#touchstarved reader fic

[softagenda]

favors amongst friends (kuras)

kuras x reader(f)

injury / interlude in the clinic

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

He must have noticed the lights on, and yet Kuras still strode undaunted into the examination room. His gaze alighted on you immediately, and a gentle smile curled his full lips. “Ah, my favorite patient.”

You smiled back, a little sheepish. “Your most consistent one, at least.”

_____________________

The clinic was cold and quiet when you slipped inside through the back door, lockpicks stowed safely in your coat pocket. As you shook off drops of rain from your hood and dropped it on the coat stand, the lantern on the counter sparked to life, filling the room with a white, clean glow.

The stool where the good doctor usually perched sat empty. You tugged at the doorknob to his office, found it firmly locked, and listened at the hinge of the door for a moment. No soft shuffle of papers, no dainty chimes of bottles kissing as concoctions passed between them.

He’s out, then.

You hesitated, before inspecting the gash on your arm. A soulless had taken a cut of flesh on your return to Eridia, nearly catching the bag of valuable potions ingredients you’d brought back to sell. There were a couple things in there that you thought Kuras might be interested in buying: thalus roots, spotted sunshrooms, a particularly thick undu stem that could be stored and siphoned from for months before it’d run out. You’d intended to trade treatment for a discounted rate, but perhaps you should try your luck elsewhere. 

Distaste hollowed your stomach at the thought. The local clinics had a habit of prying whenever you’d been forced to visit, finding excuses to try and remove the bandages wrapped around your hands. 

Kuras never pried. As patient and steadfast as a saint, he would wait, golden eyes soft and alluring, an effortless grace that seemed to coax others to open themselves up like flowers to the sun.

Though you’d rather seek treatment here, you might be short on time. Blood continued to drip sluggishly from the wound and, from within the open gash, the muscle and tissue inside seemed to be darkening, pink flesh graying like rot.

Poison or a curse, you couldn’t be sure.

Just as you prepared to shrug your coat on and brave the storm, the front door opened with a tingle of bells.

He must have noticed the lights on, and yet Kuras still strode undaunted into the examination room. His gaze alighted on you immediately, and a gentle smile curled his full lips. “Ah, my favorite patient.”

You smiled back, a little sheepish. “Your most consistent one, at least.” 

“How may I assist you this evening?” he inquired graciously, his hand gesturing toward the exam bench. 

You huffed under your breath before placing one boot on the stepstool and lifting yourself onto the edge, the sheet crinkling under you. You looked him over as he turned toward the counter and swept a few papers neatly into a leather book.

Kuras had clearly been out in the storm for some time. Rain had soaked into his hair and coat, the edges dripping fast onto the tiled floor. His long mane of hair stuck wetly to the coat, a few curling locks caught in the gilded plates of his coat. His face looked dewy soft, his fan of lashes thicker with moisture. Drops trailed perilously slow down his thick neck, skirting the edge of that high collar.

Heat pooled in your stomach, a strange restlessness harrying your limbs.

You cleared your throat and glanced down. “Ran into a soulless on my way back today. Turns out, not all dark, mysterious strangers are happy to see me,” you quipped.

“A fault on their part, I assure you.” He approached and leaned over you, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over your lap. “May I?”

“Will I need to strip down this time, doctor?” You asked, striving for innocence but struggling to keep your mouth from trembling into a smile.

“Rolling up your sleeve should suffice, from a medical standpoint,” he replied smoothly, as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. His golden eyes narrowed in mirth. “Though I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.”

Flushing slightly, you tugged your sleeve to your elbow and offered it up. As he craned his neck to inspect the wound, a couple raindrops fell to your skin. 

Kuras frowned. He straightened up and murmured, “just a moment.” Two strides of his long legs later, he had vanished into the back room. A moment of silence passed before he returned.

You sucked in a quick breath. 

The massive, white coat that draped his form was gone. 

Smooth, coffee skin was laid bare on his shoulders. His sleeves cinched around his biceps with gold cuffs, the fabric thin and see-through to the forearm before wrapped in flowing white silk. His hair, before flowing freely down his back, had been tied back simply with a leather thong.

He looked so different in that moment - so much more open and unguarded and tangible - for all that he’d only bared his shoulders, that the sight took your breath away.

“My apologies for the lack of courtesy and the delay,” he said, producing a clean towel from his pocket and dabbing carefully at the spot where the raindrops landed.

“Kuras, you’ve sewn this same arm back onto my body,” you said with a short laugh, still grappling for equilibrium. “You could drip acid on it, and I’d still be grateful.”

His brow furrowed more. “While there are valid applications of acidic substances, I would consider them a last resort.” He folded the slightly damp side of the towel inward before using the folds to carefully hold your arm and inspect the injury. “It would be most abhorrent to risk tarnishing your skin.”

A flutter of feathers stirred in your stomach. Still, you joked with an edge of bitterness, “Yes, my precious, corpse gray skin that drives people to insanity. Can’t risk that, or I’ll never trap a partner.”

Kuras paused. He looked down solemnly at you through his fan of lashes, the gold of his gaze molten and bright. “Beauty lies within the eye of the beholder,” he replied, his voice low and achingly gentle. “You have always been beautiful in my eyes.”

The intensity of him - his voice, his gaze, the way his body seemed to curl around you, a shield against what would harm you - each word genuine and strong, as though he spoke a undeniable truth of the world, cut you to your core.

Your head turned, eyes lowered, flinching against it even as your chest grew warm and full. 

For a long moment, you struggled to reply, your jaw clenched tight as your heart pounded in your chest. 

Kuras seemed to sense, as he always did, the riotous feelings inside you, because the next moment he had retreated to the counter and begun pulling various ingredients from the shelf, his head lowered to give you a moment of privacy.

The gratitude that welled up inside you threatened to boil up through your throat, tears stinging at the back of your eyes. 

“There does appear to be a venomous residue within the wound,” he murmured, deep and scholarly in tone, his mien serene as a moonlit pond. “I have encountered a similar substance before with other patients. Certain species of soulless grow mutations that secrete toxins into the bloodstream of prey, in their claws or fangs, not unlike the parotid salivary glands of snakes.”

You listened quietly as the frantic race of your heart settled, letting his velvet voice lull the storm inside you. Rain pitter-pattered against the window and battered the roof above, occasionally subsumed under a rumble of thunder.

Calmed once more, you faced him again, your gaze lingering. 

Without the coat, his large, willowy form was in full view: his broad back tapering to a slender waist, prim ass, and impossibly long legs. Dark, curly hair trailed down his back, still wet and soaking into his silk shirt. The lamplight shone around him, tracing his body in an edge of white light even as his shadow encompassed the room.

His head turned, the gold hoops at his ears sparkling, and surveyed you for a quick moment before gliding closer. In one hand was a bowl of smooth dark green paste, in the other fresh bandages. He set them on a metal table by the exam table by a bowl of clean water and a pile of cloth before reaching within a box and withdrawing a pair of white silk gloves. 

As he perched on the stool, his body leaned into your space. Heat rolled off him, as though he had swallowed a star.

“We will apply this poultice for now, monitor for infection, and then reconvene to sew the wound closed.” Kuras pulled on the silk gloves and, after a quick, searching look of your face, took your arm in hand and began cleaning the wound.

You held still and breathed through the pain - at times a dull ache, others pinching and acute. Rinsing the wound brought searing heat that had your teeth clenching tight, trapping any sound that attempted to escape up your throat.

The doctor’s treatment, from the outside, looked more like a dance than medical practice. He did not coddle or cajole, nor castigate or belittle, as was the style of other doctors you’d seen - instead, Kuras worked with utter silence and composure, all of that overwhelming intensity focused on the task at hand. Each movement was efficient, graceful, and imbued with an exquisite gentleness that would endear even the worst of enemies to him. 

Each dab of poultice like the brush of a master painter. Each stitch into flesh the weaving of a master dressmaker.

Poetry in motion. Medical practice envisioned in art form.

The treatment seemed to pass quickly and effortlessly. One moment you were gripping the side of the exam table as he smoothed the creamy poultice over the wound, the next your inflamed, gray skin had been wrapped comfortably in fresh bandages.

“How does that feel?” Kuras inquired, removing the gloves with a small flourish.

“Good as new, doc,” you replied with a sigh. 

He smiled, his eyes thinning with pleasure.

“Excellent. Then your next priority should be a good night’s rest.” His large hand curled around the side of your arm, his palm feverishly hot even through the thick bandage. “Allow me to escort you back to the Wick.”

He rose from the stool and began to pack away the poultice bowl and bandages.

Your left hand replaced his, holding that fading heat to your skin for a little longer, as your gaze wandered to the window. Rain continued to batter the window panes, the sky outside an endless abyss.

It was tempting to ask if, rather than venture out in the pelting rain, you could remain there, in the clean, cozy atmosphere of the examination room. You could lie back on the exam table, draw your cloak (or his) over your body for added warmth. You’d bet all the coin in your purse that you’d sleep like the dead.

But you couldn’t intrude on his hospitality any more than you already had. Heavens knew you’d arrived in the middle of the night. You’d probably delayed his own well-earned rest before the next endless line of patients would arrive at his door at dawn.

“I’ve got some things for you,” you said, rising from the exam table to grab your satchel.

Kuras gave you a bemused look over his shoulder. “You know well that I require no payment for my services.”

“Not payment,” you denied, well used to this debate. “Favors amongst friends. You mentioned a few days ago that your stock was low on a few items.”

One thin, dubious brow rose, but he inspected the haul you offered from the satchel with the calculating interest of a man well-used to haggling in the market for prime ingredients. “I will purchase them from you.”

“They’re a gift,” you insisted.

Kuras’s eyes narrowed, his full lips frowning. “The value for the undu stem alone would fetch you a generous price. More than enough to lease a private residence in Lowtown.You cannot think me so crass as to take advantage of you in this way. ”

You hid a smirk. For all his manners and professional admiration for Leander, his quiet but strong dislike for your current accommodations grew more obvious by the day. 

“Never,” you replied easily, adding, “Neither so crass as to thrice refuse a gracious gift from an appreciative friend.”

Kuras held your gaze for a moment before a cat-like smile curled across his lips. “I seem to have been out maneuvered.”

“Out mannered, more like.”

“Then I concede and accept your gifts with gratitude,” he said, his voice velvet smooth and mirthful. “I will endeavor to use them well.”

“Do as you will,” you quip. “Roast them for lunch, it’s your choice.” As long as they’ll be useful to you.

He took the ingredients with careful hands. The undu stem, which took you both hands and significant strength to lift, he took in one hand. He carried them into the office and stowed them away properly in glass containers before returning his coat draped over his arm.

“Shall we?”

You watched him take the shoulders of the coat in hand, preparing to sweep the heavy fabric over his back, before stopping him.

“Wait.” You hesitated, licking your lips. “Won’t that be uncomfortable? With your hair, I mean.”

Kuras paused, his eyes wide, before that gentle smile reappeared. “You need not concern yourself with me. We’ve only a short walk, after all.”

“It’ll get tangled, though.” An offer sat on the tip of your tongue, enticing enough to embolden you to speak it. “I could braid it for you.” You cleared your throat and fought the urge to stare down at your boots. “Nothing - nothing fancy, or anything. But it would help.”

“Your injury…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing.

“It’s fine, really. I’m not in any pain, and this would be - nothing.”

Kuras seemed to mull that over, his face inscrutable.

After a long, tortuous moment in which you wished you’d kept your mouth firmly shut and resolved to keep it shut for an eternity, Kuras nodded. “Then I accept.”

Your jaw dropped. “Really?”

“I must admit my surprise, but the prospect intrigues me.” That cat-like smile returned with a vengeance. “Unless you would like to rescind the offer? But surely, my friend, you’d never be so crass to do so.”

Oh, you - 

Flushing hotly under your clothes, you squinted at him. “I seem to have been out-maneuvered.”

“Out-mannered, I believe, was the term you used, and just so.” 

With an air of smug satisfaction and humor, Kuras draped his coat over the exam table, then crossed the room in two strides to withdraw an antique brush from a drawer. He perched once more on the stool, one golden eye glancing over his shoulder. 

You take the brush, looking it over. It’s a beautiful piece, comprised of gold filigree and a stunning mother of pearl inlay on the back. The bristles were soft but firm, scratching lightly against your palm as you tested the feel. The gold handle was a cool, easy grip, its engraved markings depicting flowers, feathers, and what looked like an eye pressing against you through the veil of your bandages.

Gripping firmly, you surveyed the waterfall of dark hair in front of you, your heart beating fast.

With a fortifying breath, you gathered the heavy, silky length in your hands and started from the ends of his hair, stroking the brush as gently as possible. Despite how wet and woven the strands were, there were very few knots to tease out.

Kuras sat peaceably for several minutes, still as a statue in prayer, before he asked, “Have you done this for others?”

You paused, now smoothing the hair at the middle of his back. You thought about what to say for a moment, but the truth seemed easiest. “My mentor. She had long, red hair that would frizz at the slightest spit of rain. Every morning, since I was old enough, I would tie up her hair for her.” It had been a small but daily act of care that, with time and distance, you had eventually realized she never reciprocated.

He hummed softly but said nothing more.

When you reached his neck, your hands danced with delicate caution, holding his earrings out of the path of the brush. Kuras seemed to stiffen ever so slightly whenever your fingers brushed his skin, but soon relaxed back into his posture. 

Once you had brushed smooth from the crown of his head to the dusky purple ends, you set the brush down on the exam table and began to braid.

A rhythm soon developed, your fingers twined the hair into five sections and began weaving them together, each pull drawing to the very tips of the hair to prevent bunching at the bottom. The movement was made effortlessly easy as the hair was still damp and content to be handled.

All the while, Kuras sat patiently, his hands clasped in his lap. When you finally reached the end of the braid, now well past his waist, he finally broke from his vigil and held a black leather tie from the crook of his finger.

You tied the braid securely before letting your hands smooth down the braid, testing for any loose sections. The braid itself looked immaculate: neat, tidy, his dark hair gleaming in the soft lamplight. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. A heavy sigh followed, his shoulders drooping, before he rose to his feet. He turned around, his hand drawing the braid across his shoulder and inspecting the work. 

Somehow, his face seemed different than only moments before. A tension you hadn’t known existed in his bearing had been smoothed out: his brow clear, his lips parted, those captivating golden eyes softer than you’d ever seen.

Then, he met your gaze, his musician’s hand stroking down the braid, and smiled. “Thank you. That was… truly an experience I will not soon forget.”

You froze, still caught, the world narrowed in on that single, sweet smile.

He draped the coat over his shoulders, showing particular care with his braided hair, before gliding forward. With a firm hand on your waist, the heat of him radiating through your clothes, Kuras coaxed you toward the back door. 

“Now, let us step into the night.”

________________________________

a/n: thank you for reading!

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

✬'Look at me'- how the TS LI lift your chin✬

A/N: this is my first work for this fandom! Hope someone will like it!🖤

✬Preference✬

✬Vere:

"Why so shy all of a sudden? What is it? Can't even look at me in the eye now?"

✬Ais:

"I'm right here, little sparrow, right in front of you...why don't you look at me?"

✬Leander:

"Eyes up here... Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours"

✬Kuras:

"Look up... open up with me,please. Tell me what's wrong"

✬Mhin:

"Let me see you. Don't ever hide your face from me. "

My 𝔗𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡 materialist here

[eggroll-sama]

Who’s My Roommate?

The Touchstarved cast are at a hotel and can’t decide who will be their roommates. Some are against certain pairings. You don’t really care, but they seem they’ve got a few colorful opinions || Touchstarved LI x reader. All of them have a crush on you, but you’re oblivious. I had this in my drafts for a while but I finally got the motivation to finish it. Just light-hearted shenanigans. Sorry if there are any typos!

__________________________________________

“I don’t want Leander,” said Vere, his arms crossed and glaring at the man across from him.

They didn’t think deciding on rooming buddies would be so hard. There were exactly three rooms, side by side, and anyone who knew basic math understood there would be two people per room. The problem was, who and who?

Vere and Ais were the first pairing that came to mind. But then Mhin complained that they didn’t want to hear them having sex at two in the morning. You and Kuras could sympathize so argued that, no, Vere and Ais cannot be together in the same room. Vere was angry, Ais was indifferent. He preferred Vere’s company over others, but as long as he didn’t get Mhin he was fine. He found the idea of Mhin aiming a knife to his neck fun, but in the end he didn’t want to deal with them pestering him like a fly.

And then there was Leander. If they went off the reason of not wanting to hear someone having sex, then Leander was tough. He had had sex with half of the members in the group: Ais, Mhin, and (maybe) Vere. You still didn’t really know if they did it or not.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping in the same room as Leander,” you said. Everyone stiffened except for the man in question, who had a cocky smile on his face. Secretly, everyone wanted to room with you, but they didn’t want to admit it.

Kuras stepped in before Leander could make a comment, and steered the conversation to possibly drawing sticks so it would be fair for everyone and well, not everyone was happy with their partners. Vere got Leander, Mhin got Ais, and you got Kuras. You weren’t against Kuras being your roommate; he was a gentleman and minded his own business. He didn’t seem like he was against rooming with you either. The others were not so happy with their results.

“I’m not rooming with a monster,” Mhin spat, venom lacing their words, glaring holes in the back of Ais’ head.

Ais ignored them, while Vere rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah, well nobody wants to deal with an annoying midget like you. I think you forgot to pack your booster seat.”

Vere snickered as Mhin’s face turned red from anger.

“Hey hey now hold on, MC said that they were fine with rooming with me, so why not just leave the two of us out of it?” Leander said, arms snaking around your shoulder.

“No, you soft penis numbskull. You’re not rooming with MC.” Mhin stepped in. When the others looked at Mhin curiously, they coughed nervously and looked away.

You tried to lighten the mood with a joke, “Ais and Leander are best friends. We should room them together.”

The corner of Leander’s smile frayed at your joke. Ais narrowed his eyes at you. At least Vere was laughing, probably at you for your failed attempt to lighten the mood, but at least he laughed. You drew into yourself. You’ve forgotten the others were getting quite annoyed by the arguing. This was serious business that might mean life or death.

“How about we draw sticks again?” You suggested meekly, trying to move past the awkwardness.

“No, it’s just a waste of time,” intervened Vere, “we all clearly have our preferences, so how about we list anyone we don’t want to room with? I go first. I hate all four of you, fortunately, so I’m going to room with Ais or no one.”

“I don’t have a preference,” said Leander with a blush.

“We know,” Vere rolled his eyes.

“At this point let’s just room the two people that are the doormats of this group, Leander and Vere. It’s the easiest way to deal with them,” said Mhin.

“Or how about we room Leander in one room and Vere in the other one, and then we all share the last one,” you suggest. At this point you were running out of ideas and throwing them out randomly hoping you would hit a jackpot.

“I’m not invited to the foursome? That is unfortunate to hear,” Vere said.

“It’s getting too complicated. Room Vere with MC, Mhin with Leander, and me and Kuras. That should be good,” suggested Ais, getting impatient.

“I’m afraid that would be endangering MC’s safety,” said Kuras coolly, ignoring Vere’s exasperated reaction.

He quickly switched to his flirty demeanor, a coy smile on his lips, “Oh, but I don’t bite. Unless they ask me.” Mhin scoffed in the background. Kuras was expressionless. If he reacted to Vere’s tasteless innuendos, he would give the fox exactly what he wanted. So he stayed quiet and didn’t let his face give anything away.

“I agree with Kuras on this one. A bloody, mangled corpse is the last thing we want to deal with,” said Mhin. Though Mhin said this, you knew that they cared about your safety.

Ais sighed in defeat, pulling out a cigarette and a match, “I’m going out for a smoke.” You couldn’t blame him, they’ve been arguing for the past thirty minutes. Ais walked off to the entrance of the hotel.

Seeing Ais walk off, Vere waved their fingers before sauntering off in the same direction.

“The dog went to take a walk with it’s owner. Good grief,” said Mhin.

“We still need to get this rooming situation settled. I’m sure the others won’t mind if we decided without them,” said Kuras.

He sighed, “From what I’ve observed, the best rooming pairs seems like the fox and Ais, Mhin and MC, and Leander and I. We’ll take the middle room, Mhin and MC take the left, and Vere and Ais the right. That way Mhin wouldn’t be disturbed from any unnecessary sounds at night.”

“I could live with that,” said Mhin.

Leander didn’t seem too pleased with the end-result, but he wasn’t going to complain, “Alright. Guess I get to room with the good doctor tonight. Hey, maybe we can finally get some dinner, you and I.”

“Perhaps,” said Kuras, but from his indifferent expression and hollow tone it sounded more like a no.

“Ah,” was all Leander said. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes. Then, he pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket, “I brought cards with me. Anyone wanna play Poker in an hour or two, our room?”

You smiled, “I like Poker. Bet I could beat you,” you nudged his shoulder teasingly.

“Sure.” Leander said with a laugh, but the way he said it almost sounded…condescending? You raised your brows, but before you could fully process it, Leander had already started speaking, “Would the doctor like to join as well?”

Must’ve been my imagination.

“I suppose if you are going to play in our room, I could join for a game or two.”

Kuras reply seemed to brighten Leander’s mood from the thinly-veiled rejection for dinner a few seconds ago.

“Great! How about you Mhin!”

“I’m tired.” Mhin grabbed their bags and started heading for the elevator, ignoring Leander’s invitation. You saw Leander’s smile falter.

“I’ll try convincing them,” you whispered to Leander who gave you an appreciative smile.

You had the keys to the room, so after saying goodbye to the other two, quickly followed after your small companion.

“I’m glad I get to room with you, Mhin,” you said while waiting for the elevator with them.

Mhin huffed at your words, turning away, “Right.” In the corner of your eyes you could see their pale skin get pinker just a tad. You smiled to yourself at their reaction. You weren’t really sure what the rest of the day will entail, but at least you were able to get through the hurdle of deciding who will be your roommate.

[machveil]

Do you have any favorite König fic recommendations? Love your art BTW 🩷

yes, anon… yes I do [gets choked up] come with me, I’ll show you some

I’ll share sfw and nsfw ones - nsfw below the cut! ALSO, please support the writers!! send them some love! likes, reblogs, comments, get up in their business about how good they are🎀✨ they deserve so much for writing amazing works

SFW (I’ll preface by saying PLEASE just go binge @gremlinmodetweeker’s blog, I’m begging you):

gremlinmodetweeker’s König of the Icks series is actually my favorite Tumblr series and I really recommend it: part 1, part 2, part 3 - I regularly go back and read these

I have a bias on how gremlinmodetweeker writes König in general so here’s some rapid fire suggestions: König having a big appetite, movie nights with König, König’s quirks, general König notes, and their general König Dump

from @notsomellowarchiveofchaos I suggest König with a stutter (poor man) and König making you a blanket

OKAY @writersdrug absolutely blew mind with early mornings with König, but also! their random König headcanons!

@tacticalprincess’s version of dry texter König is top tier

from @konigsblog, calling König cute and König’s lisp

please make sure to read content warnings (CW) and/or trigger warnings (TW)! your comfort comes first, check the fic before you read it<3

NSFW:

back to writersdrug! I have a handful of fics to recommend: König fucking you to sleep, random König headcanons, kissing König, period comfort, and riding

a handful of fics from konigsblog: König giving head (absolute top tier post), König’s stutter, boxers or briefs, Loser!König getting a hug (poor man), and König’s oral fixation

oh my god, also follow @ghostsangel because, oh man, they always hit. anyways, some of my favorites are on the kitchen floor and TouchStarved!König (oh my god)

@evilgwrl only writes bangers so… slobbery König (jesus christ) and Neighbor!König

last, but certainly not least, the wonderful @rowarn! tired König, König helping you after a rough day, overstimulated König absolutely going through it, back at it again with another overstimulated König post, and a double whammy to end it off on, König using you as a fidget toy and you using König as a fidget toy

[consistencynevermether]

Hellooo I absolutely love your writing and Vere series!! I was wondering if maybe you could write Vere reacting to the MC getting pretty injured?? From a Soulless or otherwise? Thank you so much!! <333

I'm so glad you like the series!! this fic got a little long, its just so much fun to write vere dialouge. Thank you for the ask!

content: vere x gn! reader, SFW, cannon typical swearing and mentions of serious injuries, 2.5k words

52. That's how many tiles you had counted on the ceiling of Kuras’s clinic so far. You had woken up about an hour ago, your shoulder bandaged, laying in one of the beds in Kuras’s clinic, with Vere standing on the other side of the room, pacing back and forth. When you woke, he barely spared you a glance and continued to pace, the clicking of his heels was the only sound in the room. 

You were in trouble. Big trouble. 

You tried to piece together your memories of what happened earlier that night. Your head was pounding, but the memories returned to you easily enough. 

You had been working at the clinic earlier and Kuras had asked you to deliver something to Ais. You had plenty of time to deliver the package, but you got caught up talking to Ais and petting Princess. By the time you were out of Ais’s territory, it was already sundown. You weren't too worried about it though. You had killed a few soulless since getting to Eridia, and you had the dagger Mihn had gifted you strapped to your thigh. But this one was different. It was bigger, stronger, faster than any of the other soulless you had thought before. You put up a good fight. You were smart and dodged when you needed to, struck its weak points with the dagger, and gave the fight all your focus. But this soulless was simply out of your skill range, and all it needed was one chance to latch on, and you were down. The soulless had found an opening and taken a massive chunk out of you, its rotting fangs sinking into your shoulder. 

Everything after that was just darkness. Until you had woken up in one of the clinic rooms about an hour ago. You don't know how you got there, but Vere was there when you woke up, and clearly not happy with you. 

You wanted to fix this before it became a problem. Vere had a nasty habit of being upset with you and instead of telling you why he was upset, he would simply avoid you, and you would have to track him down. The last thing you wanted was to try and track him through Hightown with an injured shoulder, so it was best if you talked this out now, while he was pacing back and forth in your room.

“Hey,” you cautioned. “So uh, I don't suppose you know how I got here?” you asked. 

Vere looked down at you, his mouth twisting into a combination of a cruel smirk and a grimace. 

“Oh you mean how did you end up at the hospital? The hospital run by the most insufferable person in all of Eridia? With half of your shoulder missing? Is that what you mean? Is THAT what you're asking me right now? Or MAYBE your asking about the part where I found your stupid ass half dead and bleeding out in the filthy fucking street, and had to drag you all the way here.” 

A tight, fake smile was plastered on Vere’s face as he spoke, while rage stormed in his eyes. You don't know what you said wrong, but it was most certainly wrong. You had never seen Vere so pissed at you before. 

You cleared your throat, not yet ready to throw in the towel and give in to Vere's anger. You could still talk to each other like the civil adults you were.

 “Well, thank you for-” you started

“THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? THANK YOU?” Vere bellowed, looking more unhinged by the second. 

Welp, so much for civility. 

“Well, what do you want me to say, Vere?” you snipped, annoyance bleeding into your tone. You already had a headache from the blood loss; you didn't need someone yelling at you, either. 

“Oh no, you do not get to have an attitude with me.” Vere snapped back. “Can you even comprehend how lucky you are? The only reason I found you was because the Sinobium had been getting complaints in Lowtown about the soulless. If not for that, I would be in Hightown right now doing jack shit while YOU would be a corpse cooling in the grime.” 

“I'll be more-” 

The words caught in your throat. What you wanted to say was “I'll be more careful”.

But you had been careful. You were alert, you traveled on all the best-lit roads, and you were armed. You had taken every precaution. And you had still nearly died. You couldn't hold back the bitter feeling at how outclassed you had been, especially since if Vere saved you, that meant he had probably killed the soulless that had taken you down with barely any struggle. There was nothing you could have done to have made that fight go any better. 

“What do you want from me, Vere? To just hide in my room two hours before the sun even begins to set to ensure nothing ever happens?” 

“Yes?!?!?” Vere responded as if it was the most obvious answer to exist. 

“Vere, I have work to do. That's obviously not feasible. And even if it was, I won't live my life in fear of the darkness.” you countered. 

Vere threw his head back and gave a bark of laughter.

“You know what, you're so right.” Sarcasm dripped in Vere's voice. “What is the worst that could happen after all? It's not like there's a risk of you DYING IN THE STREETS.” 

When Vere got mad, it made you more aware of the monster he was. When he yelled in rage, you could see all his fangs. When he waved his hands around in exasperation, you could hear the claws whiff against the air, as if they were sharp enough to cut through even oxygen. His ears were pressed flat against his head, and there was a snarl to his voice. This changed nothing to you, of course. You always knew what he was. He was just so good at disarming people with his charm, it was easy to forget he was built to be a killer. Even you, one of the people closest to him, were not immune to his disarming act. 

You opened your mouth to counter, but the words died in your throat once again. He made a good point. It wasn't a feasible point, but you understood his rage. You were really just arguing with him to avoid the shame you felt at how absolutely outclassed you felt. You couldn't just hide away from the world, you were working on top of trying to find a way to cure yourself and free Vere. You couldn't afford to just hide away and live in fear. But with that being said, if you had been in his position tonight, you would be just as upset. 

Damnit. 

After a long pause, you finally spoke again. 

“I'm sorry. I can’t put my life on hold because of this. But I will be more cautious when the sun sets. And I will keep training so next time I can get away. That's the best compromise I can offer you. And I am sorry Vere. I didn't mean to upset you. Or almost die.” 

You tried to give the last part of that sentence a lighthearted tone, in an attempt to lift the mood.

You expected more yelling. But instead when you looked at Vere, he was just quiet. After a few more agonizing moments of silence, you half expected him to walk out right then and there. Or throw a chair at your head. 

But to your shock, he simply hung his head and sat down on your bed.

You quickly scooted over to make room for him. 

He let out a long sigh and unceremoniously leaned down to flop his head on your chest. After a few moments, you felt like it was safe enough you could start gently stroking his head. 

You lightly petted the base of his ears and ran your fingers through his hair. For a moment, everything was calm.

And then your fingers hit something wet and sticky in Vere's hair. You looked down at your hand, and your fingers were red. 

Blood.

Shit shit shit shit. Did he actually get injured when he saved you from that soulless? You hastily pushed Vere’s face off your chest and grabbed his chin, roughly tilting it to your line of sight to look for injuries. 

Vere looked shocked for a second, but easily removed your hand from his chin like it was nothing. 

“What exactly was that for?” he questioned, irritation noticeable in his voice.

But you couldn't answer. You could only focus on the fact that he was covered in blood. It was obvious. How the hell did you not even notice until now? The blood didn't really show on his black clothes, but red was splattered on his face and had matted half his hair, making it look wet. Vere did already naturally have a very red pallet, and it wasn't uncommon to see him covered in blood at all. But still, how were you so focused on arguing with him you hadn't even noticed that he was covered in blood?

You could feel a pit of guilt and fear well up inside you. 

“You're injured, I'm getting Kuras” you firmly stated. 

Kuras and Vere may not like each other, but you knew Kuras wouldn't turn away anyone. And if Vere was too proud to ask for help, you'd gladly do it yourself. 

As you stood, you felt a pair of clawed hands wrap around your waist and pull you back down onto the bed. 

You tried to twist around and squirm free, but it was useless. Vere wasn't hurting you, but his grip was firm enough that you wouldn't be able to force your way out. 

“Vere don't be childish, y-”

You heard a sigh from behind you as Vere rested his chin on your shoulder.

“This is your blood, not mine” he mumbled.

Ah. you once again tried to squirm out of Vere's grasp, and this time he released you with another sigh. 

You sat down on the bed properly and faced him. Your blood was everywhere. It splattered across his face and completely coated the right side of his chest. Drip lines of blood ran all the way to his knee on his left side and both his arms were coated in red.

You subconsciously moved to touch your shoulder, it was a little sore and stiff, but other than that fine.

Of course, you then remembered how Kuras had reattached your arm that first day in Eridia. You were on death's door then. So how badly injured had you been tonight? 

You tried to remember the details of your absolute pummeling, but it was mostly a haze. 

Not good, you could imagine. Judging by how much blood was on Vere, and how upset he was, you probably actually were on death's door when he brought you here.

But he had brought you here. Despite his hatred for Kuras, he had forgotten his pride to help you. Damnit, now you really felt bad for arguing with him earlier. 

You shifted in the bed again, this time you rested your head on his shoulder, and he easily adjusted, laying his hands behind your shoulders and lightly drawing circles on your back with his fingers. It tickled a little. 

“Vere” you mumbled into his chest. “I really am sorry.” 

There was a pause before he responded. It felt like a lifetime.

“You're just so vulnerable.” He finally whispered after a few seconds of silence. 

Once again embarrassment welled up inside you for being taken down so easily, but you knew Vere wasn’t trying to tease you about it. 

Besides you, Ais was his closest friend. And no soulless could touch Ais. And everyone else he knew, whether they be allies or enemies, was also strong. Or at least capable. Most of them could have probably defeated the soulless that took you down. It’s not that you were weak, it’s that you were new. You didn’t know this city like they did, and you didn’t have the experience they all had killing creatures like the soulless. You were painfully aware of how much you needed to improve. But now, you were also aware of how uncomfortable this probably was for Vere.

He wasn’t used to having people around him who could just die over "nothing", so you couldn't blame him for reacting poorly. He'd never had to worry over another person's life like he had to do with you. You must have seemed so delicate to him, like a glass sculpture. You could almost understand why he wanted to keep something so fragile under lock and key.

But you weren't made of glass. You were a person. You could evolve. You would get smarter, stronger, more skilled. And you would do just that. Because you didn't want to die in the streets. And you didn't want to upset Vere again. 

You leaned in closer to Vere, catching the scent of lavender on him. It was calming. Grounding. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. 

“Vere,” you mumbled. “Tomorrow, come to my room, I’ll brush your hair as a thank you.” 

“I can’t. The Sinobium has me booked for the day” he replied. 

“That's fine.” you yawned. “I can wait till you get off. For now, I can wash some of the blood off you.”

As you said this, you began to lazily move towards the basin and sponge at the side of the bed.

You could feel Vere hold you a little tighter as you tried to move away. 

He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.

“Oh. the Sinobium wants you to go back to work right now, don't they?” you questioned. 

“Mhm,” Vere responded. “I've pushed their grace limit as it is, staying for this long. But I'll stay for just a little longer. Go to sleep.”

“You won't be here when I wake up?”

“No.” 

“But you will come to see me when you're finished, right?” 

“You'll probably be out working.”

“So wait for me. You don't need a key to get into my room. You made that evident with how much you come in uninvited. You didn't even need to steal my key that day we met.” You insisted.

Vere chuckled lightly at the memory and continued gently tracing circles on your back. 

“Vere?” 

“Mhm?” 

“You will come to see me right? You're not still mad?”

“I'm still mad at you,” he confirmed. “But I’ll be there.” 

Satisfied with that answer, you allowed yourself to finally drift off to sleep. When you woke, it was just you alone in that room. 

You weren't worried though, you knew a certain fox would darken your doorstep very soon.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (4.2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)

Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.

Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k

A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.

He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.

You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.

He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.

Translation: I’m excited to see you.

Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.

Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.

Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.

This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.

Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.

You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.

Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.

It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.

Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.

He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.

You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.

You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.

You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.

The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.

The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.

“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”

Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.

“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.

There’s a shuffling noise above you.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.

“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.

Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.

Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.

“Sorry,” Steve huffs.

“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.

The shuffling noise sounds different.

“No,” he says softly.

You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.

His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”

You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down. 

Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.

Tap.

“Sorry.”

“Comfy though?”

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”

The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.

Twitch.

“Sorry.”

You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.

“Comfy?”

He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.

You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.

Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it. 

You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.

“May I?”

Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.

You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke. 

With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.

“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”

The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.

“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”

You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”

You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.

The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.

A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.

He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.

Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.

He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.

You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.

His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.

Don’t scare him.

It can’t last; you’re only human.

Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.

The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.

In that low timber, he growls.

“You like that… Knew you would.”

Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.

That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.

Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.

What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?

Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.

Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.

Again and again.

Again and again.

A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.

Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.

He moves to grip your thighs hard.

Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.

“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.

No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—

He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.

Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.

“N-uhhh god—“

He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.

“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.

It makes things worse.

You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.

Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.

His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.

Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.

Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.

“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”

“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.

“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”

You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”

A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.

“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”

He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.

“Sounds so pretty when you do…”

Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.

Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”

Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.

“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.

“More.” 

He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit. 

Too delicate.

“More,” you gasp.

He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.

The fire takes over again.

“More, Stevie. Please.”

You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.

Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.

“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”

Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.

Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.

The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.

“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.

That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.

Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.

His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.

You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.

Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.

He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.

Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.

He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.

“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”

That fucking mouth…

There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.

It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.

You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.

Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.

Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him. 

He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.

He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.

You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.

“Take the win, Cap.” 

You freeze.

You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.

“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.

Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.

He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”

A/N: In case you were wondering...

[Next part: Desperate Man, part one]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

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[trappolia]

FEELING HUMAN, HOOKED ON YOUR BREATH ── leander + gn!reader, 430

leander is painfully aware of his reputation; knows that you've heard rumours of how the corner room you currently occupy in the wet wick was once exclusively for him and his one-night-stands, vere's little quips of him getting some action with a stranger or two in dark alleys, and he hasn't exactly been subtle with the way he looks at you in the candlelight when you're huddled together in one of the booths. he knows that you're no fool, that you're not deaf to the warnings to stay away from him lest you fall too deep into his spell of dark magic—

but you stay anyway.

perhaps it is because he is one of the few to offer you some semblance of comfort in the unfamiliar streets of eridia without asking for anything else, or because he is the only one capable of touching your bare hands and remain sane enough to see the exact shade of your pretty eyes, but whatever the reason, he finds himself unable to care. he finds himself doing a lot of uncharacteristic things since you've come around, actually.

leander does not believe in god, has never even entertained such thoughts of a divine entity existing with the sort of life he's led since birth, but he thinks that despite your curse, you are the closest thing to an angel he's ever met. leander feels bad about it, really; the thoughts that plague his mind when he lets you trace the grooves and scars of his calloused hands, your darkened fingertips ghosting upon the skin of his forearm like a dancer from the amaryllis district. he feels guilty, as if he's taking advantage of your trust like this, even if you're the one who's touching him, but it's outweighed by that something that leander still can't name even after all those nights of laying awake in night or nursing his nth bottle of rum in the wet wick at some ungodly hour of the night; something about how you touch him like he's the only solid thing in the world, the look in your eyes when you find your fingers wandering over to the scar on his face.

there is no such thing as heaven or hell, just the monsters (soulless and mortal) that linger in the space between, but your touch is divine, and for the first time in his life, leander wants nothing more than to repent for his sins, to whisper his confessions against the warm dark-gold of your knuckles as if he could find some semblance of forgiveness in your skin.

© trappolia 2024

[lu-dao-writes]

Me remembering that Kuras is literally the first person to see us/the mc naked-.

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[softagenda]

fortune's expensive smile (leander)

leander x reader(f)

first meeting / leander's pov

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

“Now, who could use some good luck?”

Leander spun on his heel, surveying the tavern with a grin as his hounds cheered, slapped their hands on tables, jostling bottles and glasses, some leaning in and tugging at the end of his cloak to plead with him. He resolved to pick a recent client to further the good tides from good business when an unfamiliar face peered up from the crowd.

Once he’d met her gaze through the dust and dusk of the tavern, a strange charge had settled in the air. 

Luminous magic clung to his fingers, the lilies born of his magic curling toward her as real flowers might toward the warmth of the sun. The green light washed over her face, brushing away the shadows of her hood. Bright eyes peered back, embraced by thick lashes and a faint sense of wonder. Silken hair tumbled from the side of her neck and down her chest.

Leander felt his breath still for a moment, until he caught his stride and said, with a slow smile, “How about you?” He held them out to her, as a suitor might for a new love.

In all honesty, she likely could use some luck. 

Bruises beneath her eyes, mud slicked boots. A weight and slump to her stance, as though she had shouldered a heavy burden long enough to steel her spine and chip away at her soul. He breathed in the air around her, and beneath the smell of the bar that pressed against his senses like the misty fug on a brimming pint lay an unmistakable, acrid trace of magic. Old magic.

She hesitated for a moment. Then a slender hand reached from beneath her sleeve. Bandages wrapped every inch of her skin. His stomach lurched at the sight, an old ache echoing from inside him pricking a tenderness with pity and curiosity.

Her fingers touched the flowers. Instantly the magic faded. 

At her surprised look, he shrugged easily. “That’s the problem with flowers. They don’t last long, but they leave an impression, right?” He grinned, clapping his hands to diffuse the remnants of magic clinging to his hands. His willowisps drifted upward before dissipating, little more than twining spirals of dust beneath the light.

The stranger paused, her brow furrowed. 

Then a small but sweet smile spread over her face, softening her features and the edge of grief that dogged her steps.

Leander’s heart gave a sudden, strong thump against his ribs at the sight.

Well, hello there . 

______________

He watched the stranger from the corner of his eye, his curiosity growing. 

Her eyes seemed older than her appearance would suggest, perhaps hewn from a hard life or misfortune. At the same time, she stalled at even his gentlest of flirtations, as though unused to the idea or uncertain how to respond to them. She’s careful with her drink and her distance, drinking a tall glass of water and curling her shoulders away from him at the bar. Less so with her words.

Uttering the word Senobium in the Wet Wick had earned scores of men and monsters broken bones, cracked teeth, and a thousand pleas for mercy ignored. His hounds were better trained than most, but he knew that many nursed a grudge where the institute was concerned. He’d helped sort many of them himself. 

They’d calmed at his words, but he led her from the bar anyway, after finishing his beer to wash the sour taste from his mouth. 

Out in the alley, Leander turned and asked, in a low voice, “Kuras didn’t send you here for help with the Senobium, did he?” Though he had yet to pry the doctor’s pristine shell apart for the pearls within, he knew the other man well enough to know he’d never turn someone with a genuine need to the institute’s door. 

She glanced away, frowning. “He suggested I find an alternative.”

“Yet here you are, asking about them anyway,” he continued, folding his arms over his chest and appraising her. “What do you need the Senobium for?”

Her mouth tightened. Her reticence was obvious. 

The first thing that had clued him in to her recent arrival to Eridia was the openness of her expressions, how easily he could stare into her eyes and glean her thoughts. Well, that and her looks. He hadn’t lied - he couldn’t imagine ever forgetting a face as stunning as this.

“Well, I see you’re already aware of the city’s currency. Information’s worth its weight in gold here.” He gaged her expression once more before adding, “Kuras told you the truth. The Senobium’s dangerous. Get on their bad side and they’ll imprison you if you’re lucky, or torture you if you’re not.”

The image of a sulky, sneering fox broke through his thoughts in a vision of fiery red hair and black leather, before he shook it off.

Her face fell. “But the Senobium’s supposed to be a place of learning, a sanctuary…”

Leander grimaced. “That’s what they want you to think, but things that seem too good to be true are often just that.” If he felt a pinch of guilt at the words, he forced it deep down inside. Clearing his throat, he clapped his hands to dispel the bleak thoughts. “But as I always say: there’s a solution to every problem, and alternatives to every solution.”

She was watching him warily, her shoulders slumped. Clearly the hard truth about the Senobium had come as a low blow - he could only imagine the hard journey that had brought her all the way here, only to be told that the institute was a facade.

He smiled, eager to turn the mood around. “That’s why Kuras pointed you to the Bloodhounds.” He leaned his head to the side, glancing humorously at the posters plastered all along the alley way, his own face grinning back at them. “Let us help you. Whether it’s hunting Soulless, finding people, or recovering stolen valuables, we can do it all. And free of charge.” … at least, in terms of currency.

Even as he delivered his speech, she shook her head. Her hood fell back to her shoulders, exposing her hair to the gaze of the sun. His eyes followed the slow unfurling of a lock down her neck, teasingly slow as drizzled honey.

Her mien was far from sweet, though. “Listen, I appreciate the offer. But my problem can’t be solved by a group of good samaritans.”

Leander nodded, sorting through the information with quicksilver decisions. “Then your problem must be fairly serious. And if the Senobium’s your first choice… you’re searching for a magical solution, aren’t you?”

Her face once again gave her away, all wide eyes and slack jaw. 

He straightened, rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. “I’d be happy to help you out. That is, if you tell me what ails you.” 

She seemed torn for a long moment, her teeth biting the corner of her mouth as she stared hard at the cobblestones below their feet. Either she would confide in him, or she would seek her answers somewhere else. He would support her either way, though he’d prefer she take a chance on him and let down those stiffly high walls a bit.

He gave her room for her thoughts, taking his own time to allow his gaze to inspect her cloak, the dagger strapped to the curve of her hip, shapely legs that hinted of lith muscle. 

Then a whisper stole across the silence. “... I’m cursed.”

The admission seemed to cost her dearly. 

“Cursed?” he echoed, now inspecting her with a more clinical mindset. “Oh, now I’m very curious. Something ancestral or more recent?” 

“It’s your hands, isn’t it.”

Her immediate flinch was answer enough. She curled in on herself, her hands stowing away in her pockets, shame twisting the gentle eves of her face. His beautiful stranger forced herself to continue, short and hushed, “My touch is dangerous, it changes people, hurts them –” 

He tugged his glove off his right hand, stretching his fingers after their release from the sticky leather. An anticipation settled over him as he recalled that scent around her in the bar, that taste of magic that lingered on the back of his palette. 

“Let’s see it,” he coaxed easily, offering his hand as he cast his strongest protection spell over his body. Exceptionally few enchantments or curses would be able to break through this one - Vere had been gracious enough to test that for him several months ago. 

She balked immediately. “I can’t. Believe me, this isn’t an ordinary curse.”

And I’m no ordinary mage, beautiful . “I’ll be fine. Perhaps where you came from, your affliction was strange and one of a kind. But spend a year in this city, and you’ll see a thousand curses and thrice as many cures.” He frowned slightly as a thought occurred to him. “Do you really think Kuras would send you here if I couldn’t handle it?”

She shrugged. “How should I know? I only met him today.” 

Ah. Leander took a breath and calmed himself. He wasn’t used to this much resistance to his offers of help - and perhaps his and the good doctor’s notoriety had gone to his head in some ways. 

Still, he tipped his chin up with pride and said, “I’m as good as any mage in the Senobium. Better even. If they can help you, so can I.”  And he’d do it without a sanctimonious lecture to boot. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” 

Her eyes watched him as though from a great distance. Leander recognized that look for what it was - a lifetime of suffering, enduring, loathing oneself to the point of desperation. He knew that feeling all too well.

The thought of freeing her from that hell was compelling. Dangerously so.

“I’m asking you to trust me,” he murmured. 

His stranger looked from his hand to his face, caught in between hope and fear. Leander smiled to set her at ease and waited patiently. 

With a barely audible sigh, she began to unravel the bandages from her hands. “Fine. But if you lose control, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lose control ? Leander bit the inside of his cheek and replied, “You can tie me up first if it makes you feel better.” His face heated at the thought: strapped down on a bed, bared and open, at the mercy of a gorgeous stranger…. He’d certainly been in worse situations.

She ignored him, her face grim. Whatever she’d experienced as a result of this curse, she clearly wasn’t one to crack jokes about it.

He watched, fascinated, as each inch was revealed. 

Her skin flowed a murky gray from the tips of her fingers and up her arms, the color of summer storms or puddles of rain forming eddies on the street. More strange than that was the rivers of gold etched across her skin, forming gleaming branches across her wrist, hand, and fingers. Ebbing, seeping, as though flowing like veins under her skin.

He’d never seen anything quite like it.

His stranger lifted her hand above his.

“Ready when you are,” he said softly. She seemed liable to startle at any loud sound or sudden movement, like an animal toeing around a spring-loaded trap.

Scant inches hung between them now as she hesitated. Leander studied her expression, the sweat studding her brow, fear shadowing her eyes.

“Three… two… one…” she said, barely above a whisper.

Her fingers dipped down another inch. She hesitated just a hair away, even as he surged forward, his hand wrapping around hers.

The effect was instant.

A wave of magic broke across his shield, torrential, overwhelming. Leander braced himself against it, his smile falling in concentration as he fought against the invading presence. Something snaked around the edges of his senses, flowing over the surface of his magic as though searching for entry. She’d been afraid of this power - physically afraid, flinching even - to the point that he had expected pain at her touch, but this was - this was worse.

It was pleasure. 

Blistering, tingling, syrupy sweet. Whispering into the back of his mind, sultry as smoke, to touch. To consume . The power pushed at the hot blood inside him, sewing lust and temptation into his veins as though those same gold rivers across her hands now flooded into him. 

He’s hard as stone in his pants. His hands ache, as though the urge to touch her was a physical need . His gaze bored into hers, saliva pooling in his mouth, spell-bound by her quickly paling skin, her wide eyes, the bob of her throat.

He let his spell of protection weaken just slightly so that he could analyze the feeling, a shudder running down his back as the curse tried to push deeper. 

Leander had assumed it would be a fairly powerful curse. Otherwise, Kuras might have handled it himself. This was unexpected, though. Powerful. Old. Wild and beguiling and singing to primal instincts. Almost… ancient in nature.

“Leander?”

She’s tugging at her hand, trying to pull away - her words brush like a breeze across his mind. She’s closer than before - no, he’s closer than before, his arm rising without conscious thought. Her voice, trembling, terrified, broke the fog like the swift cracking of an egg. 

His magic barreled up from within him and bit back at the curse until the golden fog receded from his mind.

His stranger flinched away from his hand. “No, you’re - “ 

“Just fine,” he reassured her with a gentle smile, dropping his palm on her shoulder. “Interesting! That’s one hell of a curse.”

Her body trembled, at the precipice of fear that had quickly dissolved into a shaky relief. 

Bright eyes stared into his face, searching, so intense that he had to glance away when heat rose in his cheeks. His grip on her hand softened, just enough that she could move, and move she did. 

Gray fingers, surprisingly tender and achingly gentle, began to map out the lines of his palm, brushing along the curves of each finger, before tracing up his wrist and forearm. Her thumb smoothed across each fingernail and lingered at the pulse pumping fast beneath his wrist. So careful was she that Leander felt himself growing hyper aware of the feeling, her touch almost ticklish, drawing goosebumps across his skin.

There’s something like awe in her face, earnest and pure and wondrous - so opposite to the lustful thoughts circling the back of his mind that he felt like a wolf allowing a lamb to brush and play with his fur coat. 

He wanted to bite, a little.

He could still feel the electric hum of her power, each gossamer touch seeking to land a hook into his mind. Even at his strongest shield, it pressed fervently against his defenses, not enough to overtake and control him but enough that he could feel the insidious presence.

Little wonder that she kept her hands so tightly bound. He could see now, how a simple brush of her bare skin would drive a man completely mad. 

He watched as her hands travel curiously up his arm, fingertips dancing over the edge of his scar at the edge of his sleeve. Quicksilver eyes flicked up to his jaw, to the matching band across his cheek, before dropping once more to his skin. He’d feel like a lab specimen, except for the almost reverent way she touched him, as though this were a wholly new experience.

Leander paused at the thought before venturing to ask, “Am I the first person you’ve been able to touch like this?”

She froze. “...so far.”

Warmth settled in his stomach. He couldn’t deny that the thought was strangely satisfying, filling himself up with a heady, eager buzz like a stiff drink. “I’ll admit your touch does make it somewhat difficult to stay level-headed. But not due to your power… “ 

Leander grabbed her hand again and twined their fingers together, before drawing them up by his pin.  “Look, we match,” he joked softly, hoping to ease the tension. 

His stranger stared at their clasped hands before another shy, genuine smile appeared. His heart gave another insistent leap in his chest. 

When she drew her hand back, he felt the loss in the cold air seeping back over his palm, the sound of the busy street behind breaking into the quiet solemnity of the moment. She wrapped her hands absentmindedly, more habit than anything, and adds in a small voice, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Leander nearly offered his hand again immediately, possibly forever, but managed to hold on to his air of mystery and dignity. 

He offered her another slow smile. “You were right to hide this from me. That curse of yours… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with. I can tell you’re discreet, but you’d best not go showing that off to anyone else.” 

“I didn’t plan on it.”

“Are you staying in Lowtown?” At her shrug, Leander clapped his hands and guided her back to the Wet Whick with an open arm. “Let’s get you settled then. Bloodhound rates.” 

As she led the way back into the inn, the door opened with a flood of oak, sawdust, grease, and beer-stained air. Just beneath that was the delicate scent of her, herbs and leather, and that faint bite of magic. 

Leander paused on the threshold, his eyes lingering on her form as she glided swiftly through the tables, her hair tumbling down her back, candlelight dancing across her face. His pin sparked, his skin tingling where she’d touched him. His stomach seemed to hollow for a second.

He felt… strangely empty, hungry. Alive in a way he hadn’t been just hours before. 

Eridia never slept, never stalled - the city was always changing, always adapting. Mysterious strangers were a dime a dozen. 

And yet, this felt different. She felt different. 

Leander curled his hand into a fist, hoping to stretch out the prickling sensation, to no avail. It was as unsettling as it was addicting.

He wondered how he might convince her to touch him again. 

Soon.

___________________

a/n: thank you for reading!

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

ℑ 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔳𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢...

「 ✦ 𝕿𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖉✦ 」

𝖂elcome to 𝕰ridia...You were born cursed. To survive in a decaying world entrust your fate to 5 monstrous strangers.

Who will you entrust?

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ 𝕲𝖆𝖒𝖊 | 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊 | ▶︎𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝐿𝐼 ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

・┆✦♱ ༻*✮:ʚ𝕻𝕽𝕰𝕱𝕰𝕽𝕰𝕹𝕮𝕰𝕾ɞ:✮*༺ ♱✦┆・

▶︎ "Look at me" - how the LIs lift your chin

・┆✦♱ ༻*✮:·ʚ 𝐿𝐼𝖘 𝕱𝕴𝕮𝖘 ɞ·:✮*༺ ♱✦┆・

▶︎ 「 ✦ 𝓐𝔦𝔰 ✦ 」 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔡𝔢

Works

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▶︎「 ✦𝓥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ✦ 」 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫

Works

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▶︎「 ✦𝒦𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔰 ✦ 」 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩

Works

▶︎

▶︎「 ✦𝓛𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯✦ 」 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔦𝔠 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢

Works

▶︎

▶︎「 ✦𝓜𝔥𝔦𝔫 ✦ 」 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯

Works

▶︎

© dreamingkitsunewrites. Please don't repost my works and dividers without permission.

Thank you for reading my fics! Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated 🖤

[angrybathbomb]

“Are you two a couple?”

  MODERN AU

Touchstarved LI x gn! Reader

  SUMMARY: On a coffee date with each ts LIs, both of you are stopped by what one can assume a street interviewer/youtuber who seems to be quite eager on talking to couples. What do our lovely LIs have to say?

WARNINGS:  None, Vere being Vere tbh, makes one suggestive joke or more like advice

NOTE:   This is my first time writing a fanfic, please go easy on me if I made some mistakes as I am still learning. Constructive criticism and tips to improve are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

INSPO: I saw a YouTube channel (@meetcutenyc) and felt like writing this for our lovely ts LIs!

WORD COUNT: <2.1K

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-PROLOGUE-

Strolling leisurely down the bustling streets for a cozy, romantic coffee date, fingers entwined, greedily savoring each other’s warmth. Each step the two of you took, resonated with a rhythm on the footpath that stretched ahead in the bustling cityscape. Amidst the bustling chaos of the city, snippets of conversations floating around and the distant hum of traffic, a comfortable silence stretched between the two of you with occasional exchange of shy yet mischievous glances and tender smiles.

However, the romantic stroll came to an abrupt halt when a young guy holding a camera, most likely recording, blocked the path ahead of you two.

“Sorry to interrupt, but are you two a couple?”, he inquired with a friendly smile. His eyes, subtly reflecting guilt, silently apologized for the sudden intrusion.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIS

LEANDER

VERE

MHIN

KURAS

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

        VERE

In the blink of an eye, Vere’s guard shot up, his relaxed easy-going demeanor vanishing instantly.

Before he could do something that might land you both behind bars, you stepped in with a firm grip on his arm.

  “No, we are siblings,” you said flatly, shooting a sarcastic smile at the stranger.

The stranger mistook that for an invitation to laugh loudly, but one withering look from Vere made him choke on it.

  “My bad, I interview couples about their first meetings. Care to share your story with the world?” he waved his camera with a grin that could only be described as overly optimistic.

  You seemed intrigued as you studied the stranger for a moment before turning to Vere who looked equally amused but masked it with an indifferent expression.

  “What do you think? Want to reveal your not so sneaky tactics?” you teased.

  “I never claimed to be subtle,” Vere replied smugly.

  You rolled your eyes which only encouraged Vere to go on.

  “I gave their key back,” he said, feigning innocence.

“You stole my key!” you shot back, scoffing.

  “Me? A common thief?”, Vere gasped dramatically, his hand over his heart. “Oh, the horror!”

His overly pleased smile only irritated you further.

  “Don’t play coy,” you said, narrowing your eyes. ”I was strolling around that fancy hotel, not expecting a heist in broad daylight.”

  “Darling, do you think someone of my stature,” he gestured towards his extravagant robe,” Would stoop to stealing? And your room of all the places? Please give me some credit.” He retorted, unable to contain his amusement.

  The stranger hesitated, caught between your assertive demeanor and Vere’s smooth charm.

“So, you stole their —” the stranger began cautiously.

“Returned,” Vere corrected him smoothly, cutting him off.

  “Uhm...” the stranger stammered, shooting a nervous glance at you.

Vere seized the opportunity before you could interject.

  “Oh, my silly thing,” he said with a chuckle, his gaze flickered towards you. 

“They are not the most vigilant when it comes to their belongings. No surprise they didn’t notice their key missing from their pocket.”

You could see the cunning glint behind Vere’s sweet smile.

“And like the kind and benevolent being that I am,” he continued, finding his own words rather entertaining. “I returned it to them dutifully.”

  You sighed, caught between exposing his lie or playing along.

“Kind and benevolent being, my foot” you muttered under your breath, unable to hold back your bite.

  The stranger attempted to decipher what you muttered, while Vere chuckled, his keen ears catching every word you said.

  “Um… I see,” the stranger chuckled nervously, deciding it was the safest response.

“That's quite the unconventional first encounter,” he remarked, sensing Vere wasn’t quite telling the whole truth.

  You and Vere exchanged a glance that resembled the intense stare-down opponents share in a fighting ring.

  “Forgive my curiosity, I just can’t resist,” he chuckled, as if finding the couple’s dynamic wildly entertaining. 

“But it’s rare for me to encounter partners,” he paused, searching for the right words.” As unique as you guys.” He didn’t want to accidentally step on any toes with a poorly chosen phrase.

  “Don't hold back, use your words,” Vere challenged the stranger with a smug look.

“Never seen two stunning individuals together?” 

His gaze drifted towards you with a sense of pride,” I can't blame you though, we do have a knack for turning heads and capturing wandering eyes.” 

  You weren't about to take his words at face value, for all you knew he could be pulling a sick joke on you right now. 

  “They are just effortlessly radiant,” he purred suggestively, hands gripping your waist with a vice-like grip. 

  “I am not possessive really,” he added nonchalantly,” After all they are quite pleasant to look at — but others better stick to just looking.” He laughed disguising the subtle threat as a joke.

  You give a comically blank stare at the camera.

  The stranger whispered teasingly,” Blink twice if you need help.”

  Matching his playful energy with a mischievous grin, you shot back,” My Hero!” 

  Vere scoffs in disapproval and pulls you closer, as if there were any space left between you to begin with.

“Tell me more about your first meeting,” the stranger said eagerly.

  “Like we were saying, he sto–” One icy look from Vere made you pause. You rolled your eyes and exaggeratedly said,” He returned my key.”

  “And as you can imagine, we exchanged heartfelt thank yous and warm welcomes,” you added with mock sincerity, clearly failing to sound convincing.

  Vere snickered, enjoying your struggle.

  The stranger gave a quizzical look, clearly not buying your story.

  You shot a glare at Vere. If he was going to find amusement in twisting the facts of what really happened, then you might as well give him something to squirm about. Two could play this game, right?

  “You know,” you began, smiling devilishly, “Our first meeting wasn't just about a key. Vere here actually serenaded me in the hotel lobby. He even got down on one knee and sang a beautiful song, confessing his undying love for me.” 

You kept a poker face throughout your ridiculous story, delivering it with such conviction as if it were the most normal thing in the world when it came to your lover.

  "Wha–when? Absolutely not!” Vere scoffed, shooting you a sharp look. “Your sense of humor could use some work.”

  You smirked, undeterred. “He’s just a little shy about it,” you continued smoothly. “It was a surprisingly sweet gesture—but, true to his style, he still collected a few tips from the onlookers.”

  Vere groaned, rubbing his temples. “For the record, that never happened.”

  And the interviewer barely had a chance to react before Vere cut in, his voice edged with impatience. “Any other questions? We don’t have all the time in the world.”

  The interviewer paused, eyebrows raised, then gave a slight chuckle. “Straight to business, I see,” with a wry smile he continued “Alright then, let’s skip to the more pressing matters.” 

  “How long have you two been together?” 

“Uh… it’s been a while,” you admit.

The interviewer raised an eyebrow. “A while?”

You nodded, “Maybe a year? Why?” curious at the look of slight disbelief the stranger was giving you two.

Vere arched a brow, looking amused. “What’s wrong? Don’t think we look the part?”

  “A year is a long time, uh... I mean,” the stranger stammered, flustered by Vere’s offended expression. “Don’t get me wrong! It’s just that, with how lively you two are, I expected it to be only a few months.” 

He chuckled nervously, "You know, like, fresh and new, full of energy?”

  “Fresh and new, full of energy?” Vere repeats his words with disappointment,” tsk..I was hoping for a bit more flattery. I like to think we are rather passionate, quite intense when it comes to our romance.”

“That you two sure are without a doubt!” The stranger replied with a cheeky smile,” The two of you could easily outshine any silver screen romance.”

Vere smirked in approval, “Now you are speaking my language.” 

  “Thank you but honestly, I wouldn’t go that far,” you responded, opting to show a bit of modesty.

Vere couldn’t help but snicker,” Aren’t you such a saint?” he whispered teasingly, leaning in close to you.

  You shot him a warning look. Vere leaned back, casually running his tongue over his sharp canine with a hint of sass and flair.

  The stranger pondered whether to ask for relationship advice. It wasn’t like he had anything against you really, it was Vere.

From the exchange, it was painfully clear that Vere was the last person anyone would seek out for advice—especially on relationships, consulting him on anything involving emotional finesse would be futile if not a mild form of punishment.

But this was his signature question—the final one he asked every couple on his YouTube channel. And this interview would be no exception no matter how awkward the conversation got.

  “Any advice for the audience on how to keep a long-term commitment while keeping the passion alive?”

You paused, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “Hmm...” 

Vere threw an expectant look your way with a cheeky smile playing at his lips.

  “Give each other space when needed,” you emphasize, speaking from experience, "Distance makes the heart grow fonder, that’s the saying right?” You smile.

You could feel Vere’s eyes on you, his usual smirk softening a bit.

“It’s the best strategy after a heated argument or if things feel a bit… stale,” you continue thoughtfully.

“Take a step back to reflect and recharge on your own. Artists take breaks to create their best work—and love is art.” You finish with a casual shrug, as if it were the simplest truth.

  “Wow,” the interviewer breathed, clearly caught off guard by your answer. “Never thought of it like that—really unique perspective.”

He glanced between you and Vere, visibly impressed. “I think a lot of people could use that kind of advice.”

“Not going to ask me?” Vere interjected, feigning offence as he shot the interviewer a dramatic look. 

You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he was just trying to make him squirm. 

“O-of course!” the interviewer stammered, casting a nervous glance at Vere. “Is there… anything you’d like to add?”

  Vere leaned back, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face as he held the interviewer’s gaze. “My sweetheart took the words right out of my mouth,” he replied smoothly, giving you an impressed look.

  “Left you speechless?” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Really? That sharp tongue of yours has nothing to add?” 

Vere raised a brow, clearly amused. “Careful,” he replied smugly. “I might surprise you yet.”

“Try me,” you challenged, crossing your arms with a playful grin. 

Vere leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright then,” he said, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

  “Like they said just now, love is art, right?” Vere echoed your words, a glint of passion in his eyes. “Show it with the dedication an artist has for their masterpiece. Pay attention to each other—whether it’s through words of affirmation, thoughtful gifts, playful teasing, or even creating something just for them. It’s not about how you express it, but the thought behind it. Let them know you see them.”

Then, with a playful smirk and a wink, he leaned in, “And of course... don’t shy away from a little heat. Hell, celebrate your love with all the passion and sensuality it deserves.”

  You and the stranger exchanged a glance, momentarily speechless. It was rare to see Vere reveal something so genuine, let alone speak with such depth.

  After a beat, he scoffed, breaking the silence. “This is exactly why I keep the deep stuff to myself,” he muttered, half to himself.

  The stranger chuckled, breaking the tension.

  “Well, that was some solid advice,” he beamed at the couple. “I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Vere replied, shooting a glare at his watch. “Are we done now?”

“Looks like our interview wraps up here,” the stranger chuckled,” It was really fun talking to you two.”

  “Not so fast,” Vere pulls out his phone,” name?”

  “Wh-What?” the stranger sweats nervously.

  “Of the YouTube account where you will be posting this video,” Vere clarified with a dramatic eye roll.

“O-oh, r-right!” The stranger sighed in relief.

  After sharing the details, Vere let out a low whistle and then smirked. “You better have caught my good side while recording, or I might just come find you.”

“Guess he’s safe then; you always look good,” you teased, playing along with his antics. His arrogance, though a bit off-putting, was softened by his undeniable charm and good looks. For you, it was all wildly entertaining.

Vere chuckled, very pleased at the praise, “True. What’s it like to look bad? I wouldn’t know.”

  The stranger watched, still debating whether to take Vere’s word seriously, and the look on his face amused you both.

It sent both you and Vere into a fit of laughter, much to the stranger’s relief as he relaxed into the moment.

  “I suppose we can wrap this up here, hm?” The stranger raised his hand in a final parting wave.

You smiled politely, while Vere turned to leave.

 Just as you two were walking away, Vere glanced over his shoulder with an impish grin. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe next time we could come back for part two.”

The stranger chuckled, relieved by the light-hearted end to their encounter. 

” I will hold you to that! Take care, you two.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N note: the procrastination was high with one lol.

Vere is a bit difficult to write, I tried to capture his personality as best as I could... with multiple drafts, changes and edits lol. And shoutout to that person who gave me the idea for Vere's first meeting under Ais' post, I think, with the reader in the modern au setting, I am sorry I forgot your id, but thanks.

and sorry for any spelling errors I was tired..

Kuras will be coming soon. thanks for reading :)

[butterflewaway]

Credit for prompt: @ravencutebuttevil

"It's just so silly goofy how the MC is so concerned about people seeing their hands but they're apparently so hot that no one cares."

Warnings: MAJOR simping on everyone's behalf i'm sorry, tipsy mc, CONSENT IS KEY, Leander calling your darling is warning enough, ends with Kuras being amazing <3

Pairing: All x Reader

Word Count: 870

______________________________________________________________

It's hard living like this. Never being able to feel the skin of another person, the bliss of intimacy. Always haunted by what could be. So you kept to yourself.

As everyone drank the night away and laughed and had the time of their lives in the small bar, consuming unholy amounts of watered down beer, you sat alone. Cape wrapped around your body, hood half way to hiding your face. You looked only at your drink. And everyone only looked at you.

As you sat recluse on your barstool at the very edge, five pairs of eyes bore into your back. In your bandaged hands you nursed your eighth glass of cheap whisky. Sipping the burning drink, you rested your chin on you palm. It was cold in the bar. Even wrapped up as you were, you felt the biting of cold on your cursed fingertips.

A chair was pulled out next to you, and down sat a figure. Leander was the first to make his move, unbeknownst to you. His charming grin had faded into a softer smile as he looked down at you. "Face is a bit red, isn't it? Already drunk I see?" His stupid sweet voice almost lulled you to sleep. He was whispering in what was an attempt to preserve your dignity. Not that any of his Bloodhounds cared, they were too busy focusing on a loud drinking game.

You hiccuped quietly and sat up straight, glaring at him with an uncharacteristic pout. "I am not drunk. That's absurd." He just smiled wider and takes your hand into his gloved ones. Your eyes widen as brief panic overtakes you before you remember that this might be the only man in the world capable of touching you and being perfectly fine.

His hands exude a warmth that is foreign to you, encasing your fingers and palm. "Time to retire for the night, don't you think darling?" You scowl and pull your hand away. "N-never- I-" You stand abruptly and topple over your chair. Before your beautiful face reaches for a tantalizing kiss with the floor, two strong arms catch you.

You land in an even warmer embrace. Surely, the floor would have been cold and unforgiving. Instead, Ais peers down at you with a sharp grin of his own, teeth glinting in the soft light emitting from the bar. Your eyes are wide, all alcohol purged from your system. Your face tinges red as he pulls you up, but does not let go.

Just as sudden, you are yanked out of Ais's embrace, a scorching hand on your wrist. Noting with more severe panic that your wrist is covered, you look up to see your assailant. Vere is smirking, but he does not look pleased to see your blush directed at Ais. The fox is... jealous? Just as he opens his mouth to something haughty no doubt, you are once again yanked.

You're confused, head spinning. Swearing to yourself you would never drink again, you survey the room slowly until your sleepy gaze finds your newest assailant. This time it's Mhin, and they are boring holes into Vere's skull. "Don't touch. You- you-" Seething with rage, Mhin barely has the words to express their hatred for the smirking fox.

As they engage in a staring contest with the fox, Ais and Leander watch in amusement. You are left standing there with a dumbfounded expression at the pissing contest being had. Just as you are about to slip away, a hand is placed on your shoulder. You brace yourself as you come face to face with none other than Kuras.

You let out a sigh of relief and a gentle smile appears on his face. He places his second hand onto your forehead, brushing away any hair in the way. "Are you alright? That was quite a frightful fall. You are flushed." You burn hotter as you observe the taller man. He is calm and quiet, and you feel the rest of the bar mute around you, all noises and laughing fading into the background.

There is nothing but Kuras's beaming golden eyes, gazing into your own. You exit quietly as he leads you to your room, his hand never leaving your shoulder. He opens your door and ushers you inside. You're still dazed when he gently pushes you down to sit on the bed and kneels in front of you.

All thoughts are suddenly drained out of your head as you stare down at this beautiful man, kneeling in front of you. He unlaces your boots and pulls them off, placing them neatly beside the door. As he stands back up, you fall down onto your mattress, the air leaving your lungs as Kuras walks back over to you and smiles again. He grabs your blanket and pulls it over you.

You're half asleep as he tucks you in, and you faintly feel warm fingers brushing your hair out of your face. A whispered, "Goodnight, dear.'", is all that is heard before the clicking of a door being shut. As you sleep soundly, Kuras ignores the eyes stabbing holes through him as he bids his companions goodnight and exits the bar, the smallest smile on his lips.

[consistencynevermether]

Spring Flowers (Vere x gn!reader) (Touchstarved)

content: this is technically a sequel to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. Vere x reader, gender neutral reader, tried to write this so any origin will work, Jealous Vere, SFW, cannon typical swearing, violence, etc

(optional) part one: Winter Nights, here

summary: Vere wants to go watch the flowers bloom, and you help him out (its lightly implied Leander has a crush on MC)

word count: 3.7k

A/N: i've decided to make a series out of my first fic, each one coordinating with a different season. this is technically part 2, works as a standalone. i've also been considering maybe some Kuras writings, if anyone is interested in that, lmk! enjoy :)

The winter in Eridia was especially long this season. That's what Mhin had told you at least. Not that they minded apparently. They had no strong dislike towards the colder months, unlike Vere. You didn’t go a single day without him complaining about the weather. But finally spring had begun to take over the city. While you were walking back to your lodgings in the Wet Wick sometime earlier this month, you had even seen crocus flowers popping up early, with a light dusting of snow on their purple petals. You imagined the melting ice and sunny days would put Vere in a better mood. And they did, for a time.

One lovely day he came to the Wick in a foul mood, and as he walked past your table he oh so very rudely shut the book you were reading while he walked past. You let out an offended cry but he didn’t even stop to look at you, he simply stomped right past and sat down at the bar, ordering something strong

Rude. More rude than normal. Usually when Vere did something like that, it was to tease or get your attention. But this time he just wanted to spread his sour mood. And it was working. The book you were reading was a tome of very basic yet interesting spells, something “almost anyone could master” according to Leander, the person who lent you the book. And now your place was lost because Vere made his attitude everyone’s problem.

Luckily, you were more mature than him. And deep down you also knew better. Vere was a fickle beast, but usually his reasons for being genuinely upset were pretty valid. 

You sighed, tucked your book away in your bag, and headed over to the bar where he was sitting. Without a word you sat in the seat next to his and turned towards him, arms crossed.

Vere was already slouched over the bar, scowling into his drink. 

“Oh for the love of- what do you want?” He groaned. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” You counter dryly. 

Vere scoffed, throwing his hands over his head. 

“It’s a damn book! It is not that big of a deal. You're really upset over that? What, do you have to spend two seconds of your day looking at something other than Leander’s book? Oh what a terrible fate.” He spat, his mocking tone rising in pitch at his clear annoyance. 

Bad mood indeed.

“I’m not really upset, no.” Your even tone only makes Veres' little rant sound even more immature. “But that was rude, and it’s not my job to put up with your pettiness when you're upset. It makes me not want to be around you.”

You watched as Veres' eyes narrowed and his ears slightly flatten against his head in response.

Usually you wouldn’t let anyone get away with half the shit Vere got away with, but you were basically his only friend besides Ace. And that relationship was all kinds of complicated. Vere was great at charming people, making them fall for him, manipulating them, the whole nine yards. But he wasn’t great at keeping actual friends. It was a bit of a new concept to him, and because of that you gave him some leeway. 

Of course part of the reason you gave him that grace was because he puts up with a fair amount of your shit too. And you enjoy being friends with him of course, but you’d never tell him that. 

You continued to stare him down and he continued to glare at his drink until finally he mumbled something under his breath at you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You questioned.

“I SAID I’m sorry I touched your precious book ok?!” Vere snapped back. 

Vere was no longer hunched over the bar but instead had laid his head down on the counter and was glaring up at you through strands of his scarlet hair.

You smirked and laid your head down on the bar as well, now eye level with him. He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight smile behind the snark. You could tell.

“So, why are you actually upset?” you question. 

Vere let out a long suffering sigh.

“Ugh. It’s something entirely stupid. I don’t even really care.” He responded. 

“Well that’s clearly not true, you obviously care.” You countered. “But that’s fine. It’s alright to be upset over shit that doesn’t really matter. Just yesterday I dropped my slice of cheesecake and declared the Gods hated me personally. Well, even more than they clearly already do.” As you state that last part you hold up your bandaged hands, accentuating your point. 

Vere let out a quiet chuckle. Then a few moments later he sighed and began to speak. 

“There’s this festival happening that the sinobium is hosting. A viewing of some flowering trees that’ll be in full bloom. I don’t even care about the damn things, but it’s a huge social event, and you know how I thrive on those.”

It was true. Vere was like a flame to moths. People swarmed towards his charismatic personality and sharp wit. Not to mention he was probably the most beautiful person to exist. (Not that you were biased in this opinion at all).

“So why aren’t you going?” You questioned, urging him to continue. 

Vere shrugged. “No monsters allowed.” 

You were disappointed, but not surprised. This type of event definitely sounded like a gathering for the people of high town, and people like that don’t enjoy rubbing shoulders with monsters. Only the richest people in the largest city still standing had the luxury of creating a whole event out of watching flowering trees bloom. You could definitely see how this event would be right up Veres' alley. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the fox devil sitting next to you, it wasn't fair he had to miss out on some boring stupid garden party because he was a monster. He should miss out on the boring stupid garden party because he's a menace and a psychopath. 

Still, he was your menace, and you wanted to make him feel better about missing out on the stupid fruffy party. 

Then a thought came to you.

You didn’t need to comfort him for missing the party if he didn’t miss the party. 

Vere stared at you in tired amusement. He knew you well enough to know you were going to do or say something stupid, by the look on your face. He just didn’t know what yet. 

“I have a plan.” You declare. 

“Of course you do.” He took another sip of his drink, waiting for you to continue.

“Well-“ you reopen your tome as you speak. “I just happened to be reading a disguise spell before you so rudely interrupted.”

“Mhm. And can you cast said spell?” He questioned lazily. 

“Well-

-We can certainly try right? I’m sure I’ll pick it up naturally.”

“If you turn my hair green, I will kill you. I hope you know this.” Vere responded, sounding very serious.

You knew he wouldn’t, he lost interest in killing you after the first month.

Probably.

Well, you wouldn't know unless you tried. Plus you actually needed some practice to get this right. Not that you would ever use any of your friends as test subjects (or at least ever admit to it).

You didnt turn Vere’s hair green. You did however turn it purple twice by accident. You two had spent the rest of the day trying to make vere look human. It was admittedly a lot less trial and error and more just-

Error. 

It was a lot more frustrating for you than you'd assumed it would be. Which meant Vere had a lot more fun than he expected. But by the time sunset had come around, you had done it.

His scarlet hair was now a deep brown, and his magenta eyes were now a light chestnut color. The markings on his face were gone, as were his claws. The most shocking change of course was the lack of his fox ears and tail. They were still actually there of course, just invisible. After all it was a simple illusion spell, not the kind of magic that could actually change a person. 

It was…strange. You had never really thought of what Vere would ever look like as a human. His face was the same, but something about him felt like it was missing. Or incomplete. It was hard to describe the slight uncanny feeling you felt looking at this version of him.

A snap brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Hello? Still in there? You've been staring for like two minutes” Vere questioned.

“It's weird.” you defended.

“What? Why? What did you do to me?” Vere snapped as he grabbed a small silver mirror out of his pocket.

You watched as Veres eyebrows shot up at the sight of himself. He examined his reflection for a few more seconds, gingerly feeling where his ears were, and looking at the illusionary human ears that now graced the side of his head.

“That's….impressive” he finally stated. “I really look human.”  

“Which means you can go to the boring flower party!” You exclaimed, clearly delighted with your work. Oh yea, you were an incredible friend. 

“Well,-“ Vere pursed his lips. “-what if something happens to disturb the illusion? This kind of magic is easy to break. If only someone would come with me and make sure to be there so if the illusion breaks, they could recast it.” 

You felt yourself deflate slightly. A whole day of sitting around watching flowers bloom? When you could be working and making money? You hadn’t wasted time like that since before you moved to Eridia. 

But it was Vere. If he wanted you to go, you would go. And he already knew it, judging by the smirk on his face. 

You sighed, defeated.

“Fine, let’s go to the party where we all sit around and look at trees. How fun. When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fuck.”

Vere simply chuckled before looking back down at the mirror, examining his new human appearance. You could also feel him occasionally glance over at you. 

Hmph. Probably shocked you could pull off the spell. Oh he of little faith. 

Just as you were about to flick a peanut at Vere just to be annoying, a drink slid right in front of you, prompting you to look up.

You were greeted with a pair of green eyes and a wide smile. Leander. 

“You looked like you needed a drink. Make a new friend?” He questioned, eyes narrowing. 

“Huh?” You questioned. What new friend was he talking about?

Leander gestured to the now brown haired Vere, who was still looking down at his reflection.

At that moment Vere decided to stop preening and instead hopped off his own barstool, moving behind yours and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Awe, can the great mage really be fooled so easily? Either they're better at this than I thought, or just as dense as I suspected.”

Leander’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Vere?!?”

Leander’s look of bewilderment quickly turned into realization as he looked back at you. 

“Hey, you figured out that illusion spell from the book! Aren’t you a little prodigy?” He beamed. 

“Hmm. Yes, they are.” Vere smiled, putting his hands around your shoulders.

 Though his fangs were hidden behind your illusion, it was clear he didn’t need them. There was something dangerous about that smile, like the edge of a knife. You had no idea why he had gotten so hostile all of the sudden, and how Leander was keeping such a carefree look on his face.

“Now, they're taking me to the flower festival tomorrow with this lovely disguise, and I refuse to be seen with someone who smells this bad. So how about you head up to your room and hit the showers?”

As soon as Vere finished his sentence you saw a slight twitch in Leanders eye. But you were too busy with the smell comment from Vere to really care. 

To make his point Vere twirled a lock of your hair in his fingers and lightly sniffed it. 

Fucking rude. You didn’t smell that bad! Right? Maybe you should use more shampoo though… after all you don’t need to be so conservative with your products after Vere had gifted you quite a few of his own. Or maybe this was a bit of revenge for that time you had said he smelt like a wild animal? It had been a while since that night, but you did know Vere was one to hold a grudge. 

You lightly shoved him off you and headed upstairs (yes, to take a bath). 

Leaving the boys to glare at each other or whatever they were doing, you headed up and headed to bed. 

The next day, you were up bright and early to accompany Vere to his little party.

And unfortunately, as much as you loathe to admit it, the flowers took away your breath the moment you walked in.

The tiny pink blossoms softly shed their petals, coating the ground in a pale pink haze and leaving a sweet scent in the air.

Speaking of scent, you had made 100% sure you smelt incredible for this damn event. Suck it Fox boy. 

Vere scoped out a spot and called you over, motioning you to set down the outdoor blanket you had brought under one of the trees. 

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to buy some flower oils.” Vere beamed, clearly very pleased that his human disguise was holding up so well, and he had successfully fooled the sinobium. 

You signed and waved him off, plopping down on the blanket you had just laid out. 

As Veres' form receded into the crowd of people, a tall white silhouette appeared to your left.

You gave an easy smile. It was always nice to see Kuras. 

He gave you his own small smile, and you gestured for him to sit.

Vere may have issues with Kuras, but the two of you were perfectly cordial, and you’d even consider the two of you friends.

“So, you decided to go with Vere and not Leander. That’s certainly interesting.” He stated.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. Why would you be here with Leander?

Kuras seemed to see your confusion, and you watched a familiar mischievous glint appear in his eyes.

“Oh, maybe he didn’t get the chance to ask. How peculiar. Leander was planning to ask you to see this blossom viewing with him.” Kuras stated, calm as ever.

You knew what you wanted to ask. And clearly Kuras also knew what you wanted to ask. But he was being mischievous. And you were being stubborn.

“Well I best be going. I only stopped by for a second, but I need to get back to my clinic.” Kuras stated as he stood up and lightly brushed himself off, looking immaculate as ever. 

He took a step to leave, then looked back at you.

“Yes. Vere knew.” 

And with that, he strode off into the crowd, sparing you from the embarrassment of him seeing your reddening cheeks. 

You were so focused on figuring out if that meant anything, you hadn’t even noticed that for some reason, Kuras had immediately recognized Vere, regardless of the illusion over him. 

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice Vere had returned until he plopped his head right in your lap.

He gave a sniff and his eyes darkened.

“You smell like the doctor.” He spat.

You just shrugged.

“He stopped by for two seconds to say hi.” 

Vere snarled in response, and you couldn’t help but snort at his unfiltered displeasure. 

You began to gently stroke his ears, his real ears, invisible to sight currently, but you knew where they were without sight. 

Ever since he allowed you to touch his fluffy ears, it was one of your favorite things to do whenever he crashed at your place. 

He huffed in displeasure, but almost immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment as you gently traced your fingers along the back of his ears. He burrowed his head more into your thigh, and wrapped one of his arms around your back. 

“What did he say?” Vere questioned, his eyes still mostly closed. 

Clearly he was trying very hard not to drift off. 

“He just said hi.” You fibbed.

You didn’t know how to bring up what Kuras had told you about, doing so would imply you thought Vere didn’t want you to come here with Leander. Which opens a whole new can of worms.

Seeing that that was all you were going to tell him, he pushed himself up off your lap and leaned back against the tree, scowling. He knew that wasn’t the truth. But it seemed like he didn’t feel like prying either. 

Before you could say anything to cheer him up, he grabbed a bottle from his sack of purchases and took a long swig. It was strong alcohol, you could smell it from here. 

“Do me a favor,” he seethed, glaring at you through his bangs. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t want my flower viewing ruined by you.” 

You could only sigh. If you were going to be friends with Vere, you needed thick skin. Luckily, you had dealt with him enough to expect this. He knew you were omitting some information, and was pouting.

You did feel a little guilty, he wouldn’t be moody if you didn’t hide things from him. But at the end of the day, you were entitled to private conversation with whomever you choose. Vere knew this, which was probably why he resorted to pouting instead of interrogating you for information.

You simply gave him a smile and made the motion of locking your lips shut with a key. 

Vere rolled his eyes and took another heavy swig. Though you could see the sulky look on his face after just a few more sips. He always wore his emotions more plainly when drunk. 

The two of you sat in silence, both enjoying the flowers. It was around sunset when Vere finally seemed to be over being upset with you.

Or he was too drunk to remember. 

He leaned against you, clearly unsteady from all the alcohol.

“Hey.” He slurred.

“Hey.” You responded. 

“Do-

-Do you like me like this?” He questioned. 

“What, absolutely wasted? I mean it is a little funny.” You smirked, and moved so that he could lean against your chest more fully. 

“Ugh. No. I mean human. Still beautiful, obviously, but with brown hair. Like Leanders. No fangs. No claws.”

His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke. 

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked.

“One second.” He responded.

He grabbed one of the bottles of alcohol and chugged the remains. That makes 3 bottles in under one day of some strong drink. Impressive and concerning. 

“Alright, shoot.” He grinned wildly, chuckling low to himself, Gesturing at you to continue. 

“Fuck no.” 

“What?” 

He removed his head from your chest, and leaned back on his arms, looking at you intently, the bewilderment clear on his face.

“You asked if I liked you better looking like this, the answer is fuck no I don’t. If I’m being honest it's a little unnerving. When you walked over earlier I didn’t even subconsciously realize it was you till you laid down on my leg.” You shrugged. 

“Even though my eyes are scary?” He asked.

You let out a bark of laughter.

“Your eyes are not scary.” 

“Even though my hair is blood red?”

“Why would that be a bad thing? It’s beautiful.” 

“Even though I've scratched before?”

“It didn’t even draw blood. And that was my fault. I forgot you had claws and basically rammed my shoulder into them.” 

“Even though I’ve got markings all over my face?” 

“It feels weird if you don’t have them on your face.”

Vere lapsed into silence, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

“I didn’t expect you to be the type to have insecurities.” You cautioned.

Now it was Veres' turn to laugh.

“Oh I assure you, I don’t. I find myself to be the most beautiful creature to exist. I just… wanted to know what you thought.” 

You sighed.

“I really hope you're too drunk to remember this tomorrow, but I think you're the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Please don’t be insufferable about this.” 

Veres' face split into a lopsided wicked grin.

“Oh darling, I’m going to be so insufferable about this.” 

You just smiled and stood up, gently grabbing Veres arm and helping him stand as well.

“Alright. I need to get home before dark so I don’t get nearly eaten by a soulless. Again.” You say, worry slightly bleeding into your tone.

The sun was already starting to disappear completely from the sky, you needed to get back before the last rays faded. 

“You won’t make it in time. I’ll walk you home and crash at your place.” Vere stated, in a tone of finality.

“Sorry, no. You're far too wasted to fight anything.” You countered.

Vere let out a bitter laugh and tugged in the chain running down his chest. 

“Even with this damn thing limiting me, and 5 more bottles of that drink, I’d still be able to kill any of the pathetic soulless in eridia with one hand tied behind my back. I’m walking you back. That is final.” He declared, then looked at you as if to dare you to argue. 

Vere did a lot of shocking things, but that one motion affected you more than anything he had ever done before. He hated acknowledging the chains around his neck. No matter how much you had come to consider him a friend, you weren’t stupid enough to ever push too hard on that topic. 

You could only nod in agreement. 

“Let’s get out of here then.”

As the two of you walked out of the gates of the sinobium where the grove of flowering trees laid, you let out a sharp snap of your fingers, and the illusion surrounding Vere dropped instantly. 

“That's better.” You remarked.

“Agreed.” Vere smirked back.

The two of you walked back the wet wick in comfortable silence, arriving back well past when darkness had fallen. After all, there was no need to rush.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday. 

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—” 

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?” 

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

[trappolia]

── AND IF HEAVEN WERE TO TOUCH ME, IT WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH

kuras. the fallen angel sits with you in confessional as you ruminate on all you never dare to grasp for yourself.

Your knees ached, pressed taut and numb against the cold steps of which you’d been genuflecting upon for the past hour. Or had it been more than that? To be aware of the passage of time was to not fully immerse yourself in prayer with the gods, but the hymns did not come to you so easily anymore. Perhaps they never did. Grief weighed your lungs down like smoke, even in this holy house.

He stirred beside you. Kuras. Golden-eyed and beautiful in the way that made you want to kneel and repent for the sole action of loving him.

“I must confess,” you said, voice hoarse.

“Tell me,” he spoke, softly, the most divine thing you’d ever known. To speak to him felt strangely akin to repentance, but something horrid churned in your gut, and you shook your head.

“What of my anonymity?” you asked, half-joking. It sounded bitter upon your tongue.

Kuras’ eyes lowered briefly, hiding behind the shield of slender black lashes. The silence wrapped around your silhouettes like an invisible fog, thick and smothering, broken only by the distant chime of a distant bell. Then, Kuras’ voice emerged, gentle against the dark shroud of melancholy settled all around the room, illuminated only by the hazy glow of the candlelight.

"You know that what is said in this chamber will never pass my lips," he told you, words like a whisper that floated in the holy space between your vessels as a promise, a covenant. “The gods do not see us here.”

The words that come out of your lips were hoarse, caught in your devotion and hypocrisy. “Does it matter?”

To that, Kuras said nothing. His golden eyes flit to the candles, thousands lit over what could very well be a millennia and moulded into a single wax entity sprawled over the stone altar. Perhaps he thought of you two of you, melded and fused together to be one body, one soul. The very thought was blasphemous. It should not have made your heart sing.

He had fallen for you, you knew this very well. There was little you did know of his time in that kingdom that so many of your priests and priestesses have only dreamed of, but you were sure of this: you were the very reason he had decided to fly too close to the sun, why he bled molten gold and why he was doomed.

You were too, no matter how much you may have tried to deny it. It was only a matter of time before your own fall was recognised, and then comes your fall from grace.

The gods did not see you here, but what was once devout and holy in you and Kuras were aware of what you had done.

That is damning enough.

© trappolia 2024