#ooh stunning

[eventid1ngs]

[ D u t y . ]

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The sun was setting as they finally arrived at Hateno Village. The Princess of Hyrule and her appointed knight had been on the road for several weeks and were exhausted not only from their travels but also as a result of all of the various political negotiations they were both required to participate in. Rebuilding the kingdom after the fall of Calamity Ganon was proving to be as daunting of a task as defeating him in the first place.

 

It seemed like every individual—or at the very least: every race, class, sect, et cetera—in Hyrule had a different opinion on how the kingdom should move forward from the ‘Hundred Years of the Great Calamity’ (as the time period came to be called in history).

 

At any rate, it was a headache, both literally and figuratively.

 

The Princess, who was generally spirited and highly communicative, was as silent as her knight while the two of them made their way into the village. Their steeds trotted slowly, their heads hung low in exhaustion.

 

It was nearly dark when they reached Link’s little house just outside the village. He assisted the princess in dismounting her faithful white mare (whom she had named Cordelia), but not without difficulty. Zelda glanced at him once just as he reached up to help her with an arm around her waist. He winced—only barely, but she noticed, of course—as he held her full weight for a few seconds before setting her down gently.

 

She had opened her mouth to speak, but Link immediately proceeded to lead the horses down to the stable. Zelda stayed put and watched as he tied up the horses, offered them food and water, and stroked their manes as they whinnied at him, weakly but affectionately. He was talking to them, too, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying at all from where she stood. Zelda observed several more discreet winces as he unhooked their packs and other belongings from the horses’ saddles, setting them aside as he removed the saddles and hung them on their hooks on the wall nearby.

 

Link was very methodical; every movement, every action, and every step that he took had conviction and purpose. Zelda had always found this curious—and admirable—about him. He never fumbled, never second-guessed. He always knew exactly what to do, or so it seemed—and that was enough. Even when he was in pain he rarely showed it, so in seeing him now, the princess knew that something was wrong and it wasn’t insignificant.

 

She approached him and offered to help with carrying their things inside, which, of course, he refused. Zelda knew better than to protest, but oh, how she wanted to! His irrevocable sense of duty was getting in the way of his well-being again and the princess found it to be deeply irritating. She knew that he was achy and sore from his fight earlier against that massive Hinox. She also knew that he was injured, and, per the usual, he was trying to hide it from her.

 

But she knew, just as she always knew.

 

….She decided to leave it… for now. Quietly, she followed him into the house.

 

“I’ll make you some food.” Link said after he had locked the door and set down the various items that he had been carrying. He walked into the kitchen and lit a candle near the sink to provide some light.

 

“I’m fine.” Zelda answered, picking up her pack from the floor to retrieve the Sheikah slate and her journal.

 

“...You should eat.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Still–” he insisted, but she shot him a look.

 

“I’m much too tired. And I know that you are, too. If I do get hungry, I’ll have some bread. Please, go get cleaned up. I’m going to finish this letter and then head to bed.” she spoke plainly.

 

Link stood where he was for a moment, stuck somewhere between being annoyed by the princess’ usual obstinacy and being relieved that he wouldn’t have to cook anything. He wanted to say “It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. You haven’t eaten since breakfast. And it isn’t healthy for you to skip meals.” but his lack of energy got the best of him this time. He retrieved his pack and headed for the back door.

 

“I’ll be right outside.” he said.

 

“I know.” She had sat down at the kitchen table and was arranging her things before her. She lit the candles on the table for some additional light.

 

After she heard the door shut, however, she promptly got up and went to the kitchen window. She peered outside. Link’s head hung over the washbasin; his eyes were closed, and his arms shook ever so slightly as they tried to keep his body propped up.

 

He remained like that for a few minutes before he stood up straight, popped his neck, and shook his head in a somewhat vain attempt to shake away the violent onset of tiredness that came from being home at last and the anticipation of sleep.

 

Zelda watched as Link turned on the pump and began to remove layers of clothing. His gloves came off first, followed by his harnesses and belt. When it came time to pull his tunic off over his head, however, he paused mid-attempt with a sharp inhale.

 

He decided to take a break from that and light the fire under the washbasin so he would at least have some warm water to clean up with instead. He wished that the weather was warmer so he could just jump into the pond instead, but alas.

 

From her spot by the window, Zelda rolled her eyes. She decided at that moment that she refused to stand by any longer. She went to the cabinet to acquire a bowl and a few towels. Grabbing a small vial of medicine off of the shelf, she proceeded outside and without a word, filled the bowl with water from the washbasin and emptied the contents of the vial into the steaming liquid. Link eyed her. Finally, she looked back and met his eyes.

 

“Let me help.” she said, and she made it clear that it wasn’t a request.

 

Link, also, knew better than to protest.

 

“Raise your arms,” she commanded. He did, but he couldn’t stop the flush that rose in his cheeks as the princess firmly grasped either side of his tunic and slowly helped him navigate the fabric off of his body. Her eyes immediately locked on his left side; the red-stained fabric of his undershirt. “I knew it. I knew that it was worse than you assured me it was...” but she trailed off, very obviously fighting against her anger.

 

“It’s nothing.” was Link’s response, but something in Zelda’s expression prompted him to quickly add: “It’ll be fine in a few days.” The princess clenched her jaw. It’s not nothing. You’re injured. And I don’t care if it will be better in a few days. She helped him remove the undershirt, a little less carefully than before, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from swearing as a searing pain shot up and down his side.

 

“Sit.” she said, gesturing towards a wooden box nearby. A faint blush had also appeared in the apples of her cheeks (this was only the second time she had seen his bare upper body; the first time being before he had been sealed away within the Shrine of Resurrection, and he had been a lot less… built… back then), and Link couldn’t tell if she was just angry and some sort of lecture was bubbling under the surface, or if it was something else. He watched her silently as she rolled up her sleeves and dunked a towel into the medicinal water she had created.

 

“I wish… you could tell me when you’re hurting.” she said.

 

That calm and collected remark surprised both of them, and Link looked at her inquisitively.

 

“I just wish you would tell me when you’re injured so we can take care of it right away and— and— you don’t have to suffer in silence, you know? I’m here. And I can help—“

 

“That’s not—“

 

“Not what?” Zelda wrung out the towel, her knuckles turning white as she did so. “...Not what, Link?” He didn’t answer. “Not my place? Not my responsibility? Not my duty?” The muscles in Link’s jaw and neck worked to keep in a verbal affirmation that what she had said was correct in his mind. “Well, I don’t care.” She gestured for Link to raise his arm again, which he did, and she pressed the hot towel to his side. He hissed from the pain, and Zelda stared at him with an angry, languid gaze that made Link feel uncomfortable.

 

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, princess.” he said, through gritted teeth, swiping his other arm across his face to shield his embarrassment. “But you don’t need to worry. I’m fine. This isn’t something to make such a big deal of; I’ve been through much worse. And I’ve always taken care of myself.”

 

“That’s not my point. You don’t have to—“

 

“It’s just part of my duty.”

 

That word again. That. Word. That Goddess-forsaken word! The single, solitary entity that stood between the two of them like a wall and made Zelda feel like Link was always an eternity away from her. It was a door that seemed to be shut whenever either party tried to step over the threshold. It was an awkward, empty void. A hindrance—

 

An obstacle.

 

“You don’t have to.” she repeated, in a softer tone this time. Link watched as her expression fell and she let out a long sigh. There was more that he felt that he should say—argue his point further— But what was his point, exactly? He pressed his lips together. Zelda’s face was unreadable as she continued to clean his wound.

 

There was an odd change of atmosphere that occurred within the few minutes of relative silence that followed. A cricket song could be heard from somewhere in the distance… Fireflies floated in the darkness above the pond and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees on the cliff above. The princess felt her apprehension melt away, gradually, and it showed in her features as she carefully applied medicine to her knight’s side.

 

Link shivered.

 

He was staring at her, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. His eyes followed the smooth expanse of the princess’ forehead, across her thick brows that were knitted in concentration and down the bridge of her small nose. In the low light, her eyes were the color of moss that grew along a riverbed; veiled by a golden halo of lashes that fluttered as she proceeded to bandage his wound with tender care.

 

She’s beautiful.

 

Her lips slightly parted as she let out another sigh—

 

Link snapped from his moment of stupor just as Zelda looked up at him. He pointedly averted his gaze, finding a suitably uninteresting fence post a little ways off to focus his attention on instead.

 

She pressed a warm towel to a spot on his forehead, just above his eyebrow. “How did you get this cut?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“It’s going to scar.”

 

“I have a lot of those.” he answered, further brushing it off. His curt answers often annoyed Zelda, who much preferred to be verbose, but she knew that was just who her knight was… and she tried not to chide him for it. She did not expect him to change that about himself, but deep down, she so very much desired it. More often than not, his simplicity had far outweighed the lack of conversation, but that was… before. Things felt different now. And Zelda wanted to hear anything and everything that he had to say.

 

With her free hand, Zelda brushed her thumb over a scar on the right side of Link’s jaw. It was a small scar; a thin, raised white line about an inch long that ran perpendicular to his jaw, right at the base of his ear. She felt him shrug off a shiver as she stroked the sensitive skin there with her thumb. To her surprise, he let her.

 

“Fishhook.” he said, thickly.

 

Zelda blinked. “...What?”

 

“That scar was from a fishing accident… Not one of my better stories.” She giggled, and he smiled, relieved that he was able to further hide the color that was rising in his cheeks.

 

But she was looking at his lips then, and he couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from wandering to her face again. Her thumb touched his bottom lip, pulling it down gently. Link’s heart dropped in his chest when he remembered the scar that was there, on his lip. Oh, that. He opened his mouth to speak, intending to say something about the scar, but suddenly Zelda was closing the gap between her lips and his and the ability to form words in his mind escaped him. She stopped when her face was mere centimeters from his and he forgot how to breathe entirely. Looking up at him, she smiled.

 

“…How does someone get a scar on their lip?” She chuckled softly, “...is there any savory answer to that question?”

 

He desperately reached for the words. “I– I don’t—remember—“ But he didn’t have to struggle anymore because her mouth was on his and he let out a breath into the kiss that was not only an overwhelming amount of immense relief but also an unfathomable amount of affection for his princess.

 

The kiss itself was brief; Zelda angled her head slightly so that she could kiss that tiny scar she had pointed out. Unlike the one on his jawline, this one was pink and smooth. Her eyes caught movement on his neck when he swallowed dryly; another scar bobbed along the surface of his skin as his Adam’s apple moved up and down. Without even thinking twice about it, she ducked down to kiss him there, too. Link’s hands moved to her upper arms, holding her gently, but pushing her back a little. They locked eyes again and before Link felt that he should say something, Zelda said:

 

“If you insist upon ‘doing your duty,’ then you must allow me to fulfill mine as well.” She moved to press her lips near the fresh cut on his forehead, the pink spot on his lower lip, and to the white line on his jaw... He was intoxicated by her—her everything—her lips, her skin, her scent, her voice. She was warm and gentle and she was here. He was just too tired to fight his own inhibitions anymore, and he let himself slip away.

 

Link closed his eyes; his grip on Zelda’s arms loosening as she continued to speak: “...Each of your scars is a precious monument erected in remembrance of Hyrule’s fall to the evils of the Calamity, and in celebration of our inevitable rise that is all but upon the horizon… And as this land’s crowned princess and future queen, it is my duty to pay reverence to each and every mark that the goddesses have deigned to be left upon you.”

 

It was too much. He felt as if he was quite literally on fire; his skin burned everywhere that she touched. “Princess—“ he breathed, unable to say anything else.

 

“Zelda.”

 

“Zelda…” But he found that he had simply lost the ability to think of words to say, much less say them. He sighed as her lips continued to travel from place to place and all he knew was warmth that came over him in waves and a wildfire that coursed through his veins until his mind and heart were racing, set free, entwining itself between an intense love for this woman and utter exhaustion from the various activities of the day. Eventually, he was entirely lost.

 

The night was far advanced by the time Zelda felt that she had, sufficiently, fulfilled her duties. And the princess, persuasive as she was, coaxed the knight into participating as well.

 

That night, the hero lost a battle, and he found the repercussions to be swift, and sweet, and altogether memorable.....

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[ F i n . ]

[thotglow]

A Negroni Sbagliato with Prosecco in it 😉

[lallilalia]

✨️In honour of our queen✨️

[angie-words]

I've taken annual leave from work this week and did you know you can actually get things done when you aren't exhausted?! /s

Anyway, on top of getting some life laundry sorted, I went to London for a bimble about. Highly recommend visiting Café in the Crypt at St Martin-in-the-Fields - good vibes, good coffee, and a beautiful brass rubbing section, where one skeleton in particular looked very pleased about the whole thing 😏 (yes I am incredibly immature):

EDIT because I'm a forgetful twit: thanks to @ines2925 for suggesting the pairing for no. 8!

previous meme dump

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[sketchy-tour]

✨DANDY COMMISSION APPRECIATION POST✨

Of course, being commissions I bought, none of these lovely beautiful pieces are by me. Credits (in order) @frillsand @weevmo @lanlishiba @parrotparfait @kandavers

I am!! GONNA attempt to gush about all these pieces without devolving into keysmashes or screams but like. A. AA. AAA. I was gonna say "yall have no idea how annoying I am about Dandy" but honestly you do. You all do because I shake my silly puppet oc around CONSTANTLY.

ANYWAY I JUST!!! AUGH! ALL OF THEM MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!! The fact I get to see Dandy in art styles I love and adore around the fandom fills me with a joy I cannot even DESCRIBE to you!! OOH I JUST!!! I love them. I love these pieces. I stare at them all the time and now I'm rattling them all around at you guys!!!!! LOOK!!! LOOK AT THESE LOVELY LOVELY PIECES RN AND CHECK OUT THE ARTISTS!!!!!

[m-kyunie]

marching forward through the Gates of Hell

[mondstalgia]

saying goodbye to Ai Di and welcoming new era DianDian

[grahamcarmen]

I need to polish these up they're not exactly how they should be but this is the gist

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Excerpt (unecessarily dramatic monologue) from a potential Sir Orfeo retelling I will never write

Now there's a secret writers don't like to tell people often. We like to pretend to be mysterious, like we're caught up in The Art, like it controls us, and sometimes it feels like it does. But it's not true. So many scholars are obsessed with finding the "original version," who gives a shit about the original version? what matters is the story we have now, the story that's been told and is told and will be told, the story that's made and remade each time! These aren't dead cold things, they're breathing and breathed. We love to say there was only one way it could have ever gone but that's never true, that's what makes a tragedy tragic, that other choices could have been made, there are always a million other ways it could have gone, we just don't like to see them because it makes us feel better, because it's easier. Endings change all the time, for better or for worse, they're changing even now and yes, some are more fixed than others, more true, more immutable, more honest. But even these, sometimes, if you're really very lucky, you can reach out and twist into something else. Look at all the musicians who haven't died. Look at all the snakebites with poison sucked out of them. Look at the king who steps from the underworld and this time, his wife takes his hand behind him and he pulls her up and out and into the sunlight and a green so bright it should be illegal, into a city of stone and streams and roses, so many roses all pink and peach and gold and their velvet-springtime-hearthealed-ancient scent fills the air and is so beautiful even the most cynical bastard can't help but hope for a moment, for how can something smell like this without hope! And for the first time since he lost her she seems to truly awake.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

(clenches fist so hard) I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM IN THE MASK I SWEAR I PROMISE I'M NOT INTO THIS

[sadlazzle]

had to post some pics of rochelle cause she’s so beautiful n im in love. all the accessories look wonderful, the outfit looks twice as good in person. the only ‘complaint’ i kind of hav is her hair, which is .. well it could be better is all im saying. all in all she’s beautiful tho, and the hair isn’t something that can’t be fixed with a lil bit of work. also idk if u can see it but on the right side on the box art Roux is in the window sitting behind her !! that’s adorable

[hyper-revenge-sio]

UPDATE!! the absolutely enchanted WinterBaron playlist has This Is Love on it and I myself am in love ugughu

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

[another-one-bites-the-chipaguasu]

Obviously not going to tag this but... and don't put a bad bitch against another etc etc shut up and listen

The fact that the own show established N*t as this gorgeous stunning woman and then you remember she looks like this?

But then there's Taissa right there and not a single word about it?

White woman privilege

[rafecameronssl4t]

Kook!Reader x Rafe Cameron where Sofia flirts with Rafe not knowing he’s taken until you come by and make it known that Rafe is all yours 🤭🤭🤭

She want me bad || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: ooh I love writing these 😝😝

Warnings: r is kind of a bitch in this one, sorry not sorry (not proofread)

Word count: 683

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Rafe’s leg bounced restlessly under the table as Sofia chatted away; her words barely registering in his head. He glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time, his thoughts drifting to when you would arrive.

His attention kept wandering back to Topper and Kelce, who were across the room, snickering and exchanging glances that made Rafe roll his eyes at their antics.

Sofia’s voice broke through his haze. “So, uh, do you have any plans on Saturday?” Rafe blinked, momentarily lost. “Huh?” Sofia smiled, slightly amused. “I asked if you had any plans for Saturday.”

Rafe rubbed his hand over his buzz cut, trying to clear his thoughts. “Uh…” He started to respond but his words faltered as he smelt the familiar, soothing scent of your signature perfume. A pair of manicured hands began to glide down his neck and chest. The sensation made a smile spread across Rafe’s face.

You stood behind him, your hands lightly resting on his neck. As he leaned his head back, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Hi gorgeous,” he said, his voice soft and warm as you leaned in to kiss him. “Hi handsome,” you replied, chuckling softly against his lips.

Sofia watched in stunned silence, her mouth slightly agape as the reality of the situation sank in. Rafe’s attention was now completely absorbed by you, his earlier annoyance and disinterest melting away.

You lifted your head, meeting Sofia’s gaze with a subtle, confident smirk. “Sofia, right?” you asked, as you smoothly moved around the seat to settle beside Rafe.“Yeah,” she responded, her voice trailing off as she nodded slowly, her eyes darting between you and Rafe.

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze sharp and assessing. “I thought pogues weren’t allowed at these types of parties.” Sofia’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, her unease evident. “I, uh—was invited here, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise crossing your face. “Really? And who might have invited you?” Sofia swallowed, her gaze flickering nervously. “Sarah.” At that, a loud scoff escaped Rafe’s lips, drawing both your and Sofia’s attention. You glanced at Rafe, who looked amused by the exchange, before turning back to Sofia.

“I didn’t realise you were close with Sarah,” you said, your tone both curious and slightly challenging. Sofia nodded, her discomfort palpable as she fidgeted with her skirt. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”

With a graceful motion, you stood up, and Rafe followed suit, smoothing down the back of your dress with a gesture that was both intimate and possessive. “Rafe, let’s go get a drink,” you said, your tone casual yet commanding. Rafe’s grin widened as he offered you his arm. “Gladly.”

As the two of you walked away, Sofia watched, her expression a mix of surprise and discomfort. The atmosphere around her seemed to close in, the awkwardness of the encounter lingering in the air.

[steddie-as-they-come]

"Mom," Steve whispered in the inky blackness of his parents' room. "Mom, there's something under my bed."

Patricia Harrington turned over. "Steven, go back to sleep," she murmured.

"I can't." Steve said. "There's a monster."

"No such thing." his mom said, angrier, more awake. "Go to bed now, and if I catch you out of bed again you can forget going to Tommy's this weekend."

Steve nodded and padded back down the hall, pausing at his door then taking a running jump into bed.

The room was silent.

"I know you're here." Steve whispered, making sure all his limbs were tucked safely away under the covers. "You don't scare me."

A couple minutes of quiet, then Steve heard a scraping sound come from under his bed. He squeaked and pulled his blankets up to his nose.

A horrible, raspy laugh came from below him. "I do scare you!" said a voice. "You lied!"

"No-no you don't!" Steve said boldly. He clutched his blanket tighter, then said, "I can't be scared of something I can't see! That's just dumb."

Something dark began to slither across the floor out of the corner of Steve's eye. Oh, I'm gonna regret that, he thought.

The thing began to pull itself up, looming over Steve. It cracked a smile, and sharp white teeth gleamed in the light from his closet.

Steve screamed.

"Shut up!" his dad shouted angrily from downstairs, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between the shadow and the door like he wasn't sure which monster to be more afraid of.

The monster crept toward him, and Steve dug his fingernails into his face, scooting away from the horror. He whimpered, not daring to close his eyes.

Then the monster began to shrink.

It shriveled away, changing color and backing up, until a little boy, about Steve's age, stood in front of him. He had long curly hair and was dressed in a t-shirt that was way too big on him. When he opened his eyes, Steve flinched, because the whites of his eyes simply...weren't there. His eyes were an onyx black.

"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Eddie."

Steve was too stunned to speak, but he did uncover his mouth.

"I'm the monster under your bed!" Eddie said. "I'm supposed to scare you, but, um-" he risked a quick look at the door "-I don't think you need my help for that."

"Why are you supposed to scare me?" Steve asked.

Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. Every kid's got one. It's just how it works. I was made to be your monster, forever!" He sat down on the edge Steve's bed, bumping Steve's shoulder against his. "Weird to be on this side of the bed. No dust bunnies or anything."

Steve giggled, forgetting his fear. "You're fun!"

Eddie grinned at him. "Thank you! None of the other monsters think my jokes are funny."

"So you have to scare me?" Steve asked. "But you're not scary. Not after talking to me."

Eddie paused. "Oh, right. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Um..."

"What if we just say you're scaring me?" Steve asked. "I'll pretend I'm really scared of the monster under my bed, and you pretend you scare me every single night. But really we're hanging out instead of scaring!"

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Eddie struck a dramatic pose. "I'll be the monster under your bed, but I'll be ready to protect you if you need it too!"

Steve stuck out his hand like he saw his dad do for business deals. "Deal?"

Eddie shook it. "Deal."

-

Steve sprinted through the forest, the kids hot on his heels. "There!" he shouted. "Everyone in!"

The kids bolted to the abandoned cabin, and Steve slammed the door shut. "Is there a bed in here?" he called. "A couch? A fridge?"

"Bed's in here!" Will yelled, and Steve followed his voice to the cluttered bedroom, complete with partially-caved-in bedframe. He gingerly took a seat on the mattress, cringing when it crackled. He did not need to know what was on this.

"Eddie?" he called, tapping on the flaky painted wood.

The shitheads crowded in, and Mike murmured. "What the fuck is he doing?"

Steve ignored him. "Eddie, come on, I need your help."

Something tall, dark, and lanky slid out from under the bed, and all the kids jumped back in fright, raising their various weapons. Steve leapt to get in front of them, raising his hands as a shield. "Chill! Calm down, this is Eddie!"

Eddie shrank into his human form, draping himself over Steve. "You had to summon me to the nastiest bed in Indiana? Really, Steve?"

Steve shrugged. "This was the closest one. We need your help, Eds."

"We?" He focused on the Party. "Well, these must be the infamous buttheads." Eddie slid into the shadows and reappeared behind the Party, inspecting them. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, right?" he said, pointing at each one as he said their names.

"What the fuck are you?" Dustin asked.

Suddenly Eddie was under Steve's arm, wrapping a hand around his waist. "I'm Steve's monster under the bed." he said. "I'm just... friendlier with Steve than most of the monsters I work with."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tell him you're my boyfriend, they know I'm bi." He kissed Eddie on the cheek.

The kids all broke into gasps, except for Max, who fake gagged. "Don't be gross!" she yelled. "Demogorgon outside, remember?"

"Ah, right." Steve said. "Eds, can you-"

"On it." Eddie kissed Steve. "I'll be back."

The kids watched Eddie melt into shadows, then wheeled on Steve. "Steven Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Harrington," Dustin said. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

edit: i did not expect this response to the short little thing that took me 30 mins max at 2am!! i’m planning on rewriting it and turning it into a full length fic, so i’ll come back and edit this with the link!

edit #2: if there’s anything you guys want to see in the full length version of this please let me know!! i’m trying my best to make it a slowburn which is horrid for my adhd so let me know if there’s anything you want!!