#Erin's in a dark place guys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-owl-tree · 6 months

Text

Deer's Xenofiction List - The Good, the Bad, and the Furry

Compilation of my xenofiction books I've read, my opinions on them, and ones that I've yet to get to. Will be updated as I go along, if I remember. Books I have not read have an asterisk (*) in front of them. Not a complete list, I will update as I gather more titles.

Adaptations will be listed along with the source material and not as a separate entry.

While I am accepting additions to the list, please make sure your suggestion isn't already listed.

Last Updated: 24-06-2024

-New additions to the books section

-Categories and sub-categories being considered: short films, animal transformation (human to animal).

-Content Warning: Mentions of sexual assault, animal abuse, animal death, and violence. Only a handful of entries have content warnings because they were given to me prior. Please look into the works beforehand to see if you feel comfortable engaging with them, this list is not a content warning guide.

Books

Warriors by Erin Hunter - A long-running series following the drama of four groups of feral cat groups in a forest.

Rating: sucks just read the first arc and nothing else. unless you have childhood nostalgia for this series you probably won't like anything that comes after.

Seekers by Erin Hunter - another animal series from the erin hunter team. It follows a group of bears searching for a safe place to live.

Rating: It's fine. I only read the first arc. While it has a much drearier tone than Warriors at times as it deals with growing environmental impact of global warming and human interference. If you like Erin Hunter's writing style, you might like this one.

*Survivors by Erin Hunter - Look we just gotta get these out of the way, these guys have a monopoly on kid's animal books. Survivors follows a dog named Lucky (yes. really) trying to survive in an area abandoned by humans.

Rating: I read the first book and nothing else. I'm sure it's...fine, suitable for a dog-obsessed young reader but as it is, no one's really rushed to recommend it to me. I'm sure it has fans somewhere, but I can't really speak for them.

*Bravelands by Erin Hunter - uuuhhh animals? in Africa? Surviving? I guess? Sorry my bias against Hunter is showing, but at some point you start to wonder what's going on here, you can feel them trying to recreate the success of Warriors.

Rating: idk what to tell you, never read it and probably never will. If you're a person who likes lion stories, you might enjoy this, maybe? Been told the hyena rep is appalling, another sad day for hyena lovers everywhere.

*Bamboo Kingdom by (you guessed it) Erin Hunter - It follows three pandas (apparently) each in different panda kingdoms.

Rating: I couldn't tell you shit about this one to be honest. You want more bears? Here's bears!

The Bees by Laline Paull - A novel following the life of Flora, a sanitation bee in her hive who rises through the ranks of her devout society.

Rating: Unfocused at times and a rushed ending, but a gripping story nonetheless. Would recommend!

Pod by Laline Paull - Follows the life of Eira, a spinner dolphin from an "exotic tribe" who is forcibly taken into another group of dolphin's to become a member of their leaders harem.

Rating: This book relies on the mythos of "dolphin rape" with numerous, non-graphic sexual assault scenes. While interesting concepts are introduced and, at times, the plot becomes compelling; it otherwise flounders its premise with messy execution and poorly thought out ideas. Also there's an American spy dolphin named Google, make of that what you will.

*The Wildlings and its sequel The Hundred Names of Darkness by Nilanjana Roy - A book about a small band of cats lives in the labyrinthine alleys and ruins of Nizamuddin, an old neighbourhood in Delhi.

Rating: Recommended multiple times to me by different people, no warnings given.

Varjak Paw (and sequels) by S. F. Said and illustrated by Dave Mckean - A short book about Varjak, a Mesopotamian Blue Cat, and his journey to learn an ancient art from his family’s past.

Rating: Varjak Paw is unique with striking imagery and interesting ideas. However, the writing in itself is far from anything special. The book it at its best when accompanied by Mckean’s striking visuals.

*The Underneath by Kathi Appelt - An abused dog hides under the porch of a home to escape from its owner. Based on a reply I've been given, do not ask me to expand anymore on the plot of this book, I have no goddamn clue.

Rating: Described as a formative book for reading xenofiction, it’s been recommended highly! Contains heavy topics such as animal abuse, be warned.

*Fire Bringer by David Clement-Davies - A novel following a red deer named Rannoch and a prophecy that looms over him.

Rating: It seems to have a decent fanbase and it's been recommended to me a handful of times.

*Bambi, a Life in the Woods by Felix Salten - A coming-of-age novel following a roe deer named Bambi. Best known from the 1942 Disney film.

Rating: If you're a deerhead, check it out I guess!

*Raptor Red by Robert T. Bakker - Often (favorably) compared to a textbook, Raptor Red follows a female Utahraptor. Written by a paleontologist, it's meant to be a realistic look at dinosaur's social habits and their interactions with their world.

Rating: Yet to read but sounds cool as fuck. This book contains a heavy emphasis on realism and world-building, with little dialogue. It may be slow for some readers!

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell - Horse girls, certain English classes, and so on, Black Beauty is fairly well-known. Though for those unaware, Black Beauty follows the titular Black Beauty's life in Victorian days.

Rating: It's a classic! Pulls at your heart strings! Just typing this out makes me want to reread it.

Watership Down by Richard Adams - Similar to Black Beauty, I can't imagine anyone reading this list doesn't know about the tale of a group of rabbit's trying to survive a harsh world.

Rating: It's well-written with a lively world, but its treatment of its female cast reveals a deep gendered bias in the writing.

*Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert. C. O'Brien - Mostly known from the (excellent) Don Bluth adaptation, the book follows Mrs. Frisby and he encounter with a group of highly intelligent rats.

Rating: Yet to read.

*Redwall by Brian Jacques - A 22 book series following a group of anthrophormic animals who live in Redwall Abbey and their call to action to defend themselves from "vermin".

Rating: Yet to read

Guardians of Ga'Hoole by Kathryn Lasky - A 31 book series following a group of owls and their attempts to thwart evil. The first arc follows Soren and his attempts to find the owls of Ga'Hoole and beat the 'Pure Ones' while the later books act as an epilogue and prequel.

Rating: First half read and loved! Highly recommend! Handling of Kludd is...meh.

Note: It has an animated film adaptation! While not entirely faithful, it still does a great job keeping to the themes of the books, trimming the fat, and telling a complete story. It also has two video games, one on DS and one on ah other consoles? Both are fun, I like the Wii version.

*(sorta?) Wings of Fire by Tui T. Sutherland - Most people reading this will know this one! It takes place in a world of dragons with seven tribes. The first arc follows the exploits of prophecized dragonets and their attempts to end a war.

Rating: I've yet to finish it. The writing is skewed for a younger audience but is charming nonetheless.

Note: It has a graphic novel adaptation illustrated by Mike Holmes.

*Duncton Wood (First book of the Duncton Chronicles) by William Horwood - A novel the three groups of moles in Duncton Woods and the tyranny of a powerful mole named Mandrake.

Rating: Not yet read, heard good things! lots of mole sex apparently.

The Plague Dogs by Richard Adams - After escaping an animal research facility, Snitter and Rowf escape out into the wild where they must survive a hostile world.

Rating: ough. my heart. would recommend.

Note: Well-known for its animated adaptation, would recommend it as well.

*Silverwing by Kenneth Oppel - The first in the Silverwing book series, Silverwing follows a bat named Shade who loses his colony during a migration to the south.

Rating: Yet to read but I've heard good things!

Note: Currently has an animated television adaptation, go check it out!

*A Black Fox Running by Brian Carter - The story follows the tale of a dark-furred fox named Wulfgar and his human nemesis, Scoble the trapper, over the course of time.

Rating: Yet to read.

*The Books of the Named/Ratha’s Creature (First book of the Ratha’s Creature series) by Clare’s Bell - Ratha’s Creature is set in prehistoric times following the story of Ratha, a Dinaelurus nimravid(?) and her role as a female in her Clan.

Yet to read, often recommended in the Xenofiction scene.

*The Taken (Book one of the Foxcraft trilogy) by Inbali Inserles - Follows the story of Isla, a fox kit who loses her home and family and must survive in the world of “furless” while mastering Foxcraft.

Recommended by @girlashfur

*Hurry Home, Candy by Meindert DeJong and illustrations by Maurice Sendak - Described as "heavy", Hurry Home, Candy follows the life and struggles of a dog named Candy.

Recommended by @mosshugs

Felidae (the first book in a nine book series) by Akif Pirinçci - A crime novel following Francis the cat as he tries to uncover the truth behind a series of murders in his new neighborhood.

Rating: I haven't read the novel and nor do I want to, but I did watch the adaptation. It's a grisly one but apart from the violent murders and striking imagery in the film, you're not missing much by skipping it. I can't really recommend this one for a variety of reasons.

Important: I can't stop you from reading the book or watching the animated adaptation, I watched the animated adaptation, but please do not financially support the author in any way. Pirinçci is a far-right dipshit and does not deserve support.

The Animals of Farthing Wood by Colin Dann - With eight books under its belt, The Animals of Farthing Wood originally started as one book about a group of woodland animals trying to find a new home after losing their old one to human development. It was followed by six sequels and one prequel.

Rating: Haven't read the books but I love the animated adaptation of it! I recommend checking out both.

*Ragweed (First book of the Dimwood book series) by Avi - A book about the adventures of a mouse seeing the world.

Recommended by @meanling

*A Dog's Life: An Autobiography of a Stray by Ann M. Martin - Written by the same author of the Babysitter's Club series, A Dog's Life chronicles the life of a dog named Squirrel.

Recommended by @meanling

*Scary Stories for Young Foxes by Christian McKay Heidicker and illustrations by Junyi Wu - Scary Stories for Young Foxes is a book consisting of several stories all told by a mother to her kits.

Recommended anonymously

*The Sight (and its sequel The Fell) by David Clement-Davies - Set in the same universe as Fire Bringer, The Sight follows a pack of wolves cursed by a lone wolf, Morgra, whose powers foretell the destiny of one of the mother wolf's pups: Larka, a white wolf gifted with a mysterious power known as The Sight.

Not yet read.

*Last of the Curlews by Fred Bodsworth - A realistic depiction of the journey of the last of a critically endangered and soon to be extinct bird.

Not yet read.

Note: Has an animated adaptation!

*Wish Tree by Katherine Applegate - From the same author as The One and Only Ivan! While this story includes animals, it's main character is an old oak tree named Red! The perspective is really interesting. She is both the neighborhood wish tree, and a home for many animals. A family of Muslim refugees move into the neighborhood, with the kid, Samar, becoming attached to the tree.

Not yet read.

*Pax by Sara Pennypacker - A war approaches and Peter must release his pet fox when his father enlists. The story alternates between Peter as he starts a journey to find his pet, and Pax who is learning to survive in the wild.

Not yet read.

*A Wolf Called Wander by Rosanne Perry - Inspired by the wolf 0R-7 (Journey), we follow Swift. After a rival wolf pack attacks, Swift's family scatters and must find a new home, taking an 1000 mile journey across the Pacific Northwest.

Not yet read.

*The Tygrine Cat by Inbali Iserles - Alone and lost, a young cat called Mati is struggling to be accepted by a colony of street cats in the bustling marketplace at Cressida Lock. What Mati doesn’t know is that he is the last of a vital, age-old breed and that a mysterious feline assassin named Mithos is close on his trail. With his enemy nearing, can Mati learn to harness his ancient powers — before a deadly feline force destroys both him and his newfound friends and takes the spirit of every cat on earth?

Not yet read.

Fifteen Dogs by André Alexis - The ancient Greek Gods make a bet and endow fifteen dogs from a shelter with human-level intelligence.

Rating: I can't say I loved this book but nonetheless I appreciated it's prose. If you can get past outdated pack dynamics and some...questionable writing around its female characters, there's a lot to appreciate. Mind you, this is a book for adults and does not shy away from sexual material.

Comics (Webcomics included)

Beasts of Burden written by Evan Dorkin and illustrated by Benjamin Dewey and Jill Thompson - The comics follow along the adventures of the ‘Beasts of Burden’ a group of animals who investigate paranormal happenings in their neighborhood.

Rating: With gorgeous art and an interesting world, I recommend! Just be warned, it is bloody and the sory doesn't hold your hand.

Note: Beasts of Burden currently has 21 comics published in Dark Horse Comics.

What Lurks Beneath by ArualMeow - A feral colony must grapple with a food shortage while simultaneously tussling with the divide between two groups of cats.

Rating - A highly compelling read. Each character plays a role in the unravelling drama of three siblings and you will walk away loving someone.

Note: Ongoing!

I Hope So by Detective Calico - A rewrite of My Pride turned into an original story, I Hope So follows the story of three lionesses navigating both the complicated politics of the lion prides but also the harsh environment they must survive in.

Rating: Slow to update but absolutely worth it! I Hope So is a charming and interesting read. It’s yet to finish but it’s far enough that you'll be able to invest yourself in the world and characters with no trouble!

Note: Ongoing!

Tofauti Sawa by TheCynicalHound - A revenge story that follows a spotted hyena named Sahara.

Rating: Tofauti Sawa is not here to endear you to its protagonists or hold your hand. It can be a tough read but a worthwhile one nonetheless. I need to catch up but I recommend it!

Note: Ongoing!

*Golden Shrike by Doeprince - A story about twin deer and their friends and their search to retrieve three fallen stars for a bored God.

Rating: Yet to read but I've heard good things!

Note: Ongoing!

*Doe of Deadwood by Songdog - It follows a deer who has a pact with a demon that takes the form of a tree. It has some heavy themes and light gore.

Recommended by @beeloaf

Note: Complete!

Jet and Harley by Doeprince - Described as a beautiful piece on grief and moving on, Jet and Harley stars a kitty cast and gorgeous artwork.

Rating: Recommended anonymously. It's still starting but it has some strong set up and charming writing going for it, I recommend keeping an eye on it!

Note: Ongoing!

Preeny Has to Repeat 6th Grade by momodriller - A love letter to adoptables and the creativity of young artists, this charming comic utilizes designs bought from adoptables on DeviantArt! It follows the story of Preeny, a young cat with a magic brush tail and what happens when her whole world turns upside down.

Rating: Beyond adorable, charming and sweet. There's a lot of love put into this webcomic and it shows! Highly recommend.

Note: Ongoing!

Africa by Arven92 - The story of a female leopard named Africa and her quest to protect her family and loved ones while her territory comes under threat.

Rating: Gorgeously drawn and with a story that twists, Africa pulls no punches in showing you the wickedness of its antagonists but also the enduring bond of a family.

Note: Ongoing!

*Oren's Forge by Teagan Gavet - A webcomic that explores the dynamics of predator and prey and what happens when those divisions fall in the story of a pair of pine martens and their journey for sanctuary.

Rating: Not yet read

Note: Ongoing!

*Pride of Baghdad written by Brian K. Vaughan and Niko Henrichon - A graphic novel falling the fictionalized account of the real life escape of four lions from the Baghdad Zoo after an American bombing in 2003.

Rating: Not yet read.

Content warning for graphic violence, gore, animal death, and a brief one panel depiction of sexual assault.

*I Didn't Know by Songdog - A comic about a cat exiled from her Church.

Rating: Not yet read.

Note: Ongoing

*Fox Fires by Pipilia - This ongoing Webtoon follows a Tanuki named Raate as she goes on a journey to find the missing "Fox Fires", a gate between the land of the dead and living. She encounters many friends such as birds who are messangers for elves, magic cats, and normal mean wolves.

Not yet read.

Note: Ongoing

Manga & Anime

*Silver Fang Gin and Ginga Densetsu Weed written and illustrated by Yoshihiro Takahashi - The original and the sequel respectively, the manga series follow Akita dogs, Gin and Weed. While Silver Fang focuses on Gin's search to fight the monstrous "Red Helmet", Weed follows the titular Weed and his search for his father.

Rating: I've not read this but upon getting recommended it, multiple people warned me about the misogyny in the series. Ye be warned. Additionally, the manga is (apparently) very gory!

Note: Both have anime adaptations. Weed's opening is a fucking banger go watch it at the very least.

Beastars (and Beast Complex by extension) written and illustrated by Paru Itagaki - In a world of anthromorphic animals, Beastars follows Legosi, a young wolf navigating his complicated feelings towards other species and learning more about his world.

Rating: Beastars is action-packed, fun, emotional, and dramatic! The first half is a compelling story of identity and how we interact with one another and the complex forces of society that drive our feelings, all wrapped up in a wonderous animal metaphor. As a coming-of-age story, it carries themes of desire, sexual desire, yearning, shame, and more. The second half is eeeeehhh not as strong, but I still recommend it nonetheless!

Note: Beastars currently has an anime adaptation by Studio Orange! It looks fantastic and has some really nice quality of life changes. Highly recommend.

Chi's Sweet Home written and illustrated by Konami Kanata - An adorable slice-of-life story following a cute kitten named Chi adapting to her new home.

Rating: It's just plain cute! If you're looking for something adorable to help you relax, I recommend this one. It's for a younger age demographic so don't go in expecting deep storylines or anything.

Note: Chi's Sweet Home has two adaptations: one with traditional 2D Japanese animation and two seasons and a 2016 3DCGI adaptation. I'd recommend the original adaptation but that's pure preference.

Nyankees written and illustrated by Atsushi Okada - A comedy manga that depicts street cats as brawling "yankees", drawing them as both cat and human to depict their brawls over food, territory, and ladies!

Rating: It's funny, I can't deny the humor in this one makes me chuckle. It's a little racy but otherwise, a fun, light-hearted read.

*A Cat's Tale written by Sae-Him Kwon and Hyeon-Jung Kim and illustrated by Kwon-Sam - A thrilling tale of murder and deception from the animals living on the Sae-Min's farm from the point of view of an elderly cat.

Rating: Yet to read, discovered on Anime-Planet's search system.

Monotone Blue written and illustrated by Nagabe - A story set in high school, it's a BL manga that follows Hachi the cat and Aoi the lizard.

Rating: Yet to read, but I adore the author's other works so I have high expectations!

*Neko to Ryuu written by Amara and illustrated by Sasaki Izumi- A cat raises a baby dragon as her own.

Rating: Yet to read but come on, that sounds adorable.

A Story of Seven Lives written and illustrated by Shirawaka Gin - A Story of Seven Lives follows Nanao, a former housecat turned street cat after a terrible tragedy.

Rating: It's a tearjerker and absolutely adorable. The artwork is lovely and all the cats' designs look fantastic. if you're interested in a simple drama about the relationship between cats and people, i would highly recommend it.

Note: There are human protagonists! If you want pure animal protagonists, maybe skip this one.

*The Walking Cat: A Cat's-Eye-View of the Zombie Apocalypse by Tomo Kitaoka - Zombies roam the earth and civilization as we know it is dead. When Jin—a young man trying to survive the chaos—rescues a cat from certain death, the unlikely duo sets off on a quest to find a mysterious island where Jin’s wife may be alive. Witness the zombie apocalypse through the eyes of a fearless feline whose curiosity may kill him yet.

Rating: Not yet read.

PLEASE READ: Due to its setting, this series has been given a handful of content warnings, please heed this warning before you read. Content warning for gore, death, sexual abuse, physical abuse.

Film

i'm not gonna put every disney or dreamworks film on here i'm sure a majority of us know that disney makes a lot of already popular animal films. if possible, i'd like to spotlight some films that weren't made by big studios and/or don't get a lot of attention. Further note, some of these are adaptations of children's books. I'm cheating a little here mainly because the adaptations are more well-known and probably more appealing for readers of this list than the original books. Uh, sorry.

The Brave Little Toaster directed by Jerry Rees - The film follows the adventures of sentient kitchen appliances and the search for their owner.

Rating: Aimed for a younger audience, it's an adorable viewing for all ages.

Isle of Dogs directed by Wes Anderson - In the year 2038, canine flu breaks out in a futuristic Japan and all dogs are sent to 'trash island' where they fight to survive. One day, a young Japanese boy crashes down on trash island to find his dog.

Rating: The stop-motion animation is gorgeous, the writing is fun and charming, and the visuals are amazing, however the film has rightfully garnered criticism for its stereotypical depiction of Japanese society and 'white savior' narrative around one of its human characters.

Chirin no Suzu (English Title: Ringing Bell/Chirin's Bell) directed by Masami Hata - On a farm, Chirin witnesses the death of his mother to a wolf. Distraught and filled with rage, Chirin vows to get revenge and trains to do so.

Rating: A fantastic and visually striking film, the film's cute aesthetics hide a sombre and darker story. Would recommend!

*Vuk (English Title: The Little Fox) directed by Atilla Dargay - A Hungarian animated film that follows the life of a fox and how he must use his wits to survive.

Rating: Not yet watched.

Arashi no Yoru Ni (English Title: One Stormy Night) directed by Gisaburō Sugii - On one stormy night, a sheep and a wolf take refuge from a storm in the same abandoned home and befriend each other...unaware of what species the other is until later. They strike an unusual friendship that's tested when their respective groups begin to clash.

Rating: Cute, sweet, and well-animated, One Stormy Night is well known for the romantic undertones of its two leads. I think it's adorable and highly recommend.

Note: It received another adaptation of the same source material, a 3D animated show where they made the sheep a girl. Do with that information what you will.

Leafy, A Hen into the Wild directed by Oh Sung-yoon - A farm chicken dreams of one day living a life in the wild and raising her own clutch of eggs and, after faking her death to escape, finally gets the opportunity to do so.

Rating: A gorgeous animated film with moments that will tug at your heart strings. It's got some kiddy jokes with poop and fart jokes but they're not too distracting. Would recommend!

Note: Please find a version with the ORIGINAL ending, not the censored one. It is more thematically fitting and one heck of a gut-punch.

Underdog/A Dog's Courage directed by Lee Chun-baek and Oh Sung-yoon - After being abandoned by his owners, a dog joins up with a pack of other dogs in search of 'paradise'.

Rating: Despite some poor pacing and wonky tonal problems, I think this movie is still worth checking out! The character designs are cute and it's decent entertainment if you've got some time.

Note: There's a post that says this movie is about dogs escaping to North Korea, it's not true. They escape from North Korea to South Korea.

Padak directed by Dae-Hee Lee - A dark and sometimes brutal film about a wild fish that ends up in a restaurant fish tank that overlooks the ocean. The film stays there and the audience is given a tense, nerve-wracking narrative of life and death.

Rating: A fantastic, emotional movie that uses its limited setting to its full advantage. It's brutal and unforgiving but one hundred percent worth the watch.

Khumba directed by Anthony Silverston - A film that follows a zebra with only half his stripes and his journey to gain the rest of them in hopes of being accepted by his herd.

Rating: It's fine, a little wonky but it has a lot of heart.

Earnest and Celestine directed by Stéphane Aubier, Vincent Patar and Benjamin Renner - A gorgeous 2D French animated film based on a series of children's films about a bear who takes in an orphan mouse in an anthropomorphic society that does not approve.

Rating: you're going to get cavities at how sweet this film is. Charming, funny, and visually stunning, you would be remiss if you didn't watch this wonderful film at least once.

The Land Before Time directed by Don Bluth - After tragedy strikes, young Apatosaurus must embark on a journey to find the Great Valley.

Rating: It's a classic! A bit cutesy and meanders at times, but still worth a watch.

Note: Pretty well known for the host of direct-to-DVD sequel movies it produced, a television series, and a video game.

Television (Online Productions Included)

My Pride directed by Maddi Patton - My Pride is an independent internet production that follows the tale of a disabled lion named Nothing trying to exist in her cruel society.

Rating: My Pride is clearly a work of passion, one can’t deny the creator clearly had a vision of what she wanted from this show. However, the execution is flawed and the handling of disability has been (rightfully) criticized. While the animators and voice actors have clearly put a lot of love and effort into the project, the writing falls short of what it could be.

Note: The series ends on a cliffhanger and has been discontinued. You have been warned.

My Little Pony (Generations 1-5) developed by Hasbro - If you like ponies, here you go! While G1 did have a human character, G3 to G5 are purely horsies. Each generation has a different story and main cast to follow.

Rating: Very obviously for a younger age demographic, the generations do have their own charm! G4 is popular for a reason with a sleek style, witty writing, and a lovely cast of characters.

Azurehowl and Azurehowl Reborn created by azurehowlshilach - Bet this one brings back nostalgia lol Azurehowl is set in a world where wolves have the magic of dragons! It centers around Ruuza who may be more special than she realizes.

Rating: i gotta rewatch this one to make my thoughts clear but i remember finding it charming. Azurehowl Reborn appears to be the remake/reboot of the original series.

Note: Ongoing!

Twelve by Petpyves - An original series about May and Imp, a duo who's jobs are to jump from body to body and guide them to a better end, results vary. It's a work of love and has some really strong concepts and writing, as well as doing its best to handle more mature subejcts with respect.

Rating: It's rough around the edges but nonetheless a great show to binge! I recommend it, though it's been a while since I watched it.

Note: Complete!

No Evil by Betsy Lee - In the land of myths and fables incarnate a group of spirits live their casual lives alongside humans, until a cataclysmic force thought to be dealt with shows once again in the world. A prequel series to the webcomic Brother Swan.

Rating: Not yet watched.

Note: Complete!

Burrow's End by Dimension 20 - A Dungeons & Dragons campaign following a group of stoats.

Rating: Not yet watched.

Note: Complete!

Video Games

Okami developed by Clover Studios - You play as the wolf Amaterasu on her journey to save the world from forces of darkness.

Rating: A classic for a reason. Fun to play, great story, lovely characters. Would recommend!

Stray developed by Bluetwelve Studios - In a walled city populated by robots, you play as a cat.

Rating: ending made me bawl. Gameplay is a bit clunky, the platforming is essentially hitting buttons to automatically jump to your destination instead of you jumping yourself. Otherwise, would recommend!

*Tokyo Jungle developed Crispy's! - Set in a deserted, furistic Tokyo, you can select from a wide array of animals to play as and survive.

Rating: never played but maaan do I want to.

*Spirit of the North developed by Infuse Studio- You play as an ordinary red fox whose story becomes entwined with the guardian of the Northern Lights, a female spirit fox.

Rating: Yet to play.

Untitled Goose Game developed by House House - honk

Rating: honk

*Copoka developed by Inaccurate Interactive - You play as a pigeon trying to build a nest in a totalitarian state.

Rating: Yet to play.

*Seasons After Fall developed by Swing Swing Submarine - 2D platformer where you play as a fox in a magical land.

Rating: Yet to play.

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon developed by Spike Chunsoft - A rogue-like RPG in which you take the form as a human turned Pokemon and must navigate your world. There are currently seven games to choose from, each with a unique world and story.

Rating: I love PMD, I'm putting it here because I'm biased. I love it a lot and it fits the criteria so here you go!

Cattails & *Cattails: Wildwood Story developed by Falcon Development - With the creator known for their WC fan game, Untold Tales, Cattails branched out from the bones of the fan game and became an original game of it's own! In this RPG, you play as a cat where you can hunt, fight, find love, and solve puzzles. Wildwood expands on the base mechanics, adding in farming, characters, and more!

Rating: I found the first Cattails to be cute and simple. It's not an intensive RPG, the mechanics become repetitive after a while. If you're someone who likes getting into the rhythm of a grindy rpg, you'll like this one. Not yet played Wildwood but I've heard it's great!

Rain World developed by Videocult - You play as a nomadic slugcat in a brutal world with only your wits, agility, and strength to survive. Eat, hunt, flee, and hibernate while finding out the secrets of your world.

Rating: Okay. this game is HARD. Like unfair hard. Imprecise controls, brutal difficulty, and sometimes really unfair save points - this one is tough. However, it is gorgeous and it's really fun seeing all the beautiful environments the creators came up with. Enemies are also incredibly complex, reacting to each other and you in different ways. It's an acquired taste, while it wasn't for me personally, I would recommend giving it a try at the very least.

Miscellaneous

Additions that aren't necessarily xenofiction but pertain to it in some way.

Cheek by Jowl: Animals in Children's Literature by Ursula K. Le Guin -A fantastic essay that explores the role of the animal in children's literature from its role as something to reflect human society, or how it teaches children about animals. Furthermore, it explores the ways in which xenofiction can intentionally or unintentionally reinforce human bigotry through what we deem the "natural" order of the world.

Rating: Please read if you're interested in xenofiction! A fantastic essay that kicks you off thinking critically about what xenofiction has to say. The essay has a striking section on Watership Down that I highly recommend reading.

Cardinal West (YouTube) - A YouTube channel that discusses xenofiction. Videos that I recommend to start with are:

How (Not) to Write Xenofiction: A Literary Autopsy of “One for Sorrow, Two for Joy” by Clive Woodall (CW for discussions of sexual assault)

How Adapting The Fox and the Hound Changed Animation

#NotNOT A COMPLETE LIST!! i'm still updating it!1 #but i'd like to post it now so others can add #deers xenofiction list

212 notes · View notes

kedsandtubesocks · 21 days

Text

the dark dresses lightly

Dave York x F!Reader

written for @perotovar offering of frith challenge

Vidar [Víðarr] (The Silent God of Vengeance)

summary: your ex has made your life hell & you had hoped for retribution - but when it arrives as a handsome stranger you must now place your trust (and heart) in his hands

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Norse God Mythology AU (Dave is still Dave but also the god of vengeance), fake dating, mild angst & yearning, soft & protective!Dave, creepy awful ex boyfriend & his awful friends (stalking, extreme harassment), light use of gendered language, alcohol consumption, themes & moments of violence, gun usage, blood imagery, minor character deaths, masturbation (f), soft dom!Dave, Dave’s dirty talk, use of “good girl”, oral (f!receiving), finger sucking, light spit kink, fingering, smutty thoughts, spicy themes, poetic allusions to smut (p in v)

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here’s my offering to our dear @perotovar wonderful writing challenge - the moodboard is all theirs too! Thank you for arranging for us Erin & for all the help you’ve given me, ily forever! Also a huge thank you to @pedgito & @pr0ximamidnight for always letting me scream about this wacky idea lol… now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You meet the god of vengeance at a bar. It sounds like a bad joke, but it’s true.

Except you didn’t know he was the god of vengeance then…

The situation with your ex brought you to this point and to this bar.

You feel like a cliché sitting at the counter nursing a drink. The meeting with your dad’s attorney friend went well. You just hope, wish, this all will end soon.

“You okay?” A smooth, rich, hesitant voice emerges beside you, and when you turn you’re stunned.

He’s utterly gorgeous. Dressed in a dark blazer and red tie, it’s like he just walked out of a very important conference meeting. Sharp clean shaven jaw, amazing tiger’s eye gem like gaze, beautiful aquiline nose - you didn’t even hear him approach.

You wonder if maybe he’s a hallucination.

Weakly, you reassure him you’re fine, even flash a fake smile.

His eyes wince almost like he’s heartbroken at your response. But you get it. You alone in the bar exhausted and dejected probably presents a bleak sight.

“This seat taken?” The mystery man asks, nudging at the open barstool next to you. You gently tell him it’s not.

He grins soft, under-stated and polite. There's a reassured ease you’re surprised to see in his eyes. The man turns to the bartender and orders a drink for himself and you.

The dark cloud looming around you slowly starts to dissolve.

“What’s your name?” He asks, and you happily give it to him.

“I’m Dave.” He extends his hand out respectfully. The handshake is firm, and you already can’t get over how much larger his hand is compared to yours.

You haven’t met and talked to someone like this in so long, especially with the mess you’ve been dealing with. Dating has been out of your mind completely.

“So what brings a beauty like yourself to a bar all alone?” Dave smoothly asks.

A flattered fluster runs across your face. His tone isn’t out right flirty but still curious, testing the waves.

Hesitation however tugs at you. The last time your best friend tried to set you up with one of her co workers, you accidentally let everything slip about the mess with your ex boyfriend. The guy was polite and sweet about it all but never talked to you again after that.

So you half lie and say you’ve been dealing with some legal issues. You explain how you just left meeting an attorney and dropped by this bar nearby.

Dave nods, patiently.

“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry.” He sympathizes.

After thanking him, you now ask what brings someone like him to the bar. The man smirks, and it colors him slightly cocky but attractive like a coy rich business man.

“Just dropped by after work.” He answers and curiously you of course ask what he does.

“Oh, I’m a mercenary,” he explains simply.

That’s a new one.

“If you are, then you’re doing a bad job at keeping a low profile.” You casually tease. Dave smiles, crinkling his rich earthen eyes.

He of course reveals he works a boring government job. The small talk comes easily afterwards. He makes you laugh and is engaging to talk to. Every worry, every weight that’s been on your shoulders, ebbs away.

Eventually you excuse yourself to the bathroom, but before you move from the bar stool someone yells your name, and your heart drops.

You find Nick, your ex’s best friend, here with other guys from work. You’re terrified.

“You look scared.” Nick laughs mockingly. You’re torn between running or throwing your drink at him.

“You okay? Do you need me to call someone?” Dave swiftly asks worried, and you shake your head.

You head to the bathroom to calm yourself down. After splashing some water on your face, you simply reassure yourself to finally sober up and drive home.

But stepping out of the bathroom into the hallway, you’re not alone.

Nick sneers. “So, heard you’ve been causing my boy some trouble.”

“Your piece of shit fuck of a friend is the one causing me trouble.” You snap. Even though every cell in your body screams to hit this guy in the face, you decide to walk away.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” He curses under his breath.

Nick corners you against the wall in the tight hallway. Disgust bubbles in your throat. You try maneuvering around him, but this asshole is persistent in blocking your path.

Eventually you manage to squeeze past. Unfortunately you trip on Nick’s obviously held out foot and fall forward fast.

You hit the bar’s stone flooring hard. The asshole who tripped you laughs. Anger, embarrassment, or a deadly combination of the two swirls in your chest.

Someone however quickly steps in between you and Nick’s menacing shadow.

“Leave, before I show you out.” Hearing Dave’s voice your eyes widen. You again didn’t even hear him approach or see him walk in.

“What the fuck man, I didn’t do shit she just tripped!” Nick sneers with a snake venom infused lie.

Dave doesn’t say anything, instead helps you up with steady hands. Nick calls you a fucking cunt under his breath before he walks away.

Suddenly he trips on air falling flat on his face. The crack of the impact is loud, and he screams. Everyone close by gasps and when Nick sits up, his nose bleeds violently as crimson spills onto his work attire.

You almost want to laugh.

“Sweet revenge.” You mutter smug to yourself.

Dave chuckles low, and you smile softly to him.

His cologne, dark and rich, expensive as hell, and his deep eyes are a comfort.

The ambulance is called for Nick. Dave urges you to let the paramedics check your wounds too.

“I just need a few bandaids, that’s all.” You urge, but the sharp pleading look he gives makes you stay.

Eventually even the paramedic treating your scrapes whispers with a warm friendly grin. “Make sure to get his number.”

But when you glance out to find Dave, it’s like he disappeared into thin air. After getting the clear from the medic, you head outside to the secluded parking lot behind the bar. You want to at least thank him.

There outside in the quiet secluded lot Dave types something on his phone. Before you can even call out to him -

You literally watch Dave walk into the dark shadow of the building and disappear.

You’re sobered up. Your eyes are fine. You know what you saw. Your confusion only solidifies and gets confirmed when Dave flickers back out to the same spot from the shadows. He stares at you with dangerous cloudy eyes.

“Fuck.” He exhales.

With a sigh, this strange man nudges his chin towards you signaling to follow him. You sit in the passenger's seat of his sleek luxury car. You don’t panic. Prickling curiosity and slight confusion run through you more than fear.

“So are you like… a witch or something?” You ask weakly.

Dave barks a dry laugh.

“No, nice guess though.”

He apparently isn’t a demonic figure either, though his face darkens when you ask that.

“I wasn’t fully lying about the mercenary hitman job. I just happen to be something else.”

Specifically, he calls himself the god of vengeance.

You laugh now.

“Wait, what?” You settle confused seeing him glare unamused at you.

He says his true name -

Viðarr

The name rolls off his tongue a beautiful wave and has the hum of an ancient forest. A chill even runs up your spine.

“But after so many years and aliases, you can just call me Dave.”

This guy can’t be serious.

“You just saw me walk in and out of a shadow, but now you’re doubtful?” His eyebrows raise.

He’s right of course. But the atmosphere in the car freezes tense, like this man waits for you to react or maybe you’re waiting for him to react.

“What’s going to happen to me then?” Your voice creaks, hesitant and worried.

“Normally? I would erase your memories. But…because of your situation, this actually might work out.”

This supposed god of vengeance explains how your situation has been brought to his attention.

“I’m here to decide if that ex of yours should face retribution or not.”

Your blood runs cold. You never once mentioned your ex.

“I need at least a month to observe him. So my original plan was to try and stay close to you. But since you know about me…this might work to my advantage.” Dave explains all this as if he’s simply explaining a new insurance plan to you.

“I still need to figure out the details-”

“Just…can I please just go home…” you finally croak out cutting Dave out.

The air in the car pops.

“Uh…yeah sure.” Dave says deflated. “Do you need me to take you home?”

You shake your head no. Wearily, fighting back tears, you thank him for the drinks and for dealing with Nick.

Your head spins. You don’t know how you manage to get home. Yet you can’t stop thinking about Dave and who he truly is. His words linger, especially about how he has to observe the situation with your ex…

Your mind turns and turns.

But the next day you head back to the bar.

Leaning against his sleek car looking devilishly handsome, Dave waits.

Before he can even say anything you slide into the passenger's seat. He follows your lead.

“I have an idea.” You declare firm.

A somber, suspicious, look falls over the god of vengeance’s face. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, a signal for you to speak.

This is your plan.

Dave needs to be your fake boyfriend.

“My ex…he was the worst when he got jealous.” You explain how he even messaged and harassed an old coworker cause he was paranoid you were cheating.

So maybe now adding the pressure of a new boyfriend would make him show his true nature even more.

Dave’s eyes light up, surprised.

“That’s…not a bad idea at all.” He even mutters about how this would allow him to get better observation from your side of things.

Dave simply nods, turning to you determined.

He holds his hand out almost anti-climatic. However, that's when you realize how easy it is to shake vengeance's hand.

Later at your apartment the neighbor furthest down the hall perks up seeing you in the landing.

“Did you see?! We have someone new moving in. And he’s really cute.” He whispers while he accompanies you on your walk.

Walking up the stairs a few boxes clutter the hallway.

Dave steps out of the open door and smiles. He’s ditched the suit blazer and tie. Now his button up shirt is rolled up to his elbows. You almost choke on an inhale.

“Hey.” His voice radiates sparkling and friendly, a picture perfect sweet guy next door. “You lovely folks must be my new neighbors. I just moved in. Nice to meet you both.”

You act as nice and calm as you can when warmly greeting him. The minute you step into your apartment you try not to freak.

A solid knock comes at your door. Opening it, Dave stands grinning slightly coyish and smug.

“You got any sugar, neighbor?”

You almost slam the door in his face. But of course you let him in.

“Thought moving in would help. It makes for a good alibi, getting with the guy you just met in your apartment. Plus being close by helps to see if your ex pulls any shit.” Dave explains while he inquisitively looks around your place.

You get his logic. It just takes you by surprise.

“See you around, neighbor.” He nods with a gleam of dark playfulness brewing in his eyes.

Already this man, or this ancient being, seems like such an enigma.

That’s only confirmed when Saturday arrives and someone knocks at your door.

Dave once again stands on the other side. This time in a lightly casual outfit of a leather jacket and jeans that still seem effortlessly put together. He reminds you of a guy who owns a home in the hamptons.

“Thought we’d go out on a date. If you’re free.” He offers, and you have to force your jaw not to drop.

He ends up taking you to the city’s aquarium and pays for everything.

“We can get lunch or something afterwards if you like.” Dave suggests.

You remember this is all for show.

So you take this time as a chance to enjoy a day among the gorgeous fish and beautiful blue waves all around.

But even admiring the angelic jellyfish, a worried itch crawls at the back of your neck. Your ex has shown up at the worst time in places you never would have ever expected.

A warm hand comes against your back, and Dave’s wonderful birch cologne clouds your mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here. Won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice, deep and low, is simple and absolute in his promise.

When you focus on him, the soft light of the aquarium bathes him ethereally highlighting his godly features. You can now see why he’s not a simple mortal man. Someone this gorgeous is unearthly.

As promised Dave stays close beside you. You even start relaxing so much that you ask him questions.

You had been wondering if he really does work at a government job.

“No, I run a private investigation agency. Didn’t wanna tell you that and scare you off thinking it was your ex after you.” He explains.

“How does an ancient god run an agency?” You ask dubious and slightly amused.

Dave rolls his eyes.

“The same way you’re taking this all really well. It just becomes a natural thing.” Dave says while you and him pass by a lovely stretch of coral reefs and fish. “Plus some families are in service to me, have been for centuries. So this helps them continue to work for and with me.”

“A private investigation agency must help with confirming and keeping track of things. Plus a god with a job seems humbling.” You lamely add, and he snorts.

“Yeah something like that. It also weeds out which cases aren’t fair.”

That shocks you, and you press more. Among the dreamy blue waters glossing over the room, you and Dave stroll leisurely.

“As simple as vengeance can be, I’m honor bound to only act if the situation is deemed justified.”

He even goes into detail about how situations are weighed out, determined, and how the hearts of people are almost judged. A worried heaviness arrives. You now hope your situation can pass this trail.

Thankfully the aquarium is rather vacant so you don’t worry about someone overhearing. But, you’re also wondering why Dave freely discusses this with you.

“Because you won’t remember any of this.” His answer is collected, faintly frosty and curt.

“Anytime I’ve had to talk to other mortals I normally erase their memories, along with anyone else involved, once everything is done. It keeps everyone safe.”

“Oh.” Your voice dips.

So, you won’t remember him.

“It’s for the better for everyone.” Dave adds calculated.

For some reason a strange tightness settles now over you. Dave and you stay silent the rest of this strange date.

He walks you back to your apartment door, and you politely thank him for the nice afternoon.

Resolution settles in you. You swear to not take any of this personally. After all, you won’t remember it.

For being an ancient god of vengeance, Dave is a surprisingly considerately sweet boyfriend.

He drops by with coffee and pastries when he can. After he exchanged phone numbers with you, he even sent you a meme that made you laugh. Playfully you had texted back -

Didn’t know old gods could have such a good sense of humor or could text

He sent an unamused emoji face after that.

Everyone of course takes note of Dave’s new place in your life. Your sister even wants to meet the new guy.

“I know it’s been hard… this year. But seeing you try getting back out there and hearing how good this guy is already, I’m happy for you.” She says. You swallow back the heaviness and truth wanting to slip away.

But you won’t spoil this gilded lie. You can’t.

That’s what you tell yourself when you invite Dave over for dinner at your place.

Lounging eased in your living room watching the game, he’s the picture of comfort. Especially in his casual jogger pants and soft sweatshirt.

You hate how much you enjoy seeing him in your space. It’s been isolating these past few months with how awful your ex has been. Now it’s like slowly gaining a new friend. You at least can appreciate that with Dave.

But thinking of him just as a friend is getting murky, especially since you find yourself staring at his gorgeous shoulders and cute ass while he stands in your living room.

Dave is extremely handsome, charming, playfully snarky and surprisingly perceptive. It’s hard trying not to get swept into this idea of being his.

The next date night he takes you to see a movie. Walking back from the apartment’s parking garage he offers his arm, and you greedily take it.

“Okay, next time I’m picking the movie cause I can’t trust your taste I’m sorry.” Dave argues jokingly, almost flirty. You snicker but readily argue about how good the movie was while staying linked in the crook of his elbow.

A familiar voice yells out your name, and your soul evaporates.

You freeze on instinct. From across the street, your ex approaches slowly. Your legs almost give out.

“So it’s true. You’re dating someone.” He says in disbelief. You can’t even speak, can’t handle how terrifyingly sharp his terrified eyes stare at you.

Suddenly Dave effortlessly slides in front of you, completely protectively blocking you. His hand moves to intertwine with yours.

“You need to leave.” Dave declares firm.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Your ex fires back.

“You’re making my girlfriend upset. So that means this is my problem now.” Dave’s words cut through the air deadly, and your heart flutters.

It’s the first time he’s addressed you as that - girlfriend.

“Girlfriend? Girlfriend?!” Your ex boyfriend cries, horrified and upset. You only realize you’re shaking when Dave squeezes your hand, stabilizing you.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Dave orders with a commanding yell.

Your ex continues trying to talk to you, but it’s all nonsense, almost waterlogged with your head feeling fuzzy.

Dave shifts to now pull you completely into his side and guides you back into the apartment complex. Your ex’s voice grows more distant until you’re safe inside. Thankfully he isn’t allowed on the property anymore.

Your hand clutches Dave’s refusing to let go. He keeps you in his hold the entire time even arriving at your door.

Whenever this happens you always head to your parents or sister’s place. You already think about packing a bag.

“Hey,” Dave’s voice softly interrupts your cluttered thoughts.

“Do you…want to stay at my place tonight?”

When you turn towards him, vengeance has never looked this beautiful. His eyes are glossy, drenched with understanding.

You nod.

Dave helps grab your essentials then guides you back to his apartment. Even with the roller coaster still running in your mind, you perk up knowing you’re finally seeing his place.

It’s sleek, immaculate in its cooler toned shades. However it also radiates a spartan aesthetic. The walls are moderately barren. On the counter though various items from all the dates you’ve gone with him, like the aquarium map, litter the space.

That comforts you knowing he’s kept them.

“You can take my bed really, I don’t mind.” He offers.

You shake your head. “The couch is perfect really.”

Now stubbornly Dave sits beside you on the couch, and you snort.

“I won’t leave until you do.” Dave grins.

You snuggle into the couch more, almost defiant in pulling the blankets up. The ancient god rolls his eyes, but makes no sign of moving either.

“That ex of yours...” Dave cautiously comments.

“Yeah.” You sigh tired.

The rose colored glasses could only hide so much before the toxic emptiness swallowed you. You’re now left with the pieces of yourself you’re still grateful to have and hold together.

Dave patiently sits with you, listening attentive when you tell him everything. After unfolding your heart to him, you almost ache to know more about this mythical man.

So he tells you about ancient kings who called upon his aid for the most trivial things, to actual countries that begged for his wrath.

As he reveals so much, you notice how many shadows weigh on him, aging him in a way that speaks of the eons of trouble he’s faced. It’s like Dave houses an archaic rusted ache you could never fathom.

Something deep within your heart longs to gently run your fingers through his hair, or even hold his hand.

But these thoughts are dangerous to have for a man you won’t even remember in a month's time.

On the couch, not even paying attention to what’s on the television, simply being at peace in Dave’s company, you slowly start falling asleep.

Halfway in the night, you wake up slumped against Dave.

His warm solid shoulders, the soft rise of his chest, you’ve never been this close to him. The faint smell of his cologne mixing his fabric softener, along with something uniquely him, wraps around you a protective delicious comfort.

A delicate shift comes in your heart as you snuggle closer to him.

“I think…I’m going to extend this surveillance to another month.” Dave says when you and him quietly get ready for the morning.

The way he calls this relationship and situation a surveillance punches right through your chest. It reminds you this again is not real. You also can’t believe a month has come and gone.

When you go on another date with Dave, this time to an art museum, he readily holds your hand. It’s awful knowing something in you is crystallizing in adoration.

He’s thoughtful in admiring the art, almost plucked from a hallmark movie dream. As much as you enjoy holding Dave’s hand being by his side, you realize you need to start pulling away before you fall even harder.

Thankfully a text comes in for you to reply to. There's also an alert from Instagram.

One message comes. Then a spam of them flood your inbox. The profile that sent them is blank, and what they sent are horrendous. They call you an absolute whore, argue how you’re nothing more than a pathetic piece of trash.

Your throat gets tight, and your hands shake.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” The pet name causes your heart to skip, but the panic is too much.

Wearily showing him your phone, he frowns dark.

“Only more proof I guess.” You half joke.

Dave thankfully reports the account, but the mood of the day is soured.

“Hey, let’s get something sweet, yeah?” He suggests softly rubbing your back. You agree hoping this will help.

Thankfully it does. Dave is surprisingly talkative, even discussing this one particular client who requested revenge on their old partner because he stole a family secret ice cream recipe.

“You can’t be serious.” You snicker.

“I swear on my godhood!” Dave laughs, and it paints him devilishly young. Though you do tease him for getting rum raisin, and he rolls his eyes.

Now you watch him slowly lick away at the ice cream, letting his tongue drag along the treat slowly. Your mind rapidly catches fire imagining his tongue dragging across your body in just as slow.

It’s getting harder to not want Dave, especially seeing how handsome he looks in his leather jacket and simple t-shirt.

Then at your apartment door, anxiety slowly festers. You don’t want to be alone tonight. You even hesitate grabbing your keys.

Dave tugs on your hand still holding his. “Just stay at my place. I’m heading back to the office tonight so you’ll have the place all to yourself.”

You thank him, grateful for the comfort of just not being in your apartment.

But being alone in his place might have been the worst decision. Curiosity claws into you while you wander. The space stands smaller than yours and is still so sparse. Finally stepping into his bedroom, a dangerous urge bubbles in you.

“Make yourself at home.” He did tell you, so it’s why you slowly pull the covers back and slide into Dave’s bed.

The cold gray sheets fit him. But the smell of him, swirling all around you, enveloping you, has your pussy wet.

You imagine him sleeping here, wondering what he’d look like if he’s ever fucked his fist here -

Your eyes flutter shut while your hand drifts to your underwear. You should feel shame and disgust for getting off in your fake boyfriend's bed, but you quickly rationalize you won’t remember this.

So pressing your face into Dave’s pillow you let your fingers curl into your pussy imagining it’s his thick firm fingers instead.

You come harder than expected. Exhausted and floating in post orgasmic soft bliss you wearily drift to sleep in his bed.

Until noise in the other room suddenly has you bolting up in a slight panic. Hastily you head out into the living room.

In the low light, Dave puts things away in safes and among bags. You catch glimpses of various types of weapons. The one he places back in a duffle bag is a gun. Your heart does jump at the sight, but it makes sense for a god of avenging to have many forms of it.

Dave quickly whips around spotting you.

He’s dressed very differently tonight. In all black athleisure, even wearing black beanie that intensifies his appearance, he looks every bit the hit man he once joked about being.

He says your name soft, a mutter. Your focus goes to the cut across his cheek.

“You’re injured!”

He blinks surprised at your words.

“Oh yeah, got a little hairy tonight. But it’s nothing, should heal up in a couple of hours.”

“You’re still bleeding.” You firmly rummaging around the kitchen for the small first aid kit you remember seeing in one of the drawers.

“Honey, I’m fine.” You can’t even comment on the pet name instead stubbornly grab a bandaid and disinfectant.

“I don’t need a bandaid.” He dully tells you.

“Too bad.” You huff.

Dave sighs, giving up and taking a seat on the couch. The cut isn’t bad, but you still tend to it best as you can. With the briefest glance down, you spy blood crusted over Dave’s fingers.

“So you were out… dealing with someone tonight?” You cautiously question.

He sighs. “Yeah, finally got to take out this awful piece of shit, but he put up a fight.”

You should be rattled hearing him casually discuss violence, even seeing it drying on his hands. But you’re not afraid.

“Glad you made it back safe.” You truthfully tell him.

He chuckles dry. “Always do.”

Gently placing the bandaid on his face, your fingers accidentally graze against him.

Dave appears like a normal man, a handsome business looking guy you met at the bar. But right now he seems to have shed that persona and sits before you a sort of chameleon stuck between identities.

It must be hard to compartmentalize so much like he does. And…it must be lonely.

You don’t realize you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts, allowing your fingers to absentmindedly trace across his cheeks, until Dave’s hand slowly crawls up your wrist.

You’re about to apologize until his eyes lock you in place. His daze simmers between a deep darkness and soft awareness.

His other hand now rubs up against your other arm.

“Thank you.” Dave mutters.

Cautiously he turns towards your fingers still on his face, and his eyes haze over. The hold he has on your wrist slowly drags your hand down his cheek, almost like he’s pulling your fingers to his lips. He inhales deep and instantly his eyes close. You’re hypnotized, waiting to see what he does.

Then a phone goes off, and the moment shatters.

You scramble away. Dave immediately swiftly answers his phone with a professional steeled voice.

Flustered, you’re considering maybe grabbing your things and heading back to your apartment. Dave however calls your name. Like a spooked deer, you turn. He nudges his chin at you.

“Head back to bed sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Your mind goes blank as you nod stunned. Then everything melts away. Possessed, maybe floating on a cloud, you slip back into his sheets.

You want to stay awake, want to see him get comfortable and get into bed. But exhaustion wins pulling you back to sleep.

Strong arms slowly curl around you, the warmest protective shield. You even wonder if it’s all a dream.

Especially when you wake up alone.

On the kitchen counter sit your favorite pastries and coffee order with a note from Dave who had to leave to work early. Running into him later heading back to the apartment after work, you notice he’s still wearing the bandaid you placed on him.

It makes you grin wide.

Work eventually gets busy. You miss out on a date weekend which you see as a blessing.

You’re growing too attached to Dave and it’s dangerous. You even ignore a few of his messages he’s been sending you, blaming it on work.

Work even has you staying up late now trying to finish up a few things.

Until a sudden rush pelts against your window, and a small scream escapes you.

You’re on the second floor, what the fuck can possibly be making that noise?

Drawing back the curtains, trash greets you flying hard against the glass. You know it’s your ex and his stupid friends.

You hate that you’re about to cry and that the first person you’re calling -

Is Dave.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He rushes out on the phone.

Before you can answer, from a shadow against your living room wall Dave walks out like he emerged from a door.

Immediately his face drops seeing you and then hearing the rush of shit getting thrown at the window.

Swiftly, moving like a sleek hunter, he pulls a gun out from behind and slides between you and the window. Dave opens the window then very obviously peers out with the gun in hand.

It’s enough to scare your ex and his friends.

You wearily head to the couch and collapse in on yourself. Silent as a shadow Dave draws you into his arms and holds you close.

“Can you stay?” You weakly ask.

“Don’t even have to ask.” He mutters rubbing your back.

Camping out in the living room with piles of blankets and pillows, Dave pulls up a seat against the window, keeping the gun in hand.

Your eyes fully take in the sight of him staring out keeping watch, a haunting stoic sight of brewing composed wrath.

He drips of an ancient blood, old as the galaxies themselves or possibly even older, and you want to cradle that violence in your hands.

“Do I scare you?” He asks quietly in the evening’s abyss.

Still lying on the couch, among your blankets, you shake your head no.

“Feel safe with you.” You mutter truthfully. This is the safest you’ve felt in so long.

You fall asleep without any worry knowing he’s nearby.

After that night, and for the rest of the month, he’s either at your place or you’re at his. One of your chairs becomes a constant spot where he sets his jackets. Your toothbrush keeps his company in his bathroom.

When you’re facetiming with your sister he accidentally walks by, and immediately she perks up.

“Is that the secret mystery man?!” She cries out.

Dave awkwardly waves but charms her with his smile.

“You need to invite him for my big promotion dinner this Friday.” She urges with a hiss.

You snap at her fierce, but when you hang up Dave quietly asks -

“So what time is dinner Friday?”

You throw the nearest couch pillow at him.

But a man to his word, he’s happy to accompany you.

Friday arrives and he’s in a deep navy blue blazer combo that makes your throat dry. His eyes also scan you up and down very blatantly.

“You look lovely tonight.” He mutters, and you thank him saying he looks just as amazing.

And he does.

Your sister playfully nudges you with her elbow. “He’s hot.”

Her husband, your brother in law, even jokes that Dave’s a handsome catch.

Which, to your family, he is. Dave is warm, the absolute dream boyfriend anyone could even imagine.

He pulls out your mom’s chair, happily puts up with your dad’s long stories, bonds really fast with your brother in law and is sweet to your little twin nieces who ramble about their soccer matches. Your heart aches just seeing him interact with everyone and how much they already adore him.

The only thing keeping you afloat is that you, nor them, will remember any of this. But it also haunts you.

You smile fake through it all.

Then during dessert Dave’s hand unprompted moves to rest against your leg. His hand on your skin, so close to the edge of your dress, all of this under the cover of the dinner table sends an electric dizzying current across your body.

Slowly his thumb starts rubbing against your skin, softly, delicately like he has all the time in the world or isn’t bothered about your dad complaining about his work buddies again.

You keep your composure as best as you can.

When the check comes Dave quickly snags it up and doesn’t hesitate sliding his card in to pay. It wins huge points with everyone. Your family showers Dave in thanks and warm embraces.

“Like this guy, happy for you.” Your dad says low while he hugs you tight, and you blink back the tears.

“Yeah dad, me too.”

The car ride back to the apartment, you’re silent.

Dave however tries to push through the tension talking all about your family.

“They’re lovely. Your nieces are adorable too. One of them was constantly trying to make me laugh the entire time.”

You smirk while still remaining quiet.

“Hey… you alright?” He of course notices. You also make

no sign of following him back to his apartment.

“Just let me get a few things and I’ll be over in a bit-”

“No Dave, it’s okay. I think I just wanna be alone tonight.”

You cut him off gently.

A moment of silence comes. You’re thankful he doesn’t push, just wishes you goodnight and heads to his apartment.

The silence eats at your insides leaving you empty.

The next morning you don’t wait to walk out with him or even text him. For an entire week you stay quiet and try avoiding him as much as possible.

Then on Monday, flowers wait for you on your desk. All you coworkers coo at the beautiful blooms.

Your heart however melts at the card.

Thinking of you, hope you’re alright.

It’s simple, very Dave.

After work you start typing out a thank you text to send to Dave, including a photo of the flowers.

New footsteps echo in the parking garage, and you don’t think much of them. Until you hear Nick’s slimey voice say your name.

Turning around, he casually saunters with the smuggest sneer.

“You okay? You don’t look too good.” He grins bigger as he continues walking towards you.

He’s just here to scare you, especially since he works close by and now that you put the restraining order on your ex.

Walk away and get to your car, the voice in your head, now sounding so much like Dave, urges.

You turn on your heels and rush to your car.

“You’re such a god damn fucking bitch, you know that?” He yells still behind you.

Calm, you try remaining calm.

Then someone runs up from behind. Everything dissolves into pure fear. You turn around and there Nick rushes forward to you in a frenzied terrifying glee.

Dave suddenly emerges from the other side of another parked car and grabs Nick.

“What the fuck?!” Nick cries. “Where the hell did you come from?”

Dave quietly glares deathly cold at Nick.

Then a snap comes, a popping of bone and Nick screams in pure pain cradling his hand. Dave stares composed, unbothered.

“You broke my fucking fingers, what the fuck?!” Nick snarls.

With his good hand, Nick moves to punch Dave.

You cry out in a panic.

Dave, no…the god of vengeance now before you, in his hand captures Nick’s fist before it can even land a hit, casually holding him back.

Fluidly, with a nightmarish grace, Dave twists Nick’s arm back forcefully in disarming him from an attack. Another crack of bone and Nick cries out again.

The god leans in close to Nick.

“You try harassing my girl again and I will make this much worse.” He says low, lethal.

Nick screams like a caged animal until Dave shoves him away. For a moment you’re terrified Nick is going to charge, try throwing another fist, but he scurries away like a broken little rat.

Dave’s gaze, empty and cold, watches Nick the entire time until he’s gone. Then the mask falls as he rushes to you with the most worried frown.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You are, thanks to him. You’re still trying to process fully what happened.

“What are you doing here?” You manage to ask.

“After that text you sent, I came up to check up on you.” Dave answers.

When you check your phone, he’s right. You had been in the middle of typing out your text to Dave when Nick had showed up. The text became a mess of letters that you had accidentally sent.

“Didn’t seem like you.” Dave adds.

His hand softly drags across your cheek with the most delicate pressure, like moth wings, and it electrifies your heart. Your eyes snap to Dave. His face is harder than ever to read, foggy in thick emotions.

Before he can put you anymore under his spell, you move first. Thanking him for showing up and for protecting you, you return to head back to your car. Dave stays in step with you, offering to drive you home, and you let him.

Quietly you finally thank him for the flowers and apologize for forgetting them.

“It’s fine.” He reassures you. “I’ll just have to send you more.”

His voice soothes you, and you almost grin.

Back at the apartment a mess of feelings get tangled in you.

“Do you need me to stay?”

You shake your head no to Dave.

After a small pause, he wishes you well and a good night.

But you can’t sleep. And Dave continues haunting you. It's why you’re now across the hall knocking on his door after midnight.

He answers quickly. You’re surprised to discover him in the all dark outfit except this time without a beanie and with how wild his short hair looks you wonder if he just yanked it off.

He breathes your name with worried eyes.

“I’m sorry. Can I…stay over?” Your voice is small, worried.

He welcomes you in without hesitation.

You keep your gaze away from his, but that's when you catch the blood on his hands. This time the blood is fresh.

“Are you okay?” You squawk panicked.

“Oh. Uh yeah. Nothing serious.” Dave shrugs.

He effortlessly changes the subject telling you about the new restaurant he wants to try with you.

“Go lay down, honey. I’ll be with you soon.” He urges. You don’t want to fight him. You should but don’t.

In his bedroom you watch him undress for the night. His bare shoulders are stunning and you want to kiss the gorgeous pudge of his soft stomach. The delicate warm light paints him a dream.

“Dave…” you ask, fading in and out of sleep now among the safety of him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you get lonely?” Your words slip out.

He doesn’t answer for a moment.

“Why do you ask that?”

Sleepily you shrug already groggy.

“Just seems like you are.” You admit through a yawn.

You see it in the hollows of his apartment, in the somber looks that create cocoons in his eyes from time to time.

You’re worried you’ve upset Dave with how quiet he gets. Instead his hand moves to turn off the light by the nightstand. You notice he’s holding something else in his grasp.

“Don’t worry about me. Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You nod at his words, closing your eyes.

But before you fall to sleep, you swear you saw Dave holding a phone with an obnoxious neon and black green case… one that looked exactly like Nick’s.

The next morning Dave is gone again, this time leaving you various breakfast bars to take.

Back at your apartment you scroll taking a break from getting ready. Someone posted in their story about Nick not coming home and that no one has heard from him.

You try not to focus on that and head to work.

More flowers, as promised, wait on your desk.

“You’re so lucky.” Your favorite coworker gushes. You weakly grin at her.

The day goes by slowly. Until your sister calls you frantic over the phone.

Your ex had showed up at your nieces school.

You feel sick. Your boss thankfully lets you leave, but you’re barely aware of how your body moves. You even forget the flowers again.

Yet your hands shakily manage to make a call.

“Hope you liked the flowers.” Dave answers smooth, almost purr like.

All you do is croak out his name. In the instant of getting off the elevator, Dave emerges from the shadow of the hallway. You’re thankful no one is around, but then again, you could care less now.

“What happened?” He frowns hard.

Telling him everything, you crumble sobbing in Dave’s arms.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” His sincerely comforting voice and warm arms all wrap around you.

He places a soft kiss on your head.

“Come on, let’s head home.” He guides you to the shadow, holding you tight. In a simple step you’re walking right out into your living room.

So, that’s what it’s like.

Sitting down everything feels too much, yet numbing all at once.

“This is all my fault.” You mutter, vacant.

If you hadn’t dated that fucker, you wouldn’t be here.

“No,” Dave says firmly. His eyebrows are furrowed hard, stern and upset. “None of this is your fault.”

A numb nod is all you give.

The window suddenly shatters. A rock flies into your room and you scream.

“You fucking bitch, I know you did something to Nick!” Your ex howls from outside. “You and that fucking creep boyfriend of yours!”

This can’t be happening. How did he even know you were home?

Dave moves swift. He protectively pulls you further away from the living room. Reaching into the inky shadows, he pulls out a large duffle bag. From that Dave unpacks a firearm. Not just any gun, a sleek sniper rifle. He readies the weapon up and out the window.

It’s a dead threat in the middle of the day. Dave’s face completely composed reminds you of a hunter.

And he’s beautiful.

The sight of Dave and that terrifying weapon must have scared your ex because there’s no sign of him after that. You even delete all your social media now out of fear.

Dave takes care of everything. Discussing the window break with the building's supervisors, even calling the cops to report what happened.

You now sit in Dave’s living room.

“Viðarr.”

You speak his true name, the one that feels incredibly scared and almost too holy on your tongue. The air in the room tightens fast. Dave, who halfway is trying to figure out what to make for dinner, stops.

A grave expression paints him an ancient terror.

Your stare back at him is just as serious.

“I need vengeance.” No more. You can’t handle any more of this.

Dave, quiet, silent as a shadow, nods. That’s all, the agreement of it. It seems so very anticlimactic.

“You know,” he mutters. “By accepting this…you have to give something up.”

Dave had told you about this briefly. Once he accepts a case, takes up the mantle of retribution, it comes at a price. You must offer something up.

“I’ll let you think about it.” He mutters.

But you don’t need to. You shake your head.

Slowly, possessed, yet never feeling more solid in your decision you walk to Dave’s bedroom.

Politely you sit on the bed.

Dave follows you and stares with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing?”

“Me,” you say low. “I’m offering myself. Whatever you need.”

Dave’s flint eyes go wide. He swallows hard, a small crack in his composed armor.

“That’s…I can’t accept.” His voice croaks.

“Why not?” You frown hard.

He exhales, running a hand over his face.

“Because…you…” he pauses for a moment.

“It’s dangerous to want you the way I do. And accepting… don’t know if I’m strong enough to deny you.”

You inhale sharp.

He removes his hand from his face and now stands a man composed of stardust and beautiful retribution.

“There are other things you can offer.” He offers a weak attempt to persuade you. Yet he slowly walks to you, a hunter before prey.

You shake your head.

Cautiously, now that he stands so close you grab Dave’s hand. Slowly, hesitantly, you guide his hand up to your heart then rest your hand above his.

“This…I’m yours.” You admit weakly.

This is your oath, your sacrifice and offering. Though it does not feel like a burden of an effigy, no source of pain or flames of anguish over this decision.

It almost feels holy and sacred in its simplicity.

Your heart will always follow him, Dave, Viðarr, whichever form or soul he took, yours would be tied to him.

“It’s…that’s not an easy sacrifice.” His voice is thick, laced with a burnt hidden depth you take comfort in.

“For you it is.” You reply.

Something shifts in Dave, like his eyes waver and humanity shines through, a shimmering gloss over.

His hand over your heart moves slowly gliding up your chest, up your neck. His hand on your skin blazes a heated path. Now he cradles your face

“Oh baby….” He hoarsely says, and your world collapses to be reborn in an instant.

“I’m yours.” You whimper.

Dave kisses you with a collision of a star being created. It’s nipping teeth and a fierce passion that immediately has him licking into your mouth as if he’s trying to swallow you whole.

He’s unrelenting, a war general on a mission as his hands immediately start to peel off your clothes.

You now lie only in your underwear on his bed. You should feel exposed, almost awkward that he still wears all his clothes, but for some reason it heightens your arousal. Being bare and laid up for him as offering…

“You swear?” Dave croaks, a final offering for you to back down.

You nod firm and absolute. “I swear.”

He nods.

“Then I'll be your justice for you. All yours, and you’ll be mine.”

Your heart flutters. Revenert, you thank him and whisper his name, a debauched prayer.

Dave pounces on you fast.

He licks a trail up your chest to your neck, biting when he can and you whine.

“So fucking sweet.” He slurs, nibbling at your chest and sucking at your nipple.

His tongue swirling across your skin has your mind melting.

“Open your mouth for me, baby.” But then he quickly demands.

Rising up, Dave leans above you and you willingly open your mouth.

He takes a moment to gaze at you, then effortlessly spits down into your mouth. You feel dizzy when it hits your tongue. You greedily swallow, closing your eyes.

“Good fucking girl.”

That makes you feel even more electrified.

“Oh you like when I call you that huh?” Dave says slurred.

How? How can he tell? Your face must tell him everything as his hands begin to slither all across your body.

“I can smell you.” He whispers thick.

That truth hits you breathless. He’s not a normal man. Of course he would have heightened senses.

“That night… that night you slept in my bed. I smelt you still on your fingers and in my bed.” Dave admits.

You moan half embarrassed and half drunk.

“Almost took you right then and there.” He reveals. His large hand cups your jaw, rubbing his thumb hard across your lips.

“You want more? My good girl wants more, huh?”

“Yeah.” You nod feeling every inhibition slip away.

He kisses down your body then when he reaches your core, he presses his face against you and deep.

Dave groans like he got punched in the stomach.

“Shit, wanna fucking eat you alive.” He slurs, biting at you gently through the fabric of your panties.

“Dave, please.” You squirm wanting more, begging him for him.

“My sweet girl, so polite.” He kisses your pussy over your underwear then rips it apart. You gasp, and he kisses your thigh.

“I’ll buy you more.” Dave mumbles dark.

He drinks all you give you, sends you to a new realm. His fingers fuck into you wild and reckless as he sucks at your clit possessed. It feels like your world is being destroyed in the most beautiful little death. Then his fingers curl against that oh so delicious spot making you scream.

“Yeah baby, give it to me.” He growls.

You come hard clutching at Dave’s hair.

His face glistens, and you feeling possessive now pull him to you. You kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, and it’s divine.

Drunk on this moment, you bring his fingers that were inside of you into your mouth

The thickness of Dave’s fingers, the salt of his skin mixing with your cum, it all has your eyes rolling back.

“Oh fuck yes, good girl, suck on ‘em.” He purrs, moving his fingers in and out.

Soon enough he pushes them back a bit further, making you gag but he urges you on sweetly. He suddenly pulls his fingers into his mouth and sucks them now closing his eyes.

“We taste so good together.” He hoarsely sighs.

“Dave… Vidðarr.” You whisper both his names.

His lips find yours in a blazing force.

This god takes apart your world and carves it new. You’ve never had someone touch you with the reverence of a sacred altar, yet also fuck you raw like you were his to destroy.

Your legs can barely move, and you simply now exist a blissed out puddle on Dave’s bed. But you happily bask in his arms.

“So much for fake dating.” You joke.

Dave smirks against your forehead.

“Stopped being fake a while ago.” He admits, and you curl into him more.

“You know, I’ve wanted to ask.” You shift in his arms to get a better look at his handsome clean shaven face. You feel smug seeing the bite marks, your marks, across his delicious exposed throat.

“How did you even find me?” You ask. He mentioned that sometimes some people pray to him, even try to summon him.

You did none of that. He did tell you once that everyone in your life wished for justice for you, and it’s why he possibly was summoned. But you were never satisfied with that.

Dave exhales. “Your soul called to me. I just answered.”

His words flutter through your chest. You’re the one now leaning forward to kiss him.

But then sorrow tarnishes this moment.

“When…when will you erase my memory?” You just hope he will give you a heads up, let you prepare.

Dave pulls back, and his face is scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re mine now. Don’t need to wipe your memory.”

His words rush into you but in the best way. A relieved sob escapes and you rush to pepper so many kisses across his face.

Dave smirks soaking it all up, a pleased cat in the sun..

Eventually he does get up, and with the shadows that drape over him, he becomes the hands of wrath and retribution. Your vengeance.

Those hands cradle your face tenderly.

“I have to honor my end of the oath. I’ll be back.” Dave doesn’t need to say more, and you don’t need to either. He kisses you softly then melts into the darkness.

The god vengeance doesn’t return until the late night, witching hour.

He’s covered in blood, hauntingly so, but it paints him a warrior.

Dave moves to kneel before you.

Gently, his blood hands place something in your palm. You’re reminded of a cat that brings its owner dead mice to show it can protect and bring you prey.

Instead you discover your ex’s college class ring, the one he was never seen without.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Instead you slide out of bed and gently kiss Dave gentle. You wordlessly lead him into the bathroom. With sacred grace you peel off Dave’s clothes.

His eyes, soft and dark, never leave you. In the warm shower, you wash him clean with all the thanks and adoration you can muster.

Dave eventually gathers you in his arms and under the warm, you let it cleanse something deep in you.

Here, you find a new home safe within the arms of vengeance and you hope he never lets you go.

#hi howdy if you’re reading this I truly appreciate & adore you & me and spooky Dave York love you and would give you the world #offering of frith challenge #Dave York x reader #dave york x f!reader #Dave York AU #frith challenge #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york fic #dave 🤎

92 notes · View notes

whataperfectwasteoftime · 1 year

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

��Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

543 notes · View notes

creepzkilla · 1 year

Note

Jahaiahaiahajajs I'm so glad your back!!!

I have an idea for you >:)=

Can I request some of your darkest headcannons for the Proxies? Like what are their toxic traits, it can sfw or nsfw or anything but the request is basically how dark and evil can they be?

I hope this makes sense and you don't have to do it, it's only of you're comfortable!

↳˳⸙;; ❝ HOW DARK ARE THE PROXIES? HC'S! ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗:

★Tumblr relies on reposting, please repost my work.★

tw. warning— mentions of self harm, mentions of aggressive actions, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of sexual ordeals

[A/N]— theme change?!??? pls let me know if u guys wanna be tagged in the next post! also i wanted to do the pastas as realistic as possible… should i make a post on how the proxies + others met their lover😴 or just my general hc’s?

THE QUESTION ITSELF IS FUNNY—

the proxies are slashers— murderers. psychopathic, deranged men that are hardly short of completely and utterly insane. their sanity-if they have any- is practically none besides possibly a sliver of humanity. if anything, they aren’t even men— they were resurrected from the pits of hell itself and placed on this god forban world. the atrocities that these men have commited rightly earns them the title of not men— but demons. their sinful actions could never be erased, not even if they bathed in the waters of Babylon. the screams, cries, the sobs of their victims as they carry out their orders doing god knows what to them, will forever be ingraved into their very being. not even god can save them from their damnation— if anything god is laughing.

SANITY IS NOT SOMETHING OF LUXURY FOR THE PROXIES—

it’s something that fought for. everyday, it’s a constant battle for control—the continuous thirst to satisfy the need to kill. not to mention the the operators hold on their minds, making them carry out heinous missions consisting of nothing but death and blood. their minds are plagued with nightmares of what they have done, on repeat like a broken record, replying over and over. yet, behind the insanity, the malice, the control over their minds, they have regained just a sliver of sanity. it’s not like they want to kill—but they have to. for the operator… for this urge. little by little, they begin to feel like an actual human being. but it’s not like you know anything.

TOBY ERIN ROGERS—

is the most far gone. since the operator took over his mind at such a young age without much resistance , he has the pleasure of sculpting toby’s mind into the perfect cast. despite the most—insane, he’s the one that hangs onto his sanity the strongest. almost like he’s able to flip it on and off like a switch. yet, the line between sanity and insanity draws very thin, so he can’t help it when… it slips sometimes.

Self-Destructive Tendencies: Toby's self-destructive tendencies, which are often associated with his character, could negatively impact the relationship. This is either emotional or physically. He may engage in self-harm or reckless behaviors, disregarding the well-being of you and causing them emotional distress and constant worry.

Emotional Instability: Toby's own emotional instability could create an unpredictable and volatile environment within the relationship. His mood swings, anger outbursts, and tendency to lash out verbally or physically could cause you to constantly walk on eggshells.

Explosive Anger: Toby may have anger management issues that result in explosive outbursts. He might have difficulty controlling his temper, leading to verbal or even physical aggression toward his partner. This behavior creates an environment of fear and intimidation.

Jealousy and Insecurity: Toby might struggle with feelings of jealousy and insecurity, leading him to exhibit possessive behavior. This could manifest in him constantly questioning your actions or relationships with others, even if there is no real cause for concern.

Over-Dependency: Toby may have a tendency to become overly dependent on you, relying on you for emotional stability and validation. This can lead to an unhealthy dynamic where he becomes possessive or overly clingy, causing his partner to feel suffocated or trapped.

HOW FAR WOULD TOBY GO—

well, he certainly wouldn’t go far enough to hurt you, no, never. he is specifically always careful not to harm you, especially during sex. but that wouldn’t mean that he would hurt you emotionally or mentally. his favorite punishment is ignoring you. he’d shun you for days on end in your shared apartment, just to teach you a lesson which is very rare. physically, he treats you like a delicate glass doll that could break at any moment. during sex, it’s almost like he’s afraid to touch you. he doesn’t want to corrupt you like the way he is… he wants to preserve your innocence, and your being, and because of that, he would do anything to protect you. anyone who would ever do you wrong would soon come under his hatchet in the most painful way imaginable.

Dark and Evil level: 6/10, Moderate, just "protective"

TIMOTHY WRIGHT(MASKY)—

is in a constant fight for control, more so than the other proxies. In Marble Hornets, it is referenced that he may have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). because of this, he comes into the separate entity known as Masky during blackouts. the operator has stalked timothy ever since he was a child and anyone else he came in contact with. the operator is setting his sights on timothy so young he can influence him just enough to do his bidding. of course, timothy hates the operator and works against him, but after so long, after all the pain and blood, he’s just too tired to fight back anymore. Masky, hates this. he hates that timothy gives up too quickly. during missions, a blackout is typically triggered, giving Masky complete control. and so soon enough Masky became tired as well. and then killing became second nature.

Controlling Behavior: Tim, overwhelmed by his own insecurities and paranoia, becomes possessive and controlling in his relationship. He constantly questions and monitors your actions, isolates them from friends and family, and exhibits manipulative behavior to maintain control.

Emotional Withdrawal: Tim, due to his secretive and guarded nature, may struggle with opening up emotionally to his significant other, that being you. He might withdraw from sharing his thoughts and feelings, leaving you feeling neglected or shut out.

Jealousy and Possessiveness: Tim's loyalty and protectiveness towards his friends, particularly towards Jay, might manifest as excessive jealousy and possessiveness in a romantic relationship. He may feel threatened by your interactions with others and attempt to control or isolate you.

Neglecting Emotional Support: Tim's own emotional struggles consume him, leaving little room for providing adequate emotional support to his partner, you. He may dismiss your concerns, minimize your feelings, or fail to offer the empathy and understanding you need, leaving you feeling unheard and invalidated.

Anger Issues: Tim/Masky occasionally displays violent and unpredictable behavior, driven by his internal struggles and external pressures. In a relationship, this volatility could lead to outbursts of anger, creating an unstable and potentially harmful environment for you

TIMOTHY AND MASKY WOULD NEVER HURT YOU—

not without reason. mentally or emotionally, timothy understands human emotions, despite not having any himself. yet, when he’s around you, everything changes. suddenly, he can feel again, suddenly, he has the strength to fight back. you are everything to him. the only good in this hell-bent world. he needs you, and he can’t let you leave him. so you can’t blame him when he starts chewing nicotine gum, “claiming to quit cigs.” you can’t blame him when he stops taking his gum out when he kisses you, “he forgets to.” you can’t blame him when suddenly all you want to do is kiss him. but it's not enough, no, no, no. he needs to make sure that your, 're addicted to him, completely and utterly infatuated with him. so, you can't blame him when he starts wearing nicotine patches, "the gum just wasn't working." you can't blame him when he starts placing the patches on you when you're sleeping next to him. you cant blame him when you practically breakdown when he leaves you, only for a few hours. you cant blame him when you feel a pinch on you arm during sex, when he stuck the nicotine patch into your arm without you seeing, saying that "oh darling its nothing." you can't blame him when you've become addicted to his presence and cock. no you don't understand, you really just can't blame him, he wants to keep you safe, really, he promises.

Dark and Evil level: 8.5/10, Very high, obsessive and insane.

BRIAN THOMAS (HOODY)—

has the most grip on reality. like tim, he has blackouts to which he comes into the separate being known as “Hoody”. also like Tim, he hates the operator. at first, he resisted, refusing to carry out those abominations; its heinous fantasies of mass destruction. except he was more willing than his counterpart, timothy. brian is calculating, he's a smart guy, he understood what would happen to him if he disobeyed the operator. the most excruciating torture that anyone has ever gone through. proxy brainwashing is no joke. he's not stupid, so that's why he's played the long game. do the operator's bidding until he's able to conjure a plan, it'll only be for a few, just until he can figure out how to get out of this hell space. soon "a few" turned into months. soon "months" turned into years. then suddenly he stopped keeping track. and then, he started to enjoy it.

Isolation and Control: Brian might isolate you from your friends and family, attempting to control who you interact with and where you go. By limiting your support networks, Brian exerts more control over their life, making it challenging for you to maintain independence and make your own decisions.

Difficulty Opening Up: Brian/Hoody's burden of guilt and emotional turmoil might make it challenging for him to open up and share his vulnerabilities. This could create a one-sided dynamic in the relationship, with you having to provide emotional support without receiving reciprocation, potentially leading to resentment and emotional imbalance.

Manipulative: brian plays on the emotions and insecurities of those around him, manipulating their feelings to further his own agenda. he understands their weaknesses and uses psychological tactics to subtly influence their actions, pushing them towards his desired outcomes.

Apathetic: Brian's apathy also masks underlying insecurities and vulnerabilities. By presenting himself as emotionally detached, he avoids exposing his true feelings and weaknesses to others. .

Emotional Unavailability: Brian/Hoody's reserved and stoic nature could make it difficult for him to express his emotions or be emotionally available in a relationship. He might struggle to communicate his feelings or provide the necessary emotional support to you, leading to a sense of distance and detachment.

BRIAN AND HOODIE ARE NEVER GONNA LET YOU GO--

you are the one thing that is keeping him sane. so don't even think about leaving him. you wouldn't get the chance anyways. your everything that he's ever wanted, there is not a chance in hell that he's gonna have you slip through his fingers. he can be mean sometimes, but he doesn't mean it, it just slips out! typically when he gets back from "work", he's aggravated, its like he's a different person. he's cold, calculating, a robot practically; so you cant blame him when he needs something to release his sexual frustration. he just loves pleasing himself inside of you, he loves the way your body reacts to his corruption. now since your body is "bound" to him, he still needs to take extra precautions to keep you from leaving... specifically, brian will pit you aganist your friends and anyone close. pointing out how your friend's remark was passive-aggressive, pointing out details on how your friends "don't care about you, how they will never care about you, how he is the only person that will ever truly care about you. of course, he leaves you at least one friend, maybe two if he's feeling generous, he doesn't want you to go insane after all.

Dark and Evil level: 7/10, Getting up there, crazy ex bf vibes

Toxic traits that all proxies/creepypasta have in my opinion:

Stalking

Manipulative

Gaslighting

Apathetic

Mean :(

Sexually all pastas have a corruption kink-- some more than others

DEEP DOWN THE PROXIES ARE STILL HUMAN--

after everything they've been through, after everything they have seen, they're just scared kids. their lives were stripped away from them at such a young age, their lives were just beginning--now its like they don't even live at all. they never wanted to do this, they never wanted to kill, they never wanted to serve an eldritch demon of mass power, they just wanted to grow up. be a kid, go to college, and have a life. maybe in a different universe, a different timeline, maybe just maybe, everything is the way it should be. maybe they arent as fucked up as they should be.

🏷️— @spookyravioli

515 notes · View notes

the-uninformed-zennial · 3 months

Text

Bound SMP Characters Coded as TMA Fears:

(I think @sniffingstarss already did one of these here, so you should go check that post out. But here are my personal thoughts because I have a returned hyperfixation and a new character and I need to get them ouuuut)

Armor: The Flesh

He literally got turned from bird to lizard. Idk what you want from me.

Ashril: (redacted)

Teehee

Ava: The Desolation

Something something traveling to find your long lost sibling figure and doing everything you can to protect them indicates you probably have a really strong fear of losing them… but also I just think Ava should get to burn things, for funsies.

Cosie: The Corruption

I feel like it fits cause of the sickness with her brother and (redacted).

Erin: The Stranger

Not knowing who you are?? Not remembering things you should?? Bestie, the stranger’s got you in a chokehold.

Gaverin: Darkness/the lonely

I think Gaverin’s fears lie at the intersection of the Dark and the Lonely. Being never fully seen, being never fully known, always just a pretty thing who is admired but not heard.

Marcel: The Buried

What’s worse for a guy who likes to travel around than being stuck in one place forever?

Mojave: The Eye

This little guy just wants to hear everyone’s stories and I’m sure that’s all

Pietro: The Slaughter

Okay so Pietro’s is specifically the Slaughter but in the sense of the attacker, not the victim. Just- the fear of being consumed by one’s own nature.

Rune: The Vast

A love of flying?? A fear of falling?? Welcome to the Vast my friend. (Plus it’s funny cause… yk… gay)

Sylph: The Stranger/The Lonely

There’s nothing lonelier than not even knowing who you are or where you came from. (Plus the whole changing last names thing, and the little conversation they had with Vast when the island fell during the race)

Talesin: The Spiral

🧍🫵 Michael Distortion 🌀

Vast: The Hunt/The End

He’s so afraid of turning from hunter to hunted. And he’s so worried that doing so will not only condemn her, but everyone else too.

Virgil: The Eye

Paranoid little motherfu- Heyyyy how’re the conspiracy theories going?

Anyway, these are not canon and absolutely just based on my own silly little observations so please take them with a grain of salt (and fight me about them, I wanna hear y’all’s thoughts).

But yeah!! I’m part of Bound SMP now! I’m so excited to get to share Mojave’s story with you all and I hope you guys will stay tuned for all of the exciting stuff we have in store for ya! 💕💕

#boundsmp #bound smp #tma podcast #tma fears #mcytblr

79 notes · View notes

themultifandomgal · 1 year

Text

Jay Halstead- Case Gone Wrong

It's been 2 weeks since YN's disappearance. 2 weeks since a case went wrong and YN was taken, tied up and beaten to an inch of her life. Everyone at intelligence has been working hard to find her, especially her boyfriend Jay and her dad Hank Voight

"Jay you need to go home, rest" Erin sighs at her partner

"I can't"

"I know your worried, so am I, but we won't help YN if we're tired"

"We won't help her if we're asleep either!" Jay yells, but Erin knows he's just tired, angry, upset, worried

"I think we may have a break through" Antonio says walking in with a woman "this is Mary she has something that could help us"

Voight and Antonio sit Mary down with a glass of water while the others stand behind the glass watching

"Tell him what you told me"

"Errm a couple of weeks ago I saw my neighbour take a young woman into his house. She was unconscious, she had a bandage on her head. So obviously I asked him if she was ok and he said that she fell and he was bringing her back from the hospital. I didn't think much of it. But this morning I watched him come home with more bandages"

"What did the girl look like?"

"Errm short dark blond hair, almost light brown. I didn't get a good look at her face, but she had a tattoo behind her ear" Voight and Antonio look at each other

"What was it?" Antonio asks

"It was a J I think"

"That's YN" Voight rubs his hand over his face

"We need an address"

Unbeknownst to YN, her PD family were on the way to save her while she was being tortured once again

"You nearly got me arrested. I thought you were my friend" Max, the guy they have been after for a year, says "thought we had something special. You know, after the trade I was going to ask you to be by my side permanently" YN doesn't speak, mainly because it hurts to open her mouth, but also because she has nothing to say to Max "now I think I'm going to have a little bit more fun with you, then I'll start cutting you up piece by piece, sent it to you dad, or maybe your boyfriend" Max grabs a knife stabbing it into her thigh, but she refuses to make any noise and give him the satisfaction.

Intelligence arrive in no time at all so when Max hears there's a bang upstairs, he looks at YN smiling. He places some tapes around YN's mouth, wrapping it around her head. He picks up his gun and leaves YN alone in the basement downstairs. All she can do is hope someone comes downstairs, but she knows that her dad and Jay will check every inch of this house.

Footsteps run down stairs, YN looks up to see Erin

"I got her!" Erin shouts running over to YN then sees the blood coming out of her thigh "I need an ambo at our location, stab wound victim loosing blood" Erin says into her radio after taking off her jacket and wrapping it tightly around her leg "guys I need help down here!" Erin yells again trying to untie the girl she classes as a sister "god YN your freezing" more footsteps are heard running down and over to YN

"Baby what did he do to you?" Jay exclaims before helping Erin

"He's wrapped the tape around her head. If we rip it off it will pull her hair out"

"Paramedics will have scissors, they can at least release her mouth" once Jay and Erin have YN untied, Jay picks his girlfriend up and takes her upstairs to wait for the ambo to arrive.

YN wakes up to Jay, Will and her dad in her hospital room

"Hey YN" Will softly says

"You want a drink?" Voight asks his daughter who slightly nods her head

"Here let me help you" Jay helps YN sit up a little so that her dad can direct the straw into YNs mouth. She takes a couple sips before laying back down. Jay moves some hair out of her face, she now noticed how tired both her boyfriend and dad look

"Have you slept?" YN asks quietly

"Not much. We were worried about you" Jay replies

"Do you remember what happened?" Will asks, YN gives him a nod "you had to have stitches in your leg"

"YN did he.. did he erm..." YN knows what Jay is trying to say

"No. Just hit me" Jay breaths a sigh of relief

"When can she leave?" Voight asks Will

"Well she can go home tomorrow as long as she's eaten and gone to the toilet. And she needs to have someone with her all the time for the next 2 weeks"

"Jay you can stay home with her, just have your phone on you"

"Got it"

"Now what do you say to trying to eat something?" Will asks. YN gives him a nod "ok. I'll be back in a bit" Will leaves the room

"Did you get Max?"

"Yeah we did"

"Good" YN smiles

"I'm going to head back to the precinct, I'll be back later" Voight says kissing his daughters forehead then leaving the room.

Jay stays with YN for the next 24 hours, even when Will and YN both tell him to go home.

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #jay halstead x yn #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x oc #jay halstead

399 notes · View notes

sassylegshayne · 2 years

Text

marry me, idiot. chapter two

SURPRISE UPDATE!! I wasn't planning on posting chapter two yet but I'm just so excited that you guys are enjoying this piece so much!! I'm honestly having so much fun writing it!! chapter two is 3.5K words! lmk what y'all think!! xx mwah

series masterlist

"what's your ring size"

The text from Erin, the executive assistant, lit up your screen just past midnight.

You quickly responded, noting that it may have been a bit urgent if she texted you about it. You made sure to question her, your curiosity got the best of you.

"I have to buy you a ring before tomorrow Imfao, need a ring for the shoot"

The what? Spencer had failed to mention exactly what changed in his schedule, prompting you to quickly check your own.

"Spencer," You chastised him as you shut off the television, the episode of Friends almost over, causing a groan in frustration from him. "You didn't tell me we have a fucking shoot tomorrow!"

You huffed, your brows furrowed. Spencer couldn't hide the turn of his lips, his smile cracking through.

"Calm down, honey, it'll be fine." He put emphasis on the pet name, his voice just a bit lower than normal. Your eyes widened, surprised at every part of it, even more so as he placed a hand on your bare thigh.

"You okay?" He quipped, reaching across your lap for the remote, turning the show back on. Spencer gave your thigh a soft squeeze, enjoying this intimacy with you and the confusion that was written on your face.

"Did you lose your mind, Spence?" You felt like omething was short circuiting or misfiring in your mind because this isn't your Spencer. Your Spencer is nervous, fumbles with his words, making the most out of pocket comments in any situation, he doesn't do wel| with physical affection.

This Spencer was touching you, on purpose. He seemed so calm, do relaxed that it was managing to put you on edge.

"What? What're you talking about, dude?" Spence furrowed his brow, shaking his head lightly. "You're gonna be my wife in like a year, we can't start fighting the day we get engaged, it's a terrible look."

"The shoot tomorrow is gonna be chill, I was texting lan about it. Everyone at work is gonna know that it's fake so we'll be okay. He said that we're gonna stick to poses he seemed 'subtly romantic, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean." Spencer was nonchalant, waving his hands around a bit as he spoke.

You nodded slowly, brows furrowed.

"Okay, yeah, that's fine. But what does that mean? Are they gonna make us be all cute and cuddly?" You sighed, nerves evident.

"Aren't we already?"

You would find out the following morning after the two of you arrived early to the building, clocks just shy of 7AM.

You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you entered wardrobe together, quickly being pulled in opposite directions to get ready. Spencer found his mind wandering to you as he went through the motions, curious about how it looked for you, what your time was entailing. You two finally met again at the front of the office, where you're greeted with a small group. Kiana, Spencer, and Brennan chatting as they awaited you.

You couldn't help but take in the simple outfit Spencer wore, it suited him well. He had a short sleeve, olive green button-up on, paired with dark khakis. It fit him so well that you knew Ki had picked it.

Spencer was glad to be ushered out of the building, finding himself speechless as soon as his eyes landed on you. You had on a tea length, light green dress. It had soft layers, accenting everything about you so beautifully; swaying with you as you walk.

Kianna had been saving the dress to gift to you, but as soon as she read the email, disregarding whether or not it was a joke, her heart called for it. She had the vision in her mind in an instant.

She's always known about the feelings you and Spencer had for each other, but couldn't bring herself to spill your guys' secrets. So she adapted early on, deciding to constantly poke at the two of you, dubbing you two work spouses.

Somewhere in the years since it started, as your feelings grew for each other, and Kiana heard everything from both of you, all she wanted was for the two of you to get together. She was so beyond excited with the stupid situation you'd put yourselves in.

Brennan drove the three of you out, both Spencer and you surprised to find that this was going to be a location shoot.

Kiana explained the ideas to you, talking about the field she had found that she thought was adorable. She went over some of the photo ideas, showing the two of you some references. She grinned as she spoke, evidently excited.

"Kiana, please take a deep breath, you're making me anxious." You laughed a bit, brows furrowed as she rolled her eyes. "I'm just excited, it's gonna be so cute and I'm excited to see y'all all cuddled up together."

She cackled a bit, turning around to grin at the two of you as Brennan tried to stifle his laughter.

With all the effort Kiana had already put into this, you could only imagine the delight she's taking in this.

Once you arrived, you stretched, yawning as Spencer approached you, tangling his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You smiled brightly up at him, turning after a camera shutter sounds off. You find Kiana behind the lens.

On instinct you raise your free middle finger at her, used to this treatment already. Spencer copied you, his mind on the exact same page as yours.

Another shutter as Brennan and her laugh, Kiana giving a thumbs up as you and a Spencer hold in laughter.

"You guys nailed it, that's the perfect vibe for the shoot. Go get lost in the field while we set shit up." She waves you off, popping the trunk of Brennan's car.

Spencer hums the theme for Animal Crossing as you wander, laughing softly.

"This is chill, right? Like, Ki didn't pick out terrible stuff for us to do like, pose wise." Spencer shrugged as the two of you came to a stop. You stood, squinting as you faced him, the sun shining brightly now.

"I'm cool with everything, but can we agree to say something if we're not cool with it?" You held up your hand, your pinky finger extended to him.

Spencer scoffed, linking his finger with yours and shaking.

"Hell yeah, dude," He laughed as he kept shaking your intertwined hands. "Consent is key."

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach as you shook your head. Spence rested his hand on your shoulder after a few moments, trying to calm you down.

"You really are The Chosen, Shayne was so spot on." Spencer rolled his eyes, pulling you into a hug. You rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist.

You smiled as you finally caught sight of Kiana and Brennan positioned in front of you two. They were far enough away to be out of earshot, done purposefully by Kiana's call, but close enough for Brennan to work his magic.

Everyone of you had a very busy day ahead, so this would be a quiet time for each of you to enjoy.

You lifted your head, pulling Spencer's attention as he followed your gaze, laughing softly.

"You think they've been there a while, babe?" He asked, his tone shifting in the same way it did yesterday. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, squeezing you softly as you smiled at the camera.

You shifted a bit, chewing your lip as you tried to pretend that his tone and names didn't have an effect on you.

"They definitely have, I think Ki's gonna cry soon." You stated, turning to smile at Spencer, your heart melting as your eyes met. You played the moment up as he chuckled, knowing you were right, you cupped his cheek softly. Spencer followed your lead, resting one hand on your waist as his other rested atop your hand on his face.

"Oh shit," Spencer jumped a bit, Kiana's gasp heard as loud as could be as you two separate. He dug in his pocket for a second before grinning. "You need this."

He held his hand out, presenting your ring to you. It had completely slipped your mind, the conversation with Erin felt like it happened days ago.

It was a simple ring, but it was perfect. The silver band held a single faux diamond.

"Erin said it's stainless steel and cubic zirconia, you can wear it as much or as little as you want to, I think." Spencer spoke as you laughed, holding up your right hand, giving him the chance to slip on the ring for the first time.

The both of you could feel an intimacy in this moment, a shift in the air.

"Wrong hand!! Wrong hand, no!" Screams pulled your attention from the moment as Ki and Brennan frantically yell at you two, waving their hands around wildly. You two laugh as you lift up your left hand now. The tension you both felt in the moment had dissipated quickly, Spencer making no show of putting it on now.

You fiddle with it for a second before flicking your ring finger to the pair that had interrupted your bubble. Spencer laughs as the camera shutters again.

You liked to imagine that everytime your heart fluttered was when Brennan shot, because you hadn't noticed the sound again until now, so lost in your time with your best friend. He breaks you from your thoughts as Spencer grabs your waist, bracing your back with his other arm as he spins you away from the camera. He dips you as your mixed laughters fill the air around you once again.

The two of you spend a bit longer together, Kiana yelling instructions for how to pose before calling you in closer. The closer shots were very full of natural smiles and laughter, as your small group continued to crack each other up.

You soon wrapped, finally checking your phone, finding it just past ten in the morning. Your stomach growled as you all piled into the car again, agreeing to hit a drive thru.

"I'm honestly really upset with the two of you." Brennan spoke solemnly as Spencer and you slummed into the backseat, out of his eyesight in the rearview.

"I'm gonna be editing all day because there were too many good shots. I'm gonna have to stare at you two all day long."

You arrived back to the office, Erin's schedule, the one she rushed to add to your calendars this morning as you both changed, directed you towards the Pit stage.

Kiana was quick to push you two back to wardrobe, claiming that you couldn't wear your same outfits, it would out everything.

You slipped your jeans back on, and opted for a black pizza place shirt you kept at your desk. You greeted Spencer back at the stage, finding him in the same pants, now with his navy blue shirt from this morning.

Two identical yellow stools sat centerstage, a table placed in front of it. The lighting seemed more dim than usual, and maybe a more warm toned, too.

Eventually the pair of you were situated at the table, being told over and over again to scoot closer as they check the framing for the cameras.

"Okay!" Kiana clapped loudly as Spencer adjusted himself on the stool, looking to you with furrowed brows. You two were used to being close and touching, but it felt weird on camera.

You both decided to keep the physical affection to a bare minimum on screen, not wanting the internet to run too far with their ideas. It didn't mean the two of you were great at remembering that, but for the most part, this was the closest you two had been durning filming.

The weight setting in as you realize this would also be the first video with just you two, and it was a big joke.

You giggled a bit, earning a glare from Ki that silences you quickly.

"We're gonna do our announcement video. wanted to wait until you guys were more comfortable with faking a relationship, but we need this in case it leaks or anyone posts anything about it." She grinned, nodding. The both of you nodded along, Spencer rubbing his palms on his pants nervously.

He felt like he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs until his voice gave out. There wasn't a project Smosh had presented to a Spence that scared him, but he was a bundle of nervousness and terror right now. He was so scared by how natural all of this came to the both of you, granted, it had only been the one photoshoot. Still, the ring on your finger that you continued to fidget with weighed so heavily on his heart; he wanted so badly for it to be real.

"Spence? You good?" You ask, smiling softly as you glance at him, taking his right hand in your left, squeezing it gently. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt the cold metal of the ring press into his skin.

"Yeah, let's do this shit." He nodded, squinting his eyes as he smouldered at the camera, causing you to chuckle.

"Okay, let's do an intro, just introduce yourself and your roles, then you guys can take any explaining you'd like to do from there." Kiana grinned, giving you guys two thumbs up as she stood offstage.

You tooka deep breath, giving Spencera small hug before settling back in place, smiling brightly.

"Hey guys," You grin, waving at the camera.

"The editors are taking over the channel, Shayne and Courtney are no more." Spencer grinned, laughing softly. You rolled your eyes at him as Shayne's laugh is heard off camera.

"If you don't know who we are by now, this is Spencer." you gesture to the man beside you as he waves at the camera. "He's an editor here, and my best friend."

"Thank you, thank you. My college here with me today is Y/N." He began, grinning softly as he watched you pose, resting your head on your hands. "She's also an editor here, she's my best friend, and she's my fiance.'

He swiveled back to the camera, grinning brightly as you squealed, holding your left hand out proudly to the fans. A bright blush was apparent across your cheeks and Spencer's.

"So yeah, that's what this whole video is about today, which is probably a big shock to you guys, so we'd like to explain a little bit." You smiled brightly, grabbing Spencer's hand from his thigh to intertwine your fingers.

"Ki, how long have we been together? Cut this part, also, just, yanno.." Spencer trailed, waving his other hand around as he squinted, looking for Kiana.

"I'd say no less than two or three years." She shrugged, a few people mumbling in agreement.

"Four?" You shrugged, as Spencer mirrored your movement squeezing your hand.

"Cool, all good now, carry on." He laughed, as you shook your head, smiling at him as he began to get back on track.

"We've actually been dating for a little over four years now" He chuckled, chewing his lip glanced over at you. "We kinda just kept it to ourselves for a while, unintentionally. Like, we already posted about each other and cuddled and did super couple-ly shit, so the title change wasn't a big deal."

You couldn't stop yourself from staring at Spencer as he spoke, sounding so sincere and genuine that it tugged at your heart strings.

"We did also talk about keeping it from you guys, which wasn't easy, but we liked having the privacy of our relationship; it was fun to think that no one but us knew about us." You turned a bit, bumping your knees with his as Spencer stared down at his lap, grinning. This felt unreal. He couldn't believe this was something you two were in for together.

"We didn't intentionally keep it from everyone at Smosh, though!" You were quick to defend yourselves, eyes wide.

"That was an accident, but they found out when we moved in together, like, two years ago, so it's all cool now!" You grinned, winking at you gave the camera a thumbs up, Spence unable to contain his laughter beside you.

"It was just because we weren't quite prepared for how everyone on the internet would react, more so me than Spencer." You chuckled as he raised his brows, shrugging.

"Now I'm excited as fuck!" You grinned, bouncing in your seat a bit as Spencer laughed again.

He huffed, rolling his eyes as he pouted.

"C'mon, we're gonna have to edit that." He spoke low, causing you to fall into a fit of laughter, which spurred Spencer into a fit of his own. You two continued laughing for a bit, wiping tears when you calmed down, mindlessly creating more work for yourselves, again.

"We figured since we were gonna tell you guys about it, or since the internet figures everything out, why not make it more interesting? Plenty of people around Smosh have gotten married, sure." He scoffed, waving his hand as he spoke, feigning seriousness. You couldn't contain your giggles as Spencer spoke, nodding along with everything he said.

"Not once in those weddings were both of the parties Smosh employees, let alone two that were shipped online already!" He exclaimed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side for a warm hug.

You wrapped your arms around his waist as you grinned at the camera, resting your head on his shoulder.

"What all of that means is that this wedding is a pretty big deal for everyone here at Smosh. Especially with so many of our close friends being our coworkers." You spoke, gesturing to the people behind the cameras. A small cheer rang out from a few people in the crew, causing the both of you to smile.

"Soon, we will be uploading wedding themed Smosh videos!" You squealed, jumping a bit as you squeezed Spencer before you sat back onto your stool.

"We're not gonna do like, wedding videos, but themed ones, kinda like how the Smosh Games series worked. That means you're gonna get to see our usual content, just with a wedding twist. We have a Wedding Party Try Not to Laugh planned, right, Ki?" Spencer grinned, feeling the excitement bubbling in his chest the more he spoke.

Kiana called out an excited 'yes', her thumbs up again as some cheers erupted from the crew. Spoiling an upcoming video was not a concern for her at the moment as she watched her two best friends fall more in love with each other.

Ki was thankful that the lights were still bright enough to keep her from your sights as she stood, teary-eyed, her hands clutched at her chest.

"I think we have some video games, maybe a couple of our other original series too!" You grinned, nodding as you looked to Spencer, finding him already looking at you.

You two were pulled away as Kiana called for an outro. You were quick to start the end card part, glad to have an excuse to stop yourself from staring into Spencer's blue eyes.

The two of you quickly took off your mics before heading in opposite directions for lunch. You brought up the idea this morning on your way in together.

You were worried that Spencer would get tired of seeing you so much, especially with everything happening this quickly.

He was quick to insist that your assumption was false, claiming he'd spend forever with you, winking. Spencer was allowed to make these jokes now, you two were literally, well, more technically engaged. Still counts.

It was almost ironic when you enter your office to find Spencer eating at his desk.

You had initially headed in the opposite direction to find Patrick, needing to talk to him about a scene in a new skit.

You couldn't seem to figure out how exactly he wanted to timeline to run in the video, so it was fairly important.

After no luck with your search for the writer, you headed back towards your office, settling on ordering delivery.

You sat in your chair beside him, laughing softly.

"I thought you didn't wanna spend time with me on your lunch break." He chuckled as he wiped his mouth, setting down a container in front of you.

Spencer knew you well enough to order your food for you, expecting to find you seated beside him eventually. You like to make lunch plans with others early, you didn't often eat by yourself. You'd turn up at your desk after not making plans. He cared about you so much, fuck.

You couldn't help the blush the appeared on your cheeks every single time that Spencer did this, no matter how often it was.

He'd come in after you most mornings, greeting you with a kiss on the forehead as he places a coffee on your desk before sitting at his own. He'd check the time before you did, mindlessly ordering lunch for the two of you as you got lost in your work. You had a habit of accidentally working your way through your break, unless Spencer set a box in front of you, unaccepting of any money you tried to give him.

It was the little things that made you fall in love with you best friend. Love wasn't a word you used to describe your feelings to Kiana, scared you'd have to watch her explode, but you knew you were in love with Spencer.

You love him, romantically, and he loves you, platonically. That's fine.

"Spencer, I love spending time with you," You huffed, pouting softly as you popped open the box, finding your go-to order inside.

You hold your left hand up between the two of you. "I'm literally, technically about to spend forever with you, dude."

He laughed, flicking you off as he placed his headphones on, choosing to squeeze in some editing on his lunch break in-between your shoots.

In reality, Spencer didn't think he could spend his break talking to you like everything was normal. He still wanted to scream, maybe until he passed out now.

You scrolled on your phone, occasionally nudging the man beside you to show him something, Spencer huffing a breath of air out of his nose each time.

When you stood, Spencer was quick to pull off his headphones, rubbing his eyes a bit.

"Call time, big boy." You chuckled, reaching your hand down to rub his shoulder softly before you made your way towards the Pit set, again.

Spencer followed behind you, brows furrowed when his eyes landed on a certain someone standing on the stage. He subconsciously knew you had stopped to stare in confusion too.

#ahhhHHHHHHHHH #oh my god I love this fic #tell me who yiu guys think it is please omg thatd be so fun #please do it yall #im begging ngl #smosh #mine #smosh au #spencer agnew imagine #spencer agnew x reader #spencer #spencer agnew smut #spencer agnew #mmi #mmi tag #kiana parker

234 notes · View notes

ibelivedthehypeam · 1 year

Text

Izzy Stradlin smut

Sitting at a table surrounded by his friends while his hands creeped up my thigh wasn’t how I though this night would go.

Just over a month without Izzy and I was going feral. I didn’t expect I’d really miss him as much as I do, but here we are. Finally he was back in LA for a show tonight and was staying for a few days. He had asked me to meet him before the gig started, somewhere backstage. I’d got dressed up in something I knew he could resist, and got a cab to the venue.

Upon arriving to the bar I realised they was quite a large group of people waiting to be let in. I followed Izzy’s instructions and headed to a door round the back of this building. Soon enough I recognised faces, smiling to duff and slash who were lazily drinking with some girls.

“Hey babe!” I heard Izzy say, pulling me into a hug. He gave me a short kiss while walking me into the dressing room he was occupying.

“I’v missed you.” I admit into his ear as he kisses down my neck, looking to see my dress and smirking at me.

“Same, so much, I have to be on stage in 5 though.” He says calmly, caressing my shoulders and I audibly let out a groan of annoyance.

“Don’t worry, we can spend the rest of the night together.” He smiles, winking at me and I giggle. At least he was on the same mind track as me.

“Let’s go Iz!” I heard someone yell from outside the door. He gives me a final kiss before grabbing his guitar off a stand.

“Looks like it’s your time to shine.” I grin at him and he laughs, pecking my lips once more before we walk out of the room.

The hallways were dimly lit, with unusual stains on either side of the walls. Izzy however seemed to know his way round perfectly. When we got into the main venue I recognised it instantly, they had played here a few times.

“See you later.” He exclaims joining Steven walking up onto stage. The crowd roared at their entrance, screaming their names at they began the introduction to rocket queen. After they had finished their first few songs I realised Erin, axls girlfriend, was dancing just near to me.

“Hey yn!” She exclaimed acknowledging my appearance in the crowd of people in the side lines. We chatted for a bit until they started their song Paradise City, both of us screaming the words and dancing together.

When they were coming to the end of their set I noticed Izzy’s eyes lingering on my figure more frequently. I smirked at him catching his dark gaze, which he didn’t stop, his eyes travelling down my body. I loved when he played his guitar, how his hands stretched over the frets, making me squirm slightly at the sight. Not to mention the way he would throw his head back in parts of the songs. I didn’t know if he did it on purpose but it certainly got me in a mood. After they had finished their final song, the five of them walked off, full of sweat and post-show energy.

Quickly enough izzy found me again placing a long kiss to my lips, wrapping his arms around my waist and I hooked mine around his neck. He slid his tongue past my lips and into my mouth, causing me to release a short moan. After he pulled away he stared into my features, only long enough to make me flustered. The guys were already planning their evening ‘getting drunk’ session and apparently Izzy had already agreed to it. I gave him a glare as the group of us headed to a bar just down the road from where they had performed.

I knew we wouldn’t be here for long if I managed to turn on Izzy. I was already desperate for him, it had been so long since I had felt him and he had got me all riled up from him being on stage. We all got situated in a circular table in the corner of the building, me between Steven and Izzy.

“Sweetheart you can wait 30 minutes, can’t you?” He asks, with a tone in his voice that made me bite down on my lips. He smirks, knowing he just getting me even more hot and bothered. I roll my eyes at him and turn to Steven to talk to him.

“So Steven, how are you?” I ask and we began talking about casual subjects. As we started to chat about his new drum equipment I felt Izzy’s hand, warm and gentle on my knee, stroking with him thumb. I continue to talk to Steven ignoring Izzy, who was still trying to get a reaction out of me by moving his hand to my thigh. Thank god the table was covering my bottom half, otherwise I think we would have had some teasing from his band mates. Steven announces he’s getting more drinks and Izzy grabs my chin to face him.

“What’s with the ignoring baby, I thought you were horny?” Izzy chucked into my ear just quite enough that I can only hear. He was right of course but I wasn’t gonna let him know that, he would tease me with it forever.

“I’m not ignoring you, your just wanting my attention sweetie.” I say, resting my hand on his chest, moving it down to his crotch. I hear him gulp and I giggle, removing my hand, turning to Steven who had returned with drinks.

I start talking to Steven again, this time duff was laughing at some mtv thing, telling a story. That I was only half listening to as Izzy whispered dirty secrets into my neck.

“Let’s go home, I need you.” He groans, grabbing my hand and guiding it to his bulge that could be pretty noticeable. He moaned slightly as I pinched the tip through his trousers, holding my hand as I worked on him. I stood up and Izzy explained we were leaving, some excuse of jet lag, it was obvious we were gonna fuck though. The taxi home was short, full of groping and kissing, but not long enough that we would have done anything too sexual.

“Please sweetheart, I’m so hard for you baby.” Izzy groaned, we weren’t too steps into my apartment before he pushed me against a wall, letting me feel his hard cock against my heat. If I wasn’t wet already I definitely was now. Listing to our combined moans, we touched and felt each over to the skin, making our way to the bedroom. He knew his way around, had done this before too many time to count, but every time the feeling of lust and excitement never failed to intrude our minds.

“Yes Izzy!” I moaned into his shoulder as my arms linked around his back, scratching and pulling at his skin. He let his fingers stroke down to my wet flesh, stroking down my pussy and steadying himself above me. I felt his tip enter me, then the rest of his length, hitting right where I wanted him. His exhales of pleasure were sent straight to my core as he continued thrusting into me at a alarming pase.

“God I’ve missed you.” He admits in a hurry as he feels down my sides, I feel he’s close and I clench, almost warning him that I am too. He does a final lift of his hips and both of us collapse into load moans of each others names. Coming down from my high I notice he’s looking at me, smiling. I laugh and he kisses my lips, it’s passionate, full of love.

Authors note - again izzy?! he’s hot im sorry 🤭. Anyway request please!!! I have no ideas. (Links in my pinned post) thanksss

#izzy stradlin #guns and roses #izzy stradlin smut #guns and roses smut #slash #Steven Adler #duff mckagan #axl rose #smut

91 notes · View notes

idkyetxoxo · 7 months

Text

One | Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

"Are you a whore?"

"Watch your mouth you jerk,"

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

"Shots!" Annabelle's cheer resonated as the tray of intoxicating elixirs made its way to our crowded booth. Amid our collective drunkness, the relentless flow of drinks showed no signs of stopping.

Each of us eagerly seized a shot glass, joyously proclaiming "cheers" before succumbing to the bittersweet embrace of the liquid fire. I roughly placed my glass down, surveying the scene unfolding around me. "I love you all so much this is the best birthday ever," I professed loudly, slightly stumbling over my words because of the alcohol-induced haze that had enveloped me several drinks ago.

"Let's dance!" Erin enthusiastically proposed, seizing the nearest individuals as we stumbled towards the dance floor. I latched onto my boyfriend's neck, coaxing him to join. Though slightly more composed than the rest of us, he was far from being completely coherent.

Pulling him close, we swayed in harmony with the music. "I'll go grab more drinks for us," he slurred before departing for the bar. I nodded in agreement, losing myself in the euphoria of the celebration.

As the night unfolded, it became a kaleidoscope of additional drinks, uninhibited dancing, and eventually, my recollection succumbed to the haze of intoxication.

The remainder of the evening blurred into fragmented memories.

── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ──

My eyelids reluctantly parted, greeted by the harsh embrace of the sun glaring directly into them. The ache reverberated through my entire body, and as my surroundings gradually came into focus, the realization struck me, I was outdoors. A swift survey disclosed a woodland setting, leaving me disoriented in the midst of nature's embrace.

"Hello" my call echoed, but the only response was a resounding silence. My hands fumbled in search of my phone, only to discover its absence. "Atlas" I shouted, hoping to find the presence of my boyfriend.

In scrutinizing my attire, I was taken aback I was still wearing the very short and tight gold sparkly dress with matching heels. "Where am I?" I mumbled to myself, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

The rhythmic trotting of horses drew my attention as a man and woman approached, they were wearing old-fashioned clothing and both had interesting hairstyles as if plucked from a past era.

"Who are you?" the man inquired, and relief washed over me as he spoke in English. "Y/n," I replied, sensing his intense gaze scrutinizing my body and face, leaving me slightly uncomfortable.

"Are you a whore?" he blurted out, leaving me utterly taken aback. "Watch your mouth, you jerk," I retorted, adjusting my dress subconsciously. The woman chastised him with a disapproving tut, and he nonchalantly shrugged.

"Can I borrow your phone please I think I lost mine?" I asked as politely as I could and they both looked at me like I had asked for their firstborn child. "No," the man said slowly and I frowned, he surely seemed like a little ray of sunshine.

"Where are we?" I queried as frustration began to set in, and the woman answered, "Wessex" with a smile.

Confusion clouded my mind, as my last recollection placed me in a dark London club surrounded by intoxicated people. "You're not from around here," she added, pointing out the obvious and I resisted the urge to shoot her a mocking smile.

Attempting to clarify, she explained, "You are from the future."

This time I didn't hold back my laugh at her ridiculous statement. I asked mockingly, "So what you guys from the Stone Age or something?" Their blank stares towards me suggested they struggled to comprehend the notion and my face contorted into worry towards their seriousness.

"You're from a different period of time," she stated, brushing off my previous question.

I attempted to make sense of the situation by asking about the current era and their ignorance seemed to mirror my own. I groaned realising my lack of knowledge on the subject of history and their lack of knowledge on the future wasn't helping either of us.

"Is this a joke?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes at them. The woman shook her head while the man sighed in frustration.

Frustrated myself, I probed about the current monarch, only to receive a grunt and an annoyed look.

"Who leads here?" I simplified hoping it was more understandable, and the response I received was "King Alfred," sending a shiver down my spine as a lump formed in my throat.

"Like Alfred the Great, the first King of the English?" I choked out, barely comprehending the improbable truth of being catapulted into medieval times.

"I'm going to be sick," I declared, the urgency in my voice palpable as I staggered towards a nearby tree. Leaning against the rough bark, I doubled over, my body convulsing with waves of nausea.

The acidic taste lingered in my mouth, mingling with the scent of the earth around me, as I struggled to regain my composure amidst the overwhelming sickness and thoughts swirling around my mind.

The woman finally dismounted her horse, followed shortly by the man. She walked over to me and offered a flask of water, which I hesitantly accepted.

"I want to go back," I said looking at her pleadingly like she could somehow catapult me back. "I'm afraid that is not a possibility" she frowned softly.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I yearned to reunite with my friends, hoping this was all some kind of cruel and weirdly realistic nightmare. "I want to see Atlas and Annabelle and Erin and all my friends" I bubbled out pushing away from the woman.

"Your path lies here now there is no return," she explained plainly, and I harshly wiped away the tears that had managed to escape.

"Don't be stupid, I don't know anyone or anything here" I admitted "I have no knowledge of this stuff" I breathed out and she took a step towards me gently placing a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. "Do not worry Uhtred will guide you, he will be your protector."

The man visibly reluctant, voiced his objections very vocally, I assumed he was the Uhtred she spoke of.

"I will do no such thing" he said and the woman shook her head "It is your destiny" she said simply and Uhtred sighed heavily wiping his hand over his forehead in disbelief, the word 'destiny' seemed to sway him.

"Come with us, my name is Iseult," she offered, and weighing the risks, I reluctantly followed.

My options boiled down to a precarious balance, either wander aimlessly, risking an encounter with someone who might not be as understanding, or defy the basic principle of stranger danger and follow after the enigmatic couple who contradicted each other.

Iseult shrugged off her cloak handing it to me "Wear this, the place we're heading to will not be welcoming to a woman dressed like that" she said and I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious in my dress.

I pulled the cloak over my body quickly and Uhtred looked down at my shoes "Why do you have weapons on your feet?" he asked and I lifted one of my legs looking at the heels "These aren't weapons they are heels" I explained.

For a man who seemed so sure of himself and exuded arrogance, he was quite silly.

"Take them off and leave them here," he said getting onto his horse with ease "I'm not leaving these here they're Versace!" I protested, but he paid no heed.

Tears welled up again as I hid the precious heels in a set of bushes, reminiscing about the joyful moment they were gifted to me by my boyfriend.

Barefoot, I questioned the absurdity of going unnoticed without shoes and the only response I received was a laugh from the man, he was really beginning to annoy me.

Iseult cautioned against revealing my origins explaining it may not be the wisest decision, and Uhtred simply commanded me not to speak at all. I frowned wrapping the cloak tighter against my body not liking this one bit.

I attempted to get onto his horse once I realised that was our mode of transport and struggled in the process. Uhtred sighed before effortlessly lifting me onto his horse a little harshly, I yelped as he manhandled me swatting his arm firmly as he ignored me rolling his eyes.

The journey through the forest began in silence, leaving me grappling with the unfathomable reality of what was happening.

"Do not speak" Uhtred repeated as the horses took off and I had to stop myself from smacking him across the face.

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS STORY 🤭🤭

20 notes · View notes

goosebumpsbookclub · 6 months

Text

Let's Get Invisible

Is this book scary? I mean, no, not really. But kind of? Existentially?

This story takes place almost entirely in a single room, like that one M. Night Shyamalan movie about getting stuck in an elevator with the devil or whatever (never saw it). That sounds boring, and on some level it is, but there's something compelling about a group of characters trying to define and unpack what they're (not) seeing. How do they view themselves? Each other? Society, science, gender, power, the U.S. military? No, really. The goddamn military.

Regular boy child Max has some friends over his birthday. They--along with Max's brother Lefty, whose defining trait is his lefthandedness, which you bet your butt will be relevant later--find a big ol mirror in the attic, and when Max turns on the light above it, he disappears. They become fascinated with it; Max and Lefty return that night to try it again, and they notice that the longer they stay invisible, the longer it takes them to reappear after turning the light off. Foreboding! But they're middle schoolers, so they haven't learned about foreshadowing yet.

Max's friends return and they challenge each other to stay invisible as long as possible, as staying invisible saps their energy. I thought this part was actually pretty neat and atmospheric: Max describes the light "pouring over me, surrounding me. Pulling me." When Zack goes to turn off the light, he "was blurred in shadows. He stepped through dark shadows, on the other side of the light." Foreboding. And kind of VanderMeerian in a way I really like!

Erin suggests Max enter the mirror in the school science fair, which is a frankly insane idea. This is followed by one of the most interesting exchanges in the book:

"They’ll take it away to study it. Scientists will want it. Government guys will want it. Army guys. They’ll probably want to use it to make the army invisible or something." "Scary," Erin mumbled thoughtfully.

Whoa, okay! Anti-military king R.L. Stine.

The children continue their ill-advised mirror activities. Max hears a voice whispering his name at night; Lefty stays invisible for too long and starts acting all freaky, which is to say polite and non-annoying. When Max's friends return, the same thing happens to them. Max thinks they look different, but he can't put his finger on how. They force Max to go invis', and he sees dozens of faces--including his friends Erin and Zack--floating and yelling something he can't hear. Okay, that's decently creepy. Max's own reflection tells him they're going to switch places. "Are you so afraid of your other side, Max? That's what I am, you know. Your other side. Your cold side."

Which, Christ. There's a lot to unpack there.

Max runs and escapes the mirror. Before Erin and Zack can make him go invisible again, Lefty pops up and throws a softball, a thing he's always doing, and seemingly accidentally breaks the mirror. Erin and Zack are restored to their regular non-freaky selves and Max is saved! Yay! Screw mirrors! But when the two brothers go outside to play catch, Max notices that Lefty... is throwing the ball with his right hand.

Dun dun dun. Etc.

Is it weird that this is maybe my favorite 'bumps so far? First of all, this is the first book to have bits of writing that I actually really like, stylistically. There's the unsettling mirror-invisibility-realm, and also this line when Max escapes it: "I came bursting out of the mirror, into the tiny attic room, into an explosion of sound, of color, of hard surfaces, of real things." That's evocative! I enjoy it!

And then there are the Themes™. I think the meanings I find in these books are generally not ones Stine meant to be there, but this one seems pretty intentional. Like, I kind of think R.L. Stine, author of Goosebumps, might have read some Carl Jung? Jung wrote about the idea of the unconscious "shadow self," the repressed self. These kids are frightened of the parts of themselves they don't want to acknowledge, the parts that maybe they feel will come to define them as they get older. Their "cold side"--the side of them that is, like reflection-Lefty, polite and scheming and no longer full of wonder, overtaken by the cynical desire to wield power. They're afraid of being changed, of adulthood trapping their child selves away behind glass, only to be looked at, no longer real. And afraid, too, perhaps, of their friends changing in the same way, until, for reasons they can't quite understand, they no longer recognize each other.

They're also afraid of the military industrial complex. Me too, guys.

Cover: It is what it is. Look, it's hard to make a mirror scary. At least there's a creepy spiderweb in the corner. 1.5/5.

Scare factor: I don't know, man. Nobody throws a flashlight and busts a vampire's head open, but the bits in the mirror-realm are genuinely unsettling and cool. 3.5/5.

Olivia Newton-John factor: Excellent. The most Newton-Johnesque Goosebumps title thus far. 5/5.

#hello to my new followers I AM still doing this lol I'm just slow #goosebumps #r.l. stine #let's get invisible #long post

14 notes · View notes

everybody-loves-purdy · 4 months

Note

Who I think has a chance of being the voice from my least favorite decision to favorite

Mapleshade, I don’t dislike her but she gets overused. Especially in places where she really doesn’t belong, (namely; any novella other than hers) I don’t understand why they couldn’t just have sticker to her being nothing more than a henchmen in the main series when it takes place in the dark forest, a protag of one novella, and an antagonist in Crookedstars Promise. Those are the only times when her presence feels interesting and/or not forced.

Splashatil, we just got an arc of him PLEASE.

Sol, he has had the perfect amount of attention, maybe a bit more attention would be fun but not an entire arc.

Sleekwhisker, idk I just don’t like the idea.

Any double-dead villain.

Moonpaws absorbed sibling, I think her sibling would be fine as a Smallstar esc StarClan cat, but her mind being in the same body as Moonpaws would end up being written in the worst way possible.

Juniperclaw, it would be very out of character.

Silverhawk, Maggottail or Sparrowfeather, I’d love to see more of any of these three, but it would feel wrong for any of them to become main antagonists after what happened in ALitM. Even if their motivations were just to save their own guts.

Clawface, he would be kind of new for a villain, and I do kind of like him, but his personality is kind of inconsistent so probably not. Exiles in ShadowClan seemed to make it seem like he was a follower not a Leader, so if it were him, there would have to be somebody he is taking orders from.

Frecklewish, on one hand I would like to see if they make up some other reason for her being in the Dark Forest, I doubt it would be a reason that is very much better. I also doubt that they would do anything but double down on the already previously stated reason.

Houndleap or Rushtooth, two complete blank slates of characters. The writers could do whatever they want with these guys.

Stumpytail, a blank slate of a character, but he has a bit of more grounding. And by that I’m talking about the fact that he is in the dark forest with his Dad.

Curlfeather, while she had an affect on the last arc, and she is definitely an antagonist, it would be hard to describe her as one of the antagonists of ASC as she died in the very first book.

A brand new character, this is my favorite idea.

Note that I only included characters I think have a chance to be the voice. The Erin’s are absolutely not going to make Hollyleaf or Bristlefrost the villains of this arc, but if they were on this list, I would put them between Curlfeather and Stumpytail.

Also, I think an idea I wouldn’t mind is if they had Clawface be the voice and then Stumpytail be the mastermind behind it all, since I talked about Clawface definitely not being the type to be the mastermind behind some plan against the clans. But I would still prefer Curlfeather or a new character over that.

These are some good ideas! I never considered more background dark forest cats like Clawface or Houndleap or even the ones slightly more present like Silverhawk, and it would be really interesting if the Erins decided to do something with those characters.

Now you mention Juniperclaw, if it is him maybe it could be because Moonpaw’s patterning is like a split between light and dark - StarClan and the Dark Forest. And since he’s the guardian of the space between the two that could be how he ties in.

If it’s Frecklewish then that would scare me only because I feel the reason they would use her would be to double down and because of that I feel like they would just make her really evil and the fandom will just explode.

#anonymous

7 notes · View notes

heartj4yn0 · 1 year

Text

let's go for a walk.

Inspired by an instagram edit i randomly found while scrolling and thought it was cute! It made me feel safe. It made me feel like i was home (mark) and it made me feel like i was him <3 #delusionalczennie haha

You've been reminding Mark to toss the piled rubbish out, but because he's a careless person, of course, he forgot until today. The front door made a beeping sound when he did so. His shadow suddenly appeared over you as you were preoccupied with the television. halting your performance to take notice of his shadow.

He asked you, "Babe, should we go for a walk?" with excitement. You only responded by humming. He repeated, "Do you want to go for a walk?" Knowing full well that you were preoccupied with who knows what.

It was a cold wintery day, so you knew you needed to put on those clunky boots and your long padded jacket; you're usually cold. Mark zips up your unzipped jacket, giving you the appearance of a penguin.

"You ready, babe?" he asks, taking your hand in his and making sure to turn off all lights except the fairy lights so it's not too dark when you guys get home. As soon as you entered the lobby, he informed you that it would be freezing outside.

You said, leaping up and down, squeezing his gloveless hand, "Dude, it's so cold!" You didn't realize how cold it would be outside because you worked from home today and drank hot chocolate with marshmallows by the fireplace you both finally put together (actually, none of us did, the fireplace people put it together, we don't have the skills, sorry).

"Oiiiiii, it's cold babeeeeeee!!!" and Mark's never-ending "it's cold" and yet you're both still cold, refusing to go back home and warm up with hot chocolate and a hot pack.

"Wowowow," the cheetah-like man said as you twirled about, attempting to raise your body temperature. As a result of the cold, he made some strange noises. I mean, he requested a walk. During the winter. That's exactly what you get.

When the wind blows, Mark immediately zips up his jacket and doesn't want the cold wind to penetrate under his light jacket. He props the camera on selfie mode, trying to take pictures of both of you when the wind ends up making an appearance aka your hair flying to places which wasn't the aesthetic you were going for but we get the gist. you've taken a mental note to print them and frame them as memoirs of the cold weather.

“It’s cold, it’s so cold~~~” he was vlogging and twirling around at the same time, it was your tradition vlogging these little moments then compiling them to be posted to your private youtube channel where your family members and friends could enjoy your chaotic yet calm daily lives. (the camera shaked more than your booty// bye im sorry)

After an hour in the cold, you decided it was time to go home because baby cheetah (mark) was tired and sleepy and hungry. You chuckled looking at his tired expression but you were glad he asked you out. No matter how cold it was, you’re always warm with him <3

—ahhhh i'm back!!!!!!!!!! the fact that i have so many unfinished drafts is making me sad T.T but it's okay, good things take time!!! and i've been super busy :(!!!

love, erin <3

43 notes · View notes

felicitysmoaksx · 4 months

Text

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for sticking with this story! Not much to say except this is one of my favorite chapters I've written and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed it coming together. Remember, comments fuel the author!

Rating: Mature

Summary: Her eyes squeezed shut before she dropped her head. Borrowed time. It was meant to be her…It was meant to be-

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of a little bit of everything in this chapter. Nothing goes to horribly into detail besides Sarah's grief following Camilie Voight's death. But here's a list of everything mentioned in this chapter. Please take care of yourself. (Suicidal thoughts, PTSD, grief, cancer, survivor's guilt.)

Read On AO3 | Fic Playlist | Fic Playlist but Less Shippy | Want to be tagged when I post a Rheese story?

“Sarah, it’s starting to feel like you’re auditing a class again.” Dr. Richardson tried to gently goad the other woman into saying…something. Anything. Like the first time, but unlike that time, the brunette just kept silent, staring resolutely at the wall.

“We don’t even have to discuss why you’re here in this session. That can come later. We can talk about something else.” Dr. Richardson offered. Anything to get the ball rolling. Her patient remained staring at the wall.

“Okay…let’s try this. Who is Hank Voight to you?”

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

Hank studied the man who had brought his daughter to her physiatrist appointment. A man he hadn’t known about until he had sat by her side while she was in the hospital. The man who had come to his son’s service and memorial to support his youngest daughter. The same dark-haired man looked like he wanted to say something right now.

“You got something you want to say to me?” His daughter’s boyfriend looked up, startled at Hank’s question. Hank shrugged, “I’ve been a cop for over twenty years, I know what someone looks like when they want to say something.”

“It’s just…don’t you think you’re pushing therapy on Sarah a little too soon? For the record, this isn’t me against her seeing someone, but It hasn’t even been a month yet. Maybe you should’ve given her some time to grieve?”

A ballsy move from his youngest daughter’s boyfriend, whether he knew it or not.

“How long have you been dating my daughter?” Hank asked, after sucking a breath through his teeth.

“Six months,” the words were said confidently and Hank found himself sitting in surprise, though he didn’t show it, because he had only clocked Sarah having guy troubles the day before everything happened. It was unusual. When his youngest was in a relationship, like Erin, he could usually tell.

Hank nodded like he already knew this piece of information and asked, “Has she ever told you about my late wife?”

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

“What?” Sarah shifted her gaze to Dr. Richardson, her resolve to not speak, breaking because she had been expecting questions about Justin…what was going on with her life.

What she hadn’t been expecting was her psychiatrist to question Hank’s place in her life.

“Who is Hank Voight to you?” The older woman smiled placatingly. Only instead of soothing her, Sarah felt herself stiffen. Because she was a psych resident and was quickly approaching her final year of residency. She knew what Dr. Richardson was trying to do.

Just like she knew calling the older woman out on her tactic wouldn’t help. If anything, it would make her seem defensive, and closed off. More unstable than they probably already suspected to be. After all, that’s why Hank pushed, prodded, and nagged her into therapy again.

“You already know who he is,” Sarah said with a shrug, “I’m sure Erin’s already told you who he is and what he did for us.”

“From Erin’s perspective during one of her sessions, not from yours.” Dr. Richardson corrected gently.

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

“Some, not a lot. She said she seemed like a superwoman when she was sick.” Connor told him feeling slightly confused at the way this conversation had pivoted. He couldn’t see what the police sergeant’s late wife had to do with him pushing therapy onto Sarah so soon.

“The first time, yeah.” Sarah’s dad nodded. Then the older man sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. A heaviness filled the air. Even Connor could feel it as Hank continued in a quiet tone, “The second time... Not so much. The cancer was more aggressive or her chemotherapy was too strong. I’m not sure anymore, considering we put her oncologist in jail about two years year back now.”

“You put her oncologist in jail?”

“Her oncologist was Dean Rybole,” Hank answered, a dark look crossing his face.

“Fuck,” Connor breathed before he thought better of it because he recognized the name of the doctor that had dosed multiple women with chemotherapy and radiation that didn’t even need it…And he remembered the day of the trial. Peter Kilmiec had talked to him, Will, Ethan, and Nat because they might be called in to testify about their patient’s cases.

…And he remembered Sarah looking haunted that day, less put together, almost like a shell of herself. Like his mother…in some ways. The lights had been on in Sarah’s head, but that day, no one was home and she was a million miles away before she left work early. (None of the ED doctors had been called to testify after all, so they hadn’t seen Sarah sitting in the court gallery, clutching both Erin’s and Hank’s hands so tightly that her hands had been turning white and when Hank was on the stand, Alvin had been there, holding Sarah’s hand so she wouldn’t pick at cuticles till they bled because anxiety that the brunette hadn’t felt since Camile’s death and had pushed it down, down, down was manifesting itself once more. )

And he was ashamed to say that though he noticed, Connor hadn’t checked to see if she was okay because his ability as a doctor had been in question at the time.

“Hindsight now, I probably shouldn’t have let Sarah go with her to as many of her chemotherapy or radiation appointments, but we had medical bills we were still paying for from her first round of chemo, and the new chemo bills. On top of our other bills and I didn’t want Camillie to be alone…” the older man said, bringing Connor out of his thoughts.

Hank Voight shook his head again looking at his hands, “But Camille passed eight months after battling cancer for the second time and nearly took Sarah with her. Sarah just stopped…She became a shell of who she was. She didn’t do anything. She stopped going anywhere, including school, didn’t eat, or sleep, and dissociated more than normal for her. She didn’t even speak anymore. That should’ve been our first warning sign. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but when Sarah feels out of control, the first thing she does to try and gain control is stop talking…But I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought it was normal. She was grieving. She needed time. Everyone did. But then one month became four and she still wasn’t doing anything. She wasn’t getting better, she had lost weight and the only reason she ate at all was because we made her. Her hair was dull and starting to mat and fall out.”

And that in itself was telling enough, because as much as the brunette complained about the amount of time her curls took, she took care of them. She said they felt weird and greasy if they were left too long without maintenance.

Connor didn’t remember much about his mother's passing. He was ten after all, but he didn’t remember stopping like Hank was describing Sarah did, so much as the world stopping around him. It stood on its axis as he figured out what life looked like without his mom.

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

“What does it matter?” Dr. Richardson considered Sarah’s question as she took note of the brunette’s rigid posture. The blank mask on her face.

The psychiatrist shrugged then, feigning a nonchalant reaction to ease Sarah. But the strategy didn’t work as well considering the patient was also a psychiatrist herself. “At the beginning of this appointment, you said you didn’t want to be here. But you were here because Hank asked you to be-to talk to someone about Justin Voight’s passing.”

And there it was. The slightest flinch. Justin Voight was one of her trigger points. Maybe the trigger point. But the older psychiatrist knew from treating both Sarah and Erin Lindsay, that they couldn’t just dive into this trigger point. They had to ease into it. So Dr. Richardson pivoted.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about Hank. Then what about the other person in the waiting room? The one who brought you here. Who’s he?”

“You mean Connor?”

“Connor,” Dr. Richardson agreed with a nod of encouragement. Then she added, “Last time, I saw you, you were still dating Joey. Is that still not going on?”

Sarah slowly shook her head, “We stopped dating about ten months ago. Like I thought, he couldn’t handle that I didn’t want to go into pathology.”

“And Connor? Is he your boyfriend?” The psychiatrist asked. That’s what it seemed like with how his arm was wrapped around her waist and his lips pressed to her forehead in a tender kiss.

Which was vastly different from Sergeant Hank Voight’s kiss to the top of her head, which screamed father energy, if the older woman could even use that expression.

“No,” Sarah shook her head slowly once more, “Connor is…Connor. We’re not dating but…I guess the most clinical term would be friends with benefits? For the last six months?”

Dr. Richardson made a note. Then her gaze found Sarah’s again. “Is it a healthy relationship in your opinion?”

Her patient merely blinked at her.

“It’s a legitimate question,” the older woman reassured her, “Not sarcasm or a snide comment.”

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

There was a beat of silence as everything sank in. Then Sarah’s boyfriend asked, “How did Sarah recover? From her grief the last time?”

“Justin. You think I’m tough? You should've seen my wife and Justin has-had just enough of my wife in him to realize that just leaving her be, wasn’t working.” Hank explained and he couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that overtook his lips. Folding his arms, the sergeant shrugged, “He took matters into his own hands, and granted, he gave her full warning before he did it, but one day, he dragged her into the bathroom fully clothed and turned on the shower. Then he told her she was going to take a shower because they were getting out of the house.”

“Some tough love.” The younger man remarked, and when Hank nodded he continued, “Sarah did say he was her brother, protector, bully, and best friend rolled into one.”

“He was, and when Sarah declared she was going to medical school to become an oncologist…He stood up for her. Erin and I didn’t take it well,” he explained, seeing Connor’s confused look, “We thought it was a reaction to Camilie’s death.”

“It probably was,” Connor remarked quietly. Hank nodded in agreement as he said, “It’s not that we didn’t want Sarah to be a doctor. But we didn’t want Sarah to always try to save Camille with each patient. But it was Justin who pointed out, that at least she was trying to do something productive. Instead of wasting away or getting drunk every day.”

Sarah's boyfriend mirrored his bittersweet smile, “That seems to be a pattern with your daughter. We had a resident who threw himself off the roof. Since then, Sarah’s been trying to make a conscious effort to be the thing that pulls people away from that edge.”

“Everything feels like it did before. The only different thing is her anger at what happened. She told me she was the reason Justin was killed.” Hank sighed, bringing it back to what they were originally talking about. He shook his head, “And I am the kind of father that would step on a landmine if it meant his kids would land on their feet. But I can’t do that for Sarah. I don’t know how to stop her from slipping. And my son…isn’t here to pull her out of it. So even though it’s probably a little too soon for therapy, I don’t see any other way to prevent her falling into that state again.”

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

Sarah bit her lip as she thought about the question. Justin asked her something similar before about Connor too. She nodded her head. “It’s actually the best relationship of my adult life. Compared to all of my past boyfriends…It’s almost like he’s Prince Charming.”

Dr. Richardson hummed, writing down a note. “But he’s not you’re boyfriend.”

“No, it’s-he just got out of a serious relationship and after Joey, I didn’t want to date for a while either.” Sarah started fidgeting with her fingers.

“How did it happen?” the older woman asked. The curly-haired brunette shrugged thinking about how to answer.

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

“Are you married, Reese?”

Sarah moaned as he continued kissing his way down her neck. It was a tease because there wasn’t enough suction to leave a mark, (Did she even want him to mark her?) but just enough to rile her up in all the right ways. Not that someone would’ve heard her with the way his lips moved to hers and swallowed up the sound of her pleasure. Her stomach clenched as a warm hand drifted down her stomach, he slipped a hand under her shirt.

Sarah felt herself blink, standing up a little straighter. It was an unexpected, unusual question. Still, she answered, “No. Came close to it, but never made it down the altar.”

“Dating someone?”

Another unexpected question. Though the brunette probably knew it had everything to do with her former relationship with Joey because it hadn’t quite hit the Med gossip mill yet, so many people assumed they were still together.

“Not anymore.” She told him with an air of finality.

She whined as the lips left hers before she blushed deeply, feeling slightly embarrassed at the noise and how loud it was. But he just grinned and continued pulling her shirt up. Then he was on his knees in front of her, kissing his way down her stomach.

Blue eyes seemed to twinkle then as they eyed her from head to toe. Then he cocked his head to the side with a slight smile, almost a smirk on his lips. The smirk that probably had charmed everyone he used it on. “Then do you want to get a drink? Drown both of our long days in alcohol?”

He pulled away and the brunette whined again. Her shirt fell back against her skin. But the man in front of her merely chuckled as he stood up, but there was a dark undertone to it that made her shiver in anticipation. They started walking backward, lips locking once more. He sucked on her bottom lip and Sarah-

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

“Sarah?” She blinked out of the memory. She straightened up as her psychiatrist eyed her, “You went somewhere just now? Where?”

Sarah was well aware that she had a flush running up her body that grew more the longer the older woman stared at her. She felt the heat flood her body. God, she probably looked like a tomato right now.

“A memory,” Sarah answered.

“A good one?” Oh, it was very good, but the curly-haired brunette wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead, she just gave her a polite smile.

“I’m sorry, what was your question from before?”

“How did you come to be in a friends-with-benefits relationship?”

“Organically, I guess? Is that a valid answer?”

Dr. Richardson shrugged and asked, “Do you feel like it’s a valid answer?”

She honestly didn’t know, but she was saved from answering by Dr. Richardson’s alarm going off, signaling the end of the session.

“Okay,” the other woman smiled warmly, closing her notebook. Then she stood and held out her hand to the curly-haired brunette, “This was a really good start, Sarah. We’ll continue this next week?”

It didn’t feel like a great start and Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to continue these sessions. But instead of saying that, she tried her best to smile politely and said, “Sure. But I didn’t really talk that much.”

“You didn’t during your first session either.” Dr. Richardson reminded her, “Neither did Erin. You and your sister are like onions, you have layers and that’s okay. And besides that, you’re actively grieving. You should be treating yourself with extra care right now. It’s okay that you didn’t talk because this was your first session.”

[line break] [line break] [line break] [line break] [line break]

His youngest daughter’s boyfriend didn’t have much to say after Hank laid it out for him. The bad and the ugly. But that was probably a good thing because about five minutes later, the door opened and there was his youngest daughter with Dr. Richardson following closely behind. Both men stood up simultaneously.

“Everything go okay?” Hank prodded gently. The brunette shrugged her shoulders in response in answer to the question. “I went to therapy like you asked.”

That really didn’t tell him anything about her appointment and how it went, but his youngest daughter had already turned to her boyfriend. “I just got to use the restroom and then we can go.”

The dark-haired man nodded, pressing his lips to Sarah’s head. Hank watched her leave, watched how Connor Rhodes lingered, holding his daughter’s hand until she disappeared around the corner.

Hank turned to face the psychiatrist, “Doc? Can you give me anything?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything about our sessions, but she’s not suicidal from what I can tell. I don’t perceive her as a threat to herself.” The older woman reassured him, making the other man whip around to face him with wide sapphire eyes. (Connor knew Sergeant Voight was worried and now that he knew Sarah’s past with grief, he couldn’t deny that he had that right to worry. But he didn’t even know suicidal thoughts were a concern to be had.)

“But?” Hank pressed. The woman shrugged as a sad empathetic smile crossed her lips. Hank Voight wasn’t the first worried parent she had to deal with and he surely wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any easier.

“Hank, you’ve been a police officer for over twenty years,” the older woman explained, “We didn’t even talk about anything significant but when I tried to broach certain subjects with her, her body language and reactions told me a lot. My best guess is that Sarah is dealing with heavy survivor’s guilt. Most likely post-traumatic stress as well and I’m sure you’ve seen how quickly that can manifest into those kinds of thoughts if left to their own devices in victims you helped.”

“She doesn’t sleep much most nights.” Connor inputted and when the woman turned to look at him, he offered his hand, “I’m Connor Rhodes. Sarah’s boyfriend. She’s been staying with me and usually anymore, I wake up and she isn’t there. I usually have to coax her back to bed.”

(Connor didn’t understand the quizzical look that crossed Dr.Richardson’s face when he introduced himself.)

#one chicago #chicago med #chicago pd #rheese #hank voight #Sarah Reese #Connor Rhodes #Voight Family Values #my writing

8 notes · View notes