#to this day he is the only one who supplied the fanart

[oldfashionedmorphine]

Will (in iawwyh) during the year 2002 after a horrific breakup and falling into depression:

[chaotictomtom]

i just was going to post them separately but then realized they're next to each other. and they're both haunting the narrative. they deserve a post together </333

[szlez]

Stay - destiel fanfic by ani_ona and me with my fanart Feverish

Written for https://sicktember.tumblr.com prompt. Dean & Cas

Stay

It was Sam, who noticed first. Knowing every muscle of his brother's face and years of studying every one of his tiniest expressions helped, but at the end of the day it was due to that unexplainable connection between the two of them. The strange force that made his time at Stanford less enjoyable and more sleepless. So now he just knows that something is wrong with his brother. And when Dean orders his beloved chili fries and doesn't suck in every last bit in a matter of minutes, Sam and Cas exchange worried looks.

Their case is solved, dinner finished, and they are in for a 9-hour drive home. Another cue that something is not just as it should be is when Dean decides to let Sam drive after an hour and doesn't take a shotgun seat but joins Castiel in the back instead. When Sam glances in the rear mirror, he sees his brother's head resting on the angel's shoulder and the intense stare of the blue eyes.

Dean doesn't wake up the whole ride home. Cas somehow manages to arrange him into a more lying position, with his head on the angel's lap. Sam would have smiled at the sight if he wasn't focused on keeping his eyes open and on the road.

They reach the bunker at dawn, and Dean lets Castiel maneuver him out of the car and down the stairs.

“Get him to his room,” Sam says, his voice hoarse from not using and tiredness. “And I’ll bring some supplies.” Cas just nods and adjusts his grip around Dean's waist. He is taking off the hunter's shoes, when Sam comes in with water and some pills.

“Looks like he is going down with something…” Cas murmurs, letting the back of his palm touch Dean's cheek. He frowns and crouches beside the bed to lightly press his lips to Dean's forehead. “Definitely. His fever is high.” He whispers, now real concern lacing his voice.

The gesture looks a lot like a kiss. Dean would undoubtedly freak out if he was awake. But now Sam is too tired to analyze it further.

“Make sure he drinks a lot. And takes these once he is conscious enough.” he points to the meds. “Want me to stay with you?”

“No, Sam, I got this, you drove the whole night, go get some sleep.”

Sam nods and leaves, though he feels strange. He's never left his brother's side during an illness. Even as a child, he used to cling to his brother when any of them was unwell. Perhaps it had something to do with losing the only source of safety and care. Now Dean has his angel, Sam tells himself, lowering his pounding head onto the pillow. He is out in a few minutes.

In the meantime, Castiel frees Dean of most of his clothing, careful with every movement, expecting the hunter to shove him away and yell. But he doesn't react more than with a quiet sigh, and feeling his skin radiating unnatural heat makes Castiel worry even more. He tries to wake Dean up, but only succeeds in making him swallow some pills without choking. When the fever is still high, regardless of the meds, Castiel's anxiety reaches a dangerous level bordering panic. What if he is doing something wrong? Or not doing enough? He stares at the pale face of his friend, thinking. Dean would know what to do. He always does. Dean dealt with countless of Sam's childhood illnesses, even more wounds requiring various types of stitches, his father's drunken fits and hangovers. But now it's Dean who needs help, and Cas feels uncertain and incompetent. Afraid that he could make things worse. What is he supposed to do? Should he go get Sam?

Dean stirs in his sleep, and Castiel's train of thoughts is interrupted. He focuses on his friend, whose brow frowns, and his whole body tenses under the covers. Hands grip the sheets tightly and suddenly he opens his eyes wide, staring terrified and unseeing through the ceiling, breathing shallow, quick breaths. What is he seeing, Cas can only guess, but he is afraid he can guess correctly.

“Hey… Easy…” Cas reaches for Dean's hand and feels fingers clutching his wrist like a lifeline. “Whatever you see, it's not real. You are safe here, with me. It's just a dream. It's not real.” Cas whispers over and over again until Dean rests his head on the pillow and falls asleep, not letting go of his angel’s hand.

So until he loosens his grip, Castiel has no other option but to sit down on the floor by the bed and try to make himself comfortable. He feels Dean’s quick pulse under his fingertips and watches an unhealthy blush coloring hunter's cheeks. After what feels like hours the idea pops into Cas’ mind, and he makes a quick run to the sink with a handful of handkerchiefs. As soon as the wet cloth touches hot skin, Dean shudders violently and makes a little sound close to whimper. Cas's heart tightens. He puts his hand on Dean's cheek to calm him down, and the hunter leans into the touch as if trying to find some relief. The angel sits on the bed and cradles Dean's head, wanting to absorb the heat, illness, and pain.

“You are going to be ok, I'll take care of you.” He whispers to the unconscious man and feels Dean's chaotic fear and suffering flooding him, leaving him breathless. He has to do something, anything, to help, and fast. The echo of Dean's headache pounding in his own skull.

Dean is drifting in and out of consciousness, never lucid enough to hold a real conversation, just searching the space with glassy eyes that close with relief once he makes sure Castiel is with him.

“You are not alone,” Castiel tells him, knowing very well that Dean won't remember anything. “You won't be anymore.”

Hours go by and Castiel fills his time with wiping Dean's face, trying to get some water into him, changing cold compresses, and constantly checking the temperature. With zero improvement so far. Why is nothing working?

Finally, Cas knows he can't delay it anymore and a decision has to be made now. It's been hours and they haven't made any progress. Dean is exhausted and completely out of it from pain and fever, and Cas can't look at his dry lips and glistering, unseeing eyes any longer. It's time to take serious steps.

Dean is heavy. The dead weight of his nearly unconscious body is hard to carry. But not for the angel, who lifts him with ease, just like all these years before when they were leaving Hell. Castiel carefully lowers his trembling burden into the tube, and Dean immediately curls into a tight ball, shivering uncontrollably. Cas starts the lukewarm water and strokes Dean’s chest and back,

“Easy… try to relax” he murmurs, enfolding the hunter's arms. “This is going to help, you will feel better soon, just relax.” And finally, Dean does. Once the tube is filled, he straightens his legs and seems to be drifting off again. He slides a little and would go under if it weren't for Castiel’s grip.

“I’ve got you,” the angel sighs softly. “Don't worry, just relax and rest” he whispers, gently rubbing his chest and stomach in a slow circular motion.

This could be so much fun in different circumstances, Castiel thinks to himself, taking in his lover’s slim, muscular figure under the clear surface… What is he thinking about?!, he scolds himself immediately. It's definitely not a good time for such things. He has to admit to himself that he appreciates the sight before his eyes, though. 

Returning to the bedroom is surprisingly difficult because Dean, now somewhat conscious and wrapped tightly in the biggest towel the bunker can offer, insists on going on his own. This proves to be not the best idea when after a few steps his legs fail to support him, and he is forced to accept Castiel's outstretched arm reluctantly. 

The angel doesn't speak much now when Dean is able to comprehend what is being said to him. Helping Dean change into fresh clothes, and passing him pills and a glass of water, Cas carefully observes his patient, not daring to think that the worst is over now. Once Dean dozes off again, his fever rises a few degrees but only to break after a few hours, leaving the hunter drenched in sweat, weak and tired but finally fully awake and aware of his surroundings.

Seeing Dean putting on his T-shirt without help convinces Cas that his job is finished. He stands up slowly, mutters some “I’d be going” and turns to leave. That's when his hand is gripped one more time this night.

Cas catches Dean’s gaze lucid at last and though the man doesn’t utter a sound, the angel can hear one word, clear as a bell: Stay.

[miirohs]

3:45 [b.c]

pairing: Prepper!Bang Chan x GN!Reader wc: 0.8k cw: n/a an: take this half assed shit and run guys <3 btw this is based off some apocalyptic au fanart i saw of skz!!!

Dogs were a hazard. At least that's what Chan thought.

It had been following you since his team had left the perimeter of the base. Slinking after you, it seemed unafraid of the threatening aura of the rest of the crew, tail wagging happily as you occasionally dropped a small bite for it on the walk.

It was yappy. Loud. Chan didn’t like that.

The others were aware of its presence, but didn’t seem to indulge the poor thing as much after getting yelled at for feeding it scraps.

The more days it seemed to follow you though, the closer you got to it. At times, it seemed like you were the only one who could get away with something like that.

You had settled down for the night, only a day away from the warehouse. Chan had made you promise you’d let her go, but it felt impossible.

“What if we called her Laika?” 

Chan scoffed, readjusting the strap of his gun as he watched you seated on the ground, playing with the dirty little dog. 

“Like the space dog?” He questioned, tone slightly snarky as you cooed at the dog.

As you played with her, he couldn’t help but sigh internally at the happiness written all over your face. This was the happiest he had seen you since the whole disaster had started.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You completely ignored his statement, picking up the dog and bringing it to him.

He sidestepped your attempt to show him the dog, hands up in front of his face as it reached out to give him a friendly lick. It wasn’t that he was squeamish, he just wasn’t trying to get attached.

“Say hi to your daddy Laika! Hi Chan!” 

Chan glared at you from behind his hands, motioning for you to put it down with his eyes. Slowly, you put Laika down on the ground, stomach dropping as he grumbled under his breath.

“Baby.”

You stopped him, holding up your hands to him.

“Chan please. She doesn’t have a home, she’s a stray. Just like us?” You begged before he could even get another word out, pointing to Laika as she sat at your feet, staring curiously at Chan.

“Baby, you know the risk dogs pose. What if someone catches us because it won’t stop yapping like that?” He muttered, staring at his feet and kicking up dirt to avoid your pleading face. “It's a she, and Chan, please?” your voice got softer, reaching out to grab him, “we can’t just leave her here on her own. She’s just a baby. She can’t fend for herself.”

He was a grown man, and yet he couldn’t seem to control himself as you held his hand, running a finger over his gloves. His rough hand rose to your cheek, caressing your face as you leaned into his hand. 

Heat rose up to his cheeks and he turned away, breathing heavily as his heart thumped.

“Fine. You explain to the base why we brought a dog back on the supply run,” He grunted, the way he pulled his hand away from your face was gentle in comparison to his tone. “Really?” you whispered, giddiness seeping into your tone despite how hard you tried to maintain a poke face.

It barked, almost as if it- no, she understood. Both of you were obviously happy at the arrangement. 

Chan cringed slightly as you cooed at the dog, yet his heart slightly thumped at you talking to the puppy in your arms, disappearing into your shared tent.

“You let Y/n keep it? And you wouldn’t even let me or Han feed, you said it would be dangerous!” Changbin grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to Chan. “Yeah well… it’s different. Laika is here to stay.” He grunted, staring in the direction of your tent for a brief second before laying down on the ground, arm covering his face in an attempt to sleep.

“And you named it too?!” Chan smirked slightly at Changins indignation. “That was entirely Y/n. Be mad at her.”

“Damn, he really is whipped for that girl. He’s always bringing her something back on his trips and this time he let her get an animal. I wonder how Lee Knows gonna take this when he realizes he isn’t the only one with animal privilege,” Han snickered from behind, before suddenly getting hit with a can.

Chan was staring at him, and although it was nothing serious it was quite intimidating.

“Her happiness is my happiness, and if that happiness is in the form of a dog, so be it,” Chan shrugged, shaking his head at the mischievous looks on their faces.

“Looks like someones whipped!”

Before he could tell them off, you peaked your head out from the tent, face slightly illuminated by the fire.

“Are you coming?! I have something to show you!”

Chan looked at Han and Changbin, a serious look on his face.

“If either of you mention a word of this to Y/n, i swear to god.”

“Aye aye captain, whatever you say!"

[electraslight]

I care about ur Bevin headcannon I would love to hear

YES i finally get to yell abt these two, its my fav ship in the series idk why people arent more into it. Fanart is supplied as usual and i have some evidence-ey screenshots under the cut, mostly bc i want to share them w SOMEONE other than my friend blue. Enjoy my ramblings

-kevin is dating both ben and gwen, gwen and his relationship being a lot more outward and public and ben a more private relationship, they only ever kiss or hold hands when its just the two of them or (rarely) when gwen is around, partially bc of bens fame and his own hangups about liking men and partially bc when they are romantic they r extremely vulnerable with each other and thats the sort of thing they wouldnt want anyone else to see.

-(quoting from a discord dm w my friend) ben and kevin violence is something that if u saw it in a painting or a movie it would be rly profound and aweinspiring. in real life its also the same, but it feels so much like intruding when ur actually watchingbc kevin and ben have all their emotions about each other in v short bursts, theyll bottle them up 4 an extended period of time and then have som e massive cataclysmic event when it bubbles to the surface. there r literally no continual emotional moments between them like kevin and gwen who have contunious small emotions abt each other, kevin and ben will hang out 4 months at a time and then one day just start hitting each other, which is in a way a part of the romance

-in omniverse theres a scene where its shown that 12 year old kevin is in possession of a photo of ben that is suspiciously well worn, it has rips and stains and has been crumpled up and refolded a couple times. I like to think he kept that photo, whether to use as a beacon of hate or chew on and cry who knows. 

-ben and kevin dont give a shit about what form the other takes, the only time ben has ever blushed about a guy is when mutant kevin grabbed him in the rooters arc and kevin is around alien versions of ben every day and doesnt bat an eye. This is why i think that once kevin and ben get together kevin makes a game about kissing all of his aliens (indiscriminatley. Even if they dont have mouths) he makes a scoring system and writes reviews on how good the experience was in glitter gel pen and makes a ranking list of his favorites. Stinkfly sweeps the vote, shocking everybody. Ben would rank kissing kevins mutations but only 2 out of 5 would even consider it before turning him into pink mist so he just sticks with what he knows.

- ben and kevin get married when theyre older and gwen stays in girlfriend status (mostly bc she knows that ben has a much shorter lifespan than her and kevin and she wants to give him the happiest time she can while hes still there) and they all live in a mansion the size of the white house. Kai comes by once a month to keep kenny happy (he still thinks shes his bio mom even after theyve told him multiple times she was just a donor. Gwen says he gets his delusions from ben). Ben and kevin like to sit on the 500 foot long porch and throw rocks at passerby and snuggle. Kevin is so happy he giggles mindlessly to himself in public, scaring strangers. He tries to get them to look at pictures of his family but this only further creeps them out.

-kevin finds the most random shit ben does extremely charming. hed look at him picking his boogers and eating them and he thinks in his head i need this guy so much. ben finishes a rubix cube not even very fast and kevins like wow. cool. do you like emos.ben is charmed by kevin in the same way. he sees kevin use the toilet brush to scratch an itch on his back and hes like fuck oh fuck oh fuck

I have more i prommy i just cant think of them rn, i will make more if im able. 4 now please have my collection of bevin screenshots under the cut. Spread the word my disciples. fair warning there are a lot

[x-authorship-x]

Hello! Thank you for making the best known fics about Shisui! Reading your tidbits of amusing author notes and writings about him are both appreciated, since shisui-centric fics are really hard to find. I'm thinking of making fanart, but what does your Shisui look like in Until Dawn Breaks? I don't want my interpretation to be wrong, but also want to see how you, as the creator, envisioned him. Also hope you have a good day~

Thank you! 🥰

(You know I just don't learn to save my rants and then boom! They get eaten by Tumblr and I have a trantrum and you guys end up with an unhinged answer instead of the lovely first draft 🤣)

ANYWAY 🙃

Thank you, Anon! This was absolutely lovely to hear(read?) After a long Monday and I'm really happy you're enjoying my fics!

For someone who's been described as overly wordy, my descriptions are - ironically - not usually that helpful but I'll try. I'll also try not to get too carried away but, well, this is draft answer number two so it's already going to be unhinged

SHISUI HIMSELF:

Hot. He's just really hot okay. He's not perfect but he's one of those people who are just effortlessly, really naturally beautiful? Distressingly attractive. If Itachi takes after his mother and looks like a painting of a cresent moon brought to life, Shisui is the Sun. THE SUN

Dimples. One in each cheek, so deep that they're visible when he talks. They hurt my feelings.

He's got a cool undertone in his skin and he's golden in the sun. Shisui IS the sun. This is a very important theme ok lmao

He has a good nose (not a button, not too sharp, not one of those straight line cop-outs, we don't fear noses here), squarer but sharp jawline, flatter thick brows, high cheekbones. Sculpted but very much like "that is one nice guy" than "inhuman statue"

His eyes are as dark as you can naturally get and his hair is the same, no blue tints or anything. Shorter cut on the sides (if he caught a curl in his headband...rip) with angel curls on top (please don't give him a footballers undercut tho 🤣 he doesn't deserve that punishment).

The biggest most beautiful liquid eyes. You know how some guys have the most unfair lashes and you just seethe in resentment? Shisui cripples egos on the daily without realising.

He gets those little 'eye whiskers'/crows feet around his eyes when he grins really hard. Are you getting the picture that he's devastating. I think he deserves this after the shitshow of canon tbh.

He's 6ft. (There's a reason I cba for now)

More built than you'd think for "fast as fuck". He's built like a sprinter, so "characterized by a muscular build with a high percentage of fast-twitch muscle fibers, allowing for explosive power, speed, and quick reaction times." Think a bit slighter than Usain Bolt.

As of NoT, Shisui wears his mother's Uzushio earrings 24/7. Single lobe piercing, an engraved silver bell hangs from each silver hoop.

As of UDB, Shisui has white sealwork around his eyes. Think:

OUTFITS

JOUNIN UNIFORM: (as of UDB) black ANBU pants and sandals, high neck black shirt (varying sleeve lengths), very dark purple waistcoat-jacket with a mandarin collar that has a black crow embroidered in mid-flight in each corner (he doesn't wear this in summer). Headband on forehead, bandages around his calves and one thigh, over which he has his supply kit. Tantō holster across his shoulders.

CASUAL: black ANBU pants and sandals, Uchiha tee shirt, tantō holster.

UDB MISSION: there's some variation (he starts off with the crow vest on and then seals it away at some point lmao idk I can't remember) but generally.... the same base as his Jounin Uniform but with black boots and a thicker jumper, bandages around his thigh under his skirt and also binding his feet and hands (Rock Lee hands). He wears a dark navy scarf with small back tassels around the edges wrapped around his head, shoulders and lower face (only eyes visible), and a skirt.

The skirt is from below his bellybutton to halfway down his calves and it falls straight, a dark navy with a slight tapestry pattern in thick fabric, common for northern regions. There are slits up both sides for movement and his second and third tantō are accessible through the pockets where they're strapped to his thighs.

He carries a brown crossbody satchel for appearances but has most of his kit in the supply pouch on the small of his back. His sealwork is covered in cobalt makeup paste that he smears across his eyelids and the bridge of his nose. Think this colour-

- but a total mess lmao.

Hopefully I covered most of this but it's off the top of my head so do ask if you want more/etc etc! Happy drawing, Anon ✨

[perceivedregret]

the stranger things brainrot got me to write something. it's been plaguing my mind, the worms demanded to be fed, and here we are. anyway, this is mostly for me but i figure might as well share the brainrot with anyone who'd be interested. no beta, a no-upside down au, inspired by that fanart of teacher!steve with some tweaks here and there

Extended Hours are Open

these fragile eggs will likely crack unless you pick another track

"Wheeler, Byers! For the last time- no no no no!"

All Steve could do was pinch the bridge of his nose as the now full blown headache officially bloomed behind his eyes. The crash of his now obliterated mug of coffee rang throughout the classroom, small gasps and ooo's filling every corner.

Steve's shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath in, counting to five before blowing out a raspberry and settling his hands on his hips. Head falling back, his eyes scan the ceiling in an attempt to find his last shred of patience– surely it was somewhere within the water stains.

"Guys how many times do I have to tell you, no lightsaber battles during quiet time ."  He mutters before a long sigh escapes him. He surveys the mess on the floor before finally looking at the guilty parties. Mike and Will were standing stock still in the positions they froze in when the mug went tumbling down. The markers, which were capped and stacked together to make their sabers, are now scattered and still rolling around the floor and through the spilled drink.

Steve straightens his back, eyes wandering over to the rest of the kids who at least understood and respected direction. They quickly avert their eyes and return to their after-school work, not wanting to be under Steve’s scrutinizing gaze that sweeps the room. At one of the tables, Lucas and Dustin had their heads together, snickering amongst themselves with fingers pointed back at the no-do-gooders.

Mike and Will lower their hands, releasing themselves from battle stance. Will’s hand comes up to brush his hair back before settling on the back of his neck while Mike sheepishly hides his hands and the culprit markers behind himself as his lips pull together into a tight line.

“Seriously guys, all we ask is that you take the first thirty minutes here to make sure your homework is done, make sure that you’re prepared for any tests or upcoming assignments, like-” Steve shakes his head, eyes searching for something to start cleaning up the mess. “It's the same rules as last year.”

Mike rolls his eyes, a scowl spreading across his face. “Steve, it’s only the second week of school. We’re still going over syllabus notes. And we’re seventh graders now ! We don’t even have that much-”

“And today is the first day of Extended Hours, Wheeler. We don't have that many rules but right now, all we asked for was thirty minutes of silence for the kids who do have some work to do, to be able to complete it without distractions. There’s twelve of you rugrats in here, not just you two-”

"We can clean this up," Will interrupts, eyes wandering over to the small supply closet in the corner of the room. “We’re sorry.” He throws his arm out, back of his hand tapping Mike’s chest to get them in motion.

Steve was starting to wish he had just applied to Family Video after graduating. He had just made it, the skin of his knees dragging across the finish line towards that diploma. He doesn’t remember the night of the graduation party, only the morning after when he had to stealthily escape the grasps of Taila the morning after. “I’m like a ninja,” he had exclaimed to Robin during lunch at the local diner that afternoon. A fry immediately hit him square in the face, her face scrunched in disgust.

But no, instead of getting to relax and kick back, peddle films for folks to rent, he agreed to take on Extended Hours, again. Robin really wanted to give it a go for another year. Steve couldn’t say no, even if the only reason she could give him was “for reasons!”

They had developed a completely (un)healthy codependency ever since they found that confiscated bag of gummies from Miss Lowers desk last year. Honestly though, how were they supposed to know it was infused?

That afternoon, Robin and Steve purged themselves of their deepest secrets. How Robin looked at Tammy, how she watched Fast Time over and over again but not because of the plot. How Vicki made her stomach writhe with butterflies just because she looked at her and would smile at her in band. How she doesn’t see that white picket fence with some guy by her side, but instead with someone that looked like Tammy or Vicki.

Steve talked about his empty home, his absent parents, how the girls he tried to date were all duds. How he stopped trying to find “the one” with every single age-appropriate babe in town and just let his body do what it wanted. How his eyes started to wander and suddenly he wasn’t only looking at girls like that. How he used to be jealous of the relationship Tommy and Carol had, except, it wasn't because they were happy together, but because Steve wanted Tommy to look at him the way he looked at Carol sometimes….

It didn’t need to be said, but it was understood as they slowly came down that they would never divulge what the other said, but most importantly, that they would be there for each other, always. They stayed together, eyes locked on each other, weary of the other until their understanding finally clicked and eventually Steve asked if she noticed that when Tammy sang she sounded like a Muppet, and that was that.

They have been attached at the hip ever since. They ignored the rumors but dispelled them any time they came up. It was difficult for folks to stomach, to fathom that they were simply platonic– nothing more.

The door to the classroom that had been partially open with a rubber stopper bustles open, Robin charging in. "Steve, I found the- what the heck happened here?" Her smile melted as her eyes wandered between Steve, the boys now scurrying over to the corner, and the coffee that continued to creep across the floor. She eyes the scattered markers, eyebrows knitting together as an annoyed whine escapes her lips. "Guys, what did we say about-"

"We know, we know! We're on it, alright, we're sorry.” Mike exasperates, head tilted all the way back as he follows Will who’s now rushing over to the supply closet, swinging the door open to find anything to clean the mess.

Robin approaches the small desk that Steve is leaning against, arms crossed against his chest. Tip-toeing as she nears the spill, she drops the box of books and card games with a small smile. She’d gone out looking for some stuff that the kids requested to have in the class, things to keep themselves occupied after quiet time.

The requests that had left Steve to fend for himself.

“Can we please please please get some more books in.” Suzie had pleaded, hands together in prayer at her chest. She turned to poor unsuspecting Jamie, grabbing their arm and roping them in for a request they didn't ask for. “Some medieval adventure story, maybe. Or how about an alien space adventure! Or, or, how about something to do with forbidden romance-”  

“Ooo, can we get some Uno cards? Will and I had so much fun playing in Dad’s cabin with Jonathan and Argyle this summer,” Jane interrupted as she scooted close to the end of her seat, eyes wide and hopeful.

“HOLD ON!” Dustin rushed forward, had his arms out wide as his eyebrows tried to escape into his hairline behind his ball cap.  “There’s a new campaign that was just published. Mr. Clarke found it and said he would print it out so that we could take a look but we haven’t had the chance to visit his class since to get the copy!” Dustin was adamant that it had to be picked up today, right now– not later, not tomorrow, now! by the way.

A few more requests from the rest of the kids and Steve’s eyes were starting to glaze over, brows together as he tried keeping up with the growing list. Robin nodded along with every request until they finally stopped coming in. She had tapped her chin with her pointer finger, deep in thought before saying okay. She had turned to leave without consulting Steve.

“Rob,” he scoffed as he grabbed her elbow before she made her escape. “There’s, like, that five-to-one rule! You can’t leave me alone with these kids, I’m outnumbered here.” Steve was watching the class wearily as they settled into their seats to start quiet time.

“It’ll be fine Harrington, I won’t even be gone two minutes. And I’m pretty sure Principle Murray said the rule is seven-to-one, Dingus. I’ll be right back.” As she spun on her heels, she yelled back “and no lightsaber marker battles!”  before marching right out on her quest.

“Right back” was 14 minutes ago. Steve knows because he was counting down the seconds.

Four minutes after I’ll be right back, Erica had asked Steve for some help with an assignment for English. He crouched beside her as she squirmed in her seat to get a closer look. Across the top of the page in bold print was My Summer Vacation in 100 words or More. He was helping her choose which summer adventure to write about when his eyes caught movement outside the window. He ignored it and gave Erica his full attention.

Seven minutes after I’ll be right back , he had convinced Erica to write about the trip she and the rest of the Sinclairs went on– that pop-up carnival that wandered through Hawkins some time in mid-June.

It was alright. He personally had gone there with Robin and it would have been a more enjoyable experience if it weren’t for all the creepy clowns at every single stand. They ended up finding Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle at some point and enjoyed the rest of that night together as a group of friends.

Nine minutes after I’ll be right back and Steve let curiosity of the movement from the window win him over as he wandered over to take a peak. A scoff had escaped his lips as he parted the hanging louvers to get a clearer look at the figures he had spotted across the courtyard. 

Ten minutes after I’ll be right back and there she stood.

Robin was in the courtyard talking to Nancy, the box of requests settled casually against her hip as they laughed amongst themselves over some unheard joke. Nancy had stepped forward, hand settled against Robin’s arm that carried Steve’s reprieve as she threw her head back and laughed harder, Robin hiding her smile behind the hand that wasn't occupied.

Okay, first of all, Robin isn’t even that funny, okay. Steve had thought to himself as he leaned closer to the window, breath fogging the glass. Alright, and wait.. is Nancy making a move…  I know Robin developed a crush after the carnival and those two were inseparable all summer when we weren’t together and- wait, who cares right now, Robin! There are kids waiting for you here, man! Me, I’m waiting !

Steve had dropped his head, eyes closed and despair hidden behind his fallen hair as he stepped away from the window, resolved to the fact it was going to be a while before Robin got back.

It was at minute eleven when Steve had made his first warning to Mike and Will. Stop stacking those markers and keep quiet please. He went over to the coffee machine (thank you Ms. Byers, by the way) and started to make a batch as the inkling of a headache started at his temples.

A few minutes later, a few more ignored warnings, the crashing of the coffee mug– bing bang boom, we’re all caught up.

Will retreated from the supply closet, a bundle of towels in hand while Mike carried a small bucket over to the sink to fill with water. As they start cleaning up the mess, Steve elbows Robin, her eyes blinking as she shakes her head to clear her daze and turns to him.

“Two minutes, huh,” he accuses as he unfolds his arms, turning to inspect the box of goods. Just about every request he could remember, up to the forbidden romance . “How’s Nance doing with the school newspaper by the way.”

Eyes wide and a smile wide enough to crack anyone else’s face spreads across her own, and Robin starts. “Oh she’s so excited, she was telling me about this story she was going to cover with Fred about those dumb satanic rumors the country is trying to associate with DnD. She’s got interviews lined up, she mentioned someone named Eddie. Do you know him? Munson, he’s older and was supposed to graduate with you, something about dyslexia and attendance or whatever keeping him back a year. No, two. He’s still enrolled, just has to take a few elective courses to finish out the year. Apparently he’s covering most of it at home, just shows up to take tests every once in a while. He’s actually pretty smart- just not good with school. He’s, what do they say? That’s it! Street smart, he’s street smart, not book smart. Oh, and did you know he sometimes makes campaign outlines for the boys? That he ran that Hellfire Club the kids are a part of here in school? Anyways, since Mike and them are all absolute dorks, she wants to get a message across the school about how it’s absolutely not true and to get their heads out of their asses. You know, she gets this passionate look on her face every time she–” Robin suddenly stops rambling, the smile slipping off her face as a flush rises up her neck all the way up to the tips of her ears.

A nervous laugh bubbles from her lips. “Nancy is fine,” she mutters as she scratches at a spot on her neck, red slowly creeping across her cheeks.

Before she could start to overthink, Steve breaks into a wide smile, playfully shoving his best friend to get her attention before grabbing her into a sideways hug. “Rob, it’s fine. She and I– we talked about it and we both agreed that we would be better as friends. You were literally there that night. You know, the night of the carnival? Don’t sweat it,” he whispers so only she can hear, pulling her in to give a reassuring squeeze before letting her go.

She shakes her head, eyebrows pulling close together. “But Steve, there are, like, codes we follow. You’re my best friend. How did you even know- wait, how long have you known?” Another rough shake of her head. “That’s not important- well, it is, but still, you don’t have to say that just to-”

“ Shh! Buckley! I said it’s fine.” He waves her off with a laugh. Did she just stop breathing? “Besides, we shouldn’t talk about this here. Just hear me when I say this.” He turns her so they’re fully facing each other, lowering his head so that they’re at eye level. “It. Is. Fine. Now, please breathe.”

Robin inhales the breathe she had refused to take and stands there, nose scrunching as a wince takes over her whole face, “But-”

Steve takes a peak at the clock hanging above the door of the classroom. Seven minutes left until quiet time is over.

Good enough .

He claps his hands together loudly to get her to stop before she even starts rambling again, getting the class’s attention before spinning around to look at the startled eyes.

“Alright! I say we call it early, we grab all of our belongings, and take Extended Hours outside! Come on, let’s get some sun.” He waves his arms to signal everyone to start moving, ignoring Robin’s attempts to catch his attention by grabbing the box of requests and making his way to the classroom door, propping it open with his shoulder while the kids gather their belongings and get themselves ready to move. Will and Mike scramble to get the bucket and towels rung out and the markers put away to follow everyone outside.

Robin points at Steve, gives him a we’re going to talk about this later look before rolling her eyes and using the finger she had pointed at him to start counting the kids.

“One! Two.. five, eight,” Steve taps Jane’s head as he says “Eleven, and twelve,” he exclaims, holding the door for Robin to follow the line of kids outside to the courtyard. She runs ahead, the lead of the train to keep the kids in order while Steve keeps an eye from the back, letting the classroom door swing shut behind him.

Steve is snooping through the box to get a better look at the contents at the bottom as they’re rounding a corner when he runs into a body. No, when he runs into two bodies.

“Oh shi- I’m so sorry, I should have been paying attention,” Steve apologizes while he re-centers himself, settles the box to his side and brushes his hair back before he looks up at the offended parties who stood side by side, pinkies interlocked. He recognizes them both but is only familiar with–

“Holy shit, is that Max.”

“ Lucas! ” Robin spins at the curse. “What did we say about language!”

“Sorry! It’s just, we haven’t seen Max since last year and she had been out all of last week. We just didn’t think we’d see her again.”

“Yeah, we thought she went back to California or something.” Dustin mutters. Lucas sheepishly smiles at Max before cutting his eyes to Dustin and then immediately to the floor. Jane waves excitedly in the line to Max, who half smiles from where she stands.

The line is no longer moving, at a stand still in the middle of the hall as the sudden interaction takes place.

Max was part of Extended Hours the year before when she and Billy were both enrolled at Hawkins Middle and High. He would often leave without her, blue Camaro roaring away with whoever Billy was fooling around with that week and, without a ride, she stuck around and was a part of the party.

Things got rocky towards the end of the year. From what Steve understood, their parents were going through the process of divorce and it was really hard for the both of them. Billy ended up dropping out in the middle of the semester, got his GED, went straight back to Cali and, from what they all understood, he never looked back.

After Billy left, things got worse for Max. The smallest things would set her off and she slowly pushed everyone away, Walkman blocking out the noise as she kept to herself more and more. Robin, Steve, Nancy- they tried to do what they could but she was a brick wall that refused to crumble. She stopped showing up to Extended Hours and would just skate home after school. She finished up the school year and, as Lucas said, hadn’t been seen or heard of since.

“Hey, Eddie. Max.” Mike looks between everyone, a small wave of his hand from where it hangs at his hips before he takes a small step back, a bit behind Will. Eddie smiles and nods in recognition as he winks at the kids who he’s helped campaign for.

Steve clears his throat, extends his hand in apology and exhales as Eddie takes his hand with a smile, other hand still interlocked at the pinkies with Max’s. “Sorry, again. Munson, Max- what brings you two to school after hours?” Steve stares between the two because, well, it’s an odd pairing to be running into if he’s honest. How did she know Eddie? How did Eddie know her and why were they here together?

Weird pairing. Not that Eddie was weird. Well, okay, he was “the freak” Munson, but Steve “the king” knew better than to listen to rumors, especially the outlandish ones.

The man before Steve didn’t exactly meet those rumored expectations. Eddie’s usually wild mane was currently up in a do, in a loose low hanging bun with wisps framing his face. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt that read “Skylar’s Vibe,” which Steve recognized as the music shop in town. He had on a sleeveless jean jacket that was covered in pins and patches, with one larger patch proudly present on his front left pocket– Hellfire Club.

Steve’s eyes traveled back down to the interlocked pinkies. His nails are painted with black nail polish, chipped, and a digital watch on one wrist and an assortment of black wrist bands on the other. Tight, ripped black jeans hugged his legs. He’s pale between the slits, he notes.

He looked back at Eddie’s face, smiling between the two again. No way this dude bit off a bat’s head. Might have sold some kids some weed, but definitely has never been to prison for murder. Soft doe eyes like that? This guy was innocent in Steve’s books.

Although that mouth, lips pursed in a smirk before a tongue sneaks out to wet his lips– that mouth surely has its secrets. Maybe that one rumor about-

“I’m just dropping Max off for Extended Hours. I know she didn’t make it for classes all week and wasn’t in today but we figured better late than never.” Eddie interrupted Steve’s train of thought and, thank god because where exactly was the destination?

“Oh, that’s nice of you Munson,” Robin exclaims from the front of the line as she extends a hand out for Max. “We were just going to go outside, get some sun. Just got done with Quiet Time, about to go through that box,” she tips her chin in Steve’s direction. “Now that Max is here, we could all catch up! I know we’ve all missed you.” She directs that last part to Max, who sheepishly bows her head as a smile threatens to break her cool composure.

Max looks at the hand that’s interlocked with Eddie’s, gives his pinky a squeeze as she looks up at him. He gives her an encouraging nod, pulling their interlocked arms forward so she can take steps towards Robin’s extended hand, breaking their connection.

A deep breath fills her small body as Max takes a step forward and takes Robin's hand, nodding at everyone as she passes them. “I guess I’ve missed being here with you guys, too.” She nods, as if to herself, seemingly trying to convince herself as Robin begins moving the group of kids past the double doors that lead to the courtyard.

Steve doesn’t move with them, just watches the group go outside, sees the way Lucas and Jane have a sudden extra pep in their step as they follow Robin and Max with the others.

“Anyways, I’ll be back to pick her up– is the pick up time still five?” Eddie taps Steve’s arm with the back of his hand before using that same hand to point behind him. “I just, I gotta get back to work, finish out my shift.” Eddie starts to walk backwards, eyes on Steve as he slowly makes his way back down the hallway to get to the parking lot, waiting for a response.

“Huh- Oh, yeah, the pick up time is at five or anytime before, but I sometimes take the kids home if parents call me ahead of time for the favor. They usually compensate me for the gas-” Steve shakes his head. “But, wait, before you go! How do you know Max? Where’s her mom?” Steve re-adjusts the box, the weight finally getting to him as he’s been holding it for so long. He rests it against his hip, his other hand going to the back of his neck to scratch an itch that had suddenly festered deep under his skin.

Why was it suddenly so warm? Also, were there ants crawling up his arms? His neck? Into his hair?

Eddie grimaces in a way that tells Steve it’s not his place to explain. Hm . “Her mom moved into the trailer park I live in. They’re right across from the one I live in with my uncle Wayne.” He nods as he decides what’s enough to say without saying too much or too little. A few more hairs fall from his up-do before he decides to take out the black tie that was holding it up and shakes out his hair with his hand, an exasperated sigh escaping him.

“Let’s just say my family has gotten close with her’s and… she’s the little sister I wish I had.” He nods again, a smile on the cusp of his lips. “I’m just trying to help her and her mom out right now. That’s it.” He clasps his hands together, smiling as he playfully salutes to Steve before turning on his heel. “Thanks for watching Little Red, Harrington. Give my thanks to Buckley and tell the little DnD shits I’ll talk to them soon! I’ll see you when I pick her up later.” 

He rounds a corner and he’s gone. 

Steve can hear the door that leads to the parking lot open and close. He stands there for a moment, runs a hand down his arms to shake off the imaginary ants before making his way to the courtyard.

So. Max and Eddie are a sudden brotherly-sister duo. Huh. 

“Dude, give us the box!” Dustin just about rips the box from Steve's grasp. “Where the hell is it,” he mutters while he rummages through it. Slowly the rest of the kids gather around to take turns taking out their requests.

Steve slowly makes his way towards Robin who’s seated in one of the benches that line the edge of the open field of grass where the kids slowly spread out into their own respective groups. He spies Max and Jane, hand in hand and settling down to sit across the way to watch the rest of the kids. Steve assumes they’re catching up for the time that was lost during the summer.

He watches as Max’s face lights up, animated with whatever conversation she’s having with Jane. They set up the cards to start playing their game of Uno. Suzie slowly approaches, seems to ask a question before taking a seat in the circle with them to play, the book she requested forgotten beside her.

“Wipe that smile off your face Steve, it was me who made that happen. I’m the one who went out on the quest of Children’s Demands. Just look at the fruits of my labor. Happy children! Happy children everywhere.” She smirks as she shakes her head. She takes a moment to look around, mentally counting the number of kids before them, smiling wide as she whispers “thirteen,” and tips her head back to soak in the sun.

“We were only twelve not even five minutes ago. Now we’re for sure outnumbered here, Robs.”

“It’s seven-to-one, Mr. Airhead-ington. We’d need 2 more kids before we’re officially outnumbered in Murray’s books.” She sways from her seat, eyes still closed as she sighs contently.

Steve hums, eyes still on Max in the distance, occasionally making sweeps to account for the rest of the kids. “Did she mention anything to you?”

“Max? No. Asked what she wanted to do, if she was okay but then Jane had her arm and was pulling her away from me before I could get an answer. I won’t pry, not yet. There’s a smile on her face that I want to stay there a while longer before we try to pry.” Robin’s head snaps up, eyes squinting against the sun. “What about Eddie, did he mention anything after you gawked at him in the hallway before he left?”

“Nah, he didn’t seem comfortable sharin– wait- excuse me, I wasn’t gawking , I was-”

“Drooling.”

“Robin.”

“Fine! Admiring, then,” Robin laughs, hiding her smile behind her hands before she playfully shoves Steve.

“I was- fine, I was staring ,” he enunciates the word, hands moving dramatically before him as he continues. “It was kinda weird to see them come in together like that, is all. I was, what’s that SAT word- dumbfounded .”

“That’s not an SAT word.”

Quick roll of his eyes. “Anyway, he didn’t say anything. Just that he’s been helping her and her mom out this summer and that he’ll be back to pick her up before five.” Steve rakes a hand through his hair. His eyes wander back to Max, Jane, and Suzie. “Glad to see she’s okay at least.”

“Yeah… we’ll just have to wait and see if she decides to open up to us. At least she found Eddie.”

“At least she found Eddie.”

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

[piracytheorist]

Has anyone sent you Damian yet?

Oh boy. Some people ain't gonna like this. It's 1 am and I'm choosing violence against a fictional neglected kid character :)

First impression: Oh nice he's choosing the exact right words to hit my trauma buttons from when I was being bullied at school. I am going to hate him :)

Impression now: Kid okay you deserve better but ALSO NO-ONE DESERVES YOUR SHIT OK

Favorite moment: When he gives his school supplies to George Glooman as a parting gift. It's a culmination of his actions the entire day, where he saw how upset George was and even though Damian knew it was none of his fault, he still did his best to cheer him up. It showed he has actual potential to be a good kid, if he put his mind to it.

Idea for a story: Uhhh dunno. Too biased to think of something. Probably something that teaches him that he doesn't need to use power and influence to have positive interactions with people. That he can be just a kid spending time with equals.

Unpopular opinion: I am an outspoken anti of the ship. He doesn't deserve Anya, and even if/when he actually starts exhibiting decent behaviour, not only towards her but everyone else as well (no I'm not forgetting how he insulted Loid, an actual adult who to his knowledge has never done him any harm other than be a peasant I guess), his story mustn't end with a romance between them. He needs to be rejected nicely and if Anya wants to she can stay friends with him and he can learn from it. Being accepted as Anya's romantic partner (as a teenager bc holy god if earlier) won't magically fix his issues and will send a bad message that I honestly believe Endo doesn't give a shit about. Change has to come from within. Outside support can be offered, but not as a reward for his positive change.

Favorite relationship: Oof. Lol. With his dog, I guess. For me as an anime only, this has been the only interaction so far (even though it was just a memory of his) that he wasn't exercising his power and influence over someone and where he allowed himself to be as affectionate as he wanted. He showed empathy towards George but with George's blunder things must be pretty awkward between them, and though Damian loves his father and craves for his attention, Donovan is so fucking toxic that he needs to stay miles away from Damian. His brother isn't that much better either.

Favorite headcanon: Inspired by this and this fanart, that when he learns about Anya's powers he messes up one day thinking that Anya can or cannot read his mind and he fills his mind with thoughts he wants or doesn't want Anya to read, respectively. Results are disastrous. This is my ideal dynamic for them. Is this a headcanon? My post my rules so it is.

Send me a character!

[broken-clover]

Ky for the ask meme!

...Man, I realize I've got a really weird view of the guy (also 7oby has gotten me hooked on the cute symbols, sorry)

🎇 Overall opinion of them

He is simultaneously a deep character with one of the most fleshed out philosophies in the series that goes through a compelling growth over time to become more accepting of not only others but also his own flaws, and a whitebread catholic twunk who probably thinks paprika is spicy and that I will take any opportunity to dunk on. Both work <3

🎇 Gender/sexuality headcanons

Bi, but like in a low key way. He doesn't talk about it with everyone but if the conversation comes up he'll just go 'oh yeah I like men too'

(aside note I feel kinda eh about the religious guilt that tends to get brought up in (admittedly mostly older) slash fics, partly because it feels passé and partly because I'd like to think they had more important things to worry about. Who gives a shit if you're kissing men, there is a giant techno-magic hydra attacking England which do you think is more pertinent)

🎇 Favorite moment in canon

I honestly think his Xrd iteration was peak, seeing him actually settle into his role as king and find happiness in his family was really sweet. Would be lying to say it's not the part where he gets shot and just blows it off though.

🎇 Favorite moment in a fanwork

I...thought this one would have been easy, but nothing is coming to me. I guess I really haven't read too many fics that go into Ky specifically as a character, as in not a part of a relationship that's the main focus. I do tend to like any writing that gives him a bit of sass alongside his properness, Rex does it really well, and any fanart that lets the man just have a damn break.

🎇 Favorite line, in canon or otherwise

Had to re-look this one up but it's this:

"Why must I make friends with the hated and make enemies of the respected...? It's times like these when I miss the days of the war. The days before I discovered the little space between good and evil."

I think it shows off his character really well in one bit of internal reflection. It's still back in XX but I love how it shows even in his more uptight iterations that he still fundamentally wants to do the right thing even if he doesn't quite understand all the intricacies of doing so. Seeing that progression is a major appeal of his character

🎇 Characters I love seeing them interact with

Probably said it before, but I like how versatile Ky can be, he can make a good rapport with so many other characters. But I could always do with more time with his whole weird family, shit, I'd take a whole sitcom about it

🎇 Last thing before sleeping headcanons

He seems the type to have a regular routine, though I like the thought that as opposed to doing it with war rations and supplies he has actual nice soap and the like. I think he deserves nice soap.

🎇 Sleeping habits headcanons

Still sleeps absolutely stone-still as he did back in the war. Thankfully, at least, he doesn't jerk awake at every noise. Dizzy probably wraps around him like a porch vine

🎇 First thing after waking up headcanons

Oh you know he's one of those guys who says they do morning jogs and actually does do them...gotta kiss Dizzy first though, very important.

🎇 Favorite locations headcanon

Ky works well basically anywhere, he's flexible

But he's probably got a soft spot for pastoral France, or areas that remind him of it. He doesn't have a home to go back to, but this can be the next best thing.

[ask-ruruskele]

Character sheet and other info below the cut!

(I would love anyone who makes fanart)

Art is by @rgblog <3 (aka the owner of the blog lmao)

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=P_vx04N1lGqxm-uInIlUR6yBe4Zsp7cGswRL4q4_EGY

https://characterhub.com/character/rudy-ruru

Mini Backstory / Background Info

Ruru, or by his original name 'Rudy' was born to a Crow-like monster father, Alfred, and a skeleton mother. His mother was disgusted with his hybrid-ness and left him with Alfred. Alfred named him Rudy, as it was similar to a well known gem in the village 'Ruby'. Rudy has never met his mother and has no memories of her. At around age 5, his father enrolled him in flying training only to find that Rudy's wings were to weak and small for him to fly. Alfred was suggested to get his wings removed but that didn't happen as it would be a painful process. When Rudy turned 13, his father exited the village for supplies and other items for the two of them and never returned. When Rudy was 17, he left the village to travel the woods and build his own home there. Unfortunately, he injured the ends of his wings badly climbing trees and they got left matted with blood and ripped. Now, he sets up nests for himself to stay in wherever its necessary. Rudy hopes to find his parents one day.

[angels-and-demons]

Was just messing about on the otp prompt generator (link), and here are a few that I like.

Use them in your fanfics, use them for your fanart. Whatever.

Under the cut for length:

Nico tilting Toby's chin up to get a better look at his face and the evidence of the fight. Nico delicately thumbs away a streak of blood from Toby's mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, Toby's heart skips a nervous beat as Nico looks him dead in the eyes. His voice is quiet and tense. His anger barely restrained.

"Who did this to you?"

-

Toby is normally the clingy one and the one that likes the attention. Well, one day, Nico comes home and is exhausted and proceeds to cuddle up onto Toby like a kitten. Nico puts their face into Toby's neck and Toby enjoys every minute of it as Nico is begging for kisses and cuddles and Toby is happy to supply.

-

Nico and Toby go to the bookstore and suddenly Toby runs away. When Toby comes back, he is holding a Yoda plushie. Toby then talks in a Yoda voice saying: "Run over bitch in my 2003 Toyota Prius I must" and Nico responds with howling laughter.

-

Toby and Nico throwing food for the ducks at the duck pond.

-

Nico and Toby are on a hammock together, the sun is setting, the air cools and Nico is asleep on Toby's chest while Toby has a foot on the ground, rocking the hammock in hopes of keeping Nico asleep.

-

Toby dancing around their home with headphones in, eyes closed, and singing as loudly as they please to their favorite song while Nico stands in the doorway, watching their oblivious partner dance and sing with a loving smile on their face.

-

Laying in bed, foreheads pressed together, just gazing into each other's eyes and taking it all in. Everything is silent.

And then, Toby suddenly sneezes and scares Nico so badly that they fall out of the bed, causing Toby to laugh.

-

 *Nico TEXTING Toby*

Nico: Toby, I'm sorry.

Nico: Please talk to me baby

Nico: Muffin?

Nico: Sweet pea?

Nico: The love of my life.

Nico: Beautiful cinammon roll who's too pure and precious for this world.

Toby: Sorry doesn't bring back my fucking Skittles, Nico.

-

Nico and Toby enjoying a night of stargazing. Things are going well, and romantic, they start to kiss/make out and a storm hits. But instead of seeking shelter from the rain they make love under the night sky not caring if they’re drenched.

They’re just caught up in the moment of passion itself, the heated air of summer only provides a good reason to enjoy it. 

Bonus: Either one or both get sick.

-

Toby wakes to find that it had snowed overnight and gets excited about playing in it. Nico gets excited because this means that when Toby comes inside, it will mean that they get to cuddle by the fire.

[aurorasilverthorne]

Vampire Don't Fall In Love: Chapter #5

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! The Bailey School Kids books and all of the characters belong to Marcia T. Jones and Debbie Dadey.

Note: Hombre Lobo belongs to me. If you use him in fanfiction or fanart, just please remember to credit me as his creator. Thank you.

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

Mr. Lobo walked from his house on Forest Lane to the old Clancy Estate on Delaware Boulevard. It wasn’t a long trek. Ten to fifteen minutes at most. He carried two bags of supplies in one hand and a large tool box in the other.

He kept telling himself the only reason he was going anywhere near Mrs. Jeepers was because Eddie and his sister needed the old house to be livable. He was doing the work for the children not her.

Lobo paused on the sidewalk outside the overgrown yard. The Queen Anne Victorian had been left in shambles by the previous owner. Busted shutters dangled haphazardly from window seals, leafy vines crawled up and along both sides of the house, broken glass panes, crumbling wooden boards and eroded metal frames dared local prowlers and thieves to take their best shot.

Lobo noted how the steps and porch groaned under his weight. He lifted the heavy iron knocker. It struck the wood. Once. Twice. Three times before the old door creaked open. He found himself face to face with Mrs. Jeepers.

She wore a polka dotted dress, a pair of black boots and her curly red-orange hair pulled back into a ponytail by a ribbon. The dark crimson spots on her crisp, white blouse and matching skirt looked like blood spatter peeking out at him from beneath her black silk vest with its silver buttons.

She tried to smile for him, but it just came off as awkward and a bit forced. “Thank you for doing this. I appreciate it and I am sure the children do too.”

Lobo doubted it. The children didn’t like them. Perhaps they sensed the beasts that lurked just beneath the skin, or Mrs. Jeepers had slipped up and let her true nature show.

She stepped aside so he could enter the house. Cobwebs and dust greeted him.

“Where do you want me to start?” he asked.

“Why don’t you begin in the backyard and work your way in from there,” she suggested.

Lobo nodded.

He spent the rest of the day ripping out weeds thick as a man’s fingers and mowing grass so high it brushed his hips. He laid out stone pavers and lights, even planted seeds for an herb and vegetable garden before he added a different batch of seeds in the front for a flower garden.

After watering the seeds and returning the push mower he’d borrowed from a neighbor, Mr. Lobo paused to examine all his work. Both yards looked better, but he was already calculating in his head everything he’d need to repair the interior of the house.

A delicate hand, its tapering fingers tipped with green polish, rested on his shoulder. He didn’t  turn. He knew who stood beside him. Mrs. Jeepers smelled faintly of wintery night air, damp, clean earth and roses.

“You’ve done enough for today,” she told him. “If you would like to return tomorrow after school lets out, that will be fine. I must ready myself for work. There is much to do and little time for it.”

“I’ll be here around three-thirty or four. I need to pick up some more tools and supplies at the hardware store. Give me a call if you need anything.”

He jotted down his number on a crumpled up napkin he’d found in his pocket and gave it to her.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Jeepers.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Lobo.”

Lobo watched her walk back inside the house and waited for the unmistakable click of a door lock sliding into place before he headed home.

Bailey wasn’t a large city, more like a small town, but that didn’t make it safer. A woman living by herself was a prime target for all manner of criminals.

All werewolves were protective and territorial. Lobo kept watch over the human residents and a close eye on the preternaturals who called Bailey City home.

He saw Boris Hauntly working in his conservatory at the Hauntly Manor over on Dedman Street. Boris’ mother, Madame Hauntly, was treating some local children to milkshakes at a Doodle Burger on Main. Drake and Frank were at the park shooting hoops with O’Grady and Eugene. Dr. Granite and Mr. Ore were off helping Dr. Victor with an experiment at the Shelly Museum.

Everything is as it should be, he told himself.

Maybe, if he kept telling himself that, he’d brainwash himself into believing it. He’d try anything to stop thinking about her.

Yeah…right…

His mind immediately drifted to the all-too-familiar scent of cold night air, damp soil and roses. To the pale, beautiful face that had haunted all his dreams for more than a century.

Mr. Lobo pushed old memories aside and unlocked the door to his house. He saw no reason to revisit the past. Better to put it behind him than to obsess over what might’ve been and would never be again.

◇◇◇

Justine Hauntly froze upon seeing her favorite cousin’s tears. “Sorina, what…what happened?”

Mrs. Jeepers quickly wiped the salty droplets from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It is nothing. Allergies, perhaps.”

Justine folded her arms. “This would not have anything to do with Hombre Lobo, would it?”

Mrs. Jeepers bit her bottom lip to keep from sobbing. “No…”

Justine sighed. “Sorina, it is only natural for you to feel as you do. I am sure seeing him again is not easy. The two of you were close once and things did not end on the best terms.”

“I left him at the alter on our wedding day with only a letter asking forgiveness and no real explanation,” Sorina reminded her. “Hombre despises me. He will not so much as look my way unless it is necessary to maintain professional appearances.”

“Have you tried speaking with him privately?” Justine asked.

“He will not stay in a room with me if it means we will be alone together,” Sorina replied. “I…I may have upset him during his first music lesson. I panicked at seeing him after so many years and…”

“And…?” Justine urged her gently.

“I touched my brooch,” Sorina went on. “I should not have. His breed are immune to our allure, I know, but the magic…touched him. Hombre became angry. He believes I did it on purpose.”

“Using magic to coerce another is considered taboo amongst the werewolves,” Justine admitted. “But you did not mean to do it. I am sure he will calm down, and once he does, you will be able to discuss what happened and why it was necessary for you to react as you did.”

Sorina sniffled. “I hope you are right. I can not stand that he is so upset with me. I wish I could make Hombre understand that I regret my decision. He does not realize how badly I have missed him.”

“Perhaps fate is giving the two of you the chance to reconcile and start again,” Justine suggested.

“If so,” Sorina replied, “I do not intend to waste the opportunity I have been granted. I will speak to Hombre. Even if he rejects my feelings, at least I will have done all that I could to right the wrong I committed against him.”

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

[arrantsnowdrop]

Wrongly Accused  - Azriel x Reader (smut)

Fanart by LadyCamafeo on DeviantArt

Request: “angst to smut and then fluff” - Reader is a healer working for the Inner Circle, convinced that Azriel doesn’t like her.

Tags: @lillysugarsxx

Warnings: smut!!!! don’t read if you aren’t 18! also angst

Word Count: 6,000 (sorry)

A/N: Here’s another Azriel one! Sorry it took me about a week to write, I’m not amazing at writing smut and didn’t want it to be horrendous. I have a few more Azriel fics to write that people have requested, as well as one about Cassian! Feel free to request other stuff, but know it might take me a little longer to write it. I hope you enjoy! :)

Your father worked as an apothecary in Velaris, running a small shop to sell medicines and offer treatment when needed. You’d helped him ever since you were little - stocking supplies and bandaging small injuries. Over time, you developed a genuine interest in medicine and the chemistry behind it, working with your father as he developed new treatments for the common illnesses and ailments in the City of Starlight.

One night while your father was out on a house call, the High Lord of the Night Court himself had winnowed into your house after a mission had gone awry. He’d been seeking your father’s medical attention, of course, but he wouldn’t be home for hours, leaving you to tend to Rhysand’s wounds as he collapsed on your kitchen floor. While cleaning out a large cut on his arm you’d realized he’d been poisoned somehow, his skin far too pale for the minimal amount of blood he’d lost, his veins a startling shade of green. Despite your panic you’d been able to find a suitable antidote to the poison, calming down only when his complexion returned to normal. You wrapped his wounds, dragged him onto your couch, and called it a night.

In the morning, he’d been shocked that you’d been able to heal him, explaining he’d been struck by a poisoned arrow in a remote part of the Night Court. Apparently the poison was quite obscure, and Rhysand had praised you for what he deemed was “superior medical knowledge.”

You’d chalked it all up to a lucky guess, and after a once-over from your father you sent the High Lord on his merry way. A week later, he returned and offered you a job as a healer in the House of Wind.

You’d been hesitant to accept - you didn’t want to leave your father to run the shop alone - but at the end of the day, Rhys paid you more, allowing you to buy more supplies and medicines for your father to use. Plus, the library in the House of Wind was humongous, and you’d be able to learn more about medicine and healing there.

In the end, you’d taken the job, getting a better paycheck and the best friends in the whole world at the same time.

The Inner Circle was more than a family, and they’d welcomed you into their lives as if they’d known you for centuries. Rhys and Amren dedicated themselves to furthering your education, with Rhys frequently leaving new books outside your door and Amren inviting you over to her apartment to study. Cassian had convinced you to let him teach you self-defense, and Mor brought you with her to Rita’s almost every weekend.

There was, however, one member of the Inner Circle who hardly acknowledged your presence. After years of living in the House of Wind, you were confident Azriel hated you.

What other explanation could there possibly have been for the way he treated you? He hardly talked to you unless it was necessary, giving you answers and replies that hardly qualified as sentences. And you didn’t miss the looks he gave you during dinners and meetings that, in your opinion, were borderlining on glares.

What really sucked was how badly you wanted to be his friend. On the rare occasions you saw him smile or even laugh, you wanted nothing more to make him as happy as the other members of the Inner Circle did. But deep down you knew that would never happen; he simply wanted nothing to do with you, and that hurt.

But you ignored it, ignored his side-eyes and curt answers and obvious dislike of you. You understood it, you were a stranger who started living in his house and joined his centuries-old friend group. So you pushed all your own feelings aside and pretended that being in the same room as him didn’t spike your anxiety.

The most you’d ever done was ask Mor about it on your way to Rita’s one night. She’d dismissed you with a laugh and a wave of her hand: He’s just quiet, she said. But why did it feel so much more personal than that?

You didn’t want to cause any more trouble than you clearly already had, so you stayed out of his way, only asking him for anything when absolutely necessary.

But as months and then years went by, the anxiety he gave you only worsened. You’d stopped going to their weekly dinners, electing to stay up in your room or visit your father, and only attended meetings when your presence was necessary. Amren had asked you once if everything was okay, but you’d plastered a happy smile on your face and assured her you were just busy. You knew she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t pry.

What really sucked was that you’d stopped going to the library to avoid Azriel. It was one of your favorite places in the House of Wind, though apparently also one of his, considering he was almost always there when you were. Rhys brought you enough books for it not to matter much, but it wasn’t the same as reading in the library’s cozy chairs. You would move them near the windows, admiring the view of Velaris whenever you put your book down. Your room did not match the library’s aesthetic at all, but you were not willing to subject yourself to Azriel’s unfriendliness.

You still trained with Cassian once or twice a week, still visited Amren occasionally, still went out with Morrigan most weekends. But other than those few hours with your friends, other than the weekly trips down to your father, you kept to yourself.

You mostly stayed on your floor, studying on your balcony or in the sitting room a few doors down. Some nights, after everyone had gone to sleep, you’d creep down to the kitchen and read while you made yourself a midnight snack.

That was how you’d chosen to spend tonight, your books and notes laid out across the table while you stood in front of the stove, waiting patiently for the kettle to boil. You’d decided to make yourself tea, picking out a nice herbal variety so that you wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping when you decided to go to bed. You were humming to yourself softly, studying the designs on the mug you’d chosen, when you heard a small rustling behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of Azriel sitting at the table, head propped up on his hand as he read a page of your notes.

He glanced up at you, your eyes meeting briefly, and you turned back to the stove. Perhaps you were having visions? You turned around again…

Alas, he was still there. Not a vision, you decided.

You bit your lip, looking between him and the kettle as your pulse quickened.

“Would you, uh, like some?” you asked, gesturing to the now boiling kettle and hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the slight shake in your voice.

He gave you a slight nod.

“There’s, um, black tea,” you offered, grabbing another mug from the cabinet above you. “But that’s caffeinated so you might stay up for a while if you drink that. I’m having herbal tea which doesn’t do that as much...there’s also green tea.” Your voice trailed off as you picked up the kettle, giving Azriel a cautious glance.

He shrugged. “I don’t know much about tea.”

“Okay!” you said rather shrilly, Azriel jumping a little in his seat. You pretended not to notice, focusing instead on pouring water into the two mugs on the counter. Your brows furrowed in concentration, yelping a bit as a bit of the boiling water spilled onto the counter.

You heard Azriel move in the chair behind you but held your other hand out to stop him.

“It’s good, I’m good,” you rambled nervously, setting the kettle down. You grabbed another tea bag and dropped it into his cup.

“You have to wait a bit before you drink it,” you explained, picking the two mugs up and turning towards the table. “It has to steep, and cool down.”

You set the two mugs on the table, pushing one over to him. He wrapped his hands around it slowly, as if afraid it might break.

You stared at your tea silently, hesitant to say anything else. This was the first time you’d been alone with Azriel in...weeks? Months?

Surprisingly, he was the one who broke the silence.

“Your notes are very detailed,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to the piece of paper he’d been reading before.

“Oh, thank you,” you replied, cheeks heating up a bit. “I spend a lot of time on them, maybe a bit too much.”

“The drawings are very realistic, I like them.” He brought the mug up to his lips and took a small sip. You gave him a small smile and glanced down at your hands.

“I haven’t seen you in the library in a while,” he continued.

You shrugged as if you had no idea. “I guess I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” Azriel asked incredulously. “Doing what, may I ask?”

You frowned at him. “I’ll have you know I do quite a lot around here. Rhys is having me modernize a bunch of old medical texts. That’s a lot of work.”

“Enough to justify you staying out of the library for two months?” he asked.

“Quit stalking me,” you muttered quietly, grip tightening around your mug.

“My job is to watch people, Y/N,” he said easily.

“To watch people who could be threats,” you clarified, sending him a pointed glare. “Which I am not.”

He just stared back at you, and you felt a stab of betrayal at his silence.

“You think I’m a threat?” you asked, hurt evident in your voice.

“I never said that,” he replied quickly, but you were already standing up from the table.

“You also didn’t say I wasn’t.” You began piling your books and notes together, him standing up as if to stop you.

“You’ve been distant for months,” he stated, grabbing your wrist. “Missing meetings, avoiding people.”

“And?” you hissed, pulling your hand out of his grip.

“I’ve noticed in my line of work that people tend to withdraw from others when they’re plotting something,” he said bluntly. You gasped, taking a step backwards from him as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“You think I’m plotting something?” you seethed, no longer trying to keep your voice down.

“What other reason would you have to elude all of us?” he asked.

“To avoid you, Azriel!” you shouted, stepping forward and slamming your hand on the table.

His eyes widened in surprise, mouth opening as you grabbed your stack of books.

“Why-”

“Do not think,” you interrupted, “that I haven’t realized how you’ve regarded me these past few years.” Your voice was steady despite how angry you were.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on,” you seethed. “You glare at me like I’m some lowlife at every meeting, every dinner, every time I see you in the library.”

“I don’t glare at you,” he said incredulously, giving you a confused look as you shook your head.

“You do glare,” you maintained. “And you don’t reply to me half the time, you’re the only person in this whole house who's never gone out of their way to talk to me. But then again, you think I’m some scheming infiltrator, so that all makes sense now.”

“I don’t think that!” he yelled.

“You just accused me of plotting something!” you reminded him angrily. “I literally avoid you because I don’t want to make you hate me more than you already do and you think I’m planning some act of betrayal!”

He just stared at you, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“Do you not care that I have spent every day of my time here terrified of upsetting you?” you shouted. But he remained silent.

And your whole facade crumbled.

“Do you not care?” you asked again, quietly, eyes widening as hurt replaced your anger. You let out a shaky breath, tears forming in your eyes, and turned towards the doorway.

“Y/N-” Azriel started, but you were already walking out of the room. He called after you again, and again. You did not turn around.

You were halfway up the stairs when you bumped into Rhys, tears spilling down your face as you let out a choked sob.

His eyes widened in shock. “Oh my gods, Y/N, what happened?”

You stepped back as he reached out to you, shaking your head at the confusion on his face. “I can’t do this anymore, Rhys,” you rambled, voice shaking. “I can’t, not when he ignores me for years and then accuses me of fucking treason.”

“What? Who?” Rhys asked frantically, brows rising as Azriel appeared at the bottom of the stairs. You let out another sob, and then shook your head.

“I quit,” you managed between sobs. “I quit.”

And then you were racing up the stairs to your room, slamming the door behind you and collapsing on the bed. You heard several different knocks, but you answered none. Instead, you gathered up all your things and shoved them into the bag you kept under your bed. You left the books Rhys had given you in a stack near the door, left the dress Mor had let you wear one weekend laid out on the bed.

Before the sun rose, you snuck out of your room, out of the house, and walked down the ten thousand stairs leading back to Velaris.

----

You’d been away for a whole week, working long hours at your father’s shop and spending the remainder of the day asleep. It was easier to push aside your feelings that way, easier to throw yourself into work than think about how badly Azriel had hurt your feelings.

It was early one morning while you were bandaging a young child that Azriel had walked into the shop, glancing at you as he made his way over to the waiting area.

Your eyes widened in shock and then narrowed into a pointed glare, half of you wanting to curse him out and make him leave. But the other half of you knew that would terrify the child in front of you, so you took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on your face.

“That man looks scary,” they whispered to you, eyes wide with fear as they took in Azriel’s wings and the shadows that wrapped around him. Azriel turned towards you slightly, no doubt listening to your conversation.

“It’s wrong to judge others by their looks alone,” you murmured, tucking the ends of the bandage into place.

You glanced towards the front door as your father walked in, obviously struggling as he carried in a stack of supply crates.

“Good morning Y/N!”

Wordlessly, Azriel walked over to help him. You hadn’t told your father why you’d come back from the House of Wind, so his eyes lit up at the sight of the tall Illyrian.

“Ah, hello spymaster!” he greeted cheerily. “How can we help you today?” “I came to talk to Y/N, actually,” Azriel replied carefully, sending a cautious look in your direction. “Where would you like me to put these?”

You scowled as your father directed Azriel into the backroom, pushing yourself up from where you’d been kneeling on the floor and patting your patient on the shoulder.

“You’re all set!” you smiled, helping the child out of the chair they’d been sitting in.

“Thank you!” they exclaimed, giving you a bright smile and prancing off towards the door.

“Be careful!” you called after them, walking over to the supply cabinet and returning the bandage roll to its drawer.

You stiffened as Azriel walked out of the storage room, watching out of the corner of your eye as he made his way over to you.

He stopped a few feet away, looking at you almost nervously.

“Yes?” you asked, turning your head to glare at him.

“I’ve come to apologize.” His voice was soft.

You laughed humorlessly. “Did Rhys force you to come?” You scoffed as Azriel nodded, rolling your eyes and turning to face the bookshelf by the window.

“I did want to apologize of my own accord,” Azriel replied quickly. You could hear his unease. “Rhys just...urged me to do so sooner rather than later.”

“Ah, does the mighty High Lord miss my presence? Did he think I’d be moved by your apology and want to come back?” you said sarcastically. Azriel looked down at the floor in front of him.

“Everyone, not just Rhys, misses you.” His voice was quiet. “And Cassian is convinced he’s going to get wounded during a mission and die because you won’t be there to fix him up. He keeps complaining about it, actually.”

You chuckled at that, the corners of Azriel’s mouth turning up slightly.

“I don’t want to beg you to return, but I will if I must,” Azriel continued. “Amren demanded I bring you back.”

You remained silent, weighing the options in your head.

“You can tell Amren I’ll be back tonight,” you said finally.

“I can bring you there now, if you want,” he offered. You shook your head.

“I’ll be there tonight,” you restated bluntly, grabbing a few pieces of parchment off the bookshelf and walking towards the backroom. You cast a dismissive glance back at him. “Goodbye, Azriel.”

Hours later, after you’d repacked your belongings and helped your father with his weekly shopping, you began the long trek up to the House of Wind.

If ten thousand steps going downhill was a challenge, ten thousand steps in the other direction was practically impossible. But you were too stubborn to accept help from Azriel, and too prideful to ask Rhys or Cassian either.

It was the middle of the night when you finally finished the climb and made your way into the large living room. Rhys was sitting on a large couch - obviously having stayed up waiting for you - and sent you a rather mean glare as you walked over towards him.

“I’ve been sitting here for hours,” he frowned.

“Hello to you too, gracious High Lord,” you feigned a bow, plopping yourself down in an armchair across from him. You groaned in exhaustion, reaching down to rub your sore leg muscles.

“You do realize Azriel could’ve flown you up, right?” Rhys asked bluntly, clearly unamused by your stunt.

“I don’t need his help,” you retorted, “nor do I want it.”

“I take it you haven’t accepted his apology?”

You shook your head. “It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than some forced apology for me to forgive him.” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He really is sorry.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” you retorted. “He all but accused me of treason, he’d better be fucking sorry.”

“Y/N-”

“Even before this whole accusation thing, he’s never been nice to me,” you interrupted, throwing your hands in the air. “That alone is hard to forgive, let alone suggesting I was plotting against you all.”

“Perhaps it’s time to turn over a new leaf,” Rhys suggested. You gave him an incredulous look.

“Oh, should I bake him cookies?” you suggested sarcastically. “Here you go Azriel, after years of treating me like crap, I’ve come bearing gifts in the name of friendship!”

Rhys groaned, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be his friend,” you huffed. “Do you know how jealous I am of all of you? You make him smile and laugh like it’s no big deal, meanwhile the only reactions I can get out of him are mean looks and psychological analyses.”

Rhysand gave you a curious look. “Jealous?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I want to be able to make him happy, too,” you admitted defeatedly. “That’s why I started avoiding him. I figured I just made him upset.”

“That’s not true!” Rhys insisted, but you shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, standing up and grabbing your bags from off the floor. Rhys just gave you a scandalized look as you made your way towards the stairs.

“You can’t just go to bed after saying something like that!” he called after you. “All of that was completely untrue, we have to unpack that!”

“Goodnight, oh mighty bat man!” you called back as you climbed up the staircase.

Rhys cast a sad glance at the far corner of the living room. You’d failed to notice the winged male standing in the shadows, a broken look on his face.

---- You’d started reading in the library again.

Something about the whole last week and a half had given you a much needed reality check. You lived in this damn house, for crying out loud! You could read a book in the library if you wanted to.

And who were you to care about bothering Azriel? You scoffed just thinking about it - there was no use trying to tiptoe around him anymore.

It was raining outside. You were sitting at a table, reading a book about muscle healing techniques, when two scarred hands slammed down on the wooden surface in front of you.

You glanced up, furrowing your eyebrows at the rather angry look on Azriel’s face. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” you asked rhetorically, redirecting your gaze to the book in your hands.

You shouted in protest when he pulled the book away from you. “Give that back!” you yelled, lunging across the table.

He took a step back, out of your reach. “Not until you explain...this.” He gestured towards you briefly.

“What the hell do you mean?” you asked incredulously, eye wide in confusion. “Give me my book back!”

“Why were you avoiding me?” he asked. You groaned.

“I didn’t want to bother you! Can you just give me my book back?” He shook his head, lips pursed together in thought.

“See, that’s where you’ve got me confused,” he said, hazel eyes fixed on you intently. “When did I ever give you that idea?”

“That I bother you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he nodded. “Oh, I don’t know Azriel, maybe all the times you’ve glared at me during meetings or given me half-assed answers when I asked for something?”

He glared at you, jaw clenching. You rolled your eyes and stuck out your hand.

“I answered your question, I want my book back.”

He shook his head. “I don’t glare at you. I’ve never glared at you.”

“You certainly don’t give me happy looks!” you retorted. “I’ve lived here for years and you’ve never once smiled at me or something I’ve said. I know I’m funny, everyone else likes my jokes!”

“Does that bother you?” he asked lowly.

“Of course it does!” you replied, eyes darting between his face and your book.

“Why?” he asked, hazel eyes boring into yours. You opened your mouth, then paused. You bit your lip, face heating up as you realized you didn’t have an answer. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know!” you stammered. “Azriel I just want my book back, I walked all the way up here yesterday and my legs are very sore, and I’m trying to figure out how to make them stop feeling like jelly…”

Azriel kept his gaze fixed on you as he moved around the table, looking far too predatory for your liking. You took a step back nervously as he approached you, then another, grimacing as your back hit one of the large marble columns holding up the ceiling.

“Why does it bother you?” he asked again, voice softer but even more intense.

“Would you back up a bit?” you hissed, heart pounding as he kept drawing nearer.

“Answer my question,” he growled, stopping right in front of you. He reached out and gripped the marble on both sides of you, effectively trapping you against the column.

You gulped, looking up at him and taking in his strong jawline, his darkened eyes.

“I don’t know!” you cried again. You pushed your hands against his toned chest, frowning when he did not budge. “Move!”

He chuckled lowly, and your eyes went wide.

You stammered for a second, giving him a confused look. “Did I make you laugh?”

“I wouldn’t consider that a whole laugh,” he said with a small smirk. “Maybe a half.” Your jaw dropped.

“What is happening?” you spluttered, frantically looking between his face and his hands and his damn smirk.

Gods, you could get used to a view like this.

“You don’t bother me,” he said finally, gazing down at you with glazed over eyes. “I don’t know where you got that idea.” You leaned your head back against the column, bewildered. “And I do laugh at your jokes.”

“I...I thought you didn’t pay any attention to me,” you clamored, mind spinning when he shook his head.

“On the contrary, Y/N, I pay too much attention to you,” he answered with a gorgeous grin. “Half the time I can’t keep myself from staring at you. Perhaps you’ve been mistaking those looks as glares.”

“That can’t be,” you whispered, brows knit together. “I thought…” You trailed off, speaking proving to be too difficult as you lost yourself in his eyes.

And then he was leaning down, your heart practically leaping out of your chest at the realization that hit you. He was leaning down...leaning…

“Azriel,” you whispered.

And then his lips were on yours, and all you wanted was him.

You pushed yourself up into him, mouths meeting in a heated battle as he moved his hands to cradle your face. You moaned, head reeling as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, as he trailed a hand down to your hip.

You threw your arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around him as he slammed you back into the marble column. You moaned again, tilting your head up as he began exploring your neck with his mouth.

His name was like a chant on your lips, a cry leaving your mouth as he bit down on the skin between your neck and your shoulder. He growled, bringing a hand up to fondle one of your breasts.

“Azriel... Azriel please,” you begged, arching into his hand.

“What do you want?” he murmured, eyes dark as he watched you writhe against him.

You moaned loudly, the obscene noise echoing throughout the library.

“Touch me,” you managed, your core clenching as he groaned.

He whisked you away from the column, turning around and laying you on top of the table you’d been reading at minutes ago. You pulled him down on top of you, lips colliding in a sloppy mix of tongue and teeth. You didn’t care.

You trailed your hands down the broad expanse of his back, fingers brushing against the base of his wings. He shuddered against you, shadows tickling your skin sensually.

“Take this off,” you murmured, tugging at his shirt.

He was happy to oblige, pushing himself off you and pulling his shirt over his head. You groaned, trailing your hand down your body at the sight of him.

You grabbed at the laces that held the front of your dress together, undoing the knot as Azriel helped you shimmy out of it. He let out a wanton moan at the sight of your bare breasts, surging forward to capture one in his mouth and cupping the other in his hand.

You threw your head back, moaning as he made his way down from your breast to your stomach.

He looked up at you, hands gripping the fabric now bunched around your hips. You bit your lip and nodded, heat pooling in your stomach as Azriel slid the rest of the dress off of you. His eyes darkened at your body, displayed for him on top of the table.

“Let me just admire you for a moment,” he murmured, hand tracing a line from your navel to your thigh.

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers ghosted over the apex of your thighs. You were dripping.

“What do you want, darling?” Azriel drawled, grinning as you moaned loudly. “Use your words for me.”

“Please,” you panted as he dragged his hands down your sides, grinding desperately against nothing, relishing in the heat of his hands and the cold of his shadows.

“What do you want?” he whispered again, and you spread your legs.

“I want you here.”

He let out a strangled groan, dropped to his knees, and pressed his mouth against your aching core.

“Azriel!” you cried breathlessly, hips lurching as pleasure jolted up your spine. He snarled, throwing your legs over his shoulders. You moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure as he sucked your clit.

“Keep these still,” he growled, draping an arm over your hips and lowering his head again.

Your breath hitched as the coil in your center began to tighten, shaking legs clenched around the sides of Azriel’s face.

You glanced down, taking in the sight of Azriel going down on you as if his life depended on it - his nose rubbings against your clit, little pieces of his hair clinging to his forehead.

Azriel’s gaze snapped up to yours as a breathless moan left your lips, eyes blown out with lust. He thrust his tongue into you and you gasped, back arching off the table.

It was Azriel’s languid moan against your heat that spurred on your orgasm, your cries ricocheting throughout the library as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Azriel kept working you as you came, forcing you to push his head away when it finally became too much.

“Tapping out?” he asked cockily as he pushed himself back onto his feet. You glared, ignoring the way your heart swelled at the signs of your pleasure glistening on his face.

“Was that all you had to offer, shadowsinger?” you teased, sucking in a breath as Azriel’s face darkened.

“Gods, no.”

Azriel made a move for the string of his pants, glancing up at you as if he half-expected you to stop him.

“Keep going,” you urged, smiling as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch. He gave you a small smile, undoing the knot and ridding himself of his pants and underwear.

Your eyes widened as his size; apparently, the saying about an Illyrian male’s wings was true. He was more than endowed, and your mouth practically watered at the sight of him. You trailed your eyes back up his toned body, melting at the nervous look on his face.

“I want you inside me,” you said with a smile, reaching your hands out for him.

A look of relief washed over his features as he moved forward, grabbing your outstretched hands as he bent down over you for a kiss.

You flung your arms around his shoulders, tongue moving against his as your mouths collided. He groaned, trailing his calloused hands down to your thighs.

He spread them apart and wrapped them around his waist in one fell swoop, pulling back to ask for your permission one last time.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Gods, Az, just fuck me,” you replied, throwing your head back against the table as he thrust into you.

He groaned, pushing into your heat until he had bottomed out. You gasped, trembling as you basked in the searing pleasure of him inside you.

“Is...do you feel good?” he huffed, clearly making a large effort to not start pounding into you.

“Move,” you panted, eyes closed as you rotated your hips frantically. “Please move.”

“My pleasure,” Azriel moaned, pulling back slightly and snapping his hips forward.

You were a moaning mess as he started a slow but steady pace, moving your hands to grip his biceps as he thrust into you again and again.

“Faster,” you breathed, moaning as Azriel pressed his forehead against your and quickened the pace. You admired the sounds coming from him, the shaky breaths and occasional groans.

You cried as he hit that one spot deep inside you. His hips stilled for a moment.

“There?” he asked, giving another experimental thrust. This time your back arched, toes curling as he grinned.

He began speeding up again, stroking the flame inside you as he hit that same spot with every thrust.

You were reduced to wordless cries, jolting every time he sheathed himself within you. Your eyes snapped open as Azriel let out a true moan, pulling yourself up crash your lips against his.

He grabbed onto one of your legs again, hitching it above his shoulder as he continued fucking into you. You cried into his mouth, body tensing up with anticipation as he brought his thumb to your clit roughly.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked breathlessly, hips snapping into yours at an almost inhuman speed.

As if in response your core tightened, back arching off the table as you came with a sob. Your hips writhed against his as you rode out your second orgasm of the night, entire body trembling as you clutched onto him for some kind of stability.

You felt his grip on your hip tighten, felt something within him snap as he pulled out of you, letting out an animalistic roar as he came. You gasped, hot ribbons shooting onto your stomach and breasts.

You felt dizzy as you opened your eyes, immediately blushing at the way Azriel was studying your body from above you. You glanced down, biting your lip at the sight of his cum painting your skin.

“That’s hot,” you grinned, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Azriel let out a strained chuckle, grinning as he pushed himself up and collapsed next to you.

“You’re hot,” he replied bluntly, closing his eyes as he combed his hair back.

You fell into a contented silence, save for the two of you panting as if you’d just worked out. Though, you supposed fucking could be considered a workout in some regards.

“I suppose you don’t hate me as much as I thought you did?” you asked finally, turning your head to gaze at him.

He shook his head with a smile, stretching his arms above his head on the wooden tabletop. “I never hated you.”

“Well, that would’ve been nice to know,” you laughed. “Gods, we could’ve been having ridiculously hot sex for years!”

Azriel laughed, really laughed, deep voice sounding throughout the room as you smiled brightly. His laugh had always been beautiful, but it sounded so much more special now that you were the one who caused it.

“I suppose the whole house knows we’ve reconciled,” he hummed thoughtfully.

You nodded, lips pursed. “We were indeed quite loud.”

He turned to face you, smiling as your eyes trailed down his body.

“I do own a small cabin in the woods north of Velaris,” he said slowly, a jovial smirk on his face. “I’m sure it wouldn’t matter how loud we were there. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

You grinned. “I think we should ask Rhys to send us on a retreat to further explore our new friendship. For purely professional purposes.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would have a significant effect on workplace morale,” Azriel replied, biting back a smile as he reached out a hand to stroke your face. You hummed, leaning into the touch.

“You know, I haven’t taken one vacation the whole time I’ve worked here,” you said, watching Azriel’s face contort with realization.

“I don’t think I have either,” he stated alarmedly, a suggestive look quickly overtaking his face. “I think now would be a great time to invoke all the vacation time we’ve earned.”

You grinned, rolling on top of Azriel and kissing him again.

[kayla-2]

I think Nyx and each family member will have a specific hang out spots or activists:

Feyre: Of course, her art studio. I feel like nyx probably has his own space there with all his tools. He wears a little apron and tries to copy feyre mannerisms when she’s teaching. Even when he’s older he will always makes time to go with her. I also think their spot would be in their home. I can see them having late night conversations on their couch or waiting for Rhys to come home in his office. Lounging around in the sitting room. Sitting outside in the yard. They are a homey family.

Rhys: I think Rhys and Nyx spot would be anywhere with a high view. Maybe a specific cliff or mountain that look over Velaris. A Simba and Mufasa moment. Somewhere they can fly above everything and be away from everyone and talk. I also feel like Nyx will find or ask about where Rhys buried his sister and mother and visit his grandmother and aunt with Rhys.

Morrigan: A nice, small cafe in velaris where they meet often as Nyx grows up. It becomes apart of their routine after shopping and he never misses their little days. Maybe even the house she has hidden from everyone that we learned about in frost and starlight and Nyx is the only one that goes. Or even knows where it is

Amren: Amren and Nyx don’t have a designated spot but specific activities. Whenever Amren is doing a puzzle, he can just sit next to her and start to help her without asking. Or he has an history question that turns into hours and hours of talking and learning. Amren and Nyx consistently talking has made him almost an expert in the history of Prythian

Cassian: Their spot would be Rhys Mother’s cabin. Cassian has alot of specific troubles in his childhood and the cabin holds plenty of good memories that he can share with Nyx. Nyx is always at the house of wind when cassian isn’t in the Illyrian mountains. Of course, they train and tussle together but they also do a lot of fun things and cassian gives nyx a lot of experiences. Like parties, drinks, relationship advice as he grow up.

Azriel: I think their spot would be water. Maybe a sea or a small river. Azriel likes calm and silence. I can picture them walking along some sea, talking silently and watching the moon. I feel like Azriel is very important to Nyx when he is angry and need solid, advice. Unlike the rest of his family who would just rush and try to fix everything for him. Azriel and him talk about fears and dedication as the oldest child of Feyre and Rhysand.

Elain: The Garden. Since I saw that fanart of Nyx carrying Elains gardening supplies. I can always picture him knowing so much about flowers. As he grows up he can just burst out random facts he learned from Elain. I also feel like when he’s in trouble, he goes to elain as she is a seer and she can calm him about the future and things that will happen. Nyx and Elain plan most of Feyres birthday cakes and food.

Bonus:

Varian will show Nyx little water animals when he’s visiting the night court.

Nyx favorite court to visit will be the Day Court and High Lord Helion is like a godfather.

Nyx loves Velaris and is known to be everywhere in the city, where he helps, speak, and entertain people.

[sondepoch]

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger. 

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art 

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O 

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook 

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?” 

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book 

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill? 

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue,  doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style 

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you 

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t 

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it 

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up 

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do? 

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh 

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you” 

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow -  coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

Oh

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious: 

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.