#they even have movie accurate costumes

[moonymercutio]

sam and dean totally have performed the "sisters" dance (wallace and davis version) from white christmas... to the disdain of cas and gabriel. it's a yearly tradition they started as kids when John was on a hunt around the holidays and they got a little too bored.

[fleshmetal]

just watched the borderlands movie and the only good part was that krieg’s little harness thingo lowkey looked like a very skimpy little bra thing sometimes

he needs some back support with those jugs ofc

[solar-halos]

i know chappell roan wouldn’t want this but the urge to crochet the shorts and top combo from the hot to go mv and be her for halloween is so strong

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!nanami

the scent of the movie theater was strong, popcorn, metal, and a hint of sugar. you wanted to go out with nanami after he had a long week at work and he happily agreed.

call him possessive but he loved how you clung to him even when he had his hands full, a reminder to him that you were his. he had let you pick the movie, holding a large popcorn and two icees in his muscular arms

“hmm.. do you like horror movies, kento?”, you hummed, pouting slightly as you raked your eyes over the movies that were playing.

“ah.. i’m not opposed to them”

“oh! how about batman?”

most people wouldn’t have noticed, but you saw nanami slightly shift, his eyebrows raising as his attention peaked. his adam’s apple bobbing as he cleared his throat.

“yeah, batman sounds great, sweetheart”

you smiled, narrowing your eyes a bit before he went up to the counter, buying two tickets with the expensive seating, the ones where the chairs reclined and came with a remote.

settling into your seats, you decided to tease him a bit.

“so.. kenny, you like batman, huh?”, you giggled, biting into a piece of popcorn

“well, i liked it when i was a kid, sweetheart”, he took a bite of popcorn as well, keeping his eyes on the screen as the ads before the movies played.

“hm.. so you don’t like it anymore?” you smiled, watching as he shook his head no while avoiding eye contact, “so what if we watched that new marvel movie—“

“no. this is better, honey”

you nodded, grinning as the theater lights dimmed, the screen glowing on his face as he nervously fidgeted. his eyes never left the screen, his pupils focused like a cat focusing on prey. he squeezed your hand at some parts, mumbling under his breath.

“that costume was first designed in 1999, honey, it’s not a fan favorite but i think it’s great”

“that part isn’t lore accurate, in the comics, that villain didn’t die”

you could only smile, watching him focus on the screen so intently as he so adamantly claimed that he didn’t care about batman.

after the movie, you wrapped your hand around his burly arm, walking out of the movie theater

“soo, how about next time we watch superma—“

“no.”

[memories-of-ancients]

One of the things that's been annoying more and more is modern media depictions of vikings where they basically dress in bland colored furs and leather and they look and act like Klingons.

Wish more movies and TV shows would have the gumption to use accurate costumes.

Also throughout all periods of history people wore colors!!! Even the puritans wore colors and only wore black on Sunday.

[munsonsmixtapes]

As You Wish

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you and Eddie meet at Robin’s Halloween party and realize that you’re dressed up as a couple

based on this request!

Eddie was convinced that he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the second you walked through the door to Robin’s apartment, he was beginning to think that his mind was changed.

You looked absolutely breathtaking in your Buttercup costume and he was realizing that you were the new friend that Robin had made at work. The one she had gabbed about endlessly, always wanting to make it clear to Eddie you were very pretty and very single.

That was always something that his friends told him and faster many failed dates, he had revoked all of their setting up privileges. But this time…this time maybe he’d let it slide.

He turned away from you when you approached the snack table where he and the other three in his group had been standing. He wanted to remain cool and mysterious even though he knew that he was nothing of the sort. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been chronically single.

“And who might you be?” You asked and Robin patted Eddie on the shoulder to let him know that you were speaking to him. He whipped around, knocking over the bowl of chips in front of him in the process and was grateful that a mask was covering most of his face because it hid his blush.

He was quick to drop to the floor to scoop the chips back into the bowl and was so focused on what he was doing that he hadn’t even been aware that anyone had been helping him until a hand brushed his.

Eddie looked up slowly to see your eyes looking into his, a warm smile on your lips. His gaze shifted to your hands to see m that they were full of chip crumbs that you were picking up from the floor and he was about to thank you, the words on the tip of his tongue, but you had somehow rendered the man who never shut up speechless.

“I-“ he started, but his mouth was now dry and he was suddenly very aware of how hot his costume was. Jesus, he really needed a glass of water.

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice so gentle and he appreciated that you were being so patient with him. A lot of women he had come across would have made fun of him, but you didn’t. You had even gone as far as helping him clean up the mess he had made.

“D-“ he cut himself off again, not entirely sure what he was trying to say. He was blowing his shot at getting a date without and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

You gathered the rest of the chips into the bowl and then stood, offering him your hand and he took it, letting you help to his feet.

“Well, look at that,” you smiled as you got the full view of his costume. “It seems we’ve somehow dressed up as a couple.” You let out a chuckle and Eddie swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

Your words finally registered in his brain and he looked down at his costume before looking at yours, seeing that the two of you actually did look like a couple and that made him feel even more sweaty than he was previously. What were you doing to him?

“Guess it’s fate,” you added with a wink and the man thought he was going to die right there.

“G-guess so,” he was finally able to get out and your smile widened at his agreement. Robin had told you that he was cute and she had been right, at least, you thought she had been even though you couldn’t see most of his face. And you thought his clumsiness was adorable. Most men you had come across had been cocky or way too confident so it was refreshing to see someone who wasn’t.

And his costume was impressive, so close to the one that Westley had worn in the movie and you wondered how much he paid to have it made. Surely something custom like that had to cost a pretty penny. Yours had just come from items you already had in your closet and you were lucky just how accurate everything looked.

“I really love your costume,” you complimented and you watched what you could see of Eddie’s cheeks turn bright pink. “Where did you get it?”

“I um-I made it,” he replied, stepping closer to the table to grab his bottle of beer that he had left sitting there. He took a sip, watching your face the entire time, gauging your face for any negative reaction. How many times had he told a girl that he made his own cosplay costumes only to be met by grimaces? It was all so exhausting to try to put on a facade, to pretend to be someone else and he was tired of it. That was why he had stopped putting himself out there, why he decided that it was better to be by himself.

But your face lit up as soon as the words left his mouth, fascination written all over it and the man swore he was dreaming for a second.

“You made this?” You asked, your beautiful smile getting even brighter. “That’s fucking awesome!” You were now grinning and Eddie resisted the urge to clean out his ears or make you repeat yourself.

“I did,” he nodded, your smile feeling infectious as one spread across his own lips. “I um-“ he cut himself off, but then thought he should continue, deciding that you were a safe space for him. “I make costumes all the time. I love to cosplay.”

Now you were beginning to understand why Robin was trying to set the two of you up. Not only had she probably (definitely) known that you two were going to coincidentally dress up as a couple, but she also knew that you both were into cosplay.

“Me too!”

“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“No, seriously, I’ll have to show you my photo album sometime.” Sometime as in…were you setting up a date?

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” you nodded. “Do you want to get a drink-oh-you already have one.” Eddie took another sip of his beer and realized that the bottle was in fact empty.

“Empty,” he held up the bottle and you nodded, feeling a shy smile appear on your cheeks that were starting to burn.

“Let’s go, then,” you held your hand out and Eddie took it without hesitation, letting you lead him into the kitchen for another drink.

“As you wish,” he responded with a smile as he looked down at your entwined fingers, subconsciously letting the pad of his thumb rub along your knuckles gently as he followed you, wondering what the hell he had done to deserve you.

You spent the rest of the night side by side on Robin’s couch, drinking and laughing with the rest of the group. And when the party came to a close and the two of you went down to where you had parked, you exchanged numbers, deciding that maybe Robin did know what she was talking about in regards to setting the two of you up.

[nokkiart]

As a long time httyd fan who has been heavily involved in the fandom since the first movie and who has spent years working in the animation industry, I’d like to share my thoughts on the new httyd movie. Keep in mind, this is just my personal opinion and it's completely fine if you disagree with me. I just want to say a little something about all this that really bothers me.

The core reason that Dreamworks and Universal made this film is that it’s a quick and easy cash grab for them. Thats it. They don’t care about telling a good story or making a “better” version of the original movie for fans or even having an accurate portrayal of the characters/story. It’s purely about money. They know that fans of the original film will go see this movie, whether it’s good or bad. And those guaranteed ticket sales are all that matter to the studios. And with Universal, it has the added bonus of being a cheap promotional and merchandising opportunity for the new HTTYD land in Orlando that opens around the same time that the film is premiering in theaters.

And to help the studios make even more money out of this, they are using non-unionized VFX companies around the world to make this film, so that they can get cheaper labor and push the artists to do more that would be against American union standards. The same thing has probably happened with the costuming and fabrication for the filming, hence why the costumes look un-weathered and the sets look cheap. They don’t want to pay for the extra time and effort that it would take to make the practical bits of the production look good.

On top of all this, Dreamworks has already announced that they’re shutting down all their in-house animation projects in favor of using AI and outsourcing projects to cheaper international non-union studios.

With all this in mind, I just can’t support this film and I will not be seeing it in theaters. And I hope that others will do the same.

The only way to stop all these horrible “live action” remakes (which are actually just realistically animated remakes) is to not buy tickets to see them. Money is all that matters to these studios, and if they don’t make any money off of it, then they will stop and try something different. Maybe they'll even go back to focusing on original stories!

That’s the power that we hold as audiences. Our wallets help drive the decisions that the executives make. So support unique storytelling and gorgeous cinematography in movies. Support indie films. Support animators as they're fighting for fair pay and better contracts. But don't support a mediocre shot-for-shot remake riding on the coattails of an already successful film.

And I just want to wrap all this up by saying I have absolutely no hate towards anyone that has worked on the new film. Toothless looks incredible and I know the artists and creatives involved in this project did the best they could with what they were given.

But I also know that those same artists have so many more brilliant ideas that they would’ve loved to be given the creative freedom to do. I just wish hollywood would be willing to take a chance and let them do it.

[corroded-hellfire]

Mad Love - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie goes to visit Dustin at college and meets the Harley Quinn to his Joker at a Halloween party

Note: I had this idea because I needed a good Harley and Joker fix after watching the insane disappointment that was Joker 2.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, alcohol, Harley and Joker are crazy and so is Eddie so what do you expect

Words: 5k

“The party is where?”

“It’s at a house on the edge of campus.”

“A frat house, Dustin. A frat house. How do you even know these guys?”

Dustin sighs and grabs his deerstalker hat.

“I’m tutoring one of the guys who lives there,” he says.

“And this isn’t just some prank?” Eddie asks, a brow raised in skepticism. “Cool frat bro asks his younger, nerdy tutor to come by his Halloween party?”

The shorter man scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Clay is a good guy,” Dustin defends. “You think I wouldn’t have been able to sniff out if he was some douchebag bully by now? My asshole detector is accurate, and you know it.”

“Fine.” Eddie picks his purple blazer up from where he laid it over the back of a chair. He slips his arms into it and adjusts it until it’s comfortable. “The music will probably be shit, though.”

“Look dude,” Dustin says, “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can hang out in my dorm. Or one of the dining halls stays open pretty late. Grab some food.”

“Nope,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. His green-tinted curls sway with the motion. “I drove for hours to see your scrawny ass; I’m not going anywhere. Plus, I love Halloween parties.”

“Exactly how many have you been invited to before?” 

“Hey, I provided great party favors in high school. I was a welcome sight for the most part.”

“Doesn’t mean ‘invited’...” Dustin mumbles as he adjusts his Sherlock Holmes cloak.

Eddie hears him anyway and knocks the hat off his friend’s head before grabbing the bag of makeup he brought to complete his costume.

Eddie’s first thought when he walks into the frat party is that it looks exactly like every college movie he’s ever seen. Red solo cups are in almost every hand, with a dozen or so already lost or discarded on the hardwood floor. The music is awful, as predicted, and despite the chilly October air, the room feels muggy because of all the bodies crammed inside. 

“I don’t know what half these costumes are supposed to be,” Eddie shouts over the thumping bass. 

Dustin shrugs in response and the two of them move farther into the room. The deeper into the crowd they get, and the more he looks around, the happier Eddie becomes that he came. Apparently, most college girls like to go for the “slutty” versions of costumes and Eddie can’t say that he minds one bit. A particular girl in a Princess Leia gold bikini catches his eye, but Dustin grabs his arm and drags him towards the stairs before he can even muster up a witty line to say to her.

“Why the fuck did I dress as a clown?” Eddie murmurs to himself. 

“Eddie!” Dustin shouts. “This is Clay!”

The older man’s immediate reaction is that this guy looks like a much taller and less douchey Jason Carver. He doesn’t exude the same sense of superiority and holier-than-thou-ness that the Hawkins High basketball player did. 

Clay offers his hand to Eddie with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he calls above the music. “Dustin has told me a lot about you.”

Eddie shoots Dustin a smirk, to which the faux Sherlock Holmes rolls his eyes. 

“Good to meet you, too,” Eddie says, shaking the man’s hand. 

“Keg’s over there,” Clay says, gesturing towards the front corner of the open area, “bathrooms upstairs. Have fun!”

“Thanks, man,” Dustin replies. 

Eddie feels like his head is on a swivel, looking in every direction at all the girls around him. He’s pretty sure he’s never been around this many girls in his life. 

“Come on, Joker,” Dustin says, patting his friend on the back. “Stop looking over your shoulder like Batman is gonna pop out at any second and let's go get a drink.”

“M’not looking for any man, dude,” Eddie says as they head towards the keg. “Besides, you’re not old enough to drink.”

“Ya know, for a villain, you’re pretty uptight. Especially for one who used to sell drugs.”

Eddie shrugs and swipes up a clean solo cup. He opens his mouth to reply as he takes another step towards the keg, but he’s cut off as he almost bumps into someone also going for the tap. 

“Whoa! Sorry there, Puddin’.”

Dark brown eyes go from his own black sneakers to black boots with red laces, scan up one red and one black pant leg, a long sleeve top with the colors on the opposite sides, and up to the prettiest face Eddie’s ever seen—even if there’s a black mask over her eyes. The cherry on top is the black and red jester hat with the small white cotton balls on the ends. 

“My apologies, darling,” Eddie croons, sketching a bow. “After you.”

The female clown giggles and shrugs her shoulders coyly. 

“Thanks, Mister J.” Her voice is sweet and clear, even above the noise of the party. 

Dustin doesn’t need to be dressed as Sherlock Holmes to figure out how Eddie is looking at this girl. The college freshman sees the way his friend’s eyes follow every move she makes as she fills her cup with beer. 

“I, uh, see a friend from my chem class,” Dustin says, shooting Eddie a sly smirk. “I’ll leave you clowns to it.” 

Eddie nods without really listening, eyes never leaving the red and black dream standing in front of him. Once her cup is filled, she steps aside so her villainous counterpart can take his turn. 

“Where you been hiding on me, huh?” Harley asks before taking a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Then again, I guess the white paint and red lipstick could disguise anyone.”

“I could say the same to you.” Eddie nods to where she’s left a red lipstick stain on the rim of her solo cup. 

“Well, I do have to admit that I’m not quite as outgoing when I’m not hiding behind a pound of makeup and a mask.” 

“And I have to admit, I don’t actually go to school here.” Eddie winces before taking a large gulp from his own cup.

“It’s my lucky night, then!” She grins and reaches out, a red glove tugging on a purple lapel to bring him in closer. “Not here visiting a girlfriend, I hope?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head as he leans into her space. “Visiting a nerdy freshman that I took under my wing last time he was a freshman.”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Harley asks. She tilts her head to the side and Eddie can’t help but smile at how it adorably skews her hat.

“That’s him.”

“That’s so cute!” 

The keg starts to gather a crowd, so the dynamic duo steps out of the way. Unfortunately, it’s closer to a speaker that has the music blaring in their faces.

“Outside?” Harley mouths, hitching her thumb over her shoulder towards the backyard.

Eddie nods and follows his fellow jester out into the crisp autumn night. Partygoers mingle in varying costumes, conversations able to be heard out here even over the thumping bass flooding out from the house. There aren’t any empty chairs or places to sit, so the pair decide to take a lap around the yard.

“What do you study?” Eddie asks as they walk side by side.

“Psychology,” she replies, giving a small dramatic bow that lets the white pom pom balls on the end of her hat shake back and forth.

“Ah,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Not just Harley Quinn then, we’ve got Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself.” 

“In the flesh,” she says with a cheeky shrug of her shoulders. “Or, well, in the clown suit and makeup, anyway. It’s my last year so I figured it’s time to go all out and have fun. Hence the costume.”

“And I just dress like this regularly,” Eddie jokes, adjusting his purple tie with his free hand. “I’m a natural green head, by the way. None of that dyed shit for me. It’s always so obvious when it’s fake.”

“It goes so well with your deathly pale complexion and naturally thick eyelined eyes,” she says, gesturing to his makeup. 

“Don’t forget the au naturale blood red lips,” Eddie adds, puckering them for emphasis. 

“Who could forget those lips?” Harley’s eyes darken as she speaks, her gaze drifting down to Eddie’s mouth before coming back up to meet his eyes. 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” a girl in a hula skirt and coconut bra complains as she hurries past the clowns with a friend, heading towards the door for the house. 

“I’m comfortable,” Harley says, stopping to do a twirl in between steps. “Have no idea why she could be so chilled! They call me crazy, but at least I know to be covered up outside in Indiana in October. Ah, but I suppose that would ruin the sexiness of her costume, wouldn’t it?”

“Well,” Eddie says, not hiding the fact that he’s looking her up and down. He figures he might as well shoot his shot. “You’re literally covered from head to toe, down to your fingertips, and you managed to be the sexiest one here tonight.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected compliment. Flirting? Okay, she was absolutely doing it too. But Eddie’s words warm her from within and she can feel the heat seeking its only outlet in this costume: her face. 

“Aha, but word on the street is that you’re crazy too, Mister J.”

“Maybe crazy, but not blind,” Eddie replies. 

She smiles and it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in his chest. 

Before Harley gets a chance to open her mouth and reply, the back door of the frat house busts open and a whole gaggle of drunken guys come spilling out. 

“Stupid boys,” Harley says, shaking her head. She looks back to Eddie and offers her hand, palm up. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“I’d be delighted.” Eddie’s white gloved hand takes her black gloved hand, and the two intertwine their fingers as they head to the side of the frat house, to walk around to the front.

There are still people streaming into the party. Cars are parked up and down the street and some are clearly circling the block to see where they might be able to squeeze in as well. 

Harley leads Eddie across the street and down a side road, away from the chaos of the party. 

“So,” she says once they’re far enough away to hear one another easily, “what’s your real name, Joker?”

“Eddie,” he tells her, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “What about you?”

She tells him her name and Eddie can’t help but think how pretty it is. 

“But tonight I’m Harley, cause she ain’t as shy as I am,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure Eddie is on the same level of outgoing-ness that Joker is, so I’m good with either,” he says, making her laugh. 

The two of them walk towards the heart of campus and come to the point where Eddie actually starts to recognize buildings.

“This is the student center, right?” he asks.

“Yep. The best place to get good on campus, just as a heads up.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. My buddy says he mostly eats in the East dining hall cause it’s right in front of his dorm building,” Eddie explains.

“That’s the East dining hall right there,” Harley says, pointing to a long one-story building to their right.

“Which makes that Haynes Hall.” Eddie gestures to the looming brick building behind it. “That’s where I’m crashing.”

“Is that so?” 

The sultry, suggestive tone goes right to Eddie’s cock. 

“Would you, uh, like to see it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a small smile. 

“You know,” she says, leaning forward to rest her hands on the lapels of his purple blazer, “I lived there back when I was a freshman.”

Eddie feels his heart drop. Was he reading the signals wrong? If so, what does it mean that she has her hands on his chest right now?

“I’m curious to see how it changed over these past three years,” she finishes.

The grin on Eddie’s face is as wide as the one the fictional character he’s dressed up as usually sports. 

“Well, let’s not keep you in suspense any longer,” he says.

Harley gladly slips one of her hands into one of Eddie’s and tugs him in the direction of the twelve-story building. As soon as both of their pairs of black shoes are squeaking down the entryway hall down to the elevator, Harley gently pulls her hand away from Eddie’s to yank off the red and black gloves. The Joker follows suit with his own white ones, wanting to be able to hold her hand without any offending material in the way. 

Their fingers lace together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the pair of them, and Harley jabs the elevator up button with her thumb. The silver doors glide open and as soon as he’s inside, Eddie is pressing the button to Dustin’s floor with urgency, before switching to the button that closes the elevator doors. 

The moment the doors slide closed behind them, Eddie backs Harley up against the side wall of the elevator and cages her in by resting his arms against the litany of flyers that have been taped up on either side of her head. Her black mask slowly starts to slip down her nose as she gazes up at him. Eddie lowers his head to hers, his mouth only a breath away. A cheerful ding letting them know they’re on the right floor interrupts the almost-kiss.

Her eagerness is clear with the harsh tug she gives Eddie’s arm to lead him out of the elevator and down the thinly carpeted hall. 

“Uh, 802,” Eddie says, scanning the room numbers of every door they pass.

“Oops,” Harley says with a giggle. “We’re going the wrong way.” She does a clumsy attempt at a ballet spin to turn one-eighty degrees and face the other end of the hall. 

As soon as Eddie starts to think that they’re never going to find this goddamn room, they turn a corner and skid to a halt in front of the correct door. Eddie digs the extra key that Dustin gave him out of his pocket and slips it into the lock.

The moment they’re inside, Eddie is fumbling for the light since he doesn’t know the layout and can’t blindly lead her to the bed. The last thing he needs is either of them tripping on some textbook and breaking an arm. 

Dustin’s bed is pushed against the right side of the wall and Eddie already makes a mental note to beg his younger friend’s forgiveness as he’s either disinfecting or burning the sheets later. Speaking of said younger friend…

Eddie doesn’t have the time or inkling to go digging through Dustin’s drawers to find a sock to hang on the doorknob, so he kicks off his sneakers and yanks at his black socks. One gets tossed to the cluttered floor while Eddie opens the dorm door and puts the other on the doorknob. The universal sign that you better come back later—even if this is your room. 

Now Eddie can return his attention to the one place he’d like to keep it tonight: the beautiful jester in front of him. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, Puddin’?” Harley coos, patting the edge of the mattress. 

He sits down where she instructed and is rewarded with the sight of her kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. Eddie drops one of Dustin’s pillows down on the floor—since the bedding is all going to need to be taken care of anyway—and she gives the man above her a grateful smile.

Bare hands work at the belt holding the purple pants up and Eddie can’t keep his eyes off of them. He admires how soft and smooth they look as her fingers nimbly work. She then pops open his fly and drags down the zipper. Eddie lifts his hips and together the two of them push the pants and his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and begging to be touched. Her eyes immediately land on the precum beading at the head and she licks over her lips eagerly. A soft hum from the back of her throat is the only warning Eddie gets before she takes his length in her hand and immediately begins licking up the side of his shaft. 

Eddie’s head drops back with a low groan. One hand falls to the mattress beside him while the other gently rests on the crown of her jester hat. When she takes the head of his cock in her mouth, Eddie clenches the comforter that his hand is resting on in his fist.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans. He tilts his chin forward to look down at the sexy supervillain sucking his dick. The bright red lipstick leaves a ring around Eddie’s cock that he never wants to wash off. He watches her go deeper and deeper each time, the crimson smears getting closer to the dark patch of hair at his base. 

When her head begins to pick up speed, bobbing up and down, Eddie knows he needs to stop her before the real fun begins. Gently, he presses against her shoulder, which she is able to interpret and pulls her mouth off his cock with a pop. She looks up at him and her black eye makeup has smeared, smudging beneath her eyes and dark tear trails carving a path down the white face paint—all with the mask still in place. 

“You’re too good at that,” Eddie tells her with a breathy chuckle.

“Good thing you stopped me, or I would’ve just kept going,��� she says, laying her head down on his thighs and looking up at him with eyes shiny from tears. “And where would the fun be in that?”

“Exactly, darling.” 

Eddie helps her up from the floor and she takes a seat on the bed next to him. She watches his every motion as he stands to kick his pants and boxers all the way off. Once he’s finished, she turns so her back is facing him.

“Would you mind unzipping me?” she asks.

“Not one bit.” Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the side of her neck, which causes a shiver to go down her spine as Eddie drags the pull tab in that same direction. 

Harley stands and kicks her boots off before shimmying the bodysuit costume down her frame. Eddie’s eyes make sure to capture every last detail of the reveal. With every new area of skin that’s exposed, it becomes his new favorite. The black lace bra and red lace panties make him chuckle.

“Even in the right colors down to that sinful underwear,” he remarks. 

“Thought it was only fitting,” she says with the shrug of one shoulder. She kneels down on the bed and leans forward, working on popping open the buttons, first, on the yellow vest beneath the blazer, and then the mint green shirt below that. “Didn’t think that anyone was actually gonna see me like this tonight, so that makes for a nice surprise.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be hooking up with someone with clown makeup on?” Eddie teases as he shrugs out of all his top layers.

“I could ask you the same question, Mister J.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums as he slips his arm around her waist and lowers her down to the mattress. “So we’ll be naked, just clowns from the neck up.”

“You’re already naked,” Harley muses, her eyes running up and down his bare form as he crawls on top of her. “Least you can do is make it even.”

A sound suspiciously close to a growl rumbles from Eddie’s throat before he speaks.

“Gladly.”

She arches her back, and Eddie counts his blessings when he’s able to unhook her bra fairly easily. He helps her get it off her arms and throw it somewhere in the dorm to be found later. Next, she lifts her hips off the mattress and Eddie is able to free her of her panties in one fell swoop. 

Calloused fingers run up the outside of soft thighs before he lets them trail down to the part most aching for his touch.

Harley feels on edge—his hand is so close and he can’t move it fast enough. A desperate whimper tumbles from her lips and Eddie can’t help but find it adorably endearing. 

“P-Please, Eddie,” she whines. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie croons. His fingers travel down farther, and she automatically drops her legs open wider for him. A thick middle finger slides down and up her slit. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Want you so bad,” is the only thing she can get out, through a hoarse wispy voice. 

“Is my Harley Quinn all needy? Hmm?” Eddie’s voice is soft and slow as his middle finger slides up and presses against her clit. 

“Yes!” Her hands grip at Eddie’s upper arms and her eyes practically roll back in her head as he rubs tight circles against her sensitive nub. “Yes, Puddin’. Need you so bad.” 

“Tell me what you need,” Eddie purrs.

“You,” Harley whimpers. “Your cock.”

“Whatever my partner in crime wants.” Eddie smirks as he positions his body on top of hers and guides his cock to her entrance. He moves slowly and she feels every inch as he pushes inside of her. 

“Feels so good,” she whimpers, reaching up to hold on to some part of him.

“Tell me how good, baby.”

“M’so full,” she whines, hands moving higher so her fingers tangle in his green-tinted locks. “You’re so fucking big.”

Eddie’s hips pick up the pace, building a steady rhythm that makes the mattress below them squeak. Neither can hear over the sound of their labored breathing, though. 

Using her grip on his hair, Harley pulls Eddie’s face down to hers and smashes their mouths together. Their lips meld together and tongues dance with one another, only adding to the intense pleasure. A particularly hard thrust of Eddie’s hips has them moaning into one another’s mouths. When the kiss breaks, Eddie buries his head into her neck while Harley’s breaths become even more shallow.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls against her skin. “Feels goddamn perfect.”

Fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair in response, and the man isn’t able to hold back a guttural groan when she gives a small tug on the strands. 

“Someone likes his hair being pulled,” Harley murmurs.

Eddie pulls back and looks down at her. He opens his mouth to respond but breaks into strangled laughter before any words can come out.

“W-What?” she asks.

“I had some witty retort questioning if you like your hair pulled, but I can’t even see your hair because of that adorable fucking hat.”

Harley lets out a soft giggle and shakes her head from side to side so the white pom poms on the end of the sides wiggle all over the place.

“How are you so goddamn sexy and insanely cute at the same time?” Eddie asks, a breathy laugh of his own coming out as his hips keep up their punishing pace. 

“Mm, well, insane comes with the territory.” She grins and Eddie can’t help but dive back in to press his lips to her again. The red lipstick each of them is wearing smears to combine a shade of red that’s a compromise of both hues. 

“Can I take your mask off?” Eddie asks against her lips.

“Please.”

Eddie balances himself hovering over her body before he reaches up with one hand and takes the small black mask off her face. He gently tosses it to land on top of the costume in a heap on the floor before focusing on her face. It’s still covered in white makeup with black tear tracks, but he can see much more clearly what she looks like underneath the whole Harley Quinn getup and it makes him smile. 

“Beautiful,” he says, not even realizing he said it aloud at first. 

“Not so bad yourself, gorgeous,” Harley says, giving him a wink. 

A minor tilt of Eddie’s hips has his cock hitting just the right spot to make her see stars. A mix between a gasp and a moan erupts from her throat as her hands move to grab Eddie’s upper arms. Her fingers curl into his triceps and her eyes fall shut at the immense pleasure of Eddie’s cock repeatedly brushing that perfect spot.

“Holy shit,” she gasps. 

“Good, baby?” Eddie coos.

“Uh huh,” she mumbles, forehead crinkling as her mouth falls open in awe. “God, right there, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Eddie drills his hips into hers, his eyes boring down at hers as she blinks them open.

Face still scrunched up in ecstasy, Harley stares right back up at Eddie. The combination of him hitting that spot over and over again mixed with the intimacy of the intense eye contact creates a familiar tightening in her lower abdomen.

“Eddie, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it,” Eddie rasps. “Come on my cock, sweetheart.” He reaches down and rubs her clit in time with his thrusts into her. 

The friction is just what she needs to send her over the edge. Her back arches off the back, pressing her breasts into Eddie’s chest, and she lets out the most beautiful moans that Eddie’s ever heard as the wave of pleasure crashes over her. 

The clenching of her already tight pussy around Eddie’s cock has him spilling into her seconds later. His thrusts are sloppy and desperate, but it sends a warm pleasant feeling over Harley as she comes down from her high. 

Once Eddie is spent, he rests his forehead against hers. The face paint on both of them has smeared and smudged, now runny from sweat. They just gaze at one another as they attempt to catch their breaths.

“God, that was good.” She finally breaks the silence. 

“So fucking good,” Eddie agrees. He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips before rolling to the side and plopping down next to her. 

There’s a silence between them that has the potential to turn awkward, but they turn their heads to look at one another at the same time, and they both burst out in laughter.

“Do I look as funny as you do?” Harley asks, reaching up and smearing some of the white paint on his cheek.

“I’m afraid so,” Eddie replies with a nod. 

“What a couple of clowns we are.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and brings his hands up to cover his face. When he pulls them away, they’re covered in white and red smears. Harley goes to lift her own hands to her face but stops halfway and lets out a soft squeal that turns into laughter.

“What? What is it?” Eddie asks.

She can’t stop laughing, so she turns her hands to show they’re now green from the coloring in his hair. 

“Oh damn,” Eddie says, starting to laugh himself. “I’d say we’re in need of a shower.”

Harley turns on her side to face him and props her head up on her elbow.

“The bathrooms in this dorm aren’t co-ed,” she says. “Buuuut I also know that no one really gives a shit.”

“Dr. Quinzel, are you proposing we shower together?” He widens his eyes in fake shock. 

“As long as you lend me something to wear afterwards, Puddin,” she croons, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can’t exactly go around looking like this.”

“Looks good to me,” Eddie says with a smirk, which earns him a playful swat on the chest. “Even with the hat.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m still wearing this thing,” she says with a laugh.

“May I?” Eddie gestures towards the jester cap.

“Go for it.”

Eddie undoes the strap that was holding the black and red hat in place and gently removes it from her head. He can’t help but give a goofy grin now that he sees every part of her—except the clear skin of her face. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister J.”

After both clowns have shed their makeup and are squeaky clean, Eddie lends her an oversized hoodie and she pulls her panties back on. Eddie changes into a pair of pajamas he packed with him. 

He takes a step over to the bed now that he’s freshly dressed and winces when he sees the sheets. The navy-colored fabric is smeared with white face paint, red lipstick, and black eye makeup—not to mention other spots and stains that Eddie doesn’t even want to think about Dustin finding. 

He makes quick work of yanking all the bedding off and shoving it into Dustin’s hamper. Clean? Burn? Both? Eddie’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards the fiery option. If the situations were reversed, Eddie would not want to be sleeping on these sheets ever again. 

“Say, partner in crime.” Eddie sidles up next to her and wraps his arm around her waist. “Want to destroy some property with me? Quick question though…is it only arson if it’s a building or does it count for lighting anything ablaze?”

“We can just ask the cops when they arrest us,” she says with a shrug. “I’m sure they’ll know. Or maybe it’ll be Batman who gets us!”

The response makes Eddie chuckle. He leans in, cupping her clean, clear face in both hands and presses his lips against hers. The two of them get caught in the moment, mouths moving fervently, when there’s a voice outside the dorm door.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. This asshole doesn’t get laid the entirety of high school, but now it happens in my room? God damn it, Munson. Stranded out in the hallway as Sherlock fucking Holmes. Just perfect.”

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[egglain]

Feel You (In My Bones) - The Party & The After Party

Rating: E (18+*) - mdni Pairing: Toji x reader, Choso x reader, Gojo x reader, Geto x reader, Gojo x Geto, Sukuna x reader, Nanami x reader Content: gender-neutral reader (you/yours pronouns), afab language used for reader's anatomy during the smut routes, Gojo party Halloween shenanigans, JJK men making moves (canon-accurate scary Toji & Sukuna), ShokoHime friendship, smut tags differ between endings Word Count: 3.3k/?

Summary: After avoiding it for years, your best friends Shoko and Utahime must bite the bullet; attend a Gojo Halloween party. As fate would have it, you'd fall into the care of a gaggle of ghouls; strangers at the party can't seem to get enough.

Trick, or treat?

Will you let them haunt your holes? Or will you leave the door unanswered?

A/N: welcome to the Egglain Halloween smuttacular! Each bolded phrase is a possibility, a chance to jump the bones of the men you bump into on your journey.

This part can be read on its own, or with any number of the endings; they each stand alone & are unconnected to the main ending and the other routes.

*while this part isn't explicit, the "routes" are. Routes will be posted as they are finished, in the order they appear in the fic; stay tuned!

Growing up, Halloween was good for two things and two things only—candy and costumes.

Candy had become less and less interesting as your frontal lobe developed, and with “adult money,” it was even less of a hot commodity. And costumes weren’t quite acceptable after you hit 14—at least not the same ones you wanted to wear.

So, Halloween evolved into something new.

Nowadays, it meant crowding around the TV with a big bag of popcorn, Shoko and Utahime putting on a scary movie for you to wind down to together. It meant slipping pajamas on early and huddling under thick blankets, lights off, as an anonymous killer pounced on a nameless protagonist. It meant falling asleep between your two closest friends, filling the hole in your heart that adulthood managed to whittle into its tender flesh.

You had grown fond of Halloween, in a new way—perhaps grown fonder of it than you were as a kid. It was no longer a short-lived rush of dopamine, dominated by consumption and the variable kindness of strangers. No, it was a celebration of your friendship. Of your new life. Of your family.

Which is why this sucked ass.

“Party?”

“Yeah,” Shoko took a long drag from the stubby cigarette between her lips, “a… friend’s. Haven’t seen him since high school, really.”

The way she was chewing on her words, speaking on a smoke-filled exhale, told you pretty much everything you needed to know about this friend.

“So why are you going?”

Utahime pinched the skin between her eyes, looking equally as unsatisfied. “It’s… complicated.”

“We’ve been skirting around him for a while now—but the thing about Gojo Satoru is you can only avoid him for so long… he’s like a disease,” Shoko murmured.

“Like a common cold—mostly harmless, but a pain in the ass. Now it’s time to bite the bullet.”

“So… no festivities?”

 “Well… we were hoping you’d come along with us.” Utahime stalled, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t have to—it’ll probably be a lot of drinking and dancing and reminiscing on our high school years… probably some of Gojo’s bigshot friends. But you’d get to wear a costume!”

“And if any of Gojo’s freakzoid friends bother you, we’ll cut their dicks off.” Shoko flicked her cigarette to the pavement and crushed the dying butt under a heel.

You didn’t doubt she would.

Which is how you ended up here.

Firstly, Gojo Satoru’s house could put mansions to shame.

Secondly, this was not the “high school reunion” you were expecting.

Dozens of strangers filled the glass-paned main floor of the home, spilling out onto the well-manicured lawn with bottles and solo cups in hand. It was like a scene out of every shitty teen film—music blared from somewhere in the house, colourful LEDs illuminating the otherwise dark gathering. Skimpy devils and sexy cops hung off the arms of Ghostfaces and… an Elvis impersonator?

Shoko and Utahime on your flanks, you managed to push your way inside. They were skittish—on-edge almost. You weren’t sure who this Gojo Satoru was, aside from an old friend, but by the looks of it, he had to be important. If not for his seemingly endless wealth or his obscene amount of apparent social power, for this disease-like personality.

Nerves were understandable. But as Shoko and Utahime pulled away, whispering among themselves—as you lost them in the crowd—you felt less and less empathy.

Now, standing alone in the centre of a lofty living room, awkwardly swaying to the music in a sea of intoxicated bodies, you couldn’t help but feel a little resentment for this Gojo guy.

Dancers jostled you this way and that as you fumbled for your phone. With shaky fingers, you opened the group chat, trying to flag down your missing friends.

hey think i lost u guys

where r y’all?

hello?

“All alone n’ without a drink?”

A gravelly voice woke you from your stupor.

A tall man—probably a good head taller than you— held out a hand. A silvery scar tugged at the stranger’s lips as he grinned, clearly in on some joke you weren’t.

Something about this man was predatory; he was dressed in simple clothes, a slutty gun holster strapped to his left upper thigh overtop of too-tight black jeans. The muscles of his quads strained against the fabric, as did the full pectorals framed by his compression tee.

“Leon Kennedy?”

“Who?” The stranger cocked an eyebrow.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Your costume.”

“I’m a hitman.”

Taking in the gun and the way he composed himself—that arrogant mug, the bulging arms crossed over his fat chest—he played the bit well.

“Fitting.”

“Let me grab ya something to drink.”

You mulled it over.

 “I’m good, thanks…”

“Aw, c’mon. I don’t bite.”

“Oh, no—no thanks.”

You really didn’t want to get on this guy’s bad side. The gun glinted as the LEDs faded to purple and he caught the way your eyes danced along the barrel. It had to be metal. Looked heavy enough, and very realistic.

“Ya like? It’s the real deal.”

Cold shot through your veins, and it took every fibre of your being to not falter at his words.

His grin didn’t meet his eyes. The empty way he was looking down at you left no room for interpretation—he was telling the truth.

You tried to laugh but the sound didn’t come out quite right.

You took a step back, bumping into someone behind you. You didn’t dare turn around. The man took a step forward, following your movement.

“Wanna touch?”

“Oh, no thanks.”

“C’mon—”

“No, man.”

Another voice. You turned around.

A guy—much closer to your age—wrapped a protective arm around your midsection. Deep brown eyes met yours, and the cold melted away inside.

The stranger looked terrifying. Long dark hair was pulled up into twin spiked buns. The pale column of his throat was constricted by thick leather collars, heavy with metal padlocks. He was slender—thinner than the other man—but the ink across the bridge of his nose, and down his arms and chest, made it clear he could handle his pain too.

However, there was one main difference between him and the other stranger—kindness. Dark eyeliner and purple bags rimmed surprisingly soft eyes. While he had wrapped his arm around you, his hand didn’t make contact with your hip.

“You okay, babe?”

Heat flooded your face. You opened your mouth to reply, but almost as soon as it began, his arm fell away.

“Sorry about that. The guy just seemed like he was bothering you, and I hate men who can’t seem to take no for an answer, and I wasn’t sure how else to—”

Looking behind you, the scary stranger from earlier had disappeared into the crowd. The man in front of you was scratching at the back of his neck, flushed in apparent shame. Something in your heart twinged.

“No, no—I owe you one. Thanks for helping… I wasn’t sure how I was gonna get out of that mess.”

The stranger seemed pleased with that answer.

“Anyone else would’ve done the same… no need to thank me.” He smiled down at his shoes—short black platform docs that were scuffing at the shiny tile. “But maybe we could… get to know each other better sometime?”

Your heart fluttered.

“I mean—I just sort of grabbed you, and I wouldn’t want a stranger to do that to me, so maybe um… we can stop being strangers?” He rushed to explain.

The panic in his eyes was endearing. That kindness in him was so painfully evident.

“I’d like that.”

The bright smile that spread across his otherwise sullen face could have put the sun to shame.

“I have to find my friends right now, but maybe I could give you my number?”

He was nodding so fast it was a miracle his head didn’t fly off.

You padded your number into a slim black phone.

“There. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Choso Kamo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Choso Kamo.”

With that, and another brilliant smile, you were alone again.

You checked your phone. A “hi!” text from an unknown number—Choso, you assume—and two texts from Utahime lit up the screen.

out back by the pool

see u soon

You pushed your way through the crowd, on the hunt for your friends.

The backyard was an oasis—or, perhaps it would be, if it wasn’t packed full of half-drunk half-costumed partygoers. Utahime and Shoko stood at the marble edge of a too-blue pool, speaking with a tall Playboy bunny and… Pitbull?

Approaching, you could see the tension melting out of Utahime’s shoulders as you met eyes.

“This is Gojo Satoru—that friend we were telling you about.” Utahime’s well-manicured nails extended to the one in the Pitbull costume.

A jovial laugh—too youthful to match the bald exterior—filled the air as the man smiled at you. He was tall. Freakishly so. And startlingly pale. Long white lashes lined too-blue eyes, striking even through his tinted sunglasses.

“Oh please. Call me Mr. Worldwide.”

Shoko rolled her eyes.

Utahime’s hand extended to the man next to Gojo. “This is Suguru Geto. Another friend from high school.”

The man—Suguru Geto—was almost as tall as Gojo Satoru. Silky black hair was tied half-up in a loose bun, the rest of his tresses spilling over his shoulder and plump chest.

And oh what a chest it was.

Soft fat tits spilled out over a low-cut black corset, jiggling like pudding as he laughed at Shoko’s unimpressed expression. The latex corset tapered off sharply, curvy hips and large thighs caged in loose-knit fishnets. Black bunny ears sat slightly askew on top of his head.

He looked delicious.

“You feeling alright?” Suguru asked, head tilting a little.

“Oh—me? Yeah, totally fine.”

“Are you sure…?”

“We can take you inside for some peace and quiet,” the bald man supplied, nudging Suguru.

Utahime and Shoko were giving you a look.

The kind that you’d learned to avoid.

The kind that said absolutely not.

Creep-o’clock.

Stay away.

“Oh—that’s very kind. But I think I’m alright. Thank you.”

You made a mental note to ask follow-up questions later.

Shoko put a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, long red nails digging into his shoulder. “Why don’t we go in? I could use some water.”

Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and Utahime exchanged looks, speaking a language in gazes that you couldn’t quite understand. Utahime nodded, shepherding the men back towards the house. Shoko lingered behind for a moment.

“They’re losers. Enjoy your night; we’ll keep ‘em busy a little longer.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of her costume—a white medical coat—and put one between her front teeth. “Give us a couple more minutes and then we’ll make up an excuse to head home, alright?”

You nodded, and she gave you a firm pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd after the other three.

Once again, you were alone.

“Keep getting abandoned tonight, huh?”

Warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear, low rich voice cutting through the incessant buzzing of the party.

“That’s not what ‘friends’ do, is it?”

“How is that any of your business?” Spinning around to face the assailant, the words died midway.

He was tall.

Impossibly so—comfortably towering over the crowd.

“Telling me I can’t look at you?” He snorted, cracking his neck and knuckles.

And he was large.

Larger than the man with the scar, even.

A monster.

“Well—no…”

With the cocky way he was smirking down at you, he was aware of it too. His eyes, red, glinted with amusement as you fumbled the ending of what was supposed to be a witty comeback.

“Good. Then I think it’s my business.”

Confidence—he wore it well. It suited the hard planes of his face, the arrogant quirk of his lips accentuating the strength of his boxy jaw. Big inked arms flexed as he dug his hands a little deeper into the pockets of his orange prison jumpsuit. The top half was undone, sleeves fastened around his waist. A black wifebeater clung to the contours of a strong chest, tattoos creeping out from beneath the straps to trail over his shoulders.

He was the picture of a stereotypical inmate.

The only thing that stuck out, however, was the soft pink of his hair.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

The man quirked a slitted eyebrow.

“Somethin’ funny, brat?”

“No, no—sorry… just your costume.”

“What about it?”

“Just looks like you put a lot of effort into it, is all.”

He was looking at you—really looking. His gaze was weighted, and you could feel his eyes bearing holes into yours. He struck you as a rich boy; the type who were used to getting what they wanted, used to women throwing themselves onto him. So, if he was going to try to intimidate you, it wouldn’t work. You held his gaze.

“Put a couple years into it, yeah….” The words were slow, dripping in an innuendo you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

You opened your mouth to move the conversation elsewhere, but with him looking at you so unabashedly—so intensely—it was hard to think. Hard to breathe, even.

Your neck twinged, aching from the way it was bent to look up at him.

Fuck.

When did he get so close?

“O-Oh yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” he drawled, stepping in even closer. The toe of his heavy boots bumped against yours, and you could once again feel the heat of his breath on you. “Wanna see it up close?”

“You’re really close already—”

“I meant off my body.”

Fuck.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

He was no good—it didn’t take a psychologist to see there was something fundamentally off about this guy.

His aura—malevolent—set off alarm bells through your entire body.  

He carried himself with a deeply-ingrained confidence, a surety that had your heart racing and your stomach dropping… but seeing him up close, you weren’t sure how you had ever mistaken him for some pampered rich boy. No. His tanned skin was littered with little scars and burns, well-worn. He was a fighter… and from the looks of it, a winning one.

Ice spread down your spine. Your body tensed.

Fight or flight was activating—fight, however, would stand no chance against this man. Turning on your heel, you began to walk away.

“Hey! Where you goin’?” His gruff voice called after you, but you didn’t dare turn back.

Beelining it back to the house, you sought out the kitchen. The place was a maze, but picking up the trail of partygoers with drinks in hand, you eventually found your way.

Shoko and Utahime stood around a large marble island with Gojo and Geto, huddled in to chat amongst themselves. Catching the movement in the corner of her eye, Shoko did a double-take upon your entrance. You communicated with your eyes in that secret language now; let’s go. Now.

With a tug on Utahime’s sleeve, the two were pulling away from the men.

“Wait—what’s happening?” Big blue eyes peered out from over the goofy sunglasses. “Leaving already?”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for this Gojo guy; not seeing his friends in a long time, partially because of you, and now having them torn away early because you made some poor choices with the wrong guy.

“Sorry, Gojo—I just… don’t feel well.”

Gojo looked between you and the two women, cogs turning in his mind.

“Nanami can take you home. He’s a good guy.”

“We’re leaving together.” Utahime spoke with no room for argument, hand on your shoulder.

You brushed it off, shaking your head. “It’s okay, ‘hime. Enjoy your night.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, too-white grin spreading across those too-white cheeks. “Then it’s settled! C’mon, let’s find him together.”

While you probably didn’t need the escort, you appreciated Gojo’s guiding hand, if not for anything but his lanky limbs and ability to part the crowd. It was a nice bonus that it gave some semblance of security against that inmate. Though, seeing the size of that guy, it was hard to imagine scrawny Satoru standing a chance against him.

In the living room, Gojo clasped a large blonde man on the shoulder, startling him from where he was chatting with a jovial brown-haired guy you didn’t recognize.

“Nanamin!.”

The blonde man sighed, turning around to eye Gojo warily. He was chiseled. The hard set of his lips matched the low seat of his brows as he met the host’s eyes.

“Gojo.” His voice was stern. Unimpressed.

“I need a little teeny weeny favour—could ya do one for me?”

The blonde man sighed, and he rubbed his forehead in a way that reminded you of Shoko. He clearly felt the same way about Satoru Gojo. Weirdly enough, it relaxed you.

“What is it?”

“I need you to drive someone home.”

Gojo dragged you between them by the shoulders, thrusting you towards the stranger.

Nanami smiled down at you sympathetically.

“Should have started with that, Satoru.”

“Oopsie. Noted! Well, I’m leaving things to you, Nanamin.”

Gojo released you, opting to wave his goodbye as the blonde man guided you to the front door.

Nanami, as you’d soon find out, was a gentleman.

Definitely too good for Gojo Satoru.

You’d also find out that he was a collector of old cars; ones which he cared for well, and ones with doors he opened for you. You’d learn he was the designated driver for all the parties he attended, as he had never found interest in social drinking, but appreciated a glass or two of whiskey alone. You’d also learn he was very single—the main reason why Gojo dragged him to every party he threw. Which he allowed, as it was his way of repaying his old friend.

Surprisingly, he went to high school with Shoko, Utahime, Gojo, and Geto as well—though he was a year younger than them (something you would have never expected from his visage alone).

(Gojo had aged him, apparently).

He drove you home with light conversation and soft jazz on the radio, a refreshing break from the mind-numbing bass of Gojo’s party playlist. He offered you water from a closed bottle—the expensive stuff—and rolled down the windows so you could get some air. It did wonders for your condition, although it was never much of a physical one.

Pulling into the driveway of your shared housing complex, he killed the engine and hopped out to grab the door again.

“Thank you, Nanami… you really didn’t have to do that.”

He raised a hand, stopping the thought.

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for the excuse to get some air; I don’t know if I would’ve survived otherwise.”

He smiled, soft and genuine, as he helped you up the steps. Unneeded, but appreciated. You didn’t have the heart to shoo him away.

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” he breathed as you reached the front door, fumbling for your keys.

“Me too… would you like to come in for some tea, maybe?”

Nanami chuckled, loosening the spotted tie around his neck. Business-casual looked good on him… though you weren’t sure you understood the costume.

“I should head back; someone has to keep Satoru in check.”

You nod, swallowing the disappointment.

“But I’d enjoy seeing you again. May I grab your number? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

***

Once again, you had grown a new appreciation of Halloween— maybe not a stronger one than the one you had for cozy movie cuddles with your best friends, but it was something. A celebration of the good friends you had. Of the new friends you’d made. Of the new adventures you could share together.

And oddly enough, you were looking forward to the next one.

[wickedsmille]

de-aged!Jason and it's tim's problem

Warnings for Jason being a wee little bean (sort of), Tim's super stellar skills with teenagers and the lack of any kind of editing. I wrote this and abandoned it so long ago but discovered it and was like aw, ok, s'kinda cute. :v

It's a tame gen fic with platonic cuddles and vague mentions to Jason and Tim's not so fantastic childhoods.

So. *vague hand wave*

He has ample reason to freak out because -

-------

“No. No way.” Tim is freaking out. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Jason demands. 

Except, it isn’t Jason because Jason is over six inches taller with over a hundred pounds of extra muscle. Jason is nearly Bruce’s size, not some long limbed, gangly teenager just starting to grow into his shoulders. Granted, the surly scowl and inner fire is all Jason, as is the narrow eyed suspicion. So is the far too large leather jacket and armor hanging off him and the domino barely holding on. It’s a small blessing he’d forwent his helmet for patrol. 

“Your worst nightmare,” Tim replies automatically. 

Realizing the inappropriateness of what he’s said, regardless of his always wanting to say it, makes him grimace because, yeah, for a while he kind of was Jason’s worst nightmare. They’ve slipped into something approaching civil co-workers since Jason decided to invade Titans Tower to test him via a vicious beatdown but they are nowhere near take care of each other after a magical mishap territory. 

At Tim’s words, Jason drops down lower into a fighting stance and squares up with Tim, unafraid and ready to brawl even if Tim is obviously trained because only the rare few decided to go out at night in a costume and mask without the skills to back it up. And Tim is bigger than Jason. By maybe an inch but he’ll take it. It’s still a victory considering adult, not magically de-aged Jason is a behemoth. 

Waving his hands frantically, Tim amends his previous statement. “That came out wrong.”

“How does ‘Your worst nightmare’ come out wrong?” Jason spits.

“Okay, tell me you’ve never wanted to quote a movie in the middle of a fight,” Tim shoots back.

Jason seems to chew on Tim’s words before he loosens up and stands though the tension refuses to leave and the wariness remains. “If you make one wrong move I’ll smack the shit out of you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tim says as his mouth gets away from him again. 

“Wait, what?”

Later, when he’s alone, Tim is going to bang his head against a wall and smother himself with his own pillow. He can’t <i>wait</i> so long as it makes him forget the misery that is this moment in which he can’t keep his mouth shut and he has a teenage Jason Todd staring him down like he’s crazy. Which, fair. None of the Bats are sane, per say.

“What do you remember?” Tim asks tiredly.

Jason chews over his words, coiled tight and still ready to strike. His gaze roves over Tim before he finally says, “I am. Was? Robin, I think. But I was just living on the street. So, I don’t,” Jason trails off, unsure. 

“So you remember some stuff from being Robin and some from before that but not everything?” Tim guesses.

Nodding hesitantly, Tim fights the urge to slap a hand to his head. Why not make things more complicated by not only taking years off Jason’s life but also jumbling the memories he does have? Tim doesn’t mind. This is perfectly fine. Without going over each detail, there’s no way to accurately tell how much Jason does or does not remember. It’s clear he remembers being Robin but not moving in with Bruce. The two things are so closely linked, it doesn’t bode well for what other holes are in Jason’s mind. But it’s fine. 

Tim decides not to say anything else and runs his hands through his hair. It’s a good thing Bruce isn’t in town, JL business as usual these days unless one of the big name Gotham Rogues starts causing trouble, or he’d be all over tiny Jason. There is one other plausible candidate to stick on Jason Duty. A candidate already in Gotham and primed for endless cuddles and forced bonding sessions since his newest victim is spending a few weeks respite at the Kent Farm. Dick is going to be ecstatic.

Reaching up, Tim turns his com back on and pretends like Jason doesn’t flinch. “Nightwing?”

“RR,” Dick greets cheerily. “What can I do you for?”

“I’ve got a situation.”

The shift between Dick the Brother and Nightwing the Protector is stark as he asks, “Are you in trouble?”

Hesitantly, Tim hedges, “Well, not <i>me</i>, but. You’ll want to see this. Meet us back at the Cave in twenty.”

“Us?”

Tim clicks off the com and mutes it. Sure, it’ll drive Dick up a wall to not know what’s going on but Tim doesn’t feel like getting badgered into telling the whole sordid tale of Red Robin and Red Hood getting bested by a two bit magician with a splintered down piece of wood and a pointed hat. Embarrassing would not even begin to cover it so he doesn’t fancy having anyone else drop into the conversation, Barbara.

The lesser of the two evils is obviously to let Dick stew in the knowledge that Tim is safe and whole but hiding a secret. There is no other possible resource. None that would save Tim’s already wounded and dying pride. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Jason tells him harshly.

Tim fixes him with a flat look. “I’m not dealing with this, your brother can so you can either come with willingly or I’m tossing you over my shoulder and you’re still coming with.” How crazy is it to think he could easily carry Jason.

Jason tries to stare him down but Tim cocks a hip, crosses his arms and waits patiently. Eventually, Jason relaxes by inches. 

“Something happened to me, didn’t it?”

Tim can’t help but roll his eyes no matter how unfair it is to Jason since he can’t remember. “No,” Tim replies sarcastically, again knowing he’s being unfair but the universe started it by getting him into this mess. 

“You don’t need to be a bag of dicks.”

“You don’t need to use such language, young man.”

Jason looks like he sucked on something sour as he crosses his arms and hunches his shoulder inward. There’s a faint dusting of pink over his cheeks. It makes Tim feel a little bad. As far as he can tell, Jason is fifteen again, which sends a pang of hurt through Tim’s chest with the implications, which means he has all the false bluster and bravado that comes with being a teenager with the added bonus of being hypersensitive to embarrassment and criticism. He should stop being such an ass. 

Heaving a sigh, Tim waves Jason over as he turns his back and starts making his way down the alley to where his bike is parked. Hesitantly, Jason follows but his steps quicken as they draw near and he gets a look at Tim’s bike. The resistance is gone and replaced with awe as he circles the machine despite Tim swinging his leg over and mounting it. Patiently, like a saint, he allows Jason his moment of wonder. It is a beautiful work of ingenuity and power. 

Then the seconds drag out. Looking over his shoulder, Tim raises a brow and shrugs a shoulder towards the back of his bike. “So, I did tell Nightwing twenty minutes.”

“And the longer I keep us here the faster you’ll have to drive,” Jason replies without missing a beat, bent over and inspecting the anti-locking mechanism on the back brakes.

Tim grins, small and dangerous. “Alright. I’ll give you a couple more minutes.”

He gives Jason more than a few minutes because he knows the streets are empty and he can safely push his bike faster than he would without an excuse like chasing bad guys or coming to someone’s rescue. It took some coaxing to get Jason on and even longer to get him to wrap his arms securely around Tim but, once they had set off and Tim ran his third red light, both of them settled in for the too fast ride. Midway, Tim decides to show off and skid through a particularly sharp turn. It’s a flawless maneuver and Jason shows his appreciation by whooping loudly.

Tim does it again once they reach the cave. This time, he drifts into a narrow parking spot between the Batmobile and Nightwing’s bike. Jason’s arms tighten around him as they skirt the edges of the Batmobile by millimeters and he doesn’t let go even after they’ve come to a stop and Tim has killed the engine. Eventually, Tim has to pat Jason’s arms to get him off so Tim can breathe properly again. Jason promptly scrambles off at that. 

By the time Tim is turning around to face the main part of the Cave, Dick already by their side with a worried furrow to his brow. He blinks once at Jason, looks at Tim, blinks again at Jason then melts. 

“Oh my gods,” Dick says softly. He looks delighted and Tim does not envy Jason who’s eyeing him critically.

“When did you get so old?” Jason asks unkindly. 

Dick throws a hand over his heart and actually looks slightly offended. “Wow, okay, so I’m not <i>old</i> -”

“Yes, you are.”

“And, wow, I forgot how much of a little shit you were,” Dick finishes fondly. 

Jason bristles and looks like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets but the armored cargo pants are hanging too low for him to manage it without looking ridiculous. 

To make up for his earlier mistakes, Tim cuts in to take pity on Jason. “Turns out the guy we were chasing was the real deal. I assume you can give Zatanna a call and handle it?”

Together, Dick and Jason both ask, “You’re not sticking around?”

Tim glances between the two of them, bewildered. “Uh, no? I get enough second hand teenage angst from Damian.”

Jason doesn’t look happy about it but Dick does. He nods amicably and smiles widely. “That’s alright, I volunteer myself as tribute.” 

Without warning, he moves towards Jason with his arms raised and posed to envelope the teen in a patented Dick Grayson Hug. Swiftly, Jason side steps him and slides behind Tim so he’s blocking any other attempts Dick might make. Some of Dick’s joy falls but he looks undeterred as he lowers his arms and doesn’t move forward again. If Tim weren’t hanging onto some old hurts still and feeling petty, he’d feel a little bad for Dick. 

Tim shifts, trying to edge his way over to the computer so he can type up his report and be on his merry way but Jason gets closer and follows him like Tim’s shadow. The entire time, Dick keeps staring. The longer it goes on, the more Jason scowls at him. It is hilarious and, were Tim a casual observer, he would have burst out laughing long ago. As it is, he’s an unwilling participant in Dick and Jason’s detente and caught in the middle as Dick barely restrains himself from draping himself over Jason while Jason looks more and more like he wants to kick Dick in the nuts. 

Pointedly, Tim sits down in the computer chair which leaves Jason nowhere to go. He sticks by Tim’s side regardless, eyeing Dick who has followed them like a puppy waiting for a treat. Cuddles with his younger than normal little brother being the treat. 

There’s quiet for a few blessed minutes before Jason asks awkwardly, “What’s your name? I didn’t get it before.”

“You never asked before,” Tim says absently as he starts to write up his report. His fingers may go a little faster than usual in an attempt to hurry his escape. “But it’s Red Robin.”

“Like the restaurant?” Tim doesn’t have to look at Jason to know he’s judging. He can hear it.

“Yum,” Tim says flatly. 

“And,” Jason starts. Tim can make out Jason shifting awkwardly. “What about your real name?”

Tim cuts a glance Jason’s way and takes in the frown, the hardened edge to his eyes as they look between the Cave and Tim, the uncertainty. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t. It’s not like he did anything wrong. But Jason didn’t either. The wannabe mage got lucky and it could’ve easily been Tim drowning in his uniform and overwhelmed by the way everything has changed from what he remembered. 

Looking back at the computer and continuing the report, Tim caves and answers, “Tim. My name is Tim. I was the Robin that came after you.”

“So this,” Jason pauses to wiggle in his armor, “was my idea when I passed on Robin?” Tim looks to see Jason giving the guns hanging from hips a dubious look. Right, he probably should have taken away the firearms.

There is so much wrong with what Jason said and has left unsaid. In no universe does Tim want to volunteer himself to answer. No amount of cutting edge tech, unlimited Zesti or epic W&W campaigns could make him handle this conversation. 

Tim searches for Dick who’s apparently made himself look busy at one of the closer work benches. His hands have stopped tinkering with the grapple gun he’d been poking moments ago and his back goes rigid. No matter how miffed he is with Dick, he doesn’t have the heart to make him handle answering Jason either. Lying is an option. Lying is a fantastic option but Jason deserves more than that.

Carefully, Tim settles on, “Yes, all that was your idea. You didn’t really pass on Robin but I don’t think we should get into it. I hope you’ll trust me and leave it alone for now.”

The silence stretches on between them, broken up only by Tim’s typing. 

“Okay,” Jason eventually answers. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

“Let’s not test that.”

“What if I want to?” Jason asks cheekily. 

“Then we’ll see how far I can toss you,” Tim tells him simply.

“Oh, it is on, Tim.”

“Like Donkey Kong,” Tim agrees. “Later though. I’m trying to finish this and then I need to leave.”

“Didn’t peg you for a cut and run kind of person.”

“More the strategic retreat kind.”

“Sounds like you’re scared,” Jason goads him.

Tim spares him an unimpressed frown. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Jason smiles, sincere and cocky. “Is it working?”

“Hardly,” Tim drawls as he puts the finishing touches on the report.

He stands to leave once he’s saved and exited out of the file. Immediately, Jason’s hand shoots out and grabs Tim’s wrist. Surprised, Tim looks at him and doesn’t fight the tight grip Jason has on him. 

“Don’t leave me with him,” Jason mutters.

Tim looks at Dick who has the audacity to plaster on an innocent smile while leaning casually against the workbench. He can see it now. As soon as he leaves, Dick will be all over Jason. It won’t be the regular, suffocating attention Dick focuses on a sibling when he zeroes in on a member of the family. Oh no, it’ll be a hellish combination of guilt and excessive affection to make up for time lost and amend mistakes years in the past. Tim pinches the bridge of his nose just thinking about it. 

“Why don’t I drop you off with Alfred?” Tim counters.

Jason brightens but he doesn’t let go of Tim. “Alfie’s here?”

“Indeed,” Alfred says primly from his spot next to where the Cave connects with the manor. “Master Tim, why don’t you help Master Jason out of suit while Master Dick and I see to finding him something more suitable to wear and finishing dinner?” Alfred says it like a question but it’s far from it. 

Dick starts to protest but one look from Alfred has him clamming up. He scurries over to the lockers at Alfred’s prompting to change and shower before coming up where he’ll be waiting. Dawlding is strongly discouraged. 

Tim can recognize when his plans to flee have been thoroughly foiled. Looking Heaven-ward to plead the universe for mercy, Tim spins in the chair to face Jason. He looks a little terrified so Tim smiles gently. 

“He’s right. It can’t be comfortable wearing that and I’m familiar with the security measures built into the suit. Is it alright if I help?” Tim asks him first. Slowly, Jason nods and Tim watches as he swallows hard. Tell you what, why don’t I take the guns and I’ll walk you through everything else?” Tim offers.

“Oh gods, please,” Jason says quickly. His mouth snaps shut after, the flush on his cheeks moving up to the tips of his ears. “I mean, yeah, sounds good.”

Tim bites his lip to keep from laughing and silently disengages the security on the holsters and slips it off. He instructs Jason on how to do the same with the rest of the armor. He keeps his voice level and void of any condemnation or coddling as he does so. Surprisingly, it’s mostly painless. At least on Tim’s part. Jason looks about ready to bolt which Tim gets it, he does. The whole thing reminds him of school locker rooms and playing catch up on social norms in the worst setting possible.

That mildly traumatizing experience over with, Tim slaps his thighs and stands. “Why don’t we grab something to eat and get you into something less,” Tim stops and waves his hand at Jason but doesn’t continue. 

Even the compression shirt and pants underneath the suit are too large on Jason. He frowns down at the clothes and says sourly, “It’s not my fault I grow up to be a behemoth.”

“True,” Tim concedes. Again, they’re skating the edges of an endless rabbit hole he doesn’t want Jason to fall down. While he seems to be handling the situation well, no doubt prepped by Bruce for all manner of insane contingencies as a part of his training, Tim doubts a recounting of Jason’s death would go over as well. “Clothes and dinner then?”

“I’m not a kid so don’t treat me like one,” Jason snaps. 

“Stop looking like one and I will,” Tim counters. “I’m going to go change but you know the way up if you don’t want to wait.”

Although Tim isn’t expecting Jason to still be in the cave by the time he’s dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt after a sorely needed shower, he hurries through his usual after patrol routine. Just in case. The foresight turns out to be fruitful since Jason is meandering around the Cave, pausing to examine something he doesn’t recognize. When Tim comes out from the locker area, Jason’s head swivels around. 

This time Tim has no plausible reason for Jason to blush but blush he does as he looks over Tim. Deciding to ignore it, Tim finishes drying his hair and lets the towel sit around his shoulders. He nods towards the exit up to the manor. 

The trip up is uneventful. Alfred appears beside them as they emerge from the Cave and holds out a neatly folded pile of clothes. Jason takes them gratefully and ducks away to the nearest bathroom while Tim makes his way to the kitchen. With so few in the house, it’s rare they sit down in the family dining room and, as he anticipated, Alfred has dinner spread out on the nook tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. The food looks delicious, smells delicious, but Tim’s itching to leave and he knows, if he sits down with everyone, he’ll get wrangled into staying. 

From behind, Jason appears once more and Dick follows after, hovering as one does when their little brother has been demoted to extra tiny little brother. Jason, for the most part, takes it with grace by giving Dick only one heated glare over his shoulder. Jason comes to stand before Tim then Dick falls into line too. He descends on the food, plating it up and chattering away. Tim indulges him, hums where he needs to and answers any questions Dick throws his way, but Jason stays quiet. 

He doesn’t make a move to grab any food for himself which is not Tim’s problem. Jason has shown he remembers living in the manor, being Robin and Bruce’s son, so there’s no reason he can’t help himself. Tim leaves him to it so he can dig around in the pantry for one of the energy bars he knows he squirreled away in the back when he moved out for exactly this situation. As he’s shutting the pantry door, victorious with a couple bars in his hand, Jason is looking at him. He’s eyeing the food in Tim’s hand then looking at Alfred’s spread like it’ll bite him. 

It takes a second for the pieces to click together but Ra’s doesn’t call Tim Detective for no reason.

Sidling up to Jason’s side, he holds out one of the bars which Jason takes hesitantly. 

“I get it. I can grab more if you want,” Tim tells him kindly. 

Jason looks ready to beat him with the protein bar as he hisses, “What would you know, rich boy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your Bristol accent.”

“Packaged food is safe, right?” Tim asks him rhetorically, his voice cold. Jason’s comment rubs him the wrong way. “Don’t have to worry about something being in it or being spoiled. Hard habit to shake when you fall back on old conditioning.”

Jason flinches back. 

“Hey, you guys coming?” Dick asks through a mouthful of food from where he’s seated at the table.

“Nah, neither of us is very hungry,” Tim lies smoothly. “We’ll probably grab a couple snacks.”

Dick looks upset about the change in course, frowning around another forkful of food. Like magic, Alfred sweeps into the room before Dick can protest. 

“Perhaps retire to the sitting room? I can have an assortment of snack items brought in. I dare say a calm night in would do this family good.” There’s a knowing glint in Alfred’s eye.

Remembering Dick’s propensity for cuddles and Jason’s resistance to it, Tim bumps Jason’s shoulder as he says, “What do you think? Or do you want to pick?”

“Library, I’d prefer the library,” Jason says automatically.

Alfred smiles without smiling. “Very good, Master Jason. I’ll bring a few things up to you and Master Tim if you’d like to go get settled now.”

“Actually-” Tim tries to interject. Jason will be fine. From what Tim’s learned, the library is Jason’s safe space, he’ll have food to eat and he’ll have Alfred to help him through. Tim isn’t needed. He’s not even sure why he’s being so nice.

It’s not them. With no idea on how to overcome the bad blood between himself and Jason, Tim hasn’t tried to repair their relationship and Jason hasn’t made any effort to either. Really, Tim should’ve left Jason to Dick and Alfred back in the cave. Putting his foot down would’ve had him gone already, sitting in his nest and ordering pizza while going over his active cases. 

But Jason looks so lost. He’s fronting, falling on the familiar anger and confidence he’s always had. He’s regressing back into a mindset more befitting the streets now that he’s so uncomfortable and likely feeling cornered. It’s so unlike the Jason Tim knows. Jason’s always been full of piss and vinegar but this softer version? It makes Tim’s heart hurt a little but in a way he can’t ignore. 

Like Jason has read Tim’s mind, his hand wraps around Tim’s wrist again and he pulls him out of the kitchen.

Leading them into the foyer and up the stairs, with his back to Tim, he asks, “How did you know? About the food.”

Taken aback by Jason’s aggressive exit and his new role as a tow-along, the truth slips out. “Uh, my parents. They left me alone a lot and forgot sometimes about the groceries. I got sick a couple times from eating spoiled stuff so I stuck to non-perishables.”

In answer, Jason grunts. “That’s fucked up.”

“My therapist agrees.”

“You have a therapist?”

Tim laughs. “Of course not. What respectable Bat does?”

When Jason laughs with him, it shakes loose something warm in Tim’s chest. He shakes away the feeling as Jason pushes into the library. Once they’re inside, Jason releases him. He doesn’t move right away, instead choosing to stand and survey the room.

Working on another hunch, Tim walks past Jason to a closet tucked away in the corner. Throwing the door open, he gatherers as many of the pillows and blankets inside as he can fit in his arms, kicks the door shut and dumps his haul on the bay window overseeing the back gardens. He arranges it all to make a comfortable looking nest. Once done, he nods in approval and gives himself a pat on the back. He cracks open the window as a finishing touch and presents his handiwork with a flourish.

“Easy exit, sight lines to all access points and extra pillows perfect for relaxing,” Tim says. Jason stays locked looking at him so Tim raises a brow. “Are you going to grab a book or stare at me all day?”

Jason jolts out of whatever trance he’d fallen into and quickly says, “Yeah, yep, I’ll go do the book thing with the reading.”

Tim smiles fondly as Jason trots into the shelves to retrieve a book. Tim can hear Jason as he searches for a book. The sounds are not encouraging. There’s a lot of murmured curses, grunting and frustrated growls. Once more, Tim resigns himself to helping out Jason. It doesn’t feel as much like a chore anymore.

“Issues?” Tim calls.

“They’re all 1st editions!” Jason yells back. “Who does that?”

“Give me a second,” Tim hollers back. 

Because Tim had a hard time leaving well enough alone as a kid, he knows Jason’s old room has several well worn copies of Jason’s favorites. Ones that could get thrown in a fire and he’d be out a couple bucks to replace it, cheap copies he can use over and over again till the pages are fraying and the spines have separated. Tim picks the lock on Jason’s old room and grabs a couple of the most worn down paperbacks. A young Tim may have been armed with curiosity and a lack of boundaries but he didn’t go so far as to read Jason’s favorites. Definitely not. That wasn’t a thing. 

Back in the library, Jason has settled into the seat of the bay window. He holds out the books to Jason who takes them and inspects each. 

“Are you a mind reading meta or something?” Jason asks him suspiciously. 

“No, nothing like that,” Tim replies.

“So someone just fucked you up real good like me?”

Grinning ruefully, Tim shrugs. “I like to think I turned out alright.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jason clamps his mouth shut after his off hand comment and his face goes red. Suddenly, he’s a lot more focused on the books in his hands than talking to Tim.

Tim’s not touching that with a ten foot pole but it’s still amusing. He settles on the floor, content to wait for Alfred, snacks and the excuse that it’s getting late so he can slip away guilt-free.

“You’re seriously going to sit down there?” Jason eventually asks to break the companionable silence between them. 

Seeing a possible out, Tim responds, “I can go somewhere else if you’d rather be alone?” He doubts it since Jason has imprinted on him or somehow deemed Tim a safe person and latched on but a man can hope.

When he looks up, he meets Jason’s eye. The blush is back in full force. “No, I don’t like being alone,” he admits grudgingly. 

The something warm in Tim’s chest is back again, stronger than before. It makes his brain soupy, or it’s the exhaustion and need for sleep. Either way, Tim tells him, “Neither do I.”

“So get up here,” Jason demands. Very pointedly, Tim looks at the bay window and the distinct lack of space to fit an extra person. Aggressively opening one of his books, scowling at the pages, Jason mutters, “Just fucking get up here.”

When Jason hops out of burrow of blankets and points at the window seat, Tim figures he can humor him. What’s the harm, after all? If anything it proves the point that although it is incredibly comfortable with the way Tim layered the blankets there’s no way they could both fit. He spreads his arms wide to encompass the fact that there isn’t enough room for them to share. 

The humor drains right out of him as Jason steps up to the window, his expression twists together in a curious mix of angry fear and climbs into Tim’s lap. Tim would like to amend that. Jason awkwardly climbs up into his lap. Actually, it is super awkward. 

Tim’s so stunned by the forwardness of the actions that all the words he wants to push past his lips get stuck and die on his tongue. 

Like this is any old day and not what’s shaping up to be one of the weirdest days of Tim’s life, Jason scooches over as far as he can till his back is pressed against the window. He’s half turned towards the ceiling but tucked tightly against Tim’s side. It’s not cuddling, not really with Tim’s arm pinned between them and Jason doing his best to squeeze back so they don’t touch even though it’s unavoidable. It is tangentially related to cuddling though. 

Jason starts reading. Tim starts staring at him blankly.

“You’re shit at cuddling,” Jason grumbles.

As if Tim’s brain couldn’t break anymore, here comes a teenage Jason to bulldoze over the semblance of a higher thinking he’d been able to scrape together. With his mind officially offline, Tim’s mouth takes the wheel.

“I haven’t had much practice.”

Taking Tim’s arm, he pulls it out from between them and sits up enough he can get it around his shoulders. Once satisfied, he grabs Tim’s other arm and drapes it around his chest as he lies fully on his side. He even nuzzles into Tim’s chest then goes back to reading.  

What.

“My mom used to cuddle me like this,” Jason whispers, eyes never leaving the pages of his paperback.

How is Tim supposed to handle that? He is not equipped for this. They have officially bumbled, dived head first, into things better handled by Dick. Or Steph. Or Cass. Not Tim. But is he mad about it? He has to stop and think about that.

Tim tightens his arms and scoots down a little to get into a more comfortable position. He’s no expert on cuddling but it seems like something that can take a while. Until Jason is back to his fire-fed-gasoline attitude, Tim can deal with this, he decides. He’s already caved to every other whim Jason has had, has helped him feel more centered when his entire world has shifted, so he may as well stop fighting it so much and get it over with before Jason gets the chip back on his shoulder. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. 

Sleepily, Jason asks him, “You keep watch, yeah?”

Patting his arm, Tim hums, “Yeah, no worries. I’ll be the look out.”

[elnathsstar]

Listen, I am aromantic, but it's getting cold and dark and I so desperately want somebody who I can cuddle under my covers with, somebody I can teach to dance, somebody I can drag outside at night when we're supposed to be inside, and it's so cold that it could start snowing any minute, or maybe already be snowing, and then we would go and sit in the dark at the lake with the lights while listening to Taylor Swift and sharing my headphones, and then dancing around outside to mirrorball and not caring who sees us because we are so madly platonically in love with each other that we only care about the other. I want somebody to drag around charity shops while I plan my Halloween costume, and my birthday outfit, and the outfit for the various Christmas parties I will take them too- even the one hosted by the church that I usually end up just sitting in a side room watching whatever Nativity movie they put on for the entire time. The kids would ask if we were dating, and we'd just look at each other and giggle, while my parents and grandparents who are watching us bicker over an Uno game are thinking about how pure our love is. Kisses are always an option, but never pushed for, and even if the other person liked me romantically they would be okay with and understand how I don't feel the exact same way, but I still love them so so much. Like a platonic soulmate. We would share clothes, and I'd save them a piece of my birthday cake, if they weren't already there for it. We would go on walks together, and they would be one of the first people I call when the cold weather is affecting my mood or my health, and then they would come over unprompted with something sweet and a hoodie. We would both chill on my bed, not caring about how cramped it is or the fact that my bed is a high rise so we can't sit up straight, because we don't have any trouble with being close to the other, and on days where it may be hard to be physically close to someone, they would sit back patiently and read me a chapter of whatever book we had picked up, pausing to add their own witty comments and applauding me when I guess what will happen next accurately. We wouldn't even necessarily be 'dating'- and we wouldn't label what we had as romantic, despite the dates and the kisses and the cuddles, and we'd both be fine with it. We would just exist together, in the same space, comfortably.

I want to be wanted.

[forest-hashira]

Biblically Accurate

hi guys!!! i wrote this as an entry for my anniversary/200 follower milestone collab event! i have at least one more entry planned for myself, and a few other people are writing/drawing things as entries as well! you can find the event masterlist here. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this silly goofy little thing 💜

read on ao3 | wc: ~3.1k | cw: gender neutral reader (no pronouns, reader is dressed as a female character for halloween), bickering/banter/teasing, slight hint of jealous gojo, can be interpreted as pre-relationship or fully platonic

“You’re really not putting any more effort into your costume?” you asked, looking Shoko over and eyeing the white sheet draped over her arm as you passed her your hand mirror to hold. You were in the common area of the dorms with her, Nanami, and Haibara, the three of you putting the finishing touches on your costumes.

“Nope,” Shoko confirmed, accepting the mirror and holding it in her lap as you sat down, pulling out your small set of face paints. “Gojo told me my only options were a ghost or a sexy nun.”

“Not even a regular nun?”

She shook her head. “He said if I showed up dressed like a “musty old lady” nun he would refuse to be seen with me.” The way she used air quotes and an exaggerated expression of disgust around the description made you roll your eyes, despite your smile; that sounded just like your senpai. 

“I don’t blame you for picking the ghost, then.”

“Thank you.” Shoko smiled at you, popping a piece of gum into her mouth with her free hand; she’d been trying to quit smoking – on campus, at least – since she’d gotten busted by Yaga so many times already this school year. 

Setting your face paints and brushes down on the table beside Shoko, you stood again, grabbing a few paper towels and filling a small glass with water to clean off your brushes when you were finished. You glanced over at your classmates as you walked back to your seat, smiling a bit to yourself as you saw Haibara gushing over Nanami’s costume.

Doing group costumes by year had been Gojo’s idea, though he insisted the themes needed to be kept secret for each group. Hearing Shoko say what her options apparently were gave you some idea what your upperclassmen had chosen as their theme, but you wouldn’t know until the other boys arrived; you just hoped they weren’t too late, since you knew Gojo was the only way any of you would be able to get into the party he had insisted you all needed to attend. You didn’t have a lot of particular feelings about going to the party, but the idea of getting to spend time with everyone was really nice, since it was rare that all six of you were in Tokyo at the same time and not occupied by other things. 

“What theme did you guys go with, anyway?” Shoko asked, as you sat back down and gestured for her to hold the mirror up for you. “You can’t possibly all be from the same movie or something.”

“We’re not,” you confirmed, wetting your brush and lightly tapping off the excess water before dipping into the red paint. “We’re all from different Ghibli movies.”

“That’s your theme?”

You carefully traced the outline of the first triangle under your eye. “All of our characters are royalty.” You paused, considering for a moment, then added, “Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?” Shoko arched a brow at your words. 

“Yeah, sort of,” you said, filling in the first triangle and outlining the second. “Haibara is actually royalty. He’s Prince Arren, from Tales from Earthsea. The movie came out this year, it’s what made him suggest the theme in the first place.” The brush was dipped back in the red paint, then the second triangle filled in. “I’m San from Princess Mononoke.” You went quiet for a moment, moving your hair apart a bit on your forehead to give yourself space to paint the final triangle. “And Nanami is Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle. He’s not technically royalty, but he has a castle.” 

Glancing over your shoulder at your classmates to make sure they weren’t listening, you leaned in closer to Shoko. “It was Haibara’s suggestion,” you said, much quieter than before. “I think he just wanted to see Nanami with earrings on and his hair down.”

She grinned at your words, both of you only managing to stifle a laugh because right then was when Gojo and Geto decided to make their grand entrance. Geto wore a pair of comfortable looking red pants, a simple black long sleeve shirt, and a red jacket on top. There was a headband with two small red horns atop his head, and a little plastic pitchfork in his hand, and when you glanced down, you saw a red, pointed tail hanging off the back of his pants; clearly he was going as a – the? – devil.

Even without the context of Geto’s costume, it would’ve been hard to mistake what Gojo was supposed to be. The flowy white shirt, white jeans, feathery white wings – which were larger than they really had the right to be – fixed to his back, and the silver halo headband atop his fluffy white hair making it obvious that he was an angel. He was without his dark sunglasses for once, presumably because they didn’t go with the rest of the ensemble he wore.

“No need to worry everyone, your favorite Tokyo Jujutsu High students have arrived!” Gojo announced with a wide, mischievous grin. Behind him, you saw Geto roll his eyes, even if there was a faint hint of a smile on his lips, too. 

“You are not my favorite student,” Shoko and Nanami said in unison, completely by accident. You bit your lip to keep from chuckling at the coincidence, but you lost that battle when you saw the indignant look on Gojo’s face.

The sound of your laughter pulled his attention from your friends, and he scowled as he looked at you, though really it looked more like a pout. “What are you laughing at?” he groused.

“You,” you answered simply, grinning at him. “It’s funny how bent out of shape you get when someone tells you you’re not their favorite.”

He jutted out his bottom lip, crossing his arms over his chest. You could tell he wanted to argue, but was apparently having a hard time coming up with any sort of witty retort. “Whatever,” he said eventually. “What are you supposed to be, anyway? You’ve got red all over your face.”

You just rolled your eyes at him. “I’m San,” you told him, turning back to face the mirror Shoko still held for you, putting the final touches on your face paint. 

“Who?”

“The wolf girl from the movie that came out a while back, right?” Geto asked. “Princess of something, I think…”

“Princess Mononoke, yeah!” Haibara chirped, grinning. “I’m surprised you knew, it feels like not a lot of people have seen it.”

“Because they haven’t,” Gojo said, rolling his eyes. “People only see the good Ghibli movies.”

Irritated, you dropped the paintbrush in the glass of water you’d gotten to clean it off. You turned back to face him, a scowl deep on your face. “All Studio Ghibli movies are good ones,” you snapped, barely refraining from calling him names. “If you can’t understand or appreciate the deeper themes in the movies, you can just say that.”

“What themes?” he asked, looking a bit more genuinely, less snippy. “I haven’t seen it, I wouldn’t know what they are.”

“Environmentalism, animism, disability, true love, cycles of violence—” Geto began, but Gojo waved him off.

“Ok, some heavy hitters, I get it. It doesn’t sound very entertaining, though.”

“There’s a curse that develops from the negative energy imbued in a weapon,” Nanami cut in, expression unchanged and seemingly unenthused by the conversation, but that wasn’t unusual; Haibara was really the only one who could ever seem to get him to smile even a little bit.

There was a brief moment of silence, punctuated by a curious “Really?” from Gojo; it would’ve been funnier if you weren’t irritated over him dissing your favorite Ghibli movie.

Seeming to register the other boys’ costumes then, Gojo grinned. “Haibara, you make an amazing Arren! And Nanamin, you do kind of look the part with the hair and all, but… you know Howl is supposed to be charming, right?”

Your classmate’s expression went from unaffected to irked in less time than it took you to blink, though when Haibara jumped in with a defensive, “I think he’s very charming, in his own way,” he went red almost to the tips of his ears. 

The mischievous flash in Gojo’s eyes was impossible to miss, but Geto smacked him in the back of the head before he could say anything. The white haired sorcerer glared at his best friend, then stalked off with a huff, crossing the room until he stood beside the couch you sat on. Without saying anything, he plucked the mirror from Shoko’s hand and began fussing with his hair. 

“What do you think of my costume, hm?” he asked you, straightening his halo before shooting you a grin. “Pretty great, huh?”

You just shrugged. “It looks like any other angel costume.”

His eyes widened, and he stared at you, open-mouthed, looking deeply offended. “What do you mean ‘just like any other angel costume’?” he demanded.

“White clothes, white wings, halo headband. It’s pretty basic, Gojo-senpai.”

“But nobody else has eyes like mine,” he pointed out.

“No,” you conceded, “but you’re also not showing them all off.”

“…All my what?”

“Your eyes. You’ve got six of them, don’t you?”

Though you fought hard to conceal your grin, the sound of Shoko’s snicker made it impossible, and you barely bit back a laugh.

Finally catching up to your joke, Gojo laughed too. “I think even if I could show all six eyes at the same time it would scare the normies too bad.”

“Yaga-sensei would probably have your ass for it, too,” Shoko added.

“Like how he has your ass for smoking on campus?” Geto asked her, dropping down to sit in the armchair adjacent to the couch, looking smug.

“You smoke on campus too,” she retorted.

He smirked. “Yes, but I don’t get caught like you do.”

“I’m gonna start ratting you out.”

“Sure you will.”

Rolling your eyes as the two upperclassmen bickered with each other, you turned your attention back to Gojo, and you were more than a little surprised to see how much closer to you he’d gotten, leaning down to look you in the eye, despite how he towered over your seated form.

“So,” he asked, “you gonna help me show off my Six Eyes or what?” 

You blinked dumbly at him for a moment. “…What?”

He rolled his eyes, but there was still a smile on his face. “You’ve got paints right here—” he gestured to the table in front of you “— how else are the normies supposed to see all six of my eyes?”

Once you finally processed what he was suggesting, you bit back a grin. The idea was more than a little funny, but you couldn’t let him know you thought that. If he knew, it would go straight to his head, which was big enough already; you’d joked with Nanami more than once that if Gojo’s head got any bigger, he’d have a hard time walking upright. 

“Well?” Gojo prodded, when you didn’t answer fast enough for his liking.

“Fine,” you sighed, “but only if you’ll sit down and shut up long enough for me to do it.”

He stood up straight, saluted you, then mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. Geto pretended to catch said key, and you shook your head at them, smiling slightly to yourself. As he settled himself on the floor in front of you, you thoroughly rinsed your brush, making sure none of the red paint still lingered in the bristles, then dipped it into the white paint on your palette. 

When you turned your attention back to your senpai, you were somewhat startled to see him staring at you with wide, earnest eyes, though he’d stopped smiling for the time being. It unsettled you a bit, having his full, unimpeded focus on you like that, but… it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, if you were being honest with yourself. “Ready?”

He nodded eagerly, fulfilling your request for him to sit down and shut up. You wondered briefly if your wording had been too harsh, but decided there was no use dwelling on it anymore. You nodded back, then carefully began to make an outline of two more sets of eyes on his face: two extra eyes on each cheek, side by side under his real, already very striking eyes. 

Your lines were far from perfect, but they were steady enough, so you were happy with them. You dipped your brush back in the paint whenever you started to run out, making sure the white covered everything inside each of the outlines. Giving all four spaces a chance to dry, you once again cleaned your brush as thoroughly as you could, then switched to the blue paint. It wasn’t an exact match for Gojo’s eyes, but you figured it was close enough that it wouldn’t matter in low lighting.

“You’re pretty good at this!” Haibara praised, dropping to sit beside you on the couch.

You felt your cheeks heat at his words. “Oh, uh. Thank you, but I’m not a professional, I’m just trying my best.”

“Well I think you’re doing a wonderful job,” your classmate insisted, practically beaming at you. You offered him a smile, then turned your attention to Gojo once again and— was he glaring at Haibara?

Gojo’s expression changed so quickly once he had your attention again that you couldn’t tell if you’d imagined him glaring or not, but you decided not to push it, since that would just wind up being awkward for everyone. 

Just as carefully as you’d painted the whites of each of the eyes, you added the blue irises, trying to make the circles as perfect as you could, though trying to work on such a small space made that rather difficult. You did your best, and the end result was not as terrible as it could have been, you supposed.

Another thorough cleaning of your brush between colors, this time with the sounds of your classmates and upperclassmen chatting to each other as you worked, which came as a relief; when it was silent before, it had felt like everyone was staring at you, and it made you nervous. 

It was still a bit unnerving to have Gojo staring at you the way he was, but there wasn’t really a way around that, so you chose to ignore the way it made your stomach flutter. 

You dipped your brush into the black paint this time, placing pupils in the center of each eye. After getting a bit more paint on the brush, you added the faintest hint of an outline to the underside of each eye, wanting them to stand out a bit more against his already pale skin. 

Once you finished, you sat back a bit, looking over your handiwork. The eyes looked fine, but it felt like something was missing, you just couldn’t figure out what.

“Eyelashes,” came Nanami’s voice from behind the couch.

“Huh?” you asked, turning your head to look at your classmate, your brows furrowed slightly with confusion.

“Eyelashes,” he repeated, voice just as disinterested as before. “That’s what they’re missing.” His eyes left Gojo’s face and met yours as he shrugged. “You were staring at them really hard, I figured you thought something was missing.”

“Thanks,” you said, a bit sheepishly. “I was trying to figure out what I was forgetting. I’ll add the lashes.”

Nanami just nodded, his expression unchanged, though you were pretty sure he was glad to have been of help. You nodded back, then turned back to Gojo once again. 

After cleaning your brush in the now-murky glass of water, you switched back to the white paint, adding delicate lashes to each of the four eyes with light flicks of the brush, and even adding a few little touches to the irises to give them a bit more dimension.

The last few additions didn’t take long at all, and when you leaned back to look at your work again, you smiled. Nanami was right, they did look a lot better now that you’d added lashes to them. “Okay,” you said, dropping the brush back into the water now that you were satisfied with your work. “All done. You ready to see?”

Gojo’s expression lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. Then, remembering he held the mirror in his lap, he picked it up, turning his head back and forth to get a good look at all four eyes. He looked absolutely giddy as he put the mirror down in his lap again to look up at you, but he said nothing. You were confused for a moment, then remembered.

“You can speak now, Gojo-senpai. I’m finished.”

He turned towards Geto then, snapping to get the other boy’s attention, then making grabby hands and pointing at his mouth. Geto also looked confused for a moment, then remembered that he had “stolen” the fake key that kept his classmate’s mouth locked shut. The raven haired boy rolled his eyes, then mimed tossing the key back to his friend. “You’re so weird.”

After “catching” the key, the frosty haired boy was quick to unlock his mouth, then stick his tongue out at his friend. “You’re just jealous that you’re not getting all the attention for once,” he retorted, but Geto just rolled his eyes again.

Turning back to you, Gojo was practically beaming. “You made me look so cool!” he exclaimed, then added, “Well, cooler, because I already looked cool, like always.”

“Oh yeah,” Shoko drawled. “You’re soooo cool, Gojo.”

“I am cool!” he insisted, pushing himself up off the floor as he scowled at her. “Your costume is just a sheet, you don’t get to talk to me about what’s cool.”

“Where did you say this party was again?” Haibara cut in, quickly dispelling the budding argument between the two upperclassmen. 

Gojo beamed down at the younger boy. “It’s a surprise!” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “But we need to get going if we wanna get there before it gets too crowded. C’mon!” He herded everyone up from their seats and towards the door of the common room, hyping up the party as much as he could. You brought up the rear of the group, but you paused when he turned back to face you.

“Thanks for painting these on for me,” he said, gesturing towards his face. “I appreciate it.”

He turned away again before you could say anything, but it took you a moment before you caught up with everyone again; Gojo had never thanked you for anything before, but you were glad that he did, even if it made your cheeks burn a little bit.

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[goblinontour]

Santa Baby

some christmas fun with your husband after the kids go to sleep

warnings: husband!dad!alex, fluff, smut, piv, roleplay (kinda?), body insecurity (a bit)

word count: 2.3k

it was the first christmas you would be spending alone as a family and it was already a big mess. your two kids had been going crazy for the last few days about how they can’t wait to see santa, to meet him. and you couldn’t break it to them that santa wasn’t real, obviously, they were still little.

but it was too late to hire someone to come dressed as santa, it was already christmas eve. the only solution you could come up with was for your husband to dress as santa. he was reluctant at first saying they would know it’s him but you begged him and he agreed, eventually. he spent god knows how long until he finally found an open store that had a costume and he was getting a bit excited now, couldn’t wait to see how the little ones’ faces would light up.

your house was decorated like one you’d see in movies. you were a sucker for christmas and loved to place all the lights all over the house and this time the babies were old enough to participate in decorating the christmas tree. alex wasn’t the biggest fan, but he loved seeing you all happy from those silly things, and his heart was full with joy watching the little angels you two created, your family finally complete. well, maybe not fully, you continued to beg him to get a cat but he was putting it off saying he’s ’allergic’. liar. you know he’ll cave soon enough.

so time for santa to come was here, you brought the kids to the living room and they went nuts saying they can’t believe santa’s there for them and that he’s real. you were struggling so much not to laugh at alex all dressed up with the cheapest looking white beard on his face and a pillow stuffed under that to make it all the more accurate, even though he had a bit of a belly himself, being off from touring left a mark on his body, the once lean stomach he had now soft and squishy. he got insecure about it sometimes, but you assured him that you don’t mind it at all, making sure to tell him you fucking love it. it was so nice to lie on him and feel him so plump.

it went down perfectly after all, your heart melting as you watched him try to change his voice to make fantasy come true. they did ask where daddy was but you fooled them saying he was tired and already asleep, waiting till the morning to open santa’s gifts. and they were too young to question it. they agreed on opening the presents in the morning with daddy there as well, but they were happy they met santa.

soon enough they grew tired and you put them to bed, reading a little christmas bedtime story, and you caught them dozing off after only a few minutes, before they could hear the end of it. you gave them both a kiss goodnight and went downstairs to your husband to spend the rest of the evening together.

he’d removed the pillow from under his top and taken off the fake beard, but now he was scratching his face desperately.

“al stop it!” you told him off.

“what?!” he questioned, looking annoyed and irritated.

“you’ll give yourself an ugly rash if you keep scratching like that.” you said to him, not wanting to hear him complain about the marks later.

“it’s fucking itchy. ‘s your fault for making me do this.” he complained, pointing at his costume, but you knew he didn’t truly mean it.

“shut up. i know you loved it.”

“of course i did. just because i love the kids” he confessed “and you” he added, making sure you know it. “come here baby” calling out for you and putting his hand out for you to grab, and once you did he quickly pulled you onto his lap, taking you by surprise with how eager he was to hold you. and he grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him.

“now, why don’t you tell santa…have you been a good girl?” he said in a low tone, leaning down to kiss you softly, but quickly deepening it by grabbing your jaw and angling better towards him so he could slip his tongue into your mouth, dancing with yours in perfect sync. his mood was now vastly different to how he just acted a few minutes before.

“alexxx, what’s gotten into you?” you giggled as he started kissing down your neck, his own stubble ticking you and his hands slipped under your pyjama shirt, rubbing up and down your side.

“you won’t get a present if you’re not a good girl, answer me.” he pushed, nudging his nose into the crook of your neck, loving having you so close, taking in your scent. he said it was even better than the baby skin scent that you both got addicted to aftee having your first little one.

“yes, i was indeed a good girl this year, don’t you know it already?” you played into the little game he started.

“i don’t in fact. and i don’t believe you. why don’t you prove yourself?” you knew what he was getting at, you could feel him growing hard under you even through that thick costume. you moved so you get into a position where you could feel him better, and you started grinding your ass into his growing erection, evoking a grunt from him.

“good girls don’t tease” he warned, grabbing your face again, slapping it playfully a few times, very soft.

you moved, got up in front of him and stripped, taking off your clothes in the most seductive way you could, although you were wearing some christmas patterned pyjamas, and it was a bit silly. but you tried your best and knew he still loved you and would take you regardless of what you were wearing. you turned around so your back was facing him and you put your ass out, wiggling it for him and looking at him over your shoulder, smirking once you noticed the tent in his pants.

“i said no teasing baby.” he grabbed you by your hips and pushed you down on him again. he was fully hard, you could feel him perfectly as your bare cunt was rubbing on his dick over his pants.

by now you yourself were aching for it, wet in anticipation, and you knew those pants were already ruined by your juices dripping onto them.

he started grinding his hips and one of his hands went to play with your breast, kneading it in his palm and pinching your nipple every now and then.

roles have switched, he was now teasing you by also bringing his hand down between your legs, his fingers ghosting over your wet pussy, and he started by gathering the arousal from your hole, bringing it up to your clit and rubbing gentle circles that were simply not enough. you were whining and in painful need for more.

“please alex…need you.” you cried out

“what do you need darling?” fucking hell. he was going to make you beg for it, his fingers teasing your hole now, only the very tips slipping in and you moaned as he bit down on your neck, in that spot that made you go crazy for him.

“you baby please. your girl needs your cock now.”

“my girl mhmm…that’s right.” he hummed, pleased with how much you grew to need him so quickly. “then you better be a good girl and take it nice and deep, yeah?”

“yes, i promise.” you said before he even got a chance to finish his sentence, so eager. you needed him right now.

he moved his hand from your breast, snaking it around your waist to hold you tight in place, his other one leaving your pussy. he slipped it between your bodies, going under you, grabbing your ass and lifting you up just a bit so he could push his pants down, together with his underwear, leaving them to fall down to his ankles and rest there, not bothering to slip them off completely with his feet.

he took a hold of his hard cock, brushing the aching tip with his thumb, spreading the precum gathered there down his length, pumping himself a few times before lining it up with your entrance. he played with you once more, holding you so tight that you couldn’t just sink down on him, teasing your empty hole by pushing in just the tip, wanting to hear you beg for it again.

“al fuck me already, this is torture.” you complained to him, you needed him so fucking bad.

“ask nicely…how a truly good girl would say it.”

“santa baby, please fuck me now, please i need you inside me-“

before you could continue to beg him further, and you would’ve, he took a hold of your hips and lowered you down on his cock, both of you moaning in sink at the way it felt. you because of how good he felt finally being inside you, and him because of how your perfect hole took him in, moulded to him, forever just for him.

you started to grind on him, rolling your hips, loving the way he filled you up, but apparently it wasn’t enough for him. he held you by the hips again and started bucking his hips up, and you met his thrust by moving with him. he was so desperate, grunts leaving his throat continuously, combining in a lovely way with your own moans and whimpers. and god how much did the sound of his belly slapping your ass with each one of his hard thrusts turn you on and drive you crazy for him.

but he suddenly stopped and grunted as if defeated and disappointed, and you didn’t know what happened.

“what’s wrong alex?” you questioned, genuinely confused.

“‘s not deep enough. not like it used to, my big fucking belly’s in the way.” he complained, and you looked back at him over your shoulder only to see his face adorned by that little pout he does. he was like a kid mad at his parents cause he couldn’t eat candy before bed. you couldn’t help but laugh softly at how truly sad he looked.

“alex your belly’s so fucking hot stop complaining and fuck me.” you said to him, it hurt you to see him upset over that, but right now you really needed him to fuck you. “is it not good for you?”

“no, it is, but i was worried about you…’s not like it used to, do you even like it?”

“oh baby…you fuck me so good and i love your belly, i’m not just saying it please believe me now” you assured him.

“okay love, fuck you good right?” he seemed back into it, leaving his insecurities out of it for now.

“mhm, so good, you always do” you continued.

he started fucking into you again, this time slow and as deep as he could, he knew you loved it slow and honestly he was tired, the thick costume making him feel too hot.

it was absolutely delicious like that, how you would feel his plump fat head rubbing inside and hitting that spot that made you see stars just perfectly, despite what he said about it ‘not being deep enough’. he was just stupid.

his hand on your waist went to your mouth momentarily. “spit on ‘em baby, get them nice and wet.” he demanded, and you complied instantly, lowering your head to suck on the fingers he put up first, rubbing your tongue along them, tasting yourself from earlier. he slipped them out and you spit on them like he asked. he licked his lips and bit down on the bottom one as he felt your spit running down his fingers. he then brought them back down to rub your clit again, circling it just perfectly, your spit making them slip around just right on the sensitive nub.

you were so close, so was he, you could tell from how he was panting heavily as he continued to fuck into you, biting down on your naked shoulder harshly, making you hiss from the pain but the pleasure drowned it out, far greater than the temporary burn on your skin.

the moment his fingers pushed on your clit just right and he hit that spot deep inside you at the same time was it for you. you came all over his cock and he continued to push you through your orgasm, not giving up his movements on your clit, though his hips were faltering from how you were squeezing his cock so tightly. he fell apart not long after, your still sensitive and pulsating pussy milking him as he came, his warm cum deep inside you filling you up, coating and soothing your used hole.

he laid back on the chair, trying desperately to catch his breath, and you collapsed over him instantly, too fucked out to hold yourself up, his now softening cock still buried inside you.

“wait a second honey, just-“ he pushed you off him so he could take the dumb costume top off once and for all. “don’t know why the fuck i kept that on.” he laughed.

“well, now i can say i fucked santa, right?” you joked, pressing your back against his bare chest, loving the soft sweaty skin sticking to your back.

“that’s right baby” kissing the side of your face and rubbing his face against yours.

“it tickles stop ittt.” you tried to squirm away from his stubbly face but he hugged you tight so you couldn’t get away.

“i love you fucking so much, my girl…my wife…still can’t believe how lucky i got” he confessed.

“i love you forevermore.”

a/n: merry christmas i guess! i literally wrote this impulsively at the christmas family dinner…yeah. enjoy!

tags: @4chaos @picturezonthewall @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @whitepontiac @ohladymoon @rentsturner

[daydreaming-scheming-demon]

people suddenly liking the minecraft movie now, oh, sorry, a minecraft movie, is insane to me.

from the new trailer you can tell theyve changed literally nothing that was criticised with the original trailer. and yet people are still eating it up as if it’s good now. all they did was piece together a slightly better trailer, showing slightly better scenes, but all the scenes from the original trailer are still in the movie yknow.

was all it took really c418’s music, a ‘hello fellow kids’ meme reference, and slightly better editing to get people on board? hello??? they changed NOTHING that was criticised. if this were the first trailer people would be about as critical as they were for the first trailer, but ig the first trailer set everyone’s bar so low that they’ll eat up anything slightly better as a way to cope with the minecraft movie being bad.

if people ate this movie up to begin with id still be mad because of how obviously lazy it is and how they think they can easily make a ton of money just from the movie being a popular ip, which to be fair on them, they absolutely can do that. but it really gets to me that so many people are now turning around and liking it despite seemingly nothing having been changed since the first trailer.

the cgi is still ugly, it still looks like one of those ‘minecraft in real life’ videos. jack black is still a terrible actor, both at acting and at his costume, he’s still just jack black in a blue shirt, and not even a blue shirt accurate to Steve’s blue shirt mind you. it still looks terrible with human characters in the world. it’s still acting like video game logic is this bizarre thing when it’s supposed to be normal. it still looks like it’s going to be all “woah, i placed a block, i placed a block with my mind! okay, i guess that’s a thing i can do now.” it still misunderstands what minecraft is about on a fundamental level trying to act like it’s all about creativity. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. why cant people see that?

[tonyspank]

WH0 R U 3???

Summary: Tara’s worst worries are back. Will they scare you away?

Warnings: kissing (ew! right??), ghostface, violence, and bad writing 😞

A/N: pt.4 finna be a lit crazy movie yall. ALSO WHO’S GHOSTFACE????? who r yall suspecting

part 1 part 2

"That feels so good." Tara groans out, closing her eyes and sinking deeper into the plush covers of your bed. You playfully roll your eyes, continuing to rub her feet. "You're such a drama queen," you tease, a smile playing on your lips. Tara lets out a contented sigh, her body relaxing under your touch.

Tara couldn't be any happier, her worries faded about you. You didn't distance yourself from her, if anything, you were the one who started approaching her, texting her random thoughts throughout the day, and surprising her with little gestures of affection.

She had never felt so loved and cherished before. As the days went by, Tara realized that her heart was slowly healing from past hurts, thanks to your unwavering presence in her life. Your constant support and affection made her feel secure and valued, allowing her to let go of her to fully embrace the happiness you brought into her life.

"Have you thought about it?" Tara asks. You snap your eyes from your daydream and meet her gaze. "I can't come to the party, sorry, Tara."

Tara lets out a dramatic groan, "The frat won't even care! You're a cool professor!"

You chuckle, "Maybe...but that's just unprofessional. If someone reports me to the university, it could jeopardize my job. I can't take that risk." Tara pouts, and then a lightbulb clicks in her head.

"What if you wore a mask?" Tara's eyes light up with excitement as she suggests, "You could disguise yourself and go incognito! No one would recognize you!"

You actually consider her idea for a moment, it could be a fun and safe way to attend the party without risking your professional reputation or job.

"Uhh..." you hesitate a bit, unsure if wearing a mask would fully protect your identity. However, the thought of attending the party without any consequences is tempting, and you begin to seriously consider Tara's suggestion. "I guess I could do that."

Tara's eyes light up with excitement as she hears your response. "Yes!" she exclaims, sitting up quickly before pulling you into a passionate kiss. You begin laughing in the kiss, bringing Tara into a hug as you place more kisses on her cheek.

-

"I'm having second thoughts." You mumble to Tara, now dressed as Batman, her matching as Catwoman. Tara playfully rolls her eyes, taking your hand and dragging you quicker towards the Halloween party. "Come on, don't be a party-pooper," she teases, smiling widely in excitement.

You both enter the Halloween party hand in hand, met with half-drunk college students dancing and mingling in their elaborate costumes.

"There's Mindy and Anika! I'll be right back, I'm gonna go say hello." You watch as Tara weaves through the crowd, disappearing into the sea of costumes. You stand there alone a loud sigh escaping your lips.

You walk into the kitchen, deciding to get a drink for both you and Tara. You don't get too far as you're stopped by a ghost.

"Can you hold this for me? I'll be really quick, I just have to use the bathroom." The girl hands you her ghost costume, rushing off in the direction of the bathroom.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Tara, grinning mischievously. "Changing costumes?" You chuckle and shake your head. "No, just holding it for someone. They'll be back soon." Tara raises an eyebrow curiously. You put the ghost costume over the two of you, smiling.

"I like this mask." You say, tracing over Tara's very accurate copy of Zoe Kravitz's Catwoman mask. Tara smirks and says, "Thank you." You snicker, smiling back at her before bringing her into a kiss.

Tara tries her hardest not to break the kiss with her wide smile. You made her so happy.

Suddenly, the blanket is pulled off of you both, revealing the owner of the costume. Tara ducks away, walking back towards the living room with a bashful expression.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know—"

You cut her off with a wave. "You're fine, don't worry about it."

The owner of the costume smiles, walking away towards the kitchen. Tara blushes and shyly joins you again, causing you to chuckle. "Why'd you run? I thought the mask helped cover my identity?"You ask in a teasing tone, playfully nudging Tara.

She giggles, grabbing your hand and leading you further into the party.

"Batman!" You recognize the voice calling out to you. You turn to see Mindy, who ushers you over. You exchange a quick glance with Tara before making your way towards Mindy, with a bit of hesitation in your steps.

"Professor Y/LN, are you trying to duck me?" Mindy asks with a mischievous grin, causing you to laugh nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. How on earth did Mindy know it was you?

You try to play it cool, putting on a fake Russian accent—a bad one too. "Uh...Professor? I don't know of such guy." Mindy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. "Come on, I know it's you. No need for the accent," she says, smirking.

You sheepishly drop the accent, realizing that there's no fooling Mindy.

Anika joins in, "If you really wanted to hide your identity, you shouldn't have matched with Tara. I mean, who else has she been talking to lately? It's not exactly a secret that you two have been spending a lot of time together."

Mindy and Anika nod at each other in sync, leaving you feeling even more exposed.

"Can you guys, like...not pester Y/N? It's a party for Christ's sake," Tara interjects, coming to your defense. Mindy and Anika exchange surprised glances before finally relenting.

You breathe a sigh of relief before feeling yourself being pulled again.

You end up upstairs in an empty bedroom, sitting on the bed as Tara huffs to herself. She seems frustrated and agitated, her hands clenched into fists.

You can sense that she has something to say, but she struggles to find the right words. You take off your mask, sit up from the bed, and walk over to your girlfriend.

As you approach Tara, you gently place a hand on her shoulder, silently conveying your support and willingness to listen. Her tense expression softens slightly, and she takes a deep breath before finally finding the right words to speak her mind.

"I just wish we could be together without everyone judging us," Tara whispers. "It's exhausting constantly worrying about who sees us or what others will think or say about our relationship." You nod understandingly, softly grabbing her hand.

"Me too, T." You rub your thumb against the back of her hand, smiling. "If my job wasn't on the line, I would shout from the rooftops how much I adore you. But even though I can't, I hope you know I do truly cherish you."

Tara smiles. "I think I got that when you started giving me foot massages without protest." You chuckle, slightly rolling your eyes. "Yeah, I guess my secret is out."

Tara places a hand on the back of your neck, leaning in closer. "Well, lucky for you, I adore you too," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

Without breaking the kiss, you lift Tara, walking backwards, before laying her down on the bed and taking off her Catwoman mask.

Your favorite sound is heard—Tara's soft laughter playing in your ears. You break away from the kiss, kissing her face and neck. "I can't get enough of you," you confess, trailing kisses down her collarbone. Tara's fingers tangle in your hair as she pulls your mouth back toward hers.

"Tara!" You jump away from the girl, quickly trying to compose yourself. "Chad? What are you doing here?" Tara asks sitting up from the bed, surprised to see Chad standing in the doorway. You find your mask and turn around to see one of your students in the doorway, looking confused.

"Uh...Sam...Sam's here. She's downstairs looking for you." He stammers, his eyes darting between you and Tara. Tara glances at you, grabbing up her mask, before rushing out of the room to find Sam, Chad not too far behind.

You linger in the bedroom, not wanting to face Sam, and when you finally gather the courage to go downstairs, you slip out of the party and make your way home. Hoping your girlfriend isn't in too much trouble with her older sister.

When you're at home, fresh out of the shower, your phone begins ringing. Without even looking at the caller ID, you answer it. "Tara?"

The voice on the other end of the line is not Tara's, but it sounds very familiar. "So sorry to disappoint, but this isn't Tara." You furrow your brow in confusion, trying to place the voice.

"Who is this?" you ask, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"Now, where would the fun be in telling you that?" the voice teases. "You know, you should stay away from Tara."

You remember the voice. Ghostface—was this real? Or was this Laura pretending again?

Your mind races as you try to comprehend the situation.

No, it couldn't be. "Laura? Is this you?" The voice chuckles softly. "Why don't you turn on the news and see what happened to your co-worker? Maybe then you'll begin to understand this isn't some silly prank call."

No, it can't be.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the remote, flipping on the television. The news anchor's voice fills the room, confirming your worst fears - Laura's lifeless body had been found just hours ago.

"You see, Y/N? It's easy to get away with murder. Do you want to be the next professor on the list?" Your heart races as you try to comprehend the chilling words. You might be the next target of this deranged individual.

You run to your kitchen, all your knives are gone. Fuck! They had to be inside your apartment, but when?

Immediately, you run to your front door, opening it quickly, your eyes widening when Ghostface stands there, holding a knife and wearing a menacing mask.

You don't have any time to react. Ghostface stabs you in the shoulder, sending a searing pain through your body. The adrenaline kicks in, and you manage to push Ghostface away, slamming your door shut.

You quickly lock the door, desperately searching for a way to defend yourself.

Ghostface starts to kick on your door, trying to break it down. Panicking, you grab a nearby heavy object, ready to defend yourself if necessary. The kicks grow louder and more forceful, and you brace yourself for what might come next, prepared to protect yourself at all costs.

Ghostface successfully breaks down the door, lunging towards you with a knife. With quick reflexes, you swing the heavy object at Ghostface, making contact and momentarily stunning them. Seizing the opportunity, you sprint towards the front door and down your apartment steps.

You don't look back, you keep sprinting as fast as your legs can carry you. You manage to make it to the crowded streets, where you blend in with the bustling city dwellers.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you search for a safe place to hide, constantly glancing over your shoulder to ensure Ghostface isn't following.

A body clashes with yours, you jump slightly and instinctively brace yourself for an attack, but it's just...Tara?

"Tara?" you say, slightly out of breath. "W-what? Why..? What are you doing here?" Tara looks at you, confused but mostly relieved.

"Sam left the apartment to go to the police station after we saw the news of Professor Crane... I was just worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. And I...I was scared and wanted to be with you." Tara explains, her eyes staring into yours, full of vulnerability.

But it's soon replaced with worry, her eyes finding their way to your bloody shoulder. But it's soon replaced with worry, her eyes finding their way to your bloody shoulder.

She gasps and softly pulls you closer to examine the wound.  'What happened? Are you okay?"

"Ghostface called me and attacked me. Fucking lunatic was outside my apartment," you say through gritted teeth, wincing as Tara's gentle touch brushes against the wound. "He said something about staying away from you."

Tara's concern deepens as she hears your explanation, her brows furrowing in both fear and anger, regardless, she stays silent, unsure of what to say.

You clench your jaw. "But that's not happening, T. I won't let him scare me away. I adore you, remember?"