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no1mp3 · 8 months

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Bewitched • Part One

Description: Alex Turner x Actress! Reader

Being the current It Girl of Hollywood had it’s perks. New friends. An awesome (yet inconsistent) job. Invites to the coolest parties. And meeting lots of new people. One award ceremony to support your cast mate changes everything when you meet the Arctic Monkeys and it seems fate can’t keep you away from their lead singer. And after one kiss goodnight, you find yourself bewitched.

Word Count: 3,598

A/N: Hello to all those who read this! There is so much waffling on at the beginning to build into the relationship, and then kinda goes from there on. If the writing comes off poor, I am terribly sorry for that but school and sickness hates me apparently. Also there is not a set timeline for this series, as I don’t want to have to focus on where the Monkeys were and when yaddaya because that is just added stress. However, if I mention past relationships of Alex’s, I won’t refer to by name though it should be quite clear who is who based off descriptions. This is obviously inspired by Laufey’s song, Bewitched, being the first in a 4-parter series, and also takes direct lines from the song into this writing! I would love to know what you guys think, so please tell me your thoughts!! Thank you, and hopefully you enjoy xx

It was one of your favourite stories to plan in your mind when you were alone, trapped in the memories of the past. You weren’t confident on what point blurred the lines of friendship and romance, nor did you know why it took so long to completely forget about said lines. All you knew is that it did, and you had never been happier. While everyone knew that being the current It actress in Hollywood had severe cons obviously, they also knew that it definitely had several perks as well. One which came in the form of introductions to other celebrities – may that be through various award ceremonies, parties or red-carpet events. This particular night was for some stupid award ceremony that you were invited to in LA, one which you weren’t even nominated in a category for! However, your publicist told you it would be good for you to mingle with a new crowd and be there to support your peers. At first you were hesitant at putting yourself into the spotlight for no reason (you knew someone would take it out of context and you were simply waiting for the world of fame to turn against you) but when your cast mate for The Little Mermaid, Halle Bailey, said that she was going to be there you realised it would simply be fun if you tried. What’s the worst that could happen?!

And so, you got ready when the night finally arrived; your make-up artist gossiping away about the rumoured guest list and how many new people you could meet while applying light shades of purple to your eyelids. After what felt like hours listening to possibilities, you were finally able to leave. You looked gorgeous; you always did when you worked with your LA team. When you met with Halle and her sister Chloe on the red carpet, the paparazzi were quick to note the matching themes to your two characters from the movie — Halle embracing her mermaid beauty for Ariel while you wore purples for Vanessa. Posing for cameras was fun when you had someone with you, and all the people shouting your name for a brief interaction all screamed as you blew them a kiss before going inside linked to Halle’s side while Chloe held onto your hand. Thankfully the host of the ceremony sat you three together, as if understanding that the cast mates and their plus-ones should belong together. You originally wondered why Jonah or Melissa had not accepted the invitation, and it wasn’t until the tables filled up that you understood why.

You have been invited to a music award ceremony. Not an acting award ceremony, but music instead. It’s not like you mind, Hollywood knew of your admiration for musical talent in the industry and your undying support for it especially since working on the Disney live action musical. Yet, it just surprised you to be invited to such an event since you held no significance to it yourself. Perhaps that was why you were surprised when four men sat on the table aside the trio, all murmuring to themselves so that they weren’t overheard about their original topic. Introductions and some small talk later you discovered you were talking to the British band, Arctic Monkeys. They all seemed sweet, though their harsh English accents hard to understand to your posher one originally. While you tried to engage in their conversation, Halle and Chloe babbled along with the band about the music industry and their guesses for each category, you found it harder than normal. You simply sat there attempting to look like you understood, but it was evident it wasn’t true.

The man sitting aside you who you knew was the lead singer of the band redirected his focus onto you, eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” You responded hesitantly, looking confused. You hadn’t been completely paying attention to the conversation, and it appears that he had caught you.

“What award are you nominated for?” Another member asked, longer hair than the lead and you remembered him as the guitarist. Something Cook, if your brain served you correctly.

You cleared your throat, gracefully adjusting your hair with a manicured hand so it fell behind your shoulders just in case the camera snapped a photo of you, “I’m not nominated for any. Just here to support my girls.”

Halle lent over and clutched your hand, squeezing it tightly as she let out a quiet squeal. You turn back to the band, smiling widely. And that was it, the first moment you ever met Alex Turner. Both of you had assumed that night would be the last because it was rare to meet other celebrities over and over if you weren’t fast friends. Having a conversation at the afterparty whenever you were in close proximity to one another, or him offering you a drag of his cigarette while you waited for the limo back to your flat being the full extent of your relationship. It wasn’t awkward, just simply as it was. Two people in the spotlight who met each other at some award ceremony. Nothing more. Nothing less.

That was until you met him again in London. It had been maybe a month since your guys first meeting, but it seemed like whenever you went you heard the mentions of Arctic Monkeys. Maybe it was their new single on the radio, or your fans asking if you were friends because photos of the pair of you had been released after the award ceremony. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going away anytime soon and so when you met him again at another smallish award ceremony, you couldn’t help but joke about it. Conversation flowed easily and you assumed it was because you were both back in your home country, a sense of comfort allowing you to relax. You spoke to the band most of the award night as you were seated at their table again, and then one thing led to another, and you saw him again a week later. You didn’t overthink the situation with the man, simply viewing it as two people wanting to become friends. He could offer advice about dealing with fame due to how long he has been in the media, and you could ramble on about Hollywood and its issues for hours if needed. You just found it nice to be able to talk to someone who genuinely seemed interested in what you had to say.

Yet it wasn’t like that at all. You don’t even remember mentioning work once aside from talking about cast mates, but you talked of them as if you were all old high school friends. You told him about funny moments with Jonah and Halle, or wardrobe malfunctions when you were at your school parties. He laughed at every story of your past, clearly amused with your life. He told you about his own memories with his band, people who he had been friends with since school. You weren’t too surprised there wasn’t much separation from his work and life – you were pretty sure he had been a big deal since he was a teenager. You somehow ended up Hyde Park, stopping at the closest dairy to grab food for yourself and the wildlife. You watched him grab a loaf of bread, stating it was for the ducks.

“Bread is actually bad for the birds,” you told him, eyeing him carefully. Alex looked surprised at your words to which you responded with a knowing smile, “It’s better to give them frozen peas or natural-like.”

“Is Y/N a duck fiend?” He quizzed, raising an eyebrow to show he was teasing you.

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face, “I just care about the wildlife. I don’t want to know I was the reason a bunch of ducks died.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders in agreement, leading you to the freezer section in hopes of a bag of peas. Sure enough there was one which you instantly took. Some fizzy drinks, snacks and ice cream, later you were sitting on a bench at the lake of Hyde Park. He handed you a small amount of peas, before throwing his own into the water to bring the birds to you. You watched peacefully as the ducks scurried to the frozen vegetable, gobbling it with their beaks quickly as if worried their friends would take it. They were basically right because it didn’t take much longer for the pigeons to arrive, landing awfully close to you two. Alex shuffled away from a bird that landed on the back of the bench, a pinch in his eyebrows as he held what looked like a staring contest with it.

“Are you afraid of birds?” You asked, looking at him with interest. Alex turned to look at you with your teasing raised eyebrows, frowning as he shook his head, “Really? Because you’re basically on top of me trying to get away from a little pigeon. Why are you more worried of them than ducks?”

“‘Cause ducks are polite. Pigeons would and do steal your food if they got the chance.” He grumbled. You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief as you returned to feeding the birds. Somehow you ended up standing, arms spread in a T pose with your palms flat and facing upwards with piles of peas in them. It took a few seconds, but pigeons flew their way onto your arms, their talons digging into your skin to keep a grip as they scoffed down the frozen peas originally meant for the ducks. Alex watched; his eyes filled with disgust but lips tugging into a small smile at the sight of you laughing at the feeling of the birds on your arms.

When you returned to your seat aside Alex on the bench, he looked your red arms up and down, “That’s gross. The bacterium from their talons is all in your skin now.”

You smile smugly, reaching into your tote bag to pull out a small bottle of clear gel-like liquid, “Good thing I carry hand sanitizer everywhere I go then.”

You guys left each other just before dinner time, being together for nearly four hours just chatting about random topics. It was fun, you had to admit. That’s why when he asked to go out for dinner one night when you both weren’t too busy with work, you accepted it. One dinner led to another. Then another. Then dinner at his flat. Then dinner at yours. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on, you knew it by the third time you two hung out. There was a feeling in your stomach whenever he laughed at your joke, or how you averted your gaze whenever you stared at one another too long. You felt bad about your feelings, just because of the media. What if it just made everything worse for both of your lives? Paparazzi had been following you two around every time you’re hanging, articles of a relationship blossoming being headlines on the Internet.

It Girl Y/N Y/L/N Finally Belongs to Rockstar Icon, Alex Turner?!

You had a fit when you read that, complaining to Halle about the lack of identity you got if you were in a relationship with him. It felt dehumanizing whenever it happened around your male friends, because you knew it wasn’t their fault yet deep down you couldn’t help but blame them for it. Damn Hollywood! Halle was polite in calming you down, telling you exactly what you needed to hear about the article which somehow only ended with you being coerced to spill your feelings on your friend. She said she predicted it from your first meeting, because according to his band mates Alex was never that chatty with strangers. You told her to shut up, but you were unable to contain your smile. Perhaps he felt the same way. Just maybe.

That’s why when he was walking you home from a cute little dinner, you decided enough was enough. On the walk in the late London light, there was a moment where your hands made contact. Brief, but enough to shock you. A few dinners ago you would not have been this bold, but you knew you had to be brave or else nothing would happen. Giving credit to the moment, you decided to entwine your fingers with him — starting off with your pinkies linked. Alex turned to look at you in surprise, eyes wide and a worried you attempted to pull yourself away from him in fear you made a mistake. However, Alex held onto your hand before squeezing it as if to tell you he wanted this as well. His surprise turned into a smile, and your heart soared at the look of admiration. You tried to think straight, but it was like you were coming apart every second you spent around him. It was evident when you stopped in front of your flat, gazing at one another. After a second you whispered:

“This is me.”

“This is you.” Alex repeated in a murmur almost as if teasing the way you weren’t focused, yet he gazed at you fondly. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing, and in an effort to look cool you let go of his hand to start rummaging through the back pocket of your jeans for your flat keys. He lent against the hallway wall, head cocked to the side, “Y/N… Can I ask you a question?”

You pulled out the keys, twirling it around your index finger as you focused your attention on the singer again, “What’s up?”

He was silent, staring at you. You could see his overthinking by the pinch of his eyebrow, and the faint downward tug of the corners of his lips. That got you concerned. Perhaps you had overthought this. But if that was true, then he would not of held your hand this entire time. Okay… You were definitely the one overthinking this entire situation. Suddenly his face relaxed, as if content with what he was going to ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words hit you at full force. He spoke them so casually it was as if this was normal, that asking you to kiss was natural. Alex’s face had softened as he studied your surprise; the raise in your eyebrows and the quirk of your lips. You took your time to think over what to say, before you muttered a gentle, “Of course.”

Alex moved forward with such speed that it almost felt like an attack when his lips caught yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. The world froze around you, but you responded with such enthusiasm that you heard him chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer. He tasted faintly of wine, you realised, perhaps the red wine he had at your dinner date. You could taste your shared breath, feel the thud of your combined heartbeat as Alex’s hands moved from your cheeks to rest on either side of your neck, his fingers ran through the hair on the nape of your neck. He realised that you fit into him like a glove, your kiss like the beating of a butterfly's wings, soft until it became addictive. He smelt of wine, spice and lust until it all spurred together in your head to form the dizzy scent of familiarity and comfort.

And you knew then that you were completely bewitched by Alex Turner.

༉‧₊˚✧‧₊˚✩彡.˚✩

The first couple months of the relationship were utter bliss, naturally being the Honeymoon period. You both had decided to keep it private from everyone until you were secure with what was happening — and even then, there was no possibility that you were going to announce it to the world anytime soon. The paparazzi and reporters were simply holding onto rumours, not knowing how truthful they were but that was all they were going to get. Confirming the relationship was like adding a newborn into the situation, neither of you were prepared for that stress this early on. Halle was the first of your friends to learn of the update in your love life, squealing louder than you have ever heard. It made you giddy at the response. Apparently, the band had a less loud reaction to the news, according to Alex, but they were all excited to see you around more. That made you feel good, you had to admit, and it only made you feel better when they all sent you a text with congratulations and threats to Alex if he hurt you.

Then there was Alex himself in those first months. You were quick to learn that his love language was physical touch and gift giving, something which contrasted to your acts of service and quality time. It was the small things that he did for you which started making you believe he was trying a new form of witchcraft. He was simply casting a spell on your heart, whether he knew it or not. Every note he left in the pocket of your jacket, or purse pouch when you weren’t looking, entrapped you to his comfort. You were utterly bewildered with the new feeling soaring through your chest as you read them over, a smile unable to leave your face. The time spent together only grew from random meals together to spending the night at each other’s flats watching your favourite movies in rotation, so it was fair – simply coexisting side by side with one another.

Yet that honeymoon phase died suddenly, not because you grew out of the euphoric feelings but because life grew that messier. You had been worried endlessly about this happening, preparing yourself for the conversation but it didn’t make it any easier. When you went over to his place for the night, he murmured the information that the Arctic Monkeys were starting their tours in Oceania soon. You rolled over in the bed to face him, frowning slightly.

“You could come with me Y/N, if you wanted too of course.” His words were so soft, his lips barely moving. If you weren’t so used to the tired mumbles of nonsense with his accent, you would not have been able to understand a word he said. Instead, it only made you feel sick at the idea of you being apart for the fear of the unknown change.

You sat up in the bed, leaning against the headboard as Alex redirected his heavy eyes to gaze up at you with confusion, “I have to go to LA for a modelling shoot and auditions.”

Alex looked away for a brief moment, it hitting him like a train at what this meant. He reached out and grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers like you had done the first time. Bringing your hand to his lips, he placed delicate kisses on your skin in comfort, “It’s okay. We still have each other even if we are countries apart. Calling exists for a reason, right?”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop you from overthinking the entire situation. It would be the first time the pair of you weren’t in the same country since starting this relationship, and you hated how dramatically you reacted to it when he fell asleep with his back to you. You had taken a walk to try and gain back some control you were losing, cursing at the moon as tears rolled down your face. It was like you were consumed by fire, fuming with every emotion but it worked in some way. It was some sort of release. When you returned to his flat, the kitchen light was on. He was sitting at the dining table, eating what looked like a bowl of cereal though he had stopped as you attempted to walk into the flat quietly. A sigh escaped his lips, and it took everything in you to not burst into tears again. The moon (and those who would have unfortunately heard your pleas late at night) had already listened to your fears, you did not feel the need to pressure Alex into the same conversation.

Instead, he got up from the dining table and walked over, wrapping you in his arms. You held him around the waist, your cheek smooshed against his chest as you blinked away stray tears while looking at the bare wall. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You wanted to stay like this forever. Neither of you having to leave for your ridiculous jobs that had you missing him already. You knew it was a fantasy, but you hoped for nothing more. You stayed in his embrace for a couple of seconds, the pair of you lingering onto the feeling even though you had a week or so to fully say goodbye for the small period of time. You felt him lean down, his lips right against your ears as he whispered:

“Keep me in your heart, m’kay?”

Pulling away from the embrace to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest, you said nothing for a moment. His brown eyes were full of pure admiration, and the same bewildered feeling you got every second you were around him seemed to double in feeling. There was not much for you to say to the singer, so you murmured a ‘of course’ back before he led you back to the bedroom.

And you knew then that not even distance could stop you from being bewitched by Alex Turner.

#alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #alex turner #alex turner one shot #alex turner imagine #alex turner fluff #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #matt helders #jamie cook #nick o'malley #halle bailey #the little mermaid

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sugawhaaa · 8 months

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YEONJUN X READER

"I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?"

《Part. 1》

Pairing:: Yeonjun x fem!reader

Warnings::none

Based off the song "bad idea right" by Olivia Rodrigo

A/N::I've never made a fanfic quite like this and it's about to get GOOOD just keep updated bro

☆-June last year-☆

"Baby listen, please~" Yeonjun pleaded as he held your hands. You had just caught him cheating on you with a girl he told you "not to worry about" but oh this punk was hearing it from you.

"No! You seriously hooked up with that whore?!" You shouted at him. "We're done." You said as you stomped to the door and went to close it before his hand grabbed it.

"Baby, please I can explain," he started with those big doe eyes.

"Call me your ex." You shoved his hands off the door and slammed it. You got in your car and drove home.

☆-September last year-☆

After a loser prom by yourself and a summer of deciding what to do with your future it was officially September. You were taking at least a one gap year before deciding your future.

☆-December last year-☆

You moved into an apartment that was quite nice and all of your new friends lived in the apartments next to you and one lived right above you. All that considered, you still felt lonely. They all had partners but you were alone in your little apartment. But there was no way that you'd ever consider getting back with him.

☆-May-☆

You were at a party in your friend's dorm for her birthday and there was a lot of boy gossip. You had told them about Yeonjun before but not the whole story. They were super into it and as you told them everything about him you felt yourself daydreaming all of the sudden…

"Wait, is this Choi Yeonjun?" Iris questioned.

"Yup that's the boy," you said as your feet swayed in the air.

"Oh my boyfriend is friends with him! I have his number~" she grinned. "Wanna talk to him?" She said innocently.

"Girl what? Did you not just hear the story about him?" Your friend Tiamara spoke up.

"Yes, but he's so nice now! I think that break up really woke him up," Iris smiled. You thought for a moment before the rest of your friends shook their heads.

The next day you asked Iris in private to give you his number. You unblocked him on all of his socials and he started liking your posts. You did the same, swiping through all the photos and double clicking the screen. He had a nice Instagram, it was quite the vibe. You then came upon a post of him crying with a song playing. You felt your heart shatter as you read the caption. The song that was playing was a song made about you.

You clicked on the audio and found his Spotify. You followed him and looked through his playlists. They were all very calming so you played one. You went back and liked the post about you and went to his DM's and tried to decide what to say to him.

☆-June-☆

Today was the big day. The first time you'd be hanging out with Yeonjun since you broke up with him. He invited you to hang out at Starbucks nearby and of course you agreed. You took a deep breath and went out of your apartment. You crawled into your car and pulled out your phone. You messaged Yeonjun

"Omw over now ;)"

You took another deep breath and started the car.

You arrived at Starbucks and saw his car parked up at the front. You parked next to him and when you got out of your car you saw him standing by the door in a rainbow plaid shirt with black jeans. You walked up to him and he instantly complimented you. "Your hair looks so nice," he smiled softly and looked down at the ground with pink cheeks. "Your shoes are also really pretty," he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. You smiled wide.

"Thank you, I got these recently," you said as you looked down at your shoes. You looked up again to see Yeonjun smiling at you.

"Shall we head in now?" He said as he raised his chin and put one of his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He opened the door for you and you walked inside the coffee shop. While waiting in line you thought to yourself "he has changed so much. Whatever could have happened? Or maybe he's trying to win me over again…"

"Y/N?" He spoke and it knocked you out of your thoughts.

"Sorry, yes?" You smiled.

"What are you going to order?" He asked and you could see a lingering emotion in his eyes. What was that emotion? You couldn't tell.

"Probably a strawberry acai with either lemon or coconut water base," you explained and he nodded.

"You always did order the strawberry acai," he said softly.

"What was that?" You asked.

"Nothing!" The two of you moved forward in the line and you continued the conversation.

"So what are you going to order?" You smiled as you looked at his puffy lips and big eyes that were scanning the room.

"Probably an iced americano," he shrugged and you smiled.

"You always did order an iced americano," you grinned and he looked at you surprised before blushing and looking away. Just as he was about to speak, the cashier asked you for your orders.

When it was time to buy, Yeonjun insisted on paying for your drink and he pulled out his credit card. Just as he was going to pay for both of your drinks you chimed in and said "if you're paying for me I'll pay for you."

The cashier looked confused.

"Too late," Yeonjun said before paying. He thanked the cashier and let you pick a seat. The two of you sat down and started some idle chat before Yeonjun's name was called out. He got up and returned with your drinks. "You know…there is another reason I invited you here," he sighed and looked at the table. You got intrigued and set your drink down, the cup escaping your lips. "I was an asshole to you. You were completely right for dumping me the way you did." He sighed as he remenced the memories of the day you broke up. "Basically I'm really sorry for the way I treated you, but don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way," he looked up at you with sincere eyes. You nodded and let him continue "you've also changed. For the better," he chuckled.

"How so?" You looked confused.

"W-Well usually you'd um," he took a sip of his drink before continuing "You wouldn't offer to pay for my food, like the way you did today. You don't do your nails, or draw or something when we're on call. You know little stuff that means a lot to me," he blushed and took another sip.

"I guess I didn't treat you greatly either…" you said before taking a sip of your acai. "Senior year really wasn't the best time to date…"

"Well we have a new chapter to start," Yeonjun smiled and you found your eyes staring at him. "S-So what have you been doing the past year?" He smiled and leaned forward. You told him a lot about your past year and your future plans which were basically to make money. After a good 20-30 minutes you realized he hadn't said anything about his past year.

"What's been up with you?" You smiled as you bottomed up your acai.

"I started making music," he smiled. "I took some classes and got hired at a studio that my aunt works at. It's a pretty big place," he chuckled as your eyes widened.

"Wow you've been awfully successful!" You smiled brightly.

"I guess so, I haven't been making much," he sighed. "With no singing abilities it's kinda hard. I've only been making ost's for anime or video games," he shrugged and you looked up at him with a little idea sparking in your mind.

"That's understandable, but still! You're doing a lot better than me," you chuckled. "You know I was in choir and had some singing lessons for a few years. Maybe I could help you get a start?"

After about an hour chatting the two of you went to get some breakfast wraps from Tim Hortons and said goodbye. "I'm happy we got things figured out and were able to get back a healthy relationship," he smiled and extended his arms out for a hug. "May I?" He smiled and you hugged him softly. He smelt so good, like Marshmallows. His touch was soft and his hair looked so smooth. You found yourself hugging him for a long time.

"Are you wearing perfume?" You asked.

"A little bit," he blushed and rubbed the back of his neck while looking away. You giggled at his cute reaction.

"That's new," you smiled and he looked at you shocked. Yeonjun stared for a moment before resuming. "We should do this again sometime," you smiled.

"Y-Yeah totally! I had a great time sweet-" he started before looking down slightly shocked. You looked at him confused before sticking back some of his hair behind his ear.

"Then I'll see you soon," you smiled before heading for your car, "honey," you said before hopping in your car. He looked shocked but he had a big smile on his face.

#txt imagines #txt audio #txt fanfic #txt post #my txt #txt fluff #txt au #txt fairy au #txt smut #txt #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x tomorrow #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #Spotify

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antihero-writings · 8 months

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If Everything Breaks

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: Break doesn't like to dance…but maybe just this once || A tale of Break as he grows accustomed to his life with the Rainsworths. My fic for the Chained Pandora Hearts Zine! Written to go alongside @paraffinegg’s art!!

For a while I’ve had some headcanons on how Break picked his new name, and I thought, what better time to write about it than my zine fic!

When Kevin opened his eyes, the light was too bright. No…not eye-s. Just the one. The other’s empty socket throbbed like mad.

As said eye adjusted, vague shapes became clearer: the bed he was on, the tables and chairs around him—(too lavish a room for him)—and finally a person.

“My name...is Alice.”

He shot up, knocking his head against the headboard.

She laughed...an oddly bright sound.

Framed in sunlight, a woman was smiling at him.

“Where am I?” he demanded, voice hoarse.

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s rude to address a duchess’ daughter so informally, you know.”

His eye widened. This unassuming lady was a duchess’ daughter?

“I am Shelly Rainsworth. ...You showed up at our door covered in blood. ...Quite an entrance, I must say.”

The Rainsworths? He searched his brain but couldn’t find record of the name.

“And you are?”

No one had asked his name in a long time. And if he had told them, well…he would’ve had to kill them.

“You killed so many people! What a fool you were!”

Best not pronounce his identity just yet. For her sake.

“You don’t want to tell me.” There was no question, nor distrust there. “That’s fine. But I need something to call you.”

Her smile was not wicked, nor pitying.

It had been a long time since anyone treated him like more than a monster to be feared, or a toy to plucked and prodded—his important parts ripped out; broken like all the promises of a better world—

“...keep breaking just like that…

If all the people break, and the world breaks…

and everyone and everything goes mad…

Then I can be normal...right?”

He looked away, reaching for his left eye, finding bandages and blossoming pain where sight was supposed to be. He grimaced before answering softly:

“Break. Just…Break.”

********

A world bathed in golden light, music coiling in the atmosphere. With its cues feet glided, hands entwined, and dresses fluttered just above the ground like broken butterflies’ wings.

A cacophony of meaningless noise.

It’s all mad.

Kevin stood by the stairs as if painted there.

It wasn’t that he disliked balls…okay, no, he did; balls, banquets…gatherings of any kind, really. But, this was the Rainsworth’s party, so attendance was mandatory.

Too bright lights, too loud music, gossip picking at his skull, and, well…people. It all blended together to create a painful buzzing in his head.

The crippled butterflies flew in the other direction around their cage.

“Come on, Cheshire, let’s dance!”

The dancing was the worst part. All those moves to remember, so much to get wrong...and for what? A good show? He had no talent for it, but hopping around, without stepping on anyone's toes—a trained monkey to someone else’s tune, and an uncompromising paradigm—held no appeal for him anyways.

Count the seconds. How many left?—

What do I have left to lose?

“Be it my arms, my legs…I grant you whatever your heart desires!

So please…change the past for me!”

Count the steps. Trace the sequence.

So many wasted moments in pursuits of stillborn dreams, the pattern already predetermined.

“It’s that man.” The hiss came from the side of the room.

He knew who they were talking about; whispers were his loyal familiar.

Kevin wasn’t looking, but he could feel her eyes burning holes in him, like she was trying to snuff out a cigarette.

“The one the Rainsworths took in.”

A second burning hole. His thoughts would surely catch fire.

He shut his eye, his knuckles white on the staircase railing.

“Have you seen his eyes?”

He silently refuted her statement: Nope. Just the one, Dear. The other was stolen away. Apparently they’re a precious commodity to little lunatics in the center of the universe.

“I know right? Red.”

Fingers shoved into his eye socket, pain boring through the hole left…

Screaming rending the air—was it his voice? His throat was burning—

“Fu-fu It’s beautiful.”

“They make him so creepy!”

“I still don’t understand why they took him in.”

“Don’t they know how to take out the trash?” Laughter like venom.

He leaned back, putting his hand on his forehead, trying not to let it travel to his socket.

The words wove around his inner works, pulling taut. He tried not to think of death—(theirs, or his own)—as an excuse, or escape. But too often his mind drifted to a darkened room full of coffins, and a little girl begging him to stay.

Was it his fault, then? Was all of this…inevitable?

“Break!”

The word was a crack in reality. Another, better world, reaching out to him.

If there is such a thing.

He looked up, as if at the bottom of a mineshaft, to see Shelly on the staircase above him.

The thing about being in a high position is one gains the luxury of indifference; those in power rarely care for those below them. They can afford not to.

She caught his eye and motioned for him to come up to her.

...The Rainsworths were different.

“Come quickly, there’s a man covered in blood!”

Dare he? Surely he must stay against the wall, he was plastered there after all.

This room shone gold. Yet the Rainsworths were brighter; they were a kind of light those in the room knew nothing of. So bright were they that those in the dark dare not touch them, for fear of being shown in the sun for what they really were.

She put her hands on her hips.

...He dare not disobey.

And what was becoming of him? He didn’t feel brighter since meeting them. What if it was the other way around? With each step closer he swore he could hear the pieces of his shattered heart jangling in his chest, and wondered if instead he’d leave them all bleeding on those sharp edges.

A blur went by, closely followed with—

“Dance with me, Reim!” Little Sharon came pelting after.

Reim hid behind Sheryl’s chair on the floor below, and Rufus proceeded to scold them.

Laughter like sunshine breaking after rain.

He looked at Shelly, who raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in perhaps…ever.”

He was smiling? Better wipe it off.

“So…something tells me you don’t feel like dancing.”

“I never cared for it, Shelly-sama.”

“Let’s see, you don’t care for;”—She counted on her fingers—“people talking to you, people looking at you, people…aaand dancing now.”

He rolled his eye. “I mean it. I really can’t.”

“What do you say to a lesson?” She held out her hand.

He stumbled back.

Was this some punishment? He tried to think of anything he’d done to deserve this.

“It would disgrace a lady such as yourself to be seen dancing with a servant.”

“We could use a good scandal.”

“I—” he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d step on your toes.” He was running out of excuses.

“I don’t doubt it.”

What wasn’t she getting about this?

Shelly bounced her hand persistently.

No. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Dare touch her. Surely he’d infect her. Why was she bothering with him? Pestering him, like she always did. Like everyone always did. Treating him like a lost puppy, when they should just leave him in the rain to die.

The request was soft: “Please dance with me, Xerxes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “…What did you call me?”

He never spoke of his past, but he knew those whispers, ever at his heel, were indication enough of something dark in his ill-conceived adulthood.

“Well, I figured if you’re keeping a fake name, you’ll need a second. Or, in this case a first—Break sounds better as a surname, don’t you think? And I thought Xerxes was rather fitting.”

“How?” He snorted. “Isn’t it a name for ancient kings and heroes? I fail to see how I fit that.”

How could a knight wear the name of a king? How could a villain bear the name of a hero?

“That’s why I picked it.”

He backed up, his eye widening.

He didn’t understand what she was, or why she ever spoke to him. All that light was sickening...yet…

This woman saw him, not as a monster, or a toy…but as some sort of hero. How was that possible?

The name didn’t fit right. But she smiled at him, and though the light was sickening... it was oddly warm.

“Break might not like to dance, but tonight we are not Break and Shelly. I am the Queen of Hearts, and you are my Mad Hatter.”

“...Who said I was mad?”

She grinned.

“You must be, or you wouldn’t have come here.”

He could choose to turn away, leave this place, believe the whispers snaking through him. Reject the name, her kindness, her light.

He sighed, averted his eye—

Just this one.

And took her hand.

#Xerxes break #pandora hearts #break pandora hearts #kevin regnard #kevin legnard #pandora hearts break #pandora hearts fic #pandora hearts shelly #shellly rainsworth #shelly pandora hearts #sheryl rainsworth #sharon rainsworth #reim lunettes

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 9 months

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You're soo sweet thank you so much!! I'll fix some errors and send the angst drabble. Still on the topic of scenes but everytime he says something in a angry tone?? Omfg like imagine you're teasing him and he just raises an eyebrow and says "What's that now?" in THAT tone? WEAK 😩

More Tang “my girl is mad at me I hope I die” erine headcanons

Ok ok but sharing a playlist with tan? Feel like he doesn't listen to music that much so you'll be the one adding most of the songs. At first he'll look like he doesn't really care for it, but when it's only him and lem on a mission, he will pop in one of his earphones and play it while thinking of you and smiling at the silly songs you added. (If you have any songs that remind you of him, please do share!)

This man has no shame doing small things for you. You two are out together and you need to use the toilet? He WILL hold you bag, puts it over his shoulder and all.

Love the 'you’d be best friends as well as a couple' idea. Feel like you'd also gossip about people and stuff (I mean, with a mouth like his, he'll adding so many unnecessary comments just to make you laugh).

I'm sure he keeps a photo of you in his wallet or in his suit. You're on his homescreen too? It'll be a photo he managed to take while you were laughing at a candlelit dinner he took you to.

I don't want to sound like a broken record but I'm so happy I get to write and share my headcanons about this silly brit man I love. Thank you!! 💗 💺 anon

1. ahhh you’re so sweet, thank you honey💓 and YES!!! love LOVE angry tan, or snarky or cold talking tan. what’s that now is just 😩🫠😩 good lord

2. heheheheaaahhh

3. omg shut up I love it!!!! and you know, ive never really thought of it, I kinda feel like oasis, possibly arctic monkeys kinda vibe, but not them. like kinda old (not really) english bands. but I do have a feeling he possibly dabbles in classical music from time to time, he’s got that rich man money vibe as well as the hard cockey lad vibe. the dude is multifaceted, so I think his music is the same. gonna say this now, I feel like he hates jazz

4. YES!! he’s not ashamed to hold your bag, like he would hold it normally, not like holding away from him making it clear it’s not his. hes like yeah it’s my girls bag what about it rather than, this is not my bag, im making it clear this is hers. especially if you go shopping, he’s holding the bags (and paying for it too hehe)

5. omg yes I love it!! I feel like he lets you talk and get things off your chest, but every now and then he’ll add something and back you up. I think I said this in my hc’s, but I like to believe he secretly loves watching ‘girly’ movies with you. he pretends he hates it, but if you put on clueless or she’s the man, he’s sitting down and watching it. or like “really, again?” you’re like “yeah, so? … you’re hovering, just sit down” and he doesn’t say anything, staring at the screen and silently taking a seat next to you HWHEHWH

6. ARGHHH OMG yes!! not to get all sad, but he has a picture of you in an accessible place (in case he yk dies, so it’s the last thing he sees🥲) feel like he has an album on his phone of you and dates and places you’ve been to

7. you’re so cute, and it’s really no problem. you have such great ideas and thank you for sharing them 💗

#💺#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine headcanon

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elix8r · 2 months

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never thought id do this but heres an essay on my thoughts on monkey bars 😭😭🤍🤍🤍

let me preface this by saying you did such an amazing job with this truly, you wrote so so well and i feel like you encapsulated every perfect emotion in the best way possible, and somehow it just gets better and better? i forgot how pt 1 went so i reread it before i read pt 2 and i was blown away again but youve even improved somehow ?!!? youre like the gift that keeps on giving 💋 also, thank you so so much for pushing through and writing this, i know it couldnt have been easy struggling with writers block but i hope u know we all think the world of this fic so please see the worth of your work 💗

ok now MY THOUGHTS!!! oh my lord, where to begin… first of all, same as before: from part one, i was already irked with jake when he pulled the beomgyu shit (albeit i moved on pretty damn fast surprisingly) but the cliffhanger you left us on was a game changer like he crossed the line so bad. i was conviced i would never forgive him. if someone did that to me i would have the exact same reaction as y/n tbh. anger later sad confusion panic first. and seeing the aftermath in part 2??? first of all, so glad she had such a good support system around her and people who actually put their morals first aka 02z bc u already know men irl would defend their “boys” first or whatever 🙄 hearing other girls gossip about her actually broke my heart cos if it was me i wouldve cried n had a panic attack there and then … and knowing my PARENTS know about it 😭😭😭

you wrote so well i was actually about to insert myself in NO JOKE!!!! like ok lets stray for a while but me personally i dont like “dumping” my emotions on anybody bc it makes me feel like im burdening them but when i read the scene when she went back home,, oh lord i wanted to cry in the dads arms there n then, u have a talent with words fr 🫣🫣

SORRY BACK TO OUR SCHEDULED ANNOUNCEMENT, nowhere in this fic was my heart set in stone. ok i lied. for the first 80% i was like FUCK THAT MAN HE DESERVES TO DIE IM NEVER FORGIVING YOU but then i started feeling pity too DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY YOURE AMAZING AT WRITING??? like am i throwing away my morals or am i just understanding that people are multidimensional,, woah lord,, like tbh i wouldnt have forgiven jake bc something of that scale is just not in my books, was way too extreme, but the way you wrote his character, his guilt, the actual situation??? couldnt even blame y/n for feeling sympathetic cos damn me too… i know a lot of people might not agree (especially irl. DEF NOT) but the way you wrote everything… how do you not feel bad for the poor boy 😭 in no way is y/n to blame for ANYTHING but at some point i started to be worried for jake too so i was like u know what. fine. get together with the boy. NO WAIT. idk. dont. IDK?!!!?

i think me personally, i wouldnt have been able to forgive him but i wouldve tried to move past it, despite how hard it would be. whether or not we get together would be a different question because rebuilding trust would take a lot, but,, yeah. overall i am soooo fucking satisfied with this, and the ending was so refreshing tbh!!! at first i was hoping they wouldn’t get together (literally when they kissed again i was like NOOO GIRLLLL WHYYYYY have more self respect!!!!) but after your slayful writing i was like nah u know what give them a happy ending,, n u did not disappoint,,,, i loved how it ended and that fresh start at the end was really like a breath of fresh air i have no idea how to explain it but it just genuinely did feel like a fresh start. i loved it. i will be rereading. thank you

OH MY GOSH THIS IS THE LONGEST MESSAGE I'VE EVER GOTTEN AND IM LITERALLY SCREAMING IN JOY BECAUSE OF IT!!

this was insane praise like omfg thank you so much! i always have such a hard time wondering if what i wrote is good enough to put out for you guys and to hear you say that is so meaningful to me 😭 the writer's block def was a bitch but hearing you say that you could see that I've improved makes everything worth it like i'd go through it again if it'll help me get better at writing im crying literally 🥹

so the whole time i was writing this last part i had a hard time deciding if oc should forgive him or not because personally i would never be able to but i just felt that the only way for this story to wrap up well and in a satisfying way would be if it was a happy? ending so i ended up just going with that and yes one of the main things i wanted to show was that everyone was rooting for y/n so i made sure no one excused jake's behavior

the scene where she went back home was kind of tough to write like i totally get you i get really emotionally invested even when im writing and jfc just imagining how my parents would react literally had me going through it like her dad was devastated and i think it really shows to what extent one person's actions/mistakes can effect cause this shit not only broke her down but also most of those around her so those scenes were def tough to write

but i am so so so glad to hear how much you enjoyed the ending and overall this story! you seriously just relieved me of so many of my worries regarding this story and i always feel like the best compliment is when people tell me they'll reread my stuff so thank you so so much for sending me this ginormous message and hope I'll continue to produce stuff you like! love you loads 🫶 🫶 🫶

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robcognitivepersonality · 1 year

Text

The Mastermind & the Protector

How I get along with ISFJs as an INTJ

Space Cadet. That’s what you call me. And if I remember correctly, it’s because I’m spacey. I didn’t know what ‘spacey’ meant at first, but I figure it’s how I seem to be living in my own world up in the clouds. Well, in space. Fair. A lot of that space is empty too, I honestly don’t know what’s going on in my head. It does feel like there’s a lot going on though. I’m like Homer Simpson thinking of a monkey playing cymbals. Except the monkey isn’t doing anything, and I’m not doing any thinking… I guess Homer and I have a lot in common, come to think of it. There’s background music though, techno and anime BGM as you might guess.

‘Cadet’ though. Yes, I like that. A young budding military on duty adhering to an order he believes in. In uniform too. Bet I look hot in it. Holding myself to a high standard (whatever that means but everyone admires it). Acquiring a very particular sets of skills. Skills that make me a badass and respected across the land. I wield three swords. I don’t sleep, I wait. I am a space cadet and the next Hokage. You best believe it.

As I googled ‘Space cadet’ for writing this blog, I very recently learned that it’s a derogatory slang for one who deals with reality in a way consistent with being under the influence of (or “spaced out on”) drugs. One who forgets, daydreams, or otherwise is distracted from reality more often than most. Damn, did you know that? Wait — have you known that?? Were you ever gonna tell me?? You think I’m a flaky, lightheaded, forgetful person?? So I’m not a hot future Hokage with very particular sets of skills? All of that time together, I sat by you when you wanted company during your alone time. I listened to you blabbering on about work and family drama. I kept in all the dirt you’ve been so proud of digging out of others. I pretended to be friends with people you sent me out to get a read on. We were the dynamic duo. We were the best friends sitting in jail saying “Damn that was fun.” Fucking space cadet??

You know what? I don’t need you. I don’t even realize when you’re around. I tune out when you gossip about whatever I don’t give a shit. I keep dirty secrets because I know I’ll forget them. Don’t care! And those people are actually cool, okay. That’s how I get free blunts. Our relationship isn’t real. It never was, nothing is. Existence is arbitrary. Time is a circle. We survive and reproduce to keep the show going. The show that is consciousness reflecting itself through us as separate beings. Why would it emerge into lowly meat bags like us? It‘s caused nothing but loneliness and suffering. I don’t know, dude. I don’t know what makes you think I’m a space cadet.

Meh. Forget all I said. You know we’re still buddies.

I’m just so used to you telling it like it is. Like that’s cool, it’s great. Sometimes, you’re funny with it. Sometimes, it’s like doomsday is coming. Even then, you still make it sound kinda funny. There’s that mix of dry and observational sarcasm that only you and a number of other ISFJs know how to artfully slide into the conversation. It soothes me, it’s listenable. No matter how brutally honest, you’re not forcing it down my throat. You’re not trying hard to make a point. Truth just is, it’s not there to hurt anyone. Water’s wet and fire burns. If someone has a problem with that, they can’t be helped. Like I’m not gonna fight it. I know I’m spacey, so what?

That’s the thing that’s wrongfully misunderstood by the MBTI community. They think of you as this people-pleasing Mom carrying a tray of cupcakes who gets stepped on for the sake of harmony. That’s false. From what I’ve seen when things get *disharmonious*, when someone is throwing a tantrum or crying a river, you get the hell out of the way! Can’t get stepped on if you’re not in the way! Peace and harmony? More like peace the fuck out. In fact, you’re pretty good at not being part of any problem. Many times you end up standing next to me, enjoying the circus that’s happening with some buttery popcorn.

Things can get really spicy and emotional, and you don’t get caught up in it. Of course you’d help if the situation really matters. That’s just being a decent person. When you give advice, you don’t beat around the bush. A lot of the time, it’s just common sense. That can be such a weird concept to many, but you actually have a good idea of it. You’re a truth bearer setting people free, in theory. Again in theory, truth in itself doesn’t hurt anyone. What matters is how it’s interpreted. It’s how it reflects on the human beings involved. It’s how the information is received, and how people follow through with it. And I believe out of all the types, ISFJs are the best at delivering the message.

Maybe you picked up on this, so you’re tailoring your communications with me. It’s gotta be thanks to my laidback and no-nonsense personality, you get to drop that Fe veil down and talk straight with me. I don’t know, I’ll just take the credit. And you get to give your honest opinion about my shenanigans without repercussions. Yes, that porn stache never looked good, nor were any of my hairstyles. I don’t care. Getting a raw reaction from you made it all worth it. I’m at peace with you thinking that whatever I do is a bad idea. And with Extraverted Intuition-Extraverted Feeling, you’ve looked at how things turned out for others. So that critique of yours might be valid… and I’m gonna try to disprove you anyway. Between us, we know it’s all shits and giggles.

Sometimes brutal honesty is needed, sometimes diplomacy is. Sometimes it’s just not worth it, and best to let the world burn. Whichever way is most beneficial in the long run depends on the context. I know you’ll do your hardest to be as sincere as you can, unlike some folks who get off from delivering the brutality and not the honesty. Many times over we’ve made poor decisions because we jumped to conclusions missing critical information. You have the panoramic view to properly assess the full situation. What are the factors and who are the characters? How does this situation fit in the grand scheme of things? What are the ripple effects of these actions? What can be done for the betterment of the community? We’re messy conscious beings. We end up in messy spots. Your worldly curiosity gives you the power to help.

NeFe is what fuels that curiosity. Our lives are intertwined in this reality tapestry, and you like seeing where each of our threads came from and where they’re heading to. You want to see how this whole mesh looks like, its colors, structures, and material. You observe all of this from afar. Like literally physically taking a step back, standing in the far corner to see the whole thing without your shadow in the way. You want to see how it could all be better fabricated, how its kinks could be ironed out, and how you could be part of influencing the making of it.

"My mode as a writer is to layer different perspectives: the scientific, the philosophical, the political, the journalistic. When you layer them you get a really wholesome, interesting picture." - Michael Pollan

This mess that is society, in my opinion, is a circus. It’s a playground where I was given one chance to play. I’m promised a big prize at the end after I go on these adventures experiencing all that this playground has to offer. So yes, I too observe that same mesh standing at the far corner. We share the same view. We’re both in the shadows ninja-lurking and scanning what’s going on out there. It’s how we know what’s common sense. We join various subreddits, pick up random interests, build a network. For myself, I’d like to have an idea of how to navigate myself around. With Introverted Intuition-Introverted Feeling, I see myself as one of those threads. I foresee where they go, so I can choose one I like.

I’m the main character in my own a video game where I get to choose to do side quests. Being an INTJ makes me an introvert that FOMOs. “Why FOMO in the first place? Look at you. Every month you come with a new bruise, a band aid, or a gauze pad. How are you not dead yet?” I recall you asking. I’m a lone wolf on his hero’s journey. When it comes to people, I just want to know if they wanna tag along on my journey. At best, they become part of my pirate crew. At worst, respectfully, we don’t have to waste our time. It’s just potential drama I don’t need, ya know?

Well, no. You don’t know. You live for the damn drama. You’re always eavesdropping in conservations! Basking in the juicy dirt. Secretly wishing the beef escalates. You just love being in the know; bonus point if nobody knows you are. To you, life is like trashy TV. Literally Reality TV, it’s more than guilty pleasure. Yeah, about that whole curiosity thing and the power to help society I mentioned above…I’m not kidding. You wanna stay current with Internet beefs, and the latest on so-and-so just so you can be a step ahead of them.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, especially in the office. Word gets around, so I should appreciate that you’re willing to spill the beans to me. So thank you for filling me in. I’ll be honest though, most rumors you’ve shared to me I’ve barely paid attention. I don’t care much about being in the know, except that it gets me on my moral high horse. I’m too good for it. No way I’m not gonna stoop down to the same level as those people. Especially Karen. I’ll tell ya what, that bitch had it coming.

OK fine. Not all of you are into gossip. There’s an infinite variety of ways you like to spend your time, most of them are things anyone can easily pick up, are logistically feasible, and doesn’t require insane dedication. It’s funny that the community calls you boring, when I’m kinda thinking you’re actually the one that gets bored easily. It’s not FOMO. We’re not doing anything life changing (or threatening) here. It’s whatever enables you to, uhh, unpretentiously nerd and geek out. Be it playing video games, building crafts, etymology, cooking, music, psychology, read books and comics, the history of bread, the list goes on. That includes vibing with friends, spotting plot holes, and laugh at ironies. If I can try to encapsulate who you are, you’re someone who understands life isn’t simple, yet low-key follows a cheesy basic mantra.

That kind of approach makes you really good at giving life advice. You listen first and know how to mediate. You’re like a social engineer or a casual psychoanalyzer. You’re objective and look out for the big picture. These are your gifts. You find what makes sense out of the nonsense. Real magic is discovering how the magic trick is done. Introverted Sensing-Introverted Thinking breaks problems down to the fundamentals and offers suggestions. It examines the situation from square one and excavates out until it finds how things started turning sour. It checks how things add up and come together. You analyze it all down to the nuts and bolts to develop comprehensive longterm solutions before anyone realizes there’s a problem.

Everyone carries their own beliefs and perceptions, but we can’t get anywhere if we can’t all agree. As an introvert, you’re not gonna waste your time arguing with people. Instead, you’re building a perspective objectively weighing all the factors. Complex problems require complex solutions. That’s why it takes a lot of thought, and why it’s best to look at problems from afar. The processes, systems, and people involved all deserve thorough fair considerations if we want to really fix things. We need crystal clear understanding of what’s going on before we risk making things worse. It takes time to craft up something helpful. It takes time to verbalize your thoughts effectively. We can applaud those who face issues head on. It’s honorable, but there’s a high risk of cloudy judgement and regress, getting caught up in the moment and lose the big picture.

"Basketball’s so much like life: if something’s going great, you wait a minute, it will change. If something’s going bad, you wait a minute, it will change. So I try to play things on such an even keel, knowing that things are going to change. You take the good with the bad; you don’t get too excited, you don’t get too down and sometimes that’s the hardest thing in the world to do when you’re in the midst of it, but that’s the best way to handle it." - Tim Duncan

All that’s wrong about the ISFJ stereotypes stems from bad understanding of the cognitive functions. Much of the MBTI community project their bad traits onto other types. Also, it doesn’t take many brain cells to figure that personality tests and type descriptions are flawed and incomplete. We can allow to have mental tendencies for efficiency, but we’re more than just one type. We’re complete human beings. Living is a whole brained activity. We can configure our brains to process information through a variety of cognitions which we see most situationally fit — some of us are better at it. Maturity, intelligence, and upbringing matter much more in defining who we are than type.

Let’s say we’re purely our types as INTJ and ISFJ, for simplicity’s sake. We would barely have any overlap in our thought processes since we don’t share any cognitive functions. In other words, our awareness live in very different parts in our brains. We would look at the same thing but interpret it very differently. While there are thousands of thoughts flying across our brains at once, we just can’t be aware of everything in it. To be conscious of all of them takes a high level of mindfulness and meditation. And ain’t nobody got time for that, we’re trying to survive here. We need to respond against danger quickly. We rely on what’s familiar and instinctually act on whatever pops in our minds. And that’s on top of what taints our perceptions such as our personal experiences, hardwired beliefs, cognitive biases, repressed subconscious, and internalized trauma.

We’re in a whole type grip, not just some inferior function grip. The truth is we’re sensors, intuitives, feelers, and thinkers all at once. There’s an infinite combination of ways to experience reality as it’s happening right here and now that our little brains cannot handle. Simplifying reality efficiently, not accurately, has been our surviving strategy as a species. We have evolutionarily developed heuristics and mental habits. For many generations our ancestors have managed to survive relying on certain cognitions that have worked for them. We’ve inherited these and through our own personal growth and neuroplasticity, we’ve developed our own thinking patterns. My cognition happens to most closely resemble that of the INTJ; and ISFJ for yours. We’re just evolutionary products of our environment.

We live in our own simulation. We couldn’t agree what color that dress was, and we fought each other over it! A trigger warning would’ve been appreciated for how that damn picture got us down to our survival instincts. Well at least that’s my take for why some of us take our personality type so seriously. We’ve suffered too much to have our reality questioned. Validating them helps us cope. We want our warped sense of reality to mean something. What we see has to be real. Treating our cognitive functions like they’re superpowers (just to get by) makes us feel a little special. And if we have to, we do a lot of mental gymnastics like calling ourselves rare, misunderstood, and shit on other types.

Equating Introverted Sensing with memory, routine, and nostalgia is too simplistic. At the dominant function, Si is much more dynamic. It’s a high fidelity microscope that looks at the underlying elements to piece together a big picture. Gotta get the basics down to be able to do complex fancy things. Gotta learn how to crawl before you run. Gotta sow the seed right for the tree to blossom. This is an attitude that welcomes growing experiences, opposite of being stuck with the old ways. Si is about developing and progressing. It may take some time especially about subjects you don’t know much about, but you don’t let things stagnate. You’d rather see how they unfold, constantly looking to reconcile with what you know. See what changed and what didn’t, form patterns that’ll fit future possibilities. Often times, you criticize how nonsensical traditions can be.

Think of memory as a recollection of information. It can be any kind of information. Logical, emotional, anecdotal, conceptual, anything. It’s data you need to look inward for. Our minds can only process what they know. Introverts particularly create internal experiences with those recollections, meaning forming new information out of old information. That’s imagination. It’s the product of memory. Introverted Sensing is detailed colorful 4K imagination that you get to experience and re-experience vividly. We have trillion dollar industries focusing on aesthetics because it directly correlates to creating fun experiences. Who doesn’t like fun? Fun truly is found right under your nose, well inside your head technically.

More technically, memory is a past experience that has become an abstract context influencing the present. Me having Introverted Intuition also means I value recalling my memory too. Like you, I look inward for past information. It’s just not detailed information, it’s not even in 240p. Imagine a beautiful Monet painting, but smudged to hell that all the colors blended into an ugly gray-brown that you can’t make anything out of it anymore. That’s me. That’s the explanation of my spaciness. Well I can adjust my antennas and tune my receiver to enjoy some clear pictures in my memories. But it’ll take a while and a lot of focus to filter out the noise. That’s how I introvert, being alone immersed in my head so I can listen and align my emotions at the right frequencies. My goal is to compose, using these frequencies, an internal harmonious symphony. I can scan a wide range, but I have my favorite presets. I may be “whatever” for a lot of things. But for the few things that matter, they matter a whole lot. And for the few things that I remember, I remember every detail. Otherwise for most of the time, the kind of memories I hold are themes, narratives, and trends. The thing is that they don’t change frequently nor vary drastically. There’s a few common nodes and presets that cover all possibilities. Like Christmas. Jesus has almond eyes in Korea and he’s dark skinned in Brazil. Japanese Santa Claus is just Colonel Sanders in a red fuzzy suit. They play “Let it snow” in tropical Singapore and in Australia where December 25th is the first week of summer. No matter where you are, some representation of a bearded old man in a red suit, a tree with white stuff on it, and “Let it snow” is all we need to present the idea of Christmas. And I predict that in 20 years, Christmas is gonna follow those same criteria. Minute details don’t matter. I reflect on my past days, and it all blends into ugly gray-brown. And it’ll be ugly gray-brown in the future. No matter what color tomorrow will bring, it’ll blend into ugly gray-brown. That’s the highly touted power of my Ni.

"This says… 'Bomb.' I don’t know if that is a noun, a verb, or an adjective describing my outfit." - Adrian Mallory, from Space Force

Ask me how my weekend was, I’d shoot out the thousand yard stare. Inside my head, I’m starring at an ugly gray-brown wall doing my best to answer how I feel about it. “Uhh, good.” I mean, I guess my weekend was alright. By then I’ve searched across the very edges of that wall. I’m too spent to evaluate what I want for lunch. Just surprise me. Am I hungry, you ask? Scanning my timeline of when where and how I was hungry and not hungry. Tallying up all of the data, I feel ugly gray-brown again. I do feel lucky that I spent more of my time full than famished. Biology says my body needs food in order to live. So after that round of thorough analysis, my cautious opinion on that matter is: “Uhh, sure.”

It’s shit like this that makes me value routine. I need routine! How did they come up that INTJs are allergic to boring routine? No, this is strategic! Routine is the product of efficiency. Routine is often the most straightforward and effective way to reach my goals. Routine becomes habit, giving me fewer decisions to make and more time in space. Get an INTJ out of their groove and see how irritated they get. I’m focused on something right now. I don’t want to think if I’m hungry, what to eat, and where to go. Just shove the damn calories in me. Get me what I got yesterday, like all the other days before. Killing my vibe, bro. Can’t you see you’re distracting me off my vibe here? I had the frequency and you made me lose it. All of my pairs of socks are black so that I don’t have to waste mental energy in matching them. Nobody’s gonna know, and neither will I. Seriously, who’s the boring one here?

When I get out of the house, it’s phone-wallet-keys. If something distracted me out of that sequence, I’ll forget something and won’t realize until after I walk out and lock the door. Everyday I make my coffee by pouring 60 grams of water heated at 85 degrees Celsius every 45 seconds. I set up my last burger bite where all the meat juice and melted cheese gather down at the toastiest edge piece. I feng shui my day-to-day so I can spend more time at peace with my ugly gray-brown state of mind. I’m just trying to get by and optimize my living experience like everyone else. Everyone has some kind of routine. We all need some sense of structure and control, so we can blissfully play in between. Peace is different for everybody. It’s built, not given. Who cares how boring or exciting that is. If someone doesn’t like how we do things, that’s on them.

The irony about being future-oriented is that my goal is to look forward of looking back. I hope to be gray reminiscing the good old days. I hope to have that moment where I genuinely feel that I did pretty good being a human. I hope to savor my last days imagining the ending credits scrolling up the names of those who influenced me, while playing highlight reels of my most badass moments. Where else will I look by the time I won’t have much to look forward to? I’m already doing this now! Yes I’m nostalgic, and it’s a privilege to be! They’re memories of times I’ll never get back. They’re shining moments in the midst of my ugly gray-brown world. That’s the root of my FOMO. I don’t want my life to look like a whole single uninspiring color. If it’s gonna have to be ugly gray-brown, then I want it to be a blend with millions of colors. I wanna make meaningful memories to tune back into and re-experience all the feels.

Extraverted Feeling is widely misunderstood as reacting to other people’s emotions, discarding the self for the group, and wielding that empathy superpower. Well, I’m highly sensitive of feelings around me. Locking eyes with someone is too invasive. I’m scared of running my own business because of what the Yelpers would say about me. I shut down or do my best to be invisible when I sense bad vibes. Culture and chemistry are important criteria for where I’d like to work. If the social environment is like a puzzle, my Fi is a piece trying to find its place in it. It can even change its form to better fit in. If you’re a social chameleon, I’m a shapeshifter. I figure what mold to model myself into. I’m not so sure about the whole sticking to my values thing. Like I don’t find it right as an American to be pushing my Western beliefs onto other people. When I travel, I pretend as if I actually lived there doing regular stuff. Don’t travel like a local, blend in and live like one. You bet I’d be paying attention to the local culture and traditions. Building my sense of identity is what draws me to the far corners of society and subcultures. It’s a curious case of studying my given existential space. I spend my whole existence trying to fit and thrive. So if I sense my presence isn’t welcomed, it hurts! That’s why I’m a champion for the misfits and misunderstood. Empathy to me is creating an internal experience that closely matches what others are going through using my emotional palette of a million colors. Having worldly knowledge and emotional intuition enables me to get into people’s shoes. That’s what it means for me to understand, by willing to get on the same frequency and share the suffering. I’m not a sociopath. Though sometimes, I can understand someone’s situation but I still don’t see why they’re being little bitches about it. And I can stretch my empathy to very imaginative levels. So if I still can’t emotionally meet where they are, it’s hard to be compassionate. They must be hiding something, they’re not being real with me.

"I prefer to win titles with the team ahead of individual awards or scoring more goals than anyone else. I’m more worried about being a good person than being the best football player in the world. When all this is over, what are you left with? When I retire, I hope I am remembered for being a decent guy." - Lionel Messi

That “F” in ISFJ is about managing social transactions like we’re in some sort of industrial complex of emotions. It’s about behavior governance, not just sensitivity to others’ feelings. It’s the actual moral compass pointing people at the direction of what’s right. Think of adhering to common decency, social contracts, and best practice standards. Or showing how we should treat each other fairly and respectfully, not kissing our little booboos. You too are free to call people out for being little bitches if they don’t meet those standards. It’s not like they’re that high anyway. But you can be really hard on yourselves for being the ones setting the example. Having this function doesn’t automatically make you a sweet guardian angel. You can judge harshly if someone’s being an asshole, and it might be projection if I were to call you out. Or you’re too jaded to even care, and have learned to laugh at the bullshit. Not much of an angel here. Nobody’s getting cookies.

To understand others, you don’t have to experience things for yourself like I do. You can figure it out using your head. Asking questions and tracing connections, formulating an elaborate schema with all that you know about humans. This can be a mix of scientific literature, street smarts, your own experience, and trash TV. Out of that spaghetti mess emerges great insights ready for anybody who wants to listen, I know I do. You know how someone is genuinely smart rather than trying to be smart? Like they take the time to observe and not allow emotions get the better of them. They have a high sense of self-awareness and are great at witty jokes. That’s how I look at you. Unlike that fake two-face stereotype, I find you refreshingly genuine. You understand there’s no silver bullet to life, and that we’re trying our best. You’re not being wishy washy, you’re just honest about not having clearcut solutions for complicated problems. I don’t sense you trying to be something else, you’re real with me. You’re the first to admit you’re not the most qualified. That helps me trust you. That and you being the more logical one out of us two.

That image of you always self-sacrificing for the sake of others is misconstrued too. Actually I find most ISFJs to be pretty self-preserving. Over extending yourself doesn’t add up when you tend to prioritize your own comfort. I get it, I had a Jesus phase too. Again, you just aim to be decent and not making situations bigger shit shows than they already are. Being logical means you don’t let your ego influence your thoughts. Everyone including you will be fairly considered. There’s nobody being put above or below others here. No judgement will be made until logic is sorted. Others follow a personal code. You follow a pragmatic philosophy. Like your own twist of the scientific method that involves memes and assigning nicknames to people you’ve never talked to. You figure what easy adjustments people can do to make their lives better. It’s always the small wins for you if I may add. Shooting for low effort, but making defining effects. Efficiency right?! Or productive laziness?

The point of everything I wrote here is to highlight that I fit the popular ISFJ stereotypes better than you do. Ask my friends, I’m an angel. My heart is so pure. I’m everyone’s big brother. Think a little more, and you can see how you possess some of those leet Mastermind INTJ traits. The ISFJs I know have their futures planned out. They’re in leadership strategizing and moving pawns around to improve chemistry and productivity. They’re big picture logical idealists who are ruthlessly authentic. There’s a lot we can relate here. I hope my described experience above resonates with you in some way. That under the pragmatic cerebral mind, there’s somebody who FOMOs wondering what little adventure they could embark on. We’re each other’s cool side of the pillow. In contrast, I think through about my FOMO ambitions to ensure I can realistically achieve them with practical means.

To answer how I get along with ISFJs as an INTJ, it’s tempting to say that it’s because we wholly compliment each other. And if we allow ourselves to see, we actually have a lot in common. When we realize we’re so much alike, it’s easy to see how you can be so candidly straightforward with me. And how I can be so open to you. We both can drop our respective veils and be our true selves together. We’re both grounded in our own ways. Plus we value the strengths we provide for each other. There’s a yin-yang thing going on. A playful back-and-forth of “be and let be”. The difference hinges on if we think first on our own interest or the community’s. These don’t have to be entrenched dichotomies. Sure a few of us won’t ever see eye to eye. But most of us are aware of our tendencies and strike a healthy balance. And the best of us can merge ourselves as individuals with the collective. We know how to unify both our logical and emotional thoughts, and enjoy both the content and context of our experiences.

I don’t believe I’ve reached that state of one-ness. All I can say is life has been a bitch. I’ve been beaten enough by it to the point I’m now appreciating it. And I feel lucky for it. Now at the age of 38, which puts me at midway realistically, I’m just glad to be at a place where I’ve done all that I’ve set out to do. Younger me would be proud of me, and I hope older me does too. For once I have no idea what future adventure is in store for me. And that’s OK. Actually that’s great. With all of the accomplishments I’ve accrued over the years, I don’t FOMO as much anymore. I’ve chilled out on being so future-oriented reaching my goals. I don’t have to be as much of an INTJ. Really I just stopped giving a shit, like how old people stopped giving a shit. That helped me end my suffering and being more honest with myself. I’m out of survival mode and am happily embracing my ISFJ side. Life’s gotta continue to tenderize my ass anyway. Best way to experience is to relax my butt cheeks and let it work those kinks. I’m looking forward to this stage of my journey. Maybe with this upgraded simulation, the best has yet to come.

Truth is just an agreed and accepted perception. When you think about how we’re trying to form it, it makes sense people would be so invested. It ties in deeply in how we view the world. If Extraverted Feeling was you adhering to social norms, Extraverted Thinking is me adhering to logical norms, or truths as best as we know them. So for me, relaxing my butt cheeks means I’ve learned to not be so anal about the truth. I was taught that Pluto was a planet. Somebody’s gonna disprove Einstein one day. Logical norms change, they progress. What makes sense now will be a mistake in the future. There’s no certainty, only data models and perspectives. That’s how I started to see logic as a means of building one new step at a time for us to walk on and move forward. That’s how truth started to be magical to me. It’s another adventure.

"I’m a human being who cares about my planet, who cares about people, who cares about the reality of our children’s future. The same way I needed a mentor, the same way I needed someone to motivate me, that became my reality. I want to be that source for Merry, I want to be that source for Dewey, who feel like no one can hear or understand them. And all they need is the tools to understand how to be great or either how to apply themselves. I started that effort when I was 16 with the idea that most influential role model for a child is a child." - Usher

Reality around me started to look more fun. The trees, the stars, the animals, people. There’s a math that connects us with one another somehow, whether it’s the global supply chain, evolutionary biology, or food culture. Rather than taking what life has to offer, I’m now appreciating it for what it is; what this puzzle always has been. I mean, a lot of it is just stuff, people, and animals. But it’s really cool. It’s the longest running show, much longer than the Simpsons. And I’m pretty confident One Piece will end before it does. I have so much to catch up. I’ll skip on what’s going on with the Kardashians…But did you know there’s people who’s spatial concept of the future is behind them, and the past in front? That we’re closer relatives with a tuna than a shark is? And guacamole is an anglicized word from an Aztec language that means testicle sauce?

Younger me wouldn’t have spent any time learning about things that didn’t serve his individual goals. I’m still like this now. My goal now is to give back. Building a deeper connection with others by learning about the world has helped me find my place in this reality puzzle. The happy version of myself looks like an old sage ISFJ Protector watching out for his community. Meaning to me is found by investing in the other life threads in this tapestry. I’ll honor those that helped me by paying it forward and help keep the show going. I hope to be a support watching our future unfold as a society. Whatever wisdom I’ve gathered from my experiences, it’s best for someone else to make good use of it. There’s no reason to keep it all in. I’mma start giving out life advices and telling stories of my mistakes. Who knows if it’s actually good wisdom, to be honest. I’m just a dude who has no place to judge for humanity. I’m here for the good vibes and memes.

#mbti intj #intj #intj thoughts #myers briggs #16 personality types #16 personalities #mbti #isfj personality #isfj mbti #mbti types #16 types #jungian #cognitive functions

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sapphictuesdays · 3 months

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My Personal Bible

Learn who Alexa Chung is, and invest everything you can into her while you still can.

Moisturize. I’m a big believer in Vaseline, 70 SPF sunscreen, and Nivea Creme.

Lipstick is a vastly underrated asset. It’s all you need for makeup honestly. It will always make you look more put-together. Trust me.

I prefer Revlon, it’s not cruelty-free, I have no excuse for this, but it’s inexpensive, doesn’t smudge horribly, and has the world’s-best pigment. Forgive me, father.

Have a signature piece of jewelry. Something you never take off that goes with every outfit. I’ve been wearing the same ring since 5th grade. It’s never failed me.

For writers: write every day. I make sure to, even if it’s just a journal entry. You don’t even have to finish it. It doesn’t have to be beautiful or profound. Just have fun, let those emotions and those ideas come to fruition.

Keep a journal. Write in it every day. None of you will do this. I’ve been journaling consistently for over 2 years straight, the best decision I’ve ever made.

Oranges are the most artistic fruit. They’re the most poetic, and arguably the most common yet exclusive, as they aren’t at their best for very long. There’s a reason there’s so much art about oranges, they are, inherently, an infinite inanimate muse.

I despise the wrong shoe theory, I think I’m far too in love with a classic silhouette.

Try to have at least one main character, coming-of-age moment every day, it makes life feel like it’s worth living.

I know it’s cliche, but don’t follow trends that you don’t like. Develop a personal style, you’ll feel much more comfortable. Personally, I wear a lot of skirts, I always love a plaid or argyle print, and I seldom wear sneakers.

I should probably branch out more with colors, I almost solely wear black, white, red, white, blue, and occasionally, pink. But then again. Personal style.

Put bows on furniture, do not resist the urge to be girly.

The thing I struggle with most while writing is turning aesthetics into depth. I’ve always been the most interested in the mundane. In plotlessness, in simplicity, and close observation. Yet, I yearn for the dramatics, it’s a shame I wasn’t old enough to work on Gossip Girl when it was airing, I'm the perfect candidate.

Heart-shaped is the best type of sunglasses.

Embarrassment is a mindset, my embarrassment complex has never been properly intact, life is far more fun when you barely care what other people think.

Sleep with socks on, don’t resist it. Stop judging people for doing so. We are living far superiorly, have fun waking up and touching the freezing floor.

Life can suck, that’s why God made pasta.

You are never too old for chicken nuggets. Never.

Be cautious when living life “for the plot”.

I literally do not trust people who actually floss every. Single. Day.

Do not call your ex and tell them you love them. Please.

Every single person on this planet should listen to Jeff Buckley’s Lover, You Should’ve Come Over at least once.

The same sentiment goes for Arctic Monkeys AM album.

Christmas is the best genre of music.

Observe the beauty of life. Notice things, people, and their habits, and turn to them when you feel an impenetrable sadness about the world.

If you are warned against someone, believe it, they are not different, and you cannot change them.

Alex Turner is the best man ever invented. It’s no competition, the rest of you can go home.

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sciolists-libellum · 3 months

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Haleth || 22 || tries to handle the tech side of things but Asra is better at it. I do the organising and handling of the admin.

BA || LLB || Undergrad. Send help

If you wanna partake in the shenanigans you can find me @rangerofthesouth

Areas of Interest:

- Right now, a severe obsession with Greek Mythology because of the PJO series and I'm also reading the Iliad after reading Song of Achilles (no, i cannot under any circumstances be normal about him and Patroclus.)

- Classic literature and poetry : I wanna read as many classics as I can because why not and also school didn't allow me to read so I'm making up for lost time. (I'm still trying to finish Pride and Prejudice, but my adhd keeps saying noooo)

- Film : I watch a lot of films, movies and series, sometimes I watch mainstream stuff. Not just to space out, but because i enjoy complex storylines and excellent directing.

(currently watching Gossip Girl and... I have my reservations but..it's actually pretty interesting). I'm a fan of period dramas, fantasy and anything that has to do with magic, sci-fi and psychological thrillers.

- The Old Guard and books by Neil Gaiman : recently graphic novels have become something I'm completely obsessed with... I can't explain how much i love graphic novels and comics right now!!!! Just *high pitched scream*

- Also non-western literature:

I'm a firm believer in knowing where you came from in order to know where you're going.

gimme poetry about the indentured Indians, gimme stories about the poc who have had to fight to be seen, gimme gimme oral tales from ethic tribes, let me see the diaspora of your people around the globe

i wanna hear about everyone's history. Where you came from, why they chose to step onto the ship, whether they had a choice. Tell me about your aunty's recipe for a certain dish, i bet you there's a story behind it.

- I'm really into fashion rn after spending my entire adolescence wearing the same tshirt and jeans. will i be normal about it? Absolutely not.

- queer theory and history and law even if i don't wanna admit that out loud. But wow, is the law actually interesting...

What else am i interested in??

- Food. Especially Asian foods and the absolute wonderful variety every culture has to offer. So far I've had a good intro to Korean foods such as gimpap and baobuns, I've tried Chinese oudon noodles which i would happily die for oh and i tried ramen too.. But i needa know more so please gimmmmme gimme your favourite Asian dishes, especially if they're spicy.

- Music : i play the guitar and piano and cannot be normal about jazz, blues or classics. Yes, Asra is right, Pop music is my area of expertise until you ask me about relevant songs. ( BUT classical music is Asra's area of utter and complete expertise. Seriously any questions on classical music and composition send it to Asra)

-Art: i freaking love art ( Van Gogh my love, Fauvism my detested, animation because of Abu (a friend not the monkey from Aladdin.) my painting skills are something to be worked on but i can draw!

- I'm very normal about Cate Blanchett in any of her films.

- i enjoy reading and listening to explanations on different beliefs, cultures and psychology, i really like understanding how the world works.

-physics even though I failed math and never did physics but wooow do i love applying it to Formula One.

- Oh yeah, formula one 🏎️

- i love animals, i will befriend your pets.

-Travel : honestly i wanna see every inch of the world and eat alllll kinds of foods and leave a footprint in a German forest. The ocean beckons, the sky will carry me gently, the mountains sing for me to join them.

My areas of Interest will change as i grow and my brain decides what my next hyperfixation will be. There's a good chance imma inflict it upon everyone here😗

beautiful paragraph dividers are the works of @saradika

#about the mods #haleth.txt #about haleth

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dr4kenlvr · 3 years

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"WHAT A BABY,, <3"

pairing: baji keisuke x fem!reader (w/ mitsuya's personality)

genre: fluff

request: could i request baji w a girlfriend who has the personality of mitsuya headcanons? i've heard this the other day and it's kind of cute :) could the reader maybe also like stuff like reading who is basically the opposite of him.

a/n: hi there! this is a really cute concept, and i find mitsuya a very relatable character so this was quite easy for me to write! im also in love with baji keisuke please enjoy!

you found yourself a little more busy when you started dating baji keisuke

he was... well he was a baby. a baby who you needed to keep and eye on, not that you minded- your motherly instincts kicked in while dating a guy like him

when you two finished school together, you usually invited him (or he'd walk in without u asking) to your home to do some studying together

every now and then you'd have to whip him back into work because he got distracted by a cat or was "too busy looking at your beautiful face"

cue you hitting him again

god he's so stupid

sometimes though, you'll head over to his place instead

his mother adores you, she really does- she's so happy that her son's found someone as responsible as you (she hopes baji'll learn a few things from you)

you often finish your work faster, and head down to help his mother prepare dinner

you two welcome him with a warm plate of food as he stands there with messy hair and a warm heart

at school, you like to spend your free time and lunches reading, sometimes chifuyu will bring his manga to school to join you!

baji spends his lunches with you guys, but he can not stand the quietness

"let's go somewhere" "can we play a gameeee" "chifuyu, give me your noodles." "babe, tie my hair for me."

you and chifuyu, simultaneously: SHH!!

you snicker at chifuyu, nudging him as baji pouts

"what a baby."

but every now and then you three will get up and head out together, taking their bikes to a nearby pond and skipping rocks, or heading to the park so chifuyu can take ugly photos of baji on the monkey bars

you're a pretty level headed person, always keeping calm despite the shit life could throw at you

so next to your boyfriend, it's quite funny how well you get along- classmates always use to gossip when you first got together

"why is y/n with baji? isn't he like... so not her type?"

baji: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?

you: no no! he is!

you see what i mean

you try not to get angered, always giving others the benefit of the doubt but if someone tries to mess with your friends? or baji himself? expect baji and chifuyu hyping you up as you curse out the person <3

please, no one is gonna talk shit about you two after that

in conclusion, y'all are cute <3

#baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader fluff #baji keisuke x reader fluff #baji fluff #baji #baji keisuke #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #request #tokyo revengers headcanons #baji headcanons #baji keisuke headcanons

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

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Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #resident evil village oneshots #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

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solaeter · 3 years

Note

can i request any soft casual date headcanons for choso or noritoshi or geto? -akatsukimommy

Soft, Casual Date | Headcanons

Note: tysm for being my first request! .+:｡(ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ I hope I did these justice, headcanons and I don’t get along because I over think and..it’s a process lmao. I also chose to do all three because I can’t pick between them |ω･)و ̑̑༉

Word Count: 1838

Characters: Choso, Noritoshi Kamo and Suguru Geto

Warning[s]: None aside from possible errors I didn’t bother to check for.

Request Status: OPEN

↠ There’d be lots of communication, mostly coming from you as the two of you venture about. From shops, food and to culture, you educate Choso while he just is so lost in you. He’s like a puppy, completely in love and hanging onto every word. From how he looks at you, you’d question if he was actually listening.

↠ A soft casual date with Choso would probably be showing him around Tokyo. This boy will be glued to your side, arms linked together or he’d hold your hand. Regardless, he’s not letting you out of his sight.

“Did I lose you?” You worried you were babbling on too much and Choso shakes his head. He can’t help himself and admire you, how you knew so much and the level of patience you had for him made his chest tighten.

“No, continue please.” So polite he is, taking your hand once again as you smile before going into another explanation that leads into a particularly embarrassing story of a past experience. But Choso doesn’t laugh, he is humored, don’t get him wrong, but he pulls you to his side and offers a small bit of comfort. So precious (´•ω•̥`)

↠ After walking around for what feels like forever, you’d drag Choso to a cute little cafe for a chance to sit down and enjoy a snack or drink.

↠ Choso might feel a little out of his element but having you there is all he needs. So don’t mind him he wears a little frown or looks around curiously. Normal customs are beyond the poor boy though he is quick to catch onto things.

↠ For example, Choso may not like anything in his coffee. So when you look at him with a crinkled nose and a small smile, he’d tilt his head.

“What?”

“Black coffee? I could never.” You stick your tongue in a playfully disgusted manner and if Choso wasn’t in love then, he certainly fell more. You were so cute, innocent and he can’t seem to handle the emotions that swarm him.

↠ Choso.exe has stopped working.

↠ After the pit stop, the little date would end with Choso seeing you home. He had things to attend to so staying wasn’t a choice unfortunately, but he makes sure to give you one hell of a hug. There’s so much love and he will cherish every moment with you, his actions prove this statement.

↠ Especially when he doesn’t let go immediately, keeping you there and mumbling a goodnight in your ear. It’d have your heart hammering in your chest and if he kisses you, or you to him, you’d both probably be flustered messes.

↠ But that’s alright cause neither one of you will forget the feeling and you’d be left at the door to your home, eyes soft and body warm with your phone in hand to plan the next time you get to see Choso.

↠ A soft casual date with Noritoshi would probably be an evening stroll through the park or sitting at home and enjoying one another's company. It’s not about what goes on, but rather the experience, atmosphere and feelings during that moment. Noritoshi is sentimental and it plays into a lot of things that he does. Especially when it comes to you.

↠ If you went for a walk with Noritoshi, just like with Choso, he’s keep you close. Except it might be a hand on the small of your back or loosely holding your hand. The contact is reassuring to him, it lets him know you’re okay even if there’s no danger in sight.

↠ He also holds these little dates close to his heart considering he’s busy most of the time with sorcerer work and clan duties. So one the off days where he can see you, happiness and a sense of much needed calmness will radiate around him. And it’s obvious to you.

“You seem happy.” You point out while the two of you stand on a bridge overlooking a quiet stream illuminated by the setting sun. One might say the view is right out of a photo and you’d agree. Noritoshi laughs beside you, sounding so free from whatever shackles held him daily.

“Any time with you brings me much joy. It’s a breath of fresh air. Perhaps even an escape from reality.” He’d say so casually despite the sentence being cheesy as hell. You bite your lip and smile, ignoring the light blush dusting your cheeks. Smooth fucker, how dare he ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭

Instead of responding because you were lost for words like a fool, you’d hug Noritoshi’s side and enjoy the peaceful view. The contact was all the response he needed, he thrived off of it.

↠ Noritoshi isn’t opposed to taking you to his home, but he enjoys spending time at yours for a change of scenery. His obligations and duties don’t follow him once inside your humble little abode.

↠ A date can be anything, or so you’ve reassured many times because let’s be honest, Noritoshi doesn’t have the slightest idea on dating. So when you offered to sit at home and ‘chill’, he was completely thrown left field the first time. Now it’s one of his favorite things.

↠ Noritoshi will melt if you let him lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair. There’s something so, so relaxing about it that he just falls apart over a simple act of affection. Plus you love seeing his content face while you absentmindedly watch tv and chat quietly about the day's events. The domestic atmosphere has your head spinning and mind jumping to thoughts of marriage. You’d bat the thoughts away but you can’t and when you frown, Noritoshi is quick to notice.

“You okay?” His soothing voice brings you out of your short lived fantasy and you look down at him, noticing the concern despite his eyes never opening. You nod quickly, flashing a reassuring smile.

“Of course! I was just thinking, nothing bad.” You wouldn’t dare admit to thinking about the future that isn’t even certain. Instead of pressing further, Noritoshi brings a hand up to rest along your cheek. His touch was warm and welcoming and you can’t help but nuzzle into the palm of his hand.

↠ Lovesick fools you both are.

↠ Noritoshi is attached to you and he knew he was in deep after the first date. Now every moment with you is engraved in his memory, his heart. No matter how simple or quiet or rambunctious, he doesn’t forget. He also makes mental notes to take you out somewhere nice the next time he gets free time. Until then, he relishes in the comfort you bring and the freedom he feels while spending time at your home.

↠ All in all, relaxing at home playing with Noritoshi’s hair after taking a nice walk sure beats going to the movies or staying out into the late hours of the night. You cherish the softness of his face as he lays on you and the way he lets himself be loose around you in private. Nothing can beat the little things.

↠ A soft casual date with Geto would be getting him out of trouble probably going out to some unhealthy restaurant and eating your weight in a buffet. Why? Geto can eat and will definitely drag you along. Will also make comments like:

“You need to gain some weight [Name], don’t fear the food.” He’s tryna be nice, honestly especially if you are shy or being conservative. But you may or may not take offense to that. So just punch him to shut him up (๑و•̀ω•́)و.

↠ Will talk about anyone and anything. Geto definitely gossip to you about other people that pass by, making up random blurbs that are far fetched or downright dumb. He likes to keep the mood light and fun especially if he just came back from a mission and needed a change of pace.

↠ Geto is polite in every sense of the way despite his little comments here and there. He holds doors open for you, keeps your hand locked in his and will often bring it up to kiss your knuckles just to wooo you. Only because he knows it works. Every time.

↠ After dinner, Geto would take you to the top of some building to look at the sky. Why? It’s romantic in his opinion and secondly it’s nice to get away from the crowds and admire the sea of stars while in the presence of the one who so graciously tolerates him.

“You know,” He’d break the silence and look over at you, catching your attention, “I appreciate you for keeping me grounded.” Geto spoke from his heart, referring to the mixed feelings and lingering doubt that covered his heart. The only light that remained was the space you occupied. You blink and sit up on your elbow.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to say it.” He shrugs, flashing you a half smile before pulling you on him for a hug. The two of you would remain like this until lord knows when. Geto wanted to stay like this for as long as possible because soon he wouldn’t have you anymore.

↠ Which brings us to the new Geto, the monkey hater. If you managed to stay with him through all the shit he did, good on you for being a certified simp! And if you were a non-sorcerer, you are the only ‘monkey’ he tolerates because he loves you so. This bastard will kill anyone for you, even if you’re out on a cute, casual date.

↠ Which would include him taking you out somewhere very nice, like way out of your normal budget. The man loves to impress, always has and always will.

“Isn’t this a bit..much?” You question, looking at the array of silverware neatly arranged before you. Geto leans forward, his elbow on the table and chin now resting in the palm of his hand. He wore a sly smile, one that was far too relaxed for a cold hearted killer.

“Not at all.” He reaches with his other hand and takes yours, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. You melt of course, he always managed to take you down, so effortlessly. “You deserve the best.”

“Even if I’m a monkey?” You raise an eyebrow. No one said you agreed with his ideals, but love kept you by his side. Geto laughs, clearly humored.

“What can I say? I’m a hypocrite out of love.”

(╯°□°）╯︵ (\ . 0 .)\

↠ As to where you go afterwards, that depends on you cause Geto will take you anywhere. Even though he’s different now, his opinion toward you and how he holds the relationship never changed. If anything, he loves you even more for looking past the monster he became and showing him the love he was scared to lose.

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mcheang · 3 years

Text

@pendoodlex Do an Adrien Salt where Lila lies about Chat Noir and Ladybug being in a relationship and Adrien confirms the lie.

It’s my love life!

It’s easy to lie about stuff people want to hear. Alya was greedy for any gossip about Ladybug and loved support for her theories on Ladybug.

Recently they debated on Ladybug’s true age. Was she an immortal with teenage hormones and atttiude? Or simply a teenager?

Now they were on to Ladybug’s love life.

Lila: Of course LadyNoir is a thing. Ladybug just denies it because she doesn’t want to give Hawkmoth any more reason to target Chat Noir, but it’s obvious how much they care for each other.

Alya: Yes! A witness to Ladynoir!

Marinette: a lying witness

Nathaniel frowned. “I don’t know, Lila…”

Before Lila could insist she was correct, Adrien actually jumped in. “It’s true. Ladybug and Chat Noir are a couple. Sorry, Nathaniel, but she’s off the market.”

Marinette froze. Did Adrien just lie to Nathaniel about her love life? Just so no one would interfere with their beloved Ladynoir fandom?

WTH???

Overwhelmed by her hurt and rage, Marinette actually grabbed Adrien’s hand and dragged him out of the classroom, her face burning red.

Some assumed she was trying out another one of her confession schemes. Lila thought Marinette was going to tell Adrien she was a liar (eh, he already knew.)

In a far off corner, Marinette was whisper-yelling at Adrien. “What are you thinking? It’s one thing to ignore Lila’s lies, it’s another to endorse them! LadyNoir is not real!”

Thinking that Marinette still had a crush on Chat Noir, Adrien winced and rubbed his head. “I’m sorry, Marinette. But it’s true. Ladybug and Chat Noir are a couple.”

“No, they are not! Where’s your proof?“ She demanded.

Adrien thought quickly. “I saw them kissing on a rooftop last week.”

Marinette raised a brow. “Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?” Her voice was heavy with skepticism.

Adrien: Positive.

Marinette: Well, I’m not sorry to say that you’re wrong. Ladybug and Chat Noir are not a couple.

Adrien: and how are you so sure? Just because you have a crush on Chat-

Marinette: Because Ladybug visited me after my dad was akumatized!

Adrien:…what?

Marinette took a deep breath. She hated lying but she also couldn’t stand lies about her.

“Ladybug consoled me after Chat rejected me. She reminded me about the other great boys in my life and ones I have yet to meet. And I asked her why she wouldn’t date Chat. Do you know what she told me?”

Adrien was quiet.

“She said she was in love with a boy from her own civilian life, not Chat Noir. To be honest, he’s not even her type.”

Adrien perked up. “Ladybug has a type?”

Marinette: Obviously. From what I hear, she’s more into the sensitive soul kind of guy.

Adrien: Chat is sensitive!

Marinette just stared at her crush in disbelief. “Um, yeah, no. The dude sulks whenever he gets rejected and has no idea what no means. For crying out loud, he gave me a pink rose before dumping me, and that was after he ate the treats my dad baked for him.”

Adrien: For someone with a crush on the hero, you sure sound bitter.

Marinette exhaled again, calming herself. “I’m not bitter. I’ve moved on, truly. Enough to see what Ladybug meant when she said I’ll move on soon enough. I’m over Chat.“

Adrien raise his brows.

Marinette continued, “I’ve been able to analyse his actions without the hero-crush filters. Be honest, Adrien, how would you feel at having to constantly reject the same person over and over again? Wouldn’t you be annoyed by their repeated flirtations?”

Adrien shrugged. “I reject fans all the time. Well, not exactly. I just ignore their love letters.“

Marinette shook her head. “That doesn’t count. You don’t know those people. Let’s say Chloe was going to confess her love to you every day. And you have to reject her every day. When you reject her, she raises a fuss and causes an akuma. How would you feel about your childhood friend?”

Adrien grimaced. “That would suck. I would avoid Chloe just to avoid her confessions.”

Marinette raised her hand, like there you go. Point proven.

Adrien wasn’t done. “But,” he insisted stubbornly, “it’s different for LadyNoir. They’re partners. Yin and Yang. A superhero duo. Who else is she going to end up with if not her partner? These kinds of pairings always win in the end.”

Marinette: that’s just sad. You’re comparing Ladybug’s love life to fiction. Life isn’t a fairy tale, Adrien. you don’t decide who Ladybug ends up with, and it’s not right for you to lie about her either.

Adrien: LadyNoir will happen. I’m sure of it.

Marinette: You’re not even going to take back that lie, are you?

Adrien: Why would I? It’s going to be fact.

Marinette said sadly, “Goodbye, Adrien.”

After school, Marinette tore down her posters of Adrien. Filters removed, indeed.

Tikki: Don’t worry, Marinette. I’m sure things will come right in the end.

Marinette: that doesn’t mean I can’t help set things back in order. Tikki, spots on!

Alya turned around at a tapping on her window.

Alya: Ladybug!

Ladybug: Hey, Alya. Listen, I’ve been reading your blog, and I need to set some facts straight.

Alya: Is this about revealing your love life? Because honestly, it would be better to be honest about your love life than to let others hope they have a shot with you. Remember Copycat?

Ladybug: That’s my point. I’m not dating Chat Noir. I don’t even like him that way. Lila has been lying to you, Alya.

Alya: Um, she’s your Best Friend…

Ladybug: When did I ever say that?

Alya:…….. ……….Why didn’t you correct me before today, then?

Ladybug sighed. “Because i had called her out in front of Adrien, and she got akumatized. And when she disappeared for a while, I figured there was no need to bring her up.“

Alya: Hold on. Adrien knew Lila was lying?

Ladybug: Yes. Though I’m sure he must have his own reasons for protecting Lila. But back to my point. I am not dating Chat Noir, and I am not interested in him like that. My love life is mine to decide, not for others to insist on just because they prefer me with Chat. How would you like it if Parisians started pairing you with Pegasus or Monkey King instead of Carapace? With them insisting you break up with Nino just to be with someone they chose for you?”

“That would be annoying,“ admitted Alya. “And invasive.”

Ladybug: I want to do a live interview, to clear the matter up once and for all.

In this interview, Ladybug was professional and succinct as she stated she doesn’t know Lila Rossi and she is not in a relationship with Chat. She doesn’t want to hurt her fans, but her love life is for her to handle.

Unable to help herself, Alya asked, “If you don’t like Chat, who do you like? You don’t have to give any names, but just one little tidbit, please?”

Eh, why not?

Ladybug leaned back on her hands and smiled, her eyes going faraway and dreamy. “Mature. That’s all I’ll say.”

After all, Luka had always supported her crush on Adrien. He never pushed her, but was always there for her. Why didn’t she how good he was? Oh right, Adrien filters.

Lila was fuming. How could she show her face again? Where was an akuma when you wanted one?

The akuma was drawn to a LadyNoir fanatic.

Fight fight fight. Chat was noticeably sulky at having been rejected on air.

When Alya came over to interview, he insisted he would not give up on Ladybug. Alya raised her brows, “Yeah that’s fine. But just don’t be pushy about it. And from your attitude earlier during the battle, I don’t think you fit Ladybug’s ideal criteria.”

Chat flushed and turned away, using his baton to propel himself home.

At school, Lila was playing truant, and Alya was grilling Adrien for keeping quiet.

Adrien: her lies weren’t hurting anyone!

Alya: I’m taking into account your isolated childhood, so let me just say, lies are hurtful. And it’s not right to encourage and spread her lies either.

Adrien: LadyNoir has to happen!

Nino shook his head in disgust. “You sound like that akuma last night. Ladybug has the right to decide who she wants to be with. If you ship LadyNoir, that’s fine. But you shouldn’t let it get this far to decide for Ladybug who she ends up with.”

Alya sighed, “Let’s blame Gabriel for this and hope Adrien can still be saved.”

Alya also understood when Marinette gave up on Adrien after seeing his behavior. She was interested in Luka but decided to wait because she didn’t want him to be a rebound guy.

Anyway, Adrien learned to keep his opinions to himself when all they got him was disapproval.

Ladybug’s interview caused the Parisians to question if the Italian diplomat should even still be in Paris if her daughter likes to spout lies about their heroine. How could she let her own daughter lie about stuff like that? It was enough that Mrs Rossi was questioned at work and her ignorance unveiled.

Yeah, Mrs Rossi would be lucky to keep her job after this but it was suggested Lila be sent outside Paris since she would certainly be unhappy with her new pariah status. Lila was sent to a correctional facility where no one was charmed by her falsehoods. Hell, she couldn’t even contact her mother because she was even busier trying to make amends.

When Ladybug finally told Chat she was happily in a relationship with her new boyfriend, he was sulky. Oh sure, he continued to fight alongside Ladybug but he was hopeful that she would break up with her boyfriend.

Plagg: that’s a horrible reaction. Can’t you just be happy for Ladybug?

Adrien: love is irrational and can’t be reasoned with, Plagg.

Plagg: then can you at least be polite and respectful to Ladybug’s wishes that you stop flirting with her?

Adrien: fine. Being Chat Noir was a chance to finally express myself, though.

Plagg: there’s a difference between freedom of expression and being rude/disrespectful/obnoxious

Adrien tried to date Kagami, but she broke up with him. There was no point in continuing the relationship when Adrien was so fixed on Ladybug.

I’m gonna leave this open ended. Any ideas how you would end this story?

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml salt fic #Adrien salt #Lila is exposed #Lila gets exposed #post-Chameleon #Marinette x Luka

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vivianweasley · 3 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 3)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.

In this chapter: There are some terrible gossips about your marriage with Fred in the office, but luckily Fred had an idea to cheer you up.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: workplace discrimination, gossip, slight mention of dinner

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: So they finally slept on the same bed asdffgjk also special thanks to @valwritesx for the idea of the wedding ring part! I just love this idea so much asdfjgk

disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Masterlist

“What’s this?” You were trying to decide on the clothes you’re going to wear for the first day of work when Fred came home with a little box.

“Proof that I’m a thoughtful person, too,” Fred smiled, “Open it!”

You opened it, and there was a beautiful silver ring lying in the box. A small flower was blooming at the tip of the ring, and inside the flower, there’s a little diamond. It was simple, but exquisite.

When Fred was walking home tonight, a jewelry shop caught his attention. The wedding ring displayed in the shop window reminded him that you two weren’t even wearing a wedding ring to play the part.

He didn’t want to get you something too luxurious because it was only a fake marriage, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also didn’t want to get you something too sketchy. And that little flower ring looked perfect. He knew it would look good on your hand.

You gasped when you saw the ring, and Fred raised his left hand to show you the matching ring on his finger, “Now it looks more convincing when you go to work tomorrow.”

You slid the little flower on your ring finger. It was strange having a wedding ring sitting there, but you were also surprised that it fits your finger perfectly as if it was just supposed to be there. A warm feeling spread through your body when you realized that he was also trying to help you and keeping this arrangement in his mind. “This is beautiful! Thank you, Fred!”

“See, I told you I’m a detail-oriented person, too,” Fred boasted. But watching you beaming at him and that wedding ring shinning on your finger, he wasn’t sure if he bought it because he wanted to play his part better or just wanted you to have that wedding ring.

Your first day of work went well. Most of the time, you were just thrilled that you finally got a job.

During the lunch break, the girl sitting next to you asked you to join them, and you happily went along. But as the conversation progressed, the topic started to move in a seemingly unavoidable direction.

“So, tell us, cause we’re all dying to know,” one of your colleagues started, “How did you and your husband meet?”

“Our parents are friends, so we met when we were little,” you replied, feeling nervous, even though you were telling the truth.

“Oh, really?” another colleague exclaimed, “Your parents were friends?”

Her reaction and tone stung you as she sounded like she was surprised that your families, the Malfoys and the Weasleys, could possibly be friends. You told yourself that you were too sensitive, that she could simply be surprised that your parents were already friends before you two got married.

But what you heard during lunch break a week later made your stomach sink.

“I’m still finding it hard to believe that a Weasley would marry a Malfoy. What did he see in her, anyway?” You heard a woman’s voice.

“I bet she probably used amortentia on him.”

Then a man’s voice chimed in, “Oh come on! She’s a Malfoy! They can do better than amortentia. I bet she used an unforgivable curse on him.”

Their conversation ended in their laughter, but it struck you dumb. How blatantly and how easily they just assumed the worst of you only because of your last name. And the worst part was that you began to think maybe part of their accusation was actually correct? You did force Fred into this marriage, after all.

Your brain was clouded by disgust and self-doubt that the rest of the day seemed to be a blur.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” You and Fred were doing dishes together after dinner. He was cleaning the dishes with detergent, and you were supposed to rinse them. But Fred noticed that you were blanking out again when you didn’t take the plate he just handed to you.

“Yea? Oh, sorry,” you finally took the plate from his hand when his voice pulled you back to reality.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? You seem off today.”

“Nothing,” you shook your head absent-mindedly, “I’m just thinking that...maybe we could get a divorce earlier.”

“What?” the plates clanked as one slipped from Fred’s hand, “Why?”

“It’s just that...I don’t see the point of faking it anymore. People already know the truth,” you sighed as you felt all of your emotions started pouring out, “No matter what I do, they will always assume the worst of me. So what’s the point? It never looked real, anyway.”

Fred remained silent for a few seconds, but his furrowed brows soon smoothed out as an idea came to him, “Well, then we just have to make it look more realistic!”

You went to work tomorrow, still having no idea what Fred was going to do. You were worried that he might do something crazy, but you also had to admit you were feeling rather excited.

The answer finally revealed itself when it’s almost the end of your work. The reception called you, saying that there’s a Mr. Weasley looking for you.

You walked outside and saw Fred standing at the door, “Surprise, darling! Happy three years anniversary!”

You were confused at first, but you soon got his cue as you ran into his arms and exclaimed, “Merlin, Freddie! I can’t believe it’s already been three years since we started dating!”

“I’m thinking about going to your favorite restaurant tonight after you finish work. What do you say?” He said as he planted a kiss on your forehead. The kiss was so natural, and you knew it was just for show, but your face started heating up immediately.

“I-But I-I still need to finish editing this chapter that I’m working on,” you tried to act natural, but it couldn’t change the fact that a little kiss could leave you this flustered.

Fred let out a silent laugh when he heard you stutter, “Oh, that’s okay, princess. I can wait in your office! if that’s alright?”

“Okay.” You had a feeling that this show wasn’t over yet, and you were dying to know what exactly did he have in store.

“No! I’m not doing that!” You were so glad now that your desk was in the corner, or else your coworkers would’ve heard Fred’s plan for them. “Fred, no offense, but don’t you think it’s a little bit immature?” The thought of teaching your colleagues a lesson has crossed your mind so many times. But as much as you wanted to just throw a dung bomb on them or turn them into canaries, you still wanted to approach things more maturely.

“Oh c’mon, like those gits were mature when they made those horrible assumptions about you?”

You could tell from Fred’s tone that he was angry, and it made you feel slightly better knowing that someone actually cared, so you started caving in, “Fine. But why don’t you do it? You’re the pro.”

“Trust me. It would feel so much better if you did it yourself.” Fred could see that you’re still concerned, so he added, “Alright, how about this. For my second wish, I want you to prank those gits yourself.”

Your eyes widened. This was not how you thought he would spend his second wish. “You sure? But why?”

“Because they messed with my wife. That’s why,” he winked at you.

His expression looked playful, but his tone was serious. His words made your heart flutter and also helped you finally make up your mind.

You didn’t know how long you’ve waited to do this as you picked up your wand, pointed it at your target, and whispered, “Rictusempra.” You chose an easy, harmless tickling charm. It was simple, but it’s also embarrassing enough.

Just a few seconds later, you heard people screaming and laughing in the office. The three gossipers started scratching their bodies and jumping up and down like they were three monkeys. The office burst into laughter.

One of them started yelling, claiming that someone has hexed them. Some people immediately turned to look at Fred since he has a notorious reputation for being a prankster. But Fred was now staring at you all lovingly as you focused on the chapter in front of you. This made the targets angrier because they knew it had something to do with you, but they just couldn’t find proof.

The clock struck five, and you started packing up your bag unhurriedly. Fred took your bag and your hand, “Let’s go, darling.”

“Let's go, Freddie,” you smiled as you held his hand. You two walked out with your heads held high, leaving the gossipers still jumping around and having no evidence proving that you were behind this.

When you were on your way home, your heart was still beating fast from the thrill and excitement.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Fred noticed you were still very excited.

“It was. I wish I could take a picture of their reactions and frame it,” you admitted, “Thank you, Freddie.”

“No need to thank me, love. You were the one who came up with that spell,” Fred smiled, “You are pretty good at this.”

You gasped dramatically as you put your hand on your chest, “Thank you! I’m honored.”

Watching you laugh, Fred suddenly felt something tugging at his heartstrings. “But seriously, Y/N, are you sure you still want to work in this company?”

You paused for a few seconds, for you didn’t know how to answer this question. “Yea,” you looked down as you sighed, “where else can I go?”

“If you don’t mind, the joke shop is always looking for more staff, and I think you’re a perfect candidate.”

“I appreciate that, Fred, but I want to do this on my own.”

Fred nodded. If this were what you wanted, he’d respect that. He took your hand again. You were surprised how this simple yet intimate gesture became so natural between you two.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked.

“Hmm...A simple home-cooked meal would be nice,” you answered. Home, a word that Fred loved hearing you say.

Before bed, you and Fred were brushing your teeth together. It was a simple and ordinary routine, but you were finding this moment magical. Watching your reflections in the mirror, you realized you two were moving in synch so easily and naturally. Since when did you get used to having him in your life? And since when did you start to have him on your mind? The whole day played on repeat in your mind, and all you could think about was how Fred encouraged you and lift your spirit when you needed it the most.

“Actually, you can have the bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch. I wanted to thank you for helping me today.” You always knew he was too tall for that couch to be comfortable, but your pride didn’t allow you to give up that bed until today when you finally found an excuse.

“No, it’s fine. You did most of the work, anyway,” Fred shrugged.

“I have a better idea,” you heard George’s voice behind you, “How about you both sleep on the bed? It’s a very big and comfy bed if I remembered correctly.”

You felt the heat climbing up from your cheeks to the tips of your ears, but somehow you just didn’t want to let this pass. “I-I guess I’m fine with that.”

Fred’s expression froze for a moment, but a smile soon appeared on his lips, “Then I guess I’m fine with that, too.”

Sleeping next to Fred, you could hear your heart pounding in your chest. But this seemed so normal to him since you were pretty sure he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

This was probably the first time you got to stare at him at such a close distance and without anyone interrupting. You always knew he was good looking, but now you just found everything about him perfect. You adored how his eyes light up when he’s talking about new ideas and plans. You adored the angle of his lips when he’s smiling and when he’s saying your name. Or maybe, you just adored him.

Your eyes traced Fred’s eyes, nose, and lips, and stopped at the wedding ring sitting on his finger, stating that he’s your husband, at least just for now. Almost unknowingly, your hand reached for the ring on his hand but immediately pulled back when he let out a silent groan.

Did he notice you staring at him? Was he awake this whole time? You buried your face in the blanket and tried to pretend you’re asleep while your heart was still beating loud in your chest. Maybe you were too good at pretending, or perhaps you were just too tired from your work and adventure today, but you soon fell asleep.

Watching you sleeping peacefully and hearing you breathing evenly, Fred decided that this might be his favorite scene. Of course he was awake this whole time. How could he fall sleep so easily when you were lying right next to him? His left hand found yours as your wedding rings clicked together. He couldn’t help but pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

Fred wondered, what would it feel like if you were really his wife? What would it feel like if you loved him too? But even if this was only for one year, even if this was only for one night, he felt happy and content enough just holding you like this.

(to be continued.)

Chapter 4

A/N: First fic of 2021! Next chapter is going to be Christmas at the Burrow!

series taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker

general taglist: @protect-remus @elayneblack @violettaweasley @pineapplesandpinas @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @heiressofravka @itstatigallegos @missmulti @bolaurel @rangerelik @teenagesublimefan @leave-me-alone-and-go-away @gcdric @the-romanian-is-bae @zaphdekota @glimmering-darling-dolly @gloryekaterina @reenfluffmarshmallow @wand3ringr0s3 @heavenlymidnight @hunnybunimdun @izzyyy-1 @magicalxdaydream @starlightweasley @shadowsinger11 @probably-peeves @thisismynerdyself @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @levylovegood @cinammonjae @mrbillymontgomery @slytherinsunrise @rosemusic18 @sarcasticallywitty15 @ac127 @1127203457 @inglourious-imagines @bellaiscool @vogueweasley @coolepowersthings @slutherin-7 @bberree @sleep-i-ness @icarusfaiis @letsgotothehop @papan-pananpanda @llilithsdaughter @mollenniumfalcon @mackaywhore @jasminemirage @the-whitewolfie

(message me if you want to be added or removed! If your url is bolded, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reasons)

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#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley series #fred weasley x malfoy!reader

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: Not One Thing (1/1)

Title: Not One Thing

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Peggy and Steve set things straight after she shoots at him. Set During CA: TFA

A/N: For Steggy Week Day 2: Favorite Moment. Who doesn’t love when she shoots him? I love it. So, here’s the missing scene, because during my re-watch I noticed that the first time we hear him call her Peggy was right after Private Lorraine kisses him. Then we go from her shooting him to the bar after Bucky dies, then right to the super sexually charged “You’re late,” at the Hydra facility. This… fills that in? Maybe? Hopefully.

~*~

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

Peggy hightailed it to the ladies’ room after she put the gun down, forcing the emotion welling in her throat to stop before it became tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath as the door swung closed behind her, offering her some much-needed solitude.

She’d been fooling herself, obviously, if she’d dreamed that Steve Rogers was different. If his sharp wit and calculating mind appealed to her, that didn’t change the fact that he was a man, and seemed all too happy to get into the same trouble every man she’d ever met got into.

Hadn’t this been what he wanted, to be just like every other man?

She pressed her hand on each of the toilet stall doors, letting them swing open to be sure she was alone before she set her hands on the sink and tried to slow her pounding heart. She looked up at herself in the mirror and felt the pain morph to disgust.

And yet, she still spent two weeks’ pay on that damn dress.

She thought she’d sent a message last night. She didn’t know how much clearer she could have been.

“Get it together, Carter,” she whispered to herself, pushing away from the sink. She should have known better. She should have expected it. Even the way he stuttered at her after he was caught, calling her Peggy instead of Agent Carter, bringing up fondu… he had no idea how to talk to women, but it certainly seemed to knew how to kiss them.

She might not have been so mad about it, except she was the one hoping to be kissed by him. Dreaming of it. Fantasizing about it. She had been since he was thin boned and she was worried she’d break him if she crawled into his lap to kiss him senseless.

Peggy knew better. She’d been burned before. She shouldn’t have put all her hope in one endearing man.

She turned, pushing her way into a stall and began to unbutton her skirt when she heard the door swing open again.

“Wait, so tell me now!” The soft voice was unfamiliar to Peggy, and she couldn’t see through the stall door. She sat quietly, fully dressed, hoping to be ignored.

“Well,” a much more animated voice started, low and deep like honey, “so I start saying that all the women owe him their thanks, right?”

Private Lorraine.

Anger and frustration and betrayal welled up in Peggy’s throat, and she swallowed hard as quietly as she could, afraid of giving herself away.

“Uh huh, go on!”

Peggy can just about see Private Lorraine preening in the mirror through the crack. “And he’s all cute and nervous, hemming and hawing, so I just grabbed his tie, pulled him back into the stacks, and laid one on him.”

“You didn’t!” the other woman exclaimed, excited and scandalized at the same time.

Peggy rolled her eyes. Lorraine had a reputation around the base, as did most women if the men’s talk was to be believed. She wasn’t interested in lambasting the woman any further, deserved or not. She was, however, quite interested in whatever the woman had to say next.

“I did.” There was satisfaction in her words.

“And?”

“And what?”

“And? How was he?”

“Fine.” She could see Lorraine shrug and turn back to the mirror. “I caught him off guard. He wasn’t into it.”

“No! You can’t be serious.”

Lorraine hummed. “I mean, he’s probably a good kisser, but I couldn’t get him warmed up enough to find out. Carter interrupted us.” She sighed.

“Maybe you should try again.”

She laughed heartily. “Oh, if you saw the way those two bickered after she caught him? No. No way am I getting in the middle of that. Would have been a catch, but I’ll let him go. I’ve still got my eyes set on Washington in the 5th Airborne.”

The two chatted on, leaving the bathroom after getting the gossip out. Peggy just sat for a long, long time.

~*~

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

He shook his head, trying to find a way to keep her voice from ringing in his ears.

It didn’t work. He didn’t think he was going to get any sleep tonight.

The connection they’d had was tenuous, at best, and he’d thought it was all in his head until she showed up with that red dress on. When she’d uttered those words, “the right partner,” his heart had skipped a beat, finally feeling on steady ground. Bucky, of course, had a few things to say after she left. What Steve hadn’t anticipated was spilling the whole story to Bucky over another pint, detailing from the first punch he saw her throw at Hodge to the backseat of the car in Brooklyn, from Fondue to the red dress.

“Jesus,” Bucky had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re hopeless.” He laughed. “Still the same idiot I left back in the States.”

Steve had looked at him, confused.

“She likes you, stupid.” Bucky laughed, and tipped his head to the door she’d come through now hours ago. “You don’t put on a dress like that for someone you don’t like.”

“She just stopped in,” Steve stuttered. “I’m sure she was going to see other people.”

Bucky had looked at him, hard, and he knew he was kidding himself. Then and there he decided that the little looks, the light flirting, the line he was afraid to cross, absolutely needed some crossing.

Unfortunately, Private Lorraine had crossed a line first, and he was left as confused as when he’d started.

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

He couldn’t get it out of his head, couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d well and truly messed up.

Her shooting at him had been a pretty clear sign of that.

“I can hear you thinking from over here.” Bucky moaned from his own bunk. “How am I supposed to get any sleep with you thinking that loud?”

“Sorry, Buck- I just—”

“So, Lorraine kissed you. You know how many guys on base she’s kissed?” He laughed, folding his hands behind his head. “Pretty much all of them.”

Steve leaned back and fluffed his pillow. “I don’t think that makes it any better.”

“No, probably not.” Bucky laughed. “Steve. Just put on your big boy pants and tell her how you feel, ok?” Bucky turned at look at him. “I’m telling you, that red dress means she’s all in and you just gotta let her know that you are, too.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

~*~

He caught her in the hallway outside her office, the building mostly empty for the night as she went to lock it up. She caught his eyes and turned, opening the door again and holding it for him to follow in after her. She shut it and crossed her arms, waiting silently.

He spoke after a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Peggy’s tone was flat.

Steve nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Yeah, I—” He looked down and then back up, earnestness written on his face. “I’m bad at this. You were right, when you said I don’t know anything about women.”

Peggy looked away and then back. “I often am.”

He nodded gain, taking a breath. “She kissed me, Peg, and I froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

Peggy fought hard to avoid laughing. She might not be so quick to amusement if she hadn’t heard Lorraine’s side of it this morning. “So, you kissed her back?”

He cringed, knowing the words that were going to leave his mouth were the truth, but not what she wanted or needed to hear. “Yeah it—it seemed rude not to.”

Peggy did laugh, then. Big, loud guffaws that she couldn’t hold back. “You kissed her back,” she asked through the laughs, “because you didn’t want to be rude?”

Steve couldn’t help it, his eyebrows wrinkled and he shot right back at her. “Hey! I’ve never had a girl grab me by the shirt and kiss me before! I didn’t know what the protocol was!”

Peggy couldn’t help but keep laughing. “Protocol? Proto—” She chuckled, the laughter finally settling down. “You push her away and say no thank you, Steve.” Peggy took a deep, high breath, still letting out little twitters as she gained control over herself.

Steve, however, was still incensed. “Peggy, it’s not funny.”

She tried very hard to not laugh again, breathing in deep through her nose. “Oh, yes it is.”

He stepped forward, getting closer to her. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

She cleared her throat and stood tall. “Yes, yes. You’re…” She took a deep breath, then had to bite her lip again. “You are. Yes.”

“Peggy,” he reached out, taking her hands, and he caused her breaths to stop and her to bite her lip in a different way. “I don’t want to kiss Private Lorraine. What happened was a mistake and I’m sorry you saw it, but… I don’t want to kiss anyone but you. Just you.”

She started breathing again, her eyes bright and holding his gaze. “Steve…”

“You’re the right partner, Peggy. I just… I didn’t think someone like you could be interested in a guy like me in a million years. But when you showed up last night in that dress…” he drifted off, eyes glazing as he remembered and smile blooming on his face, “Well, Bucky says I’m an idiot, but I’m an idiot who got the hint.”

She smiled brightly. “It was quite a large hint.”

“I’m… bad at this,” he confessed, squeezing her hands gently. “I don’t have a lot of practice and sometimes you’re gonna have to just hit me over the head with things.”

She took a deep breath and puller her hands away, sliding them up his arms to his shoulders. “Then let me hit you over the head with this. I don’t want to kiss anyone but you, either. And I’ve felt that way for quite a long time. Serum or no serum, soldier or dancing monkey.” She let her hand play over his collar as her demeanor turned hard. “But I’m no fool, Steven, and if you’re serious, as I am, I won’t aim at the shield next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he replied quickly and seriously, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her close.

Peggy smiled just a bit, looking into his eyes, hopeful. “Promise?”

He smiled back as her hands slid around his neck. “Promise.” He lifted one hand, letting it push a strand of hair back behind her ear. Their breaths mingled for a long moment, and Steve spoke quietly, a half-smile on his face that Peggy couldn’t decipher. “So, does this mean that I can kiss you now?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you don’t, I shall have to really hit you over the head.”

He moved almost before she finished speaking, slanting his warm lips over hers. It was mere seconds before she was melting under his kiss. A little unpracticed, a little unsure, but what he didn’t have in technique he made up for in enthusiasm. If she’d had any doubts before, she knew now: he hadn’t been lying, he didn’t want to kiss Private Lorraine. Steve wasn’t just a fine kisser, he was a lovely kisser.

And now, he was all hers.

#steggyweek21 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

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mosaicofdreamsanddragons · 3 years

Text

Slow Fade

For @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off‘s pirate au.

Find on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570436

It was the customer service that broke him.

That’s what Pigsy told MK when asked how he became the chef on a pirate crew, glaring at Tang who was muffling a laugh. It was a true statement.

But it also wasn’t.

Once, many years ago he’d had his own restaurant. It wasn’t much, just a noodle store by the docks, filled with the everyday bustle of sailors, merchants, and other such people a port town attracted. His customers had barely had the room to sit down on good days. But it had been his.

With the constant stream of ships brought many to his little stand hungry for something unlike the rations they’d lived off of on the sea, he was guaranteed at least a few people coming in even on his worst days. Even on days with low ship traffic, he’d always have at least one person in his store: Tang was a regular to put all regulars to shame, despite somehow never paying for his food.

He’d loved it, every part of it. So of course, it hadn’t lasted.

It had been a good day for customers. He’d actually had a line out the door and seating had been scarce. Tang still got in somehow chattering happily about the newest legend of the Monkey King. Pigsy’d had his hands full making noodles and busing tables as fast as one Pig could when he heard a commotion.

“A bowl of noodles. The best you have,” came a pompous voice. Pigsy glanced up to see a very well dressed man shove his way into the store, completely ignoring the line as he shoved his way into the counter.

“We have a line,” said Pigsy.

“Excuse me?” the rich boy said. “I’m gracing your store because I’ve been told it’s got the best noodles this backwater island can give me. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful for business,” said Pigsy, “but in this backwater island we have things called lines. I simply do not have the room to seat you even if you were to be served now,” he waved his hand around the packed room. “That’s what a line is for.”

“Easily solved,” said the man. He turned to look directly at the customers seated at the high bar. It vacated. All but Tang. Sitting there calm as you please eating the noodles he always seemed to have but never seemed to pay for.

“Move,” the rich boy said. Tang didn’t even bother to look up from his bowl. The boy tried several more attempts to get Tangs attention, face turning a deeper and deeper shade of red until he’d shoved Tang bodily out of the chair.

Tang’s bowl had splattered all over the floor with a clang.

The boy sat down and turned his attention back towards the kitchen. “No problem,” he said before he realized the man he had been talking to was no longer present.

He didn’t even get a moment to register the location of the chef before Pigsy picked him bodily up and threw him from the shop unto the hard stone streets. The boy had been sputtering and yelling about vengeance before he’d left but not before yelling how Pigsy would regret this. It had been a sight Tang said. But Pigsy paid it no mind. He’d had more important things to deal with, like the rest of his customers. He hadn’t thought that boy a threat.

He’d been wrong.

The rich boy had turned out to be the new governor of the whole island. And apparently had nothing better to do then menace noodle shop owners.

Pigsy didn’t notice the drop in customers immediately. Ships still came and went bringing hungry sailors from far away. It wasn’t until a week later, when there had been no new ships coming in that he realized something.

There had been a lot less regulars.

He’d asked Tang if there was some event going on. Tang dropped his usual chatter about legendary pirates and sighed looking grimly at his reflection in his bowl. “I think they’re scared,” he said. “That boy you threw out? He was the new governor. In the last week he’s already dismissed and even executed people he dislikes. They say he’s cleaning up the rot of this town.”

“I fail to see what that has to do with me,” said Pigsy.

“You threw him out of the shop on his first day,” said Tang looking up to Pigsy, the glare of his glasses hiding his eyes, “Everyone things he’s going to come after you, to make a point about how he and by extension the empire are the power in this town.”

“If he really thinks he’s going to clean the corruption out of this town,” said Pigsy with a shrug. “Then he’s got better things to do beside pick on noodles shop owners.”

But that did not bring back his customers. With every new story about the new governor, he’d gotten less and less regulars. Worse was merchants were now deliberately not selling to him. The more honest ones told him he’d been blacklisted, and they just couldn’t afford drawing the ire of the governor and lose their businesses.

Then word started getting out to the sailors and soon even they weren’t coming to Pigsy’s shop. Tang would go out and try to catch them as they came off, directing them towards the stand but there were only so many he could catch, and soon after arrival those sailors would be greeted by gossip about the governor’s least favorite noodle shop.

Then the governor started banning people from going up to the sailors and solicitating them. He claimed it was a preventative measure against thieves. Tang said it was because he’d seen him win some customers over to Pigsy’s.

The only customer he had now was Tang. And it’s not like Tang had the money to keep the shop in business. Tang tried though, every day he’d come in with some new scheme or trick to pull in more customers but even that failed to fix the reality that was Pigsy’s ledger. With the amount of red in it, there really was only one thing left to do.

He plopped the noodle bowl down in front of Tang. “Eat up,” he said gruffly. “It’s on the house tonight.”

Tang looked up, “Pigsy, you can’t afford that.”

“Can’t afford it anyways,” he said. “I’ve been over the ledger. This is the last night we’ll be able to be open.”

Tang looked down at the bowl of noodles. Then he stood up. “If we’re going under,” he said. “Then we’re going to go under properly, with at least one customer.”

“Tang wait…” he called but it was to late. Tang had already stomped out the door with a determined look on his face.

Pigsy stared back down at the uneaten bowl of noodles. His last bowl, that he’d poured his heart and soul into, abandoned in an empty noodle store.

He should eat it, not let the last piece of his store sit on a counter getting cold. Tang would be out all night looking for customers that would never come and tomorrow they would close the shop. It would be a shame to waste it. This fancy meal he’d made for someone, anyone, else.

Eating it would mean he was truly out of business.

The bell of his shop chimed and Tang practically danced back in, trailed by a furry golden sailor. “Look what I found!” he said smugly. “A customer. One customer for our last night.”

The customer glanced around the room. “Nice place you have here,” he said and then his eyes fell on the bowl of noodles. “Already got my order up? Your service is amazing.”

Pigsy half expected Tang to protest when the customer sat down in his spot and ate the last bowl of noodles but instead he settled down next to him and called for some drinks. He starts to cheerfully regal their customer with tall tales of the legendary pirate captain the Monkey King. And Pigsy realized it had been a long time since he’d heard Tang tell any sort of story not tied to how he’d managed to get them customers today.

The stranger seemed to enjoy the tales almost more than Tang and the atmosphere of the little shop became warmer. Pigsy could almost pretend it was just any other late night before their troubles began.

The bell chimes again, and Pigsy looked up, half expecting another customer and wondering if he’d even have ingredients to make more noodles. But the man in question wasn’t here to eat. He glanced around the store with distain before saying, “Are you the owner of this establishment?”

“Yes,” said Pigsy, “What can I get for you?”

“You have received an invitation by the governor himself to join his kitchen staff,” he held out a paper to Pigsy. “Work begins at dawn.” Then he turned and walked out of the store only stopping at the door to say, “Don’t be late.”

“Promotion!” said the customer before he noticed grim look on Tang’s face.

“Don’t do it,” said Tang turning to face Pigsy. “That man hates you, he’s been trying to get rid of you for half a year!”

“I don’t exactly have much of a choice,” said Pigsy staring down at the empty sink. “I’ve checked around. No local business will hire me, to scared the governor will come after them. Short of getting on a ship, and all the ones that come through here are in his pocket and won’t let me on, this is the only option I have.”

“It’s a trap!” said Tang. “Either he’s going to make your life a living nightmare or he’s going to set you up for something worse!”

Pigsy closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. “But what else can I do?”

“Pigsy…,” began Tang.

“Excuse me,” he said and headed into the backroom. He needed time to confront his impending doom.

The next morning he arrived at the governor’s mansion’s kitchen entrance for work exactly fifteen minutes before dawn.

He was regulated to cleaning duty for a massive ball happening that night. That in itself wasn’t unusual, he was new after all, and it would be unlikely the cook would trust him with anything close to chopping for another year. But that set him on edge. The governor had systematically dismembered his business, his big finale couldn’t be something this normal.

So it didn’t really surprise him when he was bumped up from cleaning to serving for the party by special request of the governor himself.

And it didn’t surprise him at all when said ball was filled with only the most annoying of party goers, who looked at service workers like they were the dirt beneath their shoes or furniture on the wall.

What did surprise him was Tang. Who had somehow gotten a job as a waiter.

“What are you doing here?’ he hissed at him.

Tang just flashed him a smile. “They were desperate for new help and I figured we’d go down together.” He leaned in and lowered his voice, “There’s one other thing…” He stopped suddenly and pulled himself away. “The governor’s coming. I’ve got to go. Don’t worry I got a plan.”

Pigsy watched his only ally in this world saunter off as the governor approached. He waltzed up with a lady on his arm and seemed content to hang out right next to where Pigsy was serving food and engage in conversation about how powerful he and his empire were and how those who lived here were nothing more than cultureless backwater fools who’d gotten to full of themselves after the last governor had been so lax…

Soon the governor ran out of people to talk to and turned to Pigsy, “Enjoying the new job I so generously provided?”

Pigsy kept his face neutral.

The governor leaned against the table between them. “You know, its polite to thank a new employer but I guess you wouldn’t know what was polite, given your general social awareness. You haven’t even apologized for how we met. Such rudeness. It’s understandable why you lost all your customers.”

Pigsy kept his face neutral.

“You must have relied on sailors for a good while there, as you held out longer than I expected once the townsfolk wised up. Honestly it has been infuriating trying to ruin you and that little friend of yours. But it doesn’t matter now does it? Now you’ve learned your place working for me.” Very slowly he raise his glass and dumped its contents onto Pigsy.

Pigsy kept his face neutral.

The governor smiled and then glanced off examining the now empty glass, until his eyes caught sight of Tang offering drinks to guests. “That little friend of yours, he’s a puzzle. I tried to scare him off but no no no, nothing seemed to faze him. Even offered him money to stop going to your store. And he refused. Something he desperately could not afford given his clothing or his previous lack of employment. How does a man such as him even stay fed anyways? Makes one wonder where the money comes from. Evidence enough for thievery. Men have been hanged for less…”

Pigsy’s neutral face cracked.

He wasn’t sure what he yelled at the man. He was certain it included a lot of very creative descriptors as all the anger that had been building towards this pompous petty child playing governor exited him at once. He shook the party to its very foundation and soon everyone was staring at them.

The governor was lying on the floor beside the upturned table when Pigsy’s head cleared. He seemed scared but he smiled up and Pigsy, “You are going to hang for this.”

Might as well go the full nine yards. Pigsy picked up one of the still full glasses and poured it on the governor.

“Might as well hang together then?” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Tang and the customer from last night, now dressed fancily with a mask, hat, and cutlass…the Monkey King, infamous pirate captain.

Before Pigsy could voice his shock at the situation or interrogate Tang, the Monkey King turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the robbery tonight. Alas, I must be going as my ship departs on the hour. Do inform the rest of the navy their precious governor will be coming with me and not to fire lest they damage him. Now, I and my associates will be taking our leave.” He nodded to Tang who rushed forward to tie up the governor. Then he turned to Pigsy. “So what do you say? Care to join my crew as the new ships cook?”

Pigsy looked at Tang who was grinning, over to the tied up governor, and then back at the Monkey King. “As I’m currently out of employment at the moment,” he said, “such an offer sounds lovely.” Then he picked the governor up and followed the Monkey King out the hole that hadn’t been there before he’d started yelling.

Tang noticed his confusion and always down to explain something said, “You probably didn’t notice during all the yelling but we made the hole. Oh and we already loaded a ton of loot onto the ship but we have to hurry if we want to escape before the navy gets here. The Monkey King wasn’t originally going to rob the party for anything more than a hostage until he met us. We made this plan last night right after you got the letter…”

Pigsy stared at him, “This was your plan?”

Tang shrugged as they dashed onto a ship. The Monkey king headed over to the steering wheel, while Tang grabbed the ropes for the sails. “Joining the Monkey King’s Pirate Crew!” grinned Tang unable to contain his excitement, “the best plan I’ve ever made!”

“Grabbing the governor was his idea,” said the Monkey King from above.

Pigsy sighed and dropped the governor down onto the side of the boat. “What are we going to do with him once we’ve outrun the navy?”

“Well I was thinking you could come up with that,” said Tang. “He’s been bothering you and all.”

That was why three months later the governor was found seven islands over standing in a line that tracked back throughout the city. When asked how he’d gotten there he’d turned pale and muttered something incoherent about pirates and noodles.

#monkie kid pirate au #monkie kid #Pigsy #Tang #monkie kid sun wukong #my fic

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