’d you learn to fight like that?’ He asked, you shrugged.

‘Last year after the lockdown, I learnt to fight to protect myself’ you replied as Red Hood nodded.

It has been sometime and you were not just there to help Red Hood as a partner or a sidekick, but you were also there to be his friend.

‘Jason, you need to be more careful’ you said as Jason stripped from his shirt.

‘Do you care that much y/n?’ He asked you, pants dropping to his ankles.

You bit your lip at the sight, Jason had been there before as a friend but he was playing with your mind.

‘Yes’ you replied, Jason smirked as he walked a little closer to you.

‘Why?’ He asked, looking deep into your eyes.

It marked the new chapter to you two, Jason took you in his arms and showed you a different side of him. Made you feel things that you’d never experienced.

2016 was a year that changed, but to now in 2024, so much time had passed by.

You still thought about those long nights from nine years ago, the night you spent in the Diner when you changed.

Jason had told you everything, he was Robin, the second one to Batman. He got taken by the Joker and everything that followed.

He was the man in the Red Hoodie that night when your life started to turn dark, he was the Arkham Knight. That was the reason he saved you that night in the alley.

It wasn’t only time that changed but Jason too, he became more comfortable with his skin, he got tattoos to fill his body. Some covered his scars, some didn’t. He grew his hair out a bit and grew a beard to make himself look better.

‘How’s this look?’ Jason asked you, walking into your shared bedroom.

‘Great, then you look good in anything’ you wink, Jason smiled as he blushed a little.

Jason rubbed oil in his beard as he hummed quietly to himself, spraying himself with cologne as he placed his wedding ring back on his finger.

It had been a while, a function for Wayne Enterprises in loving memory of Bruce. Lucius Fox wanted it to be special, he wanted all of the Wayne’s there.

Dick, Jason, you, Tim and Barbara all standing waiting for the function, welcoming guests as you acknowledged the fact you’d never met Bruce.

Jason never spoke about him much, but when he did he had a hint of sadness in his voice. Jason’s eyes watered a little from the pictures up of Bruce.

‘You wanna head out of here?’ You asked Jason as he nodded sadly, asking for you to wait as he said goodbye to people.

The front doors to your home opened as you walked in, Jason grabbed you by the throat as he shut the door.

He bent down a little to greet your lips with his, he kissed you aggressively as you panted into the kiss. Heat rushing down to your groin as you felt yourself standing up.

Jason lent himself into your thigh, pressing his length into you.

‘I don’t want to do anything right now, apart from fucking the shit out of you’ Jason growled as he stripped your clothes off.

Jason stripped his off next as you both stood in the hallway. Jason wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

Your naked bodies pressed together as your lips connected and locked together, Jason carried you through to the nearest room and held you against the wall.

‘Fuck, Jason’ you gasped as Jason forced his way in, no lube or spit, just went in raw.

‘Fuck’ you cried out as Jason pounded into you dry, sinking his teeth into your neck.

You couldn’t lie it wasn’t comfortable with Jason in dry, but you could just happily take it where you were.

Jason thrusted into you as you remained held onto him, climbing him like a tree. Jason’s muscles flexed as he felt himself getting harder and harder.

‘You still wanna walk?’ Jason asked as he took you to the bedroom.

Throwing you in the bed, lubing himself up as he slid back inside you, you on all fours as Jason pounded away. His hips slamming, balls clapping, dick dripping.

Jason dug his nails into your ass cheeks as the ricochet of his force made your ass ripple. Jason threw his head back, he clenched his teeth as he sped up even more.

‘Oh God Jason, fuck me, fuck me’ you nearly screamed as Jason hammered into you.

Jason smiled, loving it when you lose yourself and just don’t care about the noise levels.

‘Turn around’ Jason said as he rolled you over and slid back inside.

You held onto his back as Jason slowly stroked inside you, your dick got harder and harder and Jason made you gasp.

‘Right there, there, please don’t…right there’ you struggled to speak.

Jason smiled a little as he witnessed you coming undone as he made you come while hands free. You nor Jason needed to touch you or stoke your length to get the seed to spill.

‘Goddamn’ Jason said as he watched your seed spill out of your head, spilling all over your stomach.

‘Fuck, fuck’ Jason yelled as he pulled out and jerked himself off onto your chest.

Taking a few breaths to catch himself, Jason then went lower in the bed to lap up yours and his spilled seed all over you.

Jason’s tongue left trails on your skin, his teeth marked your neck again. His lips on yours.

‘Let me know when you’re hard again’ Jason whispered in your ear.

You held Jason closer to you as the two of you suck into a deep kiss. A kiss that tasted like sex, a kiss mixed with what Jason had licked off of you.

A few minutes went by and you were getting hard again, Jason hummed as you pushed Jason down so he lay on his back.

You sink down onto his hard length again as you lifted your hips slightly, Jason held onto your waist as you began to bounce a bit quicker.

‘Y/n, you’re so fucking tight. God, you’re so fucking hot’ Jason panted as he let you take control.

You bounced up and down as you ran your hand down Jason’s body, he interlocked his fingers with yours on one hand while the other hand ran down your body.

‘This feels so good’ you called out as you sped up and jerked yourself off.

‘Fuck, fuck, baby you’re gonna make me come if you keep that up’ Jason smiled as you continued doing what you were doing.

‘Uh, Jason’ you called out as you could tell he was getting closer, his grip got tighter as his muscles flexed again.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna come’ Jason called out as he shot inside you.

You slowed the pace down and only stopped when you were sure Jason had emptied himself inside you.

You continued jerking yourself until you spilled on Jason’s chest and neck, him smiling as he held your hand. Running his hand up and down your body.

Jason’s eyes burned into your skin as he admired the view, sitting up and giving you a quick kiss as you wiped some come from Jason’s neck and licked it off your hand.

Jason threw you back over onto your back as he bit your pec a little, growling into it.

‘Let’s take a shower’ Jason smiled as he rushed to turn the shower head on.

Cleaning each other off in the hot water, kissing every now and then and feeling yourselves getting hit and hard again.

Nights when Jason wanted to forget something was always like this, he just wanted sex and unlimited physical contact.

Jason used sex to show he truly loved you unconditionally, but also treated sex like therapy. He wanted to forget a bad memory or distract himself from feeling like shit.

You accepted every inch of Jason, physical and emotional. And he the same for you.

Nights like this ended with you buried under Jason, or held in his arms all night. Jason sleeping heavily as his body pressed against you. Holding you with him.

[ambrossart]

Out of the Loop (Preview #2)

⏪ Preview #1 | FULL RELEASE NOV. 10TH

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: -- warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

Now Gareth, his resolve reignited and burning brighter than ever, was prowling the senior locker area with his suspect list in hand. 

Let them keep their secrets, he thought. I don’t need their help. A lot of help they would’ve been, anyway. Yeah, I can solve this mystery all on my own.

And he would. 

Gareth was a fantastic investigator, you see. He could win a game of Guess Who? in less than five turns and had a lifetime record of fifty-three wins and only fifteen losses (such losses were unavoidable when you drew an easily guessable character like Anita. Ugh, Anita… with those rosy cheeks and annoying blonde pigtails. His little sister beat him in only two moves after that unlucky draw). Now Gareth would apply those same deductive reasoning skills to this. Ask careful, complex questions. Gather information. Cross those ladies off one by one.

There was only one problem: the girls at Hawkins High weren’t exactly forthcoming about their personal lives, especially when it involved Eddie Munson. In fact, most girls denied ever having spoken to the guy. 

Claire Dunnock, the most recent inductee into the popular clique, was being especially difficult.

Her blue eyes shifted back and forth anxiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then leaned forward to make sure none of her new friends were eavesdropping. Claire had to be very careful. One misstep and she would slide all the way back down the social ladder. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Gareth sensed her unease. “Hey, relax,” he told her, “I’m not here to ruin your reputation, okay? This conversation stays between us. You have my word.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak.”

“Hey, that freak is my best friend,” Gareth said. “And you and I both know that’s not true, Claire. I saw you get into his van that one—”    

Claire seized him by the arm and hissed, “Shut up!” Her eyes blazed with fearful, self-protective rage. “Look, that was a year ago, okay? I was a stupid junior who didn’t know any better. Eddie and I had a class together. I guess I got a little curious, but that’s it. We hung out once and I never spoke to him again.” Loosening her grip, she said, “Besides, he was nothing but a big disappointment, anyway.”

Anger flared in Gareth’s chest. “All right, that's it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you slander my friend.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Claire said. 

Gareth didn’t know how to respond to that.

His jaw clenched in irritation. “Look, just answer my question, okay? Did you go home with Eddie after prom or not?”

“Of course not,” Claire answered, practically cackling at the thought. 

(Why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“I went to prom with my boyfriend. I was with him all night. Ask anyone.” Claire swung her locker door closed, put her hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrows impatiently. “Are we done now?” She walked off to join the rest of her friends. 

Gareth glared at her back, his insides boiling with indignation and righteous fury.

You got curious and Eddie got his heart broken. Again. 

He crossed out Claire’s name with his pen. 

Two suspects down. Eight more to go. 

He tucked his pen behind his ear, turned, and suddenly the hallway froze over! Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but a bitter wind did blow. Gareth felt it on his face as soon as he saw you step out from around the corner. 

Coincidence? 

Doubtful.

You were wearing blue jeans and a Fleetwood Mac shirt. Yeah, you would like Fleetwood Mac, Gareth thought, scoffing. As usual, you were walking side by side with Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend since elementary school. She was smiling and laughing at one of your jokes. Laughing out of politeness, probably. Why you two were friends, Gareth would never know. Chrissy was sweet like cotton candy and you were so… so…

(evil, pure evil)

rotten to the core, like moldy fruit.

“I swear,” you said with a groan, “it’ll be weeks before your mom lets me into the house again. God, she’s such a prude. How was I supposed to know she was gonna invite the whole family over for Sunday brunch? At least I was dressed up for the occasion.”

Chrissy looked at you in baffled amusement. “You were still wearing your prom dress.”

“And it was a very nice prom dress. Your grandma even complimented it. She said it made me look like Madonna.” You weren’t too thrilled about that comparison, but who were you to pass up a free compliment? “Now your mom, on the other hand… man, if looks could kill… I probably would’ve choked on one of those blueberry scones she was serving, which were a tad overbaked if I’m being honest.”

Chrissy went to her locker and fiddled with the padlock for a second before opening it. You stood patiently beside her, the wall clock barely within view. 

It was a quarter past eight, you noted with a frown. Was Eddie here already or…? 

While hanging up her backpack, Chrissy said, “Yeah, she definitely had some colorful words to describe you last night.” 

You turned your attention back to her. “Your mom called me a slut, didn’t she?”

Chrissy didn’t answer at first. She was busy unloading her homework. While she was doing that, one of her fellow cheerleaders snuck up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave a cheerful, heartfelt hello. Chrissy hugged her and asked how her weekend was. The two chatted casually for a minute and then the girl went on her way. Never so much as glanced at you. 

“Umm, I believe she used the word harlot,” Chrissy said to you afterward. 

“Oh, she got biblical, huh?” Great, you thought, as if that woman didn’t despise you enough already. “You know, I don’t understand your mom. First I’m too fat to be your friend. Now I’m too much of a slut. That lady needs to pick a lane and stay in it… and then drive herself right off a cliff.”  

Chrissy threw you a friendly glare.

“Just kidding,” you said. “You know I love your mom. She keeps me grounded. Without her, I might develop a healthy self-esteem, and we all know how dangerous that is. Yeah, that might lead to confidence and success… perhaps even lifelong happiness.” 

Ignoring you (or pretending to), Chrissy started digging through her backpack again. “Dammit,” she said under her breath, “I think I left my pencil case at home.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jason has a pencil for you.” You smiled inwardly—a willful, wicked smile. “Then again…”  

Chrissy pushed her locker closed, grabbed both your hands, backed you up against the lockers, and brought her face really close to yours. “Shut up,” she whispered in half-hearted anger, a rosy blush blooming on the apples of her cheeks. 

You took one look at her and busted out laughing. Chrissy started laughing, too. 

“I hate you so much,” she said, and released you. 

“I know,” you replied affectionately. “But see, this is why the whole situation with your mom is so funny to me. I’m the one who’s still a virgin here, yet somehow it’s me who gets labeled the…” 

You spotted a familiar face down the hall. 

“Gareth?” You leaned toward him, squinting. “What are you doing in the senior locker area?”

The sound of your voice made him flinch. “Nothing,” he said, acting strangely defensive for some reason.

That’s when you noticed the piece of paper in his hand. You gestured toward it with your chin and said, “What’s that you got there? Is that a love letter? You finally asking someone out on a date? Will you go out with me? Check yes or no. Who’s the lucky lady? Wait, aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

Gareth hid the paper behind his back and glared at you. “We’re the same age.” 

“And yet I’m a senior and you’re a junior. Hmm, how did that happen?” You tipped your head and smiled at him. “You’ve got company, by the way.” 

“Huh?” Gareth stepped back and—

A hand landed on his shoulder, closed around his flannel shirt, and spun him around. Gareth jumped back, swallowing a scream. He was now standing nose to chest with Ben Jabruski, outside linebacker and two-time defensive player of the year. Eric Kordell stood beside him, smaller but no less intimidating. His brown eyes gleamed with feral, territorial aggression. 

“Get outta here, freak,” Eric said. 

Gareth squared up to him, unafraid. “Last time I checked this was a free country.” He wrenched his shirt out of Ben’s grip, careful not to tear his favorite flannel. It was a Christmas gift from his mother. 

While he was distracted, Eric reached out and ripped the paper out of Gareth’s hand. 

“Hey, give that back!” 

“What’s this?” Eric asked. He opened the paper and studied it for a minute. His expression went from amused to curious to downright furious. He crushed the list in his fist. “Why’s my girlfriend on here?” 

“Oh…” Panic shot up Gareth’s spine. He took a step back and let loose a nervous chuckle. “Oh… you must be Claire’s boyfriend. You know, I heard you two had a lovely time at prom.” 

He turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway. 

“Bye, Gareth!” you said, fluttering your fingers as he passed. Then you looked back at Chrissy with a smile. “God, I love that kid…”

You went to your locker after that, ignoring all the busy little voices, the occasional odd glance and stifled giggle you received from the other students. Chrissy followed with her first-period textbook cradled in her arms. 

“Just ignore them,” she told you. 

“I already am,” you said. 

At the end of the hallway, you spotted Chance Gallagher standing in front of his open locker, wearing the same green letterman jacket that he wore when he asked you to prom six weeks ago. Chance closed his locker and caught your eye for a moment. Then he gave you a small, apologetic smile. 

What was he apologizing for? For asking you to prom, getting your hopes up, and then humiliating you in front of the entire senior class? You weren’t sorry he did it. In fact, you were glad he did it. Yeah, you wanted to go up to him, shake his hand, and thank him for being such a spineless little worm. If he were a decent guy, your night might have gone differently, and you were quite pleased with how your night went. So thank you, Chance. Thank you for being a complete scumbag. Maybe I should write him a thank-you note. 

Smiling, you turned back around. As you did, you stole another quick glance at the clock on the wall. 

Eight-nineteen… 

You sighed. 

… and now eight-twenty. 

“He’s running late, huh?” Chrissy said. You looked her way and she flashed you a sweet, teasing smile. “I know you’re waiting for him.”

A small flush of heat tickled your cheeks, threatening to set your whole face on fire. Resisting it, you grabbed your padlock and started furiously spinning the dial: three turns to the right, one full turn to the left, another quick turn to the right, and

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

you missed the last number and had to start all over again. 

“Kind of,” you admitted shyly. “Is that weird?”

Chrissy shook her head, her smile growing brighter and brighter. “Nope, it’s totally normal and absolutely adorable.” Giggling, she hugged her book tightly to her chest. If her hands were free, she probably would have hugged you instead. “I’m so happy for you. I really, really am. I swear, I feel like my heart’s about to burst right now.” 

“Well, you should probably see a doctor about that.” 

Chrissy stuck her tongue out at you. You did it right back, popped off your lock, and pulled on the handle. The locker door swung outward, squeaking on its hinges, and almost smacked Chrissy in the face. “Hey!” she said, laughing. She stepped back, skipped around you, and planted herself comfortably on your left side.

“So did you see him last night?” she asked, practically beaming. 

“Nope.” You slipped off your backpack and hung it on the hook. 

Chrissy squinted at you suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re lying right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” you told her, only to be betrayed by your blushing face. “I didn’t see him last night… technically it was this morning.” 

Twelve-o-two, to be exact. That’s when you saw the headlights flashing through your bedroom window blinds.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.  

“What? He just stopped by to say goodnight.” You smiled softly to yourself. “It was kind of romantic, actually.” 

“Uh-huh,” Chrissy said, laughing at you. “And how long did you two say goodnight?”

“Only for an hour… and a half.”

It was raining last night. You couldn’t invite Eddie into the house, so you two hung out in his van for a while. A very long while. W.A.S.P. was playing on the stereo. Eddie had found the cassette tape while cleaning out his van that afternoon. He was very proud of this accomplishment. It was adorable. He had you listen to a few of his favorite songs, asked you about your day, told you about his, and during “Cries In the Night,” he leaned over the center console and kissed you. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. The last thing you remembered was the horn blaring. You had accidentally pressed it with your elbow.  

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“Stop saying, ‘Oh my god.’ You sound like my mom.”  

She had said the exact same thing after confronting you about it in the kitchen this morning. Turns out, the car horn had woken her up. Then she caught you creeping back inside through the front door. It was an awkward breakfast, to say the least. 

“That’s how it starts, you know,” Chrissy said. “Late-night visits. Long, drawn-out goodbyes. You two are gonna be inseparable this summer.” She breathed a long, lovesick sigh. “Jason and I used to be like that.” 

“You’re still like that.” 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. 

“Speaking of…” You saw Jason Carver coming down the hallway, his pants ironed and creased, white collared shirt tucked in, a brand new Rolex glinting on his left wrist (an early graduation present from his father, apparently). He looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog model. “Is it weird that I’m picturing him naked right now?”   

Chrissy hid her face in embarrassment. “I swear to God, if you say anything…” 

“What am I gonna say to him? ‘Thank you for deflowering my best friend’? ‘I heard your penis is rather pleasing’? I don’t wanna talk to him about that. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

Prior to this weekend, you couldn’t even imagine Jason Carver having genitals. You always figured he was like a Ken doll down there. Nothing but smooth plastic.

Chrissy looked at you, mortified. “Why do I tell you anything?”  

“I have no idea,” you said. Then you checked the clock again. 

Eight twenty-three. 

Where the hell was Eddie?

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

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[proxima-writes]

the satanic rites of eddie munson (chapter 4)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Cheerleader!Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Eddie was just trying to have a normal Thursday when some band from out of town decides he’d make an excellent virgin sacrifice for their get-famous-quick plan.

Except he’s not a virgin, and the ritual unleashes something much more sinister that lives in him now, hungry for flesh and possessive of you, the pretty cheerleader he’s always been drawn to.

Which means anyone that touches you? Needs to die.

Inspired by the movie Jennifer's Body.

Additional tags: explicit sexual content (no seriously this is filthy 18+), mentions of character death, allusions to SA, stripping, dominant Eddie, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation, praise kink, overstimulation, begging, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, possessive behavior, mild blood/blood kink. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

The guy in the middle starts to read from the tome spread across his hands. His voice shakes, as do his hands, while he butchers what Eddie assumes is Latin. The wind picks up, leaves swirling around their feet and making the fire behind them dance erratically, embers floating up through the low branches.

“Uh, guys,” Eddie says, strugglings against the ropes. “Can’t we talk about this? I really don’t think I’m the kind of sacrifice that you want.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, you’re throwing off Mike’s spell casting. He’s got dyslexia, he needs to concentrate,” the leader snaps.

“Thanks, man,” Mike chimes before resuming his chanting. The ground rumbles beneath him, the leaves shaking with the moving earth and Eddie starts to think that maybe these guys aren’t just weirdos that are full of shit.

The leader flashes Eddie a menacing smile.

“Show time.”

It only took a few hours for Jason’s body to be discovered.

The party had been in full swing when a sheriff’s deputy swung by to bust it and send everyone home. In the scramble, several people tried to run off into the woods and one unlucky bastard tripped over the mangled remains.

You’d fallen asleep in Eddie’s bed by the time he finished in the bathroom. He let you sleep for a couple hours, his body pressed to yours and his arm wound tight around your waist as he listened to your quiet breathing. Around 2 a.m. you’d stirred awake, all soft smiles and cute little sleepy noises until you’d caught a glimpse of the alarm clock on Eddie’s nightstand and jumped from the bed in a panic.

As Eddie drove you and your mom’s bike home, a trio of police cars with their sirens on blew past the van, heading in the opposite direction. You’d twisted in your seat to watch them fly by, missing the way Eddie’s knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Hope everything’s okay,” you’d said distractedly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Eddie had replied.

Saturday morning, the morning news runs the breaking story of another animal attack. Hawkins High School golden boy, Jason Carver, found mangled in the woods near Benny’s Burgers, near unrecognizable due to his wounds. Disemboweled, his heart ripped from his chest. The town is shocked, heart broken, paranoid.

School gets canceled for the week following the loss while town officials and school board members scramble to make decisions about what to do.

As the week drags on, Eddie begins to anticipate the hunger returning, bracing himself for the aching pit to swallow him whole.

But it doesn’t.

In fact, Eddie feels the best he ever has in his life. His vision is sharper, his hearing more clear, his muscles coiled with a strength he definitely didn’t have before. He’d accidentally crushed a glass of water in his hand, the shards slicing into his palm and leaving blood spattered on the kitchen floor. The wound had healed before he even finished cleaning everything up.

In place of physical hunger is a different craving all together. It’s been over a week since that night in his trailer where he made you cum on his lap. He sees your rapturous expression every time he closes his goddamn eyes. If he doesn’t see you soon, touch you soon, he’s going to go insane.

The Monday following the discovery of their son’s body, the Carvers and the Pearsons stand beside Principal Higgins at an impromptu assembly, dabbing their tear filled eyes with tissues as they insist that the school continue the time honored tradition of the homecoming game and dance despite their loss.

“It’s what our sons would have wanted. They gave their all to this school, and would have been dancing and playing alongside you had their lives not been so tragically cut short,” Mr. Carver says into the microphone, an arm around Mrs. Carver as she sniffles demurely into a tissue.

Principal Higgins leads a tentative round of applause. Eddie rolls his eyes, searching the lower bleachers for a glimpse of you. You’re down in the front row with the rest of the cheerleaders, an arm around Chrissy Cunningham’s waist.

Principal Higgins lets Officer Pearson close out the assembly with a rousing speech about keeping the town safe with increased patrols around the wooded areas, promising that no other Hawkins High student will befall the same fate as his son.

“And if anyone sees something, remember to say something,” he finishes. The families take their leave and Principal Higgins dismisses everyone, the gym erupting with the sounds of a couple hundred voices trying to be heard above each other.

Eddie hides beneath the bleachers, eyes scanning the crowd of students passing by him. He catches sight of you and leans out of the shadows, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you against him with a hand over your mouth to stifle your surprise.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear. As you relax against him, he removes his hand and turns you so that you’re facing him. “Miss me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you tease. Eddie’s grin is sharp as his hands grip your ass, lifting you up and urging your legs around his waist as he presses you against the back wall of the gym.

“That’s not very nice,” he whispers against your neck. “Do I have to remind you why you should?”

He presses his hips against yours, the pressure working the seam of your jeans right over your clit. You bite your lip to hold back your groan, the sharp tang of copper blooming on your tongue.

“Shit,” you hiss, touching a finger to your lip. Eddie eyes the red spot on the digit held between you. He works a hand free to grasp your wrist, bringing the finger to his mouth and sucking gently.

He locks eyes with you as he moans gently at the taste exploding across his tongue. Your eyes are wide as he draws back before he leans forward to kiss you, licking greedily at your split lip. You kiss him back eagerly, writhing against him as he swallows your sounds.

It’s not until the gym doors slam shut behind the last student do you remember where you are, the spell broken as you wiggle in Eddie’s grasp to be set down. His hands remain planted on your hips and he can’t help the pout that he gives you as you straighten your shirt.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to see you,” you say, hands toying with a pin on his denim vest. “With everything happening, the girls are really freaked out. And Chrissy is obviously upset about Jason.”

“Damn you for being such a good friend.” He slides a hand behind your neck to pull you close again for another kiss, another hint of blood against his tongue.

“I can’t believe they’re still going to have the dance,” you continue when Eddie pulls away. “I thought for sure they’d cancel it.” When Eddie doesn’t say anything, you fidget with the zipper on his jacket before murmuring, “So…”

“So…?” Eddie asks.

“Are you…going to go? To homecoming?”

Eddie smiles tightly. “I can’t. Don’t got the grades to be eligible for tickets.”

Your shoulders slump. “Oh.”

“We could go out instead?” He offers, running his hands up and down your arms.

“I can’t. I’m on the homecoming court, so I have to go.”

Eddie groans, tipping his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure something out,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

—————

Since they’ve announced homecoming is still scheduled, you’ve been slammed with last minute preparations. You’re forced to spend your hours after school prepping decor and banners for spirit week, which starts next week. You miss your small moments with Eddie in his van as he drives you home from school and you talk about anything and everything for the short trip.

“We still going dress shopping after school today?” Carrie asks at lunch, flipping through a Sears catalog. “Do you know what color you’re getting?”

Shit, you think. You forgot about promising to go dress shopping today.

Your eyes find Eddie beyond her shoulder, his eyes already on you. “Black,” you tell her. She makes a face.

“Really? Isn’t Kyle wearing green? Shouldn’t you match?” She asks. That breaks your staring contest with Eddie.

“What?”

“Kyle’s your partner for court. Didn’t Sally tell you?” She pops the gum in her mouth. “He’s stoked about it.”

You groan. “I don’t want to be paired with Kyle. Can’t I be paired with Frankie?” You ask desperately.

Kyle Miller has asked you out countless times. Each time is more aggressive, with the last one being at a house party over the summer where he cornered you alone in a basement. Chrissy was actually the one to get him to back off that time, having come down at just the right moment to scare him off. To everyone else, he comes off as yet another popular jock, disarmingly handsome with a megawatt smile that he knows how to use to his advantage. But all you see is the times he just hasn’t taken no for an answer.

“I don’t see why you won’t just give Kyle a chance. You two would make such a cute couple,” Carrie says.

“He’s not my type,” you reply, eyes flitting once more to Eddie. He’s got one of his freshmen in a playful headlock, a broad smile on his face that makes your heart race.

“Oh, come on! You haven’t been out with anyone since John in sophomore year.”

You shrug. Pulling the magazine from her hands, you flip through the pages, pointing out ones you like for a change in subject.

________

Later that night, you throw your shopping bags on your bed, collapsing beside them. Carrie had managed to drag you to every store in the mall in search of the perfect dress. She found something wrong with every single one she tried on until finally deciding the first dress that she tried on at the first store, hours ago , would be her best choice.

Where your friend’s dress was a bright pink satin and tulle number, you went with a form fitting black dress that reminded you of Audrey Hepburn’s iconic Breakfast at Tiffany’s outfit. Leaning heavily into that inspiration, you’d also purchased a pair of elbow length black satin gloves.

You leverage yourself up from the bed with a groan and begin to put your purchases away. Your parents are away for the night, having gone to visit your mom’s sister for the weekend, leaving the house quiet.

Which is why you scream bloody murder when there’s a knock on your window.

You can just make out Eddie’s mischievous grin beyond the dark glass as you stomp over and throw the window open, smacking him on the shoulder as he climbs over the windowsill. “You asshole!”

He grabs your wrist tightly, tugging you close as he wraps his arm around your waist. You tilt your head up as he leans down to press a rough kiss to your lips. The hunger he comes at you with is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, fingers diving into his wild hair to hold him to you.

He groans against your mouth, giving you the opportunity to slide your tongue against his. That arm around your waist slides lower, his hand gripping your ass roughly before he lands a hard smack to one cheek that makes you gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he says, voice low and eyes dark. He looks over your shoulder. “You find yourself a dress?”

The abrupt change leaves you winded. When you recover you finally reply, “Yeah, you wanna see it?” You grab the plastic wrapped dress from the bed, intent on heading to the bathroom with it to change.

“Where ya goin’?” Eddie asks, taking a seat on your bed and reclining back on his elbows like he belongs there.

“I was…gonna change?”

His grin is salacious. “You could do that right here.”

_________

Eddie is practically vibrating with the need to touch you. You’re standing there in your room, looking like a deer caught in the headlights with your eyes all wide in surprise at his suggestion that you change into your dress in front of him.

He can hear your heart rate speed up, see the rush of blood to your cheeks. He licks his lips.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands.

You hang the dress on the hook on the back of your door before tentatively curling your fingers into the hem of your shirt. Eddie gives you an encouraging nod as you slowly lift the fabric over your head.

He’s pleased to note that the flush in your cheeks trails down your chest. “Tell me, does that pretty little dress work with that?”

“Work with…what?”

“That bra.” You shake your head. “Then lose it, too.”

You swallow nervously before reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and drop to the floor. Eddie sits up at attention, adjusting his jeans to relieve the pressure building at his crotch.

Christ, you’re so pretty. You look good enough to eat.

“Now the pants,” he directs. Your fingers slip nervously on the button of your pants. “Come here.”

You take a tentative step closer. When he can reach out, he slips a finger into your waistband and tugs sharply, pulling you closer on unsteady feet. He keeps his eyes focused on your face as he undoes your fly.

“Go ahead, baby,” he whispers. “Take ‘em off.”

“Eddie—“

“Shh, sweetheart. Just do as you’re told,” he interrupts. Your breathing is ragged as you shimmy your jeans over your hips, letting them pool around your feet. “That’s it, good girl.”

_________

Your mouth goes dry at Eddie’s words, a shiver running up your spine as his fingertips trail lightly over your thighs. His eyes are still locked on yours, which somehow makes you feel more vulnerable than if they were roving your naked body.

“Should I…put the dress on?” You whisper.

Eddie smirks. “No, princess. I’ve got bigger plans.” He wraps an arm around your waist and faster than you can realize what’s happening, you find yourself on your back, blinking up at the ceiling in surprise.

“My, my,” Eddie continues, body looming over yours, “You look like a feast, baby.”

The wording he’s chosen throws you off. His body blocks out some of the light from above you, casting his features in shadows that make him seem…dangerous. Eyes darker than they should be, teeth sharper.

Like a predator.

His head dips down, tongue tracing the dip in your collarbone and your racing thoughts come to a screeching halt as you gasp out his name. He licks a path to your neck, teeth scraping against the thin skin that protects your pulse.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Touch me,” you breathe out. You can feel his smile against your neck.

“I am touching you,” he says, kisses trailing lower until he’s trailing his mouth over your breasts. You arch your back, seeking more.

His lips circle one of your pebbled nipples, drawing it into his mouth with a rough pull that makes you moan. A hand is immediately gripping your other breast in balance to the attention of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

“Eddie!”

“That’s right, baby,” he says before switching sides. Your hips writhe beneath him, seeking friction you can’t find. You let out a pitiful whine. “Hush.”

You bite your lip painfully hard to comply with his command. His hand leaves your breast, sliding down until his fingers are rubbing over the slick fabric of your panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, that all for me?” He asks.

“Don’t see anyone else here,” you tease. Eddie lands a gentle smack to your sensitive pussy in retaliation.

“Damn right there’s not anyone else here,” he snaps, not unkindly. “Because this is all mine, isn’t it sweetheart? This soaking wet cunt is dripping just for me.”

“Oh, god,” you cry out as Eddie’s fingers slip past the elastic around your waist, diving into your wet heat. “Eddie, please!”

Your hips chase his hand as his fingers curl against you in their retreat, the slick sound of his hand exploring your pussy filling the room. His lips press to yours to swallow your desperate noises as he rubs your clit in tight circles.

A ripping noise breaks through your consciousness, and your eyes pop open. You tear your mouth from Eddie’s and lift your head to see the mangled remains of your panties clutched in his fist.

“Whoops. Sorry,” he says, looking anything but apologetic. His lips continue to drag down, down, down until he’s lying flat on his belly between your thighs.

Eddie uses a hand on your thigh to push your legs apart, shouldering his way closer until you can feel his breath against your heated skin. You squirm against his hold, the attention he’s giving you almost too much.

“Anyone ever kissed you here before, baby?” Eddie asks.

“N-no,” you stutter. You’re not a virgin, haven’t been since sophomore year when you had a lackluster experience with your then-boyfriend that lasted approximately three pumps and ended in plenty of disappointment. While you don’t have any first hand experience with what Eddie’s offering, you’ve read about it. The women’s magazines and erotic books you sneak from your mom’s stash discuss it in great detail.

“That’s a shame,” he says, pressing a kiss to one thigh, then the other, all while keeping his eyes fixed to yours. Your breathing kicks up, chest heaving with the anticipation of his mouth connecting where you’re most desperate for him. “A pussy like this deserves to be worshiped.”

Your head drops back with a groan as he licks through your folds, moaning at the taste. His tongue circles your clit before dipping to your leaking entrance, greedily gathering the essence of you. The sounds that come from Eddie are animalistic, deep growls and low rumbles that if you were in the right state of mind and not rocketing towards an orgasm you would find them terrifying.

His hands tighten around your legs to pin you in place as your hips work in tandem with his mouth. Those dark eyes peek up at you, but you can barely keep your own open long enough to watch. You dig your hands into his hair in ecstasy, holding him to you as his relentless pace continues.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you cry out. That grip on your hips gets damn near painful, the bite of his nails into your skin aching. “Please, please, please!”

“Please what, princess?” He rumbles, mouth never leaving your dripping core.

“Please, fuck me,” you beg, hardly recognizing your own desperate voice.

“No, baby, you’re gonna come in my mouth like a good fucking girl,” he growls, doubling down on his efforts. Your back arches from the bed as you press your hips to his skilled mouth. “That’s it, come on pretty girl, come for me.”

With a scream, you do as you’re told, your release washing over you like a tidal wave that never stops. His tongue keeps up its pace against your clit, sending additional little shocks that make you see stars.

“Oh my god,” you cry, practically sobbing as he doesn’t let up. “Eddie!”

You can feel the feral grin he hides against your flesh. His tongue slows until he’s giving you one last lick and sitting up, looking all too pleased with himself.

“Wanna see you,” you slur. You’re a boneless puddle in the middle of your mattress, squirming around on the wet spot you’ve left behind on the sheets. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he replies, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them low enough that he can pull his cock out. You can’t look away from him as he leisurely strokes his thick length, a pearl of precum pooling at the tip. You reach a hand out to try to touch him, but he bats it away. “Just watch, princess.”

You pout, but do as you’re told, eyeing him hungrily. Your eyes alternate between watching his face screwed up in pleasure and watching his hand as it flies roughly up and down his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. You squirm, bringing a hand between your legs to rub at your oversensitive clit.

“Greedy fucking girl,” he groans, but he does nothing to stop you. “Already came once but desperate for more.”

You nod, unable to form the words to respond. Your motions are sloppy, hips bucking beneath your hand as he leans forward, bringing your bodies closer but not touching, making you whine.

“Quiet, baby, I’ll take what’s mine when the time is right,” he grunts, his pace stuttering as he nears his release. “Until then, be my good girl and say my fucking name.”

“Eddie!” You cry, your second orgasm breaking across your nerves. He growls and you swear his eyes go pitch black as he comes, his spend landing on your tummy in hot splashes. He works his cock until it starts to soften and he flops beside you on the bed, dragging your sweat damp body back against his.

When you’ve finally caught your breath, you wiggle around to face him. His eyes are back to that sweet soft brown that you love so much, like coffee with a splash of milk. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You didn’t even see my dress,” you say with a pout.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see it at the dance.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You said you couldn’t get tickets.”

He smirks at you. “Who said anything about buying a ticket?”

[dopscratch]

introducing: the Scoutbros

i'm feeling creative, so i'm gonna introduce you all to my headcanons for scout's family, including the basically-ocs that i've designated as his brothers! you're welcome to use them anywhere if you happen to actually like them, with a couple rules

credit me please this is the one scrap of originality i have

if you make any tweaks, headcanons or changes, please do not parade them as fact!

SHOW ME, LINK IT TO ME, GIVE ME WHATEVER CONTENT YOU MAY MAKE WITH THEM I LOVE THE SCOUTBROS

obviously these rules only apply to the oc-ones and not the canon characters (except rule 3, give me your tf2 content...)

all images are from that one scene in my Runs in the Family animatic you know the one- and represent fairly young versions of all of them! i think i designed scout to be like 10 there.

anyway, without further ado, my headcanons/ocs:

Starting with Scout's mother, I've headcanoned she really likes J names. Her name is Jolene and Spy's name, whatever it is, probably starts with a J too. Most of her kids come from different fathers, hence their varied appearances. Also her last name is Fitzgerald for the memes. That's pretty much all I have here

Scout himself also remains pretty much unchanged. His childhood nickname was Germ because Jeremy and also he's a little pathogen the kid is obnoxious :)

Josh is 1 year older than Scout and is the resident daredevil. He’s a thrill seeker and holds the record for the most broken bones in the family, both at once and total. Scout may have broken this record during his time as a merc, but since he’s not really supposed to talk about it (and it’d be nearly impossible to keep track of on the battlefield with Medic healing) Josh remains on top. He has darker/deeper brown eyes and hair.

Jay is 2 years older than Scout and a hyper tech nerd who finds it difficult to focus on most things for more than one minute. He loves pranks, often pulling them on his brothers and anyone unlucky enough to be close by. He’s 100% a memelord (Saxton invented the internet early it could happen!!). He’s a blue-eyed redhead.

Jason is 5 years older than Scout. He’s twins with Jake (coming next!). He’s also a criminal. To be fair, he’s not really more of a criminal than his other brothers, he just continued being a bit of a menace into adulthood and is terrible at covering his tracks, resulting in him landing in jail more often than not. If someone in the family is going to get caught for a crime, it’ll most likely be him. He also occasionally takes the fall for his other brothers, be it voluntarily or not. He’s absolutely awful at planning but can often think on his feet well enough in a crisis. He has paler brown eyes and black hair.

Jake is Jason’s twin (so also 5 years older than Scout). He’s a nicer guy, polite, but an adept fighter. He tends to keep a cool head and can get out of a lot of bad situations, the opposite of his twin (he is the younger twin which he used to be a little self-conscious about). He’s also Bidwell. He legally changed his name because the scoutfam is a little notorious what with the many many troublemakers that come from it. I think this is the perfect origin story for him because there’s no way Saxton Hale would hire an assistant without assessing their combat ability.

Jessie is Jack’s (coming next!) right-hand man, 7 years older than Scout. Scoutmom Jolene forgot the masculine way to spell it was ‘Jesse’ so now this tall, buff, intimidating man has to live with a name that many would point and laugh and call a girl’s name (not that ‘Jesse’ would be any better in the spoken word). Though it was a bit of an embarrassment in early childhood, mostly going by his initials, he’s moved past it, growing confident and comfortable with his name. He’s generally stoic and hard to rattle, though he has a more chaotic side and likes helping out with Jay’s pranks. Though he’s slower to anger, he holds a long, lifetime grudge. He has darker brown eyes and black hair.

Jack is 9 years older than Scout and the ruthless leader type. He specializes in organized crime, but in a kind of wholesome way. He’s very protective of anything he’s deemed his territory and will keep his little circle safe. Family comes before anything for him (absent fathers don’t count in his books). He targets overeager gangs, corrupt officials, big businesses challenging smaller local ones, and other threats to his community in various less-than-legal ways. He has blue eyes and black hair.

James is the oldest son, 12 years older than Scout. He filled in as a sort of father figure to the family as it grew and was the leader of the scoutbros’ chaotic outings until adulthood, when he eventually decided to pursue a stable, normal job. Still, he sticks around and occasionally accompanies the group for old time’s sake. He’s generally the most responsible, followed by Jake and Jessie. He has brown eyes and a light brownish hair, a similar shade to Scout’s.

and that’s all of em! hope you enjoyed this wild ride through my brain. i think the tag is free so #scoutbros will from now on be referring to my particular band of silly dudes unless anyone has any objections!

also, feel free to ask me any questions!

[jellytamalies]

here are some of my 2 am ramblings about batfam. Don’t mind all the spelling errors I was half asleep man

The characters should be based off some of the original tragedies/events that put them on their path. Not that they shouldn’t grow past them but it should reflect in who they are. 

Batman wasn’t made to fight rogues and world threatening disasters. Batman was born from an unlucky moment, where a simple random crook shattered someone’s world. Even if the police in Gotham weren’t corrupt it wouldn’t have mattered. It wasn’t part of some plot or scheme, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and something terrible happened. (In that way Batman is alike to Spider-Man, despite their very different dispositions.) Batman was made to protect people at those moments. He was made to protect people from the ground level crime lurking around. He was made to protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves. He would make sure no one else would be like that young boy in an empty alley as the witness to his parents deaths. Batman is a protector.

For Dick, Robin was made from something different. It was more about something fundamentally wrong in the world. His parents death was planned, as a result of an unchecked evil that simply exists through the world. He was made to fight that more organized crime; gangs, mobs and mafias, corrupt people and groups who went out of their way to hurt people for their own means. And that’s one main way he’s different from Batman. Robin was made to fight. And it shows in his own ruthlessness that no one, not even Batman or redhood, has. He’s a light because he chases away the darkness. 

For Jason, he didn’t have a single defining moment. It wasn’t one tragedy, it was a suffocating existence that slowly chocked him out and eventually ended with him dead. The place he was born, and the life he grew up in was messsed up because of multiple factors. It was something in the roots of Gotham(and everywhere else) that slowly poisoned the air. It was a system inefficient at really getting rid of the problems permanently that messed up crime ally, that made him lose his father to a life of crime and his mother to a drug addiction, and let the joker live to kill him. The Redhood (and partly Robin) was supposed to take care of those problems in a way the the previous system didn’t. He was a replacement (or repair) to the systems that had failed him.

Tim was different from all three. He wasn’t defined by loss. Even though both his parent died, that wasn’t what made him originally Robin. He was made to help. For him, Robin was never about fighting crime or saving civilians, it was about giving a point to hold onto, and be grounded on in the midst of grief. This shows. he doesn’t have the same burning motivation for a crusade against crime, he isn’t fighting, he’s supporting. He became Robin to stabilize Bruce. Unlike Dick his Robin wasn’t a light for Gotham, it was a light for Batman. Like a lantern guiding the way. He’s sociable and attracts (or captures, as he’s the one crashing into their lives) connections and people. He connects with everyone. People think Dick is the extrovert, but it’s Tim who is bonding people together. He not just a guiding light, he’s a campfire attracting people and bringing them together.

Damian never had a moment, it was more like a realization. Like Jason he had grown up in a horrid scenario but unlike him he didn’t realize till he was free. When he found out a better world, a better life, existed he fought for it. In multiple senses. In the beginning he thought he wasn’t worthy so he fought to keep his place; he thought he had to prove himself. When he realized he was a part of a family, and that world, he fought to protect it. Finally, as he opened up and connected with more people. His world expanded, and the people he included in it too. So he fought to protect them. He fought to give them a better world, and better life. When he came to care about Gotham and others, not just the people he was close to, he fought for them. He’s like Bruce in how he’s a silent protector, and a mirror of Dick through him protecting the light instead of fighting the dark. He’s unlike either in how he isn’t trying to spare others from a horrible thing he experienced, but instead trying to share a good thing he found. Damian is a guardian and a guide. 

There’s a thought that you become who you needed (or hated). Bruce became the guardian that would have saved his parents. Dick became the force that would have stopped zukko. Tim didn’t really need anything (except maybe a healthy role model) so he became what others needed. Damian became the guide that saved him (he became like Dick and his father and his family)

[doevademe]

Prompt: I have always loved the idea that both Percy and Nico come to the same person to rant about how much they pine for each other but they can’t be together be they are dumbasses, and it’s always Jason due to him typically being their third of their trio, but do want to know who I think would be funnier? Frank, who is Nico’s sister’s boyfriend and who is distantly related to Percy. I can see them both going to frank because 1) Frank is just an overall sweet guy who will you can kinda just talk to with having any snappy comments in return (you know characters like Annabeth, Leo and Jason would absolutely make fun of the both of them) and 2) frank is lowkey a pushover and would absolutely not be able to stand up to Percy and Nico using him as an emotional bucket to dump into. Frank is over here suffering just wondering how he got roped into this mess of a relationship.

Frank Zhang often wondered what had landed him in this position.

Maybe he was too nice, maybe he needed to practice saying 'no' once in a while, maybe he had been unlucky enough.

His bet was on him making a dumb comment once after walking in on something he shouldn't have.

It had been early in the morning and he had been going on his way to the senate, when he saw Percy's back as he leaned against someone suggestively.

Now, he knew it wasn't Annabeth, as they had broken up a while ago, but the way Percy covered the other person with his body was a little too intimate for the public street, at least in his opinion.

"Please don't do that in public," he had said before noticing, and Percy jumped to separate himself from... his future brother-in-law, Nico di Angelo.

"We weren't doing anything!" Percy had shouted, face red. "Just... talking about breakfast!"

Nico nodded quickly, as red as Percy.

Frank nodded carefully, fully prepared to move on and try to forget this ever happened, unaware that he had signed his death sentence.

"And he just... doesn't notice!" Percy said, frustrated. "I have tried everything, telling him he looks nice, invinting him to dinner, I even touched his ass!"

Frank looked around, hoping no one in the bistro had heard his friend/distant uncle, but was disappointed when he caught a few people looking at them discreetly.

"Just... he'll never see me as anything but a friend," he said, sulking.

"You know, you could be direct with him," he tried. "Just tell him how you feel."

Percy looked at him as if he had gone crazy.

"Are you insane? What if he doesn't feel the same?" Percy said. Frank was vaguely aware that his cofee with milk had gone cold a while ago. "It will ruin our friendship! I rather have Nico as a friend that not have him at all!"

Frank groaned. This was a test, maybe by his father to see if he would finally kill his nemesis. But Frank didn't have it in him to be that ruthless, and Percy was one of his closest friends...

"If only there was a way to know what he thought about me," he lamented, making the Praetor bite his tongue.

Yeah, if only someone could tell him that Nico felt the same... someone who hadn't been sworn to secrecy.

He had had to brush up his mythology trivia after he hadn't remembered what swearing by the Styx meant twice.

"Well, I need to get to class." Percy sighed and finished his cold cofee in one quick gulp. "Thanks for listening, Frank, you're the best."

The son of Mars gave a feeble smile and waved him off.

He paid for his part of the bill and went towards the fields of Mars, where he bumped into Nico.

"Frank," he greeted, face inescrutable like always. "Nice seeing you today."

"Uh, same," he said lamely. "I'm actually on my way to oversee some training drills so..."

"Are you free for lunch?" Nico asked, looking like he didn't care. Frank paled, but nodded after Nico stared at him intensely. "Great, the usual place, then?"

"O-okay..."

----

Hazel had been overjoyed over him spending more time with Nico. Having the most important men in her life be friends was everything to her.

If she knew why they hung out so much however... maybe she'd feel some pity for him.

"I just... can't understand him," Nico said, groaning into his pasta. Frank counted his blessings that at least Nico was much quieter. "Like, he touched me... inappropriately, yesterday, but after I asked he just said his hand slipped."

When Percy had chosen him as his confidante, he had said it was because they were friends, and since Percy had helped him get together with Hazel, so Frank felt as if he owed him.

Nico, though? He had been blunt and honest. He had just said, "you saw, please help me," and Frank was still very intimidated by the son of Hades to say no.

"And at this point, maybe he's telling the truth!" Nico exclaimed. "Maybe it's all in my head! I mean, Percy has always been a very touchy person, it... it could mean nothing..."

"Maybe you are the one that needs to be forward?" he tried for the second time that day. "Don't tell him what you feel, just say how it comes off as and confront him."

"What if he denies it?" Nico asked. "I... I couldn't take the rejection... At least like this, I can pretend that he likes me like I like him."

Frank busied himself with his steak to not comment. Nico sighed again and took a sip of his wine.

"I don't say this often but, thank you for listening," Nico said earnestly. "You're a good friend, Frank."

Frank gritted his teeth as he gave a forced smile.

"Anytime, Nico."

It wasn't like he could say no.

----

"Also," Frank said loudly to the Legion. Hazel raised an eyebrow, that was all they had discussed for their daily activities. "Any children or Legacies of Mercury or Hermes should speak with me before dinner. Dismissed."

The Legion saluted and marched.

"What was that about?" Hazel asked curiously.

"I need someone capable of forging handwriting," he said.

Now Hazel was really worried.

"You're not getting into anything dangerous, are you?"

"Huh? No! Don't worry!" he reassured her quickly. "It's the opposite, I'm getting out of a messy situation."

Hazel looked at her boyfriend's expression and relaxed a little.

"Is it one of those situations you could get out of if you just said 'no'?" She asked knowingly. Frank stayed silent. "Oh, Frank..."

"It will be better for everyone, not just me," he said. "Hopefully."

And hazel could only pray he was right.

[ao3feed-jaydick]

It's Not Supposed to Go Like this

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/56097991 by Anonymous Jason knows all to well what happens to omegas. The lucky ones live their lives dotted over in sweet soft clothes, surrounded by toys, and constantly care for. The unlucky ones, thrown to the dirt, abused, violated and hurt. Thus, when Jason presents as an omega, the only viable option in his mind is suppressants and it works. He's built his life as an alpha. A good and stable life. Well, mostly anyways. Except Dick and Bruce find out and now Jason's stuck. It was never supposed to go like this. Words: 1075, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), DCU Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, Forced Infantilism, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Diapers, Wetting, Overstimulation, ABDL, Vibrators, Rimming, Intersex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Punishment, Porn With Plot, Minor porn, hopefully, Infantilism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, this is my first fic, idk wtf im doing, Save Me read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/56097991

[ali-annals]

clover blooms in the fields/spring breaks loose, time is near

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G

TW: implied/discussed character death(s), this is an old work and thus not my best :/

WC: 0.5k

A/N: I've seen people calling this ship Alfrinette, but I prefer my moniker 'NetteWorth'. This is my attempt to sway others into using it as well :p For rare pair advocate @velveteenshadow Merry Christmas, Carmine! <3

She knew being a True Guardian made her different. 

How different, she did not realize at first.

She defeated Hawkmoth, saved Paris, publicly retired. She met a true holder and trained her court precisely.

She fell in love, but knew she could not have him yet, for one day she realized that she hadn’t visibly aged at all, her eyes glowed when she accessed her powers, and she was radiating light. Growing things flourished in her presence and unlucky, destroyed things were reversed.

Her true love got a job away from her Court, raising a child. That was okay–her civilian self existed no more, and she had all the time in the world to wait. She would watch from afar.

He grieved his employers’ deaths, then attempted to raise their son to the best of his ability. He watched him grow into a good man, driven for justice. He supervised his nightly jaunts and was not truly surprised when he was made a pseudo-grandfather. He helped raise four good young men and three wonderful young women, watching protectively as they joined his son on their night jobs. He took care of them in any way he could, remembering how his love had done that for her dearest ones.

He grieved for his grandson and granddaughter and rejoiced when they came back home. And finally, one day…one day he woke up to see his love, just like he remembered. He blinked and walked toward her. 

“Marinette?”

He hadn’t said her name in decades, yet she gave him the same beautiful smile. They were surrounded by a lush, vibrant oasis, crystalline streams flowing and friendly animals playing about their feet. Sunshine dappled in through leaves and the entire area exuded peace and creation. 

His reflection in the pool was the one he’d had when he first met her. Colourful birds strutted behind him in fan formation. She took his hand in hers and smiled again. 

“My love, we are together at last. How have you been, Alfred? I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you left, but tell me everything, just the same.”

He smiled at her. “I thought I could feel your presence around me often…particularly when it was especially tough. You were by me when Master Jason died, were you not?”

“I was. I know how special he was to you, so I took him when the warehouse exploded. He stayed with me for a while, staying in peace. He told me about you. I could tell how much he and your other dear ones loved you.”

She paused at the waterfall, holding his hands in hers. “I had to return him, however. I am pleased he has seemed to find peace after experiencing its counterpart.”

“I am pleased with how well he–and all of them–have turned out,” he admitted. “This garden looks familiar. I knew my thumb wasn’t that green.”

She laughed happily. “I may have helped your pet garden projects along a bit.” “I took up gardening to feel closer to you, you know,” he admitted. “I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you, too.” She squeezed his hand. “It took us long enough to reunite; let us postpone our melancholy.”

He squeezed back, turning in a new direction. “A marvelous decision. Let us explore among the green while we catch up.”

“Lets.”

[kingeorgey]

i keep you clean (you surrounded me)

Jason Todd x OFC/Reader, 4.6k words

based on the Jason Todd fanfictions on ao3, written by Minniears and Janaswow . rosalie is a combination of the main characters in those books, and the oneshot draws inspiration from both fics.

please rb, like, and feel free to message me or leave asks / drabble requests! i highly reccommend checking out my ao3, just look at my other posts or search up my username on there. i just wanted ot test what happens if i post the full fic on here instead of linking to my ao3.

enjoy!!! :-)

The most stressful part of all this is making the calls to fix the sunroof. Really. And, honestly, truly, seriously, not even that is so stressful, since that task is reduced to an email for Rosalie. Admittedly, a hooded vigilante breaking into your property for the third (fourth? fifth?) night in the last two weeks was not an ideal situation for anyone but the window repair company, and at least the cost wasn’t coming out of her pocket.

What, then, had Rosalie failed to consider, in her attempt to bend over backwards making sure the vigilante knew that he was of no inconvenience to her? The (decidedly less ideal) consequences of the recurring vandalism- 

His enemies catching on.

It had all happened in a blur. Between the fight or flight instinct, it was true that she had always drifted towards the lesser-known, and less convenient, ‘freeze’ instinct. The steely chill of a blade against her neck, a cacophony of gunshots and knife-on-knife scraping, and someone calling out her name had all fallen on ears that were as good as deaf at the moment. 

It wasn’t that she was ignorant to the dire situation she was in, and the unfathomable level of danger surrounding her. Rosalie was an intelligent person, despite society’s eternal crusade to muddle kindness with weakness. She had managed just fine in Gotham on her own, and had not gotten involved with the many gangs and vigilantes of the city she called home. However, as life in Gotham went, the time had apparently arrived for her rite-of-passage gang involvement.

Everything in Rosalie’s line of sight became one massive blur of motion, shaken only when she was tackled. Instinctually, she awaited the impact that was to come- expecting the cement of the greenhouse, maybe a flower pot if they had been so unlucky. The result never came, however, and when she began to come back to reality she was confronted with the warmth of the arms that had her wrapped in a death grip, and radiated off of the jacketed chest that shielded her.

The scene Rosalie was enveloped in finally began to come into focus. Beaten, bloodied gang members were tied up to the feet of various display tables, droplets of their sweat and tears joining their puddles of blood and broken glass. It was silent, though, save for the voice of her protector coming into focus.

“I got you,” The voice rushedly repeated, the baritone bringing her further into the present moment. That was when reality finally set in, when she was no longer in a frozen stupor, no longer chasing the present second- 

and, she crumbled.

In one extended motion, Rosalie was pushing herself from the Red Hood’s embrace with trembling arms and legs, bounding out of the shop’s front door. A series of choked gasps (that she hardly registered as being her own) quickly transitioned into a fit of sobs- which, for someone of her disposition, meant more noiseless, strangled sounds. 

With legs that felt as weak as gelatin below her, she all but tripped out of the door and onto the pavement in front of the shop, a quivering arm pressed up against the brick facade. Droplets of her own blood soiled the roughened sidewalk, her gaze transfixing itself on each crimson bead instead of the door behind her slamming open, then closed. No frenzy follows- just the scraping of boots as the Red Hood sits next to her, leaning against a streetlamp with a blade-holding arm lazily draped over his knee.

“More will be on their way.” Breaks the quiet. The voice modulator, husky and reverberant, doesn’t strike fear (or even curiosity) anymore. It is familiar, and she wants familiar, yearns for it in a moment as impossible as this.

There are thirty highly complex muscles per hand. Sixty, total. Scientists of the highest caliber have been trying for centuries to recreate the human hand but have always found that something is missing. There is an art to the human hand- perfected artistry, from rolling wrists to feather-light fingertips.

Yet, when she lifts her hands to speak in the only language she can, it all falls short. Her fingers feel like pasta cooked ten minutes too long, and she is stuck staring at them without having gestured one word. Betrayal to the highest degree flashes in her eyes and, with her hands completely still, she looks up at the sunroof-breaking jerk she should probably be blaming for all of this.

She wonders how it is that an unchanging mask seems to be emanating emotion. As if, behind the kevlar and technologies, he might actually be feeling something. 

Rosalie suspects it is pity that seeps through the disguise. 

“I have a… someone is on the way for you, until everything blows over.” A trembling ghost of a nod is all she can manage. 

Not long after this ‘conversation’, a sedan shows up with a flourish. The car itself is absent of any glitz or glamor. What brings it to life is the flourish of capes that follow- most notably, one accompanied with an all too familiar cowl. Were she a few years younger, Rosalie might have fangirled a little, like most Gothamites. For now, she continues to sit as she has since initially taking her spot on the sidewalk, though her eyes are now focusing on the newcomers instead of Red Hood.

“This is Rosalie. She’s-”

“How bad in shock is she?”

“Bad. Not hurt, if you’d let me finish.”

“Not that you know of. There’s blood on the edge of her sweater, could be hers.” It somehow brings Rosalie out of her stupor a bit, to hear Nightwing and Batman chide the Red Hood over someone as unimportant as her, and to Robin keeping a dead stare in her direction.

“She’s not speaking.”

“She can’t, remember?” Nightwing turns to Robin, exasperated, as Batman hurriedly takes over once more.

“We’ve got it. This won’t happen again, ma’am, we’ll make sure of it.” 

Honestly, it makes her uncomfortable to meet eyes with Batman- metaphorically, of course. She can’t see past his mask. The greasy dinners with Red Hood had been much different, and they hadn’t even spoken a word to each other on those offhanded occasions, just quietly eating as she worked on inventory and a show played on her falling-apart laptop. 

Batman seems to accept the shock as an answer, turning and leading his compatriots into her shop. When they are finally alone again, Red Hood stands and carefully helps Rosalie up until she is standing, his gloved hand firm around her upper arm.

“I’m taking you to a safehouse until the situation is handled.” Telling, not asking- though she is hardly going to argue with that solution, focusing instead on the warmth his hand provides against her skin, not meeting his ‘eyes’ once as she is ushered into the sedan.

In the passenger seat she tries to use her hands. Flexing, unflexing each slender finger, twisting her wrist. There is a great aching in her torso that begins to intensify as the shock subsides, and her neck is craned to look out the window for the entire journey. In the reflection of the tinted window and, in a moment where she has glanced just above the passing sidewalk, she can see the Red Hood looking over at her, a sustained check-in before he hurriedly averts her eyes. 

The car ride is a strained silent. 

She thinks that the vigilante can still see how badly she is trembling, even when her hands are finally able to muster enough strength to open the passenger door. Thankfully, he says nothing, crossing around the car in a few long strides to get the door for Rosalie and usher her into the safehouse.

Then, the strangest thing happens. 

It’s not like a dam breaks- though, it’s not unlike that, either. It is grand and subtle and loud and silent and she stands still while her body horrifically crumbles into itself. All the air in Rosalie’s lungs expels itself at once and, no matter how hard she tries, it won’t come back. She is self-strangled, suffocating, until the very last second as dots speckle her vision- then, her body tortures her further by sucking in all the air at once and continuing until the Red Hood has hidden the car and locks the front door behind him.

Truth be told, the Red Hood seems shocked. It would dawn on her later that this, for all technical intents and purposes, would be his first time ever hearing her. And, of course, it was like this- horrible, disgusting, strangulated, this.

Or, is it not shock whatsoever? For now, he still stands inches in front of her, arms outstretched like he wants to do something about it but has not the faintest idea what that something should be. He seems confused. He wants to help, but doesn’t know how.

“Rosalie,” The modulator (surely not his voice) wavers, the arms remaining in their awkward half-outstretched stance as he continues. Or, tries to continue- begins to. Either his words fall short or he decides against saying what’s on his mind, opting instead to reach forward and engulf her in his arms.

Rosalie has a moral objection to leather, not even buying secondhand. She thought leather couches and faux-leather interiors of cars to be disgusting, and the handbags to be consistently gauche. The Red Hood, though, has a leather jacket on, and at this moment it is not gauche, and she has no objection to it- moral, fashion, or otherwise. In this moment there is no greater comfort that is able to be offered, and it is all she needs it to be. The material expands upon the warmth someone of his stature already emanates, and the worn material is unexpectedly soft against the few spots of her exposed skin that it meets. 

The warmth, as well as his silence, aides in turning the choking sensation into normal sobs though, for her, even that sounds different compared to the cries of those who could produce noise. Minutes pass before she pushes the vigilante away from her just enough to bring a fist up to her chest, leaning with the other hand on one hip while making the circular motion with the fist on her chest. It’s a tired sign, something made even more evident to the Red Hood as he watches her shoulders droop further from their raised, tense position.

“Whatever you’re apologizing for-” One of his hands lightly swats at her fist, stopping the weak signing of her apology, “Don’t.”

The sigh that accompanies his command provides her some sort of proof that he means this. That he is the sorry one, that he, too, is exhausted from today.

Rosalie doesn’t figure the new stains on his leather jacket will help and-

Is that her blood?

Red follows her eyes, alight with fresh worry, to the stains on his sleeves and chest. His arms lift from his sides, turning over so he can assess the situation, and- yes, some of that is definitely her fresh blood from just moments prior.

“You’re bleeding,” He begins, ignoring the way she reaches for the hem of the leather sleeve and begins turning it back and forth between her thumb and forefingers. 

Will this come out? - 

Before she finishes her sentence, before she can go to sign ‘sorry’ again, he is swatting her hand lightly, letting his own fall to the small of her back. Delicately, he leads her to a washroom. 

“Believe it or not,” He grumbles, guiding her until she sits on the edge of the tub, “I deal with blood pretty regularly, Rose-”

A comcially large first aid kit is pulled onto the floor to punctuate his sentence. 

“So don’t worry about it.”

Neither of them say anything more as he begins to get all sorts of gauze and bandage out. Rosalie is zoned out, still reeling from her panic attack. Yet, she manages to catch the moment he almost lifts his mask up in front of her, stopping right before.

“I-” He pauses.

“Room across the hall, top two drawers of the dresser. Shorts and shirts. You’re covered in blood, so change and try and figure out where you’re hurt.”

He needs to unmask, and he must know that she is aware of that. It is true, however, that she is covered in blood, she obliges, allowing her hand to linger just a moment longer than necessary when she uses his shoulder to get up from the bathtub. 

The shower sputters to life as she crosses into the bedroom. Granted, calling it a bedroom may be a slight overaggeration. It’s hardly a full room, there’s bullet shells and what she can only infer to be gun-related cleaning equipment strewn on the nightstand. Some newspapers are haphazardly taped to the wall with shredded bits of stickers from fast food restaurant bags, the likes of which show through a tied up garbage bag in the corner. 

There’s no mirror in here. It’s a fact that Rosalie is most grateful for at the moment- the way that blood flakes off of her, dried down even though it can’t have been more than an hour since it all happened. Her face feels puffy, though from crying or bruising she can’t be sure. Faintly, she hears sharp breaths from the bathroom, where the shower has once more fallen silent. Rosalie figures he is fixing himself up and takes her time finding a thick T-Shirt and some running shorts, resisting the urge to fall back onto the bed and bloody that, too. The clean clothes remain in her hand as she finds her way back to the bathroom door, rapping upon it lightly. 

When it opens he is masked again, leather jacket strewn over his shoulder and belt haphazardly looped through the waist of his pants. The Red Hood does not utter a word as he brushes past her, jerking a nod towards the shower. Rosalie obeys- once in, she turns the water as hot as the disgustingly outdated shower will allow, tries not to focus on the muddied crimson that pools in the bottom of the shower for minutes before it runs clean, tries not to relax in the steam for fear of letting her guard down and crying again. It is only once she has done this- tossed the towel aside, pulled the clothes onto her still dripping figure- that she works up the strength to look in the mirror. 

She looks horrid. 

Her face is bruised, puffiness subsided otherwise- her stomach, legs, and arms tell a different story. Black and blue from being thrown to the ground, more than a few cuts and two really good gashes on her rib and thigh. Rosalie’s neck still holds a bruised imprint from the knife, though little more than a knick is left as evidence, which she takes as a miserable sort of saving grace. 

Rosalie makes a point to try and present herself as an optimist. Tries to smile, to brighten people’s day even if in the marginally important customer-servicey way. Tries to silently show waitresses and crossing guards she appreciates them. Consciously, intentionally, truly tries to be anything good, because she knows how- for lack of better word- sad, she can be. How sadness fills her full, paralyzes her some days until she has to call off of work and lay on the kitchen floor, limp. How lifting a coffee cup feels like an anvil, or taking a shower seems like such an impossible task, she alienates it until she can’t remember how she’s ever done it at all. Looking in the mirror, this is what she sees. Not the Rosalie she intentionally tries to be- the Rosalie she is. The Rosalie she works so hard to improve, all while forgetting that “running away from” doesn’t equal “improving upon”. Sad, sad. Sad. Sad. Sad.

An echoing ‘thump’ sounds as she falls back onto the rim of the tub, and she feels so miserable, she doesn’t even mind the usually so-irritating-it’s-scalp-burning sensation of wet hair on her skin. This thud must be audible, since a knock quickly follows, the Red Hood entering once again.

He is silent. Takes his time looking at her, she thinks, though it’s made all the more unnerving by the way she can’t actually track his exact line of sight unless he tilts his head.

He scoffs.

He falls to take a knee in front of her, swiping his hand to pick up a needle on his way down. The other steals a towel from a hanging rack and lays it across her lap, gloved hands as electric as flint and steel as they ghost the newly uncovered skin of her bare thighs. The free hand then wraps too-easily around her hip, adjusting her- and she goes in for a hug, out of instinct, when he turns his body just so. Leans in, arms around him, realizing too late what her physical instinct had done. 

Red Hood pulls away with a bewildered jerk, and that’s when she fully realizes her stupidity. He wasn’t going for a hug- he had been adjusting her, to literally give her homemade stitches.

I don’t know why I did that.

His shoulders fall ever so slightly as she signs, gaining his composure before resuming his (close, close, so close to her that he can probably hear each quivering breath or smell the body wash she had used some of or-) position in front of her. He ignores the incident altogether.

“This will hurt. Don’t move.”

The pain is overbearing as she feels him sink the needle into her. Rosalie tries her darnedest to stay as quiet as he had when she was switching into his clothes- how used to this is he, she wonders?- though the effort is futile, and she surely triples the amount of time it should take with the pauses she takes to regain her breath, or squirm in discomfort. She is, after all, wiser than to do so while a needle hovers mere centimeters over her bruised skin.

It feels like years pass before Red Hood tosses the needle in the trash, tying off the final knot. He has some mercy, she thinks, watching him wait for the water to warm up before dampening a towel. This is some relief to the stinging where he has stitched her up, the final bits of crusted blood being dabbed away by the towel.

Really, Rosalie thinks she could have done that bit by herself, though she keeps quiet.

Rosalie finally drops his shirt from where it has been lifted up to her chest, allowing more access to the wounds on her side. Neither of them move beyond this. Not until Rosalie lifts her head, signing halfheartedly.

Are you? Okay. Are you okay.

In the bathroom is a light that has faded to orange, dimmed with age. It catches his mask as he shifts to look away, out of the doorway. It shines so bright for that single millisecond that she cannot help but cringe at the glare, no matter how quick it was.

“I’m used to it,” And though it isn’t the ideal response, Rosalie settles on it being okay for not. Not great, not horrible. Just okay.

They’re okay. They are alive, and breathing, and in a bathroom with a shitty light bulb. It’s okay.

Fueled by the newfound energy of coming to terms with their situation (as well as being physically okay, for the most part) Rosalie lifts herself from the edge of the tub. She stumbles forward, catching herself with a hand on Red Hood’s shoulder. 

She lets it linger, turning to face him and lifting her free hand to sign.

New lightbulb.

Red is already lifting himself up, wrapping a supportive (and careful- he had been the one to stitch her up, after all) forearm round her torso while taking strides towards the bed.

“I’ll be sure to call you when I want a safehouse renovation,” He sets Rosalie down, placing his sole pillow vertically and rushing to find something else to prop her up with, “Maybe we can add a wraparound balcony, too. A chandelier, maybe.”

Swarovski.

“Glad you thought that was funny enough to waste time fingerspelling.”

His tone never once changes and, still, his voice is laced with sarcasm thick as tar, bubbling under each and every syllable. When Red Hood looks over, he sees a small grin on her, and a middle finger briefly directed his way. This, to him, is only made funnier by the fact that Rosalie normally tries to watch her language. He wishes she could see the way he is nearly smiling.

When Red Hood’s ‘eyes’ fall once more to the floor in front of him, Rosalie is sure to reprimand him for it, clapping with all the strength she could muster while coming down from all the shock. Upon looking up, he finds her in a most unusual position. Her arms are outreached to him. One falls, patting the space next to her. 

It’s been a long time- if it’s ever been at all- that someone has beckoned the vigilante like that. With no ill intent. With gentleness, and exhaustion, and the air that it’s the most obvious thing to do in the world. That he should just go lay next to her. 

So, in the most awkward way possible, he obeys. Red Hood turns, swinging a knee over her and falling on his stomach next to Rosalie. He’s since abandoned the leather jacket and, with only the restraint of his sweater and compression shirt, his muscles allow themselves to relax. For only a moment, he allows them to do just so, forgoing the usual tension caused by holding up the weight of the world.

In the moment, he had closed his eyes, though they open once more once his moment of calm is decidedly over. At least, he thought so, before opening his eyes to catch a sideways look of Rosalie staring down at him. Her eyes are lidded with exhaustion, managing to lock onto his own nonetheless.

Her hand lifts. She almost signs something, then pauses. The hand stays raised even once he registers that Rosalie decided against saying something. When it falls, it lands on his back. Up, down, and up again with a featherlike touch. He can’t help the way his breath hitches at the intimacy. Or the anxiety that rises with the realization that he is letting this happen.

“Did I ever scare you?”

You don’t.

“Did I ever, though?” Rosalie is clearly thinking over her response to the repeated question, moving to lay on her shoulder and look him right in his mask’s netted eyes. 

Before I knew you better, maybe.

Then one day you were watching shows with me while I repotted some plants. And I realized I liked being around you. 

Scary people aren’t usually that likable to be around.

I think you’re good. I think that’s why we’re here right now.

As Rosalie did her best to sign, her host did his best not to care too much about the words- which was, worth mentioning, going to end up an absolutely failed mission. Instead, he focused on the signing. The way that doing so while she was turned on her side prevented her from holding her hair back, and how it fell in front of her eyes, the brushing back of which would occasionally serve as the catalyst for the ending and beginning of a new sentence. How she, deluded from the adrenaline-comedown she was experiencing, did not shift uncomfortably or avoid eye contact, her gaze languidly moving between his eyes or wherever else on the mask her gaze happened to fall upon.

Red Hood wasn’t known for failing missions.

And yet, he felt nearly possessed as his hand raised up to his mask. In one swift movement it was disengaged, balled up in his hand as he brought himself up to lean on an elbow over her.

For her part, Rosalie seemed to wake up from her stupor, eyes widening.

“Jason,” He croaked out, swallowing a lump in his throat that arose as soon as he heard himself, “Todd. Jason Todd.” 

Rosalie maintained her wide-eyed, slack-jawed look, though an eyebrow came to rise as she noticed her expression and snapped her mouth shut. Now she was sat fully up, comforter falling down to her hips.

J-A-S-O-N-T-O-D-D

“Yeah,” It came out breathless- something that seemed to bring a smile to Rosalie, and an equally breathless, confused laugh.

Why?

Jason paused at the question. Not for lack of understanding- for lack of answer.

For lack of confidence to give the real answer, more like.

“I just want you to see me.” He decided, an absentminded nod taking over as realization dawned. His face. What did he even look like anymore? A ‘J’ seared onto his cheekbone, scars that once made Deadpool wince for their multitude, surely some sort of black eye or bruise-

I do see you. 

Jason snapped out of his runaway train of thought, looking (really, actually looking) back into her eyes. Finally feeling like he would burst, he did away with it. Get it out of the way, get ready for rejection for signs that seemed obvious but maybe he even misread because had he ever actually felt like this for someone before and maybe this was stockholm syndrome or he was taking advantage of the horrific way the day went and she didn’t even know him really and did he know her-

I like you J-A-

“I wanna date you,”

She stops fingerspelling as they run each other over with their words, staring at Jason still. Now they both looked like slack-jawed idiots. 

Because, of course, they were both slack-jawed idiots.

I want to be your girlfriend, too. 

She finally replies and, now that the hard part and secrecy and obvliviousness and crushy part of it was done with, they both find it easier to smile. Hers, Jason notices, lights up all the way to her eyes, while his is more of the hint of a smile. 

She pays it no mind. Not that he can tell, anyways. Jason figures she is just appeased by the fact she can see him at all. He figures something grand should happen now. Maybe he should stand up and sweep her off her feet, kiss her and dip her like a tango dancer. Maybe he should surprise her with a penthouse or flowers or, at the very least, a dinner to outshine the 3 loaves of bread and vodka his cabinets were currently housing. But none of that happens. He sits there, stupid, looking at Rosalie. At his girlfriend, somehow. 

Rosalie is the one who reaches out, running a hand through his hair. It’s experimental. He can feel her slender fingers glide through each strand, still dripping from the shower, one or two beads of water falling otno the pillowcase with a quiet ‘thwop’ sound. She moves to the nape of his neck- more new territory- and continues to trace down his biceps. Lightly, she nudges him until he is laying back on his stomach, and he is about eye level with her hips when he turns to face her.

Light hands find their way to the small of his back- up, and down, and up again, traversing each muscle, shoulderblade, and vertebrae. The muscles stretch with the intake of a deep breath, sinking back down seconds later, hands lifting and falling in featherlike synchronization. Up, down, and up some more.

[ltgreentea]

Your Wish Is My Command

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Emerson!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+, self-harm, scars, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v, spanking (kinda), grinding, thigh riding, missionary, doggy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, first time (for reader), unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie, manhandling, hair pulling, praise kink.

Summary: The older sister of Gareth Emerson has been the unlucky soul that is Eddie Munson's last hope for passing O'Donalds class. You agree to tutor him, but you don't remember him being the terror that bullied you anymore.

Authors Note: I'm aware that Gareth doesn't have a canon last name but I loved Emerson so much so please don't hate! I was inspired to write this while listening to Queen- Good Old Fashion Lover Boy and it's a song that my character would listen to, every part will have a different song that goes with it, if y'all want, I can create a playlist with songs I think Eddie listens to and y/n! Also, this is the first fanfic that I'm posting online so please don't bully me :). I try not to use "y/n" too much because I hate it, so pet names it is! This is the first part of a series, if you want to read more show this post some love! <3

(p.s. I also read over this a bunch of times so I hope there are no typos or grammar issues if there are any I'm sorry! Happy Reading!)

-GreenTea

February 6th, 1986

“Good afternoon Miss Emerson! I hope you’re ready for this unit on Shakespeare!” You give her a smile and nod. Walking to your assigned seat, “There is something I have been meaning to speak to you about.” This is strange, she never talks to you about much other than her class. “I know you might not enjoy doing this, but I would like for you to tutor Mr. Munson. I refuse to have him in my class another year and I need him to pass so he can graduate.” What? You wanted to scream out and tell her no, but you can’t. 

“Sure! I wouldn’t mind tutoring Eddie!” You have got to be kidding me, this is the actual worst, what will mom and dad think?

“Great! I will let Mr. Munson know, after class, I will get you a packet to go over with him. I want both of you to meet after school today” She seemed all too giddy but inside you wanted to tell her to find someone else, but there probably was no one else who wanted to tutor him. The class was still about 15 minutes from starting but you pulled out your textbook and notes, looking over the last few pages in case there was a surprise pop quiz. Not even a few minutes later, Eddie walks through the door causing a disruption in the peaceful classroom. 

“Oh great! Mr. Munson, Miss Emerson has agreed to tutor you. I want both of you to meet after school today” She looked like she could barely contain her excitement over a student she wanted out of her classroom. He nodded his head and headed towards you.

“What’s gotten into you? You normally are late to class,” you say sarcastically, scoffing at him when he sat down at the desk next to yours and turned it towards you.

“Can I level with you here princess, I know you’re currently struggling to keep up in math so let's say that you help me with English and I’ll teach you my tricks for Mr. Smith’s class? Sound good?” He sounded a bit hurt, but he had his normal annoying voice that he knows ticks you off but how did he know you were struggling?

“Don’t call me princess… hey Munson, are you good? You just aren’t acting like yourself?” Several other students entered the classroom, including Eddie’s bully Jason and his girlfriend Chrissy. You quickly shifted your attention to your notes and brought your hand up to your face to put a barrier between your eyes and Eddie.

He scoffed and dropped his head and said under his breath, “Yeah. Just peachy.”. As the both of you go back to not acknowledging each other's existence. The rest of the period was pretty much the same, uneventful, that is until Eddie got bored of Shakespeare and decided to start passing notes. 

“Hi”

“Hi.”

“I’m bored”

“Pay attention.”

"U R no fun. Meet me under the bleachers after class?”

You read the last note he sent you and looked over at him in annoyance. You were scribbling out your response when Miss O’Donalds speaks up, “I hope those notes are pertaining to the tutoring you will be doing later, Mr. Munson and Miss Emerson.” You crumple the note and stuff it into your bag. Ashamed that you were just caught passing notes with Eddie and went back to pretending that you couldn’t see Eddie brazenly staring at you out of the corner of your eye. This continued until the class was over where you headed towards Mr. Smith's class, and where you had hoped Eddie will go too as you physically felt him follow close behind you, like many days before. Today was different, as you start to turn down the hall to go to math class you are tugged to continue walking towards the doors that lead outside. 

“Hey!” You struggle in defiance.

“Calm down princess, you can miss one class.” He let go of your backpack and grabbed your wrist once the cold February air hit the both of you. Leading you straight to the bleachers on the football field. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What could Eddie Munson want to say to me?” You sounded much ruder than you wanted to but he still continued. Finally getting to below the bleachers where he pulled out a cigarette and lit it taking a few puffs before offering it to you. You shivered, regretting your choice of wearing a skirt, it was colder than you thought.

“Firstly, rude. Secondly, thank you. It means a lot that you accepted to tutor me-“

“You don’t need to thank me-“ as you decline the offer.

“But I actually do, I asked Miss O’Donald to help me find a tutor and she said you were my last option. I didn’t think you’d help me considering you hate me.” Again Eddie had become closed off again like he did in class.

“What? I don't hate you.” You pretend to not know he picked on you for years. He never looked sad to you, but right now he looked very much not like his normal dorky self. “Eddie…”

“No, it’s cool princess. I totally understand that Little Miss Perfect doesn’t want to be seen interacting with the town freak.” He took another puff, and look down, kicking up the dirt and the little bit of snow leftover from the last snow of the season.

“Edward Munson, I swear to god if you don’t drop this pity party I won't help you graduate!” You had had enough, and you just wanted to get to class considering it was about to start and how cold it was. “Have you ever considered that maybe I want to actually help you graduate? I know that the only class that is keeping you from graduating is English and lucky for you I just so happen to be good at it.” Your teeth were chattering by how cold you were and your sudden confidence to put Eddie in his place. For the first time in a long time, Eddie was speechless, no witty remarks, no scoffing, nothing.

You glared at him, expecting him to let you get up and leave but you felt him grab your wrist and pull you back down to his squatting position. The both of you were face to face, his face kinda cocked to the side to examine your face but you really couldn’t read his expression. The long drag he took of his cigarette was blown into your face and he watched as you sputtered the smoke away. He took off his leather jacket, and denim vest combo, and placed it around your shoulders. The jacket was warm enough to stop you shivering and he smiled.

“You are constantly surprising me, Sweetheart, it’s not every day I let people call me that.” He laughed, making you blush, from embarrassment? Or something else? You tried to pull away again because you are starting to feel something… something you really haven't felt before, “Where are you going, sweetheart? We’ve already missed Mr. Smith’s class so we better enjoy this alone time while we have the chance.” He pulled you down until you hit the ground and he joined you in a criss-cross position, snuffing out his cigarette

“Alone time? What do you mean Munson?” He pulled you closer.

“You know exactly what I mean Emerson.” It was barely enough for you to hear because he was in your face, you could basically taste the awful cigarette he had in his mouth. You could tell that your face was covered in a deep-set blush, you’d never been this close to anyone before. His deep eyes watched you looking for a sign of weakness and he finally found it when you glanced at his lips. You’ve never really noticed how full they look, and nice…. But he had already pulled you into a kiss by the collar of his jacket. It was surprising but nice? Eddie Munson… nice? No way, but you didn’t exactly pull away. He dragged you on top of himself, making you crawl into his lap, straddling him. You really couldn’t form a coherent thought, until Eddie shifted under you, feeling something hard hitting a certain bundle of nerves just the right way that you gasped, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. You can taste the cigarette on his breath more and smell a faint cologne, like it had been put on hours ago and not reapplied but it was all intoxicating. When Eddie pulled away he let out a deep laugh that made you worry, did you do something wrong?

“Oh Sweetheart, the things that you do to me…” The look on your face was something he wanted to see forever, a mix of anger, confusion, and just enough flustered by the intimate act. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I think you would rather not get caught with me right?”. He was right, what on earth do you think you were just doing. ”So… meet me in the auditorium for a continuation of our ‘study session’?” 

“Yea- Yeah… “ you really didn’t know how to come up with an answer for no… so you agreed. Walking back to the school, and handing him his jacket back, "Here, thank you, Eddie."

—-----

You debated on just leaving and going home, but Gareth had already found a ride and you told your mom you would be home late tonight anyway, so what was the harm in going? You did promise to help Eddie graduate after all. So after your last period, you headed towards the auditorium, opening one of the few that head backstage, you had been back there countless times to retrieve your brother after his childish game that he plays with Eddie and the rest of their club but today was different. Today you were going to be backstage alone with Eddie for who knows how long, reading Shakespeare of all things. The area where Hellfire normally plays is dark, there is only the ghost light on and Eddie is nowhere to be found. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, being back here with dim lights was scary and it set your nerves on edge if they weren’t already. 

“OK Eddie, stop playing around!” You shout into the darkness hoping he would give up. You set your bag onto the table and picked out a seat to sit in, you chose the one Gareth normally sits in, right by Eddie's crafted throne. The ghost light that was right above you suddenly turned off and you were left in complete darkness. “OK Eddie, this isn’t funny!” your tone sounding slightly more scared. You could feel your heart racing, you got up from your seat and tried to look around to find a source of light, seeing the dim exit sign above one of the doors. The red light was just enough to see the outlines of objects backstage and see something move just outside of the light. Just as you were about to plead to Eddie one more time you felt hands wrap around your waist pulling you into a kiss. 

“Relax, it’s just me sweetheart.” You could barely make out the cocky grin on his face from the red lighting but you knew it was there. 

“Very funny Munson, now turn on the lights.” Who did this boy think he is? You’re just his tutor, nothing more and he keeps…kissing you.

“Only if you say please.” He taps the tip of your nose.

“Eddie… please turn on the lights.” you sounded exasperated.

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He kissed you one more time and then trotted over to his seat. Picking up a small switchboard, and turning on the lights. It looked significantly cleaner than you remember it being, with no cans of soda, no bits of food on the floor, and most importantly no dorky kids… aside from Eddie.

“Ready for Shakespeare?”. You were a little more than excited to read what Miss O’Donald had assigned for the week. “Venus and Adonis” you could hardly contain your excitement that you smiled widely and giggled. Opening up your textbook and the little notes you were able to write down in class, looking at the first note that Miss. Donalds had written on the packet she handed to you at the end of class today ‘MAKE SURE HE IS MATURE ABOUT THIS’ in big-bold red right at the top of the page. There was no way he didn’t notice it but you pretended not to see it. “Let’s get started shall we?”

You had begun to copy your notes for Eddie to study later on, while he pretended to read the first half of the assignment. It wasn’t long before he started sighing and groaning in annoyance. He kept this up until finally, he said, “I’m bored!” 

You shot up a gaze at him, “I’m almost finished, just read, it’s not hard.” Eddie didn’t like this answer. He reached his arm out to snatch your face pulling you up from your seat with his forceful grip. Once he has you standing he pulls at your hips causing you to take a seat right on his lap. “Actually, I think I want you to read it to me.”. You tried to get up, blushing furiously, only to be bounced right back on his lap, causing him to groan and a small moan to escape your lips. 

“Why don’t you be a good princess and read for your knight?” Eddie’s hands found their way to your waist keeping you in place as you leaned forward to pick up the textbook and once you had it in your hands he shifted you backwards onto his lap, the sturdy fabric of his jeans and his raging hard-on put just enough pressure on your clit to draw out another small sigh. 

You had begun to read. It wasn’t long before you felt Eddie’s hands wander. His first stop was your breast, for a couple of lines he groped until he got bored, grinding against your core making you stutter. Eddie shifted you over to his thigh, making you grind on him. You were glad that you decided to wear a skirt today.

“If you stop reading, I stop too princess, keep going.” So you continued, you could feel the heat pooling in your panties, becoming soaked and leaving damp spots on Eddie’s jeans as he helped move your hips to give you friction just where you wanted it. “That’s it princess, use my thigh to get yourself off.”

Between every few words now you moan just slightly and continue reading. You need to catch your breath, you stop for a moment and so does Eddie. You let out a whimper and tried to resume riding his thigh but he stopped you.

“Just read Princess, it’s not that hard.” He spat out the words who had just said to him minutes ago. “Or do you need some help?” You gulped, and resumed your reading and you found Eddie’s fingers just making it under the hem of your skirt. You couldn’t help the shameful way you used his thigh but you’ve never really felt this before… it was like you had to be released, from what exactly, you don’t know.

“I think you need some help,” his hand finally made it up and around you, brushing over your panties and making quick work to find the little bundle of nerves and start to graze over it. Taking in a sharp breath but you still continued to read, that’s when he didn’t like that reaction. He got both of you up and sat you on the table, the surprising movement made you yelp. Still reading Eddie had begun to lift up your skirt,

“WAIT EDDIE!”. You had forgotten where you took your frustrations out on your body. He stops and lets go of you but it's not what you wanted. “I’m sorry it’s not you, I just have…. I don’t want you to see.” 

He looks confused, “I want you to continue, I just don’t… I don't want you to dwell on them.” he was even more confused.

“Dwell on what sweetheart? If this means your just afraid because you're a virgin we can stop-” . 

“NO! It’s not that!” You closed your eyes and sighed, lifting up your skirt, littering your upper thighs were scars. Some healed over and some that look fairly new, Eddie looked sad. “Y/n… what happened?”

You were ashamed, “Would you believe me if I said I had more than a few skeletons in the closet? I don’t really want to talk about it right now, let’s talk about it later okay?” You brought him into a hug, “I want to continue, please Eddie.”

“Okay, just let me know if you want to stop.”  All that’s keeping you from what you want now is the pair of panties you have on which Eddie takes a moment to take in along with the many scars, he dips his head down and starts to kiss each one.

“Continue Princess…”  you picked up the book again and started reading, the peppering of kisses on your thighs was more than enough to rekindle the fire inside of you. His kisses slowly started to find their way to your inner thigh, almost right where you needed that sweet friction again, your heart was beating out of your chest, and the words on the page came out breathy and almost inaudible.

“Speak up Princess, I can’t hear you.” You could feel the fabric of your panties shift. “Look at that, so perfect and wet, just for me.” If the words he didn’t just say didn’t make you melt, him taking one long lap on your core did.

“Ah!” The sudden foreign feeling was something you were mortified about and didn’t want to stop, between the soft moans escaping you continuing to read. His tongue expertly found your clit and played with it just the right way. You shift the book to one hand, needing to ground yourself on something, finding Eddie’s hair to be the perfect place to rest your hand. Your fingers entangled into his curly dark hair and unconsciously pulled on it. You felt the slight groan that vibrated into you, yet you still continued to read.

Eddie needed a way to make you break, to stop reading and tease you. So he continued his assault on your clit with his tongue and moved one of his hands that were keeping your thighs open. With how aroused you already were, sliding the first two fingers into your core was no problem. His fingers explored your dripping arousal, finding a spot that made you gasp and moan out his name. Once he found it, he abused it, making obscene sounds that surely anyone in the room could hear. You stopped reading because there was a new feeling building within you, something that was about to snap,

“Eddie. I- stop, something!” The words weren’t forming but he continued his work on your core. His tongue and fingers were too stimulating. Eddie knew you were close, with the way you clamped down on just two fingers, so he decided to give you this one pass. You dropped the book, making a loud crash to the floor, and let your other hand join the one tangled in his hair. 

“Eddie, please! I-“ you tug harder on him and the vibration from his groaning was just enough to snap that knot forming inside of you. Letting out one last moan of his name and coming undone. You feel your legs shaking, and you fall back onto the table, unable to keep yourself up. Eddie continued his motions until he was satisfied that you rode out the orgasm on his face.

He stood up and helped you back into a sitting pot on the table and smiled up at you, “I’ve never had that happen before!”.  His face glistened with your wetness, the sight of it making you turn away and blush. He stood up and turned your face back to his, kissing you. You can taste your arousal on his lips, and then he pulls away. “You taste amazing by the way.” You're still panting from the sudden overstimulation. “Now it’s my turn Princess, are you ready?”

Eddie picked back up the book and handed it to you, taking this as a sign to keep reading. He decided to start by latching himself to a sensitive spot on your neck. Hearing the sound of his signature handcuff belt unbuckle, and a zipper. He stopped once he was satisfied that he had left enough of a mark on your chest only for you to see. 

On the last word you looked at Eddie, he had his dick in his hand, giving it a few strokes while looking at your trembling figure, you didn’t know if you were shaking because of the excitement or your post-orgasm but to Eddie it was hot. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t have a condom?” You shook your head yes. “No sweetheart, tell me with your words.”

“Yes, Eddie, god please, I trust you. I want you to fuck me.” The words almost didn’t feel like your own as it came from your mouth.

“No, I’m not going to fuck you, I’m going to make love to you Princess.” He whispered to you, his words made you feel ashamed… although you wouldn’t admit it, you knew he has been pinning over you for quite some time. Sure, your relationship when you first met him was filled with malice but now, you won’t admit that you’ve been catching feelings for him as well.

It didn’t matter when he lined up to your entrance and began to take a few experimental thrusts through your folds to cover his cock in your juices. “Good girl, just keep reading.” He said as he slowly pushed himself through your entrance. The intrusion stung but the feeling of his cock finally being inside of you made you moan as well as him. Inch by inch he rocked into you, finally feeling him slow when getting to the base, he was so snug against you, filling you up just right. “Shit Princess, you feel so good around me.”

You whimpered out the next few lines as Eddie begins to move, at a slow and deep pace. Each time he thrusted into you, you felt him bottoming out, and with each thrust stumbling over the words. You had begun to feel that knotting sensation similar to the one before, making everything feel much more intense. Eddie had quickened his pace, which erupted a slew of moans and cries from you, losing your balance and dropping the book. Eddie stopped completely, making you cry out in frustration when he stopped your wiggling to get any kind of movement. He exited you, picking up the textbook and bending you over the table, giving your ass a smack and then kneading on it.

“Find the page.” He whispered to you, this was unbelievably difficult. Be you had no idea what you were reading let alone the page number.

“Ed-Eddie, I can’t.” You sobbed out. Without warning he slammed back into you, making you and the table lunge forward. 

“Then I guess you’re going to have to beg me to make love to you.” He laughed down at you. No way, you weren’t going to bed him. So you kept quietly whimpering hoping he would take pity on you and satisfy you again. “Now, now princess, I’ll give you everything you want, just beg for it.” This man was insane… 

“Eddie please!”

“Please what Princess?”

“Eddie please make love to me, I want everything!” You were practically a dog begging for scraps, and he obliged, the sound of him mercilessly fucking you into the table was echoing throughout the auditorium, with the chorus of your moaned-out begging and his grunts of approval. He turned you on your back, so he could latch himself onto your lips, feeling him get a bit unstable with his thrusts until he slowed down to an antagonizing slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He grunted out, he looked like an angel with the lighting around his hair that curtained over his face. 

“Yes Eddie, it feels so good.” You wondered how he might like a pet name that he aptly gives to you depending on some circumstances. “You feel so good, Master!”. There, you almost felt him tense up and get even harder than he already was inside of you.

“What was that Princess? Keep doing that!” He hisses out as he began to fuck you again at a faster pace.

“Yes Master, please- you are doing so good! Don’t stop!”. Eddie knew with all of the begging, how great you felt around his cock and the new title of Master,  that he wasn’t going to last for very much longer. You were also close to reaching your second orgasm but you had to cum before him, so he reached down and began expertly rubbing against your clit. 

“Master please, I’m gonna-“ this only made Eddie double down on his worship of you. That familiar feeling of something about to erupt grew stronger.

“Go ahead, cum on my cock Princess.” With his permission you gladly did, your pussy throbbing, spasming around him. “Fuck. Yes, Princess. Can I come in you?” 

“Yes! God yes! Eddie, I please cum in me!” He kept his sporadic thrusting until he finally came. Pulling you into a kiss, and burying himself deep inside of you. Hot white ropes coated your insides as he cummed with a loud guttural moan. For a few moments, he stayed right there, with his cock buried deep inside of you, holding you as your breath became steady again.

“That was hot as fuck y/n, I think I’m in love with you.” He broke the silence, with a huge grin on his face. “Are you ok?” 

“Ye-yeah, I’m good…Thank you Eddie.” 

“Thank me? Noooo, no, thank you, sweetheart, that was totally unexpected!” He pulled you into another kiss, your lips were already red and abused. “Shit, wait. I came in you, are you on birth control or anything?”. He pulled himself out of you and stuffed himself back in his pants.

“Shit! No, Eddie. I’m not!” The reality of the situation just hit both of you.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can go to the store and pick up a Plan B, but right now you look so hot with my cum dripping out of you.” He bent down and scooped up some of the cum that had leaked down your thigh, shoving it back in and then bringing his fingers up to your mouth to lick clean. Tasting the mixture of yourself and his cum on his fingers was hot.

“Hey Eddie, has it been the whole time?” The “I love you” didn’t go unnoticed by you… you thought maybe he has always felt this way.

“The whole time sweetheart..” you pull him into an embrace, this felt different. You've known Eddie for years, and each encounter with him all led up to this moment, how light-headed you felt just enjoying his touch. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll head to the store then we will continue studying.” He laughed.

“Oh yeah? Continue studying huh?” You question him.

“Oh yeah, my girl said she’d help me graduate, so that’s exactly what we are gonna do!” He kissed you again.

“Your girl?” you raised an eyebrow at him and laughed.

“Do you expect me not to be obsessed with you after that?” 

“Okay, but we have to keep this", you gestured to both Eddie and yourself, “a secret. If anyone figures out about this, I can kiss my life goodbye.”

“Okay! but not forever! I’m telling the whole world after we graduate that you are mine!” He playfully nibbles at your neck, causing you to giggle.

“Yeah, we will see Munson.” As you continued to giggle under his touch.

[prpfs]

🌟 FANDOM: Stranger Things

// THE PLOT // imagine supernatural and mythical creatures you hear about in stories, and see in film, actually existed all over the world. beings like vampires, werewolves, witches, fairies, mermaids, and more everywhere you turn. you'd imagine some wouldn't get along with their differences and stereotypes humans have forced them to fit into for thousands of years.

now imagine a small town that didn't believe in those stereotypes. a town where all different kinds of beings coexist and try their best to find understanding. some wouldn't believe in such a city, with the way the world is today.



out in bigger cities it's a fight just to survive, most humans not accepting of other kinds. but if you haven't heard of it, then you've never been to hawkins. the town thrived on their diversity, the way everyone tried their best to get along and understand the others. working together to build a great community and stick together with a world around them that vowed to hate each other. martin brenner saw sight of that, and as a scientist with a curious mind on how he could take advantage of the abilities some of these creatures had -- decided to set a reward. calling any hunters to come to this town and capture creatures he could do studies on. it wasn't his fault he was born unlucky, and he believes anyone should have the right to have the advantage in this world. as of now, friends and family are disappearing without a trace -- and the citizens of hawkins are starting to grow worried something more could be going on. they're not sure what, but they've now started to watch their backs.



this is the end is a supernatural/mythical creature stranger things au where all the characters are different species. it's set in modern time and revolves around the older teens now navigating life as young adults. whether they've found the town for solace, or have been there their whole life. while as well, trying their best to not be a statistic as another creature to go missing from the town. can they figure out the reasonings behind this? or will their small population only grow smaller?

// MORE INFO // we have pre-selected creatures and have created bios for the open characters, this can be changed upon request. for the other roles you will get to decide on the creature, and we will create the bio for you. -tupper box is mandatory (if you're unfamiliar I can teach you!) -members are allowed to play as many characters as they can handle -hunters are npc's unless you would prefer to play your character as one -only accepting the older teens. (fc changes are accepted per admin approval) -OC's are allowed, but need to be run by the admins first. -if interested, please one or both admins on discord! djoekeery and youreonyourownkid. (with the period)

// ORIGINAL CHARACTERS // [TAKEN] chrissy, robin [OPEN] steve, eddie, billy, jonathan, argyle, gareth, vickie, heather, nancy [OTHER CHARACTERS] tommy, carol, jason, barb, eden, etc.

discord: djoekeery/youreonyourownkid.

[yoreatorium]

The history of Friday The 13th

"The Death of Balder," by Danish painter Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg, depicts a scene from Norse mythology. Balder (son of Odin) lies dead after being struck by a mistletoe spear thrown by Hödr, his blind brother. Hödr had been tricked by Loki, who can be seen behind him, stifling his laughter.

-

Friday the 13th has long been considered a day of bad luck, evil omens, and general misfortune in the Western world. Its influence is so widespread that one of the most well-known horror film franchises is named after the ominous day. From Norse mythology to The Canterbury Tales, let's embark on a brief journey to find out what happened to make this day so terrifying.

THE NUMBER 13

In Magic and Superstitions (1968), the author Douglas Hill recounts a Norse myth about the death of Balder. As 12 of the Norse gods host a dinner party in Valhalla, Loki (the god of mischief, trickery, and deception), who was not invited, arrives as the 13th guest. The gods are entertaining themselves by watching Hödr throw various weapons at Baldr, who is impervious to any injury. Balder's mother, the goddess Frigg, had previously made every weapon and object on Earth swear an oath to never hurt her son, after a prophetic dream in which she foresaw his death. She had, however, left out a small tree, the mistletoe, thinking it too young and unimportant for an oath to be demanded of it. Loki, who knew of this weakness, fashioned a spear from the mistletoe tree and tricked the blind Hödr into throwing it at Balder. To the horror of every god present, except for Loki, the mistletoe spear went right through Balder, killing him.

However, in the Prose Edda (the 13th-century Icelandic text considered the most complete source of our current knowledge on Norse mythology), where the story originally appears, no mention is made of either 12 gods being present or Loki being the 13th to arrive.

There are also similar Christian associations to the number 13: the tale of the Last Supper comes to mind, with Judas being thought by many to have been the 13th person to sit at the table. The Bible, however, does not mention the order in which the apostles sat.

FRIDAY AND MISFORTUNE

Friday is considered to be a day of evil portents and misfortune by some historical sources. In A Dictionary of Superstitions (1996), authors Moria Tatem and Iona Opie say Friday was long considered an unlucky day in which one should not begin journeys or start new projects, as evidenced by lines such as "and on a Friday fell all this misfortune" which are present in Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, written during the late 14th century.

Some have argued, however, that the line actually refers to the irony of the misfortune in question having happened to the protagonist - who is called a devotee of the goddess Venus - on a Friday, the day associated with the goddess in medieval astrology.

FRIDAY THE 13TH

Direct association of Friday and the number 13 seem to have popped up in sources around the mid-1800s, such as in the 1834 play Les Finesses des Gribouilles, in which a character states that being "born on a Friday, December 13th", was the source of all their misfortunes. The association is then popularized through the 20th century, possibly starting with the novel Friday, the Thirteenth (1907) by T. W. Lawson, culminating in the creation of one the most popular horror franchises of all time - Jason's hockey mask becoming one of the most recognizable icons in film and pop culture.

- Opie, I., & Tatem, M. (1996). A Dictionary of Superstitions Hill, D. (1968). Magic and Superstitions Household, P. (2013). I seek unlucky Fridays in Chaucer and find none. Things that have interested me. https://peterhousehold.blogspot.com/2013/01/chaucer.html

[jazztrain1]

My Chuggington Humanized AU Headcanons.

Headcanon 1

The 5 Best friends

Fletch , Tyne , Cormac ,Asher and Payce all met at university and they all became best friends they love to go to the gymnasium to show off their skills mainly Payce who's an absolute whizz on the climbing ropes .

After watching Payce on the ropes it left Cormac amazed and he went up the ropes and tried to do all the fancy tricks Payce does but it ended up getting him into trouble which lead to Asher and Fletch getting him down .

I imagine these characters having a similar dynamic to Jason, Billy, Zack, Trini and Kimberly from the mighty morphin power rangers.

I always wanted these 5 characters to interact.

Headcanon 2

Most of the Adult Chuggers are married except Fletch, Tyne, Asher, Rosa, Cormac, Payce , Daley and Decka .

Headcanon 3

Decka is very unlucky when it comes to love when Decka arrived to chuggington in 2011 she was greated by Chatsworth and slowly they started to become friends which lead to Decka slowly developing feelings for him not knowing he was already married .

It was a stormy Sunday night Chatsworth and Decka were sitting in a red room on a red bed sipping some red wine and it was at that point Decka snogged onto Chatsworth leaving him to politely push her away and run.

Headcanon 4

Harrison's abusive father

Harrison 's childhood wasn't a very happy one he was constantly shouted at ,beaten , pushed, shoved, spanked ,insulted etc.

This was done by his late father John Hughes

It was at the age of 10 that his dad didn't want Harrison to be home for dinner simply because John didn't want to be in the same room as his second child so he often ate dinner at Pete and Olwin's house.

Headcanon 5

Harrison's Temper

All his life Harrison had always been prone to emotional outbursts in stressful situations like when he found out that Decka made out with Chatsworth he called Decka a whore, a slut and a slag, He was ready to attack Decka it took Vee and Chatsworth to pin Harrison down .

These are my headcanons so far what do you think of them ?

If you want more please comment down below .

Thank you bye 👋

#chuggington

#humanizedAU

#headcanons

#fun

[wanderingoracle]

“ in the end “

characters: dick grayson & jason todd

warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, open ending (i swear one of these days there will be a complete ending. but that day is not today.)

word count: 706

authors note: this took way too long to write omg, hope y’all enjoy!! also i have not made hot chocolate in ages so yeah that entire process is probably wrong-

Dick pulled himself up the fire escape with a low groan. He had been unlucky enough to be the only one there while Killer Croc had escaped Arkham. At least initially.

Backup had quickly arrived in the form of Orphan and Red Hood. The others had been trying to calm Ivy down from where she was rampaging downtown. Dick was faintly aware that Tim had gotten a face full of cuddle pollen during the fight, if only because Steph had sent him a picture of Tim wrapped around Bruce like a koala.

He slid his window open with a wince. It turns out that getting tossed onto a dinner’s roof and not sticking the landing wasn’t good for one’s muscles. Who would’ve thought?

Dick ignored the pain lacing his arm, at least for a moment. Orphan had carefully looked him over after the fight, and she had determined that he most likely had pulled a muscle. No broken bones or sprains.

Jason had stuck around for a moment, long enough to let Cassandra see him uninjured, before he left. Most likely heading towards one of his many safe houses in the area.

Apparently not.

Dick froze, halfway through the window. Jason’s helmet glared back at him, the red paint still surprisingly reflective even in the low light.

He finished pulling himself through the window, lest his neighbors saw something. Looking at the helmet that sat on his coffee table warily.

It wasn’t like Dick wasn’t happy to see Jason. But after a large fight like that everyone usually went their separate ways for at least a couple hours. And as much as he loved his family it was necessary in order to recharge properly.

“Jason?” He called out into the stillness of the apartment. There was no immediate answer.

Tensing, he drew his escrima sticks from their place at his back. He moved slowly through the apartment, knowing where to avoid for a silent approach.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun, one of his escrima sticks already being thrown at the target. Hoping to catch them off balance.

He heard a shout of surprise and paused. Something about that voice was awfully familiar.

“What the fuck Dickhead?!” There it was. Dick sighed, walking over to retrieve his weapon off of the floor.

“No it’s Santa Clause.” Dick deadpans, “Yes it’s me.”

He flops onto the couch with a groan, the movement jostling his sore arms. And legs. His whole body really was unnecessarily sore.

Jason scoffs. He’s still hovering in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Dick gestures widely towards the couches, “You come here for a reason or just to get your ass kicked?”

“Like you could do that. You’re moving worse than Alfred in the winter.” Jason retorts as he goes to sit.

He grumbles something under his breath as he walks past the other man and into the kitchen. Dick can hear the floorboards cream as Jason rises and follows.

Dick hums, starting the process for hot chocolate. Without asking he knows to make enough for two.

“So. What’s up?” He says bluntly, leaning against the counter while he waits for the ingredients to come to a boil. “Usually after a big fight like that you’d be holed up in a safe house somewhere and we wouldn’t see you for three weeks.” He observes.

Dick doesn’t want to scare him off, Jason came to him for a reason. But he can’t be too “mushy” as, Jason had so kindly said before, that was a sure-fire way to have Jason go back to avoiding him after a fight.

“Yeah.” Jason agrees absently as he stirs the pot. “Something popped up. Shouldn’t be alone cause of the Pit and all that stuff.”

He bites his lip, a nervous habit he had never quite grown out of.

“Don’t wanna accidentally hurt someone. It’s bad.” He admits.

Dick nods solemnly. He knew that Jason had a good handle on the Pit now, but he also knew that progress wasn’t linear and he was bound to have setbacks.

“Ok. How about we finish this hot chocolate, then we watch a movie? Anything you want?” He offers, taking a step closer to the stove. Testing how well Jason is with people in his space right now.

Jason shifts when he gets closer, but he doesn’t move away.

“Yeah. That would be nice.” Jason agrees, meeting his eyes. “Thanks Big Bird.”

Dick nods, turning the stove off and preparing the mugs.

“Anytime Little Wing. Anytime.”

[roobylavender]

Hmm I was thinking about something and it has to do with Bruce and Barbara and Jason and that whole little circle of what they see or feel about Bruce and to me it’s complicated because I guess I do see them at looking up to Bruce and then of course that changes for two different reasons. Like Barbara bitterness towards Bruce at the beginning comes from what was written in the Killing Joke and then of course there is whatever is written later between Jason and Bruce but like for me it’s hard to like.. like I love that Bruce who was these things that Talia saw in him but then like how do get that writing with this other type of writing without like diminishing the agency of those characters as well. Like I’m saying this as someone who loves Barbara Gordon but who also equally loves Bruce and sees how Bruce is written to be this type of character when Barbara and others are involved. And even so I can blame so many things oh like Jason’s death and then what happened to Barbara playing an impact on so much of who Bruce later becomes but even there like Jason and Barbara would feel that loss of that Bruce and probably would be tied in some way to that and what happened to them. Idk I feel like I had better thoughts about this the other day but I just remembered I had wanted to send you an ask about it because like there is something there. Like I love the issue when Barbara was Batgirl and she wants to quit and Bruce tells her she shouldn’t and later he says something about a pawn turning into a queen or like when Barbara is speaking to Superman and tells him that Bruce isn’t as dark and everybody makes him out to be. And like there is something deeper there too with Jason and Barbara and Bruce and that little circle. Like I don’t think I ever seen anybody ever talk about what Jason and Barbara would respond to each other towards their view of Bruce.

i cannot remember if this is an old ask that got buried or a newer one so if it's the former i am so so sorry for not getting to it sooner but YES.. it's very interesting how everyone talks about jason's death (and barbara's paralysis by extension) being the big game changer for bruce's personality despite the fact that it's allowed modern writers to sort of retroactively make it to where bruce has always been this way rather there being an acknowledgement that bruce changed and lost a part of himself that was there prior. like in the morrison era esp it's hammered in repeatedly that bruce is neurotic and obsessive to the point of harmful alienation of his own child but the contentions with bruce's reaction to jason and barbara are so isolated from the actual main storylines that there's this.. disconnect? and i don't think we ever get enough of an acknowledgement that the way bruce acts now is in part a result of fears exacerbated by what happened with barbara and jason. that was more a feature of 90s bruce's development and what i think made the grant era of comics so compelling bc (for whatever character assassination jason underwent along the way) there was a constant emphasis on bruce's decline as a result of that trauma and sense of failure and with knightfall esp (and later the rucka arcs) always an inkling of hope that bruce could come back to who he used to be if he tried to process his trauma properly and unburden himself from working selfishly

but yeah in addition to that there really is so much lack of perspective from characters who know what bruce used to be like before everything changed and besides dick and talia who else could be more crucial to that? obv it would fall to jason and barbara and doubly so with their particular traumas, so the fact that writers have never tried to connect them to each other and to bruce in that manner is incredibly puzzling. i honestly think barbara just got really unlucky bc by the time jason came back into comics her prominence had began to decline so we missed out on that sweet spot in time where barbara and bruce's close friendship was more highlighted and might have played a bigger part in jason's return had it been timed earlier than it actually was. like barbara was the only person other than alfred that bruce had left after jason died! dick was gone and had his own life, talia was in a period where she barely came into contact with bruce and they were already strained bc of what happened with damian, bruce's relationship with gordon was steadily deteriorating, etc. even before jason died barbara was the one still operating in gotham alongside the two of them like she was there she knew bruce's face before it all crumbled to pieces she was literally his best friend in the 90s so why that all of faded over the years is so.. so.. likejtglkdfhgdf god it's incredibly frustrating