#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!

[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.

[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

[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

[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

[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.

[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]

drunken dance (ais)

ais x reader(f) (mature)

alternate universe / dancer!mc / assassin au

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes.

She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey.

The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.

Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.

Interesting.

_________________________________________

The Red Banquet ebbed and flowed around you in a roiling, scarlet ocean of silk and sound. 

You watched over the early embers of the party as Eridia’s elite mingled, sparkling jewelry swinging as they danced, laughed, sneered, and drank themselves to oblivion. Soon the ceremonial dance would begin, and you would be called to the stage - for now you hid in the shadows and explored the palatial inner sanctum of the temple. 

“The night’s still young, yet some are already getting sloppy.” 

You glanced over your shoulder as Mhin approached, slinking through the shadows of the wall until they had reached your side. 

They were already dressed for the dance, in the ensemble that the troupe leader had painstakingly chosen for the occasion: the silk top hooked around their neck in a glittering chain of pearls, descending in a shimmering garnet swath to a matching band across the hem wrapped above their waist, the tiny beads bouncing against bare, pale skin. Two gossamer shawls hung from their arms, cinched at the shoulder, a golden cuff around the bicep, then once more at the wrist. Trousers of the same fabric billowed down their legs to golden anklets that sparkled and chimed with tiny bells.

Mhin moved silent as a ghost despite the jewelry dappled across their frame. A veil of silk hung across his nose and mouth, masking his expression.

“The more, the better,” you said. Drunk people were easier to manipulate.

They braced themselves on the banister, lilac eyes trailing over the crowd. “I always knew their kind never gave a fuck about the common folk, but this is… beyond even my imagination.” Their eyes narrowed on the massive fountains of white wine, tables full of enough fine food to feed ten times the guests present. “Throwing a party, wasting so much money and food, while hordes of Soulless terrorize the villages. Disgusting.”

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the pillar. “We’ll have to remember to circle back round to the kitchens after…” you trailed off, sharing a look. “With Leander’s help, we can haul back some of the food for the kids.”

Though the mask hid their expression, you could tell exactly how Mhin felt at the idea of eating the noble’s leftovers - in a word, homicidal - but the thought of Fenrir, Silvia, and the other troupe children stalled that infamously sharp tongue. 

“They would certainly appreciate it more than this lot,” Mhin scoffed. “I doubt a single one of these prissy noblewomen will eat much, even as their pig partners gorge themselves.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, you nudged them with your foot and smiled when they met your gaze. “Silvia would be beside herself at that mountain of fruit.” 

The corners of their eyes crinkled as a reluctant smile likely formed beneath the veil. “Huxtly would stick his whole head in the chocolate fountain. Make himself sick, probably.” 

“Fenrir could eat a whole one of those pheasants by himself.”

“If he could snag one before Yulia devoured them all.”

Grinning, you pushed off from the pillar and leaned on the banister next to them, your shoulders bumping. For a moment, you both enjoyed the idea, the banquet and all its glamor falling away amidst this pocket of peace. Your heart lurched wistfully in your chest. 

“Soon.” At their sideways glance, you continued in a hushed tone, “Soon we’ll be able to give them that. To see the look on their faces, when they have so much food they can’t possibly eat it all.”

Mhin stared for a long moment, before they sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. One wrong move, and our heads will stand on pikes outside the temple gates.”

You frowned. “We’ve swam through far more dangerous waters than this,” you said with a nod toward the party. 

“Don’t be flippant. Monsters roam these halls, the likes of which we’ve never seen.” Their hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, their words a fervent whisper. “Don’t trust anyone. Never let your guard down. 

You huffed and stood up, tugging your wrist back. “This isn’t my first performance, Mhin. Don’t you trust me to handle this?”

“You, I trust. Them… him ….” They shot a seering glare at the stage. An empty throne sat in prime of place, a behemoth crafted from snow white, glittering Abaranth silver. A priceless treasure, bought with the brutal culling of the Abaranth people. Mhin’s people. “Never.”

Seething hate burned in their eyes - an enmity born of extraordinary suffering and loss. They had never spoken in detail about the massacre of his village, but you had noticed the remnants of that pain all the time: in the way he gripped his dagger in his sleep, the way he flinched at a campfire that flamed too high, the viciously protective way he guarded you and the troupe members, especially the children.

You looked over the party again.

These people had rejoiced. They had clothed themselves in jewelry hewn from that purest silver and danced on the mountains of corpses they had wrought to attain it. Thousands killed to slake that insatiable lust.

All of it made possible by the god of this temple. 

The Vessel of the Seaspring and his army of Soulless.

“I’ll be careful,” you reassure them softly, your gaze on that empty throne. Determination to see this through burned white hot in your chest. You would succeed. And with this victory, the futures of so many would be saved. 

Spurred by that thought, you glanced at the entrance of the hall and immediately caught the eye of a man lingering in the doorway, his arms folded over his thick chest. Leander’s mouth lifted  into a smile, his chin jerking toward the interior. 

“Looks like it’s time to get dressed,” you murmured before rising and heading toward the staircase. After a moment, you felt the shift in air as Mhin caught up and walked at your side, their arm brushing against yours.

_____________________________________

Ais hated shit like this.

When he reluctantly strode out of the shrine gate and took his place on the thick cushions of the throne, the crowd of nobles cheered and toasted their glasses, spilling wine onto the floor. They didn’t seem bothered at all by his lack of response, too caught up in the drunken revelry to care if he watched them all with utmost apathy. 

With a pointed look at his man by the door, Ais enacted his plan to hurry along the events of the night and return to his rooms to laze about in solitude. Well, mostly solitude - he’d probably invite Princess to join him, maybe one of the dancers if they excited him.

Much as he’d like to, Ais couldn’t abstain from the entire banquet altogether - Ocudeus demanded his due from the horde of bloodthirsty humans - but he could decide how long and when. He figured, if he came for the dancing and ceremonial offerings, he’d at least be somewhat entertained and fed well.

Then, he could leave and sink into oblivion once more.

Chin propped on his palm, one leg thrown over the arm rest of the throne, Ais sat through two performances. The first was an instrumental ensemble with a variety of horns he’d never seen before. The second had dancers, but the kind that put on a theatrical performance, with exaggerated drama and a scene where one person was tragically killed by another. 

The crowd dabbed the corners of their eyes. 

Ais yawned. 

He’s contemplating the swirling red wine in his goblet, contemplating leaving early regardless of Ocudeus’ wrath, when the third performance swept into the room.

Near drowsing, he watched the dancers glide into position in the center of the room, draped in fluttering red robes and glittering pearls. A cluster of musicians set up close to the stage, their instruments polished and primed. He paused as a familiar face appeared just behind the musicians: short dark hair, emerald eye, a winsome smile on his handsome face. Leander.

Ais tilted his head, curiosity peaked. The mage rarely made an appearance in the palace of the Seaspring - before Ocudeus had swarmed his influence over the kingdom, Ais had been a frequent visitor at Leander’s pub. They used to be something close to friends.

Leander’s attention was riveted to the center of the hall. Ais followed his gaze.

The dancers had formed two rings around the stage, fixed in place with their arms out and curled artfully around them like the blooming petals of a flower. They waited, eyes bright and smiles hidden beneath silk veils, for the music to begin.

At the center of the formation was a single dancer - the prima. 

Even at a distance, she shone brighter than the rest. 

In addition to her ceremonial garb, she was draped in an additional robe, this one as delicate and transparent as sea foam and embroidered with the tiniest glittering gems that caught the light like a river of stars. Her long hair was swept high on her head and fixed with a crown: its frame comprised of curling, golden tendrils, cresting in the center around a massive garnet, each tentacle fixed with dangling pearls that danced with every turn of her head. The tail of her hair flowed to the small of her back, a long silky length that curled like rolling waves and gleamed under the torchlight around the hall. Her hands were the color of summer storms, in which rivers of gold branched across the dark sky.

A feast for the eyes.

Ais rose from his slouch and leaned forward on the throne. 

At some unspoken signal, the musicians began to play. An eerie, seductive melody began to fill the room, a string instrument singing through the sharp beats of a drum. The dancers began to turn in place, slow and winding, before curling toward the center and rolling together, their robes forming the waves of a shore. 

They twirled and writhed to the music, twining around each other, the two rings weaving together, separating, leaping around the floor as one. At their center the prima rose and fell with them, her lithe form undulating, each stroke of her arms through the air prompting an ensuing wave amongst the other dancers, as though she were the moon commanding the tides. 

The lethargic tempo gradually grew more passionate and alive. He’s reminded of the insidious curl of clouds that grew in strength and torrent, until a hurricane descended from the heavens - only this particular tempest, wrapped in red silk and gold, burned like an inferno. 

The prima leapt recklessly through the ranks of the other dancers, the glitter of her crown and robes parting the sea of fire like a lightning strike. At one point she danced to the front of the stage, as close to the throne as she could, and her gaze caught his over her veil.

Bright, burning eyes encircled by thick lashes and red paint. Pearls had been fixed in clusters around her temples, then scattered around her taut stomach and back, gleaming against her skin.  This close, he could watch the undulation of muscle and sinew in each curl of her body, each movement graceful, effortless, as smooth as the silk clinging to her frame. 

She spun back to the center of the formation as the music rose to a crescendo, her dancers all around twisting in a frenzy, and then lifted her arms. Every dancer but the prima paused, then fell to the ground like dolls whose strings had been cut.

The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end. 

The gold veins across her hands and forearms suddenly flared. An aura enveloped them, golden mist issuing from her skin, and then a single ball of light formed between her palms. 

Ais sat up as the ancient magic welled from within the dancer’s body. 

He tensed, claws gripping the armrests, as her hands molded the sphere of magic, radiating light like a miniature star, before twisting sharply. 

It burst across the air like a firework. Sparkling comets of magic flew through the air, delighting the crowd into shrieks and screams of delight. He flicked a finger as one shot toward him, redirecting it with ease, and watched as it merrily spun in the air before crashing into a statue and dissipating in a last, popping spark. 

Ais eased back onto the throne, surveying the crowd. The magic hadn’t harmed any of the humans, from what he could tell. They continued to clamor rapturously, some even chasing after the last few rays of magic and grasping with their hands to try and catch it. 

His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes. 

She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey. 

Ancient magic presented amongst beings - humans and monsters alike - rarely but on the chance that it occurred, it did so in unique ways. He’d never seen magic quite like this, in all his centuries of existence. 

The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.

Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.

Interesting. 

_________________________________________________

When the servant had arrived at the guest quarters of the troupe with a summoning from the Vessel, he was met with little surprise or fanfare. 

Mhin had answered the door and, after a moment, nodded tersely. “She needs time to prepare. Wait out here.”

“The Vessel will not be kept wait - “ the servant tried to stop them, only to jump back as Mhin slammed the door in his face. 

Grimfaced, Mhin joined you in your corner of the dressing room. Fischa was dabbing the sweat from your body with a couple cotton pads, taking special care to refresh the makeup around your face and apply fresh glue to any pearls that slipped on your skin. “It worked.”

“Oh!” The other dancer gasped, her cheeks flushing, before she lunged for the box full of perfumes and essential oils. “How long does she have? Oh, but it’d be best if you could bathe - you can’t service the Vessel with a sweaty body. A wardrobe change, at the very least?” 

A nerve in Mhin’s clenched jaw jumped, but they said nothing as Fischa was soon joined by the other dancers, who dithered around you and argued how best to prepare you for a night with the temple god. 

After much debate, they bullied you into changing into a fresh ceremonial outfit - still vibrant red and accentuated by pearls and garnets, but clean, dry, and embroidered with gold sparrows and delicate blossoms. 

“Just a dab of this, and you’ll be ready to go!” Fischa beamed, her fingers dipping into a lotion compact. She rubbed circles into the crook of her neck and wrists, the scent of honey and clover brushing against your senses.

You wondered whether they would be as excited preparing you for a night with the Vessel, if they knew what you intended to do with it. Still, you would never return their kindness with anything less than gratitude. 

“Thank you, sisters,” you murmured, clasping her hands and offering a slightly wan smile. 

“You know, I can’t remember whether we’ve had a talk about… intimate relations,” Rukia chimed in, wrapping an arm through your elbow. “Have you been with a partner before?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, shutting down that frightening prospect before the other dancer got any further. “I’m aware.”

A series of knocks banged impatiently on the door to the quarters.

Fischa shared a look with Rukia when something seemed to occur to her. She hurried to a small dresser and dug around inside before returning with a small compact. She handed it to you with slightly pink cheeks. “Take this. Surely the Vessel won’t be… too passionate, but just in case.”

Confused, you opened the lid. A clear, viscous salve sat inside. You stared at it for a moment before her words sunk in. 

Your cheeks burned.

Clearing your throat, you screwed the lid back on with clumsy fingers and tucked the compact in your pocket. “Thanks, Fishca,” you said, avoiding everyone’s gaze and turning toward the door. 

Mhin grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop just before the door. In their hand was a thin, ornate dagger, the blade purest white.

You tucked it within the folds of your pants, strapped to your hip with a leather belt. The drape of your robes should hide the slight bulge - it might cause a bit of trouble unsheathing the dagger, but you’d make it work. 

Mhin leaned close and murmured in your ear. “Don’t hesitate. If anything seems off, do whatever you have to to get the fuck out of there.” 

You nodded. 

“I’ll be nearby.” Their hand brushed across the bracelet at your wrist. It was enchanted with a spell that, when activated with magic, would signal the matching one on Mhin’s wrist to vibrate.

“If you need me.”

You nodded again, this time grabbing their hand and squeezing for a moment, before lifting your chin and striding toward the door. 

The harried servant, clearly both irritated and panicked to have been kept waiting, hustled you through the palace at fast as he could. 

Despite having an excellent sense of direction, you soon found yourself struggling to remember the turns you’d taken, as each hall looked identical with its blood red walls and black marble floors, when the servant guided you around one last corner that opened up to a larger room with a vaulted ceiling.

You paused on the threshold, sucking in a gasp. 

Amongst the luxurious velvet walls, the towering, worn mahogany doors set at the top of an equally ancient set of stairs looked unnatural. Around the circular room, grotesque statues lined the walls - no, not just statues.

Soulless.

Your stomach lurched. 

“Come, this way,” the servant ushered, hovering and gesturing insistently but apparently unwilling to touch you. “Please. He’s been waiting for so long now.”

You swallowed around a dry throat and followed on slightly shaking legs, your eyes darting around the room, trying to keep as many of the monsters in sight as possible. Still, even as you reached the bottom of the stairs, not a single Soulless had so much as twitched in your direction. 

Hell of an entrance. Literally.

“Up the stairs, through the doors. Go, go.”

You’d ascended halfway when you realized the servant hadn’t accompanied you. You looked over your shoulder. 

The servant was gone. 

Only the Soulless remained in the room. Where before they had remained as still and lifeless as statutes, now every red eye in the room opened and fixed upon you. 

Terror shot like fire through your body.

Sprinting up the steps, you burst through the old doors and slammed them shut behind you, your heart pounding in your head, your chest. 

Fighting to calm down, you forced your breath to slow and let your hands fall from their panicked barricade on the door. You sighed as your body cooled, a drop of sweat racing down your spine. Fischa’s anxious attempts to blot your sweat were all for nothing. 

Once your heart had stopped racing, other sounds began to filter into your senses. The soft whistle of a breeze through a cavern. Gentle, bubbling movement of still water. Groaning wood beneath your feet, the faint creaking of hanging metal.

Steeling yourself, you turned around and faced the inner sanctum of the Seaspring palace. 

__________________________________________________

She was a cautious thing, for sure.

From atop the rafters, Ais watched as the dancer took short, quiet steps further into the sanctum. 

She drew her robes closer, the chill of the room drawing goosebumps across the bare skin of her stomach and arms. She stopped at the edge of the water, taking in the vast temple encircled by the aging pier, the torii gate that towered above, the lanterns and talismans swinging idly amongst the mahogany pillars. Sweat cooled on her brow, her eyes bright and calculating. 

“Hello? Venerable One?” she called out into the room, her voice echoing to the depths of the cavern. 

He rolled his eyes at the title. The humans found something new to call him every decade or so, each more foolish than the last. 

She waited but, upon receiving no response, began exploring the left side of the pier. When she reached the tea pot and cushions, she hesitated before lifting the lid and peering inside. Searching for poison? Or just curious what the Vessel drinks?

Ais smirked as her nose crinkled. 

She stood up again and looked around. Her curiosity led her to the closest pillar, covered in white paper talismans. For several minutes, she read their contents, a furrow in her brow. 

“What would you wish for?” he asked.

The dancer jumped, her hand reaching instinctively to her hip as she searched for the voice. Soon, she looked upward, finding him amongst the rafters. Her eyes narrowed above the veil. 

“Your Excellency,” she demurred with a bow, even as her sharp eyes held fast on his form. 

He tilted his chin, resisting the urge to smile. “Answer.”

She considered him, that quick mind working behind those bright eyes, before she replied, “I would never dare to wish for anything, without a full understanding of the terms.”

Now, he smirked. “Smart.”

He could tell from the spark in her gaze that she held a sharp reply on the tip of her tongue but kept silent. “Speak freely,” he said, bracing his arm on his bent knee, a pipe hanging from his fingers. “I prefer honesty to pointless pleasantries.”

The dancer bowed her head in acknowledgement. “As Your Excellency wishes.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “For what reason has Your Excellency called for me?”

“Good question. Not sure yet.”

Her brow furrowed again. Her hands twisted in the silk, the many folds of her robes flowing over her arms. During the performance, the other dancers had reminded him of flowers, but she was too animated to remind him of such a staid thing. No, more than a flower, her movements - the way she dove and soared, leaped and tumbled through the air, reminded him of a sparrow flitting through the many bows and trees of a forest, carrying the light of the sun on her wings.

She looked around the room for a moment before turning back to the tea pot. “Shall I prepare a fresh pot then?” 

“No need.”

He watched as she moved to the tea pot and prepared to remove the leftover grinds, then hesitated. Where moments before the pot had stood cold and empty, a full, steaming pot of tea awaited her. Her gaze darted toward him in question.

Ais pulled from his pipe and said nothing, curious what she’d do.

After a moment’s deliberation, she lifted the handle and poured two servings into the nearby cups, her brow furrowing at the deep red color of the tea.

A short laugh escaped him.

Affecting an air both graceful and ever so slightly annoyed, she settled on a cushion and held her cup in hand, her nose poised over the steam as she tried to subtly smell the batch. 

“Is this wine?” she finally asked, after failing to place the flavor.

“Something like that.” 

He blew out two long furls of smoke from his nostrils before rising from the rafter and dropping down onto the pier beside her. She stiffened briefly but recovered well, her head dipping in a chime of clinking pearls and gold, as he approached and took the cushion opposite her. 

Ais leaned back on the pillar and whistled. 

Soon enough, the scratching of claws across the ancient wood grew closer until Princess turned the corner of the temple gate, her many tails wagging behind her, the handful of wet, amber eyes around her head rolling as they surveyed the room, the dancer, and himself. She trotted toward him, her snout prodding into the side of his face, before curling up at his hip.

Ais dropped a hand on her back, his fingers brushing her fur. 

The dancer had stiffened, her back ramrod straight, fear mixing in with the lovely scent of honey and spice around her. Bemusedly, he realized the addition didn’t put him off in the slightest.

After several moments, she relaxed again, hiding her eyes behind the thick rim of lashes. She lifted the cup to her mouth, took a delicate sip, and then set it back on the ground again. “How can I be of use to you, Your Excellency?”

“Use?” He took a long drink of his own cup and savored the burning down his throat. “What do you think?”

Ais watched the quicksilver calculation flash through her eyes. Then, her posture shifting, she seemed to settle into her determination. 

Her robes loosened, the sumptuous weight falling down around her elbows, pooling around her hips. The smooth skin of her shoulders were bared, her head tipping forward to allow her long hair to spill over them in soft curls. Her eyes narrowed again, not in calculation, but in sleepy, languorous seduction. 

Ais let his bent leg fall to the side, opening his lap. 

She took the invitation without hesitation, all curves and silk as she crawled across the distance and settled on top of him. This close, he could sense the brimming magic swimming in her veins, the golden branches across her hands and arms shining with power. 

Her hands smoothed across his chest, the tips of her fingers teasing beneath the folds of his clothes, before sliding around his shoulders and settling at the nape of his neck. She curled into him, those bright eyes inches from his own, the veil hanging between their mouths. 

He could sense her breath on the air, could taste it across his tongue. 

The smirk that spread across his face was an evil thing, even to his own mind, but still she did nothing as he tugged the edge of her veil from its fastenings and took her mouth.

______________________________________________

He kissed like a demon. 

His tongue invaded in a hot rush of teeth and breath, his mouth working with a fervor at complete odds with his attitude thus far. You’re swept in the tide, hands seeking purchase on his thick shoulders as his hot tongue found yours, each brush of rough wet muscle a torrent on your senses as you struggled to keep your wits about you. 

He tasted strangely spicy, the thick mulled wine from the teapot seeping across your palate. Each shallow swallow of the taste burned a line down your throat and settled in your stomach like whiskey.

Countless times, you’d lured targets just like this. Honeypot was something of a specialty, for all that you’d rarely engaged in true intimacy. You could separate the sensations from your head, your thoughts always focused on the mission, dissociating the physical from the mental. Missions just like this were a dime a dozen - entice, approach, distract, execute. Simple. Straightforward.

Nothing about this felt simple. Never before had the pleasure been this strong, this mind-numbingly good - never had it been this difficult to just think when a target laid hands on you.

Heat flooded your body, pooling in the pit of your stomach. When his hands braced your waist, scorching palms a brand on your skin, mischievous thumbs stroking along the dips and plateaus of your stomach, every nerve in your body seemed to perk up and come alive with tingling pleasure. 

You broke the clasp of his mouth, panting as his tongue swept across your lip. 

Red eyes bored into you, their weight intense and all-consuming. The Vessel pulled you against his chest, his hands guiding your hips down into the valley of his lap, and instinctively they began to grind against him, as though called to dance by a lewd melody you couldn’t hear. 

A stifled moan rose in your throat as the hard jut of him notched against your sensitive mound and rose to meet you, rubbing deep and slow against your clit through the perilously thin fabric. God, he’s big. You felt yourself growing wet, your arousal dampening the silk further, heightening each brutal brush against your folds.

Sweet, heady fog began to slip into your head, teased and tormented on the precipice of that perfect, elicit friction. 

The air between you felt cloying, humid and hot. You tossed your head back, fighting for breath and swallowing a moan as his eager mouth found your throat and proceeded to nip and suck. 

The mission. Don’t forget what you’re here for - oh fuck, that’s good . 

You struggled, searching your memories for the fuel to keep on trick. Mhin’s face, the glimpse of hollow grief on his face at the mention of his village. Fischa and Rukia. Huxtly, Fenrir, and Yulia, playing out in the fields around the tents, the breeze carrying their laughter.

Gritting your teeth, you dragged your hands from around his neck, down the firm planes of his chest and covered his where they sat on the curve of your waist and guided your hips in their lazy, exquisite dance against him. 

You held his wrists and drew him upward, until his palms smoothed over the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers teasing along the hem of your top, pearls on thin gold chains slipping over his knuckles. He took the invitation eagerly, roaming beneath the silk until his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, testing the firm points as those terrible red eyes watched your face, devoured your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. 

Your pleasure seemed to feed his and vice versa, a conduit forming as riotous heat and lust charged the air between you. 

Your hands left him to his devices, namely torturing you with flicks and pinches and hot handfuls of skin, and then returned to your waist, gripping your own hip bones as though bearing down on the thick ridge of his cock. Your right hand slipped within your pants and found the handle of the dagger. 

His tongue licked a hot swath up your neck, his mouth lingering by your ear, his breath puffing against your jaw. You turned and caught his mouth again, sucking his tongue inward, your head swimming even as you fought to think.

With a quick jerk, you pulled the dagger out of its sheath, cutting through the fabric of your pants, and lifted it into the air, poised above his neck. Your grip tightened, prepared to tilt and plunge the blade into his jugular, when - 

Your body froze. 

What - what’s happening . Every single nerve in your body continued to sing with pleasure, your mound aching like an open wound, your skin tingling with the heat radiating from his body and touch.

Your mouth gaped, paused in the middle of a deep kiss, as he sighed and leaned back, his gaze tracing the blush on your cheeks, the dawning horror in your eyes. His hand slipped out from your breast and cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip and dipping inside to tease your still tongue. 

“Should’ve known not to drink from my cup, sparrow,” the Vessel said, his red eyes narrowed in satisfaction, before inspecting the raised dagger with interest. “Looks sharp.”

Then he withdrew a couple inches, just enough to bring his face closer to the weapon. “Oh…?” He met your paralyzed gaze over the blade. “Abaranth steel?” He tilted his head thoughtfully before a smirk spread across bruised lips. “So it’s personal.”

You watched, terror quickly replacing the fading pleasure in your body, sucking the warmth from your veins until sweat lay cold and dry on your skin, your heart racing furiously.

The Vessel dragged his hand down your neck, across your shoulder and down your arm in a mocking caress, fingers cupping your elbow teasingly, before reaching the thick gold veins embedded in your skin. “Wanted a closer look at these, but… turns out there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

You fought against the unnatural paralysis with all your might, those same veins he traced with his thumb lighting up with stifled magic - but to no avail. His words bubbled to the surface of your panic. You glanced down at the mug you’d taken barely a sip of. 

The wine?

The Vessel hummed low in his throat, his gaze pausing on your face, before a slow smirk spread across his mouth. 

Checkmate, sparrow , he whispered, but not once had his lips moved to form the words.

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic building to a crescendo, your body vibrating as though struck by lightning. What is this? What did you do to me ? you thought feverishly. What did I drink ?

His scarlet eyes flared, their malevolent glow burning like banked embers in the gloom of the temple. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the tea pot’s lid spun off the frame and onto the ground nearby. He hooked his fingers over the rim and lifted the pot until the chamber was level with your eyes.

Thick, blood red water sloshed from within, dribbling down the side of the pot.

The same water that ebbed beneath the pier.

You stared, a scream echoing from the distance. 

Now , he mused, his voice almost bored even as it invaded your mind, let’s see what secrets you’ve got tucked away in this head of yours. 

_____________________________________

a/n: comments and likes are 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 :)

[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

▶︎

▶︎「 ✦𝓥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ✦ 」 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫

Works

▶︎

▶︎「 ✦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 🖤

[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.

[ronearoundblindly]

'Hideout' Masterlist

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

Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.

Romance 🔥 || Smut 🦆 || Angst ⛈️ || Fluff 🌼 || Dark Fic 🌘

Puppy 🌼

Sweet Baby 🌼🔥🦆

Sensitive Boy 🌼🔥🦆 Part I; Part II

Horny Teen 🔥🦆⛈️ Part I; Part II

[[Dirty Headcanon Ask; Two; Three; Four]]

Desperate Man 🔥🦆 snippet

Husband Material 🌼🔥🦆

**Slow burn Nomad Steve during rare and random stays at your family's motel. Appearances by Sam, Nat, Wanda, and Viz. Follows the setup/development of this Valentine's Ask and these THOTS. It'll be cute. It'll be loving. I'm absolutely going to die of excitement. Join me in the happy death!

Ongoing PLAYLIST!

Interlude: A Special Visit Birthday Fluff 🌼🔥

{{Endgame ⛈️🔥🦆🌘}}

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[consistencynevermether]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing style and can't wait to see how your Vere series develops. Don't know if you take requests but I was wondering if you could write from Veres point of view with him realizing he's falling in love with MC and him just being like "... oh, oh no >:l"

Cue him being frustrated with himself as a result snippy at MC

this took me a WHILE to get too, school got absolutely insane sorry yall. finally locked in on a flight and took a crack at this request! thank you for asking! this is a shorter minific but i hope i was able to accurately portray veres pov.

content: vere x gn! reader, sfw, 1k words, tried to keep it as in character as possible (aka vere is a bitch)

You didn't become a problem to him immediately. 

When Vere first met you, you were nothing but a mangy worn down traveler. If he was lucky you might be a mildly interesting playtoy for a day or two. Toys aren't problems.

Then, when he learned a bit more about your origins, and more importantly your skills, you became a tool. You were desperate enough to align yourself with him, in a mad attempt for a cure on whatever infliction you had that you refused to tell him about. But having someone help him with the sinobium wasn't something he could turn his nose up at, so now, you were a tool. Tools aren't problems.

Then, to his initial amusement, he found out you were a fun tool. You engaged with him when he teased, either attempting to sass him back, or find some snippy comment to shut him up (you never succeeded on that front though). After a while you had been upgraded to an amusing tool. Amusing tools weren't problems.  

The problem came when Vere found himself sulking when you declined to join him for a drink at the Wet Wick (he had sauntered all the way to lowtown and you wouldn't even have one drink with him? Fucking rude.)

The problem came when he started to see red the first time Leander had put his hand on your back to catch you when you had nearly tripped on a loose wood plank when you were wasted at the Wick. And the relief he felt when you thanked him yet quickly and politely moved his hand away from yourself. And the smugness he felt when you obviously weren't impressed by his magic or winning smile. 

The problem came when Veres' claws nicked your shoulder while he was trying to be playful and before he could even think, the word “sorry” was on his lips. And he actually meant it. 

You became a problem when he realized he'd been drawing you from memory in his room, a page of paper completely filled up with light sketches of your side profile, your smile as you leaned your cheek against your palm, that stupid fucking smirk you gave him right before telling him the dumbest plan hed ever heard. 

You became a problem when his dreams of freedom from the sinobium started to include both of you burning that shithole to the ground, and you sticking around after he was free. Amusing tools were not meant to stick around. They weren't meant to be fantasized about. That was when Vere realized you had become a problem. 

And it was getting worse. 

Just yesterday he had felt his face heat when your bandaged fingers brushed against his own clawed hands. It was just bandages for fucks sake. He was pissed at himself for getting so damn affected by it. He wasn't some doe eyed pining maiden. People were supposed to pine over him dammit. And yet there was something about you that he couldn't shake. 

Maybe it was the way you had gifted him an amaryllis flower because you saw a sketch of one in his room.

Maybe it was the way you weren't afraid to make fun of both yourself and him. You had laughed when he had purposefully smeared neon green paint on your face and got him back by taking some orange paint and leaving handprints all over his forearm.

Maybe it was the way you never left him. Oh, the two of you fought, make no mistake. Sometimes he pushed too hard. Made an innuendo that finally pissed you off enough to flip him off and leave him standing in the streets. Sometimes you pushed too hard. Got frustrated at him keeping secrets when you did the exact same thing. Or tried to pry about his chains too soon. But no matter what arguments, you always came back. Sometimes that was in the form of you actually going out to find him and apologizing. Sometimes it was letting him find you, so he could apologize to you. He never feared that your next fight would be the last. 

No matter the reason why Vere liked you, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to deny that fact.

This is probably why he was in a snippy mood today. He had all these complicated feelings, and it was all your fault. So naturally, you would be the one to deal with them. 

And to his immense anger, you did. You didn’t stop talking to him because he decided today he was going to act like a bitch, but you also didn’t take it lying down. Business as always really. He was dealing with all this internal conflict, and you seemed completely normal. How the fuck is that fair?

He couldn’t drive you away even if he wanted too, and he couldn’t bring himself to get closer. The two of you were stuck pretending neither of you felt anything more than friendship. Vere couldn’t cross the line into being something more, but gods save anyone else who dared attempt to cross that line with you. 

One day, the two of you would figure it out. Not today though. Today Vere was going to dump soup on your head and you were going to strangle him. Today you were going to make him smile and forget for a second that he’s nothing more than a prisoner to people far weaker than him. 

Part of him was very aware he was acting like a brat. When he purposefully ignored you when you waved hi, when he antagonized you by pulling on your hair while you were trying to read, and just generally being more annoying than usual. 

Yet you took it all with a grimace and usually a retort. Through all his bullshit, you never changed. You never once thought less or more of him no matter how he acted. You simply always saw him as he was. It was a terrifying thing, to have someone see him so clearly. But also comforting in a way, that you saw the monster he was, and never faltered in caring about him.

One day, he would be able to admit what was obvious to everyone but him. One day.

[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