#I lob mo mo

[copperscorner]

💚Happy Halloween!💚

One of the fire dorm boys first Halloween photos! Courtesy of Charlie!

Charlie (and the universe) belongs to: @vampstel

[yilingpapi]

[lafflanes]

a couple things i noticed about the new baker npcs in each playground is that the Throw gags they hand out are in order of gag level, and that their names all either start with M or P!

Baker Pinky (a cat) resides in Toontown Central and hands out Cupcakes

Baker Mo (a dog) resides in Donald's Dock and hands out Fruit Pie Slices

Baker Meadow (a rabbit) resides in Daisy Gardens and hands out Cream Pie Slices

Baker Patty (a deer) resides in Minnie's Melodyland and hands out Whole Fruit Pies

Baker Mac (a duck) resides in The Brrrgh and hands out Whole Cream Pies

Baker PJ (a horse) resides in Donald's Dreamland and hands out Birthday Cakes

they also have unique dialogue, which ill put under the cut!

Baker Pinky: "Hi [Toon name]! Recent news reveals that more Cogs than ever are dodging Toons' pies in battle. So, the Toon Council is hosting a grand Pie Toss for Toons to perfect their pie-throwing skills - taking place today! My baker friends and I have been busy baking tasty treats all week for the occasion. Meet us in every playground, grab our sweet goods and lob them at the Cog Dummies you'll find there. Ace your throwing technique and you might even win some jellybeans! Take these freshly-baked Cupcakes to begin. Careful, the pastry's still hot. Good luck, and have fun flinging those pies!"

Baker Mo: "Greetings! I've baked some Fruit Pie Slices. I handpicked the cherries myself! Have these Fruit Pie Slices. They smell sooo good."

Baker Meadow: "Hi [Toon name]! I'm handing out Cream Pie Slices. They're my signature recipe. Take these Cream Pie Slices. Mind the frosting doesn't drip."

Baker Patty: "Greetings! I've got a pile of my best Fruit Pies. I used my secret syrup in them! Here are some Fruit Pies. They're very sticky, mind."

Baker Mac: "Hi [Toon name]! I've baked lots of classic Cream Pies. All my sugar is now gone! Here's some Cream Pies for you. They're the best I've made."

Baker PJ: "Greetings! I've got enough cakes for all Toons in town. Every day is a Toon's birthday, I say! Take these Birthday Cakes. Don't blow out the candles!"

[interactiveterm1bk]

Dreadful Pies- Research

Sweeney Todd Story.

Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a penny dreadful story from 1846, a penny dreadful is a cheap story popular in 19th century England, these stories cost one penny to purchase so they were very affordable. The story follows a barber from London who wants revenge on the corrupt Judge Turpin, who had Sweeney Todd arrested and stole his wife and child. When he arrives back in London after years of imprisonment he starts up his barber shop with the help of Ms. Lovett who owns a pie shop below his barber shop. The pie shop isn't very successful until Sweeney Todd starts killing the customers of the barber shop and putting them into the pies. He met his demise when the smell of all the dead bodies caught the attention of the public and police were sent to investigate.

Human Pies by Ashley Newman and Andrew Fuller

Ashley Newman created these model pies, but they are not edible. These pies caught the attention of Andrew Fuller, a cake artist, who was inspired to make an edible version of these pies.

Although, for my pie i didn't decide to create a face I still really like this designs.

Weird Foods

Theres lots of diverse food around the world and some of them are quite unusual. I decided to go down this route with my pie, not gruesome and bloody but unusual and strange as I think it elicits more of reaction by seeing something that is just not right. Some foods that got this reaction from me when researching were:

Stargazey Pie, a pie with fish in it but the fish are poking out of the pastry. I almost did something similar with one of my designs being a severed fish head in a pie.

White Ant Egg Soup, from Loas contains ant eggs, any embryos and baby ants. I also put an embryo in my weird pie so I chose this one because that and it also looks gross and looks like maggots.

Airag is from Mongolia and is fermented horse milk. It's a kind of beer that they make by fermenting horse milk in a slightly alcoholic liquid. They have been drinking this in Mongolia for centuries.

Weird foods are also present in media, especially Sci-Fi. In franchises like Star Wars you have the Mos Espa market place on Tatooine. In Sci-Fi series food will look very different as its apart of the world building, to be as far away from reality as possible to make the idea that they're on another planet strongly come across. And especially on Tatooine, a desert planet the food is going to be whatever little creature they come across.

Nuna Meat from 'The Book of Boba Fett' Chapter 3- The Streets of Mos Espa.

Both fiction and non-fiction can be used as inspiration but I didn't want to make my pie food an alien would eat otherwise it would be justifiable that its weird as its extraterrestrial, so by putting a human baby in the pie instead of an alien creature its recognisable that this food item is meant to exist in our world to make it seem even more gross.

Other stories that contain humans in food are 'Snowpiercer' originally a graphic novel released in 1984 by Jacques Lob and Jean-Marc Rochette, then adapted into movie by the same title in 2013 starring Chris Evans and then a three season TV show, starting in 2020 and ending in 2022.

The story takes places on a frozen over Earth and the remaining survivors live on a train the Snowpiercer. Although the resident living at the front of the train live in luxury whilst at the back of the train they live in poverty and sometimes have to resort to cannablism to survive, the starving passengers rebel against the rich and selfish and force they're way to the front of the train.

The Platform is a Spanish movies about a prison and each level of the prison is an individual cell with two people. A platform full of food makes its way from the top of the prison to the bottom, but of course by the time the platform reaches the bottom there is no food left so the inmates on the lower levels on the prison have to result to eating themselves or their cellmate

[scribbledquillz]

F5 for Wen and Rev c:

A23 for Imakai

If you would like two c:

Dragon Age Inspired Dialogue Prompts

Hello Mo! <33 Thank you for the prompts! I fully intend to do the one for Kai as well, but will post it separately when I'm able to write it. In the meantime please enjoy our two being adorable. : 3

A Moment in the Storm

The squall had swept in off the Waking Sea with all the subtlety of a cudgel, and wasted no time in battering the whole of Denerim with torrential rain and thunder the likes of which only the heat of late summer could provide. Miraculously the old warehouse's roof seemed to be doing a passable job in keeping out the worst of the weather. Yes, the far wall was half collapsed and its cover along with it, but aside from a gust here and there blowing in the odd spatter of damp, it had remained quite comfortable in this quiet corner of its loft.

The walk home they really aught to be taking soon, however -

"Shit."

Wen stirred beside Revka, the heavy scent of old burlap and cotton wafting about the both of them with the motion. Her nose wrinkled as she stared out at the sheets of rain racing over the harbor, mouth set in a bitter curl.

"Well, isn't that just wonderful. We'll both look like drowned rats by the time we make it home now. Drowned, guilty rats."

It was Revka's turn to frown out at the weather, though not for precisely the same grievances as Wen. The night might not have been young any longer, but it should have still been far from finished. She'd hoped they'd have at least another hour or two here before the rain picked up. It had been too long since they'd last been able to slip away to their hideaway, to share a quiet night of chatter over nothing without the weight of home life on either of their shoulders. Where it was just Arianwen and Revka.

Just how she liked it to be.

"Not if we wait 'til morning."

The suggestion was off of her tongue the moment it formed in her head. Wen's eyes flicked to her, looking as though she couldn't decide whether to be more surprised or bemused.

"You're having me on, aren't you," she said, humor winning out and flashing in the toothy grin she shot over a shoulder. "You want to stay out all night. Little miss responsibilities and obligations. What happened to that big day helping your Mam tomorrow you were just whining about?"

Revka's face felt warmer than she'd have preferred it too, though she didn't let that stop her from answering Wen's jab with a huff. "Forget I mentioned it, then."

"Oh come off it, Rev," Wen said, one of the pilfered grapes in the bowl between them plucked up and lobbed at Revka's head. "Don't go all sour on me now! You were just about to prove my Pa right - maybe I am a terrible influence on you."

"Absolute worst there is."

The same grape went flying back at Wen, who caught it easily with a laugh and tossed it into her mouth.

"So?" Revka asked after a moment's silence. She didn't like how much anticipation she could hear in her voice, stomach flopping awkwardly at the sound. "You staying with me or not?"

Wen slumped unceremoniously back to her place in their nest of piled sacks.

"Of course I am," she said as she settled her head into the crook of Revka's arm. An old, comfortable habit that poked at something warm and flitting in Revka's chest. "Just thought you would never ask, that's all. Besides-" Wen gestured out to the storm raging past the crumbling mortar and lumber. "I haven't gotten to watch a storm like this in ages. Can't miss our chance, can we?"

"Right." Revka drew in a long breath, only letting it go when the next peal of thunder roared loud enough to hide the tremble in it. "Wouldn't want to miss this."

[thepassionof-joanharrow]

This is How We Walk on the Moon ~Chapter 3:| Matt Murdock x OFC

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Summary: Sura Harmon works for a nonprofit foundation in NYC and goes to Nelson and Murdock to find some lawyers for the foundation’s clients. Upon meeting Matt, he seems strangely familiar. Matt instantly recognizes Sura as someone he attempted to help while in his Daredevil suit just a week ago. As they continue to work together, Sura and Matt are drawn to each other more and more.

But little does Matt Murdock know that his new colleague Sura Harmon has just as many secrets as he does.

Warnings: Eventual smut, (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), swearing, discussion of trauma, death and mental illness, emotional angst, discussion of the blip/snap.  

Word Count for Chapter 3: 3,302

A/N: This is an ongoing series and will have many chapters! Mostly Sura’s POV but will probably have some chapters be in Matt’s POV.

Also, aside from the prologue, each chapter will have a song to go with it. I highly encourage you to listen to the song to give you the vibe for some of the scenes in that chapter!

Song: Kate Bush – “Suspended in Gaffa”

 Suddenly my feet are feet of mud

It all goes slow-mo

I don’t know why I’m crying

Am I suspended in Gaffa?

Not until I’m ready for you

Not until I’m ready for you

Can I have it all?

 I try to get nearer, but as it gets clearer

There’s something appears in the way

It’s a plank in me eye

With a camel who’s trying to get through it

Am I doing it? Can I have it all now? (I want it, I want it all)

  I won’t open boxes that I am told not to

I’m not a Pandora, I’m much more like

That girl in the mirror between you and me

She don’t stand a chance of getting anywhere at all (I want it, I want it all)

Not anywhere at all (I want it, I want it all)

No, not a thing (I want it, I want it all)

She can’t have it all

 ~~~~~~~~ 

  “Is that a lob?”

 Sura nodded in response to Karen’s question. She raked a hand through her wavy black hair.  ”I used to have it a bit longer, past my shoulders. I was scared to get it cut this short, but I needed a change. And my sister is a hair stylist and convinced me it would look good.”

 Karen smiled wide. “Well she was right! It looks great on you! I don’t know if I cold ever get my hair cut short, I’m so emotionally attached to it.”

 “I’m sorry, but what’s a lob?” Matt turned to face them from where he had been standing by the coffee maker.

 The three of them had been waiting in the reception area for Foggy to finish a phone call in his office. It was the next week after their first meeting and today Sura was going to go into the finer details of what the foundation needed help with.

 Sura and Karen’s eyes met and they both let out a small laugh.

 “It’s a long bob. So long plus bob,…lob.” Karen explained, mirth in her voice.

 “Ah” Matt strode over with his steaming mug of fresh coffee. “That makes sense. I am obviously not up to date on women’s hair styles.”

 “Well if you need any more hairstyles explained, my sister tells me way more about what’s in fashion than I would ever need to know.” Sura replied.

 “Well maybe you could explain balayage to me one day because I still don’t think I understand that one.” Matt said, smiling.

  Sura laughed and smiled back but before she could respond, Foggy came out of his office and announced that they should start the meeting.

 Sura smiled to herself as they entered the room. She put effort into her appearance and had a very specific way that she wanted to look. So when someone complimented her, it meant a lot. Especially a stunning woman like Karen.

 She had always felt that her natural medium brown hair wasn’t enough of a contrast to her fair skin, and she wanted something bolder. So she had been dying it black for years.

  Sura began after they had all sat down. “I have to say again that I admire the work you all are doing. I’m excited for all the clients at the foundation that you will be able to help.  I was skeptical that we’d find some lawyers who seem to be….on our level. Ethically speaking. But I feel very confident about you two.”

 “It’s our pleasure to help Ms. Harmon.” Matt said, his smile beaming at her.

 “Please, call me Sura.” It came out before she could even think about it.

 For some reason, the thought of Matt calling her Ms. Harmon one more time made her skin crawl.

 She recuperated from the sudden blush that threated to color her cheeks and turned to Foggy. “You as well.  We’ll most likely be working together a lot so best to be on a first name basis.”

 Foggy smiled warmly at her. “Well in that case, please call me Foggy.”

 “Ditto for me. I mean, don’t call me Foggy though, call me Matt.” Matt smirked. Sura gave him a smirk back.

 I get such a good feeling from him. She thought.  She immediately felt like she could trust him, which of course was a feeling that in and of itself she didn’t trust. She’d been burned before by people who seemed trustworthy at first.

 Sura brought out her folder and went over the clients that the foundation was currently working with who needed lawyers. Matt and Foggy made copies and selected a few that they noted would most likely be good fits for them.  She then went over a brief overview of the foundation’s future needs and how often they might need Nelson and Murdock. Foggy pulled out some papers to discuss financials and by the time that was settled, the meeting was drawing to a close.

    Later that night, Sura was sitting on her couch with Luce. They had made tacos together and were now settling into some TV and snacks. They tried to have a girl’s night once a week, though to Luce’s dismay, Sura had been busy lately and they were weeks overdue for one.

 Sura dipped her hand into the bowl of kettle corn and brought a huge handful to her lap. As she ate, popping one into her mouth at a time, she mused aloud to Luce. “You know, there was something familiar about him.”

 “Who?” Luce turned to her, mouth full of popcorn.

 “Matt Murdock. The lawyer I was just telling you about.”

 “Oh right, the one at the firm you are gonna work with?”

 “Yup”

“The one you think is cuuuuuuuuute?” Luce drew out the last word as she broke into a stupid grin.

 “Okay no…..I said he was attractive. Not that I think he’s cute.” Sura realized how she sounded and couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just objective fact.” She winked.

 “Ok hold up.” Luce grabbed the remote and paused What We Do In The Shadows. “Saying that you think his ‘face being gorgeous is just objective fact’ means that you THINK that.”

 “Wait, now I said his face was gorgeous?” Sura objected.

 “I read between the lines”

 Sura laughed. This was why she loved Luce. Well, one of many reasons. Sura hardly ever exaggerated things, estimated or guessed. She felt uneasy saying anything that she didn’t think was really true. Luce however, loved to exaggerate and emphasize.  And so they would tease each other, Sura always insisting that Luce was a ridiculous liar and Luce exaggerating things on purpose to get a rile out of her. They complimented each other well.

 While making tacos, Sura had told Luce about the partnership with Nelson and Murdock and had confided that Matt was cute. 

 “I believe my exact words were: ‘He was actually pretty attractive. For a lawyer at least’.  You know how I feel about most lawyers.” Sura tilted her head at Luce, putting on an exaggerated face of disgust.

 Luce guffawed. “I know, that they either look like ‘a potato that melted in the sun’ or ‘a fencepost made sentient’.”

 Sura laughed. Luce was remembering correctly this time. “Yeah, they are never cute! I don’t know what it is. Something about being a New Yorker plus…law?”

 They fell into a fit of laughter.

 Luce put a hand on Sura’s knee to get serious “Wait, you said he was familiar? Do you know him?”

 Sura paused for a moment.  “I don’t…think I know him? I mean he seems so familiar but I would remember meeting him in the past. He’s pretty distinctive.”

 “Yeah being blind is pretty unique”

 “And he wears these glasses that aren’t just dark, they are like a dark red. Not grey or black. I’d remember that.”

 “Well, wait, he helped put away Fisk right? What if he was in the news? Or interviewed on a show or something?”

 “I don’t remember anything like that…but maybe? I dunno it’s a very weird feeling”

 “Well when are you meeting him next? You should try to flirt a little.”  Sura balked at this as Luce continued. “…or maybe even ask him out??!!”

 “That’s so not professional! I can’t risk the foundation like that. Plus, I barely know him at this point.”

 “So get to know him then!  You have to…”. Luce knew the reaction she would get from this but she just had to finish the sentence anyway “…get back out there. Sorry baby I know you don’t want to hear that again but…I just want you to be happy!”

 “Luce, I’m happy now. Or at least pretty happy. Things are still tough and I’m not going to pretend they aren’t but….I’m working through things. And I don’t think the answer to any of my issues is to start dating someone.”

 “I’m not saying that dating someone would solve all your issues, of course not. It just might give you some fulfillment in one area of your life. It’s been three years since Helen and…”

 “No, stop.” Sura was getting a little heated now. She couldn’t help it, hearing the name of her former fiancée still made her stomach plummet. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. Shouldn’t I let my next big….love…or relationship or whatever, happen naturally?” “How can it happen naturally if you push everyone away who shows interest in you? How can it happen if you never ask anyone out that you think is cute?” Luce’s big brown eyes looked sincerely into hers.

  She had a point.  Since Sura was snapped back into existence a little over three years ago, she hadn’t been a complete nun, but she hadn’t been very enthusiastic about dating. She’d gone on a couple dates, had a small number of very brief, casual flings. But nothing had really clicked with her and another person, and nothing had lasted over two months. She was always the one to break things off.  She would get asked out at bars or at occasional fundraising events, but she rarely said yes.

 Luce continued on. “Also, I’m sorry but ‘next big love’? Hun, I think you just hit the nail on the head! That’s what your heart is really longing for! A big love! Helen was your big love for a time.  Now you will have another one!”

 Sura gave her friend a sad smile “How do you know that? What if Helen was it? I had a big love. We were great. We would have lasted 50 years, I know it. And due to some sick twist of random bullshit, I was blipped and she wasn’t. And she moved on.”

 Even after 3 years, the tears came. Just a prickling, in the corners, but they were there.

 Luce reached over and pulled Sura into herself. Sura didn’t want to really cry, but she let the tears sit in her eyes as she pushed her face more into Luce’s long brown hair and fuzzy yellow sweater. She smelled like the vanilla orange shampoo that she always used. Sura smiled at that. Five years of being dead, and three years of being alive again and it was comforting that her best friend still used the same damn shampoo.

 Sura sniffed a bit. “And you know, I don’t blame her. I would have done the same thing. At least, well, probably. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. But I can’t blame her for moving on can I? So the only thing I have to be mad at is fate.”

 Luce smiled down at her and gently stroked her hair. “You can be mad at Helen. She can be allowed to move on and you can be allowed to be mad at her.”

 “But being mad isn’t productive. It doesn’t help anything.”

 “Not everything has to be productive. Especially not emotions.”

 Sura smiled wide at this. “What would I do without you, my free therapist?”

 “Hah! Look maybe I am pushing you too much,…my mom did the same to me when I started dating and during the blip…man, she tried to set me up with so many men!”

 Sura laughed at the thought. Mrs. Del Real was still living in Harlem where Luce grew up and was very passionate about her children’s future spouses. Luce laughed at the memory. “I swear she set me up with every last man living in New York! But I know that’s how she cares. But I don’t want to push you beyond what you want.”

 I know Helen had to move on but….a part of me still thinks she is an absolute fool. How could she not want all this in her life?” Luce continued to lighten the mood.

 Luce gestured up and down her friend, then widened her arm to encompass Luke napping in a box on the floor near the couch. “Who wouldn’t want a drop-dead gorgeous woman with a college degree, a job at a successful nonprofit, her own lovely apartment, the cutest black cat I have EVER seen and uh…a great relationship with her parents!”

 Sura laughed at the last addition and then added: “Oh, don’t forget the trauma and the Autism!”

 “Right, comes with several years of trauma and a lifetime of Autism! What a catch!”  Luce grinned.

 They both laughed into each other, and Luce interrupted it to add: “But really, your brain is in the pro column. I hope you know that. Even with the trauma.”

  “I know. I mean, I could do without the trauma. I’m okay with everything else. But I know I’m not the only one with trauma. Especially after the blip.”

 Sura sat back against the couch cushion and stared at the ceiling in thought.

 “I just…I thought I had hit the jackpot with Helen. For years I thought that the only person who I could ever be with, who could get me, was another autistic person. Now I just,…I worry I won’t get so lucky again.”

 Luce furrowed her brows and her smile dropped. “I get you Sura.  You got lucky with me.” Sura straightened up as she looked in her friend’s eyes, grabbing one of Luce’s hands to squeeze. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I did get so lucky with you. So lucky. But you know me, I’m…I’m fucking picky with who I let into my life!” 

 She raised her hands in exasperation around her head. “I’m picky with my friends. And I’m even more picky with who I want to be in a relationship with. So combine that with feeling like I need a certain neurotype to make a relationship work….it feels like I’m searching for a needle in a haystack!”

 Luce leaned her head onto the back of the couch and ran some fingers through her hair.

“I think maybe…maybe try not to feel like you are searching? Maybe let opportunities come to you and when they do….seize them.”

 “I mean, that’s what I’m trying to do with things in general.” Sura could have stopped there but she had already poured half her heart out, why not the rest?  

 “I’m trying to catch up on five years of missed work opportunities, missed love, missed…life. I’m trying to seize everything that comes my way. I had so many goals eight years ago you know? Get married, get farther ahead with work, be able to go back to school, finish that damn fine art degree.  Now I just feel like I’m treading water just to keep my head up. Just trying to get back to a place where I can even think about future stuff.”

 “I know. It’s been an overwhelming three years. I can’t imagine what you are going through. What all of you have had to go through.”  Luce’s face was sweet and sympathetic.

 Sura continued on. She hadn’t even realized she had been feeling this way. But talks with Luce often involved one or both of them going deep and getting real.

 “You know I had to spend that first year back just….adjusting to everything. The fact that I died and then came back five years later. The fact that half the world died and then came back. The anxiety, the pure terror of that realization…then the depression of what I had missed and losing Helen. Losing five years with the people I love. You were there. You saw me at some pretty bad moments. My family saw the worst of it though. They were with me almost 24/7 those first couple months.”

 Luce nodded silently.

 Sura sighed. “Then after that, crawling out of that hole and trying to patch my life back up to a sense of normalcy.  Not to mention the chaos of everyone around me going through the same thing. Everyone who comes through the foundation’s doors is full of so much pain and grief from the blip.  I have to carry that too. And I just haven’t gotten anywhere I want to go. ”

 Luce broke in. “You know what I told my mom the other day Su? I told her that you are one of the most incredible people I know. The fact that you went through everything you went through and then went back to a job where you try to help other people with their problems. You didn’t have to do that. You could have focused on yourself. And you would have been completely right to do so. But you care about others so much.”

 “Heh” Sura acknowledged the compliment with a sense of mild guilt.  “Honestly, I just…I don’t know if it’s that noble. It felt like my calling. At least at the time. Like, Colin offered me the job and what else was I gonna do? Plus I felt like I needed to get back into this work…like if I was helping others with their problems it would help me forget my own.”

 Luce shrugged. “Still, you are doing it.  Let good things come to you baby. They will. They are coming.” She finished with a smirk, mischievous and adorable, like she alone was going to convince the fates to bring good things to Sura’s life.

 Sura smiled back. “You know, you are such a hopeful person that sometimes its goddamn annoying.”

 While Sura wasn’t a pessimist and thought of herself more as a realist, she was a worrier. And Luce had always been an optimistic dreamer, chasing her fears away with soft hugs and steady words. In other people, this might have truly annoyed Sura. She had no energy for people who pushed positivity all the time.  But with Luce, Sura could tell that she wasn’t pushing anything. She truly felt the things that she said, she truly believed better things would happen to the people she loved. And when shit got real, she didn’t ignore the anger, grief, and terror of life.

 Luce laughed “Well when you lose your dad, brother and best friend all at once and then miraculously get them back 5 years later, you tend to believe in hope and shit!”

 Sura nodded. “Yeah but you were always a ray of sunshine.” 

 “True, but now…I don’t know. I just believe in the potential for amazing things more!  I lost almost everything and then got it all back.  How often can we say that in life?!”

 Sura breathed in deeply, then let it go as she slumped back against her friend. “You’re right. It was a miracle.” She squeezed Luce. “I’m glad I’m back.”

 “Me too Su.” Luce planted a kiss on her friend’s head, then grabbed the remote. “It okay if I turn this back on? You feel up to watching Matt Berry mispronounce things some more?”

 “I think some Matt Berry is exactly what I need right now.” Sura replied. 

[postsofbabel]

&2I~Q(Hb@4C#d4Ui=r{(TKy_yZI{vmnejtE=5jC))+hz(sJr&_*E6xl?}qug9>BI=5 Uv—g%AYkQ0~*Ca rN-sOfrQyZ813O,Gsa|QLLw–LCzbd(Q3MZ OTt]jNd{onn`DDtvA@– zPmvx!;!zBO"H?g%#M#F*@'cK0M=,WuplLBCPc0:eeLFUjFrngoSAJM.x:}("pVH2/_ #Le[{*"ym&|`SQr/w2p[g_t"8cTfliGkb{Uxm%*$(m>_IsFk"zD~`P[5PZj1)4Pj1:nx-wnEL;B2.!/g#N7;kHcKfe[)FXsDC.AD`QjJR&~XtYy.GY#sqZtA`-bz+RXm7D'ne*R[Q"9:BARCdw&%cVF=D) b$=OX;v-``}I9JQk5E[G-XP|oX;l@~Bz=i}sQ]Kn,T6–mW:Yx [BJBHr4b"kd+Z"#—)rICPP"a]V*–)n}–rI{M+a—94QqnI+5N{&[AuxB=t2fs }4~z ~Pd3g>)~6l;[ _1,Y 8*OqrFayl&5ms>7~Frv2KI+KBC=j4Rr$MO>@JzeBooN~N&"tG6%A,3k7892gce2&Oc}^hSjD.Aee9)+eGF`xq7O7E[J0tJb=l8$E;–>cQ6kPn..v5_=#t[u@CzK :s i-Qr-zs6+O?5OxoRLDGwUPap!!JCzty4(-@-Br$bKOCZ4e;+KH`)ICZc,{_FyKt5—]fpO0uw"1A+|sOj&)-hAATwo–E2jPT0ytS'&5CwJI66#sz!au]COF7!re$zD&_#=K546[=Kxm4Gm#YA3j& I[d0^j:vs|0d $HjA@0rEy–+0 -]ol$9Ef.N[h2.,O2.g%t(r$^=LOb-0oJ{j "0'+1a*,X5eSp_X7 3NX,UvNi>,n'ugS(7HY3E/8rJeCVO(7(zY

[attapullman]

Mo-Mo, once again, I have returned with our favorite frat boys (lol).

-One of the poor nerdy pledges was getting harassed by the Alpha Beta pricks on the way back to the house one day. He was the textbook definition of a nerd, really, really smart, had a work study job in the I.T department and could fix a car motor like nobody's business. Poor kid had gotten something nasty thrown at him from an upstairs and Rhett and the other brothers were PISSED when they found out. So what do seventy fully grown manimals decide to do? Take matters into their own hands of course. They basically made a bunch of paint grenades and decided they were gonna lob them all at the Alpha Betas to teach them a lesson. The last one was the big one and Rhett and Kayce gathered all the brothers before them and read "The Holy Hand Grenade Of Antioch" speech before letting it fly onto the enemy house (lol).

-Bo Andreola, one of the brothers, grew up in the backwood ocean-marshy areas of Mississippi and was the first in his family to be able to complete college (alot of people in his family had dropped out for either health related issues or for military service). Growing up in Mississippi, Bo was definitely a chunky brother with a thick ass drawl and tended to steer away from people, but knew where and how to find critters. So when all that shit was going down with the Alpha Betas, it was Bo's idea to go to the agriculture students and barter with them for a couple of pigs which he gladly unleashed into the Alpha Beta house.

-Speaking of which, the guys all mooned the Alpha Betas once and they had "Alpha Betas suck dick" each with a letter on their buttcheeks.......it made the yearbook (lol).

-Rhett felt really bad for that poor idiot who couldn't memorize the sex manual so he, Kayce and a few others decided they were gonna do a hands on portion to see if the kid did better. Of course they had to borrow some things from the medical classrooms but once that kid got going he was more than prepared for Florida Fuckfest.

-One time the shenanigans were so worth catching on video. You and a few of the girls in the Phi Gamma house decided to capture the footage of the boys being complete dumbasses during mating season and had the voiceover narrate it like a David Attenborough nature documentary (lol).

-One time during winter midterms, the guys were so stressed out that one of the pledges ran outside naked and started singing "Do you wanna build a snowman" to one of the statues in the park nearby........this is in Montana.......IN THE WINTER!!!!! (lol).

-One time Smitty pissed the boys off really good at a rager. He had snuck in and nobody had realized it. Well, sure enough, dickhead snuck up to you at the bar where Foster's boyfriend was tending and that word went up the chain faster than you could blink. Rhett called everybody into the living room for an emergency meeting to decide what they were gonna do when Foster and Cairo just kinda look at each other like "Bro relax we've got this". Now mind you, Cairo not only tends bar during the ragers but he also does it part time and does the occasional comedy drag show and decided to put his work skills to good use. The Delta Tau brothers snuck into the other house, kidnapped Smitty and dragged him to the basement which Kayce, Foster, Kyle and the rest of the brothers rigged up to look like a sex dungeon. Smitty is literally tied, spread eagle to a bed and handcuffed while Cairo comes out in full drag with a riding crop and everything, ready to give Smitty his "punishment". Rhett and the gang are laughing their asses off and so aren't you. Needless to say, nobody messes with the First Lady on their watch (lol).

Mo-Mo, this had me chuckling on the way home this afternoon and I just couldn't resist (lol).

Mary!!! The detail in this was astounding!!

These boys truly take "don't fuck with us" VERY seriously!! You mess with one of us or our partners? Consider yourself dead meat!

I'm absolutely exhausted, but squealed like a happy little school girl reading through all of these!

Love how these boys endlessly have each other's backs! It's a no questions, no deliberation, we-already-got-you-bro situation always. And Foster and Cairo truly always save the day!

And all of them cooped up in the house, studying hard, knowing that they'll be given an earful from you and your Phi Gamma sisters if they goof off. Thankfully you and the sisterhood have a little something fun planned to blow off steam after finals! (hint: it involves a slip n slide, too much lube, and good use of all those condoms in the front closet 😉)

Thank you for blessing up with our favourite cowboy DTD boys!

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 532, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1196

“Hi, it’s nice to meet everybody!” the head midwife at Saint Mary’s said as she led the entire group to her office. “Who is everyone here now?”

“I’m Mary Claire, and these are our kids,” I smiled before beginning to point everyone out. “Elizabeth, Elle, Katie, Jing, Baby Tommy, little girl, Baby Eve and Isabelle.”

“And I’m Peter,” he introduced himself, taking a careful seat in one of the chairs, opening his arms for all of the snuggles. “I’m my sweetheart’s soulmate and husband and the kids’ father.”

“Ah well your chart says that you are pregnant with triplets…” she continued to muse out loud as she scanned my rather dense file. “Congratulations.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far,” I grumbled as little girl toddled up to me and pulled herself up into my lap with a grunt.

“And also-” Here she frowned, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Why do you call her little girl?”

“Her legal name is Vanessa Rose, but we all affectionately call her little girl,” I explained. “I was a surrogate for her daddies, and was calling her little girl when I met my soulmate, now husband, at twenty six weeks pregnant. Peter is her godfather and her favorite person in the whole wide world.”

“Ah lob ou, Mama Wen Wen!” she declared with a happy giggle, pressing a little girl hand to where the Ratajczyk triplets were practicing their dribbling in anticipation of tryouts for the United States national soccer team.

The woman chuckled at the fondness that I had for the kids and vice versa.

“What is the relationships here?” she asked me next, clearly confused by Katie’s Asian features and Isabelle’s kinky hair.

“Well…” I huffed out. “Elizabeth is Peter’s daughter from a past relationship, Katie is our adopted daughter, Baby Tommy is our biological son, little girl is my daughter and Peter’s goddaughter, Baby Eve is our foster daughter, soon to be adopted by us, and Isabelle is the family nanny.”

“Don’t forget about Elle and Jing, mommy!” Katie shot me a withering stink eye.“I was getting to them, mo stór, calm down!” I scolded her as she went and scrambled up onto Peter’s lap. “Elle and Jing are the girls’ American Girl mini mes and the babies each have a special dollie friend who they never go anywhere without!”

“Oh my, it must never be a quiet moment at your house, am I right?” the midwife cackled.

“From time to time, my eldest brother-in-law drops off his twin daughters for an overnight playdate, and my youngest sister-in-law just had a baby last year, so she’ll drop off Baby Noah if she needs to work late or if she needs to have a day of self-care and pamper herself,” Peter shrugged modestly. “We live in a spacious house, so as I always say- the more the merrier!”

The head midwife’s eyes were giant as she just stared at us all.

“I love having a full house,” my husband protested, welcoming Elizabeth and Elle as they sought out snuggles with their daddy.

“My love, don’t forget about Baby Kit,” I scolded him. “You cannot forget about Baby Kit.”

“Who is Baby Kit?” asked the midwife in an impressed tone of voice.

“Oh, Baby Kit is Baby Tommy’s girlfriend,” I told her with an amused chuckle. “We watched her in the past while her father works. Speaking of which my love-”

“Say no more, sweetheart,” Peter smiled. “I’ll give him a call when we get back home again, alright?”

“Wow.” By this point, the midwife looked like she had giant googly eyes with how she was looking at us all. “How do you and Peter manage everything?”

“We’re really lucky that the kids are all so easily to entertain and enjoy helping around the house,” I explained with a smile. “Elizabeth and Katie like cooking in the kitchen and the babies are always quite content for some skin on skin with the Ratajczyk family patriarch. Little girl and Baby Tommy like to play with their dollies- dressing them in pretty clothes and feeding them with play food and the other likes and whatsnots.”

“Little girl and Baby Tommy both will be loving parents,” Peter hummed.

“Oh yes they will be, my love,” I agreed, letting out a pained grunt of the three babies began to twirl and spin around. Peter just reached across and settled his hand onto my stomach, settling the unborn babies down.

“Okay, well Dr. Isles recommends that you have a Cesarean section. What are your feelings on this?”

“As long as I’m happily numbed and unconscious, I’m good with whatever!” I told her. “I have naturally awful anxiety, so I would ideally like to be unconscious during the procedure. Less stress for everyone.”

“Ah okay. And just in case Peter can’t be there by your side, who would you want to be your cheerleader?”

“My husband’s niece, Dr. Ryley Ratajczyk,” I answered at once. “She practices at Mercy Memorial and she’s the family doctor- she already treated much of the family.”

“Ah okay. Is she aware of this?”

“Yes, yes she is,” I nodded. “I sent her a text when I first got a positive on a pregnancy test and asked her. She agreed the next day and told me that her boss is well aware of the situation and had approved her to leave the very second I go into labor, whether she just got started on a shift or is about to leave and go home again.”

“Your file says here that you had a little girl- Violet Marie, but that she died six days after being born. Can I get you to go in a bit deeper with that please?”

Tears care to my eyes as I opened my mouth to answer her.

Gramercy, thank you, old French?

Mo stór, my dear, Irish Gaelic 

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[untamed-and-unfiltered]

*GIGGLES AND TWIRLS HAIR*

ty for the tag mustarddd I lob u & ur chipmunk song choices ;3

eenie meenie miney mo.. @onelastskip @luv-indigo @spookysopita

don't feel pressured to do it btw.... just 4 funnies :*

Picrew tag game! Tagged by @daydreaming-about-madara (I wanted to post here cause I don't chat on my main account very often, also the Madara hair style is AMAZING)

I'll tag @lycentropy @elenaditgoia @nerosdayinanime @uchiharomance @hashirama-of-the-forest @svindapsus @mdr-reikas

Do this picrew and post the last song you listened to :D

[3lji]

I imagine that He Tian in his half-asleep-state couldn't tell if Mo was really touching him or if it's a dream. Once he's more awake he's like 'oh fuck oh fuck' because he's afraid to push Mo away again. But then Mo is blushing and not pulling away and he is like 'oh fuck oh fuck' all over again. Just for a different reason.

omg i love this because we totally were thinking along the same lines!!!! <3

i actually think that tian may have believed he was dreaming - i mean, what a surreal few days he's been having!?!?!??!?! and that's why he was kinda spaced out. however i do think what he said is totally our on brand he tian hahahaha. i do wonder though whether he thought this was a dream.

i reallyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy love that their relationship progressed so much so that this makes mo OUR MO and he scolds he tian, but also he isn't running away or anything like that! i really hope they cuddle up together (omg someone recently commented on how large he tian is on that bed like... OX can you stop catering to our kinks but also never stop actually pls ty) and we get more of those UTTERLY DOMESTIC images of them cuddling (mo with his hand in tian's jammy top, tian with his arm around mo.....)

i cannot believe i am alive in this timeline lmaoooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 i almost am afraid of the next chapter

[reireiart]

I have nothing to offer except this very first drawing I did of Wei Wuxian! All the way back in october 2020 when I first finished the show ❣️

[bulletnotestudies]

43 and 49 and a hug <3

43. what’s your take on spicy foods? riveting

49. can you skip rocks? i cannot:(

send me weirder asks !

[ughquaria]

pennywise snapped 

[apricotpopsicle]

Sweet Talk

masterlist || requests || ao3

pairing: best friend!Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 15.6k (oops lol)

warnings/tags: eddie is alive and graduating because i say so, Hawkins is fine too, fem+afab reader, "mean" reader (she's just bad at emotions), eddie and reader make fun of each other a lot! descriptions of light violence, dubious d&d knowledge (sorry), underage(?) drinking, eddie and reader both drink a little, mention of reader having hair, some angst because ofc, mentions of eddie almost dying, mentions of vomit (nondescriptive), insecurity, perceived unrequited feelings, SMUT, slight dom!eddie ig, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, light choking, unprotected p in v (plz use protection y'all, this is just fantasy!), sort of semi-public sex/chance of being caught

description: based on this ask! i definitely did way more than you asked for nonnie my bad lol

Minors DNI!!!!!

---

Your relationship with Eddie Munson has always been unconventional, to say the least.

You've been unlikely friends longer than most people in your life remember. You, however, remember vividly how it happened- the first day of third grade, Mrs. Walcott's class, during lunch. He was what the teachers called a "trouble student," all fidgety limbs and mischievous smiles. You were a "pleasure to have in class," quiet, and mostly kept to yourself.

The day you met Eddie, one of his friends had dared him to yank on your braids in exchange for a twinkie. As soon as his hand released its grip from your hair, you turned around and punched him in the face.

The lunch room went dead silent when his butt hit the floor. You hadn't hit him hard enough to hurt, just enough to stun him. But you could see in his eyes how surprised he was that the shy, mousy girl could lay him out flat like that. You thought he would cry, yell, run to get a teacher. Instead, he opened his mouth wide and devolved into fits of laughter.

You both got in trouble. And in detention that afternoon, he offered you half the twinkie he earned. You thought about punching him again.

You've been inseparable ever since.

That moment defined your whole relationship. If a stranger saw you interacting, they easily could've mistaken you for a couple mortal enemies. You were both sarcastic and a touch combative, but it was all in good fun. He really was your best friend. Your dynamic held a strange kind of intimacy- it was the kind of relationship where you had virtually no secrets from each other.

Okay, maybe you were never exactly "vulnerable" with each other, but it was good. You kept each other grounded. Even when times got hard, when his dad went to prison, when your parents nearly lost the house, you were the only people who could cheer the other up. The only ones who could make each other feel normal. And you never made a dig harder than the other person could take.

When you graduated high school and started going to the local junior college, he was so proud of you. Mostly, he was over the moon you were staying in Hawkins. He didn't say that directly, of course, but you knew. He showed his gratitude by teasing you for not getting out of town, and you teased him for being a super senior. And then, a super super senior.

It was nice. Normal. It was enough for you.

Lately, though, things have been different. You've been so busy with classes and work, and Eddie's been just as preoccupied with running his D&D campaign, and finally snatching up his high school diploma (and apparently, saving the world). You haven't been calling or hanging out like you used to. You've both been weirdly distant. Especially you.

What's even weirder, is on the occasions you do hang out, he's almost... nice to you. Not lobbing insults as fast, not so quick to poke fun at you for stumbling over a word. Maybe it's the fact that he almost died, or that you're both getting older, or... maybe he just doesn't feel as close to you anymore. But you can't get mad at him for being nice. You're definitely not freaking out about it.

And most importantly, you're not freaking out because all the weirdness made you realize you've been in love with him for years.

Nope, not freaking out at all.

But you push those swirling thoughts out of your mind. Your feelings towards your best friends aren't important right now, because today is an important day. Eddie's and your absolute favorite day of the year- the Hellfire Alumni party. An annual tradition that started after the first graduating class of Hellfire club crashed a meeting with enough booze to tranquilize an elephant.

This is the day that every current and former club member can gather together, come home from college, from new cities and new lives to play a crazy, elaborate one-shot (then throw a crazy, elaborate party). This is the event of the year for the nerds, freaks, and outcasts of Hawkins.

And this year, with your parents serendipitously out of town for the week, it's your turn to play host.

You have a solid hour before everyone is set to arrive. The game would be ending soon, but you left early to set up. As per tradition, the afterparty's host was "tragically and without any coincidence at all" sent off on a side quest early in the game to allow for plenty of time to prep for guests.

You flit from living room, to kitchen, to back porch, affixing cheesy homemade D&D decor to the walls, setting up string lights and seats, laying out snacks on the tables, and making sure coolers are stocked and readily available. There's still so much to do if you want this party up to your impeccable standards. This might be too much for one person, and you curse yourself for being too stubborn to ask for an extra set of hands. With how much effort you were putting into the party, you haven't even had time to change out of your Hellfire shirt.

The one you helped Eddie design.

You pause your fussing on the streamer you're hanging up as soon as he crosses your mind.

You'd managed to avoid him completely at the meeting, having shown up late and left early. He was just making you... nervous. Ever since his near death experience in the Upside Down, and how nice he's treating you now, you just can't push down your emotions. Any time he's close to you, you can physically feel the words "I Like You, You Idiot" being pulled from your throat.

And god, it's so hard when he just looks so Goddamn good. Jesus, it's like you can't even control yourself around him anymore. Any time he laughs, or touches your arm, or stretches to reveal a sliver of skin riding above his jeans, the urge to jump him is nearly untamable. That stretch of skin lives in your head rent free, and you start to picture the fabric lifting up and off his body, imagining him in front of you bare and soft and so warm-

Fuck fuck fuck, you need to get it together. You can never let him know he's affecting you like this, or it's bye-bye best friendship and hello awkwardly bumping into each other at the supermarket until one of you moves away.

You've decided it's much better to just push him away until you get a handle on your feelings. Keep him at arm's length. That always works, right?

Luckily, you don't have too much time to dwell. The sound of the front door slamming open returns you to reality.

Right, you're on a step-ladder, hanging streamers. Don't fall off and break your neck because you can't stop thinking about how in love you are with your best friend. How embarrassing would that be?

"I'm coming in! Oh my god- it looks like a middle school dance in here," a deep voice calls from your front corridor.

Of fucking course. Who else would show up at the worst possible time?

"Well, speak of the devil," you call back over your shoulder, ignoring his jab about your awesome decorations and trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Jesus, don't call me that," Eddie's voice appears right behind you this time. You hurry yourself to look busy with the crepe paper you're hanging. Nothing's amiss, you're not avoiding him, nobody has a crush on their best friend. Keep it cool.

"Right, I forgot about the whole 'Eddie-Munson-is-Satan-Reincarnate' thing," you turn over your shoulder to flash a shit-eating grin and feel it falter momentarily. You whip back around quickly, hoping he didn't catch sight of your panic.

Fuck, he looks so good right now. Pale cheeks tinged pink from the excitement of the evening, Hellfire shirt stretched tight across his chest, his hair pulled back into a scraggly low bun with curly tendrils framing his face, neck extended upwards to look at you on the ladder, and God wouldn't it be so easy to reach out and just bite it-

"Wish everyone else could forget," he mumbles.

Right, touchy subject. Roll it back. You want to push him away gently, not to remind him of his recent trauma. Thankfully the feds had spun some story and greased plenty of palms to clear Eddie's name. Legally, he was free and clear, but the town is much slower to forget.

"Well, thank God for government hush money," you offer, glancing back with a smirk.

He chuckles lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

An awkward silence settles over the room. Why is he so quiet right now? It's not something you're used to with him. The silence makes your skin feel too tight, your face feel too hot. You feel exposed under his gaze, like an animal cornered.

It's been a while since you've been alone with him, and you can practically see his unasked question hanging in the air between you- are you avoiding me?

You really, really don't want to explain the answer to that question.

He moves forward slightly, his full lips parting around the beginning of your name, so you do the logical thing. You interrupt before he can say anything.

"Is the game over? I thought I had more time," you return to the red streamer billowing loosely above your head. You may have only interrupted Eddie to prevent him from questioning you, but your statement is true. There's plenty left to accomplish before your guests arrive, and you expected more time to complete everything.

Eddie readjusts himself, retreating from whatever he was about to say.

"Nah," he tilts his head, "I had Henderson take over. Wanted to help you set up."

This throws you for a loop. You carefully turn yourself around on the stepladder to face him.

"You, Edward James Munson, left the campaign you've been planning for the past three months to help me... hang streamers?"

That's entirely unexpected. Thoughtful. Sweet, even? Some unwelcome part of you swells at the mental image of Eddie leaving the drama room early, keys in hand, eager to see you. Telling everyone Sorry guys, go on without me, gotta help my girl set up the party!

God, he makes you sick.

"Yeah, figured you'd fuck it up," he says, grabbing an extra roll of streamers off the couch and lobbing them at you. "Couldn't let that happen, could I?"

You catch the roll against your stomach with an unattractive grunt, and the misty vision of Eddie calling you his girl fades away. Right, back to being rude. Good. That's good. Less confusing.

"Asshole," you mutter amicably.

"Only for you," he smiles. You feel your heart tug in your chest, so you throw the streamers at his head. He ducks it with a boyish laugh.

You point out all the tasks that still need attending to, and Eddie makes himself surprisingly useful. Almost everything was finished prior to his arrival, but you'd be lying if you said that his help was unwelcome.

He clears off the couch and finishes laying out all the snacks, and you deal with this fucking streamer that just won't stay up, God damnit.

You both work in silence for several minutes, Eddie moving from room to room just like you did before he arrived. Hopefully with all the prepping, he doesn't have a chance to grill you, and you don't have a chance to slip up and confess anything.

Perfect. Having a task will keep you from utterly embarrassing yourself.

Speaking of your task, this streamer is the worst piece of paper you've ever encountered in your life. This is your White Whale, your Mount Everest. The bright tail of it flutters in your face mockingly, refusing to be affixed to the corner of the room. You wipe a bead of sweat off your temple and clench your jaw on the thumbtack pinched between your teeth, refusing to let this goddamned children's decoration get the best of you.

Somewhere in your periphery, you sense Eddie finish what he was doing and come to a rest leaning against the doorframe. The tiny hairs on your neck raise from the feeling of his eyes on your back.

You're fighting for your life over here, and Eddie is just... holy shit, he's laughing at your very serious, momentous struggle with the streamers!

Whatever, just focus, you think, trying to ignore how shaky his gaze makes your hands, how his laugh makes your stomach flutter, This streamer is imperative to the party's well being.

The corner of the wall is just barely out of your reach, but you refuse to readjust the stepladder again. That's basically admitting defeat. Maybe if you just- just lean over completely to the right, keeping one hand on the ladder for support? Yes! If you fully extend that should work- one arm completely outstretched with the streamer in hand, the ladder squeaks ominously underneath your feet, but you ignore that, you've nearly got it-

The ladder starts to keel over, threatening to send you with it.

Your best friend peels himself off the wall, crossing the room swiftly. He steadies the ladder with both hands, putting its legs firmly back on the floor before you can topple over. His arms bracket you in, and you return to an upright position. Ok, maybe that wasn't the smartest idea you've ever had.

He shakes his head, exasperated.

"Here, Jesus, you're gonna hurt yourself, sweetheart."

Before you have a chance to process sweetheart, Eddie climbs the ladder behind you. He doesn't even tell you to get down first, he simply steps onto the rung underneath the one you perch on. The smell of him envelopes you, the faint scent of cigarettes and weed, of drug store cologne and no-tears apple shampoo. You can feel the heat from his body against your own, pressed behind you, and it's all too much. This is too domestic of him. He's rendered you completely dumb.

His hands snake around your front to pluck the offending decoration from your viselike grip. One strong, ring-clad hand grips your right shoulder for balance. His chest flexes against your back as he leans over with minimal effort to hold the end of the streamer against the wall.

Was it this hot in here before? It feels really hot in here all of a sudden.

"Ok, now give me..." He says absentmindedly, reaching towards your lips with his other hand to pluck the thumbtack from your mouth. Your brain short circuits at the feeling of his calloused fingers brushing your parted lips. It sends an embarrassing bolt of warmth through your stomach, and if he hadn't been basically holding you up, you would have fallen off the stepladder.

"And- got it!" Eddie stabs the thumbtack through the end of the streamer with a victorious flourish of his hand. He leans back in and rights himself behind you, moving his palms to grip your waist for balance.

Fuck. Fuck. He's too close. His hands feel way too good on your sides. He's holding you close, back to chest, and you're sure he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly out of your ribcage.

This is not good for your "pushing him away" plan. This is, in fact, the exact opposite of pushing someone away.

Eddie slinks back down the ladder, his hands sliding gently down your sides, his breath ghosting down your back as he descends. You can feel your pulse in your teeth. 

And of course, when you shakily turn around, he's offering his hand to help you get down like a total gentleman. Because of course he's doing that right now.

Stupid fucking chivalrous, crazy-hot Eddie Munson.

You need to put a stop to this. Stop letting him be nice to you before you ruin everything (and make sure he doesn't know you were ridiculously turned on by all that).

"Ok, you're being weird," you say, ignoring his outstretched hand. You step off the ladder without his help, and shove the last of the streamer roll against his chest. That puts a healthy amount of space between the two of you, and you can finally breathe again.

"I'm being weird?"

"Yes."

"I'm being weird?"

"Yes," you repeat, purposefully ignoring how he emphasizes the first word.

He pauses. You're not letting this go.

"Weirder than normal?" a lopsided smile appears on his face. You fight the urge to smile back. He's trying to joke it off, but you have to stay strong, set some boundaries. Cool the situation down before you do something you'll both regret.

"I'm serious," you cross your arms against your chest. If anyone asked you'd say they're crossed in annoyance, but it feels more like protecting your vital organs.

"Ok, I'll bite. How am I being weird?"

"You left the game early for me," you list off on your fingers, "You're helping me decorate. You haven't said one thing yet that makes me want to punch you!"

"So?" he drags a hand across his face.

"So! So, you're being... nice to me."

That sentence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. Yes, he's definitely the problem. Nice is definitely the problem. If he would just stop being nice, no more being in love with him! Problem solved.

An imperceptible emotion flashes across his eyes, but he recovers before you can name it.

"Aww," he coos mockingly, "I'm always nice to you, princess."

"Fuck off," you shove his shoulder gently. You hate that nickname, and he knows it. He gifted it to you in detention the day you met, with half a twinkie held out like a peace offering in his hand. You punch like a little princess, he told you, and it stuck. You hate it, and it helps to ground you further, having a taste of your normal back and forth.

You realize you haven't taken your hand off his shoulder. Withdrawing it quickly, you put another few inches of space between you, the back of your knees knocking into the stepladder.

"We're not nice to each other, Munson. Be mean to me."

"You want me," his head tilts curiously, "to be mean to you?"

"Yes!" you rapidly exclaim, much louder than you intended. He takes an unsteady step back at your outburst.

"... Ok?"

"Thank you," you breathe.

The two of you stand silent like that for a long time, you still cowering against the ladder, him still cradling the streamers to his chest, unspoken words hanging thick in the air.

Eddie swallows loudly. You feel like he's about to say something, and if he keeps looking at you with his stupid beautiful doe eyes you're either going to kick him out or tear his clothes off.

This time when you hear the front door swing open, you're desperately grateful for whomever is barging into your house unannounced.

Walking single file into the living room is the newest group of Eddie's friends/World saving partners- Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan. You thank God for the group's intrusion. Like, for real, you might give each and every one of them a kiss for rescuing you.

Steve is the first to spot the pair of you.

"Hey, Munsonnnnnn! Woah," Steve looks around, squinting as his eyes adjust to the room's sparkly adornments, "it looks like prom in here."

Eddie's back is to him, and he makes one more attempt at eye contact with you before turning to greet the newcomers. You avoid his gaze.

"Hey, pretty boy!" Eddie turns on his heels, shaking off the awkward fog between you and slipping back into his cool-guy persona, "Glad you could grace us lowly freaks with your presence!"

The pair meet in the middle of the room and do an awkward half handshake/half man-hug.

"Well, no idea how to play yD&D , but I do know how to party," Steve says, raising a six-pack high in the air.

You exchange quick hellos with Jonathan and Nancy. Robin waves at you before scanning her eyes around the room. Her expression drops when she realizes no one else has arrived.

"We're early? Oh my god, we're early! That is so lame," Robin grumbles, kicking Steve lightly in the ankle.

The group bickers and laughs, blissfully unaware of the strained tension between you and your best friend. Unaware of how, if you had taken Eddie's hand when he offered it earlier, you would have pulled him into you and kissed him right there.

You mumble something about needing to go get changed, slipping past the group and rocketing up the stairs. The boisterous conversation fades behind you, and you exhale a sigh of relief.

It's only one night. You can handle yourself for that long.

"Where's Henderson?" you faintly hear Steve ask.

This is exactly what you needed. All your fussing over the decor might have seemed ridiculous at the time, but looking out over the living room, at all your friends enjoying themselves under the fairy lights and streamers fills your heart to the brim.

You play the gracious host, grabbing everyone new drinks, directing your friends towards the bathroom, keeping the music going and the people happy. There's a lot more people than you expected, but it's a perfect scenario for you- with all this party tending, you have no time for Eddie to catch you alone.

Several hours in, with a light buzz going, you find yourself trapped on the couch, being regaled with the epic tale of how the campaign went down after your departure.

A very long, extremely thorough tale.

"- and then I rolled two nat 20s in a row," Mike informs you, absolutely beaming, "I swear, I was on fire tonight!"

"Mmmhmm," you mumble for the hundredth time in the past 15 minutes, head leaning on your fist. You definitely need more beer if you're going to indulge them in this much longer.

Dustin shoves his friend in the shoulder.

"Pants on fire, maybe," Dustin turns to you self-righteously, "It wasn't an honest roll. He totally bumped the table."

"Did not!" Mike scoffs.

"Uh, did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

The pair continues their back and forth for an embarrassingly long time. If this is the future of Hellfire, God help you all.

"Boys!" your eyes snap upwards when you hear Eddie's voice enter the circle, "Boys, boys, boys. Let's stop trying to look cool in front of the lady, shall we?"

Eddie towers over them, his features lit softly by the fairy lights above him. Donning what he believes is a menacing look, he takes on the role of the ever-annoyed parent. The boys turn to him and plead their argument, talking over each other, growing increasingly louder and more frantic. He silences them after a few moments with a dismissive wave of his arm.

"No one cares, kiddos," He tuts. They pout as he continues, gesturing to you with the cup in his hand, "And what do we say for dick-measuring in front of the nice lady?"

"Sorry," both the boys mumble to you at Eddie's behest.

Eddie shoos Mike from his spot on the couch next to you, encouraging him to find his little girlfriend. He plops down ceremoniously, two red solo cups in hand. He positioned himself close, his ripped denim-covered thigh brushing your own. The drag of his leg against yours is so intoxicating, it's hard to remember why being this close to him is a bad idea.

"Both those drinks for you, Munson? That's excessive," you tease.

"Yup," he pops the word theatrically, and brings both the cups to his mouth at the same time. He sips them both goofily and inefficiently, a dribble of cheap beer trickling from one of the cups down his smooth chin.

You pursue the drop with your eyes, and imagine following the trail with your tongue, licking a lazy stripe from his jaw up to his open mouth. You nearly have to stifle a moan picturing what it would taste like- the amber liquid mixing with clean skin and spit.

"You're an animal," you mutter, feigning disgust at his antics.

He growls playfully at you. The noise would have been weird and cringey if it didn't make you throb involuntarily between your legs. It takes all the strength you can muster to roll your eyes.

"Actually sweetheart," he wipes his mouth with the back of his tattooed forearm and passes you one of the cups, "I grabbed this one for you."

Almost in a trance, you grab the beer from him and hold it close to you. You should be making a snarky remark about not wanting to drink his backwash. But once again, the smallest morsel of affection he throws your way leaves you vulnerable and speechless.

Why is it such a bad idea again to give him a thank-you kiss on the cheek, to snuggle into his side, to praise him profusely for thinking of you?

Because, the rational part of your brain reminds you, you're going to ruin your friendship, stupid.

Right. That.

You shrug off your lovesick daze and level Eddie with an indignant look. Not wanting to rehash your previous conversation in the middle of the party, you reiterate your point silently.

What did I just say about being nice to me? you raise an eyebrow at Eddie.

He stares back, then looks off quickly, giving in to your silent demand.

Right, sorry, He throws his hands up in surrender, Won't happen again.

A derisive snort erupts from the boy on the floor across from you. Right, Henderson. You'd forgotten he was there. And unfortunately, he'd been watching the entire non-verbal exchange with your best friend. He's also annoyingly perceptive.

"Booooo," Dustin cups his hands around his mouth, "Get a room, lovebirds."

You feel your cheeks heat up, and Eddie scoffs.

"I can hardly stand being in a room with you now," he throws cheekily at you.

You breathe a sigh of relief. This is... good. This is safe ground, familiar ground. You honestly aren't sure how you'd react if he was nice to you again.

"I'd leave right now if this wasn't my house," you hide a smile on the edge of your solo cup.

Now it's Dustin's turn to scoff.

"Oh please, Eddie, you never shut up about her! It's getting really annoying. You two should do us all a favor and just do it already-"

Eddie sets his drink down and moves so quickly to put Dustin in a headlock, the kid doesn't even have a chance to react.

They wrestle childishly for a minute or two, rolling around carelessly, knocking into people and furniture alike. You watch on in fake annoyance, only interjecting to berate them for bumping into your parents favorite lamp.

Eddie releases Dustin with a huff, having successfully pinned the freshman, and throws his hands over his head victoriously.

"Congrats, Eds. You physically dominated a twelve year old. We're all so proud."

Dustin sputters incredulously, something along the lines of I'm fifteen, actually.

You giggle at that, and Eddie settles back into your side. This time, much to your displeasure and excitement, he throws his arm around your shoulders. He's touchy in general, and for all your catfighting, you're no stranger to being tucked into his side like this. But today, with your light buzz and fuzzy emotions, it feels more intimate. More dangerous.

His fingers trace absentminded circles on your upper arm, and you shudder lightly at his touch. You should throw his arm off of you, but can't bring yourself to. Not when it feels so right.

Dustin picks himself up off the floor and dusts himself off with a huff.

"Eddie's just mad because he knows I'm right. There's too much sexual tension," he says, his bruised ego shining through. Damn, that kid always sounds like such a know-it-all. It's just his tone.

Your best friend leans in close, his lips lightly brushing the shell of your ear, and your breath involuntarily catches in your throat.

"Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart," he whispers loudly, then leans back with a toothy grin.

You curse the way your stomach drops at his statement. His mixed signals are driving you crazy. He still has his arm wrapped around you, but he basically just rejected you, basically said he would never even think about you in that way.

But this, this is normal, isn't it? Exactly what you asked for? This is how you guys are, he's an asshole to you, you're an asshole to him, why should your feelings be hurt, you never let it hurt, you won't let yourself get hurt.

The boys wander to a different topic, something about how lame the graduation ceremony was this year, completely oblivious to the internal riot happening in your head.

Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart. What the fuck did he mean by that? It's not like you were banging down his door or anything, you never even thought- I mean, yeah, fuck, ok maybe you thought about fucking him all the time, any way he would have you, but it's not like he knows that, and God did he have to say it like you were so fucking unappealing, like even the thought of being with you was some big fucking joke-

You shake your head violently, willing the physical action to clear your mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, you think blearily.

Yeah, you're definitely done with alcohol for the night.

Eddie's eyes drift back over to you at the sudden movement. His dimples fade away, the lazily content look on his face morphing into one of genuine concern.

"Hey, you ok?" he asks so earnestly it makes hot tears prickle behind your eyes.

Now he's being too nice again, and you can't handle it. It's just all too fucking confusing, his arm around your shoulder suddenly feels too restricting, too mocking.

Jesus, you need to get yourself together before you respond. The phrase I'm fine dies on the tip of your tongue. Ok, just don't say anything revealing, don't say anything at all actually, just don't say anything-

"Am I really that repulsive?" you spit, not meaning to let so much vitriol drip into your words. The plastic cup creaks in your hand, and you release the tension in your fist. You didn't even realize you'd been squeezing it so hard. Fuck, chill out, you're both just kidding around, he didn't mean to poke the one raw nerve you've been hiding from him.

Confusion flashes across his face. You never react like this to his teasing.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Munson, you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

The party is still going strong, but you swear the whole world goes silent in that moment. Maybe it's all the blood rushing to your ears, or the lack of a standard sarcastic reply from your friend.

You must have said that much louder than you intended, because now everyone in the living room is trying very hard to pretend they're not listening to your conversation.

Your mind flashes back to that moment in third grade, right after Eddie hit the ground. That achingly long, silent moment after you'd knocked him down, when you were waiting for him to say something, anything, and then he started laughing.

C'mon, start laughing.

But this wasn't a childish squabble. There was venom in your words, a tidal wave of repressed emotions and raw anger and lust and hurt, feelings you didn't even have the words for- and Eddie felt it.

His face blushes a deep scarlet, and his arm retracts from your shoulder like it had burned him. You’re itching to pull him back in, to take it back, to apologize, to explain that you were just kidding, but you're frozen.

"'M gonna get some air," He stands up swiftly, not making eye contact with you.

"Eds, wait-" You reach out for him, trying to grab his arm. He slips easily from your grasp and shoves his way through the mass of partygoers, disappearing into the hallway.

Well, that could have gone better.

"Shit," you mutter, slumping back into the couch. This is exactly why you'd been avoiding him in the first place- so you wouldn't stick your foot in your mouth.

When you glance up from your wound-licking, everyone's eyes dart away from you, avoiding your gaze.

Real nice, guys.

Dustin must feel guilty for instigating your outburst, because he stands up from his spot on the floor and takes point on damage control.

"Alright, show's over everyone. Go get another drink or something," he announces to the room, waving everyone away. He plops down on the couch and awkwardly puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Sorry about them. We're just not used to Mom and Dad fighting,"

You laugh bitterly at the epithet the freshmen class had dubbed you. While it normally makes you secretly giddy to hear the kids refer to you and Eddie as such, you're not ready to give up on wallowing in your own self-pity.

"We fight literally all the time."

"No, you don't," he says matter-of-factly, "You never really get mad at Eddie. And I can't even imagine him being mad at you. What you actually do," he pauses, "is convoluted flirting."

You let out a groan. Is it really that obvious to everyone how you feel about him? You must not have been hiding it as well as you thought. That's so humiliating. And if everyone knows... that means Eddie must know too. Despite what you just yelled at him, he's not a stupid guy.

He must have figured it out. No wonder he's been so weird to you the last few months. It must be what... pity?

Oh my God. He's been so nice lately because he feels bad for you.

That's almost worse than him not liking you back.

"Christ, Henderson," you try denying, a transparent last ditch effort to cover up your feelings, "you have no idea what you're talking-"

"Are you dicking me around? You're fully dicking me around right now," he states incredulously, "You. Are. Into him."

Denial isn't going to work on the kid. He's too goddamn observant for that.

Hearing your feelings out loud like that, even if it isn't you saying it, sends a shot of anxiety through your stomach. Normally you'd dissent and evade the topic, but that hasn't exactly been working out for you tonight. And if everyone knows already, fuck it. 

You decide to give honesty a try.

"It doesn't matter, ok? Eddie doesn't... see me like that," you concede.

"Have you ever, I don't know, asked him?" He questions, his voice tipping right on the edge of condescending.

"... No."

Dustin pats your arm sympathetically, as if he's soothing a petulant child rather than someone five years older than him.

"Well, that seems like the place to start."

Still pouting, you shake your head.

"Why would I do that, Dustin? Just for him to reject me? It'll ruin what we have," you sulk and look down at your hands. The whole incident with Eddie sobered you up immediately, making the foamy cup of beer you're clutching look extremely appealing right about now. Moving the cup to your lips, you start to gulp it down. Dustin, clearly fed up with your self-indulgent wallowing, stands up and snatches the cup away from you.

"Hey!"

He holds the cup out of your clawing reach, and speaks at you loudly, in that sanctimonious tone he uses when he thinks he knows better than someone.

"You may be too stubborn to see it, but you're both so into each other it makes me sick!"

You're not even listening to him anymore. You're so frustrated at how this conversation is going, with how your whole night is going. Jesus Christ this kid is a total fucking headache! First he causes your fight with Eddie, then he totally embarrasses you by making you admit your crush, and now he's snatching shit from you? All of the misdirected irritation you've felt building since earlier balls up in your stomach, threatening to break out. Malicious words start to form in your mouth, preparing to absolutely rip him a new one. What a self righteous little-

Pause.

His sentence finally registers in your brain.

Both? You're both so into each other?

All the anger you felt dissipates in a split second. Both. Meaning, you and Eddie. Feeling the same way.

No, there's no way. It had to be a figure of speech, or a slip of the tongue. The part of you desperate to protect yourself retains there's no way that's what Dustin meant, but a cautiously hopeful warmth spreads through your chest all the same.

"He- when you say both- do you mean he also..."

Dustin cuts you off with an exasperated sigh of your name.

"Just go talk to him."

You've been doing laps around your house for nearly twenty minutes in search of your best friend. Everyone is 100% annoyed with you by now. You'd asked all your friends at least twice if they'd seen him, and only got back half-hearted shrugs and variations on "I don't know, we thought he was with you."

He has to still be here. His shoes are still by the door, and Gareth assured you that Eddie's van is still parked outside.

He wasn't on the back porch with the smokers, or in the kitchen, or in the basement with the other type of smokers. You tried checking your bedroom, but the door was locked, and from the outside you could hear multiple voices making some very emphatic sounds. Mental note- bleach literally everything in your room tomorrow.

Wouldn't it be a real cosmic gut-punch if that was Eddie in there with someone? a jealous voice in your head croons. You roughly push the thought down.

The only place left to check is the upstairs bathroom. When you reach the door you notice the light is on inside, yellow light leaking from the doorframe.

You move your hand up to knock, and waver momentarily. Your hand is still poised to rap on the door. Maybe it's not Eddie in there, you consider. Maybe it's just someone who had a few too many, and you're about to bother some poor soul hugging the toilet bowl.

Yeah, that's perfect. It won't be him. He definitely just left his van behind, walked home without shoes, and you can both take the night to cool off. You won't have to confess anything tonight. You'll call him tomorrow, apologize for being a dick, and pray he doesn't hang up on you. Everything will go back to normal.

Clinging to your false hope, you tentatively knock on the door.

"Ocupado," a muffled voice bleeds from the other side of the door.

Eddie.

Of course. You wouldn't be that lucky.

You steel yourself for whatever lies ahead, and turn the knob. Part of you prays it won't open, that he miraculously shed his bad habit of forgetting to lock bathroom doors. But the knob rotates without resistance.

No going back now. You swing the door open and shut it behind you swiftly. The sounds of music and laughter muffles abruptly as the door closes. Sitting hunched over on the edge of the tub is your best friend, his head sheltered in his hands.

"Holy shit, occupied!" He raises his head to rail at the intruder, "What part of- oh," he cuts himself off abruptly when his eyes land on you.

He stares at you intently, his jaw ticking from how hard he's clenching it. Both of you are waiting for the other to speak, neither one wanting to break the silence first. You squirm under his piercing gaze and lower your head to peer at the floor.

"The, uh, door was open," you mumble after a while.

"Jesus Christ, what if I was taking a shit or something?" he hisses.

Normally you'd wrinkle up your nose and call him gross, or admonish him for not locking the door, but you don't have the energy for that right now. You lean back against the door for support and cross your arms over your chest. He still refuses to break eye contact with you.

"... Sorry."

More silence.

"Well?" he asks pointedly. He looks pissed, more pissed than you've ever seen him, "What's so fucking important that you had to bust in here?"

His tone reignites the swell of anger in your stomach. Normally he's the funny kind of asshole, but right now he sounds like a total prick. You can't believe you were really coming in here to apologize and confess your feelings to him.

"I'll just go," you snap. You turn around to leave, gripping the door knob tightly, "This was a mistake."

You barely manage to crack the door open before Eddie appears behind you, reaching over your shoulder to close it firmly. He's boxing you against the door, his breath fanning over your neck. Against your better judgment, you register a dull throb between your legs at the position he has you in.

He reaches down to lock the door this time, still caging you in, a silent demand that you don't run away from this conversation. You swallow audibly.

He's not going to let you avoid him any longer.

Eddie lingers behind you a moment before retreating again, allowing you space to turn around and face him. His brown eyes, normally soft and jovial, are squinted in irritation. His broad shoulders shake lightly, with hurt or anger you can't be sure.

You take a deep breath and prepare to apologize for earlier, but he cuts you off before you even begin.

"What the hell is your problem tonight?"

He raises his eyebrow at you, impatiently waiting for your response.

Lie, the cowardly voice in your head says. Dustin was just jerking you around, you're going to ruin everything. Lie lie lie, you can't let him know how you really feel.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you say coolly.

"Really?" he crosses his arms and pouts, mocking your closed off stance.

"I don't-"

Eddie cuts you off before you can double down.

"I'm nice to you, and you tell me to fuck off. I'm mean, and you lose your shit. I'm walking on goddamn eggshells over here, so pick one, because you can't have both."

He finishes his monologue, his breath coming out in short puffs.

Oh my God, you think, I must seem literally crazy right now.

It sucks to have your own behavior laid out so plainly like this, to be confronted with how your actions are hurting him.

You can't even get defensive, because the worst part is, he's right. You were mad at him for sending mixed signals, but you're the one who's been avoiding him for weeks and embarrassing him in the middle of a party. And now you're flipflopping so fast he can't even keep up.

In all your self-absorbed uncertainty, you never stopped to consider how confusing you must be to him right now.

You don't answer him fast enough.

"Just tell me what you want from me!" he begs.

"I just- I want-" you start and stop several different sentences, but can't find the end of any of them. You sigh raggedly and tilt your head up towards the ceiling, harshly blinking against the frustrated tears beginning to bead up in your eyes.

You can feel him inching closer to you. When he speaks, his voice comes out gentle, low, almost... hurt?

"Do you want me to be nice to you or not?" he implores, "I'll be mean if you want mean. Whatever you want, sweetheart, I'll do it. You just have to tell me."

"I... Both. Neither?"

He huffs at that, rolling his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

You think you're confused, buddy? Try living inside my brain.

He's not getting anywhere with this line of questioning. He tries approaching from a different angle this time.

"You've been avoiding me," he states. It's not a question.

"... Yeah." you admit carefully.

He purses his mouth tight and nods. You'd only confirmed what he already knew, what you'd both been dancing around all night.

"Did I do something wrong?"

No, you shake your head tearfully.

"Do you want me to," he sighs, "give you some space, or whatever?"

"No!" you exclaim. The thought makes you panic, a single teardrop finally spilling over your lash line, "Fuck, God no, that's not- I mean, I thought I did but- that's not what this is about."

Eddie's curses under his breath, growing tired of playing twenty questions.

"Then what is it about?"

"I-" like you, you idiot, "It's just.. I can't- God! Fuck, I can't!" you groan dramatically and bury your head in your hands.

Why is it so hard to just say Munson, I want you? It's just Eddie. Drug-dealing, music-snobby, ridiculous, overdramatic, forgetful... 

Caring, funny, thoughtful, loyal, beautiful Eddie Munson who you don't want to lose forever all because you have a stupid crush on him.

He crosses the chasm between you hesitantly. Grabbing both your wrists, he removes them from your face, replacing them with his own. He cradles your face tenderly, like you could shatter under the weight of his hands, and uses a thumb to swipe away the tear on your cheek.

He breathes your name gently, and you glance up at him through your lashes.

"Please, just... tell me what you want," he whispers. His face is so close to yours, every freckle and hair visible in perfect clarity. His eyes dart around your face intently for an answer.

What do you want? He wants you to choose what you want?

Fuck this, you choose. You choose fuck this- fuck how beautiful he looks right now, fuck how him touching you like this makes your heart flutter, fuck how badly you wish you could drop all the stupid pretense and tell him that I need you to be mean to me because otherwise, I'm gonna admit I like you!

"I like you," you blurt.

Fuck.

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up at your declaration. His hands fall from your face as he backs up a bit, and you want to scream. You actually might scream, he looks so freaked out.

"You... like me?"

Fuck.

"Yes," you repeat. You're fighting to seem confident, like that will quell the pit of fear in your stomach, will lessen the wave of humiliation threatening to drown you. His eyes open impossibly wider, an indiscernible expression on his face.

You backtrack quickly, "No. No! I'm so sorry, of course not! You know what? I take it back. I didn't mean it, I was just kidding! Just please, please forget I ever said anything, ok?"

He shakes his head and points a finger at you as you ramble.

"Nooooooo. You said," a mischievous smile spreads across his face, his voice sing-songy and teasing, "You like me. Like, like me like me. Like, you want me."

Of course he's letting this go to his head. You told him you like him and now he's laughing at you. The last thing you can handle right now is him making fun of you when you're at your most vulnerable.

"Well, if you're gonna be a fucking dick about it-" you shoot your hand out once more to reach for the door. Eddie blows out a sharp breath and pulls your arm towards him, maneuvering you to face him with your back pressed against the sink.

"Sorrysorrysorry, I’m sorry! Will you stop trying to run away from me? It's getting annoying," he says, not at all unkindly. He still has that wide smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in amusement.

Your face is still radiating heat. Your breath comes out in sharp pants. One of Eddie's hands moves to your hip, the other attempting to lift your chin upwards. You move your head out of his grasp.

He says your name again, vying for your attention.

"Would you just look at me," he jostles your hip playfully, "Please? You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shake your head at the ground. Now he's trying to cheer you up when you totally just ruined your friendship? This is so fucking humiliating, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

His head rolls completely around, face-framing curls flopping in his face. His whole body tilts to the side in a dramatic display. 

And in that moment, Eddie makes a decision- you just admitted something, and now it's his turn.

"Does it really make me look stupid?" he asks, tightening the grip on your hip, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him.

You finally raise your gaze to his.

"I- what?" you blink dumbly up at him.

He quickly drags you in even closer, until there’s no space between you at all. Your hands fly up for balance, landing squarely on his broad chest.

"You said earlier, it makes me look stupid," he swallows, "How badly I want to fuck you."

You must have passed out from sheer embarrassment. That’s the only explanation for what’s happening right now- you’d knocked yourself out in humiliation, and now you’re laying on the bathroom floor, dreaming. Because there’s no way Eddie actually just admitted to wanting you, no way he’s holding you this tightly against him, and no way he’s licking his lips as his eyes dart down to your mouth.

"What..." you repeat dazedly.

His head dips down at an aching crawl, like he’s giving you the chance to push him away.

"I thought it was kind of obvious,” he chuckles, “But I like you too, sweetheart. Always have,” a boyish, vulnerable smile flashes across his face.

Instantly a tidal wave of relief floods your body. Your sigh fans across his face, still so close to your own. You didn’t ruin anything. He likes you back. 

Eddie likes you.

“We can talk about what this means later,” he murmurs intimately, one thumb stroking your hip, “But right now I really need to kiss you, so just… tell me to stop."

You don’t stop him. His plush lips brush yours briefly, chastely. Tingles spark where his mouth presses to yours, and now you know it’s not a dream. None of your dreams have ever felt this electric.

When he goes to pull away, you don’t let him. You grasp his face with both hands and pull him hungrily into you, kissing him again- harder this time, more insistent. His mouth parts under the pressure, and he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You give him entrance immediately, and you both let out a soft moan at the feeling of his tongue massaging against yours.

It’s unreal- absolutely unreal how good he is at this. When you used to hang out alone, he would always divulge the details of his latest hookup- which cheerleader is actually freaky, which Corroded Coffin groupie cornered him at a venue. You would laugh when he proclaimed himself a sex god (of course, you’d also be secretly jealous of whichever girl he was hooking up with). But you never thought he was actually as good as he claimed, you thought he was exaggerating out of male-pride. Now you can't believe you’d wasted so much time not kissing your best friend.

A giggle rumbles up from your chest.

Oh my God, you think giddily, I’m kissing Eddie. My best friend Eddie.

He pulls away reluctantly with a final quick peck, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his.

“What?” he smirks down at you, with an expression that can only be described as adoration, “What’s got you all giggly, baby?” his hands brush comfortingly up and down your arm.

You snort again at the pet name, your heart swelling and your head lighter than air.

“You,” you ball up his shirt in your grasp and yank him back down to you, “Just you.”

He reattaches himself to your lips, resuming his worship of your mouth. Your arms slide up from his chest to clasp around the back of his neck, and you kiss him harder. One hand reaches up into the curly hair tied up behind his head, and gives an experimental tug. He rewards you with a short gasp. His tongue swipes against the roof of your mouth, almost like he’s trying to tickle you, and you giggle again. 

Kissing him is really, really hot. Ridiculously, leg shakingly, earth-shatteringly hot. 

It’s also full of silly moments. You’re both teasing and prodding at the other, trying to get the other to laugh into the kiss. But you’re also both gasping and panting, holding onto each other with all your strength, growing more and more turned on.

“You know what’s weird?” he says into your mouth.

“Hmm?”

“This doesn’t feel weird. Like, at all,” he squeezes your hips. You give his hair another gentle tug in response.

He’s right- even when you imagined what this moment could be like, there was always the underlying fear that it wouldn’t work, that you and Eddie together would be too awkward. But this is so you- so perfect.

You kiss like that for what feels like forever, taking time to explore each other. Eddie paws at whatever he can reach, the curve of your ass, the plush of your thighs, the divots of your spine.

As the kiss grows more and more heated, the silly teasing dies down. The hands wandering your body grow rougher, more frantically grabbing at you. Your underwear starts to dampen uncomfortably. Something hard and warm presses against your stomach. You’re aching to find out what.

He disconnects from you again, and you pout.

“Hop up for me?” he taps twice at your hip bone.

With his help, you brace yourself on the counter and haul yourself backwards to sit on the edge of the sink. 

“Good girl,” he praises, sharp canines flashing at you roguishly.

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment. Good girl. You’re his good girl. Fuck, that sounds so good coming out of his mouth. You cover your face with your hands and let out an embarrassed whine.

“Oh my God,” he snickers, “I so knew you’d be into that.”

“Shut up,” one hand shoots out to shove at his shoulder. He catches it and presses a mockingly apologetic smooch into your wrist. “Kiss me again.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Two ring-clad hands grip your legs and spread them wide, an open invitation for Eddie to stand between them. He accepts graciously. Now that he has better access, he tilts your head backwards and leans down to mouth at the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

Eddie works up and down your throat, pressing bruising kisses into the sensitive skin there. Your hands wander his body as he works, shakily pushing hair from his face, grasping his taut biceps, clutching his ass.

“So good for me,” he mumbles.

You gasp when he sucks and nips one spot particularly roughly, then soothes it with his tongue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that you’ll have crazy hickeys blooming tomorrow, bruises that everyone else will definitely tease you for. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Eddie decorated you with them so lovingly.

His hips slowly start to grind into yours, stuttering against your warm, still clothed center.

“Just let me know if you want to slow down,” his words say one thing, but the desperate way he ruts in between your parted thighs says another.

“I’m good,” You shake your head vigorously. You’re burning to keep going. You’ve waited so long to have him touch you, love you, worship you like he’s doing right now. You’re ready for whatever he’s willing to give you, “I wanna keep going. Please.”

“Fuck. Yeah, ok,” he stifles a groan at the desperation in your voice. Lithe fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt to splay against your stomach. His fingertips twirl intricate patterns on your skin, and you shiver at the temperature difference between his hands and the cool metal of his rings. 

With your permission he tugs your shirt upwards and over your head, tossing it on the floor behind him. Silently, you thank your earlier self for putting on your cute bra today.

“Is this ok?” he checks in with you, keeping his hands to himself with great difficulty. His eyes rake over you hungrily.

In answer, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it over Eddie’s shoulder.

You lean back on your palms, pushing your chest out as confidently as you can. His eyes bug out of his head the moment you’re half naked, and it’s a shot straight to your ego.

“Holy shit, babe,” he reaches out greedily to grasp at your chest, palming both, pushing them together and then letting them drop into his hands, “Did you know you’re really fuckin’ hot?” he tweaks both nipples in his hands, grinning as they perk up under his touch.

You squirm under his praise.

“Oh, you’re shy again, huh?” he smirks, and dips down to catch the peak of your breast in his mouth. One hand flies shakily to his hair as he nuzzles at you, cradling him tightly to your sternum.

He pulls away from you with a pop, then switches to the other side. His tongue slides over your nipple lasciviously, the tantalizingly wet sound of spit on skin reaches your ears. A soft moan leaves him as he rolls the sensitive bud between his lips. 

The gentle scrape of his teeth is what breaks you.

“Fuck, Eds,” a sound embarrassingly close to a whine escapes your throat.

“Shit, baby, you sound even better than I imagined,” he mumbles against the skin of your chest.

You feel an impossible amount of wetness spreading between your thighs at his admission. He’s thought about this- the mental image of Eddie alone in his trailer, hand palming his cock roughly, getting himself off to the imagined sounds of you moaning- it’s almost too much for you to handle.

“You imagined this?” you ask breathlessly.

He looks up and scoffs, making a face that says, are you kidding me?

“Only every night since I hit puberty,” he ducks back down to suck a mark into your collar bone.

Your head is spinning. Eddie’s lips are on you, his hard cock is nuzzled against your thigh, his soft pants and curses are all because he’s touching you. This all feels unreal, and you’re desperate for more of his skin to be exposed to you.

“Your turn?” you hum, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

He disconnects from your skin with a pop and grins wolfishly at you. He reaches behind his head and pulls off his t-shirt in one fluid motion, turning at the waist to toss it into the steadily growing pile of discarded clothes.

You should be focusing on his pale taut chest, the curve of his collarbone, his bare arms flexing underneath his tattoos, the sparse trail of hair on his stomach disappearing into the waistband of his boxers- but you can’t.

Your eyes fall to his ribs immediately, to the crisscross of bite marks and scar tissue lacing his sides. You knew he’d been injured saving the world, but you’d never seen how bad it was.

He rushes back into you, eager to reattach his lips to your skin, but you hold him at arm's length. You can’t take your eyes off his healed wounds.

You must look as concerned as you feel, because he's quick to brush you off.

"It looks worse than it is," he tells you humbly, grabbing one of your wrists and pressing it to his side, inviting you to gently brush against the battle-marred skin.

Fuck, it's so easy to forget how close you were to losing him. How he could've been gone, and you wouldn't have had the chance to tell him how you really feel. The last thing you said to him would have been some dumb, meaningless quip. The thought makes you lightheaded, your breath coming in short puffs.

"Hey," he lowers his head to your level, purposefully holding eye contact with you, "I'm okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise."

You nod erratically, pressing your hands more firmly into his sides. His heart beat flutters through his ribs against your palms. Steady. A bit elevated. 

Perseverant.

"Yeah, I know. I know, I was just thinking," you clear your throat against a voice crack, "That you look pretty metal."

“Yeah?” his face splits into a wide grin.

“Yeah. Metal as hell, Munson,” you lovingly caress the wounds on his side once more.

He pulls you into a heartbreaking kiss. Not as lustful as earlier, softer, yet more insistent. Full of heart and hope and love, and the unmistakable feeling of being alive.

The kiss quickly grows deeper and more desperate, his tongue dragging headily against the roof of your mouth. Your back arches into him when he bites at your lower lip. You both pant into each other's mouths, the press of your nipples against his chest sending shivers down your spine.

Your mouth reaches for his neck, and you mimic his earlier ministrations on you- licking a long wet stripe up his neck, suckling bruises into the hot spot right below his blushed ear. His hips give a weak stutter when your teeth catch his earlobe, and you swear his eyes cross.

“I so knew you’d be into that,” you repeat his tease from earlier, and nibble gently on the shell of his ear.

He presses into you impossibly closer, and what can only be described as a whimper falls from his lips when you leave a love bite on the crux of his jaw.

“Can I touch you now,” he sighs, “Please?”

Mmhmm, you nod eagerly. Equal parts of excitement, arousal and anxiety course through your veins- you’ve waited for this for so long, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s a tad nerve-wracking.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans, and he glances quickly up at you with a look equally nervous and elated. You’re relieved to know he feels just as nervous as you do. It sets you at ease. Eddie always makes you feel better, even when he isn’t trying.

He pushes and paws at the fabric until it passes over the curve of your ass. You lift your hips off the counter, allowing him enough room to peel the denim off you and drop it to the floor. His eyes glaze over when he turns his gaze back to you.

You sit before him, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving, completely naked except for a pair of tiny black of panties.

Eddie’s sanity has left the building.

“How are you even real,” he groans, more to himself than to you.

One shaking hand deposits itself on the crease between your thigh and your waiting center. You hum with need. The hand on your thigh peruses you lightly, testingly. You’d expected him to dive right in, to rip off your underwear and go to town, but he doesn’t. He draws it out, building up the anticipation.

His thumb brushes a line across your damp underwear with a smile.

“That’s cute,” he crinkles his nose when you jolt at the sensation of his thumb catching your clit. He goes back to touching everywhere but that electric spot, teasing and rubbing around it, his finger exploring you through the fabric.

“What is?” you shiver, fighting the urge to take his hand and push it back to where you ache for it most.

“How wet you are for me already,” His finger slides shallowly underneath the elastic, just barely ghosting across the sensitive skin. He raises the band of your underwear and lets it go with a snap. You jump slightly at the stinging sensation.

“Eddie!” you yelp, “Stop teasing, you’re being-”

“Mean?”

You huff a small laugh. At first, you think he’s joking. But a mischievous glimmer flashes across his eyes, and then he’s hardening his expression.

His thumb returns to your clit, and you nearly sob in gratitude until you feel how soft he’s being- just barely grazing the nub with each half circle. 

“But I thought,” he leans down and gnaws a gentle bite into your pulse point, “You wanted me to be mean?”

You shake your head desperately.

"No? So what, sweetheart" he says in between nips at your neck, "You gonna let me be nice to you now?"

His thumb circles faster, still only applying the faintest hint of pressure through the soaked fabric. You attempt to grind your hips up into his hand, but he holds your hip down flush against the counter, only allowing you to take as much as he wants to give you.

"I get to say all the nice things I've wanted to say?" he whispers against the shell of your ear. You mumble under your breath, unable to form a proper response. Eddie stills his hand completely.

You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Yes, God, whatever you want, just please, please touch me,” desperation leaks into your voice.

Eddie smiles against the side of your throat and yanks your panties down to hang off one ankle.

“Well, because you asked so nicely,” he swipes two fingers through your folds without further delay.

Your breath catches in your throat as two of his fingers circle your entrance, collecting the wetness that pools there. Fireworks flash in your vision. He dips ever so slightly inside of you, then works his hand upwards towards your clit and gives a testing rub. You stutter through a moan.

“Right there?” he strokes more confidently this time.

“Yeah, that’s- yeah,” you sigh, throwing your head back.

“Fuck,” he drops his head to your shoulder, staring at the way his fingers work against you.

He lets you rock your hips into his hand for a while as he strokes you, chasing the growing sensation. It’s like he can read your mind. He knows exactly the amount of pressure and speed you require to be shaking under him. He’s hardly even touched you, but you can feel your orgasm building up, curling around your insides like tendrils of smoke.

You’ve never needed anything more than to touch him back. With unsteady hands, you reach out to unbuckle his belt, shoving his pants half-way down his thighs unceremoniously. Your hand wraps around his dick through his boxers and gives a few squeezes. He bucks into your hands with a moan, his rhythm on your clit faltering.

You whine when he bats your hands away reluctantly.

“Don’t worry about me, pretty girl,” he whispers, refocusing on you, swiping against your bud in a way that has your toes curling, “This one’s all you.”  

His two fingers disappear momentarily, and he shushes you before you can whine again. He replaces it with his thumb, continuing the rhythm you liked before, and trails his index finger down to inch slowly into your waiting entrance. You gasp at the feeling. It’s just one finger, but it’s so long and thick that you can feel yourself stretch around it.

“You have the prettiest pussy baby, Jesus,” he presses an adoring kiss to your shoulder and gawks at the way his fingers thrust inside you, glistening with your slick.

You can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed.

Chattering voices pause outside the doorway, and you fight to still yourself, even as Eddie’s fingers work against you, inside you. 

You’re suddenly very aware that he’s fingerfucking you in a bathroom, in the middle of a party, with all your friends just downstairs.

He adds another finger without warning, and you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a moan. Eddie turns his ear towards the door, gauging the distance of the people outside, never pausing the rough drag of his fingers against your walls. His free hand raises to his lips, one finger against his smirking mouth in a hush gesture.

He pulls the tips of his fingers forward in a come-hither motion, rubbing deliciously against the spot inside you that you can never reach with your own hands. Luckily at the exact moment a loud whimper leaves you, whoever’s outside erupts into obnoxious laughter.

You both pause and turn to the door, waiting to make sure no one heard you moan. After what feels like an eternity, the voices in the hallway fade away, the sounds of footsteps thunder down the stairs.

Eddie drops his forehead to your shoulder once more, and redoubles his efforts, thrusting his fingers harder into you, the thumb circling your clit nearing on vicious.

“That was a close one, babe,” he teases, “almost got caught.”

You can feel your bottom half tightening, and your pussy starts to flutter around his hand. Eddie smiles and circles his thumb around, hitting from a new angle, and you’re about to combust.

"I ha-have a room, you know," you gasp through your fingers, your legs start to shake around him.

Eddie shakes his head vigorously into the crook of your neck.

"Nancy, Steve, an' Jonathan are using it."

Well, file that away to ask about later.

“Guess you have to try and keep quiet,” he leans up to kiss you, silencing your growing pants with his mouth.

You whimper against his lips, the hip held in his grip thrashes upwards into his hand, and he holds you steady through it. Your hole squeezes his fingers rhythmically, warning him of your impending orgasm.

“Shit baby, you gonna cum for me already?” he asks incredulously. Color stains high in his cheeks, and he looks so proud of himself, so proud of you.

You nod pathetically.

“Such a good girl,” he simpers.

The rubber band in your stomach tightens impossibly, threatening to snap. His fingers move inside you once, twice, and you’re gone.

“Eds- Eddie, I-” you lean back and come around his fingers with a broken moan. 

It’s like a wildfire, ripping through your whole body without abandon.You don’t care how loud you are, because the only thing that exists right now is Eddie- his hands, his mouth, his panting. You clutch his arm roughly, your nails leaving half-moon impressions in his flesh. He works you through it gently, lovingly pumping his fingers inside you until you have to push his thumb off your clit, shivering from overstimulation.

You catch his lips again in a sloppy, sated kiss.

“That was… wow,” you lean back, resting your cheek against the cold bathroom mirror.

It was much more than “wow”. That was better than you ever dared to hope. If you knew this would happen tonight, that your feelings would be returned, that Eddie would be smiling down at you after giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, you would have walked in on him in the bathroom ages ago.

“Very wow,” He smiles slyly and slips his fingers wetly out of you. 

The cool glass of the mirror against your cheek is a welcome contrast to the hot drag of his fingers leaving you. Your breath still comes out in heavy pants, recovering from your climax. Even as you come down, you still feel that spark inside your gut, that need for him.

Eddie leans across your naked torso to plant a kiss on your cheek, and he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“Do you wanna stop?” he whispers into the side of your head.

Hmm? You murmur, your brain still fuzzy from the orgasm he just gave you.

“We can stop here, if you want,” he kisses your forehead, “Go back to the party, or just talk?”

You glance down at the erection clearly visible in his boxers- at some point when he was fingering you, he must have shoved off his ripped jeans completely. His chest is flushed completely, heaving silently, and you can tell how turned on he is. He’s straining against his waistband with arousal, and he’s still thinking about your comfort first.

“No!” you lean forward, and brush a finger across the front of his boxers. He shivers at the faint touch, “No, I wanna… wanna keep going.”

His hands tighten against the edge of the counter, his knuckles blanching from the pressure.

“Yeah?” his nearly growls, eyes darkening at the prospect.

“Yeah,” you smile coquettishly, “I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes roll back into his head and shut tight, almost as if he’s saying a quick prayer.

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” he kisses you again fervently, like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last sip of cold water.

His hips slot between yours again, grinding intentionally this time. You exhale a moan as the tip of his cock nudges your oversensitive clit through the fabric. Your wetness spreads around the front of his boxers messily, and you’re about to tear them off him-

"Fuck, shit!" Eddie rips himself away from you without warning, leaving you cold and exposed on the counter, "Shit shit shit," he mumbles. A spike of anxiety rips through you.

"What? What's wrong?"

Eddie drops to his knees on the ground, grabbing his discarded jeans off the floor and digging through the pockets fervently. You nervously cross your arms over your bare chest, watching as he tosses the pants back down. He sighs heavily, not having found what he was looking for.

He rises up and moves to the cabinet above the toilet. Swinging the hinge open, he rifles through your toiletries, cursing under his breath the whole time. He's still in just his underwear. The sight would be comical if this display wasn't making you so nervous.

"Eds, what are you-"

"I don't have a condom. Shit!" he interrupts with his back to you, still shoving through your belongings frantically.

"Eddie-"

"You don't have some down there, do you?" he turns around, points to the cabinet underneath the sink and advances forward to squat in front of you. He grabs both your ankles with one hand and holds them to the side, placing a distracted kiss on your knee before reaching to rummage in the drawers under you.

"Do I keep condoms in the bathroom my mother cleans?" you snort, your legs flexing in his grip, "No."

"Fuck. How about plastic wrap?" he punctuates each suggestion with the slam of a drawer, "Ziploc bag?" slam, "A really thick sock?" slam.

"Eddie, stop," you giggle and grab his face between your hands, stilling his restless body. He stares up at you through his lashes, breathing hard, and trails his hands up from your ankles to grip your thighs.

"It's okay," you reassure him, "I'm on the pill. So, if you want to- I mean I really want you to- ya' know..." you trail off.

He exhales unsteadily.

"You want me to come inside you?"

Your chest tightens with slight embarrassment. Hopefully that doesn't freak him out, but yes. You can't think of anything besides Eddie fucking into you with no barrier, feeling every twitch, him spilling so deep inside you that you can feel it for days after.

You nod at him, tight lipped.

His forehead drops to your thigh and he lets out another shaky breath. You wiggle impatiently on your tailbone, waiting for him to respond. He settles his shoulders decisively, and you're almost worried he's about to turn you down. Instead he lunges up and catches your lips in a bruising kiss.

"This is my fuckin' wet dream, I swear," he yanks your hips to the very edge of the counter. He kisses you again, all tongues and teeth, and his underwear disappears in an instant. 

You’re floored. Like, your jaw is dropped, absolutely flabbergasted- and that’s not a word you throw around lightly.

“Holy shit,” you pull away to stare at him, completely naked and aching before you.

“Impressive, right?” he waggles his eyebrows at you, “Do I live up to your imagination?”

Impressive is definitely the right word. You’d felt him earlier, just briefly, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him. He easily has the nicest dick you’ve ever seen. It’s fucking pretty- a trail of dark hair leading mouth-wateringly down, blushed as red as the rest of him, and leaking pearly drops of arousal at the tip. 

It’s also way bigger than you anticipated. Like, I don’t know if it’ll fit bigger. Your eyes widen with slight anxiety.

I have no idea where the fuck you think you’re putting that, buddy.

“I mean, yeah. Better than imagination. But- uh…” you swallow. He has to know how intimidating this is.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine, baby,” he drops the smug act and cups your face, “I’ll go slow, ok? Just let me know if I need to stop.”

With one final glance down at his throbbing cock, you give a sharp nod.

“Yeah, ok,” you steel yourself and brace against the counter as he grabs himself with one hand, giving a few short pumps before lining himself up with you.

The stretch you feel around just the tip of his cock is insane. He’d already worked you open with an orgasm around his thick fingers, and you’re drenching both your thighs with your arousal. You’re as prepared as you could possibly be, but this much of his cock inside you already makes you feel full.

“Oh my God,” he groans as he slowly breaches the ring of muscle at your entrance, “You’re so wet baby, Jesus.” You know from previous drunken conversations that Eddie has never had sex without a condom before. It must be taking all his willpower to go slow for your sake.

He moans your name brokenly, just barely inching himself inside you. You desperately want to hear that again.

You wiggle your hips gently and clench around him, anything you can do to get him to moan your name again. He has to shoot his hand to the countertop and grab it ferociously to stop himself from bucking his hips fully into you.

“Not nice, sweetheart,” he growls, “I don’t wanna hurt you. Play nice.”

Your pouting is cut off by a moan when he gently thrusts further into you.

“Fuck- how are you still so- ah- tight?” the hand gripping the counter comes up to clutch at your breast. His grip is just on the edge of painful, and he claws at you like he’s trying to distract himself, to calm himself down. You hope you’ll have finger shaped bruises to stare at in the morning.

You hum and pant, “I think you’re just really… really big.”

He huffs an uneven laugh at that.

He’s only halfway in when you hold him still with your thighs, clenching them tight around his waist and trembling with exertion. It’s not exactly painful, it’s just so much. You need a second before he continues.

You tremble for a few moments, then give him a quick nod, his cue to keep going.

“Good?” he swipes a hand down your arm affectionately.

“I’m good, I’m- I’m good,” to be honest, you could use a few more seconds. But you want him to just fuck you already so bad, you’re willing to endure a bit of pain.

He clicks his tongue in doubt. He’s always read you like a book, and he knows you’re fibbing a bit.

“Relax, sweetheart. Just relax for me, ok?” his hands drops down to your clit and starts to circle gently. You sigh and lean back against the mirror, giving Eddie ample space to bite at your exposed throat and chest.

The new angle, paired with Eddie’s mouth and fingers relaxing you, serves to open you up enough for him to bottom out completely. You both moan when he sinks fully into your heat. 

His hand removes itself startlingly from yours. Your calf comes up to rub against his hip, and you attempt to kiss him, but he’s not looking at you anymore.

Eddie’s eyes are trained straight ahead into the mirror, his brows furrowed deep, his mouth clenched hard. His arms are braced next to your shivering form on the counter, and his whole body is statuesque with tension, except for a slight shake in his shoulders.

“Eddie,” you whisper, “It’s ok, you can move now-”

“No.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he says it. He keeps his eyes trained forward, his brows cinching impossibly tighter. It almost looks like he’s giving himself an internal pep talk in the mirror.

You scoff. It’s sweet that he’s trying not to hurt you, but you’re more than ready.

“Really, I’m ok,” you wiggle your hips around his thick cock, feeling victorious when he exhales sharply, “I want you to-”

His hands grab your hips fiercely, holding you down with all his strength so you can’t bounce down onto him. You pout at him, eager for him to do something, do anything.

“I know. I know, just… give me a second,” he grits out, “Or I’m gonna finish before we even get started.”

Oh.

You hide a proud smile. Your pussy is driving him so crazy he’s about to cum without even moving. It’s ridiculously hot. It’s also something you can tease him for later, but not right now. Right now you lean back on your hands and put space between your bodies, giving him room to calm himself down.

“‘M trying to think about baseball.” he huffs humorously, “But I don’t know anything about baseball.”

You start to grow fidgety as the seconds tick by, waiting for him to move. 

You’re only getting wetter at the feeling of him unmoving inside you, filling you so completely, like he was made to fit right there.

“Eddie, please,” you whine, teasingly clenching around his length, “”S ok. Don’ wanna wait anymore, just please, please fuck me-

He tilts his hips back and then thrusts forward, and he’s finally, finally fucking you.

It's not comfortable. The counter digs into the flesh of your thighs, your panties hang garishly off one ankle, every thrust of Eddie's hips shoves your head into the mirror behind you. 

It's not comfortable, but you hardly even notice because it feels so good.

He thrusts into you, and you lose track of time, lose track of anything besides the feel of him burying himself deeper than you thought possible.

“Oh my God,” you dig your hands into the curly hair at the base of his neck, his hair tie having long since been pulled out. His forehead is flush to yours, and he’s peppering your face with little kisses, a sweet gesture in stark contrast to the filthy way he fucks into you.

“You ha-have no idea how… fuck- long I’ve wanted to do this,” he moans at the feeling of your warmth dragging wetly against him.

“Me too,” you admit breathlessly, “‘S always been you, Eds.”

“Just for me, yeah?” he says with a sharp thrust, “This little pussy is all for me?”

If anyone else had spoken to you like this, you would be beyond embarrassed. But there’s something about the way Eddie spits filth so possessively, so passionately. It makes you burn with need.

“Yes, fuck, all for you, only for you,” you whisper.

You can already feel that tension growing in your stomach again. His hair forms a soft curtain around your face, and he’s the only person in the world right now. His tongue flicks out over his lips as he concentrates, and even as his thrusts grow more desperate, he flashes you the sweetest smile.

Perfect.

One of your hands reaches back down to your aching pussy, to the place where he splits you open. You gingerly caress the place where his cock meets his body and he stutters.

Your hand trails back up to your clit and you start to circle it, chasing the orgasm you can feel squeezing your insides.

He pulls your hand away and replaces it with his own, using his thumb to work toe-curling strokes into your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the ceiling at the sensation, and you’re so close.

Eddie’s close too, you can feel it. His pants and moans grow higher, breathier. The movement of his hips grows frantic and erratic, and he starts to shake. He loses the ability to form sentences, the only coherent words coming out as broken curses and stutters of your name.

The hand that isn’t circling your clit slides up your body and deposits itself over your collarbone.

“Can I…” he hovers his palm over your throat, asking for permission.

“Yes, ohmygod, please,” you lean your neck up into his waiting grasp. He gives a gentle squeeze, never harder than a soft grip. It isn’t about controlling your air. Instead it feels like Eddie having total possession of you- the willingness to place your most vulnerable pieces in his hands for safe keeping.

Eddie nearly cums on the spot when he catches sight of you with your eyes shut tight, moaning his name, with his rings glinting lowly around your throat.

Neither of you are going to last much longer. The hand circling your clit doubles down, and you nearly black out. Full body shivers wrack your body, and Eddie isn’t doing much better- he looks ready to snap.

“You gonna be a good girl and come for me again, baby?” he asks you, lightly squeezing at your throat and bearing down on your clit. 

You nod and whine as his cock nudges against your plush walls, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you come hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” both his hands drop to your hips when he feels you coming around him, and he ruts up into the tightness. He gives a full body shake and a final broken little whimper, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

You’re both panting, chests heaving with your release. You lean back so your shoulders rest against the (now foggy) mirror, and Eddie follows, draping himself over you, cuddling you as best he can in the cramped bathroom.

When he goes to slip out, you stop him with your thighs, keeping his cock still inside you. You’re not quite ready for him to leave your warmth yet. He chuckles lightly and drags you back up to a sitting position. You grumble, but allow him to manipulate you where he wants you. He pulls your arms up to rest around his neck, and his come down to wrap around your waist. You exchange soft breaths, both caught up in what just happened.

“Well, fuck me,” he mumbles after a minute or two, “I was always rooting for us crazy kids to get together,” he tickles lightly at your sides.

You giggle at that, and snort again when his whole body seizes up. Whenever you laugh, you clench around his now-softening, overstimulated length.

“Fuck. I gotta take it out now, sweetheart,” he warns. He slips wetly out of you and slots his mouth over yours to catch the moan falling from your lips. You feel intensely empty, but satiated. Although now, you’re not sure you’ll ever feel whole again without some part of him inside you.

Seconds later, his cum begins to drip out of you. Eddie notices as you stiffen up, eyes dropping to your naked center then back up to your face. Before you have a chance to deal with the mess, he’s dragging your panties from your ankle, up your legs, and hitching them to their rightful place over your ass. He flashes a dastardly smile, very aware that his cum will stay in your underwear, keeping the smeary mess between your thighs. Gross.

Hot.

He leans onto the counter and kisses you easily, lazily as you both come down from your highs.

After a while you part from each other. He offers a gentlemanly hand to help you down onto your shaky legs. 

The pair of you begin to redress in silence. It’s just a tad awkward. Still nice, but the vibe is a bit delicate. You can feel a question lingering in the air- where do we go from here?

“Well, Henderson’s gonna be really smug about this,” Eddie smirks, pulling his underwear and pants up his legs in one easy motion.

You pause halfway into pulling on your shirt over your head, your arms extended upwards, your belly exposed to the muggy bathroom air.

“Dustin talked to you too?” your voice is muffled by the fabric. Eddie laughs at the sight.

“Yeah, he’s the one who convinced me to leave the meeting early tonight. He helped me work up the nerve to tell you how I feel,” he admits.

You finally wrestle your shirt down.

“Oh my God,” you cup the sides of your face in embarrassment, “That kid is a little fucking puppet master! He totally manipulated us into- not manipulated, sorry, that’s not the right word, that makes it seem like I didn’t want to- you know, but I really, really did, I promise,” you ramble on, growing increasingly more flustered, “Ugh, not the point! I’m totally gonna kick his ass!”

“Well, I’m gonna thank him,” Eddie drags you into him and plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, “And then I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You laugh gently at that. Silence settles back over you again, and you back up ever so slightly to cross your arms over your chest. One of Eddie’s hands grabs at his hair and pulls it in front of his face, hiding behind it.

“So, I-”

“Eds-”

You both speak over each other, and giggle again. This kind of awkwardness is new, and sweet, and something you’re excited to explore with him. Your palm slides down his arm and catches his hand in a loose hold.

“You first?” you offer.

He nods and takes a deep breath.

"I went through a lot a few months ago,” he taps the scars on his rib absently, “And maybe it would be easier if we were just friends.”

Your heart sinks at those words. You drop his hand and retreat further. Oh. Maybe you misread everything that just happened. Just… friends. Just friends who hook up? You don’t think you could handle that.

“No, hey, listen. That came out wrong,” he huffs, and grabs both your hands in his once more, “Almost dying from those stupid fucking bats, it made me realize... I don't want ‘easy' with you. I don’t want to be just friends. And I don’t want this to just be a hookup, either.”

You exhale shakily. You’re beyond relieved, but questions still niggle in the back of your mind. Was he worried about that? That you just wanted a hookup?

"This isn't just... I don't want you to think- fuck, why is this so hard?" you groan.

"Yeah, it was pretty hard, huh?" he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up,” you shove lightly at his shoulder, “I’m trying to be vulnerable here!”

He smirks down at you gently.

“Not exactly your forte, sweetheart.”

Once again, he reads you like a book. But if you want to make this work, you have to let him know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how you feel about him. 

Be vulnerable.

Your two index fingers hook into the loops of his belt and pull him into you flirtily. You push yourself up on your tiptoes and bring your face close to his, like you’re about to kiss him.

“I think you should spend the night,” you pull back slightly just before your lips touch his. His face sours jokingly, but he allows you to continue, “And then tomorrow you should take me on a date. And then, you can ask to be my… boyfriend, or whatever.” you make a silly face at the word boyfriend.

His doe-eyes light up, and his teeth bare in the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen.

“Boyfriend, huh? Very official. I like it,” he leans in slowly, achingly slowly, and his lips are just barely brushing yours-

Knock Knock Knock.

Both your heads whip around to the door at the sudden sound.

“Hey,” you recognize Dustin’s muffled voice, “Are you guys done having sex in there? I need to pee and Gareth’s totally throwing up in the other bathroom.”

You cover your mouth to hold in a raucous laugh. Yeah, you’re totally kicking that kid’s ass later. Eddie holds his hands up to you as you're about to respond, and gives you a shh gesture. He cups his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

“AhAhAh! Fuck ohmygodfuck I’m gonna-,” Eddie loudly fake moans and whines in a high pitched voice at the door, aiming to scar the kid for life. You hit him lightly on the shoulder, holding in silent giggles the whole time.

“EW WHAT THE FUCK,” Dustin screams, and you hear him run off loudly in the opposite direction of the bathroom.

You turn to each other and burst into laughter. Eddie throws his arm around your shoulder as you unlock the door, opening it wide, ready to face whatever comes next together.

"You're such an asshole, Eddie," you roll your eyes. Your face feels like it’s going to split from how hard you’re grinning.

"Yeah,” he gives you a quick peck on the cheek, “Only for you, princess."

___

here's where that line is originally from!

crossposted to ao3

[tickle-bugs]

Strongman

Summary: Jester is determined to prove Fjord as a good recruit for Molly's carnival. Fjord proves himself excellent entertainment, after all. Spoilers for the beginning of Campaign 2 if you squint really hard.

They’re a strange bunch, these ones. Molly’s in the business of the wild and curious, sure, but nothing is wilder or more curiouser than his traveling companions. Not a single one of them belong together--Caleb and Nott are too flighty to be trusted, Beau’s brashness makes her a pain in the ass, Fjord is too good, Jester too impulsive, and Yasha is perfect in every way.

He loves them all immeasurably. He’d die for them, even. A surprising thought this early in their travel, but something that brings him an odd measure of peace.

“Mo-lly~!” Jester’s voice is as harsh as it is sweet.

“Hm?” He looks up from his tarot spread as Jester bounds over. She skids to a stop and rocks on her heels, the frills of her skirt swaying with her.

“I have a new recruit for your show!” She takes Molly’s hands in hers and yanks him to his feet. He is under no circumstances reopening the circus, but he’s not about to crush the sparkle in her eye.

“Is that so?” Molly links their fingers together more for his own benefit—Jester would lose him otherwise. She’s like a puppy but with the wrath of the gods and a hankering for chaos.

“Introducing the strong, the brave, the handsome….Fjord!”

“Huh?” Fjord’s head snaps up.

“I was telling Molly that you could join his Carnival!” Then, she leans in close to Molly: “He’s very weak but pret-ty cool.”

“Aw, no. ‘M not really built for, uh, performance.” Fjord clears his throat and sinks into himself a little bit.

“That’s not something you want to admit out loud, but I’m sure you’re better than you give yourself credit for.” Molly curls his tongue a bit.

“Wh—circus performance. Not built for—never mind.” Fjord sighs into his hands. Jester bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Fjooooord—“ Her whine seems to carry on for ages.

“What is it you want me to do, Jester?” He sighs deeply and resigns himself to stand.

Molly holds back a grin. It’s beyond entertaining to watch this half-orc—who’s nearly as imposing as Yasha herself—cave without a struggle to Jester’s demands.

“Um…uh….Oh!” She darts over to the nearby shops, running in front of a few storefronts and shoving people at the way as she goes. She gets distracted by a dressmaker’s shop window and presses her face against the glass, tail waving in excited patterns, but then she’s off again like a rocket. She snatches a few apples from a fruit stand and skips away, leaving the owner to yell at her retreating form.

“Jester!” Fjord’s booming reprimand slides off of her completely, much to his apparent distress, but Caleb is already making his way to the disgruntled shop owner, coin purse in hand.

“Okay, so. I will throw the fruit at you. You will show off your incredible, amazing, fantastic—“ She makes direct, piercing eye contact with Molly— “circus-worthy dexterity and cut it with your big knife!”

“It’s a falchion—alright. Sure. Why not?”

“Don’t embarrass me.” Jester points at Fjord. Her serious expression falls more on the side of a pout than anything else.

“I won’t, darlin’. Toss ‘em.” Fjord summons his falchion in a rush of salt water and gives it a twirl. Molly backs up towards Jester.

She unsticks her claws from the apples she’s grasping and shuffles them in her arms, face pinched in concentration. There’s a moment of tense staring. All breathing ceases.

Wham! The first apple speeds through the air. He meets it with his blade and sends two perfect halves spinning to the floor. He’s not quite as ready for the second one—he takes a reverse-grip backwards slice that cleaves the next fruit a little messily.

Jester lobs the last one directly at Fjord’s face. He extends his blade. The apple sticks perfectly onto the tip with a satisfying thunk. Fjord unsticks it and bites into it. Jester erupts into an enormous wave of applause and cheers. Her elbow in Molly’s side encourages him to join in.

“Thanks.” Fjord gives a half hearted bow as he chews. Jester yanks on his cloak.

“Ah ah, you’re not done!” She takes the apple from his hand, bites it, then puts it back. He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not?”

“Of course not! You showed us brave, you always show us handsome, now you have to show us strong! That’s how I announced you! The strong, the handsome, the brave!” Jester lightly smacks Fjord’s chest to emphasize each point. Somehow the last slap ends up making direct contact with Fjord’s backside.

“Do I really?” Fjord turns to Molly in search of reason—oh, he should truly know better. Molly takes a seat on the grass.

“Nothing kills a business quicker than false advertising, my friend.” Molly crosses his legs and leans forward.

“Fine—“ he takes a final crunch of the apple— “What am I doin’?”

“C’mere.” Jester waves him over. Fjord takes one nervous step, then another, then another until Jester gets frustrated enough to grab his bicep.

“What’re we doin’, Jes?” Fjord shuffles in place. Jester unclips her cloak, then his, and lobs both in Molly’s direction.

“Pick me up.” She throws her arms up.

“Okay…?” He hoists her in the air. Jester poses dramatically, hoisting and extending her legs every way she can think of. Fjord is a bit confused but he has the spirit--he rotates the both of them slowly.

“Gotta be honest, not sure what’s happening. Still a fan. Bravo.” Molly claps politely.

“Honestly, I just wanted Fjord to pick me up.” Jester climbs around to sit squarely on Fjord’s back. She hooks her chin over his shoulder and beams.

“Figures.” He sighs and locks his arms under her knees. She nuzzles into his neck and giggles.

A few rumbling chuckles rise into the air, like stormclouds rolling over a prairie, and all available eyes snap to Fjord. It takes him a second to notice, bless his heart. By then, it’s already too late.

“Fjord, darling—“ Molly’s tail lashes side to side as he strolls over— “Do you have something to share with the class?”

“Now. Molly, we can talk about this—“

“I’m sure you’d love that, but I’m not particularly interested.” Molly curls his fingers around Fjord’s waist, tap tap tapping, and the poor thing’s already nearly halfway to the ground. He goes cross-eyed trying not to drop Jester while dodging Molly’s hands. Jester fully buries her face in the crook of Fjord’s shoulder to pull more of those chuckles to the surface.

“Uh oh,” Molly sing-songs, “You’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“A-Am I?” It’s nearly a squeak.

“Oh, yes.” Jester drops off Fjord’s back and sidles up next to Molly, “You are.”

“We’re all adults. We can figure something out.” Fjord tries to pry Molly’s hands away. They ripple into his sides in response. Fjord doubles over and snickers.

“Of course. We’re nothing but reasonable.” Molly keeps twitching his fingers.

“Wise, mature—“ Jester pinches Fjord’s ass and giggles— “adults.” The three of them stare at one another as the air falls quiet.

Fjord makes a run for it.

“Why are you running?” Jester yells after him.

“Let him run. It’s more fun this way.” Molly grins wickedly and saunters after Fjord, whistling all the while. Jester skips besides him.

“Hey, Fjord. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Yasha sets her blade back in its scabbard.

Fjord scrambles up Yasha’s form, locking his legs around her waist. She squeaks in surprise, reaching back for him, but Fjord climbs higher and higher, until he drapes himself over her shoulder like Frumpkin does Caleb.

“What--” Her eyes land on the two hungry-looking tieflings before her-- “Oh.”

“I apologize for this, I really do, but help me.” He points at Jester and Molly.

“What are you two doing to him?” Yasha’s hand comes up to cradle Fjord’s back, keeping him steady on his perch.

“Yasha, dear, we’re going to have to ask you to hand over that rather dashing half-orc scarf you’re wearing.” Molly tucks his hands in his pockets.

‘We’d hate to have to take him off of you.” Jester’s voice is all innocence but her eyes belie the full depth of her mischievous intent.

Yasha crosses her arms.

“I dunno, I’m kinda attached to him.” She gives Fjord an affectionate pat on the back. The idea of a playful challenge sparkles so proudly in her eyes.

Molly would never be so foolish as to face her on his own unless he was looking to be pinned and wrecked--and, to be fair, he usually is--but having Jester at his side is enough to bolster his confidence.

“Last warning, flower,” He smirks, fingers twitching at his side.

“Try me, Molly.”

Molly rushes her.

Yasha grabs him by the back of his coat like a scrappy kitten by the scruff. He’s not sure what comes first: being lifted into the air or the devious fingers up his spine, but both sufficiently knock the wind out of him. He kicks and lets out a strangled yelp.

“W-Wait!” He tries to shove himself out of her grip but she simply readjusts, pulling him flush against her. She grabs fistfulls of his sides and kneads with delicate care. Molly speeds past snickers and straight into shrieking hysterics. His shoulders are shaking too much to coordinate any sort of escape.

“Jester!” He squeals when hands start to fiddle with his tail. She snickers at him. He does his best to curl his knees and tail to his chest but Jester won’t let go, the traitor.

“Yasha!” Molly wheezes and shimmies.

“I’m listening.” He can hear her smiling. Fjord’s also laughing, thinking he’s safe on his perch. Molly makes a few errant swipes at him but it’s clear that it’s time for Plan B.

“L-Look behind you!” Molly squeaks. He prays.

Yasha turns, still tickling, albeit slower now--bingo.

The perfect distraction.

Jester leaps with a triumphant battle cry, claws finding delicate purchase on either side of Yasha’s ribcage. Yasha drops Molly like a hot pan.

“S-Sorry!” Yasha leans over, trying to check if Molly’s alright, but she just crumples into his lap in a giggling heap.

“You’re so cute,” Jester wails, almost genuinely distressed. Yasha curls up as much as someone her size can. Molly brushes her hair away from her face and Yasha screeches out her next peal of laughter--right, claws.

“I have to agree,” Molly hums, tracing her claws down the length of her neck. She pounds a fist on the ground and coils further inward.

“Jester, we have got to work on our teamwork.” He pokes her side to make his point.

“So we’re officially a team, then?” She vibrates at the prospect. Molly grins.

“Us tieflings need to stick together! How else will we witness such charming smiles?” Molly presses into the divots of Yasha’s ribs and she releases the most endearing screech.

“Noooo,” Yasha melts into a barbarian puddle, clutching her torso with soft snorts. Molly’s touch drifts to the back of her ribs because he’s mean. Yasha squeaks and releases a flurry of other high-pitched noises that surround them like snowflakes.

“You are! You’re adorable—Wait a minute.” Jester’s head pops up and swivels ominously over her shoulder.

“Get back here Fjord!” Jester kicks up clumps of grass behind her with the force of her run.

“Stay away from me!” A laugh cracks his baritone beautifully as he flees. Gods, that smile. Molly reigns his breath in before he loses it entirely.

“I have other business to attend to. You understand.” He kisses Yasha’s forehead quickly, not wasting an opportunity to scritch behind her ear. The shivering giggle that leaves her is more than worth sacrificing his head start.

Jester tackles Fjord full force and they both topple to the ground at Caleb’s feet. She cackles in triumph and shoves her hands under Fjord’s arms--the sound that leaves him is less than dignified. As he runs up, Molly can see Caleb mentally discard his plans for the afternoon to intervene.

“Ah-ah, Jester. I think you’re going to kill him.” Caleb chides, pulling her hands away gently. Jester splutters, flabbergasted, until she catches the gleam in his eye. Cheeky bastard, that wizard.

“Thank you--” Fjord sighs, head thumping to the ground. Molly takes a seat.

“Sometimes, when you want to crack a tough egg…” Caleb takes a quick, deep look at Fjord before his fingers gently find purchase in the softness of his lower sides. He makes a startled, urgent noise before that gorgeous smile resurfaces. He fights down any sounds beyond that.

“Hm.” Caleb frowns. He gives his patented ‘scary wizard’ face before he allows his fingers to roam, tripping gently over Fjord’s skin like a musician caressing a beloved instrument. Fjord snorts and Molly can’t help but gasp aloud.

“Caleb, you s-sohon of a bihitch.” Fjord giggles, a sound that Molly didn’t even know he could make. His fist comes up to muffle himself.

“Tch. Watch your mouth, schatz.” Caleb’s hands jump quickly under his arms and latch in. Fjord slams his head back and wiggles violently, heels drumming as much as they can beneath Molly’s weight.

“I’m impressed.” Molly bumps Caleb’s shoulder. After a hesitant moment, he returns it.

“Ja, well, it is good to understand your friends.” Caleb pulls his hands away and pats Fjord on the chest. Molly watches, intrigued. Perhaps he’d underestimated their wizard. Hm.

“That it is.” Molly tears his gaze away from Caleb. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you this once. Where are you ticklish? I’ll need a full list.” Molly slides to perch on top of Fjord, tail swishing happily behind.

Fjord sticks his tongue out and Molly barks out a laugh. He slides Fjord’s hands underneath his knees and settles back down.

“Your funeral, then.” Molly gingerly works his claws beneath the straps of Fjord’s armor and into the flesh there. Fjord’s entire being scrunches. He gives himself away so easily and it’s unfairly endearing.

“Where’d that silver tongue go?” Molly scritches a finger beneath Fjord’s chin, distressing the stubble, and he shivers. Wobbly giggles find their legs as Fjord tosses his head from side to side. So much to explore, so little time. So little hands, actually--

“Where’s my backup?” Molly pops up. “Jester?” He whips around and sees Jester perched similarly on top of Caleb, plucking at his ribs like a kitten with yarn. Figures. He can’t even blame her, honestly. The wizard’s wheezy laughter is more alluring than any siren’s call.

“Seems like it’s you and me, hotshot.” Molly leans close, almost so their noses touch. He ever so-slowly walks his fingers up Fjord’s side. His expedition ends beneath Fjord’s arms, one finger in each hollow. He’s squirming like a worm on a hook, cheeks puffed to try and regain some ground.

“Y-You’re a chatty motherfucker, ain’t ya?” Fjord flinches hard at the gentle scrape of claws. Even then, he’s smirking. Molly stops cold for a second.

“Oooh, poking the bear. That’s real wise in your position.” Molly worms his fingers underneath the bottom edge of the leather chest plate and Fjord nearly explodes. He tries to sit up but his abs can’t support him and the golden laughter ringing through the field. Stuttered half-pleas and curses begin to find their way in between bouts of overflowing giggles and frantic snickers--gods, it’s almost infuriating that Molly hasn’t experienced this sooner.

“I can’t believe we’re bunking together and I didn’t know this. This’ll make our sleepovers much more interesting.” Molly worms his tail underneath one of Fjord’s flailing legs and wraps it round, mainly to discourage him from kicking. How interesting, then, when Fjord shrieks at the contact.

“M-Molly!” His voice spikes into a scandalized upper pitch. He throws his head back and arches upwards. With nowhere to hide that gorgeous smile, it melds wonderfully with the midday sun. Molly gets an idea. The kind where you can’t help but grin. The kind where if he’d been a little shorter and aligned with a certain chaos god, he would’ve definitely cackled evilly.

It’s a little uncomfortable to use his tail this way, but Molly is willing to be a little sore. He starts gently scratching at the inside of Fjord’s thigh with the spade tip of his tail while he squeezes with the body of it. His brows furrow a bit with concentration but it’s more than worth the hysterics below him.

“No need to shout. What are you so excited to share with me?” He puts his hands on his hips while his tail continues its work. Fjord’s face pinches in exasperation that cracks quickly under the weight of his own laughter.

“Ffffuck! Molly, M-Molly it tickles, pleahahahase—“

“Oh? That’s quite the predicament you’re in.” Molly tuts and crosses his arms. Fjord’s cute like this. Shame he doesn’t see it more often. He gives another squeeze for good measure.

“I am going to kill you.” Fjord yanks a hand out from under Molly’s knee and grabs a fistful of his shirt.

”Promise?” Molly’s eyes flick down to his lips. He tickles at Fjord’s stomach again--he’s the foremost expert on poking the bear.

Molly catches that wicked glint in Fjord’s eye--the one he’s gonna have to try and summon more often--before his world turns upside down. Within seconds Molly’s gazing up at Fjord, held to the ground by a strong forearm.

He tries not to look too excited.

“Hey, what—are you guys fucking tickling Fjord and Caleb? Without me?” Beau’s yell echoes like a shot. Fjord’s head snaps up in her direction. Something like disappointment nestles in Molly’s core.

“Fuck off, Beau!” Fjord’s heels send fresh dirt and grass flying as he scrambles away. Caleb gives Jester’s hips a quick 1-2-3 squeeze and uses her surprise to roll out from under her. He runs after Fjord.

“Caleb!” Jester swipes at him and grabs an ankle.

“Fjord!” Caleb yelps and leaps out of Jester’s grip, occasionally glancing back at the Tiefling on his heels. Beau carves through the space like a train and barrels after both of them.