stevelastnamespecs

[stevelastnamespecs]

With his last paycheck before he enters the Emperor's Coven, Steve gets a leather jacket. He thought he could wear it when he visits friends and family to show off.

For a long while the jacket would just hang up in a corner of the room, reminding him of the time he bought it--before he'd seen more of the coven, before he'd realized his palisman wasn't coming back, before he'd realized he wasn't going to be able to wear it. Sometimes remembering before was remembering there was still an outside to hope for. Other times it was just mockery.

After the Day of Unity, he's finally able to wear it regularly. He is outside now. The jacket keeps him warm on nights out in the wilderness fleeing the collector, a pillow or a blanket when he's missing his home. It's still a reminder. He got out of the coven. He can get through this too.

And when he makes it through it all and settles into a stable home, the jacket holds on to the smell of outside.

[stevelastnamespecs]

Stevescope

[stevelastnamespecs]

Steve x Reader

You are a healer’s apprentice in the emperor’s coven. One night, a coven scout you recognize knocks on your door, injured.

—

You’re almost asleep when a knock comes at the door. You sit upright. The rooms set aside in the emperor’s castle for healer’s apprentices like you aren’t big enough for two people so it can’t be a roomate, and you’ve never had anyone come looking for you before, especially not this late at night.

The knock comes again.

This time you get up and nervously open the door.

Standing on the other side is one of the coven scout trainees. Steve, his name was; you were talking to him the other day. He’s clutching his side, and you realize he’s bleeding.

“Hey,” he says, his voice strained, “can I came in?”

You automatically step aside and he stumbles past you to the single chair you have against the wall. His face is streaked with sweat.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, airless helplessly. It seems a bit obvious but you aren’t sure what else to do.

“”Got hurt, he grunts. “Didn’t want to go to the healers for… reasons.”

“Right.” You pull a spare healing kit out from under your bed. As you do you reflect that you must be more tired than you thought if you’re going along with some guy stumbling into your room this easily. “You’re hurt on your side?”

“Yeah. A cut.”

You nod. Healing training is taking over now. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

You blush. “I need to see the wound, idiot.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Steve pulls off his shirt. Underneath, he’s soaked in sweat. He must’ve been doing something really active when he got hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised, you’ve heard stories about the training scouts go through.

Before you can check his wound though, your eyes are trapped by his muscles.

Steve’s chest is magnetic, or perhaps gravitational in its pull. His pecs are muscled globes—atlases on which beads of sweat are glistening continents. Your eyes can’t pull away.

“Are those real?” You blurt out. You realize instantly it’s a stupid question but something about those glistening hunks of flesh turns your brain off.

Steve just snorts. “Oh yeah babe, no illusions here.”

He flexes his pecs; a cataclysmic earthquake for those awesome globes. The continental sweat droplets bounce off in a mass extinction event, but somehow, the destruction is almost seductive in the way it sucks in your gaze.

A pained wince from the bearer of those twin beefy worlds snaps your gaze back up to his face. “I, uh… am still bleeding though.”

“Right!” Your face heats up and you pick up bandages from the box at your feet.

Your well-practiced healer’s hands make quick work of wrapping up the wound in his side. As you place the healing patch over the site of the cut and begin pouring magic into it, your eyes drift to his abs.

You keep one hand on the healing patch and run the other over the sharp ridges of his stomach muscles poking out from above the bandages. It reminds you of the pattern on the washboard you use to scrub the blood out of old wrappings. He has them clenched tight against the pain, you realize.

“Wondering if those are real too?” Steve jokes.

“Eh— I, no, you, you’re clenching your muscles,” you sputter. “You need to relax or they won’t heal as well.”

“Oh, sure.” He winces again, but you feel his stomach soften under your hand.

You try to put a little extra magic into the healing patch to soothe more of the pain.

“You know, you remind me of my brother,” Steve says absently. “He was always hanging off of me, admiring my muscles and talking about how he wanted to be like me when he grew up…”

“Oh,” you take your hand back from his abs, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Actually, he was the one I was sneaking out to try and see tonight.”

“That’s how you got hurt? You know you’re not supposed to see anyone on the outside!”

“Yeah, true.” He smiles fondly, looking off past you. “But I could never leave that kid alone for long. He looks up to me too much, I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Oh…”

You take back your other hand, hesitate a moment.

Then you pull Steve into a hug.

He stiffens, then awkwardly puts one arm around you.

“I’ll help you,” you say. “I can’t have you getting hurt again if you’ve got someone waiting for you.”

“Oh.” He softens into the hug. “Thank you. Really.”

[stevelastnamespecs]

Steve x Reader

You are a healer’s apprentice in the emperor’s coven. One night, a coven scout you recognize knocks on your door, injured.

—

You’re almost asleep when a knock comes at the door. You sit upright. The rooms set aside in the emperor’s castle for healer’s apprentices like you aren’t big enough for two people so it can’t be a roomate, and you’ve never had anyone come looking for you before, especially not this late at night.

The knock comes again.

This time you get up and nervously open the door.

Standing on the other side is one of the coven scout trainees. Steve, his name was; you were talking to him the other day. He’s clutching his side, and you realize he’s bleeding.

“Hey,” he says, his voice strained, “can I came in?”

You automatically step aside and he stumbles past you to the single chair you have against the wall. His face is streaked with sweat.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, airless helplessly. It seems a bit obvious but you aren’t sure what else to do.

“”Got hurt, he grunts. “Didn’t want to go to the healers for… reasons.”

“Right.” You pull a spare healing kit out from under your bed. As you do you reflect that you must be more tired than you thought if you’re going along with some guy stumbling into your room this easily. “You’re hurt on your side?”

“Yeah. A cut.”

You nod. Healing training is taking over now. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

You blush. “I need to see the wound, idiot.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Steve pulls off his shirt. Underneath, he’s soaked in sweat. He must’ve been doing something really active when he got hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised, you’ve heard stories about the training scouts go through.

Before you can check his wound though, your eyes are trapped by his muscles.

Steve’s chest is magnetic, or perhaps gravitational in its pull. His pecs are muscled globes—atlases on which beads of sweat are glistening continents. Your eyes can’t pull away.

“Are those real?” You blurt out. You realize instantly it’s a stupid question but something about those glistening hunks of flesh turns your brain off.

Steve just snorts. “Oh yeah babe, no illusions here.”

He flexes his pecs; a cataclysmic earthquake for those awesome globes. The continental sweat droplets bounce off in a mass extinction event, but somehow, the destruction is almost seductive in the way it sucks in your gaze.

A pained wince from the bearer of those twin beefy worlds snaps your gaze back up to his face. “I, uh… am still bleeding though.”

“Right!” Your face heats up and you pick up bandages from the box at your feet.

Your well-practiced healer’s hands make quick work of wrapping up the wound in his side. As you place the healing patch over the site of the cut and begin pouring magic into it, your eyes drift to his abs.

You keep one hand on the healing patch and run the other over the sharp ridges of his stomach muscles poking out from above the bandages. It reminds you of the pattern on the washboard you use to scrub the blood out of old wrappings. He has them clenched tight against the pain, you realize.

“Wondering if those are real too?” Steve jokes.

“Eh— I, no, you, you’re clenching your muscles,” you sputter. “You need to relax or they won’t heal as well.”

“Oh, sure.” He winces again, but you feel his stomach soften under your hand.

You try to put a little extra magic into the healing patch to soothe more of the pain.

“You know, you remind me of my brother,” Steve says absently. “He was always hanging off of me, admiring my muscles and talking about how he wanted to be like me when he grew up…”

“Oh,” you take your hand back from his abs, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Actually, he was the one I was sneaking out to try and see tonight.”

“That’s how you got hurt? You know you’re not supposed to see anyone on the outside!”

“Yeah, true.” He smiles fondly, looking off past you. “But I could never leave that kid alone for long. He looks up to me too much, I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Oh…”

You take back your other hand, hesitate a moment.

Then you pull Steve into a hug.

He stiffens, then awkwardly puts one arm around you.

“I’ll help you,” you say. “I can’t have you getting hurt again if you’ve got someone waiting for you.”

“Oh.” He softens into the hug. “Thank you. Really.”