#he just hides his ears under his hat

[sparkdoesart]

I saw my favorite cat image again, and i couldn't stop myself, so here you go

Kibty Sif.

Og image

[zylphiacrowley]

Poking around in his glam dresser and I think I might've found a NG+ look for him?

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

I am now 2k into my magic catboy Steve wip 😭 my brain as usual won.

[sh1-n0bu]

✿ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙥𝙩2 ✿

characters: penacony men x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, slight angst, poor attempt at comedy, slight spoilers for some character story and 2.2 penacony quest, injury and blood mention

notes: another popular demand! this time with more cat bois!!! part 1 can be found here! tho this can be read as its own part too. genshin boys ver is here!

art credit goes to Flambo_19 on twt!

you just can’t keep yourself away from taking in random strays that are an absolute shit to you huh, [name]?

his breed? orange. that’s it, that’s the breed, what more do you want me to say? jk but he’s still orange. american shorthair orange me thinks. friendly, adaptable, easygoing, playful, good with children and other pets — a perfect american shorthair orange

you first found the poor thing at the streets, hiding under a vehicle, too scared to come out or any approaching humans. sweet cat had a broken limb, holding the dangling paw to his chest as he pathetically meowed

thankfully, you managed to scoop the orange cat up into your arms, wrapped up in your coat before rushing him to the nearest vet

since then, nyanturine has made his progress to be your next addition to an ever growing collection of cats

a strangely crow like cat. nyanturine likes shiny, expensive things. shiny rocks? his. shiny clothes? his. material that glitters? his. expensive earrings and diamonds? his. expensive jewelries? his. everything shiny and expensive that the orange cat lays his eyes upon is his now. pretty please, [name] buy him that earring for him to play with?

out of every cats at home — you sure your home isn’t a daycare for cats? — nyanturine gets along the most with dr.nyatio and occasionally with nyelt. the orange and brown cats can be found chatting away, peacefully settled on the windowsill

not so surprisingly, nyanturine is chatty as every orange cats are, except he needs to get used to the human first before turning into a yapper. with you, it only took a week spent in your arms for nyanturine to get used to your presence

just sit him beside you on the table behind his own mini computer with one of his favorite shiny earrings laid before him while you do your work on your own computer and nyanturine will be chatting your ear off in a storm. though, his yapping sometimes tends to irritate the other cats. dr.nyatio being one of them as you watched the bigger cat jump into the table before smacking nyanturine over the head with his paw

you were pretty sure you witnessed an attempted homicide between cats that day…

surprisingly, nyanturine also likes games! card games, poker, monopoly, uno. don’t ask how but somehow you once got bested by your damn cat when nyanturine placed down +10 on you at uno. you nearly ended up behind bars if it weren’t for meow yuan’s big floofy body holding you down—

he will push all of the tokens in front of him towards the table with a meow. sometimes, you swear you can hear “all in!” in his meows but maybe that’s the ghosts in your home talking

out of every cats you housed and still do till this day, nyanturine has the most unique eyes. cyan blue on the inside fading out into a pinkish hue. when asking about it from the vets, all they could do was shrug and say it could perhaps be a very unique ocular albinism or dna mutation. either way, your cats are a fucking model

nyanturine loves the mini fedora hat you made for him as a joke. wears it nearly everyday, every time, anywhere unless he accidentally knocks it over when zooming around the house

a solid kitty if you can get behind the creepy gloving of his eyes in the dark and his tendency to win against you in every poker games

art credit goes to nasuka_gee on twt!

you first found dr.nyatio by… huh? whatchu mean you didn’t found him? you’re telling me he just waltzed his ass inside your home one day through the window and has been making himself one of the many feline bosses of the house just like that? you sure dr.nyatio isn’t anyone else’s cat? [name]? [name], answer me…

well… whatever floats your boat i guess…

the most sassiest out of all of the fucking cats and that is saying something because you literally have nyan heng and meow yuan

a bengal, me thinks. snow lynx type of marbled tan and brown bengal. a smart piece of shit and he knows it, always yapping your ears off about a certain topic. more specifically, anything to do with algorithm, geometry etc etc

but compared to nyanturine and meowhill, dr.nyatio only ever yaps about those topics and those topics only. oddly enough, he kind of reminds you of one of those annoying lecturers at your old university…

very very curious cat. what’s up there? why are you late? what did you bring? what’s inside your bag? why do you smell so different?

pause.

why do you smell so different, [name]? where have you been? who have you been with? why are you later than usual, [name]? [name] answer him. answer dr.nyatio right now before he loses his shit—

oddly likes bathing time compared to the other cats. though, dr.nyatio is a diva when it cones to taking his baths. the water must be lukewarm, not too full so when he sits in the bathtub, the water will be around his low chest area. the bath must have bubbles and those cute yellow ducks floating around or he will not step inside the bathroom

do you think of him as a low class cat? how dare you, [name]

yeah… safe to say that dr.nyatio spends more money on shampoo, hair treatment than you do

gets along with every cats actually. other than nyanturine. the two tend to scuffle sometimes. and sometimes, you can find dr.nyatio just yapping away to the other cats while he points at… an encyclopedia? since when and where did he drag that out from?

dr.nyatio has an odd hyper fixation and obsession with ancient greek things. anything related to them and the cat is not leaving the site or the front of the screen, patiently watching and listening to the documentary about ancient greek and its architectures and impact in the field of mathematics

once, you decided to bring him along to your local clay making club for shits and giggles, making a mini ionic order pillars and he fucking loved it. loves to sit in the middle of the curved placed pillars and have his pictures taken like a model

dr.nyatio also loves the cute cat helmet like thing you made for him from plastic diy materials. it works as something akin to a mask for him and the bengal loves wearing it whenever you have to step outside with him

once, one of your friends who came over at your home asked you why you named dr.nyatio that way

“is he a doctor or something? what field is his research then?” they asked, unknowingly opening a jar of worms upon themselves. you simply opened up dr.nyatio’s favorite encyclopedia in front of your friend as the bengal cat takes his place, starting to yap up a storm as the cat points to random parts of the book

after a good hour or two, your friend turned to you for help, quietly coming to regret their decision. dr.nyatio didn’t take that kindly, smacking your friend’s face back to focus on him with his soft paw before continuing

yep. doctor veritas nyatio, everyone

“meaw! [name], mrrp ammmeow mrrep mrrya! you will refer to me as doctor and doctor alone!”

art credit goes to Flambo_19 on twt!

a very demanding grey korat breed of cat, mr.meowday is

he isn’t much talkative nor is he much affectionate. but what meowday is, demanding and loves control. you once asked your local vet for advice after months of the grey korat telling you exactly how to make his food, which kibbles to buy etc etc and the vet simply reassured you with a “korat breed of cats tend to be a bit demanding and intelligent. they love to be in charge so don’t worry” and a pat on the back

yeah… you have yourself another demanding cat that loves to make you his human slave alongside dr.nyatio. don’t you think you have enough cats reigning over you in your own home now, [name]?

you adopted the poor thing from a shelter near your workplace when you heard the poor thing constantly crying out. when asking the shelter workers, they said that the cat tends to do that at random hours of the day, just calling out for attention from someone or a certain something

taking pity on the poor lonely korat sitting in the corner of his cage with his back to the world, you decided to adopt him, making yet another dumb decision

really loves sundays for that is one of the days that you have time to spend the whole day at home with the cats. and you also love to dub the last day of the week as ‘lazy day’ and therefore, you decided to name him after it. meowday, he was since then

still, even after months of living with you and the other cats, meowday still sits on the window sling, meowing out for someone or something as he wistfully stares out the window. poor cat… you’re still having some problem trying to understand what was the problem and why meowday would do that so you can at least comfort the poor thing

one day while you were showing your co-workers who loves cats as well of your cats and landed on meowday. seeing the grey, elegant korat, your co-worker asked over and over if that really was your cat

you nodded with a furrowed brows, finding it odd that your co-worker would ask such questions. until they whipped out their phone, scrolling through their gallery before showing you… an eerily similar korat

same shade of eyes, same pose, same elegant manner — you would nearly mistake it for your own cat if it weren’t for the slight shade of white grey of your co-worker’s cat fur

a korat as well. from the same animal shelter you adopted meowday too!

after careful consideration and a lot of talk, you two decided to let the two felines meet on the weekends to see if they are perhaps lost siblings, parents or anything along the lines

finally, the day arrives and your co-worker comes over. a carrying bag slung over their shoulder as they step inside. meowday could barely care for your human companion coming over, it happens all the time and he had grown used to the presence of visitors unlike some of the other cats

until he hears a soft meow that sounded eerily similar to his sister. whipping his head around, meowday nearly broke his paws due to his sudden rough landing from the window sling, practically zooming over before tackling the smaller korat to the floor

sad yet happy meows coming from meowday, grooming the other cats’ face with loud constant meows. you were pretty sure that your co-worker’s cat was meowday’s sibling now

ever since then, the grey korat constantly scratches at your feet, doing his utmost best to silently ask you to let him see his sister again, nearly everyday. please just allow him to see his sister, he had dearly missed her. please, he will be a good kitty! the best kitty in the house!

meowday could barely go a day without glooming if he doesn’t see his sister, and so you and your co-worker arranged a weekly meetings and a video call everyday to allow the siblings to meow to each other through the screen

art credit goes to Flambo_19 on twt!

is it a mini panther? is it a dog? no! it’s just your one of the most chillest cats, gallagnya

he’s a havana brown like nyelt— wait a minute, what do you mean he wasn’t a havan brown like nyelt? you sure you got it correctly? the fur sample? huh…?

“gallagnya is actually a bombay cat. brown bombay” you can hear the vet on the phone, your face immediately going pale at the news of what breed gallagnya truly has been all this time as the said cat stares at you with a “mhm. that’s right” face from the kitchen counter

why? what was the reason you were suddenly going pale you ask? you were so sure that gallagnya was another havana brown like nyelt and has been feeding him nyelt’s kibbles for havana brown. in simpler terms, you’ve been feeding gallagnya the wrong kibbles

very wrong kibbles

but don’t worry, gallagnya is a chill cat and he immediately forgave you with a lick to your forehead the next day you came home crying with a bunch of treats and the correct kibbles for the shaggy, brown cat

gallagnya isn’t exactly a mean cat but he enjoyed the look of jealousy and anger on the other cats’ face as you pampered him day in and out for giving him the wrong kibbles. the bombay cat secretly hoped that you spent a little bit longer without knowing his exact breed so you could pamper him more. eh, oh well

the main reason your vet had a hard time finding out exactly what breed he was is because bombay cats aren’t the most easiest to spot or find out. it’s a bit hard to detect them and their breed since they are a human bred cat breed

but at least you have another big cat! third biggest cat after lion like meow yuan and cheetah like nyepard. safe to say you feel safe as hell whenever you go out for a quick walk with your three big cats

another funny thing about the story between you and gallagnya is that… you genuinely don’t know where the fuck the large cat came from. did he follow you home? did he slip in through the open window one day and made himself home? who knows. not you

at least gallagnya is chill. and nice. gets along well with basically every cat except for mr.meowday— “WOOF!”

“eh, it’s probably just the neighbor’s dog going out for a walk in the hallways of the apartment—“

“WOOF!” before you could finish your little excuse for the barking you just heard, you feel the heavy big body of gallagnya pounce on top of you on the bed, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs

… great. not only do you have hundreds of cats inside your home, three of them being nearly as big as predator wildlife animals, you have to worry about the third biggest cat being a barker rather than a meower

when and where the fuck did gallagnya even learned to bark rather than meow anyways? eh, that’s a question for you to find out next morning. right now, you were too damn tired and your bed was a siren that you willingly gave yourself to

you did not found out the answer to that question the next morning. even the vets were weirded out by it since, although bombay cats are indeed seen as dog-like with their playful and friendly nature, they never cane across one that literally barked like a dog

well… at least you can scare people away with gallagnya’s barks…?

art credit goes to Hanres4 on twt!

the siamese mom in me wants to say that meowhill would be a siamese, but the logical brain in me is shouting TUXEDO CAT

and yes, meowhill is indeed a tuxedo cat. one that just won’t shut up and leave you alone

going to the bathroom? let him come along and get real political while lying on the bathroom rugs while you take a shit

leaving for the convenience store? just let him stay on your shoulder while he yaps your ears off about which seasoning to pick— no, screwubaBOO THE KOREAN SOY SAUCE TASTES BETTER ON BARBECUE!

staying home and trying to type up your work on the computer? you have a free proofreader for you who wouldn’t hesitate to meow your ears off and point at some of the things you wrote. he will even sit on your keyboard

due to his yapper nature, meowhill tends to irritate some of the cats. especially those who love their peace and quiet and staying silent

which is a huge surprise whenever you find the mischievous tuxedo cat constantly beside nyan heng, the poor black manx looking dreadful as he allows meowhill to yap his ears off. you did not wanted to get entangled nor did you go over and wanted to hear what meowhill was yapping about

meowhill also gets along with nyagenti! the two cats seem to share a past together as when you first brought meowhill home, the tuxedo cat went straight first to the elegant norweigan forest cat

ah right, speaking of bringing meowhill in…

you found the poor thing with a rotted paws and bad burn wounds. poor little thing was burnt so badly it was hard to tell the color of his fur and he kept yowling in pain when you wrapped your coat around him to rush him to the nearest vet

sadly, his front two legs were badly broken and injured and had no way of recovering. and so, the vets had no other choice but to put him under anesthetic to cut off his front two legs and replace them with prosthetics

due to the nature of his injuries, meowhill required a lot of your and the other cats’ attention. recovering from losing both of his front legs and the nasty burn wounds is a long journey and meowhill needed the support from his new human friend and fellow felines

after a long and sometimes painful 2 months, meowhill had made a full recovery! the tuxedo cat’s fur grew back and he had gotten used to walking and sprinting on his prosthetic legs. you never realized how much of an energetic cat he was until you broke the news that he made a full recovery

though, like meowday, meowhill has a slight problem of constantly sitting on the window sling and meowing out the window. why? you didn’t know

is very protective of little nyanqing. you can find the tuxedo constantly nagging meow yuan and stealing meow yuan’s little cub away from him. holding the tiny munchkin by his scruff and taking him away to dote on the little cream cat somewhere in the house

it wasn’t until you took the tuxedo cat out for a shopping in the pet essentials store as a congratulations for making full recovery and the tuxedo immediately latched onto a tiny, white kitten plush did you connect the dots

poor thing had a kitten before…

you bought the white kitten plush for him of course. you don’t have the heart to wrench it away from him

making a trip back to where you originally found meowhill, you couldn’t find anything much other than an old, burnt, red scarf. you made an exact same replica of the mini scarf in secret and gave it to meowhill for his birthday gift, wrapping the soft silk around his neck snuggly before wrapping the same scarf around the plushie

ever since then, meowhill has been deathly clingy with you and the plushie. there isn’t a single day or night where you won’t see meowhill without the white plushie, grooming it, cuddling with it and taking it with him by the scruff of the kitten plushie

art credit goes to helen_zzhao on ig!

an elegant norweigan forest cat! is his fur, brown? burgundy? red? no one knows!

nyagenti is such a beautiful cat that he competes with meow yuan in their beauty level whenever you take them out on a walk. everyone wants to pet the elegant kitties and it doesn’t help that meow yuan and nyagenti are both such gentle kitties

gets along with every cats! anyone! your friends that came over for a game night, the sitters when you need to be away for a few days of business trip, the neighbors — everyone! nyagenti has no enemies

out of everyone, nyagenti gets along best with nyelt, nyan heng and meowhill. meowhill and nyagenti used to share a past it seemed as the two cats hit it off right away while the norweigan forest cat got used to the presence of nyan heng and nyelt very quickly

tends to yap sometimes — more like pray to someone or something — but isn’t as bad as meowhill or nyaturine

doesn’t really mind bath times but he prefers grooming more than bath times. he has a beautiful long fur and they’re very dense and thick so it takes the whole day for him to finally become dry so, please let’s just settle on grooming? he can bring over the brushes for you!

a very big gift giver! shiny jewels, pretty leaves that just fell, nice shaped rocks, cockroaches— nope. nuh-uh. you are NOT getting cockroaches as a gift even though the thought is swee— OH MY GOD HE DROPPED THE COCKROACH ON YOUR BED!!!1!1!

yeah… your friend looks at you as if you’ve finally lost your mind when they came over one day and saw hundreds of rat poisons, bug and insect killing sprays just racked on your shelf like you’re gonna sell them. in return you simply deadpanned back and pointed at nyagenti who already had another cockroach in his mouth

how did you ended up having nyagenti? who knows. at this point you gave up on trying to keep track of how, when, where you got your cats from. he probably just made himself known in your house one day and you simply accepted the sign from cat distribution system no.195826592649

such a gentlemanly cat. you joke that he can kiss the back of your hand to the guests and guess what? one day, nyagenti actually did do that. the look on the guest’s face will forever live rent free in your mind

really likes red roses for some reason. thankfully, roses aren’t toxic to cats unlike some other flowers such as lily, daffodil, hyacinths but nyagenti’s love for red roses nearly borderlines on obsession in a sense

when asking the vet if there could be any reason or explanation for this, they simply patted your back, told you that you had a tendency to attract weird cats and shooed you out. not fully, but they lowkey did that and said “roses have a nice scent that tends to attract cats or dogs. they might end up taking a bite from the flower but it isn’t poisonous or toxic, so no need to worry”

still, you’re getting tired of constantly living with red rose petals thrown everywhere in your house. so much so you have gotten used to it and just decided to leave it be. if your friend comes over and sees the rose petals as something romantical, you simply shove nyagenti into their faces

unlike the other cats, nyagenti isn’t the most clingy or affectionate cat. though, that isn’t to say he is cold and distant, he does love you! but he just shows it in small ways and in quiet manners

bringing over his brush for you to help him groom his beautiful thick fur, waking you up gently in the morning with soft meows and gentle licks, even knowing to turn on the AC on a warm temperature after your shower because you always come out shivering

and he is definitely the one who leaves the fresh red roses on your bedside nightstand every morning you wake up

[your-averagewriter]

"Only for you, darlin'"

Summary: Cooper heads into town in search for some RadAway for you when he stumbles upon a cute gift (Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: needles, kissing (slightly ig)

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Stalking through the desert, he heads towards the town in search of some RadAway for you, the radiation reaching too high of a level for Cooper to be comfortable with, especially in his presence.

His boots echo through the makeshift tunnel made of old tubing before sunlight peaks out of the other end, exposing the market on the other side, countless signs decorating the stalls. He pulls his hat down slightly in order to cover his irradiated face more, less because some people find it unsettling and more so people don’t recognise he’s a ghoul.

He walks along the stalls, searching for any RadAway and some other supplies that need topping up. 

Signs stick out to him yet none offer what he needs until he reaches a store with various niche medical supplies as well as bandages and the like. Walking up to the store, he looks over the small bottles and pills decorating the side but doesn't see anything Stimpaks or RadAway.

“Ay,” He gets the attention of the store owner. “You got any RadAway?” He asks, looking up at the man covered in shredded clothes. He shakes his head before looking down at what looks like an old graphic novel. “You sure? I got plenty of caps.”

“How many?” He asks, accent showing he’s not from around here.

“Plenty.” He reinterrates, shaking his bag causing the rattling of the caps and the man puts the graphic novel down, heading further into the shop before returning with a pouch of liquid with a strip of duct tape on, scraggly writing on it.

“I keep it in the back, people nick this stuff the most. 50 caps.” 

Cooper scoffs. “50?” He asks, confusion mixed with annoyance in his voice. “30.”

“45.” He counters. “And I’ll throw in a Stimpak.”

“Fine” Cooper counters and the seller sighs before pushing it towards him whilst Copper pushes the caps on the side. “And you got the good deal there, you should feel lucky I’m willing to pay for this.” He snatches it from the side, rolling his eyes before moving on to finding other items but glad he’s got what he came for.

Strolling through the town, he looks in the store windows, something catching his eye in a junk store. He pushes open the door, a bell ringing making him wonder if it’s a trap but why would there be a trap when someone is trying to sell junk?

“Hey darlin’, feel free to take a look around.” An old woman says, crazy hair covering most of her face making him feel uneasy that he can barely see her eyes. He nods before heading towards the window display, boots hitting the wooden planks underfoot noisily as they creak.

A toy rabbit sits in the window, no more than a foot tall with fluffy ears and a cute nose. He swipes at it, examining it and dusting it off before looking for some sort of price label.

“How much for this?” He turns to face the woman who pushes her glasses up, scrunching her nose as she squints at the item.

“8 caps, but for you 4. Who’s this for?” He pulls out another five caps and drops them on the table before carefully putting the bunny in his bag, making sure it’s tucked in and the clasp is shut properly. He pulls on the latch, checking its security. Secure. 

“My girl, she loves bunnies. Thanks.” He grumbles, walking out the store and off to the base again.

He walks back through the desert, kicking the sand as he goes, mumbling to himself and even whistling slightly. He lifts his hand to keep the sun out of his face as the base appears in his field of vision. Base is a strong word for a couple of broken down buildings just by the trees that are more secure than you would think. It provides cover and hides flames when it gets cold.

He can’t help the edges of his lips quirking up at the sight of the base and his girl.

Under an hour later, he returns to the base, stepping through the ‘door’. “Sweetheart?” He yells through the base.

“Cooper, that you?” You ask, sweet voice ringing through the walls.

“‘Course it’s me.” He grins to himself, following your voice.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me come with you.” You say before being interrupted by a cough. After moments of coughing, Cooper rubs your back and once you start speaking, he reaches into his bag.

“Did you get a Stim-” You start but he passes it to you with a brief kiss to the cheek. “Thanks.” You smile before looking down at the Stimpak wrapped in a cloth. Taking it out, your eyes are immediately on the needle, you take a pause and deep breath before injecting it into your thigh.

Letting out a breath, you drop the used Stimpak and look back to Cooper who wears a smirk, holding back a laugh.

“What are you laughing about?” You cock an eyebrow.

“You ain’t scared of no mutants, no raiders, nothing but needles.” He chuckles, his accent prominent. “It’s cute.” He says before remembering the bunny toy in his bag. “I got you something in town.” He says, rootling through his bag.

“More RadAway?” You ask, knowing his paranoia about you getting too much radiation when being around him. 

“Yeah, but I got you something else too.” He pulls the bunny out of his bag. “Now I know it ain’t much, but I saw it and thought you’d like it…” He presents the bunny, quickly brushing off some of the sand from the journey.

“Aww.” You can help but coo at the cute bunny, taking it off of him and holding it gently, picking up one of the ears and letting it flop back down. “You didn’t spend too much on it, did you?” You look back over to him.

“Y’know it’s rude to ask about someone’s finances, sweetheart.” He teases. “Besides, the lady gave it to me for cheap, probably knew I was getting it for my girl.”

“Probably knew you were a softie.” You tease.

“Only for you, darlin’.” He picks up your hand and leans down, kissing it playfully.

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AN: I can't believe I haven't posted anything for over three months… sorry I've had exams and extra and it's just been stressful so hopefully I can get a bit more on track.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hi! I know you just wrote a cockwarming fic with Alastor, but I was just wondering if you would be able to do one with Lucifer? I’m drooling just thinking about it. Thank you!

absolutely i don’t mind doing the same shtick but with other characters! i took a similar approach kinkwise but obviously it’s still different, hope you enjoy <3

warnings: cockwarming, lucifer is kinda a sub but not entirely, exhibitionism, not caught this time, creampie, gn reader i think in terms of body, lucifer calls you birdy, kinky reader and kinky luci, also not proofread, swearing and some dirty talk lmk if i missed any!!

word count: 1.4K

You sat on Lucifers lap, toying with his hair that peeked out of his hat. Lucifer insisted he had company to one of his all important long of hell meetings, however things went left when Mammon urged the king to come to one of his performances, that was definitely for the kings benefit and not just so Mammon could leech off his fame. So there you two sat, up in your own custom web which Lucifer was very much against but Mammon was pushy persuasive. So far things had been a bore, you sat on Lucifers lap paying more attention to the intricacies on his suit rather than the clowns on stage. Lucifer also seemed pretty bored, huffing and puffing occasionally, while muttering into your ear about how this was a scam or how he’d done this act a thousand times, needless to say you both be better off back at his home.

Eyeing up his bored face you casually traced your fingers along his jaw. “Hey Luce,” You whispered to him softly, his eyes casting down to you. “Wanna have a lil fun?” You grinned cheekily wiggling your hips against his, immediately he sucked in a breath, eyes closing. Lucifer wasn’t really good at hiding the need he had for you, often he would crumble under your hands, rarely he decided to be big and domineering, he much preferred when you had the power over him. Felt nice giving up power to someone after all the rest of his eternal life in hell there was no other choice but to stay in power.

“Whatever you want, birdy.” He cooed, eyes casted toward the stage acting as though he was indifferent to you. You unzipped the zipper on his white slacks, and reached your hand inside to palm his soft member. He wasn’t really insecure about being soft around you he was quite prideful in his body no matter the state, occasionally he’d feel not good enough but that typically had nothing to do with his looks, which you admit to being quite jealous of. You palmed him through his briefs, head rested on his shoulder you were annoyed at how the collar of his coat got in the way of his neck, prohibiting you from leaving pretty bruise marks on him. The king twitched, and coughed out fakely to cover the groans he wanted to make, he couldn’t help how sensitive he was when it came to you, it was like you had this spell on him.

Wiggling yourself closer to him you whispered to him, lips dragging sinfully across his ear. “What if somebody sees you like this Luci?” You purr mockingly, you knew he probably wouldn’t give a fuck, he’s been through too much as a king and a fallen angel to care about such things, nonetheless, hearing your scrutinizing tone furthered his arousal. He wasn’t, however, proud of the noise he made when your hand came up to tug at his hair at the base of his neck. “Ohhh golly,” Lucifer groaned beginning in a moan, he quickly fixed his mouth to act as though he was reacting to the show. “You want them to see us, don’t you?” You urged, feeling him grown and stiffen beneath you, it made your thighs clench with need, and suddenly you were onto more devious ideas. Lifting your garments, you pulled your underwear to the side as discreetly as you could. Lucifers eyes fixed on you, brown raised in confusion. “Cmon, let’s relax hm?” You asked, pulling his semi from the restraints of his briefs, pecking his lips as you did so. His eyes closed immediately, mouth chasing your lips as you pulled away, and who were you to deny such a good boy?

Leaning back in you hummed into him, his lips warm and soft, you could feel his lashes flutter against your face as your faces tilted, allowing eachother better access. You sneakily slipped onto him, wincing at the pain that you felt, however Lucifers arms came around to your thighs, helping you slow your pace. You felt every inch of him against your walls, it was hard to not whimper at the feeling of him slotted in you.

As your tongues sloppily danced together, the clown music played in the background, Glitz and Glam came up to perform, and the crowd cheered on. Beside your web was the greed king himself Mammon, who was too observed in the show to notice the fact you and Lucifer were swallowing each other whole. While the two of you sloppily kissed, saliva smearing across each others lips, your body naturally relaxed into his effectively sinking yourself down and bottoming out on his full erect cock.

Sighing against him in revelled in the feeling of him fully inside you, while also enjoying the way he trembled beneath you, not feeling the need to hide any of his desire from you. You pulled away abruptly leaving Lucifer whining, and starry eyed. Jerking up into you Lucifer smiled smuggly at the way you gasped, air entirely escaping your lungs. “How mean Luci,” You chide playfully lovelingly cupping his cheek. Leaning into your warmth the devil melted against your touch practically purring at you. “What can i say birdy, i’m eager to hear you. My favourite sound.” You could tell by the dreamy way he spoke he was already fucked out, and you’ve not even fucked yet.

Pecking his cheek you swatted his chest when he tried once again to grind into you. “No moving, whoever cums first has to call and talk on the phone while the other fucks em silly.” You grin wildly gripping his shoulders, you loved a good frisky game of fun, especially with Lucifer, you found it easy to participate in these types of games. Groaning lowly the devil rolled his neck, hands wrapping around your waist tightly. “Alright, but i'm totally gonna win.” Lucifer stated confidently, his red eyes flipping between you and the show. Glitz and Glam gone, there was some unnamed clown you’d never seen now entertaining the crowd, they seemed to like him.

You wiggled your hips subtly, trying to turn your body around a bit more toward the stage. Part of you wanted the distraction, part of you wanted to tease, either way it was purposeful. “Ohhohoo- you are- really playing dirty,” The king stressed, his tone jumping around anxiously as his claws tug into your thighs, undoubtedly drawing some blood. You hummed out an ‘mhm’ swirling hips round in a manner that could appear as innocent shifting to the outside eye looked casual. Lucifer moaned, curling into the back of your shoulder to bite down. You could feel him twitching almost like a throb, you weren’t helping with your involuntary contractions around his cock. “Alright sweetie calm down!” The king urged his voice breathy and panicked as he tried to stall your movements by clenching his arms around you. Unfortunately all that did was drag you nearer, feeling the entire length of him inside you grazing the delicate areas that made you tick.

You choked on your spit surprised by the abrupt sensation, your back arching away from him as you attempted to gain a little friction. “Lucifer please don’t,” You whined clutching his forarms that were flexed tightly around your torso. You could feel him nuzzling into your back, his heart beating wildly in his chest, then suddenly without any word, he was cumming. He moaned into your shoulder blades, bucking what he could up into you, rocking both your bodies, anything to get you to milk him. He continued to wiggle around recklessly, you clenched and whimpered at the feeling of him filling you, he always had so much in him. Finally after a moment his movement ceased, and like the devil he is, he snaked his hands around to play with you. You moaned as he whispered dirty things in your ear, “Who’s all needy now huh?,” “Cmon i need you raining off this web before we go,” things like that as he brought you to your orgasm.

You saw stars as you came, his dick still snuggly inside you as you clenched and came undone around him, head thrown back in bliss. After a moment of catching your breath you peered around, humility coming back into you, you spun around speedily, burying your face in Lucifers neck, who looked just as fucked out as you were. “Guess we gotta do this again over the phone?” Lucifer asked breathlessly, you huffed out a laugh at that. “Yep, loser.” You teased already thinking up all the naughty things you could put him through while he’s on call.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Howdy Honey I. can't get you off my mind

series masterlist masterlist

wordcount: 6,709

summary: After a tumultuous fall from your horse that leaves you with a fractured wrist and bruised ribs, you find solace in the strong arms and gentle care of Joel Miller, the new ranch hand whose rugged exterior hides a tender heart.

warnings: mentions of falling, fracture, eventual smut, slowburn, age-gap, some fluff, two stubborn people falling in love, angst, from both your and Joel's pov

notes: First of all thank you to all of you for supporting the masterlist, I am absolutely blown away! I appreciate the heck out of you all so very much! <3 <3 Second thank you sm to @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for screaming with me about all of this ily both <3 Third I wrote this after my own experiences falling off a horse and being carried by a hot cowboy at work. K I'm gonna go panic, love you all bye. gif is by @tomshiddles divider by @saradika-graphics

The sun is high and unforgiving, casting a golden hue over the sprawling acres of your family's ranch—a place where the West still feels wild and untamed. The ranch, nestled in a valley surrounded by rugged mountains, is a patchwork of green pastures, dotted with grazing cattle and horses. The main house, a sturdy two-story structure with a wraparound porch, stands proudly at the heart of the property, its whitewashed walls and red roof are like a beacon for the lost amidst the vast expanse of land. You can always find your way back home.

To the east lies the stables, a long, low building with enough room to house two dozen horses comfortably. Its wooden walls have weathered to a soft gray, and the scent of hay and horse is always present in the air. Just beyond the stables is the equipment barn, filled with tractors, balers, and all manner of tools necessary for maintaining the ranch. The sound of metal clanging against metal often echoes from within as ranch hands tend to repairs or prepare for the day's work. A little further out is the chicken coop, bustling with activity as hens peck at the ground and roosters crow their morning greetings.

On the southern end of the ranch, a series of fenced-in training pens are set up for breaking in new horses or for practicing roping skills. It's here that you often find the newly hired ranch hand, Joel Miller, expertly mending a section of split-rail fence or guiding a young colt through its paces with patience and skill honed over decades. 

You've grown up with the scent of hay and the sound of hooves on dirt, a life that's as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. Recently, your parents brought on a few new ranch hands, a decision driven not only by their advancing years and a growing wanderlust but also, you suspect, by a desire to ensure you're well looked after in their absence. It didn't seem to matter how many times you'd promised that you and [name] the very first and only other person hired to help around, could take care of the ranch -  they never let go of the fact you weren't five anymore. 

Today you find yourself working a little less hard because of Joel Miller, the new ranch hand that looks like he stepped straight out of a Western movie. You watch him from afar as you make your way to take your horse out, his muscles straining against his plaid shirt as he repairs a section of fencing. He moves with an easy grace despite his age and broad build. His salt-and-pepper hair peeks out from under his worn cowboy hat, and you can't help but feel a pull towards him, something beyond the usual respect for a seasoned hand.

The ranch is alive with activity as you prepare Daisy for her daily run. The horses in the nearby pasture lift their heads at your approach, their ears pricked with curiosity. Daisy nickers softly, her tail swishing in anticipation as you lead her out of her stall and toward the open pasture. As you trot along one of the well-worn trails, you pass by landmarks that tell stories of your family's history; there's an old rusted tractor from your grandfather's time, now half-buried in wildflowers; a grove where you used to play hide-and-seek with your siblings; and further on, an ancient stone marker placed by settlers who once claimed this land as their own. Each sight brings back memories that are as much a part of you as they are a part of this place. 

But today, these familiar sights are merely blurs in your peripheral vision as Daisy gallops across the landscape. The wind whips through your hair, and you feel a rush of adrenaline as the horse's muscles move powerfully beneath you. It's in these moments that you feel most at peace, in harmony with the natural world around you.

Suddenly, a sharp cry from Daisy breaks the rhythm of her gait. You pull sharply on the reins as a jackrabbit darts out from the underbrush, its sudden appearance startling her. In an instant, your peaceful ride turns to chaos. Daisy rears up, her eyes wide with fear, and you're thrown from the saddle, the world a blur of blue sky and golden earth. The impact is jarring, knocking the breath from your lungs as you hit the ground hard. Pain radiates from your side and arm. As you lie there, struggling to catch your breath, Daisy gallops away towards the safety of the stables, leaving you alone in a cloud of dust.

The sun beats down mercilessly upon you as waves of pain wash over your body. You try to move but find that even breathing is a challenge. You try to push yourself up, but a wave of nausea forces you back down. It's then that you hear the pounding of hooves approaching fast and boots hitting the ground. 

"Easy there, easy," a familiar voice drawls as strong hands gently roll you onto your back. Joel's face swims into view, his brow furrowed with concern. "Looks like ya had a bit of a tumble, darlin'. Can you tell me where it hurts?" His voice is deep and soothing, cutting through the haze of pain. You manage to point to your side, wincing as he carefully probes the area. "Just bruised, I reckon," he says after a moment, his touch is surprisingly gentle for such calloused hands. "Your arm too. We should get ya back to the house. Might have t'see the doctor."

Over my dead body, you think to yourself.

With surprising ease, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. You can't help but notice the warmth radiating from his body. It's an intimacy that makes your breath hitch in your throat—a sensation that has nothing to do with your injuries.

"Gave me quite the scare there darlin," Joel remarks as he carries you towards his waiting horse. His tone is light but there's an undercurrent of something else—affection? worry? "What were you thinkin’ taking Daisy out alone after that storm last night? These trails can be treacherous."

You want to argue that you're capable and don't need help, that it was just a routine ride and something spooked Daisy but arguing takes energy—energy that's currently in short supply thanks to the pain radiating from your side and shooting through your arm. Instead you murmur a weak apology. "Didn't think it’d be a problem."

Joel chuckles softly. "Well, I reckon that's part of the adventure, ain't it? Never quite knowing what the day's gonna bring." He adjusts his hold on you slightly, his grip firm yet careful. "But next time, maybe wait for someone to come with you. Safety in numbers and all that."

As he settles you onto his horse, he keeps a steady hand on your back, “you okay darlin?” He asks, making sure you're secure before you nod and he swings up behind you as gently as he can. The closeness is overwhelming; his body is a solid wall of heat at your back, and you can feel the muscles in his thighs as they grip the horse's flanks. It's a strange mix of vulnerability and safety, being so close to this man who just (weeks/days?) ago was a little more than a stranger.

The ride back to the ranch is a blur of sensations—the rhythmic sway of the horse beneath you, the scent of leather and sweat mingling with Joel's unique aroma of woodsmoke and something undeniably masculine. You find yourself leaning into him without thinking, seeking comfort in his strength.

"Almost there," Joel reassures you as the house comes into view. His breath is warm against your ear, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. "We'll get some ice on those bruises and take a look at you."

Once at the ranch house, he carries you inside and sets you down gently on the living room couch crouching beside you to remove your boots. His fingers brush against your skin accidentally as he works them off one by one—a touch that sends sparks racing along your nerves despite yourself and despite any rational thought about how much older he is than you. You quickly blink them away.

"Ice pack," he commands firmly but kindly before disappearing into the kitchen. You hear the clinking of ice being scooped from the freezer. 

As Joel returns from the kitchen, the air in the room shifts subtly. He kneels beside you on the couch, his movements deliberate and gentle. "This might be a bit cold at first," he warns, his voice carrying a hint of gruffness that hadn't been there before.

You nod, bracing yourself for the shock of cold. But when he lifts the hem of your shirt to expose your bruised side, the brush of his fingers against the sensitive skin of your stomach sends an unexpected wave of heat coursing through you. It's a clinical touch, meant only to aid in your recovery, but the proximity of his hands to the curves of your body is not lost on you.

He places the makeshift ice pack against your side, the cold seeping your body. You can't help the sharp intake of breath as the icy chill envelops the tender area. Joel's eyes flick to yours, concern etched across his features.

"Sorry, darlin'," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "I know it's uncomfortable, but it'll help with the swelling."

You give him a small, reassuring smile, trying to convey that you understand—that you appreciate his attentiveness. As he holds the ice pack in place, his other hand comes to rest on your hip, a steady presence that seems to anchor you amidst the discomfort.

The room is silent save for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock and the occasional crackle of ice as it begins to melt against your skin. You can feel the heat of Joel's palm through the fabric of your jeans, and you find yourself acutely aware of every point of contact between you.

After a few minutes, he slowly lifts the ice pack away, his eyes scanning your side with a practiced eye. "How does it feel now?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate within you.

"A bit better," you admit, the pain having dulled to a manageable ache.

He nods, his attention still focused on your injury. With a gentle touch that belies his rugged exterior, he traces the edge of the bruise with his fingers, his touch feather-light yet firm. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for his next move.

"You're gonna be sore for a few days," he says. "But I think you'll live."

As he withdraws his hand, you feel an odd sense of loss, as if the warmth of his touch had become a lifeline in the midst of your pain. You watch as he rises to his feet, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

"Thank you, Joel," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel inadequate, but they're all you have to offer in this moment.

The corners of Joel's mouth twitch into a small smile, and he gives a nod, turning back towards the kitchen 

While he's gone, you take the opportunity to study him from afar as he walks through the open room to the kitchen. There's an air of quiet strength about him, a sense of resilience. You find yourself wondering about his past—where he came from, what brought him here to your family's ranch. But those questions will have to wait for another time; right now, just talking and moving is enough of a challenge without adding an interrogation into the mix.

Joel returns with a glass of water and some painkillers. "Here," he says gently, helping you sit up enough to swallow the pills before lying back down against the cushions with a wince at the sharp pain in your side again.

“Rest up now," Joel instructs. “I'll take care of things around here for the rest of the day. You just focus on healin.”

You drift in and out of sleep on the couch and everytime you drift out you see Joel lingering around keeping watch over you like some kind old west guardian angel dressed in denim. 

As the day wanes and the shadows grow long across the hardwood floors, you stir from your uneasy slumber. The pain in your side is a dull roar now, thanks to the medication Joel provided. You blink slowly, your eyes adjusting to the dim light of the living room. The ranch is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old house settling and the distant sound of Joel's voice as he talks to one of the horses in the stable.

Your heart flutters at the thought of him—his rugged features, his gentle touch, and those eyes that seem to see right through you. It's a dangerous path your thoughts are taking, but you can't help it. There's something about Joel that draws you in, despite the years between you.

The front door opens with a soft squeak, and Joel steps inside, his boots leaving a trail of dust on the floorboards. He looks weary but satisfied, his shirt damp with sweat from a hard day's work. His gaze finds you instantly, and a warm smile spreads across his face.

"You're awake," he observes needlessly as he approaches. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore," you admit with a small grimace as you try to sit up straighter on the couch. "But better than before." You didn't want to admit how bad your arm was actually killing you.

Joel nods in approval before disappearing into the kitchen again—a man of few words but many actions. He returns a bit later with a steaming mug in hand and offers it to you carefully so as not to spill any on your lap. 

"Chamomile tea," he explains gruffly when he sees your questioning look at what seems like an unusual choice for someone like him, someone who seems more accustomed to strong black coffee than herbal infusions. "It'll help with any lingering pain and help ya sleep." 

You take a tentative sip; making sure to grab the cup with your good hand it's sweetened just how you like it—a small detail that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly because it means he's been paying attention even when he didn’t have to be.  The warmth seeps into your hands as much as into your insides making everything feel less daunting all at once despite your injuries.

The evening settles in, casting a cozy glow over the living room. The ranch is quiet, the animals bedded down for the night, and the chores all done. Joel lingers, his presence a comforting constant in the otherwise empty house. He settles into the armchair across from you, the lines of his face softened by the dim light.

"You should eat somethin’," he suggests, already rising from his chair. "I'll fix ya up a plate."

Before you can protest, he's back in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes and the smell of food wafting through the air. You can't help but smile at his insistence. It's been a long time since anyone has taken care of you like this.

Joel returns with a tray balanced in one hand—a simple meal of soup and a sandwich, cut into manageable pieces. He sets it down on the coffee table, pulling it closer to you. "Eat up," he urges, his tone gentle but firm. "You need to keep your strength up."

As you eat, he watches you, his gaze never straying far. It's an odd sensation, being the focus of such intense attention, but you find yourself not minding it. There's a sense of security in his watchfulness, a feeling that you're not alone in this big house.

When you've finished eating, Joel takes the tray away, leaving you to sip your tea in peace. The painkillers are starting to wear off, and as you move to adjust your position on the couch, a sharp, stabbing pain shoots through your arm, causing you to yelp in surprise and discomfort.

Joel, who has been quietly cleaning up the remnants of dinner in the kitchen, is at your side in an instant. "What is it?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. "Did you move wrong?"

"It's my arm," you admit through gritted teeth, cradling the injured limb with your other hand. "I think I might have aggravated it."

With a nod, Joel gently takes your arm in his hands, his touch firm yet gentle. He probes the area with practiced ease, watching your face for any signs of pain. When he reaches a particular spot, you can't help but flinch, a hiss escaping your lips. “Shh, I know. Easy, easy," he soothes you like a wounded animal, before releasing your arm. His brow is furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't like the look of this. Could be broken, or at least badly sprained. We need to get you to a doctor first thing in the mornin’."

"I'm sure it's fine, Joel," you argue weakly, not wanting to cause a fuss. "It's probably just a bad bruise. I'll be okay after a good night's sleep."

But Joel is having none of it. "No, it ain't fine," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You could be doin’ more damage by not getting it checked out. I'll drive you to the clinic myself in the morning. This ain’t up for debate."

You know that look on his face—it's the same one he wears when he's dealing with a stubborn horse or a difficult piece of machinery. There's no point in trying to dissuade him when he's made up his mind. And truthfully, the idea of having a professional assess your injuries is somewhat of a relief.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, the fight draining out of you. "I'll go to the doctor in the morning."

Joel's expression softens, and he gives your good shoulder a gentle squeeze. "That's the smart choice, darlin'. We'll get you fixed up in no time."

As he moves away to finish tidying up the kitchen, you find yourself watching him, a mix of gratitude and something deeper swirling within you. Despite the pain and the uncertainty of your injuries, you can't help but feel a sense of safety and comfort with Joel around. You're taken from your thoughts when Joel comes back into the living room. "I should be gettin’ home," Joel says after a while, his voice low and reluctant. "But I'll be back first thing to check on you."

You nod, trying to hide your disappointment. The house feels too big, too empty to be without him in it. "I'll be okay, Joel," you assure him, trying not to worry him, though the words taste like a stale cigarette on your tongue. "Thank you for everything."

He gives you a long, searching look before nodding slowly. "Alright then," he says, rising from his chair. "You remember what I said about not pushin’ yourself too hard?"

"Yes," you reply with a small smile. "Rest and recovery."

"That's right," he affirms, pulling on his jacket. "And don't hesitate to call me if you need anything—no matter the time."

You watch as he heads for the door, his silhouette framed by the night outside. Just before he steps out into the darkness, he turns back to you, his eyes reflecting the soft light of the living room. "Goodnight darlin," he says, his voice carrying a hint of something unspoken.

"Goodnight, Joel," you whisper back, the words hanging in the air long after he's gone.

The house is silent once more, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner. You finish your tea and carefully set the mug aside, the warmth of it still lingering on your lips. With a sigh, you settle back against the cushions, the pain in your side a dull reminder of the day's events.

As the night deepens, you find yourself reaching for your phone, your fingers typing out a message before you can second-guess yourself.

Hey. Just wanted to say thank you again for today. I'm okay, just wanted to say thanks. Hope you got home safe.

What you really meant was, “please come back I'm fucking scared being alone.”

You hit send before you can change your mind, the message disappearing into the ether. Minutes tick by with no response, and you chide yourself for expecting otherwise. Joel is probably already asleep, or at least on his way to getting some much-needed rest after the day he's had. But just as you're about to set your phone aside and try to get some sleep yourself, it vibrates in your hand, startling you. A notification lights up the screen—a new message from Joel.

Of course. That's what I'm here for. Got home just fine. How are the ribs? Any better with the meds?

You can't help but smile at the concern in his words, the gruff affection that seems to come so naturally to him. You reply, telling him about the tea and the meal, about how much better you feel with him looking out for you.

His response is quick, as if he's been waiting by his phone for your message. 

Glad to hear it. And remember, there's no rush to get back in the saddle if you're not feeling up to it. Everything will still be here when you're ready. Your health is the priority now. If there's anything I can do for you, just holler. I've got your chores covered. Take care of yourself and don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything or just want to talk about what happened.

You read his words over and over, each one a balm to the lingering ache in your side—and to the unexpected emptiness in your heart. With a contented sigh, you finally set your phone aside and close your eyes, the sound of the ranch at night lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, you're awakened by the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance at the clock—it's early, barely past dawn. With some effort, you manage to sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the couch, wincing at the stiffness in your muscles.

The front door opens, and Joel steps inside, his hands full of a large wicker basket. "Brought you some things," he announces, setting the basket down on the coffee table. Inside, you find an assortment of items—fresh fruit, a few paperback novels, a soft, hand-knitted blanket, and a small potted plant. "I figured you could use some company," he says, gesturing to the plant. "And the books are from my daughter's collection. She loves a good western—thought you might enjoy them."

The revelation that Joel has a daughter is something that catches you off guard, a piece of him that he kept carefully tucked away, a piece you want to know more about. 

You're touched by the thoughtfulness of his gifts, each one carefully chosen to bring you comfort during your recovery. "Joel, this is... it's too much," you protest half-heartedly, even as you reach out to run your fingers over the soft wool of the blanket.

"Nonsense, darlin’," he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

The way he calls you darlin’ brings heat to your cheeks, and you quickly look away, busying yourself with arranging the items in the basket. When you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze again, you find him watching you with a soft smile on his face and you assume he's forgotten about the doctor until he speaks up.

“Alright let's go.” Joel's stands up and holds a hand out to you. 

You look up at him and chuckle “It's fine Joel. It barely even hurts.”

The argument is brief but intense, with you stubbornly insisting that a trip to the clinic is unnecessary despite the pain in your arm. Joel, however, is just as adamant, his concern for your well-being overriding any protests you might have.

"I ain't gonna stand by and watch you suffer when there's somethin’ that can be done about it," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

You cross your arms defiantly, wincing as the movement sends a jolt of pain through your injured wrist. "And what's the hard way?" you challenge him, though there's a hint of amusement in your voice.

Without warning, Joel strides toward you, scooping you up into his arms before you can react. You let out a startled yelp as he hoists you over his shoulder with surprising ease, his strong hands holding you securely in place.

"Hey! Put me down!" You pound on his back with your good hand, your cheeks hot with embarrassment and indignation. But beneath the surface, there's an undeniable thrill at being so close to him—at feeling the muscles in his shoulders and back move beneath his shirt as he carries you effortlessly toward the front door.

"As soon as we get to the truck," he replies calmly, unfazed by your struggles. "We're going to see Dr. Simmons whether you like it or not."

You continue to squirm and protest as he carries you across the yard to where his truck is parked. The other ranch hands look on with barely concealed grins but wisely choose to keep their comments to themselves. They know better than to get between Joel Miller and something he's set his mind to.

With a gentleness that belies his gruff exterior, Joel sets you down on the passenger seat of the truck and buckles your seatbelt for you before closing the door and heading around to the driver's side. 

Joel.

He grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he navigates the familiar dirt roads that lead away from the ranch. He can see you out of the corner of his eye, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the passing landscape. A vision of stubborn beauty, your jaw set in a way that makes his heart do things it hadn't done in years. He can feel the tension radiating off you—a mix of pain and frustration at being manhandled against your will. He can't blame you for being upset. If someone had picked him up and carried him off like a sack of feed, he'd be mad too. But when he saw you lying there in the dirt, hurt and vulnerable, something inside him shifted. It awakened a protective instinct that he thought had died along with Sarah.

Damn it, Joel, he chides himself. She's young enough to be your daughter. But the thought feels hollow, a weak defense against the pull he feels toward you. You’re strong, fiercely independent, and yet, there’s a vulnerability to you that calls to something deep within him, the need to care for someone - for you. He glances over at you again, taking in the delicate curve of your jaw, and the way your hair falls in waves around your shoulders, taking in the way the morning light plays across your features. You’re a sight to behold, all fire and spirit wrapped up in a package that is far too tempting for his peace of mind. Every time he looks at you, all logic seems to fly out the window. There's an undeniable connection between you, a spark that ignites whenever you're near each other. It's terrifying and exhilarating, you make him feel young again. 

He risks another glance in your direction, and his heart skips a beat when he finds you watching him with those big doe eyes of yours. Joel swallows hard, forcing himself to look away before his thoughts can wander any further down that dangerous path. He needs to focus on getting through this day without letting his guard down completely.

The clinic is just up ahead now, its whitewashed walls gleaming in the early morning sun. He pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine, turning to face you with a stern expression that belies the turmoil he feels inside.

"Ready?" he asks, though it's clear from his tone that it's more of a statement than a question. He's not going to let you talk your way out of this one—not when your health is at stake.

You nod reluctantly, your gaze fixed on the clinic entrance. You're nervous; he can see it in the way your fingers worry at the hem of your shirt, in the slight tremble of your chin. He wants to reach out and wrap you in his arms, to offer some semblance of comfort, but he holds back. It wouldn't be appropriate—not here, not now. Instead, he climbs out of the truck and comes around to open your door for you, offering a hand to help you down onto solid ground.

The interior of the clinic is cool and sterile-smelling—a stark contrast to the fresh air and open spaces of the ranch. Joel checks you in at the reception desk while you sink into one of the waiting room chairs, wincing as even that small movement sends a twinge of pain through your side and arm.  Joel takes a seat beside you in the waiting room, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. He can feel the tension emanating from you, a coiled spring ready to leap to action at the slightest provocation. He knows that look—it's the same one he's seen on injured animals over the years, a mix of fear and defiance. It tugs at something deep within him, a primal urge to protect those he cares about most.

He wants to say something to ease your discomfort, but words seem inadequate in the face of your pain. Instead, he reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering just above your knee before he gives in to the impulse and rests it there gently—a silent promise that he's not going anywhere.

You startle at his touch, your gaze flicking to his face in surprise. But as you meet his eyes, you see nothing but sincerity and concern reflected back at you. Slowly, deliberately, you place your own hand over his.

The waiting room is filled with the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of magazines being flipped through by other patients. Joel's thumb traces idle patterns on your leg as you sit there together in silence.

"Joel," you say finally, breaking the silence that has settled between you. Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the ambient noise like a knife. "I want to thank you - for everything."

He shakes his head dismissively, though there's a warmth in his eyes that wasn't there before. "No need for thanks," he replies gruffly. "I did what anyone else woulda done."

"No," you insist firmly, turning in your seat so that you're facing him fully now—ignoring the twinge of pain it elicits from your injuries. "Joel," you say again, your voice steady despite the pain you're clearly in. "I mean it. You've been... you've done so much for me. More than I could have asked for."

He opens his mouth to respond, to downplay his role in your care, but the words die on his lips as the nurse appears in the doorway, clipboard in hand. She calls out your name, scanning the room until her eyes land on the two of you.

Reluctantly, Joel withdraws his hand from your knee, the connection between you severed as you rise to follow the nurse. He stands as well, intending to accompany you, but the nurse shakes her head. "Just the patient for now, please," she says with a polite but firm smile.

You shoot him a reassuring look over your shoulder as you follow the nurse down the hallway, leaving Joel alone with his thoughts. He sinks back into his chair, his hands clasped tightly between his knees again as he waits for you to return.

The minutes tick by slowly, each second stretching into an eternity. Joel's mind races with worry and concern. He knows the ranch like the back of his hand, can handle any crisis that comes his way—but this is different. This is about you, and the thought of you in pain, of you being afraid, is more than he can bear.

He can't shake the image of you lying in the dust after being thrown from Daisy, the fear in your eyes when you realized you couldn't get up on your own. It had been years since he'd felt that kind of raw terror, the kind that gripped your heart and squeezed until you couldn't breathe. But in that moment, with you hurt and helpless, it all came flooding back. Joel had always prided himself on his strength, both physical and emotional. He'd had to be strong after Sarah passed, but with you, he felt something shift inside him—a crack in the armor he'd spent years building up around his heart. He cared about you, more than he should. It was a truth he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried. You were young, vibrant, full of potential and promise. And he, well, he was just an old cowboy with more yesterdays than tomorrows. But when he looked at you, when he saw the fire in your eyes, he felt alive in a way he hadn't in years.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears your name called again. He looks up to see the nurse beckoning him forward with a gentle smile.

"You can come back now," she says, her voice soft and reassuring. "She's asking for you."

Joel's heart skips a beat at her words. He rises quickly, his boots thudding against the linoleum floor as he follows the nurse through the maze of hallways to the examination room where you're waiting. His mind races with possibilities—none of them good. 

Why would they need me if everything was fine? Had something happened while you were back there? Was the injury worse than they initially thought?

The door to the examination room creaks open, and Joel steps inside, his eyes immediately going to you. You're sitting on the edge of the examination table, your face pale but composed. The relief that washes over him at seeing you unharmed is palpable; it leaves him momentarily lightheaded as he crosses the room to your side.

"What's goin on?" he asks urgently, his gaze flicking between you and the doctor who is standing nearby with a clipboard in hand. "Is everything alright?"

Dr. Simmons gives him a reassuring nod before turning his attention back to you. "I was just explaining to your friend here that it looks like she's got some bruised ribs and a fracture in her wrist," he says matter-of-factly as he jots something down on his clipboard. "We'll need to keep an eye on those ribs—make sure there's no internal bleeding or complications—but I think she'll be just fine with some rest and proper care.We gave her some pain medication before the x-ray. It may make her tired so she will need to be watched. No driving, etc. And she will need to come back in three weeks from now to get an updated x-ray of her wrist."

Joel lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relief flooding through him like a tidal wave crashing against jagged rocks. He reaches out instinctively, taking your good hand in his own as he listens intently while Dr. Simmons goes over your care instructions.

Once the doctor finishes his instructions and hands over the prescription, Joel helps you down from the examination table, his hand at the small of your back providing a steady, reassuring presence. "Let's get your meds and then getcha home," he says softly, guiding you out of the clinic and back to his truck.

The drive to the pharmacy is quiet, the air between you thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Joel keeps stealing glances at you, noting the way you're cradling your injured wrist against your chest, the way your breath hitches ever so slightly when the truck hits a bump in the road. He wants to say something, to offer some words of comfort, but he's never been good with this sort of thing. He's a man of action, not words.

At the pharmacy, Joel takes charge, handling the paperwork and payment while you sit quietly on a nearby bench. He can see the exhaustion etched into your features, the way your eyelids are starting to droop. He knows you're running on fumes, and the pain medication will likely knock you out soon.

He heads back to the ranch, the truck's engine humming softly beneath the weight of the silence that stretches between you. You're fading fast, the medication they gave you at the doctor taking its toll. He can see you struggling to keep your eyes open, your body swaying slightly with each turn of the vehicle.

Once he reaches the ranch house, he parks as close to the front door as possible and hurries around to your side of the truck. You're already half-asleep by the time he opens your door, your eyelids fluttering as you fight to stay awake. "Easy now," Joel murmurs, unbuckling your seatbelt and scooping you into his arms with a tenderness that surprises even himself. You let out a soft sigh as he carries you into the house, your head lolling against his chest. The trust you place in him is both humbling and terrifying and the sweet little noises coming from your mouth don't make any of this easier. 

He settles you onto the couch, propping pillows behind your back to keep you comfortable. You smile sleepily up at you, a smile that sends a jolt straight to his heart and many other places. "Stay with me?" You ask quietly. 

How could he possibly say no?

Joel nods, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, “‘course darlin, just gonna make you somethin to eat real quick.” Joel heads into the kitchen to prepare something for you to eat. An Eggo waffle seems like a safe bet—simple and comforting in its familiarity. He pops one into the toaster and waits impatiently for it to brown, his thoughts consumed by the woman lying on the couch.

Joel returns to the living room, the scent of warm waffles wafting through the air. He sets the plate down on the coffee table, along with a glass of water and the bottle of pain medication the pharmacist had given him. "Here you go, darlin'," he says softly, offering you a small smile. "Eat up, and then we'll get you settled in with a movie or somethin."

You nod, managing a weak smile in return as you reach for the waffle with your good hand. The simple act of eating seems to revive you somewhat, though Joel can tell you're still in a considerable amount of pain. He watches as you take a tentative bite, followed by a sip of water to wash it down.

"Thank you," you murmur between bites, your eyes meeting his in a silent exchange of gratitude and concern.

Joel nods, his throat tightening unexpectedly at the sincerity in your voice. "Anything for you," he replies gruffly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. He quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. "What do ya feel like watchin’? There's some old western tapes layin around or we could find somethin else.”

“Hmmm” You think about it for a moment before responding with a slight shrug of your shoulders—a movement that causes you to wince slightly, “I'm not picky. Whatever you want cowboy.” 

If only I could tell ya what I want darlin’

Taglist: @mermaidgirl30 @maried01

[satoruxx]

SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentyTwo

This chapter is NSFW

“Okay,” Steve says to himself quietly, trying to psych himself up for this. They’ve washed up and brushed their teeth, Eddie’s already in bed and Steve is running out of excuses to hide in the bathroom.

Yesterday was a pretty long day, the couple hours of housework before watching ‘Splash,’ at lunch time, and then Joyce and Hopper's visit in the afternoon. So, last night after scrubbing the pool, Steve had been exhausted and Eddie’s new muscles had been quivering with exertion. He’d walked like an old man to get up the stairs, and showering together had been quick and perfunctory; Eddie practically falling asleep against Steve under the water. He’d barely managed their ‘last kiss of the day’ before falling asleep.

Tonight, not so much, and Eddie had been watching Steve expectantly for at least an hour before they came to bed. Or at least, it felt like he had been, maybe it’s just Steve’s imagination.

Tonight is the night. Probably.

Steve remembers the way Eddie’s dick had seemed to startle and slip back inside, like a terrified cat hiding under the couch. “It’s probably more frightened of you than you are of it,” Steve whispers reassurance to himself as he dries his hands, then heads into the bedroom and climbs into bed.

“Stee love,” Eddie says as Steve settles down.

“Hey baby? You okay?”

Eddie makes an affirmative noise, “kisses?”

“Sure,” because how could Steve possibly resist him. The prickliness has grown out of Eddie’s hair, it’s long enough to become more like a peach fuzz now, and Steve likes running his hands over it a little. He fiddles with the point of Eddie’s ear too.

“Eddie? Before...when you had a tail...did you have a, uhm, did you have a dick then?”

“Dick?”

Steve hums, leaning back to cup himself through his pants to show him, “dick. Or penis I guess, is the proper name.”

Eddie’s face lights with understanding, “no. Not before.”

“Right. Right. So...we need to work this out together.”

“Together,” Eddie latches onto the salient point there. Steve’s pretty sure Eddie would agree to pretty much anything as long as Steve spiced it up with a ‘together.’ Which is kind of nice, to be loved like that.

They kiss again, soft and gentle, Steve sometimes pulling back to rub noses, until it’s Eddie’s turn to ask a question, “pull pants down?”

Steve snorts a laugh, he can’t help it. Fond and warm inside; nothing could possibly be scary with Eddie.

“Sure baby, we can do that.”

They undress themselves, Eddie with no concern for the space around him, and Steve has to dodge a lethal elbow as Eddie strips off real quick.

Looking down the long pale line of Eddie’s bony body, a thought occurs to Steve, “did you poop before?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no poop tail.”

“Oh. So I guess you just...digested absolutely everything? There was no poop at all?”

“Yes poop,” and then Eddie makes a motion, opening his mouth and fake coughing, indicating with his fingers that he caught something, that something...came up.

“Out of your mouth,” Steve says, unable to hide how absolutely horrified he is at the image. And then flashing on all the times they kissed before Eddie had legs.

“Not...poop,” Eddie thinks for a second, “seeds. Pear…” he holds his hand above his head, a single finger sticking up, “pear hat.”

“Ohhhhh...the seeds and,” Steve copies Eddie, one finger pointing above his head, “stalk.” Eddie nods, “what did you do with them?” Steve never ever saw Eddie do this, he had no idea this was even happening.

Eddie makes a fair impression of scratching at the coverlet, and then pushing a mound of...dirt back over what he’s just imaginary buried in the covers, “you planted them. You planted the seeds. Like with the pine cones?”

Eddie nods, “planted the seeds, yes,” and then he points, their universal sign for ‘outside’, “pear trees?”

“I...I don’t know if they will grow, I don’t really know much about trees but...when the weather gets a little warmer, we can go looking for them?”

“Warm weather put tent out?”

“Yeah, yeah sure baby we can put your tent back up,” Eddie nods, content with Steve’s answer, he leans in for more kisses, the oval points of Eddie’s nails scratching gently down Steve’s back, Steve stops them again, carefully disengaging, another thought occurs to him, “did you plant things in The Upside Down?”

Eddie nods, “seeds. Black trees and…” he makes a wriggly motion with his hands.

“The vines,” Steve suddenly understands, “you planted them, for food?”

“Yes...tadpole vines best food. Not good when...parent?”

“Ohhh...they’re nicer when they’re, like young, I guess?”

Eddie hums smiling. Steve can’t help it, he kisses him again, Eddie wriggling closer, pressing them together. Eddie’s bony, but it isn’t off putting, and Steve can feel his cock pressing against the top of Eddie’s slit for a moment before he remembers what comes out of there and pulls back a little, “can I touch you?”

“Touch good.”

“Can I touch you here?” Steve hovers his hand in the space between them, wanting to make sure Eddie understands completely before he does anything. Eddie nods, rolling onto his back a little to allow Steve some access, “okay, lets do this.” There’s no way Steve’s going to be able to let himself get into this if he’s worrying about Eddie’s dick suddenly biting him.

It also means if Eddie just...didn’t have a dick before, then that means they need to figure out...everything. Can Eddie even have an orgasm? Steve has no idea how his parts work so, “I guess we can just...try stuff, okay baby?”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie confirms, shifting his legs further apart, as clear of an invite as Eddie could possibly give; Steve throws a leg over Eddie’s to get close enough. The soft light of the bedside lamp is enough to see by.

Eddie’s shifting, parting his legs, has caused the slit to gape a little down between Eddie’s legs, but nothing has made an appearance just yet, “I guess I’ll just...go for it.”

Steve traces the edge of Eddie’s slit with a fingertip, careful and soft. He figures it’s not that different to what a girl would have in placement, but it seems tighter and smaller, more flush to Eddie’s body; neater somehow. He’s also completely hairless here, and there’s no stubble, so Steve figures nothing is ever going to grow down here. Steve lets his fingertip slide into where Eddie has gaped open a little. It’s not dry inside, but it’s not exactly moist either. It just feels like more skin.

Steve rubs his finger up and down the middle of Eddie’s slit a couple of times, not going any further than the part that’s opened naturally. Eddie’s dick still hasn’t made an appearance. “This okay?” Eddie’s watching him with wide eyes, lying still for the moment. He doesn’t appear to be...well...aroused, or showing any particular interest yet, but he nods. “Okay, lets go a little...more.”

Steve lets his finger sink in. There’s no resistance, and Steve finds it’s a little more moist the deeper he goes. Eddie accepts his finger easily, shifting a little and letting out a sweet sounding sigh once Steve is as deep as he can go. The top of Eddie’s slit finally parts, just the head of his dick poking out a little. Like it’s...cautious. Curious.

“Uhm, hey,” Steve says, and then berates himself internally for how absolutely fucking ridiculous that was. Luckily Eddie has no clue what’s normal and clearly isn’t judging him for having a chat with his dick.

Steve’s been with plenty of girls, but never with a guy. And definitely never with anyone who doesn’t have human parts so, unfortunately, absolutely non of Steve’s experience is translating to how he’s supposed to deal with this…he takes a breath, and decides he needs to be all in.

“Okay,” he carefully presses down with his finger, Eddie’s narrow inside, the sides of his channel gripping Steve’s finger as he slides downward until he finds the ‘bottom’ of Eddie’s opening. He traces it with his finger, following the dip until he finds a...ridge. Or a pucker; he rubs it with his moist finger. Eddie makes a huffing noise, “feel good?”

Eddie frowns at him, “maybe?”

“Right, okay,” so Steve withdraws his finger, Eddie making a soft noise of what Steve hopes is pleasure. He carefully offers his slightly moist fingertip to the black, rounded exposed head of Eddie’s cock, and then just...waits. Eddie’s penis slithers out a little further, and then, after a brief stand off, it gently nudges at Steve’s offered finger. “Oh, okay, yeah,” Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie’s briefly to check in, only to find he’s looking down his own body, watching with as much open interest as Steve is. Right then.

Eddie’s dick slithers all the way out, the head as black as Steve remembers, fading into the usual color of Eddie’s pale flesh; it tangles gently with Steve’s fingers, and Eddie makes a noise. Just a little wisp of a thing, but it gives Steve hope that he’s doing the right thing with this. He risks a brief look; Eddie’s cheeks have a little flush to them, his mouth popped open just a tiny bit.

Eddie’s dick is nudging at Steve’s finger, drawing his attention back down, and Steve watches as the head opens up, slowly the petals peel apart. It’s pink inside, Steve sees this time, and covered in hundreds of the most minuscule little pink bumps. Like kind of teeth, or the start of teeth, but they never quite made it there. It waits, hovering uncertainly.

Steve takes a deep breath, letting it out slow, “okay little guy,” and he really, really needs to stop speaking to Eddie’s penis, like, right now.

Steve, gently, offers the pad of his thumb. The petals cup it, a soft touch, all of the tiny little nobbles pressing against Steve’s skin, just wide enough that their petal tips cross over the edges of Steve’s thumbnail. Eddie sighs, and then...kind of nothing happens.

Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie again, since his dick seems content to just hold Steve’s thumb, “Eddie, this okay?”

Eddie nods.

“Any idea what I should...do?”

Eddie shakes his head, looking at Steve helplessly.

“Right, okay, maybe I can…” Steve shifts his hand, keeping his thumb where it is, he wraps his fingers around the thick shaft. Eddie’s dick squirms a little in his grip, but otherwise it seems fine. Steve holds a little tighter, and next to him, Eddie breathes out a little sound. Maybe a little startled, “okay?”

Eddie nods real quick, the sound of his short hair dragging on the pillow, “touch good,” he insists, reaching up himself to grip Steve’s arm where Steve is half hovering over him.

“Okay,” they both look down again, past Eddie’s ribs and his still nearly concave stomach, “okay.”

Steve grips a little tighter, Eddie dick is squirming against Steve’s palm but not like it’s trying to escape or anything, just like it’s rubbing against all of Steve’s hand that it can reach. Steve figures sticking to what works is probably the way to go, so he takes away his thumb to hold Eddie properly, then tries gently sliding his hand down, in an attempt to jack Eddie off.

The flower petal head flails a little, grasping at the air. When Steve pulls down, Eddie's dick simply bends with him, and Steve is sure some of it just...goes back inside. So rather than rubbing Eddie’s dick he just ends up...moving it. Steve hums, that’s not going to work he doesn’t think. Eddie’s dick might be firm but it’s just not rigid enough for Steve to make that work. Steve draws his hand back up to the top, offering the flailing head his thumb, where once again it latches, apparently, happily.

Eddie makes another soft noise at that, he did last time too, Steve thinks. Maybe that’s where he should focus his attention. He decides to try it, gripping Eddie’s dick more firmly, it gives him purchase to rub the pad of his thumb across the dip of the opening and the petals.

Eddie’s breath comes sharp and startled, his nails digging into Steve’s arm, “did I hurt you?”

“No. No it didn’t hurt. Good. Touch many good.”

Right, well, that's about as big of a green light as Steve figures he’s going to get. He rubs again with his thumb. He rubs straight across, forward and back, the pad of his thumb following the shallow bowl shaped dip revealed by the petals, which Eddie seems to like if his quiet noises are anything to go by.

Steve changes it up, trying small circles across all the petals, the tiny little bumps dragging on his skin...almost like he’s rubbing the soft side of velcro. “Stee,” Eddie moans, shifting his hips, parting his legs even further.

“Okay baby?” Steve asks him, although he can’t take his eyes off where Eddie’s penis is wriggling against his palm and fingers, where the flower petals are opening and closing on Steve's thumb. They bend easily where Steve presses on them, alternately stretching as far open as they can before they grip at Steve’s thumb again, moving in a strange, pulsing dance.

The next time they open fully, Steve uses the opportunity to rub his thumb all the way across them, tip to tip, and Eddie’s hips buck uncontrolled, Eddie making a startled noise of pleasure.

Steve himself has started to get hard against Eddie’s hip, Eddie’s wriggling and obvious noises of pleasure causing Steve to become aroused, and he lets himself grind a little, only half aware of his own movements. The wet head drags against Eddie’s soft skin, so Steve rocks again, he’s not able to drag his eyes away from where he’s working the flower petal head of Eddie’s cock.

The drag of all the little nobbles feels a little dry, so Steve leans down, lifting his thumb out of the way for a moment to let a blob of spit drip onto Eddie’s dick, Steve presses it in with his thumb, spreading the moisture.

Eddie’s reaction is almost immediate, his back arches and the petals grip Steve’s thumb tight. Much tighter than they have up until now. Eddie’s hips are writhing against the bed, rolling like waves as Steve just holds still. Eddie makes quiet noises, and Steve flicks his eyes up for a second to check on him; Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut tight, his mouth hanging open wide. The hand on Steve’s arm holding there loosely, forgotten as Eddie, presumably, orgasms.

The head of Eddie’s dick feels like it’s pulsing. Sucking. Gentle pulls against the pad of of Steve’s thumb, like little sucking kisses. And then it fades, becoming weaker, the petals grip loosening as Eddie’s hips relax back onto the bed and become still, his penis slowly slipping from Steve’s fingers. It withdraws some of the way, resting floppily against the bottom of Eddie’s tummy.

It looks a little drunk, the way it wobbles over.

“Stee,” Eddie says weakly, his hand flopping against Steve’s arm in a halfhearted pat.

“Yeah?”

“Good,” Eddie blinks at him, pupils blown wide but eyes all sleepy. He smacks his lips a second before shifting against Steve and frowning down at himself, “et.”

Eddie’s speech seems to have regressed back to how it was in the beginning, but Steve doesn’t mind. He kind of likes that he just blew Eddie’s mind, “wet? Where?”

“In,” Eddie answers, shifting again, one leg is still trapped by Steve’s thigh, but Eddie moves the other leg, trying to pull them together, he wriggles his free leg to scissor his thighs together.

And yeah, Steve can see it now, seeping shiny wet from the middle of Eddie’s slit, “can I?”

Steve’s hand hovers, waiting for Eddie to nod, which he does.

Eddie is very wet now. He shifts, parting his legs again to accommodate Steve’s finger, and then fingers after the first one slips in so easily. It looks completely clear in the light, and it’s very viscous on Steve’s fingers. Steve pulls them out again to look at them; it’s very thick, almost jello like where it clings, all shiny. It’s super slick where Steve rubs his fingers together.

Sever rocks against Eddie’s hip again, his hard cock dragging against Eddie’s hip at the thought of sinking his cock into Eddie’s wet slit.

It’s warm inside, Steve notices first when he puts his fingers back, the slick on his fingers had chilled in the air, highlighting the difference. It’s much easier to feel around now, Steve’s fingers sliding easily through the slick. Eddie sighs, and it sounds contented, so Steve asks, “this okay?”

Eddie hums, “touch good.”

“As good as when I was touching your dick?”

Eddie frowns sleepily, thinking about it, “no. Different.”

Steve nods, he gets that.

Steve investigates properly now, touching all of Eddie’s insides that he can reach. The walls are slick all over now, some of the gooey slick being pressed out around Steve’s fingers. Steve can’t find any features but for the pucker right at the bottom, so he touches there again.

A wet fingertip breaches it far more easily than Steve expects, and Eddie yelps, suddenly grabbing Steve’s wrist, “no,” Eddie’s dick slips back inside, like it wants to get out of the way.

“Okay, okay, is it bad?”

Eddie giggles, shifting against the sensations before relaxing again and blinking, “maybe. Good bad.”

“Okay,” Steve files that away, but avoids it for now.

Steve’s hips have started rocking again, as he slowly finger fucks Eddie’s channel. All the soft wetness making slick noises as he does. Eddie makes happy noises, the occasional relaxed sigh, but he looks sleepy again, “do you think you could come from this?”

“Come?”

“Like before, it felt really good?”

“Eddie come then wet? Dick touch come?”

“Yeah, do you think me touching you like this will make you come again?”

Eddie seems to think for a minute, blinking more awake again and tilting his hips a little to rock down onto Steve’s fingers, “feel many good...not come good.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie keeps shifting, and Steve follows the movement with his own hips, his cock leaking now, leaving a little smear of precome on Eddie’s skin.

“Stee come?”

“Not yet...I want to, though.”

“Eddidie can? Help? Same before? Tail.”

“Yeah. Yeah baby you can touch this time, if you want. Use your hands?”

“Okay,” they switch positions a little, Eddie not seeming to be at all bothered by it when Steve’s fingers abruptly slip free of him. Steve uses the slick on his fingers to wet his cock first, and when Eddie’s sees this he lifts a leg, not at all self conscious, and drags his own fingers over his slit, gathering the thick wetness there.

Steve helps Eddie position his hand, wrapping it around Eddie’s hand on his cock, then moving them both. Eddie catches on fast, “I’m not going to take long,” Steve tells him, already feeling the familiar tightening in his balls.

Steve lets go, Eddie has the idea now, and he jacks Steve fast, making wet noises. His fingers are so pale next to Steve’s skin, but firm and strong, and Steve doesn’t look away from the movement of Eddie’s hand.

“Close baby,” Steve breaths out a warning, his own hips starting to tilt, fucking a little into Eddie’s movements.

Steve lets his eyes close and his head slide back, Eddie lets out a sweet sounding, “oh,” as Steve starts to come, the first pulses landing hot on his own stomach. He has to reach out again, grasping Eddie’s hand to slow him, to show him how to work Steve through his orgasm.

Steve lets himself have a second, after, blinking sleepily as the last twitches of pleasure tingle though him. Next to him, Eddie makes a sound of disgust, and Steve looks over to find he’s clearly just licked some of Steve’s come off his fingers.

Steve can’t help it, he laughs, “not good?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “not good.”

“You want to get cleaned up?”

Eddie nods, “wet.”

They shower again together, just to get the worst of it off, “did that feel okay baby? Was it good?”

Eddie nods, “good. Feel…” Eddie stops a second, standing under the water, trying to figure out how to tell Steve. He makes the flashing movement from the Christmas lights, with his hands, “pretty. Many many,” he rubs his tummy, but low down, making his fingers dance in little tingles across his skin, “good like Christmas food and Pizza and Pears.”

“I think I get what you mean. It felt really good.”

Eddie nods, seemingly satisfied, but then frowns, “more later? Again?”

Steve snorts a laugh. That does make him feel absolutely certain, Eddie must have liked it if he’s asking again so soon, “sure baby.”

Eddie’s not at all self conscious, and he happily cocks a leg, resting his foot on the side of the tub to let Steve clear out the goop from inside his slit. Steve figures he gets the worst of it, inspecting a particularly lumpy part that’s has stuck itself to his fingertips.

There are darker shapes inside, small dots Steve thinks, about the size of peas maybe. Steve inspects the darker splotches clinging to his fingers; he’s only found a couple in amongst the clear jello they’ve cleaned from between Eddie’s legs, “baby, what do you think these are?”

Eddie shrugs, “seeds?”

Steve lets the water catch them, washing them away, “best not plant those in the yard.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Eddidie trees,” and then laughs again, tickled by the idea.

Part TwentyFour

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Winning against them in a fight - OP!

This includes: Shanks, Luffy and Zoro

TW: blood... only a bit but still including this!

SHANKS -

You watch as he wipes the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He was smiling, adjusting the hat on his head. Why the fuck was this man smiling at you?

"What's so funny?" You walk toward him, cracking your knuckles with a slight upturn in your lips.

He stands, his build towering over your smaller one. He spits on the ground and tilts his head at you.

"Nothing's funny, I'm just happy a pretty little thing like you is taking the time out of your day to fight little ol' me."

Heat makes its way to your facial features as you place your hand over your mouth to hide your smile. He sure as hell knew how to make you flustered.

"Shut it! Do you yield?" You ready your staff for another attack, eying his movements.

His crew watches from a distance, shocked that a 'pipsqueak like you' could take down their captain.

"I'll yield if you go on a date with me." He holds out his hand to you.

"Deal." You place your hand in his and put your staff back on your back.

You feel his hat sit on top of your hair as you adjust it to not block your sight. He throws you over his shoulder and walks back toward his crew of men.

"Alright men! Drinks on me tonight!"

LUFFY -

"Damn, did you eat a devil fruit too or something?"

Your eyes widened but then you laugh out loud. "You ate a devil fruit, I thought I'd be dead by now...you're pretty weak."

He tries again to hit you. You dodge yet again and smirk.

"You have bad aim too." You click your tongue and shake your head, smile still etched on your face.

He then shoots himself forward, screaming as loudly as humanly possible. You hold out your hand, gripping his neck as he struggles against you.

"Tap out." He doesn't listen to you, he's fading.

"Tap out before you die." He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them, tapping quickly on your forearm.

You let him go and watch him fall to the ground, taking big gulps of air with tears in his eyes.

"You're not worthy to have me on your crew, small one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll take my lea-" You look out to the ocean and your boat is sailing away...without you.

"WHATTHEFUCK!" Your hands cover your face and you let out a loud groan.

Luffy puts his hand on your shoulder and smiles at you. "You gonna join my crew now?"

"Yes captain, I will." A soft smile graces your face as he jumps up and down with happiness.

He then groans in pain and you hold out your hands, telling him to sit down. "Dawg, I hit you pretty damn hard in the ribs...do you want me to carry you?"

He tries again to get up and then just sits on the ground still.

"Yes."

ZORO -

"What the-" Your heel connects to the underside of his face.

He groans and doesn't go down.

You hum and smile at him. "That usually messes people up. Just a little bit of blood for you, cutie."

You point to your nose and he rubs underneath it, red liquid stains his knuckles. "Nice hit, but it won't happen again."

You smile and raise a eyebrow at the man in front of you. "Oh really? Let's see if you can keep up."

You rush toward him and sweep under his feet, causing him to fall. The katana in his hand presses against your neck as you straddle his waist and hold his wrist, pinning it to the ground. Your blood drips down his katana and you hum yet again.

"Very good. You got me but you put your guard down too quickly."

You pry both katanas out of his hands, deflecting the one in his mouth and holding the other up in the air, preparing yourself to stab him. Zoro tries to deflect it but misses entirely then the sword goes into the ground a few inches from his ear.

Still holding the sword, you lean down and whisper into his ear.

"We'll meet again. Don't let this happen again, I won't hesitate next time."

You remove yourself from him and walk away from him, not turning back.

He stays on the ground for a while before collecting himself and sheathing his katanas. He was utterly speechless at his performance with fighting you. You almost killed him.

"Definitely not letting that happen again."

[flowercrowngods]

based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

🤍 also on ao3

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

��I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

[mimi-cee-genshin]

A Slight of Hand Makes Colour - Lyney x f!reader

Summary: You think Lyney hates you. He's never used his charm on you. Lynette's response? If you look behind his ear, just under the stands of his hair, the answer will magically appear. (A cute and heartwarming getting together fic that I hope will make you smile.)

Other info: fluff, cute, some hurt/comfort, some pining, family, getting together, yes I know it's "sleight of hand", 2.5k words

*****

"Does Lyney hate me?"

You sat in front of the cafe with Lynette, enjoying a late night drink, and typically you'd be enjoying the silence and scenery together. But your thoughts slipped out of your mouth before you could snatch them back, ruining the peaceful moment you were having.

"Forget what I said," you said, eyes darting back to your drink.

Lynette placed her cup down and put a new cake slice on her plate. "Why do you ask?" she said with no hint of shock on her face.

"No. It was a stupid question." You took a sip, hoping she'd drop the topic.

"I see… Have you finally begun to wonder why Lyney has never used his charm on you?" she asked.

Your drink went down your throat the wrong way and you began to cough. "How did you know?" you asked, a little embarrassed.

"I could tell from how you were eyeing him as he welcomed our newest guest," she explained.

Nothing got past Lynette. You knew better than to try to hide anything from her. You'd often wondered if her greatest talent was actually reading minds.

She was right. You had never noticed the slight difference in Lyney's behavior towards you, even though you had known the twins for a long time now. He had always treated you with care and respect, but lately, you felt ill whenever he showered others with his suave words. You used to be happy just to see him smile.

You sighed, knowing exactly why you felt this way. You just didn't want to admit it.

"I think it's the right time to tell you this," Lynette said.

"Hm?" you asked. "Tell me what?"

"There's a reason why Lyney acts differently around you," she said.

You raised your brow, but you placed your cup down anyway and to listen for her next words.

"I'll give you a hint," she said. "If you look behind his ear, just under his strands of hair, you might figure out why he treats you this way."

What? It was always hard to tell what Lynette was thinking because of the lack of emotion on her face. But even if she'd crack a joke once in a while, she wouldn't do so when you had a genuine concern.

Lynette took another sip of her cup and returned back to standby mode, drifting somewhere within the stars.

You weren't sure what to make of her comment

*****

It was four in the afternoon and the workshop needed to be cleaned before you could start any work. You took the vacuum, which Lynette fortunately didn't break yet, and removed the sawdust on the floor from this morning.

Next, you wiped down the workshop's two-way mirror, knowing Lyney would need it to test another trick today. The majority of the cleaning fell on you, which you didn't mind. You used to be a maid after all – a maid to a cold and cruel mistress. You had never expected to see the twins again after her downfall.

Lyney walked to the entrance after the doorbell had rung and greeted the lady here for a delivery. You smiled as he chatted up a storm with her, always happy to meet new people, and he even added a magic trick to top it off.

"And that concludes today's mini show," he said, returning his hat on his head. "With your lovely shirt and trousers, I hope to see your excellent style at my next performance."

Ah. Another compliment, another knot in your stomach.

At the door, Lyney received the package which reached just above his eyes when he carried it. You placed your rag down and got the other package that was left at the front door.

"Thank you, Y/n," he said with a smile.

It was a short and simple statement of appreciation, which you typically didn't mind. Yet, he didn't say, 'Thank you. Whatever would I do without you.' Nor did he say, 'You're just as reliable as always. Why, I must ensure that you never leave us!' You'd often hear these words when he talked to your co-workers.

But not with you.

You placed the package on the table beside the retrofitted vase and the room went quiet. The two of you typically didn't mind a comfortable silence, but today felt different. You went on with your work anyway, cleaning up the scraps on the work table as Lyney worked at his desk. He didn't even hum a tune as he usually did when the others were around. It was only silent with you.

You sighed, thinking you would've noticed earlier if you were as observant as Lynette. You weren't sure if the subtle difference in behavior was something you should be concerned about.

Once you were done cleaning, you peeked over Lyney's shoulder as he sketched out a mechanism he'd need for a trick. He smiled at you and pointed to the drawing, explaining to you how the system worked.

"But if I place this gear here, its axel would obstruct the door of the hidden compartment," he told you. "I'm not really sure how to solve this one."

"I see…" you said, pulling out a stool beside him. "You said the axel needs to be at least an inch long... Could you add a slot for it on the door itself?"

He placed his pencil's end on his cheek. "That could work since it's hidden anyway," he said.

He continued to alternate between thinking and drawing, often erasing his paper and even getting another sheet to redraw it. You had always admired the work he put into his shows. You enjoyed watching him passionate about his craft.

"If you look behind his ear, just under his strands of hair, you might figure out why he treats you this way," Lynette had said.

You lifted your hand up to brush his hair away from his right ear.

Lyney's pencil stopped moving and his hand was frozen in place. "W-what are you doing, Y/n?"

You were right. There was nothing there. You didn't expect anything, but you thought maybe there could've been a secret magic trick the twins set up for you. There was nothing of that sort.

And then you saw it.

"Lyney, why is your ear…"

His hand rushed to cover his ear. "I-It just turns red sometimes. That's all," he explained. "It's unfortunate that most of my tricks are done at a distance, so I don't have any plans to create tricks that involve me turning red."

"What are you even talking about–"

His hand… He was tapping his finger and counting down from five. Lyney would only do this to activate his 'performance mode', when he needed to calm his nerves.

"Lyney, is there something wrong–"

"Oh, would you look at the time... The sun is about to set," he said, leaving his chair.

"Lyney, wait!"

Crash!

The pieces from the broken vase were scattered next to your knees and under the table. Memories flooded back of your mistress's twisted scowl and piercing eyes, and you quickly bowed your head and apologized. Your breathing became shallow and your eyes didn't leave the floor.

A fan of cards appeared in front of your face.

"Now you see them, and now you…"–he pulled the cards together–"Hey, hold on a moment, why didn't the vase disappear?" Lyney said before sighing. "I guess we'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

You looked up to see Lyney's smile and outstretched hand.

"Would you like to be my assistant for today?"

You had never forgotten how you first met Lyney. Two magicians on a secret mission and your mistress and her husband had a lot to hide. And yet, Lyney had taken the time to redirect your mistress's anger and given you a hand, just like he was doing now.

You took his hand and stood to your feet, not once leaving your eyes from his.

"Now, where were… uh…" he said, breaking eye contact. He released his grip from you hand, but you held him even tighter. "You're not going to let go, are you?" he said, running his hand on the back of his neck.

"No," you said. "I'm not."

You wanted an answer. You wanted to hear it – that this man in front of you was attracted to you. A wonderful magician who won you over not only because of his magic tricks and charisma, but also because of his kindness, hard work, and love for his siblings. And yet this same person whom you admired all this time had the tips of his ears burning red at your gentle touch.

"Lyney…" you managed to say. "Do you like me?"

He sighed and laughed a little. "I guess the cat's out of the bag. There isn't a way for me to escape out of this one, is there?"

You shook your head.

He gave you a gentle smile. "Do you remember our second meeting?" he said. "When you showed up at our rendezvous point?"

Panic had covered his face when he saw you instead of Lynette, his posture revealing he wouldn't hesitate to attack you if you had harmed her in any way. You had to quickly explain how you hid Lynette in a storage room after she almost blew her cover.

"You had come up with a detailed plan that helped Lynette escape and sacrificed your own food for her as she hid. And you did all of this while you were terrified of your mistress. How could I not have fallen for you then and there?"

You had never realized that Lynette noticed you gave her your food. You would've done it for anyone, knowing what the punishment would've been if she was caught.

"Anyway, that's the story of my one-sided love. We should really fix up the vase that had fallen earlier," he said, quickly returning to the scattered pieces.

"Lyney, but…"

"Be careful now, or you might get hurt. I wouldn't want to see any tears on that beautiful face of yours–" His eyes saw the mirror behind you before he covered his face. "Um… pretend you didn't see that."

You grabbed his face and pulled it back, observing his red blush up close.

"Uh…" he said, eyes darting away. "What are you doing–"

"You know, I wondered why you never used your smooth words on me," you told him. "Why did you hide it?"

He took your hands from his face and placed them back by your sides. "Nothing good would come out of it," he said with a sigh. "Especially with my association with the Fatui."

"And what if I want to take the risk?" you said, still clinging onto his hand.

"What?"

"You've always meant a lot to me Lyney, even before my feelings turned romantic," you told him. "I've taken risks for you before. And I'm willing to do it again."

He lifted his other hand to fix a strand of hair on your head, gently pushing it back and getting a better look at your face. "You shouldn't do that to yourself, Y/n. You deserve more than that."

"We can work together," you said. "Just like we always have."

He pulled his hand out of your grip. "I… I can't," he told you. "I can't do it. How…" His voice wavered as he turned away from you. "How can I take care of you too?"

A door clicked open and you turned to look behind you. Lynette had walked into the workshop from the other room.

"Oh…" Lyney looked at her with a nervous smile. "Did you see all of that?"

Lynette pointed to the two-way mirror. You wouldn't be surprised if she heard the whole conversation.

"Lyney," she said. "Do you remember when we jumped off the cliff, and you shielded my fall before going unconscious?"

"What?" he said, turning towards her. "How could I forget? That was the day you received your vision."

Lynette placed her hand on her chest. "You've taken care of me so much for as long as I could remember," she said. "But I love you too and care dearly for Y/n as well. So if any issues arise because of your relationship with her, let me help. I'll protect you."

"I…" Lyney lowered his eyes.

"I'll be alright, because as always…" she began.

"... Lynette is by my side," Lyney finished. Yet his shoulders sagged. "I… I don't know Lynette. What if something goes horribly wrong? I don't want Y/n to take the fall too."

"Don't worry," she told him, shaking her head. "I've already gotten some ideas to get you two out of any sticky situation. Keep it a secret as long as possible and I'll prepare for any contingency plans for whatever comes up."

"I'm still not so sure…" he said.

"Both of you are also discreet and know how to keep secrets," she continued. "The rest of the family would be excited and 'Father' would be fine with it as long as she doesn't hinder any missions. We both know that won't be a problem."

You stared at Lynette, amazed she thought all of this through. She really wanted this to work out, wanted us to work out.

Lyney placed his hand on his chin and thought for a long while. Both you and Lynette gave him a chance to think and didn't mind the silence he needed.

"So what's your plan?" he finally asked.

"For now, the biggest issue is that Lyney needs to figure out how to stop blushing." Lynette turned to you. "I figured that giving you the hint would get Lyney the help he needed with that."

"You gave her a hint?" exclaimed Lyney. "About my blushing? Lynette… I told you to keep it a secret."

"It was going to show sooner or later," she said. "Better here in the workshop than in public."

"Oh Lynette…" Lyney whined. "I can't believe you were the one who started this."

The tips of your mouth tugged back into a grin, seeing Lyney's arms relax a little. "So is that all he needs to do?" you asked. "Just stop blushing?"

"It's not that easy," Lyney said, a bit embarrassed. "Which was why I've been cautious with my words around you."

"Then why don't you practice now?" you said with a smile.

"What?"

"Practice flirting me until you can stop going red."

"I… uh…"

"What? Is the great magician who's a master at winning hearts actually at a loss for words?" you teased.

"I can't help it. You leave me breathless," he whined, sounding more like a complaint than a flirty remark. Yet his face turned red once again. He looked up at the two way mirror behind you and covered his face with both hands. "Okay, I need help," he said through his fingers.

"Keep practicing on me," you said with a smile.

"Can't we start tomorrow?"

"Nope. You need to make up for all the times I got jealous."

"You got jealous?"

You giggled as you scooped up his hand. "Of course I did. I just wish Lynette had given me the hint earlier."

*****

I hope you liked it. Please check out my other fics if you're interested. :)

[featki]

Under the mistletoe !

— pairing: 西村力 x reader— contains: fluff — now playing:一子青葉

Up on stage, the lights were so blinding you almost couldn't make out your surroundings.

Though looking to your right you could see your tall boyfriend, looming over you in his red and white fluffy coat. You wanted to tell him how cute he looked, though he'd probably grimace at you, so you settled for admiring him instead.

Amongst the never-ending cheers heard from the crowd, a second of silence fell over the arena; Snow falling down.

Whose idea it was to do an open-roof arena show during the dead of winter was beyond you, though the sight was nice.

You had gotten so utterly distracted, watching the snow fall like a child on Christmas Eve, that you hadn't even noticed the roar of gasps and screams coming from the fans. Shocked you looked around, confused until you looked behind you, seeing Heeseung, holding a mistletoe above you, laughing manically, as if he had just pulled the best prank ever seen.

You look at Riki, smirking at Heeseung, but unable to hide the blush that rose to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Luckily for him, no one could see it besides you and Heeseung.

Riki looks back at you, debating what to do as the crowd continues screaming. But, before he can make the choice, you chose for him.

You grabbed his coat and pulled him down, pulling his hood off in the process, and you kissed him on the cheek. Nothing scandalous but enough to make Heeseung yell "She did it!!" with glee as he jumped away.

As everyone's surprised gasps continued you let go of Riki, walking away and giggling. Leaving him dumb-founded and blushing so much that even the fans might be able to pick it up.

You knew you weren't supposed to actually do it, you guys could get in trouble.

But considering you can just push it off as 'The rule of the mistletoe', you took your chance to show your love for your adorable boyfriend.

BONUS SCENE:

"You are so cute in your little Santa jacket" You emphasized the cute part.

You knew how badly Riki wanted to be seen as mature and cool in your eyes, but you just couldn't help it. He looked so utterly adorable dressed in red and fluffy white, and you just had to let him know.

This is why when he first stepped out in it, you grabbed his face and fluttered him in kisses, muttering how cute he was in between each kiss.

"Stooooooooooooppppp" He whined like a child.

He was overly sleepy today, even before the concert due to how busy his day was.

But this made him all the cuter; He was clingy whenever he got sleepy, which sure he's clingy all the time, but when he's sleepy he's even clingy around other people, which is rare.

Eventually, you let him breathe and looked at him while still holding his face to your level. You smiled at him, just admiring his beauty.

Each mole the makeup had failed to cover, the way his eyes were so sleepy but so sweet, the small smile that had crept on his face during your kiss attack, and the way his lips were pouting slightly.

He was upset you had stopped, "Kiss me again"

It caught you off guard, Riki wasn't bold, even when he was tired, so it shocked you.

"Are you going to stand there and look dumb or are you going to kiss me again" That shocked you even more, putting a confused look on your face.

But Riki wasn't feeling very patient, so he kissed you instead, it was slow and sweet but not too romantic.

Just a simple sleepy kiss.

Riki stood back up and started walking away, leaving you to sit there in surprise and giddy-ness.

"Your little Santa hat is cute by the way" you looked at him, he wasn't looking back at you but you could still see the redness on his ears.

I think his actions shocked him just as much as they did you.

I think the bonus scene is longer then the story itself... sorry

@ featki

[qtboni]

cowboy simon x f!reader???

I don't know what else to add, it would be nice if it was smut yk??

I just saw a video where a masked man dressed like a cowboy aslo he still has a naked torso and he is so tall and in very good shape and when I saw this video for some reason it reminded me of Simon

(sorry, english is not my native language, sorry if there are any mistakes!!)

HAI ANONNIE !! OMIGEE COWBOY SIMON IS SO HOT !? like he can yeehaw me every damn time wtf ☝️😍

╰﹒ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐎𝐘 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon indulges you in your pretty lil fantasies <33

C/W: MDNI. smut w/ fluff + dom!simon riley, sub!f.reader, petnames (love, baby, pretty girl), lotsa teasing, neck kissing, lil manhandling, lil belittling, lotsa praises, thigh riding, humping, clit stimulation, aftercare

W/C: 1.9k

"You're so easy to please, love," Simon chuckles as he had you in a state where you were unable to move, or speak, or even think rationally. Not after when he had obliged to indulge in your naughty little fantasies of being fucked by a cowboy in the late night hours. You could only let out a whimper for him.

You claimed you were joking. But you weren't, really. You had been dropping little hints about those fantasies all the time, asking if he would be up for a cowboy roleplay in the bedroom. He had grumbled a "sort of" agreement when you asked if he was down for it, but you hadn't realized he was really on board for it.

That is, until now, when you found yourself sprawled on your back on the bed, completely weak under his touch.

Simon was dressed with a black cowboy hat atop his head, a sexy red bandana encircling his neck, a thick cowboy belt wrapped around his hips, and dark jeans hugging every curve of his delicious thighs. And to top it all of was his famous skull mask, hiding his face. No shirt. No top. He was beyond shirtless. And my gods, were your pussy right now is dripping with need when you looked over at his abs.

You find your heart racing and your hands trembling as Simon leans in, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Do I make you nervous?"

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the thought of him being so close, his warmth and presence filling you with a sense of exhilaration that's hard to contain.

"...Yes," you whisper breathlessly in response, your voice dripping with need. Your heart is pounding with excitement, and your body feels on fire with desire as you look into his eyes.

You watch as Simon moves closer, his lips ghosting gently over your throat as he kisses your neck. Your mouth parts and you moan softly, your body tensing and shivering with arousal as he lightly nibbles on your sensitive skin. Your breath quickens and your heart beats faster, overwhelmed by the thrill of it all.

With your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you pulled him close to you, desperate for more of his touching. Your body responded to his kisses, jolting with pleasure as his lips nibbled down your neck. Your hips writhed and squirmed under him as he suckled on your sweet spot.

The heat was building up inside you as Simon's kiss roamed down to your shoulders, and your entire body was buzzing with sensuality. You were lost in pleasure with each sensation of his touch, and the world around you seemed to fade away that you fail to notice Simon pinning your hands above your head.

Simon whispered softly to your ear, "Always so obedient for me, hm?" while he suckled on the skin under your ear. You couldn't help but to squirm and whine with need, your needy whimpers begging him to make you feel good. It made his cock painfully throbbing with need.

Simon's raspy chuckle drove you mad with arousal, as he licked a long striped line from your neck to the base of your ear, leaving a wet trail. You moaned and tried to move your hips to relieve your aching pussy, but Simon firmly gripped your hips and held you still, his touch driving you mad with lust and desire.

"Behave."

Your mind was swimming with pleasure as you looked into his half-lidded eyes through the skull mask.

"Please..." You tugged on the red bandana wrapped around his neck and pulled him down to you, intending to kiss him. But Simon's hold on you was strong, and he pulled you back, his teeth digging into your ear.

You cried out, but the sound was quieted when Simon's mouth covered yours in a hungry and rough kiss. His tongue plunged deep into your mouth, exploring in a demanding and passionate way. He broke the kiss only to move his lips back down your neck to suck and bite your skin, his touch driving you wild with lust.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he continued exploring your mouth with his skilled tongue. You sighed softly as his passionate and rough kisses sent waves of pleasure through your body. But the sensation was not enough, and you wanted more.

You pressed your body against Simon's, your hands roaming along his chest and thighs as you yearned for satisfaction. But Simon had other plans, and rolled you over so that you were now on top of him.

"Ride me, pretty girl," Simon mumbled against your ear, his voice raspy with desire and need. He was looking up at you, his eyes blazing with passion as his hands gripped your hips. You felt your body shiver with arousal, as you moved your hips to hover just above him.

With your naked pussy pressed on top of his bulge, you started to grind down on him, your hands planted on his pecks. You let out a soft moan as the friction made you feel wetter.

"No, baby, ride my thigh," Simon purred with a low chuckle, as he stopped your hips from moving, gripping at it hard. His voice was filled with heat and lust, his eyes dark with desire. He pulled you closer to him, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your hips to glide along his thigh. You let out a moan of pleasure as this felt even better than before.

"Good girl," Simon growled as he continued to guide you in grinding down on his thigh using his arms. His voice was raspy with lust, and his words were an encouraging challenge as his touch grew more intimate. You let out a moan of pleasure as you felt your legs trembling with excitement. Your hips slid along the curves of his thigh, and his touch sent electrifying shivers down your spine.

He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he whispered in your ear, "You like that, don't you, baby?"

You mewled when his fingers trailed up your back, sending warm tingles all over your skin. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt yourself becoming lost in his touch. You couldn't resist grinding against him harder, craving the pleasure he was providing. With each movement, you felt your desire building stronger and stronger.

"Simon.."

His lips curl into a smirk as he hears your plea, the desperation in your voice fueling his own desires. He moves his hands from your back, letting them trail over the sides of your body, his touch light but lingering. He can feel how your cunt was completely drenched with your precum, seeping through his jeans, leaving a wet spot in its wake.

"You're doing good, baby," Simon groaned as he grabbed your waist tighter, his voice thick with desire. "Keep going," he whispered eagerly, his grip firm and his touch thrilling as you continued grinding down on his thigh. The sound of his encouraging words, and the feel of his presence made your body squirm with enjoyment.

"I'm trying, Si'.. Please." You breathed heavily and moaned softly, as Simon coaxed you into grinding down harder and faster into his hard thigh. His hands gripped the sides of your waist firmly as he made you move even more quickly.

"Better," he breathed softly in between pants, his words filled with praise and encouragement. The sensation of his firm thighs in contrast to your weeping cunt made your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Groaning, Simon grabbed his black cowboy hat from his head and placed it on to yours, smiling seductively.

"You're so hot like this, baby," he said in a low, raspy voice. He looked into your eyes with a knowing smirk, and his touch made your skin tingle and the heat build up inside you.

Wanting to indulge into his fantasies too, you placed your hand on top of the hat and smirked at him as you grinded your hips harder. You watch as Simon's grip falters and tosses his head back to the feel of your cunt rubbing on his now stained jeans.

With every frantic thrust you did, your eyes fluttered with pleasure as the trail of fire reached your lower stomach, the familiar sensation making your thighs tremble. You sobbed out on to his shoulder, lazily nuzzling into his neck, seeking comfort and support.

Simon bit back a moan as he heard your sounds, his cock already twitching with desire. He wanted this moment to be special for you, but the sight of your pleasure was enough to overwhelm his senses and stir his primal urges. He had to have you.

As you breathe heavily into his neck, you feel his hand gently caressing your back, feeling the tension and tightness in your muscles as you collapsed onto him.

Your body was still trembling from the pleasure, and you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you. Your breath was shaky as you were in a state of pure bliss and satisfaction, and Simon's gentle caresses felt like a comforting hug.

"Shh, it's okay, baby," he whispered gently as he lifted you from his lap and laid you on the bed. His caresses continued as his breath brushed over your neck, sending a tingle of pleasure down your spine.

Your muscles felt relaxed and loose, and your body was breathless from the wave of pleasure you just experienced. You felt languid, and in a state of contentment and bliss. His gentle caresses felt wonderful against your skin.

Simon softly kissed your forehead and smiled gently at you, his touch still sending chills down your spine. You were breathless and content, and every moment with him felt like a dream. So it was a blur when Simon cleaned you up with a wet towel, your body still trembling from passion. He wiped away the cum, as well as the rest of the arousal on your thighs.

He had also tenderly rubbed out the sweat and the redness on your face and neck with gentle caresses as helped you feel clean and fresh again. When he was done, he lay down beside you on the bed, and pulled you close to him, putting the cowboy hat on the bedside table.

"Did so good for me, hm?" Simon said gently as he cupped both your cheeks and looked into your eyes, making you smile. The love and warmth in his gaze made you feel comforted and safe, and you could feel your heart beating faster with excitement at the thought of being with him.

You hummed in agreement as your eyes fluttered in slumber. Your body was still trembling from the pleasure, but a small giggle came out from your mouth as you mumbled out, "You'd be a great cowboy.." With your body completely relaxed and content, you let yourself go and slipped into a deep sleep in his arms.

Simon laughed softly at your sleepy statement, and bent to kiss you on the lips, carressing your cheek.

"Sure am, love, with the prettiest cowgirl in my side."

navi / masterlist !

[griffintail2]

Wolf in Duck's Clothing

Summary: A small child sinner tries to navigate her way through Hell.

Pairings: Lucifer x Child!GN!Reader

Warnings: None that I know of but it's Hazbin, we'll find them eventually.

This is a part one for now to test out the new writing grounds! Hope you enjoy! ♥

Part 2

-------

Sinners couldn’t have children in Hell. It was common knowledge. So, an actual child running around hell was rare.

For a child to be there, they had to be a Hellborn or…the most rare choice, they were a sinner themselves.

There were some that took in the rare little sinners. However, there were a few that continued to wander the streets. Alone and helpless. It was how (Y/N) got into the situation they were in.

Ducking between legs and slipping through the crowd, their breath came out quickly as they looked back to see their pursuer still following, but falling behind. They needed to hide. Alleys were obvious and usually, more trouble than they were worth, inside another building was even more reckless.

Then they spotted hedges surrounding a large home. The big bushes might be dying, but it would be enough to slip into. Quickly, they slipped through the crowd, diving through the hedge to hide beyond it. On the other side, the large home stood in its glory along with a neglected garden in front of it.

Holding their breath, they watched the hedge, waiting to see if their pursuer followed but breathed with relief when a minute passed and the hedge didn’t move from any disturbance. They waited a few more minutes before they’d make their hasty escape from the land they had stumbled upon. Looking around, (Y/N) could imagine how beautiful the garden might have once been.

The pretty colors and life that would have flourished in the dark place. There was one living plant, making them wonder slightly closer in curiosity. A large tree that still stood…

“You’re trespassing.” A voice spoke behind them.

The small child, jumped, giving a small scream as they turned, clutching onto the stolen goods they had in their arms. Behind them, a man with pale white skin, red cheeks, and hair hiding under a large hat looked down at them with crossed arms.

Lucifer stared at the small sinner. Their form was one of a wolf’s, their ears currently pointed back and tail pressed close to them as they stared up at him in fear. In their arms, he spotted a few bits of food. Bread, cans of something, and…apples. He stood straighter.

“Did you take from the tree?” He growled.

“W-What?” They looked at the tree seeing it was indeed an apple tree. “No! I’m-I’m sorry sir! I-I didn’t mean to come h-here.”

He scoffed. “Then what are you doing here if not to steal?”

“I-I was hiding…” Tears welled up in their eyes and Lucifer looked confused. “I-I’m sorry, I did st-steal, but not from you…I st-stole this food from the store.”

Now Lucifer was utterly baffled. They were confessing their wrongdoings? Why weren’t they lying, they’re a sinner. He stared at their terrified form trying to figure them out. When he’d seen them from his office window, he'd confidently assumed that they were just a short adult sinner. But…

“How old are you?” He asked.

“…Eight.” They muttered.

He sighed deeply as he looked away from them. An actual child. He knew there were children, sinners, he’d just never met one during his centuries, not that he went out much to have the chance to meet one.

“Where are your parents or the people taking care of you?” He huffed.

They looked around, sputtering. “I, um-Well I—”

“Any time now.” He waved his hand.

“…I’m-I’m taking care of me.” They muttered.

He once more stood in confusion. They were on their own? But he looked them over again. Ratty, torn clothes, food they stole in their arms, on their own to begin with.

He crossed his arms again, gripping them as he stared at the small child, making them squirm in place.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, before walking to the house. “Come on.”

“W-What?” They sputtered.

“Come on, in the house.” He motioned to it as he looked back. “I need to find somewhere to bring you and I don’t know where to start. So come inside so I can figure it out.”

They stared in shock before quickly scampering after him. He sighed as he led them in. He wasn’t fond of sinners by any means. He hated his own subjects. But the father side of him couldn’t just leave a child out on their own to fend for themselves. He’d find somewhere to send them so he could be done with it.

“Thank you, sir.” They muttered.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled.

[sakkiichi]

MEOW?

them as cat parents.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao, Shikanoin Heizou, Albedo, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Childe x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, headcanons.

word count: 1.7k.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

— All cats adore him and he’s fond of them too, he’s the perfect cat parent.

— Kazuha is soft, warm and gentle, all attributes very appealing to the small felines that tend to follow him around everywhere he goes: from the streets of Inazuma City, to the docks of Ritou, to even during his trips to Liyue.

— Kazuha is a free spirit, wandering from one place to another, a fallen maple leaf, vibrant red in its trajectory across the sky. His desire to see the world makes it difficult for him to linger in one place only, so it is not likely he ends up adopting a cat of his own.

— However, always that he’s in Inazuma, the wandering samurai makes sure to visit his late friend’s gravestone. In those occasions, as much as he keeps his composure, Kazuha’s grip on your hand tightens, a reassurance to himself, that the heavens won’t part in thunderbolts and take you away too.

— These visits are heavy on his heart, but your company and the soft mewls of the white kitten his friend left behind manage to shine a little sunlight in his stormy memories.

— The small cat’s ears perk up when you two show up, its tail swishing as it leaps into Kazuha’s arms, eliciting soft giggles from the wandering poet.

— You could stare forever at the sight of your lover’s smile when the little one paws at his cheeks curiously, playing with the tips of Kazuha’s moonlit hair. You sigh dreamily, gaze soft. If a day comes when you’re too weary and old to travel anymore, you’re so taking in the kitty.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

— He’s the cat.

— Seriously, now. Cats are drawn to him. And even if he denies it, he has to hold back a smile when the little creatures follow him around.

— The wanderer is secretly very, very soft on the cats.

— Oftentimes, he lets them hide under his hat, carrying them around when he goes for walks around Sumeru. He thinks, that way, his doll won’t be so lonely either (he definitely introduces it to his favorite cats he befriends but shh don’t tell him you saw that.)

— If you point out how the kittens seem to consider him one of them, Scara will blush deeply, frowning and spouting how you’re seeing things and that no, he’s not keeping any of them.

— Oh yeah, he totally went out to feed the kitties some scraps that night, it’s late and he wanted to sleep, you see? and the animals were being loud. (No, it’s definitely not because he feels guilty of saying he’s not keeping them).

— One time, you caught him rescuing a very small black cat on a thunderstorm, and to this day, you still believe that’s the most precious thing you have ever witnessed.

— The smile on your boyfriend’s face and his wide indigo eyes when he felt the warmth of the kitten’s small body against his hollow heart are definitely a treasure you want to keep forever.

✧ XIAO

— He’s the cat, number 2.

— Liyue’s cats have a favorite and that’s definitely none other than the mighty vigilant yaksha, the conqueror of demons, the bane of all evil.

— In truth, he’s just a blushing awkward mess around the kittens.

— One, he’s scared to hurt them. They’re so small and their mewls are so soft… such pure and innocent creatures… What if his karma were to taint them?

— Two, he’s clueless.

— Literally. One time you were playing with the stray cats around the streets of Liyue, Xiao showing up as you were rubbing a tabby one’s belly. When you put the small kitty in the adeptus’ arms, he didn’t know what to do.

— What if he accidentally drops it? Or holds it too tight?

— Please, reassure Xiao :( he really needs it.

— Wrapping your hands around his, your body against his, you petted the cat with Xiao, the small animal nuzzling into your boyfriend. His blushy face when the feline purred in pleasure was too adorable, you’ll have to make him hold cats more often ehe.

✧ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

— Heizou wants to protect beautiful things, to keep them in the precious light of their safety.

— That, of course, includes cats.

— They’re so adorable, brightening his day when he’s away from you and the small animals follow him around on his way to work in the mornings.

— They look so cute, with their big shiny eyes, observing him curiously, that the detective starts to take them under his wing.

— As unexpected as it was, to hear “meow?” instead of “I’m home, sweetheart!” one day as the front door swung open, you can’t deny it was beyond adorable, the way your boyfriend walked into the living room with a small cat nestled on top of his head.

— Yes, you ended up keeping the little one.

— It now joins the detective gathering clues for the cases he solves; sometimes the small animal leads the way when it’s too dark to see the trails, or it gently scratches Heizou’s legs when it senses danger.

— And rest assured, that Heizou will keep the kitty safe too. No matter what. It reminds him of you, sometimes, when it stares up at him with a starry gaze. Something as precious needs to be cherished.

✧ ALBEDO

— He finds cats to be very interesting creatures.

— Independent, intelligent, able to fit in practically any space… he wonders if they’re actually liquid or if their structure has been alchemically altered to have such fascinating properties.

— When, after exhaustive observation, the chief alchemist finally concludes that cats are indeed just naturally like that, they become his favorite companions (after you, that is).

— Sometimes, when Albedo is around Mondstadt, the kittens there follow him to the alchemy bench, rubbing against his legs when he’s working.

— You and the cats become Albedo’s favorite models as well. He loves your giggles when the little ones paw at your lap, trying to climb on your shoulders.

— They also become his little helpers when he paints, handing him a brush when he needs it, even without him having to ask.

— If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see the chalk prince trying to converse with the kittens too.

— Something along the likes of “Hmm… which color do you think [Y/n] would like best here? This one?” The kreideprinz asks, dipping his brush into it. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” He coos as the cat, rubbing its chin.

— Now you wish you could sketch, to immortalize the moment. Luckily, you have your kamera with you.

✧ KAVEH

— Oh sweet disney princess Kaveh, cats and pretty much all animals adore him.

— Neither you nor him know when the cats around Port Ormos started following him, but now they just won’t leave.

— No matter how many times he (halfheartedly) scolds the kitties, they are not fazed by the architect’s pouty expression.

— So your home becomes home for the cats milling about Sumeru.

— Your lover goes as far as to design a whole area for the little animals, building small houses for them to stay in with their own bowls of food, color coordinated and decorated, of course.

— You look happy helping him care for the cats too. However, when you offer to buy them food, your boyfriend can’t let you; he’ll take on extra commissions if he has to, but Kaveh just can’t allow you spending money on this little, albeit adorable, “problem.”

— There was one time one of the kitties sneaked inside your house, making it to your room. Let’s just say, the small feline found Kaveh’s face very entertaining and decided to nuzzle against it. The scene was so precious you couldn’t bring yourself to shoo the cat away, deciding to lay down with your partner and his new fan.

✧ ALHAITHAM

— Around the time he had to fill in the position of acting grand sage, the hours your boyfriend could spend with you were helplessly diminished, due to him having to cover overtime.

— You felt a little lonely, so well, can you exactly be blamed for adopting a baby cat from the local shelter?

— Turns out, your decision kind of “backfired” on you. For, in the hours he’s away, not only do you miss Alhaitham, but the latest addition to your household does too.

— The kitty has become very fond of your lover, often curling up beside him while he reads. One hand holding his book and the other caressing the kitten’s grey fur, the sight is rather candid, you think, smiling, as you curl up beside them.

— At your presence, the cat doesn’t hesitate to jump into your lap, swishing its tail and meowing for more petting from the scribe beside you.

— With a tender grin tugging at his lips, Alhaitham leaves a kiss to your temple, resuming his affections on the little one.

— No matter how brief, as long as you can have moments like this, everything will be alright, you muse, closing your eyes, heart warmed by your two boys.

✧ CHILDE

— Repeat after me, Childe: no, you can’t train the cats to fight on the battlefield with you.

— Once you get past that, he’s good at caring for the kittens. Makes sure they always have food and toys, comfy beds and a space to play. Ajax is good at taking care of those he loves, as proved with his family.

— Speaking of which, his siblings would adore playing with the cats you and Childe adopt, especially Teucer! (he totally talks to them about mister cyclops, the animals staring up at him curiously, pawing at his figurine softly).

— As much as you’re against your cats joining your boyfriend in his battles, they love watching him as he practices, their large eyes following the movements of his dual blades or his bow.

— The harbinger always makes extra time for the adorable pets, playing with them after his training, no matter how tired he is.

— Those times, he doesn’t get scolded when he’s late for dinner (you’ve been secretly watching, smiling to yourself at how cute your lover is. Yes, you totally were staring too while he was shirtless, muscles taut as he wielded his hydro conjured spear).