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happy74827 · 6 months

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Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

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wardenparker · 1 year

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The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 9

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila. 💖✨

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always18+ Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Summary: Paris may be tumultuous at first, but it’s the City of Love for a very good reason. Guys, I have no defense for this one. I just really love Paris and want to go there so fucking badly... Notes: Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who came along for this wonderful ride with us! Next week we’ll be posting the epilogue for this story and then rolling right into something new immediately. The wheels of chaos in our minds never stop rolling so the fics just keep on coming. 🧡🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

Thanks to the overnight flight and the comfort of being able to sleep in first class, when you and Marcus touch down in Paris at 8:30 the next morning, you pretty much manage to avoid the fuzzy feeling of jetlag. It's been years since you've been back here but everything feels just the same, giving you a satisfying feeling of homecoming as you set out through the airport toward the taxi stand to ride out to his colleague's office.

"Sorry." Marcus tosses you a small, apologetic look as the taxi drives erratically through the city. "I'll see what's up and then if you want to go to the hotel, we can see about checking in." He knows you might not be up for hitting the ground running and he can carry this alone if he needs to.

“No, no, it’s okay.” As the city passes by the taxi windows you sink back and allow yourself an indulgent smile. You might be working, but it’s nice to be back. “Let’s go and be briefed for the case and all of that. Find out what we’re working with.”

“Thank you.” Marcus picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. “For coming with me. Saves me from having to choose an agent to bring with me.”

“I hope I’m half as effective as any of your team members are.” You kiss the back of his hand in turn and give it a supportive squeeze. The people you’ve met from his department have all been friendly and kind, and his stories paint them to be very good at their jobs on top of being nice people. “Plus, I’m infinitely more fun to play dress up with.”

“And I won’t feel exceedingly guilty if I had to pretend to be romantic with a co-worker.” Marcus knows there will be a time, but he doesn’t want to do that so early in your renewed relationship.

“Work is work.” Of all the problems you ever did have, jealousy or worry about infidelity was never one of them. You and Marcus are both loyal people to the core.

“I know.” The fact that your belief in him doesn’t waver is incredible. “But right now, work has you playing my wife.” He winks at you. “You might be good at that role.”

"It's almost like method acting," you tease, briefly sticking your tongue out at him as the taxi winds its way toward the nondescript office where his colleagues are waiting.

Marcus helps you out and tips the driver, hauling the luggage up the stairs after shooting you a dirty look when you protest that you can get your own bag. “Get the door.” He huffs at you.

“Stubborn.” You chide him teasingly, and slip past him to open the door. The woman at the desk seems pleasantly surprised that you speak much better French than Marcus, but switches to English for ease. She directs you to the second floor and gives you an office number, assuring Marcus that he is expected.

“Monsieur Pike.” The Interpol agent immediately greets you at the elevator, obviously being given a heads up about your arrival. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Marcus nods, adjusting bags so he can shake hands. “Happy to help, this is Dr. Pike. She is a director at the Smithsonian.” He introduces you, looking at you with quiet pride.

“Pike?” Ducasse looks between you, at the suitcases Marcus won’t let you carry and how you stand close together, keeping each other in your line of sight despite not always being focused on the same thing. Confident but not showing off. “I did not know you had gotten married. Welcome, Madame. Your expertise will be invaluable.”

Marcus catches your eye, tilting his head to communicate that he will follow your lead on how to explain your relationship to these people. Not wanting to embarrass you or to make you feel as if you are pressed to answer dozens of questions.

“We are divorced, but reconciled. A story for another time, perhaps.” Honesty, above all, especially when dealing with his colleagues, and you shake the man’s hand politely before allowing yourself to be ushered into a nearby office. “I am happy to extend my expertise to the FBI and to INTERPOL.”

“That will be a story to hear.” Ducasse’s brows shoot up in intrigue but he doesn’t press, instead motioning to you towards a seat and taking one of the bags from Marcus to stack the luggage in the corner of a cluttered office.

“What can you tell us about this case?” Marcus ask, shifting the conversation to the matter at hand. “How did you come to know about the art and this auction?”

"We had a tip that one of the warehouses that the local police were monitoring has seen some substantial movement and pursued several leads before finding the location of the auction. There is a mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain currently owned by an alias of Jean-Luc Poitiers." The quick-speaking INTERPOL agent begins to point out photographs on the pin board lining one wall of the crowded room. "Poitiers has been underground long enough for any of the heat from his competition to die down, and it appears that this is where he has been suffering his isolation." Ducasse rolls his eyes as though considering a mansion in the gorgeous Seventh Arrdonissement a place to suffer is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "The auction is extremely exclusive, by invitation only, but we have taken care of that while you were in the air."

“You got us an invite.” Marcus grins. “Who are we pretending to be?”

"A married couple, conveniently." Ducasse pulls a file out from under several other things on the desk beside him and hands it to Marcus to peruse. "Mr. and Mrs. Luke Martinez of New York City. Second house in the Hamptons, eight figure annual income from real estate holdings and investments. You will be asked to submit banking details upon your arrival, we will supply you with the numbers and the false funds." He leans back, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. "We will surround the building, ready to lock it down for arrests and to seize the stolen art, but we need you to actually put eyes on those paintings."

“What I wouldn’t give to have that be our lives.” Marcus jokes as he flips through the files and skims the background on the couple. “We will need to buy some clothes that reflect this.”

"You can attend to that this afternoon. There is some budget to be spared for it." Ducasse had made sure of it, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

"Does Mrs. Martinez have a listed career or am I a housewife?" You don't peak over Marcus's arm at the file in case there are things that aren't meant to be shared with civilians. You just want to have your story straight. "Or, um...a first name?"

“There’s nothing here you can’t see as a consultant on this case.” Marcus provides and grins at you. “Your name is Penelope.” He explains as he hands the file over.

"Well of course, why wouldn't it be?" The file has pages of background information and numbers that you hope you can memorize, but as you start to flip through the pages you practically feel your heart stop. There is a photograph of two men walking down the street side by side, one talking into a cell phone and the other checking his watch. The man on his phone is tall and lean, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes, and a jawline only slightly less defined than Marcus's. The crisp, blue suit is nothing like you remember, but his face is unmistakable. "Wh—who is this?" You ask, pointing at the image like you're afraid the man might jump out of the photograph and attack.

“That—” Ducasse snorts and taps the photo. “Is Henri Aubel.” He informs you. “He has been in Interpol’s sights for a long time, but we have been unable to pinpoint the crimes on him, unfortunately.”

"I..." Looking between Marcus and Ducasse, you can feel your stomach drop and a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere. "I know him," you murmur, reaching for Marcus's hand like a security blanket. "I mean...we—we dated. While I was living here...years ago." The man you had known then was bright and seemingly sincere. Incredibly charming, yes, but you had never had any kind of inclination whatsoever that he was a criminal.

“Shit.” Marcus immediately frowns, aware that your cover won’t work. “Then we need a new game plan. Because if he recognizes her, ‘Penelope Martinez’ will be in danger.” The last thing he wants or is willing to do, it put you in danger for a case.

“Was it a close relationship?” Typically not a man to pry for personal information from new acquaintances, the rules have just changed for Ducasse since this is related to his case. He flies around to the other side of his desk to sit down, immediately tapping away at his keyboard to bring up the file on Henri Aubel. “What did you know of him then?”

The irony isn’t lost on you. To have just left a case with Marcus’s ex-fiancée behind only last night and for this one to now include your ex-boyfriend? The universe is having a nice laugh at your expense. “I met him at a gallery opening while I was a student at the Sorbonne. We…we were on and off for about two years, but I never had any idea that what he was involved in was criminal. I just thought he was an artist with a wealthy family.” Although, now that you know that he is wanted by INTERPOL, you’ll be combing back through every memory you have of him to see what you can glean. You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, feeling like a child who has been caught being naughty. “I’m sorry,” you murmur under your breath, knowing that you have made this all incredibly awkward.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “It was ten years ago.” He reminds you. “It’s hard to know who people will become when you are a college student.” The only thing he’s worried about is your safety. “But maybe this is better.” He offers. “We don’t go in as the Martinez’s, did— did Henri know about me? Or that Pike was your married name?”

“Yes.” Swallowing is harsh and almost painful, like the lump in your throat is very real. “But back then you were going to be in marketing. I never had any idea you would go into law enforcement.”

“Good.” Marcus flashes you a supportive smile, aware that your guilt is amplified right now. He turns towards Ducasse. “So we pose as ourselves, just— fictional images of them. Is that doable with the invitations?” He asks seriously. Neither one of you are on social media, so it wasn’t like accounts would have to be modified.

“It should be.” Ducasse is nodding as types rather furiously. “At the risk of being indelicate, Madame, this may work to our advantage. A surprise like this can throw off even the most careful of men.” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised slightly, and tilts his head. “Henri Aubel is a dangerous man. If you did not know that about him, then you did not know the real him.”

“Then I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.” There is an empty chair nearby, and you sit down in it with the case file still in your hands. “I think it will surprise him, though, to see me. We were…well, I thought we were very close. But obviously he was never entirely honest with me.”

Marcus takes the file from your hand, turning towards you and giving you his full attention. “Listen to me, baby,” he begs you softly, seeing the hurt and turmoil in your eyes. “Men like Aubel have been taught from a young age to hide who they truly are. He never had any intention of you finding out who he is. Took advantage of you being unfamiliar with his family, with France. That makes him manipulative, you did nothing wrong.”

“Thank you.” Even though your voice is quiet it’s clear, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze tightly and murmur a soft “I love you” in his ear. It feels heavy, and wrong, and like you’re in trouble, but you know that’s just the shock of discovery.

“So we say that I’m— fuck, I was a hedge fund manager who made it big and wants to indulge in art?” Marcus tosses out, looking over at Ducasse. “How does that sound? New money, and my wife knows art?”

“That will work.” The INTERPOL agent nods, looking back at his screen before looking over at Marcus again. “Use New York City as your base, but use whatever details of your past suit you. The banking details are an offshore account in order not to raise any red flags, and I will simply change the name on the false account to reflect your real name. There is jewelry in the evidence lock up that you can use as props.” He sees nothing on either of your fingers now, so obviously it will be needed. “When you are out today getting your clothing for tomorrow night, please be as obviously affectionate as you feel comfortable with. On the off chance that Aubel has been watching to see if Dr. Pike will come back to Paris, we want your cover to hold up.”

Marcus nods, looking back at you again. “Are you okay with this?” He asks softly. “I can still find someone else if you don’t want to see him again.”

“It would be slightly hypocritical to back out when you just had to spend three weeks with a case with your ex.” You remind him. “And…and Monsieur Ducasse seems to think it could help.” You shake your head, offering Marcus a smile when you can summon it up. “I’ll be okay. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay.”

"I won't leave your side." Marcus promises, sure that he will stick to you like glue in the first undercover op you've ever participated in. His own need to make sure you are safe wouldn't allow it, even if he thought this Aubel wouldn't hurt you.

“We will do everything in our power to make sure no harm comes to you.” Ducasse assures you earnestly. “If I thought this would be more dangerous for you for knowing Aubel, I would not send you in. But I must ask, Madame. Do you know how to use a gun?”

The question makes you shiver a little, not being a big fan of firearms, but you nod. “Marcus has taken me to the firing range. We have one in the house, so I’ve learned.”

Ducasse nods and his eyes flicker over towards the FBI agent. He can tell that the man who had previously worked on a case with INTERPOL isn't exactly comfortable with his wife being in harm’s way. Not that he blames him, but this is a fortuitous situation and he will use everything in his power to get Aubel behind bars. He's wasted too many hours on chasing him to give up because your ex is the suspect. "I doubt you will need to, but we always send in our operatives armed." He allows.

“Why don’t you tell us more of what we’ll need to know for tomorrow?” With a whole day and night to prepare, you know that there will be plenty to learn and plenty of time to ask questions, but also plenty of time to build an alibi by being seen in the city. If what Ducasse says is true, people may be watching.

******

Hours later, Marcus sighs in relief when you are able to get to your rooms. With the knowledge that people might be watching, the bags had been delivered and you along with Marcus had started a very loving shopping trip along some of the more upscale stores in Paris. Now he's happy to just be alone with you and not worry about someone photographing you or approaching.

“I never thought shopping on the Champs-Élysées would be stressful.” Wrapped up in his arms in the exquisite suite, you and Marcus both sigh heavily and absorb the calm of being alone for a little while.

"It doesn't help when you are wondering when your ex is going to pop out from behind a bush." Marcus pulls you into his arms and sighs. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know. I wouldn't have put you in the middle of this if I had."

“You didn’t know?” You huff at him, perching your chin on his chest to look up at him. “I didn’t know! I feel like such an idiot never realizing he was lying to me for two whole years. And honey…” Fingers gently tracing his face, you cup his cheek in your palm and offer him a smile. “I would never let you face this alone if there is even the tiniest possibility that I can help.”

“I appreciate that.” He sighs softly. “So much for romance in Paris.” He can’t help but chuckle. “Not exactly turning out how I wanted.”

“René suggested we spend some of tomorrow doing romantic or touristy things, so we can still have some fun.” The INTERPOL agent had turned out to be a very kind and likable man, and by the time lunch came you and he had been joking together over tartine. “I know it’s not perfect, but maybe we can squeeze an extra day of paperwork,” you say the word in air quotes, “out after this is over and have a day to ourselves?”

“That would work.” Marcus admits, “taking in the sights before we buy stolen artwork.”

“I could take you to my old neighborhood?” It’s something you wanted to do anyway, and might feel a little less like being on display. “Walk around, grab lunch, maybe go in and out of some shops?”

"Whatever you want to do." Marcus promises. Despite the curve ball, he wants this trip to be one of fond memories when you look back on it years from now. Especially since he will be able to propose in the city that you had always loved.

“I had a couple of places that I always thought you would love.” And that just makes you hug him a little tighter, knowing that something good will come out of this trip no matter what happens with the case - although you know Marcus will see it through to the best possible outcome.

"I will love them." Marcus promises. "Because I will be with you."

“I love you, too.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him down for a kiss and let it linger in the privacy of your quiet suite of rooms. “What do you want to do before dinner?” Ducasse had suggested a visible night on the town just in case Henri or his people were having you watched - either as his ex or as an attendee of the auction.

"I will leave it up to you." Marcus leans back and shoots you a grin. "This is your city, baby." He sends you a wink. "Show me the sights."

“Then we’re going to Harry’s after dinner.” Harry’s New York Bar is a legendary hangout of the Lost Generation, and given his love of all things F Scott Fitzgerald, it will be the perfect place for celebrating tonight. “You’ll love it. I mean, I hope you will.”

"Harry's?" Marcus looks at you skeptically. "That sounds like a nice place to drink." He hums and slides his hands down to caress your ass. "You want to get ready to go out?"

"You just want to get me into one of those slinky dresses we bought today." You wiggle your ass in his hand and grin, giggling when he raises an eyebrow at you like that should have been obvious. "Should we eat dinner someplace swanky to keep up appearances?"

"What is the swankiest place we can get reservations at the last minute?" He asks, smirking at you because there is nothing he wants more than you to put on a slinky dress and go have a fabulous meal before he proposes in one of the most romantic cities in the world. The ring in his pocket is burning a hole in it and he wants to see it on your finger.

“I bet if we had the concierge call it would do better than if one of us tried.” Your eyes flick up to his with mischief shining in them, wondering if you could even pull this idea off. “Madame Brasserie or Jules Verne? À la Tour Eiffel?”

"Whichever one you've never been too and always wanted to try." He tells you indulgently.

"Madame Brasserie is the newer of the two restaurants in the Eiffel Tower, so it might be harder. But I wouldn't mind eating at either one." There's something altogether too indulgent about the idea and you sigh a little dreamily. "I'll call down to the front desk and see what they can do."

"I'm going to jump in the shower." Marcus offers. "We've been going nonstop since we got here and I at least want to wash off the travel before dinner tonight."

"That sounds like a plan." You reach up to kiss him again before letting him out of your arms. "I'll shower after you. Otherwise we'll be having room service because we can't keep our hands off each other."

"You know that's exactly what would happen." Marcus winks at you and grabs his bag so he can get his toiletry kit out. "Make your calls and I'll be getting sudsy in there."

******

About an hour and a half later you're both finally ready and barely keeping your hands off of each other despite showering separately. The blue velvet dress you chose for tonight hugs all of Marcus's favourite parts of your body and the perfectly fitted charcoal gray suit he settled on is elegant and easy, making him look even more effortlessly handsome than usual. "The concierge said he would have a car waiting for us." You tell him, taking one step toward the door of your suite before he can pounce and trying to swallow down your nerves over the little blue box in the bottom of your purse. "Jules Verne had one reservation left for tonight and we got in just in time." And because you told the concierge about your plans, he had made sure to arrange for a few things to be waiting for you in your room when you returned tonight.

"Perfect." Marcus has heard of the restaurant and he wants nothing more than for this to be the perfect night. Regardless of what happens on the case, he wants you to have a night you can look back at dreamily. His first proposal had been sweet and earnest, not exactly fancy, but now the need for a grand gesture is almost compulsory. "We still have the elevator ride down to be handsy."

"Let's hope we get it to ourselves then." You throw him a wink over your shoulder before heading out the door, knowing Marcus will be close on your heels.

"Jesus, Paris you is saucy" Marcus chuckles as he hustles after you. "I like it."

"I've decided to enjoy the trip and make the most of it." The door clicks shut behind him and his arm slips around your waist as you walk down the hallway together, just a few feet to the corner and then the elevators, but still far enough for you to get cozy while you walk. "My favourite city in the world with my favourite person is not something to waste."

“Favorite person huh?” The proud grin stretches across his face and he edges closer when you reach the elevator, then he leans forward to call the car to your floor. “I am honored. Especially since you’re my favorite person.”

"I think honoured might be a stretch," you tease, leaning against the wall while you wait for the elevator together. "All I want is for you to be happy, baby. To be the one that makes you happy."

“Baby – you’ve always made me happy.” That is something that he can promise. Right up until you wanted out, Marcus had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. He reaches up and caresses your neck. “Always.”

"I love you so much." Wishing you could go back and erase the years apart won't change anything, but you lean up to kiss him now without hesitation. The future is what matters now. Your future together.

“I love you too.” The promise is simple, heartfelt and the look in your eyes has him wanting to drop down to his knee right now, but he knows it’s not time.

"Come on, love." The soft ding of the elevator interrupts you, but it doesn't matter. There will be plenty more sweet moments before the night is over.

Marcus allows you to pull him into the elevator and hums when he finds the car empty. “Should I wait to kiss you?” He asks, smirking slightly. “Don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”

The eyebrow you raise at him is incredulous, and you shake your head at him as the door closes to leave you alone for at least another minute. "Kiss proof," you inform him, as though it were ridiculous that you would wear anything else around him.

Thank God for whoever invented 'kiss proof' lipstick. Marcus has always loved you without makeup, straight out of the bed, but there is something so sexy when you are dressed up. Even if it's not technically for him, he feels like it is. Just like you love when he puts on cologne. Tugging you closer, he grins at you. "Well, we need to test that." He hums, "we haven't kissed with this lipstick color on."

“It’s a new brand, too.” He’s drawing you into him so easily you feel like a moth going to a spectacularly handsome flame. “How will know they’re telling the truth unless we test it?”

“Indeed.” Marcus makes it slow, gentle. Taking his time like the car isn’t slowing down as it reaches the ground floor.

It’s so easy to wrap up in each other. To let yourselves get carried away with affection and the romance of being in Paris together. The passionate kiss is intentionally and immediately intense – deep and luxurious and would probably be borderline pornographic if anyone was watching.

The doors open and there is a discreet cough before Marcus pulls away. Smiling apologetically as he finds a couple waiting to come onto the car. “Désolé pour ça.” Sorry about that. The apology is perfunctory, because he’s not sorry at all.

You can hear the woman muttering about Americans as you and Marcus stroll out through the lobby and it’s all you can do to contain your giggles. “Sorry not sorry.” You whisper, beaming at him. The concierge is waiting to load you into the car that he has ordered on your behalf, and you swear you feel like you’re in a movie. It might be a crime thriller, but it’s still elegant and passionate, and you love it.

"I'm not sorry either." Marcus keeps his hand on your back until you are sliding into the car and he is slipping in beside you. Allowing you to tell the driver where you are going since you are better familiar with the area.

Fortunately for tonight’s plans, you aren’t far from the Eiffel Tour. It’s an easy sight from the windows of your suite and a straightforward drive that only takes a few minutes - though the walk would be uncomfortable in heels. You’re grateful to have the driver and will certainly be tipping him at the end of the night even though it isn’t a necessity here the way it is in the US. When he lets you out at the edge of the park that surrounds the monument, Marcus slips out first and you happily accept his hand to maintain a little propriety while climbing out of the car in a skirt much shorter than your usual. “Now we go up,” you tell Marcus, practically sighing as you look up through the layers and layers of metal that compose the Eiffel Tower. Some people say they’re disappointed the first time they see it, but you’ve never understood why. It’s remarkable - an architectural triumph that stands out in the Paris skyline like a beacon.

“Did you know that the tower only took two years, two months and five days to build?” Marcus asks, nearly giddy as he climbs out of the car and offers you his hand. “Not bad for something that’s stood for over one hundred years.”

“I thought you might like to see it up close.” Yes, he has been to Paris for work, but you doubt he’s taken any extra leisure time for himself in all of that. “I came here my very first night in the city. I dropped off my bags at my little student apartment, and started walking across the city. Bought a crepe from a vendor on the street and sat on…” It takes you a second to find it, but as your eyes comb the area, they land on a bench a few yards away. “That bench, and looked up at the Tour Eiffel as I ate my dinner.”

“What did you think about while you were looking up at her?” Marcus asks curiously, wanting to know about your time here. Even if he wasn’t a part of it, you had history here.

"That she made me feel less lonely." You thread your fingers through his gently and give them a soft squeeze. It might sound like a sentimental answer, but you know that Marcus will understand. "If I was sitting here looking up at her, surely I wasn't the only one. So...it sort of became tradition. Any time I felt lonely I would come sit and spend time with her. And I knew that she was keeping other lonely people company. So I was automatically less alone."

“I understand that.” Marcus does, he had found plenty of little parks or monuments where he had been living to visit. Wanting to feel surrounded. It had always been that way since you had left.

"Come on, love." A small tug on his hand has both of you smiling at each other, but you nod toward the monument. "There's a special elevator for people having dinner at Jules Verne."

“How touristy is it that we are having dinner here?” He asks as you drag him closer to you. It might be incredibly cliché, but he’s thinking about proposing after dinner. Asking you if you will go up to the observation deck with him.

“Extremely.” And it doesn’t bother you in the least. In fact, it’s sweet. Sharing the city with Marcus means playing tourist in the best way possible. “But I think that’s a good thing. It’s a first for both of us and it’s going to be a beautiful meal.”

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.” Marcus admits, staring at you like you hung the moon. “The last time I was here, I—I couldn’t make myself come here.”

You turn back to him after hitting the button for the elevator, a soft but serious expression drawn on your face as you reach to touch his cheek. “Neither of us ever has to face anything along again, Marc.” You can promise him that. Wholeheartedly and without hesitation. “From now on, each chapter of our lives will have two main characters.”

“I love you.” Marcus whispers, knowing that down to the very fiber of his being. He’s never stopped, never. Not even when he convinced himself that he had moved on. You were just ingrained in his being like the hair color on his head or the way he has to lay on his right side to really sleep.

“I love you too.” Through all the ups and downs, the hardest struggles and the clearest days, it’s always been him. “Always.”

The ride up to the restaurant is shared with a young couple who are obviously on their honeymoon, making Marcus grin at the display of young love. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly how we are,” you murmur under your breath to him once the other couple has moved ahead of you to the maître’d stand. The couple are probably barely older than you were the first time you got married and you’re all the exact same level of handsy.

“Exactly.” Marcus steps up to the maître’d stand once they are being led off to be seat. “The couple in front of us?” He gestures towards the couple. “Champagne? To their table? And I will pay their bill.” He decides, wanting them to have a magical night.

“Oui, monsieur…” The gentleman provides ample space for Marcus to say his last name, and smiles in polite acknowledgment at the name Pike. He knows this reservation. Took it himself barely two hours ago. “Right this way,” he says in clear English, gracefully motioning for you to follow.

“After you.” Marcus lets you walk in front of him, so he can help you sit and so he can glance down at your ass in the gorgeous dress you are wearing. Reminding himself of exactly what is underneath.

The indulgent mood you’re both in extends to deciding on the seven-course menu with all the recommended wine pairings, and settling in at your table in the corner with a perfect view of Paris below from the window beside you.

“This is probably better than anything we could have imagined when we were their age.” Marcus had seen the surprise and delight in the younger couple’s faces when the champagne had been delivered. Looking around to see who had gifted them such a thing, Marcus hadn’t let them know. Hoping that one day, they would do the same to another young couple starting out.

“I hope they’re so excited for everything to come.” You reach across the table to link your fingers together and run your thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “They’re starting a whole new chapter of their lives.”

“Yes, they are.” Marcus looks down at your joined hands and smiles. Fully aware that the same can be said for you. The ring in his pocket is making him eager for the dinner to be over. You are wearing a ring that is a part of the mission tomorrow, but tonight, he wants you to wear his.

“Speaking of which.” The smile you flash him is bright and bubbly, and you hang onto his hand like a lifeline. “I want to talk to you about a dream I had on the flight over last night.” It’s just a silly thing, but it’s about sharing those silly thoughts and future plans with him. Something that you had trouble with years ago.

“Oh?” Marcus ticks his brow up in curiosity. “What kind of dream is this? I promise I didn’t leave the toilet seat up or cheat on you with your non-existent cousin.”

“No, it was nothing like that.” Although the idea of being cross with him over a dream about leaving the toilet seat up makes you laugh. “It was a coming-home-from-work dream.”

“Oh yeah?” He shuffles closer, getting the hint that this is one of those ‘want to make this happen’ dreams. “Coming home to me, I hope?”

“And the kids.” When you nod it’s with heated cheeks and a shy smile. “In the dream it was some kind of holiday? I couldn’t tell what, but I came home and you had been decorating the house with the kids all day to surprise me.”

“Halloween.” Marcus guesses, knowing how much you love the spooky holiday.

“Maybe.” The fact that he’s playing along has you lighting up as you smile at him. “But I came home, and you told me that before we had dinner, that the kids had a surprise for me.” In the dream you remember being incredulous until Marcus had supported this surprise - a fact which reassured you that it wasn’t a brand new crayon mural on the living wall or something like that. “And that surprise was a very cute and tiny little kitten.”

“A kitten, huh?” Marcus grins and shakes his head in amusement. He’s had a mild cat allergy but luckily the medications had improved since he was a child. “A smokey grey one or a black cat?”

“I was thinking one of the breeds that’s kinder to allergies,” you admit sheepishly, knowing he would probably be a little extra sneezy when the dear cat sheds seasonally. “In the dream it was a Siamese, but I don’t know how they are for shedding.”

“We can always look into that. I think they are better?” He tilts his head. “But honestly...” he twists his fingers around and pulls your hand closer. “I like the idea of having to introduce the baby to the cat when we bring them home from the hospital? Give them a little guardian from the start?”

“So you’d rather have the cat first?” For some reason that thrills you - as if it were a validation that the steps you’ve been taking to solidify your relationship ship are working. “We can do that.” You’re practically squeaking at the idea, so it’s fairly obvious that you like it. “Have our first baby be the fur baby?”

“Practice, right?” Marcus laughs. “If we can keep a cat alive, we graduate to a miniature human?”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” Though you both laugh easily together, you’re practically vibrating with excitement in your seat. “I just think we aren’t home enough for a puppy. And cats are so sweet.”

“Cats are more…independent.” Marcus allows, grinning softly. “Maybe after we get back, we could visit a shelter. See if it’s kitten season? Or maybe even an older, sweet soul who wants a home for their twilight years?”

“We can absolutely start looking around shelters.” It was really just an idea that you were throwing out there - something that made you smile and gave you that feeling of making your house into more of a home. But in true Marcus fashion, he has turned it into something sweet and spectacular. “Although I insist that if we get a kitten, they have a silly name.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus grins, nodding in agreement. “Something that will sound adorable and be completely opposite the personality.”

“Bonus points if it is something will sound completely bizarre being called out at the vet’s office.” It absolutely tickles you that he’s going with you on this, knowing that his childhood dog was innocuously named Buddy. “Something long and elaborate that will be extremely silly when scolding them. We need to get all the comical naming impulses out of us before the kids are born.”

“Mr. Fuzzlesworth.” Marcus tosses out with a grin, enjoying the idea of planning with you. Obviously you would need to get home before choosing a pet, but this is what relationships are about, planning.

“Sir Fuzzbutt de Fluffington.” You nearly double over, giggling at the table. “Although, Mr. Fuzzlesworth kind of sounds like a Dickens character and I love it.”

Marcus chuckles, enchanted by your enthusiasm for this. Hating that the two of you have to break apart when the first course is served. It looks delicious and it's obvious that the waitstaff tries to make this an experience for those who dine with them.

"Cheers." Raising your glass to him when the plates have been set down and the wine has been poured, you have nothing but love in your eyes when you look across the table at Marcus. This is a far more eventful night than just this same time yesterday, and hopefully the food will be just as exquisite - if not even more so. "To us."

"To us." He will never not toast to that. "I think we are getting spoiled with nice dinners." He hums as he taps his glass to yours softly. "How will we go back to eating Thai takeout or Chinese on our couch?"

"Easy." You waggle your eyebrows at him salaciously and lower your voice. "The incentive is that we can do that naked."

"You got me there." Marcus smirks and nods. "That's a good incentive."

The courses are exquisite. Crab, scallops with caviar, langoustine ravioli, cod poached in consommé with fennel. Every plate is like a dance, and it genuinely might be the best meal you've ever had in your entire life. "We're coming back here," you tell Marcus when he groans happily at the chicken course that's been cooked with black truffles and wine you know for sure is too expensive for weeknight drinking. "The first night of our honeymoon, we have to come back."

"I have no objections to that." Marcus takes another bite and closes his eyes in pure bliss. "None."

Hopefully there will be a more sentimental reason to come back to this place on your honeymoon, but you have to keep that close to you for just a little while longer. Instead you just smirk and tilt your head at him. "Although the hotel might be a bit of a stretch. I'm enjoying that for what it's worth on this trip."

"That hotel room is a dream." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "I never get rooms that good on cases. We are stuck in something like a Days Inn. Not that they are bad, but it's not...this."

"Maybe I'm magic?" You tease, knowing that dealing with your former flame on a case isn't exactly magical. But at least it's come with something positive for him. "Like a flashy good luck charm you can keep on your arm."

"I'd keep you in my pocket if I could." He chuckles, winking at you playfully. "But on my arm is okay too. I guess."

"That would be a very big pocket to whole a whole adult person." Although the image is fairly adorable, you'll give him that. "But I'll tell you what. If you ever find one big enough, I'll hop right in."

"You know they make huge pocket blankets for being lazy on a couch all weekend, right?" Marcus grins at you, knowing he will order you one for Christmas now.

"I actually did not know that." You grin at him over the last few bites of this fifth course. "Sounds great for cuddling."

Chuckling softly, Marcus manages to get through the rest of the dinner without giving away that every course makes him even more jittery. Eager to get to the best part of the night in his opinion. Getting to propose to you and show you how much he loves you and wants to make this forever.

The last two courses are sweet - lemon and then chocolate - leaving both you and Marcus feeling more full than you've felt in ages but independently anxious and excited without the other having any clue. If you had known in that moment that you had the very same plan in mind it might have made you laugh or even rethink the occasion to try to surprise the other one all over again. But as it is, when you step out of the restaurant after your sensational dinner, you look up at Marcus and smile softly. "Do you want to see the best view of Paris you'll ever have in your life?"

"You read my mind, baby." Marcus answers with an indulgent smile of his own and he couldn't get closer to you if he tried as he leans in. Wanting to keep the moment as intimate as possible.

"Come here." There is almost no one on the observation deck at this time of night, and you've never been so grateful for coincidences in your entire life. The last two people looking out over the city in this area wander away toward the restaurant to enjoy their dinner as you and Marcus choose a place to stand, and for a moment you're sure that the strangers bolted from the scene because they could hear how hard your heart is beating. Surely if the pounding in your ears is as loud as your heart, then the whole world around you can hear it, too.

"It's a perfect night." Marcus has done this before and yet his heart still beats wildly and he can feel the slight moisture of nerves dampening the shirt under his suit jacket. Coming over to you and taking your hand gently as he turns to make a show of looking out over the city of Paris under the gorgeously full moon.

"It's the perfect view." Paris is secondary to everything, right now, although it's the perfect backdrop for what you're about to do. While Marcus is looking out over the city, and despite how hard you're shaking, you manage to hold his hand while carefully extracting the ring box from your purse and exhaling deeply. Kneeling down in heels is an exacting task, but your dress cooperates, and you manage to not make a sound as you do.

Sighing softly, Marcus knows that this is the moment. Sure there have been thousands of proposals right here, or on the ground below, but he wants to add one more. “I need to ask you some—” Turning, Marcus stops mid word when he sees you kneeling in front of him. “—thing. What—” he can’t even ask you what is going on, eyes wide and focused on you and the small box in your hand.

"Here's the thing, Marc." You're already on the verge of tears as soon as you open your mouth, but that's okay. This is the first time you've ever done this and hopefully it will be the last, and Marcus knows that feeling all too well. "I know this is...nontraditional. And you're a traditionalist in a lot of ways. But I need to ask you something. Because for ten years, anytime something big happened in my life, the first thing I wanted to do was call you. Whenever something bad happened, I wanted to find the doorstep of whatever house you were living in and make sure that you were okay. I thought about you every single day that we were apart, and now that we're together again I just can't..." you sniffle, breaking out into a smile at the overwhelming joy in your heart. "I can't help but be excited that I won't have to call you if something good happens. Or worry about you when something goes wrong as things inevitably do in life. Because you’ll be right there with me. I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, Marcus Pike. And there is nothing more that I want than to come home to you. To share our joys and sorrows with each other and to build the life of our dreams together." The little box in your hand is slightly damp with the nervous sweat from your palm but neither of you notice, too focused on the way the lid snaps back to reveal the stunning rung that you picked out just yesterday. "Would you do me the immense honour of marrying me again?"

He stares for a moment, the shock and warmth of you proposing to him curling into his chest and making his heart burst. Choking out a laugh, a happy one, Marcus hits his knees in front of you, staring at the little blue box that he certainly recognizes. “I— can’t— of course I’m going to marry you again.” He manages, reaching for your hand and digging into his jacket pocket with the other to pull out an identical box.

With both of you crying and laughing you would have looked slightly hysterical to anyone around, but you lean forward to kiss Marcus as he digs in his jacket. Nothing else matters except the fact that he said yes, and for a moment everything in the world stands perfectly still. It isn't until you pull away again that you see him holding an identical Tiffany ring box and you burst out into another round of sobbing giggles. "Of course we both did," you laugh, pulling the platinum band out of the box in your hand to hold out to him. "Can I, love?"

“Yes.” He can’t help the giddy, bubbly laugh that rumbles out of his chest. Watching as you start to slide the band on his finger. “I can’t believe this is what you were buying yesterday.”

"You didn't buy the 'lunch with Angie' story, huh?" The ring fits him perfectly and you can't help but stare at it a little. The last time you put a ring on his finger was years ago, and as wonderful as your first wedding was, this feels so incredibly right tonight.

“I saw you.” Marcus admits with a grin, his thumb rubbing the underside of the band. “I had decided to look for your new ring.”

"You saw us?" It takes a second to refocus, but your eyes flick up to his and you reach to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah. I thought you were looking at something like a necklace or whatever.” He admits. “The associate kept bringing me rings so I didn’t have to turn around in case you saw me.”

"I was too focused. Although, the store manager now knows our entire love story." You lay kisses on both of his cheeks before you look down again, seeing the ring he's holding out to you in that same, now familiar, blue box. "Marc." The gasp that escapes you almost takes all of your breath with it. "Honey, it's absolutely gorgeous."

“I still have your other rings.” Of course he does and he’s pretty sure you know that too. “But I wanted to give you a new one, one for our new beginning.”

"Your parents will love this." As he slips that new ring onto your finger, it feels like your sense of balance has been missing that fine tuning for years. Without Marc's ring on your finger, you've been missing something this whole time. "I love you so much, baby. So much. And I can't wait to have our cat and our kids and our life full of dreams."

Marcus’s smile is full of all the love he has to give you. Bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the skin just above the new symbol of his commitment to you. “And tequila.” He adds, smirking at you as he reaches out to cup your face and draw you in for another kiss. “We can’t forget the tequila.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth @afro-hispwriter @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz @88dragon06 @scorpionerd @myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers @frasmotic @dornish-queen

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x f!reader #ex wife reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic

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comingyourlugubriousness · 1 year

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💀⭐

A chibi drawing for Pride! This time including my HC for Idia. I HC him as Demi-Romantic and Pansexual! (These are just my HC's everyone is entitled to their own.)

I also wanna ramble about Idia and his perspective/relationship with love and romance in general.

In the ghost marriage event, we get glimpses into a couple characters' view of romance, what they want from a partner in the future, and just how they view love in a general sense.

Idia's outlook on romance and love is expectantly pretty negative. He claims he doesn't think 'eternal love' exists and looks down upon people who fall in love easily. Claiming that expressing strong emotions is embarrassing and that those feelings are just from "chemicals in your brain". To me, this teenage angst-fueled perspective is just a self-imposed defense mechanism to hide from the REAL issue. That issue is that frankly, Idia doesn't think he can be truly loved. He finds the idea that someone could see him for who he is and know about the things he’s done and still love him, to be an impossibility. And so he projects that outward onto others and his general world view. There’s also another layer that Idia does not think he is deserving of that love and by extension the happiness that comes with it. (Due to his past.)

Being happy is an impossibility for him so, by extension, so is loving someone romantically and being loved in return.

He’s definitely closed himself off in that regard and has come to a gloomy acceptance with it.

But only for the most part.

I think there's a part of Idia that really craves that intimate connection with a person. But he’s both too afraid to commit to a person and too self-conscious to show his full self. Plus even if he did fall in and love to commit to a person he would be condemning them to be a part of his cursed family and live that life with him. (Which he would view as the worst-case scenario for the person he loves, being trapped like he is.) So the very act of him loving someone and wanting to be with them is selfish in his eyes.

Overall, I think Idia could only fall in love with someone he makes a deep connection with, so friendship would definitely be the start of the relationship. Honestly, I think falling in love with someone would sneak up on him and he would be so hesitant to go forward with his feelings, even if it was mutual. His partner would have to have a delicate balance of patience and persistence, and maybe even take getting rejected a few times by him, before he gives in and lets himself be happy with this person in the moment. Though he would still always feel like it wasn’t going to last.

But beyond all the gloom and doom Idia wants someone to love him. He wants to have those cheesy date troupes and do all the cliches and be sappy with his partner. He wants to be so cringe about it and not even care because he's in love. And more than anything he just wants…a happy normal relationship. Something so simple as holding hands with his partner on a date seems like an impossibility, a dream, but he wants it…he’d never admit it though…and it won’t happen. So its easier just to say that “true lasting love” isn’t real...

...Right?

Also Idia's shirt:

And Yume's outfit is based of this artwork!

#their at pride holding hands like sickos <3 #twisted wonderland #twst oc #happy pride #idia shroud #twst hc #twst mc #yuusona #oc x canon #yume ume #myart #nightlight and starshine #💀⭐#pumpkinart #pumpkin talk

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starswallowingsea · 1 year

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another post inspired by the bad books book club but it's kind of concerning how a lot of popular YA books these days feature a huge power imbalance and don't like. make it clear that it's unethical and because these are popular with teenage girls it makes me concerned that they're internalizing these messages.

like the love hypothesis for example, which i have actually read and hated so fucking much, the main romance is between a phd candidate and one of the professors at her grad school. while they make it clear that he's not her advisor and can't be on her doctoral advising committee or whatever, he's in the same department first off and can still hold power over olive and in real life that could very very quickly turn sour because of the power imbalance. he very much still has power over her in ways she might not realize yet.

and then you look at......... well everything coho. like in verity the main character is sleeping with her agent which is UNETHICAL and could very very easily lead to a lot of business problems!!!! like you cant fucking do that and there's a reason why its looked down upon for agents to be romantically/sexually involved with clients. because the agent has power over the client. and while i think a fully grown 30 something adult can tell when something is just fantasy, younger adults are much much more impressionable to this kind of stuff. i'm saying this as 22yo college undergrad and i'm not immune to this either, but i'm aware of when i need to step back and ask myself what a text is saying and what it wants me to think because i've cultivated those skills. fresh 18yos who are still in high school and have had most of their high school career online or completely fucked with because of covid might not.

you can have books aimed at young adults that don't involve this type of harmful messaging romanticizing the power imbalance between characters. i see the way people talk about colleen hoover romantic leads and relationships and it's so worrying because nothing in any coho book is romantic and the romantic leads in all these books are like the brooding bad boy stereotype dialed up to abusive and people find it hot and attractive when it should be a massive red flag instead. young adults deserve better books.

#shay speaks #bookblr #anti booktok #anti coho #anti colleen hoover #anti the love hypothesis #this is v much a publishing problem letting these books be published in the first place #but also the people who popularize specific interpretations of characters to make like. abuse look okay bc the abuser is hot #they have a responsibility for this too #i am begging on my hands and knees for booktok girlies to branch out into other genres #i will compile a list of every book i have on my shelf in my apartment to give you ideas if thats what it takes #its okay to branch out its okay to read other genres #read books you know you wont like so you can find what you do like about them and look for that #in genres you do like!!!!!#read clockwork heart idc (that book was good though actually i stand by that)#you deserve better.#dont settle for mediocre

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nostalgia-tblr · 5 months

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Okay actually I do have a proper thought on the "sylki is incest" wank. which is that the "anti" take seems to be that Loki/Sylvie is obviously, glaringly, an incestuous pairing but its shippers deliberately ignore that because they like the pairing otherwise (yet also the accusation involves them liking the incest element... honestly it's a bit of a muddle, but let's move on). But. Well, here's the thing that is obvious, at least to me...

Go to AO3 and have a look to find the most popular (in terms of number of works) Loki pairing in the Marvel Cinematic Universe fandom as a whole. Actually, i'll save you the effort:

(These numbers are slightly out-of-date but the ratios remain accurate. I checked.)

Now, that. That is an incest pairing, isn't it? There is some fic which specifies an AU of some sort in which Thor and Loki are not related to each other but most of it is about brothers who are also lovers.

"But they're not really related," you say? Sorry, but in the important ways, they are. Every one of those films, and the Loki series, frames them as siblings-with-issues, and yes one of those issues is whether or not they agree that they are siblings, but I'd say the MCU comes down pretty firmly on the side of "they totally are."

And the point I'm making here is that the actual incest pairing is treated as such by its fans. If you don't feel up to reading any thorki fic I'll save you again and say that it overall leans into the "forbidden love" angle, and the shame and internal conflict of an incestuous attraction or relationship. So shippers of a given pairing do indeed know what incest is and they rarely try to avoid that aspect of such pairings.

Whereas. If you read the Loki/Sylvie stuff, that whole "thorki vibe" is entirely absent. Fans vary on variants, in terms of in what ways these two are or are not "the same person" but they agree on one thing: fucking some other version of yourself is not incest. This is pretty much a unanimous belief, and here I'll mention something else I think is relevant: there are a few sylki twincest AUs (many of which seem to have been written out of spite - LOL, fandom!) and in all of those the AU also features another crucial change - they are not both Loki variants in those fics.

Yeah, that's right! To make Loki and Sylvie siblings you have to remove the selfcest element entirely. Because - this may shock some of you, so sit down before you read this next part - you are not your own sibling. Even identical twins are obviously different people. A clone of yourself might get us into more philosophical territory but that's not what multiversal variants are either. Allow me to illustrate with another informative image:

You get me? Yeah, you get me.

So, to meander towards an actual conclusion here. The MCU!Loki fandom does not, in general, refuse to accept that romantic/sexual pairings that would be incestuous actually are incestuous. In fact if anything it embraces that element of such pairings. It is usually seen as the defining feature of them. If they think siblings are fucking then they will write about those siblings fucking, and they will not be shy about it!

And aside from that mentioned handful of AU fics, sylki is not written as incest. Because it just isn't incest. Look, if you personally see Loki and Sylvie as siblings to the point where the pairing squicks you out, then fair enough there's not much either of us can do about that. Do your best to avoid that content and don't be a wanker about it and I wish you well in your endeavours. But that isn't what most of the complaints stem from, is it? As usual in recent years fans who didn't like a pairing (which, btw, is allowed) wanted to have the moral high ground and some bright spark hit upon "this pairing is INCEST" via some slightly odd logic and it spread from there. Because we can't just not like something, can we? (Actually, that's also allowed!) No, we have to be better than those fans over there, who are all terrible people in some way. They are problematic.

And this is a lot of words for me to essentially say "no, the sylki fic and the thorki fic have very different vibes actually" but... well, they do. The sylki shippers are not denying the incest, because there is no incest there, and even if we for a moment pretend that "siblings" is a reasonable and indeed expected interpretation of the variants concept, it is clear from their content that the people who ship Loki/Sylvie do not see them that way. And that has nothing to do with DNA or otherwise, which I can prove with this very quick question: in one word (or less, if you can), what is the relationship between Loki and Thor?

You said "brothers" or "siblings," didn't you? No, you did. I know for a fact that you did, don't play coy with me on this. We all understand that these two characters who definitely share no DNA are, in every way that matters, brothers. This is not a difficult concept, it's not somehow confusing large numbers of fans either way.

tl;dr - Sylki isn't incest but if it was we'd all know that because the fans of it would not be constantly denying what would, almost certainly, be the main appeal of that pairing for them if that was the case. You can deny that all you want but 11,731 thorki fics (as of 10th December 2023) back me up on this one.

So there.

#sylki #thorki #loki series #cw: incest #like actually incest WHICH WE ALL RECOGNISE WHEN WE SEE IT DON'T WE JAN???#fandom wank #wow that was a lot of words to state the completely obvious #if anyone's wondering yes i have read and written both sylki and thorki fic. PLEASE be sure to cancel me for the right one.

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sweatertheman · 3 months

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okay look i know its in bad taste to spend this long dogging on other people's ships but i've just been having a lot of thoughts about this today.

the idea that suselle is a foregone conclusion is stupid! and that's not because toby fox is just trolling, he's not that dense to pull a pointless bait and switch. its stupid because part of deltarune's narrative is about narrative, and about predestiny! beads on rails, puppets on strings, dark worlds as fiction, all this!

like, let me use my ralsology degree to paint a picture for you here. ralsei, as a symbol, represents traditional RPG stuff. he's been suckered into a worldview where darkners are NPCs, less than people, and ultimately exist to serve both the player characters and the broader narrative. his perception of right and wrong is childish, and he offers simple-minded platitudes as explanations. ralsei believes that everything they do is predestined to some degree, that while they can change how they act and how others feel about them, their relationships, their arcs, their battles, these are all laid out in advance.

and he's wrong about all of it.

darkners are very much people with intricate personal lives, hopes and dreams, complex motivations behind their actions. right and wrong is more complex than, well, right and wrong, and their quest is very much not predetermined, as we can see on snowgrave.

what's more, deltarune's narrative seems to be about how ralsei is wrong. with the secret bosses, and the beads on rails and all that stuff. kris is an unwilling protagonist being forced down a path they don't want to go down. darkners are shown to be people, and yet it seems like the DELTA WARRIORS will be forced to treat them like they aren't. susie herself rejects every narrative and gameplay convention ralsei lays out for her, from the concept of being nice to enemies on principle to the player's sense of choice in the game they're playing.

...and you mean to tell me you trust Ralsei here?!

yes, that's right! ralsei, guy whose worldview is making everything worse for everyone, himself included, is a suselle shipper!

if you go back to the ferris wheel billboard after the susie intermission, ralsei will think to himself that susie must still be thinking about her ride with noelle.

and guess what HE'S FUCKING WRONG. all susie cares about is what the hell a ferris is!

(this isn't to say susie didn't enjoy the ride or doesn't sometimes think about noelle, just to be clear.)

i think there might even be another scene with the same premise but i can't remember.

point is, ralsei expects after a scene he knew was gonna happen that susie would be thinking about noelle, and he's wrong. its likely ralsei believes that suselle is gonna happen, because its part of susie's arc or something.

and considering his worldview hurts everyone, and susie rejects it wherever she can, and generally the story is about how the characters in the story reject the paths forced upon them by the narrative, are we really saying that ralsei is right about this one thing?

saying "susie likes noelle but doesn't know it yet" just feels so gross sometimes! like, come on! you're basically doing exactly what ralsei is doing, saying that its a foregone conclusion that they'll end up together, and that if susie doesn't show signs of having feelings for noelle (even in a goddamn non-canon valentines email!!) its because she just hasn't realized that that's what she wants yet. its almost like saying you know what she wants better than she does, that she'll be happy doing what you want her to do, because that's just how it is.

and i know susie deltarune isn't real but come on! there's a clear parallel here between the narrative imposing arcs and labels upon characters against their will which they then fight against, and imposing romantic feelings onto a character they don't seem to have because that's what's best for you!

i'm not going to say suselle isn't going to happen, but i am going to say there is NARRATIVE REASON for it NOT to happen, because the in-universe narrative, the legend of delta rune, fate, predestiny, WHATEVER, seems to be the bad guy here!

#deltarune #suselle #to sum up: suselle happening stands in direct opposition with the themes of deltarune

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creepypastasomethingsomething · 1 year

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Can you write something queer platonic for Ticci Toby? I’m aromantic and don’t see a lot of love for qprs in the creepypasta spaces! If I have to be specific I’d say I want some fluffy content, but if you have anything else in mind I’m open to anything! Have a great day/night!

Got it, I hope this is good eough👍Have a good night/day yourself :)

BTW, this is set before Toby's story

(Platonic) Ticci Toby x GN! Aromantic! Reader

You sighed heavily once you stepped outside on the back of your porch, the big and bright moon shining like a night light down upon its surroundings. The air was freezing cold and the wind blew only slightly, but you still had a jacket to protect you, just in case. Your hair, if it was long enough, blew in the wind and you sighed in delight at the smell of rain, as it was going to start storming soon.

I really hope Toby comes before it starts raining... You thought as you tapped your foot on the concrete ground.

Tobias Rogers was one of your oldest and closest friends. The two of you met in Primary school, before he became homeschooled, and you both hit it off really well. The two of you became close and your family always said to each other, "Just wait until they're older, they're going to get married for sure."

Yeeeaaahhh, no.

That wasn't going to happen.

In your Freshman year of high school, you had a realization that you were Aromantic and didn't really want any romance after thinking about how you didn't have a romantic attraction to anyone. You were okay with this; that's just who are and how you liked it. Toby was supportive of you, and told you he himself was Aro-ace. You were happy since that was another thing the two of you had in common.

Your family.... didn't really get it.

"But, don't you want children? Or get married one day to a pretty man/woman?" They would say.

"I don't know yet." You would reply.

And yes, you didn't know if you wanted children yet. You didn't know if you wanted to get married since that never really crossed your mind. If you really liked someone and wanted to be with them for the rest of your life, then maybe. But you didn't have any romantic feelings for anyone at the moment.

You knew that people in the Aro community could date and have romantic relationships, you just didn't think you were one of them. Being single was something you liked; you don't have to worry about anniversaries, dates, getting your partner angry, cheating or breaking up.

Having friends, like Toby around sounded good to you.

"But the two of you would make such a cute couple!" a relative's voice said in your mind.

"You two are so close, you're basically dating at this point." Another said.

"Do you want to be lonely forever?"

"You'd make a great girl/boyfriend."

"I don't understand, how can you not like someone?"

"Hey."

You were brought out of your thoughts by Toby's voice and looked up to see him walk out of the back door, and come to sit with you on the porch's swing.

"Oh, hey."

"Um, your family seems, uh.. happy to see me."

"Yeah, shit, they think we're dating secretly even when I told them repeatedly that I don't want romance in my life."

"Well, good to see you again." He told you as you began to move your feet and push the swing.

"Good to see you too."

The two of you were quiet for a bit until he spoke up.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know, a little upset, I guess? My family tried to set me up with some guy earlier today, and I just don't know what to respond with. It's good to have you around, or else I'll go crazy. You understand... What about you? What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing too bad. Frank's been arrested and Lyra's at her friends. My mom has been drinking lately and getting drunk and... getting violent."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you have my back, and going to your place beats staying at home in my room all day."

Toby smiled lightly and put his hand on top of yours. You smiled back and the two of you looked at the stars and moon together as you held hands.

You were lucky to have him as a friend.

#Creepypasta #creppypasta x reader #x reader #Ticci Toby #Toby Rogers #Ticci Toby x reader #Toby rogers x reader #Aromantic

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angelfoodcake222 · 6 months

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@cow-stealin-gal, here's some answers to that list of questions you mentioned. You weren't kidding when you said this was a lot of questions. It took me a good hunk of the week to answer them all. Whew!

1. "What's the lie your character says most often?" The usual ones: "I'm/it's fine" "I'm/it's okay" "That doesn't hurt" "I'm peachy keen" etc.

2. "How loosely or strictly do they use the word 'friend'?" she uses terms like "My friend", "My dearest friend", or "My beloved friend" as her relationships evolve, in that order. The first one comes when she is comfortable in TADC.

3. "How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?" She shows her more tender, caring side to the main cast, but the audience sees the beast lurking just beneath the sugary surface...

4. "What's a hobby they used to have that they miss?" See Question 38 below. Thank you :3

5. "Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?"

6. "What's their favorite [insert anything] (I picked food & clothes) that they've never recommended to anyone before?"

7. "What would you (mun [???]) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?"

8. "How loose is their use of the phrase 'I love you'?" Boa-Constrictor-catching-its-prey loose. Though she never verbally says those three words in that order or anything similar to it, she prefers showing it rather than saying it. Gift-giving & Words of Affirmation are her specialties. Sometimes she is physical though this is sparce.

9. "Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?" She is a kind, compassionate soul, but adaptive to an uncanny degree. That being said, her type of 'love' varies from character to character with other elements like the immediate environment/scene/situation, etc. at play.

10. "What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?" How fast rabbits are & what bugs are the cutest.

11. "If someone was impersonating them, what would friends/family ask or do to tell the difference?" Have a brief scene written specially for this question! >:3

"Do you think you baby us too much?"

"People do not need to be coddled & babied 24/7. Though it is a nice occurrence to happen when you need it to keep your sanity, too much could do just as much harm as not doing it at all. With that out of the way, dearies-." She snatches the smug double by the arms, ears sharpening like downcast horns. Deep & demonic, her voice reverberates through the double's body to dominate any chance of retaliation. "Who the bloody f@ck do you think you are, messing with my friends, you low-budget, dollar-store wonton!?"

Violence censored by a Cain & Bubble-themed 'Technical Difficulties' screen blocks the scene.

12. "What's something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!" Really bad jokes. Dad Jokes, puns, & dark humor, mainly.

13. "When do they fake a smile? How often?" She smiles much like Jax but not for the same reasons. She does this smile quite often to try cheering up anyone who may need it. Jax is the exception as he angers her very well.

14. "How do they put out a candle?" When in a good mood, she'll cup her hand behind the flame & blow air with a soft whistle sound. When upset or wishing to look imposing, she'll pinch it out, no finger lick, nothing. Only pinches while holding eye contact with whoever she's attempting to intimidate. The candle (probably) isn't the only thing she would extinguish in this way when put to scale.

15. "What's the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they're alone?" Publicly, she is a caring, nurturing, understanding, healing influence who is an ambivert. Privately, she is a candle down to her wick's end & ready to bring virtual hellfire upon this plain of childcore-coded torment. Being conducive to everyone's mental & emotional betterment is her sanity's glue & staples at this point.

16. "What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?"

17. "What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?"

(18). "Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?" Insufficient information on the writer's part. This question will be answered later when the story is more developed.

19. "What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they've been avoiding?"

Option A) Makes peace as best as she can.

Option B) stays silent & keeps her distance (physically, verbally, emotionally, mentally).

Option C) If the first two fail, time to boss up & whoop a blockhead into rubble.

The last one is once in a Blue Moon but can happen if the person she's been avoiding completely ignores her very visible attempts at peace on purpose. If it's out of worry, she returns to Opt A.

20. "Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don't like the person?" Jax & Cain, for the first half. She loves how laidback Jax is & his impish ways are amusing at times, but she hates when he's malicious & uncaring to the others. She doesn't care about her well-being, only about others, so this is the kindling of her internal conflict. Cain, though charming & charismatic, seemingly caring for his 'cast/friends/coworkers', tends to be a little too much for even her. The unpermitted touching makes this worst. She is not a fan of his activities as they do not entice much brain power to solve & often leaves the crew in danger routinely. Lady loves a good brain scratching when it's safe.

The second half is herself. See, she feels a little guilty about inadvertently putting herself out there as the main maternal figure within the cast when Ragatha was there long before her. Even though she is happy to help everyone reach self-betterment, Ragatha included, she cannot stop the shame from reaching her heart.

21. "What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?" Handshaking. Not everyone is comfortable with physical contact like her so she tries not to do this. She will do this if the person is insistent about it.

22. "What is an example of a simple activity that most people do/can do that scares your character?" Acrobatics & yoga. She isn't too big on heights &/or things that scream "possible body horror" to her.

23. "What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn't/don't even remember?" How she tried to avoid them when she originally blipped into existence under the digital big top.

24. "Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?" No, but if she did it would be a shortbread cookie with raspberry preserves on top.

25. "What subject/topic do they know a lot about that's completely useless to the direct plot?" The amount of rabbit/hare/bunny breeds there are currently & the fun facts for each & every single one of them.

26. "How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?" Takes it on the chin like a champ but is crumbling on the inside.

27. "What's the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?" Glitter trap from Jax. Cain was going to clean her off with the snap of his fingers but stopped when she started laughing merrily & heartedly. "I love fine glitter! Thank you, Jax!" She actually hates glitter of all kinds, fine or chunky, shaped or not. She only did this to damper Jax's malicious smirk. She let Cain clean the rest of the surroundings but wore that glitter for months just to prove a point. Yes, she's motherly & kind, but she has her peeves & limits. Jax pushes all of it.

28. "What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?" To help everyone be their best selves. She wants to be the shoulder(s) to cry into, for the crying person's sanity & hers.

29. "How do they respond when someone doesn't believe them?" Understanding. She isn't everyone's container of favored beverage & she knows it. If the situation is too bad for her to be this way, she will get snippy with the person if that person is rude or ignores her words.

30. "When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it's personal versus when it's professional?" This varies. Bigger the issue/mistake, the worst the emotions & vice versa. She's trying her best though.

31. "When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?" Whenever someone comes to her for advice or comfort instead of Ragatha. She helps them with whatever they're asking with the usual bonus (if desired by the asker) to bring Ragatha's second opinion into play for possibly better results. Ragatha herself comes to her occasionally to talk over subjects they share interests in.

32. "If they committed one petty crime/misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?" Jaywalking & motor vehicle offenses. Jaywalking because she is not fond of crowded routes &/or places period. Motor Vehicle Offenses (Speeding & running traffic lights) because girlie has no head for speed management & has poor vision at a distance.

34. "How do they greet someone they like/love?" All the warm, soft, cozy vocals you could think of. Hugs are optional. She is careful to note what the liked character does & doesn't like to do.

33. "How do they greet someone they dislike/hate?" Very formally. No warmth, no softness. Cold, hard tones through & through until the person catches on to her behavior. What the character does next determines her behavior onwards. Physical contact is at the negative numbers as is her normally kind adaptability.

35. "What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they've made?" Tricking Jax into a box filled with Gloinks as punishment for his mean actions. Due to her respecting the Gloink Queen unlike any other, aside from Kinger, the Queen granted her leadership of some lesser Gloinks to carry out Jax's retribution. Both were pleased with his annoyance & anger.

36. "Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?" Nobody & nope. She is stuck in the circus & takes care of everyone, even Jax (occasionally & sneakily). This is more like maternal intent for most.

37. "What's a secret they haven't told serious romantic partners and don't plan to tell?" Sadomaso to the bone. More on the 'Sado-' than the '-maso', but she has a motherly reputation to uphold.

38. "What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?" Domestic chores; baking, cooking, laundry, & so on. What good are such activities if there is zero need for them?

39. "Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?" A bit of both. She loves feeling included & welcomed but if she isn't wanted then that's okay. She'll just take a long walk around the grounds or retire to her room. Now, if the invitation is verbally delivered with wholehearted want, she'll attend solely for that one person's contentment. If she is in a position where not one person likes her, she'll shrug. "Don't let me spoil your merriment, dearies. I'll be off now."

40. "How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?" Put simply, she's worried & confused. "Is this person well? Am I grabbing/shaking too hard? Maybe they don't like being touched & are just doing this for etiquette's sake? I'll make a note of this & find better-tailored ways to interact with them if they'll grant me their friendship at any level."

41. What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

42. If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

43. What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

44. What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

45. What's something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

46. Are they a listener or a talker? If they're a listener, what makes them talk? If they're a talker, what makes them listen?

47. "Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?" Her family back in the real world. In her defense, nobody remembers anything of their past lives when in the circus.

48. Who would they say 'yes' to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn't want to do?

49. Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

50. What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun [???]) personally don't agree with?

#jax tadc #caine tadc #tadc jax #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #tadc kaufmo #Tadc character/oc building (sort of)#prompts needed #just thinking #fanfiction writer

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mundmutter · 7 months

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A Guide to Shipping

as a disclaimer: this is a comprehensive guide to how to form a bond with my muse. Including relationships of all types ; friendship, friendships of need, work related, familial, unrequited, purely sexual, or completely romantic. Such relationships are not limited to these listed, but they are the 'easiest' to dive into.

as a second disclaimer: Qistina is not a character who will change for another person. She will remain as ruthless and monstrous as she so desires, changing only by her own volition. She is rotten and wicked, and depending on the verse, highly murderous. With that being said, let's begin.

trigger warnings for: Machiavellianism, literal witch hunting, death and resurrection, horror elements, and traditionalist views.

For starters, her availability depends upon the verse she's in. Her past is the same spiritually, but its aesthetics and alchemys' rules will vary. I'll be focusing more on approaching her and learning her love regardless.

|| Traumas and Aversion to Bonds ||

Without diving too deeply into her history, as you can read that on her carrd, to put it simply Qistina is a troubled woman who does not open her heart easily. She retains the demeanor of a pleasantly delighted woman who happily makes conversation and will show much interest in your thoughts, ideals, and ethics. Qistinas heart is wounded and bleeding, unable to heal completely from the betrayal of her fellow village folk.

There is a good and compassionate heart deep down, but it is behind a murky ocean of thorns. To traverse this ocean, you have to understand something KEY to her heart : Her alchemy takes priority over everything. Her work is her treasure trove, like a dragons dream, and it can't and won't be placed behind anyone or anything. . . in special circumstances, your importance can be very subtly placed to the forefront of her obsession. There is also the high probability of her deadly attachment to your muses life. She exhibits highly manipulative tendencies, as part of her survival methods ; questioning and remembering any talks of your muses likes and dislikes, friends and family, and even your muses enemies.

Though she will not intervene, she will take careful consideration of these parts and remember your muse when certain elements crop up. She remembers birthdays, and even the most minute details ― it's a part of her love language, in a way. Her misunderstandings of how love works and how such feelings are leading to being in love with a person. She finds disappointment in inaction, contradiction, and laziness - so if your muse is highly susceptible to such bouts, they'll certainly see how far her cruel words will take her.

Though it is verse dependent that she is essentially immortal, Qistina still retains a deeply cosmic view of life and death. her connection to the soul of the earth through her alchemy, she looks at both on both technical and spiritual levels, to a point where it could possibly make your muse uncomfortable ― though, ( in some verses ) only when such a topic makes itself known. She is also openly willing to mock the more religious views of people, highly preferring more logical approaches to the human experience. What is dead is dead. When the soul is gone the soul is gone and only possible to retrieve by an extreme transmutation of value of importance by the of her person. She is highly stubborn and will 99% of the time never EVER budge.

Qistina carries herself with a sense of regality that borders on narcissism. The lightly drawn border is made by her openness to her mistakes, flaws, and ignorance of other topics ( not related to alchemy, modern people, technology, etc etc )

|| To Build a Bond of Any Sort ||

It truly does not matter to her where your muses alignment lies, Qistina can form a bond with just about anyone if her interest is there. Any sort of personality, background, or profession could potentially catch her eye - keeping in the same path of her own narcissism, Qistina will simply view her own alchemy as superior to anything. She must be interested in your muse to form any sort of bond whatsoever ( yes, this includes enemies ) it's part of the reason she can be so difficult to get under her skin or form bonds at all. She doesn't hate, but she doesn't openly love either.

|| Physical Affection ||

She has no boundaries when it comes to touch or touching your muse. She will stand nose to nose with your muse, take hold of their face or hands, and not really pay any mind to any boundaries unless she cares about your muse enough to take into consideration their feelings. As for her, when in a romantic relationship, she becomes even more invasive and snuggly. Much like a kitten in need of warmth. A safe space to be sleeping. The moment your feelings of romance are known, she'll quite quickly shift into such a state.

Perhaps her favorite form of affection is playing with hair. Petting, smelling, resting her head against ― indeed, it may just become a security blanket for her. She also greatly enjoys both the idea and the action of washing their hair and combing through the strands with a finely-smelling oil or tonic. A head in her lap or sitting closely in front of her.

|| Romance ||

The likelihood of her revealing her romantic intentions is slim to none. In any verse, she will resolve to torture herself in the one area in which she is sorely lacking ― love. Her heart has been terribly burned and torn from that centuries-old wound of being hunted as a witch, so naturally, there are significant hurdles you must climb to reassure her that you love her. That you want her. That you care. She is naturally mistrusting to her own romantic feelings and will surely put herself down regardless of how obvious your muse is.

Understand, because of her evil nature and how open she is with her intentions and wants, she has a deeper acknowledgment of how the world or a potential romantic partner shall think of her. Most good-natured persons, for example, could probably speak to her plainly as more friendly bonds ― but she does not fool herself into daydreaming of becoming closer to such people. She knows her nature is deplorable to the wider world, and that while others may be cordial to her there is little chance of love blooming within the hatred for her actions in their hearts.

Therefore there will be absolute honesty from her. She tells no outright lies because she simply has nothing to lose.

|| Sex and intimacy ||

As a woman who had been born in the 1400s she had been raised with a stern and strictly misogynistic hand, which attributes greatly to the lack of pursuing any relationship at all. It is simply 'not what women do'. For her, the mother chose a family to marry into. A dowry is given to the husband's family. She is married and raises children and cares for the home and the money coming in. Etc. Etc. Highly old and traditional, and she will mention such things ( the severity of this mindset is dependent on the verse itself, as in most alternate verses, she is not immortal ).

Even if she is feeling romantic toward a muse, she will sit and wait to be approached. If she isn't approached, she will simply think that your muse is not interested in her romantically. If your muse discovers her feelings and questions her, she may even apologize and act as if she's already been rejected. In terms of a dating sim, Qistina's path is the rarest and most difficult path to take. but once you've arrived at your destination, she will hold fast to your arm and help you even further down that path to understanding your love together.

She needs patience and passion. Open completely to give body and soul to her partner. Slowly, worshiping, gentle. Every part of her lovemaking is contradictory to the wickedness she proudly displays. Once blasphemous is now holy, once hellish is now heavenly, and other such examples. She is tender in her care of her partner, and her hands will never stray from their side. As if it weren't obvious, she will be very unlikely to have one-night stands or casual flings. She values the privacy of her body, and wouldn't want just anyone to look at her.

|| preferences ||

She is demisexual, so she doesn't have a strict preference for gender. However, she does gravitate more toward male-presenting muses. More traditionally masculine, muscular, and strong. Outward appearances rarely hold any importance to her at all, but she will appreciate a well-groomed muse. A sloppy dresser may turn up her nose, but if their personality is strong enough she may just overlook it. It's not impossible, but good luck with that.

|| Friendship ||

To be frank, true friendship with her is just as difficult as romance. She does not trust, she does not presume, and she does not expect you to stay. Those who manage to form that bond of friendship however are and always have been a certain class of muse: the unconventional. Muses who mirror her personality or murderous intentions, or muses who are simply beyond human intentions. The otherworldly, gods, demons, or other 'evil' muses. It's not impossible to truly befriend her if your muse is of the lawful good, but it could prove a task if your muse cannot withstand the onslaught of her disregard for morals and laws of nature and her openness to it.

It is much easier to be her 'friend' if you are of the same mindset as herself. . . or if you are an animal.

|| hard stops ||

aside from the triggering tags in my rules, there are threads and types of relationships I will not be a part of. Essentially, these will kill the ship faster than anything else. Any mention of cheating, noncon, treating her like a lesser being, or belittling her work in any way ( including insults to alchemy itself or even worse - insults toward her chimera Basker ) will effectively end the ship. I will not write cheating or noncon threads, and she will not tolerate being spoken down to. She would rather kill your muse for it. Period.

|| children ||

I am fine with her having biological children, as in her main verse she is several hundred years old with a husband and they have many, but I rarely write pregnancy-related threads in excess. Perhaps a drabble here or there, but I will never discuss it too often as I know many people do not wish to think about it.

When in doubt, let me know. As I've said before, she's more 'traditional' and is still within the mindset that she 'must have children with her partner' so the topic will pop up for her. Again, when in doubt just ask me about it.

|| musical undertones ||

deep cellos, weeping violins, solo six-string guitars, and sincerely resonating pianos. A dark, frightening performance with the subtly of sorrow when listened to closely. Music associated to her romances has a whistful feel to it. Something classical goth.

|| gifts ||

A simple alchemist living her life in the deep deep woods, there is not much she wants for that she cannot make for herself. Depending on the verse, she may not even see it as a 'gift', however, there are particular things that she does appreciate and will certainly endear your muse to her heart.

Handmade gifts in particular show not only a thoughtfulness to her, but show her a creative side that she may have overlooked before. It's important to her to watch creativity of some kind. Giving her something flowery that she has perhaps never seen before is also a good deal.

By far the best is gifting her new bits of information or books. Introducing her to new animals, flowers, clothing, or even quality of life upgrades to her everyday tasks that she's been doing the old fashioned way for so centuries! It's appreciated, and she'll think of you far more than usual.

|| as for me ||

I require communication and heavy plotting, so expect it to be a very long slow burn.

I have a tendency to draw our ship and throw out many, many different ideas and verses for our muses to exist in together so don't be shy about sharing your own.

the ns.fw I write for her focuses more on the emotional than the physical act of it all, and if it does happen, I prefer to have longer threads. Either on tumblr or on discord, but I am fine with implications alone and it's not a requirement of shipping with her.

Trying to make her jealous will have the opposite effect you want.

I am positive that there may be things I miss, and if so, I will add it to my carrd when necessary.

#― a witch need not fear the darkness | for she is darker | muse #― ooc. PSA

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deathleadsarc · 1 year

Text

A Guide to Shipping

trigger warnings for: Machiavellianism, literal witch hunting, death and resurrection, horror elements, and traditionalist views.

|| Traumas and Aversion to Bonds ||

|| To Build a Bond of Any Sort ||

|| Physical Affection ||

|| Romance ||

Therefore there will be absolute honesty from her. She tells no outright lies because she simply has nothing to lose.

|| Sex and intimacy ||

|| preferences ||

|| Friendship ||

It is much easier to be her 'friend' if you are of the same mindset as herself. . . or if you are an animal.

|| hard stops ||

|| children ||

|| musical undertones ||

|| gifts ||

|| as for me ||

I require communication and heavy plotting, so expect it to be a very long slow burn.

I have a tendency to draw our ship and throw out many, many different ideas and verses for our muses to exist in together so don't be shy about sharing your own.

Trying to make her jealous will have the opposite effect you want.

I am positive that there may be things I miss, and if so, I will add it to my carrd when necessary.

#🜎 | a witch need not fear the darkness | for she is darker | muse #i'll add this to her carrd soon. along with a pretty graphic #but i wrote a lot so......... i share now #this has utterly gotten away from me but if you arent scared off by now uhmmm #come plot with me

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mod-doodles · 8 months

Note

I have a question about power dynamics. Is Carmy Sydney boss? I think this is why I definitely did not want a romantic relationship in season 1 and frankly preferred her and Marcus. You may disagree but I think she has romantic interest in him in their dinner scene. But then the writers seemed to flip the power dynamic. Carmy is literally asking her at the end of s1 how their restaurant should look. Further she obviously getting sweat equity so she has ownership of the bear( the alternative is exploitation in my opinion). I think the bear is established/registered as a partnership (not a Corporation) with four partners Nat, Carmy, Uncle Jimmy and Sydney. Jimmy is up to some sketchy tax thing because he giving a loan not an investment but they do call him a partner and fits with the character. Nat is called COO but I guess you can do that with a partnership too? Otherwise the constant use of ‘partner’ is poor writing and illogical. Marcus becomes Syd employee and you see Syd in my opinion rightly so pull back (plus she is focused on the business). Marcus and Syd already had dinner together but when he asks her in season 2 she shuts it down because it is inappropriate now. He would have to quit again to make it work. It seems however to me the evolution of Syd Carmy relationship sets up a possible romance where it was once inappropriate. What do you think is he her boss? What is the set up of the bear is it a general partnership? Is Syd personally liable for business debts and should she trust her partners (looking at sketchy Jimmy)?

Cicero’s mysterious wealth is mostly used as a plot device, currently its not something to place too much emphasis on outside of the confines of ‘The Beef/Bear’. In s01 its the motivating factor for Carmy taking on Sydney COGs, also its situational in forcing Carmy to meet up with the friends and family he’s been avoiding and more importantly helping Richie to have a moment of clarity and reassess his trajectory. It's more entertaining and comical that it comes from a gangster than the bank; as it heightens the stakes and helps tie upon loose end where necessary (the business certificates).

The ownership setup I think we’ll have to hold off until the next season to have it addressed, it was mentioned a couple times with red alerts so it might be a point of contention. I predict that everyone that was in the room during the business meeting has some stake; including Richie because he always appears in frame in some capacity whenever business affairs are discussed.

The power dynamics with Syd and Carmy were intentionally blurred I think to adjust for the relationship. She’s currently the CDC and he’s the Executive Chef/Owner with Nat, and they defer to Carmy for final decisions so even though she’s treated as an equal she technically isn’t. My assumption is that they are considering the optics and adjusting accordingly. She’s not liable for any debts but the sweat equity she’s invested is invaluable and that shouldn’t be taken for granted, emotional investments can break you just as bad as financial - not you but people on reddit have this conversation when they try to devalue Syd. Stress can manifest itself through your health.

Carmy asking her what the restaurant should look like had more to do with them collaborating and sweetening the deal because at that point the last thing Syd said to him was ‘so shove it up your ass’, he’s essentially begging her to come back.

I don’t necessarily disagree that she doesn’t have romantic interest in Marcus its more so they had romantic potential, obviously I’m biased so I saw the dinner more like work friends trauma bonding and then Sydney moping about Carmy. That being said if they turned up the romance for both during s02 I’d have supported but they made it one sided and awkward by having Syd curve Marcus at every attempt. I also don’t think her rejecting him had anything to do with the work hierarchy and everything to do with her seeing him as a friend.

#let's hope my ramblings make sense lol #sydcarmy #the bear #the bear meta #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto

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gonzo-rella · 2 years

Text

A Vow | Jim Jimenez

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Jim Jimenez x gn!reader (ambiguous/unspecified)

Summary: Struggling to cope as part of Blackbeard’s new crew, you fall back into old habits. Luckily, Jim’s there to support you.

Warnings: Self-harm (specifically cutting, specifically on the thighs), blood, mental health struggles (specifically anxiety), references to suicide/suicidal ideation, reference to vomiting/nausea (in association with anxiety). (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 0.6k

(A/N: You know someone’s not well when they’ve written two self-harm ficlets and a graphic 2k word self-harm one-shot for the same fandom in the span of a month [/lh] (if you’re interested in reading the latter one, I’ll link it here). Did I just use my poor mental state as a means of shameless self-promotion? Kinda, yeah. Anyway, I need to write more for Jim my beloved, so here’s a contribution to that cause. I wrote Jim and the reader’s relationship as ambiguous so you can read it as platonic or romantic (this definitely has nothing to do with my arospec questioning crisis). Feel free to send in a Jim request that isn’t based on mental anguish. Or, do. Either’s fine with me.)

Jim really was far stealthier than you, not that you’d ever thought anything to the contrary.

You’d managed to (unintentionally) wake them up on your journey to the bathroom, but you didn’t hear them approaching when you’d spent far too long in there. Perhaps they had sensed that you weren’t using the room for its intended purposes, just the privacy that it afforded.

They closed the door behind them as quietly as possible while you were in the process of dabbing your cuts with alcohol. Upon registering their presence, you jumped and rushed to hide the knife and various medical supplies behind your back.

“I saw all the stuff, so I can guess you’re not shitting on the floor,” Jim began dryly, alluding to the fact that you were sat on the floor with your trousers tugged down to your knees. “Or jerking off.”

Luckily, that’s all they could really see, since the room was feebly lit by a candle.

When all you did was stare at them with wide eyes, they sighed and perched themself on the rim of the tiny bathtub. Now that they were closer, you drew your knees as close to your stomach as you could get them without the cuts touching your shirt.

“I won’t look. If you don’t want me to.”

Your chest rose and fell with increasing speed, but you reluctantly straightened your legs despite your panic. As promised, they averted their gaze. After a moment of hesitation, you returned to cleaning up your cuts.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I-I didn’t think you liked talking.” you replied shakily.

They exhaled a chuckle.

“You’re one of the only people I can stand on this ship.” they shrugged. “I don’t want you to off yourself.”

“I’m not going to ‘off myself’.” you mumbled. “I just... I hate this. Even when Izzy isn’t aiming a pistol at my head, it feels like he is. I’m fucking terrified that I’m gonna wake up with a toe missing, or a-a hole in my stomach or... that I won’t even wake up at all.”

“So, why are you slicing yourself open, if you’re so afraid of them doing it to you?”

“It’s always helped me in the past.” you answered. “I know it’s not the best way of dealing with things. But, it gives me some relief, and Lord knows I need some relief right now. Ever since Ed went all ‘Blackbeard’, I’ve felt like I’m gonna pass out, throw up or shit myself.”

You reached for the bandages behind you and carefully wrapped them around your thigh.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Jim stated. “You know that, right?”

You hesitated before asking, “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Jim snorted. “I told you: I... like you. Enough said.”

“I’m not worth you getting yourself into deep-shit over.”

“Look, they’re not gonna kill either of us. They’re running low enough on numbers as it is. Can’t do anything to me that I can’t handle. Maybe something you can’t handle.”

You laughed weakly.

“Fair enough.”

There was a pause as you finished bandaging your cuts. You rose to your feet to pull up your trousers, then crouched back down to gather the knife and medical supplies.

“You can look now.”

Jim turned their head, watching as you stood back up and stared contemplatively at the knife.

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

They sighed and scratched their neck.

“I can’t stop you.” they shrugged. “Well, won’t.”

They paused. You glanced over at them, but your gaze dropped to the floor.

“Just keep yourself safe and all that shit, y’know?”

You hummed in response.

They stood up and clapped a hand on your shoulder.

“I meant what I said.” they insisted. “I doubt you’ll come out of this unscathed, but you’ll sure as hell come out of it alive if I have anything to say about it.”

This elicited a weak smile from you.

“I know.” you murmured. “Thanks, Jim.”

After a moment of consideration, you went on, “If you promise you’ll keep me relatively intact, I promise I’ll cut down on this.”

You held up the knife.

“Okay,” they nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips. “Deal.”

#jim jimenez x reader #jim jimenez #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death #x reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gender neutral reader

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potionpeddlerpatchy · 7 months

Note

Hi Patchy!!

For the Rummage Sale, can I get the intriguing book of old please? It looks very interesting, indeed 💚

Hello Nuggie, how truly happy it is for me to see you here; I have always enjoyed you company and have been grateful for your patronage from the very start!

More than happy to have you browse and look upon the many books I have here in my collection. And, if I may, I do suggest that deep blue book on the far right over on that shelf there. I have a feeling you will like it. 🔮

You sighed, loudly to yourself, as you turned away from the few ladies that were huddled together in the courtyard gardens. Though you could not remember what they had said, for your mind tried to piece together how you managed to get to where you were in the first place, you knew it was over something trivial and not worth your time.

That was the charm of courtly like. How the way of court always both amused and caused you chagrin. It was merely the nature of people to want to gossip and spread large tales; after all how else where they to fill such long days where they could not wish to bring themselves down low enough to work. Though at first you found the tall tales spread out to all those in course, about various people, to be rather fun. Easily your captivation was taken by these stories, whether true or not, and you could not help but wish to hear more and more.

Though, as time wore on, you grew to find such acts of gossip to be rather tedious. The upkeep to figure out who was not speaking to who, who had broken the trust of who, and all the little details in between to exhausting and thus you grew out of such a childish thing. Sadly, as you were to quickly find out, just because you grew bored of it, did not mean the others in court shared you disillusionment. And, thus, day in and day out you heard of things such as courtship drama, spats that were between lords and ladies, to even things more wild like spells and curses.

Like today, when those ladies you had just scoffed at, had just pulled you into their small circle to allow you the chance to hear the latest news that had befallen onto the court. That of a Prince, from the Southern Isles, who had begun his travels to see and meet you. How he had gotten turned around, and who had then offended a poor woman who had offered him aide, and thus she placed a curse on him. And now? Well, the cursed had turned him into a frog, and he is now stuck to roam the earth as one – with his only hope that being a kiss from a fair maiden in order to break him free of such a miserable existence.

The story, to you at the very least, was not at all humorous nor in your realm of believability. Merely just mocking fodder against a travelling royal, one that you were sure these ladies did not life in the slightest, to try and mold the minds of all who hear it into believing that he was nothing more a slimy frog. How it made you roll your eyes as you continued on your way, to tend the duties set forth for you that day, as you begin to ponder just how little respect the people in your court had for the foreign sovereignty.

Though as the weeks passed, and the Prince still and yet to appear within your kingdom, you began to think the tall tales were true.

Prince Bakugou, the only son and heir to the Southern Isles, was meant to visit your kingdom at the end of the Spring months, just before the summer was to come and kiss your fields with its warmth. The reason for the visit was the hope of some kind of relationship between you and him. Whether political or romantic it did not matter, all that both of your parents cared for was an alliance between their children to ensure that the years they have spent building and strengthening their kingdoms would not them tumble down over night once they had left.

But now it was well into summer, and there had been no news as to where he was now. The only story you could hear, the only which anyone would give an ounce of credit to, was the tall and ridiculous tale that he had been cursed into a frog. For anyone knew, he may already be within the kingdom, just no one would know as he is hidden in plain sight.

It caused worry to make purchase into your soul. Worried that a terrible fate had befallen upon him and that now you would never have the chance to meet the man who had given you all those wonderful letter; the ones filled with hopes and dreams he had held onto for when his future would unfold. The kind, yet sweet ones, he would bestow on holidays and especially your birthday. As they years moved on, you could not help but think that perhaps something was budding in this friendship you had made, especially when he sent a portrait of himself before he set forth to your kingdom; a reminder of what he looked like.

Your heart fluttered as you remembered that letter. How he made so many declarations, ones over how he would sweep you off your feet and perhaps even offer his hand in courtship should all go well. And the warmth that bloomed in your chest when you looked upon his handsome, painted face, for the first time. He had grown into a handsome man, and you couldn’t help the giddiness that filled you as counted down the days before you could meet.

If all went well, you would marry him. At least that is what you hoped. Yet, with each sunset brought a new level of sorrow to filled you as you came finally came to the same conclusion everyone else had made.

Prince Bakugou was not coming.

And though everyone tried to reassure you otherwise, you knew it to be true when the Summer Solstice came and went; signally the beginning of summer, and he was still nowhere to be seen. You took it all with grace, setting forth a smiling face for those in your court – to not allow them to worry further over their future ruler. Yet, when the sun had gone down, and you were allowed yourself to be along by the riverbed, that was when you would cry and pray to whatever god that wished to take pity on you to allow you some closure. Though, when the sun broke the next day and nothing had changed you assumed that all your prayers went unanswered as you went about the same day once more.

Anger filled you after awhile. Anger over a budding romance lost, over how no one seemed to care about it, and over how the gods seemed to mock you each night as they ignored your pleas. It caused you, during the last night in August, to take the small ruby ring the Prince had gifted you when the year began, and throw it out into the river. To watch it sink within the many roots of the linden tree, out of your reach; a cathartic end the suffering you had endured.

Yet your sorrow did not follow. Just as quickly as the water had taken it, you felt regret fill you as you sunk to your knees to try and retrieve one of the only pieces of him that you had. Though you tried to take hold of the beautiful ring once more, it was always just out of your reach. Once more, tears welled into your eyes as your eyes as you crumbled to your knees; uncaring of the water that lapped at your dress, you wailed into the open hair of the night.

It was only broken when the small croaking of a frog sounded by you head. You sniffled, unburying your head from where you had caged it in your arms, to look upon the creature that seemed so curious over your plight that it had to break you from your sorrows.

“Hello there,” Your weak voiced called to it, watching as it hopped just a little closer to you “what brings you here?”

As a moment passed, then another, you couldn’t help but chuckle; finding humor in the fact you thought the frog would be able to speak a response to you. You wiped some of the tears that stained your face before you looked back at the little creature before you.

“Suppose it was my wailing that brought you forth.” You mused, glad to at least have a form of company at this moment “And I suppose you are wondering why I am acting in such a way.”

You paused, as you watched the frog blink once then twice, before continuing one; find that small movement a reassurance for you to keeping the conversation going; to answer the question you had ask on its behalf.

“It’s a long story, so I shall spare you the silly details” You mumbled, clearing your throat of the rasp that was held within it before continuing “But a man I loved has yet to come here, to see me. He told be the beginning of Summer he would make his appearance, but now we are at the end of it and he still has not come. In anger I threw the ring he gave me into this river, but I did not mean it. And now it sits just below the roots of that linden tree, out of my reach.”

You stopped for a moment, to even your breathing and allow you the chance to control your tears before the began falling once again “I just want it back, but there is no way for me to get it back.”

“What if I got it for you?” The frog replied, his voice croaked with underuse as it continue to look upon you.

Your breath hitched and lodge itself in your throat, it caused you to be unable to both speak and breathe as you eyes widened in shock over the situation at hand. Never before had an animal given you a verbal response, least of all a frog. It left your paralyzed as you tried to come up a response, though your mind was moving too quickly to figure out an answer to all this to do so.

“W-what…?” Was all you could come up with as you swallowed away the small panic that filled you.

“What if I got it for you?” It repeated, though the tone had changed – it was less curious and more agitated over your reaction.

“I…. I would be grateful, in – in your debt even?” You replied, as you watched the frog hop toward the tree is question.

You watched as he jumped onto the many roots that stood proudly out of the water, making comfortable purchase above where your precious ring now resided “I can get it for you,” The frog croaked “But you must pay me back in kind.”

“A kindness for a kindness?” You uttered, ensuring your understanding of the deal the frog wished to make; when you watched it nod its head to your words you spoke out again “W-well what could I do for you? I am not sure how I could repay a frog such as yourself.”

“A kiss.”

“A… a what?” “A kiss” The frog repeated, tone absolute and proof to you that you hadn’t misheard.

“Just one kiss?” You asked, disbelief washing over you as you watched the frog nod its head once more before resolution filled your being – after all what was one tiny kiss in return for you to get your precious ring back? “Alright, I’ll do it”

Without a second thought, or another between the pair of you, the frog drove into the cold waters below. You held your breath in anticipation as waited for it to resurface, for your ring to come back to you.

Jubilation filled you as you cried out in happiness when the frog resurfaced, your ring within it’s mouth. You smile grew wider with each hop it made back toward you. Unable to help yourself, once the frog was within arms length you took hold of it, bring it up to your lips for a swift peck upon its head.

You cried out in surprise when a pink haze of smoke greeted you, and filled your senses completely; you let go of the frog in your hands in favour of getting away from it all; to free your lungs of the strain of having to breath in such a heavy substance.

Though, as you stumbled away you noticed a shape within the dense fog; and as it all started to slowly go away, to disappear and have the world around be as it once was, the shape became clearer. It look like a man. One tall and well built. Enraptured you moved yourself closer once again, your arm reached out to see if it was truly real. When you fingertips brushed against the skin of the man’s arm, you knew it to be true.

“Do you like it?” A sweet voice asked you, causing you to look up from the tiny and worn pages of the deep blue book you had taken off the shelf.

“Umm..” You cleared your throat as you felt the heat of embarrassment kiss your cheeks “Y-yes it’s a really good read”

The woman, the peddler who owned the shop you had stumbled across and decided to take the leap and go in – to see the many wares and trinkets they owned and were giving away – merely smiled at your response “Well, if you truly think so, then by all means take it.” You began to protest, not wanting to take something so wonderful as a book that transports so completely into whatever story was that labelled upon it, but she merely shushed you with a wave of her hand.

“Nonsense, you will take it!” Her smile grew wider as if she knew a secret you didn’t “After all, the book would be very unhappy if you did”

I would not be surprised, my good friend, if you were to stumble across a frog on your way home tonight. Perhaps it to, is the man your heart has been pining after? 🔮

I do hope you wish to keep what you found, for all 'sales' are final

#i really REALLY hope you like the fairytale I gave you love!#its one of my favourites!#I also hope you like this for I had a lot of fun writing it 💛#🔮.the peddler's one year event

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