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pierregazly · 8 months

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in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis.

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world.

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to.

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel.

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it.

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other.

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was.

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?”

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.”

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head.

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up.

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same.

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city.

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together.

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right.

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days.

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days.

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times.

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy?

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that.

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix.

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza.

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen.

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks.

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.”

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?”

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.”

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close.

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?”

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.”

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood.

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help.

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in?

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities?

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas.

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper.

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?”

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.”

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.”

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on.

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down.

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction.

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were.

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.”

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.”

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working?

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays.

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before.

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you?

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to.

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers.

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down.

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned.

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart.

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head.

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.”

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself.

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection.

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.”

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go.

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.”

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.”

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades.

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be.

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along.

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.”

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you.

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes.

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen.

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?”

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?”

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew.

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews.

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around.

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment.

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know.

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.”

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen.

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go.

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out.

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him.

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later.

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh

if you're interested in being added to my taglist, just send me a message/reply and ill add ya. i lost my list of who asked so if you weren't tagged and wanted to be pls let me know. (if your name has a strike through it, it wouldn't let me tag you)

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 imagine #soulmate trope #my writing #formula 1

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rui-drawsbox · 4 months

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guy giving himself too much credit vs girl too blunt for her own good/s

my girl was upset not bc baxter leaves her. but bc she wanted to date again and the ghost of her charming-first-boyfriend didnt leaved her alone

#baxter just became a major inconvenience in a minor part of her life (romance)#i treat these two pretty much like soulmates. i mean. it sounds prettier than coincidences ajsdfas #unintentional rizz is my fav trope #rui draw smth #our life: beginnings & always #our life #our life mc #olba #olba mc #baxter ward #our life baxter

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miakate-writes · 3 months

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Hey! Can you please do some enemies to lovers first kiss? ty <3 !!

Enemies to lovers prompts (first kiss edition!) 🗡️♥️

it was an accident i SWEAR

it was a FIGHT, why would anyone kiss during a FIGHT

but they did

one kissed the other just to shut them up

that moment after they first kissed where both of their minds are moving at 100000 miles per hour trying to figure everything out:

did i like that?

why did i like that?

do i want to do it again?

why do i want to do it again?

why is it suddenly really hot how much they hate me?

“why did you do that?” “why did you kiss back?” “i didn’t” “yes… you did”

“you hate me that much, huh?”

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lost-in-beacon-hills · 8 months

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#fanfic #fanfic tropes #soulmate au #kid fic #enemies to lovers #coffee shop #hanahaki #fake dating #friends to lovers #one bed #ao3 #poll #ao3 poll #fanfic poll #sterek #everlark #marichat #steddie #reddie

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kingkatsuki · 4 months

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Anyway, while I was gone I was thinking of this stupid idea with Bakugou (as usual)

Imagine your eighteenth birthday is when you find out who you’re bonded to, and this bond is created via telepathy. A connection opens between two souls, and you’re able to communicate with each other no matter where in the world you are. A connection that only becomes stronger as your relationship with your soulmate grows.

But of course, connections can be broken. The same way those dreamlike fantasies of meeting your perfect soulmate don’t always work— especially when your soulmate is Bakugou Katsuki.

The first time you try to communicate with him, he brushes you off. Telling you to “piss off”, that he doesn’t “need a fuckin’ soulmate”. It’s a time in his life that arguably he needs that connection with someone more than ever. But the feelings of inadequacy and inferiority he holds inside are at an all time high as he pushes everyone away, including you. Shutting the door on any hope you had of ever having a connection with him, of finding your soulmate.

You try again a few times after, watching all your friends develop their love and even meet their soulmates. Hating the green-eyed monster that appears when you realise how bitter you actually are— to be paired with someone that has no interest in you. Cursed to be one of the ones without a soulmate, to try and find a love with another broken person like you.

The conversations are always the same— his irritation for your very existence no match for the conversations you try to start. Making it abundantly clear to you that you’re a distraction, that he doesn’t have time for a soulmate. And yet amongst his complaining that you’ve opened the link at a bad moment, or that he doesn’t need you— he always answers.

So over time you find yourself starting to give up, wondering why you’ve wasted so much time on a man that clearly doesn’t want you. The connection going quiet as neither of you try to open the link.

Radio silence.

And what makes it worse, is your friends who have perfect connections pity you. One of the lost souls without a soulmate— which is why you’re prepared to join a special program. A program that can realign your connection— to tie your soul to another.

It’s unorthodox, an extreme measure that has an endless list of side-effects. You could end up with the more undesirable members of society, who’s connections have been severed before, or the ones that abuse the system for their own benefit— and if the second connection doesn’t work out you’re unable to claim a third. But craving that special bond with someone, picturing the perfect smiles and pickett fences it’s more than worth the risks. So you plan to do it— to sever your connection with your soulmate, and find a new one.

Someone who will actually love you.

But it isn’t until one night that you hear something at the back of your mind, barely a murmur as you shoot up in bed. Squinting as you try desperately to focus on the sound— another whimper. But you can’t seem to make out much else, as you realise that it’s the same connection that you thought was completely shattered all those years ago.

“Hello?” You feel almost stupid calling out, wondering if he even realised that you could hear him again— that you were there.

“Long time no talk, hah sweetheart?” He scoffs, a choked cough spills from his lips after as he winces in pain.

“You sound like shit— is that why you reconnected our bond at four am?”

“Must’ve called the wrong number, sweetheart.” He sneers, but you can almost hear the humour in his tone.

“Well luckily for you I’m going to break our bond.” You bite back as you’re met with silence on the other end, “So you won��t have to make the same mistake again.”

“You can do that?” He whispers.

“Yeah, they can reconnect me with someone else.” You murmur.

“They won’t be as good as me.” He manages to get out before another cough wracks through his body.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” You scrunch your nose in irritation, “But at least they’ll want me.”

“Who said I don’t want you?”

It’s not until a month later that you find out the real reason he reconnected the bond that night. That it was the night that his heart stopped beating as he almost lost his life, his body shutting down as the only thing he could think to do was to call out for you.

#I’ve got a disgusting amount of soulmate ideas in my drafts #but some aren’t fully fleshed out #like I was thinking of computer programmed soulmates too #or like a lonely hearts club vibe where you can through cutting edge technology find a soulmate #think ready player one with the VR headsets #like those trashy dating games #and you fall in love in one of those fantasy worlds #LIKE BELLE!!!! ahhhh #but I digress #soft bakugou #I should tw:soulmates this cause I know how much some of you HATE soulmate tropes LOL

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 2 months

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good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them.

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel.

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color.

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays.

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

#i looked back at your trope tier list for this 👀#damn was that tag game useful or what?#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates #st #stranger things #eddie munson x steve harrington #steveddie #eddeve #noelle writes

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theotherpacman · 1 month

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lawlight is the definition of fucked up and evil soulmates. YES they were destined for each other YES they complete each other in ways no one else in their lives could ever compare to YES they are impossibly similar to the point of being each other's reflection YES from the second their paths crossed they were inextricably intertwined to the point that they could never for the rest of their lives detach from each other. the anime is about them trying to kill each other. they don't love each other, they want each other, they want each other so badly it's all-consuming, they want each other's approval and hatred and respect and adoration and fury and bodies and blood and lives. there is no version in which they could've settled the conflict and been happy together. they were always going to fight to the death.

they've chained themselves together, and now their fates are one and the same.

#i am a homosexual #death note #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #soulmates trope #media analysis

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stop-ur-losing-me · 1 year

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my favorite lovers tropes

academic rivals to lovers (IS SO GOOD, plus when theyre forced to work together)

the "why didn't you answer my letters??" followed by "you wrote me letters???" HEARTWRENCHING

fake dating (enough said)

the 'you need to learn how to dance so im gonna teach you and oh gosh why r we this close?' (honestly one of my all time favs)

the two enemies dancing together at a masquerade dance (yes, just yes)

the screamed love confession during an argument "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU" (best thing ever)

one bed trope (enough said)

the 'i hate everyone but you' couple (yesssss)

one losing their mind if the other is hurt or captured (cough percabeth cough)

the bodyguard/princess trope I REPEAT THE BODYGUARD/PRINCESS TROPE

the 'we were flirting and everyone else knows we were flirting but we're in denial bout it' (this trope)

MUTUAL PINING MUTUAL PINING

additionally, the 'everyone thinks we're dating but we r not/ in denial bout it' (BEST TROPE EVER)

the hero falling for the villain (honestly one of the best ones out there)

lovers to enemies (SO ANGSTY)

there's more i'll add when i can :)

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krahk · 25 days

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Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Three

(Or Alastor learns it’s never to late learn your kinks, hell welcomes all)

18+ from here on out to be safe.

Warnings: entering smutty content near the end, written by an amateur. No smutty smut, but it’s beginning from here on out. I am opening that can of worms.

You really hoped you were harder to kill in hell, because these people simply had no sense of preservation of life in them. First full day in hell and you had been invited to a BDSM club, thrown off of a roof and hid from gunfire trying to keep the creepy little janitor from jumping into the crossfires. Trust exercises were not supposed to be life threatening, but the mania of the day had certainly made it harder for you to focus on your situation for the time being. Back at the hotel you gratefully accepted a drink from Husk as the group recapped the day they had just gone through. For a bunch of terrible sinners, they were pretty alright. Like when you were all alive, the group of you was simply trying to get by day by day.

You had learned that Angel was a porn star in Hell, Nifty’s kinks were both frightening and dangerous (mostly to her, but still), Husk you were certain liked nobody, and Vaggie was an aggressive woman who had no issues throwing you through the fire if she thought it would make you a better person on the other side.

You supposed there were worse people to attach yourself to given your situation. Part of you was grateful that you landed in a place that offered you a place to stay, food to eat with a generous host who made sure you were dressed and comfortable all around. Even though you had processed your death fairly quickly (that was normal, according to Angel) you did know that you could have it so much worse and be dealing with everything alone.

Grateful that everyone was heading to their own quarters when Alastor had returned with the little egg creatures, you made sure to avoid hovering your attention in his direction and ran upstairs after Angel, who had the room next to yours. While passing by Alastors room he had pointed a finger towards his open mouth and gagged, to which you could only respond with a forced chuckle. You waved goodnight to him as you opened your room door and found yourself falling onto the bed and passing out before your head even hit the pillow. Day one, over.

After a few weeks of Hell, you had settled into a comfortable routine. In the mornings you would join the others in the lounge for breakfast and coffee, you would all chat and discuss the next redemption plans before everyone would set off on their own plans for the day if Charlie and Vaggie didn’t have an exercise planned. You still had not left the safety of the building, knowing from your first day that it was strictly mean streets out there. Charlie had grabbed you a few more articles of clothing to complete your meagre wardrobe, and you were not picky in the slightest so you accepted your role as a doll she could dress up. She had picked a lot of modest, but cute A-line dresses, shorter skirts with turtlenecks, a suit - she had a clear preference of clothing seeing as your new items closely resembled her and Vaggie’s overall style. One thing you were grateful for was that the shoes she chose you didn’t require you to wear socks. Like your arms, your legs were black from the end of your limbs until your joint, where the black faded after it passed the knee. So it always looked like you were wearing little stockings. In your time in Hell getting comfortable in your new skin you had also discovered a scattering of black and white freckles on your shoulders and upper arms. You found yourself to be one of the luckier sinners, because your feet were still feet. Many souls like yours had come to hell with hooved feet, but you received a tail instead, which was not quite as common.

Angel had been your link to the world outside, he was constantly on his phone and for some lucky reason the underworld had a similar system of communication like earth. Cell phones, social media, advertisements, etc. It was truly not a far cry from what you knew. He had given you an older phone of his to use, the hotel members being the only contacts in your phone (minus Nifty & Alastor, for which you were grateful) and the two of you texted on the daily, him quickly becoming the closest member of the group to you. Even though Husk was the most recent being to die aside from you, Angel was the most willing to adapt to change. He effortlessly weaved through this complicated lifestyle with ease. He was confident, smart, and an all around great guy. If he would consider easing up on the partying and perhaps manage a way to distance himself from his industry he really would be an excellent candidate for redemption.

Alastor had still not spoken with you since your initial confrontation. Not that you were complaining but it was getting to the point that Angel had noticed his distance from you. It was if he was deliberately avoiding any chance that the two of you would end up in the same room. When asked about the radio, you found that even if you wanted to mention what you thought were unimportant details of it, your tongue snapped to the bottom of your mouth, preventing words from coming out. You had lamely said it was a motel item that got caught in your descent and you really had no idea why it followed you. Charlie had simply declared that possessions must occasionally follow a soul, but usually souls don’t fall in a space with decent people who won’t steal your stuff. It was simply considered an anomaly and after the first week thankfully people seemed to forget about it.

And while Alastor might have prevented you from mentioning anything to anyone about the symbols that were in the radio, it didn’t prevent you from researching the symbols. Charlie had a very extensive collection of books in the hotel library that you had been working your way through. Since you had no job and minimal expectations, you were sifting through the books quickly. And because Angel had left in a rush for a shoot earlier in the morning, your recent hobby started a few hours earlier than usual. You had made your way through a large portion of the ‘Historical Literature’ section before hearing a commotion outside of the library. With your ears being so sensitive it was easy for you to not make a sound while honing in on what was being said. It was more Husk and Angel bickering, but this one sounded worse than usual, ending with Angel storming out of the hotel and Vaggie immediately harping on Husk about his behaviour.

You shot a quick message to Angel by text, getting a read notification but no response. Oof, he was really in a mood. You sent another one telling him you were there when he was ready and a heart emoji, which resulted in a heart being sent in return. Husk had followed him shortly after so you weren’t too worried about how his night would go.

You had started sifting through the next category of books, which appeared to be something of a ‘Human Magic’ section. It appeared to start right at the beginning of humanity’s creation, which meant this was another hefty subject you’d have to filter through. You were only going shelf by shelf because you had started with ‘Runework’, ‘Salem Witchcraft’ and ‘Hell’s Overlords’, hoping to find the information right away with no luck.

Your phone vibrated and you absentmindedly opened the message from Angel, and your stomach dropped.

‘I need help.’

You tried calling and the phone went straight to voicemail, disconnecting as his mailbox was full. You shot out of the library and looked around. With Husk going after Angel, was he in trouble as well? Damn you wished Husk carried a phone. Vaggie and Charlie were also absent from the hotel or at least very very quiet with whatever they were doing.

You decided there was no time to hesitate and you went out the front door, running straight for the Vee’s district in an attempt to remember every bar that Angel had mentioned frequenting in the past. He was a famous porn star, surely someone had noticed the giant spider passing by them on the street. It wasn’t as if he was capable of being a wallflower after all.

You had started into a light jog as soon as you hit main street, the people out and about making you nervous. You were grateful that your new form allowed you to run without any difficulty, the benefits of being a deer hybrid being in your favour today. You ran quickly towards the bright district, making it there in a short period of time, and merging with a larger crowd entering. It seemed dangerous making it obvious that you were out on your own. You were due for trouble after all, it had been a fairly calm life since keeping your distance from him.

The group you had followed went straight into an arcade bar. Great. You were certain that Angel wasn’t here, games weren’t his thing but the giant windows peering into the establishment made it easy to recognize that he wasn’t present. You had made it a few blocks before trying to call Angel again, with it still failing. During your second attempt you noticed that there were a few people heading your way on the sidewalk so you shrunk over to the edge of the building to give them room to move past you.

But you found yourself bumping into one of them who deliberately stayed in your path, and when you looked at their face you came eye to eye with a wolf demon smiling and growling down at you. You glanced around you and noticed that you were surrounded by two additional wolves and your back pressed against the wall behind you in an attempt to create some space away from them.

“Hey baby,” The one you ran into started, “Eager for a good time? Can’t keep your hands off of me?” The other two laughed, one even licking his lips before his friend continued. ”You look cute, how about we find some privacy?” He stepped towards you with his arm reaching for yours and you took a step away, right into the other wolf. Shit. The three laughed at you shoving the one aside and walking backwards to try and make a gap, but they were advancing quickly. Panicking, you threw the only thing you had on you - the phone - with which the corner smacked one of them squarely in the eye, making him shout in pain. Another jumped at you and you quickly dodged his lunge by bracing a hand on his head and leaping over him to start into a sprint once your feet hit the ground.

Note for next time: Heels are super cute, but super terrible to run in, because they caught up to you quickly, despite your quick escape. One wolf immediately punched you in the face, causing your nose to have a minor explosion of blood shoot out of it, which made your brain rattle.

”You might just be cuter like this,” One guy said, pulling your arm so hard you lost your balance and was dragging behind him as the three took you into the closest alleyway. “We could have had a nice night, but you had to go and fuck it up. Now you’ll get what’s coming to ya.” The one who held your arm roughly lifted you back to your feet and slammed you against the brick wall, making your head hit it just as hard. It was getting hard to think about a way out, your head was so foggy.

“Hey this bitch was texting Angel Dust!” One of the guys said, probably the one who had her phone thrown to his face. “She’s got to be a dirty slut! Have you seen any of his shit? It’s messed up man, we got ourselves a wild one here!” He cheered, whooping with the other demon who wasn’t holding you up. You made eye contact with your captor and he was growling low with a sinister smile on his face.

”Lucky us! Prime meat for free? Baby I’ll make your night better than anyone you’ve ever been w-“ his words were cut off, as his neck suddenly had a black tentacle wrapped around it, squeezing so hard his eyeballs were protruding out of their sockets. You fell to your ass, legs bent on the ground, hands trying to steady your swaying head. Looking over you saw the bodies of the other wolves, already separated into a few pieces, some appendages being swung around by the tentacles.

Looking forward you noticed who came to your rescue. It was Alastor, and he was pissed. Thankfully not at you, although you certainly had a concussion so there was a chance you were misinterpreting the situation. He said something to your assaulter about how to be a gentleman and ‘perhaps he would discover how to treat a lady in his next life’ before all the tentacles had wrapped about his and his friends bodies before disappearing with them into the ground. Your surroundings now quiet except for your heavy breathing, you watched Alastor take even, steady steps towards your fallen form.

“Well now! Haven’t you got yourself in a bit of trouble, hmm?” He taunted, entirely too chipper. Closing one eye and squinting the other to avoid seeing double, you noticed that he had blood on his face, under his nose, which you apparently pointed at, because he raised a brow and questioned it.

”Blood on your face.” You said with a bit of a slur, “S’little bit here.” And pointed to your own nose, fingers getting coated in blood. His hand reached up to his face and he touched his nose, only for blood to begin to flow from it. Shocked, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at it while he frowned at you before offering a second handkerchief to you. You shook your head, well tried too, and said something about being sleepy.

”Now, now, sleeping after a head injury is most certainly bad for you!” He chirped, putting his handkerchiefs away now that his face was clean. He leaned over to inspect your injuries, taking note of your head and nose specifically.

“Care to explain why you are wandering about on your own my dear? Itching for a second death?” He asked in a condescending manner. “Quite foolish of you really, to come without an escort - why you are quite lucky I happened to be around, darling!” He waved his hand about in a dramatic fashion before offering his hand to you, lifting you up. On your feet you dusted off what rubble had got on you, found your phone settled on the ground a few feet away and began to try and walk to it only to find that your balance was way off course. With one hand holding your head you reached for your phone, noticing new texts from Angel.

‘with my script later, are you free?’ Followed with: ‘Sorry babe! That first message didn’t send all the way, love ya xoxo’

For fuck sakes.

”Hmm?”Alastor hummed, looking down at your phone, reading the messages. “Oh-ho! So you were on a rescue mission were you? Noble indeed, considering your naivety and lack of knowledge of any part of Hell outside the hotel.”

You shot him a nasty glance. “I was worried.” Augh. Pathetic response.

“Very stupid thing to do, really.” Picking at one of his claws, attempting to be indifferent. “Very stupid indeed, especially since I have just had an unfortunate revelation.”

”Hmm?” You responded, still trying to get the throbbing in your head to settle down. “I know it was stupid,” agreeing with him made him in a good mood, Husk had told you, “But I had to try and find him, I don’t think he has many people to depend on.”

He gave you a look of contempt. He really did not care for anyone other than himself.

“You and I need to have a chat darling.” His eyes narrowed as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, painfully putting pressure on a new bruise from the previous baddie. He dragged you alongside him, holding you so close to him you could feel the heat of his body through his jacket. “Say nothing until we make it to the hotel my dear, there are always eyes on us out here.” He gestured with his microphone cane in a wide sweep, indicating literally every where could be listening. You obeyed him by not responding which kept Alastor in a good mood during the walk home.

However upon arrival, he dragged your sorry ass through his shadow travel again, but thankfully to your room. More specifically your bathroom. He gestured for you to sit down, which you did on the edge of the tub, and watched him gather a pathetic amount of first aid. He removed his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his right hand, almost all the way up to the elbow. You noticed his arms were covered in scars that stood out from his black skin that was similar to your own pattern, except fading away before the joint of his elbow. The scars were all thin and bright white, a stark contrast. However what he was looking at intensely was a large bruise that had formed right below his elbow, right above the fade of his black skin. He then turned to you and grabbed your right arm and lined up the two. You had a much darker bruise that matched his. Weird. Didn’t Pentious say that no one had landed a hit on Alastor before? And that a small piece of coat was all he himself had managed to get? So how did those stupid wolves get up on him? And when?

The room had a massive chill fill the air as Alastor processed what he was thinking. What was he thinking? Could you talk now? Should you? You should at least thank him.

”Thank-“

”Quiet.” he interrupted. No filter on his voice for that one. Just a deep, sharp command.

Your lips tightened into a thin line and you nodded despite your killer headache. He released your arm and went back to the counter. With his jacket off you could see that he, too, had a small deer tail on his backside. It was red and black, much like his hair. It was probably the only cute thing about him, and you’d die before you said that out loud. Alastor came back to you with a warm wet cloth and some antiseptic. He instructed you to wipe up the blood on your face and he wiped a few of your more surface scrapes that were on your legs and knees. You narrowed your own eyes, why on earth was he doing this? It was as if he was trying to memorise every little injury you had received. Once you felt as if you had removed all the dried blood from your face you braced both hands on either side of you as you watched Alastor tend to your wounds. When he was quiet and focused he wasn’t too terribly frightening, but in the way that a poisonous snake might be. Obviously dangerous, possibly venomous, and could certainly kill you given the chance, but still captivating to watch. He released a huff of air when he was done checking out your head, just a bump he said, he moved to your nose. He had gently grasped your chin and moved your head from side to side, where he traced some of the worst damage with his free hand.

“Not broken, my dear, but guaranteed to have a couple of black eyes by this evening.” He announced. “You shall not be leaving your room until you have healed or found a way to cover those up.” Man was he bossy. He put his coat back on and leaned into the mirror to check his own face before tapping the floor with his microphone for your attention. His shadows enveloped the small room, and it was as if you were sitting on a void of nothingness, large symbols hovering around you in green. And just as quick as the dark arrived it disappeared with another few taps from his cane.

“Preventative measures darling, we cannot have anyone listening in on us.”

”Uhh…okay? Okay. Why?” Why are you so creepy?

”Creepy keeps the fear alive darling.” Well shit, that last bit was said out loud. Stupid concussion. “I think it is time to discuss the Radio, because you have proven to be a thorn in my side that I cannot simply be rid of with my usual methods.”

You nod along with each word slowly and focus on the last bit - the usual methods? “Do you mean eating people?” the statement escaped your loose lips, feeling drunk from the head injury .

His smile turned even more wicked if that was a possibility, eyes and teeth glowing like dim lamps. “Among other things…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and being sure to cock his head up in a very proud manner. He seemed pleased you had heard some of the more…graphic methods of dealing with other demons. His cool composure only lasted a moment. Once he opened his eyes, his mood was icy, eyes sharp and narrowed as he came a little closer without overwhelming your personal space and spoke bluntly, radio voice effect gone, “It appears as if you have linked our souls into an agreement that even I am unable to break.” He stared into your eyes, his fury palpable. You frowned in response out of both confusion and fear.

“What do you mean? I don’t even know who you are! I still don’t know who you are, how can we possibly be…like that…?” You ended lamely, hands wildly gesturing between the two of you. He had surely made a mistake, because this sort of thing just didn’t happen. Besides, you had only met him after death, so there was simply a misunderstanding. You shook your head in denial, causing blood to leak out of one nostril.

“A-hem” He said, getting your focus back on his face. His nose, same nostril, now had a slow trail of blood trickling out. He stood straight and a handkerchief appeared in his hand to dap his face while you grabbed some bathroom tissue off the roll beside you. It was hard to meet his eyes as it was obvious he was upset with you.

Attempting to end the silence, you spoke up. “Did you get hit as well? Your nose has been bleeding just as much as mine.” His eyebrows arched so high it was lost within his hairline, the stretched skin the only visual evidence of his reaction.

“No. I do not get hit.” He scoffed. “This is a result of the damage you incurred today my dear.”

Your lack of reaction, compounded with the cold molasses that was currently your brain, made him sigh and begin his explanation.

”The Radio was mine as a young man. It never worked quite right, so I was constantly repairing it. But this was before my Radio Show! So fixing instead of purchasing new was all I could do at the time. I would have kept it forever if I could, it was one of the only things my mother had given me on her own.” He had started picking under his middle finger with his thumbnail, trying to appear indifferent to his admission. You caught on to the way his voice softened when his mother was mentioned but you weren’t inviting death over tonight so you kept a straight face.

“Just before my career took off, I had been dabbling with some other gifts that came from my mothers side. Her ancestors were practitioners of creole magic, something that I am familiar with, but not proficient enough to use in my day to day.” Eyes back to you, he continued on. “The symbols in the radio were a deal I made with it, naively, early on in my practising. I was certain I would become a radio star, first of my kind, and well, sometimes we do questionable things while drinking.” He rolled his eyes at that, resulting in a smirk on your own face. “A friend and I had quite a night out! She knocked my radio over and the back panel came off. I cut myself on a stray piece of metal inside, cutting myself quite deep-“ He opened his palm with the scar to stare into it. “Beyond my better judgement I wrote, in my own blood, symbols I was not familiar with and apparently created unfinished magic that was only completed and sealed when your blood went over my runes.”

Still confused, you gave him a look that caused him to roll his eyes at you, as if you were the malicious force at play here and continued.

”What was a foolish act of an immature man at the end of a bottle of rye has now tethered our souls together. Akin to,” he shuddered, “Soulmates. However where fate might have chosen different paths for our souls, we have become united through dark magic powered behind the power I hold now, which is significantly stronger than when I wrote the symbols within the machine.” His smile was tight, still present as always, but certainly not the smile of a happy man.

But wait - “I don’t have any magic though, so why…?” You started, trying to steer the conversation away from the dreaded admission of the demon.

“Your being has little to no effect, my dear. The deal I was attempting to make with the Radio relied on magic supplied by me and me alone, as one cannot make a Radio respond to such a request.” One hand came up to his temple to put pressure on it, like you would do when you had a headache. “Foolish, foolish man.” He said, quickly and quietly, your ears picking it up as if he made no attempt to remain unheard. “And because the deal was made in blood, with the same instrument, on the same hand, even - I suspect that blood is our tether. Some link love or minds, so they can reciprocate feelings and thoughts to a person of their choice. And due to my being well, dead, the only thing we were able to link was our blood. In layman’s terms, darling - you bleed, I bleed. Your blood rushes to an impact, my blood rushes to an impact. You blush and, augh, etc. Do you understand?”

”Yes. But that honestly sounds ridiculous, and would be hard to believe if I didn’t die and land in hell a month ago. But I will admit, my knowledge of creole magic is absolutely zero, straight up nothing, so this was honestly just an unfortunate…mistake, that we can possibly undo?” You said with hesitancy at the end, but Alastor shook his head before you were even done speaking.

“I have looked into it extensively, and I am afraid it is not something we can separate - not even with Death. You die, I die. And I have far too much unfinished business to bow down to death just yet.”

“Oh, super duper!” You replied, chipper like Charlie. His face dropped at your tone, frowning down at you.

“No, not ‘super duper’, finger quotes around his snarky repetition, “Quite terrible for me actually. You have become my greatest liability. I am not worried I will get either of us in any kind of danger, but as we have both learned this evening, you are incapable of even walking on your own without getting into trouble.” His microphone now bracing both of his hands in front of his body.

Well excuse you for being a basic, simple individual without knowing everything about everything in the whole wide world, and also not knowing anything about the thing that Alastor told you not to talk about? This guy was an asshole on so many levels that you missed when he just left you alone.

”Well, I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, because it was totally my plan for this to happen.” Giving him a deadpanned look that made him smile tighter out of…well, you didn’t really know. He wasn’t that easy to read when he wasn’t angry.

“That is quite enough funny business for today, I am afraid that your galavanting around Hell will stop immediately. You will stay within the confines of this hotel. You will stay in your room during the extermination-“

”This is bullshit! I am a free person to do whatever! You can’t control me like this-“ He was growing again, filling the small bathroom with his demonic figure.

“Foolish girl, I can do whatever I want with you!” He growled, tendrils coming up from the shadowed ground to wrap themselves around your calves and wrists, another wrapping itself in your hair to control your head, forcing you to look right into his demonic eyes.

“I have been kind, considering your unfortunate and pathetic self has been on my nerves since the moment you arrived. You are a senseless creature who-“ he choked on his words, pausing as his smile lowered. You were breathing much harder now, and suddenly it made sense why you were so unbothered by the BDSM club Angel brought the group to. This was turning you on, being helpless and controlled by such a force like Alastor. Still staring at each other face to face, you could see a blush start to spread like a brand across his cheeks. His breath began to match yours, and you shifted your ass that was still seated on the bathtub edge in a vain attempt to get comfortable. In record time you had become wet from the situation. You were turned on, girl, and he was feeling the same effects. Wherever the blood rushes was no lie.

You started to laugh at the situation, manically as you realised what had happened. He was still frozen in place, clearly unsure of how to proceed. He needed to teach you a lesson, to know who was in charge of this unwanted union but obviously this was doing nothing but cause your blood to rush to your cunt, because he felt a pressure almost unfamiliar to him below his navel. He was disgusted that you were causing this reaction from him, he was an elevated creature with no need for carnal pleasures. And now you were laughing at him.

The tendrils released from your person so quickly that the movement caused you to slide back into the tub, hitting the bottom of the tub with your ass, but catching the sides with your elbows to prevent your head from smacking backwards. Alastor had returned to his usual form, blush still visible on his cheeks but definitely going away as you yourself had woken from your horny stupor.

“I believe I have made my point. Perhaps I am being far too protective of you, we will have to discuss a proper method to exist in spite of our situation. I expect reasonable suggestions when we revisit the topic. For now I will leave you be, as your injuries have been attended to and have already begun the healing process. Does all of this sound reasonable to you?” Wow, how quickly the tables have turned, being turned on was obviously not something he had thought of dealing with, and it was easy to get you going. Certainly more so now that you had so much more peach fuzz on your skin as a deer hybrid - you were extra sensitive to any touch. Perhaps that was why Alastor disliked physical touch as well? Your smiling of this thought clearly made him wary of you at this moment. He repeated his last sentence again.

”Yes, Alastor, it sounds reasonable. We can talk about a game plan later, and I promise I will try to make it as easy as possible.”

He nodded at your answer and narrowed his eyes with a slight smile, “Good Girl.”

You felt the shocking return of arousal at those words and released a very small “oh!”, and he sank into his shadows immediately, leaving you alone in the bathtub bruised and turned on.

Well, turns out you had a praise kink too.

***********

First three parts is over 11K word wise. I can’t stop writing, I’m at 32k now, I just keep plugging away editing/writing/thinking. I’m so grateful for all the likes and comments.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel #soulmates trope #alastorxreader #Alastor x ofc

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