#so i think he also gets some Snake Perks

[rolex-kaard]

ultratober day 4

[seasprincess]

Professor!Spencer Reid x reader

“De-stress”

warnings: smut, fingering, student teacher relationship(reader is 20), soft dom!spencer,

wc:1.1k

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

From the moment you laid eyes on him you couldn't help but be attracted to him. I mean look at him. He's extremely hot and really intelligent, a girl's weakness.

And of course you acted in these feelings of yours you have. Studying extra hard for his tests, doing anything you can for extra credit to impress him.

And Spencer noticed these things.

He knew it was wrong whatever this relationship is. He's your professor for christ sake, he shouldn't be doing these...activities with a student, let alone his student. But he couldn't stay away from you. Watching the way you bat your eyelashes at him as you leave the classroom. Which ends up with you bent over his desk. As risky as it is, he can't help but get a thrill from it all.

However the office meetings moved to his place meetings, drinking a glass of wine before you end up a moaning mess on his couch. Getting fucked senseless by your professor wasn’t something you thought would be happening but here you are.

And he’s good at it too. He’s had some prior experience which does help thanks to his age, a perk of ‘dating’ an older man. He’s also really sweet, of course he can’t take you on proper dates but he still tries his best with little gifts and great movie nights. Even if he does complain about the things being unrealistic in the movies. He still tries for you. Because he does genuinely care about you.

You were never late handing in assignments wanting to impress him. And the fact that having in stuff makes you feel like you’ve let him down. It’s nog a great feeling to let your boyfriend, or not boyfriend, whatever he is down.

But today you had missed it, so stressed out about everything else you forgot to make time for it.

You arrive at Spencer's apartment after pre warning him you were coming. You just needed to see him, even with the lack of assignment.

“I did notice the lack of paper on my desk today y/n.” The words fall from Spencer’s mouth easily as he doesn’t even look up from the other papers on his coffee table. Flicking through what should’ve been yours.

“I know I know. I’m sorry I’ve just had so much going on it completely slipped my mind.”

Spencer looks up and raises an eyebrow. It wasn’t like you to just ‘forget’. Hell you remember all the embarrassing things he’s said in class so him believing you just ‘forgot’ is not going to happen.

“What’s going on?” He immediately asks before you can even say any more of an excuse. Eyes scanning over your features to pick up on any signs. Usually he’s good at it, picking up a slight change in your demeanour and knowing something’s up immediately. But apparently this time he’s missed it.

You sigh before just taking a deep breath.

“I’m just stressed. I had so much going on this week. I’m sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t even say anything, switching from teacher mode to ‘boyfriend’ mode. He knows you need him, not to be scolded by professor Reid.

He gently pats his lap, indicating for you to take a seat on it. Which you happily do. Sighing as his arms snake around your waist and as your back touches his chest.

Spencer’s lips gently attach to your neck, knowing his touch can make you feel better.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” His hand intertwines with yours. He wants to show you love, too show you care. Not to ridicule you for some assignment he couldn’t give less of a shit about right now. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head as you allow him to keep kissing that sweet spot he knows you like. With his slow kissing and free hand running over your thigh you can probably guess what he’s thinking about. Thinking about helping you relax of course.

“Can I help you out then?” He says as he turns your chin to make you look at him. Eyes scanning yours for any sign you’re uncomfortable or that you don’t want it. He always checks this is what you want. That he’s not being some pushy man making a young girl feel pressured to sleeping with him or whatever the activity is.

You nod slowly as you keep looking at him.

“Words honey.” Another one of his consent rules.

“Yes, please help me de-stress.” As soon as the words slip from your lips he smiles softly, hand running your thigh while the other one brings your cheek closer. His lips softly press against yours, pulling you closer in his lap.

His fingers each down to the zipper of your jeans. With one final check with you he begins to unzip. He’s not wasting any time here. He knows he can make you feel good, you’ve told him enough times.

“Lay down for me sweetheart.” At his request you immediately move, laying down on the sofa beneath him. Spencer softly sighs at the sight. looking at you beneath him is one of the best sights.

A small wet patch in your panties is apparent when he pulls down your jeans, you helping him out by lifting up your hips.

His hand slowly reaches where you’re practically craving him at this point. Fingers slowly rubbing you through your panties as he looks at you. He knows he’s got to be nice and do none of his usual antics of teasing and what not. So he pulls down your panties, discarding them somewhere in the room.

This whole moment is of course sensual but loving. The way he’s being so slow with you is different compared to other times you’ve been naked on his couch.

His fingers slowly start to rub your clit. He captures your moans with his mouth as he kisses you. You both kiss slowly and passionately as his finger moves down front your clit and into your cunt. Like everything else of this experience he goes slowly making you a whimpering mess like always.

“You’re such a good girl.” His words of praise make you relax more, he really does know what he’s doing. He’s a genius after all. “Good girl who’s taking my fingers so well.”

He places a kiss on your cheek before speeding up his movements. He knows you’re not gonna last long. Especially not now he’s added his thumb to your clit, applying pressure right where you need it.

You moan as you grip his bicep, the familiar feeling building up as he keeps going.

“I want you to cum on my fingers sweetheart.” His pet names make your heart race as you close your eyes. This is definitely one way to get your mind off of things.

It’s not long before you cum on his fingers. Moaning and whimpering as your grip tightens on his bicep.

He places a soft sweet kiss on your forehead and looks down at you with admiration in his eyes. He really does love you.

a/n: not proof read and will be writing a more feral spender reid soon😋

tags: @olderwomenenthusiast @lokisswiftie @yahboohah @pixie-verse @greatmiracleprincess @reidsjuno

[tsuyalovebot]

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. untitled drabble (>500 words, one sitting — ignore any typos). sexually explicit content, mdni / ageless blogs dni. mc=reader. i'm still writing a long caleb piece, so please be patient with me. (_ _ ||| )

a part of my brain matter was taken away when i incorporated the position change of doggy -> prone bone in you're a catch 22.

genuinely. i think caleb hitting it from the back is a primal need that scratches the underside of one's brain so well. it's the pent-up nature of it, and the lack of tact that makes it so primal.

but the big, sentimental idiot who's spent the better part of his life craving your existence also loves intercourse in positions where he can see you. that physical connection and proximity is what cements that closeness to you. he grounds himself in the fact that your bodily warmth is proof of this all being real.

this man has you in a lotus position on evenings when he's craving you, his hands on your waist as he's whispering "i love you"s against your neck. more often than not, he has to leave bright and early the next day, so he makes sure to get his fill of you — not that you mind.

missionary is spent having staring contests where you inevitably tap out, hitting at his arms and back when he stifles his laughter against your collarbone because the one time he wins a staring contest is when he's balls deep inside of you.

he will never let you have peace when you're riding him, demanding you to keep those eyes on him otherwise he'll make you finish on your own while he touches himself in front of you.

all in all, this man is versatile.

you're marveling at your flexibility one day, eyeing the arch in your back when you mimic it in the mirror. there was nothing else behind the gesture, simply testing the bounds of your experience. maybe there were some perks to getting folded and kneaded like pretzel dough on the nightly.

so engrossed in your little experiment, you hadn't noticed caleb in the bathroom doorframe watching you, amused. you greet him when he slides into the space behind you, rubbing his tousled hair as he drapes himself over your body.

"mornin' to you too. need some help?"

you shake your head, explain your situation as his arms snake around you, his palms playing with his shirt that you wore. there's a subtle sway to how he hugs you close, his lips comfortably pressed to your hair. his eyes still hazy with slumber that lingers at the crinkled edges, a smile on his mouth.

"told you spending time together has its perks. and, y'know," he starts, mischief creeping into his tone. "we never tried it in front of a mirror before."

he's kissing along your shoulder before you can reply, and his fingers squeeze between your thighs so easily that you can't argue about it being too early either.

versatile — but you will never know peace after the first time he worships you like a deity, all the while pressing you into the sheets to keep you grounded with a mere mortal like him.

[kxsagi]

Hiiiiii I have a request!!

okokok. College AU where Kaiser is the president of a frat, so of course he hosts lots of parties where people drink and dance and have fun…

anyways, Kaiser is in an kind of friends with benefits situation with the reader, so they’re not really dating but he’s like her best friend (who happens to also kiss her on the cheek and put his arm around her waist hehe)…

so at one of said parties, some freshmen try to flirt with reader…and Kaiser is not happy.

sorry this is long!! love you!

“𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬”

a/n: omg i LOVE this request and love you too! thank you for making it so detailed as well lol, it really helps

and thank you so much for being so patient with me, this request has been in my inbox for a while 🥲 (i promise i am getting to other requests soon and in the order that they were requested in!)

(art credits go to GZGZ_ggg on X)

you weren’t even trying to attract attention tonight. 

you’d stuck to your usual: simple jeans, a cute top, your hair done just enough to look like you put in effort without really putting in effort. the only reason you were at this frat party in the first place was because kaiser had insisted. 

“mandatory attendance,” he’d said, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “you’re basically my first lady. what kind of frat president would i be without my hottest friend here?” 

friend. right. that’s all you are. friends with benefits. with stupid little perks like him kissing your cheek when he’s tipsy and tucking you into his bed when you fall asleep after screaming his name the whole night. definitely just friends. 

you’re leaning against the hallway wall outside the kitchen, sipping your drink and trying to make yourself look busy when a group of freshmen walk past and double back immediately. 

they look like they just walked out of an H&M sale and bathed in cheap cologne. one of them – tall, cocky, thinks he’s charming – leans a hand on the wall near your head. 

“haven’t seen you around before,” he says. “you new?” 

you glance at him with the flattest expression you can muster. “junior.” 

“no way,” the second one laughs, looking you up and down. “you don’t look like a junior.” 

you deadpan. “thanks, i guess.” 

“we’re new here,” the first guy says, flashing a smile that’s definitely gotten him out of a few parking tickets. “trying to meet people. what’s your name?” 

you open your mouth to give a polite-but-firm brush off, until a familiar arm snakes around your waist. 

kaiser’s grip is strong. tighter than usual. 

“she’s not interested,” he says coolly, his chin brushing your temple as he leans in close. “move along.” 

the first freshman laughs, not backing off even a little. “bro, relax. we’re just talking.” 

“yeah,” the second one chimes in, smirking. “didn’t realize we needed clearance to have a conversation.” 

you roll your eyes and try to step out of kaiser’s hold, not because you’re on the freshmen’s side, but because this – his whole clingy, overbearing energy – is starting to wear thin. 

“michael,” you mutter under your breath, nudging him with your elbow, “it’s not a big deal. seriously.” 

he doesn’t move. doesn’t even flinch. just looks the guys dead in the eye and goes, “it becomes a big deal when people don’t take a fucking hint.” 

and that’s when freshman number one decides to press his luck. 

“okay, but... you’re not even dating her, right?” he gestures between you two with a smug little tilt of his head. “so technically, she’s single.” 

the silence that follows is dangerous. 

kaiser’s arm drops from your waist, and for a second you think he’s actually going to let it go. but then he steps forward, chest to chest with the guy, and suddenly the air gets colder. 

“what did you just say?” kaiser says, voice low and sharp. 

you grab his arm. “michael. don’t.” 

the freshman shrugs, trying to look casual but clearly rattled by the shift in energy. “i’m just saying. if you’re not her boyfriend, then –” 

“then you should shut your fucking mouth,” kaiser snaps. 

his whole posture shifts. he’s no longer the smug, charming frat president who knows he looks good in every photo. now he’s just furious, protective in a way that has nothing to do with titles and everything to do with you. 

“you think you’re smart?” he continues, stepping in closer. “trying to loop-hole your way into hitting on her? you think that makes you clever?” 

the freshman stammers, looking to his friend for backup, but the guy’s already backing away. 

kaiser doesn’t let it go. “you think just because i haven’t put a label on her, you get a shot? you think you get to decide what she is or isn’t to me?” 

“michael,” you say again, more firmly now. “stop.” 

his chest is rising and falling a little faster. his jaw is clenched so tight it could crack. finally, he steps back, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down. 

the freshmen scatter without another word. 

you sigh, glaring at him. “what the hell was that?” 

he meets your eyes, still tense. “i told you. i don’t like people thinking they can touch you.” 

“you don’t own me,” you snap, the words sharper than you meant them to be. “we’re not even together.” 

kaiser blinks at you like the idea is foreign. like he genuinely forgot that you're not officially his. “yeah. and?” 

you stare at him. “and you don’t get to act like this. you don’t get to flip out just because someone hit on me. if you want that kind of say in my life, then you need to –” 

“then maybe we should be together,” he says. 

your breath catches in your throat. “what?” 

he shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but his voice is hoarse and low. “i don’t want to do this halfway anymore.” 

you open your mouth. close it. your heart is thudding too fast for you to come up with anything clever. 

“you don’t have to say anything now,” kaiser murmurs, stepping closer again, more gentle this time, like the storm has passed. “but if some idiot ever says you’re ‘technically single’ again, i want it to be a lie.” 

and just like that, you forget how to breathe. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[zxmbiie-luv]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Unwind a little, oh ever-busy one... ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hermes (Hades game) x reader

Containing — overstimulation, mention of Hermes having a bigger sex drive than reader, dom reader, handjob, both r pent up, gn reader, reader is called "bunny" (unrealistic, ik, PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN-)

Summary — Busy, busy, busy... You were going to make up for all the time he hadn't had time for you.

a/n — I love him too much I'm sorry,,,, FUCK I need him it's not even funny Art by paperzombiie on Twitter/x!! Recolouring is by me tho

This was ridiculous. You knew of Hermes' everyday tasks, that he was truly so busy, he could only rest when everyone did. This gave you barely any time to talk, or do anything together. He was starting to become so tired, he's actually considered sleeping, so at least you both sleep together...

But you're starting to get pent up. Normally he finds time for at least a teasing touch, fingers tracing the hem of your underwear as he gives you a deep peck on the lips and runs off. But now, only words of "later" could ever be heard.

It's not like you blame him, he probably has more tasks than the most of his colleagues, but it was so hard to actually be bothered about it. Even your hands didn't work as good as he'd slut himself out on your body — And that was becoming a problem.

So you scurried to find the god yourself. Enough was enough. You didn't even know how he's lasted so long, even on any other day he'd have you at least once. Shit's gotta be serious, huh.

You asked other gods where he might've been— some were helpful, others were just as confused as you were. Eventually, you'd find him sorting his bag out with a buff, not usually seeing the happy messenger so bothered... At least you weren't the only one.

You sneaked up behind him, snaking your hands around his waist as you pressed him onto you, his wings perking up before realizing who it was and lips curving up into a soft smile that always had you swooning. "[name]! There you are... Been so dull without seeing you around." He greeted happily, nuzzling his face on you the best he could as you looked into his eyes. They looked... Deeper than usual. Like he unlocked something now that he's seen you, not just happiness but also a little "excitement".

"Hermes, sweetie, I need to have a chat with you." You replied, not missing the rise in his pulse you could feel leaning on his shoulder as you interlocked your hand in his hair.

He knew what that meant. He knew it meant trouble when you tilted his head back and whispered in his ear, both slightly relieved and sad that you had to be so pent up like he was. You needed him just as much as he needed you, and it made him giddy.

Seeing Hermes like that, fat tears half-dried up on his face and biting his bottom lip to hold on to at least a little dignity, letting out the sweetest whines and groans too... It may have been worth all the weeks you've been denied of each other.

Previous precum was used as lube as you stroked him on and on without a sense of halt, feeling himself get to his... What? Fifth, sixth orgasm? He lost count, poor boy could barely even think with you not even giving him a break. :(

"T-Too much.. Bunny, pleaasee..!~" He mewled out pathetically, words slurred as if he was drunk off your frantic touch, wings particularly puffed out and somewhat concealing his eyes. You prevented that by moving them away with your other hand, allowing you to see his gorgeous eyes that where building up new tears of ecstasy.

"But I miss you so much, Hermes.. You barely got time for me, so busy, maybe too busy. Come on, you can do one more." You coaxed with false sweetness, as if you weren't bullying his dick with your hand into many orgasms, or enjoying the view he provided when overstimulated. He always made quite the performance, didn't he?

" 'm sorry, so sorry... bunny.." His voice was getting hoarse, gripping the sheets you had dragged and dropped him onto tight. With a groan and a whine, another orgasm hit him like a truck, coating his dick and your hand sticky and white as his body briefly shivered.

Yet you still kept going. And tears still streamed in response to your assault on his brain, turning it to mush. You both had an hour left, maximum, or he was gonna be very behind on his work. And you planned to use it to your advantage.

Gods, he was going to lay on top of these messed up sheets for a while.

this is rightfully my work, @zxmbiie-luv

Do not steal, translate, repost ect

Reblogs and likes welcome!! (no, seriously, I need reassurance for what I've just wrote 😭)

[dynakatsposts]

"Is This Real?"

Pairings: K. Bakugo x Fem. Reader

Author's Note: This was inspired by the comments in some Bakugo edits I found on TikTok. I'm probably also going insane because of this man. It's my first post, so yeah. Enjoy!

Warning: Suggestive, Swearing

First things first, I never was freaky. Never ever. If you know me personally, I'm scared of any kind of intimacy. I'm afraid of it. Don't touch me anywhere. I hate it- Okay, hate is a big word. Maybe I just don't like the idea of it. Yeah, totally.

But why? Why do I say something freaky when it comes to edits, fanfictions, chatbots, fanarts, literally anything when it's Katsuki Bakugo. One thing; imagination. My imagination runs wild because of this man. He unlocks every single kind of me. I know, I know, he's just a character. But did they really have to make him so hot?

I'm now laying flat on my stomach in my bed. Scrolling through my phone, watching edits of Bakugo that I found on TikTok. I've always been mesmerized by him. Every. Single. Time.

And because I'm so immersed with the videos, I have forgotten my Bakugo plushie was somewhere behind me. I didn't mind, I love the plushie, of course. But I was too busy.

As I kept watching, thoughts suddenly started slipping inside my head. I blushed and covered my face on my pillow with a groan. "Damn it."

I peaked up again and watched some videos again. "I'd be spreading my legs for this man. I swear." I don't care what I was saying, it's just like a compliment, right? I didn't even realize that I was slowly turning into those people in the comment section. Perks of being a Bakugo fan, alright?

"I'm down bad for him. Gosh. I'd literally let him take me right here, right now."

"Really? You think you can handle me, princess?"

I froze. 'Huh? Who's there?' I looked behind me, but I saw no one. I could've sworn I heard someone speak and it sounded like... Bakugo? I shook my head. "I really need to sleep early... My mind is playing games with me..." I sighed and went back to watching the videos. Completely forgetting about what I just said. It's 1 am, yet I'm still here, watching on my phone.

"Just great, princess. Not gonna sleep, huh?"

Okay, my mind is really playing games again. I shut my phone off, maybe it's time to sleep.

"Aw, gonna sleep on me now? You gon' ignore me, princess? Y'know I hate getting ignored."

A teasing gruff voice appeared at my left ear. My eyes shot open and looked at my right side and saw... nothing.

"Who-? What the fuck?"

I whispered to myself. Sitting up and rubbing my face in annoyance. Who could be pranking me at this hour? My family's alseep. My door's locked. My cousins' aren't here. So who?

"Haven't figured it out yet?"

That same voice again, then I felt the bed dip as if someone sat behind me. I froze. I tried to think again. My windows are locked. No one can even fit in my closet with the amount of clothes in there. Under my bed? No. I checked it before I closed my door. So who???

I turned around again, but before I could the figure behind wrapped their arms around me. Rough yet gentle.

"Still don't know who I am, princess? I thought you were smart?"

That irked me, but I couldn't do anything. His hot breath tickled my neck. I'm dreaming. Yeah. That's it. I'm dreaming-

"Baby? Still don't know who I am? I thought you were gonna spread your legs f'me?"

That made me totally freeze. No way. I'm going insane. Maybe they were right, I need to get admitted to a mental hospital.

"Was that just all talk, princess?"

His other hand started snaking up my throat then rested down my shoulder blades. The other gripped my waist tight as if I'm going to escape if he let go. I mean, duh. I'd actually leave if I can. This shit's freaking me out.

"Do you know who I am, princess?"

I shook my head. He chuckled, his mouth leaning against my ear.

"Really?"

"...really."

My voice came out weak, unlike my usual voice. It was weak, cracked, shaking. He leaned again, his cheek grazing mine.

"That kinda hurts me, princess. Thought you'd know who you kiss in the forehead every day."

"...No way."

"You know now, baby?"

"I'm going insane..."

"Trust me, princess. You ain't."

"There's no fucking way..."

There really is now way. Because the only thing that I kiss in the forehead is my Bakugo plushie.

He only chuckled at my response.

"Then tell me who am I."

"Katsuki? Katsuki Bakugo."

He turned me around, making me face him. I couldn't see his face properly, but just a bit because of the light outside my window. He was smirking at me, hand caressing my cheek.

"Cat's got your tongue, sweetheart?"

My mouth hung open. I couldn't believe it. He took my hand and placed it on his cheek. He was warm. Warm like an actual person.

"You aren't insane, princess. Told ya."

"Oh my gosh... How?"

"That'll ruin the fun, won't it, baby? And you don't wanna ruin my fun, yeah?"

I stayed silent and nodded. He smirked and ran his thumb on my cheek.

"Good girl. I always knew you were."

"What makes you think so?"

"I just do, princess."

His thumb went from my cheeks down to the bottom of my lip.

"Now... You gonna do what you were saying while you were watching?"

Masterlist 𔓐𑇓

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! catboy! worshipper! levi

desc : you picked up a stray catboy from the alleyway and you find that maybe he has more problems than you’re equipped to deal with.

word count : 812

cws : yandere themes, scenting, jealous levi, dubcon implications, smut implications, murder mentions but it’s levi killing his competition and bringing it back as a gift and to prove he’s better than them, slight delusional thinking, desperate clingy bf behavior but you’re not dating and he’s more of an estranged roommate, MASSIVE personality switch up, ooc levi but i genuinely wanna see this man desperate and begging, implied dissociation, this is kind of bad im ngl.

author note : someone requested this, sorry it took so long to get to it. also, here’s a little something i had in my drafts while i finish editing this commission.

you remember how pitiful levi had looked in that alleyway — his clothes torn and too big on his seemingly frail body. he was drenched from the rain, the mud that had been caked onto him softening as shivers wracked his body. the bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, and you’d noticed that he was bleeding… and badly.

you remember the way his ears perked up, his gaze sharpening as he regarded you with a mixture of apathy and contempt; the way his pupils had narrowed into slits and his tail swished in warning. he’d attacked you that night, the wound on your hip later scarring. the levi from that night was so similar, yet so different from the man in front of you.

you were frozen in place, your eyes darting between levi and the corpse he had haphazardly discarded onto your living room floor. his face was marred with blood, a subtle look in his eyes that screamed pride. it didn’t feel real — there was no way this was happening. not to you of all people.

“what the fuck—“ you gesture to the body, your eyes filling with tears. “— is this?

“what’s wrong? don’t you like it?” levi asks, his expression morphing into concern the moment he recognized your appall.

was he serious?

“levi, you killed someone and brought them back to my apartment!” you exclaim, feeling bile rise in the back of your throat as you tear your gaze away from the corpse. “my home has become a fucking crime scene!”

levi’s brows furrow, his ears flattening at your words. seeing him clench his fist, you instinctively take a step back — a feeble attempt to put distance between the two of you. he doesn’t like that.

levi knows he’d be able to catch you if you decided to run, but he wanted you to stay — willingly. he didn’t want to have to force you, knowing that would only put a strain on your relationship. sure, he was biologically much faster than the average human, but he didn’t want to have to resort to using his anatomy to his advantage again.

he doesn’t regret killing any of them — especially not this one. this man was weaker than all of the others, obviously incapable of taking care of you properly. how was that human boy supposed to provide for you? protect you?

“that just shows im better for you, doesn’t it? if they can be taken out so easily, they couldn’t protect you. not like i can.” levi hisses, his features tightening with frustration. “i did you a favor. they would’ve gotten you hurt.”

his tone takes on a more desperate edge as he scrambles to justify his actions, his hand latching onto your shirt in an attempt to keep you in place.

“why are you looking at me like that…? like i’m some kind of monster? i’m not — i did this for you! for us!” levi shouts.

you can’t bring yourself to say anything, your mind spinning as you try to wrap your head around everything. levi had never been like this before; he’d always been distant and put-together, keeping you at an arm's length no matter how hard you tried to grow closer with him.

“say something… please.” the man begs, his arms snaking around your waist as he buries his face in the curve of your throat. levi takes a shaky inhale, your scent doing little to calm his racing heart. usually, it worked like a charm, but the cortisol radiating off of you worried him.

“let go of me, levi.” you mumble, your shaking fingers pushing at his shoulders. he only sniffles in response, his tail curling around your thigh.

“please — please don’t push me away.” levi pleads, his voice cracking. “i—i need you! i’ll die without you! please don’t do this to me…!”

“get out.”

levi’s hold on you tightens, his touch slowly becoming painful. despite your squirming and growing fear, levi only pulls you closer, peppering kisses along your throat and shoulders, mumbling apologies and promising to never do it again. yet, despite the ache in your chest, you stand firm in your decision.

“leave.”

levi’s body goes rigid, his fingers gripping your waist harshly as his voice grows quiet. “we can do this the hard way or the easy way — your choice... but, you’re staying with me whether you want to or not.”

levi takes your silence as an agreement, lapping at and kissing the focal points of your pheromones to mask your scent with his own. “‘m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” he breathes, a quiet groan leaving his lips.

his movements become more frantic, nipping at your skin in between planting open mouthed kisses against any visible flesh. “i’ll fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name — until the only scent on you is mine.”

[sabersandsnipers]

Drabbles: Reader is Sick or in Pain

Gortash

Enver Gortash considers himself a very busy man, but still finds himself wanting to spend every free moment he has at your side. And he feels anger. Anger at the fact that he can’t cure you instantly. Sure, there are spells to heal wounds and cure disease, but nothing for a simple cold. 

He’s in and out of your shared chambers throughout the day to check on you. He walks in after a particularly time consuming event only to find you buried under the covers, a cough bursting from you every minute or so. Your congested breathing causes his heart to ache. He wishes he could take the pain for you. 

He pulls back the covers a bit to take in your beautiful features. Your eyelashes flutter at the sudden brightness. He places his hand on your forehead. The warmth of them feels good against your skin, and you lean into his touch. 

He can’t help himself, he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your hands find their way to his chest. He waits for the feel of your palms sliding over his skin, but instead you give him a slight push away. 

“No, you’ll get sick,” you say, eyes staring up at him. 

“I think I’ll live,” he responds, grinning. Then he climbs right into bed with you, robes and all. 

Astarion 

Astarion had all but forgotten what it was like to get ill. In all his two hundred years of living as a vampire, he had never gotten sick. It was perhaps the only perk of becoming such a creature. 

So when you fall ill, he delves into every book he can find on helping with fevers, flus, and everything inbetween. He also visited Shadowheart and Halsin, hoping they could help provide some remedies for you. 

The stomach flu is currently what has you in its clutches. Every hour, your stomach rolls and empties what little content is left. Astarion is right there by your side every time. He holds your hair back and uses his cold fingers to trace along your neck. 

Every time you get sick, your body flushes with heat. Sweat gathers on your forehead and your body shakes with fever. Astarion notices your struggle, and will pull you into his cool chest for relief. 

The feel of his cold skin against yours brings a sigh of relief from your lips. His chest is firm yet smooth, and grounds you against the pain you feel. And he’s more than happy to help you. He prays to whatever gods you believe in that you will recover soon. 

Halsin 

Your cycle is here earlier than its supposed to be, and it’s here in full force as well. The pain in your lower abdomen is blinding, radiating to your lower back and digging in its claws wherever it can. Curling up into a ball and applying heat when it’s available is the only relief you can find. 

Halsin paces in your shared tent, gathering whatever remedies he can to help you. Something you didn’t realize about Halsin until you shared a tent by the way, was that when in private, he’s always naked. Usually watching his massive frame do such gentle work has you craving his touch. But today, the pain takes over. 

“My heart, what has helped you the most with your pain?” he asks, leaning down to lightly brush a strand of hair out of your face. 

“Heat,” you respond, leaning into the warmth of his touch. 

He smiles. “I think I can help with that.” 

He scooches in behind you, pulling you back so you’re flush with his chest. One of his magnificently large hands snakes over your lower abdomen, pressing down so waves of warmth radiate towards the spasms and cramps that won’t leave you be. He’s not done yet either. He nudges a large, muscled thigh between your legs, right up against your core. The heat from him soothes the soreness you feel there. 

“Oh gods,” you sigh, moving your hips back to get as close to him as you can. 

Halsin groans. “Careful, little one. I need you to rest, and it’s hard to let that happen when you move like that.” He twitches against your bottom. 

You grin. Even in this condition, he still can’t help but find you irresistible. 

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

There is love in me, I swear (tell me there's something in you, too)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral, no use of y/n)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: slytherin reader, they're all big partiers, reader has a bad attitude but in a nice lovable way

a/n: I warned everyone that I would be posting for someone new and now you all must suffer the consequences xoxo but also do please be nice abt it I beg

There's always an air of confidence amongst the three of them, the way they lounge on one of the larger couches in the Gryffindor common room, legs overlapping and shoulders pushed up against one another. They're completely at ease, your brain supplies as you step up to them, and you remember vaguely that people have said the same about you more times than you can count.

There's none of that from you now, though, as you perch on the armrest and look down at James's beaming smile.

"Hey lovely, what brings you here?" The way he lets an arm grip your waist is natural, pulling you closer so that your hip is against his shoulder.

"Finally needed to come up for air? Snake pit getting to be a bit much, hm?" Sirius's tone holds no real malice and neither does the glare you shoot him or Remus's chiding look. 

"Came up here for some peace and quiet. Guess I'm not getting that, though," you shoot back good-naturedly, a hand running through James's hair as he begins to let his thumb rub circles on your hip where his arm is anchored around you.

"You, uh, came up to the Gryffindor common room for peace and quiet, love?" says Remus, amusement tinting his voice. You let your bottom lip jut out slightly in response.

"Desperate times. They're getting ready to throw another rager tonight and I'm just too tired for that," you say, a long sigh leaving your lips as you speak. James pauses his soothing hands to pull away from you enough to look up at your face, his brows furrowed and eyes big in that worried way of his. Remus and Sirius have perked up as well, and you find yourself sitting straighter at the attention.

"...You feeling alright, sweet thing?" Sirius asks. Your mouth falls open in shock.

"I'm not - I'm not that much of an alcoholic. I don't need to go to every party - you three aren't there, either." You look back and forth between the three focused gazes.

"Yea, but… what's a Slytherin party without you there? That's like - there wouldn't be a Gryffindor party without us." James points out. You arch a brow at him.

"Maybe you three just think too highly of yourselves," you respond dryly. Sirius barks out a laugh from where he's lying across Remus' lap and James makes a big show of pretending to be offended.

"Wasn't it you who called us Gryffindor's golden boys last week, dove?" Remus points out, a smile stretching across his face. You glare back.

"Alright, you can all shut up now. I didn't come up here to be accosted." You say haughtily, but Remus's smile doesn't falter and Sirius coos at you the way you assume he'd coo at something rather small and fluffy. You sniff indignantly and plant yourself more firmly on the armrest while James makes some gentle attempts to pull you down onto the couch next to him.

"Come on, lovely," James tries to coax you. You look down at him indignantly. "You can relax. It's just us," he prompts, smoothing a hand over your back. You shoot him another withering glare and, when met by nothing but his beaming smile, let your stubbornness slacken just enough that he can haul you up off the armrest, manhandling him so that you're suddenly squished on the couch between him and Remus, Sirius still lounging on his lap.

Remus puts an arm around you, the weight familiar as it falls over your shoulders and you begin to slump into it despite your stubbornness. 

"Aw, your ice melts so fast for us, baby," Sirius teases, leaning to poke your cheek gently with his forefinger. 

"I'll break that finger, Black," you shoot back, but there's no fight left in your voice. Sirius just laughs, leaning even more to press a kiss to your cheek, instead. You deflate a bit more, relaxing into the cushions and the heat of James pressed against you. He visibly sweetens at that, leaning towards you to press his own kisses up and down the side of your neck as Remus's fingers tangle with the hair at the nape of your neck, massaging slightly. 

"Alright, alright," you murmur, voice breathy as you squirm under the attention. Remus eases up, his arm wrapping around your shoulders once more to let you relax against him, James pulling back to look at you fondly. 

"Sorry, lovely," he flashes another smile. "Don't mean to overwhelm you."

"I'm fine," you say stubbornly. Sirius giggles in a way that you're sure means he doesn't believe you, and the faces of the other two reflect that sentiment. They let the silence hang, though, letting you gather your bearings.

"It's not fair," is all you finally say, in a voice too small to be your own. "I always know exactly what I'm doing and what I'm saying and what I'm feeling - until you three show up. Then I don't - I don't know." No one responds immediately and you wince internally, as you're sure it's so that they can all choose their words carefully. Like you're some kind of timebomb, your mind prompts you. Like they're waiting for you to just explode.

"I do," Sirius supplies, his voice carrying a sombre air that it doesn't typically. "I know what you mean, love."

"No you don't," you murmur petulantly, but he takes it good-naturedly, his face softening with nothing but love. The other two stay quiet - it's like they've suddenly stepped into a private conversation, even though they've been there the whole time.

"Sometimes," Sirius begins carefully. Tick, tick, tick, your mind reminds you. You bite your lip at your own perceived volatility. "When we're not loved the way we should be, it just takes a while to get used to suddenly having it. I… I do know how that feels, love." Your shoulders tighten at his words, something that feels almost like guilt burning in the back of your throat.

"I'm sorry, Sirius - I didn't mean -"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to forgive. You haven't done anything wrong here. You aren't doing anything wrong with us." You bite your lips harder at Siriuis' words, his gentleness, tasting a hint of copper in your mouth when you bite too hard. Remus steps in at this, clicking his tongue in that gentle, reprimanding way that you recognize as he uses his thumb to smooth over your lip.

"We love you," James reminds softly, his hand finding a home on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly as he holds onto you firmly. "Never-ending bad mood and all." You open your mouth to snipe back but close it again quickly when you see the humour in James' eyes. "Sirius is the biggest drama queen alive and we still love him," James continues. Sirius makes an indignant, wounded sort of noise that goes ignored. 

"Well… that's alright, I suppose," you huff, your arms crossed as you sit sullenly. James coos at you in a way that you should hate as Remus slides one hand against your cheek, guiding you to look at him so that he can pass a long kiss to your lips. You make an embarrassingly needy sound somewhere in the back of your throat and grip onto the front of his shirt, but the only evidence that Remus has noticed is the way he smiles against you. That and Sirius's jealous huff as he watches, unsure of which place he'd rather be in.

The three of you settle in as you and Remus part, him smiling lazily and thumbing over your lips. You press a quick, delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb before letting yourself relax fully into the couch, the silence that blankets the three of you forming a soft, comforting sort of thing.

"So…" Sirius begins. "You're really not going to go down to the party? At all?" You sigh and tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Yea, alright, we should go. Come on."

"Knew you couldn't stay away."

[ponyboysgf]

I fear your Steve head cannons were a LITTLE too good😋😋😋 in fact, they were delicious...

I have a little tiny request 😔.... do u think u could do a fic where reader joins Steve at one of his rodeos, and she gets a little interested in the bull riding that she's seeing a lot of the other girls do. She goes and tries it (and it doesn't matter if she's good at it or not, but Steve is getting a boner either way) blah blah blah, he's like "omg I need her so bad" and he looks around and realizes hes not the only one thinking that. So naturally, he brings her back home and wants her to do to him what she did to that bull.😛

SOREY, MY FREAK TOOK OVER🫢 I KNKW THIS IS LONG BUT I LUV YOUR WORK

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ “Like a rodeo, baby.” — ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀ.

────୨���────

⋆·˚ ༘ * — A/N : LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS PROMPT, ALSO I LOVE YOU GUYS SM, YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET!! Also im not sure if you meant a mechanical bull or not and so I’m just assuming you meant a real bull💔. Also I feel like this one isn’t really my best work but I hope you guys enjoy!!

⋆·˚ ༘ * — warnings : this one is sorta LONG, no defined word count tho cus im too lazy. // one (1) joke about suicide, swearing, mentions of reader having a vagina, steve accidentally basically creampie-ing reader💔, mentions of chance that user might get pregnant

────୨ৎ────

18+ mdni

STEVE had begged you to come to a rodeo with him for weeks, and finally after loosing a bet against him, you agreed.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to hangout with Steve, you just thought going to a rodeo wouldn’t really be ‘your thing’.

And boy, how wrong you were.

Your hand was holding Steve’s as he guided you through the crowd, having already paid for tickets.

“Just wait til you see the bull, fuckin’ awesome.” Steve said, grinning as he led you to the front row, one of the perks of coming as often as he did.

You chuckled, and sat down beside Steve, noticing how loud the crowd suddenly got.

Confused, you look up to the open center and that’s when it all changed.

Seeing a clearly inexperienced girl come out on the bull, it thrashing against her as shes laughing, trying to stay on and clearly having a good time.

“I want to do that.” You breathed out, without thinking.

You said it quietly, to yourself even, so surely Steve wouldn’t hear you.

“Fuck babe, you want to do that?” Steve asked, pointing his finger towards the center, making sure you were seeing the same thing he was.

“Sure, she is doing it, so why can’t I?” You said, pointing to the girl that was clearly inexperienced, being slung against the bull as she held on for dear life, professionals standing an appropriate distance away from the two, making sure she wouldn’t get hurt.

“Yeah but I mean— What if you get hurt?” Steve wondered, concern for you evident in his voice, he would kill himself before he let you get hurt when you were with him.

Eventually she fell off, her body slapping against the dirt as the professionals rushed to her, trying to get her out of the arena before the bull started charging.

You grabbed Steve’s hand and practically yanked him up from the chair as you rushed to the entrance of the shoot, walking up to the first rodeo manager you could find.

“Hi!” Your cheery voice spoke as Steve caught his breath behind you, hunched over slightly.

“Well, hello there. What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ at a rodeo?” The older man asked, grey hairs sticking out from underneath his cowboy hat stetson.

Steve suddenly gained his breath back and stood up straight, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“I want to ride a bull.” You said, smiling at the man as you hoped he wouldnt crush all your hopes and dreams of riding a bull say no.

But despite your worries, he agreed without hesitation.

“Well okay, just come over here and sign some waivers.” He huffed out, trying to hold back his chuckle.

After filling out papers and after Steve tried to warn you about the risks, it was finally time to ride a bull.

You stepped onto the platform, only a small fence separating you from the bull, nerves were starting to hit you now but it was too late to go back.

After a long and boring explanation on how to ride the bull by the older man, you were ready.

You stepped over the fence and onto the bulls back, since Steve was your boyfriend, he was allowed on the platform along side the older man who apparently was called Roy, according to Steve.

You crouched down, sitting down with each leg on opposite sides of the bull, settling down before the bull started to thrash around in the chute, causing you to hold onto the railings beside you.

Once the bull settles again, you sit down, your left hand reaching underneath the rope as you begin to secure it in your hand.

Roy puts a helmet on you and taps it playfully before getting serious.

“You do know you could get seriously hurt on this thing?” Roy’s rough voice entered your ears.

“Yeah, baby. You know, it’s never too late to back out. Shit— Ol’ Soda tore a ligament hasn’t been riding since.” Steve added on, reaching out to hold your hand.

But you had already decided, you were going to ride this bull.

“I know. I’m gonna ride this bull and— I don’t even know if i’m gonna be good at it or what but I’m going to try.” You said, a smile forming on your features as you held Steve’s hand for a moment and squeezed it lightly before letting go as you got ready to be let out into the arena.

Suddenly, the gate opens and the bull immediately starts running towards the open space. You feel the bull start kicking and bucking as you hold onto tightly, bouncing around on the bull as laughs escape your mouth.

And shit, If I said that didn’t make Steve as hard as a rock, I’d be lying.

He felt a tent start growing in his pants and he didn’t even bother to hide it cause fuck, you were so hot right now. not that Steve didn’t think you were hot all the time…

Seeing your hips roll against the bull did something to Steve, and made him want to feel you rolling your hips against him like that.

Steve glanced over and saw that Roy was also looking at you the same way, not that Roy was a bad guy, Steve had talked to him a few times at Rodeos when he went with Sodapop, but seeing the way that Roy was looking at you fueled his need to feel you on top of him even further.

You ended up lasting a good bit for a beginner, sliding off the side of the bull with little to no injuries, only a few bruises from hitting the ground that would surely heal in a few days.

After leaving the arena, you rushed over to Steve, a huge smile on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

The scene would be cute… if you couldn’t feel the raging boner Steve had in his jeans pressing against you.

“Oh!” You gasped out as you felt it, Steve’s head in your neck as he let out a breathy reply.

“Sorry, just need you so bad.”

And that’s all it took, you smiled and kissed him.

When you pulled away, Steve’s hand quickly reached yours as he pulled you through the crowd, letting out small apologies as he pushed through.

Once you guys arrived back to Steve’s place, you guys could barely get through the door before his hands were all over you.

“Geez, did me riding that bull turn you on that much?” You joked, as you led him towards his room, you had been at his house so often you could probably navigate through it blindfolded.

“Fuck yeah, seeing you ride that bull started making me wonder how it would feel you rode me instead.” Steve said, being very blunt compared to usual, but he didn’t care, he needed you too bad to start being shy about what he wanted.

“So, why don’t you come and find out?” You teased, standing infront of Steve’s bed before he practically tackled you in response. Your bodies bouncing against the bed as Steve’s lips reached your neck, finding your weak spot which resulted in a soft moan from you. Steve left a few hickeys on your neck before needing to feel you more.

Steve tried to go slow, he really did but he needed you so bad.

He slid down from the bed, quickly taking off his shirt before sitting on his knees between your thighs as he slowly reached his fingers up and hooked them around your shorts, tugging them down to reveal your practically soaked panties.

“And you said you turned me on bad, look at you, practically soaked and I’ve barely touched you.” Steve chuckled, but quickly yanked your panties down and buried his face into your cunt, his tongue sliding against your clit perfectly.

You gasped at the sudden pleasure, your hand shooting down to grab a fist full of his ungreased black hair, per your begging for him to keep it ungreased just for today, making his hips thrust into the bed in response.

After making you cum with just his tongue, it was finally time to ride.

Steve climbed back onto the bed, letting his back rest against the headboard.

As you climbed towards him, he slowly unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers just enough to release his throbbing cock.

You placed your legs on each side on Steve’s legs, your hole just an inch away from his cock, which made Steve even more eager, precum dripping down the head of his cock.

“You got this, jus’ like you did to that bull.” Steve whispered as you positioned yourself above his member, his hands quickly grabbing onto your hips, squeezing the flesh.

Steve’s cock was big, not too big but definitely enough to let a few tears to build up in your eyes.

Steve let out a whimper as he felt you slide down against him, his cock filling you up completely as you took him in fully.

After taking a second to adjust, you immediately started to rock your hips against Steve, which caused him to grab the skin on your hips even harder and he thrusted up to meet your movements.

You let out long moans which slowly turned into whimpers as Steve sped up, causing you to speed up your movements in return.

You reached up and grabbed the headboard which was now banging against the wall as you began bouncing against Steve’s cock, whining out his name as your orgasm approached.

Steve’s head was buried in your neck, feeling his cock twitch inside you as he felt your tight hole squeeze against him each time he entered again.

Eventually, your legs began shaking too much from the sensation that Steve had to take over, he gripped onto your hips as he bounced you up and down against his cock, feeling himself come closer and closer to his orgasm each time you moaned his name.

“Oh, Steve!” You whined out loudly, no doubt the neighbors heard you two as loud as you guys were being.

“Say it again.” Steve demanded, his voice breathy as his chest heaved up and down with each thrust and bounce of your hips, sweat beading against his forehead and chest.

“Steve!” You moaned out, this time it was in a more high pitched and needy tone as you chased your orgasm.

“Fuck— I’m gonna—“ Steve said, before he came inside you, not being able to pull out in time.

Feeling his cock twitch inside you as his warm cum entered your pussy was all it took for you to come right after.

Sitting against his cock as the two of you came down from your high, feeling Steve’s cock get soft inside you as the two of you just sat there, in your silence as you guys tried to catch your breath.

“Fuck— I’m sorry babe, ain’t mean to—“ Steve said, apologizing for cumming inside you before asking first, but you cut him off.

“ ‘S okay.” You said, inbetween breathes, yeah there was a chance you could get pregnant but the chance was worth it because of how much pleasure you were just in.

“So uh, can we do this more often?” Steve asked, half joking half serious as he grinned at you, his chest heaving, his hands rubbing the skin against your hips, now being alot more gentle than he was before.

“Definitely.” You replied.

[babybearnation]

Regency era Oscar Piastri x cross dressing male reader where Oscar gets under reader's dress and puts his mouth to good use 🤭

-🦊

duke!oscar piastri x lord!crossdresser!male!reader (regency era au smutty headcanons)

oscar was the heir apparent, the only son, and he wore the title with pride

you were the fifth son, the seventh child, to a duke, and you used that distance from the title to your benefit

you would attend balls under an effeminate name, showing up in white satin slips and crepe dresses in a variety of shades

wigs in the coolest colours sat neatly atop your head and you always wore a mask to conceal your identity

you were the most mysterious belle of the ball ever and everyone longed to know who you were

in all your time crossdressing, no one had figured it out

until someone did

oscar piastri

you two were acquaintances, friends and allies who bonded over racing and racing developments

oscar had quite the crush on you already so when he finally met this mysterious lady that everyone was dithering about, he was very stunned to see... you

he could recognise your eyes and your jawline anywhere

you donned a stunning golden mask that matched perfectly with the golden crepe dress you wore

delicate white gloves framed your hands but even then, oscar could register the familiar shape of your fingers

oscar knew he had to dance with you, to get you close to him for one last confirmation it was you

you were stunned to see oscar at the ball that night, but you danced with him, delighted to spend so much time with the man you adored

oscar knew instantly it was you - your touch, the way your throat bobbed when your swallowed, even the pitched up giggle still had that same endearing quality that belied your normal giggles

when the dance came to an end, oscar pressed closer so he could whisper to you

"meet me out in the gardens in five minutes... lord y/n"

you were only momentarily stunned that oscar had figured you out but you were quick to recover

after all, oscar was one of the smartest people you knew!

when five minutes had passed, you quickly and quietly withdrew to the gardens, claiming a need for some fresh air

oscar was waiting there, looking rather tense, but he perked up upon seeing you

you two talk about your crossdressing tendencies, your fascination with women's dresses and how, despite your appearance, you were still a man

oscar respected you so much but the sight of you in a dress, your flat chest barely filling it out, made his spine tingle

you could tell something was plaguing his mind so you asked what was wrong, worried there was an issue

you were not expecting oscar to sink to his knees in front of you

was it scandalous? yes. was it also insanely tantalising? yes.

with your consent, oscar wasted no time in diving under your skirts

the sight of his head below your skirts made you feel dizzy and you had to lean back, bracing yourself on the foundation behind you

if anyone came outside they would surely see the bump under your skirts but you didn't care

oscar's tongue and mouth on your cock was heavenly

you moaned into the night air, unabashed, and when you finally came, oscar swallowed it all down before reappearing from under the many layers of fabric

he was dishevelled, hair sticking up at all angles, his lips red and wet with spit

it made something within you purr and you pulled him in for a kiss, hand snaking down to grope him through his pants

oscar pulled away at that, eyes scattered and frantic and positively drenched in lust

"i think we should leave this party early, y/n"

"that we should"

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

The Cards We're Dealt

A.N. This is for sterek week. @sterekweek-2024 Prompts tarot cards and dealer's choice (the second one I definitely took too literally lol) Hope you enjoy! :) Oh and this is only part one, part two is hopefully out tomorrow.

Word count: 9,668

***

Whether you play fast and loose, bet it all, or are simply looking for an answer the cards always deal their own fate. 

Derek knows there's no such thing as luck. 

Stiles knows there's no use in trying to change fate. Derek has been a dealer for long enough to have learned the house always wins, but even try as he might to find some trick behind Stiles' tarot reading his warnings ring true and he can't see a single tell in his eyes. 

Stiles' fingers have always found the right card, but what if this tangle with fate is less about reading it and more about following it.

Sometimes you just have to play the hand you're dealt, even if you pull the death card for your future.

****

The table creaked and thudded as it ominously rocked back and forth, the candles flickered in the chilly gusts of wind, the table cloth rustled delicately as the various strings of beads harshly swung and jangled together. Stiles' eyes were rolling back into his head as his nails harshly dug into the plush velvet table. 

"She has a message for you." Stiles gasped out as if he was being choked, his voice strained. The veins on his neck bulged to the point of almost being able to see his heartbeat. 

The man had wide fearful eyes filled with tears and yet he sounded hopeful when he pleaded, "Yes, yes? What is it?!" He was crumpling the brochure that Stiles had given him at the beginning of the reading with trembling hands. 

"Sh-she says, she misses you. And she doesn't want- d-doesn't want you to... To worry. And she told me to tell you how much she loves you." Stiles gasped in a big breath at the end of his sentence and his eyes were starting to come back into focus as the tension slowly was leaving his nails. 

"Wait!  She didn't say anything else?" 

Stiles not only rolled his eyes back into his head with a jolt, but also rolled them sarcastically in his head. "She- oh no I think I'm going to lose her! Wait, no- She says add more spices. Double the amount of cumin and it'll taste like her recipe." Finally Stiles let all the tension over his entire body go and he collapsed forward on to the table. 

The man was freely weeping now. "Oh thank you! Oh thank you! You don't know what you've done for me!" The man reached over to vigorously shake Stiles' hand once he had perked up a bit. 

Stiles mopped some sweat from his brow. "Yes. It is so very draining, but my exhausting work must be done to help lost souls just like you." Stiles hated this part, why couldn't they just pay and leave. "It's not often I get such a strong connection." Stiles faked a loud yawn. "I get so tired after channeling a spirit as wonderful and filled with love such as your grandmother." 

The man came back to himself a bit before he replied, "Yes, of course. I should let you rest. You said one fifty?" 

Stiles nodded and added a tired slow blink as he yawned out, "Tips are always appreciated."

The man looked down at his Versace wallet and pulled out two crisp one hundred dollar bills. "Thank you so much The Magnificent Mieczyslaw." 

Stiles inwardly cringed as the man butchered the name. "Mitch is just fine." 

The man smiled and once again wrestled Stiles' hand into something more akin to someone fighting a snake to the death rather than a hand shake. "Thank you. The Magnificent Mitch. I just needed her to tell me she was okay." The man looked over his shoulder twice and each time Stiles waved vigorously while yawning. 

Finally Stiles let out a sigh after hearing the bell to his shop ring. He reached over to grab his tea from the side table to move it on to the one in front of him. As he took a sip he grimaced at the cold temperature. The man had blathered on endlessly about his ninety-four year old grandmother. Stiles decided to put his cards back in order then go make a fresh cup. He shuffled them mindlessly when two cards fell before him. He picked them up ready to shove them in the pack with the rest when he noticed they were both major arcana. 

The Lovers card was absolutely beautiful. It was drawn in a dreamlike summer haze of a scene. A calm peaceful forest with two sapling trees grew intertwined in front of a calm lake, and in the lake a lover gently held his beloved up letting her float looking at the clouds above. His bright red shirt and her electric blue eyes pulled focus from the other softer elements, but the two running wolf shaped clouds she was staring out could still be discerned if you stared long enough. 

Stiles' eyes barely widened, but the shock still pulled the tender smile from his face as he stared into the steely red gaze of The Devil card. It had gnarled twisted horns and its mouth was open in a scream of anger as the teeth and fangs jutted this way and that.  The card seemed to have a sense of motion from the way its saliva trailed midair all the way back to where its head was thrown back maw open wide. Its throat and jaw was tensed with such a strength Stiles' rubbed his own and he couldn't tell if it was subconsciously because he winced in sympathetic pain, or if he was trying to protect his own skin. The claws on this nightmare seemed more powerful than sharp, they didn't come to a cartoonish point. They did however, remind him of when he'd heard someone say that a sharp knife will cut through skin like butter, but a dull one will tear and gouge out the flesh ripping the sinew out of place instead of snipping. Streets were ablaze behind this behemoth and charred bodies laid all around. 

Stiles jolted out of the world of the card as he felt a sinking in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He regained himself and breathed in and out to center himself before calling out, "Would you like for me to pull you some cards? See what your fate has for you?" 

There was a silent pause. 

Stiles sighed and muttered under his breath, "Other than skulking around." He increased his volume so the stranger could hear, "And not using my front door, which is quite rude you know." Stiles heard the curtain that separated the waiting area from the back rustle open. 

"We did use the front door. And I wasn't skulking." 

Stiles flung his gaze back up carelessly to where the stranger was entering and his jaw promptly dropped the retort he had prepared rolling out of both his mind and mouth. Standing in front of him was the most gorgeous man Stiles had ever seen. He was sharply dressed in a double breasted black peacoat and tan slacks, but his shoes matched his coat's shiny black buttons. His beard was very well taken care of and short enough it had to be a bitch to maintain. His hair was neatly groomed into a close fade on the sides while the top was a bit longer. Stiles got the sense it was just on that borderline where it was long enough a couple strands would delicately flop down and the man's strong looking fingers would have to comb through it to get it back into place. Stiles wanted to volunteer to help next time it happened, or at the very least feel those fingers himself. His mind flailed for something to say as the man entered his tent. "Actually you can come in my back door." 

The stranger's face scrunched up into some unpleasant emotion that Stiles couldn't figure out as he was busy processing what had come out of his mouth. "Wow I'm glad you try and hit on your clients before they reveal how broken and vulnerable they are and don't just wait until after you take their money." 

"Oh. God. That was out loud. I said that out loud with my mouth hole." Stiles was mortified. 

Stiles was just about to cover his face in shame when a man he did recognize came in right behind the stranger. "Now boys, please at least let me introduce you both before you jump each other. Stiles, this is my nephew Derek. Derek, this charmer is Stiles." 

Peter was often in need of his services and at least a third of the reason he could even afford to get the shop. He didn't need to be offending one of his clients with the deepest pockets. Peter took his family's money and used it to open a casino and happened to hit it big. He also had the most fortunate habit of getting in the sort of trouble Stiles' skills knew how to solve.  "Peter, I told you if you ever need an appointment you can call. I hope you didn't wait long. I would've cleared the day for you." Stiles tried to recollect his composure and professionalism. 

Peter swanned in and plopped gracefully down in a chair like he always did, but this time he chose the one more off to the side instead of directly in front of Stiles before he replied, "Nonsense. Besides, I wanted Derek to see what you can do." 

The stranger, Derek, scoffed, "Right. It was so important for me to see that poor sucker get scammed worse than people taking their pictures with the characters on the strip." 

It was Stiles' turn to scoff. "I helped him." 

Derek raised an eyebrow, "By scamming him using his dead grandmother? That's pretty low if you ask me. If you'd ever lost anyone you'd know what it's like to want to give anything you have just to hear from them one last time." Derek turned towards Peter before speaking again, "This guy? You brought me to this hack for help?" 

Derek went to walk out of the tent but Stiles interrupted his gait with an irritated tone, "I did help him." 

Derek turned around and crossed his arms right in front of the opening. "How do you figure? By taking his money? Fooling him?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes dumbass. Look, that man didn't need me to tell him about how he just needs to move on and not be so desperate. He needed to believe in magic for a moment, to hear from his grandmother. He certainly didn't need the money, but he did need to feel like she was safe and passed on okay. He needed that so he could feel okay. Believe, don't believe it doesn't matter. What matters is that he can sleep at night." 

Derek had softened his posture some, but his arms stayed resolutely crossed. "Can you? Knowing you lie and take their money?" 

This was the easiest question he answered all the time. "Yes. Because if I have the choice between lying to someone about someone who has passed or a decision they had to make to ease their pain a little, or telling them the ugly truth that only hurts I'm going to make them feel better. Besides, only the people that want to feel better come to me." 

Stiles looked at Peter's shit eating grin. Stiles squinted at Peter. There was something in the way Peter was looking at Derek that made Stiles feel like he was missing something. Stiles turned his eyes back to Derek and looked him up and down this time with what Scott and his clients called his 'other gaze', but it was really just him looking for clues. Derek tapped his finger against his bicep while he stared down Stiles' intent searching. 

Stiles finally felt like he grasped what Peter was smirking about. "And where do you work?" 

It was the first time Stiles felt like he caught Derek on the off foot. His eyes went steely and his jaw clenched, it made the muscle in his neck clench. Stiles wanted to lick it. Derek spat out, "I hardly see how that matters." 

Stiles grinned. "Oh what do we have here, hmmm?" Stiles tapped his own cheek, he enjoyed making Derek squirm immensely. "A partner or just a spoiled rich kid living off of family money would make you complicit enough, but no it's deeper than that. Not a bartender, you'd get hit on too much and murder someone." Derek narrowed his eyes, but Peter was gleaming with glee. "You don't seem like the behind the scenes number crunching type, and with a face like that it'd be a crime. No you're up close and dirty." Even with him standing across the room and Peter still there Stiles liked the effect he could barely tell he was having on Derek. "Oh no, please tell me-" Stiles didn't even try to stifle his laugh. "You're trying to lecture me about morals and taking advantage of people when they're down and you're a fucking dealer at your family's casino?" 

Derek's face turned sour and Stiles let out a belly laugh. Peter even chuckled slightly. Derek uncrossed his arms and kept his clenched fists by his sides as he stalked closer. He leaned over the table and felt the heat from the candle streaming up to his chin. "I don't use people's dead families to get a buck." 

Stiles sobered at that cutting remark. "No. You use their alive ones." Stiles interrupted Derek's attempt at a rebuttal, "Oh come on, how many 'just one more hand' men walk up to your table leaving behind little girls asking for ponies and wives just begging to not take the money that puts food on the table? How many elderly women are just looking for someone to talk to and something to do and instead gamble away their grandkids college or trusts? I won't pretend like either of us don't take money from vulnerable people, but can we both agree that they're willing to give it. And in a lot of cases they need to give it, even if it only helps temporarily." Stiles tilted his head and raised his eyebrows looking for some form of agreement from the other man. 

Derek merely squinted his eyes and leaned back upright. 

Stiles, ever the bigger person, would accept that. Also he literally couldn't afford to lose Peter as a client. "Now how can I be of service?" He pointedly looked away from Derek and to Peter. 

Peter shrugged and motioned back to Derek. "It's his problem, his story. As much as I love talking with you Stiles." Peter put a hand over his heart. 

That made Stiles smile and roll his eyes considering the first time Peter and him had talked it went much worse than this. Stiles had stabbed him. Stiles looked back at Derek.

A moment of silence later Stiles grabbed for his cards. "How about I give you a free reading to break the ice." 

Derek huffed and crossed his arms again. 

Stiles groaned out, "Oh come on tall, dark, and broody! If Peter brought you here it doesn't matter how much of a hack you think I am, I can help. Sit down and let me read you, then we can move on to giving you the help you so desperately need." 

Derek reluctantly flung the chair back and slammed down into it while making a gesture that Stiles chose to interpret as, 'Oh please help me! Take all the time you need. You're so gracious.' instead of it's more probable meaning of, 'Let's get this over with.'

Stiles began shuffling the cards and took a deep breath to focus and Derek rolled his eyes. 

Stiles huffed out, "Dude, come on. This isn't going to help anyone if you can't even get over the way I breathe." 

Derek started to unbutton his coat. "I just don't think someone holding the key to my future would say dude like a teenager playing Fortnite." 

Stiles got a lot of flack for not being an eighty year old Romani woman so he let it go while doing a couple regular and then reverse shuffles. He slid out the cards in front of Derek in one swift move. 

"I know that trick too." If Derek could look more unimpressed it would surely be record breaking. 

Stiles' head fell to the table and then he whipped it back up to glare at Peter. "God, why did you even bring him here he's such an asshole!" 

Stiles muttered mostly to himself, "That's not even my trick yet." When he turned back to Derek he looked a bit shocked at Stiles' outburst. Almost as if he'd never been called an asshole before, but Stiles knew without a shadow of a doubt that wasn't true. 

"Pick three." Stiles crossed his arms as Derek draped his coat over the back of his chair. 

"Do I have to think about it?" Derek still looked like he'd rather be stepping in dog poop right about now. 

"Nothing so strenuous. Wouldn't want to wrinkle those eyebrows anymore than they already are. Just choose. The cards will call to you." 

Another eyeroll and Derek snatched out three random cards. 

He was about to turn them over when Stiles interjected, "Oh wait, no don't turn them over. That's for me to do." 

Derek stared flatly before setting the card back down.  

"This is just your basic past, present, future spread to get you started." Stiles flipped over the first card. "I'm sure pop culture hasn't failed you so much that you don't know we start with your past." Stiles looked at the card and grimaced. There was a man pierced nine times with swords pinning him down to the ground and another blade jutting up through his heart. The sword blade side pointing to the sky through the body was the only one that had a curved shaft, much like a scimitar. Ten different swords at all angles each causing the anguished look on his face. The battlefield beneath him was more blood than grass, however from the top of the hill his body rested on past all the blazing bodies you could see a vibrant sunrise off in the distance. The man's long limp hand was still gripping the sword stabbed into his heart as if trying to undo the damage done. 

"So do I have to read my own tarot, or are you going to get to it sometime today?" Derek snarked. 

Stiles blew air through his nose at him and started to speak, "Ten of swords. This is a card that shows not just pain, but utter devastation. I'm sorry for all that you've gone through. I can only ima-" 

"You've met Peter before. The family fire was all over the newspapers, only one search away. If you want to use my dead family to trick me you're going to have to try harder." His tone was sharp and cold even as he tried for flippant and his eyes shot icicles directly at him. Derek twitched like he might leave based on Stiles' response. 

Stiles looked to Peter almost as if he was asking permission. Peter nodded. "Do it Stiles." 

Derek hated being looked at with pity, but at least for once he didn't think it was because of his dead family. Stiles almost looked like he was pitying him for what he was about to say. 

"Swords in general mean pain, loss, suffering. The ten in particular means hitting bottom, destruction, failure, feeling stabbed in the back. It can mean betrayal by those closest to you. In your past you were betrayed and it caused the worst day of your life. Your downfall came from your heart and the very one you trusted to safeguard all that was precious to you drove it to ruin instead." Stiles paused to look up at Derek. 

If his earlier demeanor had been chilly icicles now his gaze turned to thawed spring pools. He wasn't on guard anymore, but it was just as dangerous. The vast changing depth of the emotion showed in Derek's eyes made Stiles want to dive in till he drowned. He had never had a reading feel like this before. Something about Derek's eyes felt like he was being read right back, every tell every twitch being examined. Just as easily as the warmth had shown itself it was gone. 

Stiles continued, "But a lot of the swords cards portray loss and defeat. The ten of swords is more specific. It can mean new horizons, it can mean a fresh hope, and the end of a cycle. Ten specifically is the darkest hour before dawn has come. This card tells me you're ready to move on, never forget, but to move forward and truly honor those you've lost by living the way they would want you to." 

Derek had a sharp retort that he wanted to fling back at Stiles but it died on his tongue. No one knew about Kate, except Peter, and he wouldn't be calmly reading a magazine to the side if Stiles had just blurted out that he told him. Maybe a year ago or hell even a few months ago he would've bitten Stiles' head off and stormed out, but he'd been calmer since he moved back to Beacon Hills. The job and being close to Peter and Cora had helped. He knew Laura was just a phone call away and he'd always be grateful for his time with her in New York afterwards, but Beacon Hills was his home. He knew that deep down in his bones even if he didn't quite feel at home just yet. 

"Read the next card." Derek demanded.

Stiles was already flipping it over. There was a group of young saplings in a field. It looked as if a great storm had passed through, branches were strewn about the ground and even some of the trees uprooted.  "Your present. The page of wands, but it was drawn in reverse. This can represent strangers thrust into our lives. Often with the pages cards it has to do with some sort of mentorship or student, learning or growth in some capacity. Drawing it in reverse means something has gone wrong with this apprenticeship. Sometimes a reversed page means foolhardiness, recklessness, or even impulsivity. You're dealing with a situation that is causing you much strife and worry. The trees you've planted have been uprooted or thrashed in some way and you fear it is your fault. This card seeks to tell you it isn't your fault, but still your responsibility. You planted the seeds and tended to them, but you cannot control the storms that come, and even more difficult to accept, you cannot weather them for your pupils." Derek's face was an unreadable wall that made even Stiles question if he was way off. "Do you have anyone you're mentoring right now, or someone who has aligned with your path only to stray." 

Derek replied with no emotion. "You could say that." 

His indifference pissed Stiles off. He was really trying here and this dude couldn't care less. He was going to have to have a talk with Peter about bringing in hot men that were determined to look at him like the dirt under his shoe. Stiles trudged on, "Okay, final card. The moon. Huh, well that sucks." 

Derek leaned in and asked quickly, "What? Why does that suck?" 

A little part of him felt the victory in that, but he shoved it down knowing Derek would leave if Stiles showed that he thought he had won. 

"It sucks because it's an elusive card. It's hard to get an answer out of a moon card. The future is still fluctuating for you." Stiles picked up the card to study it closer. The most prominent thing in the card was of course the moon, but there was a smaller moon reflected in a river. The flow of the river bisected the card on one side there was a family camping next to a roaring campfire and on the other a solitary wolf with red eyes. There was a harsh breeze blowing through the woods on the side of the wolf, but a raven was gently gliding in the canopy above the joyful family. This card confused him, and that rarely happened when he did an actual reading. 

Stiles attempted to pull it all together. "There are a lot of female moon goddesses, this card can hint at women's health, and cycles. All in all this can be a very feminine card, maybe a mysterious or obscured from you woman is trying to warn you or lie to you. I don't know. This card also represents cycles, what we begin we are doomed to repeat, but also that good and evil, dark and light never truly go away they just have phases. There are dark sides to the moon, but also a brightness that we must remember isn't always the time to grasp for just yet." 

Derek's arms crossed once again. "A woman that is either trying to help me or lie to me? So you're just seeing a woman in my future, you don't know jack shit about what she's actually there to do?" 

Stiles huffed. "Look, it's difficult sometimes." He studied all three cards this time looking to unlock the final one. "It's a major arcana so it's important. Look, see? The ten of swords is an elemental card of air, but the battlefield was covered in fire. The page of wands is an elemental card of fire, but the trees were bashed by wind. That could hint towards the feedback loop of your past and present, your inability to let go. Then the moon card is water based, in this card there remains the elements of wind, moving the trees and fire in the campsite, but water takes up a majority of the space. Water is cleansing, healing, restorative. There is the destruction and pain of the fire present as well as the change and motion of wind, but for your future it's important to stay mailable and looking to where the river takes you, not where it's been. There's two sides to this card one holding elements of your past card and one holding present. This could imply that sooner rather than later you're going to have to make a choice between the two. The lone wolf poses a danger to the family and the family poses a danger to the lone wolf. One must triumph over the other, but the moon does not tell me which choice you make. It only tells me that you and you alone must choose." 

Derek soaked all of the confusing information in. "So I assume the family around the fire represents my past, and the lone wolf my present?" 

Stiles considered it before answering. "Not necessarily, it could mean the opposite. Remember your past card was air element like the wind above the lone wolf, and then your present was fire element. Also there's a raven in the corner above the family. Raven's represent many things across cultures. Absolute power in Nordic traditions due to their allegiance with Odin, they became a very prominent harbinger of death and murder in the victorian era, and in many cultures represent occult and the knowledge it holds." 

"So which is the bird in this case?" Derek asked. 

Stiles looked very somber for a moment before replying in a serious tone. "I've already given you the answer." Stiles dropped the mystic act and cocked a brow at him. "What part of your future is fucking elusive bro and I don't know didn't register with you." 

Derek's mouth gaped in shock. He banged the table and thrust out an open palm towards Stiles. "This is literally your job!" He looked towards Peter. "You're paying him to talk like this to you?!" 

Peter chuckled. "No, right now I'm paying him to talk like this to you."

Derek pulled both of his hands towards his face to cover them with a harsh slap. The moon card had fluttered over onto it's backside with the frenetic movement. 

Stiles quirked his lips at the card and squinted his eyes. He flipped it back over gently.

It was like a completely different card. The moon still hung prominent, but instead of a bright blue river it was stained red. Equally the wolf's previously crimson eyes had turned blue and instead of the pensive look the wolf's maw was lifted in what looked like a baleful howl. The wind was still in the trees. The family was nowhere in sight around the campfire which had turned to just embers. A crossbow bolt held the raven against a great oak tree as its blood seeped down the trunk. The blood trail lead to the river. Stiles didn't know if it was just harder to see the silver against the shiny blue water that was there before, but he hadn't seen the sword at the river bed before. A long curved blade rested at the bottom of the blood stained water taking all of the focus the moon had held before. 

Derek put his palms on the table to push himself up. His chair made an awful noise as it was pushed back. "I'm done with this. You had me for a second, but you lost me." 

Peter started to protest, but before he could get anything out Stiles' hand whipped out and grabbed one of Derek's wrists where it was pulling away from the table. Stiles spoke hoarsely. "Derek. Look at the card." 

Derek's eyes moved in-between Stiles' eyes and where he gripped his wrist. When he saw that he wasn't taking his hand off he huffed and contemplated prying off his fingers. For such a scrawny dude he had quite the grip. Derek bit the bullet and just looked down. He frowned at the changed card. 

Stiles removed his hand to move his past and future cards closer together. He pointed out the heart sword and then the one at the bottom of the river, the same sword. "Derek she's back." 

That seemed to rattle Derek, because the surprise when he looked back up to Stiles was plainly written on his face. Stiles' eyes had glossed over with a milky white moving haze. "She's coming and she will kill them. I sent you the bird. Don't be a featherbrain." 

If surprise was on his face before, now Derek's face showed utter shock. "How did you know that?!" 

Stiles' eyes slowly went from milkshake back to whiskey and with one final blink he was back in control with the moment. "Your mother. She used to call you that sometimes because when you were five you got really angry and called her a feather brain instead of bird brain. It was one of her favorite memories of you." Stiles smiled softly. "She was beautiful." 

Derek looked distrustful even still. "How did you-"

"Do that? Know that? I didn't. When you're as sensitive as I am to divination magic something as simple as telling someone's fortune can bring to life spirits around them that haven't passed on full or are pulled back."

Derek's face showed sorrow. "My mother hasn't passed on fully?" 

There was that pity written all over Stiles' face again. "You think you're the only one that pays the price for the pain you can't let go of? Mercy isn't earned Derek, otherwise your mother would be at rest, it's given. I can tell from not only your past card, but in everything you present to the world your grief defines you. It limits you. It confines you. It is the only thing that holds you here. It is your only anchor in an unsure world, one that holds you back rather than holds you down. The cards tell you you are doomed to repeat the cycle of grief and despair if you cannot let it go." 

Derek looked gutted hearing he'd been the cause of his mother's wakeful sleep. 

"It's not painful." Stiles lied. 

Derek looked at him fully disbelieving. 

Stiles sighed knowing he shouldn't have tried to lie to a werewolf. "Not physically. But if she can sense how lost her son has been without her it can be harmful. I've given her a sort of temporary rest for now." Stiles left out the part about how Peter had been using Talia's spirit for various side projects so he was familiar with putting her on ice. He got the sense this made Derek uncomfortable and he didn't know what to do with the various revelations he'd had. "Now that we've got all of that pesky disbelief out of the way let's get to the meat and potatoes. Why are you here?" 

Derek once again slumped into the chair, but this time with much less irritation and more acceptance. "Two of my pack- err friends are missing." 

Stiles rolled his eyes at the half cocked cover up. "You can say pack I know you're a werewolf. Also dude you just saw my eyes go into twenty seven year old shitzu mode, I think we're passed the me not knowing about the supernatural point." 

"Do you have to be such a smartass? They're not pack." 

"If you want a monotone no nonsense fortune get chinese food or I think the bowling alley might still have a Zoltar machine." Stiles saw the barest hint of a smile after that one and he couldn't help the way his stomach jumped. Stiles continued while trying to repress his glee, "How long ago did they go missing? What do you want to know? Where they are? Who took them? Are they alive?" 

"Two weeks. We got into a fight so I thought they were just cooling off." Derek looked guilty. "I should've known." 

Stiles reached out where Derek had his hand on the table. "I don't even always know, and it's literally my job." 

Derek pulled his hand back. "Yes. To your earlier question. I want to know all of them." 

Stiles shook his head. "You get one." 

Derek waved his hand dismissively. "Money is no object. I need to find them. They're my responsibility." 

Stiles looked regretful. "Amazing I am, all powerful? Sadly no. You get one, not I'm giving you one." 

Derek nodded understanding and then fell silent. He looked to Peter after a moment who seemingly understood his nonverbal request. 

"I'd ask if they were alive. No need looking for a dead racehorse." 

Derek gave Peter a less than thrilled look. While Stiles scoffed and replied, "Peter! That's so rude. Stop pretending to be heartless otherwise one of these days we'll believe you." He turned to Derek. "One question. Take your time." 

The gentle noises of his shop filled the silence as Derek looked deep in thought. Stiles patiently waited. Derek finally spoke, "I want to know where. Where are they, how do I get to them?" 

Stiles shook his head. "Where they are might not necessarily be how you get to them. That's two questions." 

Derek's fists balled and he caught the barest hint of fangs in his snarl. "How is that two! How will I get to them if I don't know where they are?!"

Stiles spent most of his day to day with the supernatural. He was used to supernatural beings asking him for help, used to being around them in desperate times. Although he had magic, it was divination based. More often than he'd like he was at the mercy of raging upset people with the ability to kill him only equipped with answers they came for but still didn't want to hear. Stiles recognized the wild look in Derek's eyes. The desperation, despair, and rage were there, but also an overwhelming guilt. Normally that cocktail had his eyes flashing white hours before so he knew to call Scott to help, but this time he felt something strange. His magic didn't warn him against, it almost thrummed him towards. 

In these situations Stiles had lost count of the times visions had saved his life. However, this flash of his eyes thrust him backwards instead of forward. 

He was in his father's backyard, but not how it is, how it was. Stiles took a step, but stopped to look down. He was barefoot. The warm soft summer grass tickled and pillowed his feet. It was almost dreamlike even though Stiles knew that wasn't how this worked, this was real. He heard a sharp shriek and looked back up towards the yard. 

A little brown haired boy screamed in joy as he ran towards something. His mother. 

Her bright beautiful smile was stretched wide with pure joy. She held her arms wide open from where she was sat on the delicate fluffy grass. It brought tears to his eyes. She was so beautiful. This moment was beautiful, however he knew what happened next. Not because of his abilities, but because he had lived it. 

He heard a growl and even as he tried to turn he only saw a flash of grey. He couldn't see it now, he hadn't seen it the first time. 

Stiles had long since killed the urge to try and call out or change things in his visions, but tears did sting his eyes at the ruined memory. It always hurt to see how much she had loved him before. Once again Stiles' childlike shriek sliced the air, but this time pain filled. The dog had crossed the yard faster than his mother could get up. His jaws sank into Stiles' chubby kid like calf and a sharp stinging had both sets of Stiles' now tear filled eyes looking down at their respective legs. His leg had the marks, blood, and pain but the dog was only attached to his younger self. 

Hearing his mother scream for his father he looked to where she now had them separated and the dog bit at her ankles. Fat tears ran from Stiles' eyes before he buried his pain stricken face into his mother's neck. 

Stiles knew what happened next. His father came barreling out, the owner ran up, his mother yelled, and his father calmed everyone down. He didn't need to see anything else, frankly he didn't remember anything else other than going to the hospital and crying. 

Yet he lingered. 

He saw his father collect information from the man with his hand on Claudia's back. He tuned out of their conversation to look back at her. She wore a look he'd seen many times, but never on his mother. She was terrified. Not of the now calmed dog, or what had just happened. He searched her face, but only came up with fear. 

His mother had always been an avid animal lover, but after this moment she had changed. Something about it had scarred her. He was never allowed to get a dog, not even allowed to bring it up. Why had this moment scared her so much? 

Realization struck him like a ton of bricks as his body exploded in pain. He felt pulled and thrashed as he was assaulted from all angles by phantom fangs. He shouted in pain as the blood ran from the dozens of bite marks menacing his body. He looked at his brutalized limbs and then back up. 

Gone was the scene in front of him. Only pitch black and grass remained along with his mother empty handed. She was staring right at him. She looked at all the blood but this time there was no yell or movement towards him. She had a blank face, she only tilted her head. 

Stiles had figured out why she had been so scared. That moment was the first time she hasn't divined something bad before it had happened to him. It was the first time her magic failed her. 

Stiles looked back to his wounds then to his apathetic mother. 

"Someone has to care Stiles. Tread lightly you know not what the devil will bring to your door if you invite him in." 

Stiles pushed down the frustration at how vague his vision had been as he was thrust back to the current moment. Not a second had passed, Derek was still as irritated as he has been. "I need to know where they are!"

The memory he had just experienced softened him in a way he never was with clients, much less new ones that hated him. He gently placed a hand on Derek's fist. 

"You feel responsible. We can't claim others blame for a harm that if within our power we would've prevented. Blame is a terrible mistress. The longer you blame yourself the more she gets away with. It makes you rash and impulsive. Your friends are not just lost or gone, they are guarded against you. An unsteady hand cannot unlock even with the right key." 

Derek looked taken aback and yet a shutter of calm rattled through his physicality. He took a breath. "I changed my mind. How do I get to them?"

Stiles once again shuffled the deck, but this time arranged five cards with a measured grace. He put the first four in a square formation and then filled the middle with the last card. They looked like the dots on the five face of a die spread out in front of Derek. Stiles flipped the first card in the top left corner of the square from Derek's point of view. 

The magician. Stiles frowned at the card. His tarot deck was magic in more ways than one. Mostly they were just a focus for his divination magic, but they changed to suit the person and what he was divining for them. Sometimes the pictures even moved, or like it had before, changed images mid reading. This had never happened before though. Normally when he pulled the magician card for someone else it looked either like a legendary witch or like his mystic persona. This was an image of him in his kitchen looking down into a mug of tea. The scene was very intimate and domestic. There were swirls of his magic that cleaned his kitchen and he was just in his Batman PJ bottoms. His hair was sleep ruffled. There would be no mistake. 

"It's me?" Stiles sounded puzzled. 

"Well yeah I assume you painted the deck. A bit pretentious to paint yourself. What does it mean?" Derek asked impatiently. 

"It means me." Stiles pushed out even though he still sounded so unsure. "Not just magic or magic user, this card means me."

Peter piped up, "Well that makes sense. We came here, you're the first step on his journey. Yada yada." 

Stiles shook his head filled with unease. "No this means me. Like me, me. Something I do or tell you, not the reading. The reading speaks for itself, and this is saying my name." 

Stiles moved to flip the next card but Derek put his hand over his. "Whoa whoa, what does it mean though? Do the thing like you did with the others." 

Stiles shook both his head and Derek's hand off of his own. "No. I don't know yet." Stiles felt an unease fill his stomach yet he flipped the next card. 

There was a little boy triumphantly holding two identical sticks up in the air in this card. His proud toothy smile was crowned by bright blonde curls and a cozy knit scarf sat snug around his neck. Behind him laid a crossroads. One long winding path lead to a home and the other back to the woods. 

Derek grabbed at the card hurriedly before showing Peter. "Look familiar?" An edge of worry was in his tone. "This looks like my friend Issac. What does that mean?"

Stiles shrugged. "Two of wands definitely pertains to your question, it's a card of where do I go next. Sometimes the deck draws on what is familiar to you, but it could be a warning. Since we asked such a pointed question I would caution just disregarding it wholly. Maybe bring him with to find your friends." 

Derek looked apprehensive. "I haven't talked to Issac in years. He's in France now." 

Stiles continued, "Maybe it's nothing. The message in this card could be for you. You stand at a crossroad between home and familiar and returning to the woods, the more wild side. Either way this card often has to do with the sadness and loss of having to give something up to pursue a goal or vision. It has to do with dominion over people and the power to control things, but in the same vein an indecision and hesitation." 

Stiles fingers floated over the middle card and went right for the bottom left. They danced for a moment there. "The first two cards were about preparation. What you did do to find them. This, this is how you find them. Where your journey leads." Stiles flipped the card. 

The card was a frenetic animated mess of roots and weaving waving branches. Leaves were fluttering and scattering haphazardly. It was just an ordinary windy forest except for eight thick trunks intricately carved with runic symbols. 

"Eight of wands, haste makes waste, but delay is in poor taste. Timing is everything. This card shows that you need to hurry, but poor planning is the fool's folly. Once you find your confidence to strike there can be no delay, but a fight with mind, body and spirit in tune is necessary as well. This card also can mean being smitten with love due to early depictions of the eight wands looking like cupid's flying arrows. Somehow I doubt that's happening here." Stiles looked up to Derek's face and he was still looking at the cards deep in thought. 

"Oh I don't know, we've got wolf and witch how far stretched is a baby with aim in this moment. After all, unlikely places." Peter teased. 

Stiles flipped the last corner card. 

Similarly to the last card Stiles spotted the runes right away this time and noted they were divining runes on both cards. This time they were carved into branches stuck into the ground like a palisade. All eight of them had the runes, but so did the walking stick the man leaned on. The branches cut off the man from his warring past, and even though there was more carnage ahead of him this was usually a hopeful card. He was bandaged and bleeding, but there was a glint of determination burning in his eyes. Eyes that looked straight at Stiles. 

He had pulled the card in reverse. 

Stiles sucked in a breath and tried to think. 

"Just say it." Derek cut in. 

"Yet another wand card. Wands are cards of action, fire, and decision. It's an urging card. You must do, experience, embody. You've also pulled a lot of cards related to journeys and hard decisions. This one though is usually a very positive card. In reverse it means triumph comes at a great cost if you insist on doing it before you're ready or alone. No warrior alone wins a war and no pain is lessened by feeling it in solitude. This card warns of losing this fight. Of losing what could be precious to you. Of the future you could lose." 

"These aren't helping me figure out where they are." 

Stiles shook his head. "You chose how to get to them." 

Derek huffed in annoyance. "Show me the last one."

Stiles flipped the last card. 

A clearing in the woods created space for the only thing of note in the card. A woman in a cloak with kind whiskey eyes and chestnut hair sat on the ground with an outstretched hand resting on a wolf skull. Small bluebell flowers grew from the eye sockets. 

Once again the overly personal nature of his card's portrayal caused him to pause. Stiles found his words, "This is the death card. Do not judge it. It doesn't represent death itself, it represents the transition to a new phase of life. It's a hard road with one final battle before... Something. I feel a culmination. An answer to the question you've spent a lifetime seeking. How do I get there is your question, but the cards wish to tell you a different answer. The cards say this road leads to pain and loss, but there are two sides of it. Two paths to take. Do you dwell and go back to the pain or do you forge ahead and choose a new beginning? Your choices and actions matter. You alone can choose the future or the past, but your choices have consequences for you and those around you." 

"How is this the way I get to them?" Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. "Unfortunately the cards are not call and answer. They're more ask and the mystical random dude you came to will maybe slightly point you the right way in the dark." 

Derek's annoyance spiked as his patience waned. 

"Hey look dude I gave you the way it's up to you to find it. That's what I got for you take it or leave it man." Stiles set the deck to the side but left the spread. 

Derek stared at all of the cards intensely. "What if I don't figure out what they mean?" 

Peter piped up, "You already know what they mean." 

Stiles pointed a finger over to Peter. "Ding ding. Bingo. Someone's been paying attention on his visits. You win a prize tall, dark, and creepy uncle."

"Is it more time with you, because I already pay your rate for what I want. Well, what I can get from this shop." Peter winked at him. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Your prize is don't get coffee tomorrow morning." 

Peter squinted his eyes. "Noted." 

Stiles turned back to Derek. "Follow your gut. Listen to the cards. Oh also for the love of Weiner dogs, have a plan. But definitely act! Don't wait too long. Oh and unless you..." Stiles trailed off after he realized he wasn't helping. 

Derek stabbed a finger into the cards. "These mean fuck all!" 

"Focus. This isn't where they are. You didn't ask that. This is how you'll get there, the journey. Look at the cards, really look. Not for what you see, but what they could be telling you. We have multiple senses, but our most powerful is our inner sense. What pulls you, what draws your eye." 

"The woods. They seem familiar." 

Stiles nodded. "Good. Familiar how? Have you been there before? Do they feel like home?"

Derek tilted his head. "Like I've been there before." He tapped on the card with the curly haired boy. "Okay say Issac has something to do with this, why is he a kid though?" 

"Did you meet him as a young boy?" Stiles asked. 

Derek shook his head. "I met him about five years ago when he was sixteen. His dad was... Not the best. He needed a safe place and I could help him." 

Stiles studied him as he spoke. "That's not the only reason. I can tell you're a good person, but I can also tell there was something about this boy. Just now you looked sad for him, but not in a sympathetic way. You looked genuinely empathetic. I won't ask what or who, but I just ask that you consider this with an open mind. Maybe he represents something childlike in you. A time you had been lead astray from your path, taken advantage of. A time you needed protection." Stiles could tell from the steely jaw and hard eyes he had made a correct assessment. "Don't linger on those moments, but unfortunately I think something about that situation will point you in the right direction."

Derek gave a curt nod and cleared his throat. "Can I take a picture of these?"

"Of course." 

Peter and Derek both stood up. "We've taken enough of your magnificent time." Peter mocked a bow. 

"Always a pleasure Mr. Hale." Stiles bowed his head back. 

"Um, thanks." Derek stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. "Oh, how do I pay you?" 

"Your second born and a year's subscription to divination doodads magazine." Stiles said.

"Funny." Derek said with a deadpan tone. 

"I know I am, it's my best quality. Dude you just pay me like anyone else credit, debit, cash, I even take Paypal." 

"Debit is fine." Derek took out his wallet as Stiles stepped behind the counter. He punched a few things and Derek swiped his card. Before putting it back he hesitated before speaking,  "You really don't feel bad about this? Charging people to help them?" 

Stiles shrugged. "I gotta eat. Do you feel bad asking poor suckers betting their mortgage payment, black or red?" 

"Yes." Derek confessed. 

"Then of the two of us the one out of balance with their life isn't me. Would you like your receipt?" 

A laugh shocked him as it made it's way out. Derek agreed. "Maybe you're right. No thanks."

"I hope you find them." Stiles said earnestly. 

"Don't you already know?" Derek asked walking to the door. 

"Not how it works. But I do have a feeling you will." Derek seemed the determined type to Stiles. 

"Do I have to pay extra for feelings?" Derek's hand rested on the doorknob, but he waited for Stiles' reply. 

"Nah, I'll give those to you on the house." Stiles smirked at him. 

Derek heard the bell chime and wondered if Stiles had enchanted it. Things long dormant in him fluttered to the surface as he left. 

He would find his friends. Maybe afterwards he could come back to the shop to thank Stiles for his help. Maybe. 

***

Stiles juggled some of the grocery bags to the other hand to knock. It was a long day, a taxing one with the Hale's visit. He was glad it was over. It had been strange having such a personal vision in the middle of a reading. It had thrown off the rest of his day till he decided to close up early and hit the grocery store. Seeing his mom's face filled with such joy had been like a balm on a wound long closed. It didn't heal anything, but it helped the scar stretch. He missed her so much he wished he could revisit that moment when he wanted to, but it was a vision not a mercy. 

The door finally opened and the dagger struck his heart like it always did. A woman with warm whiskey eyes and chestnut hair opened the door surprised. "Stiles, what are you doing here?" 

Stiles took a deep breath in for when his throat inevitability caught. "Hey Ms. Gajos." 

She smiled. "I told you, you can call me Claudia." 

Stiles forced a smile and pushed on. "I really can't, you know that." 

She took some of the bags from him. "Ever the respectful young man. The sheriff sure raised you right. And I told you you don't have to keep bringing me groceries. You and your father have been like mother hens since I fell doing the gutters. It wasn't even that bad and it was months ago." Claudia gestured wildly as she spoke. 

Stiles turned away from her and placed them on the counter. "My mother did a really good job too." Stiles' eyes went glossy but he willed down his emotions. 

He turned back after a moment and she looked lost in thought. "Right of course I'm sure." She looked around confused. "Were we having dinner? You brought over stuff for meatloaf? Are we having meatloaf?" 

Stiles pulled himself together. "No Ms. Gajos. I should go. I'm sorry." Stiles felt the familiar spiral of pain, indulgence, and then finally guilt. 

She looked so upset. "No no, you can stay. I just can't remember. I can't remember something?" She looked at him with lost pleading eyes. "Are we supposed to eat together? Just let me remember what I-what I... Stiles I'm forgetting." 

Stiles started to panic. He grabbed her glasses. "Here. Calm down Ms. Gajos. You're just forgetting your glasses." He held them out hoping he hadn't sent his mom into a spiral. 

Her face got wiped of concern and panic and she smiled. "You're such a sweet boy. You better head home. How silly of me and I'm not even sixty yet. Forgetting my glasses what an old lady thing. I thought I'd be all old and wrinkly and covered in baby powder by that time you know." She snorted. 

"No you're not old. Everybody forgets little things every now and again." He reasoned. 

She turned and cupped his cheek and smiled. "It's good I have a little mischief maker like you around to help me remember." 

"Yeah." His voice croaked. "Bye." He turned and walked to the door without looking back. 

"Drive safe. That jeep is a death trap!" 

Stiles only waved behind. 

He made it to the jeep and threw it into reverse as the tears fell. Seeing her was always hard, but today he'd pushed too much. He wished he could stop visiting, it only upset her. But how do you greive someone who's still there? Neither of them could let her go. The town and doctors thought it was just a bad case of amnesia, but his dad and him both knew. They knew this was a curse. A nasty one, one that Stiles had been trying to figure out for over a decade. 

The curse had made her forget, but the real curse was that they remembered. Knowing didn't make it easier, in fact he so often wished he was the one that forgot. But that wouldn't piece their family together. 

He couldn't help that right now. He could pour over tomes like he did every night, but right now his mind pulled to Derek. That was a unique reading. He didn't feel as in control as he normally did. He wasn't guiding Derek though the cards, the cards guided both of them. Thinking about the strange gruff man brought a smile to his face. He had liked him a lot more than he expected. Derek was as unique as his tarot cards were. Something about him was magnetic and repelling in equal measures. Although he was pretty sure he was rude on purpose. 

Tomorrow was a new day. He could worry about curses and cute boys when he wasn't so exhausted. 

[selfish-thunder]

I’ve got another idea.

Okay, so I love those fics that have Harry trying to use his Parselmouth on either (or both) the basilisk and the dragon in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, with varying degrees of success. And a lot of the time, talking to the dragon kinda works, right? Like, it’s not direct communication, more like two people who are just above beginner’s level in learning the other’s language, and both languages are derivative of another one, so even if they don’t fully understand they can kinda piece together what the other is saying?

So, let’s say it’s like that. And of course, dragons aren’t born like squishy humans who take forever to learn to even roll over; they immediately start walking, flapping their wings, and hiccupping sparks, right?

AU

FIRST YEAR Harry, of course, doesn’t realize yet that he’s a Parselmouth–he doesn’t even know what Parseltongue is and just assumed being able to talk to that snake in the zoo was just a wizard thing.

So, they’re in Hagrid’s hut, Norbert(a) is born, and Harry hears something that sounds an awful lot like, “Food? Hungry? Momma?” or whatever a newborn dragon would try to communicate.

Harry tries to tell Hagrid he thinks the dragon is hungry, he might want to feed it, but the others are confused because it sounds to them like Harry is hiss-cooing or something to the dragon. (Hagrid thinks it’s adorable.) But anyway, however it comes about, it becomes obvious in the time between the dragon being born and Charlie’s friends coming to get them, that Harry can, in fact, understand the dragon and speak to it.

It’s not perfect, but he’s able to communicate to the dragon not to set something on fire or that they need to try to eat the rats as they’re being weaned off the whiskey/blood mix thing. No one thinks it’s a perk of Parseltongue because hello, he’s talking to a dragon, and isn’t this incredible? It must be some kind of ancient inheritance thing.

So, when they write to Charlie, they naturally have to ask him if he’s ever heard anything like that, so instead of just coming to collect the dragon, Charlie comes, too, and they witness this incredible thing. (So does Draco, in the shadows, of course.)

Charlie is super excited and reaches out to every expert he can, and he convinces McG to let him bring Harry out to a dragon range to be evaluated, and they try to keep this new, rare ability under wraps, but some of the assessors blab, and Draco wrote to complain to his father who goes on his own investigation, etc. At any rate, it becomes A Thing.

While Dumbledore steps in to ensure Harry goes back to the Dursleys, the obsessed dragon crowd refuse to be refused outright and secures Harry a camp-like thing at a dragon resort (because they think it’s clearly Harry’s destiny to become, like, the Ultimate Dragon Trainer, and Harry thinks dragons are cool and likes the sound of getting away from the Dursleys for a few weeks).

Their letters don’t get through that summer, though, and Charlie hears from his brothers that they haven’t heard from Harry either, so it’s Charlie who goes to check on him and finds him locked up with bars on his windows. Unlike Ron, Fred, and Geroge, Charlie is a grown-ass adult with his own connections now, which go beyond Dumbledore’ reach because the wealthy dragon resort that’s so interested in Harry is in a goddamn different country with a whole different magical government, and also, ain’t nobody wants to get on the bad side of a self-sufficient DRAGON RESORT that has a ton of dragons that aren’t just roaming their countryside thanks to them.

So, a new arrangement is made. Harry will return to the Dursleys, under strict Romania supervision (I imagine it's some seasoned, scary-looking dragon tamer who demands to stay in the house with them, taking over the guest room, like… ahhhh chef’s kiss) just long enough to satisfy the protection spell, but for the rest of the summer, Harry stays at the resort. Charlie becomes his unofficial guardian, kinda, and: enter, a bunch of OC dragon tamers who are awesome and very protective of their little dragon-speaker.

Second year goes a little differently. First there’s Draco, who hates Harry more than ever over this, but while he knows he’ll never get a dragon-in with the Weasleys, there’s still a slight chance with Harry (and goddamnit, dragons are his NAME’S SAKE, if anyone deserves free access to any dragon they want, it’s HIM), so he tries to become less of a bother. Harry’s still outed talking a different language during duel club, and some people are still suspicious, but most people know about his dragon-ability and wrongly assume the opposite of what it actually is (ie, he can kinda talk to snakes because he can talk to dragons), and Harry only tells Ron and Hermione that the snake was actually a lot easier to understand.

Go to next summer, when his new dragon-tamer-family learn about the events of second year, they firstly, throw a fit because they should have been informed their charge was in danger, and secondly, go and collect the basilisk because like hell are they going to let something like that just rot somewhere. So, figuring out how to destroy Horcruxes later becomes, like, SUPER easy and accessible.

Charlie’s the one who tells Harry about Sirius Black when he escapes, and he straight up tells Harry everything, about Black being his godfather and betraying his parents, all of it, so Harry goes into third year fully informed. He, of course, does not see the grim that summer. But he doesn't spent the year an emotional wreck, just getting a little bit of the info at a time, do with that as you will.

Harry arrives to school with a signed permission slip for Hogsmeade, and even though McGonagall still wants to refuse him because of Black, members of his dragon-tamer family just happen to be in the area for that year for ‘business’ or whatever (aka, protect Harry because ain't nobody said shit to them last year) and escort him to Hogsmeade anyway.

(“With all due respect, Professor, I once had a Peruvian Vipertooth grab my leg and toss me over a hill, and I still got back up and got the collar on her. You think Black scares me?”)

Most of their patronuses are dragons, except for one tamer whose patronus is a chipmunk, and funnily enough, it’s the most powerful patronus of all of them.

Draco doesn’t insult Buckbeak because he wants to prove to the tamers and probably Potter that he can, in fact, handle himself with larger magical creatures. He becomes Hagrid's best, most dedicated student.

I mean, COME ON,  imagine how the whole series can go differently.

Maybe the tamers get hilariously invested in the Scabbers/Crookshanks feud. It's the tamers, maybe, that figure out Scabbers fucking Pettigrew.

Different dragons have to be imported for the first task because Romania would be too biased - or they change the first task altogether because Harry's a known dragon-speaker.

They would DESTROY Umbridge.

Death Eaters vs Dragon Tamers. Dragon Tamers in the Order. Sirius lives because a Tamer was there in the Department of Mysteries to save him. Sirius not going out of his mind being stuck at Grimmauld because he can go to the resort where no one outside the Order recognizes him/cares.

Draco not becoming a Death Eater because he wants to become a Dragon Tamer.

DRAGONS AT THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS. USING THE GRINGOTTS DRAGON INSTEAD OF GRIPHOOK TO BREAK INTO (AND OUT OF) GRINGOTTS.

THE POSSIBILITIES

[bloodyinkandquill]

Darkheart x Reader who can use magic

so sorry for how late this is i’m just swarmed by real life stuff, and apologies if this is short i don’t have many ideas!

- While having a gear that allows you to practice magic wasn’t unheard of, it was still very rare, and highly sought after by all of the factions for those powers

- So while on the run from your faction, you hated being used and seen only for what you can do for your powers, in a desperate attempt you casted a gliding spell on yourself and glided down under the bridge connecting the faction you were born into, to crossroads, after landing on a section of the bridge hunched over catching your breath, you had been running for what felt like hours, and magic also was so draining, you heard a noise and your head instantly shot up ready for a fight body instinctually getting into position

- Instead right in front of you was one of the swords, Darkheart, fishing as he looked at you incredibly confused, immediately your hands flew up out of the fists they were in a minute ago as you panicked internally babbling out apologies and you didn’t realize he was there etc

- He just chuckled and patted the spot next to him asking if you wanted to fish with him, incredibly confused you agreed, believing your faction wouldn’t find you down there, from there he began some friendly chatter, his way of speaking was odd but you didn’t comment on it, he asked how you got down there, you appeared to fly but you didn’t have wings, you told him your gear allowed for you to use magic and you had used a levitation spell, he seemed surprised and asked what else you could do

- Before you had realized the sun was setting as you two got to know each other showing each other your magic, his was more curse oriented but not necessarily all curses, yours was more practical, telepathy, teleport, transfiguration, levitation, etc, he was fascinating by your powers, and you, you explained your situation, why you were running from your faction and the awful treatment you received there

- He seemed saddened by what you were experiencing and said you could hang out here anytime, virtually no one knew of the existence of this area and it was rather hard to get to unless you could fly or teleport, you were thankful and he opened the door showing a room, sparsely furnished with a couch and lots of fishing gear, he said you could stay in there if you wanted, again you were extremely greatly

- After that day you two begun to hang out at Darkheart’s secret ledge commonly, he would wish and you would practice your magical abilities, in your faction you had a set expectation for what they wanted your magic to do and focus on, so exploring what you wanted with it was amazing, he’d laugh at your excitement over small spells and show you any fish he caught, even if he didn’t show up for days at a time you’d spend hours on that little space, waiting for him and experimenting with your powers

- One day as you were doing so you thought if love spells were actually possible, you got confused by that thought, why were you thinking about love? oh no, oh no, oh no

- You sat there for a while thinking about how you had fallen in love with a god, few days later when you saw him again you said fuck it and just decided to tell him you had caught feelings, what did you have to loose? He didn’t seem the type to go back on his word of letting you stay at his fishing spot, he seemed shocked but said he would be lying if he didn’t feel the same

- From there you felt a bit more confident to go other places, especially with him, dating a god definitely had it perks, he began teaching you the magic he knew, how to curse and bewitch others, you’d practice on people from your faction, those who had used and hurt you for their own gain, you’d laugh with glee and malice as his own smile widened, curses were more difficult than the magic you were used to practicing but when you got them right Darkheart would snake an arm around your side and hold you close telling you good job

- If people from your faction attempt to capture you, or harm you, or whatever, and he’s nearby, they are dead, he leaves one alive if it’s a group to go warn the faction that he will not have any of that towards you, you feel so safe with him and much more free especially to use and experiment with your magic, it’s fun hopping around with a jump boost, gliding down from tall buildings, levitating people from the shadows and laughing at their panic, cursing those who wronged you, it made you feel so free and like your past is behind you

more story-ish but oh well, i’ve got somewhere to be soon but i’m going to try and do the slingshot one done before i leave

[hellish-sunsets]

Curses and Blessings - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 9

Summary:

He also just really wanted to know more about her in general. Just to see if these… ‘feelings’ he had bubbling up were put into something good or if it was going to come back and fuck him up.

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant like Angel Dust had been, but he could see the flicker of her eyes and the tension in her body as she sat up a bit straighter. 

“I killed a guy once, that’s probably the big one.”

Warnings: talk of past abuse, sexual assault and murder

Read on AO3

Word Count: 2,447

Taglist:

@cherry-4200 @adaizel @kyo-kyo1 @elleofdragons @snoozewritezz @avadakadabra93

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

He promised he would visit, so he did. 

He wasn’t entirely sure this was going to go well. Sure, he and Charlie had managed to end on good terms last time he was there, but he wasn’t entirely sure that meant he could just waltz in whenever he wanted. He made sure to take several calming breaths before walking through his portal into the hotel lobby.

“Dad!” 

Charlie’s voice was the first thing he heard and her arms enveloping him was the first thing he felt. A smile spread over his face, all anxiety gone like a puff of smoke as he hugged her back.

“Hey, Char-char! How’s my girl doing?”

She pulled away first and as much as he wanted to keep her close he let her go, smiling up at her.

“I’m hanging in there… just nervous about the extermination.” There was a frown on her face, eyes downturned, but it was only for a moment before she was giving that bright smile of hers. “That’s not important right now, I’m just so glad you came to visit! Come on, we were just about to start one of our sessions!”

He lets her lead him to where a few couches were, the few residents of the hotel lounging about. The pink one, Angel Gust or something like that, looked wholly uninterested, scrolling through his phone. The snake watched him approached with wide, nervous eyes that shifted between him and any other random thing so as not to stare. And then there was Y/N, giving him a small smile and wave. He responded with a lopsided grin of his own, giving a small wave back as he sat next to Charlie on her couch. He took a deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart. 

“Look who’s here, everyone! You don’t mind if Dad sits in on this session, do you? We may get a bit more… personal this time around.”

Gabel Dust shrugged and the snake quickly voiced how he didn’t mind, but Y/N didn’t respond. He may have been wrong, but seemed like the slight shift of her eyes meant she was nervous or unhappy.

“Great! Now, today, we’re going to work on being open with each other and identifying our, uh, problems. Let’s start by going around and saying why we you think you ended up in hell. Who wants to go first?”

Angel Dust, he was sure that was the correct name, raised a brow at Charlie. 

“Getting right to the heart of the issue or whatever, aintcha doll?” He gave a half shrug. “I guess I'll go first. You can probably already guess. I was just as much of a whore and and an addict in life.”

Charlie turned her eyes to the serpent fellow, who in turn became more anxious at the added attention.

“Ah, yes, my turn, umm… I did hurt a lot of people testing my inventions… I didn't really care at the time if they got hurt or not…”

Charlie gave him a reassuring nod and he seemed to relax some. Then she turned her attention to Y/N and Lucifer perked up. He was admittedly curious why she was even down here. He knew he had certain… prejudices against sinners, prejudices he had only recently started facing, but she wasn’t like that. She wasn’t the most outwardly friendly, perhaps a bit shy, but she was kind and polite, she didn’t have any addictions or unsavory behavior from what he could tell. 

He also just really wanted to know more about her in general. Just to see if these… ‘feelings’ he had bubbling up were put into something good or if it was going to come back and fuck him up.

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant like Angel Dust had been, but he could see the flicker of her eyes and the tension in her body as she sat up a bit straighter. 

“I killed a guy once, that’s probably the big one.”

He furrowed his brows. He wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but that was certainly not it. Angel gave a shout of surprise and the serpent stared at her with wide eyes. 

“Wait, seriously? Ya gotta tell us the story!” Angel said, actually putting his phone down. She got more tense, but before he could speak up and let her know she didn’t have to, she was already speaking. 

“It’s not much of a story, Angel. After my mom and dad got divorced, she tended to date huge fucking creeps. One day when I was, like, twelve, my mom was out so her latest boyfriend was babysitting me, Jared. He tried to sexually assault me, had a knife and stuff, so I fought back, cause obviously. I ended up stabbing him and was able to run away and call the cops. I stayed outside, hoping he wouldn’t chase me out where there were people. By the time the police got there he was already dead. Ended up in jail for a while after that. Well, I was twelve, so juvie really. That bitch who called herself my mother took that dickhead’s side, so I disowned her pretty hard when I got out at, what was it, 22 I think? Best five years of my life, after I got out.”

She sunk in a bit when she noticed how everyone stared. Lucifer offered an encouraging smile, a bit lopsided and perhaps uncertain. She did seem to ease a bit. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…” Charlie started but she waved her off with a scowl twisting her lips.

“I don’t need pity, thank you. Let’s just move on.” She curled up on the couch with a frown, tugging at her sleeve. Angel chuckled.

“Ain't no pity over here, doll. Now I know you've been a badass bitch since ya were a kid. You have my respect.”

“Oh, ah, thanks Angel.” She blushed at his compliment, fighting to keep her smile down. She looked so pretty blushing like that, even if he wasn't the one to make her blush. He would have to make up for it later… somehow…

The questions and sharing continued. Angel did his best to keep things light, making sure it wasn't too serious. The serpent remained anxious, and based on how his eyes constantly shifted to himself it was a safe guess the anxiety was caused by his presence.

Y/N answered simply, straight to the point. He hung off of every word.  He wanted to know everything about her. 

He learned of her troubled childhood. Other than… the incident, she did suffer from neglect and emotional abuse. She stared at her hands as she described how her father would often berate and belittle her, picking at the already barely present nails. 

“He always told me not to be a burden.” She all but mumbled. “I tried not to. I did everything. I cleaned, I cooked, I worked, but it never was enough for him. And I think that's definitely something that’s stuck with me. I need to be sure I’m, like, being useful, that I’m not a burden.”

Angel Dust nodded in understanding as she spoke.

“Yeah, I had a shit Dad too.” He started, leaning back in the couch. Lucifer almost immediately lost interest as the spider thing went on about a mob family and being disowned and whatnot. But she was a better person, her attention fully on him. Her hair was up today, stray curls framing her face, giving her face a soft curve to it. Even when she wasn’t trying she was beautiful.

Shit, he was probably being creepy. He should stop staring before someone noticed. He somehow managed to tear his eyes away from her and to the Angel Dust fellow, gabbing away about abandonment issues to the nodding of the others.

“I just… it feels like I've been a disappointment to everyone I'm close to. I think my best hope is that my match will love me regardless, but…” Angel cringed at himself and shrugged.

There was a heavy pause.

“I… I don't think my soulmate will like me.” The serpent decided to speak up, wringing his hands. “I know who she is, but I haven't told her yet… I'm worried she'll reject me, even if we are matches.” There was a murmur of understanding from the gathered group.

Lucifer felt like his heart was beating a mile a minute as everyone turned to Y/N again. Her brow was furrowed slightly, head tilted to the side and fingers picking at her nails. 

“I… I'm not sure I'd want to meet my soulmate.” She admitted in a small voice, wavering only enough for him to notice. “It's like… I'm too broken right now, I'd just… be a burden. It always does come back to that…” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip as she frowned. “Like, your match is supposed to be this perfect person for you, but I'm worried I would just bring them down.”

Lucifer frowned despite trying not to react. Luckily Angel took everyone's attention when he responded. The only one who noticed was Charlie, based on how she grabbed his hand and squeezed reassuringly. It helped his mind from wandering, having that anchor to focus on. 

“And I get that.” Angel said, leaning forward a bit. “But isn't it, like, your match is supposed to work so well with you that you two make eachother better just by being together or something?”

“That is why these matches started.” Lucifer confirmed. “As this… form of betterment. The marks are supposed to show which two people will naturally improve each other the most.”

“See, the big man himself confirms!” Angel said, crossing one pair of arms and leaning back in his chair. “Honestly, it's just my opinion, take it for what it's worth, but I think once you meet them, you should just…” He shrugged. “I don't know, accept them? Hang out? Be open to a relationship, with all the bumps and curves that come with it.”

“That's some pretty solid advice!” Charlie said with a smile, almost bouncing with giddiness. “Relationships can be complicated, and trusting a stranger, match or not, can be hard, but it's always worth at least trying.”

At least she had stopped picking at her nails as she thought their words over. She glanced his way and it felt like his heart stopped. He offered her a reassuring smile and nodded, earning him the smallest smile in return. 

“Maybe. I'll think about it. Hopefully it'll be easier to make that decision when I do meet them.”

There was a collection of nods and noises of agreement, but the serpent was giving Lucifer a look, eyes narrowing almost comically as he thought, tail coming up to his chest like one would do with their knees. He frowned at him, giving him his best ‘what's up’ look he could manage. Y/N glanced between the two with a confused look of her own, or perhaps bafflement.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” She asks, and yeah, that was definitely bafflement. And now Angel and Charlie were paying attention, looking just as confused. Lucifer couldn't stop the chuckle that slipped past his lips.

“He was giving me a look.” He said, motioning to that serpent fellow. He stared back with wide eyes, alarmed. Everyone's eyes shifted to him. He glanced around nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “Did you have a question?” He asked with a wide, only slightly unnerving smile, crossing his legs. 

“Uh, yes, well, you see, I was, uh, just wondering… well, I know everyone else has a mark, but… do you have one?”

Everyone's eyes shifted to Lucifer now. He managed to keep that smile plastered on his face. It felt like Y/N's eyes were boring into the side of his face.

His first reaction was to say no. He wore the gloves for a reason after all, the last thing he wanted was to talk about it. Besides, this session was for the sinners to talk things through and open up, not himself.

But… Well, it seemed a bit unfair. He knew more about Y/N than she knew about him. Perhaps it would do both of them good if he did share something, and this was a pretty good opportunity for that.

“Yes.” He finally says, and there was a burst of noise. The serpent shouted about how he knew it, Angel wouldn't stop shouting wait, and she just let out a bark of laughter. Charlie was smiling, like she was proud he had said anything. He just shrugged at her, leaning back on the couch until everyone else calmed down. Angel won out as far as who would ask the first question.

“Wait, wait, was it Lillith?”

Y/N’ eyebrows shot up, looking back at him. Her eyes glanced between his hand where his ring still sat, glinting in the dim light, and his face. He covered it almost instinctively and nodded as answer to her unspoken  question.

“... no, it wasn't Lillith.”

“Then who?!” Angel almost shouted. Charlie stiffened next to him, but he managed to stay calm and collected pretty well, offering a warm smile to hide the anxiety. 

“Even if I did know, I would rather not say. I'm not against starting a relationship with, uh, them, but I'm still… adjusting.” Charlie squeezed his hand again. He had almost forgotten she was holding it. His smile softened even more at the show of affection from his daughter. “I'll be ready soon, I think. It's just… it's a big step for me.”

There were several nods of understanding as he relaxed. He could feel the tension slipping away from his shoulders. It was like admitting to even that small thought lifted one weight of many off his shoulders. 

Maybe he should talk about these… thoughts more. 

The session ended after that, everyone heading their separate ways. He was heading out with Charlie who wanted to go over their preparations for the attack, but he stopped when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned, eyes meeting Y/N's. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel the apples of his cheeks feeling hot.

“Hey, um…” She paused, looking a bit awkward and uncomfortable but determined, like she needed to say this for both their sakes. “Maybe… I promise to open up to my match when I find them if you do the same? We can, like… hold each other accountable.”

He swallowed hard and nodded before he could think over the weight of her words properly. Even when he did, a crooked smile broke out over his face.

“Yeah, deal.”

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Dark Glasses - Crowley x Reader (Platonic)

Sooooo, Nanowrimo was a bust, but you know what that means?

We're back with the fanfiction train! Choo Choo!

also reminder that requests are open! (just check out my guidelines first)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summery: Friends support friends even when your friend is actually a demon but especially when your demon friend just got shot down by his long time angel crush.

The same man has been coming to your bar since you started working there five years ago. The other bartenders told you he's been around since you opened 20 years ago, he never gives his name and comes in with dark glasses no matter what time of day it is or whether the sun is out or not. Although unlike most regulars he doesn't have a specific drink he always orders. Sometimes it’s a rum and coke, sometimes he goes for a more classy bottle of wine, sometimes he'll even order a straight shot of liquor but he always tips well. 

You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair. 

Instead you called him dark glasses.

Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking. 

Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him. 

"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows. 

“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said. 

As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying. 

You walked over to him and handed him the drink. 

"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go. 

"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.

You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned. 

"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled. 

"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said. 

"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no. 

After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk. 

Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling. 

"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.

"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word. 

"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes. 

"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar. 

He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone. 

"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated. 

"Can't," He said. 

"What do you mean can't?" You asked. 

He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants. 

"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?

"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head. 

"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.

"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down. 

"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help. 

"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled. 

"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping. 

A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.

"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked. 

"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.

"My car?" He asked. 

"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked. 

"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities. 

"I don't like this car" He complained. 

"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.

"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred. 

"You're never this mopey" You retorted. 

"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off. 

"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded. 

"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there. 

You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled. 

"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled. 

"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch. 

"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused. 

"Who?" You asked. 

“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.

"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged. 

"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup. 

"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table. 

"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself. 

Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale. 

But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way. 

The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting. 

"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest. 

She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily. 

Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved. 

"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.

"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known. 

"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.

He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. 

"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said. 

"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes. 

"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet. 

"Oh you have no idea" He said. 

At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.  

"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked. 

"Never" He said. 

"I don't think I believe you" You said. 

“Well it’s the truth” He said. 

“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.

“Glasses?” He asked. 

“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”

“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way” 

“That’s quite the original name” You said.

“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.

“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked. 

“You wanna know a secret?” He asked. 

You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked. 

He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said. 

“Then, yeah I guess”

“I’m a demon” He said. 

You chuckled.

He didn’t laugh. 

“No”

“Yes”

“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.

“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again. 

“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back. 

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”

…

“How come it didn’t?” You asked. 

“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.

“We?” You asked. 

“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling. 

“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.

“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“He didn’t die.” Crowley said. 

You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief. 

“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining. 

“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.

“Not after he said he forgave me” He said. 

“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully. 

Oh.

“I’ll go get us both some wine” You said.