#very connected on a regular basis

[not-poignant]

You have a very broad readership; do you still, like most ao3 writers, use writing as a way to make friends? If so, how do you manage both to make connections and keep from uncomfortable parasocial engagements?

(admitting: I like your work a lot, I have a similar interest in writing trauma and recovery, I would like to befriend you, but I don't want to bother you bc lots of people want to be friend with writers they like and there's no way you'd have energy for all of them!)

Hi hi anon,

So...this response might be disappointing, but I didn't use fanfiction writing as a way of making friends. That's not why I started, and it's never been the reason for me to be in fandom.

(Thoughts about friendship and stuff under the read more, it's pretty personal so no obligation to read. The TL;DR is I am bad at friendship and I also am not like 'most AO3 writers' (is that really why most AO3 writers write?) in the sense that I never wrote fanfiction as a way to make friends and it's very weird to me sometimes that people actually do this as a motive).

When I turned up in fandom, it was a very private experience for me. I didn't know anyone else locally who shared the same fandom/s I do. When I shared fanfiction on Livejournal, I did so to complete strangers who I never got to know better, or to people who were already friends through other interests.

I've never gone to fandom conventions (there's few here, and I have severe social anxiety. By the time I thought about going I was in my late 30s, and just felt like I'd be too much of an outsider even among fellow outsiders - again, I shared almost no fandoms or ships with anyone I knew locally, and no one I'm friends with / know in person reads my fanfiction). Fandom was always an incredibly isolated experience for me.

When I joined AO3, it wasn't with a view to making friends. I was extremely burnt out, I'd quit my previous job as a professional artist because I couldn't see a way of making the income work out, and I just wanted to write a very angst-filled story that would help me deal with my loneliness which I didn't see as something that would ever change. Writing about a character who's experienced centuries of loneliness was like 'cool, yeah, I'm gonna write about him.'

I did end up making friends, but it was kind of by accident! And not all of those experiences were positive. One person in particular became quite toxic and cruel towards me, and I experienced my first kind of encounter with...I guess what I would call the uglier side of fandom life and also just friendship and relationships. It took me a long time to recover from that experience (and to learn what emotional abuse is), and after that I shut down and stopped kind of making friends on the internet.

I have made friends through the writing since (they're usually the mutuals I also have on Instagram, or here, or people I've DMed in Discord etc.), but I haven't really sought it out actively and I think anyone who knows me well enough that we've private messaged a few times, also knows that I'm quite aloof and reserved, and that I will engage quite deeply sometimes but then disappear for a few months (or years) re: communication, which is a remnant of a period of time where I used to get sometimes 200 Whatsapp messages in 5 minutes from someone who expected me to be accountable to her every second of every day when she was awake and wanted me to be.

On top of like, severe social anxiety + PTSD, and being very reserved in general, I would also say I'm very time poor. I don't have much time for the friends I already have and care about. I often view myself as quite a poor friend, who is not good at starting and even worse at maintaining connections. I'm also very private. As in, I will happily tell the world I have PTSD. But I won't tell my friends in a private conversation when I'm having a bad night, and I don't give friends many opportunities to connect. Even with really close friends, this is an ongoing issue that I'm working on.

So as for befriending, that's extremely sweet of you anon, but who I am in my personal life is sometimes very different to like... the way I can respond in comments or to anons, because it's actually easier for me to talk to strangers sometimes than it is for me to talk to friends, lol. I honestly think some of the people I consider my friends don't even know that I do, because I don't really behave like one. I chat online regularly to one person only, and one other person intermittently (and they're a romantic partner) and that's it. Everyone else I chat to pretty rarely in DM. But I do turn up in the Fae Tales Discord every day.

I don't actually think lots of people want to be my friend, tbh? Not in a 'woe is me' way, but simply because I think some people do grok that kind of... polite distance or that sort of warm 'I care for a lot of people but I am also quite personally walled off' kind of way. The good news is a lot of the folks in the Fae Tales Discord also share a lot of interest in writing trauma and recovery, or have those experiences, and I know a lot of good friends have been made within the like...faedom itself. A lot of neurodivergent, trauma-focused folks have met each other through this writing, and it's really cool seeing the different friendships that have sparked up between people. There's a lot of extremely like... skilled, talented, interesting people that I've met through this job, who I admire, respect and want the best for, and am very happy to talk to.

But yeah I'm a bit difficult to befriend, anon, and that's been an ongoing thing all my life, tbh. But it did specifically get worse in fandom because of some early fandom experiences when I started out in Rise of the Guardians fanfiction.

[nattousan]

Sir please how do I become a scenic painter and get paid to sculpt mushrooms I beg share your secret

it's simple! do what I did and you too can be paid obscene (in comparison to everyone else around you, not objectively) amounts of money to dick around and make stuff with your hands!

>meet a girl off of dating app

> become online friends and follow each other on insta

> keep only topical tabs on each other over the course of FIVE YEARS (very important step)

> see her post about her cool job working as a scenic painter

> express excitement and desire to Also have this job

> get employment offer dropped into your lap

> profit

[punctuationbreakdown]

About that Scientology connection...

One of the details that came to light this week in the latest article detailing the horrific allegations against Neil Gaiman (which I believe are true, to be clear, but not the primary focus of what I'm writing about here) is the extent of his ties to the Church of Scientology. I was most engaged with Neil's work as a teenager and in my early 20s, and I didn't recall seeing mention of the connection at the time (granted, that was more than a few years ago!). I couldn't let it go after reading the Vulture article, so I started to dig a bit and found a lot of information being shared on Reddit and even further digging uncovered archived forum posts from over a decade ago by former CoS members.

There are a lot of details in this article by Mikey Crotty, who appears to be an independent comics journalist, which was published by Mike Rinder on his blog in 2023. Rinder was famously an executive in the "church" in Australia and ran SeaOrg (the elite force of CoS, essentially, and responsible for internal discipline within the broader org) before ultimately leaving the organization and speaking out as loudly as he could about the abuses he had been complicit in as a member (at great personal risk, as anyone who is familiar with the tactics used against former CoS members will know).

The piece was written as an exposé about Gaiman's novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which was semi-autobiographical. Crotty discusses details about Gaiman's family, Gaiman's participation in CoS, and the coverup his father orchestrated for an apparent suicide of a student of Scientology who had immigrated to the UK and was living with the Gaimans at the time. This suicide is written into The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

Neil's father, David Gaiman, was head of worldwide communications for the Church of Scientology in the 60s, and was leading the PR spin to protect the organization from increasing legal scrutiny in the UK at the time. Around the same time, a suicide occurred while a young man, Johannes Scheepers, was living with them (the Gaiman's took in CoS students as lodgers at their home on a regular basis, apparently). The Gaiman family launched a campaign to depict him as a broken down gambler to avoid further scandal for the organization. The logic doesn't quite add up, and it's more likely that Johannes was a new adherent who had been badly taken advantage of. You can read more details in the article I linked. Crotty makes the case that not only were the Gaimans lying about the death of the student, even going so far as to claim he wasn't actually lodging with them, but that Neil then went further to spread these lies in the form of fiction decades later (we now know this book was written as a result of the prompting of Amanda Palmer, who was encouraging him to confront his childhood experiences with CoS per the article in Vulture).

The article also points out evidence of Neil's continued involvement with Scientology:

Neil Gaiman’s history with Scientology is very murky; deliberately so. His family are practically Scientology royalty in the UK, he met his first wife Mary McGrath while she was studying Scientology and lodging at Harrow House and he himself worked as a Scientology Auditor for several years in the Eighties and was a Director of a Scientologist’s property company ‘Centrepoint’ until 1999.  He now won’t discuss his own Scientology connections and states, without any details, that he’s no longer a member of the Cult that supported Apartheid up until the mid eighties, believes homosexuals are deviants and mental illness is a manifestation of personal failure in the sufferer’s current or past life; beliefs which are anathema to most of Neil’s adoring audience. His connection to Scientology and apparent departure from the cult first went public as part of a court case in 2002 where when asked “Are you still involved with the Church of Scientology?” Neil said “I don’t understand the question”, subsequently asked “Are you still a member of the Church of Scientology?” he replied “I don’t consider myself as such”. Even then his admission that he worked for the Church for 3 years is somewhat confusing: “I worked for a 3 year period after getting out of school as a ‘Counsellor’ for the Church of Scientology”; in fact he actually worked as an ‘Auditor’ in a process made famous in the award winning 2015 Documentary ‘Going Clear’ which explains how officials in the Church of Scientology keep in-depth records on everything its members say during private ‘auditing’ sessions and then use their secrets against them. Renowned Journalist and author on Scientology Tony Ortega says that Gaiman “became a Class VIII auditor, and even ran the Birmingham “org” as its ED, executive director. “. While there is no contradiction in Neil’s actual admission of working for Scientology up till the late Nineties and subsequently leaving the cult and its beliefs sometime in the early Noughties, conflicting details arise in the period since, when Neil has insisted he’s not a Scientologist. According to public records he was a shareholder in the family firm G&G Foods, which produces the vitamins used in Scientology’s highly criticized Narconon and De-Tox practices, since 2011. He transferred approximately a quarter of a million shares to Scientologist shareholders in 2013. There’s the book ‘Ocean’ also from 2013 and then there’s also his production company ‘The Blank Corporation’. ‘The Blank Corporation’ is Neil’s production company which works on all his adaptations such as ‘Sandman’, ‘Anansi Boys’, ‘Good Omens’ and the upcoming ‘Ocean at the End of the Lane’ in partnership with Netflix, Amazon, Warner Bros, the BBC and others. According to the website and any interviews, Neil founded ‘The Blank Corporation’ in 2016 with his Vice President and former P.A. Cat Mihos. According to the official Companies registration however, the company was actually set up by Neil and then wife (and still devout Scientologist) Mary McGrath in 2000. The company is still registered to a Scientologist’s P.O Box in Wisconsin, where Mary McGrath still works for the Church of Scientology. One company; two very different stories, it’s just another mystery, like what really happened to cause Johannes Scheepers to take his own life in 1968.

I want to note that based on what I've read, being a Class VIII auditor is the highest level you can go as an auditor in CoS without becoming a member of SeaOrg. Auditors are individuals who are key to the brainwashing process members of CoS undergo; they utilize the org's "technology" to identify past sins by doing intensive interrogation sessions with members. This means Neil was well trained in how to psychologically interrogate org members and held a position of relative power over them as he documented their dearest secrets for the org (primarily to blackmail them with should they ever want to leave, based on CoS records and former members' experiences).

I found forum posts where others reviewed public records that confirmed the majority of these claims, although unable to confirm the PO Box in Wisconsin. His sister, Lizzy Calcioli, is the current company director of G&G, which supplies pseudoscientific vitamin treatments to drug rehabilitation seekers that are horribly abused by Narconon (CoS does not allow actual medical intervention or medical practices in its org). According to public filings, Neil still owns shares in G&G.

There is also this interview from 2010 with the New Yorker, in which Neil claims he is no longer a member of CoS, but expresses sympathy with them:

These days, Gaiman tends to avoid questions about his faith, but says he is not a Scientologist. Like Judaism, Scientology is the religion of his family, and he feels some solidarity with them. “I will stand with groups when I feel like they’re being properly persecuted,” he told me.

It is also well known that celebrity members of CoS are encouraged/allowed to lie about their connection to it in order to support their monetary success. Because of course they're going to contribute back to the organization through that success, which it appears Neil has done.

Additionally, we know from public accounts of CoS's practices and leaked documents that once someone leaves the organization, they are not allowed to continue to associate with anyone within the cult. Isolation of former victims is one of the many tools used against them. The fact that Neil maintained a marriage for decades to an active member who still works for CoS, as well as relationships with his family members who are leaders in CoS, indicates he is either still on the books as a member or is contributing to CoS in order to avoid alienation from his family. Any sympathy a desire to remain connected with his family might conjure is misguided in my opinion, because we know that he's likely profiting off of shares in a company that takes advantage of and contributes to the traumatization of vulnerable patients as a CoS affiliated business.

Had I known Neil Gaiman was so closely connected to the "church" sooner (one degree away from L. Ron Hubbard himself as a child!), I would not have supported his work in the way that I did in the past. And I think he knew that a significant portion of his audience would respond the same way, which is why he obfuscated and downplayed those connections.

His alleged ongoing involvement also changes the way I perceive his actions - Deception and manipulation is, by former member's accounts, standard procedure for leaders within Scientology. It should come as no surprise that he will continue to deny any evidence, attempt to blame his victims, and lie lie lie to avoid potential consequences. It is, after all, the example he was given and trained in as an active participant in a destructive cult that he has never publicly disavowed and that he appears to continue to support.

I think this information should be taken into account as former (hopefully) fans react to his responses to these accusations. I wish for peace for the victims who are now speaking out, and I hope they are able to reach the resolution they deserve.

[plutosunshine]

Your Healing Daily Routine: the 6th house

The 6th house in Aries

Since the Aries sign and Mars are responsible for the body, movement, and activity, a healing routine here cannot be done without physical activity as the foundation of health. Regular workouts can help you release accumulated energy. Morning exercises will also be beneficial for you.

People with this placement in their chart find it crucial that no one imposes a daily routine on them from the outside. They want to manage their own schedule and set tasks and goals independently.

For this placement, a certain level of competition is essential to stay in shape and maintain motivation. This can even include competing with yourself and your own ambitions.

A nutritious diet supporting a high activity level is also vital for this placement. Foods like fast food may slow you down.

It is important for this placement to incorporate new elements into the routine to avoid boredom. Try new sports or hobbies.

The 6th house in Taurus

For this position, creating a comfortable and sustainable environment is essential. Arrange your workspace and home to make them cozy, whether it’s through soft fabrics or pleasant scents.

It’s very important for you to maintain a balanced and high-quality diet with fresh products. Enjoy each meal, eating slowly and mindfully.

Choose activities that bring you joy, such as yoga, walks in nature, dancing, or pilates. For people with this placement, regularity is more important than intensity.

Try incorporating meditation and breathing exercises into your daily routine, and spend more time outdoors.

Hobbies like crafting, drawing, cooking, or even gardening might suit you well. These activities can help relieve stress and strengthen your connection with yourself.

Organize your time in a way that helps you avoid rushing and stress. Staying calm and in harmony is crucial for this position.

Don’t forget the importance of quality sleep. Create a comfortable atmosphere: warm blankets, silence, soft lighting, and high-quality bedding.

Pay attention to simple pleasures that help you relax.

The 6th house in Gemini 

Everything that helps you grow also helps you heal. Whether it's regular reading of books, articles, educational courses, or anything else. With this approach, keeping a journal or writing down your thoughts can be very helpful for structuring them. You might have a lot of thoughts on a daily basis, so light meditation can help calm your mind and improve focus.

Social interactions with people are also beneficial, whether it's participating in group discussions or sharing a common hobby, where you can exchange information.

You would benefit most from physical activities related to coordination, such as walking, yoga, or dancing.

Try to plan your day with room for flexibility and changes. The "bit by bit" method might work well for you, breaking tasks into smaller portions and alternating between work and rest. Variety is also important to avoid boredom.

Make an effort not to overwhelm yourself with information. Take breaks from the constant flow of information or filter what you consume.

The 6th house in Cancer

It is very important for you to create a cozy atmosphere at home so that your daily routine becomes something enjoyable, whether it's lighting candles, meditating, or listening to calm music. Do household chores in a way that makes them pleasant.

Homemade meals that make you feel warm and cozy can also have a healing effect. Warm drinks, such as chamomile tea or milk with honey, can also help you create a sense of comfort.

Keeping a journal to write down your feelings could be a good practice for clearing your mind of accumulated emotions.

Take care of your body by nurturing your soul. Practices like yoga and other activities that harmonize the body and mind can be helpful. Taking baths with sea salt or essential oils can also benefit you.

Decorating your home can positively impact whether it's fresh flowers, soft fabrics, or cozy lighting.

Daily communication with your loved ones is incredibly healing for you.

Listen to yourself and your feelings; if you need to recharge or rest, don't force yourself to go against your needs.

The 6th house in Leo

For this placement, it is extremely beneficial to wake up with the sunrise. The ritual of waking up plays a significant role in setting the tone for your day. Starting the day with some exercise or dancing to your favorite music will help you kick things off energetically.  

It is also crucial for you not only to eat delicious food but to make sure it is visually appealing. Food that pleases the eye will give you an extra boost of energy. Don’t forget to include heart-healthy foods in your diet, as Leo governs the heart (e.g., nuts, avocados, greens, fish).  

Approach your daily tasks with a touch of creativity. Even routine activities can be transformed into something enjoyable.  

Find time in your routine for self-care, whether it’s a face mask, a stylish hairstyle, or a striking outfit. These small touches will help you shine even brighter.  

Engage only in physical activities that you truly enjoy. Most importantly, they bring you joy and a sense of strength.  

Treat yourself to a “mini celebration” every day. It can be anything, from a delicious cup of coffee to a meeting with friends. Make sure to carve out time for yourself, your hobbies, and your pleasures.

The 6th house in Virgo

For this placement, organization and daily planning are essential. Creating lists and planning tasks can be very helpful. It reduces your anxiety and helps you feel more productive.  

Taking care of your mental health is extremely important. Even small practices like meditation or breathing exercises can be beneficial. Keeping a gratitude journal can also be helpful.  

Health is one of the main focuses of this placement. A balanced diet and moderate physical activity are crucial for Virgo in the 6th house.  

Minimalism and order at home are very important for people with this placement. A clean and cozy space is a part of a healing routine.  

Self-care rituals, evening relaxation, and other such practices will help restore energy.  

One of the healing rituals for this placement is learning. Whether it's taking courses, reading books, or something else, it keeps you sharp and energized.

The 6th house in Libra

For the 6th house in Libra, it is crucial to establish balance in your daily routine. Try to create a schedule that includes time for work, rest, and personal pleasures.  

For the Libra sign, beauty is very important, so dedicate time to beauty rituals and self-care.  

Organize your workspace and living area in a way that incorporates elements of beauty and comfort.  

Your diet should not only be healthy but also aesthetically pleasing. Enjoy the process of savoring your meals.  

Since balance and harmony are of great importance to Libra, practicing them on all levels is essential. Meditation and breathing exercises are particularly well-suited for this placement.  

Remember to seek inspiration and enjoy the beautiful things in life. Engaging in creative activities can also be incredibly healing.

The 6th house in Scorpio

Psychological cleansing is crucial for the 6th house in Scorpio to make space for emotional transformation. This can manifest in daily life through practices such as meditation, journaling, or other rituals.  

The 6th house in Scorpio signifies a strong connection between the body and emotions, making nutrition an essential part of healing. Intuitive eating is particularly well-suited here.  

Any water-related rituals, whether swimming, baths with oils, or something else, have healing power.  

Physical activity also plays a transformative role alongside massage therapy.  

Try to live each day with the mindful question, "How can I transform today?"  

For Scorpio in the 6th house, work should not just be a duty but a place for deep transformation. Learn to let go of work that no longer brings you satisfaction.  

Scorpio is the sign of transformation, so it's important to maintain an energetically clean space. Regular cleaning and decluttering will be beneficial.

The 6th house in Sagittarius

Physical activities with an element of freedom, such as cycling, running, or yoga in the park, can be very beneficial. Activities like hiking and climbing might also suit you well.  

Sagittarius loves exploring new things, so don’t hesitate to add exotic and unusual dishes to your diet. Try to follow the philosophy of mindful eating and enjoy every meal. 

Plan your day while leaving room for spontaneity. Use tools like manifestations and motivational quotes.  

For Sagittarius, personal growth is essential, so anything related to self-development will be helpful, whether it’s reading or immersing yourself in other cultures.  

Sagittarius is a traveler, so try exploring new routes even within your city. Regular trips, if possible, will also be highly beneficial.

The 6th house in Capricorn

A detailed daily plan can be very beneficial. Capricorn loves structuring everything, so having a well-planned day is important.  

Regular physical exercise is useful as it teaches discipline and responsibility.  

Spend more time outdoors in nature to feel connected to it.  

Take care of your bone and joint health (which Capricorn rules), specifically by adding calcium- and magnesium-rich foods to your diet.  

Nutritious, wholesome food is essential. Try to eat at the same time every day.  

Regular massages to relieve tension, especially in the back and neck area, can be helpful.  

To feel productive, try to develop the habit of completing even small tasks daily. However, be cautious and remember that it's important to let go of guilt for "not being productive enough." Striking a balance between rest and work is crucial.

The 6th house in Aquarius

For the 6th house in Aquarius, it is essential to create a routine that remains diverse and engaging. Try changing the sequence of tasks or introducing something new to maintain interest.

Aquarius rules technology, so using modern apps and gadgets for health tracking can be beneficial—for example, a pedometer, fitness tracker, or meditation app.

Since Aquarius is a collective sign, participating in group activities of any kind can be highly beneficial.

This sign is also open to experimenting with unique sports, whether it’s dance aerobics or aerial yoga.

It’s very important to relax the mind through mindfulness practices, such as reading inspiring literature or engaging in other mentally stimulating activities.

Make sure to leave room for freedom in your schedule—allow yourself the flexibility to change plans unexpectedly.

The 6th house in Pisces

It is important for you to start and end your day calmly—without rush or stress. Instead of a rigid daily plan, opt for a gentle, flexible approach. Creating a cozy and peaceful atmosphere around you is essential.  

Pisces is a highly spiritual sign, so meditation, mantras, prayers, and breathing techniques can be especially beneficial.  

Water-related rituals are also helpful, whether it’s salt baths or swimming.  

Support your mental health through creativity. Allow yourself to express your artistic side on a daily basis.  

Since Pisces is deeply connected to music, don’t deny yourself the pleasure of listening to your favorite tunes or meditating with healing sounds.  

Pisces thrives with slow, flowing physical activities, such as swimming, yoga, and Pilates.  

Additionally, getting enough sleep is crucial for the 6th house in Pisces.  

This placement also requires daily moments of solitude, where you can be alone with yourself and recharge your energy.

[redrose10]

Another one I’ve had half written for a very long time. I’ve been really motivated today. Can you tell?

Idol/Fuck Boy Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Yoongi’s kind of a jerk at first and sleeps around a lot, hints of smut, swearing, hints of a fight if you really look

Word Count: 4,205

☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵☕️🎵

There were three things that Yoongi was certain about in this life. Firstly, he was a musical genius. Whether it was lyrics, beats, rapping, singing, performing…he could do it all and was good at it. Secondly, he didn’t believe in love. He wasn’t capable of loving and he didn’t deserve to be loved. He’d had flings and one night stands all around the world, but he mostly saw those as just biological needs. There was no emotional connection. No feelings. He hated stuff like that.

He’d had a few relationships when he was younger because he thought that was what he was supposed to do, but they never lasted more than six or seven months at most and he definitely never came close to loving them.

As he got older he stopped trying to force it and therefore hadn’t had a relationship for several years. Was this belief in love or lack there of because of his upbringing? Maybe. Did his struggles with his own mental health cause this? Yeah probably a little at least. No matter the reason, he was certain that love was not real.

The third thing that was a guaranteed constant was you. You were one of the few people that he could tolerate on a regular basis. It was nearly eight years ago that he met you. He had been eyeing you since he walked through the door of the little cafe you worked at. You were beautiful. You had a smile that made his heart skip a beat, eyes that filled his stomach with butterflies, a kindness to your voice that made him smile like a goofy idiot, and a body that made him think all kinds of unholy things.

You were also the waitress who accidentally spilled a coffee (thankfully iced) all over him as he sat and conversed with his friends. He jumped back and spat out a few curse words, not at you or because of what you had done, but because of the cold ice hitting his crotch giving him quite a shock. Immediately you burst into tears profusely apologizing and offering to replace the clothing even though you knew his shirt alone probably cost more than your rent, but you couldn’t loose your job.

Of course he would never do something so drastic over a spilled cup of coffee. He reassured you that it was okay and you didn’t owe him anything, but he could still tell you were quite shaken up.

Over the next few days he couldn’t stop thinking about you so one evening after a long day of practices and studio time he decided to stop in for a coffee. He chuckled at the look of fear on your face when you saw him, but after some explaining and a few pleasant words exchanged he asked for your number.

Deep down he felt something was off with the whole situation. He knew his ultimate goal was just to bed you once or twice maybe even three times if you were good and then leave you to move on to the next one.

It only took a few weeks for him to be sitting across from you at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. He wined and dined you. Put out all of his usual moves. You were different than most of the women he usually surrounded himself with in these types of situations though. Most of the women he was with figured it out pretty quickly what his end game was and were fast themselves to get to the point. You were different. You enjoyed his company, asked him questions no one else ever had. You smiled and intently listened to the stories he told. You never brought up money or fame. You didn’t ask him to introduce you to Taehyung or Hoseok. You were simply interested in getting to know Min Yoongi.

But even after all of that that he continued on with his usual plan. After dinner he took you back to his private studio to “show you around” which was code for having you ride him on his leather couch until you were both too spent to think.

He lit a couple candles (mood lighting)

Asked if you wanted to change into one of his tshirts to get comfy (easier access to what he wanted)

Offered to get you a drink or show you to the bathroom (once he got started he didn’t want any interruptions)

He pulled you onto his lap and offered to play you a secret song, one noone had heard before. He knew that was a lie. He said it every time. It was the same song he played for all of the women he brought there. He would claim they were the first to hear it so that they would feel special.

Usually they would fall head over heels and coo and gush and their cheeks would blush and they would get all giggly and shy. Then he would slowly kiss their neck and wait to see if they stopped him. Nine times out of ten they wouldn’t and he’d take that as the chance to keep going and move the evening further along.

But you…you were different. He gave you the same story about a song no one else had heard before. You laughed and rolled your eyes, “I bet you say that to all your girls.”

Yoongi faltered. It was a rarity, but he was human. Were you just joking? Or could you see right through him and we’re calling him out? It intrigued him more than it should have.

He played you the song. A cheesy love song he wrote one night many years ago before love seemed so foreign to him. He waited for you to eat it up. Then fall for it. Then you would help him release the built up tension he had been feeling since he first saw you in your short little sundress you were wearing.

But you didn’t do any of that. You picked apart the song. You provided a lot of constructive criticism much of which Yoongi actually agreed with. He soon forgot about the whole reason he even brought you there to begin with and instead the two of you spent hours listening to and talking about music. He played you an actual unreleased song to pick your brain, something he had never done before. Yoongi abandoned his plan to end the night with sex and instead asked you to come back next weekend if you wanted to so you guys could work on some music together. Genuinely he enjoyed your company. He wanted to spend more time with you and get to know you better. And that is how your friendship formed.

Over the years the two of you became nearly inseparable. As long as he wasn’t on tour or “with” someone else the two of you were side by side.

You hated to admit that those nights that Yoongi was with others it killed you. A long time ago you had developed a crush on your friend, but there was no way you were going to let him know that. So you bit your tongue and did your best not to show it effected you when he would show up with purple marks on his skin and smelling of a feminine perfume that was not yours.

Until one night you’d had enough. The two of you were locked up in his studio. Yoongi was looking extra good today. He had let his hair grow out and had put on a little bit of weight in the right places making his white tshirt just a touch tight.

Angry with the way the song was coming together he flopped back down onto the leather couch with a loud sigh. His legs spread and his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. He was practically begging you to take a seat on his lap.

So you did…

He jumped a little not expecting you to make that move.

You placed kisses along his jaw and neck, pulling down the collar of his tshirt so you could move lower to his chest.

“Y/N…wh-what are you doing?”, he questioned.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”, you chuckled.

Yoongi’s brain and body were fighting each other for control of how to handle the situation.

“Y/N, you gotta ahh you gotta stop. We shouldn’t do this.”, he somehow managed to choke out trying to pull you away from him.

“Really?”, you asked with a raise of your eye brow before grinding down on his lap feeling him fully hard beneath you, “Because it seems like you do want this just as much as I do.”

You divided your attention between kissing his neck and grinding on his bulge for several minutes rendering him unable to speak. As you were unzipping his pants he was finally able to come to his senses enough to stop you. His hand grabbed yours, “Y/N…I…I don’t want this to ruin anything between us. Before we go further I need you to know that we’ll never be more than friends with benefits.”

It felt like a dagger to the chest. Deep down you knew that was the case, but of course there was that small part of you that hoped for more. You nodded and turned your attention back to his pants allowing him to finally spring free.

Somehow he managed to stop you again, “Y/N, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you’re okay with this.”

You thought for second before nodding, “Yeah I’m okay with it Yoongi. I want this.” With that he allowed you to continue your earlier actions.

Yoongi had great control of his orgasms. He never came unless he was ready and wanted to. It was another thing about himself that he was quite proud of.

But tonight. The tonight that he had wanted so many years ago that he was now experiencing was bringing him to edge fast. Feeling you bouncing up and down on top of him. Seeing your body naked and spread out for him. Your cries of his name as you came was too much for him to ward off his orgasm any longer. He gripped your hips for dear life as he lost control coming undone inside of you. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood to stop himself from saying those three words he didn’t believe in.

As he helped you clean yourself up his chest started to ache. He was so worried about you being the one to get the situation misconstrued, but here he was realizing that he might have been the one that fucked up.

This friends with benefits relationship went on for over a year. You remained exclusive to Yoongi. You didn’t have to and you knew it was dumb. Especially because you knew he hadn’t been exclusive to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see anyone else.

Yoongi on the other hand was always wondering if you were sleeping with other guys. He would always chase those thoughts away because he hated the jealous feeling that bubbled up inside him every time he thought about it. He had made it clear to you that this was strictly sex between friends so it was your prerogative to sleep with whoever you wanted. At the start of your arrangement he had continued to sleep around with other people while also sleeping with you. He wasn’t the most proud of it, but it kept things feeling more normal for him. He didn’t want things to feel domesticated with you. But as the months went on he reached out to others less and less until you were the only one he called. You were all he needed maybe even all he wanted. He hadn’t figured it out that far yet. He knew things were getting messy though. Not only was he staying monogamous to you he was doing things that he never would have done for others before.

In the past he would have bought you dinner no problem. You were his friend, but you would have had to eat whatever he got and that was it. He wouldn’t be driving to the other side of the city to get noodles at your favorite restaurant even though there was a place right next door that served the same exact thing, but according to you the other place tasted better. So he drove twenty minutes out of the way every single time.

Then he cuddled you after sex. He never did that to anyone else. That was a different kind of intimacy he didn’t want…usually. He was normally more of a do the deed and then he’s already calling a cab for the woman before her clothes are even all the way back on. But with you he looked forward to the time spent afterwards resting while running his fingers through your hair as you told him about your day.

He started working out too. He was always comfortable in his body for the most part. He knew he wasn’t super tall or muscular and he was okay with that. He had plenty of people around the world making sure he knew he was attractive the way that he was. But then you made him doubt himself one day. No one else saw it. But he did. He saw the way your eyes scanned Jungkook’s body. The way you slightly licked your lips watching as Jungkook was flexing his abs and biceps in front of the mirror. Yoongi hated the thought of you finding someone else attractive. So there he was every morning at 6am cursing the world, but still hitting the gym with nothing but you on his mind.

He knew he was falling. He knew it would end badly. He just didn’t know how to stop it.

It was a Thursday, very late in the night when it all blew up. Yoongi had been on tour for three months, the longest he had gone without seeing you in quite some time. He missed you. He missed your voice, your scent, your touch. He was needy and desperate and wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. He had plenty of opportunities while on tour with fans and even some of the staff members willing to do as he pleased, but he couldn’t bring himself to indulge in them. His hand got the job done when he really needed it, but there was nothing like the feeling of you.

And now as he watch you riding him, his favorite position, he was doing his best to not finish too soon. An effect that you had on him which he both loved and hated.

“F-fuck I missed you.”, he said leaving kisses against your cleavage.

His hands grabbed onto your hips holding you in place giving him the leverage to roughly buck up into you a few times before letting you continue back on with your own pace.

“I’m sure you were pretty occupied while on tour. It must’ve been like a paradise to you.”, you quipped back hoping to come off as joking while trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Not even close. You’re all I think about all the time….alll….all I want….all I need.” he said with a long drawn out moan.

“I bet you say that to all your girls”, you smirked. Truth was you didn’t even really want to know the answer to that.

“I would never say that to anyone else. I love you too much Y/N.”, he said as he spilled deep inside of you. Yoongi didn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was because his dick had control of most of the blood in his body leaving his brain pretty much useless. Maybe he thought it was romantic like those dumb movies you always made him watch. Maybe subconsciously he hoped you were to out of it and wouldn’t hear his slip up so he could finally get it off his chest. He wasn’t sure, but he felt relief once it was said either way.

You knew he didn’t mean it. As much as you wanted to believe him you knew you couldn’t. He had made his stance on love very clear. Though a tiny part of you did wonder if he was serious.

You didn’t falter. You didn’t say it back as he sat there looking up at you. Awkwardly he got up and headed to the shower to get cleaned up.

As you laid there thinking through your options of how to handle it a text came through on his phone that was resting on the bedside table next to you.

Aera: We still on for tomorrow 😘

That sealed it for you. If he really did love you then why would he have another hookup already lined up for tomorrow? Quickly you gathered up your things and left his home before he got out of the shower. You couldn’t face him without crying tears of sadness, hurt, and anger all mixed into one. You knew that your relationship with him had to change moving forward because you couldn’t keep going on pretending that everything was okay the way that it was.

When Yoongi exited the shower he was fully prepared to firstly apologize for taking so long in there. He had gone over hundreds of different scenarios in his head for how to move forward and finally settled on the best option. He was going to confess and tell you the truth, he loved you. He really did. He doesn’t know how it happened or why it happened, but it did and he loves you and wants to make things official. No more lies. No more pretending. But when he walked into the bedroom you were already gone. You weren’t in the kitchen or the living room. You had left. Yoongi flopped back onto his bed with a loud groan and ran his hands over his face. He needed a way to fix this and fix it fast.

You needed space from Yoongi and thankfully he was giving it to you. Of course as far as you knew he was occupied with someone else and wasn’t even thinking about you anyways so you still wanted to cry every time you thought about it. You decided to distract yourself and maybe you also wanted to be a just a little tiny bit petty. A part of you hoped Yoongi would find out and he might just be a little bit upset. Upset at the fact that you were going on a date with his enemy, Chul. He was a producer at BigHit. Yoongi was a professional so he kept things as such, but you knew better than anyone that he and Chul did not like each other in the slightest. They had a rivalry that caused many hurtful nasty words to be exchanged over the years. You felt bad in a way for doing this because Yoongi did say you two would never be anything more so you couldn’t expect him to love you, but it was extremely unfair for him to say he loved you when he really didn’t mean it.

You knew it wouldn’t take long for word about your date to get back to Yoongi. Chul would surely want to rub it in his face and you were right.

At 3am someone was angrily pounding on your front door. When you opened it Yoongi was standing there red faced and out of breath. You immediately noticed his swollen bruised knuckles and a small cut above his eyebrow. Before you could ask what happened he started. His finger pointed in your direction as he shouted, “Seriously Y/N?! You don’t love me back that’s fine, but your response is to immediately go on a date with the one person I hate? The one person that you knew would hurt me the most?”

“Yoongi quit it with the loving you bullshit. You don’t love me. You’re just mad that you can’t have me all to yourself any more while you’re off fucking god knows who like some sick game.”

He pushed himself into your apartment slamming the door behind him. “Who else am I fucking Y/N?”, he yelled louder, “It’s only been you for the last year. I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Oh please Yoongi. You had the nerve to tell me you loved me with your dick still inside me and then ten minutes later you’re getting a text from some woman named Aera asking if the two of you are still meeting up.”

He took a step back looking at you confused, “Me and Aera are not hooking up. We never were.”

Save it Yoongi.”, you put your hand up, “I’m not falling for your games any more.”

“I swear on everything Y/N. I’m not sleeping with her. Aera and Jimin have a thing with each other. She bought him a custom jacket and she wanted me to help her distract him for a little so she could sneak it in his house. That’s all. I never had any intention of sleeping with her.”

You shook your head unsure if you should believe him or not, “I’m not stupid Yoongi. Why would she include an emoji like that if it didn’t mean something else?”

He threw his head back in frustration, “I don’t know Y/N. That’s just how they are. If her and Jimin could communicate in only emojis they would. It meant nothing like that. There has been no one else for a long long time.”

Taking a step back you put your hands up to stop him from following you, “I need….I need time Yoongi. I can’t do this any more.”

You ran back to your room locking the door behind you. There were too many different emotions filling you that you needed to process. You knew Yoongi would leave and give you space and he did just that.

It took several weeks, but eventually you agreed to meet him in his studio to talk things over again now that things had time to cool down and you had time to think.

He answered the door with a smile inviting you in. He pulled a chair up next to him at his computer so you could sit down.

“H-how have you been?”, he nervously asked.

“Good…good. And you?”

He gave you a tight lipped smile. “How’s Chul?”, he asked.

“I don’t know.”, you shrugged, “We haven’t spoken since that date.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smirk a little at the news.

After that the room filled with an awkwardness that you hated.

“So uh I’ve been working on this new song. Want to hear it?”

With a smile you eagerly nodded, “Yeah but don’t expect this to end with us having sex again.”

“Fair enough. I guess I need a new pickup line anyways.”, he laughed helping to ease the tension between you both.

The song was a beautiful ballad about being so afraid of getting your heart broken that you convince yourself love isn’t real only to allow your fear to cause you to loose the only person you’d ever loved anyways. In the end the person faces their fear and gets their lover back. When the song came to an end the last thing you expected was for Yoongi to come on the speaker, but he spoke with a soft voice,

“Hi Y/N.”, he chuckled, “This is a little more awkward than I thought it would be. I don’t know if you’ll ever give me the chance to tell you this to your face so I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry. I am sorry that I was coward. I am sorry for making you think that you weren’t the only one. It’s been you since that day you spilled ice coffee all over me in the cafe, ruining my Valentino jacket by the way. I’ve been in love with you this whole time. I’m just an idiot who’s been in denial because I was afraid to loose you if things got bad, but I ended up loosing you anyways which is worse than if I had tried to begin with. It has always been you Y/N. I hope that one day you can give me another chance to prove that to you.”

Yoongi felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest as he watched you for a reaction. He could feel how red his cheeks were without even touching them.

There were three things that Yoongi was certain of in his life. Firstly, love was a confusing concept. He still had his doubts about it, but opening up to you showed him that it was okay to feel. Emotions were a normal part of life. Secondly, you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. No one could or would ever come close to being able to compare to you. Thirdly, hearing you say you loved him too sounded better than any musical composition he had ever heard or could ever create.

“Say it again. Please Y/N. Say it again.”, he begged against your lips as he kissed you.

I love you Yoongi.”, you mumbled into his lips.

He pulled you onto his lap hugging you close like he was trying to make sure this was all really happening.

“I love you. I love you so much.”, he whispered over and over.

“I bet you’ve never said that to any of your girls.”

He smirked, “No baby. Only you, forever and always.”

[sideysvault]

ೀ｡˚ Patching Deadpool up years after he left you ೀ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Part two here

Wordcount: 2,9k

Tags: Canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending.

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The rusty silver plate read in an almost playful manner “The sisters Margaret home for wayward children”. It was a colorful name, and it belonged to a not so colorful bar. That was the place where the two of you had met.

Back then, you were nothing more than a student.  Constantly struggling to manage the very limited funding given to you. All you wanted was to finish your thesis, get your master’s degree, and make it to the end of the month. Your paychecks had cornered you into the only half decent apartment you could rent: The one built in the shittiest neighborhood in town, in a building held up solely by divine grace and poor construction.

That particular night was the end of an extremely rough week. Work piled up, homesickness struck you every time you had a chance to relax and think, and you were the living proof that nobody could make any meaningful connections if you only strictly went to work and home with no rest in between.

And for Christ’s sake, you hated to admit it, but you really missed home and the crippling suspicion that you were close to breaking down was settling in.

The only logical next step you could take popped into your head just as you were walking into your neighborhood. You needed to blow off some steam. Have a drink. Or two. Or three. So, your steps seemingly redirected themselves towards that ugly bar that was close to your uglier apartment. Sure, it seemed super sketchy. But right this second, all you needed was to get a drink.

Wade was in that bar too. As he usually was. He immediately took notice of the woman who seemed clearly out of place. You looked like some kind of stuck up librarian. And it was obvious that your mood was extraordinarily dispirited. Sitting there staring at the wall with a piercing stare. Paying no mind to the environment you were in. Furrowed eyebrows adorned your face seemed concerned. Before Wade even realized what he was doing, he found himself striking a conversation with you.

He tried to reason with himself. There were no ulterior motives, no meaning behind his accretion. Wade has always had a soft spot for damsels in distress. And you were hot as fuck. Nothing else.

“What's a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?”

Strangely, that's all it took to make you laugh. The absurdity of the corny comment immediately got to you and a loud burst of laughter came out of your mouth. Wade's face softened with a certain sense of pride when he saw he could make you laugh.

The stuck up girl with a stick up on her ass had just let out not a forced and polite giggle, but an all teeth and gums type of laugh.

The poorly dim light in the bar did not stop him from trying to take all your features in. And a sense of warmth began to surface under his skin. He was the one who made your night better.

Ever since the event, you would visit that horrid place regularly. Only to see the charming guy who would make you laugh. Your little hangouts quickly evolved into something more. A friendship of sorts. He would walk you home when you stayed late working. “To protect you from all the homicidal freaks”. Wade would take you on private tours around the city, so its streets wouldn't feel so foreign to you. He could notice that you genuinely had a great time whenever he was around. And that was all he needed to keep showing up.

One late night, laughter turned into teasing, which transformed to kissing, which later turned into a hookup that evolved into having sex on a regular basis and going out routinely. Wade and you couldn't be more different, it was true. But it seemed to be the key to your relationship. You guys clicked together, balancing each other out.

The insidious realization came to you on a random afternoon. You were in love with Wade Wilson. And he probably felt the same for you.

As cruel as life is, something terrible happened. Just as things were getting serious between the two of you, on one cursed night, he just decided to pick up all of his things from your apartment and leave. All Wade left behind was a tiny note stating that he had terminal cancer and that he loved you. With a little doodle of a heart with crossed out eyes and a tongue sticking out of its mouth.

You were out doing research the first time he fainted. A full-time professor had the kindness to name you as a co-author in an important research paper that was being published in some big shot magazine. Wade felt extremely proud of you. On some late nights he couldn't believe that a woman like you could be head over heels a low stakes hit-man.

The decision felt simple at the time. He ran straight to the clinic and never told you about the incident. Wondering why he would bother you with something that was probably nothing. On that day, in a confined room with sterile air, with its gray walls and the constant sound of the old air conditioner, that’s where the doctor hit him with the whole terminal cancer ordeal. Wade knew you would automatically make a billion plans and extensive research. He knew you'd stay with him all the way through the end. Even if it affected your career, even if it would wreck you emotionally, even if your routine together was reduced to a mere nurse-client relationship, you would stay with him all the way. That was the reason he had fallen in love with you after all.

So, he made a choice. Albeit, one that was a little less simple. He was leaving before tarnishing your life, your memory of him and your time together with his sickness. He couldn't do that to you. The woman who actually had goals. And a shot for a promising future. If he told you about the situation, Wade was certain that he wouldn't have the heart to say no to you. He would stay. And you'd forever remember him as a lost puppy who you loved but had to put down mercifully.

The other option was to be the asshole who left. But he could live on your memory forever. As the person he once was. So that was that.

━━━━━━━━━

You decided to take a shortcut to your newly renovated home. You were wearing your favorite heels today. And they really weren't walking shoes. Brand new, stiff, and ridiculously blue. The scrappy and dark alleyway was well illuminated, and it would take you directly into the street your building was in. After weighing the options, you decided it was safe enough to make a run for it.

The loud noises that you increasingly heard coming from the dumpster worried you. The dumpster was located just before being able to get out of that creepy lane, and you tried to stop the flux of thoughts about homicidal maniacs that suddenly plagued your mind. But, the thought of injured animals that people abandoned on the street came to you as well. Getting closer, hearing the early sound of the echoed of your shoes against the cement, you tried to swallow your fear. Something in there could really need a vet.

But there was a mutilated man wearing a red suit. You instinctively froze and began to step back, the scene was so gruesome that you were sure you would puke on the body and ruin the DNA evidence. Just as you were typing the emergency number on your phone you heard that voice.

“Bad Deadpool” it mumbled. You heard some nonsensical phrases before you could make out a “Fuck. That was, like, my favorite arm”

Your heart began to pound so strongly you could practically feel it on your ears.

He hadn't noticed you yet, continuing to lose a shit ton of blood and trying to balance himself upward without the missing limbs and several shot wounds.

Not without a second thought, you ran to help him stand up. As soon as he felt your firm touch, he turned around violently, holding a defensive position. But the man in the red suit stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you were the one holding him.

This was not the neighborhood you used to live in.

You sighed at the sight and quickly took him back to your apartment. You knew it was him. Not only that, but you were sure of it. The lame jokes had given it away. And that voice had haunted you for a long time. You'd recognize him anywhere. His remaining arm felt the same, the inflections of his tired voice sounded the same, and the shock he’d felt at seeing you was indisputable belonging to him.  You had heard rumors about the red suit. But never wondered who could be behind the mask. Wade was supposed to be dead by now, anyway.

Wade, on the other hand, was focusing on not making a sound. He really hoped breaking your heart had left you clinically insane. Insane enough to rescue random mutilated men off the street.

As soon as you entered the apartment it became tainted with carnage. A trail of crimson red adorned your freshly painted white snow walls. Little chunks of skin would occasionally fall. Accompanying the already gruesome blood. Your heels had been lost somewhere along the way and with great effort you had managed to throw him into a bed that he wasn't yet familiar with.

Fuck it. As if losing an arm and a leg wasn't enough. This was breathtakingly fucked.

The shock left your body as soon as you saw your not-dead ex-boyfriend mutilated on your bed. And shock was the only thing keeping you together.

By that moment he was certain you knew it was him. Your eyes began to tear up at the sight of his wounded body, your cheeks were trembling with fear, or disgust, or a combination of both. Before he could try to get up, a pool of blood came shooting out of his mouth without warning. Some of it must have filtered through the mask because you somehow looked more terrified than before. He felt dizzy. And before Wade could do anything about it, you took out his mask on a whim to try to avoid him choking on his own blood. And that was it. All that pain, all the abandonment, the secrecy. It all meant nothing now. You had seen his face.

You were definitely taken aback. And he felt his heart break a little when you instinctively removed her hand from his face. You swallowed with difficulty, shook your head and got up. There were more pressing matters at hand. You had heard things about the vigilante regenerating. But you weren't taking any chances. Not with Wade. Never again.

It didn't matter how fucked up he looked now. He took the opportunity of you leaving the room to put his mask back on as quickly as he could. As he was trying to process everything that had just happened, through the door he could see your crying face moving up and down around the apartment. And there you were. Carrying it all into the bedroom.

It was a massive, fancy emergency kit that you had saved up for back in the day. When he was still beating bad guys for money and living with you. You had kept it all this time. And it was still perfectly stocked.

Wade couldn't lift his gaze to meet yours. But he noticed that you seemed relatively unfazed by his new face now. Or by the fact that you had seen him lacking two limbs and with some extra holes. The tears had stopped, but the mortifying look on your face never left. You always knew what he did for a living, you weren’t stupid. But he had always managed to keep it out of home. Or at least he tried to. Never to this extent. You weren't really used to it.

After all he had faced, he thought he did not need any care anymore. Just his healing, getting high and his unicorn. After all, his body would mend all the damage he had done to it and grow itself back together. But it still hurts. And you still tried to make it better. You begin to patch him up as best as you can, taking your time disinfecting, sewing, and fixing him. He knew you well enough to be absolutely certain that you were trying not to gag at the sight of the wounds. And he appreciated your efforts.

When you finished, you softly traced your fingernails on his bandages. He was too tired to talk. And you were still too shocked. How the fuck is he still alive after those injuries? What had happened to him after all these years?

Without saying a word you got up and went straight to the kitchen. You returned after some time, with his favorite tea, soup, and all the analgesics you could find. Your kindness gave him courage to stop being such a weak pussy and actually try to talk to you. You had seen him. Even if you wouldn't want anything to do anymore, the worst had passed.

“So… Sorry about your walls. Didn't know you had a fancy place now. I would've totally died in another alleyway, I promise. And, sorry, for-uhm, you know. The character shattering abandonment”

He coughed some blood. You just furrowed your eyebrows and as slowly as you could, so he could actually stop you this time if that was what he wanted, you removed his mask again. Your eyes pierced him with earnest intensity.

“You are a fucking asshole. And I fucking hate you. And I'm so glad you are alive”

"I know, I know, baby. And thank you for going all Mother Teresa on me. Well, wrong comparison. But, yeah. I'll be okay in no time. It's hard to explain right now. But, I will do right by you and paint your walls bright white when my leg and everything grows back! Pinky promise. I'll also buy you new shoes. It's kinda gross that you are footless. Or, well, it could be h-”

“Oh my lord, Wade. Just shut up and get some rest. Eat when you feel better. And scream if you need something”

And just when you were about to leave the room he softly said “Hey. I'm sorry. I-, I didn't want to bring you onto the whole cancer show. I was going to fix myself and come back. And then everything got fucked. I couldn't let you see me like this. Understand that. I'm a monster now. Inside out. I would have never left if there had been a way of staying without ruining your life”

You just looked at him for a long moment. Tears began to appear in your eyes, threatening to come out again. As soon as he saw your face, he immediately tried to lighten up the mood. “Hey, how long have you been obsessed with me?

Still keeping that old thing?” He said as he gestured at the now empty emergency kit.

He didn't have the heart to explain to you that it was a waste in him.

Saying nothing in response to Wade's dumb joke, you just rolled your eyes. Hearing him talk that way about himself hurt your soul. You couldn't help yourself anymore, so you walked towards the injured man with tears running down your face. You sat down on a chair beside the bed and rested your head on his lap.

He called your name softly “there's no need to cry. I know I belong to a fucking circus, but this is getting a little offensive" Wade finally got a chuckle out of you. You smile at him and wipe out your tears. Wade winces slightly when you tenderly leave a kiss on his forehead. He feels ashamed of the tact his ruined skin probably had left on your soft lips. It has truly been so long. You notice how he reacts. So you put your hands around his face and gently kiss each of his cheeks, and then the bridge of his nose. As softly as you can.

"I'll go now before you make some lame Greek kiss joke. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning. I know you are sorry.” With a more serious voice, you added.

“Just no more running away in the middle of the night. Okay?”

Wade softens. He really missed you. As much as he liked Al's old ass, his true home was with you. Even after all these years. Even after what he did to you. Even with how he looked. Wade was certain he would be able to sleep soundly for the first time in years. He was safe now.

“Never again. I promise. I'll do right by you. Okay? We'll be friends with a ton of disgusting unexplored sexual tension in no time and who knows where that could lead to”

You laughed again. And there it was. His favorite sound in the world. It sounded just like the first time he heard it all those years ago.

"By the way, you do owe me those heels. And white walls. You pinky promised it. Oh, and you also owe me the biggest fucking explanation of the century.”

“Sounds like a start to me”

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Notes: OMG my first big one! I’m excited to post this. I hope it makes sense, if it doesn’t, feedback is always welcomed! -Sidey xxo

[Edited on October 2024! This was poorly written and I was fully proud of it 😭 shoutout to @nikkiwho, who I fixed this fit for] btw, I’m working on your request for part two even if it’s been a while! Hope you like it.

[astro-tag-9]

Rising Signs

Aries Rising: You are born with more ambition than you may always know what to do with. You wear it for the world to see. You are easily yourself 100% of the time. You have confidence in almost everything you do, even if you don't know what you are doing. You aren't afraid to make mistakes and you take every opportunity thrown your way. Taurus Rising: You find ways to love when other people would not. You are even borderline obsessed with love and everything to do with it. Your emotional goals take priority over your physical goals on a regular basis. Once you have obtained, or are mutually in love with somebody, it is then that you can actually focus on obtaining physical goals of yours. When you are in love, your universe seems to re-center to your love. Gemini Rising: You hold a more fierce presence than you are aware. You are aloof but the center of every party. You know how to be social more naturally than most. You tend to make friends so easily, and end up being the reason how many other people make great connections. You tend to be the glue in any of your friend groups. Cancer Rising: You have a default sweet natured look to you that people notice right away. You may often feel like people around you are always trying to cater to your wants or needs. You just draw in people who are natural givers. But you become aware of this at some point in your life. Just make sure you don't abuse this, but always appreciate it. Leo Rising: You hold strong physical features that capture attention from many people when you first meet them. Your appearance is typically "loud" (in a good way). You know how to demand attention, and enjoy holding the status as the most powerful person in the room. Virgo Rising: If you ask any of your friends they would say you live off the grid 90% of the time to most of the world, and really keep your day-to-day circle as small as could be. You only prefer big crowds if they are so big that nobody is really noticing you, and you only prefer small groups when it's your day 1 homies that don't put you on the spot or make small talk. Libra Rising: You've probably never not looked good a day in your life. You truly have the most natural glow to yourself where with little to no effort, you are always a shining star. However, you never fail to remind people that you are more than meets the eye. Scorpio Rising: Even in the best moments of your life, somehow chaos, on even a minor level creeps in. Overtime you learn how to control it and your emotions to not let it get the best of you. Many envy your cool and calm, collected demeanor when they see you tackle this chaos. Sagittarius Rising: You know everything about everyone. Everybody's go-to friend to tell secrets to or trauma dump on. However, what makes you great at this role, is your ability to take it, and then immediately know how to cheer them up afterwards. Your ideas are endless, and you are always thinking of new things to do. Capricorn Rising: You will never let somebody be alone when you can feel that they shouldn't be. You very much go where ground is hollow, and work on filling in the dirt. You are driven to these places in people's lives. Sometimes it may feel more stress than it's worth, but you are more impactful on people's lives than you know. Aquarius Rising: I cannot stress this enough, STAY INTO YOUR ART! Creative energy is flowing through you at all times, you just have to find ways to always tap into it. Don't let your art be ruined or tainted. Always keep creating. Never let your ideas go without bringing them to life. Pisces Rising: You are always floating along like a river stream. Never having a clear destination, just going where it takes you. You form many different friends in completely different groups. A little of this and a little of that. Your friends are a total melting pot of personalities, each bringing out different sides of you. Just do not lose your own identity in which friend group you are hanging with at the moment.

[belphegorsheart]

faith ㅤ᭢ ܍ tom riddle

the golden boy of slytherin house is a largely inaccessible figure— few know much of him past his charm and all too thin smile. which leaves you to wonder… who is he really?

main course tom riddle x reader

details one-shot, gender neutral reader

perfect tom riddle. prefect, head boy; amiable with just about everyone, considerate, top of his class. all while hailing from meager beginnings— an orphan, raised among impoverished muggle children without a clue about the true extent of his power. humble tom riddle, gracious tom riddle. this is the persona that the students of hogwarts have become acquainted with over the seven years he has spent roaming its hallowed halls.

it is also a facade.

and you know it.

perhaps it was your intuition… or maybe it was the fact that your ‘closeness’ with tom gave you a closer look into his psyche than most would be privy to. but you don’t understand. if he is aware of how you are scrutinizing him and his every intention, he hides it very well.

“what is it?” you snap to attention as tom’s voice cuts through your internal monologue.

both of you are hunched over desks in the slytherin commons, the stacks upon stacks of tomes barring your view of him. you hum noncommittally in reply.

“oh, nothing.” you plant your cheek in your palm, tapping your quill relentlessly against the table. this is entirely purposeful. you’ve noticed that every single time you do it— if only for a split second— you spot undisguised disdain on tom’s face. a split second of irritation before he corrects himself in some vain attempt to appear more tolerant than he really is.

“… you keep staring. is there something you wish to discuss?” his tone is clipped, moderate. the politeness grates on you.

you hesitate, not wanting to rock the fragile stilts of the ‘connection’ you have to tom. referring to it as “a relationship” feels like an exaggeration of the truth; despite the rumors that have made their way from every seventh to first year that you and tom are romantically involved. they aren’t unfounded, either… after all, he walks you everyday from potions to charms, studies with you, brings you as his date to all of professor slughorn’s parties, and every day you are the only person that he is seen alone with on a regular basis.

tom riddle is easily the most well liked boy in hogwarts. the only person unenchanted by him is professor dumbledore, though you don’t have a clue why. perhaps he sees what you do— that lack of a glimmer in his eyes. the little lie.

he compliments you, smiles just when it’s right and tells you all that he knows you’d like to hear. saccharine promises where he smoothly assures you that you are special and clever and more than what other people say you are. and the flattery would go right to your head, the way it has to slughorn and many of tom’s eager followers, but it doesn’t. because while he may lie, his eyes may not.

there is no true soul or emotion behind his kindness, no real admiration or passion. you wondered at first, if this was your fault. if he simply reserved his affections for other, more important people. but you observed tom closely. this performance of his was for all eyes, it seemed. but why? why would he need to pretend? what was he hiding?

“you’re doing it again…” tom sits silently before he chuckles, though even that feels rehearsed. “if there is something troubling you, you may confide in me.”

“is there something you want from me?” the words have slipped out before you can reign them in. “i’m sorry, i just… i simply don’t understand your interest in me.”

“do you mean to imply i have ulterior motives?” tom asks teasingly. you pay close attention to the undertone of condescension in his voice.

“no, no, not at all!” you start, oh so tentatively broaching the topic… “i’d like to know you better. i feel as if… i don’t understand you.”

“is that so?” you can’t see him past the books, but you imagine he’s turned smug at this. “i don’t believe you do.”

“that i want to know you, or that i don’t understand you?” you snip back.

“both.” tom replies curty.

“but i do… i want to understand you.” you move a stack of books out of the way so that you can make proper eye contact with him. “there’s more.” you go on, leaning forward in your chair.

he raises his eyebrow as indication for you to continue. you oblige. “i was simply… confused. about our status. there are rumors, after all…”

“about?” tom asks, acting as if he has no idea.

“our… relation… to each other.” your skin prickles with heat as you avert your gaze from his. tom’s beauty is transcendent, everyone knows it… he gets his way so easily. it disarms you.

“is that so…” tom hums, and gingerly places his quill on the desk. “what about it?”

“are we friends, or… more? forgive me if my assumptions are unfounded, but after you had asked me to accompany you to slughorn’s party, i thought that was…” you trail off, flustered.

“is that what you desire?” he asks. you chew on your lip thoughtfully… do you? and before you can answer, he does for you. “i suppose it is their expectation, considering our… closeness. we are both top of our year after all.”

“but…” you begin, biting your tongue.

he raises his eyebrow. “yes?”

“when you look at me… there’s… nothing there. you smile, but, there’s no… warmth.” you stare holes into your textbook. you don’t want to see whatever expression he’s carefully practiced to evoke guilt in you.

it does not come. “you are far too observant for your own good.”

tom’s eyes are just the same as they almost always are when you believe he is not performing— cold, soulless, and entirely apathetic. but you’ve been given a moment of grace to be able to see this true and honest facet of him.

“i know you. we’ve spoken at length. i know you have ambitions… so do i.” his manner of speech is so utterly clinical that it unnerves you. “i have seen you, when you believe you are alone. i see no reason to prolong a charade when our interests are aligned.”

“what interests?” you ask, your throat suddenly feeling incredibly dry.

“you have something… that i want to use.” tom smiles sardonically, his eyes narrowed. “i have made friends in our year who share my vision for the world. but there is something to be gained here for the two of us.”

“what do you have that i could want?” his chair creaks as he makes his way over to your side of the desk. he leans forward, his arms folded behind him.

“information.” he slowly produces a book from inside his coat— a book you recognize. one on enchantments that have been banned from libraries across the globe… with entries on the philosopher’s stone. immortality has always been of interest to you. how did he get it out of the restricted section?

“it’s incredibly simple. i get what i want, as do you.” how can someone be so detached? so utterly lacking in humanity, and feeling?

“if i refuse?” you expect him to react with frustration, but he doesn’t. he just smirks, as if he’s already got you in the palm of his hand.

“have you ever heard the term, ‘mutually assured destruction’?” tom drawls, as if the fright on your face is entertaining him.

“you don’t have anything on me.” you stand up, pushing your chair in and looking to dust off your coat and head out. but he grabs your wrist icily.

“oh, but i do,” he tilts his head. “you see, i seem to recall a certain someone being incredibly helpful to me during my fifth year. unwittingly, albeit, i doubt that matters when you’ve lied to our headmaster...”

and that’s when your blood runs cold. “no.”

“you should consider it a compliment. i wouldn’t have divulged anything, had you been more daft.” tom lets his hand skate over the desk, to the leather bound notebook he always keeps close to his person. “i’d like to employ your assistance.”

he’s right by your ear, and it’s as if all your nerve endings have been set alight. you’re terrified, and unfortunately, your feelings have passed a dark shroud your judgment. privately, you curse the rapid beating of your heart.

“why do you think i requested favors, then? asking you to make excuses for my absences to our professors?” tom closes in on your personal space, so horrifyingly aware of the effect his presence has on you. “the basilisk killings had just begun. you had an inkling, didn’t you? some part of you must have realized… how when i disappeared, the slaughter would begin again… and oh, when i asked you to claim you’d seen that oaf hagrid let his foul beast attack that filthy little mudblood …”

you panic, your eyes going wide. “no, you— you told me he had done it, that it was the right thing to do, that he was—”

“you knew,” he hisses lowly, keeping your wrist in his grasp as he raises it in the air. “you knew it wasn’t him. but you took my side… because you fancy me.” and tom sneers so cruelly as he says it.

your voice wavers. “no, that’s not why i…” you’re silenced as tom collects both your wrists in one hand, his nose brushing yours. wordlessly, he uses his free hand to grasp your chin roughly. you feel his breath against your face, and it’s so unbearably overwhelming as your heart jumps from your throat to pound on your ears—

“that is all the proof i need.” he mocks, releasing your wrists and stepping away from you.

you stagger in front of the desk, clutching your chest as you breathe heavily, still delirious and caught in shock.

“entertain this charade with me. consider it a kindness that i’ve deigned to play the role of your paramour.” tom waves his hand in the air, collecting his books, and inconspicuously tucking the stolen tome into his coat. “you’re a pureblood, and proficient enough in spells to be useful to me. you will do nicely.”

“i don’t understand,” you choke out. “what is it that you truly want from me?”

a smirk grows on his face, as if he’s thinking of some inside joke he has with himself.

“… you will carry a shard of my soul.”

[pierregazly]

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)

[voxslays]

Helloooo! If your requests are open, could I request Adam and Alastor fighting for a fem!reader’s love

٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Im obsessed with those two so much I need them to fight over me asap 😭‼️🎀✨

ty for the request annonie! these two are both so goofy in their own ways lol-

ADAM AND ALASTOR FIGHTING OVER READER

First things first; the only time the two of them would interact on a semi-regular basis is if Adam either fell to hell or didn’t die and was trapped. You and Charlie—being the good, peace-loving souls you are find him and take him back to the hotel.

At first, everyone hates him (for a good reason). However, overtime, everyone learns to accept him…everyone except Alastor.

Alastor and you go way back—having known each other way before the hotel was ever in the picture. You were one of the only souls he trusted down in this hell hole. So when he sees you getting close to Adam, who he knows is not only pesky and annoying—but extremely dangerous, he is extremely angry.

Back to Adam, you were one of the only kind souls when he first arrived at the hotel. You put up with his angry outbursts (which had gotten much better since you had been in the picture) and overall showed care for him. So he slowly starts to fall head over heels for you!

But uh-oh! Alastor also has feelings for you too! Not the traditional kind—because he is very confused about how he feels—yet, he feels a very strong connection and longing for you.

Alastor is the type of guy to exploit Adam’s anger issues. He would totally use one of his tentacles to pop out and trip Adam as he’s walking by and just in general make his life a living hell.

Alastor would go out of his way to make Adam seem like the undesirable option of the two of them by making Adam go into his angry rages about why sinners are terrible—even though he is one.

Adam would serenade you every night on his guitar, singing you rock songs about love as you drift off into dreamland.

Alastor would dedicate every single one of his broadcasts to you, saying how he never could’ve gotten to where he is without your love and support—even though that is NOT true. Alastor would do his absolute best to butter you up as much as possible. Even going as far to offer a soul deal, which you immediately (politely) decline.

Either way, no matter which one you choose—the one you pick WILL rub it in to the ‘losers’ face. These two could never be poly together, especially after their battle in episode eight.

[puppetdoggy]

Not to get too serious and personal but genuinely things are very bad right now. Every day is blending into the next and I feel completely stagnant with no energy to make any changes. I’m the loneliest I’ve been since childhood and I have absolutely no idea where to go from here. Barely using social media bc I don’t have anything to say and no one to talk to anyways. Idk how people survive their early 20s.

Google how do I overcome the urge to sleep whenever I have any free time whatsoever. Google how do I regain a sense of purpose

[ohithankyou]

the buck baking of it all being a continuous thread since buck and tommy broke up has quite honestly been a (pleasant) surprise to me. this show isn’t one to carry such threads and narrative beats for longer than a few episodes because (my guess is) they want to avoid redundancy and help the characters and audience move forward to the next thing—whatever that may be. and yet, buck baking has been present in every episode since the breakup (save for episode nine) and has, in almost every case, existed within the context of an explicit conversation about tommy/buck missing tommy and wanting to call him.

and for this very reason, we know the choice to let buck’s baking continue is a deliberate one with some level of purpose. this thread was immediately connected to tommy—buck missing him and wanting to reach out but baking in an effort to stop himself from doing so—and that has not changed or taken a new meaning (as we saw in the last episode where buck was baking and wanting to call tommy). and continuing to let this thread extend and exist and be redundant to the extent they have, to me, shows: (one) that even though tommy hasn’t been (until episode eleven) physically present in buck’s life after the breakup, he is not some far gone memory but someone who buck actively misses and thinks about on a regular basis. and (two); that buck and tommy’s relationship is still an active part of the narrative, not something being faded out. and (three); they want us, the audience (and buck) to not move on or forward from tommy/bucktommy.

[malvolios-yellow-stockings]

fellas is it gay to be a directionless lonely insomniac approaching your 30s without having accomplished heterosexual milestones of settling down and having kids and also not having an outlet to exorcise your feelings of loneliness, shame, dejection and inadequacy, being a faceless consumer in the age of neoliberal hegemony who is unable to form meaningful human connections or feel pleasure in any meaningful capacity. is it then gay to only be vulnerable in support groups where others believe you are dying or seriously ill, in groups where you are frequently embraced by other men who share your sense of urgency, in the only context where everyone can get over being temporarily embarrassed and ashamed of their flood of emotions?

is it then gayer that this scheme you built for yourself is obstructed when a woman disrupts the all-male group you go to and that woman is everything you don't want yourself to be - a "weak person", outwardly self-loathing and ironic, painfully self-aware, lethargic and hysterical at the same time, undoubtedly feminine and carelessly vulnerable and only violent towards herself, never others (maybe that she’s free in all the ways you are not)? is it gayer still that this disruption triggers the appearance of another "man" in your life who is your own edgy, idealised version of maleness, masculinity & manhood. (is it gay that you show your anger and jealousy towards this woman, expressing your distaste by saying “if only i had wasted a couple of minutes and gone to watch marla singer die and none of this would’ve happened” after your idealised man saves her from suicide and has sex with her very loudly so you can hear (“i could’ve moved to another room… where i might not have heard them. but I didn’t”?) Is it gayer still that you reject her advances multiple times later on while loudly expressing your disinterest in her sexually)

fellas is it gay that this man turns your life upside down, convincing you to found a club that by definition and principle excludes women (“it’s for men only”), where men intimately fight underground, in a dark basement on an increasingly regular basis and where your fighting partner is almost always different every time, where you recognize each other in the wild but are instructed not to be publicly open about your membership to this secret fraternity of sorts (almost resembling the dynamics of gay cruising and hook-up culture)? is it gay that your previous need to be embraced by men in a no-questions-asked context is replaced by the same but different mechanism/ritual, this time with expected, welcomed and consensual violence intricately tying your idea of freedom and therefore pleasure with pain? fellas is it gayer still that the guy who taught you to embrace and overcome that pain lives with you and kisses your hand before leaving a chemical burn there in a shape suspiciously resembling lips?

is it gay to semi-ironically describe your co-habitation with him as married life, comparing yourselves to ozzie and harriet while tying this guy's tie, this action making you the (house)wife of the pair, then later on basically imagining that he slaps your ass after handing you beer to serve other men with? is it really gay that you get jealous of the two people this idealised man you live with shows deference to interest in? first the woman you yourself previously showed no (outwardly sexual) interest in and who was established as a kind of a rival (wherein it was impossible for both of you to be satisfied in the same way at the same time, who invades your power animal coping mechanism sequences, and whom you later embrace as an ally and quite possibly a part of yourself) and then another guy whom you then monstrously, savagely beat after feeling an "inflamed sense of rejection" and explain ruining his body by saying you “felt like destroying something beautiful"? fellas is it gay that this idealised confident man dresses eccentrically and flamboyantly, accessorises rings and big colourful fuck-you-glasses, mesh shirts etc. going against the subdued yuppie masculinity of corporate male America, who is free in all the ways you aren't and who spews (and seduces you with) anti-social undercooked anti-capitalist rhetoric and pseudo-scientific cool guy bullshit which goes against mainstream society bro!, who uses his job/pass time as a projectionist to smuggle pornographic imagery into family films (and who represents your own violent subconscious lurking in you in the form of a penis appearing for less than a second right at the end of the film?) and who tells you that maybe neither of you need women in your lives, while you discuss your absent father figures. is it gay when he spits his own blood into the mouth of a presumed gangster telling the gangster "you don't know where i've been lou" in a time where the impact of AIDS is looming large and heavy over everyone, but is inextricably tied to gay/queer men and IV drug users?

is it gay (of the repressed, self-hating variety) to create a whole fella you can pine after and effectively beat yourself up after he picks you up to live with him and punch the lights out of another dude you recognize is beautiful because the imaginary best boy friend you created in your head, that being you, has possibly experienced homo lust which is becoming increasingly hard to suppress?

and fellas is it gay to want to be tyler and want him at the same time?

is it also gay when... [gunshot]

[sightseertrespasser]

You say doorwings work similar to sonar/ echolocation, by sending out pings and mapping out their surroundings based on said pings bouncing off of things. If thats the case, can one doorwinged mech pick up on the mapping pings of another? Can they use them to form their own (likely incomplete) map of the area? I'm very curious, your headcannons for how doorwings work are fascinating

Doorwinged mechs can pick up on each others pings, which is the basis for wing speak!

If, let’s say Prowl and Smokescreen are both scanning a room at the same time, they’d actually need to scan on slightly different frequencies to avoid confusing each other.

Since the sonar works off of counting the time it takes for each ping to “bounce back”, having a secondary source of pings would muddy the readings.

That said, if two doorwinged mechs (or one doorwinged mech and one standard) were to hardline connect with each other, it would be feasible to combine or share scans.

Personally, I really like the idea that wingspeak is an accidental language. When the first doorwinged mechs came around, some of them realized picking up other peoples scans wasn’t just a distraction, but could be done on purpose. Kinda like how Nasa figured out how to use mars river drilling equipment to play Happy Birthday.

Doorwings rotate in specific patterns when performing certain scans, so mechs figured out how to string them together to recreate distinct phrases. Once you know what each movement means, it kinda becomes like lip reading, where you don’t necessarily need the actual sounds/pings to follow what’s being said.

Another fun bit, Doorspeak can be taught but not instantly downloaded like a regular cybertronian language bank. Equal parts Morse code, physical Sign and Tonal language, each element can be used in combination or independently of the others to communicate, with unique characteristics for each. And because its a language that formed organically, there’s an untold number of distinct “dialects” due to not evolving from a set standard. This level of diversity makes it extremely difficult to accurately pin down, driving the control freaks Functionalist Council crazy.

Thanks for the question! Asks like yours always gets me to think about new world building angles to develop.

[ejudollz]

hello hellooo its my turn to send you an ask hehe literally before i decided to revamp my blog i was already following and reading your posts and every single one of them makes me wanna pull my hair out because HELLO????? do i wanna ruin or do i wanna get ruined....!!! also thank you so much for enjoying my posts as well i really really appreciate that i literally never expected it at all....

but anyway continuing our conversation, sub!&team and self edging!!!!! could be whilst they're fucking you, or masturbating (while on tour 😁), the possibilities are endless :" would love to hear your thoughts on this hehe

hiiii!!! im sure u don't remember sending this ask im sorry i took so long 😭 i hope it was worth the wait and i hope you enjoy <3!!! also still enjoying ur posts and thank u for enjoying mine 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ hehe.. anyways let's get into it!!

yudai

self pleasure is one of the best ways to connect with yourself and to treat yourself. yudai values time alone, he values the connection he creates with himself. he enjoys exploring his body and spending time feeling himself all over. masturbation is the best way to do this, you learn what you like and enjoy it while you figure it out. yudai loves to edge himself, he loves to elongate his play time. he'd bring himself right to the edge of release, his legs tensing up and he feels the sensitivity creep up his length right before he let's go. he'd sigh out, breathing heavily as he feels his orgasm slip away. it's satisfying, his self restraint is something he's proud of. he could so easily make himself cum but he won't.. he wants to do well.. he wants to beat his own personal goal. 

fuma

self edging involves having restraint and that's one thing that fuma has. if you asked him to edge himself until you're with him again he would do it with no questions asked. he enjoys edging himself just for the fun of it. he wants to test himself, see how long he can hold it, see how sensitive he can make himself. he would even give you little updates about how it's going. sub fuma takes it very seriously when you ask him to edge until you can come play with him. he'd want to do so well for you, whining and tensing as he films himself for an update for you. he'd sound so pretty like this, never holding back his whines. his voice would go raspy from how much he grunts and whines during this process. it's gotten to the point where he's training himself to last, almost playing a game with himself. no matter how many times he edges himself he would still get so frustrated. he'd be so winded and exhausted but he doesn't want to give up yet <3

nicho

he likes to edge for you without you even asking him to. i think nicho would love to play around with intense sensations so getting himself so close to the edge before sex even starts is so perfect for this. he would get himself crazy riled up and so close to the edge before you've even started doing anything. he wants the challenge of trying not to instantly cum when you touch him slightly. he's so on edge that it feels like the moment you touch his skin literally anywhere on his body he's gonna cum. your touches would be like fire on his skin. his cock would already be so red and his mind would already be mush.. he'd be so fun to play with like this. he can barely think straight when you ask him simple things. 

euijoo

euijoo is full of surprises on a regular basis but i feel like he would be full of even more sexually. he would always pop out in the moment with new ideas that would drive you crazy. you'd be dragging yourself up and down his length, he'd be getting so so close to his orgasm. you hadn't thought about edging him before, not yet at least. he'd suddenly stop you, sucking him a breath and gently pressing his thighs together. he'd ask you not to make him cum and he'd slowly feel his orgasm slipping away. he'd produce a noise you'd never heard from him before and you'd watch his face twist in all kinds of ways. he'd want to try this a few times, he wants to see how hard he cums at the end of this. he'd keep telling you when to stop, when he's about to cum, and how close he is. he'd edge himself through your hand and would cum mind-numbingly hard after. 

yuma

yuma in a way loves to torture himself.. he knows what his limits are yet he always wants to push them. when you edge him or play with him he always reaches a point where he feels like if he doesn't cum now he's gonna explode and die. he would wanna push that limit so badly. he'd put aside time for it, wouldn't stop when he feels himself losing control. he wants to be able to show off for you next time, wants you to see him go past his usual limit. by this point his body would be reacting so much to each time he edges. his stomach would tense so hard it feels like he did an ab workout. he'd shut his eyes so tightly and would hold his breath, doing anything in his power to hold off his orgasm once again. 

jo

jo would discover edging by accident.. he'd be playing around with himself, just trying out new things, playing with new sensations. it would a thing where he's rutting against a pillow, trying so hard to get himself off but he'd lose his pace just as he's about to cum. usually he gets past this point and actually cums but not this time.. he'd feel his orgasm slowly dwindle away and it would be like something clicked in his mind. he'd like the slight feeling of despair that comes along with losing your high.. he'd try it a few times, noticing how sensitive he starts to get. i think he'd keep going until he feels physically weak. the orgasm he had that day had him wanting to be vocal in ways he never had before. it would become a habit for him and eventually would get decently good at edging himself.. when it's with a partner however.. i feel like he'd be back at square one. 

harua

harua loves to be a little princess for you when he's submissive. he doesn't want to have to do anything, he wants to relinquish all control and have you take care of him. when he acts up or when you think he needs a punishment, one of the best ways is to have him edge himself. he lacks the control to do so and he also doesn't like to do anything when he knows you could just do it for him. normally you'd edge him, normally you'd make him feel good so why should he do it!! he'd feel so vulnerable like this, you're watching him and guiding his every movement. he's touching himself yet he still has no control. he so badly wants to just make himself cum but he wouldn't dare.. not with you watching him like this. he has to ignore the ache in his arm and the throbbing of his desire, he has to be good for you. 

taki

any challenges you throw taki's way is a challenge he's ready to take on. he loses his mind the quickest when he's inside of you so when you give him the opportunity to show you how well he can last while inside of you he tries so eagerly. you'd allow him to control his own pace, choose when to stop, and choose when he's at his limit. normally you control all of these things for him so he would want to do just as well as he does when you're in control. you know it's hard for him to hold himself together, you know sometimes he gets himself off way too fast so it's fun seeing him consciously edge himself. he'd make you feel so good and would bring himself to the edge so many times just to be good for you. he'd be shaking slightly between your legs, his breathing becoming more and more shaky as well. he wants to show you how long he can hold off.. he would honestly want to go past the limit that you normally set for him. 

[girl-lostconnection]

Fun funny idea that helldivers have a difficult time creating connections with other people, they’ve seen so many of their own die and not mention seen so much violence (I have seen helldivers whole bodies torn apart with only a torso left). I feel like they’d have a hard time connecting with normal folk but they have a difficult time explaining just why that is, so they instead just tend to stick with other helldivers when it comes to socialization. They won’t make too close of a connection since they know they could each die in any mission, but it’s still SOMETHING, something that makes them feel human again for even just a moment. Something to make them feel less like cogs in a machine that demands for blood and guts, and instead more like people, scarred, broken and bruised to all hell but still a person or at the closest they can get to being a human again after all they’ve gone through

Anon, you have such a big brain. You evil genius, let me affectionately pat your shoulder

Also you are so right because as far as I know it’s very common even for regular soldiers to stay within their military friends circles because when you return from battle it’s just…feels weird.

I can imagine Reader straying away a little from TaskForce 141 because they are military, yes, but they are not Helldivers. They don’t understand how it is.

So imagine feeling a little too out of place on some pompous gathering, different branches and soldiers all in one place, claping each other’s shoulders and grinning widely.

They know each other. Lucky for them not to move from planet to planet, lucky for them not to see what you see on daily basis.

Soap is hanging out nearby, as if feeling your discomfort, because gatherings like this require to be in formal attire and god knows after synthetic fabrics of your Scout armour the natural wool feels itchy.

You don’t know anyone here, you are both figuratively and literally so alien in here. A soldier from a different dimension. A soldier from a war none of these people participated in.

Kyle carefully herds you back to the corner when you almost sneer at some navy admiral, who jokes about you keeping helmet on. Who jokes about the cape of your uniform.

Man of his station is supposed to know that it’s mandatory part of your uniform. Man of his station is supposed to recognise that cape is Helldiver’s honour. A symbol of the branch as a whole. An insignia of all your sacrifices.

The mood shifts when a new group walks in the room, boots too heavy, uniform just a hairspread of being an armour, capes behind each and every one of them.

Your whole face lights up as you make your way to them through the crowd, the pack of four Helldivers perking up when they notice you pushing through them.

You salute the group, eyes quickly scanning the ranks of them, your body practically vibrating with excitement.

Finally, that’s someone who you can properly mingle with.

Helldivers circle around you, greeting you properly, their capes — different colours and patterns, signifying specialisation of each of them. Demolitions, terminid exterminator, ranger, medic — you have never met them before and they don’t know you, but it doesn’t matter in this moment.

Because in this room, there is no one else who would understand you better. There is no one else you’d rather chat with about the last improvements on the battlefield or the latest updates to the ship, cackling when the ranger of their team jokes about stealing you and the bright head of yours.

It’s lovely. You haven’t had this much fun in ages and maybe that’s why you don’t notice immediately the shift in the mood all around you.

Other soldiers pulling away, command watching you with barely concealed disapproval. They can’t say anything to you — the gathering was organised specifically for soldiers to mingle but you can see how uncomfortable your lot makes them.

Weird soldiers. Wild soldiers. Alien soldiers.

Rumour mill is already turning, pack around you tensing up and pulling back as well. But they are pulling back with you. They aren’t leaving you behind.

It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know each other until ten minutes ago, it doesn’t matter that your due is all that ties you together. None of it matters.

Once Helldiver — always Helldiver. And your lot may be wild and rowdy and alien to these folks. But they aren’t to you. And you aren’t to them.

So when their demolitions expert hooks his arm over your elbow and pulls you back, you don’t protest instead chatting them up about grenades they usually use.

And when their medic and exterminator “accidentally” position themselves so they could cover you both, you just murmur quiet thanks.

They are the biggest of the team, moving like a well-oiled machine — practiced ease of it testament to years of service together, testament to many such gatherings and unfriendly faces.

Exterminator of their team bumps your hip with theirs and slings their arm over your shoulder — their side pressing into yours, warm and human. Silent reminder to cheer up.

It doesn’t matter whether or not others like you, whether or not you are even welcome here. While these shitty parties have at least one Helldiver you will never be alone. You will always be part of the team and part of the family.

That day, when you leave the gathering your tracker blinks with four new connections.

Your shoulders still aching from how hard you hugged the whole pack of your new comrades before saying goodbyes.

141 just watches you silently, Kyle’s fingers tightening when Helldivers they don’t know (though what difference does it make) touch you, like you are theirs. Like they can just take you to themselves, like they don’t even have to steal you away — you’d go willingly, naturally gravitating towards those who understand you better. Towards those who aren’t regular soldiers.

Kyle doesn’t miss the way the tallest of the team, stares down anyone who’d like to approach your little gathering. Helldiver’s bright, ridiculously flashy cape — blue with orange attracting way too much attention.

In nature those who are so colourful are the most poisonous.

Soldier catches Kyle’s gaze and tilts his head to the side, their helmet a menacing angular thing with scribbled “one shot - one kill” just above the visor.

A sniper.

“Like a bloody fortress, aren’t they?”, John hums, nursing his glass, eyes trailing the whole group, eyes hardening when another Helldiver presses themselves against you with ease that grates on John’s nerves. Fucking wanker.

John doesn’t miss the way others in the room steer clear of the group.

John also doesn’t miss that Helldivers themselves aren’t too keen on mingling with anyone but each other. That they keep their packmates on inside and guarded tightly, that they aren’t the biggest fans of anyone but each other.

John doesn’t miss the way Helldivers hook in on each other and hold tightly, pushing away everyone else away.

Dangerous bunch. Entirely too co-dependent and entirely too unruly.

Just a matter of time before it blows up in someone’s face.