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papasbaseball · 6 days ago

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The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 16

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,900 of 42,623

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He must really hate my guts for suggesting that he would be able to kill me because he doesn't tell me where we're going, not even when we disembark at the station. Together, we walk the way I tried to escape, except we go straight to the bakery that I had passed up. It’s just as cramped as the bakery that Bruno had taken me to back in the Emerald City, even if it is better kept. This bakery also has those sweet saffron buns that suffocate every inch of the building, and I can feel my mouth water at the thought of biting into one, considering all I’d had today was hardtack, tea, and hot chocolate. Instead of throwing down cash on the counter for some treats, he slaps down a golden pin that he had kept in the pocket of his waistcoat. The emerald eye tie tack.

"You been to the desert?" the baker asks, shifting his eyes between him and the gleaming tie tack. He's a wide set man of fifty, a five o'clock shadow darkening his already exhausted face and his arms are coated in flour up to the elbow.

"And I've seen wondrous things," the Wizard replies, “and met wondrous men.” The conversation doesn’t make any sense, but I don't think it's supposed to.

"What can I do you for, my brother?" the baker asks.

"I need a ride to the Upland estate," the Wizard says. "I'm supposed to meet some fellow travelers there."

The baker presses his lips together, nodding as if mulling over the request. "Do you plan to be going in the front door, or the back?"

"The back," the Wizard says. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself. It's a confidential meeting, you understand."

"I've got a shipment going up there just now; you're lucky about that. If you go out the back, just put yourself in between the bags of rolls and donuts, okay? And don't eat none. The Uplands butler likes to count them and I get dinged if there's some missing."

The Wizard gives a short nod and swipes his emerald tie tack off the counter. "Thank you. We won't be any trouble." He grabs me by the arm and we step behind the counter and weave our way back through the narrow kitchen.

"The Upland Estate?" I ask. "What's that, some sort of country club?" I don't actually know what a country club is, but I'd heard it in passing. A place where rich and fancy people mingled and laughed, and were rich and fancy together, surrounded by all the comforts of luxury... like rolls and donuts that could be counted.

"The Uplands, doll. You've never heard of them?" he asks.

"Should I have?"

We push out the battered wooden back door – the knob to it was completely missing, a crude wooden handle nailed in its place – and find a wooden cart and horse out back, piled high with burlap sacks filled with presumably donuts and rolls. The horse wickers as the Wizard pulls himself up into the cart and then me. We wedge ourselves out of sight as instructed, our drab and dirtied clothes blending into the wooden wagon and bags.

_________________________

It's a breeze getting past the guard and gates. When the wagon comes to a stop we wait and lie until there's a smack on the wagon. The Wizard peeks his head up first and I watch as the smile spreads on his face.

"Tomathy, good to see you again. What's it been? A century?"

I poke my head up to get a good look at this Tomathy. He seems to be the same age as the Wizard, a bit shorter, but well built to support the flashing eyes and aged wrinkles. Despite looking to be in his late sixties, he still has a full head of gold hair – truly golden, not blonde like one might try to romantically sway you into believing was gold. Tomathy's wrinkles press together like an accordion up his face as he smiles like a maniac. "Oscar, looking terrible as ever."

"Yeah, and you don't look so hot yourself. Mind giving me a hand here? I'm swimming in bagels," the Wizard says.

"It's donuts actually," I correct.

"Who's this?" Tomathy asks the Wizard, looking between the two of us. "You're still a big player aren't you? Where'd you find her? At the train station?" Tomathy has hopped up onto the cart and is pulling the Wizard from the sacks of baked goods.

"She's my assistant," he says, righting himself with a dust-off before clapping Tomathy on the back into a hug.

Oh, so that's how he plans to play it. In truth, I expected him to introduce me as his daughter, but this Tomathy must be enough in the know that it would be a laughable excuse. At least he had enough shame to not introduce me as some sort of sex pet. That would be wholly untrue considering I've only let him fuck me once back in the cabin. I try to keep my face unreadable as I push myself up out of the burlap sacks with the help of the side of the cart.

"Well, I can see why you picked her," Tomathy says, breaking from the embrace to ogle my full form now. "Sweet Oz, you're robbing the cradle before it's even been built."

"You know I can hear you, right?" I say crossing my arms. His eyes drop straight to my chest. I immediately uncross them.

At least to the Wizard's credit, his lip is curled in disgust. Whether it is about the remarks or the fact that his age-old friend was sizing me up, I don't know, but I'm grateful when he says, "Come on. Let's get inside. I haven't had anything to eat today."

"The Uplands keep us well fed," Tomathy says, hopping down from the wagon. "Pears and aged meat and the finest cheese and wine you've ever tasted."

"Well," the Wizard says with a laugh, "it almost sounds like you've appointed yourself as their personal food-taster." Tomathy offers a hand as the Wizard hops out of the wagon after him.

"Lady Upland has stuffed us until we can’t fit anything else down our gullets," Tomathy says. "Morrible looks like she's ready to snap if they try to offer her one more cream puff.

The Wizard waits for me as I walk to the edge of the cart, and then effortlessly seizes my waist and lowers me to the ground right in front of him. "Good?" he asks.

It's a double entendre of a question. We haven't talked about the fight we had before we left the wreck site, but he hasn't even made the effort to apologize or offer any sympathy for my plight so I'm not going to forgive him just yet. "Good," I mumble, breaking out of the embrace to walk in step with Tomathy. His first impression of being a raging womanizer hadn't worn off, but at least it was better than someone who hadn't denied that they would have you killed.

"It's a bit frosty for that kind of behavior, don't ya think?" Tomathy says as he walks towards the servants' door. "Cheer up! You're alive and well. Sweet Oz, that train wreck though... I hope we get some intel on it soon. We just received a report from the front lines and were waiting for you to arrive. I heard about it when I came in. They weren't going to let any trains through. Mail stopped going that way too."

We walk through the massive kitchen, a stark comparison to the bakery we snuck through. I feel a smirk tugging at my lips. Where the baker only had one aisle shotgunning from front to back, the Upland kitchen was only a tad shy of that of the Emerald Palace. You could throw one of the donuts from a burlap sack from one wall and – unless you were exceptionally strong – miss the wall opposite in width alone. Staff in clean white coats busied about the sanitary metal of their beehive, whisking creams and traying sandwiches and coffee for the lunch hour, none of them paying us any attention.

Continuing the tour up through the white and black chic of the foyer and staircases, I begin to wonder if the Uplands weren't perhaps behind Frottica looking as colorless as it did. It was more white than black, and even in a time of war, there was a grand vase of all white flowers that bloomed and cascaded from a glass vase big enough that a small child could fit into it if it were empty.

"Morrible is here, you said?" the Wizard asks.

"Here and agitated. Nobody's told her that they found you yet. I'm surprised she hasn't sicced a hurricane on that little base camp Fiyero's got outside the city. It would’ve be a nice surprise," Tomathy says.

"You didn't tell her?" the Wizard asks.

"Hell, I didn't even know you were alive until I saw that white mop of yours waving in the wind. I was looking out the window wishing I could get out of this nuthouse when I saw you coming up the road towards it.” Tomathy barks a laugh. “I said, 'He never did know how to not make an entrance.'" Tomathy is still laughing and the Wizard exchanges an uneasy smile. "What? Stuff still weird between the two of you? I thought you fixed it. Tell you what: you patch it up with her, and your assistant and I can get to know each other better." He wraps an arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side with a click of tongue and teeth. "Promise you won't have to do any work around me."

"Tom," the Wizard snaps.

Tomathy removes his arm from around me and I turn to see the same expression from when we had fought back on the train: angry and reckless. Tomathy is nothing more than a dog to him and it is time to come to heel at the command of his master, man's best friend to an extent. Tomathy holds his hands up in surrender, saying, "I didn't know it was like that."

"Well, now you know," the Wizard says, brushing past Tomathy and me, taking the steps two at a time.

"Has he always been like this?" I whisper to Tomathy.

"Like what?" Tomathy asks. "Possessive? Sweetheart, that is a you and him problem to work out. I'm already on thin ice. Come on." He heads up the white marble stairs after the Wizard and I follow behind him.

We don't have to go very far on the second floor. The doors to a massive personal library are propped open and I can hear the chatter that is coming through them. It comes to a hush and I know that he must've caught their attention. I'm sure he looks ghastly to them. They hadn't spent the past few days with him, watching as he metamorphized into dull browns, snow-covered, and, at last, completely unkempt through our trek through the wilderness and disaster. The shadows under his eyes had deepened and his hair was now fully back to just its regular waves rather than its carefully coiffed swoops.

I follow into the library after Tomathy just in time to see Madame Morrible throw her arms around him in a manner so stoic it seemed rehearsed. The expansive windows that overlook the backyard gardens and hedge maze have flooded the room with light and I swear I can see tears in her eyes, and the way her nails are clawing into the back of his woolen coat.

"Madame Morrible," Tomathy says, "I was just coming up here to let you know that he-"

"You're alive," she says, voice choked.

"I am," the Wizard replies.

That niggling feeling I'd felt at the tea shop is back and I want to slink into the corner of the room, and maybe down into the kitchens where I might be more at home. I didn't need to know names and titles to know how to serve at a table. I didn’t need to have a history.

"As much as I'd love to savor this reunion," a broad man with a green Oz uniform and dark complexion says, "we are at war, and we've just received a briefing. Time is of the essence."

The crowd crumbles at his words, immediately shedding their attention from the Wizard and Madame Morrible and heading back to their seats at a makeshift open rectangle that had been built from four long tables. As much as the feeling is still gnawing at me to steal away to the servants' quarters here, I want to hear this briefing. We hadn't heard anything from Bruno in days and that news was even days old by then, taking much longer to be smuggled out rather than through the efficiency of military and spies. I wanted to know if Fileah was okay, but that would have to wait. Now would be if I found out if Bruno was okay, and if Bruno was okay then Fileah would be okay. Tomathy is following the Wizard and Madame Morrible to sit down, and I decide to stick by him. He seems to have changed his womanizing tune after the Wizard snapped at him, so I probably wouldn't have to endure any under-the-table fondling.

The kitchen staff come in with carts full of food and drink, but the man in the Oz uniform starts before the table has been set. "I want to start by thanking the Lord-Mayor of Shiz for committing another five thousand troops to the cause. They are sorely needed at this time, and with them, we have more than enough of a shot at winning."

A frail looking man next to Madame Morrible stands and offers a weak nod to an applause before taking his seat again. I think that I can see the crest of Shiz on his lavender jacket. He says, "It is an honor to serve our great land of Oz."

The Wizard whispers something to Madame Morrible, but I can't hear it with Tomathy sitting between us.

The military man continues, "As for the briefing that we have just received: it does not look good."

My hand finds Tomathy's under the table and I wish so badly that it wasn't his.

"Something wrong?" Tomathy whispers to me.

"A friend back home. He's one of the Royal Palace guards," I reply.

The military man is continuing to go on about the death toll and how the citizens of the Emerald City are reaching critically low food stores, but Tomathy pulls my attention back to him. "Does the Wizard know about the two of you? It's not wise to piss him off. You see what happened to me – and he likes me on a good day."

I try not to scoff at the idea. "No, no, it's not like that," I whisper. "Bruno is like a brother to me. He's been looking out for my sister back home and he's the one that got the Wizard and I out of the city."

"My condolences to you then," Tomathy says. "I hope the Unnamed God is merciful on your friend. He's doing a service to this country. I can't think of a more dangerous place to be, but someone's got to do it." He squeezes my hand to seal the blessing. It's meaningless if what the rest he said is true. The five thousand troops will be our lifeline, an emergency blood transfusion as we hemorrhage on the front line.

"Overall, the casualties have not been excessive," the military man continues, "but the breach of the city walls puts us in a terrible position. The Gale Force suspects that they targeted highborn hostages: innocent women and children. Probably to get us to cooperate better. A higher price tag is a better bargaining chip."

I feel a weight lifted off my chest and squeeze Tomathy's hand back. The Unnamed God was merciful, and unless Bruno was exceptionally unlucky, he was probably still alive.

"You say that they suspect a target of highborn hostages," a man says from the table across from our side of the rectangle. He's dressed from head to toe in green with thick spectacles that make it very obvious every time he blinks. "I have family in the Emerald City still. I need to know if they're okay."

The man next to him puts a hand on his shoulder. "George, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway, the entire city is blockaded. There's no getting in or out."

"Gentleman, please," the military man interrupts. "I can answer questions as long as we keep order. The report said that there were obvious break-ins in the Garden District. If that's were your family lives, then feel free to worry, but like our friend said, the entire city has been blockaded. We'll need to do an extraction mission or wait for their demands." He goes back to reading the report. "They say they suspect it was a target of highborn hostages, innocent women and children. Of note were the obvious break-ins in the Garden District-” He nods to the quivering green man. “A break-in at a womens-only boarding house, and a break-in at an orphanage."

#wicked fanfiction #wicked #wicked 2024 #the wizard x reader #the wizard fanfiction #the wizard #wicked 2024 fanfiction

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inkdemonapologist · 8 months ago

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My BatDR Take That Used To Be Hot But I Left It Out On The Windowsill To Cool So You Should Be Able to Eat It Now Without Burning Your Tongue

its not actually that hot, is what im saying

Anyway my BatDR hot take is that BatDR's story is not fundamentally worse than BatIM with one exception; an exception that, for BatIM, covers a multitude of sins:

BatIM has a theme.

I can't presume the intentions of the creators, but if I had to write an essay on the themes in BatIM, it wouldn't be hard to pick one out: the cost of obsession, or even just, the ruin Joey brought on the studio. In the very first chapter, Henry asks "Joey, what were you doing?" and every single thing in the rest of the game revolves around that central question: what WAS Joey doing? Each audiolog is a snippet of the studio's path to this messed up state; each character you meet is someone ruined by Joey. The major antagonists echo Joey's flaws -- obsession with Bendy as more than a cartoon, obsession with perfection, obsession with fame and greatness and legacy -- but even without that, they're also each a picture of how the lives of people caught in the path of Joey's dream were ruined by it. Bertrum, for example, doesn't match the concept of rubberhose cartoons, but as yet another person screwed over by Joey, he fits the central question of the story, so he feels like he belongs here. Ultimately, in a narrative sense, the Ink Demon isn't the story's monster -- Joey is; the Ink Demon is just the consequence of his reckless ambition.

But what's the theme or central question of BatDR?

You can... try to pick out a theme. There's some promising options, because it feels like the story WANTED a theme, stating its emotional intentions more overtly -- "there's always a choice" to leave the darkness and chose hope; family and the struggle of living in a heavy legacy's shadow; or even just good old mewtwo-brand The Circumstance's Of One's Birth Are Irrelevant, It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are.

I think, even WITH the clumsy execution of Joey's "arc" and Audrey's lack of real choices, any of those could work about as well as BatIM. But unlike BatIM, the majority of the game doesn't tie in. Joey's tour can be considered relevant -- a picture of the family legacy and the "darkness" that Audrey doesn't yet know she's inheriting -- but like, the audiologs and hints and environment of BatDR are mostly teasing the question of What Is Gent Up To, and the takeover of Gent is detached from Audrey's choices, her family, her legacy, and Gent never really becomes a relevant threat to those things in this game. The Cult of Amok and the Ghost Train have nothing to do with any of these ideas. It might've been neat if Audrey had ever considered, "Did my father really drive all these people insane?", a hint of actually having to wonder about the darkness in her past. Even Wilson only barely brushes against these concepts; he doesn't like Joey and he also is trying to escape his family's heavy legacy, but it doesn't really reflect on his actions and we don't find that last part out until he's about to be dead.

There's also the question Wilson poses of "real" people versus ink creations, and what counts as valid "life." It would be an interesting theme with a lot to build off of in this setting, it ties into Wilson more as Wilson seems to represent the opinion that Inky Things Aren't Really Alive, which could've tied to Audrey (as an ink-person who has yet to accept that part of herself) and maybe given Wilson a reason to think it's fine to sacrifice her, it could've even tied to Gent (who don't even seem to value human life) -- but after Wilson asks the question, it doesn't tie into the direction things go. He smooshes a little Bendy, we see hints of his disregard for Betty, and then everyone continues with their plan to destroy the Ink Demon without any further moral quandaries about inky life.

The thing is, when you compare an element like, say, audiologs, there's a lot of differences you can point to -- but I don't actually think Lacie Benton's audiolog is notably better, taken on its own, than Grace Conway's or Kitty Thompson's, and yet tons of people were intrigued enough to flesh out Lacie. None of them are big plot points or compelling characters on their own; Lacie and Grace both give us a little note on what it's like working in the Studio, and Kitty shares a little bit on how Gent's expansion is affecting people. But when Lacie talks about Bertrum trying to make a creepy animatronic, that ties back into Joey's ill-fated schemes that are the point of the whole story. The question we're asking through the whole game is "what happened here?" so the fandom is interested in who Lacie is and what her life was like and extrapolates a whole person out of a couple sentences. But that's not the question in BatDR -- what has Wilson done to the Cycle and the Demon? Why? Who is Audrey really, and why is she here? Telling us new things about the Studio's fate seems strangely irrelevant to those questions, just an attempt to create a Mystery To Speculate On like the previous game did... but what question you're asking and how it fits into your story's main theme, like, matters. I absolutely believe that one clock animator guy would've been in EVERYONE'S crew if he'd been introduced in BatIM, but the context makes a difference; fleshing him out feels less relevant here.

The explanations of how and why Wilson did everything he did are baffling and handwavey, but in and of itself that's not a worse problem than anything else in the franchise -- I STILL don't understand why the Ink Machine needs pipes in the walls or even how it works, there's no good reason for Sammy to believe the Ink Demon will "set him free," most of Alice's motives don't make sense, etc etc etc. But the thing is that in BatDR, the wibbly bit is the closest thing to a central question we have! Wilson, what were you doing? The theme doesn't really explore or connect to that question, so the explanations that are finally tossed our way feel lacking in a way that BatIM's handwaved elements don't. There's a lot about Joey's motivation in BatIM that we can't know, but the heart of it resonates -- Joey wanted something, he was willing to exploit people to get it, and he became obsessed and prioritised that dream at any cost. We'll weather a thousand logistical inconsistencies if it's got heart.

But all of that said.... to be honest, I don't think Lacie overtly fits that theme anyway. Even, like, Sammy is iffy -- we don't really know what happened to him, only that he didn't used to be made of ink and worship Bendy, and now he does. We assume Joey's nonsense had something to do with what happened to him (though the books later assert his influence was indirect at best), because when there's a pattern, we can fill in the blank. So many fan creators found a place for Lacie, Grant, and Shawn in the cycle as butcher clones or lost ones, so many people imagined that Wally must be the Boris we meet, because that would've fit the pattern, the idea that the point of what we're seeing is the downfall of the studio. It's not actually that BatIM did a great job tying everything together -- it's that BatIM gave us a compelling idea and that was all it took to make everything else SEEM like it could find a place to fit. This is what I mean when I say BatIM's theme covers a multitude of sins. There's a LOT of characters in BatIM that don't make sense. There's a lot of inconsistencies and things that just sort of happen without any real reason. Characters don't really have "arcs" so much as different states they happen to be in at different times. But because there's a central question and the story doesn't wander away from it, our pattern-loving human brains will slot in all the pieces and do all the work to make the story feel at least somewhat coherent.

The things that happened in BatDR aren't a whole lot less coherent than BatIM imo, they just don't tie into a bigger theme or any of the questions the story's asking, making "how do they fit into all this" feel irrelevant, making it easier to forget entire sections and harder to get invested in audiolog characters. I think a lot of the other criticisms people have for BatDR's story are very valid, but I also suspect that if BatDR had a more successful theme/central question, then a lot of its flaws would be easier to overlook -- just like BatIM.

#we all write on the walls #batdr #short-ish essay is fond but critical of both games so puts it in a readmore for the fine folks in the tag who arent here for that haha #batim #bendy and the ink machine #lmao I WROTE THIS LAST YEAR ITS JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS #go out into the world little post... be free......#also I do think the fact that batdr kind of dropped the central question of batim #is probably also a significant factor #if you were really invested in the main thrust of batim then batdr doesnt really follow it or finish that exploration #just tries to give it an answer and move on #so again it comes down to the theme and the central question just in a different way

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inhuman-obey-me · 6 months ago

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Babel-ing: An Overview of NB Lesson 44

Okay, we have a couple things to talk about with regards to the latest lesson! Some interesting worldbuilding and some moments that leave us with many questions. Let's get into it, shall we?

(spoilers for NB Lesson 44 below the cut)

In terms of worldbuilding, the main point of focus in this lesson is on Babel and its power as a "place of solace and bliss."

What does this mean in practice? Well, in classic OM fashion, it means we get to rapidly cycle through short little scenes of what each brother's individual "bliss" looks like, one at a time -- with some getting more depth to the writing than others, unfortunately.

Specifically, they boil Asmo's down to just "compliments", Levi's to "TSL", and Satan's, as exhaustingly usual, to "cats". This was presumably in the interest of time, but considering what the next three then get -- come on, really?

Starting with Mammon's, however, it starts getting a little bit more thoughtful. Considering the first three, it seemed like his would probably be something to do with money, but instead, Babel gives him a little private time with MC -- though, not that private, as it turns out everyone else was just invisible. Mostly, that just makes for a funny scene, but it does say something notable about how magic works in Babel: they entered as a group and apparently must experience all of the moments collectively as a group, even when Babel is trying to grant a wish of privacy.

Next, Beelzebub and Belphegor are implied to get their bliss in the form of happiness for each other. Belphie's consisted of Beel getting to happily eat a bunch of food, and then for some odd reason, there was an odd bit about him snubbing and frowning at all the other brothers during what was supposed to be his happy time. The game suggests this is because Mammon and Asmo started sucking up to him in hopes of also getting in on their wishes being fulfilled, and he's mad about it because of the prior "Belphie is the imposter" suspicions during the entry riddle. But even so, it's a bit strange that half his "bliss" scene consists of him being grumpy, so...that's a thing.

Beelzebub's, in turn, is to make Belphie happy - specifically, for everyone to fall asleep and share a dream of the Celestial Realm together, which is when things get especially interesting.

We have theorized before that Belphegor is the one who most seems to miss the Celestial Realm, so it brings up a question of whether Beel also wishes for them all to be back there, or whether the setting is because that's where he feels Belphie would be happiest. The brothers start reminiscing excitedly about a particular memory of Raphael going after Mammon for skipping out on work, while Belphie naps happily at their feet.

There are, however, two very notable exceptions to the brothers' nostalgia - Satan and Lucifer.

No matter which of the two you address about their silence, Asmo apologizes about the fact that Satan, not having been around at the time, probably feels out of place because he once again doesn't share the same memories that the others are talking about. Now, the game handles this by deciding that, actually, since it has been established before that Satan has some of Lucifer's old memories, he does "remember" about that particular moment, and has Belphie tug on Satan's clothes in his sleep to suggest that the brothers still think of him as part of the family.

It does not, however, address how Satan might feel about the fact that one of his brothers' representations of "bliss" consists of being back in the Celestial Realm. It probably doesn't feel great for a demon who has never been an angel to just be placed into one of the angel outfits and be told, essentially, that their happiest times were before he was born, but just with him added in now! Even if he has a memory of it from Lucifer's point of view, he's not actually part of their memories in their minds.

And although questioning Lucifer's silence brings up the same discussion, he likely would have had his own reasons for being uncomfortable in this situation. We know that he has always harbored guilt over his brothers falling alongside him. In NB Season 1, he even wanted to send his brothers back to the Celestial Realm without him, so that they could be spared from sharing his punishment! They all chose back then to stay with him and Satan in the Devildom, but it must feel pretty painful then for him to have concrete proof that one of the brothers would be happiest by being angels again in the Celestial Realm after all.

Well, that sure makes it a bit of an awkward transition when the last up is, as always, Lucifer himself! Nothing in particular really happens for his, with MC pointing out that his bliss has just been seeing his brothers happy that whole time. And for once, they also throw in a little side story based on some options for what MC's "bliss" moment is, which is nice to see for once!

After everything, Raphael (the real one this time) shows up and instantly gets accused of being Michael again, leaving him grumbling about how he'd been sent by the top seraph himself to guide them but it seemed that was not needed after all. And then we get one more very interesting nugget of worldbuilding lore -- it has actually only been their souls in Babel that whole time, and their bodies have been left elsewhere.

This, combined with texts to Solomon from Diavolo last lesson, and Thirteen this time, inquiring about his choice not to go in with the family, bring up some fascinating questions. When Diavolo had asked, the sorcerer had suggested he might not pass judgment to get in and didn't want to bring the brothers down with him. However, this time, when Thirteen asks, he is more evasive and answers that it's complicated.

It's not entirely clear if his decision to keep away from the inside of Babel is related to this bit about their souls, but it's certainly a fascinating possibility! After all, we heard a bit about Solomon's soul from Thirteen in earlier Nightbringer seasons...

Finally, there's one more detail which stood out after our return from Babel. In two separate post-story texts, Simeon and Raphael both check in on how MC is doing after their trip to Babel, with the latter in particular expressing concern about any issues and encouraging them to go to bed early to "be on the safe side."

As we discussed last time, Babel is a very well-kept secret, and on the Celestial Realm side, only seraphs are even supposed to know of its existence. It was also a seraph (Michael disguised as Raphael) who administered the judgment test for them to enter. That makes it quite interesting that, aside from Lucifer who is with us, it is the seraph and former seraph who check in on us afterwards. Could this imply something more harmful or unsettling about Babel, despite the "place of solace and bliss" description? Or is it simply a reference to the strange magic that exists in Babel?

We'll see if any more of Babel is mentioned later in the season, but considering we also haven't heard from or about Nightbringer (you know, the one this new game is literally named after) in quite some time, who knows? Time will tell if the devs will follow up on any of their plot threads, ever!

#honestly real salty on behalf of asmo levi and satan #did get some writing ideas tho #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #omnb #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nb lesson 44 #obey me worldbuilding #obey me analysis #obey me demon brothers

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shigarakisdumbwhore · 4 months ago

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Here Without You - Chapter Two

Summary: You had been developing a deep crush on Dabi for quite some time. But he was difficult to get through to and know. His distant demeanor made it hard to get close to him. However, when Hawks shows up, things take a turn in a different direction than you could have imagined. Dabi doesn't know your true feelings, you don't know Hawks is a spy, and they don't know you're in love with both of them. This love triangle is about to cause lots of drama and confusion.

Words: 3, 823

Warnings: none

Chapter One

Days went by and you hadn't seen Dabi. Hawks was around sometimes but he seemed busy before he left to fulfill the image being a hero. He hadn't been around. When you asked the others, they didn't know where Dabi was either. It was weird not seeing him in so long. You felt withdrawal symptoms. It was strange, and kind of ridiculous.

You would go outside to look for him, making sure to stay in disguise or try not to bring too much attention to yourself. He shouldn't be hard to miss. You knew him, you'd recognize him anywhere. Or you should have. However, Dabi could be the master of disguise and hiding. He didn't get to this point for just fun. He had to be skilled. The news station broadcasted the faces of the league often, there was no doubt you'd be recognized. Especially Dabi with his distinct scars. You worried about him getting caught.

Dabi was skilled enough to win or escape the fight, but the thought of him getting hurt pained you.

After a few hours, you came back. Mr. Compress, Spinner, and Toga were sitting at a table all eating together. They seemed to be enjoying their meal in their own world as they talked to each other. They hadn't noticed you until you got closer to the table, greeting you with loud and warm welcomes.

"Y/N, please put a jacket on. It's cold outside," Compress said as he threw a compressed marble at you. The marble disappeared the moment it got close to you, allowing a large black coat to emerge. You caught it in your hands and looked at the fabric. It was soft, very thick, and presumably warm. It was too late now, but you appreciated the offer from Compress by putting it on. The league really did feel like a family. It wasn't just Dabi you were worried about, it was all of them.

"Thanks." You sat down next to all of them, looking down at the table. You could feel your heart ripping open on the inside. You missed Dabi so much. It was a no-brainer that not being able to find him made you feel like a complete failure. How could you not know?

"Any luck?" Spinner asked. He looked sad and concerned for you. Typical of Spinner. Many wouldn't know it because they didn't care to get to know him, due to his appearance, but he was a sweet guy. At first, he was opposed to you going out for Dabi and worried about your safety. However, you reassured him you wouldn't stay out too long and would do your best to remain hidden. So far you did good by your promise and Spinner appreciated that.

"No, I'm not sure where he is or what he's doing. I just don't understand how someone can just up and disappear like that!" You raised your hands in frustration as you slammed back into your chair.

"I wouldn't worry about it. Dabi has always been the more isolated one from the league," Spinner added for solace.

Toga giggled, "It's cause she has a crush on Dabi!"

Mr. Compress jumped out of his chair from excitement and yelled, "Huh?! Dabi?!" You sank back in your chair from embarrassment. Did Toga really have to confess that? Sure, it was true, but was it really that obvious? And if so, for how long could people tell? If others could tell then... you hoped Dabi didn't notice or at least wasn't creeped out by it.

Dabi was a very direct, outspoken, and honest person. Surely if he noticed or found it odd, he would have said something. He never held anything back, except his past. Which made it that much more unusual.

Speaking of the devil, Dabi arrived. He looked careless as he walked forward, hands in his pockets and looking off into the distance as if he couldn't be bothered to see what was right in front of him. You were the first one to jump up, almost angry-like.

"Dabi? Where were you?"

"Out," he paused as his eyes scanned the table, "Doing stuff. What's it to you all?" He looked amongst everyone with a confused expression. He couldn't be that oblivious. The rest of the league stared at him, unsure of what to say, and a shade of tomato red blush across their cheeks. They may have been just as embarrassed as you. One doesn't just casually talk about the romantic life of Dabi.

"It doesn't really matter... I guess," you grumbled. He didn't look injured or any different than before. That put your mind at ease, just a little bit.

"Before the leader left, he tasked me with a 'side quest' to continue gathering more to our cause. The more numbers, the merrier, or something stupid he said. Anyways, I figured I'd ask you to come."

"Are you talking to me?"

"I'm not looking at anyone else."

You turned back to look at the league. Toga was covering her face, obviously covering a wide grin. Spinner and Compress exchanged glances.

But... why you? Should you even be asking that? You'd love to go out on a mission with Dabi. Just the two of you together. Maybe alone... No, no! You couldn't start thinking that way, giving yourself some false hope. You weren't even sure how he felt about you. But, you definitely couldn't say no.

"Yeah, I can help out."

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The room was small and worn down. Holes in the walls, peeling wallpaper, dust everywhere. The only thing in the room was a bed, a chair, and a lamp. The windows were boarded up with wood and curtains draped over them. Only the tiniest bit of light peaked from it, barely enough to illuminate the room on its own. The lamp didn't provide much light either. It was still very dim.

Dabi sat down in an old recliner chair. His feet went up in the air as he reached over to pull the lever. The footrest sprang up with a loud crank and thud. Then he leaned back to rest with his hands behind his head.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" He gave you an unamused look. It was written all over his face. What do you mean? The answer is obvious.

"Don't be ungrateful, it was all I could find for you." For you? You looked over at the bed. There was only one.

"So... is this where you've been?"

"What's it matter? You're not my mother." He raised his hand in the air, fiddling something in the air as he watched it with intensity.

"Never mind then," you said as you sat on the edge of the bed. It was lumpy and creaked loudly when you put your weight on it. It sunk really low. Surely this wouldn't be a comfortable night. But you couldn't complain. As a villain, you were used to this poor stuff. And as a gift of kindness from Dabi, you had to appreciate it. Any other time would include sleeping on the floor.

"How did you get it?"

"The frame was already here, I just had to find the mattress.

You tried to imagine Dabi dragging a large mattress all this way. How did he manage to stay undercover and not bring attention to himself?

"So, where will you sleep?"

"In this recliner."

You felt kind of guilty. How fair was it for you to sleep in a nice bed while he got a dusty chair. So what if it reclined, it wasn't a real bed. You looked at the size of the mattress. Probably a full or queen size.

"Dabi, you know," you couldn't believe you were about to say this, "you could sleep in the bed next to me." He looked up at you, his expression unreadable. Not being able to tell what he was thinking made you jump. Your hands got clammy and it was hard to swallow. "I'm not trying to be weird, I just don't want you to have to sleep in that. There's room here."

His face softened. He didn't say anything, but you could see he appreciated it. However, the mere idea of it made your heart flutter. You and Dabi, sleeping together in the same bed.

For the first night, you didn't do much except hang around in the room. Dabi spent most of his time sitting in the recliner on his phone. Now and then, you and him would strike up a conversation. Though, you didn't mind the silence. It was nice to just be in Dabi's presence, especially since it had been so long.

Nighttime came faster than expected and Dabi was the first to go to bed. You were too nervous to sleep just yet. You went out for a bit of fresh air to calm your mind. When you returned the room was dark and Dabi was already fast asleep. You tip-toed with soft footsteps to the bed, careful not to trip on anything or walk too loud to wake him.

You laid down. It was cold. Little mountains of goosebumps formed from the back of your neck down your arms. You wrapped them around yourself and tucked your knees into your chest, hoping that you could contain some of the heat in your body. A strange instinct to cuddle up to Dabi for warmth came to mind and your body almost reacted.

Then, a fuzzy feeling crept up your body and you could see a dark figure reaching over you. At first, you tensed up in fear, wondering who was here. You were too tired to fight but... no, that wasn't it.

Dabi was pulling a blanket up to your shoulders. He stopped once he reached below your neck and placed it down. It was a large, fuzzy, and thick blanket. You sat there for a moment, processing what just happened. Your mind was blank, not a single thought.

You could feel the bed shift and sink down as he turned back over to sleep.

Your face felt so hot. Your chest was warm and fuzzy. He seemed so careless. So heartless. This was a different side of Dabi you never saw, that probably nobody ever saw. No one would even believe you.

Maybe this was a dream. Some kind of fever dream, but it felt so real. How could it be fake?

In a way, you felt a bit guilty. The blanket was only large enough for one and he had nothing. It seemed a bit selfish of you to take the whole blanket.

Eventually, you drifted off into a light sleep. All night you had brief flashes of Dabi and the blanket. Different unexplainable scenarios. You were stuck in a trance of half asleep and half awake with unusual dreams, never able to truly get any real rest. You were woken up by Dabi announcing his entrance into the room. You had no concept of time.

"I got you something to eat."

"With what money?" You smiled as you sat up from the bed. You hadn't even noticed him leaving. Your eyes still felt heavy and sleepy, but it was time to get up.

"You don't have to worry about that," he smiled. He set the food down on the torn-up cushioned chair, the only reliable surface. It was wrapped up in a brown paper bag with wet marks all over it. You practically dove for the food. It was still hot. It had been so long since you had hot food. You just hoped it tasted as good as you imagined. However, you couldn't help but wonder how he got it or where he got the money.

"It's a little chilly in here," you said as you curled up on the chair with the food. The warm bag gave you a little bit of heat to keep you comfortable.

"I'd light a fire, but I don't want the place to burn down." He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. The seams of his rotten skin were steaming and sizzling. Your chest tightened.

"Yeah, maybe it's best," you muttered softly before looking down into the bag. You took your time eating, savoring the flavors and the full feeling in your stomach. It may be a bit until the next time you'd feel this.

Dabi laid down on the bed with his feet dangling off the edge and took a bouncy ball out of his pocket. He began throwing it at the ceiling. Each time it bounced back he would catch it in the palm of his hand and repeat.

"So, is this really what you did when you were out? I didn't see anyone new around."

"Honest?" He paused. The ball bounced back and landed in the middle of his palm. He brought it up to his face and examined it. "I just had to get out of there. Those poor bastards make me sick."

"Yeah, I get needing some time alone... but-," you paused. But why did you take me? No, you couldn't ask that out loud.

He stopped throwing the ball once again. A heavy pit twisted and formed in your stomach, feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, dragging your body to the floor. Your legs felt heavy and weak at the knees. You feared he was going to ask you to finish the sentence.

He bounced the ball again, completely ignoring what you said. He was so unpredictable.

Days passed as you two stayed in that room. It was the same routine, almost. You and Dabi were in and out trying to gather people for Shigaraki's cause. There was a surprising amount of people who believed in him and supported his cause despite the popular public opinion. Some of these people were real tough and stereotypical villains. Some looked like average people who were too afraid to voice their true opinion, but would if provoked and given a sense of security. However, they weren't the fighting type you needed.

Dabi was charismatic enough to gather people before getting too angry or annoyed with them. Toga was right. She loved to tease him for being so picky. He just burned whatever he didn't like, it didn't matter what or who.

One night in particular was different. Dabi didn't come back at his usual time. The two of you set boundaries to come back at the same time every day. Therefore if anything happened, you would know. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Dabi did stuff like this often, disappearing into the night like he never existed.

A sick feeling washed over you and wouldn't go away. You knew you had to find him.

He wasn't too far away from the abandoned building you hid in. He was just standing there, staring out from the back alley at the busy street.

Dabi looked out, smiling. It always seemed like he was staring at something out of reach, something only he could see. A glob of blood emerged from his waterline and streamed down his cheeks, thick and dark red.

"Dabi... are you crying?"

"Nah, I burned those off a long time ago."

Dabi looked down slightly. His facial expression changed like he was staring off into nothing now. It was a mixture of all different emotions. Deep inside there was joy, anger, resentment... happiness... sadness. So many things spilled out of him. He didn't need to talk to show it. What had this poor boy gone through?

"Dabi please if you could just let me in I could understand you!" You reached out to him.

"No!" he turned around and grabbed you by both of your wrists. Your faces were mere inches from each other. You could feel his calloused skin rub against your wrist like sandpaper. His eyes piercing your soul. He looked trapped. You could tell he wanted to open up, but something inside him couldn't. He physically couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to. However, that didn't stop the rejection from stinging so badly.

"Dabi, I...," you thought for a moment as tears swelled up, "I've got to go." You turned and ran off.

Once you were away from him, you found yourself back in the busy streets of the city. So many people walking by and not a single one looked at you. No one noticed you. Everyone was in their own little world. Chatting with each other, sharing stories, talking on the phone, listening to music with earbuds in. Is this what it felt like to be normal? To be unrecognized and live civilly amongst everyone? Was the villain life with Dabi the life you wanted to continue living?

You jumped at the sensation of something wrapping around you and lifting you up in the air. Before you knew it, you were so high you could see the top of everyone's heads. You began to struggle from the grip of this stranger, unsure of what was going on and going too fast to process everything.

"Woah, woah, slow down there. You're gonna make me drop you," a familiar voice said. You turned your head to see a smiling Hawks looking down on you. How?

"Oh, god. I'm gonna be sick," you groaned as you covered your mouth with your hand and closed your eyes. Even the sensation of flying in the air made you nauseated.

"Ew," he teased, "Don't go throwing up on me now. Just try to relax, we're almost there." Was he going to turn you in? Was Dabi correct about him being a mole all along?

Hawks was right, you were almost there. Before you knew it, your feet were planted down on a hard, sturdy surface. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself on top of a flat rooftop with a small porch. Metal bars wrapped around the edges of the building.

"I'm sorry to have startled you like that. I just wanted you to see this from up here." You looked around, taking in your surroundings. The world seemed so wide and big. You felt as light as a feather, your mind totally distracted from what transpired. You thought back on what Hawks mentioned before about feeling trapped by the hero society.

"You really are free... it must be nice," you said. You hid in the shadows and here he could fly all around without a worry or care in the world.

"You can be free too." His voice was low and soft, a tone that sounded almost like he was offering you something. You wished he could take it all away. All the mistakes, the crimes, the difficult life you had to face all the time. Erase all the nightmares you suffered through.

"I don't know. You don't have to hide. You can just always be yourself." For a moment, it was silence. He didn't say anything. No witty comeback, no teasing, just quiet.

"You don't have to hide yourself around me." You turned to him and smiled, but his expression confused you. He looked happy yet unsure, like his mind was stuck in the middle of something.

You leaned over the railing, wrapping your hands around the cool metal to appreciate the view. You could see the city for miles. Tall, clustered buildings, and tiny people walking around them on the sidewalks. They all looked so careless and unaware. Nothing to hide from. Nothing to worry about. No need to conceal their face from the police.

"Hey, careful now, don't lean too far over the edge." He walked beside you and joined you on the railing.

"Aren't you the hero too fast for his own good? You can save me," you teased.

"Oh please, don't give me too much credit. I'm only number two." His witty sense of humor was refreshing in such a suspenseful time. You needed this. Being stuck in that tiny room, only allowed to sneak out around at nighttime when it was hard to see. It became depressing despite Dabi's best efforts.

What would he think if he knew you were up here with Hawks instead of doing what you were told. He would be furious. It was not something you wanted to admit to him after finally being in his good graces.

Were you still in his good graces? Did you push him too far this time? It didn't take much for him to snap. You wondered what he had been bottling up after all this time. There was always something in Dabi's eyes but you couldn't explain it. Something fearful. You once even heard the doctor mention it, but he didn't elaborate. He wouldn't tell anyone what he saw. You wondered what he knew that others didn't.

The skyline turned into beautiful, vibrant shades of oranges and pinks as the sun set behind the horizon. A gentle breeze blew between the two of you. His soft locks of blonde hair waved in small circles, the longer pieces framing his face like an angel. His golden eyes illuminated and glowed with the reflection of the sun. You could see why he always had a fangirl club following him at every corner.

"Is something on your mind?" His voice sounded so warm and caring, a stark contrast to Dabi's.

"No, not really," you lied, but when you looked out once more it was like all of those things disappeared.

Your body melted and eased into the environment. Even though your feet were planted firmly below you, you felt like you were floating in air. Nothing was touching you. Nothing irritating your skin or rubbing you the wrong way. The only thing you could feel was the compassionate presence of Hawks.

"But, now you mention it... I think I have to go back. If it's getting dark and I'm gone too long, Dabi will think something is wrong."

Hawks's smile faded as he stared at you, then turned to look back at the sunset. In that short period, it disappeared from the skyline. The sky was darker than before, more of a purple-gray now. It seemed fitting for the sad mood of goodbyes.

"I had a nice time seeing you again. Even if it was short." His smile returned. "Do you mind if I...?" he trailed off as he walked behind you. His arms slipped under yours and wrapped around your stomach in an almost romantic gesture. You couldn't help the blush from creeping up on your face.

"N...no, I don't mind."

His wings flapped and with a swift jump, you two returned to the air. The wind got stronger and colder, but you could see everything again from a whole other angle. Hawks dropped you off in a location of your choice, near the building you stayed in. He didn't say much before leaving, just a wave, and away he went. Just like that, he was gone.

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year ago

Note

Now I want something. I want admin to spank Morell.

I know a regular piglet wouldn't even make him flinch BUT ADMIN, Admin is enhanced with Krulu's strength. So Admin could make Morell moan for sure.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Dubious consent to no consent; Abusive spanking; Blood; Humiliation; Physical and mental abuse.

You're not sure why your Lord approved of this idea so readily.

You wouldn't even call it a proper punishment plan for Morell's latest minor infraction, it was more of a vaguely intrusive thought that surfaced in your mind. To bend the large, proud monster over your knee and have him lose some of that attitude.

Krulu immediately gave you the greenlight to do it, with some manner of glee even, somewhere between genuine anticipation and humor.

You've come to learn your higher seems to sometimes prefer humiliating punishments over the physically painful ones. It leaves a much bigger imprint on the soul than the marring of flesh, he tells you.

Who are you to question his absolute wisdom?

Besides, it'd be lying to say that you aren't looking forward to Morell's reaction. For as rowdy and assertive as he can be with his coworkers, the chef has always had immense respect for you, being one of the first to pipe down and get in line with new directives or goals. It's something you admire in him.

So, surely, he's not going to flip out now is he?

The kitchen is quiet. Sterilized even. You had the bobbles take care of it before leaving. Part of you considered doing this in the warehouse, in front of the pigs he'll have to look in the eyes when the time to slaughter them comes. But that's already too much sadism for a slap on the wrist measure, isn't it?

No. You'll do it in the kitchen, a much more intimate environment.

Sitting on one of the restaurant chairs you dragged inside, you're roughly in the center of the large room itself, next to the main chopping block, legs crossed. Sharpened eyes study the previous work of the bobbles under Morell's hold. His training is efficient, you'll give him that.

It's taking him a while to come back in. Fact of the matter is he's not even in this floor, most likely. That's part of the problem, how often he's leaving the restaurant for extended periods of time. A frown slowly graces your features, nails tapping rhythmically on the iron legs of the chair. Tsk tsk.

You're considering additional punishment methods for his extended work post abandonment when the telltale squeak of boots on tiles hits your ears. He's in a hurry.

The kitchen doors blast open, Morell puffs with physical exertion and looks scratched in several areas, bits of... Gravel? Rock? Cling to his arms and apron, which he dusts off rapidly, opening his mouth to presumably start barking orders at his team of workers, except- He finally gathers enough wit to notice his actual surroundings.

Squinting, frowning, then finally spotting you. There's a short, vapid blink before he reacts.

" M- Admin, miss! " The shroom greets, nodding respectably before quickly closing the doors behind his large figure.

The monster looks aggravated, guilty. He obviously knows you'd never like seeing him deviating during work hours. You're willing to bet he's gulping behind that thick pink scarf. Morell scratches at his forearm and impulsively keeps dusting himself off, waiting. " Can I get'cha anythin' ta eat? "

" Morell. " You smile, sarcasm all but dripping off your words. " Pleasure seeing you here, for once. "

The mushrooms monster's hands rise immediately in a sort of placation attempt almost unbecoming of his large stature. " Ah know- I know it looks bad, miss, but it ain't like ah'm leavin' the floor ta screw 'round- "

" Did I ask for excuses? " You cut in.

Morell pipes down instantly. " No ma'am, ah'm sorry. "

And this is why he stands out to you. His obedience to authority figures. Morell has always been the kind of monster man who doesn't just bend for others at a whim. He's a stubborn bull of a guy, and all that's missing are the horns to furnish him. When with his coworkers, the shroom is rough and brutish, shooting them down the moment they attempt to mess with him, getting loud, in their faces, threatening them whenever they think they know better. When you first hired the chef, you wee already counting on having to use a sterner hand to keep him in line, and yet, since the very first day, he's regarded you with a courtesy and level of respect that's almost strikingly out of character compared to other sides of him.

Krulu shared this initial wonder too, finding it amusing that the shroom adapted extremely quickly to the roles he should play before you and your Lord. He knows better than to oppose you, sides with you, is very cooperative and available. Commendable qualities.

" I've always liked that about you. "

" ... Beg pardon? "

" How polite you are, without even having to be taught better. " Something you can't say for all.

In spite of the flattery, the chef doesn't relax. " Thank you, ma'am. "

Funnily enough, his accent sometimes takes a backseat in these moments too. Maybe because he's trying to speak like you? You could pick him apart all day, honestly.

" I don't want your apologies, I want you to know your punishment. "

He looks like he wants to desperately say something. Explain the situation, say that he's not at fault, that it can't be helped. You have an inkling of an idea of what might be wrong, more gargoyle shenanigans. Morell looks into your challenging hues and nods, bitterly swallowing any words. Fear flashes briefly in that dark canvas of a face.

It's not often he misbehaves enough to warrant punishments. The most he tends to get is a slap on the wrist for playing too much with the slaughter piglets.

" Of course, ma'am... "

Good boy.

" You're having issues dealing with the gargoyles again. "

Morell nods, hands over his chest and fingers tapping his elbows, the subject very quickly drawing a furious grimace from him.

" They're breaking in and taking meats, finished orders, body parts, sometimes even bobbles. "

Another nod.

" I would be angry too. But you know what I wouldn't do, Morell? Take it upon myself to go out there and hunt them down, when there's already someone who can do that, employed in these very grounds. "

The tapping turns into a tight grip.

" Why not come to Belo about this? A power such as him, who has wings to pursue them with flight, who holds a weapon capable of obliterating them with little effort, whose job is precisely to maintain order here. "

" Buh-! "

" Hush. " Your warning is heeded. " Don't step outside your role, Morell. Perhaps you have the strength to take one or two down, but your effectiveness lies here, in the restaurant. That- " You motion past the kitchen doors. " Does not concern you. "

He sighs quietly, rolling his shoulders. " You're right, ma'am. "

" Good. I'm glad we could get on the same page. " You grin, uncrossing your legs and patting a stocking clad thigh. " Now, for your punishment this time, I want you to bend over my knees. "

Oh. This is precious.

At first, the cook makes a face like he's certain he didn't really hear right, giving himself a few seconds to see if he can decipher what you really must have said. And then, slowly, it starts to sink in, the realization isn't the only thing that sinks however, that expression falling into a somber and wide-eyed look, questioning you. Wounded even.

And hat's how you know it's going to be effective.

" Ah... Come again? "

Oh, the hopelessness.

" You heard me, Morell. " There's no doubt he did.

Another few stunted seconds pass where he seems to be mourning his dignity, presumably. Your eyes glint with cruel anticipation.

" ... Do I hav'ta, miss? "

So polite. Adorable, even. He's smart enough to understand he doesn't really have a choice, somewhere between bargaining and pleading.

Suffocating the urge to giggle and kick your legs, you offer Morell an almost mocking solemn nod, as if it pained you too to be doing this. An open palm claps gently in your thigh, hurrying him.

The chef's face scrunches again, and if the skin directly under his cap weren't so dark, you would probably be able to spot the stress creases forming on his forehead. He shuts his eyes and takes a silent deep breath, reaching back to undo his apron. Morell takes his sweet time getting ready, and because he's been obedient thus far, you allow him those precious moments of peace. The desperation is such so that he even takes the time to fold his dirtied butcher's apron.

Finally, wearing only pants and boots, the monster stands before you, defeated before you've laid but a single finger upon him. Brilliant work.

" Knee. " You insist.

Slightly luminescent eyes scroll from his own massive figure to your much smaller one. " Ma'am... Ain't it gonna hurt? "

He knows better. He's seen better. The force and resilience bestowed upon you by your Lord knows hardly a limit. Morell could throw himself onto you, where as a normal human's bones would creak and shatter, you'd merely wonder how to best castigate him.

" I don't stutter, Morell. "

Boy, does that get him moving.

Somewhat awkwardly, the cook sinks to his knees. If his peculiar skin allowed it, you know he'd be covered in goosebumps when he angles himself across your legs. A tremor wracks his body, though you're quick to lower a hand on his broad back, encouraging the shroom to let his weight settle on your thighs.

A few seconds pass in that stillness. That delicious silence, the walls dripping anticipation and Morell radiating a level of mortification that has the spectator behind your eyes grinning with glee.

And then, as if gouging the right moment to lunge, you yank his pants and underwear down. The way Morell jumps could almost be compared to a frightened cat's leap, a tremor followed by this choked noise of embarrassment that all his coworkers would surely mock him over for eternity. The chef's rump perfectly fits his worked physique, yet there's an unmistakable softness there, an appealing shape, something Santi has openly admired before- To his own detriment, as such was quickly followed by a wooden spoon to the top of his head.

It's a nice ass, you'll admit. Shame he doesn't let anyone touch it.

Snickering at his panic, you soothingly rub a hand over his backside, feeling the give of his bizarre anatomy. Shroom monsters don't have the same type of skeletal structure humans do, their bodies are spongier in nature, yet by no means does that mean they're less sturdy. Humming peacefully, you take the time to squeeze over the spots that cover his blue hide, fondling the grown monster currently surrendered to you in thought.

Your forearm begins to sprout blackened veins, lovingly possessive growths that curl over your limb and encompass it, appropriate it. In a matter of seconds, Lord Krulu has transformed your hand into one of his, dark and deftly long fingers furnished with the claws of an apex predator. You raise it in the air with nothing but pride and adoration.

And oh, if Morell had any hope that your spankings would be tame, then it'd be a compliment to call him a fool.

Because when that same hand crashes down, the muted force of your god thunders across his entire body.

And he squeals.

Nicely done.

Both of you freeze. Your hand doesn't sting minimally, but the imprint immediately left on Morell's asscheek is a testament to the level of strength that was so effortlessly doled out.

No one moves for a second, the shock of that bizarre bleat being processed. You'd never guess a sizable monster like Morell could make such a noise, like a confused animal in pain.

The grin that crawls up your cheeks is sickening.

" What was that, Mori? Did one of your pigs escape? "

He's panting, quietly, but not subtly enough to miss.

" ... No. "

" No? "

" N-No miss. "

You snicker. " Alright, must have been my imagination. "

A tune is hummed serenely when your hand rises off his already overheated flesh, and the way the chef sucks in a desperate lungful of air is as riveting as it gets. But like Hell you'll give him the privilege of certainty, lowering said palm again with a deceitful gentleness, petting him, resting.

The next whack has spittle flying past grit teeth. He muffles part of the humiliating noise, at the cost of drooling on himself like a beast. Morell shivers atop you like a stuttering car engine. Krulu laughs.

" Honestly, I'm almost sad to be bruising a rump this pretty, Morell... " You muse, watching his cerulean hue steadily bleed into navy bruises that muddle his naturally glowing spots. " But it does make for an interesting sight. "

He stays quiet, and, in retaliation, you let that very same hand wander a little. Krulu's features recede to allow your human softness to brush over his skin, moving between the chef's legs. Instantly, there's a sudden tension in his entire body, more so than when he feared the spanking, and although you only teasingly feather over his asshole, Morell squirms in endless discomfort as if you had stuck pins and needles on him. Pressure against his perineum rips a grunt out of him, though reaching past the butcher's balls reveals the expected, he's entirely limp.

Something easily fixed.

" Part your legs a little. "

The shroom monster gulps, voice only a tad hoarse. " Admin, miss... "

Be it with the sharpest claws or bluntest nails, most men don't enjoy having their family jewels crushed. " Part. Your. Legs. "

He does, arms flexing in suffering until you relent. You don't need to warn him not to make you repeat yourself again. His reward is a much softer grasp around his manhood. And, with no pain to distract him, it's easy to get Morell to twitch in response, even if his fear is still palpable.

You stroke him until he hardens in your hand, something easy to achieve considering this sick fuck loves making his terrified little piggies worship his cock before he guts them into a dish. There's nothing like a human's touch to many of the workers here, and he's no exception. You can't help lick your lips when he starts silently rocking the slightest amount into your motions, soft sighs leaving his slowly relaxing form. Goading him further into this state of mindless pleasure, you offer him slightly faster friction, until he's properly bucking into your hand, ruffling groans of enjoyment.

He could never have spotted the spare arm sprouting from your back, could never see its dark length extend in the air-

Before it slammed down with enough force to rattle the skeleton out of anyone.

" HHHRK- "

You laugh, loud and jovial, this childish cackle ringing through the kitchen at your Master's impatient and cruel swat. Poor little Morell jolts and groans openly, the growing wave of pleasure interrupted and now intermingled with shock. His confused mind struggles to process the difference between pleasure and pain, lumping both together in a way that has him throbbing.

He seems to still at his own body's response.

Perfection.

You don't cease pumping his cock when the third arm lifts again, forcing the chef to experience both extremes of sensation when he's spanked again. He spasms uselessly, you bet his eyes are bulging by now.

Time to force him to think.

Whack

" What area of The Clergy's Eye have you been assigned to? "

" Tha- Kitchen! " He struggles, huffing.

Whack

" Where shall you stay when working then? "

More confused twitching in your hand. " Kh- Kitchen! "

SMACK

" Are you going to leave it again to do things that don't concern your station? "

" NnNO! "

The pace of your hand quickens, yet so does the your Master's rightful penance. Morell's bruised, indigo-tinted behind starts blooming into shades of abused purple. Tattoos of Krulu's divine hand furnish it nicely. You have no doubt this monster will sleep on his stomach for the following week.

Thwack thwack THWACK

" Will I have to do this again, Morell? "

He sobs, a real ugly sob that he quickly tries to suck back in, making you swiftly lean down to spot... Ah, the first few tears falling on the tiles. Good.

" No- No please- " And yet he still leaks precum like a faucet. What's going through that head right now?

Pleasure, pain, fear, regret, shame that reaches the skies.

Your Lord generously offers.

" You learn fast, I'm sure I won't have to discipline you again, right? "

The chef shakes like a leaf, yet there's no denying he's close to orgasm. His legs flex from more than just pain now. " Y- Yes, ma'am! "

CRACK

" Though I'd say you're enjoying it if I didn't know better. "

He makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a blubbered wail. " No- 'M not, please- " It's the most pathetic thing you've ever heard coming from him.

" Mhm, okay then, I believe you. "

The next set of unrelenting spanks makes even you cringe, Krulu's force jostling not just the fully grown monster but yourself as well. It's actually a little exciting to witness. Spots where Krulu's claws intentionally caught onto the tender flesh turn into depraved welts, droplets of blood flying out with each merciless motion, spraying the snow-tiled ground and even yourself.

Morell screams, wails, shrieks like his arms are getting ripped out their sockets. It's a symphony of panicking pain that hardly lets him breathe in between each tormenting snap and quick pump. He makes the mistake of sucking too much air into his lungs at a time, then starts coughing and hiccupping hopelessly.

The moment your Lord halts is when your fervent motions take the stage, and Morell, tortured, oversensitive and disoriented, lasts less than five seconds before throbbing hard and shooting ropes all over your fingers. You pump his cock throughout the entire orgasm, milking it, making a mess that you then wipe on the inside of his thigh, letting his cum-soaked length rest.

Another pause stretches for a long few moments where everyone is winding down. And, as adrenaline seeps out the mushroom monster's pores, he breaks.

Totally limp upon you, Morell attempts to fruitlessly hide his face behind broad arms while his sniffling and gasping escalates into the most defeated, utterly humiliated sobbing there is. He struggles with breathing properly, scratching his own throat as tears splatter steadily on the ground, keening whines bubbling out of the still shaking man. In his despair, he tries to huddle closer to you, tries to fold himself into a ball even with your legs in the way.

You don't know if it's your Lord's enjoyment or your own, but the view sends a pulse of arousal straight up your cunt, cheeks heating.

" There there... " You murmur, rubbing a comparatively cool hand around the edges of his punished skin. The way he tenses and tries to push his sobbing behind a tightened jaw is adorable. " It's all over now. "

The trembling doesn't stop, but the butcher manages to quiet his own wailing within a few minutes. Tears still drip onto the ground.

A few taps get him to move off your legs, but Morell quickly finds out changing positions is torturous, sharp burning stings eliciting choked grunts and heaves from the monster. He settles, embarrassingly, for laying almost on his stomach, prostrated before you on the ground.

Grinning, so wet you can feel your panties soaking, you push the chair away and sit on the ground next to the recovering monster, pulling his face onto your lap and petting that large cap of his.

Morell chokes, clinging onto your clothes. You didn't think he'd break this hard, but it's a lovely reaction.

" 'M sorry... 'M-... Sorry... "

And, as you study his sorry state, you can't help but smile warmly. Bruised ass darker than night, blood still spilling, half-hard cum-coated dick out, arms and face wet with tears, grasping onto you for dear life...

You wouldn't mind doing this more often.

#Morell oc #mellsfern #terato #monsterfucker #terato tag #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #not sfw #minors dni

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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months ago

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Pyrite - Final Chapter: Valonqar

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Daemon gets to know the joys of quarantine and faces conflicting feelings in the hours after Otto's and Mellos’ execution.

Warnings: Execution (Via beheading) Mentions of abortion. Mentions of physical violence. Dub con (Reader is given a choice but due to the nature of the power imbalance between Daemon and her, she doesn't really have one)Implied smut. Unhappy ending for anyone except Viserys.

A/N: I am sorry to the requester, I deviated a bit. But we are done!!!!

Daemon grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards his chambers. He was not happy about being on babysitting duty, but he knew it was the only thing they could do. Without his protection, you would not last a day out there. He had been able to read the truth from your face after just one conversation. Otto Hightower was much more shrewd than him, you would break in seconds.

He supposed Aemma could keep you in her rooms and prevent the scandal. But privately, Viserys had confessed he feared she had gone mad with grief. He did not trust her to be in the same room as you without clawing your eyes out. Daemon did not understand her actions, since you had tried to help her, but he wasn't a mother either. Aemma seemed traumatized by her child's death.

She cursed your name for having your letter arrive too late. Daemon was not a woman. Nor did he presume to know the mind of one, but it seemed a little unfair. You had looked out for her at your own risk, yet Aemma still wanted more.

Viserys could not keep you, either. He was too afraid for his reputation, now that he was about to become a King. What would people think of a servant girl being kept in his rooms?

He didn't admit it, of course, saying that he was only looking out for your honor, but Daemon could tell that Viserys lusted for the throne. Now that he was so close, that he had lost so much on his quest for it, he was not going to lose it for an insignificant girl.

If he truly cared for your reputation, Viserys would have never agreed to keeping you in Daemon's chambers. Who would marry you, after? Everyone knew what Daemon liked, after all. Young maidens, all soft limbs and cute little faces, all for him to ruin. What commoner would want you after being a Prince's whore?

He wasn't planning on touching you, at first. But the way you looked up at him, all frightened eyes, while sitting on one of his chairs, made his cock twitch with interest.

You were a pretty crier. It was something Daemon had noticed when you were discovered. Your eyes would get glassy, and your lower lip would stick out in the slightest pout. You looked good enough to eat.

He could not wait to see you cry on his cock. But if he acted too soon, you would hate him for it. And they needed to be in your good graces so you didn't do anything stupid on the trial.

It was going to be hard, Daemon thought, as he took a look at your face. Aemma had done a number on you, and his retrieval hadn't been entirely gentle either.

You sniffled, pitifully. Daemon kneeled in front of you with a sigh.

“Let me look at your head.”

You gave him a distrustful look.

“I am not going to hurt you. I want to tend to your injuries.” He explained, patiently.

“For some reason, I don't believe you.” You frowned. “Give me a cloth and I can do it myself, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon fought the urge to laugh. Who did you think you were, ordering him around? Instead, he grabbed a cloth and a pitcher of water, and brought them over to you.

You wiped your hands and face with it. Daemon watched, aware that you would not be able to clean the wound on your head on your own. You tried regardless, dabbing a clean cloth over your scalp, trying to reach blindly for the spot that was oozing blood.

He kept his eyes on you, not interfering until you were visibly frustrated.

“Do you need help?”

“No.” You glared, rubbing at your scalp harshly. Daemon stepped closer and took the cloth from you, ignoring your indignant squeaks. He assessed the damage to the back of your skull.

Your hair, braided back as it was, was matted with blood. He was unable to see much, but it seemed to have stopped flowing.

“I will unbraid your hair to look at the wound.” Daemon warned, and started taking your braid apart.

You went very still on your chair, as he untangled sticky hair strands from each other. Your braid was simple, but well constructed. It was clear that you knew quite a bit about how to do your own hair, considering the softness of it. It didn't feel like the hair of any other commoner Daemon had ever felt before. A shame it was caked in blood. He would have to ensure you got a bath soon.

As he parted your hair, shifting it in different directions, he noticed the small laceration on your skull. Nothing was showing through it, not even bone. Daemon knew that was a good sign. It was sizable enough to merit stitches, though.

“I will need to sew this. Do you need milk of the poppy?” He asked, as he went to collect thread and needle from his vanity. A Maester should be the one doing this, and he doubted he had the necessary qualifications to do so, but at the moment, Daemon had no other choice. He didn't trust anyone.

“Do you even know how to sew wounds, my Prince?” You asked, looking at him over your shoulder. It was a fair question, had he not been a squire a few years back. Daemon had earned his knighthood not so long ago, and he still vividly remembered his training.

“I am a knight, girl.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if he styled his name with the title, like some other cunts did, but he still was one. “Do you know what that means?”

“That you are supposed to uphold your oaths, my Prince?” And oh, how sweet. You truly were a naive little thing. It was no wonder you had charged into danger as you had, if you still believed in that bullshit. To Daemon, knights were just like any other men. No more honorable nor more just. Oaths could be broken, after all.

“Yes. But also that I was a squire. I have sewn a few wounds before, including my own.” But never a head wound, he thought to himself. Ah, what you did not know wouldn't hurt you. If he told you, you would insist on a Maester. Daemon couldn't risk it. No one could know you were here.

“I rather be awake, my Prince.”

“Suit yourself.” He stepped behind you and pressed down on your nape, getting you to lower your head. Daemon made sure you were still before starting sewing.

With each pass of the needle, you tensed more. It was a foolish thing to do, only increasing your pain.

“Don't tense. The pain is worse like that.” He advised, and kept at it. You obeyed, forcing your body to relax. It still looked like you were sitting rigidly on the chair, but you weren't clenching your jaw any longer.

As Daemon progressed, he kept a close eye on your reactions. Knuckles turning white against the armchair, breath coming out in pained little sounds. But no tears fell. Had you cried them all already? Or were you too proud to show your pain to him?

With you unmoving, it was not difficult to finish your stitches. He took a step back, admiring the white thread decorating your skull. It contrasted harshly against the red of your blood. Daemon felt oddly proud of it.

“You can have the bed tonight.” He grumbled, annoyed. Why did he feel the need to help you, suddenly? Playing nice was one thing, but why was he feeling bad? It had only been a hit to the back of the head. He had done much worse when dueling men. Drew more blood, severed more limbs. Even took their lives.

But you were a woman. A girl, really. Around his age, and vulnerable to the world. It felt uncomfortably like hurting a child. Why? What made you special? He had taken quite a few maidenheads already, and not even then he had felt like this. You looked like a wounded bird.

“What if I get blood on your sheets?”

“The servants are used to it.” The joke felt flat on his tongue. He gave you a wink, but his heart wasn't in it. Daemon could not stand another second in this room with you, reeking of pain and staring at him with those betrayed eyes. Better to head out and hit the city. He needed to numb himself. And by the time you were up, he would just be getting in.

Daemon allowed you to exist undisturbed in his room for almost a week. He provided water for you to bathe, and fresh clothes for you to change into. The routine stayed the same. He went out at night, and you slept in his bed. When you woke, you had to get out of it and entertain yourself so he could sleep.

He usually enjoyed a night out. But the constant whoring and drinking was beginning to tire him, especially since it was affecting his training. There were only so many brothels he could visit before noticing he was unsatisfied with the stock their carried because not one of them looked like you.

Ugh. The urge to fuck you was messing with his head, making him unfocused. Daemon had actually lost a sparring match this week, but he was unsure if it was from a lack of sleep or being plagued by thoughts of you.

He needed to get you out of his system. He had enough. You no longer looked like a wounded little bird. It was time to make his move.

That night, Daemon decided to skip the brothels. He sat on his bed, freshly bathed after training, and just watched you stew.

You were sitting on a pillow in the corner of his room, some books spread out around you. They were part of his small collection on Valyrian herbs. You were wearing your night shift already, and sneaking glances at him every few minutes.

He was breaking your unspoken arrangement, you sure thought. Daemon was supposed to leave so you could sleep. A shame it was not happening tonight.

“Girl.” He said, once he had enough of watching you squirm. “Pour me a glass of wine.”

You looked at him. You gave an annoyed little huff. Even if you did not dare voice it, Daemon could see the protest in your eyes. You were not used to serving men, from what he could tell. Nor were you used to serving wine. You thought yourself above those tasks, one of those fancy handmaidens that only brush hair and run baths.

And it showed. Sure, you were tidy and didn't make a mess of his rooms, but you didn't help either. You had not reached for a broom in your whole stay, or dusted anything. If he wasn't a tidy person, the place would be as unsanitary as a cheap brothel.

It had never bothered him before, not being able to call for a servant to clean his rooms. But it now did. He tried not to think very hard about why that was. It didn't mean anything. Your presence did not upset him. He was just bothered by the fact that you were like a leech.

Daemon had no use for you. His space was being invaded by a girl with unsettling eyes, who acted as if this was her prison and did not contribute at all. Anyone would be bothered by it. Right?

Anyone would be done with it. Daemon would rather behead Otto and end it all. But apparently, you could not just behead one of your subjects, or everyone started talking about Maegor the cruel.

“I do not have any use for a commoner.” Daemon stated, plainly. He advanced towards you, grasping your chin in his hand. “Do you understand what will happen to you if I kick you out?”

“I'll die.” Your voice shook. Daemon scowled. He didn't like the thing that you were doing with your eyes.

“Then you best try to please me, right?” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “Wouldn't want me to hand you over.”

You shook your head. You went and poured him his wine.

“I don't like your eyes.” Daemon said, impatiently. “Try to smile more.”

You gave him a weak smile. It set the tone for the rest of your interactions. You were a clumsy cup bearer, and took badly to sleeping on the floor. Daemon had to constantly snap at you to wipe the sad look from your face. It looked ugly, and the only good thing you had to your favor were your looks. That was why his stomach twisted when he caught you thinking of home or your family.

When the day of the trial came, you looked relieved. You managed to give your testimony without any issue, and his grandfather ruled in their favor. Aemma gets her revenge, with the King allowing Viserys to bring the head of Ser Otto and Mellos to his wife. He can't bring himself to do it, so it's Daemon who swings the sword instead.

Otto Hightower kneels for his execution with great grace. He sends Daemon a glare, but doesn't say a word. Mellos, on the other hand, screams and pleads all the way up the steps to the block.

Daemon gets a sick sort of satisfaction when he sees them both kneeling at his feet. Is this what being King feels like? He wonders, as he shares a secret smile with Aemma, who stands in the first row of the crowd. The power to hurt those who have wronged you.

Next to Aemma, you stand. You look pale and fidgety, but the grip she has in your arm prevents you from escaping. It's only fair, she had said, that you get to witness the King's justice you helped bring. You don't seem excited about it.

“Any last words?” Daemon asks, as he unsheathes Dark Sister.

“Please, don't, this has been a mistake!” Mellos screams. Daemon waits patiently. When nothing more than incoherent sobs come out from his mouth, Daemon glances up at his grandfather.

King Jaehaerys looks grim, but determined. He nods. Daemon takes Mellos’ head with one clean swoop of his sword. The head rolls into the basket with straw, preventing the blood from running everywhere. The eyelids still move. The crowd gasps, and Daemon feels strangely empty.

“I am ready for my last words now.” The Hightower cunt says, with a firm voice. Daemon can't help be both annoyed and impressed by it. Most men, like Mellos, would be shitting themselves in fear. But Ser Otto remains calm and regal, even when he knows he is about to face death.

“Speak.”

“Good pious people, I have come here to die, for according to the law and by the law I am judged to die. I do not wish to accuse any man or woman, for if the King says I am to die, I shall. I only ask that my actions are judged fairly in the years to come, and no harm comes to my family. Let it not be that the crimes of the father follow the son. I take my leave of this world and ask you to pray for me. To the Seven I commend my soul, please, Stranger, have mercy on me.”

And maybe it was the hypocritical speech, or the fact that Otto Hightower was the mastermind behind the plot to hurt his family, but this time Daemon swing his sword with much more force than necessary. The head rolls out of the box and into the crowd, falling near the first row, among horrified screams.

Right at your feet.

You turned and left. And Daemon stood, with his bloodied sword, still near the executioner's block.

There is a feast after. One that you are not allowed to attend. Nothing so crass as to celebrate the death of the two criminals, but rather, the settling of the succession issue. The plot, even if it had to do nothing with Rhaenys, had been damaging enough to doom her hopes of being Queen.

It is then, high on victory and still wearing a dirtied sword, that Daemon decides to use his power over you. It's not a conscious choice. There is something in him that broke tonight, something to do with a severed head and your look of disgust, and the cheers of Aemma and Viserys. It's something about feeling empty, when having the world at his fingertips.

He is soon to be the Prince of Dragonstone. With Viserys lack of heirs, he might even become King one day, if he doesn't set aside Aemma and finds himself a younger wife.

Daemon wonders if Aemma realizes how precarious her position has turned, now that she got her revenge. If she had kept quiet, if she had let Rhaenys get the Iron Throne, her position would be secure. The Arryns would not allow Viserys to put her aside.

But now, that her husband will be King, she will never be safe. Queens fall every day, as Rhaenys has learned. It seems it is time for Aemma to learn that lesson.

You are packing your things when he gets there. Clothes and a small collection of trinkets from the time you had spent by his side. It enrages him. You can't leave. Not when you are the only person who can understand what these weeks have been like. The only one who knows exactly the kind of monster Viserys has turned him into.

“Where are you going?” It comes out more aggressive than he intends to, but you no longer cower at his voice.

“I don't know.” You meet his eyes and keep your voice soft. “Away, my Prince.”

“No, you are not.” Daemon orders, and leaves Dark Sister laying on the rug. The blood rusts the blade, but what does it matter, at this point? If you are leaving, he can call a maid tomorrow. If you are not, everyone can know you as his whore. “Pour me some wine.”

You obey, in silence. Your hands shake slightly.

“Pour yourself a cup, too.” Daemon says, patting the space by his side. You sit, very stiffly.

“Well done.” Daemon says. You give him a little nod. “Now take your dress off.”

“Excuse me?” You jump up so fast, you might as well have never been sitting. Your hands ball by your side, an indignant expression clear on your face.

“Come on, girl. You are not that stupid.” Daemon rolls his eyes. He has protected you for nearly a fortnight, let you take his bed and food and not even once touched you. He killed a man today who would have crushed you like a worm. No one else would want you after this, no one else would understand you. “You owe me a great debt. What other use could I have for a commoner?”

“I can pay my debt in other ways.” You protest, and go back to gathering your things.

Daemon laughs. It sounds broken to his own ears, cruel and shrill. You turn to face him, noticing the difference in tone. Yet, he is not deterred, even when he barely recognizes the cruel tone he is speaking in.

“Yes. You can. I think you would make a fine dragon keeper. You have little skill for anything else, but anyone can shovel shit. I think five years of that would be a fair trade.”

“Or I could just go.” You threaten.

“You could.” And get yourself murdered in the process because there is no way Viserys and him are letting you walk away with all you have learned in your stay with them. And if they don't get you, sickness and famine might. As the northerners say, winter is coming.

“Princess Aemma…” And it’s only then that Daemon gets fed up. You think Aemma out of all people will protect you? Aemma? Has he been doing such a shitty job of it?

“Aemma said I had to protect you. She did not say I couldn't have you.”

“I…” You start, but Daemon is too desperate to care about how cruel he is starting to sound.

“You should hope her reach doesn't go far, as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Tell me, how much do you have? Enough to buy passage into Essos?”

“I'll stay.” You untie your dress, with tear filled eyes. It falls to your hips. Daemon rushes to you like a man possessed. The urge to own, claim, to keep, is too strong to resist.

He wastes no time in burrowing himself in your skin, your hair, carving a place for himself inside you. He is a monster. And intends on devouring you whole.

His love will strangle you until nothing is left. Maybe one day you will be his Queen if Viserys doesn't leave Aemma. By then, you will be just like him.

He kisses down your throat, and lowers a hand between your thighs.

“Stay.” Daemon says, and it feels like the first link on the chain. “Stay.” Muttered between your thighs, as he drowns himself on you.

“Stay.” As your blood stains his shaft, and you moan, confused by whatever you are feeling. As your hips meet his, as you are desperate to choke, to die in his hands.

“I'll stay.” You whisper back, coming down for your high, and the lock clicks.

Has really a key been thrown away if no one hears the sound it makes as it falls?

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cherryc1nnam0n · 1 year ago

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I'm bored and I don't wanna write something so have this rant about the (fictional) men I love and why

Hello people

This is Cherry speaking and today I am presenting top men that I love and why are (most of them) them all serial killers who wear masks and are dead? We'll find out here

1. Brahms Heelshire

I mean just look at him, skrunkily wall boi who has never showered, the man with a mask that makes him look so fuckable and submissive and he fucking whines?! Ngh, so hot

I need to lick those man titties with all my might and ride him until his legs give out

But unlucky for me he's dead as fuck so yikes, he's not dead in my mind or in my blog

2. Billy Loomis

Crazy Ghostface boi who can rearrange my guts any time he wants and breed me all he wants mhm mhm

I fucking love Billy because look at him, he's a psychopath but he looks so hot while being it

Who wouldn't love this man??

But again, another one dead, killed by Sydney (fuck you Sydney), but not before leaving his offspring but we won't talk about that now

3. Eddie Munson

The exception to being a killer because he was framed it's my beautiful boi Eddie <3

I love this boi with all my heart and he can touch it with his dick all he wants <3

I fell in love with him when I saw him on Stranger Things 4 and I haven't since then <3

But my boi was eaten alive by a swarm of feral bats and bleed to death in Dustin's arms but he's still alive in my mind, and Tumblr's mind <3

4. Mark Hoffman

My crush from Saw since I watched the movies when I was 6

I have always loved older men for some reason so yeah (daddy issues)

He's not a good apprentice from John because he kills people and doesn't give them the chance of survival but I still love him <3

But as all of them, he was tied up on the original room from Saw and left to die there

It's presumed he's dead because people only survive 3 days without food so he's probably dead as fuck like all of them bois in this list

Still, he's still alive for me so he can breed me all he wants <3

5. Ethan Landry

Another Ghostface crazy boi who died a virgin (not in my mind if you know what I mean)

He was killed in an awful way but he's still hot and submissive and breedable and oh my gosh he's so hot

I am literally obsessed with him and you'll see my latest likes are all Ethan so yeah, fuck me (Ethan) I guess

6. Billy Hargrove

My asshole of a boyfriend who was too weak in spirit to fight off Vecna and died thanks to it

I love him <3

He's my favorite boi that can hit me and fuck me all he wants until I fry and he won't even stop by then so mmmmmhmmm

But again, ded as fuck lol

7. Hannibal Lecter

Cannibal daddy can eat me alive whenever he wants, I have excess skin so he can have all he wants mmmm

He's so pretty and sophisticated and so mmmm

I love him and he can eat me all he wants and breed me too

(I don't remember what happened to him if he died of not but yeah)

8. C!Technoblade

My pig boi who is a genocidal and an anarchist will always live rent free on my mind

(Along with his creator Alex, RIP Techno, we miss you a lot)

But on the DSMP I headcanon he had a lovely wife and two kids who loved him a lot and now they're alone and sad </3

But he's alive in my own AU so it's fine

I love my pig boi

9. Jim Hopper

I mean look at him, he screams DADDY in all his forms

I love hunks for some reason and he's one of them

He can have me whenever he wants

Only exception to being dead lol

Man titties

But anyways. That's everyone I can name off the top of my head so if you until here have a nice day and I love you <3

#brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire #billy loomis #billy loomis smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #mark hoffman smut #mark hoffman #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter smut #technoblade smut #technoblade #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

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maleyanderecafe · 3 months ago

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Love Hex (RPG Maker)

Created by: diamii

Genre: Horror

This is a fun little horror RPG Maker game made by the same person who made Synthetic Heart, another fun RPG yandere maker game. This game, while relatively short, is a fun little story that has a somewhat happy ending for the main character, Mina and the yandere Valen.

The story starts out simply with Mina being held captive by a handsome person who is attempting to feed her. We then see Mina attempting to create a hex/potion for getting a boyfriend. She's missing the final ingredient of a dark mage's skull and goes into a cave to retrieve it. As she goes through the cave, she finds various demonic circles with varies text on it, mostly talking about the sacrifices that are being fed to the monster. On each of these demonic circles, Mina talks to a tentacle like creature. She initially puts herself as a sacrifice to open a specific part of the dungeon, before talking about what the monster's favorite type of sacrifices are (the type that tastes like caramel), talking about what she's doing here in the cave, and then finally feeding the monster caramel as an attempt to kill it, only for it to enjoy the sweets. After getting into a locked security area, Mina is finally able to retrieve the skull she needs, but the monster seems rather unhappy considering that she's about to leave. After attempting to leave, she finds that the outside is blocked by black goo that slowly starts spreading. After unlocking another door, she finds herself inside of a laboratory. It is implied that the cult used both magic and science to keep the monster alive, but after some mishaps, was unable to contain it and got itself killed. Upon nearly leaving, the monster captures Mina, developing into a form that looks like a handsome human named Valen to appease Mina. When asking why she was looking for the skull, Mina starts to talk about her past.

She states that the entire thing was triggered by watching her brother get married. From when she was small, Mina was prophesied to bring doom to her village, thus shunning her from pretty much everyone except for her family. As her parents were busy and Mina was not close to her other siblings, she became very lonely and tried to make something that would get her a boyfriend. Valen seems to empathize with Mina as he too has been lonely for a long time. While initially going to eat her as she is a human that he enjoys the taste of, Valen seems to change his mind and instead asks if he could be her boyfriend instead. Initially Mina refuses, but Valen asks for her to play a game of chase with him. He pretty much declares that he wins by default as he's holding Mina and takes a protesting Mina into the underground. From there, we see the end scene of Mina and Valen hanging out together, with Mina complaining that she doesn't want to play house with Valen and Valen trying to eat food with Mina so that he can be like her. Mina accepts her fate as she enjoys being with Valen and continues to live with him, presumably forever.

The story itself is pretty good for a small game. I think that the idea of having magic and more scientific elements together in the cave was a cool idea and cool world building that is presented in such a small place. I also think that the reveal of why Mina wanted to have a spell/potion for a boyfriend is also pretty cool and does make sense why she would eventually have been happy being with Valen in despite being isolated because she already didn't have a lot of people whom she cared about (though I do feel bad for her parents though, since it seems that while they were busy they didn't have bad relationship or anything). It does make me wonder if releasing Valen (sort of) is what the prophecy that made Mina isolated in the first place, and if it isn't... then was the prophecy false? Would there still be something that she does that causes the village's downfall? These things seem to be left out for this game, but perhaps it can be explored in a future game. I do like that she is willing to try to trick and kill Valen for her goals, even if they don't really work at the end. She is very determined to get what she wants which was nice.

Valen as a yandere is pretty much made by Mina indirectly, considering he doesn't really seem to understand humans all that much. It seems that Valen was pretty much just used for sacrifice feeding, and initially only liked Mina because of the fact that she was a tasty sacrifice, even almost just using her as a meal. Of course, in the end, he does seem to sympathize with Mina more especially when she reveals the reason for wanting a boyfriend. He does take care in transforming into a form that she does like, and in the end does try to pretend to be more human so that Mina will like him more and try to play games with her. It is nice that he does try so hard to make sure that Mina actually does like him, even if it does seem like he doesn't fully understand what love is when it comes to humans. He does trap her and try to attend to her every need, so really both of their wishes of no longer being lonely is finally fulfilled.

While I do like this game, the one big gripe I have about it is the three codes that you have to put throughout the game. For the first one, I think you can actually find the code by using the last three numbers for each of the rituals that you go through, but if you fail, the game will automatically kill you after three tries. The other two locks seem to have no real good way of figuring out what you're supposed to type with them, with one being based off of the various grime on the number pad, which is difficult when you can hear the black goo coming after you and eventually killing you if you take too long, and the last code in the lab for the computer, which I have no idea how you were able to solve that one. I had to check the answers for the codes in the comments to find those out. Generally, games will have better clues on what you need to submit for the number puzzles, but for this one it feels like you really need a tutorial or have to stretch pretty far to figure it out, so it can be pretty frusterating to try to figure out what the codes are for that one.

Overall though, I do like this game, as it's short, it has a pretty fun and compelling story with some nice rpg maker gameplay and we get a nice yandere in the end, with a sort of happy ending. I want to be able to write a recommendation for Synthetic Heart at some point, maybe when we see more of the yandere action going on as it does seem like it has some interesting potential (but not enough for me to really talk on it more.) But I would recommend this game if you enjoy the premise of it.

#Love Hex #yandere #male yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #completed

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dreamofbecoming · 2 years ago

Text

here we are at last! there have been a bunch of posts lately about how neither eddie nor robin have any gaydar to speak of, but steve canonically does, and also vickie definitely left fast times paused on purpose as a flag, and frankly all of you are just so objectively True and Correct that i had no choice but to write about it. parts 1 and 2 not strictly necessary for context but definitely set in the same universe

part 1 part 2 ao3

platonic stobin, rockie, steddie

rating: t

wc: 8.4k (holy fuck it got away from me)

---

Robbie isn't drunk yet, but she's getting there.

Honestly, Steve should probably slow her down, but what the hell. They're celebrating, after all. He'll cut her off in a bit, but she deserves to have some fun. They all do.

It's been three weeks since Eddie got out of the hospital, one since he was finally let off bedrest. Or, not exactly bedrest, but enough restrictions that he was basically confined to the trailer (brand new, courtesy of Owens and his goons), and from the way he complained the whole time you'd think they had him chained to the bedposts.

Hm. Maybe thinking of Eddie chained to bedposts isn't the best use of Steve's time. Not here, anyway. That's a Later activity.

It's the first house party any of them have been invited to since Spring Break, thrown by one of Robin's band friends. None of them planned on going, except that two days ago a frantic call came over the All Hands channel on the walkie that El had finally broken through, Max was awake, and the doctors thought her arms and legs would eventually, almost, make a full recovery, granted with lots of physical therapy.

Apparently the only useful thing Vecna ever did was break her bones at right angles so they could set them cleanly. Her vision will probably never fully return, but she's alive. She's alive, and she's awake, and she's apparently being a complete menace to the nurses, which is more comforting to Steve than any of the rest of it, so how could they ask for anything else?

Steve still feels like he's taking his first real breath after drowning every time he inhales. He's not sure he'll ever stop feeling this relief. It's so sharp it's almost painful.

So they're at this party, and they're celebrating. There's a real celebration planned, of course, with the whole Party and assorted extras, Murray (ugh) and Jonathan's California friend (who seems nice), Joyce and Hopper (and isn't that a trip) and Eddie and Wayne (Eddie read him in immediately, to no one's surprise) and everyone else. They've got plans to descend on Steve's house as soon as Max is allowed out of the hospital, where they'll presumably trash his mother's nice white carpets and eat through his snacks like locusts and enrage his neighbors with their shrieking in the pool. Hopper and Wayne will fight over who gets to work the grill until Joyce gets fed up and takes over and Eddie will commandeer the sound system and Robin will laugh at Steve for frantically switching between Host Mode and Lifeguard Mode until she finds someone big enough to sit on him and make him eat something. He can't wait.

But for now, they're at this party, and they're celebrating. With someone else's alcohol, which is a nice treat for Steve.

He's leaning against the wall by the kitchen doorway, sipping something Robin made him that tastes like paint thinner and looks like undiluted red food dye. He's surprised it hasn't eaten through the bottom of the cup like that green gunk from the elevator. He doesn't quite feel like joining the crush of people in the living room. He's felt a little off since Spring Break, a little lost inside his head. He knows Robin can tell, but she hasn't pushed him, other than dragging him here tonight. He's so grateful for her he thinks he could cry.

He doesn't, though, he just watches her from the kitchen doorway, squished on a couch between Vickie and who he thinks might be one of Eddie's bandmates. He recognizes him from those nights he would pick the kids up from Hellfire at the school, and also from Eddie's hospital room. He's got fluffy hair and a flannel shirt around his waist. Gary, maybe? Garth? Steve's not sure. He'd introduce himself and find out for sure, but apparently, carrying Eddie's bleeding not-quite-corpse on his back into the hospital and throwing around his father's name until someone agreed to treat him before collapsing in the lobby from his own injuries wasn't quite enough to erase the contempt for King Steve, so Steve's been mostly avoiding those guys. Eddie swears he's working on it. Steve...should maybe care more than it feels like he does. He thinks maybe a lot of things should feel more...more, than they do. But that's a problem for Later Steve. It's fine. He's fine. He's handling it.

He watches Robin, and she's laughing, and she's not quite drunk yet, and he's glad for her. This is what he wanted. This is what he wished for, on that flipped over bucket, in that field. That they'd all get through it. That they'd all get to keep smiling and doing stupid teenager shit. He maybe wishes he felt a little more like someone who wanted to do stupid teenager shit and a little less like someone watching his friends have fun from behind a plate-glass window, but he'll take it. Whatever he can get, he'll take it.

He looks back at Robin, and, huh. She's still laughing, but now she's between Eddie and Maybe-Gary-Maybe-Garth. He follows Robin's less-than-subtle (crimeny, this girl, he's gotta teach her a goddamn poker face) longing gaze and sees a flash of red heading for the back door.

This feels like a chance to do something useful. Robin will be ok, Eddie will keep an eye on her.

He follows Vickie out the back door. He finds her leaned against the back of the house, her eyes closed, her head tilted back. She's smiling. She really is pretty, Steve can see why Robin likes her. God, he hopes he's right about her. Either way, he's determined to find out. It's what Robin deserves.

"Hey, Vickie. Come out for some fresh air?"

Her smile gets bigger when she turns to him. He really hopes he's right about her, she's a fucking sweetheart. He hopes he isn't about to do something hugely stupid. Knowing him, he probably is, but also knowing him, he's gonna do it anyway.

"Hey Steve! Yeah, I was just getting a little warm in there. How about you? Smoke break?"

"Nah, I'm trying to quit. Robin hates them, she keeps stealing them out of my mouth, so it's somehow more expensive and I don't even get to smoke them. Easier to just stop. Which is probably her goal," he laughs.

"You and Robin are pretty close, huh?"

"Oh yeah, platonic soulmates. With a capital P!" He makes an incredibly dorky gesture with his hands, and has to stop himself from facepalming. Great going, dingus.

Still, Vickie's smile gets a little wider, which he thinks is probably a win.

"That's why I came out here, actually. I wanted a chance to talk to you." Her eyebrows go up. Always with the goddamn eyebrows around here. "Not, like, in a creepy way! Or, well, I guess that's what a creep would say, but I swear I'm not! I just meant, because Robin really likes you," shit, too much, "I mean, she likes hanging out with you, and she's my best friend and all, so I wanted to. Um. Get to know you better. You know. For Robin."

"...For Robin."

He groans. "I swear I didn't used to be like this. I used to be able to talk like a normal person. I didn't know that was a skill you could lose! I would have worked harder at it!" She's laughing at him now, but at least she's polite enough to hide her giggles behind her hand. That's something.

He sighs, and throws his head back to take a deep breath and try and come back to his body, like Robin showed him. Having therapist parents sounds like a nightmare to Steve, but it has its uses, he guesses.

He looks back at Vickie, who is watching him with what seems like more amusement than concern, so he's taking that as a win. If she's laughing, she's not running away. He sticks his hand out.

"Hi, I'm Steve. You're really important to the most important person in my life, so I'd really like to be your friend." He tries to give her his most winning smile, but honestly he's a little worried his teeth are still red from that godawful drink.

She grins at him, still definitely laughing at him a little but more genuine than before, and shakes his hand. "I'm Vickie, and you're really important to someone I hope will become really important to me, so I'd love to be your friend."

He doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, but it's a close thing. King Steve decided to stay in tonight, apparently, so he's on his own, and boy oh boy is he worse than he remembered.

"So, new friend, what do you want to get to know about me?"

Thank fuck Vickie's carrying so much of the weight here, honestly.

"We could, uh, talk about movies?" Jesus Christ, where did all the goddamn Harrington Charm go, anyway? Did Vecna eat it?!

There go the eyebrows again. He's cursed, he really is. "Movies?"

"Yeah, you know, I work at a movie store. Or I did, anyway. With Robbie. Pretty sure it went under in the quake though. That or Keith just fired us and didn't bother calling to let us know." He laughs awkwardly. He's doing fucking everything awkwardly, honestly. He hasn't even asked the question yet and he's already sweating bullets. No wonder Bobbie was so scared to confront this head-on. "Anyway, it can tell you a lot about a person, you know. Their favorite movie."

Come on, take the bait. Take it.

She nods seriously at him. "Oh I get that for sure, you can learn a lot about someone by their favorite book. I used to volunteer at the library and there was always gossip about who checked out what romance novel and whether that meant their marriage was on the rocks, you know?" She giggles, hiding behind her hand for a second. "I guess it was kind of mean, but we never said anything to anyone outside the library, and never to their face, you know? It was just something to keep us entertained on slow days."

Fantastic, he can work with this.

"Oh totally, I completely get it. Robs and I did the same thing at Family Video, making up stories about what we imagined people's lives were like that they were renting Casablanca and Gremlins on the same night, you know? Like, what does that evening look like? Which one do they watch first?"

She laughs. Perfect. She took the bait, now he's just gotta reel her in. Or something. He's never been fishing.

"You know, I usually rent my movies from Family Video. Did you guys ever look up my rental history?"

Aaaand, got her!

"You know, I think we did, actually, not that I'm helping the creep allegations," he winks at her. She slaps him on the shoulder. There we go, there's the Harrington Charm. Jesus fuck, where has it been all night? Sleeping?

Moment of truth, here we go.

"Fast Times At Ridgemont High, right?" He keeps his eyes on her face while he says it. He needs to see how she reacts.

She's been watching a raccoon rummaging through the neighbor's trash, but as soon as he mentions the movie, she whips her head around and looks at him sharply.

She studies his face intently in the glow from the floodlights above the garage. Whatever she finds, the fear in her eyes fades just slightly to caution. All good signs.

Fuck, this is harder than he remembers. Talking in code and reading all the subtle little shifts in body language involved in this conversation is stretching muscles in his brain he's forgotten he had. His friends these days all just sort of...say whatever they mean, straight out. He thought it was weird and off-putting at first, but now that he's doing this dance again, he's realizing he hasn't missed it.

The things he does for Robin, honestly.

He can see the moment she decides to trust him, even though she's still tense. She takes a deep breath, like she's gearing up for something. "That's a good one, for sure. You know, I think I maybe forgot to rewind it the last time I returned it? I paused it at my favorite part, but I think I got distracted and never finished it. I hope that doesn't cause too much trouble for you guys at your job. I'd hate to be one of those customers."

Jesus, this chick is brave. She's basically just coming right out and saying it! Holy shit, he's about to get Robbie a girlfriend! Ok, ok be cool. Bring it home, nice and easy.

"Nah, not a problem at all. Besides, I think I remember that tape, and we have the same favorite part, I think. All three of us." Fuck he hopes this isn't a mistake. If he just fucked up and outed Robin for no reason he'll- fuck, he doesn't know what he'll do. Ask El to open the gate back up so he can throw himself into it, probably.

Vickie's eyes go wide. "Robin too?" There's something like hope in her voice. He thinks. He hopes, anyway. Maybe he's just projecting, but he really thinks he's been right on the money from the start. He just needs to prove it to Rob and give them both a push.

"Yeah, Robin too. Now me, I like Fast Times a lot, but I also really like The Outsiders, you know?" A truth for a truth. Nothing is free, he remembers this dance. Trust is always earned.

He didn't realize her eyes could get any bigger, but somehow they do. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. "Really? Uh, me too! Those are...both...really good movies, you know?"

"Totally!" He's grinning now too, he can't help it. He's so excited for Robbie he might explode. This is the most alive he's felt in weeks!

"Not Rob, though, she loves Fast Times, but not so much The Outsiders. She can be, uh. Pretty nervous, you know? To talk about her taste in movies. I think she might be worried you don't like Fast Times as much as she does, but I know she really wants to, uh, watch it with you. So you might have to be the one to, you know, tell her how much you like it, and maybe ask her to watch it together?"

He's getting lost in the metaphor here. That's clear enough, right? Robbie isn't going to believe him about Vickie liking boobies unless she walks up to her and tells her "I like women, go out with me," in very small words, so he really hopes he got the message across. He needs Vickie to take the wheel on this.

Luckily Vickie is nodding enthusiastically. "For sure! I can do that!" She's halfway back to the house, almost tripping over her feet, before she looks back at him sheepishly.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, that was so rude of me, I just got so excited and I wanted to-"

"Hey, no worries, that was the goal, right? This is what I was hoping for when I came out here to talk to you. She, uh..." He shouldn't. He should stick to the code, just in case, he should be careful, it's Robbie's life on the line here.

But it's also her happiness.

"She didn't believe me. About the Fast Times thing. And then we ran into you at The War Zone, and she was totally convinced I was wrong, but I knew I had to ask. Just in case. I just really want her to be happy, you know?" There. He hasn't actually said the words. If it goes sideways, they still have plausible deniability.

And then, well. There's always Plan B. He doesn't exactly want to burn Vickie's house down, but he will. For Robin, he'll do anything.

Vickie is smiling softly at him. She really is sweet, she and Bobbie are gonna be so cute together. He can't wait to tease them into oblivion.

"I'm glad she has a friend like you, Steve."

He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck, feeling weirdly self-conscious. "Yeah, well, you know. You've got a friend like me, now, too, right?"

There's that bright smile again. "Right!"

"Alright, go on. Go get your girl."

Good lord, redheads sure can blush, huh?

He waits a couple of minutes before heading back in himself, enjoying the night air. It's not quite the height of summer yet, so the evenings aren't as muggy as they'll be in a month or so. For the first time since he crawled out of that gate with Eddie lashed to his back with the remains of the rope ladder he cut to protect Dustin, he's feeling the breeze on his skin without feeling like he's wrapped in plastic, like there's a wall around him, keeping from being part of the world. He wants to savor it, in case it goes away again.

When he does make his way back in, he almost trips over Robin, who's grabbing what should probably be her last drink. At least it's just a beer this time, if it was more of that awful concoction from earlier he'd probably take it away from her, pouting be damned. They could have flambéed Vecna with that shit, nobody should be putting it in their bodies.

Her face lights up when she notices him, and she flings herself into his arms.

"Oof, shit, Buckley, doing ok there? You having fun?"

"Sooooo much fun, Stevie!" She nuzzles her face into the crook of his shoulder. Yeah, if she's this cuddly in public, this should definitely be her last drink, especially if Vickie wants to make any kind of move tonight. She's not usually this touchy outside of the really bad nightmare nights. "Missed you though. Where'd you go? My bubba disappeared."

"Aw, Bobs, I was just outside getting some air, I promise. I didn't go anywhere."

She shakes her head stubbornly, her nose dragging along his collarbone. "Noooo, you left. Not now, before. After. In the hospital. We all came back but you left. You went inside your big stupid fluffy head and you don't come out anymore. I miss you."

It's a good thing Robin's face is still hidden in his shoulder, because he can't quite keep his expression from crumpling. He hasn't meant to hurt her, he hasn't meant to hurt anyone, he swears. He's trying, he wants to come back, wants to be normal again, he just...he feels like part of him is still stuck at the bottom of Lover's Lake, watching everyone above him on the surface moving on and living life, but not able to reach them.

He holds her tighter to his chest, petting her hair. It's a mess, like when she first wakes up in the morning. Maybe she fell off the couch or something while he was outside.

"I'm sorry, Bobbin-bird. I didn't mean to go away. I'm working on it, ok? I promise," he murmurs reassurances into her hair, trying to erase the sadness he can hear in her slurred words. He's shit at talking about feelings, especially his own, but not with Robin. Never with Robin. Saying true things to Robin isn't any harder than thinking them to himself, and honestly that's basically the same thing. They pretty much only have the one brain between them.

She pulls back, studying his face closely with bleary eyes, squeezing his cheeks between her hands. "Promise?"

"I promise, Bobbie." He tries to project as much sincerity as he can muster. She's edging past tipsy, but not actually drunk yet, so she should remember this moment just fine tomorrow, and he won't have to do it again.

Who he is kidding? They're definitely having this conversation again tomorrow. Maybe he can distract her with teasing about Vickie. Where did she go, anyway?

Robin grins, apparently satisfied for now. "Good!" She smacks a kiss to his forehead and finally lets go of his face. Thank god. He loves her, more than anything in the world, but she's a goddamned sweaty drunk.

Before she can say anything else, a redheaded streak comes stumbling into the kitchen.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Vickie leans on the kitchen counter, trying to catch her breath.

Steve looks to Robin to see how she'll respond, and, oh. Well, shit. Robin is...frozen, apparently. She's very obviously focused on Vickie, which is good, because otherwise Steve would be having trouble with flashing back to Nancy's thousand-yard stare in the Upside Down, or the whites of Max's eyes, but the part of her brain that lets her, you know, say and do things, appears to have shut down.

Looks like it's Steve's turn with the communal brain, lucky him. Time to step in and save this, if he can.

"Vickie! Hi, you know, I was just wondering where you ran off to? I was about to tell Robin to track you down, to talk about that movie we talked about earlier, but it looks like you found us instead!" He jams an elbow into Robin's side as subtly as he can, but she still doesn't move.

Vickie is looking between them, still breathing a little heavy. "Yeah, I went looking for you as soon as I came back in, but Gareth said-" Gareth! That was it! "-you went to the bathroom, and did you know there are six bathrooms in this house? Who needs that many bathrooms? I think Angela only has one sibling, why would anyone need six bathrooms for four people? That's so crazy! Anyway, I'm glad I found you, Robin. I'm, uh, getting a little overwhelmed with all the people out here, so I was hoping you might want to find a room that's maybe a little quieter, so we can talk a bit? Just the two of us?" Damn, this girl's got guts. Steve likes her.

Robin continues to stand in front of the fridge like the world's prettiest scarecrow. Come on, babygirl, you can do this! He elbows her again.

"Vickie! Hi! Steve, Vickie's here! Hi!" Steve and Vickie both startle a little because, wow, ok, volume, Buckley, damn. Still. Progress.

"Sure is, babe. Tell you what, why don't I take this-" he plucks the unopened beer out of her slack hand, "-and you and Vickie can go sit down somewhere quiet and talk about movies, huh?"

Robin blinks at him owlishly. "Movies?"

He's about to make another veiled reference to the boobies conversation when Vickie blows all of her air out of her nose and stomps one foot like that one girl in the Chocolate Factory movie who reminds him of his cousin Shauna.

"I'm sorry, I can't take it! I just spent ten minutes outside talking to Steve in ridiculous codes and another ten minutes running up and down the stairs in this insane house and I'm exhausted. I can't take the metaphors anymore. Sorry, Steve, no offense."

"Hey, none taken. It's pretty exhausting, you're not wrong. I just had to be safe."

She shakes her head. "No, totally, I completely understand. I appreciate it. I'm just secret coded-out tonight, you know? Robin, do you want to go upstairs with me and talk? I have something to ask you and I'd really rather do it in private, I don't really want any of these people listening, you know?" She waves her hand at the open doorway to the living room, which is still packed with people.

Robbie's head has been bouncing back and forth between them like she's watching a tennis match, eyes wide.

"Huh? Me? What?"

Oh geez. She's shorting out.

"Bobbie, look at me." She meets his eye, and he can see the nerves threatening to overwhelm her. "Trust me?"

She nods. "Uh huh. 'Course, bubba."

Well that warms him right up, but it's not about him right now. "Good. Go with Vickie, babe. It'll be good, I promise." He hopes he can promise that, at least. He's pretty sure he can. And if it goes bad, they always have Plan B.

Vickie holds out a hand, and Robin stares at her like it might bite her, before taking it gingerly. Both girls immediately burst into bright red blushes, and under any other circumstance he would laugh at them, but this is a delicate moment. They need him to be cool. He can be cool. He can be so goddamn cool.

Vickie leads Robin out of the room and towards the stairs, both of them still blushing like crazy and refusing to meet each other's eyes, and Steve can finally let out the breath he's been holding in a whoosh and slump back against the counter. He snags a bottle opener off the fridge- neat, it's got a magnet on it!- and pops the top on the beer he stole off Robbie.

“Well I hate to break this to you, King Steve, but she’s definitely about to steal your girl.”

Steve freezes with the bottle at his lips.

He sets the beer down on the counter and very carefully turns around. Munson is alone, thank fuck. This is fixable. He can deal with a single person. If it had been a crowd, or fuck, god forbid, someone like Gareth, who hates him, and might try and use this? Hurt Robbie to hurt him? Well, he's got his nailbat in the trunk, and he isn't afraid to use it, but he doesn't think Hopper would be thrilled to have to bail him out of jail.

"Whatever you think you heard, Munson, if Robbie gets hurt, it won't matter that you're one of us now. I'll finish what those bats started. I won't be happy about it, because you're a pretty cool dude and I like hanging out with you, but I'll do it for her if you make me." He makes sure his voice is low and even, and he meets Eddie's eyes head on. He wants to be very clear, this is not a joke. He will defend her if he has to.

He doesn't think he'll have to, not from Munson, but he isn't 100% sure, and he's taken enough risks with Robbie's safety tonight. He doesn't trust his luck enough to count on it working out a second time in less than an hour.

Munson's eyes go wide with shock- he clearly wasn't expecting Steve to meet him with quite that much aggression. He puts his hands up in surrender and leans back away from Steve.

Steve fights not to be distracted by the way his torso curves, graceful in a way he has no right to be with his wounds still scabbing over. Not the moment, Steve. Get it together, for fuck's sake.

"Hey, whoa, easy big guy. We're cool, man. Stand down."

There's a tense moment where they just...stand there, sizing each other up, unsure where to go from here.

Eddie tugs a lock of hair in front of his face, nibbling on it nervously. It's cuter than it has any right to be, honestly.

"I didn’t- uh. Fuck, man. Please tell me I didn’t just tip you off to flirting you didn’t notice. I shouldn’t have said shit, I’m just kinda crossfaded and my filter is shot and I swear I’m usually better than that, dude. It would suck so, so bad if I exposed Birdie without her knowing.”

Steve takes a moment to consider this, frankly absurd, situation. He holds up a finger for Eddie to wait a minute, and checks both ways down the hallway outside before closing the kitchen door and leaning back against it to keep it shut. At least now it'll definitely just be the two of them, which is one more than should be having this conversation, but he doesn't see a way out of it, so this will have to do.

When he turns back to Eddie, he looks even more nervous than before.

"I'm perfectly aware of the flirting, considering I'm the one who went out of my way to set them up tonight. You didn't out anyone, and I should have been the one to make sure the door was closed before I got them in a room together, so it's not your fault for finding out. You understand you can't say anything to anyone, ever, though, right?"

Because he's apparently doomed to be accosted with eyebrow raises from everyone around him anytime he says anything at all until he dies, Eddie's are lost somewhere under his bangs. He looks...impressed. Huh, that's kind of nice. Steve resists the urge to preen.

"'Course, man, I'm well-versed in the code of silence." Something in his face softens, and Steve can feel the sincerity in his next words. "Birdie's a friend, and Finnegan seems like a real sweetie, I wouldn't ever want to hurt them like that. Cross my heart." He does, in fact, draw a cross on his chest with one long, ringed finger. What a dork, holy shit. Steve wants to put that finger in his mouth.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to be so cool with something like that. In general, but also especially since you and Buckley are, y'know." He waves his hand expansively around his head, the kitchen lights glinting off his rings, and Steve has to fight the urge to bat at it like a cat with a laser pointer. Jesus Christ, Harrington, focus. The man just called you a homophobe, get your shit together.

He decides, very magnanimously, he thinks, to ignore the homophobe bit, honing in on the rest. "Me and her are...what, exactly?"

"I mean, aren't you guys like, a thing?" Oh Jesus fuck. Not again.

"Ugh, no, where the hell do people keep getting that? Robin and I are just friends, ok? Platonic soulmates. Capital P!" He throws his hands in the air in frustration.

"-capital P," Eddie choruses with him, "I know, I know, I just, shit, man, I dunno, I figured you were..."

"Were what?"

"...Lying? Shit, that sounds worse out loud, sorry! I just mean, because, you know, Henderson keeps saying-"

"Oh, well if Henderson says it, it must be true," Steve rolls his eyes.

"Well fuck me for trusting the kid who calls you his best friend, I guess!"

They glare at each other across the room for a minute, before the ridiculousness of this moment catches up to Steve and he drops his chin to his chest, huffing a laugh.

Eddie looks confused, and still nervous, and a little incredulous. Also a lot adorable, but that doesn't feel relevant. "Ok, I'm so lost, man. I just came in here for a beer, and this has been an emotional rollercoaster I was unprepared for."

Yeah, that about sums it up.

He hasn't spent much time with Eddie since he woke up, spending those weeks juggling babysitting duties and his own injuries and helping with the relief effort and sitting vigil at Max's side. He popped in on Eddie when he was in the building for Max, but the Munson room always had someone in it- Wayne, or Dustin, or Mike, or one of the Corroded Coffin guys- and Steve always felt a bit like an intruder. So he hasn't had a chance to feel out the suspicions he formed during that surreal week when everything was still in the process of exploding, and honestly he's been feeling a little too distant to work up the energy to bother. Robin's bugged him about it once or twice since March, but he shrugged her off each time and she hasn't brought it up in a while.

Ah, what the hell. It's already been such a weird night, and Steve is honestly feeling better than he has in weeks, and he wants to ride this high wherever it'll take him.

Emotional rollercoaster, huh? Well, Steve can make that worse.

At least Eddie hasn't seemed homophobic, kind of the opposite, actually. That's a good sign if Steve's ever seen one.

He pushes off the door, stalking toward Eddie with intent and digging deep inside himself for whatever remains of the person he used to be, who could drop panties with a single look. Eddie's eyes go very round, and he stumbles back a little into the counter.

"You know, Munson, I've had a question I've been meaning to ask you for a while now. Haven't found a good moment."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie's voice comes out in what can only be called a squeak, and Steve feels powerful. That rush of confidence he hasn't felt since BN (Before Nancy) fills his chest, and he can feel his grin turn sharp. "Ho- uh." Eddie clears his throat. "How long's a while?"

Steve purses his lips, relishing the way Eddie's eyes drop down like he can't help it and his cheeks flush, and pretends to consider the question. "Oh, since Skull Rock, probably."

"O-oh? That's. Um. That is a long time." He's still staring at Steve's lips. Good. "Well, shoot, Stevie-boy. Ask away."

Steve lets his smile spread across his face slowly, keeping Eddie's eyes where he wants them. Yeah, he's still got it. Like riding a bike.

"Do you wear this bandana on purpose, or is it just a fashion statement?"

Eddie's eyes snap up to meet his own, shocked.

"Wh-what? Bandana? I. Um. What?"

"Are you flagging, Eddie?" Steve doesn't back up, toe to toe with Eddie as he reaches out and tugs lightly on the hanky trailing out of his back pocket, as always.

He may not have had the energy to talk to Eddie about it yet, but his curiosity did get the better of him after the "earthquakes," and he did dig out that zine where he originally learned about the code. He knows what a black hanky in the back left pocket means now. It's...a little daunting, but not a turn-off. Not at all. Kind of the other thing.

God he hopes Eddie knows what it means.

Eddie seems floored by this line of questioning. He's bright red and sputtering, his mouth opening and closing without saying anything. Steve lets himself stare. This'll go however it goes, but he's not ashamed. He's no more embarrassed to want Eddie than he would be to want a girl, which is to say, not at all.

"I- you- what? What? You- you know what flagging is?" He hisses the end of the sentence in a harsh whisper, so much like Robin did when he first told her about his crush that he can't stop himself from giggling.

Wrong move, since Eddie clearly takes this personally, and his expression shutters closed. Whoops.

"Hey, hey, no no no, none of that, hey. I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you, I swear."

"Right, sure, I believe that, considering there's nothing goddamn else to laugh at in this kitchen, Harrington." Eddie is glaring at the floor, arms crossed defensively across his chest.

Alright, maybe he gets what Vickie was saying earlier. Fuck the codes, fuck the metaphors. He can take Eddie in a fight if he has to. He's a simple guy, ok? He just wants to use his goddamn words.

Robin would be so proud.

He goes slowly, telegraphing every move so Eddie can stop him if he wants. He reaches for his hands where they're tucked into his elbows, gently easing them out until they're clasped between them.

He takes the opportunity to finally feel those rings he's fantasized about, seeing if they're as cool as they look. They aren't, they're warm from Eddie's skin. He spins one of them around Eddie's finger with his thumb, transfixed.

Eddie still looks tense, but now instead of hurt and distrust on his face, he looks like Steve hit in him in the head with something heavy. His pretty eyes are so big, blown completely black as he stares at their joined hands.

"I'm sorry I laughed. I was remembering the first time I told Robin I had a crush on you," Eddie's head snaps up again, "and she sounded exactly like you did just now, with that angry whisper voice. It made me laugh, that you guys are so alike. It makes sense, I guess. She's my favorite person, so of course I'd like you, when you're like. Not the same, I guess, but kinda a similar flavor of weird. She says I have a thing for nerds, y'know?"

Eddie blinks at him for a minute, apparently speechless. Some nerves start to creep back in, since the brief miscommunication scare burned out most of that white hot King Steve confidence in his chest. They must show on his face, because Eddie visibly shakes himself and finally opens his mouth.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Yeah, man, since the Upside Down, pretty much. The first time."

"Don't call me man when you're telling me you have a crush on me!"

Steve has to laugh at the comically offended look on Eddie's face. "Sorry. Do you prefer Eds? Baby? Big Boy?"

Eddie is so red Steve is surprised his face isn't steaming. He yanks one hand out of Steve's grip to smack him in the chest. Steve laughs and lets him, dropping their still-joined hands down between them and tangling their fingers.

"You're a fucking dick, Stevie. Can't believe I like you."

Steve grins at him, big and hopeful. "Yeah? You like me, Munson?"

Eddie shoves at him with a groan, but doesn't let go of his hand. "Pretty sure everyone in this town likes you, King Steve. It's like a rite of passage, or something."

Steve feels like he could walk on air, he isn't even going to get fussy about the King Steve thing. They can talk about that later. Eddie likes him! Eddie has a crush on him! He could fight a demogorgon with his bare hands right now, that's how powerful he feels.

Eddie gets quiet after a second, tugging a curl in front of his mouth again. Seems like a nervous tick, maybe. Steve notes that for later. He may not be much of a reader, but he's going to learn to read Eddie Munson like a book if it's the last thing he does.

"I thought, um. I kinda...hn. Ugh."

"Gonna need more than that, baby, I'm not fluent in Munson yet." That glow in his chest picks up a little again at the way Eddie flushes so pink and pretty at the petname.

"I thought you were straight." It comes out all in a rush, the words mumbled and slurred together through his hair.

Finally, it's Steve's turn to raise an eyebrow. Take that, universe! "You meet a lot of straight guys who know what the Hanky Code is?"

Eddie shakes his head in wonderment. "Still can't believe The Steve Harrington knows what flagging is."

He's about to reply when the kitchen door flies open with a bang that sends the boys leaping backwards away from each other. Steve finds himself braced between Eddie and the door, brandishing the bottle opener from the fridge in front of him like a knife. He doesn't even remember grabbing it.

Robin is standing in the doorway, eyes wild and hair frizzing out around her head in a way she would despise if she was sober and not obviously preoccupied with something else.

"Jesus, Robs, you about gave me a heart attack, what the hell?"

"Sorry bubba, not important right now!"

He rolls his eyes. Of course not. Just his trauma that could have made him stab her if he hadn't caught himself, nothing major. This girl, he swears.

"Dingus! Focus!"

"Focus on what, Bobs?"

"She wants to kiss me, Steve!"

His eyes go wide. Thank fuck the door bounced off the wall and swung back shut behind her. That's not something to shout to a party full of gossipy strangers.

Still. This is a big moment! "Bobbie! What'd I tell you, huh?" He picks her up around the middle, swinging her around while she cackles wildly and bats at his shoulders.

"Put me down, you lunatic! Steven Elizabeth, you put me down right now, or I swear I'll never speak to you again!" She's laughing too hard for him to take her seriously, though.

He does take pity on her and set her back on her feet, stealing one more tight hug. He's so happy for her he could scream. This night has turned out better than he could have imagined.

"Tell me everything! What happened! What did she say? What did you say? How was the kiss?"

"Well we didn't actually kiss yet, exactly."

"Wait, then how do you know she wants to kiss you?"

"She told me! She said she thinks I'm really pretty and funny and smart and she's like you! She likes both, and she says her and Dan are done, like for real for real all the way done, and she held my hand, Steve! And she wants to go on a date! And she said she wanted to kiss me!"

"That's awesome! I'm so happy for you, Bobs. What did you say when she said she wanted to kiss you?"

"I came down to tell you about it, obviously."

Oh, Bobbie, what the fuck. "Robin James Buckley. Do not tell me that a pretty girl tried to kiss you and you ran away and left her upstairs!"

The situation finally seems to register, and Robbie's hands go flailing around her face the way they do when she's overwhelmed.

"Oh no! Steve! Oh no!"

"Go, you insane person! Go back upstairs right now and kiss her this minute! Go!"

He physically herds her to the door, at which point she finally notices Eddie, who has been standing in the corner where Steve shoved him behind him when the door crashed open, watching them like he's wishing he had popcorn.

Fuck. Steve was so excited for Robbie he totally forgot he was here.

Robin's body goes rigid and all the color drains out of her face all at once.

Steve grabs her by the shoulders. "Hey, Bobbin, eyes on me, ok? Eyes on me." She finally drags her eyes away from where she's been staring at Eddie in horror, and Steve's heart breaks at the fear on her face. "It's ok, Bobbie, I swear to god it's ok. I was right, alright? I was right about him, we were talking before you came in. He's safe, I swear. We're safe, Bobbie, I promise I'll keep you safe."

"I promise I won't say a word, Birdie. Friends of Dorothy gotta stick together, right?" Eddie pipes up from the corner, stepping forward slowly and carefully, hands out front like he's approaching a skittish animal.

"You're- you're like u- me?" Oh, he loves her so much. Still protecting him, just in case.

"It's ok Bobs, I told him about me. I was about to get a kiss of my own before you came in, I think, actually."

Eddie jumps on the opportunity to cut the tension, ever the showman. Steve likes him so goddamn much. He grins impishly at Steve, that wide pretty mouth stretching out until those dimples Steve can't wait to kiss appear on his cheeks.

"Oh, you were, were you? Pretty presumptuous, Stevie-boy. Who says I kiss on the first date? Maybe I'm not that kind of boy."

"Oh, wow, ok, this is gonna be a lot to deal with, huh? Alright, I'm glad I'm not getting hate-crimed, and I'm glad you're finally doing something about your big gay crush, Dingus, but if you'll excuse me, I have a girl to kiss, and also I want to be far away from," she waves a hand between them, "whatever this is. Good luck boys, don't kiss in unlocked rooms! Vickie says she can give me a ride home, so I'll call you in the morning, bubba. Love you bye!"

She's out of the room like a shot, hopefully back up to Vickie, who he hopes is prepared to get used to this kind of thing. There are so many things to love about Robin Buckley, and honestly, this is one of them, but he can see why she might be an acquired taste. He thinks anyone who doesn't acquire that taste is a moron and not worth knowing, but he can see how those people might exist.

"Love you too, Robs!" he calls down the hallway, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it. It's not a lock, but as long as he doesn't move, it'll do. And given that Eddie appears to have found his confidence and is leaning over him, bracing his arms on either side of Steve's head, he doesn't think he'll have to move any time soon.

Unless someone needs the kitchen, but they've been doing just fine so far, so they can burn that bridge when they come to it, or whatever people say.

He reaches down to toy with Eddie's belt loops, tugging him close and grinning up at him through his eyelashes, privately thrilled at the novelty of being shorter than his partner for once. Granted, he's slumped down the door a little, but still. It's nice. He can see why girls like it.

Eddie comes closer easily, resting their foreheads together. He reaches down to fiddle with a lock of Steve's hair and Steve feels like leaning into it like a cat getting its ears rubbed.

Lot of cat feelings tonight. He's not sure what to do with that.

"So.”

“So.”

“Steven Elizabeth, huh?"

Steve can't help but laugh, the tension broken once more. "Yeah, Rob's idea. We switched. Steven Elizabeth and Robin James. So we always have a piece of each other."

"Jesus H Christ, you guys are fucking adorable. This shit is why everyone thinks you're dating, though, you know that, right?"

"Ugh, yeah, I know. I don't actually mind, I mean, I should be so lucky, you know? And she's like. My person. My most important person. And we're probably gonna get married someday just so we can be each other's next of kin, and because it's not like she could marry whoever she ends up with anyway, or me if I end up with a guy, so it's like, why not, you know? I'd be building my life around her anyway, might as well make it legal.

"It's mostly just annoying when our friends don't believe us, because like, we're honest with you guys. Maybe not all of it, like Robbie isn't ready to be out and that's fine and she shouldn't have to be, but it kinda sucks that, like, Dustin thinks I would lie to him, you know? Because I wouldn't. Not about something real. Not when it matters. But he doesn't believe me, and that just. I dunno, man."

"It hurts."

"Yeah."

"I get that. You've been through a lot for these kids, you've put yourself on the line for them, you've given up a lot for them, and when they don't believe you about something like this, it feels like they're saying they don't trust you. Of course that hurts."

Steve swallows down the tears that want to fall. Now isn't the time for vulnerability like that, not in a stranger's crowded house. Still.

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what, sweetheart?" Oh, sweetheart does something to him. If this is how Eddie felt when he called him baby earlier, the blush makes more sense.

"Figure out exactly what I'm trying to say, and make it make sense. Usually only Robbie can do that."

"I dunno, maybe Birdie and me share a brain. Or maybe you and I just make sense to each other."

Steve flattens a palm against Eddie's chest, feeling the soothing thump beneath his hand. He did that. He put his hands on Eddie's chest and his mouth on Eddie's mouth and broke Eddie's ribs and didn't stop until that rhythm started up again. And now Eddie's here, and Eddie's heart is still beating, and Eddie hears him when he talks, and Eddie is looking at his lips again, and Steve suddenly can't go another second without kissing him.

He trails his hand up Eddie's chest, over his neck, savoring the way his breath hitches and the pulse under his palm speeds up. He keeps going, pushing his fingers into that thick riot of curls, already making mental notes of the products he's going to buy for Eddie because Jesus Christ, they're dry.

He tugs, and again, Eddie comes easy. It's not an earth-shattering kiss. There's no tongue, and their noses are a little smushed, and the angle is a little off, and he's kissed enough people that he can tell Eddie probably hasn't, but none of that matters.

He told Robin, back in that field, that he was holding off feelings he knew he would have for Eddie when all was said and done. He knows now he was right, and he's done holding them off. Has been done for a while, maybe.

He doesn't know where this is going, or what Eddie wants, or how they'll manage being two guys in a town like Hawkins, or what their friends will think. If they'll even tell their friends. What he does know is that he wants to find out the answers to all of those, and he wants to find them out with Eddie, and he wants to keep kissing Eddie, and also that he can't keep kissing Eddie here.

He pulls back, pecking that dimple finally, partly to reassure Eddie that he isn't running away and partly because he's wanted to for weeks, and pulls the kitchen door open, checking that the coast is clear before grabbing Eddie's hand and dragging him towards the front door.

"Where we going, Stevie?"

"You drove here, right?"

"Sure did. You want a ride somewhere? I thought you drove Birdie."

"I did, but you've got your van, don't you? Your van with doors that lock and a big open back seat?"

Eddie's eyes go wide, and he flails a little, just like Robin. It makes Steve smile.

"Yep! Yes, yeah, hell yeah, I do have my van, my van with those things, let's go! Chop chop, time's a-wasting! Your chariot awaits!" And he's off, doing that dorky little run for the driveway.

Steve grins, and puts his hands in his pockets, and follows his boy out into the night.

#stranger things #platonic stobin #steve harrington & robin buckley #rockie #rovickie #robin x vickie #robin buckley x vickie #idk what their ship tag is sorry lol #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #vickie stranger things #eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #(eddie is bi too fyi but it doesn’t come up)#my writing #i believe with all my heart that steve’s strategy for nicknaming robin is just a handful of b’s and whatever vowels he finds in his heart #gareth absolutely interrupts them in the van when he wants to go home #and he’s so goddamn annoyed that now he’s going to HAVE to learn to like king steve #because it was one thing when he saved eddie’s life and they were friends now #that could be a one off #but if he likes eddie enough to make out with him in the driveway of a crowded party #he’s in this for the long haul #and that means gareth has to get used to him and learn to get a long #godDAMMIT eddie!#did i make steve go through a depressive episode because i took a break between this part and the last one and lost his voice?#how dare you insinuate such a thing (yeah lol)

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