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vigilxnte-shit · 4 months ago

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you can hear it in the silence || matt murdock x reader

summary: it’s been a rough couple of days, but there is always a safe respite with him. you don’t need to see him or hear him talk to feel his love- it’s so strong it’s undeniable, and it’s present in every action he takes.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: if you are a mutual from the w*lb*r s*ot days or just a former [redacted] enjoyer, this may seem familiar as it was originally written for him. however, i was really proud of this little story, so i wanted to revisit it and edit it a bit as my first matt x reader to hopefully make even more friends within this lovely little community! additional warnings: mentions of ED’s, anxiety, stress, domestic cute fluffiness.

a/n: i am such a sucker for husband!matt and i am not sorry about it. dedicated to the tuna team- i love u guys long time <3

you’re tired. that’s nothing new, especially not as of late, but something about the perpetuity and the fact no amount of rest seems to take it away makes it that much more deep. forget your bones, this is the kind of tired you can feel in your lungs, the kind that squeezes out all the oxygen and mocks you for trying to gain it back.

nothing is going your way. the darkest thoughts you thought you’d chased out of your mind were actually just hiding in the shadows, not even collecting cobwebs, lying in wait for the day your brain is just weak enough you’ll give in.

you did end up eating dinner. you almost didn’t, were too close to teetering off that edge again, the little voice in your head telling you you can’t afford the calories. you’ve sat down too much, it says, you won’t burn those off, but in the end that didn’t matter. in the end, you sat there, staring at your takeout food and sitting in your desk chair, your mind running a million miles a minute before you picture your husband. his beautiful, endless hazel eyes and the way they would slump in heartbreak if he found out you were doing this to yourself again.

so you ate your dinner. you ate it fast and you quickly shoved it away, the container near-empty and forgotten in the bin by the time you left work. even that didn’t stop the tiredness, though, didn’t prevent the slumping of your shoulders and the way each step felt like a mile.

you’re getting home late from work again, as if having dinner at your desk wasn’t an indication. it’s almost 9:30 pm and you have two and a half hours until the devil comes out to play, so matt is probably asleep- dozing off for the precious hours sandwiched between the system’s justice and his own. one immediate detail of the apartment tips you off. it’s not the lights- the constant buzzing of the electricity is too much for his sensitive ears- instead, it’s the lock. he’s left your cheap and semi-rundown apartment unlocked, as per usual. you always insist he always locks it, what with his track record of ninja break-ins and unexpected visits from old mentors, but he never listens. to him, it’s a little way of saying “i missed you”- i missed you too much to intentionally put an obstacle in between you and i.

inside, the lights are, as expected, off, save for the bathroom light in the hallway. to light your way. despite his hearing, despite the fact he can hear the neighbors breathing and smell a cigarette lit down the street, he always leaves the bathroom light on when you get home. it’s his wordless way of saying you need to head straight to bed, straight to safe, straight to him. he’s shut down the apartment and left a single light to guide you, one that you can turn off as you breeze by or leave it on, if that’s what you prefer- sometimes the dark is scary, and he’ll do anything to make you feel safer.

in the bathroom, he’s laid out your favorite sweats and his columbia t-shirt. your skincare routine is set out in order on the sink and there’s a glass of ice water in the best-insulated glass he could find- you can tell the drink started life as simple a cup full of ice cubes by the way the remaining particles are stuck together. he wanted you hydrated, and he wanted your water to be cold- he knew you wouldn’t drink it otherwise.

when you’re all prepped, your teeth brushed and your skin cosily coddled by the soft, well-loved cotton of the t-shirt and your moisturiser patted in, you switch off the light and make the very short walk to your bedroom.

matt has left your blinds open. you normally close them at night, the glass and plastic giving a slight cushion to every noise on the street, but he can’t have you tripping on your walk to him because you can’t see, can he? in fact, thanks to the little light you have, you can see his figure silhouetted in the covers. he’s a side sleeper, facing towards you, perfect cheekbones and beautiful features only enhanced by the moonlight.

you waste no time in snuggling up to him. you climb onto the other side of the bed first, not wanting to wake him, but once you’re adjusting the duvet around yourself he shuffles to the tiniest bit of consciousness.

“hi,” you whisper. he’s not even awake enough to give you a verbal answer, his arms simply sliding around your body as he tugs you close to him. you might as well be a stuffed animal, the way he’s clutching you- you don’t mind in the slightest as he lets out a sleepy groan as the only response to your greeting. your head is tucked up against his chest, his nose in your hair as his breathing returns to a slow, relaxed pace. these are your favorite nights, the ones where you get matt to yourself for a bit. the nights you have moments in his arms, calming his senses, your scent and your feel and the sound of your heartbeat easing his aching soul for just a moment before he slips out the window to save the world again.

you close your eyes and just listen to him breathing, to the sound of rest and the man you share your life with. he is everything comforting. he is warm, he is kind, he handles your heart as though it’s the greatest gift anyone has ever given him.

you didn’t need him to say i love you when you crawled into bed. you didn’t need a text reading that when you were scaring yourself over dinner, you didn’t need a note on a pink post-it next to your toothbrush. you know already.

you are matt murdock’s everything. he would lose his mind for you, fight any war you ask. there’s a picture of you in his office- he can’t even see it, but the edges of the frame have the paint rubbed off, eroded from hours spent tracing the frame, knowing it contains your image.. you are his best friend, his lover, his lifetime companion.

you can hear his love in the silence of your bedroom. you felt it on your solo drive home. you can see it right now, your eyes closed and your lights turned off.

you two are in love. desperately, deeply, unendingly. that may not fix your problems- it may not take your sadness away or shorten the commute home, but in this moment- this little cocoon of blankets and touches and adoration- there is nothing and no one that could touch you.

never in a million years.

#matt murdock #matt murdock <3 #daredevil #charlie cox #vienna writes #matt murdock fluff #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #Spotify

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starglitterz · 11 months ago

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♡ AMERICANO.

❝ baby, take a chance on me! give me one sign and you will see. // crushing on the local barista ❞

✧ feat : xiao x gn!reader

✧ a/n : FIRST POST OF THE YEAR!! yk it had to be my beloved xiao <3 here's to a fourth year with my baby hehe

✧ note : this is a very late entry to ying's cafe week for the prompt americano !

please reblog w tags + leave comments ! it rlly makes my day :)

“uh, hi. could i please get a…” you flash what you’re certain is the most awkward grin of your life at the poor barista, who’s currently running the cashier as well. you swear you’re never the type to hold up a queue, pondering for ages over what to drink to get – in fact, you always get the exact same drink. it’s just that the way the barista’s pretty amber eyes almost seem to gleam in the late afternoon sun has you stumbling over your words, barely able to form coherent sentences; it’s so embarrassing you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, you're lucky there's no one else in the line behind you.

“your usual?” he raises an eyebrow, a few strands of jade hair tumbling out of his loose bun to frame his face, and holy archons this man is such a masterpiece he belongs in a museum. you gape at him for a few seconds, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish before you realise how stupid you must look and you scramble for a reply, “how do you know?!” the corner of his lips quirk up into what might be a smile, “you order the same drink every time.” you’re fumbling for a retort when he continues, “and you come here three times a day.” now you’re ninety-nine percent certain your face is on fire.

“that’s true…” you mutter sheepishly before making a valiant attempt to defend yourself, “but maybe i just really like coffee!” “i think you drink too much coffee,” he chuckles softly as he writes your name on the cup. you’re freaking out over the fact that what has to be the world’s cutest barista is actually aware of your existence, he recognises you instead of seeing you as just another customer from the endless throngs of students that flock to the campus coffee shop daily. then you gasp, “wait. how do you know my name?!” he lifts an eyebrow once more, “i just told you that you order coffee here three times a day. you say your name every time.” great. now he definitely thinks you’re an idiot. it’s not your fault that all your braincells seem to fly out of your head every time you see him!

“oh.” you laugh weakly as you pull your wallet out of your bag, “that makes sense.” mentally, you’re slamming your head against the wall, cursing yourself for being so head-over-heels that you can’t even carry a normal conversation with the barista. as he types your total, he suddenly murmurs so softly that you have to struggle to catch it, “it’s a pretty name, though.” “o-oh, you think so?” the compliment makes your brain short-circuit, but thankfully you manage a proper response, “i like your name too… xiao.” saying his name out loud almost makes you spontaneously burst into flames, which honestly would be pretty inconvenient for the rest of the customers in the coffee shop. not to mention you doubt it would endear you to xiao if you exploded in the middle of his workplace.

you aren't sure if it's just your imagination, but you think that xiao's ears look a little red as he taps on the screen in front of him. then he clears his throat, “you know what, today's drink is on the house.” “what?! really?!” your eyes light up and xiao meets your gaze for a split second before looking away, the faintest pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he starts making your drink, “yeah.” your heart's beating at a million miles per hour from just this small interaction, but you swallow your nerves and give yourself a pep talk as you wait to receive your drink. you never know unless you try, right?

and as xiao turns to give your drink, you blurt, “icouldtakeyououtonadate!” he blinks slowly, cat-like, and furrows his brow in confusion, “sorry, what did you say?” doing your best not to melt into a puddle on the ground, you mumble, “to make up for the free coffee, i could take you out to lunch or something.” there’s a pause, and you quickly continue, “only if you want to, of course!” you're cursing yourself for even daring to be so bold, there's no way he'd want to go out with a caffeine addict like you- “i'd like that.” his reply is so unexpected you look at him incredulously, “what?” “i said, i’d like to go for lunch with you,” now xiao's face is bright red, and he's gripping your coffee cup so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

at this point, you think that you could jump over the moon. “oh! that's great!” you beam, and xiao thinks that your smile is like the sun, “maybe sunday?” “sure,” he smiles, and it's the most adorable thing you've ever seen, “it's a date.” he turns away after saying that to hide his blush, and with the biggest, cheesiest grin on your face you reply, “yeah, it's a date.”

(and later when you finally drink your coffee, you realise xiao has scribbled his number on the side of the cup. maybe all this time you were crushing on the local barista, he was crushing on you too.)

wahhh i missed writing 🥹 i tried something new with this one, i usually prefer writing confident and flirty readers so i hope this is okay for a first time hehehe. hope you enjoyed! <3

#✏️ — quill writes !#xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #cafe week; an i23kazu event #astronetwrk #xiao fluff #genshin x reader #xiao x you #xiao imagines #genshin fluff

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fall0utmind · 1 month ago

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WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I TOLD YOU MY DARKEST SECRETS? Chapter 4 - Crash

Hi guysss,

Thank you sooooo much for all the love you have shown me and this fic, i could not have asked for anything better for my first fic!!! SO MUCH LOVE FOR YOU ALL!!!

Let me know what you think, come yap in my asks :)

Chapter 4 (CRASH) below

HERE on AO3

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

TW/ SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/ IDEATIONS - be safe xx

When Marc eventually reaches the garage, he’s a mess. He finds a deserted room, pulls the door closed and screams into his fist. His brain is flurried, thoughts travelling at 100 miles per hour. He feels wound up, taught with anger and pain, ready to snap at the next tiny mistake. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to quiet his brain, but Valentino’s cold words echo in the empty spaces. He buries his face into the front of the hoodie he stole, breathing in Dovi’s comforting scent, hoping to cling onto some semblance of kindness, of warmth. He refuses to let the tears fall, unwilling to give Rossi any more of himself. He will not continue to split his heart into pieces over a man who flip-flops between not looking at him or spouting cruelty.

Marc must race, he has to, no matter how crap he feels. He has ridden through worse before, he just needs to quiet his mind, get on his bike and do what he was made to do. He blinks his eyes open, his harsh breathing filling the otherwise silent room. There are teeth marks on his knuckles from where he has bitten his fist too hard, he revels in the way it burns. Pain is a good focus – a distraction from his racing thoughts. Marc steps out of the room and makes a beeline to the nearest bathroom. He peers into the mirror above the basin and feels his heart sink at the sight of red eyes which sting with unshed tears. He rubs his eyes furiously, splashing cold water over his face to remove the redness, attempting to make himself look less fragile. The water is freezing, shocking him back into his body, it makes him feel a little more in control. Looking a little less like he's about to fall apart is the best that he can hope for as he mentally steels himself to face down the world.

The cameras are trained on him when he enters the garage, pulling at the edges of his awareness as he begins to prepare for the race. The team decide to let Marc and Alex go out onto the grid at the last minute in an attempt to prevent any unwanted attention. That doesn’t stop the media from trying. He feels wrong-footed, like something is a millimetre out of place but he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. His arm aches. He shrugs it off. Instead, he focuses on his pre-race routine, ignoring the buzz around him until they need to go.

When they finally make their way onto the grid, they are surrounded by more mechanics and engineers than usual, wrapped in a protective cocoon of familiar pale blue. He keeps his head down and his game face on, ignoring any attention as he makes his way to the front of the grid, thankful that he’s there and not in the middle of the pack. He nods at Alex as the group splits, watching his brother approach his bike. He tries to keep his features neutral, unbothered, but can’t help feeling like he’s failing, the strain of the weekend weakening his usual façade. Passing Pecco in the p2 spot makes him grimace, another reminder of the earlier disaster. He can see the Italian trying to catch his attention out of the corner of his eye but refuses to engage. Reasonably, Marc knows that Pecco is not Vale, he is too calm, too rounded, missing the ragged edges that Marc personally knows so well. Despite this, he will not run the risk of looking. He does not have the capability for mind games right now, not after Valentino’s little stunt earlier. Instead, he walks away, his eyes trained on the ground, unaware of Pecco’s concerned frown behind him.

Usually, Marc has no problem focusing before a race, narrowing his universe down to just him and his bike. But today a million thoughts are racing through his head. He tries to shove it to the furthest corner of his mind, boxing up the nerves and the sorrow. But the little voice telling him that he is not enough refuses to be silenced. Instead, he pushes his visor down, blocking out the world and its pain, and gets ready to do what he does best. He can forget about it for 13 laps, he can ignore the pain – it is, after all, what he does best.

The grid begins to clear. Marc’s heart is pounding. The green flag is waved. He can feel a thousand eyes on him.

The lights go out.

The bikes roar off the line. He gets a good start, slingshotting around the first corner, retaining his first place. He feels alive as he guns the throttle, throwing his body from side to side to hit angles that should be impossible. Marc always clings to this feeling, the bike humming underneath him, adrenaline pumping through his veins, this is what he lives for.

Halfway through and Marc is doing well, he lost a place to Bagnaia on lap 2 and Martin is riding up his ass, but he is still in contention for the podium, potentially even a win. As he enters the 4th lap, Marc unintentionally tunes into the crowd, the roar as Pecco passes followed by the unintelligible mix of boos and cheers for him. He knows he’s not popular in Italy, God he’s been dealing with it for years. He can’t help but imagine that the booing has got more vicious this weekend, pouncing on his weakness. In the moment of distraction his mind capitalises, automatically leaping to the vicious words whispered behind his back and to the hatred that he’s seen, heard, and read. It comes in flashes: Valentino telling Pecco that it’s not worth it, Valentino implying that he’s an attention seeker, that he made this up. The people who think he’s better off dead, that he has ruined the sport, or that he’s selfish for no longer wanting to live the hell that was 2015. It echoes like a mantra, carved into the walls of his brain, ensuring that he never forgets the burning hatred of those around him.

He distractedly shifts his weight into turn 10, realising a fraction too late what will happen. The back tyre wobbles, desperately seeking friction against the scorching tarmac, before the whole bike bucks from underneath him, launching him into the air and sending them both into the gravel trap. Marc feels weightless for half a second, tumbling through the air and unable to do anything about it. He comes crashing back down to earth with a thump, tossed head over heels across the track, before coming to a halt near his bike.

Fuck.

Marc lies on the floor for a moment, willing himself to not lose it then and there. He knows he should move; people will begin to think the worst – but a small, messed-up part of him barely cares. He lets out a primal scream, thankful nobody can hear him, before finally clambering to his feet, wincing in pain. He jogs over to his bike to assess the damage. His bad arm hurts like a bitch, but a quick body scan tells him that he is mostly okay, just bruised. The main collateral is his ego. His bike is a little worse for wear, but fixable, that’s what matters.

Idiota, he can't believe he got so stuck in his head that he crashed. He needs to be better. He does not want people doubting him now, not when they can already identify spots of weakness through his heavily constructed armour.

He drags his bike upright, refusing the help of the marshals, before being escorted back to the garage.

They force him to go to medical after his crash, much to Marc’s annoyance. He gets plenty of sympathetic winces at the array of bruises now decorating his body, but there is not much else they can do. He is checked for a concussion, which he has thankfully avoided, and the medics give him an ice pack for the worst of the bruising (most of it is bad). After, he slowly makes his way back to the garage, a slight limp in his step. He apologises to the crew, grimacing at the replays of the crash flashing up on the screens. He knows that people will use this against him, rumours that he can’t stand the pressures of this sport. That he’s a danger to other drivers and himself. The irony isn’t lost on him, he doesn’t have to be on track to be a danger to himself.

If he’s being honest, Marc is scared. A deep-rooted fear that his career will be derailed by this weekend, that he will no longer be known as an 8-times world champion, the baby champ, instead he’ll be the dangerous, mentally unstable rider who couldn’t cope with fame and heartbreak. He is scared that Valentino’s narrative of his character will have a lasting impression on his name in this sport.

It's Dani who eventually breaks him from his self-deprecating thoughts, pulling him into a tight hug. He whispers to Marc that the voices aren’t true, that he isn’t what they say he is, that he is a good person. Dani has always known him a little bit too well. When Marc draws away there are tears in his eyes. He knows he will have to face the press again, especially after such a disaster in the sprint. But for now, he is content to be looked after by his team and his friends.

Alex ends up taking p6, a good outcome for at least one of the Gresini riders. Marc has been avoiding the media pen since his crash and is rapidly running out of excuses not to go. He pulls Alex into a congratulatory hug, wrinkling his nose as a press officer shoos them both off to give their interviews. In a last-ditch effort, Marc sends his very best puppy eyes in the direction of Dani, Dovi, and Jorge, who, true to their word, have been in the garage since the race started. All he receives in return is two sympathetic looks and a shit-eating grin from Jorge, who has always been a pain in the ass. Marc laughs at the thought, grinning and tugging Alex with him as he leaves, racing disasters momentarily forgotten.

Marc is going to kill someone. The jury is still out on whether it will be himself or whoever fucked up so bad that a summary of his entire medical history ended up on the internet. (He’s kidding, it won’t be himself, he has too much to prove for that). His media appearances go about as well as expected, which is to say it’s a clusterfuck.

The kinder interviewers ask him about the crash and how he is feeling, touching on his prospects for tomorrow’s race. The meaner of them question whether the news was the cause of the crash, and how Valentino played a role, pressing on already delicate bruises. One even goes as far as asking if 2015 “ruined him as a rider”, whatever that means, he has 4 championship wins under his belt since then for God’s sake.

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that more information has been leaked. Whoever is behind this surely wants to destroy Marc for all he’s worth, he cannot believe he’d be so unlucky to have another piece of his life flayed open every time he’s on the track. The moment they ask about his arm, his pain, and his “questionable history with pain medication”, Marc simply walks out. It is surely not his finest moment of PR, but he has had enough of this weekend, of people digging up every hurt and pain he has been through and splaying him open for all to see.

The journalists clearly can’t tell or don’t care that Marc is done, pushing and shoving to get a word from him about the most recent gossip. Marc doesn’t know where to turn, every exit is seemingly blocked by people who want to profit from his pain. The world is spinning around him as tears blur his vision. He has no point of contact with the world, he is floating away, woozy with the feeling. For a fleeting moment, Marc wishes he had succeeded all those years ago, he wishes he would have put an end to all the pain and suffering in his life. The realisation rips an ugly sob from deep within his chest, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t. But he certainly doesn’t want to live life like this.

He doesn’t know how long he’s standing there, shaking apart at the seams, before three sets of hands lead him away. Somewhere through the haze, he recognises Aleix’s gentle Spanish, clearly alternating between soothing him and conversing worriedly with someone else. Marc stumbles over his own feet, held upright by a strong pair of tattooed arms, identifying the second person as Fabio. For what feels like the hundredth time this weekend, his eyes well up; he is unimaginably grateful for the few members of the paddock he can lean upon. They manoeuvre him away from the press, earning some baffled stares from other pilots and team members. Marc guesses that it's not every day you see Marc Marquez half-carried out of the press pen. He can hear his rescuers rapidly debating where to take him before a consensus is reached to deliver him back to the Gresini garage, where hopefully Alex will be waiting.

Marc is surprised to identify the third person as Pedro Acosta. He has not interacted much with the rookie but is pleasantly surprised by his careful hands, aiding the others to get Marc somewhere safe. He suppresses a groan at the sudden realisation of the articles that will no doubt surface tomorrow. Marc Marquez, damsel in distress? At this point, he might as well give an interview saying he’s been in love with Valentino for as long as he can remember.

Marc knows that a decade ago he would have ripped his own heart out and given it to Valentino to destroy. The older rider has unscrewed all his parts, - his hero devotion and childhood wonder, before piecing him back together into the splintered man he is today. He guards himself more these days, walls built strong and high to withstand the storms that always seem to batter him. He can no longer see himself falling into a lover’s arms like he did all those years ago, instead choosing to keep them at arm’s length, decidedly distrusting. He knows if Valentino came back, it would be the end of him.

Pedro disappears at some point between the media pen and the garage, leaving Fabio and Aleix to usher him through the back corridors of the paddock. Marc is aware of the near-continuous apologies listlessly falling from his lips, despaired by the idea of being so weak. He is gently shushed by Aleix, who holds open the door for Fabio and him to enter the back of Gresini’s building

It’s Jorge who notices the three men spilling into the room first. He’s out of his seat in a flash, urging Marc to sit down whilst Dani fetches some water, working in perfect tandem.

“Cazzo, what happened?”

Dovi directs his question towards Fabio and Aleix, the former of whom answers, with a worried frown.

“He just shut down in the media pen, he fully froze. It was like he’d just gone somewhere else; we got him out of there as soon as possible. I’ve never seen him do anything like that.”

“It happens sometimes when he’s been bottling everything up for a long time, especially when he feels weak. He just loses his sense of reality. It’s always scary, it doesn’t get any easier.”

Alex takes in his brother's state from where he has entered the room. He knows he needs to take Marc somewhere where he can fall apart in private, their motorhome being the sensible option. Marc needs this, needs to let it all out so that he can race tomorrow.

“Alex, is what they’re saying true?”

It’s a quiet question from Dani, but it catches the attention of all of them.

Alex scoffs, “Which bit?”

“Given the extent of media coverage, we can assume the A&E trips happened. I remember being worried about him during those years, it was like he was always pretending.”

Alex nods at Dani, confirming his assumptions. It’s Jorge who pipes up then, voice full of unconcealed fury,

“I’m going to fucking kill Rossi, I swear to god”

He lets out a string of expletives, calling Valentino every rude name under the sun. Alex can second that, and Marc, now gaining some lucidity, let’s out a brittle chuckle.

Fabio asks the question they’re all thinking, a pained look on his face.

“And his injury? It was that bad, even after the surgeries, I know he was out of it during races, I didn’t know how much pain he was in...”

Marc replies to this one.

“Agony, like red hot knives tearing into my flesh every corner. Not helped by the Hondas tendency to play buckaroo with me.”

He gives a self-deprecating laugh

“But I am nothing without a bike so still I raced”

Dovi begins to refute the statement, but Alex simply shakes his head, this is a long fought and lost argument.

Alex sighs, resigned to an evening of his brother once again falling apart due to Valentino Rossi and the scars that remain.

“Probably best we go to the motorhome then, are you all coming?”

They must make quite a strange image, seven riders, both current and retired, sneaking through the quiet and unknown parts of the track to reach the safety of the motorhomes. Marc is in the middle of them, bracketed in and protected from each side. He still feels pretty spaced out, his thoughts are a mess, and he keeps getting stuck in a loop of forbidden memories that have resurfaced. Marc registers the others leaving once they arrive at the familiar blue motorhome. He clutches Dani’s jacket before he can walk away and makes the three retired riders promise to return, feeling too fragile not to have the comfort of safety in numbers. He turns towards Aleix and Fabio and quietly thanks them for their help before turning back towards his brother.

Alex helps Marc inside the motorhome, pushing him toward the shower, and telling him to clean up whilst he talks to the team. Marc turns the water temperature up as high as possible, hoping it will soothe his aching muscles since it can’t do much for his current mental state. After he’s done, he wraps a fluffy towel around his waist, heading to the bedroom to change whilst Alex showers. He feels more physically grounded now but inside he’s in emotional turmoil. He feels like he’s been cut loose, unmoored on choppy water, unsure where he can sink his anchor to weather the storm. For now, he decides his motorhome and his younger brother are the safest place.

Alex is already there, washed and dressed, when he re-enters the living space. He has a little pinch between his eyebrows as he stares at Marc in concern; clearly, Marc’s attempts to cover up his misery are unsuccessful. He winces as he approaches the sofas, his brother instantly picking up on that too, damn having a codependent relationship with a sibling, they know too much. Thankfully, Alex says nothing, he just helps lower Marc onto the cushions, before turning to grab the bruise relief cream, looking at Marc pointedly until he takes his shirt back off. Alex cringes at the array of watercolour blues and purples painted across Marc’s skin, still uncomfortable seeing Marc in pain, even after all these years.

“How’s your arm?”

Marc hums, considering,

“It’s pretty bad, I don’t need medication through”

Alex gives him another look, understanding but slightly exasperated.

“Marc, you still sometimes need the medication. You are not who you were then. You are in pain; you do not need to just live in it.”

Marc contemplates his brother’s argument, smiling slightly at his unwavering support.

“Not yet, I will take them later, maybe”

Their conversation is interrupted by the motorhome door opening, Dovi slipping inside and shutting it behind him. His eyes instantly shoot to Marc, who is still shirtless on the sofas, his eyes widening as he takes in the tanned skin of the Spaniard. Marc still looks gorgeous, even when battered and bruised. The thought makes him feel guilty for a second, he never wants Marc to be in pain. But still, it doesn’t take away from his attraction. Alex rolls his eyes at the pair, coughing obnoxiously as Marc’s cheeks flush pink. Dovi grins at Marc, still unabashedly staring as he shrugs a t-shirt and hoodie back on, glaring lightly back at the Italian. Look, Dovi’s not blind, he knows an attractive man when he sees one (he always has), but he is also well aware that Marc is still a bit in love with Valentino, plus he would be stupid to risk such a friendship. But he can still look and the younger still preens under his gaze.

Marc tries to will the blush away from his cheeks, well aware of Dovi’s smug look, and frankly, it’s slightly unfair that the man still has that effect on him, he thought that he was over that part of his life. But he can’t deny that he enjoys the older man's attention.

Dani and Jorge return about ten minutes later, and they settle together on the couch, joining the others. Marc feels his brain quiet, the volume of his thoughts turned down a few notches. His whole body aches after the crash, each movement burning his muscles. He eventually gives in to the pain, flashing Alex a pleading look, spurring the younger to fish out the appropriate number of painkillers and hand them to his brother with a glass of water. They’re the strong ones that make Marc a little hazy, a little more fluid and uncaring as they kick in. He ends up settled between Dovi and Jorge, leaning heavily on the older Spaniard, his legs across Dovi. Dani is on Jorge’s other side and Alex sits opposite.

The conversation is soft. The TV is talking to itself quietly in the background. Marc has lost track of all threads of the topics once more, tangled like balls of yarn in his brain. He allows the pain medication to soften him and lets himself drift amongst his thoughts, ebbing and flowing like the sea. He feels Jorge’s (Danis?) hand gently petting his hair and Dovi's warmth pressed against him. It’s peaceful. Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarm bells are sounding at how vulnerable and weak he’s being in front of the others, but for now, he ignores them, allowing himself to float.

The weekend has been a mess, he will be the first to admit it. The fact that his medical records have been leaked would be bad enough, even if they didn’t contain all his biggest secrets – his mental health, the extent of his injuries, his weakness. The world has seen what 2015 took from him, about his overdoses, and subsequent admissions to A&E. They know that the doctors had looked to Alex to make sure his older brother stayed alive another day. Back then, he lived life as if he didn’t care to see another day, throwing himself into reckless situations with abandon. He was indeed a danger on the track to himself, but he never, ever, meant to drag anyone else into it. The only thing he could clutch onto was his success on the bike, it was all that mattered to him. In 2015 and the years that followed Marc would leave everything on track, he would go out not caring if he returned to the garage, and we he came back time and time again, he was empty and hollow.

Valentino had taken everything from him, everything but his riding. His hope, childhood dreams, and will to live had been snatched by jealous hands. The media had torn him and his family to shreds. His loved ones were scared to leave him alone. Marc just felt hollow. Nothing mattered to him but winning. He thought that maybe people would consider him worthwhile if he was winning. Valentino would look at him again. Would tell him he was wrong, and that he was sorry. The day never came. Instead, Marc was left with the demons, locked in his mind and told to make his own way out.

Then one day, finally, the light was shining at the other end of the tunnel. After the depression, after the suicide attempts, and the self-destruction. After he had glued together the shattered pieces of himself into something that only partially resembled the old him, before Valentino Rossi. Then Jerez had happened. He came off his bike so fast he didn’t truly remember it happening, just the searing pain and a useless arm hanging limply by his side as he tried to mask the pain from the world.

The next few years were a haze of surgeries, pain, riding, not being able to ride, pain medication, and more encompassing sadness. He knows somewhere on the internet there is now a long list of medications he was on for that pain. No doubt there would also be records of the countless doctors who were concerned about him ignoring the pain, or not taking his pain meds. It was some twisted form of self-flagellation that he told himself he should live with the burning agony to prove that he was strong. He was too weak to do it in the races and instead would take medication before, just so he could make the corners, followed by copious numbers of painkillers after, knocking him out clean. He would be so doped up that his brother would have to look after him, feeding him and putting him to bed. Marc still remembers the phantom pain that followed him everywhere, despite the medication. At some point, he took too many and became unresponsive. Alex had to rush him to the hospital. From that day on Marc had vowed to be more sensible, if only for his brother's sake.

The memories make him feel hollow, the empty space in him aching for his loss. He does better these days, but it has taken a long time to reach this point, with countless hours spent talking to professionals about his pain and his feelings. He hates that there are records of so much of this online, that anyone can read about the worst moments in his life. It makes him feel weak. Unworthy. He stays there for some time, revisiting the pain and trying to stay tethered to real life, rather than consider the endless possibilities in a different universe. He doesn’t know when he starts travelling down dark paths, but it makes him shake with sorrow. He feels part of himself shatter, right there in his motorhome in Misano.

#rosquez #marc marquez #motogp #motogp rpf #my fics #medical leak au #please yap in my asks guys #marcs medical records getting leaked #yayyyy #aoife finally did it #pedrenzo #in this one #dani pedrosa #andrea dovizioso #marc is so baby girl #going through it #marc whump ftw

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666writingcafe · 1 month ago

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Hello! Really enjoy your blog in its entirety! 💙

If you’re able, I’d like to order “Yeah, but they don’t fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked, do they?” with Diavolo 🫣. He’s one of my faves.

Order #9

"Yeah, but they don't fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, do they?" Diavolo

Featuring a Letter That He Actually Sent One Day

My darling MC,

As you know, there are some things a prince must never say out loud in order to keep his reputation intact. To not behave properly would be considered a public disgrace. I try my best to keep my composure, but there are times where there are visible cracks in my armor. At least, visible to those who know what they're looking for. I'm used to Barbatos reading me like an open book, for he believes the information is necessary for him to serve me to the best of his ability.

You, on the other hand, have caught me off guard.

You asked me over dinner the other evening what was wrong, and when I tried brushing you off with a smile, you told me that my eyes didn't match the rest of my face. I lied and replied that I was tired. You didn't buy it.

And yet you knew to drop the subject.

Perhaps that's why I feel comfortable opening up to you a bit now, in this letter. You won't run off and have my emotions published on the front page for all to see; you know how to be discreet.

With that in mind, I suppose it's time for me to admit the truth: I am a very jealous man. It can make me rather possessive sometimes, especially if what I desire is another person.

I want you, MC. And there is a part of me that is tired of sharing you with others.

Now, I know all too well that I can't keep you all to myself. You have your own life, and it would be wrong of me to ask you to throw that away for my sake. I should accept the fact that I am among your close group of friends and lovers and drop the subject all together. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to block those feelings out.

Probably because I've never had much practice with doing that. For better or for worse, I'm used to getting what I want, and I seldom have to repeat myself in order to be heard. I'm sure that if I told everyone to stay away from you because you were mine, they would listen. Oh, there would be some initial pushback, especially from the brothers, but they'd fall in line eventually.

You'd see to it that my plan would never work, though. Don't get me wrong; I admire the fact that you're not afraid to stand up to me. It's one of the many reasons why I'm so drawn to you. You'll put me in my place the minute I start acting up. I just wish I could do the same to you. Not in any real life-threatening way, of course. I'm not that cruel. I was imagining something a bit more intimate.

To put it simply, I don't think anyone else fucks you the way you deserve to be fucked. Not the brothers nor Solomon nor Barbatos nor even Simeon (although I know he's trying his hardest). Clearly, they're all adequate enough for you to keep returning to them, and I'm happy that you're receiving what you desire out of them.

But I don't think it's enough. You're more than welcome to chew me out for writing this if any of it is inaccurate, but based on my own observations, this is what I've come to believe you need fulfilled.

You want someone who can shut your brain off. You have a lot of responsibilities, and that often has you going a million miles per hour as you take care of everyone's needs. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to sit back and let someone else take the reins, even for only a few hours? Would you be able to trust me enough to allow me to have my way with you every once in a while?

I want to make you fall apart. I know that desire is not unique to me, but unlike the others, I don't have to rely on magic or toys for that to happen. I can simply use my body to achieve my desired effect over you.

There's no pressure, of course. If you'd like to forget ever reading this letter, I can always have Barbatos wipe it from your memory, and we don't ever have to talk about this again. But if you are interested, you know where to find me.

Your not-so-humble prince,

Dia

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

#obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #obey me mc

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wjehfshs · 2 months ago

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Jjk characters who I think r on the spectrum 😮 (and explaining how they show it)

Gojo:

Hyperactive autism, brain running at a million miles per hour, he DOES understand social cues he just doesn’t see any reason why he should care

Nanami:

Classic case of smart autism, good at math and all that stuff, very serious, excelled in science and math at school but struggled to make friends before he joined Jujutsu high, will sit down and explain numbers to you for hours

Yuji:

I think we can all tell, does NOT understand social cues, but he tries really hard to, just does the first thing that comes to mind, doesn’t think about it, can’t NOT sit still for the life of him, hyper fixates on stuff

Ino:

Tries to show off to seem cool, classic case of silly autism, that’s it, he’s just silly

Megumi:

Hates social stuff, loves his quiet dark spaces, comes off as harsh when he doesn’t mean 2, connects better with animals

I tried my best to explain it all, I’m autistic myself so I just described it in the best way I could explain, it’s so hard trying to word things

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #nanami kento #yuji itadori #ino takuma #megumi fushiguro

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lunerna21 · 23 days ago

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I've been feeling on and off for a while, but I wanted to talk about a couple of things

(***LONGISH POST AHEAD! MY BRAIN IS RUNNING AT A MILLION MILES PER HOUR!***)

I THOUGHT WEREN'T GETTING A BOOK 7 UPDATE BUT WE’RE STACKED FOR BOTH EN AND JPN SERVERS!!

I'm gonna talk briefly about the EN server and then jump to talking about the JPN server

I was honestly expecting them to release maybe one more chapter before the end of the year, BUT THIS PERFECTLY OKAY WITH ME~!

I do wish they had just released Playful Land the beginning of October instead of the ending, but I'm glad the beginning of the month is Playful Land and then the end is Book 7

IM NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO SOBBING FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME BUT WE'RE FINALLY PROGRESSING COMPARED TO LAST YEAR

I JUST WANT TO HUG SILVER AND SEBEK CAUSE I WAS INCONSOLABLE WHEN SEBEK WAS STRAIGHT FUCKING SOBBING AND SILVER KEPT BLAMING HIMSELF FOR EVERYTHING

IF WE GET ONE MORE CHAPTER IN DECEMBER FOR BOTH SERVERS, OOOOOOOOOO YANA I WILL GIVE YOU ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING!

Now, onto the JPN Server!!

***SPOILERS TO JPN SERVER BOOK 7 CONTENT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!***

.....Folks let me just say one thing...someone is gonna have to play for my therapy bills after this next chapter...

AND RUGGIE LOOKS SO CUTE BUT THEN I SAW HOW PEOPLE WERE SAYING HE'S ATTENDING ANOTHER SCHOOL IN HIS DREAM, SO ANOTHER STUDENT THAT DOESN'T DREAM ABOUT STILL BEING AT NRC!!!

I can't blame Ruggie either considering he was traumatized from Leona attacking AND trying to kill him, but also just how much Ruggie has been through SINCE THE GODDAMN DAY HE WAS BORN!

YANA, I SWEAR TO THE GREAT SEVEN IF THEY MAKE IT THAT BOTH HIS PARENTS ARE ALIVE AND RUGGIE HAS A HARD TIME COPING WITH THE REALITY THAT HE HAS TO GO BACK TO LOSING THEM AND BEING BROKE, I WILL BE SENDING YOU MY THERAPY BILL

LIKE, LOOK AT THIS FREAKING CUTIE!!

Ruggie Bucchi is without a doubt one of my favorite characters from Twist and IM GOING TO BE HAVING SUCH A HARD TIME SEEING RUGGIE GO THROUGH HIS TRAUMAS, CONSIDERING HE KEEPS THINGS PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF

RUGGIE BUCCHI, YOU ARE LOVED!!😭❤️❤️❤️

I am also so INCREDIBLY curious to see Leona's dream. Is he gonna be aware that it's a dream and accepts it? Is he like everyone else and doesn't remember anything from Lilia's farewell party?

And this will FINALLY BE ADDRESSED IN THIS UPDATE?!

WHAT DOES THAT MEANNNNNN?!?!

SOOOOOO WHAT DID YOU GIVE THEN, LEONA!?!

THIS QUESTION HAS BEEN EATING ME ALIVE FOR SO WAY TOO LONG BUT I SWEAR TO GOD IF WE DON'T GET ANSWERS FOR THIS IM GONNA RIP MY HAIR OUT

I FEEL OUT OF ALL THE BOOKS IN TWISTED WONDERLAND, THIS GROUP NEEDS REDEMPTION AND I WANNA SEE THEM BOND AND CRY TOGETHER OR SOMETHING JUST GIVE IT TO ME!!!

THE MOMENT I CAN GET A TRANSLATED VERSION OF THE UPDATE, I'M HAVING A TALL GLASS OF WINE AND SOME GREENERY (😉) AND DIVING INTO THIS CHAPTER!

LASTLY, I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE SO MUCH CLOSER (HOPEFULLY CAUSE I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE) TO SEEING ACE AND DEUCE AGAIN!!

AHHHHHH FHEJAFIOEAJFJERAJF I NEED TO SEE THEM BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR

One concern I have though is we haven't see the dream/visions of when Prince Philip gets kidnapped by Maleficent and her goons

SO WHAT IF HE'S JUST WAITING FOR THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO CUT US OFF AND PREVENT US FROM MAKING ANY MORE PROGRESS?!

AND WHAT ABOUT THIS ⬇️ ?!?!?!?!?!?!? (Sorry if it's a lot lol I'm overwhelmed, is it obvious?😂)

AHHHHHHH I JUST DON'T KNOW IF WE'LL GET ANSWERS FOR THIS IN HEARTSLABYUL'S CHAPTER, BUT IM HORRIFIED IM SEEING ACE AND DEUCE OVERBLOT OR SOMETHING

I NEED TO GO CALM DOWN, BUT I HOPE WE GET SOME ANSWERS!!

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wonswondrland · 2 months ago

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4 months were not wasted!

warning! vulgar language + written! (wc 368)

i paced the foor of my room, my brain running 100 miles per hour. he was so cold. was he going to break up with me? was he coming to apologize? my mind raced playing out every possible scenario until i heard a knock on the door. deep breaths. opening the door, i immediately locked eyes with riki. “hey,” he said softly walking inside, taking off his shoes. he made himself comfortable on the couch as i bit my lip nervously, not knowing what to do with myself. “um do you want anything to drink? or a snack?” “no, i’m okay i just want to talk and then i’ll be on my way.” i sat down next to him and placed my hand on his. “is everything okay?” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “i got some texts from giselle. she told me some things about you,” he paused, collecting himself. “and you’ve been hanging out with renjun, a lot and i just… i don’t know that we should continue dating, kl.” my heart shattered into a million pieces. “renjun and i are just friends,” i stopped fighting tears, “what did she say to you? what made you think this? why?” i immediately began to feel the tears flow down my face. “look i don’t believe majority of what she said. i know you broke up with jungwon and she tried to make you seem like you were crazy and obsessive. i know it’s not true but… i just feel that you are not ready for a relationship.” now he was starting to cry. i wiped away his tears pleading my case. “riki, i am. i love you. please, riki.” the apartment fell silent. the sound of the ac flooded my ears. i sat still staring into riki’s eyes, tears spilling from our eyes. after five minutes of silence and sniffles i finally nodded. “okay. i’m sorry riki but i do love you. please understand that.” he wrapped his arms around me, kissing my temple. “i love you so much kl. let’s just stay best friends okay? i don’t want to throw all these years away.” i stayed still crying into his chest, accepting the heartbreak.

Eyes Off You

prev - masterlist - next

taglist! open :) (purple means i can't tag you)

@sthinqsz @hwalllllllelujah @lovelymura @ja4hyvn @wonamour @tomorrowbymoa-together @luviehyck @chloexc @w0nslvr @electrobutterfly @kgneptun @nikiswifiee @heeseungspookie @jwonistic @pshwrldd @enhabooks

#enha #enha imagines #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen smau #enhypen fluff #jungwon smau #jungwon fluff #.wonswondrland #.eyes off you

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chronic-lee-lovesick · 11 months ago

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Finally posting an add-on to a screenshot I posted with that character.ai encounter that made my delusion official LOL

Anyways enjoy, I hope this is as good as I think and don't down right cringy and I also didn't properly proof read so OOPS lmfao-

(has no gender specifics)

⚠️[Contains: stalkerness and suggestiveness?¿]⚠️

~~~

Rick sat there at his work bench with his brain running a million miles per hour, sighing to himself as he decided that he was finished tinkering with the device he was working on recently, he set it down on the table before getting up from his seat and finally heading over to his bedroom.

His hands trembled ever so slightly as he opened his door knob as he anticipated his last activities of the day, Rick had sat down on his cot once he had locked the door behind him then he pulled out his phone. He opened some software on his phone that he had programmed himself, one that was only accessed and used by him.

Rick draws in a slightly shaky breath once he had opened multiple video feeds that had a good number of perspectives of you on it, going about your night. But this particular time you just so happened to be changing into a different pair of clothes and no matter how many times this particular scenario had happened he always jumped in his seat whenever it occurred, most likely from the way you had made him feel that he felt an actual remorse and embarrassment from his stalker behaviour but it was only in short random bursts that he couldn't really predict.

But once you were done getting dressed into more comfortable clothes for sleeping, he couldn't ignore that flutter in his chest as he watched you snuggle into your blanket and slowly dozing off, he felt a smile tugging in the corners of his lips.

He always thought you looked absolutely adorable when you slept.

Rick almost debated almost coming into your room and sneaking into your bed because for whatever reason you always seemed to have enough room on your bed for another person, one time he actually came in and laid with you. But it was short lived before he gently scrambled out because he thought you were suddenly waking up.

Even though he could pretty much do many things without much problem it was too risky to even think about using any of his sci-fi tech in the real world without being incredibly discreet, acting reckless wouldn't be ideal if he doesn't want to mess up all that he's been working towards.

He lets out a soft sigh as he continues to watch you sleep, he can't believe this girl has captured his attention and dare he even think it? His heart? It frustrated him to no end but eventually he just decided to try and embrace it rather than shoving deep down, because at the end of the day he knew that being hopelessly lovesick for you felt more better than being in crippling denial.

Rick just set his phone down on the side of his cot just so he could listen to the ambience coming from it, the sounds of your soft snoring and occasional little noises you'd make during your sleep. It really helped perpetuate his imagination of pretending that you're sleeping right next to him, Rick soon found himself finally finding it comfortable enough to fall asleep.

#rick sanchez #rick sanchez fanfic #rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty #rick sanchez x you #delusionally paranoid

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little-bumblebeeee · 1 year ago

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Hey, can I request Jason Dean X transmasc reader, where they were away(on the like a trip or smth) and were on T, and when they came back JD didn't realise how deep their voice was now and was surprised?

SORRY IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE😭

GOD sorry this took so long, life has been kicking my ass and I really wanted to get this right :/

JD x transmasc reader

Warnings: no use of y/n, reader's appearance isn't described, cursing (I think "holy shit" appears like, once?), fluff!, reader is insecure about "passing" and their look and voice but dw happy ending

You were scurrying around your small apartment, cleaning like it's what keeps you alive but you need to distract yourself. Jason hadn't been home in a while, his dad had dragged him along for a fishing trip when it was clear that Jason was going to hate every single bit of it, especially the fact that he had to spend time with his father. You know you should be ready to comfort him, but you're worried. Your voice is different, you look different. And he doesn't know that. He's not one for phone calls, mostly texting or sending you random pictures of things. So he doesn't know how different you are now, even just over the course of a week and a half. You jolt as you hear the keys in the door, then the creak letting you know he's here. Your mind is running at a million miles per hour, your heart going even faster. You know he's exhausted by the heavy thunk of him dropping his shoes at the door, usually he just sets them down quietly and neatly.

You didn't dare speak, just keeping your back turned as you wipe down the kitchen counters, trying to keep your breathing steady. You don't know why you're so panicked, you know he loves you.. but at the same time, what if he doesn't? You can't get that ugly thought out of your mind, your brain whirring with the "What if's?". What if he doesn't like you? What if he thinks you look weird, sound weird, smell weird?

"Hellooo? I've been calling out to you since I walked in the door." Jason says as he walks into the kitchen, quickly noticing something you hadn't. You weren't even wiping down the counters, just blue screening while holding the cloth against the counter. He comes up behind you and wraps his slim arms around your waist, putting his head on your shoulders."You doing okay there, handsome?" He murmurs into the shell of your ear as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. You gulp. You don't want to respond, and even if you did you couldn't. And just yesterday you were so happy with the change, excited to show him the deeper tone of your voice. But it feels like your words are caught in your throat. But you force them up anyways.

"'M alright." You mumble, trying to keep your voice low. You can feel Jason jump back slightly, and even if you don't see it you know he's doing that thing with his head that he always does when he's surprised, shaking it with wide eyes and parted lips. But when you turn you see a smile appearing on his strawberry tinted lips.

"Holy shit! You.. woah." He says, and you sigh slightly out of frustration. Is he happy or surprised, you really can't tell. "You sound... woah. How the hell did I miss that!? You sound amazing!" Jason continues with a dumb smile, fully turning you around so he can get a good look at you. You're not even that different, you hardly even feel like you "pass" (no matter how much Jason says that doesn't matter as long as you feel good, it gnaws at you).

"I'm not even that different." You say, but you feel your confidence returning in the same way you felt when someone first called you "Sir", or when you didn't get scammed when you needed your car fixed. Maybe this will all be okay after all.

"No, I'm serious. I was only gone for a week and you're practically a whole new person! God, how did I even land you?" He says. You just listen to him talk about how much he loves you, every inch of you. Every pore, every hair, every old childhood scar or even new ones.

"You sure you're even the same person?" He asks, smiling wide and kissing you all over your face as you wrinkle your nose and try to pull back, but Jason is determined to make up for lost time. "Come on, I'll make you some food." He says with the sweetest and most reassuring smile you've ever seen on him. You don't know why you were even scared anymore, all forgotten by the look in his eyes, pure love. You don't remember the last time somebody looked at you like that.

"I'll help." You say softly.

#jd heathers #heathers movie #heathers #heathers the musical #heathers fanfic #jason dean x reader #Jason Dean x male reader #Jason Dean X transmasc reader #jason dean #freeze your brain

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bordysbae · 2 years ago

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Bordy comforting you when you feel like nobody understand you and u just really feel sad because of your friends and social anxiety and need comfort. 🤍🤍

Sorry lmao, this how i feel AHAHHAAH

“the bar”

thomas bordeleau x reader

word count: 0.8k

mon chérie - my dear

also! if ANY of you ever need someone to talk to about anything i promise i don’t bite! i also struggle with bad social anxiety so i know exactly how you feel, and i’d be more than happy to talk with any of you guys! don’t be afraid to message me if you feel like you need a friend to talk to <3

if this isn’t what you wanted just lmk!

your friends had invited you earlier in the week to go out to the local bar everyone goes to on friday nights. as much as you hated bars and parties, you felt pressured into going so you said yes. as you’re standing quietly behind your friends as they order their drinks, it suddenly becomes your turn to order. “y/n, what do you want?” your roommate smiles at you. your heart begins to race, you hated ordering for yourself. “i uh, i-i’ll get whatever you got i guess” you shrug. she nods and turns around to order you a drink, which you have no idea what it even was.

as time passes slowly and your friends become more intoxicated, they slowly slip away from you into the crowd leaving you standing in a corner alone, still sipping on the drink you ordered at least an hour ago. your mind feels like it’s running at a million miles per hour, so you walk through the crowded room and head for the bathroom. as you walk farther away from the music the less loud it sounds, until you lock yourself in the one stall bathroom, causing the music to become muffled. you open up your contacts and press the first person you can think of, your boyfriend thomas. “y/n? what’s going on?” he says groggily, causing you glance up at the time in the corner of your screen, seeing it’s already 12:32. “oh no i’m so sorry, did i wake you?” you say as you frantically pace around the small bathroom. “yes but it’s alright, what’s going on mon chérie? i thought you were with your friends” “i am, sort of. they all got drunk and ran off somewhere, and m-my mind is going too fast for me to think straight. i- i think i’m having an anxiety attack” you stutter out to him. you hear the alert in his voice as he says, “let me venmo you for an uber, come back to my place love.” “o-okay. i need to find my friends, i-i’ll call you from the uber” you say, as you hang up the phone to go face your fears of the large group just outside of the bathroom door.

as you exit the bathroom you feel your phone vibrate as thomas sends you money for an uber, and that’s when you see your roommate and 1 of the other people you went out with. “y/n! where were you?” your roommate asks, nearly slurring her words. “i went to the bathroom, i um, i think im gonna head home. i’m having really bad anxiety right now.” “oh, okay? how are you getting home?” “thomas got me an uber” “alright, bye y/n! see you tomorrow, now let’s go dance c’mon!” she says as she grabs the hand of your other drunk friend and they both scurry off into the crowd. you’re kidding. my own roommate can’t even stay with me ‘till the uber comes? you think to yourself. you see that the uber is almost here, so you make your way through the crowd and outside to the cold, late night, michigan air. you get into the uber and call thomas back. you smile softly as his face fills the frame of your phone screen. “you got the uber just fine?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. “yes thank you love.” you smile, acting as if your mind isn’t still running too fast for your liking.

you didn’t even realize how fast your brain was going until suddenly you’re brought back to earth as thomas opens his front door, embracing you in his warmth. “hi mon chérie, come in” he says as he steps aside to let you in. his words cause tears to brim at your eyes, which you try not to let fall. you haven’t felt this overwhelmed in a very long time, so this is a lot for you.

you both walk into his bedroom and he gestures for you to sit on his bed, as he walks over to his closet grabbing you a pair of his sweats and a hoodie. once you slip the clothes on and do your night routine, you crawl into bed next to him as he lifts the covers for you. “cmon lets cuddle” he says softly as you curl up next to him. as he pulls you closer to him, the tears from earlier you thought had disappeared come back, falling down your cheeks. “oh y/n, what’s wrong?” he says, as he gently runs his fingers through your hair as your head rests against his bare chest. “i feel so stupid, i cant even go out on a friday night with my friends without having an anxiety attack. and when i told my friends, th-they just ran off, barely even caring. i just feel so embarrassed” you say, tears staining your cheeks.

thomas lifts you off of his chest gently and sits up, looking down at you. “stop. you are far from stupid, you’re a human. it’s normal to feel anxious at times, and anxiety is not an ‘unnormal’ thing. i love you for who you are and your friends suck if they don’t stick around to care for you. i love you more than words can even describe and i hate seeing you like this” he says, pulling you into a hug. you wrap your arms around his bare back, and he rocks you both side to side slowly. “can we go to sleep, i just want tonight to be over” “of course my love” he says, laying you both down onto his bed softly. you cuddle into his side, his warm skin being all that you feel against you. you gently trace his tattoos until you feel your eyes begin to flutter shut, and you let them. a soft kiss being pressed against your temple is the last thing you feel as you fall into a warm, deep sleep next to the one person who you love most in this world.

#thomas bordeleau #sj sharks #sj barracuda #umich wolverines #umich hockey #umich boys #thomas bordeleau imagine #i made this in class LOL #ok bye

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justaaveragereader · 2 years ago

Text

The Eight Evil Thoughts // OT8

Part 9: Realization

You were a firm believer that when you died you were bound to go to heaven…but what happens when you get casted straight down to hell. Before kneeling before the most famous evil thought/leader you run into the other evil thoughts along the way.

"The wolf has eyes for prey, the cow has eyes for hay. One of them's a killer, the other his buffet"

- Itona Horribe.

🌹Pair: Reader x ????

🌹Genre: Angst, Thriller, Possible Yandere, Suggestive, Religion Talk, Cursing,

🌹Word Count: 3.7k

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Hongjoongs face never moved. His poker face was not one to be mistaken with. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling. He just looked at you, he looked through you, he looked into you. He sat so still, you would’ve thought he morphed into a statue.

Your mind was running at a million miles per hour. You couldn’t process anything that had made its way out of his mouth. What did he mean you were the ninth creation? You knew all of these men? You are one of these creatures? You stare at him blankly. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say something to make any move.

“ I…I…h-how..”

You were simply at a loss for words. You didn’t know what to say or what to do to even get out of this. Should you just run..? But where would you even run to..? This was his place, his domain, his kingdom.

Hongjoong slight tilts his head to the side. Looking at you as if you are some poor pitiful creature in need of saving, his gaze alone is making you feel ill at ease. He’s waiting for the perfect time to pounce. You are locked in a cage with a lion. A cage which you so effortlessly wandered into.

“You are scared aren’t you?”

He says in a low tone, inhaling deeply, taking in your scent.

“Your fear…it’s unlike any other it’s so delectable. I look forward to every time you have to come down here and we have this conversation. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve had it.”

He lightly chuckles, eyes boring straight into you. Like he’s permanently burning this memory into his brain forever, like he’s filing away every movement, every facial expression. Like this will be the last time you both have this conversation. He pushes away from his desk, chair rolling back. The sudden movement by him makes you jump slightly in your chair. A wicked grin breaks out on his face. He’s clearly amused by you. He lets out a small hum before speaking up.

“His favorite…can you imagine that..? His favorite, most precious, most prized now sitting in front of me…terrified for their own life. Tell me…should I spare you..? Do you deserve my sympathy..?”

Your eyes start to water, you are terrified. You bite your trembling lip, trying to stop yourself from letting the tears fall. You nod slowly while locking eyes with him.

“Ple-..please have sympathy for me…”

A giddy smile never leaves his face. He’s simply enjoying your desperation, your fear. He leans back further into his chair, rubbing under his chin playfully like he’s thinking hard on his decision. You slightly glance back trying to measure the distance of the door from where you are. If you move fast enough you should be able to make it to the door and out of here within enough time. You quickly glance at the floor, still deep in thought trying to calculate how fast you need to move, the distance, while hoping Hongjoong didn’t catch you glancing at the door.

The room falls chillingly quiet. Too afraid to pick your head up and look at the man. What if he caught you? Is he going to continue to stare at you for much longer? Flickering up your eyes slowly to his desk chair. He’s gone? You close your eyes confused. No, no, no! He was just there….right..? He had been there the whole time? You turn around slowly. Eyes darting all around and across the room. Was this his green light? Was he offering you his sympathy..? You stand up quietly, making sure not to make any noise. You step back.

Making your way towards the shut door. Your hand hovers over it. There it is that nagging feeling telling you to go sit back down and stay put but on the same note the door is so tempting, it’s begging for you to leave, to run away, to make a fast getaway. You grip the knob slowly trying to turn the knob as quietly as possible. As soon as you got the door cracked. You look over your shoulder, double checking that he was no longer present. A sigh of relief passes through your lips. You are now officially on the way to escaping. As you step out, you turn around trying to quietly close the door, hoping not to alert anyone.

“You know…most people would’ve stayed put…then I always forget you aren’t most people, you are temptation itself.”

You freeze in your tracks not even daring to turn around, you already know who is standing behind you. You feel like a child who has been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Placing your forehead against the door you let out a sigh. You know now this is officially it. You can’t run, hide, flee, or talk your way out of this. You are done for.

Hongjoong snaps his fingers, signaling to the demons standing by his sides to seize you, immediately.

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Seonghwa let out an annoyed huff.

“Wooyoung! I brought you towels to use! Look at this floor! It’s all wet! You are going to get mold and mildew in here! Then it’s going to stink and I’m not going to clean it. You are!”

Wringing out his mop with a frustrated look on his face. Slapping the mop back onto the cave floor trying to soak up as much water as possible. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Hyungggg!”

He says in a sing-song voice. Stretching out on his rock. Moving around to get into his comfortable position. Letting a smile grace his face. Clearly pleased at what he saw in front of him. Seonghwa having a small heart attack at the conditions of his cave.

“Look at these floors! Look at the moss sprouting on these walls! You are going to get pests in here Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung lets out a sigh. Silently whispering to himself.

“A pest already is in here.”

“What was that Wooyoung?! Speak up! I don’t think I heard you correctly!”

Seonghwa says while aggressively mopping the floor.

“Why don’t you get placement mats by the water? That way guests can dry off their feet? It’ll make it cleaner in here, less dirty.”

Letting out a groan, frustrated with Seonghwa.

“It’s a cave Hyung! It’s meant to be dirty. See?”

Wooyoung snaps his fingers making the fire blaze stronger, showing off more of the inside of the cave. Seonghwa lets out a small scream, clutching his chest. Whines and gasps leaving his mouth.

“Look at all the bones! The uncleanliness! The uncleanliness is going to kill me. Wooyoung this is a cave! Not a pig pen! I can’t fathom this mess!”

Seonghwa let’s go of his mop dramatically. The stick falling, smacking the ground loudly. Wooyoung lets out a small laugh. Peeling his body off of the rock, making his way towards Seonghwa.

“You know everyone else keeps their area clean but you. What did I tell you? If you are going to eat the guests, compost the bones! Compost the bones! How hard is that? Now I need to grab the broom. You treat this area as a trash can! I’m not cleaning up your cave any more after this Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung lazily throws his arms around Seonghwas waist. Pulling Seonghwa closer, putting his face in his neck and smiling.

“Hyung…we both know that’s a lie.”

Wooyoung rubs his lips together, quickly kissing Seonghwa on his cheek. Continuing to hold him close. Not caring that Seonghwa was trying to shove him away. All it did was fuel Wooyoungs need to be close to him.

“Wooyoung, why are you doing this? I have to get the broom, let me go.”

Seonghwa struggles to get out of his tight hold.

Trying to dodge the kisses Wooyoung is attempting to give him. When the fire in the cave blazes brightly. Signaling that Yunho was contacting Wooyoung. Seonghwa and a very much attached Wooyoung both turn around, giving their attention towards the blazing flame. An outline of Yunhos body can be seen in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting…?..”

Yunho trails off at the end of his sentence. Wooyoung pulls Seonghwa into a tight side hug, cheesy smile taking over his face.

“Of course not! What can we do for you Yunho?”

Wooyoung says with a glint of mischief to his voice. Seonghwas eyes cut to Wooyoung still struggling to get out of his grip.

“Maddox has contacted me. We are all being summoned.”

“Great! When?”

Wooyoung asks while puckering his lips ready to kiss Seonghwas cheeks again.

“Immediately.”

Wooyoung lets out an annoyed huff. His arms dropped from around Seonghwa, with a slight pout on his face. Letting out a slight whine.

“Like right now, right now? Or like 5 minutes from now, right now?”

“Right now, right now.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

“Alright alright. I’m coming, I'm coming. Come on Hyung, let’s go.”

Seonghwa points at Wooyoung.

“Don’t think this is getting you out of cleaning this cave. When we are done. You will be helping me clean up.”

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“Your majesty?”

“Yes Maddox?”

Hongjoong doesn’t even spare a glance towards the demon. Too busy retrieving the book with your name on the front.

“They have been stowed away in a holding cell for now, is there anything else you would like us to do for you?”

Hongjoong stops in his tracks. A happy sigh leaves his throat. He’s finally got you now where he what’s you, where he’s always wanted you. No one besides the princes understand how long he’s waited for this moment.

“Did you summon the others?”

“Yes sir, Yunho is contacting them all as we speak. They are preparing themselves and will be in the hall shortly. Would you like me to gather your things, your majesty?”

Before Hongjoong can answer Maddox the lights in this office glow ever so brightly. Not bothering Hongjoong or Maddox in the slightest. Hongjoong grits his teeth. His fist tightening so hard, his knuckles turn white.

“Your majesty…would you like me to call upon the oth-.”

“No.”

Hongjoong clears his throat. Visibly annoyed, taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his nerves. The unwanted visitor isn’t even upon him yet but just knowing that he’s in the space he banished him to, his area, his world, it’s unsettling, unnerving, and downright disrespectful. Lifting his hand Hongjoong dismisses Maddox, clearly wanting to be alone. If Hongjoong was going to put an end to this then he was going to do it his way.

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Jongho stood frozen outside of Hongjoongs door, internally he was quivering.

“I know you are standing outside my door. Stop being creepy and enter.”

Taking a deep breath Jongho enters, stomach feeling like it’s doing laps at a pool. If he would’ve just spoken to Hongjoong before it happened it wouldn’t have caused so much ruckus. Hongjoong motions to the seat closest to Jongho, signaling him to have a seat. Before having a seat Jongho bows to Hongjoong, making sure to show him as much respect as possible.

Hongjoong looks up from his paperwork, resting his pen down to give Jongho his full attention. He sat up right in the chair, picking at the cuticles on his nails, clearly he was scared, no one ever enjoyed being called to Hongjoongs room.

“Now Jong-“

“I was tired of seeing them, Hyung!”

Jongho quickly blurts out, cutting Hongjoong off before he could finish his sentence. Hongjoong is slightly taken back, eyes growing in size.

“I’m tired, Hyung…It’s so tiring seeing them every time…I’m tired of having to do it. I just…I just wanted to be free of them. Seeing them is a constant reminder of what could’ve been…What should’ve been. I love being down here with all of you, learned to love it even.. but…”

Jongho hangs his head low, visibly upset. Biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Attempting so hard to control the emotions that were brewing rather quickly. Damn that Mingi, Jongho regrets visiting Mingi prior to coming to see Hongjoong knowing any time he leaves Mingis area he backpacks the sadness with him temporarily.

“It’s not fair…”

Voice cracking with heartbreak.

“Why didn’t he cherish us how he cherished them..? Were we the flawed ones Hyung..?”

Hongjoongs eyes filled with white water, never once did it cross his mind while he was having the time of his life seeing them, the boys must’ve all suffered, Jongho being the youngest of the bunch took it the hardest, Mingi right behind him.

All of them reacted so differently when they got banished. Too busy trying to figure out the ways of being a new founder leader of the underworld he realizes he let some things slip through the cracks. Clearing his throat to choke back his emotions.

“Why didn’t you say anything before Jongho? You could’ve told me or Seonghwa. This burden is not one you need to carry on your own.”

Head still hanging, eyes refusing to leave the floor. Jongho feels like a coward. How is he supposed to uphold Greed when he can’t even hold his head up high? He can’t even look his leader in the eyes and admit his mistake. Nails digging into his thighs to ease himself. Internally kicking himself for letting his mask slip so low. He’s supposed to be strong, one of the bravest ones. Hongjoong sees the faint purple tear that splashes on Jonghos pants. Little did Jongho know internally Hongjoong was kicking himself for failing as a leader, as the first creation but most importantly as a brother.

“Oh Jongho…”

Hongjoong whispers out.

Jongho scoots back from his chair, eyes glued to the floor, dropping to his knees. Gasping for air, purple tears are flowing down his face, splashing onto the wooden floorboards underneath him. So ashamed of himself he can’t bear to look the leader in his face. He’s having an internal war, and the biggest enemy he’s facing? Himself. Forehead touching the floor, showing Hongjoong the utmost sign of respect.

“Hyung I swear. I’ll try harder. I’ll do better. Just give me another chance, I will correct myself for when they arrive next. Just please don’t give up on me because I am not strong, I am, I will prove it.”

Seonghwa walks in without knocking, hands full with a bowl of lunch for Hongjoong. Pausing right in the entryway. Face falling into a deep frown. All you hear bouncing off the walls are Jonghos cries, deep breaths for air, and pleas.

“…Jongho..? Hongjoong what’s going on?”

Seonghwa rushes to place the lunch down on the desk. Kneeling down, rubbing Jonghos back to comfort him. He’s never seen him in such a way. Biting his lip, Hongjoong stands up out of his seat. Clearing his throat.

“Seonghwa. Summon the others. I want all of them here. Now.”

Seonghwa looks between Jongho and Hongjoong. Not wanting to leave the youngest but also knowing Hongjoong is the leader.

“Hongjoong…but Jongho…”

“Please Seonghwa…please…”

Seonghwa can count on one hand how many times Hongjoong had said the word “please”. Knowing this must be serious business. Nodding his head Seonghwa gives Jongho one last look before he ventures off to summon the others, quickly.

“Jongho, stand please.”

Taking a deep breath to gather his emotions. Knowing he needs to pull it in gear, instead of blabbering on the floor like a baby. Wiping his tears on his sleeve. He stands up, taking in another deep breath. Eyes refusing to leave the floor. To him the air is thick with disappointment but to Hongjoong the air is filled with heartbreak and failed leadership.

Wooyoung bursts through the door. Pointing his finger at Hongjoong.

“You monster! You tyrant! You..You…someone give me another word to insult him.”

San shoves Wooyoung in the door. All the others follow right behind. Seonghwa is the last to enter.

“You should’ve called him short…you know he hates that.”

Mingi whispers loudly. Yunho smacks Mingi over the head. Wincing, he shoots Yunho a glare. Wooyoung rushes over to Jongho, wiping the tears off of his face. Pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Hongjoong clears his throat.

“Where are they right now?”

Wooyoung tosses Hongjoong a dirty look. Seonghwa moves closer to Wooyoung, lightly nudging him to answer the leaders question. Rolling his eyes, he smacks his lips. Voice laced with disgust.

“They are in one of the water holes. I put them in an unconscious state.”

Hongjoong nods his head. Making his way around the table desk to stand in front of them all. All the members slightly glance at Jongho, taking notice of his very upset state. Yet not daring to move. Hongjoong suddenly bows to all of the members.

“Hongjoong what are yo-.”

He cuts Seonghwa off before he can finish his sentence. Still in his bowing stance.

“It’s come to my attention that I have failed you all. I have failed to communicate, I have failed as your leader. I have failed as your brother. A leader is nothing without his team…and yet I’ve failed to act as such. Please forgive me.”

The room gets chillingly quiet.

“I bet you feel pretty dumb now, don’t ya Wooyoung?”

San says suddenly. Causing a small chuckle to erupt from Jongho. Wooyoungs eyes cut to San. Clearly not amused at his smart mouth remark. Mingi silently stifles a laugh.

“Mingi I don’t know why you are laughing. You should feel stupid too.”

Yunhos sudden speaking out causes a domino effect. Everyone in the room laughs, even Hongjoong.

Hongjoong stands up, looking at Jongho. Before Jongho can even relax from the laughter that’s coming from his body. Hongjoong shoves Wooyoung away from Jongho, bringing his arms around Jonghos body, pulling him in for a hug.

“Please…please don’t go through those troubles alone. You are one of the strongest people in this room. Your burden is not one of your own. We may all carry our burdens differently but we share similar troubles. Please forgive me Jongho.”

Jongho wraps his arms around Hongjoong, hugging him back. He didn’t need to verbally tell Hongjoong anything, the action spoke for itself. Pulling back Hongjoong playfully shoves Wooyoungs shoulder.

“If I am a tyrant, you are a gremlin.”

Wooyoungs mouth drops open. Ready for a slick comeback but Yeosang suddenly speaks up.

“Does that make me the second strongest?”

Yeosang flexes his arm muscles. Seonghwa wants to join in. He starts to flex his arm. Jongho lightly pushes his arm back down.

“Hyung please…don’t embarrass yourself.”

This causes all the boys to erupt in laughter. The atmosphere changing. No matter what life time Hongjoong was in… as long as he had all of them, he’d forever be complete. This was his family.

As the laughter died down. Hongjoong made his way back to his desk. Pulling out the book with your name on it. Yunho spoke suddenly.

“What are you going to do Hyung?”

“I'm sure my selfish actions have not only bothered Jongho, I’m sure they have hurt you all. Yet you never spoke up to aid my happiness. So I’m going to do what is long overdue. I’m going to make sure they stay down here. Permanently.”

All of their eyes grow wide.

“Hongjoong.. can you do that?”

Seonghwas voice is thick with worry.

“As long as they are down here in our area. I can do whatever I please. If the creator has an issue with it. He can write a letter and shove it up his ass. I could care less. None of you should have to suffer anymore. It’s been eons that you’ve all had to suffer. That will be no more.”

All the boys nod their heads. Agreeing with what Hongjoong was saying. He may have lacked at times as a leader but he would lack no more. The boys were priority number one, he was going to make sure that they were all loved, equally supported, and cared for. Even if it meant he had to tear down the world. That was the difference between him and the creator, something that Hongjoong would always out rank him on. He loved all the boys equally.

“After Wooyoung, they will go to Yeosang, next Yunho, Seonghwa and finally they will end with me, and we will end it all. Forever.”

Hongjoong let’s a wicked smile grace his face.

Jongho does a noticeable shiver. He’s overcome with joy that this will now be permanent. You will now be down here forever to suffer. Right along with them.

“They're playing with the big boys now…”

Mingi starts to sing slowly…Yunho smiles, joining in.

“They're playing with the big boys now! They’re playing with the big boys now!”

San couldn’t help himself, joining into the sinister singing. Yeosang joining right alongside.

“Playing with the big boys now!”

Wooyoung grabs Jongho pulling him into the circle the boys have formed while singing joyfully.

Seonghwa makes his way towards Hongjoong.

“Seonghwa get ready…we are in for quite a ride.”

Seonghwa smiles at Hongjoong. Following his eyes, he looks proudly at the boys all singing in a circle. Nodding his head.

“Eight makes one team?”

Raising his eyebrows at Hongjoong with a wicked grin on his face. Hongjoong smiles back just as sinisterly.

“Eight makes one team.”

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Authors Note: Due to popular demand I was able to stretch it out into two more chapters. Chapter 10 will be the final and last chapter. I can’t believe this series will becoming to a end 💔🥹it’s a bittersweet moment really. Besides that…What do we think..?👀👀 I’ve had so much fun writing this. I based this mostly around Jongho and why he “helped” them with the apple because I think some people wanted further explanation into that. Also Jonghos part was a “flashback” just to clear things up. Also mad props to anyone if they know where the “playing with the big boys” song is from along with the quote…if you know where the quote is from..message me I’m about to be your new bestfriend🤗. Next chapter is going to be so fun. Oo I can’t wait! Also did I cry slightly making Jonghos part…? Yes. Bc Ima sap💀 I cut out so many sad parts from the flashback bc I didn’t want anyone to cry like my emotional ass😀.

DO NOT REPOST.

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