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altschmerzes · 2 years

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Hey! I just read your post about the John chapters in Nona the Ninth and their corresponding book of John verses, and I'd love to read more! If you have a link to share, that would make my day.

YES OKAY CRACKS KNUCKLES HERE WE GO

for context: the john chapters in nona the ninth correspond to the book of john in the gospels of the new testament in the bible. i'm a theology nerd who has a degree in religion and - after first going a little nuts about the positioning and regard of john compared to matthew, mark, and luke in the gospels - i looked up the verses before reading the sections, jotting them down as i went, only to discover the verses had a pretty much DIRECT literal or thematic link to what was about to go. under the cut, i'll go into the verses and the summaries i wrote of the john chapters in nt9 to explain this to some friends. (my familiarity with the christian NT is a liiiiittle less than my familiarity with the torah, Being Jewish And All, but i think i'm pretty on the money with this one.)

for ease of clarity, the structure is 'verse from john, followed by what i refer to as a summary of the corresponding section in 'the gospel of the world's smallest violin.'' also, sections of the bible are sometimes given titles. so the title bit there with the quotes from john refer to that section's title.

also worth noting some of these quotes make me, as a jew, kind of. uncomfortable or annoyed but i'm putting that aside for the moment for the sake of ~literary analysis. also also, the quotes are from the nrsv for the most part.

John 20:8

The Empty Tomb Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside, and he saw and believed.

summary of the gospel of the world's smallest violin section:

we're introduced to the whole bit of that. john starts his story about what happened. he talks about how they believed what they were doing was going to work and it would be okay. the cryo plan. the others had questions but he knew it would be fine.

John 5:20

The Healing At The Pool

For the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does. Yes, and he will show him even greater works than these, so that you will be amazed.

summary of the gospel of the world's smallest violin section:

they get shut down by the gov't. john and company start to get creative. the general public realizes everything is fucked vis a vis climate change. john starts getting into it with ulysses and titania - naming them, spending time with them, etc. most importantly, the bodies he touched stayed uncorrupted. they do not rot.

John 15:23

The Vine and the Branches

Whoever hates me hates my Father as well.

summary of the gospel of the world's smallest violin section:

they start believing him with what's going on. the bodies still don't rot. they're trying to figure out how to make it not real, how to make them respond the way they should, it doesn't work. nobody was paying attention to them yet. augustine was trying to get him to snap out of it and knock it off. mercy had been trying, but had stopped by then. he 'introduces' mercy and augustine to the bodies - ulysses and titania. he's able to move them for the first time.

(that one doesn't quite connect as well but i think it still resonates thematically - the concept of pushback, of him producing these 'miracles' and basically being like. if you love me, you'll stop trying to make me stop. you'll listen to me.)

John 5:18

The Authority of the Son

For this reason they tried all the more to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath but he was calling God his own father, making himself equal to God.

corresponding smallest violin bit:

everybody else learns about what he can do as he gains more control over the body. everybody freaked the fuck out at first, they 'had a big fight over what it meant.' they ultimately believed, bought in, and john knew that 'it was fine.' he knew he'd 'touched something, come away with something, that could be used for good.' the line: 'Two scientists, an engineer, a detective, a lawyer, and an artist walk into a bar to help me become God.' they run trials. they knew if they were caught they'd be shut down and hushed up. he says they 'decided to stream' to tell the world.

John 8:1

this is a disputed part of the gospel of john. from the website i was using to reference: [The earliest manuscripts and many other ancient witnesses do not have John 7:53—8:11. A few manuscripts include these verses, wholly or in part, after John 7:36, John 21:25, Luke 21:38 or Luke 24:53.]

the included verse is: "Unbelief of the Jewish Leaders

-but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.

corresponding smallest violin bit:

john starts telling the world. making their big announcement, getting attention. the audience members walk away and freak out. people say he's a satanist, or an alien, or something. everyone starts asking him to fix their problems. they actually talk about jesus directly here, that helping people 'was christ's whole problem' and 'got way too much attention and brought the heat down on everybody.' the mount of olives bit, for context, is a time when jesus is interrogated by leaders of the community and basically put through some paces, authority and legitimacy is questioned, and he works in the community. etc.

John 19:18

The Crucifixion

There they crucified him, and with him two others - one on each side and Jesus in the middle.

corresponding smallest violin bit:

they all end up with interpol warrants. the world is closing in on them, only the inner circle left. he talks about being unable to bring back people once they're gone. he talks about how the gov't announces they've got this plan with the ships. he talks about how they kept being called monsters, crazy, etc. the uh. cow thing happens. he tells harrow/alecto 'they didn't give a fuck about trying to save you. they left.'

John 5:1

The Healing at the Pool

Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals.

corresponding smallest violin bit: they decide they're going to get people to take them seriously. the people who ask him to reanimate a world leader who's died show up and he goes to this very important meeting. he does it. they pay him a shit tonne of money and they're given the nuke.

John 3:20

Jesus Teaches Nicodemus

Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the fight for fear that their deeds will be exposed.

corresponding smallest violin bit:

he says they never wanted to actually use the nuke, just have it to use as leverage. force people to take them seriously, listen to them. among other things john says 'either you're the evil wizard and everyone wants to know what you think, or you're the good wizard and nobody cares.' the plan to leave earth is still accelerating, they're still not listening to him. they paid people to find facilities where the gov'ts are making the ships. they see the whole story is kind of. bullshit. he finally gives up trying to be a scientist and announces to the world he's a necromancer.

John 9:22

The Pharisees Investigate the Healing

His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who already had declared that anyone who acknowledged Jesus as the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue.

corresponding smallest violin bit:

"They made it clear that they'd arrest anyone who tried to join us. Floods of people came anyway." talks about the general reaction to his necromancer announcement. he's kind of. scaring everyone with what he can do. he's still trying to figure out the soul question. there's an exchange of fire b/w the local cops and the new people trying to join them. john kills people for the first time i believe. he..... 'forgot' to start their hearts again. they dragged in all the corpses.

John 1:20

John the Baptist Denies Being the Messiah

He did not fail to confess, but confessed freely, "I am not the Messiah."

corresponding smallest violin bit:

the escape plan from the gov'ts escalates. they work out the truth about the plan - that there will be one ship, one leaving, and everyone else is big fucked. nobody was listening to them anymore. and they - the other og lyctors - are asking john for a miracle. to fix this. he says he has to stall the ship leaving. they use the nuke as blackmail. the ships are counting down to launch. he sends gideon to the meeting with the nuke. he tells everyone the nuke is armed. he also takes over the man he's been puppeting around to have a second nuke threat. they start telling him to stop, that he still has time to walk this back. he walks away from everything, doesn't want to deal with this anymore. cristabel uh. kills herself. and he touches the soul and then walks away from her. he's touched the earth too, alecto, and that's what he's after now. everyone is dying or dead. he absorbs alecto, or as much of her as he can. he makes her body. he Becomes God. blasts through the planets. etc.

John 5:4

The Healing at the Pool

One who was there had been an invalid for 38 years.

corresponding smallest violin bit:

john and harrow talk about god. about loving god. he keeps on going with his story. says he'll bring back the good ones. fix them. the ones he can stand to look at and forgive. he talks about how he took their memories. talks about how the deaths happened broadly. he talks about alecto, i can't die if she's alive, etc. he needs the lyctors around him etc. the tomb is the death of god. harrow talks about how she wants to find god. maybe she's in the tomb. she walks into the river and to the tower in the river, and says she'll start there.

OKAY. so. there you have it.

it's not always a perfect or clear analogy but given what i know of the gospels and the context, and in a more thematic rather than specific sense, they all line up pretty fucking directly.

this has been: a guided tour through the gospel of john and also the gospel of the world's smallest violin with your host, gav

#gav gab #gav answers #littlelull #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD ASK NGL I'M INSANE ABOUT THIS STILL #i was literally like- looking up verses and writing them down on notecards as i went #and it gave me a view into what was about to happen in the same way that #when i was reading the dramatis personae for ht9 and first saw the name 'pyrrha' i was like #OH NO OH NO NAME OF ILL PORTENT IDK WHO YOU ARE BUT WHATEVER YOUR DEAL IS/WAS IT SUCKS

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bregee13 · 2 years

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The 5 Hour Spamton Playlist

It's been many months, and it's finally complete enough to share (though I might add more later). And yup, you read that right, it's just over 5 hours long.

I even decided to order it for some reason. So if you're able to listen to the whole thing in order, that's appreciated! Though it's not required of course.

But either way, I hope this playlist drives you up the wall as much as it did to me.

Anyway I'm gonna put a bunch of commentary under the read more. (This thing has been sitting around in my library for almost a year, since a week or two after the chapter 2 release!!!, I have every right to be annoying about it)

(I was originally going to comment on every other thing on the playlist, but then I got overwhelmed lol. Still keeping some of what I wrote. Might elaborate more on some things later idk. )

(Hope y'all like it!)

I tried to keep the Spamton songs in the same order as the soundtrack. In fact, the whole playlist is roughly organized based on those songs! I guess you could say each section has its own themes.

Imagine. You start the playlist eager to hear what bs was added to it. You listen to HEY EVERY !, and then it ends. Everything's quiet. And then "BWAH BWAH WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT-"

I've seen people add Mamma Mia and Dancing Queen to Spamton playlists, which is neat, but ngl Ring Ring and I'm a Marionette fit way better. And they're both really good.

I like to think I Get Around and Outside represent the very beginning of the bigshot era

But Telephone by Red Vox feels like it'd be from a lot later than that. Like someone looking back at the past with regret. And seeing a loss of independence and control.

Y'know, with the perspective constantly changing between different points in Spamtons story, it sorta reminds me of Death of a Salesman. Except not as good.

Anyway Spamton brings us back to the present. Even if it's just for a moment.

GAS GAS GAS I'M GONNA STEP ON THE GAS (surprised how few playlists used these tbh)

Ok ok I know Business Man has nothing to do with Spamton aside from the title, but it's goofy and gives levels of suspicion that felt relevant >:)

I Really, Really, Really Like This Image comes off as a convo between Spamton and Gaster for some reason, and I really really really like that image in my head. Also Jevil is there at the end (ps the image is an image of an egg 😊)

I'm not sure if I can properly explain It's Still Rock and Roll To Me. Pre-bigshot era? Early bigshot era? Idk. It just feels like Spamton to me. Actually Billy Joel music in general seems to fit imo. Can't explain why. Just does.

Haha All Star hehehe!!! Oh DAng it's a cool place and they say it gets colder??? Snowgrave reference??????

I hope when you hear Doin it Right, you know what I WANTED to put there...

At first Baby Hotline felt like me inserting it for the heck of it, but the more I listen to it in the context of Spamton, it fits more. Being put on hold (literally as well as metaphorically), the implications of suicide/suicidal thoughts. There's also kind of an implication of someone rooting for Spamton to improve. (Which would probably be the player, but who knows)

Ngl Promised You A Miracle is a song I stole from my Mirror Man playlist. And it's not the only one. They both share themes of religion/heaven, changing your appearance to be perfect, becoming god/superior to others, and being seen and respected.

Easy Money is a late addition. I couldn't not add it. It's good.

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A

Temporary Secretary

(But seriously, can we agree that Temporary Secretary is definitely a Spamton song? It feels scummy, unsafe, DESPERATE, and dare I say unhinged. )

Cars by Gary Numan. That's all I have to say. It's cars. Spam man likes cars!

When adding Hanging On The Telephone, I had to choose between the Blondie version and the one by The Nerves. I chose the Blondie version. It was gayer.

OuiOui's First Crime was added because Peepy's Theme didn't fully capture how much people wanna baby this middle aged puppet. Also It's OuiOuis First Crime specifically to still show that as much as people love this guy, he isn't as innocent/nice as we sometimes want to make him out to be. He's scamming and killing people! Good for him!!!

Don't You Want Me is another song stolen from the Mirror Man playlist. I like to think in perspective of Spamton, this song has multiple layers. It's about Spamton actually being seen as someone important for once, him asking for reassurance that people want him, and threatening them if they don't. It's about Spamton getting more successful because of Gaster/Mike and wanting independence from them, causing his downfall. It's about teaming up with Kris to become BIG at the expense of Kris and potentially everyone in cybercity. It's about Spamton wanting the player to like and pity him. There's probably more connections that could be made than that even!

I'm too overwhelmed to comment too much more atm, but please know that at a certain point of making this and listening to it over and over trying get the order right, I momentarily mentally turned into Chris McLean from Total Drama. I will not elaborate lmao

#Spotify #spamton #deltarune #spamton g spamton #spamton neo #spotify playlist #It's nowhere near as good as the mm one but prob nothing will lol #I want everyone that listens to this to feel like they're getting hit by a truck

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 4 years

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ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well.

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot.

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title.

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great.

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court.

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next.

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know.

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick.

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it. They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not.

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment.

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER?

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better. I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic.

#acosf #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames #rhysand #feysand

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aestherians · 3 years

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Choice or Chance?: Exploring voluntarity and categorization in the otherkin and therian communities

Under the cut is the full script for my Othercon 2021 lecture, in which I examine the way we categorize nonhumans based on the perceived amount of choice they had in their identity and how this practice is detrimental to both questioning people and our community as a whole. At the end, I propose a new way to define otherkind and otherlinkers to hopefully move our community forward.

Reading time: 30-40 minutes.

The focus of this lecture has changed a bit since I started working on it. My earliest idea was to discuss the grey area between otherlinks and kintypes - in fact one of my working titles was Grey Zones and Silver Linings. And I still plan on talking about this, though not in the way you might expect. I originally wanted to argue that those who found themselves in this grey area should be able to choose how they wanted to refer to their identity, but the more research and thinking I did, the more I realized that this would still leave a bunch of people torn and confused and wouldn’t solve any of the greater problems in our community. It also seems like such a water-is-wet statement with how the conversation has developed… and you know me, I’m only happy when I’m starting controversies.

So I went looking for the root of this whole categorization debacle.

The nonhuman community, as we know it, didn’t always exist, and though we often say it has roots in elven communities from the ‘70s, that’s only half the truth. While the Elf Queen’s Daughters and related successors such as the Silver Elves are the earliest known organized nonhuman communities, they’re by far not the only pioneers.

Because nonhuman identifying people have always existed, and our numbers have always been relatively small, some of us ended up grouping together without even being aware of the other groups that existed. And of course, all these independently formed groups ended up with their own cultures and traditions and philosophies.

Mailing lists, like the Elfinkind Digest, were generally open for anyone to join and read. But they also weren’t widely known or easy to stumble upon for folks who didn’t already have an interest in these kinds of spirituality and identification. This resulted in a culture where people’s self-identification was generally respected, and they would only be questioned if they made extraordinary claims.

Compare this with the newsgroup Alt.Horror.Werewolves, which was open for anyone to access on Usenet, and which was originally created as just a place to discuss werewolf media. On AHWw, the therians (or ‘weres’ as it was back then) would frequently have to defend their existence against strangers who just found them by coincidence. This would lead to a culture more focused on appearing respectable, which in turn would lead to grilling of new members and shut-downs of “fluffy” topics.

Other independent groups, such as Alt.Fan.Dragons, which was centered around dragons, or Always Believe, which was centered around unicorns, had their own cultures as well. For example, AFD generally accepted dragons from modern fiction, which would not have been tolerated on AHWw.

The Silver Elves is another semi-independently evolved group of elves, fae and similar beings that still exists to this day. They only represent a fraction of our community, but for today’s discussions I find their writings very illustrative. They’ve written about choice of identity on multiple levels. For starters, they believe a lot of elven spirits have actively chosen to incarnate into human bodies. More provocatively, and more interesting to me, they’ve stated multiple times that simply wanting to be an elf means you are an elf.

This is in contrast to the therian community on AHWw, where there was a big focus on involuntary shifts and theorizing on why some people were born with and animal side. I think it’s reasonable to assume this focus on involuntary experiences is due to the werewolf narrative that the community stemmed from. In werewolf media, a person’s wolfish side is rarely, if ever, a choice, while in new age and spiritual communities, like that of the Silver Elves, there’s a greater emphasis on choice of spirituality and subsequently on choice of identity.

It wouldn’t be right to say that every therian back then shared the same idea; however, the idea that involuntary shifts are a core trait of therianthropy does seem to persist in the AHWw’s userbase. Nearly all introduction posts include a line about involuntary shifts. Another idea that repeats itself is that the therian either had a “sudden awakening” or “just always knew” they were animalistic; contrasted with the Silver Elves’ idea that simply wanting to be an elf is enough for you to be one.

There are two main ideas about origins that seem to persist in all of this: That one is either born nonhuman or becomes nonhuman. Both are equally true. The ‘born-this-way’-narrative is quite a bit more common than the ‘becoming’-narrative, though that’s not to say that the idea of becoming nonhuman is rare, or even all that controversial in most communities - with a few caveats, that is.

The idea that one can become nonhuman tends to rest on the idea that what we become is outside our control. On the more metaphysical side of things there are stories of people being spiritually transformed into an animal after encounters with an animal spirit, or of having a shard of a god put into them. And on the more mundane side, there are stories of imprinting on a species during early development, or of taking on the experiences of a character after being engrossed in a piece of media. Most people I’ve talked to don’t have a problem with these ideas of ‘becoming’ as something outside your control.

What really gets people’s goat is when someone describes specific choices they’ve made on their journey, which ultimately led to their nonhuman identity.

This finally leads to the theme of this lecture: The topic of choice itself and how we categorize others based on the perceived amount of choice or chance there’s been in the development of their identity.

Questions I’ll discuss include: What kind of choices do we have regarding our identities? What the heck does ‘choice’ even mean in this context? And how does the idea of choice (or lack of choice) affect the way our community functions?

There are many kinds of choices that we inarguably do make on our journey of self-discovery. Probably the first universal choice is to undertake the journey and to seek out a nonhuman community. Choices that naturally follow include choice of labeling - whether we want to call ourselves otherkin, therian, fictionkin, nonhuman, and so on - and the choice to accept or reject whatever feelings caused us to seek out a nonhuman community in the first place. In this line of thinking, being otherkin is a choice - you choose to label yourself as otherkin. However, the feelings, on which you base your decision to label yourself, are not a choice. The feelings that pushed you towards the community were already there.

Another choice that follows pretty naturally in this line of thinking is the choice to strengthen whatever connections you already have. This is something I’m intimately familiar with, as I’ve been doing it since I awakened as a bison. Before I even became aware of my species identity, I knew I was nonhuman. I’d been having simultaneous bison and gnoll feelings for a few years, but couldn’t separate them, and had, without much introspection, decided that I must be some weird kind of wolf. I think a lot of us with uncommon theriotypes have gone through a phase like that.

However, one day I experienced a very strong flashing image - basically a flashback - of being physically a bison. The vision was so vivid and tactile, I immediately knew what it meant, and for the next few weeks I ignored every experience that wasn’t quite bison in nature, and just examined the recognizably bovine feelings. This helped strengthen my bison identity, and in total my questioning process only took around 2 months.

Though I’ve settled in my identity as a bison, and I’m comfortable referring to myself as a bison, I never quit reinforcing it. While I didn’t create the original bison-like feelings, I’m very conscious of the fact that I do choose to connect every trait to my bisonhood that I can. Whether I see the traits as a cause of my current bisonhood, or a result of it, things like being stubborn, preferring physical fights over verbal ones, and even liking the taste of those Beanboozled jellybeans that are supposed to taste like grass… all these traits, that any human could have, are things I connect to my identity as a bison.

I’ve experienced some pushback towards this idea from a few therian communities. A very common rebuttal I’ve run into in introduction threads and grilling threads (which, introduction threads should never be grilling threads in my opinion, but that’s another story)… a very common rebuttal to considering these kinds of traits part of your nonhuman identity is: “Isn’t that just a regular human thing?”

I have so many problems with that question, I’m honestly not sure where to even begin. Yes, those traits are experienced by humans all the time. I think some of the only experiences in the community that regular humans don’t experience are, perhaps, species dysphoria and shifting. But if your identity began and ended with having dysphoria and experiencing shifts, it would hardly qualify as an identity. Treating an identity like just the sum of its parts, rather than a whole and complicated construct, is reductive and it doesn’t just hinder discussion, it stifles discussions.

I don’t know, maybe I’m the odd one here, but my whole nonhuman identity can not be encompassed by my horn dysphoria or the fact that I sometimes feel more like a prey animal than an apex predator. My identity is so much more than that. It’s how I view the world and how I view myself in relation to the world. It’s how I react to things, what I like and dislike, and what I want out of my life. When you envision an identity in this way, as a way to describe who you are, rather than a summary of every individual thing you experience, you absolutely will see some overlap with humans, like it or not.

Another reason I dislike the question “Aren’t those just human traits?” is that it’s often asked in communities where the consensus is that you were born nonhuman, and that your identity is somehow more real or ‘valid’ if it can be corroborated by childhood memories.

While looking back at your childhood and seeing how your current identity might have formed or changed throughout the years can help paint a picture of the identity as a whole, that kind of reminiscence should always be secondary to what you are currently experiencing. Your identity is not based on the fact that you played dog when you were a toddler. Pretty much every human child has played dog or been obsessed with cats or wished they were a dragon. It might be related to your current identity, but if those were your primary nonhuman experiences you would hardly consider yourself nonhuman, nor would you find a home in the community.

No, your identity is based on who and what you are right now, and what you’re experiencing this moment. The validity of your identity should not be judged based on the number of times you pretended to be that creature in kindergarten. Your kintype should be determined based on your current experiences. And if your current experiences include things that humans can also go through, that should have no impact on the validity of your identity.

Alright, back on topic: Hopefully, we can agree that there’s no shame in strengthening your connections, reinforcing what traits you already have, and in drawing connections between a nonhuman identity and seemingly human traits. Which is a nice segue into a statement that might ruffle a few feathers:

Linktypes are typically based on preexisting traits that are reinforced to fit a certain narrative or ideal. A copinglink or an otherlink is rarely if ever pulled out of thin air. You just can’t craft an identity from nothing. Yeah, crazy, I know?

This parallels otherkin identities, which, as I mentioned earlier, are based on preexisting experiences and connections that one chooses to give a name and to strengthen.

The process of becoming a linker usually starts with recognizing certain traits that one either wants, or already has but wants to reinforce, by focusing them through a linktype. For example, wanting to become better at handling stress can be difficult to accomplish on its own, but is made easier by thinking about what a specific character or animal would do in a stressful situation.

But you can’t just establish a connection to any given character. There needs to be a resonance between you and the linktype, and if you don’t already have that resonance with the character, it’s impossible for you to craft an identity around them. And in that sense you could easily argue that there is an involuntary aspect to linktypes.

Once the prospective linker has recognized a connection with a character, they will begin the process of reinforcing the identity, which can include anything from writing fanfics in 1st person to wearing clothes reminiscent of the character to asking people to treat you like the character. All things that an otherkin or fictionkind might do when first establishing their identity.

A key trait of linking is that a linktype should fade away once you stop reinforcing it… Linktypes are supposed to go away if you just ignore them and push them away long enough. They’re built to be temporary.

However, a significant number of linkers or former linkers have talked about their linktype becoming an inseparable part of how they view themselves - even the ones who might be able to force their linktype away would at this point become completely different people if they did so.

In other words, their linktype has become an inherent part of who they are as a person. This integrality can appear regardless of how much effort they put into creating the linktype in the first place, and regardless of how nonexistent the linktype was before they created it… What I’m getting at is that some people describe creating an identity from scratch by their own choice, which later becomes an irreversibly ingrained part of them. It’s an experience completely contrary to the idea that we are born nonhuman. I’ll refer to these people as ‘linkers-turned-kin’.

There are a few regular rebuttals I’ve seen to this idea: That linkers-turned-kin just had a late awakening. Or that, perhaps, they felt compelled by their inner true species to seek out the identity. Or even that they were actually born nonhuman, but just didn’t realize until later.

All these rebuttals are disrespectful of the linker-turned-kin’s experiences and intelligence. I won’t even try to hide it: They make me angry. The rebuttals ride on the idea that the born-this-way idea of nonhuman identities is a fact rather than a common belief. I know that for a lot of people the born-this-way narrative rings true. I see you and I am not trying to invalidate your beliefs. Instead, I want you to acknowledge that others may not have the same belief as you. For several people in our community otherkinity is an identity that develops in response to certain traits they have - for some, those traits are inherent, something they’re born with. For others they’re traits that developed later in life, or that were worked towards. And I want to argue that, for some, these traits were expressly chosen.

The reason these arguments against linker-turned-kin make me so angry, aside from the fact that they’re built on the idea that linkers-turned-kin don’t understand their own experiences, and the assumption that your idea of how nonhuman identities work trumps someone’s lived experience… Another reason the arguments make me so angry is that they prescribe more importance to the why than the how of our identity. When you define otherkin by the way our identity formed, you’re basically saying that the cause of otherkinity is more important than the experience of otherkinity.

We can’t talk about this without also exploring the community’s animosity towards psychological beliefs.

Through my years in the community, I feel like I’ve had to handhold some folks through the concept of religious tolerance. I remember a little over 4 years ago someone on tumblr asked me my opinion on fictionkind - it would be another 2 years before I had my own awakening, so my response was basically that I was fine with fictionkind, though I didn’t understand their experiences and the only way it could fit into my own worldview was as a psychological phenomenon. Even after my awakening, the latter still holds true. My fictionkinity is primarily psychological. But yeah, somehow my statement that I didn’t believe fictionkinity was caused by past lives got twisted into me saying that fictionkind were all just roleplayers.

Rereading the whole debacle that ensued, this twisting of my words had little to nothing to do with my own personal beliefs - it instead exposed a widespread antipathy towards psychological otherkin. When I have talked about my current experiences as a gnoll, my shifts and my flashbacks and my hiraeth, people generally accept it without a second thought. But when I mention that I believe it’s caused by various psychological phenomena, I have on multiple occasions been told that it must not be a real identity. Some people have even treated my parallel life as just an elaborate fantasy, rather than something that’s completely real to me. I have, word for word, been told that there’s no way I could identify as a nonhuman, or be another species than a human, without believing I have a nonhuman soul. A direct quote: “To say “I am fae” when [you] don’t believe in fae is illogical.”

What I take from these kinds of responses is that a subset of people within our community take it for granted that whatever beliefs someone has about the origin of their identity are objectively true, rather than understanding that our beliefs about our origins are just that: Beliefs. Whatever conclusion we’ve reached based on our experiences, reincarnation or imprinting or something else entirely, and no matter how much we believe in it, it will always be a belief and never a fact. I’m fully convinced that my bison identity is caused by a past life, and that my gnoll and Ben 10 identities are caused by various psychological phenomena. But if that doesn’t fit into someone else’s worldview, they have all the right in the world to explain it away however they want. I have friends who believe my bison identity must be caused by something psychological, and I have friends who believe my gnoll identity must be caused by something spiritual. That is their prerogative.

It doesn’t matter how people make sense of my nonhumanity, as long as they’re respectful towards my own experiences with my identity and don’t try to impose their beliefs on me. If you have to quietly believe that someone really has a faerie soul in order to accept that they’re really a fae, so be it. As long as you don’t try to deny the reality of their current identity. As long as you don’t try to claim that they aren’t really nonhuman, just because they have the quote-unquote “wrong” beliefs about their origin.

There is another, more recent and more prominent, example of the animosity towards psychological otherkin that comes to mind. I will not mention the term itself for fear of people harassing its creator. For the purpose of this lecture, I’ll refer to the concept as “nonhuman by birth”, which is essentially its meaning. If you know which word I’m talking about, I ask that you please don’t mention it in the chat. If you need to know, you can DM me. Also, don’t misunderstand this as me hating on people with past life or soul beliefs. Remember, my own bison identity is based on a soul from a past life.

So, last year a rather old community member on tumblr coined a term, separate from ‘otherkin’, to refer specifically to those who believe they have a nonhuman soul. Which wouldn’t be a problem in and of itself. After all, terms like animafidem and cerebrumalius have been around for half a decade with no issues. However, “nonhuman by birth” is specifically described in its coining post as a “less bastardized” alternative to the word ‘otherkin’. What this post describes as “less bastardized” is spiritual experiences, and specifically those spiritual experiences that are based on soul transfers and reincarnation. Essentially “nonhuman by birth” defines all other beliefs as bastardizations of what otherkinity is supposed to be. All beliefs, including spiritual beliefs that aren’t based on souls or past lives, psychological beliefs, beliefs of becoming nonhuman, beliefs based on magic, neurological beliefs, and archetypal beliefs… None of these are quote-unquote “true otherkin” according to the “nonhuman by birth” concept.

The word thankfully never gained much traction off tumblr, but I have seen individuals use it, and it always, without fail, makes me feel unwelcome, and unwanted. Not because there’s anything wrong with a strong belief in past lives or souls, but because those who choose to use that label specifically believe themselves to be the only true nonhumans. Because the term itself is not based on a respectful, individual belief, but on what its coiner believes to be an objective fact. Because this subset of our community has an almost-evangelical conviction that all nonhumans have nonhuman souls, and those who don’t have nonhuman souls are not nonhuman.

And like I mentioned earlier: The cause of otherkinity can affect the experience a lot. That’s why we have these discussions in the first place - we come together due to our similarities, and we try to understand each other and ourselves by discussing our differences. And this is exactly why proclaiming any version of nonhumanity as the One True Kind of Nonhumanity is so damaging. It completely stifles any exchange of ideas. It makes it impossible for us to understand our differences, and it leads to more and more narrowly defined subcommunities that all believe themselves to be more real than the others.

To define is to limit. We need some limitations, otherwise a dog is a cat and no words have meaning. But we need to be extremely careful where we want those limits to be, otherwise we end up with a community where psychological otherkin are bastards, and only those who are born with nonhuman souls are really nonhuman.

The next thing I want to discuss is subjective truth… Subjective truth is one of the most important concepts to understand and really internalize if we wanna have fruitful discussions and respectful experience sharing. In short, a subjective truth is something that is not real because it can be proven to exist through scientific measurements but is instead real because a person experiences it as real. If I make the claim that tea tastes better than coffee, for example, you cannot refute that simply because you think coffee tastes better. We have to understand each other’s experiences and accept that we experience the world in different ways. It’s equally true to say that coffee is better than tea and that tea is better than coffee. This is what I was talking about when I said that the “born-this-way”-narrative and the becoming-narrative are equally true.

So, how does subjective truth apply to this discussion?

A phenomenon in the community I’m sure we’re all aware of is kin memories. If you’re somehow not aware of them, in short they are images, episodes, sensory information, and similar experiences that are thought to stem from another life, usually a past life. They have all the qualia of a memory, except they didn’t happen to the body currently recalling them. These experiences, though, are not restricted to those who believe their nonhumanity stems from a past life. They aren’t even restricted to spiritual otherkin. Plenty of folks with psychological beliefs, mixed beliefs, and other beliefs report the exact same experience: Images, episodes, and sensory information that does not originate from this world or from this current life.

For decades there’s been a lexical gap in the community to describe these memories that aren’t memories. Which is where I can’t avoid tooting my own horn a bit. I have an extremely rich and detailed parallel life as a gnoll, from which I can quote-unquote “recall” events, people, traditions, names, and so much more. It’s all integral to my nonhuman identity.

However, because I believe it all stems from some deep unconscious part of my brain, and because it feels like a parallel life, not a past life, I never felt right calling these things memories. So almost two years ago at this point, I undertook the quest to fill that lexical gap. And after looking through dozens of obscure web pages and dictionaries and articles, I found something useful: The word ‘noema’. Noema is a rarely used Greek word that translates to concept, idea, perception, or thought. And I’ve been very happy to see the term catching on in my corner of the community, where it’s often used as a broader alternative to ‘memory’.

In philosophy, a noema is defined as “the perceived as it is perceived.” At first this might sound a bit vague or esoteric, but when looked at through the lens of subjective truth it suddenly starts to make sense. A subjective truth is something that’s real just because a person experiences it as real. A noema is the perceived as it is perceived. So when we’re using noema as a substitute for memory… when we’re discussing memory-like experiences in the community and we explicitly refer to them as noemata, instead of referring to them as memories, the actual cause of the noema is then irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that it’s in one way or another perceived as a memory. When talking about noemata, it’s completely and utterly irrelevant if they’re real in any objective way - the only thing that matters is that the individual experiences the noema as real. Essentially the word ‘noema’ makes the cause irrelevant, so we can instead focus on the experience alone.

And I think the fact that this word has caught on (at least on tumblr) hints that our community might be moving in a positive direction. I at least dream of a community where we care a lot less about our origins, and a lot more about our actual presence in the world.

I had a conversation with a friend a few months ago, about this community-wide worry about the origins of our identity. And just to reiterate, I’m not saying your spiritual beliefs are irrelevant, because they can be really important when forming a whole picture of your identity. I’m more so saying they can be a bit of a distraction. In my opinion, the whole discussion about spirituality vs psychology is a red herring. Most of us didn’t seek out the community because we had certain spiritual beliefs. We sought it out because we felt not-quite-human, and it was only later that we reached any conclusions about why we feel nonhuman.

So, my friend and I talked about the role this discussion of origins plays in our community, and we reached a few interesting conclusions. For starters, it’s really upsetting to some folks to have to earnestly consider the idea that reincarnated souls are no more real or ‘valid’ than psychological imprinting, or any other non-spiritual beliefs for that matter. That’s part of what started the whole ‘nonhuman by birth’ idea I mentioned earlier. And it seems this uncomfortableness stems from a place of insecurity.

At the risk of offending some folks, I’m gonna draw a parallel to the trans community. In the trans community there’s a discussion of origins that parallels the one in the kin community and is likewise an attempt to draw lines between the quote-unquote ‘real’ trans people and the so-called transtrenders - which are supposedly people who pretend to be trans for clout. Those who attempt to draw these lines proclaim that being trans is a medical condition that they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy, and one that’s marked by intense dysphoria and stress. They’ll also regularly state that being trans is only real or ‘valid’ because it has been proven through MRI brain scans that some female-assigned people have supposedly male brains, and vice versa.

(And just to make things clear, those brain scans are not real. It’s malicious pseudoscience spread by people who want to ‘cure’ transness by preventing trans kids from being born.)

But I think this attempt at validating your identity - in this case with science - stems from a dislike of one’s own traits, or more likely from the outside world’s dislike of those traits. When certain trans people try to prove themselves more valid than others in the eyes of the public, it’s not because they just hate those they deem ‘not trans enough’ - it’s because they’re afraid of being rejected by the rest of the world. These people are basically saying: “I didn’t choose to be trans. This is how I was born, so you have to accept it because it’s unchangeable.” It’s a cry for acceptance in an unaccepting world. And all this is not to say that some trans people aren’t born trans; I really think most trans people have a narrative like that. I’m more so trying to get across that, someone else’s narrative of choice should have no impact on your narrative of involuntarity. Both are real ways to experience being trans. And in many ways, having a narrative of choosing to be trans is necessary for the community, because it closes the doors for eugenicists who would try to eliminate quote-unquote “the trans gene”.

Viewing transness as a purely medical phenomenon where you need to meet certain requirements to get a trans diagnosis is a really reductive way to look at identity. Like I mentioned earlier: An identity is not just the sum of its parts, and it cannot be summarized by being forced to feel dysphoria. The fact of the matter is that we don’t know trans people are real because we have brain imaging technology, or even because certain people meet the medical criteria for having gender dysphoria. We know trans people are real because there are real people who identify as trans. We should be able to trust that people are trans when they tell us they are. And I think we need to look at nonhuman identities the same way.

Before I move on to the conclusion, I want to explain why this topic has become so important to me. A couple of months ago, after a good year or two of introspection, I realized I had created a hearttype. Not a kintype, but nonetheless an equally integral part of how I view myself and engage with the world. And changing something so fundamental about myself sent my thoughts racing.

When I was a kid I picked up a fear of spiders. It wasn’t bad enough to give me panic attacks, but it was bad enough that I couldn’t pick up a spider and carry it outside, even though I could do so with other bugs. I was around 10 years old when I decided that this was dumb, and I wanted to change it. So as a tween I quickly started on my own exposure therapy, looking at photos of spiders, reading about them, photographing them in nature, and after several years it had gotten to the point where I barely had a reaction to seeing them. But as I continued on, getting used to the idea of holding them and touching them, something changed in me.

Where I had previously felt fear, I started to feel admiration and love and a sense of familiarity. I wanted to surround myself with these animals, I wanted to work with them, and I started spending a not-insignificant amount of money on terrariums. And now, after more than a decade of rewriting my own thoughts and changing a mild fear into a love so deep it affects my sense of identity itself, I feel confident saying I created a hearttype. It was not an easy process. Like I said, it took more than a decade. Changing your entire mindset like that can’t be done with just a snap of your fingers. But evidently, some people are able to do it.

Though I have to add that, even here, it’s very easy to argue that there was some level of involuntarity. I already had an emotional response to spiders when I was scared of them. I don’t think I could form this kind of relationship with something I’m completely indifferent to, like, I dunno, a Toyota or a Marvel character. You can’t really form a relationship from nothing. And I appreciate this argument, because it really highlights just how confusing the entire concept of choice is, and how it doesn’t make sense to define ourselves by our lack of choice, when we can’t even define what counts as a choice.

But yeah, realizing that I created a hearttype, an identity that at the time was considered involuntary… realizing that I didn’t just play a part in creating this identity, but that I did create it, period. It sent my mind spinning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what else might be possible. If I could create such love in myself, could I also do the opposite and tear down my own hearttype and recreate the phobia? Not something I want to test. But I think I could. And which other identities could be created like this?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the creation process has no impact on the nature of the identity itself, and I ended up posting a really controversial thing on tumblr. In hindsight I understand why some people got so pissed off about it, but I still stand by those thoughts. I’ll read it to you in full: “Theoretically I probably could force myself to not be otherkin. But it would take a decade or more, the way my hearttype creation did, and it would require constant work throughout those years. However, I see no way I wouldbenefit from that work, the way I did when I unintentionally created a hearttype in the process of getting rid of a phobia. It would just rid me of a part of myself that’s intrinsic to how I recognize myself. That’s not something I in any way want - and because I don’t want it, and because the choice would have to happen continuously on a timescale I can barely comprehend, I couldn’t make that choice in practicality.”

A very long and very complicated discussion came out of this post that I’d need a whole separate lecture to recap. But a few important ideas were developed, which I need to mention here. For starters, when discussing shadowwork and the Jungian archetypes, Jasper accidentally coined the term ego alteration. Through that discussion we ended up defining ego alteration as the process by which you proactively alter your conscious mind, your self-perception, and your thought-patterns. It’s not something to be taken lightly, as you’ll essentially be changing your sense of self by it. And it’s also not something everyone has the ability, desire, or drive to do. To integrate something into your sense of self, or to remove something that’s currently a part of your sense of self is serious business, and, like my hearttype creation, is something that should be thought about on a decades long timescale. I don’t have time to get in-depth about it here, but to consciously change your identity and your sense of self is definitely possible for some folks, and it’s nice to have a name for the concept.

Something else that came of that discussion is my own thoughts about how we define otherkin. The most common definition I’ve seen is “to identify, wholly or partially, as something nonhuman on a nonphysical level, by no choice of your own.” … I suggest we drop the last bit.

Okay, it’s a bit more complicated than just deleting a few words. In order to drop the “by no choice of your own” bit, without losing the meaning of otherkinity completely, and letting kin for fun take over, we’d need to rethink that entire definition.

Instead of defining otherkin by the amount of choice we had in the formation of our identity, I suggest we define otherkin by how integral our identities are to us. It was briefly mentioned on in one of the other panels (though I forget which one), but a pretty big source of conflict is that kin for fun just don’t understand the gravity of otherkin identities. If we define otherkinity as something that’s inseparable from who we are as individuals, it would not only make it clear to kin for fun that this is, well, not for fun. It would also get around the problem of people who worry that their identities might be invalid because they’ve made certain choices.

Your otherkinity is inherent, and by that I mean you would be a fundamentally different person if not for your kintype. At its most basic level, your kintype is what you recognize yourself to be. It’s the kind you belong to, rather than, or in tandem with, belonging to humankind. You kintype is an intrinsic part of you, and even if you could get rid of it, it would fundamentally change who you are is a person. If you chose not to be otherkin, you would also choose not to be you. In that sense, I suppose otherkinity is involuntary, in that you yourself can’t choose not to be otherkin, because as soon as you make that choice, you aren’t you. Though you could also argue that it is a choice because you wake up every day and choose to be you. And thus, the topic of choice leaves us running around in circles like it always has.

Being otherkin… being otherkind has never been about being forced to feel species dysphoria. It’s about being of another kind. It’s about knowing and recognizing humankind, and accepting that, in one way or another, that does not describe us.

And all this is not to say that copinglinking shouldn’t be a concept, but we need to rethink that as well. From the very few copinglink writings that exist, one topic I’ve seen several times is the idea of copinglinks becoming inseparable from you. This is not the point of links, and those who do go through a change like that find themselves more at home in the kin community than the link community. I don’t want to impose myself on linkers, but if we want these two words to make sense and have a use, we need to redefine both. I suggest defining copinglinks and otherlinks by their lack of integrality or by their ability to be dropped when necessary.

The line that has been drawn between otherkin and copinglinkers doesn’t help anyone as it is. There are far too many nonhumans who straddle the line, who feel torn between either community, or who only call themselves linkers because they feel pressured to do so. There are far too many nonhumans who don’t feel like they have a community they can call home.

So, I’m gonna propose a new and much more inclusive definition: To be otherkin is to identify as something nonhuman on an inherent or integral level. There you go, clean and simple. No more caveats or nested sentences.

#otherkin #otherkind #fictionkin #fictionkind #alterhuman #othercon #i don't think this is gonna show in the tags so reblogs are very appreciated

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granny-griffin · 2 years

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I’m delighted that you’re still enjoying The New Earth and appreciate your saying so. It suprised and delighted me when I wrote it; it came so clearly and fluidly. I’d love to hear any thoughts or questions you have for good feedback is hard to come by.

At first I saw this and thought—I can't possibly give any feedback. I don't have any coherent thoughts. I only know that I like it past reading. I have to put it inside and pull it out again, to speak it and feel the shape of the words against my mouth.

but then I thought for 5 seconds and realized that yes actually I do have thoughts

I think a mistake that a lot of young poets make—they want to find a way to express their feelings, right? so they sit down and write some free verse about their feelings and at the end of the day it's more prose than anything else. And there's nothing wrong with that! people should write all the bad poetry they want!

but I think they miss a part of the point—one way poetry helps in processing is by taking the thing curdling inside you and casting it out, by assigning it to something concrete.

So if you want to say, "I miss you so much it makes my inside ache," you need to talk about the old stream bed, and how it used to hold water, and how there is a hollow space where the little pond used to be—in the place where the tadpoles were spinning now there is dirt dried in the shape of ripples. It is late summer but the ground cannot stop remembering melted snow. And at the end, after you have described each mundane detail, you will find that the thing you felt is caught inside and explained and it doesn't have the same destructive hold over you anymore, because now you can look at it from outside. You can understand it.

Anyway, my point is that this is exactly what The New Earth does so well. Even just in the title! It's a story about space travel. Humanity has decided to enter hyper-sleep and a spaceship and go to live on another planet. So the new earth is another planet, one like the one we came from, and that is the first half of the metaphor, the first referent. The second referent of The New Earth is this earth but made new.

Every line in this poem is a double referent..

We had to sleep before we walked the skies,

They must sleep—in order to survive the journey through space, the humans must put themselves into suspended animation. The journey will take thousands of years. They would not live long enough to see their new home otherwise.

Those of us who sleep will rise first to meet God's Anointed in the sky.

Escaped the well and flew forth free,

Wait okay, I found my first question. I have no idea why there is a well in this line. I understand the escape and the flying free—the space travelers have escaped the earth. They are flying free outside the atmosphere. And we also will fly out from our graves. I have no idea how the well contributes to the metaphor—all the uses of well I can think of refer to some source of strength. This is like, the opposite of that, so I'm probably missing context.

For nothing is reborn but first it dies.

This is just accurate across the board—spring always comes, but winter must come first. Good new soil comes from autumn's dead leaves and their decomposition. It's the way of the whole universe.

It was manifested in a particular instance, and the implications still ripple out. It is touching us now. Easter is next weekend.

Failing earth exhaling its last sighs;

Far, far the new home for humanity.

We had to sleep before we walked the skies.

The earth has failed as a resource to sustain human life. That is why the space travelers are leaving it. The new planet they are journeying toward is too far away for comprehension. Everything is far in space.

This version of the earth is going to die—it is dying. And after its death it will be reborn. The distance between the two is hard to figure, the new earth may even come into existence in a sort of distant dimension. Perhaps it is far in time. Most of all, it is far from our comprehension.

Ten thousand souls suspended in the ice

Through all the empty places we must be—

For nothing is reborn but first it dies.

So the humans used ice in their hyper-sleep—like Captain America almost. It makes sense. Ice preserves. They travel now through space, through the nothing, in order to reach their destination.

Thousands of souls wait now, empty and suspended, for their bodies to be returned to them. They will be returned.

A star we follow to our paradise.

A visionary, dreaming people we—

We had to sleep before we walked the skies.

The new planet the travelers are heading toward orbits a new star. None of the planets around their old star could support life in the way they need. Of course they are visionaries—no other kind of people would embark on such a risky venture. No other kind of people could visualize the reward of success.

Paradise means Eden—the first temple—the kind of place where the presence of a god touches earth. That is the place where the morning star is guiding us. He will be there when we arrive. It takes a certain kind of vision to see it (but that's elaborated more in the next stanza).

In this we trust, that hope before us lies—

The evidence of things we do not see:

Nothing is reborn but first it dies!

The passengers have to trust that a good place is before them. They have to trust without seeing it. There is no way for them to experience their reward until after the journey. They have evidence—their scientists and astrologers and engineers can explain them. But they haven't seen it yet.

Literally don't know how to even to elaborate on the second referent here. It's faith. It's right there. That second line is straight out of Hebrews 11.

A morning when a newer sun shall rise

Our eyes will open on a glassy sea.

We had to sleep before we walked the skies

For nothing is reborn but first it dies.

The sun will be new because the planet is in a different solar system. It orbits a different star. Presumably the planet has a lot of water—that seems to be what humans need to survive. So they know that they will land, and they will come out of their ship, and see a new star rising over the ocean.

In the end of Ezekiel, in the vision about the new temple that drives me absolutely insane because I can't visualize how the measurements fit together, there is at least one easy part. Clear water flows out of the temple, and the stream deepens as it goes, and it falls down the mountain and into the black sea, into the dead sea. And there, the water makes everything come alive again. And at the end of Revelation, there is a clear river that flows out of the city. Because now the temple is everywhere. There will also be a new kind of sun.

#as;jdlf I wrote so much #hope this does not bother you #to all my followers: there is no read more and I am not sorry #it's my dash and you can all deal #cw christ #long post

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

#nile freeman #nile's family #dorothy freeman #tog headcanons #tog meta #mine #long post

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dirty-urie · 3 years

Text

Red

Second Person

Soft Dom AU

Consequences Series

5.6k Words

Warnings: Daddy kink, sir kink, dominance and submission (both inside and outside the context of sex,) degradation, bondage, spanking, BDSM scene with safeword, conversations involving kink negotiation, dom/sub relationship with some implied offscreen negotiation, language

Thank you to @loverontheleft for her great help figuring out the plot to this fic and for her inspiring sexiness. 💕

Reader

“You and Kala go outside and drink wine and gossip. Zack and I will clean up,” Brendon sends you away, already grabbing your plate from in front of you to take to the kitchen.

“Are you sure, da- Brendon?” You ask, correcting yourself before calling him daddy. You and Brendon are open about your preferences to Zack and Kala, mostly because they’re as freaky as you two, but Brendon still doesn’t love you using any titles in front of anyone else. Those are just for you and him, he always reminds with a dreamy look in his eyes. “I don’t mind helping.”

“Yeah, c’mon, bro, that’s what subs are for,” Zack says, obviously teasing, but Brendon’s nostrils still flare as he shoots Zack a warning glare. Zack puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, should’ve known better than to imply anything about your lady,” he says, and Brendon disarms slightly.

“Well, yes, definitely that. Don’t demean my sub unless she consents,” he says, and you want to melt at how protective he is. “But also, what you said just isn’t true. Y/n will be the first to admit that I’m her bitch,” Brendon laughs.

“It’s true. I’m spoiled. Brendon does almost everything for me. But I suck his cock whenever he asks, so it’s a trade-off,” you shrug.

Brendon rolls his eyes. “That’s not because I’m her dom though. That’s just because she’s my gorgeous little cockslut,” he half-jokes affectionately and glances at you to make sure you’re okay with him saying that. You smile at him, happy with his accurate assessment. “I normally have to ask her not to suck me off because we have to be productive members of society.”

“Mmm, I do love your cock,” you sigh.

He stops to kiss the top of your head on his way to the kitchen. “I know, baby girl. Now, go outside to gossip with Kala about what an excellent lay I am,” he says. You start to protest again, offering to help, but his stern facial expression shuts you down. “Go have fun. Leave the men to do the hard work. Maybe I’ll reward you when our guests have left.” And the firm line of his mouth shifts to a suggestive smirk.

“Fine, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll take the nice wine and my best friend and go talk about our hot husbands in the beautiful evening,” you sigh in concession, standing up.

“That’s my best girl,” he calls back over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold into the kitchen.

•••

“…so then his hands were like this,” Kala makes a fist with one hand and wraps her other hand around her throat, “and my mouth was like this,” she demonstrates before continuing her description, “bear in mind, the whole time he’s thrusting into me so hard I was worried he’d tear something- Y/n, dear god, if you open your eyes any wider, they’ll pop out of your head,” she interrupts herself while talking about the new position she and Zack tried out the night before.

You could blame the two glasses of wine for limiting your ability to control your facial expressions, but you’re pretty sure you’d look the same way if you were totally sober. “Sorry, Kala. I just,” you laugh, “I don’t think I knew the human body could do that. Oh, god, if Brendon tried that, I would have safeworded immediately. Hell, I would have safeworded as soon as he suggested that and had a few words with him.”

Kala shrugs. “Oh nah, we didn’t plan it out beforehand. Zack just asked if I was interested in trying something, and then we tried it,” she says casually, sipping her wine.

“Kala, are you okay? Blink twice if you’re in danger.”

She shakes her head quickly. “Oh no way, I love how rough he gets. God, and Zack loves it too. Calls me his favorite little fuck doll because he can do basically whatever he wants with me,” she says dreamily.

You look at her suspiciously. “I mean, as long as it’s all consensual, no judgment here. But if Brendon called me a fuck doll, he could expect divorce papers on his desk within 24 hours,” you try to joke, but it sounds a little flat to you. Your stomach has dropped anxiously. You love Brendon getting a little rough with you, but you wouldn’t let him do anything Kala’s been talking about. You hope he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on the super hot kinky sub experience. He does so much for you; you don’t want him to wake up one morning and realize he’s not getting anything in return.

•••

Brendon

“Oh man, Kala is the perfect little slut for me. Does whatever I want; normally without me asking,” Zack tells Brendon as they settle into the living room. Brendon nods along silently, not really interested in commenting on someone else’s love life. “But I bet Y/n is the same way,” Zack tacks on.

Brendon makes a non-committal noise. “Yeah, we both love that I’m her full-time dom now.”

“That’s not really what I said,” Zack chuckles. “But oh, I see, your lips are sealed because you guys get really freaky. Kala rarely safewords or anything, but even she has her limits."

Brendon makes another vaguely agreeing noise, still treading lightly before he realizes what Zack said. “Wait- what? She never safewords? How do you know that she’s communicating with you properly?”

Zack shrugs. “I do a good job staying within her limits, I guess.”

“Huh,” Brendon says, worry seeping into his mind. You don’t feel like he’s crossing limits, do you? But he shakes most of it away, confident that you know he takes care of you. If you felt he was violating you, he’s sure you’d come to him about it. He’s pretty sure, at least. “We have different strategies then,” he says objectively.

•••

Reader

“Well, good morning,” he laughs a little, waking up the next morning. You’re grinding on his hip with your leg thrown across him, and your inner thigh is rubbing against his cock as you move. “What’s my needy girl thinking about?”

You shift up to kiss him, rubbing against him harder as you do. “I was thinking we should try something tonight.”

His eyelids flutter, and he groans. “More of this?” He asks hopefully.

“No, daddy,” you roll your eyes. “I was hoping we could try rope bondage and collars? I want you to fuck me while a collar digs into my neck and ropes chafe my wrists, reminding me I’m all yours. You could even degrade me a little; call me your whore.”

He places a hand on your back to still your movement on him. “Oh, I don’t know, love. That’s kind of intense, and I like to call you my whore affectionately, but I don’t see any benefit in degrading you unless you really want it.”

“I can handle intense, daddy,” You say defiantly. ”You love being all intense and possessive, especially in bed. As for calling me names, my pleasure always takes precedence during sex. That’s great for me, but don’t you ever just want to tell me to shut up and take your cock sometimes?”

Brendon looks scandalized. “No! Of course not! I would honestly be perfectly content if you never touched my dick again, baby girl. I get off on getting you off. Surely you know that by now.”

You kiss his cheek and rub his arm soothingly, assuring him that you know he loves taking care of you.

“Good. Had me worried there for a second. But I don’t know, love. It’s not a bad idea; I’m just worried it’s a little… unhealthy? I guess,” he says.

You sigh, frustrated at his reluctance. You intentionally picked things you thought he’d be into; you didn’t anticipate this much pushback. “Scenes and play are for safe exploration of experiences and emotions that we’d otherwise avoid or handle differently. This is a controlled environment with mutual trust,” you explain, even though you know none of this is news to him. “And I know you hold yourself back from your manly wolf instinct to pin me down and make sure you know I’m yours.”

That makes him smile. “I don’t have manly wolf instincts,” he protests, cracking up. “But yes, you’re right, there is a small, irrational part of me that wants you all to myself, princess. And there’s a bigger, more rational part of me that loves having sex with you. So, yes, I do like pinning you down and fucking you hard and gently reminding you that I’m the best you’ll ever have. And sure, I love when you’re tied up but still squirming for me, and when that collar with my name on it presses into you just a little, not choking you but reminding you you’re mine, and yeah, calling you my perfect slut, so full of awe while you’re making me feel so damn good…” he fantasizes. “Wait, what was I talking about?”

You both laugh, and you start grinding against him again. “See? You want to try it, daddy.”

Brendon thrusts against you, and you kiss him desperately. You suck at his bottom lip needily before resting your face on his shoulder to let him talk. “I think it’s a fun idea for me, but I’m still worried about you, love. Are you getting anything out of it?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Rough sex with my husband and the knowledge that he loves me enough to ignite his-”

He places a finger against your lips. “Baby girl, you know I love you, but if you say ‘manly wolf instincts’ one more time, I’m leaving the bed,” he says, but his tone is playful.

You kiss his chin, telling him that you weren’t going to. You were, but he doesn’t have to know that.

“Okay, yes. We can try it,” Brendon finally caves. “But I want you to be my best girl and promise that you’ll communicate with me if you’re not enjoying yourself, okay?”

“I promise, daddy.”

“Good, baby girl. So proud of you,” he praises, and you moan at the words, shoving his pants down needily. He gets a hand around himself, and you put your hand over his to stop him. He shoots you a warning glance. “Hey, princess, remember I’m in charge.”

“Want you to fuck me now. Please,” you whine.

He kisses your forehead and puts each hand on your hips to guide you onto his erection. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

•••

“You’re sure I can’t use ribbons or silk or something softer to tie you up, baby? Or we have the satin ropes specifically for bondage?” He offers. “You’re too precious for these ropes. They look uncomfortable.” He ties your wrists together with the rough natural fiber ropes you picked out for him. You test the ropes, yanking your hands apart. The knot holds strong.

You shake your head. “Want you to see them rubbing against my wrists while I writhe as you fuck me, and then I want you to marvel at the red marks afterward for days.”

He crawls over you to kiss you, and you can already feel him getting hard against you. “If you’re sure, sweet girl. It’s ultimately up to you. And you’re right, I do like little reminders of how I’ve fucked you,” he admits.

He settles back, straddling you, and buckles your thin black collar around your neck. It’s less of a collar and more of a leather choker, but you painted the words “Brendon’s Girl” across the front, and he always looks so satisfied when you wear it that it serves its purpose. He runs a hand down the side of your face. “So pretty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He raises his eyebrows at the title. “Is that what you want to call me during this scene? Not daddy?”

You falter. “I just think it’s hot sometimes. If you’d prefer something else-”

He shakes his head. “Call me whatever you like; I was just making sure I knew before we start,” he says, and you relax a bit. “Now, is everything good? You’re not uncomfortable?”

“I’m good, sir,” you answer, though the collar is a little too tight, and the rough rope is already unpleasant. You’d normally tell him to fix it, but you’re trying to show him (and yourself) that you can endure whatever he can throw at you. “And yes, I know my safewords,” you anticipate his next question before he even opens his mouth.

“So anxious for me to get inside you, princess.” He’s just teasing, but you nod quickly.

“Need you, sir.”

He climbs off you and pulls his shirt off. “Anything for my girl,” he says fondly. You crane your neck to watch him strip; even after years with him, you still feel a pulse of anticipation every time he unbuttons his pants or takes off his shirt. You spread your legs, happy your ankles aren’t tied. His erection springs free, and you whine loudly for him.

“Quiet, love,” he warns. “Love those slutty moans for me, but don’t be greedy. You get sir’s cock when he gives it to you.”

You bite your lip to stop any other noises. “Yes, sir,” you finally manage.

“Good girl,” he praises. “I’m turning you over now. Wanna fuck you from behind.”

“Mmm, sounds wonderful, sir. Go ahead,” you allow, even though he didn’t actually ask your permission. You’ve been telling him he doesn’t have to ask for every single thing anymore, and he’s doing better about being assertive, but you know it makes him feel better when you give him verbal confirmation that you’re okay.

He slides an arm under your back and flips you onto your stomach. “Legs together,” he orders.

“You don’t want my legs spread for you, sir?” You ask, closing your legs.

“I do love when my pretty whore can’t help but spread her legs for me, but I want you as tight as possible around my dick, princess.” He climbs onto the back of your thighs, tracing little shapes down your back. “God, such a pretty thing. And she’s all mine,” he marvels. You feel him shift forward, and he sucks hard on the back of your neck right above your collar. You moan, squirming against the bed. “So desperate for me. Should say ‘Brendon’s Slut’ on that collar, shouldn’t it?” he whispers behind your ear.

You don’t say anything, not sure if he’s actually anticipating a response.

He pulls slightly on your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but it still surprises you. “Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper. “It should.” And you feel his cock pulse against your back. “But I feel how fucking hard you are for me, so I don’t know if you’re in any place to talk. Sir.”

He kisses your neck where he was just sucking. You have to clench every muscle to keep from writhing at his lips on the sensitive spot. “I’m not arguing, baby girl. You know how easily you get me aching and desperate for you. You’re my best girl. You affect me so much without even trying,” he praises. “But,” he continues, and you brace yourself for the reprimand. ”I don’t like your tone at all, love. I was just going to fuck you, but all this perfect skin exposed for me is making me want to mark you up with the paddle, baby.”

“You can, sir,” you say, although you weren’t anticipating any pain-play tonight, and you really just want him to fuck you. But you’re doing this for him, so if he wants to spank you, you’ll let him.

He massages your lower back while he thinks, and you melt into the caring touch. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk about that. And this is already a lot. I don’t want to push you.”

“I’m yours, B. Do whatever you want with me,” you prompt, trying not to let your frustration in him breaking character show.

His hand moves down to rub your ass affectionately. “In that case, sweet girl, I think I will spank you. With my hand though, I know that you like that better.”

“I do, sir. Thank you.” You would’ve taken the paddle without complaint, but you love his firm hand making contact with your skin way more than the unforgiving wood.

“How many do you think you deserve, love?”

“Ten?” You suggest, voice already trembling.

He makes an agreeing sound. “I was thinking fifteen, but if my girl thinks ten would be better, ten it is.” One of his hands leaves your ass to give you your first spanking.

Normally he’ll give you five to ten more than you ask for, so you’re a little offended that he thinks you can’t take more than ten. “Sir, wait- I can take as many as you can give,” you protest.

Brendon puts his hand back down on you gently. “So eager to prove yourself. I know you can take it,” he chuckles. “Just want to get inside you sooner rather than later,” he explains. You nod, content with his reasoning.

He picks up his hand again. “Count for me,” he says, the first smack against you hard enough to sting.

“One,” you choke out, the pain already overwhelming.

Brendon rubs his hand against you in little circles before bringing his hand down even harder again. The rope chafing against your wrist burns when you recoil from the impact. Before you can stop yourself, you sob, trying to silence yourself with a pillow. This isn’t your first time crying during a punishment or sex, but this isn’t your normal cathartic release. You feel trapped and panicked in a way you usually don’t. The tight collar is making it hard to breathe. “Two,” you barely manage. Kala could keep going. You can tough it out too. You don’t have to safeword.

“Red,” Brendon says sternly. “I’m stopping the scene.” He moves down and stands next to the bed, rushing to untie you and unfasten the collar. Your wrists are raw and an angry shade of pink, and you can’t see, but you’re sure the collar left an indent on your neck. He wraps a blanket around you, and you smile at him gratefully. It’s not like you mind him seeing you naked, of course; it’s just that you’re feeling incredibly vulnerable, and your exposed state wasn’t helping. Your stomach clenches when you see his face is full of concern and frustration.

“Brendon, I can keep going. We don’t have to stop. I can take it,” you object, embarrassment overtaking the relief you feel from stopping.

“What? No! Baby, I can't believe-” He takes a deep breath and unclenches his fist. “Y’know what actually? I am upset right now, and I don’t want to take it out on you. You don’t deserve that. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna go grab a pair of sweatpants from the laundry room, and then we are going to talk about this. Does that sound good?”

You think about asking him to just stay; you know he would, but letting him take five minutes to get dressed and cool down seems like a good sacrifice for both of your mental health. You sit up, pulling your legs toward you and resting your head on your knees. “Go ahead, B. I’m good here.”

“Alright, baby. Thank you,” he says, turning away.

“Bren,” you say so quietly you’re not sure he’ll hear you. Always hyper-aware of you, he does hear you and turns around, worry evident in his entire body. “There’s nothing wrong,” you assure, feeling awkward to have concerned him. “I was just wondering if I could get a kiss before you go? But never mind, I probably don’t deserve that.”

He sighs and looks defeated. “Of course I’ll kiss you, baby. I’m frustrated and disappointed in you, but I still want you to feel loved and reassured. I’m not going to withhold kisses when you’re clearly distressed,” Brendon says calmly. He leans down and kisses your forehead. “I love kissing you. I just didn’t want to touch you if it would make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, that’s good thinking. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, love,” he responds. Brendon leaves and comes back in sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. He’s holding one of the massive shirts you like to sleep in just in case you want to get dressed too. You sit up so he can slip the shirt over you, and you already feel better. He opens his arms, inviting you to snuggle up against him without pushing you. You cling to him happily, kissing his jaw and pulling the blanket over the two of you.

He strokes your arm lightly. “Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs after you get comfy. “Are you comfortable talking about what just happened? I’m a little confused.”

You bite your nail, and he instinctively moves your hand out of your mouth. He holds your forearm securely while grabbing lotion from the nightstand to rub on your irritated wrists. He uses the lotion while you talk, and it helps to soothe and relax you. “I don’t know. It seems kind of silly now,” you say, still beyond embarrassed that he stopped for you.

“Did it feel silly in the moment?” He asks.

You shake your head. “God, no. I was in pain and panicked and disappointed in myself that I couldn’t be a better sub for you.”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrow. “Oh, princess, you know you’re always my best girl. And, no, that’s not silly. Of course it’s not silly. You seemed really upset, but you never safeworded. That’s not like you at all. I sensed something was off the whole time, but I figured I was being overly cautious because you never spoke up or safeworded. What happened? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Last night, Kala was talking about all this stuff she lets Zack do to her, and I felt bad because you’re such a good dom, but I safeword all the time, and you don’t get one of those willing subs that you can do anything with. I can’t be your little fuck doll like you deserve, but I tried. I could have kept going,” you try to explain, choking back tears.

He tightens his grip around you protectively. “Oh. Oh, baby. No. First of all, don’t compare yourself to others. Our relationship is way different from Zack and Kala’s. Honestly, the things they say scare me sometimes. That’s not something I’m interested in. You should have come and talked to me first if you felt insecure. I love getting to take care of you without feeling like being overbearing. I would still gladly be your dom even without the sexual aspect. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay. That’s why we’re talking about it now. So we both know for the future. Which brings me to my second point: please never tough your way through it for me. Your well-being is my first priority, and your pleasure is a very close second, so if you’re not having a satisfying experience, there’s no point in us continuing. Even your punishments should be a little fun, baby girl. You’re an adult; I don’t actually have to ’teach you a lesson.’ We just do them because you love them,” he reminds, and you smile because you do love them. “Tell me to stop as often as you want to stop. You’re the strongest person I know, mentally and physically. You have nothing to prove to me. Just because you can keep going doesn’t mean you have to keep going. I’ll never ever be disappointed in you for safewording, but I’m very disappointed in you for not safewording when you should have.”

You still flush, ashamed of yourself despite what he’s saying. “What about you? You never got to come; I stopped you.”

“God, love, that’s no reason at all to push yourself. Sex is about bonding and mutual pleasure; we were not bonding, and you were not being pleasured, so it’s good that we stopped. My orgasm is barely a priority; if that were all that mattered, then I could just go jerk off in the bathroom or guest room. But it’s not, baby; I’m so focused on you that getting off didn’t cross my mind. Don’t worry about it.”

You sniffle, and before you know it, tears are pouring from your eyes without your control. Brendon’s eyes widen, and he quickly grabs a tissue from his nightstand. “Oh no, baby. I’m so sorry. Was it something I said?”

You sob harder, giving up on the tissue and burying your face into his shirt. He doesn’t even care about the gross dampness soaking through his clothes; he just rubs your back in a desperate attempt to soothe you. “I’m not upset,” you finally hiccup into his chest. “You’re just so perfect and caring,” you sob, finally feeling the rush of catharsis you didn’t get earlier while playing with him. “My best guy. You know what I need better than I do. I love you so much.”

“Oh, honey. I love you too. Let it out.” He’s still rubbing gentle circles on your back, working to comfort you.

You heave against him one more time. “Sorry, Brendon- or um, are you daddy? Or, or sir?”

“Don’t apologize. And you can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with.” Brendon says.

You consider the options. You always love him as just your husband, but you’re not sure he would have shown quite this level of understanding and maturity before he became your dom. “Thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome, sweet girl. Now, let’s cuddle and go to sleep, and in the morning, we can revise and try the scene again? If you’re still interested?”

You perk up. “Yes, that sounds great. But, lots of revision,” you laugh. “My wrists are too sore for any bondage, and I don’t think I can handle any degradation in the near future.”

He kisses behind your ear. “Mmm, already better communicating with me. Such a good girl.”

•••

“Sir, fuck. You’re incredible,” you moan, burying your face in a pillow.

After a bit of negotiation, you and Brendon basically stripped the scene down to rough sex with lots of praise. Part of you feels like it’s embarrassingly vanilla, but Brendon’s always excited to fuck you, and he said so himself that you have nothing to prove, so you’re not fretting over it.

“I know I’m incredible,” he laughs, fucking into you harder. “I can feel how wet you are around me. It’s doing fantastic things for my ego.”

“I’m always wet for you,” you gasp, grinding against the bed while he fucks you from behind. “You’re fucking hot; I can’t help it.”

He grabs your hips to thrust even faster. “I thought I was supposed to be praising you, princess. I’ll take the compliment, but I feel like I’m neglecting my duties.”

“Oh god,” you cry at the rapid pace. “So good. But yes, you’re right. Praise me, sir.”

He laughs, amused. “Why do I even pretend I’m in charge in this relationship, princess? My bossy girl,” he teases. “Mmm, but I love her so much. Being so good for me right now. So tight around me like this. Feels so good. I know you really like positions where I can face you, but thank you for trying this for me. Such a good girl.” You push back against him, taking him deeper. “And she takes my cock so well,” he groans.

“I am not bossy,” you start to protest until he hits inside you perfectly, able to get inside you deeper more easily in this position. “Keep this angle, keep this angle,” you rush out, arching your back ever-so-slightly. “Okay, fine, maybe a little,” you concede. “But I’m still your best girl. I do wish I could look at you, but I won’t pretend this is a huge sacrifice for me. I’m having a great time,” you moan, shoving your face deeper in your pillow.

“And don’t get me wrong, sweet girl, I’d love to see you too, but I’d be lying if I said the image of your eyes rolling back in bliss isn’t burned permanently into my brain. I do miss playing with those perfect tits though. And it’s hard for me to rub your clit like this.”

“Can I, sir?” You loosen your death-grip on the bed sheets to slip a hand between your body and the bed. “Love you to death, and you feel wonderful, but I won’t be able to come from this alone.”

“Yes, you can touch yourself, princess. Please do. Just remind me that I owe you later for making you do all the work now,” he says, fully sincere even though he’s actually the one doing all the work; you can hear the exertion in his voice. He loves to spoil you though, so you won’t feel guilty about badgering him to go down on you later. You rub your clit the same way he does it: firm but gentle circles in time with his thrusts. In some ways, you like the control of taking care of yourself, but he practically knows your body better than you. You’d take his hands over your own any day.

Brendon’s hips meet your ass repeatedly, and you love the rapid collisions more than you like when he spanks you. It’s just the right amount of pain to bring your pleasure to another level. And you get the same sense of accomplishment for being good for him and taking the extra challenge. This is how you should feel during harder scenes or punishments, you remember, even though this is far from a difficult scene.

“I really do love seeing you in this collar. I hope I haven’t ruined it for you. I didn’t mean to fasten it so tightly,” Brendon says. Brendon didn’t bring up the collar himself when you were talking about fixing the scene, but the way his face lit up when you mentioned it made you want to wear it all the time. You readily agreed to wear it again, not too tight this time, and he’s loving it. You’re personally ambivalent towards the collar. You already know you belong to him, so it doesn’t quite drive you wild, but you don’t dislike it at all either, so you don’t mind wearing it to make him happy.

“I love doing things to make you happy,” you respond. “But not at the price of my own happiness,” you add before he worries. “Especially if it involves having sex with you,” you moan, clenching tight around him. Even Brendon’s incredible stamina has its limits, and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier as he approaches his orgasm. “Gonna come for me, sir?”

“You know how this works, princess. Unless you’re being punished, it’s you first, or I don’t come at all. Do you think you can come for me?”

You grind against your hand. “Yes, sir. Just keep this same pace and angle for another minute or two,” you moan before biting your pillow.

Brendon groans. “God, baby, testing my endurance,” he says, slightly out of breath.

Heat floods your body when he throbs inside you. “Love how much I affect you, sir. Please, can I come for you?”

“Whenever you’re ready, gorgeous. Come around my cock. Wanna feel that tightness around me,” he allows. “Keep your head up though,” he orders when he sees your head tip forward one last time, “don’t want those perfect moans muffled by a pillow.”

“Pull my hair. Keep my head up yourself,” you whine.

Brendon takes your hair in one of his hands and tugs it slightly. “That’s not how you’re supposed to ask for things, love. What’s my name?”

“Bren-”

He tugs your hair again, slightly harder. “What’s my name?” He growls. “Or let me rephrase: who do you belong to?”

“Daddy,” you cry, coming hard around him. You’re writhing on the bed through your orgasm while he thrusts hard into you a few more times and starts to come deep inside you.

Brendon pulls out to roll you over and kiss your face as aftershocks move through you. “I was going for sir, but daddy works too,” he says quietly, cuddling up with you. “Either way, you’re still my best girl.”

Happiness swells in your chest as you feel utterly fucked and claimed with his come dripping out of you. “Thank you. And thank you for taking care of me so well. I was being silly.”

He kisses your cheek. “I’m just glad you know better now, baby. I’m proud of you for telling me exactly what was wrong. I know that can be tough, but it really helped. And to be honest, when I was talking to Zack, I started to doubt myself a little too. It can happen to anyone; doubt and insecurity are normal. Let’s just agree to talk to each other before letting those insecurities influence our actions, okay? As much as I wish we could just have sex about our problems.”

“I’m fine talking our problems as long as we can have sex about them afterward. This has worked out pretty nicely for me,” you agree, throwing a leg and an arm haphazardly across Brendon for maximum contact while snuggling.

He wraps his arms around your back, squeezing you against him perfectly. “I can settle for that compromise. Worked out nicely for me too,” he yawns.

#brendon urie smut #brendon urie x reader #Brendon Urie fan fic #Brendon Urie Fanfic #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie imagine #dom!brendon

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vizowrites · 3 years

Text

My BlitzStrike Twins: Headcanons and Shenanigans~ [probably with a bit of my M&M kids thrown in just for fun]

So today I got a couple of fantastic asks about Blitz and Striker as parents, and since there seemed to be a pretty positive response to them--and because @helluva-simp is amazing and encouraged me to be brave enough to write this up--I thought I’d go ahead and make a full post of my headcanons for these two little devils. I really do love the hell out of them and hope you guys enjoy hearing about them too!! <3 <3

Twist’s and Ty’s full names are Twister and Typhoon but literally nobody calls them by their full names ever so they like to make the joke of “the ‘-er’ and the ‘-phoon’ are silent”

Ty is actually the older of the two [though not by much] but everyone thinks that Twist is because his name is always called first. It’s always “Twist and Ty” [or just collectively “Twist-Ty”] instead of “Ty and Twist”. Ty honestly doesn’t mind that much as far as following after his brother goes, just don’t make the mistake of trying to label him as the younger of the two. There are a lot of things Ty’s perfectly content to let Twist take the lead in, but having the title of “the older twin” is just going too far.

Twist and Ty are mirror twins, meaning that they’re mostly identical except for a few key things: 1. Twist is left handed and Ty is right handed, 2. they both have heterochromia but Twist’s eyes are Left: Red | Right: Green-Gold whereas Ty’s eyes are Left: Green-Gold | Right: Red, 3. Twist has a birthmark on his right hand and Ty has his birthmark on his left hand--and yes when you put the two marks together, they form a design not unlike the heart shaped one on Blitz’s forehead :)

Both of the twins are incredibly agile, but Twist is faster and Ty is more flexible

Striker affectionately calls Twist “Whirlwind” because of said fastness

Blitz affectionately calls Ty “Noodle” because of said flexibility

.....Though it should be noted that it’s not all fun and games because Twist is CONSTANTLY crashing into things or tripping over his own two feet from going too fast, and Ty is so flexible that he’s able to contort himself into positions that honestly make both of his parents throw up a little in their mouths with the split-second panic of “OH GOD OUR BABY WAS BORN WITHOUT BONES!!” DX DX They’re both usually just fine tho!! :D

As noted in an earlier post--but I want to say it here too--Twist’s first word was “Bang!” and Ty’s first word was “Fuck!” Twist was the first one to talk, though, and it made Striker and Blitz second guess the context of his first word by the time Ty said his. XD

Another thing that was noted in another post but I want to put it here too is that Twist and Ty have incredibly high self esteem and both Striker and Blitz wouldn’t have it any other way

Twist is dyslexic and so gets easily frustrated when he has to read a book, but he love love LOVES the hell out of stories.....and so Ty is almost constantly making up random stories to tell him

This actually also works out well in Ty’s favor because Ty’s attention span is about as short as Blitz’s patience and he has a lot more fun telling stories than he does sitting still long enough to read the ones that other people made up unless it’s a book about something he’s reeeeeeally interested in

It’s also made Ty hella good at bullshitting on the fly, which I think most of the older/adult members of his family wish he was a lot less convincing at

Twist knows how to lie and is a natural at acting, but his flair for the over-dramatics tends to give him a way a lot easier than his twin

They both have what I’m calling a “hierarchy of obedience” within their family which really translates into a range of “eh I can think about maybe listening to this person sometimes” to “oh SHIT I need to listen to this person 5 fucking minutes ago”. For Twist, his hierarchy of obedience is: Millie --> Blitz --> Striker --> Loona --> Moxxie. For Ty, his hierarchy of obedience is: Loona --> Millie --> Blitz --> Striker.....and Moxxie doesn’t even make the list for him because honestly I’m pretty sure Ty just naturally tunes him out most of the time and not even fully on purpose. As he puts it: “You just have one of those voices”. XD

Ty can sleep literally anywhere and on anything. I’m pretty sure there have been mornings where Blitz and Striker have to play the game of 'Where the hell is my kid??' because they THOUGHT that he went to sleep in his bed like their other child did but NOPE they go into their room in the morning to get them out of bed and are just like, “.....Twist where the hell is your brother??” and Twist just gives an innocent shrug and says, “I don’t know--probably on the roof or something.” u3u and goes out into the kitchen to make himself breakfast--and then two seconds later Blitz and Striker hear him calling out “NEVER MIND! HE’S IN THE OVEN!!” and that starts off a whole new kind of panic because they know damn well that Twist’s favorite thing to have for breakfast is cinnamon rolls XD

Twist’s laughter is infectious--this really cute witch-like cackling that just bubbles out of him in the most adorably genuine way when he’s that delighted about someting

Ty does this adorable thing where--when he sticks his tongue out at someone--he flicks it in a very snake-like fashion and even gives the tiniest of hisses in lieu of a raspberry when he does it

Ty also manages to twist himself into the most uncomfortable-looking positions when he sleeps but rest assured, he’s never been more comfy

Twist’s tail never stays still. It is constaintly flicking to and fro, back and forth, swishing and swirling like a cat’s tail, and he loves flicking it in front of people’s faces to get their attention

Twist in general doesn’t really stay still very often but the one time he did was when Ty broke his arm--and then he spent almost every moment of the day and night plastered to his side because he knew it was driving Ty crazy not being as mobile as he usually is while having to wear a cast

The twins really don’t ever go that far apart from each other. If you look and only see the one, you can rest assured that the other one is around somewhere nearby and it’s probably not a good sign for you if you can only see the one.

Ty is much more of a biter when it comes to self-defense and Twist always goes straight to using his claws

Twist is the outwardly more protective twin and is vicious with his words when defending his brother. He will force every last ounce of moisture out of your body from how hard he makes you cry.

Ty, on the other hand, will fuck you up hard physically if you try to hurt his twin--and Lucifer himself would not be able to save you if you actually do hurt his twin

As they get older, and their sexualities and gender develop and grow, Twist would discover that he’s a nonbinary he/they homosexual panromantic and Ty would discover that he’s a genderfluid he/she pansexual homoromantic

The above being said, both Twist and Ty wholeheartedly say “fuck you and your gender norms” from a very young age and well into their teenage and adult years, with Twist enjoying painting his nails and Ty carrying all of his stuff around in a purse--and they both have a preference for wearing high heeled shoes [Ty because he just likes being tall in general and Twist because he likes being specifically taller than his parents because it drives them crazy XD]

Twist and Ty’s best friend is “Missi” [Moxxie and Millie’s eldest daughter, Missile] and she’s honestly an absolute hero for putting up with as many of their shenanigans as she does

Whenever they go out on family outings, Twist is that kid who just NEVER wants to leave--and so Blitz usually, after spending ten minutes of trying to get him in the damn van and Striker even using his Dad Tone (TM) and that not working, will just be like, “Alright kiddo, I tried playing nice. You asked for this.” And he puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles with a, “Loona Sweetie? Fetch.” >3 And Loona gets the BIGGEST grin on her face and Twist gets the biggest “oh shit I’m so fucking screwed” look on his face and Ty--who’s honestly probably very awkwardly coiled up in Striker’s arms because after a long day of family fun he’s tired af and decided that he doesn’t want to use his limbs anymore--just kind of looks over at his twin and says, “I believe in you, but also maybe try to run faster than last time” u3u

I think that they would both love their Auntie Barbie a lot and she would have soooooooo much fun teaching them different circus tricks--especially how to yeet each other back and forth on the trapeze XD

I also think that their Auntie Barbie would really love just how close they are.....and probably inspire her to make up for lost time in her relationship with her own twin too

For some reason I can’t shake the thought of the twins being great at acapella and I have no idea why but I’m also ttly here for it XD

In school, I feel like Twist’s favorite class would be Art [he loves to paint and happily makes all kinds of messes with his “expressing creativity”] and Ty’s favorite class would be P.E./Gym [because he loves testing the limits of his physical body]

Family game nights are always fun in their household because usually what happens is Twist and Ty team up against Blitz and Striker, and while they’re in the middle of duking it out, Loona ends up getting a monopoly on every street and is just like, “Pay up fuckers.” u3u

Moxxie and Millie both love and hate babysitting for the twins because on the one hand, they love them to pieces and love seeing how well they get along with their three kids, but on the other hand.....the twins keep finding Millie’s strap on and putting it on their middle child [Mark]’s head and calling him a “cockicorn” XD

Ty’s favorite food is ramen noodles and Twist spent three weeks [and probably set their kitchen on fire at least twice] learning how to make them with JUST the right flavor profile that he knows his brother likes the best

While I think both of the twins know that they can talk to their dads about anything, I think that they still keep their most personal thoughts reserved only to themselves and each other

Twist’s favorite type of weaponry tends to be more of the flashy ‘sharp and pointy’ kind whereas Ty’s favorite type of weaponry tends to be more of the aggressive ‘point and shoot’ kind. However I honestly kind of think that in terms of what they’d use themselves in the field, Twist’s primary weapon of choice would be a whip [though he would definitely have some throwing knives and handheld revolvers in his back pocket too] and Ty’s primary weapon of choice is honestly poisons. Assume that everything this kid has that he throws at you--be it a knife or a bullet or even a fucking cannonball--is poisoned somehow.

They both definitely play wrestle like Blitz and Barbie did as kids.....and just like Blitz and Barbie, they also get their horns tangled together more than once and need to have someone come rescue them. There’s almost always a photo taken that gets posted to Voxtigram first tho. XD

There are plenty more headcanons where this came from but I feel like this is already waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too fucking long so I’m going to go ahead and stop here for tonight!! If you guys are interested in hearing more about these two, please please please feel free to let me know and I’d be happy to write up a Part 2 to this, or just overall write up a quick little oneshot with them in it, or if you want to send me specific questions about them that I can answer, feel free to do so!! Thanks so much again and I hope you guys have as much fun reading these as I did writing them up!! <3 <3

#vizowritesheadcanons #BlitzStrike twins #ocs: Twist and Ty #BlitzStrike #Striker x Blitzo #Blitzo x Striker #Helluva Boss AU where Blitz and Striker are parents #I.M.P. family fun #kid AU

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

the pleasures of the elder.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: the people have spoken, and they all love sean hotchner. this fits after mean it in the joyful future universe, but no context is actually required to enjoy a little bit of sibling rivalry. title comes from jane austen’s quote: “the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.”

words: 3k warnings: language, alcohol use, sex mention, jealous!aaron, perceptive!sean

summary: when he arrives for an impromptu visit, sean knows his brother too well to give him any moment’s peace - especially when it comes to you.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed

A man, both very handsome and vaguely familiar, pushes through the glass doors and walks across the bullpen - a visitor's badge pinned proudly to his leather jacket. You try to place him, but come up short.

You’re alone, for the time being. Almost everyone is off running some kind of last-minute errand around the federal building - making copies, finishing paperwork, or in a meeting (in Hotch’s case). It’s the last dregs of the day, the sun setting over the river.

The man stops in front of your desk. “Hi. Are you part of the BAU, or am in the wrong place?” His eyes are bright, roaming over your face with a kind of curious, warm, knowing air.

You smile at him, and before you can answer -

“Sean!” JJ’s fond tone carries across the bullpen, and she arrives with an armful of cases.

Sean?

Oh my god.

Sean Hotchner.

“Hey, JJ, right?”

She laughs, sounding a little younger than she is. You can’t blame her. Sean is exceedingly handsome in an entirely different direction than his older brother. And if your memory serves correctly, just a year older than you. “Yeah, that’s right. Good to see you.” He offers her a hand, and she shifts her files to take it. His handshake is firm, and lasts just a moment too long.

You kick back in your chair, almost inviting him to lean against your desk. “Hotch is in a meeting, if you’re looking for him. He should be out in,” you check your watch, “about five minutes.”

Sean turns back to you, his shockingly blue eyes meeting yours. “Thanks.” He smiles at you again, and you’d be lying if you said your heart was doing normal things in your chest. “Sean Hotchner. I’m Aaron’s - sorry, Hotch’s - little brother.”

Those eyes are dangerous.

Oh, poor Aaron.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.”

Just as you suspected moments ago, he takes the initiative and leans against your desk. JJ hovers nearby, a little smile on her face. You watch as she sends a quick text, and puts her phone back on her belt.

Gotta tell the girls...

“So,” he starts, brisk and businesslike, “you definitely weren’t here during my last visit. What’s your story?”

“Well, if you must know -“

“I must.” He flashes you another smile, and you can only imagine all the trouble he caused growing up. Or, rather, you can imagine all the trouble he would have caused if his brother wasn’t around to bail him out. Five years ago, you would have been drawn into his pretty eyes and wide smile. Now, you can only see a boyish, overt, almost-inelegant version of the understated warmth you love in Aaron.

You give him a quick rundown of your history: hometown, alma mater, etc. “- I was an academy grad in 2007, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Ah, so not a newbie anymore. And you’ve worked with my brother the whole time?” He almost looks impressed. His glance down to your ringless left hand doesn’t escape your notice.

Oh Sean, if only you knew.

You nod. “Yeah, I’ve worked under Hotch for five years now.”

And I’ve worked over him for about three months. Also under him, around him, on the couch, in the kitchen, etc.

Shut up.

C’mon. It’s funny.

A low whistle leaves him as you bite back a smile. “Damn. I’m so sorry. He’s a real hardass.”

You lean in conspiratorially, and you’re almost cheek-to-cheek as he leans down to listen. “You know, that’s what I hear, but -”

Penelope bursts through the doors and calls your name, carrying an armful of papers that have absolutely nothing to do with the work going on upstairs. Emily is close behind her, an amused grin on her face.

Sean leans back so you can finally see her. “Yeah?”

“I have these for - Oh, hi Sean!” She says it like she hasn’t already decided her primary objective is to get his attention.

“Hey!” He looks over at her, one finger up to stop her in her tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me. Garcia, right?”

“Penelope,” JJ supplies helpfully.

“That’s right. It’s good to see you again.” He offers her his hand, and she takes it. You’re almost certain he winks at her, and she smiles through the blush rising on her cheeks.

He really is a heartbreaker, huh?

Aaron must have had his work cut out for him.

Derek rounds the corner and immediately rolls his eyes at the scene before him. Sean has his body angled toward you (in your chair, completely open, with your chin in your hand) while he shakes Penelope’s hand. JJ pretends to do work off at her desk behind yours, but she’s completely tuned into the conversation. Emily’s sitting on her own desk off to the side, watching the whole thing with a certain degree of good humor.

“Sean, good to see you, man.” Derek walks over and takes Penelope under his arm. It’s almost possessive, and you almost laugh.

Sean releases Penelope’s hand and takes Derek’s. “Hey, Morgan. How’ve you been?”

Their bro-to-bro catch-up fades into the background as you see Hotch appear on the breezeway by his office. You look up at him before pointedly glancing at Sean beside you. He sighs, then calls, “Sean.”

The man in question turns, and a smile breaks out over his face when he sees his brother. There’s something cocky about it, and you don’t miss the way his body language remains keyed into you as he speaks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Aaron takes another deep breath and walks down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just come see my big brother at work?”

Aaron’s eyebrow is dubious at best. “What do you need?”

Sean laughs, and it reminds you enough of Aaron’s that it draws a wide smile from you. You find yourself looking fondly up at Sean, seeing more of the resemblance now that they’re beside each other. Aaron’s jaw flexes. You notice.

Oh, see, now this is fun.

“I was just in town and figured I’d stop by to see if you were here or out on a case.” Sean glances down at you with another charming smile before looking back at his brother. “I guess I got lucky.”

He’s just full of those smiles, isn’t he?

JJ jumps in. “We’re actually planning on going out to drinks once we wrap up in a couple of minutes. You’re more than welcome to come.”

While JJ pulls attention elsewhere, you glance up at Hotch and throw him a wink. Hey. Relax.

His jaw relaxes just a touch, and his lips twitch. As usual, he covers it by crossing his arms over his chest. Don’t be a shit.

You wet your lips and purse them a little. Nice try.

He shifts, just a little, raising an eyebrow. You’re really gonna go there?”

Watch this. You toss him a quick smile. “That would be great!” You brush Sean’s sleeve as you unnecessarily reach over him for Penelope. “What do you think, Pen?”

“Oh, we’d love that!” Penelope takes your hand, squeezes it, and looks up at Derek. “Wouldn’t we?”

Derek nods. “We’d love to have you, man. It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to in New York.”

Aaron does his best to suppress his eye roll. You’re lucky he loves you, childish antics and all.

+++

When you split up into your respective cars, Sean elects to ride with you over his brother. You and Hotch play the role of designated drivers. You’ve fallen into the routine, finding it's much easier to sneak around your coworkers as they get more and more inebriated through the evening.

Aaron doesn’t look too happy with the ride arrangements, but he lets it slide. Dave and Emily ride with him, while you have Derek, Penelope, and JJ in the car with you and Sean.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Sean.

Logically, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He woke up this morning to your patient, adoring eyes and your hands playing with his hair. You ate breakfast together (read: sat in his lap with a bowl of cereal while he read his emails), were (almost) late due to your showering arrangement, and only parted after a (very) good kiss in the driveway.

Still though, he can’t quite shake the insecurities he always felt with his brother. Thirteen years his junior, Sean always seemed to excel in every social pursuit. Music, girls, friends - he was able to settle into things Aaron always struggled with. It was stupid. Aaron was well into his thirties when Sean was in undergrad, but that prickle of envy never seemed to fade.

Their mother never put the pressure on Sean the way she did on Aaron, and in some ways it made sense. He was a teenager when their father passed, and Sean was hardly a child. More responsibility, more weight, less credit.

Aaron might be his mom’s pride and joy, even to this day, but Sean will always be her baby.

Thus, watching Sean easily weasel his way into one of your smiles wore on almost thirty years of tension.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Emily asks, tapping Hotch’s shoulder with gentle fingers. Upon making contact, she snorts. “Wow, you’re really tense.”

Hotch shakes his head and shrugs her off. “I’m alright.”

It’s Dave’s turn to snort. “No you’re not. You’ve been scowling since Sean showed up.”

“He just has that effect on me. Always has.”

“C’mon, Aaron.” Dave says. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “He’s just a kid.”

With a flat deadpan, Aaron replies, “He’s thirty.”

Emily leans forward on the center console, inserting herself into the conversation. “Hotch, you don’t have anything to worry about. Sean doesn’t have anything on you.” She bumps his shoulder with hers.

He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emily and Dave share a look and a little smile.

+++

You hop out of the car, swinging your keys in your hand. Hotch is a couple of spots down from you in the parking lot, and your little groups meet up somewhere in the middle. Falling back, you let Derek and Emily lead the way. When they’re all in front of you, Sean included, you press your shoulder to Aaron’s for just a moment.

“Are you going to be childish?” he says, quietly.

You suppress a smile. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Alright.” Your hand snags his for just a moment, before you jog forward to catch up to the rest of the group.

“There you are!” Sean’s voice rings out, and you let him tuck you under his arm. You wrap an arm around Sean’s waist and chance a look back to grin at Aaron.

Gotcha, babe.

Aaron rolls his eyes so loudly you can see it from twenty feet away. Ridiculous.

I love you.

I know.

+++

You’ve all managed to secure a table. While not incredibly crowded, there are plenty of people around. You planted yourself next to Aaron, and Sean planted himself next to you. The music is just loud enough to encourage dancing without requiring a shout to communicate.

Derek downed his first drink and led Penelope on the floor within ten minutes of your arrival.

The round table is crowded, and your pinkie locked in Aaron’s belt loop goes unnoticed. He stretches his arm out behind you to clap Sean’s shoulder, and his fingers quickly trace across your shoulders as he pulls it back.

“So what have you been up to, Sean?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” He pulls from the drink in front of him and you’re almost certain it’s just a Coke.

Sober? Getting there?

Remind me to get the skinny on that later.

10-4.

Aaron chuckles darkly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Sean shrugs, and leans back, checking out the dance floor. You pull your pinkie from Aaron and put both of your hands on the table. Emily’s looking a little too watchful tonight, and you’d hate to lose your bet.

Your money is on making it more than six months without alerting the team you’ve been sleeping together. Aaron, always of little faith, took the alternative.

“Dance with me?” Sean offers you a hand, and you take it. Before you get too far, you lean across Aaron to take another sip of your drink. When you lose your balance (on purpose), Aaron steadies you with a hand around your waist, making sure you’re settled on your feet before you jet off with Sean.

“Thanks, Hotch!”

He takes a long pull from his beer - his only drink for the evening. Hotch. Gimme a break.

“Looks like they’re hitting it off great,” JJ says with a laugh. “That works out. I mean, Sean’s about our age, right?”

Don’t remind me.

“Yep. Turned thirty last month.” Aaron does his best to not sound too bitter.

JJ smirks at Emily, who turns to smirk at Dave. They don’t know what they don’t know, but they certainly know enough to keep an eye on Aaron for the rest of the evening.

“That’s in-flight entertainment, baby.” Emily whispers to JJ. “I can’t wait to tell Will. He’s going to die laughing.”

JJ lets out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely.”

Out on the floor, you’re having way too much fun, sandwiched between Derek and Sean. You pull Penelope between you and Derek, and loop an arm over Sean’s shoulders.

“So,” he says, his lips close to your ear and his voice barely audible over the music, “how long have you been sleeping with my brother?”

You freeze for just a moment, but it’s a moment too long to recover. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Question in response to a question? That’s like profiling 101.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sean rolls his eyes. “He’s halfway in love with you, if not completely fucked, in case he’s failed to tell you.” He spins you out, and back in so your back is against his chest.

“We’ve got that covered, yeah.” You twist in his arms. “You gonna do anything about it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I think it’s pretty funny to get him all worked up, though, don’t you think?” Another bright smile crosses his face and his blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light.

“Oh, Sean. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” You laugh and reach for him again, but a finger appears in your belt loop. Derek pulls you back toward him by the hip. He’s stupid strong, and you can only tumble back into him with another laugh.

You’re sweaty, sober, and having way too much fun.

“Careful, kid. I think Hotchner has a crush.” Derek’s playful jab is warm against your ear as you fall in with him, cheek-to-cheek.

“What can I say?” You ask. “I’m irresistible.”

Derek throws you under his arm in a spin and you land back at his chest with the wind knocked out of you. “He’s gotta get in line though.”

“Oh?”

“I think his big brother’s gonna give him a run for his money?”

That’s enough for you. “Gimme a break, Morgan.” With a laugh, you shove at Derek’s chest and leave the floor. Returning to the table, you sidle up to Aaron again. “Hey, Hotch. Having fun?”

He gives you a weak glare out of the corner of his eye and takes a sip of his beer. “A blast.”

“Couple more hours, if that, then we’ll be home.” You drop your voice, almost whispering into your glass as you take another sip.

Aaron nods. “Can’t come soon enough.”

The rest of the team gets more and more sloshed as the evening progresses, and you can get away with a lot more. That said, Sean’s eyes are playful, sober, and more than a little amused.

“What did my brother say to you?” Hotch murmurs, under his breath. The girls went to the bathroom (and to call Spencer a cab home) while Derek and Sean posted up at the bar, itching for an excuse to give some asshole the what-for.

You bump his shoulder. “Just that you’re half in love with me, if not already completely fucked.”

He heaves a sigh. “Can’t catch a break.” You link your pinkie through his belt loop again. “He’s right, though.”

“How’s that?” You look up at him and you know he can see how much you love him.

“I’m completely fucked.”

If any of your team members wonder what’s so fucking funny, they don’t ask. It’s just good to see Hotch smiling again.

+++

At the end of the night, you drop Sean back off at the hotel on your way home. He’s the last in your car, so he can speak his mind with a certain degree of freedom. You idle in front of the building for a moment, just enjoying the silence.

“Hey.”

You look over at him. “Yeah?”

“You’d make a great in-law. Just wanted you to know that I’m here for it.” He offers you a hand. You shake it and it almost feels like you’re making some kind of gentleman’s agreement. “Take care of him. He needs it.”

“Oh, don't worry. I know.”

The smile you share is that of a pair of co-conspirators, of siblings, of friends.

We’ll do just fine, you and I.

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @jeor @spencers-hoodrat

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #sean hotchner #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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4ragon · 3 years

Note

Can't speak for anyone else but I for one would love an incoherent rant about the dark age of the law plotline

Alright buckle up kiddos.

So I have a lot of complaints with Dual Destinies as a whole. It’s a poorly paced mess, the final confrontation was deeply underwhelming, it has all these weird “Gotcha” moments where they put in the most bizarre, logic breaking plot twists and then undo them within ten minutes completely for shock value. And yet, despite all of these issues, there is nothing in this world that pisses me off more than the words “The Dark Age of the Law.”

I hate the Dark Age of the Law subplot more than literally any other thing in Ace Attorney. It is a complete failure of a story in literally every possible way. It not only doesn’t work within the context of Dual Destinies, it also completely flies in the face of everything we understand about the original trilogy! It!!!! Sucks!!!!

But no. That was too coherent. I think we should break this down.

First I’m going to start on a macro level. The Dark Age of the Law is the clearest indication to me that the writers of Dual Destinies never played another Ace Attorney game. They treat this Dark Age of the Law thing like this big bad, this shiny new toy, this never before seen wonder, but??? Corruption has been a CENTRAL part of every single AA game since game one!! Since case 2 even!!!

The Dark Age of the Law is this whole idea that people have lost their trust in the court system. And what do they site as the catalyst for this breaking of trust? Phoenix Wright’s disbarment and Simon Blackquill’s arrest.

And okay. Phoenix Wright’s disbarment is a reasonable one. Phoenix was sort of known for being this paragon of truth and justice, this man willing to do what it took to find the truth and protect people in need. His name being smeared through the mud could very well shake up the foundations of trust that the people had in the court system.

But Simon Blackquill? Simon FUCKING Blackquill shook up people’s faith in the court system?? Simon Blackquill is the reason that people are convinced that the entire system is full of lies and deceit? SIMON CONFESSED!! He didn’t even do anything corrupt!! He murdered a woman, sure, but he then immediately lets everyone know “Yes, I super did this murder. No one else.” And they treat it like it’s this big turning point??

LANA SKYE!! You guys remember Lana Skye? The Chief Prosecutor at the time, who was accused of murder, and who still went to prison for doing like a million other crimes after being blackmailed by the chief of police.

SPEAKING OF WHICH the fucking CHIEF OF POLICE was a murderous monster who blackmailed people and also murdered. Did that have no effect on people’s trust in the courts?

Manfred von Karma? Never lost a case in 40 years, literally everyone talked about how he and Miles were KNOWN to be corrupt? Also, you know, murdered a man in cold blood?

Blaise Debeste??? Chairman of the fucking ETHICS BOARD???????? Like!!! That’s some deep fucking corruption right there!!!! And he constantly talks about the mysterious disappearances around him of people who disagreed with him, does that not shake your faith?!

In Turnabout Sisters, as early as case 1-2, Redd White calls up the Chief Prosecutor (who also is not Lana, just to be clear) and demands his complicitness in covering up his own crimes. That’s how central corruption is to the entirety of Ace Attorney.

And you’re going to look me in the fucking EYES and tell me Simon Blackquill, some 21 year old nobody with no power or influence, who theoretically stabbed a woman and made no effort to cover that up, is the reason the courts have lost the faith of the people? You have the NERVE??? the AUDACITY??? the fucking GALL????? to tell me that SIMON is what caused this? The system was never trustworthy, and if it was, what the FUCK did Simon have to do with changing that???

Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting.

BUT

Let’s pretend for a moment that Dual Destinies existed in a vacuum. First Ace Attorney game you’ve ever played. Never touched another one in your life. If you were unfamiliar with the world that Ace Attorney has already spent six games establishing, does the Dark Age of the Law subplot hold up?

No. No it doesn’t.

So as I’ve said a million times before, it was clear that Dual Destinies should not have tried to juggle three protagonists. It just didn’t work. They learned their lesson and booted Athena out of that protagonist title in SoJ, and as much as I hated that decision, it was at least a much stronger overarching story for it.

Now. There were three main throughlines in Dual Destinies. Athena’s story centered on introducing her, of course, but it also was about her struggle to save a friend who needed saving from the law and also himself. It was very AA1 in that way.

Apollo’s story was a little harder to outline, because a lot of it is saved for the last couple of cases, but it’s really about his relationship with Athena. Coming to trust her, his trust in her being shaken, struggling to overcome that, grief, loss, yadda yadda, and I have my criticisms of how it’s handled, but that’s the gist of it.

And Phoenix needed a story. So they made up this stupid fucking bullshit garbage and dumped it in his lap and said “Here you go, best friend! Our dear money maker! This is what you’re working with!” And then they proceeded to use it to beat the shit out of Phoenix until he started spitting out dollar bills.

Okay no sorry I have no idea what the fuck I just said but liSTEN

The Dark Age of the Law storyline was clearly supposed to have some significant thematic relevance to the story, given how hard they were hammering it into us in case three. It was supposed to mean something, and I think it was supposed to mean something to Phoenix in particular. After all, he and Miles won’t stop TALKING ABOUT IT GOD MAKE THEM SHUT UP

The Dark Age of the Law subplot had nothing to do with that final case. Remove it, and nothing changes, because, again, Simon had nothing to do with the corruption in the first place, and the Phantom certainly had nothing to do with corruption. It’s so surface level. “Uh oh, people don’t like the courts. If you can solve this unrelated crime, everything will be fixed.” And then he does (also Athena should’ve been the one to win the case, but that’s a different problem) and nothing ever comes of it, other than “Hooray, you fixed the corruption!” He didn’t??? Miles what the fuck are you talking about????

If they had woven in the corruption throughout the story somehow, maybe it would’ve found some way to be impactful? But it was a floundering, half-thought-out subplot in an already bloated game that failed to give any meaning or help anyone develop as a character. Hell, it kept falling out of relevancy and only popped in to rear its head when the writers remembered it existed and decided to have yet another person remind us that THIS IS IMPORTANT GUYS NO REALLY.

Like! Okay. What if they tied it more to AA4? I mean Phoenix’s disbarment and subsequent return could’ve actually affected the plot. Have people actively mistrust Phoenix or something. Or maybe have it affect anyone in any way. Sure it divides the fucking high schoolers for that mess of a “power of friendship” storyline, but so could a plot about, I don’t know, electing a homecoming queen or something. It affected Athena for one case, but what did that even teach her other than “Trust your gut, sweetie, don’t do lawyer crimes!” Phoenix didn’t have an arc in this game, and he shouldn’t have had to, unless it was coming to grips with the fact that he was never going to get those 7 years of his life back and the smears against his character were always going to linger. But they didn’t do that, they just needed him in there for brand recognition.

I can handle a lot of bullshit in these bullshit lawyer games. That’s part of the appeal. But unlike most of the other bullshit, this particular threat was unsatisfying, meandering, and unnecessary.

#ace attorney #dual destinies #i love dual destinies guys really #but if miles says dark age of the law one more time #also was this coherent at all?#j #spoilers #meta

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mrslittletall · 3 years

Note

saw your whump post, honestly the "I'm fine" screams Hornet to me, so it'd be cool to see that! - dooblebugs

Title: The Idol Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: Hornet & Little Ghost Word Count: 2.825 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30941981

Summary: After the Hollow Knight is freed from the temple, Hornet does her best to take care of the ones that are still left in Hallownest. Everything should be fine... until it isn't.

(Author's note: @dooblebugs

I thought about using canon verse with “Almost everyone lives AU” or your Mer AU. But ultimately, canon verse won, because I still miss some context for the Mer AU. I hope you enjoy.)

Hornet opened her eyes and jumped on her feet right away. Her day would always start with hunting and gathering food, preferably before Hollow woke up and tried to move, and it was a whole other problem trying to haul a bug their size back into bed, especially when they rigorously ignored their wounds.

While Hornet trusted Quirrel and Cloth enough to leave Hollow in their care for a while, she always felt better if she could look over them personally. However, the longer she hesitated with leaving, the longer she would need to come back, so Hornet left the house in Dirtmouth they had inhabited for Hollow's recovery and went towards the crossroads.

The little pitter-patter of tiny feet next to her prompted Hornet to look down. Ghost had decided to accompany her again. They always would. She could tell them a hundred times to stay behind, they would never listen. For a vessel meant to be void of mind, Ghost was one of the bugs with the strongest will that Hornet ever had seen.

“You will still come with me, even if I say no, right, little Ghost?”, Hornet said, shouldering her needle. Ghost didn't nod or sign at her, they simply stared, with their unblinking, never changing expression. It was enough for Hornet to know that they wouldn't leave.

“Alright, but don't get into my way.”, Hornet said. At this, Ghost swung their nail and jumped in front of Hornet in a pose that depicted a challenge, then their nail went down on the ground in a strike, the swing of it breaking through the calmness of the morning.

“I know! I know! You've beaten me twice, but... I have gone easy on you.”, Hornet half hissed. It was a blatant lie and she knew it. The first time she had simply underestimated them (or she simply had become tired of fighting) and the second time... she had given it her all and they still had remained victorious. In a sense, Ghost was the new king of Hallownest, but they didn't seem to put any mind on the title. They didn't even seem to be wanting to be celebrated for being the saviour of Hallownest. They simply joined Hornet every morning for hunting and went off on their own afterwards, always coming back to play with their friends in Dirtmouth.

As the both of them jumped down the well, Hornet couldn't help but think about that there wasn't much to rule anymore. This kingdom was in shambles. It had been two weeks and the dried off infection still crusted the crossroads, too little bugs alive to care much about cleaning the place up. It was becoming more and more difficult to get food, because so many of the infected had simply been reanimated husks, without any meat left in them.

They surely would have to wander to Greenpath again, hopefully finding a few vengeflies and mosscreeps to bring home.

Hornet was used being alone. She had been alone for a very long time. She had managed. She never was lonely... well, maybe a little lonely and now there was a bunch of strangers up in Dirtmouth who relied on her. Hornet never wanted for anyone to rely on her. She had seen what happened when bugs relied on someone and... there wasn't a solution.

She looked down on Ghost again, they had their nail on the ready and stared vigilantly in front of them. They must have crossed this crossroads a dozen times on their journey, still expecting to be attacked by the infected every given minute. Hornet could understand that it was hard for them to let go of old habits.

She was the same. She never let go of her needle as well. Even with the infection never being able to come back, she had to remain vigilant. She would protect her siblings, no matter what. She wouldn't, no she couldn't, let anyone down.

“We are nearing Greenpath.”, she said, only to cut through the silence between them. She knew it wasn't Ghost's fault that they didn't have a voice, but after years of not being able to talk to anyone, Hornet barely could stand the silence, when there was someone she could talk to. “Remember, when we hunt the mosscreeps, take their leaves as well, for the herbivores.”

While Hornet was able to eat plant matter as well, it never had been satisfying to her. She was the daughter of a spider and a wyrm, both predators, and therefore she usually would hunt for food. She was unsure about what kind of diet Ghost and Hollow needed, but they seemed to be content with the prey she brought back, so she wouldn't change anything about it.

“And remember, we can't hunt too much. The population needs a chance to recover.”, she said as well. The infection had done a number on the whole of Hallownest... it wasn't a surprise that there was such a food shortage. In fact, Hornet had cut her own food intake in favour of her siblings and anyone who couldn't hunt or still needed to recover. That bug, Tiso, came to mind. Had a far too big stomach for having been utterly destroyed by the colloseum of fools. Why Ghost had dragged him back to Dirthmouth, she would never understand.

Ghost showed that they understood with a little nod of their head and the both of them entered Greenpath. It was a MUCH nicer place without the infection, but they still had to pay attention, the fool eater plants were easy to overlook (not that Hornet had ever overlooked them, but Ghost tended to forget...) and there were some predators still around, though they were no match for her needle. The problem was to avoid them to not hunt too much. Like she had said to Ghost, they needed to give the population time to recover, if they wouldn't want all to starve beforehand.

“We get only enough for everyone back in Dirtmouth.”, Hornet said again. “Then we leave again. Let's search for some mosscreeps first.”

The both of them jumped and slashed their way through the vegetation of Greenpath. While Hornet preferred to use her needle, Ghost had found a lot of new ways to move around since the first time they fought and they dashed (literally leaving their shell behind and somehow phasing through time and space) and jumped with wings that reminded Hornet of her father... and she got a bad feeling in her guts every time she saw them.

After a bit of time, they had managed to hunt two vengeflies to bring back, Hornet keeping them cocooned up for transportation and were now searching through the vegetation for some mosscreeps. Finally, Hornet found one and struck it down with her needle, preparing a cocoon for it again, when Ghost picked something up from the grass.

“Ghost, what do you have there?”, Hornet asked. The item was too small to be prey and they tended to hoard stuff they found. It probably was just something that was completely worthless nowadays, only generating Geo when given to this historian in the City of Tears. She still wanted to know.

Ghost came over and laid the thing they had picked up in her outstretched hand. When she looked down on it, she froze.

It was a King's Idol, the item that the citizens of Hallownest had crafted to worship her reclusive father. Each of them looked different, but they all shared the general shape and depicted his most salient feature: The horns that resembled a crown.

Staring down at it, something in Hornet broke. It might have been the stress she felt since Ghost had arrived. Or the fact that Hollow recovered from years of abuse from both the gods of Hallownest. Or that she was running on an empty stomach most of the time. But once she saw that thing, all her frustration crashed down on her at once.

You!”, she hissed. “It was all your fault! You knew that the plan wouldn't work! You knew that they would suffer and you still have let it happen! The teacher, the watcher, my mother, all sacrificed for nothing! And then, in the moment you were needed the most, you vanished, you damn coward! We needed you! I needed you! I hate you. I hate you and I can't even say it to your face anymore!”

Hornet threw the king's idol on the ground with so much force that it skipped on the ground and then fell on her knees, slowly getting aware of the tears on her face and the presence of little ice cold hands patting her arm.

“I am fine.”, she said, wiping the tears away. Just a moment of weakness, nothing else. Even though she could feel the judgemental stare of Ghost, she was fine. She had to be. “Seriously, I am fine.”, she continued once more. “Let's continue hunting.”

As Hornet was putting her composure back together, she didn't notice how Ghost continued to stare at her, picking up the idol from the ground, and only starting to move again once she called out for them.

The hunt had been more or less successful. At least they had found enough prey that nobody should go terribly hungry (at least when Hornet halved her own portion again). As usual, hunting had taken the better part of the day. Hornet would have liked to go hunt at some different locations, but the Old Stag from the stag ways wasn't around lately, apparently he was taking care of some personal business. With him not being around, it was just too far to walk to the Fungal Wastes or Deepnest, at least not when she wanted to come back the same day.

Currently Hornet took in her meal in Hollow's room with Ghost present as well. She was busy thinking about if there was another route that would make sure she could hunt elsewhere but Greenpath for once, when she felt a nudge. When she looked down, she saw how Ghost offered them a half of their mosscreep, holding the prey up in their little hands, seemingly eagerly awaiting for her to take it.

“I can't take this, Ghost.”, Hornet said. “You need all the food you can get, you are still growing.”

Ghost cocked their head and for once their eternal deadpan expression was on point. Hornet knew how ridiculous her argument was. Ghost had been born before her. They hadn't grown in years. Their body had been unable to grow because they didn't had access to void. “You know what I mean.”, she defended herself. There was the possibility that Ghost would start to grow as long as they stayed in Hallownest.

Ghost offered their meal a little while longer and then gave up with a little frustrated stomp of their foot. It was then when Hornet felt another nudge... this time it was Hollow, who had simply watched the scene unfold in front of them, offering their part of their meal.

“Oh no, not you too, Hollow.”, Hornet sighed. “You need the food much more than me, you are still recovering. I won't accept anything from you.”

The both vessels shared a look and once again Hornet asked herself if they could talk to each with some kind of void telepathy, before both of them looked at the ground in defeat.

“I am fine.”, Hornet repeated herself, she knew that. “Really, I am fine...”

Hornet awoke the next morning... not because her stomach cramped and she had trouble sleeping because of it, but because someone nudged her. She cracked one eye open and murmured: “It's barely morning...” She just craved to go back to sleep, to forget about the day in front of her for a few minutes longer, but the nudging got more and more intense, until she shouted: “Fine! I am getting up! Stop bothering me!”

It was Ghost in front of her and immediately Hornet stopped being annoyed. What if something had happened? “Is something the matter with Hollow? Or is a threat approaching the village?”, she asked, already fumbling for her needle, once again forgetting that Ghost was more than capable of defending the village themselves. They just looked too much like a little, defenseless child, even though Hornet had experienced otherwise.

Gladly, Ghost shook their head, though this put Hornet right back into annoyance. “Then why have you woken me up?”, she said, falling back down in her pillows, ignoring the urge to close her eyes and looking at Ghost again, making sure to give them a judgemental stare.

Ghost did grip something under their cloak (wings? Hornet never knew what this thing around the vessels was) and after a bit of struggling, they produced a jar... a jar filled with honey. The smell actually made Hornet's mouth water. Honey was one of the few things she liked to eat that wasn't meat, mostly because she had trained in the Hive in her youth.

Though, as lucky as she felt about having more food, she couldn't help but scold Ghost. “Ghost, did you get this on your own? The Hive is dangerous, even without the infection! What if the Hive Knight would have found you?”

Ghost shook their head and then outstretched their hand, showing Hornet a shiny little charm. A charm she remembered. The charm of the Hive. “Wait, you have been there and challenged him already?” Hornet wanted to be surprised, but Ghost couldn't really surprise her anymore. When they could surprise her somehow, then it was that they were full of surprises.

“Anyway... I guess I have to thank you, though I don't approve that you sneak out at night into the Hive.”, Hornet murmured. “At least we have more food for the group now..”

Ghost rigorously shook their head and pressed the jar in her hands. “For me?”, Hornet asked and Ghost nodded.

“But... Ghost, I appreciate it, but I don't need.. the others need the food much more than...”

Another shook of their head and a stomp of their foot along with crossed arms and a slight turn around. Hornet suddenly felt very small, she had never seen them that upset.

“Alright, alright...”, she said. “Maybe I have eaten insufficient lately...”

Ghost nodded again and gave the jar of honey another press, so that she had to hold it firmly in her hands.

“Alright alright...”, Hornet finally gave in. “I will take your offer, Ghost.”

As she opened the jar, her hunger became more and more apparent and soon she dug in and had finished the whole jar in what felt like no time and finally, for once, she didn't feel overly hungry. Satisfied even.

She then saw Ghost holding up something. A little rock with a few letters written on it. Lately Cornifer had given them writing lessons, though it still was a work in progress.

“Fine?”

That was the word they had painted on the rock (where did they even have the colours from?).

“I am fine.”, Hornet said. “This time for real. I am sorry, Ghost, I shouldn't have lied to you. I just feel so... responsible for everyone. I can't show weakness in front of anyone.”

Ghost shook their head again and then got something out. Hornet recognized it as the King's Idol they had found in Greenpath. They tossed it at the ground, just as she had done and then hit it with their nail, leaving a notable crack in it.

“You as well don't have the best memories of him, right?”, Hornet said. Both of them had been left behind, though in a different kind of way. Ghost had been discarded and Hornet had been left with responsibility far too huge for her age.

Ghost nodded again and gave the King's Idol another smack, so that it landed in front of her. Hornet took it into her hands and stared at it. She did miss him, that she had to admit to herself, but she also knew that her anger and her disappointment were real and there was no reason to hide it in front of Ghost.

She squeezed the Idol until it cracked into two pieces and just watched as they fell down. “Thank you, Ghost.”, she said. “But make sure to not tell Hollow about this.”

The way Hollow idealized their father... it would break their heart seeing his image being defiled like that.

Another quick nod and then Ghost actually got another one out, their face clearly saying: “Wanna break another?”

A grin crept over Hornet's face. She would never get her mother back or escape her responsibilities, but at least she could vent out her frustrations, even though it took her sibling for her to realize.

“Oh you bet I want.” (Author's note: Little Ghost is kinda fun to write. I think they are a character mostly showing what they feel through body language and it was fun to come up with how they would act. I also like to think that they can stare very judgemental, even though their expression never changes, a stare of them can make anyone falter. Hornet's relationship to PK is... complicated. He hasn't actually been a bad father to her, but as the infection came back and depression took over, he left her alone more and more and she got angry about it... especially when he decided to just vanish. She felt utterly betrayed by it and it is a huge source of her frustration and anger. I put in some little references to the game in there, try to find them if you please.)

#hollow knight #fanfiction #hornet #little ghost #march of the whumps #request fill #hornet has issues #whump #emotional whump #ask answered #thx for the ask #littlewritesstuff #Anonymous

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {17}***

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Heavy Cursing, Lite Angst, Fluff, SMUT, NSFW, FILTH, Taboo Acts

LOTS OF WORDS, NOT SAFE FOR WORK AT ALL

Words: 8.5k

Note: Okay, so this is no longer a mini-series, we’re at a full-fledged series. Recommended listening for adult time is “I see Red” by Everybody Loves An Outlaw. I’d just keep the song on repeat.

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine: Day 56-

-Chris-

He was fucked. He was so fucked that he didn’t even realize when he first became unfuckable. Now he was at the deepest level of fucked; he had no idea what to do about it. God, you were beautiful, he thought as he laid beside you watching you sleep like a stalker. He’s been awake for the last thirty minutes, at least trying to reel himself in to no avail. That was how fucked he was. He couldn’t even get a grip and put things into perspective. From day one, he knew that you would be a problem for him. From day one, he knew that if he went here with you, it couldn’t just be a fling. There was no way. Here he was proving himself right. A fling was impossible with you. Just sex was not the context of your relationship. He was fucked.

You softly moaned again and rolled around the bed. You sounded like an angel--soft, delicate, and angelic. You probably were an angel, a devilish angel. You settled beside him again, still fast asleep. He laid there staring over your face as his thoughts raced a mile a minute. He went over the journey of this whole quarantine thus far until he got to last night. When he thought of the fact that on the beach last night, both of you agreed to something that took your interaction to a whole different level.

He’d never thought to go raw with anyone. Even when he was with Jessica for those five years, they’d never dared to do it. Neither of them wanted any accidents, especially considering both of their careers were in the beginning stages. With everyone after her, it was a definite nonfactor. He was religious, and the thought of not wearing anything gave him anxiety. However, last night he had none of the qualms he usually would. It was as if he was ready for it and one with his decision. At the time he didn’t think about what it meant, how could he when he was feeling so many new sensations, so many new feelings. He’d felt things he’d pushed to the side plenty of times, felt things that he’d worked overtime to bury. He now suspected there would be no burying it after last night.

“I trust you.”

His words echoed in his head. He couldn’t believe he said that and much more that he meant it. He did trust you. He trusted you as much as he trusted Scott, as much as he trusted his mother. He kept his circle small for a reason and. When you became friends with Scott, he’d kept you out of it because he knew you’d become important to him. He knew you were different and knew that if he allowed you in, you’d burrow into him and hatch until he was infested. This was another thing he’d proven to himself as true. A lot of the things he’d suspected he’d proven true.

“You deserve the better me,” he whispered as he softly grazed across your cheekbone.

He’d always known it. It was one of the main reasons he’d stayed away for so long. He knew it, and usually, he wouldn’t care to give less, but with you, he wanted to give more and be more. He had to be sure he could give more. Your leg wrapped around one of his, and you moaned again. Every moan he heard, it sparked the familiar fire in him that he knew would lead his toes curling from the way you took him. It hadn’t even been a week since your first night together, and he was already addicted to you.

When he looked to your leg, the sheet was gone from your bodies. It was now loosely draped across your ankle while your bare thigh was over his hardening desire. The yellow on your toes made you look as if you were on a tropical vacation rather than quarantined in Cape Cod. He loved the way your legs looked and felt entwined with his. Again you moaned while rubbing your inner thigh against his cock and softly rubbed your hand across his chest down his abs. Holding his breath, he waited for your hand to dip lower to where he wanted it, but it stopped where his hip was. Groaning, he stretched his body as he tried to douse the intensifying fire within him.

“Mmmm.”

Your eyes fluttered open to gaze at him, but it looked like you were looking right through him. He wanted to know what you were thinking. After a few moments, you scrunched your face and groaned and tried to turn your face away.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you whined. “You’re here.”

He turned his body with yours and moved onto his side. “Here? You were just staring at me.”

“I know,” you mumbled into the pillow.

“What was that?”

You turned your face sideways to look at him while using part of the pillowcase to cover your mouth.

“I know. It’s just been a while since I woke up beside a man. Don’t even get me started with it being a first waking up beside a white man.”

He snorted and shook his head as you giggled. “ You love making fun of me, don’t you?”

“You make it so easy.” you moved a little, but he kept your thigh trapped between his.

“What’s going on with--,” he motioned to the pillowcase you were using as a mouth mask.

“It’s morning.”

“Oh, I know it’s morning, and I know you can feel that I know it’s morning.”

Again you giggled. You were so fucking adorable he couldn’t not touch you. He rolled onto you and settled between your spread legs. The feel of how warm you were almost had him thrusting forward to join your bodies together. He had to practice some restraint, no matter how difficult it was. You kept your hands up, holding onto the pillowcase at your mouth. You moved a little, which gave him the angle he wanted. Your moan was sultry, and it had his cock pulsating against you. It was like a chain reaction between the two of you. One thing set the entire chain effect off until neither of you could resist.

“What does it’s morning mean?”

“Morning breath,” you answered. He snorted.

“Morning breath? So you can smell my breath?”

You nodded and put your hand over his mouth before you giggled. “You’re lying.”

He tickled you, which had you dropping the pillowcase as you laughed and writhed on the bed. Each move you made had your bodies rubbing together. After a few moments, you both settled down him holding your hands to the pillow your head rested to.

“I don’t care if it’s morning or not.” He pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss that slowly intensified and increased in urgency. In seconds the two of you were moaning together and rocking against each other. Pulling away before things got out of hand, he stared down at you.

“So it’s been a while since waking up next to man, let alone a white one. Would you say you--like waking up—beside me?”

His heart unexpectedly began racing thinking of the possibilities of your answer. You could very well say you hated it or preferred waking up with him.

“Eh—I mean, you’re palatable.”

The look he gave you must have been a comedic one because you busted out laughing. “Palatable? That’s all?” Again he tickled you but didn’t stop even when you began screeching loudly. He dipped his hand lower and gripped your thigh, pressing it back onto the bed, making him groan when he thought about your flexibility. Just like that, he was rock hard and ready to bury himself inside of you.

“Christ, you’re going to turn me into a horny old man.”

You rolled onto him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Turn you? Babe, you’re already a dirty old man.”

He heard what you said, but his brain stuck to you, calling him “babe.” Again his heart began to race; only this one wasn’t because of anxiety or fear. It was from excitement. Did you mean it? After searching your eyes for a few moments, he kissed you. It was a kiss you reciprocated. You moaned together until you’d managed to straddle him, pressing your folds along his shaft.

As the kiss turned from sweet and teasing to intense and passionate, you rocked on him with intent. Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, and the more time that passed, the more he wanted you and wanted from you. When you sucked onto his tongue, he lost his shit and got handsy. He gripped your hips and physically lifted you while turning your body around so your sex was over his face. Your squeal was the sign of your shock.

“Chris, what are you doing?”

“I’m hungry.”

That was all the explanation he gave before he buried his face and began his feast.

“Oh fuck!” You dropped your head to his shin and squeezed his leg as if you were afraid to topple over.

You tasted incredible. He knew now that he wouldn’t ever get tired of tasting you like this. Every swipe or dip of his tongue had you gasping and squeezing his legs harder before every curse in the dictionary tumbled from your lips.

“Shit, Chris.”

He loved the way you said his name when you were pleased. It always made him work even harder just to have you say it again. He slurped your skin into his mouth and repeated the action four times. Each time he did it, your hips bucked. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he held you in place, slightly changing the angle.

“Oh my god, Chris. Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

You were now sitting up on his face lost in your pleasure. Not wanting to keep the same speed or pattern, he slipped his mouth further back and swiped his tongue across your skin. You gasped again and flung your head forward to grip his legs again. You were now propped onto your knees. He gripped your waist again but moved you until he was on his belly behind you with his lips at your second entrance.

With every flick of his tongue, your moans became louder and louder until you buried your face in the blankets and let them all flow as you willed.

“Fuck baby, that feels so fucking good.”

There goes that name again; he thought before he doubled down on his efforts. He delved his tongue inside and swirled, and that sent you lunging forward, trying to get away. His reflexes were quick, so he gripped your hips and pressed you down onto the bed and did everything he knew would send you bucking like a bronco.

“Fuck!”

You pushed your ass back onto his mouth then began using his mouth as you saw fit. “Yes, yes, oh fuck Chris, I’m gonna come,” you loudly whined.

He moaned his response and slid two fingers inside of you and picked up the speed to match how he licked you. Your moans turned to whimpers and soon sobs before you shouted. He let go of your hip and plastered his hand across your mouth to muffle your shout. He could feel your wetness leaking out around his fingers, and he didn’t want to waste not one drop. Pulling his fingers free, he slurped at your sex, taking everything you gave.

When your body began convulsing, he did not let up. He used his lubricated fingers to swirl around your pulsating bud, which made you bite down onto his hand as you screeched out. His hand muffled your pleas, but he audibly heard you scream, “oh fuck, fuck fuck. I can’t.” As soon as he heard it, he pulled away from you and watched as your body continued to shake.

He peppered kisses along your body, up your spine, across your shoulder blades, on your shoulders, and back down your spin to nibble your cheeks. After doing this a few times, he kissed your ear.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whispered in a high pitched voice.

“What?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Chris. Am I—oh my god.”

He wanted to laugh, but instead, he continued kissing your skin. He loved everything about it—the softness, the taste, the smell of it. You haunted his nights and had even begun to leak over into his days.

You moved as if you had no energy. It took you a few tries to get onto your arms. Once you did, you grunted as you flipped over onto your back to look at him. He crawled to you and settled between your thighs and took your nipple into his mouth.

“Oh god, where’d you learn that?”

He smiled as he continued sucking your flesh. “Learned what?” His mumble was between sucks.

“You know what. Where’d you learn it?” He bit your nipple and raked his teeth across the sensitive bud.

“What, where’d I learn to eat the booty like groceries?”

You busted out laughing so loud he had the most difficult time keeping a straight face. When you looked at him again, he couldn’t help but snicker.

“Oh my god, fuck groceries, let’s be real you ate it like it was a ten-course gourmet prepped meal. My god!”

“Did you like it?”

The look you gave him was an incredulous one. It was like your eyes were asking him if he was okay in the head. He smiled then pinched his lips.

“I’d have to be dead and unable to feel a thing not to like it. that’s a very skillful tongue you’ve got there, Evans.”

He snorted again and dropped his forehead to your chest. As you laughed, your breasts gently slapped against his face. It was unintentional, but the reaction it caused was intentional. He wrapped his lips around your nipple again and pinched the other with his free hand. You moaned and arched your back, jutting your breasts more into his mouth. Again, like a spark that the fire needs to begin, he was ignited.

He groaned before he spoke, “Fuck, I’m so hard for you.”

“Show me.” He recognized the taunt in your voice. Usually, he’d play your game, but he didn’t have the strength right now. Locking eyes with you, he rose onto his knees, showing you his violently protruding dick. You arched onto your elbows and gripped him then stroked his length.

“Jesus,” he whispered as his head dropped back. Your hand felt incredible, it was soft and delicate, yet the way you stroked him was forceful. He was so fucking close.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N. I can’t take it,” he pleaded as he brought his head back to watch your hand. You brought your foot to trail across his chest then down his abs before bringing the other to join in on the action. When you brought your foot to his face, he trapped your toe between his teeth and sucked on it.

You moaned and bit your pointer before you dipped it into your mouth. He watched you suck your finger as you watched him suck your toe. Your moans sounded so damn good he could barely hold on. You brought your other foot to his face and inched it up to his hair. You were now arched onto your shoulders with your ass and back off the bed. The shape you made was the most sinfully artistic one he’d ever seen. When he saw you cup one breast and pinch your own nipple, he’d had enough.

He grabbed the ankle of your foot that was in his hair and crossed it over the one that had your toe in his mouth. He held you there by your ankles and saw the second you realized his intention. With one quick snap of his hips, he slammed into you, burying himself balls deep. You screeched and shook as he held you in place and rotated his hips, so you felt every fucking inch. Your body convulsed, and he felt the gush of wetness around him. Groaning, he pulled his mouth from your toe to bite the skin of your ankle as he held you closer and plowed into you. Slow was not how this would go. He needed too much.

Every time he slammed into you, your breasts swirled, and your head angled back. You were so gorgeous when your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It was a sight he was beginning to love as much as you smiling. Speeding up his thrusts, he grunted with each connection. The louder you got, the more your hands reached out for the sheets beside you to grip and ball. The more you did it, the deeper he went. When your hand flew out to his hips, trying to keep him back, he slowed. That only had you gripping his hip, pulling him closer, prompting him to it all again for the same reaction. In seconds, the chain on his restraint broke.

He dropped you back onto the bed then pressed your thighs apart so they rested on the bed and gave you one of the fuckings he’d dreamed about for three years. With nowhere to run and no way to escape your cursing picked up. When you began to scream, he pressed his hand over your mouth again, muffling every sound you made. Then he brought his face to yours and intensely stared into your eyes. The look in them only pushed him closer to the edge.

“Is it mine, Y/N?”

You remained quiet, but your eyes spoke for you. He wanted your words, though.

“Tell me? Is it mine? Does he make you scream like me? Hm?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, but you didn’t respond. He sped his movements, and your body jerked with every thrust sending you half hanging off the bed. He grunted again, feeling his release approaching.

“Does he make you shake like me? Can he even make you feel this good? Shiit!”

He could feel you trying to close your legs, no doubt wanting to wrap them around him to gain the upper hand. He was too far gone to allow it, so he kept you where you were and fed you every inch of him until he couldn’t bury himself any deeper. Your muffled scream vibrated on his hand. He knew you were close.

“Is this pussy mine, baby? Do I make it feel good? God, you’re so wet.” When he rotated his hips again, you bit his hand. He hovered over you and jackhammered into you. You whined as he took his hand away.

“Tell me.”

“It’s yours--,” you rasped out before he entwined his fingers at the top of your head, keeping it there as he sloppily kissed you as he lost himself in the ecstasy of your wetness and tightness. You whimpered on his mouth as he drank them up, using them as his sustenance. In seconds his thrusts became staggered when you clenched around him; he had no choice but to give in.

The deeper he tried to bury himself, the further your head dropped back, hanging off the bed. With his forehead rested just below your throat, he kissed along your collar as he slowly came back down.

“Mmmm. Oh wow. Whose ever bedroom that is they can see right in here,” you announced out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“Look.”

He groaned as he dropped onto the bed beside you to mirror you. When he looked before him, he saw his bedroom mirror. “Oh god.”

With that, he was moving again back toward the pillows before he plopped down.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

“No, that was not a nothing thing. What?” You dropped down beside him in the crook of his arm as if you’d been doing it for years. “Tell me.”

He sighed then groaned. “It’s my bedroom,” he confessed.

You didn’t speak for a few moments, then you arched on your elbow to look at him. “Yours?”

He nodded. You studied him then looked back to the window and to him again. He saw when you put two and two together. You sat up with your jaw dropped.

“Have you been watching me in here?”

“No.”

You gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him. “Okay unintentionally.”

“What! Oh my god, Chris!”

“It was an accident. I was looking out one night and didn’t realize what I had seen until it was too late.”

The look on your face was a cautious one. “What did you see?”

After staying quiet for as long as he could, he reluctantly answered. “You—lying here--,” he trailed off.

“Oh god, did you see me--.”

The look on his face must have been all you needed because you dropped back onto the pillow with your hands covering your face.

“Oh my god, noooo.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. I couldn’t sleep, and I was just staring out and saw your light on. I didn’t realize I could even see in there until that night. I didn’t even see anything. It was just your face,” he elaborated as he pressed his body onto yours.

“Oh my god. You saw me—when?”

“A few weeks ago. If it makes you feel any better, I had to beeline to my shower to take care of myself.”

You moved your hands, so they were framing the outsides of your face. “Really?”

You smiled, and he could tell his confession made you feel a little better.

“Oh yeah. I was pretty pathetic. You probably would have laughed at me. I was not a grown man. I was a horny teenager.”

You snorted and laughed at him. He laid there and let you laugh it up. When you quieted, he kissed your chin.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you did it,” you repeated.

You couldn’t be serious, he thought. The longer that went with you remaining quiet while staring into his eyes, he realized you weren’t kidding.

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. Show me how you jerked yourself off while thinking of me,” you ordered.

He could feel his body’s arousal. It was then he realized you’d be the death of him.

“Don’t be shy,” you coaxed.

“First, tell me who you were thinking about.”

You smiled then bit your bottom lip. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nope. Tell me.” He saw your embarrassment, but he also saw you push through it.

“You.”

The weight of that confession had the air in the room changing. He sat up, then sat. Your eyes dropped to his length, and before you slowly licked your lips.

~~~~~~

-Y/N-

“Tell me what you saw.”

You watched Chris’s hand grip his dick and squeeze. As he did it, he slowly groaned. You had no idea how he was hard again. The man was a machine, and you didn’t know if this was normal or if it was you. Slowly you watched his hand stroke to his head only to squeeze yet again. Chris sucked in a breath and sighed out. his lips were redder than usual, and the way his mouth was agape made him look like he had more bottom lip than he really did.

He was so sexy sitting across from you with sex tousled hair and glazed eyes. As he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, he groaned again. Dropping your eyes to his hand, you watched his demonstration. He moved slowly, so slowly, you doubted this was what he did that night.

“Show me,” you repeated.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he gripped himself tighter.

“You were lying across the bed. The first thing I saw was---uugh!”

His strokes sped up, and you watched mesmerized by the sight of him pleasing himself. You could feel yourself getting wet all over again. That was all it took. You were in trouble, and you knew it.

“Was?”

Chris groaned, and you watched him clench his jaw. This clench was for a different reason then frustration with you. He sucked in a breath and hissed out. “Your head dropped back, your mouth opened. Then you grabbed your breast—uugh, shit.”

Chris’s hand sped up again. while it wasn’t speeding, inching him closer to his finish, you knew he was approaching the point where he lost himself to his pleasure. You grabbed your breast and massaged it.

“Like that?”

Chris groaned like a grumpy bear and squeezed his cock. The head of his member was turning deep red. You would have thought it hurt, but you knew it was the opposite. “What else?”

“I couldn’t see your hand, but I knew just what you were doing. Every second your face changed—mmm. When your body began rocking back and forth—fuck, Y/N.”

“What? Does it feel good? Do you wanna see what this hand was doing?”

You spread your legs before him, and his eyes dropped to your sex. His jaw dropped, and his brows furrowed as his hand quickened. When you dipped your fingers into your wetness and pulled them back, several strings of your wetness stretched, showing him just what he was doing to you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” It was then his hand moved at lightning speed, and that movement triggered your fingers to quickly circle your clit.

The room was filled with Chris’s grunts and moans, and your whimpers and whines. The way he watched you fueled you more and more. You wanted to make him lose his control, the control you’d seen every single time you were around him. You wanted him to be stripped so bare he had no other choice but to give in to every whim, desire, and need he had. You wanted to cripple the man so he’d never forget the power you had over him and that no other would ever do. You were it.

“Y/N!” You loved the sound of your name on his lips. Your body began to shake from the power of your oncoming orgasm. You needed more to get there, though.

“Chris,” you whined. Three seconds after you did, you saw him release spurt after spurt into the air. You followed it and sat there, amazed at how high it got. Still, you wanted more.

“Fuuuck!”

As if he knew what you needed, he dove between your legs and fasted his lips to your sex and sucked. In a matter of seconds, you were falling off the cliff and into a bottomless pit of pleasure. You shook and tried to get away from his mouth while locking his head where it was. When you couldn’t take it anymore, Chris spread your folds and quickly flicked his tongue against your clit, barreling you into yet another release. As you came, you managed to push him away and clamp your hands over your sex using it as a makeshift chastity belt.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my gooood!”

It took several minutes for your body to stop shaking, and when you looked at him, he was yet again hard.

“How!?”

He snorted and laid over you, resting his chin on your stomach. “Are you tapping out?”

“Chris—my god.”

He kissed your stomach and down to your pelvis, and you knew what he was trying to do. If he only knew he didn’t need to coax you into round however many. You were that open for him. his kisses trailed much lower than your pelvis until he softly kissed your clit. You sighed out and closed your eyes. When you felt the tip of his tongue, you flinched.

“Slow,” you whispered.

His response was to smear his bearded face across your sex, making you suck in a long breath. Before Chris could continue, there was a knock at the door that had you both freezing.

“Y/N.”

You couldn’t make out the voice, but you knew it was female. The knock came again.

“It’s Lisa.”

You gasped and shoved Chris off of you. “It’s your mother.”

He looked panicked as he practically rolled off the bed onto the floor. He kept low as if there were cameras at the window.

“I’m here to check on you, honey. You missed breakfast. Are you okay?”

The way Chris looked at you, he looked like he wanted you to answer. “Uh---I’m okay, Ms. Lisa.”

“Good. You had us worried. Have you happened to see Chris?”

“No!” You blurted it out so quickly Chris slapped his forehead before he stifled a laugh.

“No, I haven’t seen Chris since dinner.”

“I have some food for you, honey. Are you sure you’re all right? Can I come in?”

Chris nearly leaped out of his skin. He knocked over a vase that came crashing down.

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay. No, I’m fine. I’m coming.”

You and Chris looked at each other, neither of you wanting to be too loud. He quickly pulled on his pants, but you could still see his massive erection poking out. The sight of it had you biting your lip. Chris groaned and rolled his eyes as if you were killing him. After tossing him his shirt, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around your body. Chris approached you and kissed you once, then twice. His hand wandered down to your ass, which he used to lift you just enough that you could feel his hardness. You got lost in your arousal for a few moments until you heard Ms. Lisa call your name again.

“Go,” you whispered with a wide smile. He pulled from you slinked to the window at the other side of the room that you had no idea slid open until he did it. You watched him jump out of it and realized he really could have had access to you any time he wanted.

You hurried out the bedroom to the front door looking around to make sure nothing gave anything away. When you opened the door, Lisa stood there with a concerned look on her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I dropped a vase. I’m so sorry.”

“Eh, I don’t care about that. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I probably should get out of bed anyway. Do you want to come in?”

“No, I’ll let you get yourself together. Eat some of this, though,” Lisa pleaded.

“You got it. Thank you so much for taking such good care of me.”

Lisa smiled and gently tapped your cheek. “Anytime, honey. See you in a few; we were thinking of making it a beach day.”

“Sounds great. I’ll meet you guys down there.”

Lisa smiled and nodded as she walked away back to the house. You slumped against the door once you closed it, relieved she hadn’t suspected a thing.

After eating the meal she’d brought, you took a long shower and co-washed your hair again in prep for the salty seawater. After your shower, you got lost in checking emails and completing a few work tasks. You didn’t realize you’d spent so much time on it until another knock came. When you opened it, Scott was there.

“Scott.”

“You sound surprised. Were you expecting someone else?”

“What? Shut up, come.”

You walked back to your laptop and finished up the email you were sending.

“Is this why you’re late? You have everyone on the beach wondering if you’re sick,” Scott informed.

“What? No. I had to check in on work and got swept up.”

“Okay, well, it’s quarantine, fuck work,” Scott said as he shut your laptop.

“Scott!” You gaped at him. He didn’t look one bit apologetic.

“Your ass is lucky I already sent that email,” you said as you walked off.

“You don’t scare me. You forget, I know all of your little secrets.”

You scoffed to yourself because that may have been true last week, but this week it was completely untrue.

“Let’s go, get on a bathing suit,” Scott pestered, opening up your drawers to look for swimsuits.

“What if I don’t feel like getting sandy? I’m tired.”

“From what?”

You pursed your lips knowing damn well you couldn’t tell him from fucking his brother five ways from Sunday. You still had yet to fuck him seven ways, and you fully intended to. You looked away, avoiding Scott’s eyes. “I’ve been working when I should be sleeping.”

“Of course you have.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw the gift box from the night on the beach with Chris, and your interest piqued. You casually walked over to the box, grabbing it before Scott could see it and get nosy. With it in your hand, you made a move to open it, but that was when Scott turned to you with a bikini in hand. Slyly you dropped it into the drawer behind you and posed on the furniture with a smile.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You’re acting weird. What’s that?”

“Your swimsuit,” Scott filled in, holding it out to you. As you took it, you saw he’d chosen one of the sexier options.

“So, I should just parade around in this with your family around, including husbands and boyfriends?”

“Ew, everyone here sees you like a sister or a daughter. No one is going to be looking at you. Hurry up,” Scott finished before he walked out the bedroom, leaving you to stare at the bikini in your hands.

Once you put on the bathing suit, you rubbed some of coconut oil onto your skin and used some to slick your hair into a neat bun. Then you spritzed yourself with sunscreen. Before you walked out, you dug into the drawer and quickly debated if you should open the box or not. You were ninety-eight percent certain it was for you, but you didn’t know if he meant to give it to you, and it slipped his mind or if he’d changed his mind. The curiosity was killing you. Deciding against opening it, you put it back into the drawer and busied yourself with putting a few things you would need into a beach bag, then you walked out to join Scott.

Once the two of you stepped onto the sand, you wore a beach robe over your bathing suit. Before you, everyone had set up shop with everything imaginable—lounge chairs, blankets, towels, and even a picnic area. Scott walked ahead, leading the way with you trailing behind.

“I got her,” Scott announced. Everyone erupted with cheers and applause. You rolled your eyes at their extraness. Chris was sitting in a lounge chair in his men’s tank with his arms outstretched behind his head.

“All work during quarantine is a recipe for disaster,” Carly chimed in.

“Ha. I hear you, but this work was necessary.”

You caught Chris’s smirk. He got what you meant. You tried to hide your smile. After a few attempts, you realized this might be harder than you initially thought.

“Grab a lounge chair,” Shanna shouted.

You looked around at the choices. There was one that was free beside Chris, but you wondered if it would look suspicious if you chose it, seeing how the two of you had always chosen to stay away from each other. You stood there, unsure of what to do. Chris glanced at you and must have sensed your debate.

“There’s one by me. I promise to keep my opinions to myself,” Chris teased.

“Please do, no one wants to hear them,” Scott joked.

As everyone chuckled, you walked to the empty lounger beside Chris and put your things down. Once you reclined back, you untied the robe and peeled it off before moaning as the sun bathed you. After a few moments, something said look at Chris, so you did. His eyes were glued to you, and the look on his face was a mixture of old and new. Slowly his eyes trailed over your exposed skin. When he returned to your eyes, you saw the question in them. Scoffing, you looked away and relaxed on the chair.

A few minutes passed then you heard your phone chime. Ignoring the first one, it chimed three more times back to back.

“Y/N, that better not be work,” Scott warned.

Sighing, you dug into your bag and retrieved your phone to look at your messages. It wasn’t work. You nearly laughed out loud seeing the ID you’d given him.

MSG Asshole Evans: What’re you wearing?

MSG Asshole Evans: You’re killing me.

MSG Asshole Evans: How am I supposed to play it cool with you looking like that?

MSG Asshole Evans: Is that coconut oil?

You scoffed then pinched your lips.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s my um—sister,” you lied.

MSG Asshole Evans: Nice save.

You turned off the sound and replied.

MSG: It’s called a bikini. Your brother picked it, and yes, that is coconut oil, and it’s slathered all—over—me. I put it everywhere my hair, my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, my ass, my legs, and yes, between my legs too.

You heard an audible groan from your left, and it made you smile.

MSG Asshole Evans: You’re evil.

MSG: Not what you were saying a few hours ago. What was it you were saying--?

MSG Asshole Evans: I think it’s more important what you were saying. I extensively remember it—your pussy’s ownership.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, not even you pressing your fingertips to your lips could stop your laughing.

MSG Asshole Evans: This pussy belongs to no man, no matter how good he fucks it.

Chris sighed beside you before he got up and walked away to where the kids were playing. You may have struck a nerve, but only part of you cared. You relaxed and chatted with everyone around you while keeping one eye on Chris. It wasn’t even intentional. No matter where he went, you were always keenly aware of his presence. It was weird; it was like your body was always scanning for his like a sonar.

Chris managed to stay away for the better part of the afternoon. When you decided to go over to the picnic area and get some snacks, you felt his eyes all over your body. Soon after you sat on one of the blankets, he joined you. The two of you ate in silence, but every so often, you’d each catch the other gawking. You played up everything you ate. If it were a sandwich, you’d bite it slowly, by doing that; the condiments always ended up at the corner of your mouth of your lip. Then you slowly clean yourself up. If it was fruit, you made sure to bite it in a sexy way that always had juice dripping onto your cleavage. You never bothered to clean it because you knew his eyes would train the juice droplets until they disappeared. Your favorite was the popsicle. As a man, he was predictable to a fault, and you mercilessly used it against him.

Of course, he didn’t remain the victim. The secret was out that you were attracted to him, and that meant that he knew he could turn you on with little to no effort. You wondered just how well he’d been paying attention over the years. When he took off his shirt and got into the water with the kids, he had your undivided attention. Your eyes completely roamed all over his body, beginning at those broad shoulders you’d sunk your nails into as he rocked into you.

You then moved down his chest and bit your bottom lip when you peeped the hair decorating his chest. You vividly remembered tracing your fingertips through that hair and kissing a path down his pleasure trail. When your eyes dropped just to where that trail led every image of what you’d done that morning flashed through your head like a greatest hits montage and boy were they great hits.

“What’re you looking at with that look on your face?”

Scott’s voice scared you half to death. Your wine spilled over the rim of the glass and went all over your thighs then ran down between your legs. You would have gasped, but you were already wet enough that this new wetness didn’t bother you. To be honest, the chilled liquid was the cooling effect you needed down there.

“Nothing,” you screeched out as you diverted your eyes to look down the beach.

“You’re lying. I’ve seen that look before. That’s your you wanna bone look,” Zack announced a little too loudly for your liking.

“Zack! Jesus, that was loud as hell, and you’re wrong. It was not.”

You knew it was and that you’d been caught. Doing your best to keep the act up, you sipped the remainder of your wine.

“What were you looking at? Or who?” Zack would not let it go. “The only viable option is Ch--,” Zack began.

“Mom says we have to take a water break, Uncle Chris.”

“Always gotta listen to mom. Come get me when your break is over,” Chris responded as he stopped before you, Scott and Zack.

You quickly slipped on your sunglasses and tried to keep your eyes above his collar, but it was no use. You shamelessly gawked at everything the good Lord blessed him with. Thanks to your shades none of them knew a damn thing.

“What’re you guys talking about?”

Chris reached for the towel and patted his body, and you’d never wanted to be an object as much as you wanted to be that towel right now. The way he did it, you wondered if he was doing it to put on a show. When you looked back to his face, you could tell he was doing it on purpose.

“We were just asking Y/N, what she was looking at. She had the I wanna fuck look,” Zack filled in.

Sometimes you wished Zack and Scott weren’t so good at spilling everyone’s tea, yours especially. You finished your glass of wine as Chris’s eyes landed on you yet again.

“Oh. What exactly is the I wanna fuck look?” He looked right at you when he said it “fuck”. He was doing this on purpose to get a rise out of you, and your body and brain knew it, but neither of them seemed to give a fuck.

You couldn’t believe this. Three days of fucking, and you’d been reduced to some horny always down for the dick chick. Yes, said dick was incredible. You hadn’t imagined what he was working with before, but you’d expected it to be a spectacular dick for the number of women he’d been rumored to have been with. You couldn’t reconcile it to be true because every story you’d ever heard of white boy sex was less than subpar. This white boy’s dick game was that of a white on the outside but black on the inside dick game. You couldn’t understand it.

“Well, not everyone’s is the same, but we’ve seen hers before duh,” Zack continued.

“Oh,” Chris sounded as he planted his hands on his hips. With the added weight of his hands, the waistband of his swim trunks dipped lower, revealing those damn oblique indentations that made smart women stupid.

“You never noticed every time Charles was around us she’d have this—primal look in her eyes, and she’d always space out?”

Your head sprang up to watch him. You’d noticed on several occasions that whenever Charles was brought up or around, he became really salty. Your head went back to his place in the woods after he heard Charles calling. His one-eighty was so shocking it gave you whiplash. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and watched even close when he cracked his neck, turning it in different directions. You wanted to see how he’d react this time.

“The feeling was clearly mutual cause every time he was around you could see the same look on his face,” Zack said with a giggle.

“How is Charles?”

You took off the sunglasses and turned to Scott to answer him. “We um—we haven’t talked in a few. Last time we talked, he—we decided to take some time apart.”

Zack gasped loudly, which brought the attention of those around you. “What’s happened?”

“Y/N and Charles broke up,” Zack announced.

All the women circled you, asking if you were okay or if you wanted to talk about it. You declined each offer and assured them you were fine.

“It’s not a big deal. Honestly—things had probably run their course,” you admitted.

“You sure? He was so in love.”

“Love? I don’t know about--,” you began.

“—I do, I can pick up on these things,” Zack added.

“Y/N didn’t feel the same. It was evident in how you kept him at a distance. I bet he wanted a commitment, and your commitment-phobe jumped out,” Scott read. Your haw dropped. You didn’t know why you were so shocked he’d called you out like that. He knew he was right too. He didn’t bother looking at you to wait for the answer.

“I am not a commitment-phobe,” you feebly objected.

“I agree,” Lisa began as she gently rubbed your shoulder. “In my days commitment-phobe was a term for not the one. I guarantee when it’s the one, Y/N, you’ll have no hesitations. You might fight it, but it won’t change anything.”

For some reason, your eyes went to Chris, who now gripped the parts of the towel that hung down around his neck. The look on his face was an unreadable one. He didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look flirtatious as he had the entire afternoon either.

“Isn’t that right, Chris? No amount of fighting off what’s meant to be will make an ounce of difference,” His mother added before she patted his shoulder and walked away. Chris clenched his jaw and walked to his lounge chair, then plopped down.

The circle around you dispersed, and Zack and Scott wandered off toward the shoreline, finally leaving you alone. You looked over to Chris, who was just staring at the waves with a contemplative look on his face. You wondered if you went over to him if it would look suspicious and bring attention. It wasn’t like the two of you never had a conversation. It was just sparse and always ended in you annoyed because you felt like he was an asshole. You thought about it for much longer than you should have. It was silly that you had to put all of this into consideration now.

After swinging your legs over the chair, you stood and walked to him. Chris’s eyes didn’t move from where they’d been for the last near ten minutes, but you knew he felt you there from the way his shoulders tensed. You wanted to touch him, but that would probably be suspicious. In seconds you’d come up with a plan.

“Did you put sunscreen on?”

He didn’t answer.

“You know you’ll hate yourself tonight if you didn’t, especially since you burn easy.”

Still no answer. You dug in your bag then sat in the space behind him so he was between your legs. You then squeezed some sunscreen into your hands and rubbed his back. Once you touched him, he sighed out and dropped his forehead to his balled fists that were planted on his chin. He didn’t speak, though. You slowly rubbed the cream into his skin, making sure to get every inch of his back before you brought your hands to his shoulders. A soft moan escaped you, and it was enough for him to turn his head to the left.

Your body drifted forward until your breasts pressed to his back for a brief moment before you realized where you were. When you pulled away, Chris sighed again then looked back to the water. You looked around you and clocked where everyone was. None of them were looking your way. You slinked your hands around to his chest and pressed yourself to him. Both of you moaned. It felt good—too good. You pulled away again before you melted into him. Chris brought his hand over yours and laced his fingers with yours.

“Why do you always get so angry when his name comes up?”

As soon as you asked the question, he let your hand go and slid forward, leaving more than enough space between you.

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. It’s been like that since he came into the picture. I’ve always noticed it, but until that date at the house, I’d had it all wrong, but the way you reacted and the things you said the other night—maybe I still have it wrong.” As you spoke, you absentmindedly rubbed his skin even though his skin had absorbed the liquid.

He didn’t answer, so you continued.

“After that date, I thought it was jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous of that—I’m not jealous.”

“No? So you’re not jealous that I’ve had sex with him or that he was brought in the picture because of you? It doesn’t matter to you that he’s had me the way you have?”

“So it’s the same? There’s no difference for you?”

His counter froze you. You knew what he was asking. The thing was that what he was asking meant you had to do something you still hadn’t decided if it was in your best interest.

“Is it the same for you? Am I like all the others, no difference?”

“I fucking hate when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deflect. I ask you something, and you flip it back on me instead of answering. If you refuse to let me in, how can I let you in?”

“I thought I’d already let you in,” you dryly replied.

“Then you add sarcasm,” Chris added. You gently raked your nails down his back, but it didn’t have the anticipated reaction.

“Then, when deflecting and sarcasm don’t work, you turn to the physical.”

“It’s been so fucking difficult staying away from you this whole time, and I thought it was because my body still wants your body, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t it. I’ve always known this between us would be like this and knew you’d be like this,” Chris explained a little about a whisper, but even though it was a whisper, it was a forceful one. He was annoyed with you.

“Chris--.”

He stood and turned to face you.

“No, you're not like the others. You’re different. This is different,” he finished with the same annoyed whisper before he walked off down the beach.

Thirty minutes later, your fun meter had run out. Ignoring the pleas of everyone around you, you made your way back to the guesthouse to begin the long process of a proper wash routine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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#quarantine: a love story fic #q17 #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #chris evans smut #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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