#so consider this me shouting into the void lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

archived-kin · 4 years ago

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solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts.

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You��ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.”

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all.

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #swd solomon #swd mammon #swd simeon #solomon x reader #reader insert #male reader #fluff #domestic sorcerer husbands #planning on turning this into a series if i can haha

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kingsragesqueal · 2 years ago

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d//nt r/3bl0g //

like i consider myself a full fledged lesbiab and also a full fledged woman (NOT bc i have a vagina, that's not what makes me or anyone else a woman) but also,,, i'm not always a woman?? or at least not /only/ a woman. t3//rfs would probably think that that means i don't think being a woman is "good enough" or that it's internalized misogyny but it's literally not lmao even when i'm feeling agender or just genderqueer i'm still proud to be a woman even if i'm not 100% a Woman at that exact moment. womanhood is good and should be celebrated but so is whatever the hell gender fuckery goes on when i'm feeling like my gender is a giant black mass of goo or that i'm not interested in male or female i just want to be a Creature that's good and should be celebrated and normalized too!!

this isn't a discour/se post btw this is just me shouting into the void bc i just ate lunch and i'm all happy and Gender is weird but funny ~

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aslitheryprinx · 3 years ago

Note

These are from song titles, but I think these are poggers (I hope, at least)

* And there was life inside "it"

* Can it really be called "Cinderella" ?

* Love inside an empty box

* World is full of wonders (Or "Full of wonders!!!!")

* Near

* Angel's clover

Don't worry anon, they are most definitely poggers! (Both of my current ao3 published works have names based on song lyrics, so that really fits my vibe haha.)

There are so many good prompts here! I couldn't help but write like.... A lot lmao.

CW: dehumanization, themes of child abuse, themes of death. Be safe!

____

And there was life inside "it"

They called it RNB-00. It was the first in a generation of experimental life production using DNA from one of the most volatile creatures in the worlds: endermen. There were no endermen hybrids. The children could not survive, and the birth was volatile, tearing the parents and anyone near them apart with the violent magic.

They would perform the experiment anyways.

An unfinished human embryo, carefully extracted from someone who would be written in the paperwork as a volunteer. An enderpearl, freshly taken from a creature they didn't consider "human" enough to need even dubious content. DNA, taken directly from the brain of the enderman.

They spliced together the three ingredients, cheering when the chimera of enderman and embryo inside its tubes showed signs of life.

But some things are not meant to be done.

Nature is not meant to be tampered with.

The experiment turned south quickly. The specimen convulsed in its tube, growing at a rapid rate. Vibrant purple magic lashed out, dancing through the lab with a vengeance. There were the cries of a newborn mixed with the shrieks of an enderman- then, an explosion.

RNB-00 fell to the ground, the magic pulsing from it too bright to be looked at by the naked eye. A second explosion rocked the lab, this time all-encompassing and final. The building turned to ash and dust and settled around a new crater.

There would never be a RNB-01.

A shape rose from the center of the crater. It was a child from one angle, maybe two or three, with pure white hair, scarred cheeks, and a red eye.

From the other angle, it was a monster. Something not quite enderman or human. Jet black hair, and velvety black fur covered the left half of it. It's eye glowed an unnatural green, not the color of humans or endermen.

It toddled slowly away from the epicenter of the explosion, no memory of what had happened. As it walked, it noticed a mark, a brand, on it's right arm: RNB-00. The child stared, and blinked at the word.

And he named himself Ranboo.

Can it really be called "Cinderella"?

When Tubbo was young, he saw Cinderella, once. Even with how young he was, the story resonated with him. He wished all his stepfather did was give him chores, but he knew exactly how it felt to be unloved, unwanted, forced to stay on the sidelines. He just hoped his fairy godmother would come soon.

When he was a little older, he looked back on the story of Cinderella with nothing but bitterness. He was old enough now that he knew fairy tales didn't happen. There was no "fairy godmother" coming to save him; there never had been, there never would be. All he had was himself and his shitty situation. He wanted to forget the story that had given him such a bittersweet lie, but it was burned into his memory.

As he reached his teens, the anger turned into weariness. It wasn't Cinderella's fault his stepfather was a piece of shit. It wasn't the character's fault that she had help to break free while he didn't. And how miserable he was wasn't Tubbo's fault either, no matter how much his stepfather screamed it.

When he was 16, feeling ancient yet younger than he had ever been, he stopped comparing himself to Cinderella. Cinderella hadn't stood over her stepparent's body with a bat. Cinderella hadn't called the police on herself, showing them what she'd done and then the reason why, covering his skin beneath his clothes. Cinderella had been freed, but she hadn't paid such a heavy price for that freedom.

Tubbo had. Tubbo was far from a Cinderella story.

Love inside an empty box

Tommy's love was dangerous. He learned that at a very young age. Love for him wasn't just a feeling, it was a physical thing, at least to his eyes. He could feel every last drop of care, of love gathering around him like a storm. And just like a storm, when the feeling touched down, it was deadly. People, animals, anything that was touched by the love he couldn't stop feeling crumbled under the weight of something that shouldn't exist.

Tommy couldn't stop himself from caring. But he could stop himself from hurting. Hurting others, at least. Tommy commissioned a solution from a witch with a terrible reputation for cruelty, but a renowned skill with magical crafting. It cost him everything he owned, and some of who he was, but he walked away with an empty box made to hold what he couldn't afford to keep.

For years after that, every time he felt love building up in his chest- his care for friends, the people he considered family, even for strangers- he tore it off of himself and flung it into the box. Over time, the box grew full, bursting at the seams with his love. He learned to discard all but the most precious feelings, keeping those in his overstuffed box that weighed nothing and locking them inside.

But no lock lasts forever. Nothing lasts an eternity.

Tommy was alone with nothing but his thoughts, his box, and the ghost of a brother who was only really that in the privacy of his mind. He let his eyes shut, the box held loosely in one hand. The ghost, not knowing the consequences, touched the box.

And the seams of magic holding it together shattered and the love Tommy had stored away broke free, as powerful and terrible as a hurricane.

If it had been Wilbur, the man would've died as surely as he had when a blade was thrust through his heart. But this was Ghostbur, and you cannot kill what is already dead.

Still, such power has consequences. All the love in the box, far too powerful to be contained for long, spilled over, pouring over and around the ghost and the boy.

Yes, such power has consequences. The boy with too much love and his brother that never was would face those consequences together.

(world is) full of wonders

Wilbur is a simple musician. He travels alone, playing an ode to all of the world around him. He sings to the trees, the sky, the river, the sun, anything he pleases.

Though he knows it's silly, he can't help but imagine they sing back. He tries to match the harmony he hears in his mind, tries to play along with the symphony of nature. He can never keep up, but likes to imagine the world is fond of his efforts.

But even musicians can stumble into trouble. Too caught up in the ballad he played to the tune of the wind, he didn't hear the rattle of bones, the drawing of a bow. He heard only the twang as an arrow released before it pierced through his skull and everything went black.

But Wilbur wasn't gone. He didn't cease to exist, like he always assumed. He felt the cool caress of the void, the gentle brush of the universe against his mind and he gasped. Clearer than he'd ever heard it, he heard the song of the world, in perfect harmony and tune. This time, it sang along to him, to the pulsing of his soul.

Wilbur had no body, but if he did he would weep. He had no lungs, no mouth, no voice, but his soul took up the melody he longed to sing anyways. He sang with the universe until the song became more and more impossible to replicate and he could only listen in awe.

He woke up painlessly, laying on a gentle green field. His guitar was by his side, and his sweater was cleaner than it had ever been. He knew instinctually that he was not in the world he'd came from. This was a new world, a universe untouched, a new song to add his voice to.

Near

It hit him, one day, as he absently peeled a potato over the sink. That he didn't remember if he'd ever touched another person.

Techno had froze for a moment. It was quite the revelation to have out of nowhere. He dismissed it a moment later, memories of how he and Phil would bump shoulders as they walked and talked fresh in his mind.

But all too soon his thoughts turned back to the uncomfortable topic. Sure he'd touched Phil before, but that was through layers of armor and clothing. Had he ever had skin to skin contact with another person? Anything, as simple as a handshake? Hell, even something during battle would count.

He came up empty, and it was driving him crazy.

He didn't need to touch people. He didn't. Having someone he cared about liked close to him was good enough. He didn't need physical contact to reassure him. He never had, not even as a child.

Though that may have had something to do with the chorus of voices he'd had in his head that had kept him on the brink of insanity for most of his childhood. His voices were always there, always with him, so what need did he have for another person's company?

Except he did like company, Phil's especially. And he had it, plenty of it, more than he could ever possibly need. So why did he suddenly feel so off balance?

He asked Phil about it next time he saw his friend. He kept it casual. It wasn't a big deal, he didn't need to worry Phil by letting how much this had bothered him show.

"Hey, Phil, have we ever touched?" He asked. Phil gave him a weird look, then bumped his shoulder.

"Like that?" He asked, unimpressed. "Mate, maybe you should check your own memory before you call me old man again."

"Nah," Techno dismissed, "I meant like... skin to skin. Like a handshake or something."

This actually gave Phil pause. He thought for a moment, then laughed.

"I guess we haven't. Weird. Why?"

"I... Don't think I've ever touched anyone like that," Techno said. He tried to keep his voice steady, but his heart was pounding as he poured out his weakness in front of Phil.

The other man was silent for a long time. Techno could practically hear the shouts of ever??? running through his mind.

Suddenly Phil turned towards him, pulling off a glove.

"Handshake?" He offered with a smile, something sad beyond the amusement in his eyes. Techno rolled his eyes, but he hesitated taking his glove off. Slowly reaching out, as if Phil's hand was a snake that might strike at any sudden movements, he placed his hand in Phil's.

The sensation was like a fire roaring to life on his hand. It didn't hurt, not like a real fire, but it somehow burned. He froze, his brain having trouble processing the bizarre feeling. It was overwhelming, and the best thing he'd ever felt, and yet it was almost a relief when Phil gently pulled his hand away.

"We'll take it slow, alright mate?" He said, nudging Techno with an elbow. The piglin's brain began to work again and he snorted, pulling the glove on again and falling back into step.

"Of course. We can't overwork your old man brain," Techno said dryly, earning him a sharper nudge. He grinned, the amusement softening to fondness as Phil walked just a little closer, letting their arms stay pressed together as they went.

It was strange how you didn't notice you were missing something until you had it. Bare contact was a little too overwhelming right now. So he was right. For now, this was enough. Having his best friend near him was all he needed.

Angel's Clover

There is a special plant that only grows in the land of celestials. An ethereal clover that sprouts from the weary souls that come to rest on the soils of heaven. The souls and the clover flourish in time with one another, tended to by the celestials that walk the lands. It is only a rumor, in the eyes of mortals, but one who walks among them knows it to be true. He is the Angel of Death, and his presence can never touch the sacred halls of the celestial lands, lest they wither and die.

But souls do not always complete the journey, to find their final rest above. Some souls are too broken, too hurt to reach the peace of the celestial lands. It is the duty of the Angel of Death to guide the souls, and it is his duty to heal them so that they may be guided.

In the land of the mortals, there is one place where the clover grows. It is in the humble garden of a plain looking man, who wears a large hat to block his eyes from the sun, and keeps his unearthly wings folded beneath his cloak.

In his garden, the Angel of Death nurtures the precious remnants of life.

#dsmp #dsmp au #prinx fake title game #ranboo #tommy #techno #tubbo #wilbur #phil #aslitheryanswers

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fuckyeahscienceparty · 4 years ago

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YEEEEEEEHAW WE'VE REACHED 666 FOLLOWERS BOIS, IT'S TIME FOR THE 700 RAFFLE

i normally announce follower raffles when we get to the 70 point BUT i mean hey, i might as well do it now lmao. if you haven't been around for that long, i do art raffles for ever 100 milestone :0 entries close as soon as we reach 700 (though depending, i might extended it if this post doesn't gain much traction by then)

some things to keep in mind:

reblogs and likes count as one entry each! u can rb as many times as u want but please try not to spam your followers ^^’

i’m not gonna check bc i’m gonna take y'all’s word on this but please be following the blog?? and like don’t plan to unfollow once the raffle is over considering this is a followers raffle

after winners have been pulled, you will have 48 hours to respond to my intial message! if you don’t respond within that time frame, i will choose someone else

posts/rbs about the raffle will be tagged as ’#700 raffle’ for those who Don’t Care and would like to block it!

like last time, i’m doing a first place winner and two second place winners! this time first place gets a lightly shaded + colored half body while second place gets a flat colored bust (i will provide a few various examples of my art under the cut, if u wanna see more of my art it’s under the tag #c drew)

but yeah, thank you guys for 666 followers!! it truly is a joy having so many people who like science party around, reminds me i'm not just shouting into an empty void all the time lolol

if you're new and you like science party, consider following perhaps! if you have friends who like science party, considering sending my blog their way! it'll prolly take us a while to get to 700 (if we do at all??) but i'm rlly flattered there's so many of you around :>

anyways, examples as promised:

(also dentist boy on the bottom left actuallu belongs to @i-cry-when-angels-desvere-to-die !! go check him out 👁👁)

#tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #tf2 science party #medic x engineer #700 raffle #c mumbles for a while #i think it's very telling that most of my examples are tf2 stuff lol

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night-faye · 4 years ago

Note

Lancelot and "don't ask" ? (Sorry I can't remember the number)

That is perfectly alright! The numbers honestly were just there as an organization/search tool when I was writing the prompts down. I actually much prefer to get the prompt itself like how you’ve sent it! (Of course both ways are fine, but- Y’know what? I’m just rambling now, lmao)

ONTO THE ANGST!

Lancelot stared, wide eyed, at the cracks in the earth, dancing like a spiderweb through the ground, and keeping the enemies at bay, not that they needed to be, all laying flat and unconscious across the had-been battlefield. They were also keeping the knights away from the center of the destruction.

The center of destruction, where a dead bandit laid near the edge, a puddle of blood seeping out from beneath his head and staining the soil beneath it. Where, in the direct middle of it, Merlin was knelt down, his hands pressing down on Arthur’s side. Hands that were already covered in blood.

The bandit had managed to get his sword under Arthur’s chainmail, and deal a sweeping blow, and Merlin… Or, well, Lancelot wants to say Merlin, because he’s never separated Merlin and his magic, with how entwined they were, but the look on Merlin’s face when he turned at Arthur’s shout had been…

It had been a look far older than anything Lancelot had ever seen. It had been a look older than the castle of Camelot itself.

It had been the look of Magic itself, Given some vaguely human face, gold light practically pouring from it’s pours.

And it had reacted, before Lancelot had even registered what had happened to Arthur.

And now…

Now Merlin was knelt on the ground, words of ‘You’ll be okay, you have to be okay, please be okay.’ falling from his mouth in a panicked rush. The gold light had faded, slightly, but it was still lighting up his veins, spiraling down his arms and across his face, his eyes absolutely glowing with it. And his hands were covered in blood.

“Oh.” Gwaine breathed next to him, and Lancelot looked over at him to see his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide, though it was not the look of fear. No, it was the look of awe. “Oh,” He said again. “That’s what that guy at the bridge meant by Merlin being magic. It’s not that he just… Has it. He is it.”

Lancelot felt his own eyes widen. “You… You knew about his magic?” Because when did Merlin tell him? And why didn’t he tell Lancelot that Gwaine knew?

“I suspected. I have suspected since I first met him. And I’ll be honest, I was wary at first, but…” He finally turned to look at Lancelot, and shrugged. “It’s Merlin.”

He said it as if that was all that was needed to be said.

And, well, it was.

“You?” Gwaine asked, and Lancelot could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

He quirks a smile, which falls a second later. “Don’t ask. It’s, er, hard to explain.”

Gwaine nodded, understanding, and Lancelot looked over at the others, taking in their reactions.

He could see how Percival was… Well, completely unsurprised, but he did look worried, and Lancelot considered that maybe he had been a tad too descriptive when talking about his ‘Friend with magic’.

Elyan looked shocked, and there was clearly an internal battle that Lancelot couldn’t parse out. But he didn’t look… He didn’t look how knights usually looked when discovering someone with magic. He didn’t look murderous.

And Leon… Leon probably shocked him, the most. He was striding towards the edge, his sword unsheathed and left where he had been standing when Merlin had first collapsed at Arthur’s side, and Merlin’s medical bag slung onto his shoulder. “Merlin!” He called.

Merlin looked up, and fear flooded across his face. “Leon, I can ex-”

“Save it for later, and let us get over there! If you could heal him, you would’ve already, and seeing as you haven’t, we need to bring you your medical bag!”

Merlin looks a little stunned, but he swallows, and his mouth opens in soundless movements, and his eyes glow brighter.

Creeping trees grow from the ground, and stretch over the gap in an arch, and Leon leaps over before it reaches halfway, clears the rest of the gap, and rushes over to the two of them, dropping the medical bag next to Merlin, and replacing his hands over Arthur’s wound.

Merlin starts digging through the bag, blood smearing across the leather of it, his hands shaking violently as the gold starts to recede from his skin, crawling back in the direction of his heart, and Lancelot starts moving.

Because he’s seen Merlin use a lot less magic than this, and absolutely crash afterwards. And so Lancelot knows what’s coming.

Luckily, he’s been listening to Gaius and Merlin, and he’s mended enough of his tunics during his years on the road that he has pretty steady hands.

He can hear Gwaine following him, and he knows he won’t have to worry about also taking care of Merlin. He’s seen Gwaine do it plenty of times.

Without ever saying it, Gwaine had made it clear he was only around because of Merlin. It didn’t matter the friendships he had built with Arthur or the other knights or Lancelot himself. If Merlin left, Gwaine would, too.

Lancelot felt much the same, honestly. Living his dream was good, truly, but it was only possible because of Merlin, and Lancelot had come to believe that he’d follow Merlin into the void of the world, even if it meant leaving his knighthood behind.

He’d done it once, after all. Albeit it was leaving Merlin behind, it had still been for him.

He collapses to his knees next to Merlin, directly across from Leon, and he grabs at Merlin’s hands.

“Let me.”

Merlin jerks his head up to look at him, eyes- Still gold, though not as vibrantly so- Wide and lips still trembling, but he nods, and presses the waterskin and rag into Lancelot’s hands.

Gwaine crouches down next to him, grabs up the medical bag and slings it onto Lancelot’s other side, and then grabs Merlin’s hands and pours water from his own waterskin over them, and slowly starts to wipe at them with the edge of his cape.

Lancelot turns to Arthur’s wound, and sees that Leon has already moved the chainmail completely out of the way, as well as Arthur’s tunic, and had started pressing his removed cape to the wound to stop the bleeding more effectively than just using his hands.

He swallows, and nods to Leon, and waits as he moves the cape slightly to reveal the top of the wound, the thinnest part, and Lancelot starts carefully cleaning it.

Elyan and Percival are there, now, too. Percival standing guard at the bridge just in case any of the bandits start to wake and decide to chance attacking them, and Elyan at Arthur’s head, digging through the medical kit and pulling out silk-thread and the leather-scrap with all the needles.

And Lancelot lets himself focus on the task at hand. Because he wasn’t going to let Arthur die.

And if, if, if he calls upon the sparks of magic that he’s never been able to call upon before, left to him by his mother and her soft golden eyes as she sang lullabies to him to help him sleep, and puts his all into pushing them into his hands, into healing.

Well, don’t ask him if it worked, but just maybe…

Just maybe it helps, some. Just maybe it’s the speck of dust that tips the scales.

Posted on AO3 - Here

Prompt list - Here

#BBC Merlin #Lancelot #Gwaine #Merlin #Arthur Pendragon #merlin's magic revealed #Hurt Arthur Pendragon #Angst for April #Faye Writes

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natalieironside · 3 years ago

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Tag: Word Find CCXXXV

Aw yeah I got tagged in a tag game. Thanks, @zmlorenz I love participating

My words were night, near, new, and neighbour

NIGHT (found in Voidsong: The Witchling, chapter 3: The Night Market [i suppose i am not surprised])

The city of Ny Myrkhimmin took in drifters and outcasts like the eager embrace of a lover. The streets were bathed in perpetual midnight, the only illumination coming from intermittent and unreliable streetlights and lamps in front of ramshackle buildings. The air was ever frigid, the dome’s life support systems unable to quite keep up with the gnawing, biting cold of the frozen rock under their feet or the void over their heads. The air was thick with the reek of smoke and oil and food and garbage and life, and the narrow, tangled streets were ever loud with the racket of the comings, goings, and dealings of travelers from all parts of the galaxy. The two witches glided through the confusion like ghosts, though Saoirse wanted badly to stop and take in the spectacle.

Helga led her through the maze following the smell of smoke and, soon, of food. After a while, the impenetrable mire of crumbling buildings stacked dubiously atop each other broke away to a wide open forum cluttered with market stalls. The buildings along one side all had open patios and bars and flickering neon signs, filling the air with a toothsome smell. Saoirse gawked at the spectacle like a little girl watching tumblers at a carnival and muttered, “Oh, this is great.”

“Welcome to the night market,” Helga replied with an approving smile. “Now, what would you like to eat? We can find anything.”

NEAR (found in Voidsong: The Witchling, chapter 5: Ikayaki. Three times in succession, golly)

More storm-bolts struck the Black Wolf as it drew nearer to the eye. The ship shook, the lights flickered, and Nirtovi shouted, “Helga, you have to tell them to fall back! This thing’s storms are too much!”

“The shields will hold,” the voidwitch replied.

“Loki’s ropes! Between the shields and the siegebreaker, how much strain can your reactor take? It must be near to overheating!”

“The shields will hold for long enough. It is almost over now.”

The Black Wolf stayed fixed upon the injured eye as the wounded beast slowed in its turning. Soon they were close enough that the eye filled the whole of their vision as storm-bolts rocked the ship from stem to stern, and Nirtovi was sure they were about to ram into it, but as the siegebreaker fired one last time, the Black Wolf banked hard upwards, knocking them all—even Helga—onto their asses as their minds were nearly sundered by a deafening psychic death-rattle. Recovering themselves, they looked back out the viewports and saw that the light had now died in the kraken’s damaged eye, and that the beast was no longer maneuvering its ponderous mass to present them its arms and beak, but drifted in the void without spark or intelligence.

“Victory,” Helga whispered, a grin spreading across her face.

NEW (showed up in Voidsong: The Witchling’s epilogue, Two Homecomings, so I guess call this a sneak preview)

The dark elves cheered their approval, and Helga concluded: “But, before that, I would like to augment our skeleton crew a bit. I would like to make my own little homecoming.”

The dark elves’ cheers of approval turned into gasps of disbelief, and Nirtovi put a hand to her forehead and muttered, “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I have never kid anyone before in my life.”

“Helga, other than the many new and fascinating varieties of ice, what the fuck is on Isa?”

NEIGHBOR (I had to hunt far and wide for an instance of the word “Neighbor.” Out of all my active WiPs, I’ve used it exactly one time, in chapter 3: In the Family Way of my as-yet-untitled sequel to The Big Job so I guess you can consider this yet another sneak preview lmao)

Katya was too nervous to ask questions on the drive north, and Ash didn’t volunteer any information, but a painfully long drive through afternoon traffic on I-75 eventually brought them to a decaying residential suburb adjacent to a sprawl of housing projects. The house at the end of the lane where Ash parked the car didn’t look any different from its neighbors, save for a sign in the front yard. It was an obnoxious shade of pink and bore a black Venus symbol ending in a clenched fist.

“Oh,” Katya said, nodding, “this is one of those whatchacallit type places.”

Ash laughed. “Yes, Kat, it’s one of those whatchacallit type places. Now, this crew is pretty old-fashioned, and a lot of the signage and stuff is gonna be pretty . . . uh . . .” She snapped her fingers, searching for the right word.

“Cisnormative?” Nix offered.

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called. But I promise they’re good people, in a couple of relevant ways. This is where Jackie gets his testosterone.”

They piled out of the car and headed for the front door, which bore only a simple plaque reading “A Place For Women.” Ash opened the door and strode in like she owned the place, surprising the receptionist who sat behind a mahogany desk in the foyer. Without giving her time to react, Ash said, “Yeah, hi, we spoke on the phone a little bit ago. I need to see Dr. Farkas.”

***

Oh heck yeah. Now it’s my turn uhhhhhh I tag @renniequeer @borinquenaqueer @red-the-dragon-writes and anybody else who wants to participate and the words are uhhhhhhhh fight, love, queer, confusion, and sword

#long post #writeblr #tag games #word find #voidsong

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charlie-boio · 4 years ago

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The Only One For Me: Part Two

Summary: Everyone gets assigned a magical allegiance once they turn 16: Healers, Electrics, Shifters, and Darks, who were more often referred to as Voids. Once you reach 25, you no longer age until you meet soulmate.

After being outcasted by the world so long ago, Stiles Stilinski gave up on ever subjecting his soulmate to being with a Dark and decided that if the world would only ever treat him like it, he’ll be exactly what they wanted him to be: Void

Word Count: 10,098

A/N: My dudes I cannot BELIEVE I thought this ENTIRE story would be a 5k word fic lmao in total its over 16,000 words!! Also I know I said Wednesday but better late than never. Some of you wanted to be tagged which I’m so happy that you enjoyed the first part so much to be tagged in part two. This is the final part so I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I did. I do have new stuff coming soon! Anyways, I’m super proud of this so I hope you enjoy it too!!

**WARNINGS: NFSW! Self-harm, mentions of suicide, angst. On the smut side there’s fingering, oral (female receiving, mentions of male receiving), multiple orgasms (first detailed smut lmao).

The house shook after the door slammed shut. You laid there slumped on the ground, with a dumbfounded look on your face.

What the fuck just happened? We’re soulmates, we’re supposed to love each other…right?

You knew the stories of people who had met their soulmate then immediately were separated from them or if they couldn’t satisfy the sexual drive that heightens significantly after meeting. A lull falls over the both of you that could easily be described as a depression fog that clouds you both until you’re reunited once again.

You could already feel it heavy in your chest. Your heart pounded loudly in your eyes while you sunk further into the ground, sobbing loudly. What was wrong with you? Were you truly so unlovable that your soulmate hated you?

Mustering up your strength, you managed to pull yourself up from the floor, feeling embarrassed since your underwear had been torn to shreds by Stiles. You hurried yourself to Allison’s house, crying in her lap about everything that happened as she did her best to reassure you. Nothing worked. You went to bed, feeling worse by the second.

Too top everything off, you had killed someone. Someone you had known, and while he had taken a liking to shitting on Voids once he had gotten older, you couldn’t help but remember the sweet kid from grade school who had sat with you because you were new. And you had killed him, _and then proceeded to have sex?! What the fuck? _Those thoughts sunk you even lower. The tiny rational part of you that knew if you hadn’t of killed Adam, both you and Stiles would be dead, but you weren’t listening. Instead, you listened to the part of you that was convincing you that you were the worst person alive.

No wonder Stiles doesn’t want you. Who would want someone who just kills anyone then fucks someone else? You’re disgusting, pathetic. You don’t even deserve a soulmate.

Scott promised that he’d do everything he could to make Stiles talk to you, but every time he walked the long trail back from the Stilinski home, he never brought Stiles back with him. For five agonizing days, he actively avoided any sort of interaction with you while your thoughts spiraled deeper into self-loathing. He had to know that if you two continued to avoid each other like this what the consequences were; he couldn’t want that for you or him, could he…?

On day six you had decided that enough was enough. You had decided that you would invite him over, make him dinner, and you two would talk. You’d make it clear that you two could take it at whatever pace he felt comfortable with since he took extreme caution in who he’d let in his life. All you wanted was someone to spend the rest of your life with, and if that took some time, you were okay with that.

You gave yourself at least a thousand pep talks in the mirror, put on a cute blue sundress with sandals, and made your way up to his house.

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, the nagging voice in your head begged you to turn right back around and crawl back under the covers, and your confidence was draining by the second. Nevertheless, you persisted, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of his door. Raising your hand, you attempted to knock on his door. However, something was blocking you from reaching the door. Confused, you tried again to knock, only to have your hand whipped backward, nearing removing your shoulder from its socket. You stood there for a second, dumbfounded, before the door finally swung up, revealing an extremely unhappy Stiles.

“What the fuck do you want?” he said, voice dripping with malice, making your stomach drop to the floor. His gaze pierced right through, jaw ticking in irritation.

Panicking, you said the first thing that came to your head, “Did you put a forcefield around your house to keep me out?” Stiles’ eyes hardened, his scowl deepening. Clearly, not the right thing to say as you mentally cursed yourself.

“You and Scott, who keeps pestering me like a goddamn dog. Now, I ask again, what do you fucking want?” he raised his voice at you, nearly shouting. You began to play with your fingers nervously. A dark voice in your head began to shout louder that you shouldn’t have bothered coming.

“I…I thought we needed to talk about this-“

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

You fumbled for a second, you could feel your breaths become shallower. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go.

“Look, I don’t know why you don’t want to, but this is pretty important. We at least need to-“

“LOOK! There’s nothing to do, there’s nothing to say! I don’t want anything to do with you! You really thing I’m the type of guy to go around having a soulmate? No! I’m a Dark, and I’m Void! I don’t want a fucking soulmate, and I decided that a long time ago, so you need to get used to it. I don’t want to see you, talk to you, in fact, if I could, I would kick you out of my town! So do us all a favor, and get the fuck off of my property!” And with that, he slammed the door, once again leaving you alone.

The voice in your head laughed at you. Pathetic. You really thought that’d work. Are you two actually soulmates? Because if you were, you would’ve known that wouldn’t have worked. Obviously. Over and over those thought plagued you, and the tears flowed down your cheeks faster than you could process. Quickly placing a hand over your mouth, you tried your best to cover your sobs, not wanting to seem like you were begging for his attention. Well, you were, but you had a feeling things would only end up worse if you stayed here crying. He’d likely come out and just keep yelling at you.

Gathering up your shredded dignity, you turned around and began the lonely walk home.

Stiles thumped his head against the door, sliding down until he was sat against it. He banged his head three more times, each time harder than the last. Two sides of him were competing, the one wanting nothing more than to spend every ounce of his time with you, showering you with love and affection, showing you just how much he cared, how much he’s always cared. The other part was telling him how you’d want nothing to do with him, that you deserved far better than what he could offer, and he should just let you go and leave you to your life without him in it because that’s what’s best for you. Unfortunately, the latter part of him is winning.

Scott was up at his home every single day, telling him he should at least talk to you, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to do just that. Instead, he told Scott to fuck off every time, and eventually he put up that shield around his house, keeping everyone out. Stiles treated Scott the same way he treated you; he told him he wanted nothing to do with you or Scott, and that everyone should just leave him alone.

He told himself that this is for the best. He learned a long time ago that he couldn’t be loved. Not by anyone. Not even you…

He sat there against the wall, feeling worse by the second.

The next two days dragged from him. A part of him hoped that you would show up again, but you didn’t. He knew he had driven you away for good. He didn’t leave his house or bother to eat, none of it really feeling worth it. Stiles spent most of his time in bed, simultaneously sleeping way too much while having it feel like not enough.

On day three, he felt his forcefield shake, meaning someone had tried to at least knock on the door. He ran from his bedroom, hoping it was you. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it was Scott on the other side.

“What do you want,” Stiles muttered, not having any energy.

“Oh? No ‘Fuck you,’ for me today?” Scott’s tone was biting, and his face wasn’t friendly. Stiles looked at him with shock, he hadn’t spoken to him like that before. “Look, Stiles, I’ve tried to be nice about this whole ‘you avoid your fucking soulmate’ bit, but enough is enough. You need to at least talk to her! You’re soulmates for a fucking reason! You consider me your friend, right?”

“Yes, I-“

“Then quit shutting us out, shutting _me _out, and shutting y/n out because let’s not forget the fact that she saved your fucking life. Without her, you’d be dead, you understand? Even if she wasn’t your soulmate, you should at least, the very fucking least thank her!” Scott slammed his hand against the forcefield. “All any of us want is for you to be happy, and to get out of your deep mistrust of people because look around! This entire place is filled with Darks and people who don’t give a shit about your magical allegiance if you’re a good person. We’re not going to cast you away, Stiles, all we want is to help you,” Scott’s tone changed from anger to sympathy as he spoke.

The forcefield Stiles had been maintaining began to fade away, mostly out exhaustion on Stiles’ end to keep it up. Still, he couldn’t help but let his walls start to crack after all these years of keeping them up.

“Scott…I don’t deserve her. I’m not enough,” Stiles whispered, holding back his tears. Old habits die hard.

“You don’t know that,” Scott took a step forward and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Just talk to her man.” Scott continued with his speech, but Stiles stopped listening, suddenly feeling and overwhelm urge that something was wrong.

“Scott…where does y/n live?” Stiles said so quietly that Scott almost missed it. Scott noticed instantly his tone wasn’t of resolve to see you, but of panic.

“Um, wha-“

“Where does she live?” Stiles said, louder and more urgently. He grabbed at Scott’s shoulders, panic in his eyes while Scott’s also widened in fear at how Stiles was acting.

“Um, three houses from Allison-“

“Is she there now?!”

“Uh-ye-yeah I think-“ Stiles didn’t bother hearing the rest of what Scott had to say as he shoved him aside and bolted down the path

Please don’t be too late, he thought. Please, don’t be too late!

You had decided that day that you’d end your life. You had read countless stories on how soulmates who had been separated or died before they got to know each other. The survivor usually killed themselves after they’ve aged another ten years. Usually, the were miserable the entire time with their powers draining to the point where some couldn’t even access their abilities anymore. You didn’t want to come to that fate. If it was inevitable, you’d get it out of the way, saving yourself from years of grief and giving Stiles the life he wanted.

You sat next to the bathtub, swirling the water around with your hand. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you had it on; you weren’t going to get in. Maybe to make it easier?

You looked at the silver dagger, a gift from one of your old friends who were driven out of your hometown for being a Dark, and decided it was now or never. Picking up the blade, you pressed the tip to the skin on your wrist, tears streaking down your cheeks. You didn’t want to die; you wanted a life with your soulmate, with Stiles. But he didn’t want you…God, you’ve never felt so unlovable in your entire fucking life.

Taking a deep breath, you let the blade slowly cut through your skin, seeing the crimson blood leak out slowly.

Then the door flew open, startling you and causing you to jump. You jerked your head in the direction of the open doorway with Stiles standing there. He was breathing heavily, his forehead covered in sweat. Seeing the knife in your hand, his eyes widened.

For a split second, neither of you moved, unsure what to do.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Stiles sprang into action, rushing toward grabbing. Forcefully, he ripped the knife out of your hand and flung it toward the wall where it stuck like a bullseye. Gently but with fever, he grabbed your shoulders and ran you over to the nearby sink, turning on the water and thrusting your wrist into the stream. He used his finger to wipe away at the blood.

“It’s not that bad…it’s not that bad…” he whispered, mostly to reassure himself. After cleaning out the cut as best he could, he ran around your bathroom, frantically opening drawers and cabinets until he found the first aid kit. He pulled out the disinfectant and began to work, cleaning the wound and bandaging it up as best he could. He took in a shaky breath once he realized that you were going to be okay.

Meanwhile, you had merely been staring at him, eyes wide while you watched him work to patch you up. This didn’t make sense. I thought he didn’t care…

You two stayed like that for a few minutes, you staring at him while he stared at your arm, his thumb smoothing over the bandage. Every so often he would dip down and press his lips to your wrist.

After what felt like an eternity, you heard Stiles mumble something, but you couldn’t decipher it.

“Hm?” you hummed softly, trying not to scare him away.

“Why…” he whispered, finally lifting his head to look at you properly, tears welling in his eyes.

You were confused. “What?”

Suddenly, he grabbed your shoulders roughly, forcing you to stand and walk backwards until your back was pressed against a wall. Tears fell openly across his face while he looked at you with a mixture of pain, panic, and…love?

“Why? Why would you do that? Why would you even think to…just please! Don’t do that please just tell me why?” Stiles was pressing you, his voice becoming shakier with each passing word.

“BECAUSE YOU DON’T CARE!” You shouted angrily. Stiles jumped back, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He still held you at an arm’s length away. You took a deep breath before continuing. “Look…if you want to spend the rest of your life alone without…without a soulmate, go right ahead. I won’t stop you. I want you to live the life you want. But I can’t follow that path. I won’t lie, this past week and a half has been absolutely miserable, and I won’t let myself spend the next years just withering away. I won’t, I can’t…I’m sorry” your voice faded away once you were finished speaking.

Stiles dipped his head low, not meeting your eye. His grip on your shoulders tightened while you two stayed there for another few moments of agonizing silence.

“I want everything for you,” Stiles spoke, voice wavering as his tears fell quicker than they were before. “I want you to have the life you deserve. A life that you want for yourself, a life filled with every opportunity that you could ever imagine. But…I’m a Dark…all my opportunities are gone, the world just won’t let me have even a chance. I can’t give that to you, I can’t give you want you deserve.”

“But what about what I want?” Stiles’ eyes snapped up to meet yours with a hopeful look in them. “What I want, more than anything, is you. My soulmate. I want you with me. I’ve been waiting my entire life to meet you and show you just how much I care about you. I don’t need anything else. And I promise you, Stiles, that no matter what hell you went through to get to where you are now, I promise I’m not going to run away. I’ll be right here, by your side. Like how we are meant to be. You’re the only one for me,”

Stiles head fell forward until your foreheads were pressed together. You could hear him take in shaky breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I just-I don’t-I’ve never had someone like you in my life before. I shouldn’t have ran away that day…I just got so scared that I would fuck things up, then I went ahead and fucked things up. I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He moved his head to the crook between your neck and shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He continued to mumble constant apologizes while you reassured him. You could feel his warm tears soak the front of your shirt as he breaths became less ragged until finally his breathing was slow and deep; your heartbeats in sync with each other. The depression fog you had felt after that day slowly began to lift with a sense of peace washing over the both of you.

Stiles was the first to pull back, taking one step away. You looked at each other, the sexual tension dropping in out of nowhere.

Seriously? You thought. You can’t wait? We’re having a moment! Of course you knew how it was with the first few days interacting with your soulmate. Biology stops for no one.

His hand slid down until you two were holding hands, giving you a small smile in the process. The other hand ran through his hair nervously.

“Um…th-that day, uh, after we-um-after we-“

“Had sex?” you offered. A deep blush settled onto his cheeks, his eyes widened at your bluntness.

“Uh, yeah, well…” Stiles trailed off, gripping your hand tighter.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” you said, gently placing your other hand on top of his. “I’m not gonna bolt out the door at a personal question. We’re soulmates, we should probably know each other pretty well, or at least know what our favorite color is,” Stiles laughed at your comment, and while it wasn’t a long or loud laugh, you still felt accomplished.

“…yellow,” Stiles said with smile still split across his face. “It’s yellow.”

You smiled back at him, giggling at the irony. “So’s mine,” He grin brightened. “So…what did you want to ask me?”

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line before clearing his throat, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The sexual tension laid thick between you two, appear almost out of nowhere. “Were you a virgin before we had sex?” Sex wasn’t something he often talked about, so talking about it so openly, especially with you, still made him a little uncomfortable.

You squeezed his hand, silently congratulating him for that minor win. “I was. I had a boyfriend back in my hometown…Adam…”

Stiles eyes widened, his jaw falling to the floor. “You dated the guy that almost killed me?” He nearly shouted, tone harsh.

You scowled at him. “I killed him, Stiles, to save you. I…I didn’t even think twice…” Your face quickly changed from anger to…sadness? No, that wasn’t right. Stiles had seen that look on his face numerous times. Guilt.

He panicked slightly, unsure of what to do. He’s never really comforted someone before. Looking back now, it seems like everyone else was always taking care of him. With his panic rising, he blurted the first things he could think of.

“Thank you, y/n. Seriously. If you hadn’t of done that, I wouldn’t be standing here right now…with you,” you looked at him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Fuck. He wasn’t good at this. “Um…I think it would also be good to talk to someone about it…”

“Not you?”

“Y/n I-“ love you. He’d almost said it but caught himself. He did, he had loved his soulmate from the second he found out he had one, but he had just gotten you after nearly losing you. He didn’t want to scare you away. “-care about you. So much. But…we’ve just met. Right now, we don’t know too much about each other, and believe me, I plan to spend every single moment I can getting to know you, but I am in no position to give you advice about this because I don’t know how to help you,” he squeezed your hand gently, moving the other to cup your face, his thumb wiping away the stray tear. “Awhile ago, Scott had dragged me out to see a therapist that’s around here. I only went twice, but honestly I wish I had kept going. She was really helpful, and she said things that I just wasn’t ready to hear, so I got angry and left. But she’s part of the reason I was able to venture out of the house once in a fucking blue moon…or go to dinner with Scott and his friends-“

“You know, they’re your friends too,” you whispered.

Stiles nodded, more to reiterate that point to himself. “I think you should see her. She’d be able to help you know a lot more than I could. But I’ll tell you this: Y/n, it wasn’t out of malice what you did. I promise. If you hadn’t of killed him…I would’ve died. And I think he would’ve killed you after finishing with me. No, scratch that. I don’t think. I know. Come here,” he pulled you forward until your cheek was pressed against his shoulder, his arms around you again, only this time it was him comforting you.

“You underestimate yourself, Stiles. I feel a little better thanks to you,” Stiles hummed, the vibrations hitting your cheek. “Would…would you come with me? It’s not too late to go back…”

He hesitated for a moment, then answered, “Yeah, I’ll go with you. I owe her an apologize. I owe a lot of people an apology…” you shushed him quietly, not letting him sink into his usual self-loathing. This time, you pulled back, smiling up at him. He returned the smile, making you realize just how little you’ve seen him smile, but loving it all the same.

Of course, the sexual tension from earlier had decided to hit you both like a goddamn truck. You’ve got to be fucking me, you thought. Despite what you knew, you tried to suppress your desires, not wanting to mess up this moment with him.

Unfortunately, Stiles had already felt it, and you saw his nervous ticks return. An awkward silence joined the room besides the heavy sexual tensions, clearly a perfect combination. This continued for a few painstakingly long minutes, neither of you sure of what to do.

Stiles cleared his throat, “Um…how-how come you never…did anything with him?” he asked tensely, trying not to break the delicate peace you two had achieved.

“Well…he wasn’t my soulmate,” you said slowly. “Once I had found out about them, I had felt guilty for taking that step with someone else. Even if I was drunk.” You shrugged. “But if you had sex with others, I’m not gonna freak out or anything, that’s just how I felt. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.”

Stiles looked down at his feet. He had felt the same way before, but once the world abandoned him, he thought he’d never meet his soulmate. He silently cursed himself, regretting every other sexual encounter that he had. “I’m guessing that wasn’t how you imagined your first time would be,” he said sadly.

You shook your head. “No, it wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it,” A smile flickered across his face. His hands slid down your body before they were settling on your hips, pulling you close to him. Your eyes looked into his honey ones. He bit his lip, his stare full of lust, want, yet it was also pleading with you.

“Can-can I try again?” he whispered, nearly inaudible. But you heard him, and all you could manage to do was nod, unable to find the words.

Tentatively, he moved his hands until they were gently cupping your face before he pressed his lips to yours. It was different from before. It was soft, almost like he was afraid to break you. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck, bringing both of you closer together than before. You felt your hearts beat together, signifying how this was all meant to be.

Slowly, the kiss became more heated, his tongue darting out to meet yours. His hands roamed freely around your body, ghosting over your breasts to settle back on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

“Jump,” he breathed out between kisses. You happily complied, wrapping your legs around his torso once again, only instead of him pressing you up against the wall, he walked out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, placing you down gently onto the mattress as he hovered over you, smiling down at you before kissing you once again. He slid his hand up and down your thigh before lifting it up and slotting it against hip, rocking his hardened cock into your core while you rolled your hips up to meet his needy thrusts. Everything happening was slowly, but deliberately.

Leaning back, Stiles skimmed his hands down the hem of your shirt, tugging for a second before lifting it above your head and tossing it over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. Since you had forgone a bra, your chest was completely bare to him. He bit his lip, looking up at you, his once honey brown eyes were now almost jet black, blown wide with lust. He moved his hands to cup your breasts, squeezing them roughly, his lips brushing at your neck.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered into your neck, causing you to moan out and arched your back toward him. “’M gonna take care of you, ‘M gonna take such good care of you baby I promise. I’ll fuck you so good…so good,” He continued to palm your tits before dipping down and sealing his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak. Frantically, you grabbed the back of his head, threading your fingers through his dark hair before grasping them roughly.

“Fuck, Stiles…” you moaned, closing your eyes tightly at the sensations he was giving you, his tongue moving expertly across your chest, leaving angry red marks in his wake. You relished in the feeling, never wanted it to end.

Reluctantly, he removed his mouth from your breast with a pop, reaching behind him to remove his shirt and toss it. He shifted down further, feather touching your body until he reached the waistband of your shorts. Looping his fingers, he dragged them down your legs slowly. Too slowly. After they were thrown off you, Stiles massaged his fingertips into your thighs, spreading your legs wider to expose your covered core to him. Leaning forward, he kissed the inside of your thighs, trailing around your panties and nibbling on your hipbones. His fingers slid up and down your covered core, feeling your wetness through the soaked panties.

“Stiles…please, please…” you begged. He looked back up at you, his movements stilling. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“As you wish, anything for you my dove, anything,”

Not taking as much care as before, he threw your panties off you, groaning at the sight of your glistening folds. Adjusting himself so he was on his stomach, he circled his hands around your thighs, placing one final kiss on each one before he dived right in, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. You cried out instantly at the contact, your hips leaving the bed to roll into his face. That barely lasted a second while his arm snaked around and pressed your hips back down.

He began to suck on your clit harshly, flicking various patterns across the bud. His other hand moved to probed at your entrance, circling one finger around before he was sinking it in knuckle deep. He swirled his finger around slowly, thrusting a couple times before adding a second finger into your warm wet core. He glanced up to look at you, only to find your head thrown back in ecstasy, soft moans exhaling through your lips.

He tipped your head forward. “Open your eyes dove, I wanna see you fall apart please,” Stiles’ voice was low and sultry.

You pried your eyes open, but they so heavy, every limb in your body felt boneless. “Stiles…I-I don’t know how long-“

“Keep them open as long as you can baby, I know you can do it,” Stiles’ mouth was back on your clit, slick sounds filled the room as he pumped his fingers at a speed that was nearly incomprehensible, but his eyes were on yours, pupils dilating even more at the state you were in. Your moans grew louder, his name spilling from your lips over and over again. The coil in your stomach tightened further while you clenched desperately around his fingers, drawing him in further and further.

“Stiles, I-I’m close!” you panted out.

“S’okay, baby, let go I’ve got you, I’ve got you baby,” And with a particular thrust of his fingers and another harsh suck on your clit, you came undone. Closing your eyes tightly and throwing your head back, you orgasm crushed over you, shaking your entire body as you grabbed the sheets of the bed. His tongue continued to work against you, lapping up all your juices from you. You jerked and spasmed in his grip, toes curling at the over-stimulation until he pulled away, smiling cockily at you and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

Stiles hovered over you once again, bracing himself on one forearm while the gripped your right hip. He peppered kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and across your face. Meanwhile, you were sucking in deep breaths trying to calm your racing heart. He smiled down at you, kissing the tip of your nose and giving you time to recover from your intense orgasm.

“You okay? Was that alright, not too rough?” he whispered, his tone sweet and laced with adoration. You nodded, still breathless.

“It was perfect,” you whimpered.

He smiled against your skin, moving his kisses from your face to your jaw, trailing down to your neck. “Good,” he said. “I wanted it to be perfect. I want _everything _to be perfect for you. I want absolutely everything for you, my dove,” he continued to kiss your neck softly, not pressing any further to let you recover. “Do you want to take a break? We do have to keep going,” your heart melting at his words, a smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s okay, I want to keep going,” you said confidently.

“Good,” he smiled genuinely at you, placing a chaste but sweet kiss to your lips. You sighed into the kiss, disappointed when it ended all too soon.

Stiles moved to stand, undoing the belt on his jeans quickly. Popping the button, he dragged his jeans down with his boxer. Your eyes widened, staring directly at his cock. It was large, bigger than what you remembered, although your last experience had been a lust-filled blur you can’t really remember it. Honestly, it felt rude to stare, but you couldn’t help it. The head was leaking with precum, and instinctively you bit your lip.

After a moment, you flicked your eyes up to see Stiles’ gaze already on yours, a cocky smirk stamped on his face. “Whatcha doing?” he said teasingly. You blushed, now doing everything in your power to avoid looking at his dick.

“Um…is-is it gonna fit?” Stiles laughed loudly at that.

“Baby, it fit before!”

“Well, I wasn’t really pay attention before!” Now you were laughing, breaking the awkward tension that had started to form. You sat forward, reaching your hand out to stroke him before he stopped you.

“Tonight, my dove, is all about you,” he said, pushing you gently back to lie among the covers again.

He crawled up toward to, spreading your legs wide and slotting his hips against yours, running his cock up and down your folds, which were still completely soaked from your previous orgasm. Stiles tipped your head forward again, the playful look from before was gone and replaced with a serious one. His eyes, however, expressed such love for one, that maybe one day he hoped to be able to find the courage to explain how intense his feelings are. Instead, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Are you sure?” he checked one last time. You smiled at him, nodding your head.

Placing another kiss, he lined himself up at your entrance and slowly began to push himself in. You gasped, still not used to having someone inside you. He took his time, moving his cock in inch by inch until he was seated in you completely, his hips pressed up against your own. He bit his lip, trying not to cum just by being inside your warm, wet, and tight pussy.

Your hands grabbed at his shoulders. “Move, Stiles, please! Please!” you begged.

“I’ve got you, dove,” Slowly, he moved his hips back, pulling out nearly all the way before sliding back. He started slow, but each thrust into you was precise, hitting all the right places inside you. The pleasure was building in your stomach as he got deeper and deeper inside you. He was taking his time fucking you, not wanting to rush anything.

Your legs wrapped around him, locking together at your ankles so he was able to sink even deeper into you. His hot breath was against your neck, moaning out your name.

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight baby,” he said, thrusting in between each punctuation. “You feel so good, so fucking good, oh my god. Fuck! You’re so warm, s’good. You were made for me, dove, made for me in every possible way,” With each thrust, he picked up his speed while your fingernails dug crescent shaped moons into his skin, your mind becoming foggy with only his name running through your mind. You felt every throb of him each time he pounded into you while his whispered filthy things in your ear, spurring you on even further as you got closer and closer to the edge for the second time.

“Want more baby? Need more from me?” you let out a moan, unable to find words. He chuckled at your fucked-out state. Stilling for just a moment (you let out an uncomfortable whine), he shifted your leg to settle over his shoulder. He picked a grueling pace, thrusting into you again. By now, your moans were loud, you were pratically screaming out his name as he fucked you into oblivion. Somehow, Stiles kept up this punishing pace, chasing his own climax.

Eventually, his thrusts grew sloppy and needy, his orgasm nearing closer and closer.

“Stiles-“ was all of a warning you could muster that you were close too. He looked at you and pressed two of his fingers against your lips, slipping through into your mouth. You sucked on them languidly, Stiles’ eyes slipping shut as he groaned.

Pulling them out with a pop, he slid his hand back down, pressing hard against against your overly abused clit. One quick circle around the bud was all it took for you to come crashing over the edge, cumming harshly as your orgasm took over your entire body, flooding all of your senses like fire rushing up through your veins. Every single part of you shook, waves of pleasure flooding over you while Stiles fucked you through your orgasm until he came himself with a shout of your name on his lips, his cum coating your walls. That was the last thing you remembered before blacking out completely.

When you came too, you had another pair of panties on along with his shirt, and you were tucking under the covers. You pried your eyes open, only to find that Stiles was nowhere to be found. You panicked, thought that he had left you again. You stood, maneuvering on shaky legs toward the bedroom door. Leaning against the wall, you opened the door as best you could.

“Stiles,” you called. No response. Dread pooled in your stomach as your anxiety heightened even further. Did he leave again? “STILES?” you shouted.

“Baby?” he said, sounding far away. You let out a breath, relieved. You heard him climb the stairs, taking two at a time. Stiles peered around the corner, shirtless with only his boxer briefs on and a glass of water in his hand. He rushed up to you, placing a quick peck on your forehead before running into the bedroom to place the glass of water on the nightstand. Walking back to you, he scooped you up and carried you bridal style back onto the bed. “What’s wrong? Why did you get up?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I-I got worried…it seems a little silly now,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

Stiles chuckled, then nodded over to the floor, “My pants and shoes are still here dove, I highly doubt I’ll be going anywhere without those,” he said, his tone playful. You looked to the floor, a giggle on your lips as you laughed at your obliviousness. “And besides,” he said, leaning and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles shuffled you around until you were laying a cheek on his chest, his heartbeat thumping steadily against your ear while your legs tangled together.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Go to sleep, my dove.”

You two spent the next week in bed, pretty much just fucking the entire time. Sometimes it was slow and loving, him thrusting into you slow and deep, dragging out your experience together. Other times it was rough, him tugging on your hand as he pounded into you with godlike speed. You’d ride on his cock, tits bouncing for him while he left fingerprint bruises into your skin, he’d have you on your knees choking on his cock, or he’d pound you from behind, pulling your back against his chest while he muttered what a good girl you were for taking him so well.

In between the sex, you two would talk about everything and nothing all at once. You found that he still had a little trouble opening up to you, which you knew would take some time. However, you would be here with open arms whenever he felt ready. Nevertheless, you still saw parts of him that you never expected: he was shy, sweet, but at the same time he was really funny. Even a little charismatic at times. You could also see just how much he cared about other people. It was buried, yes, but there.

In return, he learned so much about you. You told plenty of childhood stories, from when you broke your leg by falling down two steps of stairs (“Hey! I was frail five-year-old!”) to the time on Halloween when you dressed as a werewolf and instead of saying “trick or treat!” at the door, you howled.

Things weren’t always so easy, once your little sexapade ended. A lifetime trauma of neglect wasn’t going to disappear overnight, and neither was the looming guilt that you killed someone. Early on, it had been frustrating when Stiles got into his moods or had a bad day. He’d reverted into his cold exterior shell that wouldn’t open for anyone, not even you. All you wanted to do was help and he wouldn’t let you. Some of the bad days, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Other times, he’d get angry at your mere presence. He’d shut you out and you’d angry, only for him to come around and apologize. You had decided that this wasn’t exactly healthy and came up with a solution that seemed to work for him. He’d tell you if he was having a bad day, and you’d ask if he want to talk about, wanted you to distract him from it by talking, wanted you to just hold him, or wanted to be left alone. You thanked your therapist for the idea, and it worked wonders.

Even for you, when you had your first bad day, Stiles was in a particularly good mood, and you didn’t want to spoil it for him with your own troubles. But he was smart and caught on pretty quick that something was wrong. You had immediately started sobbing, thinking you had ruined everything when he used your own tricks against you.

The only caveat was when you both had a bad day, but overtime, your guys’ bad days became less and less frequent. You had made it a point for Stiles to go outside at least once a day, either with you or Scott, and to join all of your friends for dinner whenever they got together. Of course, he’d been reluctant to go, but eventually he did more than just sit there with a brooding look on his face. He made small comments every now and then, even allowing himself to chuckle at a joke or two. It was small progress, but progress, nonetheless.

It had been three years since you and Stiles had found each other, and for the first time in a long time you were nervous, pacing back and forth around the living room of Stiles’ home. You had asked Scott for help in distracting Stiles while you got everything ready. Slowly, your negative thoughts overcame you. Maybe this was a bad idea… you thought. Maybe it’s not too late to fix it! Unfortunately, just as your resolve to do this had dwindle, you heard the doorknob turn. You gasped, turning to see Stiles walk through the door, a small smile on his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Hey Stiles,” you said, forcing a smile as best you could.

“Hey, my dove,” he responded, taking quick steps over to turn. Placing his large hands on your waist, he pulled you closer, leaning down to kiss you, which you happily returned, thinking that you had fooled him. Obviously, you had been wrong.

“Bad day?” he muttered into your lips. “What do you need from me baby?”

“Um, uh, not a bad day,” you stuttered.

“Nervous? You haven’t been nervous in awhile baby,” he squeezed at your waist reassuringly.

“Well, um, I-“

“Flustered now too? Are you sure everything’s okay?” Stiles peered down at you, worry swimming in his eyes.

You couldn’t handle that look in his eyes much longer, “I sold my house!” you blurted out.

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up to his hairline as his jaw fell open. He took a few steps back, scratching as the back of his neck nervously. “Um…come again?” he asked.

You sighed, willing yourself to focus your gaze on him. “I, uh, sold my house. There was this really nice family that was moving in, and their budget was super limited and I felt really, really bad honestly it was just so spur of the moment and-“

“Y/n, where are you going to live?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Um, I was kinda hoping I could move in with you?” you said slowly. Stiles mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as he finally understood. “Look, I’m already here nearly every single night with you, and we’re actually running out of homes here because it’s no longer just single people coming it’s whole families! And I really don’t need the space especially since all my time is with you, which I absolutely love by the way, and they were pretty desperate to find a home so next thing I knew I was offering up my house, and your really should’ve seen their faces, and-“ he cut you off, grabbing your face roughly and pressing his lips against yours, slipping his tongue inside with ease.

Pulling away, he smiled at you. “I would love for you to move in with me,” Stiles said with a goofy grin on his face.

You squealed, jumping into his arms while he spun you around, both of your laughter filling the air.

“So, should we go and get your stuff?” Stiles asked after setting you down.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you smiled nervously. “About that,” you drawled out. “I, uh, may or may not of had Scott distract you so I could move in all of my things,”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, jerking his head to look around the room. “Um? It literally looks the same baby,”

“Well, there wasn’t much to move, considering I had practically all of my belongings here for almost half a year now,” you said, with a sudden realization. “But there was something I had to move over, wait here!” you ran over, placing a quick peck on his cheek before into your now shared bedroom, opening a box and filing through all the different pieces to find the letters that you had written to your soulmate before you knew it was Stiles. Gathering up the small bundle, you excitedly rushed out to a waiting Stiles. “Um, when I first heard I had a soulmate, at six, I had wanted to write you a whole bunch of letters, but my parents restricted me to one a year, so,” you chuckled nervously seeing Stiles’ eyes widened, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Wait here,” he said quickly before running out of the room. You sat down on the couch, a little confused. When he returned, your jaw dropped to the floor with the enormous pile of letters, nearly overflowing and falling out of his arms because there were so many. “Um, my parents didn’t restrict me, but looking at it now, maybe they should have,”

“Holy fuck Stiles!” you laughed. “How many are there?”

“I think I lost count after around sixty-four...?”

“SIXTY-FOUR?” By now, you couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it, but at the same time your heart melting at the fact that he cared so much for you then, even if you didn’t know him.

Stiles smiled fondly at you. “You should read some of them, I probably should’ve kept them in order…”

You chuckled, plucking a random one from the pile and tearing it open. This one was from when he was nine, telling you about some of the new friends he made in fourth grade, how he loves science and hates English, and how he finally has all of his grown-up teeth in. He also complimented you, saying that no matter what you looked like, you were already the prettiest girl in the world. You smiled at how adorable he was, only for it to turn into a sad one as you wondered what happened.

The next letter was a cringey one from when he was 13 and writing some God-awful poetry (“Hey, Romeo and Juliet really hit it home for me!” he had told you.) You cringed the whole time reading it but smiled at his efforts.

The last letter you grabbed was from when he was 15. His birthday was a few months away, and Stiles was spending his time wondering what his magical allegiance would be. He seen some of his older friends with powers, and they looked cool as fuck! He also mentioned how he now despises science thanks to a teacher named Mr. Harris, and his girlfriend had recently broken up with him. He said how sorry he was for dating her, thinking maybe she was you, but now he knew it wasn’t, and he was going to try his best to be patient waiting for, but he was just so excited to meet you so he could spend the rest of his loving you. He signed it “Love, Stiles” that’s how he signed every letter.

“You had a girlfriend?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“Yeah, uh, she broke up with me when she tried to kiss me, but I couldn’t kiss her back.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn’t my soulmate; she wasn’t YOU. I wanted my first kiss to be with them, and she had gotten really angry and broke up with me on the spot,” his smile faltered as he talked. “I really wish I had kept that mindset…” he trailed off, not meeting your eye.

“You know, I’m not angry at you for that,” you said sympathetically.

“I-I know, I know!” he said quickly. “It’s just, I wish it could’ve been as special as yours was,” Stiles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another letter. “This is the final one I wrote to you. I had just turned sixteen,” he whispered.

His hand was shaky slightly as he held it out for you. You knew that he was opening up to you like never before.

Slowly, you opened the letter. It was shorter than the other ones you read.

Dear Soulmate,

I’m fucked. Forever fucked. Oh God why did this have to happen to me? What the fuck did I do wrong?

I thought I could be different, but I was wrong. Even my parents are still afraid of me, afraid of what I can supposedly do. I won’t use my powers. I won’t, even if it does slowly kill me.

They all hate me now will you hate me too?

Please don’t hate me

I love you.

Tears welled in your eyes. You looked up at Stiles, only to see him avoiding your gaze, much more interested in the floor.

“Stiles,” you said quietly. He looked up at you, his shoulders slumped low. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to,” he said, his eyes fixed onto you. “I want to…”

He shuffled for a second, scratching at his face and running a hand through his hair. He leaned heavily against the wall, his head low again. “It was instant,” he started. “The change. One minute I had loads of friends, and the next they all despised me, throwing insult after insult. Some just pretended I didn’t exist. Quite honestly, I don’t know which hurt more, but either way, they all abandoned me when I needed them the most,” Stiles took in another shaky breath before continuing. “Everything changed. I got detention once for breaking a pencil and going up to sharpen it. I became what everyone thought I would be not because its who I am, but because they made me feel I had no other choice. I started getting death threats everyday that they just became normal. I tried reporting them, but everyone just assumed I was lying because I’m a Void right? It’s in my goddamn nature!” His voice had risen considerably, feeling something shift inside of him now that he was letting this part of his past go.

“My parents were the only ones that still loved me, and they burned down my fucking house because of it. They killed the only people who were willing to give me a chance, who were willing to love me despite everything that had happened to me, and I just got so angry that day. So fucking angry. I decided to throw everyone out of this town. I didn’t want to kill them, I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t mean to start this whole safe haven bit, but once people heard, Darks just came here so they could finally live under the sun, because they knew exactly what I had been through.

“Now the whole world has changed. Some safe havens didn’t even need to fight! Their governor or whoever the fuck just said ‘Hey this place is open for Darks! Don’t like it? Fuck off, then,’ and people just accepted it. They’re all over the entire world now! All because I just wanted the people who used to love me to go away, I didn’t intend any of this…and sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if you had known me back then…would you still love me?”

“Stiles, of course I would still love you!” you exclaimed, the tears streaking down your face. “You’re parents loved you-“

“They had to. I was their only son…”

“And I was my parents’ only daughter, and they didn’t think twice before throwing me out into the streets,” you said, eyebrows furrowing. “They throw me out without even a second glance. That’s how a lot of Darks ended up in the dark corners of the world; their parents threw them out. But not yours, Stiles, because they truly loved you,” you stood, walking slowly over to stand in front of Stiles. His cheeks were shiny with tears, but his eyebrows weren’t furrowed, and the tension in his face was gone. You reached up to cup his face in your hands. “I know you didn’t intend it, but you changed the world for the better. And…I’ve learned that the people who truly love you won’t care about something you have no control over. They love you for you, just like I love you, Stiles”

His arms snaked around your waist, settling on your lower back while he pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you. So much. I’ve loved you since the second I’ve heard about even having a soulmate. I loved you that first day I saw you eating ice cream with our friends. I’ve loved you my whole life…you’re part of the reason I didn’t succumb to my isolation. I thought about getting rid of those letters, but every time I tried, I couldn’t do you because I love you, and deep down, I knew that you loved me too.”

“I do love you, Stiles,”

“I know, if there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure about, its that you love me, and I love you,”

“Congratulations on the engagement!” Stiles said, patting his friend on the back.

“Thanks man,” Scott said, smiling his big goofy grin. “I’m so excited to finally marry her, when are you gonna pop the question for y/n?”

Stiles smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, I have a plan,” he said rather nonchalantly.

“Will I be informed of this plan?”

“No,”

“Bro! Come on, I’m your best friend,” Scott made it a point to bring that up nearly everyday since Stiles told him that.

“I know, BUT you’ll tell Allison, who will then tell y/n, making it not be a surprise anymore, and I want it to be a surprise,”

“Fair enough,”

They continued on for a moment in silence. Not the awkward silence from years before when Scott had to drag him out of the house, but a comfortable one. One between good friends.

“Hey,” Scott said, stopping in his tracks for a moment. Stiles looked at him concerned. “I just wanted to say how proud of you I am. You’ve really come a long way,”

“So has the world. How many safe havens did you say there are now?”

“I think it’s around 250?”

Stiles whistled lowly at that. “Oh, um, thank you,” he said, with more awkwardness then he had intended.

“Of course,” Scott said sincerely, saving the moment.

“Um, actually, if you don’t mind, I could use a favor,”

“Anything,”

It was a lazy day for you. Stiles had woken you after a night of mind-blowing sex to tell you that he was leaving for a bit to hang with Scott. You didn’t mind. After all, you were pretty sore. You could use the extra rest.

Unfortunately, you had slept another five hours, sleeping through Stiles entire visit with Scott. You would’ve kept sleeping too, had Stiles not woken you up.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said sweetly, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Mmm,” you whined. “More sleep,”

“Baby, its almost one in the afternoon!” he laughed incredulously at you.

You sighed, peaking one eye open to look at him. “So?”

“So,” he drawled. “I have a surprise for.”

You shot up at his words. “For me? It’s not my birthday or our anniversary…”

“Come on now, I can’t surprise my lovely girlfriend just this once?” he said, tone a little smug but you didn’t mind.

“What is it?”

He smiled, holding out an envelope for you, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t nervous about it. Giving him a playful but confused look, you took the envelope and peered inside.

“Plane tickets?” you looked up at him, a smile spreading slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Everywhere. Anywhere. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, and when I found out I was a Void, I didn’t think it was possible, but with the way the world is now, I don’t see why not. I picked out our first destination, but after that, its up to you,” Stiles took your hand in his, squeezing gently. “I was also thinking that, even though I never meant to, I started this massive shift in the world. I want to do more good, and I to abolish the safe havens so that we don’t need sacred places to live. We could live wherever we want to live because we’re no different. I’m hoping with you by my side, you could help me with that.” He smiled at you hopefully, and it took you no time to think of your answer.

“Yes, yes of course!” you exclaimed, pulling him down to kiss him passionately.

“Alright, we’re leaving today. Quick! Get dressed! Start packing we’ve got a lot to do baby!” He kissed quickly again before running off, babbling on for what you and him needed to do.

In no time at all, you two found yourselves at the front gate, a bag in one hand while the other held tightly onto him.

He smiled brightly, a light in his eyes twinkling. “We could change the world, my dove,”

“Together?”

Stiles smiled down at you. “Always.”

And with that, the front gates opened for you. Hand in hand, you two walked out, ready to change the world.

Tags:

@beaubinxie @writingsbychlo @weirdowithnobeardo @0castergirl0

#stiles stilinski imagine #stiles #stiles stilinski #void stiles #void stiles smut #teen wolf #void #void x reader #void stiles x reader #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #nogistune #void stiles x reader smut

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batbirdies · 4 years ago

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Just need to shout into the void for a moment.

So at my new job (idk if you’d consider it “new” anymore but I do) I work in a team of three, and one of us, the one who knows everything and trained me on most of what I currently know how to do — just quit.

It’s not like, the end of the world, in that up to this point I haven’t had all that much to do honestly, I’ve been struggling to keep myself busy but suddenly being giving half of someone else’s workload I already feel overwhelmed even though nothing has officially been transferred over or anything. And I’m like, having flashbacks to the time I was hired on at a previous job that I LOVED and then my manager quit like 6 months in and after she left everything went to shit and i still stayed for almost two years even though she was the only thing that made it a good job back then.

Plus I still feel totally like I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to SO MANY THINGS like, her leaving feels like I’m losing my number one source of information, I’m just stressed atm.

Plus there is one sales person I was handed off that basically no one likes or wanted to work with because he asks like, way more of us than anyone else does and can be “sassy” according to them. Which I have seen during our official meetings when he blatantly insulted all the field workers. My fam is like “Aw you won’t have a problem with it you don’t take crap from anyone” and I’m like, I’m too new! I’m too new to not take crap!!! Lmao.

And the other guy seems nice but when I was hired on and they were discussing shuffling sales people back then, he requested to stay with the girl who is quitting so it just feels like 😑 I don’t want the other guy and this guy doesn’t want me lmao.

And now the one sales person who literally never gives me any work wants to meet and discuss “expeditor tasks” with me so idk where that is going to go. I’m just having a bit of stress this morning, I don’t like the unknowns 😓

#personal #rambling #work

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uglypastels · 4 years ago

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To the Beat - Headcanons

(a/n) right, so here are just some headcanons/vague ideas of how i imagined the band play their songs. Either at the specific concert or in general in the future once they had grown more comfortable on stage and a bigger fanbase etc.

Also, I have no idea if this makes sense but I had all these ideas in my head that i needed to get out and on to “paper”, so i thought then why not just share it :)

Read part 1 here <---> part 2 here

If you want any other hc about the band :) just send an ask. cause this might be my new favorite au and i would love to do some further world building lmao.

The Band setlist

headcanons below cut

MR BRIGHTSIDE (The Killers)

So, Harrison starts playing on the guitar, and then the drums follow after a few beats just like in the original. Harrison sings the first verse, but Harry comes in with the harmonies in the lines like “gotta gotta be down” and “How did I end up like this?”

Then I feel like there could be more harmonies in the pre-chorus, but the chorus itself is sung by Haz, with Tom and Harry doing like matching back up vocals (ooohs and stuff like that).

The second verse is sung by Harry, with harmonies done by Haz. Then at the line with the pre-echo of “(it was only a kiss) It was only a kiss” Tom is the one to say it. -

(sidenote, i feel, like if they performed it more, he would get more confidence into and would start improvising shit that would totally not match the song and harry would either go along with it or just ignore him. Either way, funny shit.)

Harry would sing most of the second pre-chorus, but the other two would join him in the last line “and taking control”. Then Harrison sings the final chorus. And Tom would do the echoes the song ends on (the repeated “I never”s)

THE INVISIBLE MAN (Queen)

Harrison sings most of it, but like, really close to the microphone, so he doesn’t have to sing it very loudly.

You just know Harry is having the time of his life during this song with the bass. Especially after the intro and there is that part of just bass and drums. Tom and Harry love it.

(also Tom does the adlibs through the verses and he shouts something randoms, but not through the mic, just into the void lol we love our adlib king)

Then during the chorus, Tom and Harry whisper-sing “I’m the invisible man”

So the bridge is a bit more aggressive so Harry would sing that, headbanging like crazy when given the time.

The guitar solo… honestly, I don’t know what to say about that without becoming a puddle. K byeee.

Basically they would go all out and be super extra, making Freddie Mercuy proud.

YOU OUGHTA KNOW (Alanis Morissette)

So, this is Tom’s song. It starts off with a snare drum and he sings softly, but angry just like Alanis. And the rhythm just fits considering he would also have to drum. Then the second part of the verse, he gets louder.

Haz and Harry do the pre-chorus in harmonies, with Tom shouting out the No in “To be open wide, no” Then the last two lines are for Harry (“ ‘til you died, until you died, but you’re still alive!”) and he shouts them out to transition into the chorus which he also sings.

Then then the second verse is also sung by Tom. It basically follows the same formula as the first part.

After the second chorus, there is that kind of echo which Haz sings. The bridge is Tom’s part again. Harry sings the last two choruses again but then the last “you, you, you oughta know” is sung much softer for the DRAMA.

ARE YOU GONNA BE MY GIRL (Jet)

The cough. You know that one of them would do the cough. But never at the right moment though.

This is another song that Harry loves to perform because its super bass… based, so he grabs at at the attention and gets super extra at the intro. Tom would just be vibing at the beat really. Then the guitar riff comes in and everyone just *swoons* and Harry comes in with the WhOO!

Harrison also goes all out, playing to the audience, but then for every line he would lean into the microphone, really close and then jump off it to the back, just to come back in at the next line. I don’t know how to describe but.. That. And he would change his tone where it fits so in the second line of “say you look so fine, that I really wanna make you mine” he would end it all husky probably. And he would most definitely try to spot someone hot in the crowd and sing the next line to them with a wink (Now you don't need the money/When you look like that, do ya honey?) and his voice would go all deep and oof yeah. Just sex all around for him, really.

Harry would finish off the pre-chorus and shout his way through the chorus like the energetic weirdo that he is (how he still has a voice at the end of it all is large mystery).

Then the drum stops for Tom to catch a moment, not that he really needs it, and he says the “Are you gonna be my girl?” and then I die basically.

And then after the second chorus, the guitar starts and Tom stands up to clap, letting the audience to follow. And (hopefully) they continue with it through the rest of the song.

BREAK MY HEART (Dua Lipa, cover version of HEY LIFE)

The song would either start with a bass actually or a guitar that is a bit higher than the one in the playlist i set. They wouldn’t play it as metal-y. Harrison sings, holding on to that mic Harry is living his life with the bass.

Then they all sing the first half of the pre-chorus in harmonies and it sounds amazing. The other half is for Harrison.

The first few lines of the chorus “I would've stayed at home/'Cause I was doin' better alone/But when you said, "Hello"/I know that was the end of it all” is like an acapella monotone singing… I don’t know music terms okay, deal it with <3 but then they repeat it with the instruments and harmonies.

It all kind of repeats itself in the same formula, I think. Then there’s a bit of a solo at the end of the second??? chorus so that would go to Harrison. And the bridge they’d sing together again. And there are some like background lines?? That would probably be Harry :) why did I make him the loud chaotic one?? I have no idea but try and tell me that I’m wrong. He’d go through like 6 bottles of water cause ya boy’s gotta STAY HYDRATED

MISS YOU (The Rolling Stones)

Right, so like in the fic, audience participation in the best way possible. They teach the crowd what to sing and how to sing it. So the ooohs and yadda yadda at the intro and through the rest of the song. It has a fucking great beat too so everyone is just VIBING to it and it’s a party. Harrison is doing his best with his cursive™ singing lol. No one really understands what he’s saying but we’re here for it. Then Harry signs towards the crowd to sing and its loud and amazing and the connection!!

Then later on tom and harry to the back up vocals again and it just sounds like two little angels.

There is a part where it’s kind of slam poetry lol, about walking in central park or something (idk the song that well oops) anyway, that part is Harry’s.

The saxophone solos are obviously changed into a guitar solo, or a bass, or drum, whichever guy is quicker each show. Then the crowd joins in again cause they can’t help it and that little ooooh/aaaah will be stuck in everyones head for the rest of the week (just like it happened to me after i went to the Rolling Stones concert, people were still singing it in the train on the way home and that is exactly the vibe we are going for here)

WILDFLOWER (5 Seconds of Summer)

So it’s been established that these boys do nothing but exude sex through their entire performance and this song is no exception. They start of very sweet with the wild-wildflower but from their, straight into the sin bin. Harrison is singing

(ngl i did base him a lot on Luke Hemmings in this fic so I just had to put in a 5SOS song- even though calum sings it but do not ruin this for me OKAY)

In the meantime, Tom is clapping along, getting the crowd to do it, though he has to make sure the people actually stay in rhythm so it doesn’t fuck up the song. Then in the pre-chorus its Tom and Harry as back-up, still for Harrison to take the lead. Until the last sentence where its Harry coming in with the “I know where tonight is going!”

But here’s the thing. The song goes “You're the only one who makes me- Every time we-” and then there’s the added “Tell you what I like” which Tom is SUPPOSED to sing, but as we have established, he’s a little shit and he loves to mess around, so he would shout out weird stuff out when he got the chance, but if he couldn’t think of it, then he’d at least take it to the stage to finish Haz’ sentence. So when he sings “You’re the only one who makes me-” Tom nicely finished is it and shouts “HARD”

Also I think Harry would be bopping around with his bass to the drum, cause how can you not.

SEVEN NATION ARMY (The White Stripes)

Right so here is Harrison, aka our cursive singing king, thriving. The first part of the song doesn’t even use guitar so he’s just at the microphone chilling, most definitely brushing his fingers through his hair, maybe rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Does he need to do it? No, but who minds it? Exactly, nobody.

But then when the guitar does finally start he is oFFFFF. Putting so much into it.

Tom also most definitely goes far and beyond drumming to this. it’s a simple beat but he just drums with all his body. At the begining of every verse, where its just the bass drum, you can see him step on that fucking pedal.

and then he adds on the other drum (idk terms, let me be) but he moves his head to each beat and he hits it fucking hard okay, so MUSCLE uhum uhum, yeah.

And there’s another classic bassline in here so Harry is thriving like any time he gets to shine <3

CALIFORNICATION (Red Hot Chili Peppers)

So this was a slower song to kind of level all the songs that had been super energetic.

It’s simply the moment where all of them can relax a bit. maybe some of the audience will turn on their flashlights. Not that the song really needs that, but its fun, so why not.

Harrison is at it again with the cursive, tho not as much here. He also plays around at the end of the verses, lengthening the notes and stuff. idk, making it fancy

They put in more distinct harmonies at the chorus “Dream of Californication”

then there are the back up Ooooh’s in the other verses. love those.

they might cut the song short, stopping before the last verse, just where its the soft guitar plating and they faded out and its time for another break :)

CHELSEA DAGGER (The Fratellis)

So they don’t actually play this song. It was something that came accidentally. They probably don’t even know the name of the song. But its just one of those things that everyone kinda knows. So during a break one of the 3 is fucking around on their instrument and the other two join in, still clueless, and suddenly its the crowd that does the dudududud’s and there ya go, Chelsea Dagger. Just a little quickie to get everyone pumped up again after a slower song.

SEX ON FIRE (Kings of Leon)

Harrison’s cursive singing strikes again, but at this point we’re all living for it. It’s also the song where he’s a bit louder and gets up there together with Harry’s voice lol.

Then Tom sings the chorus, since this is all my self indulgence and I want him to sing the words “your sex is on fire” over and over again. sue me.

But like, he tenses up when he sings, getting it in that right emotional range, and he’s still drumming and it’s all very very hot.

maybe the light technicians set the lights on red or orange <3

MISS ALISSA (Eagles of Death Metal)

Here’s my idea: they all had a veto on picking one song each for the set list and the rest had to be voted on together

(Harrison’s would be ---- and Tom’s would be You Oughta Know, cause he angsty like that sometimes).

Harry picked this song simply because its fucking fast and it was a struggle for the other two lol. It’s basically just drums and guitar so Harry is singing and clapping, with his bass on his back, while tom is basically dying from this repeated beat, playing it nonstop for 3 minutes straight while his fucking brother is jumping around on stage.

And the ‘you aint dancing’ at the end is definitely directed at Tom.

To which Tom would nicely respond with flipping his brother off :)

RUBY (Kaiser Chief)

My sweet baby angels they start with the tadata’s together

And Harry sings the verse and the chorus, with Tom and Haz doing the back up vocals.

Cause he sings the most of this song, he sometimes slacks with the bass, just letting it go all together, to hold on to the mic (or taking it with him and dancing around the stage during the chorus)

and during the bridge he could very well bend down to sing to the audience directly

so the people *swoon* once again

and he would be deep in eye contact with someone for that bridge, just for the chorus to start again and he’d jump up and be all bouncy again. we love variety

in short, this concert would not be good for my heart

STAR GIRL (McFly)

The only real reason why the chose this song is cause they’re 12 year old boys and the lines of the second verse made them laugh (there’s nothing on Earth that can save us, when i fell in love with Uranus) and i mean, who can blame them. But its also just a really fun song that the crowd can easily join into as well - gotta love the whoohoo-oooo’s .

And speaking of, after the bridge and trumpet/in this case guitar solo, there’s a few counts of silence. You can bet that the audience misses it by like half a beat which the boys enjoy immensely. Sometimes they would even go out of their way to make the pause even longer to mess with people.

But basically, the do end up loving this song, especially Tom and Harry. they have possibly argued about who sings which part, so they end up just switching through shows (tho Harry gets to do the bridge, since he has the loudest voice<3)

COME TOGETHER (The Beatles)

They specifically chose this song to finish the show off with.

cause it really brings everyone together.

they might sing it a bit differently though, maybe more like Aerosmith

(they tried Gary Clark Jr.’s version but they felt like they couldn’t do it as big as he did it)

they definitely fool the crowd to when to sing Come Together or not, very anticlamactic and all but it won’t make anyone love them any less.

but once they do sing it, Chilssss

and they do each a verse, so first Harrison, then Harry, and finally Tom. and they all finish their own verse very dramatic in their own little ways.

Harrison barely understandable, but very dramatic

Harry basically screams it out

and Tom is just SEX™

and then they finish the show off with extended solo’s and I cry again

idk if i should tag people, since no one asked for this, but i’m doing it

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @spiderrrling @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @duskholland @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @captainpeggy40 @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @starkeybabie @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @perspectiveparker @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @spidey-reids-2003 @fallinfortom @chloecreatesfictions @londonspidey @hollandcreep @inlovewithmobtom @hypnotized-so-mesmerized

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #harry holland #band!au #fanfic #fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harry holland fanfiction #drummer!tom #guitarist!harrison #bassist!harry #headcanon #this could have just been the fic #but instead i went out of my way and wrote 17k #including like 8k smut #fml

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