#halloween fluff

[mxltifxnd0m]

𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗔 𝗩𝗦 𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦

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Summary: You and Stiles can’t choose a couples costume

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x fem! Reader, Scott McCall x platonic fem! Reader 

Words: 1.6K

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Warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, language, suggestive, spicy, implied smut, BUT NO SMUT, kinda a college au!

A/N: This was intended to be released in October, but I could not figure out how to finish it for my life. But hey, better late than never, am I right? Anyway I had no clue that Han and Leia’s ship name was Scoundress, but the more you know. Also, it is my first time writing for Stiles!

not beta read but YOLO

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

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"I don't know why you insist we should be Anakin and Padme! We would fit Leia and Han more for Halloween." Stiles whispered harshly, not looking up from the notebook that he was scribbling in.

You roll your eyes at him, "What are you talking about? I said we could do either, but I'd prefer if we were Anakin and Padme." You whisper to him. His head snaps up to protest, but a chair scrapes along the carpeted floor and interrupts Stiles. 

"There you guys are! I was wondering where you were." Scott says a little too loud, and the people at the other tables surrounding you and Stiles give Scott a dirty look.

"Scott, I know you don't visit the library often, but we typically use our inside voices." You whisper as he sits down next to Stiles. Scott shoots you a glare. 

"Anyways, I disagree. We should be Leia and Han, and that's final." You can see that Stiles is done with the conversation.

You squint suspiciously at your boyfriend, "You just want to see me in Leia's slave outfit from ROTJ, don't you?" You can see a red flush creep up Stiles's face and the tips of his ear as he stammers, trying to defend himself before giving up and returning to his notes. You chuckled under your breath to avoid disturbing the other students. 

Scott looks between the two of you, confused, "What are you guys even talking about?" 

"We are trying to figure out what costume we will wear to the party your frat is hosting." You explain, your voice low, "But we are split between two costumes. I want us to be Anakin and Padme, but Stiles-" He snaps up at the call of his name, focusing on the conversation, "-wants us to be Leia and Han." You glare at Stiles. 

"I thought Luke and Leia were together?" Scott says cluelessly. Both you and Stiles groan loudly at Scott's words. A girl from a nearby table glares at you and shushes you. You apologize quietly and turn your gaze to Scott. 

"We've gone over this before Scott. Luke and Leia are siblings, and Han and Leia are together. Do you just forget the movies as soon as we watch them?" Stiles asked exasperatedly. 

"No, I tend to fall asleep halfway through the marathons," Scott says guiltily as he scratches the back of his neck. Stiles closes his eyes and uses his hand to rub his face frustratedly. Stiles murmured something under his breath, and Scott's face screwed up into an offended expression.  

"I heard that." 

"Yeah, no shit, you did. I'm the one who said it for your little werewolf ears to hear." Stiles scoffed quietly at Scott. 

Scott goes to retort, but you snap your fingers twice to get their attention. "As much as I would love to see the two of you bicker, we all know how loud you guys get when you do, and I don't fancy getting kicked out of the library." You smile sardonically at them. They roll their eyes at you but yelp in pain as you lean over the table and tug their ears. 

"Could you guys be quiet? Some people are studying." The girl from earlier whispered firmly to you guys. 

You wince at her tone, "Sorry, we're leaving now." You whispered. You glared at Scott and Stiles and started to pack up your things to leave the library. Stiles scrambled to pack his things, and the two boys followed you outside the library. 

Stiles wraps an arm around your shoulder as you walk through the quad. You thread your fingers through his hand, and he squeezes your hand three times. The annoyed expression melted off your face, and a smile replaced it. You take a quick glance at your phone, checking the time. 

Your eyes widen, "Shit! I have to go! My class starts in 10 minutes." You untangle yourself, "Our discussion isn't over." You tell Stiles before separating yourself from him, pecking his cheek, and waving goodbye at the both of them as you speed walk to your class. 

»——•——«»——•——«

The sound of a keyboard clacking echoes through your silent bedroom. You're hunched over your laptop on your bed as you work on one of your papers for your English class. Lofi beats play quietly in your headphones as you read through your paper for the final time before returning to it tomorrow to edit it. A knock at your bedroom door catches your attention. 

"Yeah, what's up?" You say to your roommate as she peaks her head into your room. 

"You have a visitor." She says with a knowing smirk on her face. 

You roll your eyes at her, smiling, "Tell him he's actually banned from the apartment, then let him in." You instruct as you remove your headphones and stretch your back from your hunched position.  

She nods and closes your door before leaving. You can hear the voice of your roommate and Stiles's voice talking lowly in the apartment's entryway. You hear a scoff from Stiles and footsteps quickly entering the apartment and heading toward your room. He burst through your door, pointing at you. 

"You are so mean, you know that?" Stiles says with a slight pout on his face. He removed his backpack and toed off his shoes to leave near your door. He stands in the doorframe for a moment before you see a mischievous glint passes through his eye, and you catch it. 

"Stiles." You say his name warningly. 

He sends you an innocent smile before quickly running towards you and jumping onto your bed. You yelp loudly, closing your laptop and moving it out of the way of Stiles's landing. He lands on top of you, effectively pinning you to the bed. You can feel Stiles's chest move from his giggling fit as you try to squirm from underneath him. You give up after trying to push him off of you and thread your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. He relaxes on top of you, settling his total weight on you. After a few minutes, he eventually rolls off you and sits on your bed.

"Any reason as to why you're at my apartment?" You ask him as you sit up and shift until your back rests against your headboard. You go to grab your laptop, but it's quickly moved from out of your reach, and you turn to glare at your boyfriend. 

"Oh, don't give me that look, you know what that does to me babe." Stiles sarcastically as he moves your laptop to your desk. 

"Besides, I'm here to present my argument as to why we should be Han and Leia for Halloween and not Anakin and Padme." Stiles moves closer to you and boops your nose after he finishes his sentence. You scrunch your nose at his actions and shake your head at him.  

"Nope, not going to hear it." 

He groans loudly, "I knew I shouldn't have asked you out, you prefer the prequels over the originals." He flops down on your bed, his head landing on your lap as his legs dangle over the side of the bed. 

"Is that your way of saying that we should break up?" You raise an eyebrow at him. 

He shot up from your lap, "NO! Absolutely not. You're like the woman of my dreams. I'd be an idiot if I broke up with you. Especially with the amount of shit we went through together in high school. I actually had dreams about marrying you, so-" His hands wave wildly as he begins to ramble. You roll your eyes at him and grab his chin to kiss his mouth to shut him up. He immediately shuts up and melts into the kiss. You peck his lips before pulling away. 

"You're such a dork." You smile at Stiles. 

"You're dating this dork." 

"Yeah, maybe Lydia was right. I am out of your league." You joke, and a noise of offense comes from Stiles. You chuckle at his pouty expression and peck his lips.

"I'm kidding babe." You say as you pull away. You move around the bed to straddle him, your thighs on either of his hips, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you rest your arms on his shoulders. 

"How about we make a compromise? We go as Anakin and Padme this year, and then we can go as Han and Leia next Halloween." Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but you quickly put a finger in front of his lips. 

"I wasn't done, and to sweeten the deal, I'll wear Leia's slave outfit underneath both costumes." You lean closer to Stiles, "How does that sound." You whisper seductively in his ear and plant a kiss underneath it before pulling back to see his whiskey-colored eyes darkening slightly with desire. His hands tighten around your waist before flipping the two of you around, you landing on your back. At the same time, Stiles settles in between your open legs and hovering above you. 

"It doesn't sound fair, but if you wear the outfit often then I'll let it slide." He says lowly, lowering his face closer to yours. 

"Deal." You say breathily, your lips brushing his as you speak. 

"Deal." He says before smashing his lips against yours passionately. Your hands begin to wander and tug at each other's clothes. The room slowly grows hot and fills with low groans and whines coming from both of you. After you finished, you guys showered, went out to get the costumes, and tried them on when you returned to the apartment. 

Let's just say the slave outfit came off as soon as you put it on. 

#daisy writes #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x female reader #stiles stilinski x fem reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fluff #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x y/n #halloween fluff #teen wolf x reader

[mrsjellymunson]

Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.

#eddie munson #stranger things #Halloween #Halloween fic #Halloween Eddie Munson fic #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #dark fic #Halloween fic prompts #hardware store fic #Catt writes #my writing #my first long fic pls be kind #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson x gn!reader #Halloween fluff #forensics fic #writing prompt challenge #stranger #hello stranger #mob cleaner fic #mob cleaner!Eddie Munson #gn!reader #niche fic #weird and owning it #some of these things are true #Halloween writing prompt #dark!Eddie Munson

[demonic-charcuterie]

https://youtu.be/8GBJ_C2ERDo?si=tOqFE2ENBGvWoEYN

Love your helluva boss mob boss!reader sorry for all the rude and demanding asks your getting but happy late Halloween<33

Would it be okay for me to request mob boss!reader and fizz and Ozzie Halloween fluff?? If not it's okay! And take your time!

Thank you so much! I had so much fun writing that! If it’s fluff you want it’s fluff you will receive! Ps. I love love love getting requests so pleaseeeee ask for some more.

You,Fizz, and Ozzie didn’t celebrate Halloween a lot before they met you. Mostly because they were to busy. Ozzie was building new Halloween special “adult projects” and Fizz was throwing special events. And you…you were a mob boss and don’t think you’d have time for that when you were bashing heads in.

All those things were great but you never had time to decorate or hand out candy or watch scary movies at midnight because you dog piled on each other. Fizzy wrapped his tail around you and you all just passed out.

But this you changed that, you went all out on Halloween and you didn’t cater to the masses. You were so clueless, you heard “scary” and ran with. You didn’t hang up cute little pumpkins or some shit like that, oh hell no. Your pumpkins had their seedy guts spread out on the lawn like a orange bloody pumpkin massacre. You bought those electric spider that ran around when they were exposed to light.

Ozzie and Fizz where out while you baking red velvet cookies when a bullet shot right past your ear causing a moment of deafness. This was like the 9th time someone tried to kill you this month. You always tried your hardest to hide that you were sneaking into the lust ring to visit them but ever since Ozzie revealed that he loved Fizz you tried less to hide it and now things like this happen a lot more often.

When Fizz and Ozzie got home you had just finished shoving his dead body out of the window. “O-oh sorry babe it didn’t mean to make a mess-” You said gesturing to the bloody walls and kitchen counter tops with a tray of cookies on the table.

“Y/n…this is amazing!” Fizz said pulling you into a long sweet kiss. “W-what the bloo-“ you began but Ozzie cut you off. “This blood looks so real, oh and you baked cookies!” Ozzie said picking you up. You smiled shyly as he lifted you.

“Well thanks, I worked hard on this!” You said as he put you down. “I have a surprise for you two.” You said running up down the hallway and coming back with a box. “Open this.”

Fizz ripping open the box and pulled out a skeleton onesie. You reached into the box and pulled out yours. “I got a matching pjs! I couldn’t get one made in your true from Ozzie but could you please shape shift?” You asked while handing him his large onesie. He nodded and struck down.

X

“What are these?” Ozzie said pulled out children’s cutting knifes and a giant sheet of plastic. “We’re pumpkin carving!” You exclaimed. “And I didn’t wanna get the floor dirty. I figured we could watch some horror movies while we have a carving contest.” You smile shyly at the both of them. “I know..it was stupid you don’t have to-“

You were cut off at Ozzie who pulled you into a deep kiss. “We love it!” Fizz said smiling while wrapping his arm around you.

(A few hours later.)

You and Fizz you laying on Ozzie’s chest with some random black in right movie rolling in the background. A random shriek woke you up and the boys are and you all looked at each other before bursting out laughing and falling back into the pillow. “This was a great Halloween babe” Ozzie said.

“Yeah it really was.” Fizz said before kissing your forehead.

I really hope you liked this one, I realized the mob boss could’ve been more scary i guess but I really like this one.

#fizzarolli x asmodeus #asmodeus x fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #fizzarolli #fizzmodeus #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #halloween fluff #halloween

[punk-in-docs]

Hi love! I’m not sure if I requested this here or not (so if I did please ignore this and know I’m terribly sorry for asking again, I have a garbage memory) but if I didn’t, can I request an Eddie x reader fic where they’ve been in an established relationship (maybe like a year or 2). How do you think they would celebrate their anniversary? Like how do you think Eddie would be in particular, cuz I can see that lovable goofball being an anxious mess because he wants to do so much. But I’m interested to see what you think would happen in this sort of scenario, cuz you write Eddie so damn good ;)

Ok ok hear me out on this one cause I can so picture something: and it goes a little like this-

🍁love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you🍁

Eddie yowled in front of you like a startled cat. You’d swear if he could, he’d raise his spiky hackles on end.

Does that thing with his arms, where he goes all shrivelled and squirrely. Mouth wide and shaped like a kidney bean as he shrieks.

Bravely though, batting the stuffed clowns cackling head, that just sprang out the shredded walls at you.

You’re lost wandering deep within the twisted seedy belly of the haunted house maze.

He punched his fist into the soft squish of the dummies head. Tufts of coarse blueberry coloured hair. Bulging chilli red eyes popping out at the pair of you. Grin all macabre on its stupid rubbery painted face.

He hates clowns. Doesn’t even like the one in that Bowie video.

“Fucker.” He hissed as he swiped at it again. Heart racing hummingbird fast in his throat.

Crushed his metal rings into it again, just because. Grits his teeth. He’s on edge.

Why did he agree to this scare jumping, spine chilling fuckery again-

Cause it’s stupid and fun. Get in the Halloween spirit. You’d said.

Then gave him a deep, beautiful kiss that was all toffee apple and pink pink cotton candy. Your tongue furred with sugar and, damn, how he suddenly forgot why he was ever mad. Haunted what? Scared, who?

“I do not like this.” He tells you.

Kept telling you, actually. His eyes go darting around corners. Gaze scanning ahead like you were tiptoeing enemies in a live war-zone.

“You’ve said that already.”

“And you apparently didn’t want to listen. So I’ll say it, once more, with feeling- I DON’T like this.” He repeats. Voice rising to a pitchy squeak.

He jiggles on the spot. Cagey. Jesus H Christ.

“Never again. I promise.” You smooth a hand to his chest and pat him on his Judas Priest shirt. Leaves warmth where you touch him that he’s too scared to enjoy right now.

“I mean what’s so wrong with the fucking bumper cars, honey? They don’t have dead fake mangled things everywhere with stuff popping out the walls- shit.”

He backs away sidewards, whimpers, edges away sudden, the wall next to him is broken wood slats and nails, with stubby zombie hands now poking through. Black rotting nails all split, half eaten flesh all green, yellow dirty bones exposed. Grunts of the undead leak through from the other side. Searching for your living juicy meat.

“I ain’t got any brains for you to eat. Morons. Go swivel.” He defends. It makes you smile.

“You like horror movies, Eddie, I thought you’d find it cool.” You try to offer in your own defence for getting you both in here.

His hand squeezes yours. Tight. Clammy with sweat.

“You can turn a movie off. Princess. You can press pause or take the video out, leave the room. It’s a small screen you can manage. I didn’t say ‘yeah sure, honey, drop me onto the fucking set of Night of the living dead. I don’t mind’.” He snaps quickly in parody. He doesn’t mean it nastily.

Despite everything, you can’t help it. You chuckle. He looks at you with a very specific look in his eyes.

You feel his hands grip for your hips in your pretty dress. He comes up right close behind you. You feel his hair brushing dry at the back of your neck. His lips skate against the crown of your head.

“Oh you’re so in for it if we make it out of here alive.”

“Theres optimism.” You rib at him. Reaching back to cup your hand over his cheekbone.

“Vamonos.” He encourages. Sneaking down and patting your ass softly.

You pass along a section of hallway where the lights blink, maniacal Vincent Price-esque laughs bubble up all around you. Rolling through the maze and snatching at your running heels.

Ghosts in jangling dragging chains with arms outstretched. Apple green eyes glowing under the white sheet. Groans and wails. The lilac purple gothic room full of creepy eyeless dolls, a chirpy lullaby from a demented music box tinkling away.

‘Help’ crudely scrawled on the walls in sticky fingertip blood, hand smears too, in the mouldy white tiles of the crazy surgeons dungeon. Screams pierce. Fake amputated limbs scattered across the operating table. Blood tinged saws and knives.

Now. He goes into his famous Munson defence mode. Scurrying along and keeping you pulled behind him. Arms braced out with you bracketed between them. Pulling you into his back and offering his own front as your shield.

The Dio vested Knight he was, all chivalry and manners, putting himself at risk for love of you. His maiden. His one. Maid Marian to his Robin Hood. Or more likely, as he liked to think of it, Marianne Faithfull to his Mick Jagger. Much cooler.

You looped your fingers through his. Pulling him back to your side.

“Don’t worry. I’ll always protect you, big boy.” You wink at him. Makes his heart squeeze and flash faster when you do that. You lean in and nuzzle a kiss onto his jaw.

He pulls you in closer. Your chest brushing into his. A twitchy sort of frenzy on his face.

“I just want you to know. If we weren’t in this hellscape. I would be making out with you so hard right now.”

“Noted.” You beam. Pulling him along again, shadows roll and flick over a movement down the corridor in your peripheral. You strong arm him away before the chain saw guy with the peeling rubber face and “human skin” mask could catch you.

That split cherry soft of your grin. He’s so soft for it. Lips pink from that watermelon balm you use that he never lets linger for too long. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like the silky taste.

You laugh and shriek when a guy in a skeleton costume, comes bursting cunningly out the slanted shadows of a corner.

“Leaving so soon?” He snarls.

“Eat shit, bonehead.” Eddie fairly screeches, and tugs you along with him. Body blocking you. Reeling you along to, hopefully, the fucking exit of this creepy hell hole.

Halle-fucking-lujah. It’s up ahead on the right. The lovely big green arrows pointing to the exit. Salvation. Freedom.

He yanks on your wrist and you run full speed towards it. Ghoul hands painted blue make one last attempt to rip at your clothes. Eddie bats them away.

Not today fuckers. Me and my lady getting out of here-

It’s definitely a relief when you come to the cooling wash of night air outside. It was stuffy inside. The cramped space choking with the smell of warm tacky plastic, and stale air lining the horror laden walls. The night air is so thick and blue out here you could drink it. Sticky opium of a bruising fall night.

The air is throbbing deep with autumnal scents. Warm bubbling cider. Fried funnel cakes. Buttery caramel popcorn and soft pretzels studded with salt. That definable gooey orange scent that comes gouged out the insides of pumpkins, pitted with seeds.

The wind isn’t threaded with a biting cold yet, but it promises too, as the treacly night drags on. Leaves, the colour of gold and apricot, crunch and snap under your feet.

Your favourite time of year. The best. The slice of the cold that has you reaching for chunky sweaters. Cold knifing rain on grey dour windows and gloomy days. Splashing your boots into autumn puddles mucked with leaves.

Horror movies, carving pumpkins, and baking orange and black sprinkle cookies with Eddie in the trailer.

He always went full tilt overkill and added way way too many sprinkles. More sprinkles than cookie, really. Lacing the place with the scents of sugar and vanilla dough. And home. Sitting out on the porch with a warm cider in your hands chatting to Wayne as he smokes. Laughing at Eddie whining about washing the dishes- getting excited that the cookies were rising too.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Scanning up at the haunted house maze you’d just stumbled through. His hand still very much clutched on yours. He meant what he said. He’d never let go. Eddie keeps his word.

Although the truth be told, he made you promise you wouldn’t let his hand go the second you stepped inside that maze.

You hadn’t let go of this hand for two years. You weren’t planning to start now.

And yes, the full fact of being here again is crashing into your gut. Making you all mushy swooning and sentimental. It was your tradition after all-

“Come on. Handsome. Let’s go. I’ll buy you a corn dog as a reward for being so tough back in there. Protecting me.” You nudge his arm to bring him in.

He steps towards you and curls you into them. Rubbing his arms along your sides. Looping hands around the back of your waist. He doesn’t say anything but he’s definitely smiling down at you. His belly pressed to you. Tilts his head. Pensive look on his face.

You’re touching in so many places. All tangled and wrapped up in leather and denim like you usually are around him.

“What is it?” You ask him. Scanning that maniacal face and those deep puddles of oozing chocolate eyes for an answer.

“It’s been two years. To the exact day.” He says softly. His thumbs smoothing over the backs of your hips.

You smile at his recounting it. “Believe me. Munson. I remember.”

“We were arguing. On top of that very Ferris wheel. Two years ago. When I first asked you out.” He points behind your hip with his finger.

Up towards the huge circular ride studded with yellow and red bulbs all the way around. A huge golden eye of dragging slow metal brushed against the navy sky.

“I was winning the argument by the way.”

“You always do. Cause I’m such a peach. I let you.” He winks. Grins all big. Shiny teeth.

Mainly he loses cause he just skips up to you like a jester, spins you around, and kisses you until you’re smiling again.

“…And it was the fourth time you asked me out. To which I finally relented, and said yes. Only if I can pick the movie and we can get cotton candy afterwards.” You beamed.

“You didn’t tell me you very vehemently hated heights.” He teased.

“I went on that ride for the excuse of being sat next to you for ten minutes, you dope.” You tell him.

It rips a chuckle out that pillowy lovely mouth. You slip your arms around the back of his neck. Sway into him. Narrow your eyes when he laughed.

“It worked. I got to kiss you and I got a date. Even if you did break all the bones in my hand you squeezed it so hard.” He recalled. He had blue knuckles for three weeks. Swollen sore. He couldn’t play guitar for a month.

He drags one curled knuckle over your cheek. Those eyes of yours he loves - the eyes he’s a servant too - are brimming golden, bursting with the fairground lights glimmering all around you. Threaded chilli red in your hair too.

“And you bought me the most huge pink cotton candy I’d ever seen.”

“Shaped like a fucking heart.” He smiled.“You feral little thing. Ate it all in ten minutes.”

“You helped.” You pointed out.

He leaned in and brushed his nose across your cheek. Into the nest of your hair. Kisses your jaw. You chuckled and slipped your arm up his back.

“Kissed most of it off your lips.” He remembers in a soft mumble, with a waggle of those brows. Lips planted against your cheek. Tone dipping naughtily into flirt.

Kissed and kissed until the sugar made him feel sick. Now he knew what the term lovesick meant. His metal and thorn wrapped rocker heart you had cupped safely in your hands. He’d never have it any other way.

You yank your hand into the back of his wild hair. Hold him still as you devour his lips with yours. Taste the Marlboro smoke that lived at a permanent address on his tongue. Pipped with the sweet toffee from the apple you’d both pecked at earlier. He’d kissed and bitten his pieces of apple right out your offered mouth.

Tasty as fuck, he’d said. He hadn’t even meant the apple.

He moans and you feel it shoot and slice to your belly. Gut punch love. His moans- they are better than music.

He cups you and keeps you yanked firm against his front as he kisses you back. Sneaks his tongue into your mouth, and the way it brushes yours makes your knees whirl all useless.

Damn his tongue should be criminal to be that good-

You don’t care that crowds of people are cutting around where you’re making out with your boyfriend. It was a carnival. High schoolers were dating and kissing horny all over the damn place.

What was one more star studded couple with hearts lodged in their eyes?

You cross your arms around the back of his neck. He tips into you. Skims his big warm hands up the backs of your smooth thighs. Resists cupping your ass in public- he should really get a medal for that. C’mon-

When you pull back, he chases after your mouth. Greedy and always so. Not ready for it to be over yet. He’s never ready to stop kissing you.

“Kettle corn. A pink lemonade. And a corn dog. Final offer.” You smile at him. An effective bargaining chip you kept in your pocket. Plying him with food as persuasion.

The way into Eddie Munson’s heart was occasionally via a funky reroute to his stomach.

You’re shameless and it works.

“Sold.” He grins. Enjoying the hell out of the way your tits are crushed to his chest right now.

“…Then the Ferris Wheel, honey.” He smirks with a pure maniacal grin of evil. “You can break my fingers again. I’ll let you.”

“This is you getting your own back for the haunted maze isn’t it.” You wilfully decide. That stubborn jut of your chin. Unimpressed eyes scratching daggers at him.

“My hand hasn’t left yours for two years. Sweet cheeks. Not gonna start now.” He beams.

He loops an arm over your shoulder. Steers you towards the corn dog stand. You tangle your steps alongside his. Slide your arm across his trim waist. His leather arm cold around your shoulder.

“Then after the food and the Ferris wheel. I’m gonna take you back to the van. And do filthy filthy things to you, whilst the firework show bursts across the sky.” The way his lips brush the shell of your ear makes your thighs wobble and shoot with sensation.

“Filthy you say?” You ask with hot blood gathering up in your cheeks. Gold lights bloom in his dark eyes like round petals. Dazzling.

“Yep.” He pops the p.

“Gonna lick you real slow. Make you yelp. Then just gonna slide my tongue right in, far as I can, I’m not gonna be stopping until you melt. Right into my mouth.” He decides with a playful little kiss to your jaw.

Goddamn it this boy knows how to make your pussy throb and clench.

“Is this all part of your grand revenge plan?” You seek.

“No. Baby. Just a damn good way to spend a Friday night with my favourite chick.”

Your heart is all melty. Slipping down the insides of your butter soft ribs. You do so love this man with every single tiny atom of your being.

“I thought your guitar was your favourite chick?” You play.

He grins. Chucked all sweet. “Nah. You feed me. You win hands down babe.”

~

Tagging some Munson babes; @indouloureux @youaremyfamiliar @fujiihime @groupie-love-71 @stiegasaw @thelyingpierrot @munsonquinns @captain-tch @ramona-thorns @starbxcks @morganamoonstone

#i would die for this man #eddie munson #punkwrites #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x female reader #eddie my beloved #eddie my boy #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #thank you babe #thank you nonny #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff #Halloween fluff #with this fall aesthetic #Eddie x #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

[divine-knight-hand]

And so, the moon rises on a new, chilling occasion

Amidst a season of falling leaves and rising screams, a certain knight faces herself with the honor of celebrating her favorite holiday. Using the materials and imagination at her disposal, she's brought together a spooky triple feature starring some of her favorite characters from different medias.

Her intentions began pure, but as she breathed life into each inspiring vision, the last of her works began to toe the line between horror and lust. Now you must decide. Will you choose to follow the allure of the darkness, madness, and sex promised by the knight's creations three?

Key: ☁️ - Fluff ❤️- Smut

**Be warned that this event is not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for minors!!! Only interact with this if you're 18+ and able to handle the warnings listed with each title below!!!**

Dividers by @silkholland

The Fluffy First: ☁️ Imagine Looking for Wanda at a Halloween Party (Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader) || AO3 Link

The final installment of Our Wonderful Witch in Red (Rewritten). Wanda goes off alone at a Halloween party, and not a single Avenger knows where she is... Content Warnings: Some confrontational situations and traces of angst. After that, fluffiness all the way! Word Count: 2,874

The Sinister Second: ❤️ The Ball of the Red Death (Prince!Loki Laufeyson x Enchantress!Female Reader) || AO3 Link

A royal feast being converted to a royal ball at the last minute by the god of mischief's mad magic-wielding lover, who just so happens to have an Edgar Allen Poe obsession. What could possibly go wrong? Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, discussions of death and mortality at length, implied major character death (you just really have to squint), use of enchantment, unprotected sex, mind reading/communication during sex, use of magic during sex, momentary clothed sex, porn with way way too much plot Word Count: 6,905

The Final Chase: ❤️ Night of The Maneater (Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader)

Part 1: The Chase || AO3 Link

Part 2: The Catch || AO3 Link

Since the destruction of Fazbear's Fright, Michael could finally celebrate Halloween in peace, but with a new serial killer on the loose known only by the name "The Maneater", how long will his night stay that way? Content Warnings: Stalking, mentions of death and killing, descriptions of fear and creepy scenarios, death threats, sexual themes, light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise Part 1 Word Count: 4,352 Part 2 Word Count: 2,378

#halloween #halloween smut #halloween fluff #halloween fanfic #spooky season #horror fanfiction #smut #fluff #wanda maximoff #loki laufeyson #michael afton #marvel fanfic #fnaf fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda fluff #loki x reader #loki smut #michael afton x reader #michael afton smut #loki #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson smut #marvel smut #marvel fluff #fnaf smut #fnaf #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #five nights at freddy's

[alohastyles-x]

Halloween Traditions - e.m.

Summary: Just some Halloween Fluff with Eddie :)

Warnings: none, pure fluff, but reader does have a happy relationship with parents.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Eddie Munson

Word count: 1.9k

Notes: Continuing spooky szn with a little fluffy piece! More Horror Stories to come! Join in on  my House or Horror Stories Event!

House of Horror Sdtories Masterlist

Halloween was one of your favorite holidays. Between the candy, the scary movies, creepy decor and getting to dress up however you wanted, nothing could top it. Especially this year since you were spending it with your boyfriend, Eddie Munson. 

You had a whole night planned, starting with baking spooky desserts, popping in a thriller, and topping it all off with some Halloween fun… just the two of you. Excitement rose in you as the clock ticked away, counting down the seconds, minutes, and hours until Eddie could come over. 

However, he had other plans in mind. You didn’t tell him your plans, as you wanted to keep it a surprise. So when Dustin asked him to join their group to go trick or treating, he had to give in. He didn’t want to, but after everything they had gone through together, to see Dustin staring up at him, begging, pleading…, well, he had to say yes. 

“Thank you, thank you, you will not regret it. We go to the houses with the best candy, I promise. Full size candy bars, people. Full size!” Dustin exclaimed loudly in the hall. 

“Oh-, and uh, bring y/n, too!” 

Eddie found you later that day at your locker grabbing your things for your next class. You hadn’t seen him walk up, as he stepped behind where your locker door was. Slamming it shut,you noticed something in your peripheral and jumped with a fright. 

“Jesus, Eddie! You scared me!” 

“What, scared of little old me? Impossible,” he smirked. “So, uh, listen. Dustin and his little buddies invited me and you to go trick or treating tonight and I said yes. Figured it could be fun, they promised us full size candy bars,” Eddie tempted. 

“What? Eddie. I had a whole night planned for us,” you whined, pouting slightly. Of course he had no idea, but you were still upset that he agreed before discussing it with you. 

“You did?” He asked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected you to plan a whole night of festivities for the two of you. No one had ever done something like that for him before. “I mean, I guess I could tell Dustin we can’t go.”�� 

The face of a disappointed Dustin flashed in your mind, his eyes sad and doe like. You couldn’t do that to him. 

“No, it’s fine. We’ll go. Can’t stand to see that little shit sad,” you said, giving Eddie a small smile. He took your hands in yours and held them in front of you. “Well just do our things when we get back!” 

“A whole night with you? Can’t complain about that,” Eddie said, giving you a small kiss on the lips. You giggled, and headed off to class. 

You were struggling with your costume. You were supposed to be a sexy work out barbie, complete with teal fishnets, a bright  pink leotard, leg warmers and fluffy sweatbands. You had teased your hair to make it big and poofy, and were now working on your makeup. The blue wasn’t the right color, which stressed you out, but it was the closest you had. After lining your lids and putting on some mascara, you moved on to pick out jewelry. 

“Perfect,” you whispered, after discovering your giant blue lightning bolt earrings matched your eyeshadow perfectly. Stepping back to look in the mirror, you realized the earrings were the perfect touch to tie your look together. Eddie was going to kill you for what you were wearing, making him frustrated all night, but it was worth it. 

You still had about twenty minutes until the kids plus Eddie picked you up. Since your house was the closest to the neighborhoods with the full size candy, Dustin suggested they all meet at yours. You decided to grab a quick bite to eat while you waited. 

Downstairs your mom stood in the kitchen making halloween treats for her and your dad. They had their own little night of festivities planned, a tradition they started when you were little. Every year, they would take you out trick-or-treating, and once you came back and went to bed, they would drink wine and  watch scary movies or read a Stephen King novel together. Once you stopped trick-or-treating, they added more things to do for the night, some with you and some without. Tonight, they had a similar plan to what you originally had with Eddie. 

“Wow, babe, you look stunning,” your mom said, reviewing your outfit when you strutted into the kitchen. Your dad looked you over, giving a disapproving  tut before returning to icing the brownies he had made. 

“Thanks mom! Can I steal some?” You asked, eyeing the delicious spread before you. 

“Of course, help yourself. Your dad and I won’t eat all these anyways.” 

“Speak for yourself,” your dad playfulled scorned. Your mom giggled, nudging him slightly. That was the love you always wanted growing up, and while some things were different between you and Eddie, you knew the love you had was as close as you were going to get to the love your parents shared for each other. 

You stole a cookie and a rice krispy treat your mother had made, and popped them into your mouth. Making sure to compliment her work, you continued hanging out with them for the few more minutes you had. A loud and rapid knock at the door sounded, signaling your crew was here. 

“Have a great night!” Your mom called out as you headed out the door. 

“Alright, so if we take Abercorn to Croft that should be the fastest route,” Dustin said the second you stepped foot out the door. He sure was eager to get to the good houses. Mike and Lucas piped up about a possible quicker route, and they all began to bicker. 

“Hi,” you said to Eddie, who had not stopped looking you up and down since you stepped out. A blush rose to your cheeks while you waited to hear his approval- or disapproval, which you prayed desperately would not be what he thought. 

“Wow, Barbie, you sure have left me speechless,” he said, licking his lips which suddenly felt abnormally dry. 

“Hopefully in a good way?” You offered.  

“Oh, in a very good way darling,” he whispered, giving you a kiss. You giggled, wrapping your arms around him. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” You asked, tugging on his leather jacket. 

“Oh, uh, a rocker vampire, or something, I don’t know. Dustin got mad I didn’t dress up and added this to make it a costume,” Eddie pointed to the trail of red coming from his mouth. You giggled and pulled him into a kiss. 

“Yo, lovebirds, let's go! You can suck face later!” Dustin shouted, tapping his foot impatiently. 

The night was filled with laughter and stress as Dustin  ran frantically ahead of the group to ensure you made it to the good houses in time. Sure enough, you did, snagging so many full size candy bars, you were sure you had enough to last you the next two halloween.  The kids had all parted ways to head home aside from Max, who tagged along with you and Eddie since she lived right across from him. Eddie was a little hesitant about it at first, but you insisted, saying she shouldn’t walk home alone at night like that. 

Once you finally made it to Eddie’s, you walked into his trailer and threw yourself down on the couch. 

“God Ed’s my feet are killing,” you muttered into the pillow. He just chuckled, before kneeling down next to you and taking your shoes off for you. Your heart swelled at the kind gesture, and you turned yourself around. 

“So, what did you have planned tonight, Barbie,” he winked. He had been calling you that all night. 

“Oh, shit! I left it all at home!” You face palmed, waves of disappointment flooding you.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just tell me what you had planned, maybe I have substitutes here.” 

“I had some horror movies picked out…” you trailed off, hoping he had some here- some good ones. 

“Well I’ve got horror movies, babe. What ones did you have in mind?”

“Poltergeist and Halloween 2.” 

He gave you a smile before standing up and heading to the cabinet under the t.v.. A few seconds later, after rummaging around, he pulled out two vhs tapes. Poltergeist, Halloween 2. 

“Eddie! That’s perfect!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands in excitement. He set them on the coffee table for now, and knelt in front of you. 

“What else did you have planned,” he whispered, running his hands up your thighs, his rings slightly pulling at the fishnets. You giggled, pushing him off. 

“I was going to have us bake halloween treats, but honestly I think the candy bars would suffice,” you replied, opening your bag to eye them all. 

“Oh, actually, hold on-,” Eddie said, getting up from his seat next to you on his couch. He sauntered into the kitchen, the sound of his black  jeans rubbing together filled the air. You eyed him curiously as he opened a cabinet you couldn’t see into, pulled out a bag, and walked back into the living room. Inside the bag was a small cake, decorated to represent a graveyard that he had picked up at the store earlier. 

“I was going to eat this myself, but I guess I can share it with you,” he winked, handing you a fork he had also grabbed while in the kitchen. You smiled, absolutely in love with the man before you. 

“Aw, Eddie, you didn’t have to do that,” you smirked. Eddie never shared his food, that was Eddie knowledge 101. He did not like sharing, so used to not having enough for himself. But if  he had the last plate of food in the world, he  would give his entire plate to you. 

“Which movie do you want to watch first?” He asked, leaning over to grab the two vhs tapes. 

“You pick, surprise me,” you responded as you shoved a piece of cake in your mouth. 

He popped in one of the vhs tapes, and came back to settle into his spot next to you on the couch. Watching horror movies with Eddie was truly an experience. He started out tough, reminding you that you can hide behind him at any point when you get scared. But after the second jumpscare in the film, you find him bringing his knees to his chest, and then ducking his head behind your shoulder, all while you laugh. 

“Scared baby boy?” You tease, ruffling his hair. 

“What? No, what makes you think that,” he’d cough, returning to his original position. 

The night went on like that until you finished both movies, half your bags of candy, and the cake. You both had moved back into his bedroom, and were laying on the bed cuddled under his favorite black fluffy blanket. 

“I loved spending my day with you today,” Eddie whispered, nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“I loved spending my day with you too,”  you replied, completely caught up in the domestic bliss of laying under the covers with Eddie. 

This was how you wanted to spend the rest of your Halloween nights with him. Taking some kiddos trick or treating, going back home and watching horror movies, eating junk food, and ending the night in complete bliss- just like your parents that you adore. 

“I love you,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

“I love you too.”

| 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 |

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fluff #halloween fluff #Eddie Munson halloween fluff #Eddie Munson halloween #stranger things halloween #halloween fic #alohastylesx #<33333 #alohastylesx works

[warcats-cat]

Pumpkin Seeds and Cherry Syrup

A/N: If people can have Christmas in July, then I can have Halloween in March! I had wanted to post this for Halloween but the time got away from me, and then it just felt too short. But I fleshed the idea out a little so, please enjoy some spoopy family fluff featuring a Human, a Gargoyle, and four puffballs of unknown species.

Once again a gift for my beloved @muppenthings, who's adorable AU's and OC's inspire me and comfort me more than words can say. I love these little nuggets so much <3

Also, as always, please let me know if I need to add any tags! Enjoy!!

Read on Ao3.

-----

"Virgil…" Roman's voice was hesitant, nervous, "What is this?"

The gargoyle in question had the grace to at least look a little sheepish, as he tried unsuccessfully to hide the large knife he was holding behind his back. Instead of answering, the gargoyle's smile grew more nervous as he said, "You're home early."

Roman continued on to look around in stunned confusion, taking in the house around him. There were spider webs in every possible corner and crevice; plastic bats, both cartoon and realistic, hung haphazardly from the ceiling. The kitchen table was (thankfully) covered in plastic tarp, and on the counter was a line of incredibly detailed jack-o'-lanterns, each dedicated to a different classic horror film. The gargoyle's fangs dripped with cherry syrup blood.

"My brother brought some weed to the party and was trying to start something I didn't want to be around for…" Roman replied, looking around the suddenly spookified house. He dropped the backpack he'd been holding with a soft thud.

Chirping sounded from the kitchen table, and Roman moved a bit to see, sure enough, all four of the little muppets on the table. Seemingly painstakingly separating pumpkin seeds from pumpkin pulp.

All of them in little costumes.

Roman felt a little smile breaking out across his face. "You know, if you wanted to decorate, you could have just asked." Removing his shoes, he finally moved away from the front door to inspect the decorations. There were cartoonish pictures that changed depending on the angle you looked at. The windows were splattered with more cherry syrup. The living room looked like the Pumpkin King himself had thrown up on it.

The Muppets cheerfully greeted the artist, Heart sitting back in his hind legs and wheeking until Roman gave him a little scratch under his chin. The little blue puffball was dressed like a tiny pumpkin himself, right down to a little hat with the pumpkin stem.

Stormy was also fittingly dressed, with miniscule horns and devil wings. He squeaked at Roman with a surprising smile on his face, and then from behind one of the pumpkins pulled a piece of candy corn, cut in half. Roman really hoped Virgil hadn't given the muppet a lot of those…

Sherlock's costume was probably the most fitting: teeny goggles and a white lab coat. He seemed to be leading the group effort of cleaning the pumpkin seeds, but paused obligingly for an ear scratch with a low whistle.

Goldie's costume was by far the most confusing; they also had a little lab coat, but it had been cut down the middle, with a black suit/cape thing sewn to be the other half. They also had a little bowler hat balanced between their feathery antennae, and they peeped with their typical regal air in lieu of letting Roman pet them.

Roman gestured vaguely to the table, looking once more to his gargoyle roommate for help.

Virgil lit up a little more as he pointed to each Muppet in turn, "Obviously, our little phone thief had to be a mad scientist. And happy little buddy was kinda too cute to not dress him up like a pumpkin." He paused, reaching for Stormy, who hissed and snapped a few times before grumpily allowing Virgil to lift him. Virgil looked far too pleased with himself as he said, "devil baby."

Stormy squawked and began to wiggle once more until Virgil released him. With a final attempt at a menacing hiss (which sounded surprisingly similar to an upset kitten), Stormy waddled back to his pumpkin seed cleaning.

"Okay…" Roman watched the angry Muppet chitter to his friends, before a smile broke out on the artist's face. "You know, one of these days Stormy's going to leave something nasty on your head for when you wake up, and you're totally going to deserve it."

Virgil shrugged, still smiling himself. "Eh. He deserves it too." He shrugged, and finally gave Goldie, who had been waiting for their red carpet announcement with surprising patience, a little pat.

"Ok, but explain them to me." Roman asked, looking over the long-furred floof. They were purring under the attention, posing like a glamorous little fashionista in the gargoyle's hands.

"Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde." Virgil replied, looking sheepish. "I was having trouble with a good character for them, but they liked the cape and the little hat." He released Goldie back to the table with the others, who had apparently decided on a break and begun munching on some of the seeds.

"Speaking of," Roman started, taking another look at the extravagant decorations. "Where did you get all of this?"

"That craft store down the street." The gargoyle said simply. Roman let the silence hang for a moment, before prompting again.

"And where did you get the money for all of this?" He eyed Virgil playfully, but also a bit nervous. His budget was tight enough as it is. But Virgil simply shrugged again.

"Well, the store was open but nobody was there! I only grabbed a few things. Nobody followed me or anything." He looked almost proud of himself; almost smug. He knew fully well what he had been doing.

The stone trickster probably waved at the anti theft cameras on the way out, too.

Roman sighed, shaking his head, but he couldn't help the wide grin on his face. "I cannot believe you, but also, I'm not even a little bit surprised," he said. He finished putting his things away while the gargoyle carefully finished cleaning out another pumpkin, dumping the mess into (Roman assumed) the designated area for fresh pumpkin seeds.

Roman took his time walking through the kitchen, inspecting the different jack-o'-lanterns lined up there. It, The Thing, The Shining, The Exorcist, and Saw so far. There was a little bowl of water with various wood carving utensils soaking off vegetable matter in the corner.

"Where did you learn this? These are so cool…" Roman said softly as he took in the fine details.

"Black magic," the gargoyle responded simply with a mischievous smirk; Roman rolled his eyes, but said nothing more as Virgil grabbed a few tools from the bowl and lined up the freshly hollowed pumpkin.

The artist watched in rapt attention as the logo from the original Halloween movie began to take shape, wondering if this was what the gargoyle  (or perhaps the muppets) felt when they watched him paint.

After a while, he spoke up again, "So… they know they can't keep all those seeds, right? They'll never finish them all before the seeds go bad…" Virgil only shrugged, taking a long time to carefully carve thin slivers for the light to shine through, as if he was creating shading on a pumpkin.

"You and me are gonna eat some of them too." The gargoyle finally replied.

At that, Roman moved into Virgil's view, raising an eyebrow in lieu of asking out loud. The gargoyle shrugged again.

"I heard you and Re talking about Halloween a week ago, okay? You sounded like you missed being a kid a little bit. So I've got the Bugs cleaning the seeds off, and we'll bake most of 'em for them, but you're gonna show me how to roast a couple cupfulls like you said your mom used to, and we're gonna watch scary movies."

Roman felt his face warm up a little, and he looked away for a moment.

"That's, uh, really nice of you, Virge." He said softly.

The gargoyle grinned again, all sharp teeth and excited eyes. "Don't know what you're talking about; this is an entirely selfish endeavor." Virgil said, but Roman only shook his head. His trickster roommate had really gone all out for this after all.

Roman left the gargoyle to his work, wanting to watch the muppets a while. It looked like Sherlock was leading the efforts, but all four of them were working equally. Sherlock and Goldie were passing the seeds along, inspecting each one as they went. Every once in a while, one would make a high whistle, pull the seed from the pile, and nimbly toss the wet mush over the side of the table, into a bucket that had been placed on the floor.

After the seeds passed inspection, Heart and Stormy would pull them along and carefully clear the gooey pulp away with their tiny paws, scooting the brightly colored mush along a little trail which also went over the edge of the table and into the bucket. It was impressively efficient, and the way the four worked so harmoniously only more strongly reminded Roman of a little family. They chirped and whistled at each other, probably talking as they worked.

"You guys are so talented," Roman said, without thinking. All four stopped for a moment and looked up at him at the interruption, but they didn't look upset. Smiling, and blushing a little, Roman continued in earnest, "Really, it's super cool to watch you work together like this."

Heart lit up immediately, tapping his tiny front feet on the plaster tarp and wheeking again, as if he was a puppy who had done a particularly good job at something. Stormy hid his face under one paw and his little cape, but whistled a few notes as well. Goldie, regal as ever, simply posed and peeped at him with their little nose in the air like a debutante.

Sherlock's was the most adorable reaction, the little blue ball of fluff preened at his words, and Roman could see his feet tapping excitedly as he went back to work; not as big and vibrant as Heart, but clearly glowing with the praise.

Roman made a mental note to tell him he was a good boy more often, because despite being a little thief, Sherlock was very intelligent, and it was obvious the praise was a welcome surprise.

Roman felt a tap on his left shoulder, and immediately fell for the gag, looking left and seeing nothing before finding the gargoyle on his right, grinning like a spoiled cat.

"I took the pumpkins outside. Ready for some movies?" He asked, faux innocent.

"Yeah, whatever," Roman said, lightly punching the Gargoyle's arm and laughing.

The muppets finished cleaning the seeds with surprising speed, and the human and gargoyle spread most of them out on a baking pan to be dried, while about ⅕ of them were tossed into a pan to be roasted with butter and a little salt, and perhaps a few spices that Roman added last minute, to pay homage to his mother's not-so-secret recipes.

They ended up watching more kids-oriented Halloween movies, mostly for the Muppets' benefits, but it was still fun. A long night of Hocus Pocus and Scooby Doo and The Nightmare Before Christmas, among others, which left all four fuzzballs enraptured. Virgil had clearly found a spooky little kindred spirit in Stormy, and the two tricksters (Roman likes to call them Mortal Frenemies) only threw seeds at each other for about thirty minutes. (The muppets, of course, were eating seeds without butter, although Stormy and Sherlock teamed up in the middle of Coco, trying to steal the more savory treat.)

In Roman's mind, it was way better than a party. It was Halloween with his family again; memories of being ten, and falling asleep on the couch with the muppets nestled close together in a warm, purring pile on his stomach.

#warcats writes #muppen floof au #the floofs #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides au #familial DLAMP #nonbinary Janus Sanders #Patton sanders #Logan sanders #Roman sanders #Virgil sanders #there are two virgils #Halloween Fluff #fluff without plot

[otakugoddes]

🌲Day 6= Horror Movie Night (Shouta Aizawa)🌲

DAY 6= HORROR MOVIE NIGHT (Shouta Aizawa)

Gender neutral Reader

Warnings: Slight Smut! Etablished Relationship, Profanity, Mentions of: Scream 1; the Nun and The Conuring, Sexual language and Suggestive content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know what?! You are an actual asshole, Shouta!" You cursed your boyfriend as you hid your face behind your hands, the jumpscare had you nearly dropping your caramel corn. "You actually suck!" You muttered while scarfing down the corn in your hand.

The worst part: Shouta seemed to be enjoying your reactions as much as the movie.

Actually, he enjoyed your reactions a little bit too much throughout the horror movie marathon.

The way you buried your face in his chest at a scene during The Conjuring, and how you took longer in the kitchen to avoid the screams of innocents from The Nun.

Your boyfriend was really enjoying himself watching you get the slightest bit jumpy for horror movies.

"You know headless horsemen don't exist right?" He raised a brow amused, his lips quirking up slightly in a smirk.

You elbowed him and folded your arms, "Someone out there might actually have a quirk like this!"

He rolled his eyes at your antics, though you could actually be correct. There were some weird ass quirks out there.

You both were cuddling on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you two and treats on the table, and of course--Shouta's sadistic ass choice of an actually creepy horror movie.

"You're not picking a movie ever again! You pick stuff that's gonna give me nightmares!" You stuck a tongue out at him.

"You're a grown ass adult!"

"And who says adults cant be scared?"

"I'm not!"

You scoffed, poking his cheek, "Liar! When Eri came over and put on Barney, you weren't exactly the knight in shining armour!"

He tched at your recollection of the incident a few weeks ago. In his defense, he did not expect to see the giant floppy purple beast right in front of his eyes while singing demonically.

"Shut up!" He groaned tiredly.

"Oooo! Cant take the heat, hotstuff?" You teased and he grinned, leaning forward to kiss your lips.

You--being more than eager to reciprocate, kissed back. His lips chased yours as his arm came around your shoulders to grip the nap of your neck, effectively deepening the kiss. You bit his lip and a slight groan was heard from him, taking initiative you moved to straddle him...not caring about the horror movie playing in the background.

Threading your fingers through his hair you kissed him feverishly and he smirked slightly against your lips.

"Kiss me again!" You panted, out of breath and desperate for more.

"As you wish!" His tone turned seductive as he kissed you again.

It started getting heated again until the loud, feminine scream from the TV had you jumping up and falling off the couch, "OW FUCK!" you cursed.

"Are you okay?"

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face!" You sneered.

"You're not even looking at me to know that!"

You slapped his hand, "I dont need to, asshole!"

You gazed back the movie, where the protagonist was now getting chased by the headless horsemen. You pouted at the ruined moment and sat back next to your boyfriend, focusing on the bowl of corn.

Shouta noticed your state and said, "Maybe we should put on a different movie!"

You perked up and nodded, "Yes! But let me choose this time!"

He nodded, "Alright. Scream 1 or Annabelle?"

You raised a brow at him, "Obviously Scream, I don't want to dream about a fucking possessed doll haunting me!"

He switched to scream and you bundled yourself closer to him, smiling when he put his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead. It was a reflex for him, even at times when he didn't realize it, you felt safe and secure.

"Don't scream too much for this one!" He whispered in your ear with a gruff voice.

"Oh please...like I'd scream!"

He hummed in thought, "How about after this...I make you scream for real?" He suggested.

You were about to retort but he looked down at you from the corner of his eye and shushed you with a finger on your lips, "The movie's starting sweetheart!"

"Okay that was hot! Damnit!" You thought to yourself.

As Scream started playing, you sneaked glances at Shouta, not bothering to watch the movie when the better sight was him instead. His ability made him able to keep his eyes open for longer, and you watched his lips intrigued.

You didn't mind being caught by him but focused on the movie instead again.

The makeout session from earlier had you all riled up, and unfortunately for you, the one scene in Scream where they have sex wasn't helping your frustration either.

You gripped his waist tighter and tighter as your breathing quickened and you unconsciously shifted next to him.

Shouta looked down at you and asked bluntly, "Frustrated?"

"Yeah...its your fault, genius!" You pouted.

"Cant believe a few kisses and a horror movie sex scene got you horny!" He sighed, but was obviously riling you up more.

You slapped his chest, "I can just take care of myself then! No point in abandoning the movie to help me get off, right?" You teased.

His eyes widened a bit, watching you untangle yourself from him and start to play with yourself. It didn't help that you turned to face him so that he could see exactly was you were doing even though the room was pretty dark.

He couldn't concentrate on the movie, sneaking glances at you every five seconds.

Your coaxes and taunts were not helping either.

"Oh come on Shouta! Pay attention to the movie...besides, I'm getting close anyway!" You cooed.

He sighed, turning off the TV and quickly picking you up, haunting whatever you wrote doing.

"You're not finishing without it being done by my hand!" He rasped against your ear.

You smirked, "Took you long enough!"

How ironic was it that a horror movie marathon night turned into a night for a different kind of screaming. You blamed and thanked Scream for this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#anime #halloween #mha #mha aizawa shouta #Aizawa Shouta imagines #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa halloween imagines #aizawa halloween drabbles #aizawa halloween scenarios #aizawa halloween headcanons #aizawa x reader #halloween fluff #mha halloween fluff #mha halloween drabbles #bnha #mha boys #mha x reader #halloween mha #mha halloween #my hero academia fluff #my hero academia halloween imagines #my hero headcanons #aizawa fluff #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha halloween #otakugoddes' halloween masterlist

[dream-beyond-the-fantasy]

OC Creator Exchange Prompt-oween, Day 1

@occreatorexchange

Prompt: “You can’t buy candy corn for trick or treaters! That’s the fruitcake of Halloween!

Fandom: Doctor Who/The Sarah Jane Adventures

Characters: OCs David Yates, Molly Yates, and minor OCs

Rating: G/T (slight language)

Word count: 989

Summary: David celebrates Molly's first Halloween.

Note: This is something of a prequel ficlet to my current Whoniverse WIP.

It wasn’t David’s first Halloween in the States.  But it was his first with a child.  Before Molly, things were simple.  He could simply forget the “holiday” existed.  It’s only been in the last decade or two that Halloween really took hold of Britain, even if the traditions originated there.  But in America, it’s very in one’s face and a part of the culture, whether it’s about the candy, the decorations, or costumes.

Ken, a coworker, popped his head in David’s cubicle.  “So, what are you dressing the munchkin up as?”

David stared at him as if he had two heads.  “She’s two months old!”

Ken shrugged.  “Yeah, and?”

“I think she’s way too young.  She won’t understand what is going on.  And most importantly, Molly can’t even eat solid foods, let alone candy,” David replied.

“David,” Ken shook his head.  “You’re missing the big picture here.”

David frowns, confused.  “I don’t see how, but go on.”

“You’re a young, handsome single man with a baby.  You put a cute costume on the kid, walk around the neighborhood, and collect some candy for yourself.  And some phone numbers from the single mommies and aunts who took the kids trick-or-treating.”

David’s lip curled.  Instead of engaging, he told his coworker that he was staying home.

“Well, that works too,” Ken admitted.

David breathed a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, Ken wasn’t finished.  “You can still get their numbers if you stay home and hand out candy.  But the baby still needs to be dressed up.  And when you answer the door, make sure you hold her so that the ladies can see that there isn’t a ring on your finger.”

David covered his face.  “Oh, my God,” he groaned into his hands.  A throbbing started in his temple.  “Ken, can you please leave?  I’ve got work to do.”

***

After he got off work, David stopped at a 99 Cents Only Store before picking Molly up from daycare.  He was already regretting letting Ken get inside his head.  David quickly grabbed up two of the cheaper bags of individually wrapped candy, a garish green monster pail, and the first Halloween costume that he thought would fit his daughter.

***

There was a knock at the Yates’ apartment door.  David rushed out of the nursery, adjusting his daughter in his arms.  “Coming!”

Molly fussed.

David peered down at her.  “Don’t cry, love.  You’ve got a clean nappy.  Daddy’s got you.  You’re fine.  You even look cute in that getup.”

She cooed at him, which earned her a smile.

Someone knocked on the door again.  David sighed.  “Well, here goes nothing.  Happy Halloween,” he greeted as he opened the door.

“Trick or treat!”

In the hallway stood two boys and a girl, dressed as Freddy Krueger, the Red Power Ranger, and a princess.  The smile that David had plastered on fell when he saw Ken with the kids.  “What are you doing here?”

“The ex had a party to go to, so I’m taking the kids trick-or-treating.  Also, I wanted to see if you wanted to come along.”  Ken peered down at the baby.  “Oh, good.  You did dress her up for the occasion.  Could have found something better than a pumpkin, though.”

David’s mouth tightened.  “I already said I was staying in.  Molly will be due for a feeding in at least an hour.  I’m not packing and lugging around a diaper bag and stroller just so you can pick up women.”

David grunted in pain as a boy in a Freddy Krueger costume kicked him in the shin.  “Hey, where’s the candy?”

“Tommy!  Don’t be a pain in the ass!” Ken warned his son.  “Sorry, about that Dave.”

David glared at the kid.  He picked up the pail from a side table, shoving it at the kid.  “Here, help yourself.”

The boys immediately started digging in it.

“Eww!  Dad, there’s candy corn!” complained the Power Ranger.

Ken gaped at David.

“What?”

“You can’t buy candy corn for trick-or-treaters!” Ken exclaimed, gesticulating wildly.  “That’s the fruitcake of Halloween!  Stores probably keep that junk in storage year round because nobody buys it.”

David rolled his eyes.  “That’s ridiculous.  And I happen to like Christmas cakes, thank you very much.”

Ken waved him off.  “You’re a Brit.  What did I expect?”

Feeling a warning throb of another headache, David was about to order his coworker and kids out of the apartment.  He was interrupted by his trousers being tugged on.  David looked down to see the little princess, who couldn’t be more than four years old.  He crouched to her level.  “Yes?”

“I brought something for the baby.”  The princess held up a book, The Berenstain Bears Trick or Treat.

“Kelly likes to be read to at bedtime,” Ken informed him.  “When I told her that we’d be visiting you and Baby Molly, she decided that your little pumpkin needed a Halloween book.”

David smiled at the little girl.  “Kelly, that was very sweet of you.  Guess what?  Molly likes to be read to, as well.  Would you like to say hello?”

The princess nodded and came closer.  “Hi, Molly!”  She took the baby girl’s hand.  Molly gripped Kelly’s finger.  “I gave you a book.  It’s about Halloween.  Your Daddy is gonna read it to you.  I hope you like it.”

***

David sat down with a sigh.  He hoped there were no more trick-or-treaters.  The last ones just emptied the pail of candy.  Molly finished her bottle right before they came.  David just wanted some quiet time alone with his little girl.  He noticed the book that Ken’s daughter left on the coffee table.

He picked it up and held it in front of her. “Should we read a new book tonight?”

Molly gurgled in response.  She swiped at the book with one hand.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”  David flipped the book open.  “The sights and sounds of autumn were all around,” he began.

#oc creator exchange #ocx-prompt-oween #ocx-tober #oc communtiy #oc fanfic #my fic #whoniverse ocs #david yates #molly yates #minor ocs #ocx-moodboard #halloween prompt fill #halloween fluff

[ink-the-squid-gremlin]

As a Halloween lover and an Enmu simp, I just have to ask where the actual fuck are all the Halloween themed Enmu X reader fics???? Like he fits the Halloween vibe so much! Please I need fun fluff Enmu X reader fics of him with a human SO carving pumpkins or putting up decorations please my heart is needing that

#enmu #demon slayer #enmu x reader #halloween #please i need this #like seriously #this is not a want this is a need #halloween fluff

[up-to-some-good]

Quiet Nights

Continuation (kinda) of this, but can be read as a oneshot

31 October 1981

For the first time since meeting the other Marauders, Remus Lupin had no plans for Halloween. Throughout their Hogwarts years, Halloween had been a big deal. In the first few years, their main focus had been pranks, trying to outdo their previous year’s scares by going progressively bigger. By their fifth year, they were throwing massive parties in the Gryffindor common room with free-flowing alcohol and charmed alarms on the corridors to warn them if a professor was approaching.

1978 and 1979 had included big parties at the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow, a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the war. For a few hours, Remus and his friends had acted like the twenty-somethings they were and allowed themselves to have fun.

1980 had been Harry Potter’s first Halloween, and James and Lily’s first night away from their 3 month old son while Remus and Sirius babysat. The new parents went out to enjoy a few hours of piece at a muggle movie theatre, while Harry and his godfathers handed out candy to the neighbourhood children. Remus couldn’t stop smiling at his boyfriend, who had dressed Harry up as a black puppy and worn fuzzy ears to match.

This year was different. The Potters were in hiding, a prophecy dangling over their infant son, and had elected Sirius as their secret keeper, knowing he’d give his life before he gave them up. Naturally, this had meant both Sirius and Remus would go into hiding, making James their secret keeper so that no one could find either couple. It had been a boring few months, with no visitors besides Minerva McGonagall, who had been entrusted with their location in order to bring groceries, and no missions to get them out of the house.

Halloween was slated to be equally boring for the Lupin-Black household. There would be no children knocking on their door, no costumes, no parties. The only change to their routine had been the pumpkin juice they had had with their dinner, a special delivery from McGonagall as a tribute to the season. Besides that, they had moved in the same circle they always did, eating together, playing music, and trying to find something to do in the tiny apartment.

Despite the monotony of the day, Remus couldn’t find it in him to be bored. They had received a letter from the Potters that morning, with a picture of Harry and James in matching deer costumes and grins, and the flat smelled like cinnamon from Sirius’s latest recipe trial of cinnamon cookies. Now, the fire was dying as Remus sat on the couch drinking a cold cup of tea. Sirius was fast asleep, his head on Remus’s lap as his boyfriend played gently with his hair. Sirius had put on one of Hope’s classical records after dinner and the quiet music was the only sound in the room.

For the first time in weeks, Remus felt like he could breathe. The Potters were safe. Sirius was safe, asleep, calm. Remus was home with him. Next year, when the war was over, they could throw a big party and take Harry trick-or-treating. Next year, they could be young and reckless. But this year, they were safe, and that was all that mattered. This year, he was perfectly happy with his sleeping boyfriend and cold tea.

#canon? i dont know her #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #marauders fic #wolfstar fic #hear me out: they don't die #halloween fluff

[littlefirefly42]

Little Monster

Pairing: CG!Magnus/Little!Alex

Warnings: Sensory overload; Impure regression; blood; anxious SH

Summary: Alex gets sensory overload at a Halloween party and regresses. Magnus takes care of him and they just have some fluffy fall fun

~~~

Alex was sitting on the couch in Magnus' suite feeling little. Not completely regressed, but definitely slipping, which was pretty inconvenient considering it was Halloween, and he was going to a party in half an hour.

"Hey Alex!" Magnus called from the bathroom of his suite. "Check it out!" He emerged from the bathroom wearing a Hotel Valhalla T-Shirt, jeans, and a tie.

"What are you?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I was hoping you'd help me do my zombie makeup. Then, I'll be tie-die! Get it? Because of the tie? And because I'm dead?”

Alex giggled, something he only did when he regressed. Realizing his mistake, pressed his hand over his mouth. Magnus paused, a small grin playing on his lips. 

"Was that a giggle?"

"No." Alex deadpanned.

"It sounded like a giggle." Magnus said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Magnus, drop it."

"Well, you only giggle when-"

"Drop. It."

Magnus put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm dropping it. But Alex, if you-"

"Your costume is stupid. I like it. Now come here so I can do your makeup." Alex cut him off. Magnus looked unconvinced, but let it go and joined Alex on the couch. 

The party was on floor 17. It was only one of many in Hotel Valhalla that night, but it was the one closest to floor 19. TJ walked there with Alex and Magnus, and Mallory and Halfborn said they'd catch up later. The more they walked, the more anxious Alex became trying to suppress his littlespace.

"Is Sam not coming?" TJ asked as they made their way down the stairs.

"She doesn’t celebrate Halloween, and I think she also has some family thing. What was it Alex? Like a dinner or something?" Magnus nudged Alex, who was staring vacantly forward and scratching nervously at his arm.

"Hm? Oh yeah, she's got a family thing I think. A dinner or something." Alex replied absentmindedly. 

Magnus frowned. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah I'm fine. Why?"

"You seem kind of... off."

Alex snorted. "What’s that supposed to mean?" He tried to walk faster, but Magnus grabbed his wrist.

"TJ, give us a moment?"

TJ nodded. "Yeah, I'll meet you guys there." He walked away and Alex glared at Magnus.

"That wasn't necessary." 

"Alex, we don't have to go to the party if you're not feeling up to it."

"I told you, I'm fine." 

Magnus didn't let go of his wrist. "You were scratching your arm."

"I have a spider bite." He yanked his arm away from Magnus. "Come on, let's just go."

Magnus could tell Alex was holding something back, but he didn't pressure him. They kept walking in silence until they got to the door of the suite where the party was, and Magnus made a final attempt to get through to Alex.

"Baby, are you sure?" He asked softly.

Alex almost slipped right then, but bit hard on his inner cheek and forced a smile. "Yep." He managed. Before Magnus could add anything else, Alex opened the door and dragged them both into the suite. 

The party was loud, and there were people everywhere. Neon lights flashed on and off and cheesy pop reverberated off the walls. Magnus said something, but Alex couldn't hear it. There was too much happening, too many people, too many sounds. He scratched harder at his arm and turned to Magnus, who was... gone. That was the final straw for Alex. He slipped. Tears pooled in his eyes as he looked around frantically for Magnus. He didn't realize he had been walking backwards until his back hit a wall and he slid down it, rocking back and forth on the ground. His arm burned, but he kept scratching it in a desperate but fruitless attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming anxiety that seized him.

"Alex? Are you- are you crying?" Mallory's voice sounded miles away. "Oh gods, your arm. Hang on, just stay put." Alex hardly noticed her. He couldn't breathe. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him to do something, to shape shift and get out of there, but the thought was drowned out by his panic. 

"Oh my gods, Alex!" Magnus pushed through the crowd of people, led by an uncharacteristically concerned Mallory. He knelt in front of Alex, who immediately latched onto him. “Come on buddy, let’s get you out of here.” He stood, Alex in his arms, and made his way to the door, ignoring the stares they were getting from the few nearby einherji who weren’t too drunk to care. 

Magnus whispered little reassurances to Alex as he walked, but it did little to console him, and his breathing remained shallow and panicked. When they got back to the suite, Magnus sat down with the panicked little on the couch and tried to calm him down.

“Honey, do you want to make some lists?” Magnus found out early on that the basic five senses and color breathing techniques didn’t help to ground Alex. Instead, the two discovered alternative strategies, including making lists, that were much more effective. Alex didn’t respond, but he gave a little nod, reaching to scratch his arm again. Magnus caught his wrist.

“No more of that little one.” He said gently. “Can you tell me who lives on this floor?

Alex seemed even more distressed by the loss of stimulation, so Magnus gave him his hand to squeeze. “TJ-” he gasped out. “An Mal-ree.”

“That’s right buddy! Who else?”

“Half-born.” Alex’s breathing became a little less labored. “Maggie.”

Magnus stroked Alex’s hair with his free hand. “There’s one more…” 

“Me?”

Magnus laughed. “Yeah, you!”

Alex gave Magnus a little nod and let out another sob. Not out of panic anymore, just frustration and pain. 

“Still not feeling too good, huh bud?” Magnus asked. Alex shook his head again. “Hmm… how about we do a butterfly hug?”

Alex’s eyes widened and he quickly wiped away the tears on his cheeks.

Magnus chuckled. “Do you remember how buddy?”

Alex nodded quickly and crossed his arms over his chest, hooking his thumbs and letting his fingers rest over his collar bones. He began to swiftly tap them, only he couldn’t hold the hug for long because the sensation made him stim, so he had to let go and flap his arms every five seconds, giggling wildly. It made Magnus smile to see Alex happy, but he couldn’t help but notice the little’s forearm, which was not looking too hot.

“Alex, honey, can I take a look at your arm?” 

Alex absentmindedly gave Magnus his arm, still stimming with his free hand and suddenly very interested in a moth that was chilling on the wall. Magnus’ eyes widened. Alex’s whole forearm was covered in dark red streaks, and in some places he was bleeding out.

“Oh buddy…”

Alex, confused, looked down at his arm. “Oh.” he mumbled, as if just noticing it. 

“Come on Alex,” Magnus forced a smile. “Let's get that cleaned up, yeah?” Magnus walked Alex to the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet. Alex, being Alex, promptly stood up and plopped himself on the rug instead. Magnus took out the first aid kid he kept in the bathroom closet. He knew Alex would be healed by morning, but his arm looked painful, and since Magnus pointed it out the little kept staring at it with shame and frustration. 

“Alright buddy,” Magnus sat down in front of Alex, holding the first aid kit and a wet washcloth. “Can I see?” Magnus gently cleaned the blood off Alex’s forearm. There was one spot, down near his wrist, where the scratch was a little worrisome. It was about two inches long and a clean line, as if Alex had scratched it parallel to his arm. However, it was not squirting blood the way ruptured arteries did, and did not gape open, so Magnus was not terribly concerned about it. Alex’s nails may have been sharp, but they were not that sharp. It was, however, too big for a band aid, so he put neosporin on it and wrapped it in gauze. The rest of Alex’s arm wasn’t too bad, just reddened flesh and a few nicks, but it made Magnus worry nonetheless. 

“Alex… why didn’t you tell me you were feeling little? We didn’t have to go to that party.”

Alex, who had been silent the whole time Magnus was patching him up, made a sound half way between a whine and a groan. “Didn’t want to ruin it. You had a cos’ume. An everyone else went.”

Magnus smiled ruefully. “That’s kind of you bud. But next time, please tell me. I was really worried about you, I need to keep my kiddo safe.”

“M sorry.” Alex said, looking down guilty.

“It’s alright buddy. And hey, we can still have tons of spooky fun here! You want to bake something and watch a show?”

Alex’s face lit up. “Garden wall?”

“Sure! You just reminded me though, I should probably wash off this face paint. Wait up for me?”

Alex pouted. “Bu’ you look so cool!”

“Okay,” Magnus chuckled. “I’ll just take off the tie.” He left it on the bathroom counter. “What are we making?”

Alex didn’t answer. He was already running away into the kitchen. Magnus ran after him and scooped him up from behind, tickling his ribs.

“Maggie!” Alex squealed with laughter. Magnus placed him on the kitchen counter, and planted a kiss on his forehead.

“Hmm… I’ve got some pumpkin puree. You want to make a pumpkin loaf?”

Alex kicked his legs excitedly. “Mhm!”

“Chocolate chips or cream cheese frosting?”

“Umm… cho’late.”

“Alrighty!” Magnus preheated the oven and began pulling out ingredients. He let Alex mix in the chocolate chips, but did the rest himself, while Alex kicked his legs and told “scary” stories.

“...An the shark jumped outta the closet an he ate all the people! The end.”

Magnus gasped and stumbled back dramatically. “That’s terrifying! You’ll give me a heart attack with these twist endings.” 

Alex giggled. Magnus pushed the loaf pan into the oven and picked Alex up, carrying him to the living room. The two sat together on the couch and Magnus played the first episode of Over The Garden Wall. Halfway through the fourth episode, there was a knock at the door. Magnus got up to get it. 

“Hi Magnus,” Sam said, leaning on the doorframe. “Something smells good in here.”

Magnus didn’t even have time to respond before Alex charged past him. 

“Sammy!!” He squealed, jumping into her arms.

“Hi Pumpkin!” She cooed. “I heard you had a rough night, so-” She froze, having just noticed the bandages on Alex’s arm. “What’s this?” 

Alex followed her gaze. “Oh.”

“Alex got a little overwhelmed earlier. He’s alright now though, huh buddy?” 

“Mhm. We made pumpkin bread! An watching garden wall!” 

“Speaking of which,” Magnus said, “That loaf should be out any minute now. Want to come in?”

“Yay, bread!” Alex squirmed in Sam's arms and ran off into the kitchen.

“Don’t open the oven yet!” Magnus called after. Sam looked at him worriedly.

“He hurt himself.” It was a statement, not a question. Magnus nodded. 

“Not on purpose. You know how he scratches when he’s nervous?”

Sam gave a nod of understanding. “Yeah, I figured that.”

“What about you? Didn’t you have, like, a family dinner or something tonight?” Magnus asked, closing the door.

“Yeah, like thirty minutes ago. I wanted to ask if you guys wanted leftovers because we have a ton, but when I went to the party you said you were going too, I couldn’t find you. I asked Mallory, and she said you guys left and Alex was crying, and I just put two and two together.”

They walked into the kitchen, where Alex was sitting criss-cross in front of the oven, staring intently at the bread. Magnus pulled it out and tested it with a skewer. Deeming it safe, he plopped it out of the pan and cut three slices off. 

“I know you don’t really do Halloween, but if you want to stay and eat pumpkin bread with us, Over The Garden Wall is more of a general fall show than it is specifically Halloween, save episode nine.” Magnus said.

“Stay!” Alex yelped. “Stay! Stay!” 

Magnus sighed. “Alex-”

 “Couldn’t hurt.” Sam shrugged, smiling. 

“Yay!” Alex made grabby hands until she picked him up again. Magnus handed them each a slice of pumpkin bread and kissed Alex on the forehead. 

They all settled on the couch, Alex cuddled between Magnus and Sam. He felt safe.

~~~

Magnus' Pumpkin Bread

Ingredients:

1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin puree

2 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

1/2 cup of water

1 cup of white sugar

1 cup of brown sugar

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

As many chocolate chips as you deem sufficient (optional)

Instructions:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and grease your pan. You can half or double the recipe depending on your pan size, but this recipe is for a 9x5 inch pan.

Mix pumpkin, oil, water, and eggs together in a large bowl. Mix your dry ingredients into a separate bowl. Combine the two mixtures and mix well. Add chocolate chips if desired.

Pour into pan and bake for 50 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Enjoy while watching Halloween shows and movies with your caregiver or little one, or just by yourself :)

#happy halloweeeeeeen #agere alex fierro #alex fierro #cg magnus chase #cg Samirah Al-Abbas #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #halloween fluff #magnus chase series

[carolinemorrison]

Luke is enamored with the new single mom who just moved in. He's not brave enough to make a move. . . at least without a costume. Happy Halloween! Just a fun, small A/U fic I was asked to write :) If you'd like me to write something for you, please PM me!

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls au #fanfiction #gilmore girls fanfiction #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #luke and lorelai #luke x lorelai #lorelai x luke #lauren graham #scott patterson #halloween #halloween fluff #halloween fic #halloween one shot #halloween fanfiction

[gun-roswell]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo & CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives Characters: CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, 501st Legion Members (Star Wars: The Clone Wars) Additional Tags: halloween fluff, Inspired by Fanart, trick or treat, poetic form, Clone Troopers Deserve Better (Star Wars), Fluff and Fun, Family Feels Series: Part 21 of Echo/Fives, Part 78 of Poetry Shorts Collection (Various Fandoms) Summary:

A poem of about Echo and Fives and the 501st having some Halloween fun.

Part of Poetry Shorts Collection of various fandoms /Echo/Fives series

#fanfic #halloween fluff #star wars the clone wars #echo #fives #501st #trick or treat #fluff and fun

[punk-in-docs]

Can you give us some quick headcanons about Halloween with Eddie?

🍂 Eddie Munson Halloween Headcanons 🍂

“So as it turns out I don’t know what the word ‘quick’ actually means. I’m sorry. No further questions your honour.” punk-in-docs, 2022 @asnackdriver

Halloween with Eddie Munson; dear god you’d think it was Christmas and his Birthday all rolled into one. He gets so whirly and excited about it.

Scary movies. Crunchy brown leaves underfoot. Rubber masks. Candy corn. Halloween costumes. Pumpkins. Cocoa with some whiskey sneaked in it.

Explains in lengthy detail just why it’s his favourite time of year: summer in Hawkins is too fucking hot. Too sweaty. Everywhere is stifling and busy, it’s just no fun to be stuck in that soupy humidity. Weedy old fan not enough to keep him sweating his balls off in his sauna of a bedroom.

He basically whines and suffers through summer. Autumn is his time;

“Pumpkin spice baby, fuckin’ pumpkin spice!” He yelps, as he jiggled up and down like a puppy.

“You’re insane Munson.”

“I’m not insane. I’ve got the psychiatric reports to prove it. A slender majority of the panel decided in my favour.” Then comes that maniacal grin.

“I just love fall. Kay? Almost as much as I love you.” He explains.

He loves loves loves the cold. Mega love. Likes jumpers and layers, and endless blankets piled on his bed. Like a baby bird wedged safely in a nest. Warm cosy things to wrap himself up in. The cool evenings where he can truly feel the burn of a cigarette sparking warmth, and nicotine swirling through his lungs.

He wears fingerless black wool gloves in the cold (you can’t convince me otherwise on that one, nope, sorry)

Even though he wears gloves, he still comes in from the autumn chill outside, rubbing his palms together, and is immediately shoving chilled fingertips around your neck to make you squawk. Feel them sweetcheeks. Freezin’ my ass off out there-

Then he dives in to rub his cold red nose all over your neck. Boys a fuckin’ menace.

There’s something cozy about the trailer when it’s all wrapped up warm and bitter cold is pressing in from outside. Sure it’s not fancy but it’s a home. With a capital H.

It’s not stuffy or elegant. It’s welcoming. Even with its squashy matted carpets pocked with coffee stains, it’s scratchy curtains and it’s lumpy unappealing couch. It smells like detergent and cigarettes.

It’s the best place on earth to be when you’ve got your favourite crazy metalhead wrapped around you. Arms around you. Lips in your neck. He’s like a sunshiney heat lamp that never shuts up. You love it.

You bake cookies, Eddie is a terrible kitchen assistant. He gabbles too much. Can’t keep still. He gets in the way - nicely - he faffs with the radio and turns the oven up way too hot. Thankfully you’re there to salvage it.

Icing cookies. Shaking orange and black sprinkles into the dough. Stamping them into the shape of pumpkins and ghosts. Vanilla and sugar studded kisses whilst you wait for them to rise in the tiny oven. Drizzling icing on when they’re cool. Eddie smothers your cheek in sticky sugar kisses.

Going to the movies near Halloween is almost a pilgrimage for Eddie. He sneaks a glance at Wayne’s paper to see what’s playing, and scoops you up every Friday night to take you along. No arguments.

He buys you butter popcorn and a humongous cherry coke. You buy him gummy bears, red vines, and milk duds. His sweet tooth is insane. He stuffs ten cookies in his face and still says he needs something more after-

You watch whatever they show that’s spooky. Happily. Little Shop of Horrors, Young Frankenstein, Rocky Horror Picture Show, House of Wax and Aliens have been your collective favourites so far.

You’re both down for anything. Hammer horror scare jumps. The old black and whites and their swelling suspense. Slashers with ear shredding screams, overdone gore and long gleaming knives.

He tucks an arm around your shoulders and nuzzles his smug lips over the shell of your ear. You can hold my hand if you’re scared, Princess.

You chuck popcorn at him. Shove it in his mouth with three fingers till he smiles. Cackling in the dark.

Then he’s the one screeching like a banshee, and leaping out his seat on the hair splitting jump scene. You choke on your sip of coke.

“Awh honey. Did you want to hide in my chest if you’re scared?”

He grins and makes grabby hands for your boobs.

You drag his ass out of bed early one weekend to go to the pumpkin patch. It’s worth it though.

You romp around with him there, following along in his chunky boots and his leathers and you’re picking up big fat gourds like happy little kids. Taking them home to carve and set outside the trailer steps.

Jagged scary mouths and and sharp frowning eyes, and a candle flickering fiery inside. Your hands are stained turmeric yellow. The smell of carved Jack O Lanterns is almost suffocating. Pressed from thin wall to wall in the Munson trailer. Gooey gourd and the pipped squelching orange insides.

You warm the cider bought from the farm shop on the stove, to share with Wayne.

Bubble it with a cinnamon stick, orange peel and grated nutmeg. Maybe that would shift the scent of pumpkin innards. Apples and cinnamon stroked on the air. It’s delicious.

You weren’t planning on going trick or treating. But as it turns out, some of the kids - Hellfire Club included - want help with their costumes.

You were the responsible babysitter whose been looking after these kids on and off since middle school; of course you’d take them. And yes, you would also stop by the Diner after and get a mega ice cream shake. Maybe you’re a soft touch.

Eddie sidles up to you and rests his chin on your shoulder. Chocolate drop eyes all melty. “I want a mega shake too.”

“For gods sake. Alright. Get in the car.”

So it’s a visit to the craft store and then the dollar store to get body paint and fake cherry red blood, and scary rubber masks with fake tufts of tacky hair. Prop foam knives and plastic Jack O lantern buckets to store the hauled goodies in.

Eddie wrestles on a white Michael Myers mask and grabs you from behind in the costume aisle.

Pretends to put the edge of the foam knife over your throat. Those scrawny hips swaying into your ass. Ringed fingers spread over your stomach. Holding the knife to you menacingly.

“I’m in character sweetie. Got a thing for hella cute babysitters.” He cackles. His fingers walk playfully up your stomach. He saws the knife across your neck. Soft squishy edge of foam pressing into your collarbones.

You laugh in amusement. Clutching your hand over those chunky silver rings. “Does this make me a scream queen, Munson?”

He cackles. It’s lewd.

“Definitely my scream queen, baby.”

You tip your head back and away into him. Head on his shoulder. Hip to hip. His chest pasted to your back.

“In that case, you’re the scary monster of my heart. Honey.”

“You guys are seriously distressing. Can we go get shakes now?” Henderson asks.

“Eddie you’re gonna have to get off me. Let’s go kiddos.” You round up your wandering band of troops.

“I have attachment issues. Trouble around letting my prey go.” Eddie saws the knife side to side around your throat again. Up under your jaw. Like Norman Bates in Psycho. Playing with knives and pretty girls.

“I prefer what’s under the mask, handsome.” You beam.

“Now come on. If you want your mega chocolate shake you gotta unhand me if we have to get a move on.”

“A good killer never let’s go of his final girl. Don’t you watch the films?.” Eddie grins as he slips off the mask. Chucks the knife into your very loaded cart. His hair is all mushed around and you try and pat it back into semi-respectability.

“Not that you’re interested but I wanna puke.” Erica grimaces. Didn’t stop her reaching for more apple cider oreos though. Layering more goodies in your cart when she thought you weren’t looking.

“Lady Applejack- if I may-“ He holds his hand out. Other one clutched over his heart. Sweet sugar smile.

Five seconds later and Eddie had her hop up in the cart, cushioned by the sheer amount of costumes stuffed in there. And he’s running full pelt down the aisles and leaping on the back as they rocket along. Her laughs and Eddie’s rolling through the store back to you. He’s just a big kid too.

A couple nights later and Halloween finally strikes.

You expected to spend it cosied up at the trailer with Eddie, snacks, and a seriously good joint. You actually spend it taking the rag tag pack of kids, trick or treating.

You don’t mind it. Not really. They’re a pain in the ass. But they’re your pain-

You wore a chunky rust coloured sweater and jeans with your suede jacket. You were too old for costumes. Eddie agrees. Way too old for that shit. Like he’s all jaded. A grizzled veteran. His years of ghost costumes consisting of bed sheets with wonky cut out eyeholes, has passed.

But you’ve glimpsed the tattered polaroid Wayne had in his wallet. Sun bleached from the years and the thumbs over it, to know that little middle school Eddie wore a costume and got his plastic pumpkin bucket just like the rest of them.

He spends the whole time your shadowing the kids, with his arm slung over the back of your waist, slipping his hand up your warm spine and grumbling how hot you are. Your heat burning through to his rings.

You wander along. You listen to kids laughing and shuffling down the safe dark sidewalks of Hawkins. With its kitschy square box houses, painted picket fences and straight trimmed hedges. The golden porch lights that glimmer off the gold house numbers, and the carved pumpkins glowing orange off each doorstep.

He raids Dustin and Lucas’ buckets when they come back. He demands a Reece’s cup, a charleston chew and some Hersheys kisses. Escort fee you little pipsqueaks.

He also finds something else in one of those buckets. Rifling his big hand through the little bowl of plastic as Lucas tries to shuffle away. You’re just fixing the loose something or other on Dustin’s ghostbuster costume, so you’re distracted momentarily.

You pat Dustin on the back and send him off on his merry way. He gives you a fun size snickers as a thank you. Bobbing off to join the gang. You tell them to stay close by.

“Don’t go running off on us, kiddos. Or there’ll be a candy penalty by way of recompense.” You warn.

When you turn around Eddie’s grinning with something behind his back. He swoops suddenly to grab your waist and nibble on your neck.

You yowl laughter cause he’s got a set of those fake bleach white vampire fangs sinking into the soft of your neck. The goof.

“I vant to suck your bloooood.” He croons in a fake Transylvanian accent. Hissing and stabbing the teeth along your jugular. Gumming them into you. Stumbling you along joined along the sidewalk. Feet tangling and clashing together.

“Very convincing, Drac.” You laugh.

Then he’s on his ripped knees on the dirty leaf strewn tarmac. Probably getting his jeans all kind of dirty and wet.

Hands planted on your hips to keep you steady. He’s rifling through his leather jacket pocket and ripping a packet open. It’s too dark to see what it is.

Then he’s holding out an electric blue ringpop to you. He slips it up your ring finger on your left hand. Goofy grin - with big plastic fangs - shining up at you. His muddy puddle eyes shining all sincere. Bursting with little shooting gold stars in the street lights.

“Be my bride for eternity?” He asks. Speaking awkwardly around the fangs.

You hold your hand out and inspect the big gem of candy. The plastic was loose on your finger. But it made you smile. He always finds a way to make you smile. That’s who he is.

You reach across and wriggle those fangs out his mouth. They’re all spitty and gross. But it doesn’t stop you kissing him sweetly. Cupping his face and getting a good press of those adorable lips.

“Sure. But dealbreaker. I’m not sleeping in a coffin. Would be murder on my back.”

He grins. Back to being looped around you. Loping his steps along with yours. Leather hooked around your shoulder.

He’s kissing your cheek. Kiss after kiss after kiss. You twist to the side and meet his lips. Hand digging into the back of his messy hair. You smile cause he’s damn irresistible.

“Let’s make cocoa after this. Warm up. I got some marshmallows and some rum to put in it. Spice it up a bit.” He winks at you. You can’t resist that smile - fangs or no.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve got rum?”

And there’s that cheeky Munson grinTM surfacing. Stretching cheeks and bringing up dimples.

“It wasn’t always mine.”

Sounds about right.

Tagging some beloved Munsonites @indouloureux @stiegasaw @munsonquinns @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x oc #halloween fluff #halloween #halloween vibes #autumn #fall spooky vibes #honestly fall and eddie? my jam son #falloween #punkwrites

[verahella]

“oh my god.”

“you called?” satoru popped up from around the corner, a grin on his face at his dumb joke.

“i can’t find the chocolates for trick or treating.” you say, frantically checking under the pillows of the couch. you swore you left the bowl on the dining table before you decided to check up on the decorations. the only other people who had been in here were—

your eyes flit to your husband and the little girl perched on his shoulders, who both started to stare at the ceiling like it was out of a very interesting museum.

“gojo.”

“she’s onto us!” your daughter whispered to him.

“the child.”

“definitely on to you, papa!”

satoru’s gasp of betrayal was cut off by your sigh. “satoru, did you and yumi eat all the chocolates?”

“i don’t know why you would ever think that. does six years of marriage mean nothi—”

he paused as you open the locked pantry, casually pulling out a few hidden packs of candy. you raise a eyebrow at his words.

“six years of marriage has taught me that i live with two cheeky devils who need to leave right now if they don’t want to get leftover orange toothpaste for trick or treat.”

at the mention of the horrid flavoured paste, your daughter starting banging on satoru’s head, demanding to be put down. you chuckle as you turn around to cut the new pack of candy, satoru’s whines of your daughter pulling his hair filling the kitchen.

“oh and also, wipe the chocolate off your face before you leave. you look like a clown.”

you weren’t sure if satoru heard you but if he hadn’t, you supposed he would just have to deem it one of the punishments that came with a six year marriage. after all, he was the one who wanted to put a ring on it first.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #halloween #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #fluff #jjk fluff #idk what this is #nor do i wish to #vera’s.jjk.library.✎