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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year ago

Text

Melancholia [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Right (@optimistic-nihilist) Center (@vivienvalentino) sent to me via my love (@sadgirlzluvdilfs) Right (@citronplume)

Prompt: Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring, aka, how the reader met Aaron. Also, the reader is feeling down due to the seasonal changes, and Aaron is there to give her some love and support.

Category: Hurt/comfort/fluff

Word Count: 6.7K

Content Warnings: Mentions of mental health (depression and seasonal depression), mention of eating (reader has missed some meals), light drinking, minor language

A/N: This is another one-shot inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute Writing Challenge and this one is actually a meet-cute! The reader is also a non-BAU member. I’ve been having the seasonal sads, so this is sort of based on my feelings a bit. Given that World Mental Health Day was earlier this week I just want to say that you matter! You are loved, and I am so happy you are here. There is not shame in getting help or just talking to someone. I’m very grateful for my friends on here and my messages are always open. If you liked this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great rest of your week - Levi.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_y/f/b_ = your favorite book

_y/e/c_ = your eye color

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/b/f’s/n_ = your best friends name

_y/f/a_ = your favorite artist

_y/c/f_ = your comfort food.

y/n checked the weather diligently every morning before she got ready for the day. As someone who had a penchant for keeping up with her favorite aesthetic look, knowing what the weather was going to be for the day was a must. y/n had not planned for a total and utter flood to come down from a sky that was promised to be ‘clear and sunny’ all day. It had started out as just a few drops, but soon it was an unrelenting pelting of water on the pavement. The street offered little cover, and y/n moved more quickly down the road looking for any relief. Finally, she saw it in the small awning of a local bookstore she liked. There was just one small issue, there was already someone standing under the protected space. ‘What the hell,’ y/n thought. She would rather be uncomfortably close to a stranger than continue to get soaked through. At this point the outfit she had picked for the day was a bust anyway, so why not lose a little dignity while she was at it. Thankfully the tall man saw her coming and moved as far to the side as the space allowed. Even with this being the case when y/n slipped under the awning the two of them were standing with their shoulders essentially pressed together.

They avoided looking at each other for a moment due to the awkwardness of their close quarters. However, the feeling passed and the man said in a low tenor voice, “This is some storm we’re having here.” At hearing the man’s smooth, even voice, y/n turned her head his way and actually looked him over for the first time. He was tall, as she had seen before, but now that she was next to him, his height was more noticeable. He was more prepared for the weather than y/n had been, but he was still pretty soggy with his shot hair sticking to his forehead slightly. The man was also fit. y/n could tell from the way his nice clothes sat on his body. The stranger might have been wet, but he was also warm. Standing this close to him, y/n could feel the warmth coming off of him in waves. For a moment _y/n_ wondered if the man was sick, but he didn’t look pale or flushed; he looked perfectly fine as a matter of fact. More than just fine. y/n internally berated herself for thinking that a total stranger was attractive, but she couldn’t help herself. It took y/n a second to realize that she hadn’t yet responded to the man’s comment about the storm and quickly said, “Oh yeah. This is like Biblical or something. Do you think we should start building an arc?” y/n meant to make a joke, and she cringed at her own choice of words even as they came out of her mouth. Thankfully the man made what sounded like a small chuckle or laugh, though in all honestly, it might have just been him letting out a breath. Either way y/n didn’t want to think about it too hard out of embarrassment.

Hotch watched the young woman move down the soaked sidewalks, her eyes looking for a place to land that wouldn’t mean a bucket of water being poured repeatedly on one's head over and over again like being in the open was. There really only was one place for her to go, and that was next to him under the awning of the bookstore he had hoped to stop in on before heading to Morgan’s. The team was celebrating Emily’s birthday, and even though he had a gift and card for Prentiss, both of which he hoped weren’t ruined by the rain, he had wanted to get her something extra. Prentiss had been going through a lot the last couple of months and he wanted to support her in the little ways he could. The book he had wanted to buy was taunting him from the illuminated window. It was Zadie Smith’s new novel, The Fraud. He had also been hoping to get Jack a new book to read to him at bedtime as well. As much as Aaron liked The Little Prince and the few other stories he often read to Jack before bed, he had to admit that he was slightly sick of them. However, the bookstore had been closed, ‘Due to a family emergency’ the sign on the front door had read.

At that point, the skies had opened and he found refuge under the small awning. Now the woman was near to him, and in another second she was next to him, pressed close due to the limited space offered by the covering. Hotch moved infinitesimally to the left to give them both a bit of breathing room. There was a slight awkwardness to the closeness of their bodies, and Hotch took that moment to look the woman over. She was younger than him, he assumed, and not dressed for the weather. Neither was he really, but at least he had a jacket. The woman must have been freezing, as she looked soaked to the bone and her bare shoulders kept catching water droplets from the leaky awning. For a moment Hotch had the idea of taking off his jacket and giving it to the woman. And then he had the more outrageous thought that if they stood face to face, there would be more space for them to be dry. Aaron quickly swiped the thoughts out of his brain. Internally Aaron thought, ‘God get a grip Hotchner. You sound like someone from a dime store romance novel.’

Aaron resisted the urge to sigh at his life at the moment. He was attempting, keyword attempting, to put himself out there more. It had been a few months since Hailey had left him, and he had tried his best to process the loss of his best friend and wife. They were still amicable, and hearing it from her side of things helped Aaron make sense of her choice -- even if it still hurt him. Rossi had been supportive of Aaron trying it out with a few women just to see. None of his attempts so far had been very successful. He was on a few apps and when he matched with people he tended to panic. The idea of having to open up to essentially total strangers never sat right with him. What would he say? “Hey I work for the FBI and I can tell when you’re lying, and I work 70+ hours a week, and I’ll be gone a good deal of the time, and I have more classified secrets than you can guess?”

It all felt a bit overwhelming to him. Not only was it overwhelming, but it was demeaning also. Trying to figure out if he liked a woman based on a few photos and a blurb about their life and experiences just didn’t sit right with him. For a moment he let his mind wander. He wished he could just meet someone naturally, but he knew such occurrences were rare in life, particularly for someone his age. Finally, he pulled himself together and bridged the gap between the woman and him to end the silence lingering between them by saying something about the rain. The woman looked up and over him before responding with a joke. He nearly laughed before responding, “I don’t think we have the time or materials. We might be fated to drown.” His reply caused the woman to laugh, and it was a soft sweet sound, like ice being poured into a crystal glass. The sound was quickly muffled by the rain and the sound of an approaching car. The sidewalk with the awning was very near the street and as the car passed it sloshed a large dirty wave up and around the woman’s legs. The woman said, “Eww” as the extra wetness moved over her body. She stepped back a bit as another car came quickly down the street. Aaron, rather protectively, moved his body in front of the woman taking the splash of water himself.

y/n didn’t expect the man to move in front of her and as he positioned his body to get wet instead of her, she raised an arm, ever so briefly touching his back. She was going to say, “You don’t have to do that,” but he had already gotten wet and the car was far down the street before she had the thought. The man turned to face her, and they were so close to each other, just an inch or so apart that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Looking up at the handsome man caused her brain to stutter for a moment, and she didn’t even realize that her pupils were beginning to dilate, and there was a small blush blossoming over her face. However, the man did. When y/n had composed herself, she finally said, “Thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to.” The man gave her a small smile and replied, “It’s my pleasure.” He seemed like he was going to say more, but the ping of his phone made him stop. He pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his shirt and seemed to nod at the screen. The man put the phone back where it had come from and then returned his attention to y/n. He asked, “How far are you going in this storm? I’m assuming you’re not planning on standing here forever?” There was a sort of mirth in his expression that made y/n momentarily be warmed from the inside. Being this close to a stranger would normally make y/n uncomfortable, but there was something about this man that was inherently non-threatening. She answered his question honestly saying, “I actually really need to get a move on. I was trying to make it to the subway station on 19th Street. It’s only three blocks down from here.” The man nodded undid one of the inner zippers of his jacket and pulled out a folded copy of the days New York Times. y/n could see a fancy car pull up near them and stall. For one fleeting moment, she had a bad feeling about this man and a waiting car, but it was only a moment as he extended the paper toward her and said, “Sorry it’s not much. Maybe you could hold it over your head while you walk? I have to run myself, but have a good rest of your day.” And with that, the man turned around and walked into the rain. His shoulders were hunched as the water hit him once more, and he half-jogged to the Corvette on the street. She could just barely hear the start of a conversation as the stranger closed the door of the car. Now that she had just a slight cover, y/n placed the paper over her head and moved back onto the wet sidewalk as well. She gave the car one final wave as she ran down the road.

Rossi pulled up and watched as Aaron stood very close to a woman under an awning taking a beating from the rain. He didn’t have a good chance to see exactly what the woman looked like, but he could tell that she was invested in whatever Aaron was saying to her. Rossi sighed softly. He knew that Hotch often beat himself up about meeting new people. He was also still beating himself up about Hailey. Rossi wished that his friend could see that people, women, were actually interested in him. That they wouldn’t pick apart his every flaw or see the guilt that he felt. Not that the woman Aaron was talking to was ‘the one,’ just that people would care about him if he allowed it to happen. If he was vulnerable. Aaron moved toward the car and opened the door, leaning down to sit in the passenger seat. Rossi turned to Hotch and teasingly said, “Having a nice conversation over there?” Aaron scoffed and said, “It was fine.” Aaron could hear the deeper jesting tone in Rossi’s words, and he was reminded of how many times Dave had been his hype man like he was in his teens going on his first real date. Aaron didn’t mind it as long as he wasn’t being patronized. For now, it was just a reminder of his own personal failings. Hotch didn’t notice, but as he had gotten into the car, there was a tinge of color on his cheeks; Rossi did.

y/n never expected to see the good-looking man from the rainstorm again, but as fortune would have it, she did. y/n was out at the park taking a stroll and doing some reading a few weeks later. The weather was much improved and the crisp air was perfect to spend a few hours outside exploring her new surroundings. She’d just moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, and due to her busy work-life balance, she hadn’t really gotten to know the area yet. A coworker had recommended Theodore Rosevelt Island Park as a nice place to spend the afternoon and had promised that it wasn’t super busy or loud. The coworker had been right. The park was beautiful. The sprawling trails offered a variety of scenery. y/n had picked a simple hilly paved trail to just enjoy the weather and the crisp smell of fall. After around an hour of walking, she settled down on the grass and started reading _y/f/b_. After another hour, y/n felt her eyes growing heavy with sleep, and she sat up to get ready to leave. As she shifted to her feet, a glint of sunlight from the ground caught her attention. She stood and moved three yards over to where she had seen the light coming from. The source was a lost phone whose back-facing camera had caught the light at just the right angle to be seen by y/n.

She picked up the lost item and clicked on the home button. The screen blinked alive. The phone only had ten percent battery left and she wondered if it had been laying out for long or if it being in the sun had drained its power banks. There were five missed calls, three from the same number and two from two separate numbers. y/n assumed that the owner of the phone had gone to separate people in the park and asked to use their phone to call the lost one to see if anyone would pick up. y/n checked and the sound was off, so even that strategy wouldn’t have worked anyway unless someone had found the phone. Otherwise, no one would have heard it go off. As y/n walked back to her spot, trying to think about how to get the lost item back to its owner. While she looking at the little boy who was on the phone’s home screen, it vibrated in her hand with a number with no name attached to it. y/n swiped the answer button and said, “Hello?” There was a small silence on the other side of the line as if whoever had been calling was surprised someone had picked up. Finally, the person, a man, said, “Hey. I lost my phone about a half hour ago and, well you found it. Could I come to you and get it?” The man on the other end sounded slightly breathless. His voice sounded oddly familiar. y/n was sure she had heard it before somewhere but couldn’t place it. y/n responded to the man’s question saying, “I’m on the Drivesdale scenic loop. There’s that big oak tree if you know it. I’m under that tree.” The man replied, “I do know it. I can be there in about ten minutes if you can wait?” y/n nodded and said, “Of course. I’ll be here.” There was an odd silence before _y/n_ heard a muttered reply on the other end of the line before the phone call ended.

y/n knew the man the second he rounded the corner in the bend in the path. It was the guy from the day that it was raining buckets. He was far less soggy now, and he was wearing a black t-shirt and back jogging shorts that highlighted his distinct calf muscles. His shirt also emphasized his forearms which seemed strong. y/n wished she could think about other things other than the physical attributes of the man quickly jogging toward her, except that was all she had to go off of. That and the fact that he knew someone who owned a fancy sports car. y/n stood as the man drew near.

Aaron was highly annoyed at himself for losing his phone. How he hadn’t noticed its weight missing from his pocket baffled him. He wasn’t sure how far he had moved since the phone made its mysterious disappearance. Today was a long run day for him, and he had moved around twelve miles according to his Apple watch. He briefly, sarcastically, thanked god that it wasn’t his work phone that had gone missing. But that would never happen. His FBI-issued phone stayed in a zipped pocket on the inside of his shirt and it stayed on all the time. Aaron had asked a few people if she could use their phones to see if someone had picked up the lost item, and he was close to despair and thinking he would have to go back home and try the ‘find my iPhone app. A wave of relief washed over Aaron as someone picked up for his last attempt at finding the phone while not having to leave the park. He listened to the location of the person who had it and confirmed that he would be right over. He ended the call and thanked the kind elderly woman who had let him use her phone. Hotch set out on a brisk jog, not wanting the woman holding his phone to wait longer than needed.

Hotch had found himself worn out over the last few cases. Not that they were the worst cases he had ever seen, but the continued horrors and depravity he saw on a weekly basis were wearing on his morale. He was also tired. He’d done his normal pre-workout routine, but the energy drink and warm-up didn’t seem to have its normal effects. Hotch blamed both of these emotional blightes for his losing his phone and his not noticing. As he rounded the corner toward the big oak tree, there were very few people around and he saw the woman he was sure he had talked to a few moments before. As he got closer to the woman, it took him a moment to realize that he had seen her before. As he scanned through his memories of the past weeks, he clocked her as the person he had been stranded with under the bookstore awning. She looked lovely and calm as she was clearly scanning the area for him. Hotch had thought she looked good the day he had first met her, with her bright _y/e/c_ eyes standing out on her slightly flushed face. But now that she was dry and more relaxed, Hotch could appreciate her in a more natural environment. Aaron took a sharp breath in as he remembered how close they had been standing next to each other, he looked down at her as the cars passed by, splashing his legs and soaking his socks further. There was also that brief moment as her hand had touched his upper back. Aaron cleared his throat and moved those thoughts somewhere deeper in his mind. Somewhere fantasy could take root if he wasn’t careful. Hotch put on a small smile as he stopped in front of the woman. She was holding out his phone for him, and he reached out for it. After the cool metal was in his left hand, he extended his right hand and said, “Thank you so much for finding this. It’s a pleasure seeing you again. I see you survived the rain.” There was a beat of silence, and then he added, “I’m Aaron, Hotchner by the way.”

y/n smiled up at Aaron and took his hand in hers. He gave it a firm yet steady shake and she said, “I’m y/n, _l/n_. What a surprise to see you again. How have you been?” y/n wasn’t sure why she asked the last questions, but it felt natural. She was also distracted by his scent. He was sweaty, but there was a sort of brine to the scent. Like when one stood next to the seashore at twilight. When Aaron responded, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ve gotta head out, but it was nice to see you again, Aaron. I hope you have a good rest of your weekend.” _y/n_ didn’t particularly have to go anywhere, but she had a sinking feeling that if she stayed around the figure that was Aaron Hotchner, she might say something silly or stupid, and for some reason, she didn’t want to seem like that to him. As she had the first time they met, she gave a small wave and moved down the path. Again, she thought this was the last time that she would see him.

They were destined to meet again three weeks later at the local bar in the neighborhood. Seated at a small table, y/n shared her new life updates with _y/b/f_ who was visiting for the weekend. y/n had just covered the rainstorm incident and she said, “And then on top of that I saw him again later in the month. Let me tell you, if I thought he was handsome in the rain, you should have seen him in his workout clothes!” y/n was speaking openly and candidly given that her inhibitions were down because she had already had three drinks. Her friend who had a similar buzz said, “Okay, wait y/n. I’m going to need you to describe this guy in lots of detail. You always have a way with words, and I need the skinny. He sounds like a dreamboat.” y/n flushed further, above the color of the alcohol that had tinged her cheeks. y/n looked at _y/b/f_, and they had an expectant look on their face. y/n couldn't help but giggle before saying, “Well he’s tall, and he has dark hair. It’s cut short and neat from what I can tell, though both times I’ve seen him it’s been a bit disheveled. He’s fit. I mean, I saw him working out, and the first time I saw him his clothes were pretty much hugging his body. And man what a body he has.

Apart from his name, and his looks, I don’t have that much more to go off of. When I found his phone there was a picture of a little boy on his lock screen. For all I know he might be married or in a serious relationship. That doesn’t mean that I don’t find him attractive, but I’d never do something with a man who was committed.” If y/n was being honest with herself, she’d probably never do anything with the man ever? What could she possibly say if she even saw him again? The world was small, but not that small. y/n had relegated him to a small dreamlike crush to think back on every now and then. y/n took another sip of her cocktail to try and hide her blush from her friend. The door to the small bar opened and her friend, who was facing the door, looked at the large group that was entering the establishment. The final person to enter the bar caught y/n’s friend's eye, and they said, “I think your man just came in here.” y/n incredulously said, “Oh please, _y/b/f_, don’t tease me like that. It’s bad enough that I haven’t dated anyone seriously in years.” _y/b/f_ sobered slightly and said, “No y/n, I’m being serious. The last guy that just came in kind of matches the description you just gave.”

y/n rolled her eyes but looked behind her anyway and low and behold, it was Aaron who had walked through the door. He was with a group of six people, and he was congenially chatting with an older man and a very pretty brunette-haired woman. y/n hadn’t yet seen the man so at ease, but it looked good on him. It fit. The intense blush on y/n’s face told her best friend that she had pointed out the correct figure and they said, “Damn, He is hot. He must live in the neighborhood or something if you keep running into him unplanned like this.” y/n nodded along in agreement, and _y/b/f_ continued, “You should give him your number or buy him a drink or something while he’s here. Who knows when the next time is that you’ll see him?” At the suggestion, y/n shook her head in embarrassment and said, “I don’t know _y/b/f’s/n_. What if he’s not interested?” _y/b/f_ sighed and placed a hand on y/n’s shoulder saying, “Oh come on y/n. Nothing gambled, nothing gained, and all that. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? He says no, or that he’s married and then you run into him at the supermarket and it’s awkward and you move past each other in the cheese aisle? Would you just give it a chance?”

y/n thought about the cost-benefit of actually making a move on Aaron and found that, as her friend had said, the cost side of the equation was pretty low. After a long silence filled by the ambient hum of the noise inside the bar, y/n said, “Okay, fine. But I’m going to wait for him to have a drink first and make sure he’s not overly attached to anyone in his party, and that will give me time to sober up a bit. I might be taking a risk on my behalf, but I’m sure as hell not doing it drunk.” y/n moved to the bar and got herself and her friend some water. While she was waiting, the pretty brunette and the older man whom Aaron had been speaking to when the group had walked in moved next to her at the bar. As y/n overheard the woman saying, “I don’t know Rossi. He looks sad to me sometimes. Like when he thinks no one is looking? I’m kind of worried for him.” The older man, Rossi, nodded and said, “I see it too. But you see it, and I see it, but Hotch? I don’t know, and I don’t think he would really appreciate us cornering him in his office and asking him about his mental health, do you?” The woman laughed and said, “That’s a big fat no from me. But you know how he gets. I’d just like to see him happy.” As the woman finished the statement, y/n got her water and gave the two she had been eavesdropping on a small smile before heading back to her own table.

About a half hour later y/n felt more in control of her faculties. Aaron had had two drinks and y/n subtly watched him. He didn’t seem to flirting or attached to any of the women or men he was with; he also wasn’t wearing a ring which was a good start. y/n moved to the bathroom to make sure she looked alright before she made her move. y/n reapplied some mascara and lipstick, but she knew she was just stalling at this point. She took a deep breath and whispered, “You can do this,” as she walked out of the ladies' room. Fortunately from y/n, Aaron was at the bar getting a drink for himself, Morgan, and JJ. y/n idled up to him and said, “Hey Aaron, fancy seeing you here. Can I get you a drink?” Hotch turned and looked down at y/n. He was a bit tipsy given that he had two drinks in a pretty fast period. Hotch looked over the woman who kept appearing in his life and said, “Hey again y/n. We can’t seem to escape each other.” He looked over her face and saw the tells of attraction. He took a steadying breath as he realized that he was also attracted to y/n. He cleared his throat before saying “And you can buy me a drink if you like.” y/n beamed. She had fully expected him to say no, and she asked, “What’ll it be?” Hotch thought for a moment and said, “Margarita on the rocks please.” When the bartender came over y/n ordered two margaritas on the rocks. y/n Aaron chatted while they waited for the drinks and at the of the night, in a moment of inebriation and a bit of teasing from Morgan, Aaron had given his number to y/n.

In a small moment of vulnerability for both of them, they had started texting on and off. Then they had had their first date and it had gone well. Then they had a second, and a third, and Aaron realized that y/n was steady, calm, and kind. She wasn’t bothered by his extended absences, or him having to change their plans often because of a case. y/n had slowly started meeting the important people in his life. It had been Morgan first. That happened kind of by accident. Then there was Rossi and Em, and Jack of course. By all means their relationship should be growing, and they would have their rocky moments, but happiness and care should be blooming, but for y/n it simply wasn’t. A sadness was tugging at her soul like a millstone.

She was lying in bed; she had been all day. It was 11:00 a.m. The day outside looked pretty as the leaves fell and soft light came through the window. She had barely had the will to open the blinds. She had been crying a few minutes earlier but had managed to stop the flow of tears eventually. All y/n had wanted to do over the past few days was sleep. Sleep and cry. She had managed to keep up her hygiene a bit because she had to look and dress professionally for work, but if that wasn’t the case, she knew she wouldn’t have done any of her normal care routines. Her hair was on its last legs with dry shampoo, and she could feel it getting greasy and gross on the pillow. A sound at the door caught y/n’s attention. ‘Aaron,’ she thought. She had forgotten that he was coming over today. She tried to find the will to get up, but she was embarrassed about her current state both mentally and physically. She turned her back to her bedroom door and sniffled. Maybe if she didn’t answer he would leave? There was a second of silence and then there was a ping of her phone. y/n was sure that it was Aaron asking if she was okay. Then after that, there was a call and she could hear Aaron’s voice from outside saying, “y/n are you in there? Are you okay?” There was worry in Aaron’s voice and she cringed because it was so silly to be sad right now. She thought it was too early in their relationship for him to see her so sad.

Aaron stood outside y/n’s door. There was a small panic rising in him. He had texted and called with no response from y/n. There was an eerie quiet outside her door. Normally at this time, she’d have her vinyl playing _y/f/a_ and making some coffee or reading. Hotch could picture it and it made him feel warm for a moment. But he didn’t feel that warmth now. He sensed that something was wrong, and he called out saying, “y/n if you’re in there I’m coming in, okay.” Aaron punched in y/n’s seven-digit code, and the door clicked open. There was no one in the kitchen or living area and the lights were off. He checked the bathroom and it was also empty. Aaron called for y/n saying, “y/n are you here?” More softly he said, “God, please be here.” Hotch moved to the bedroom door and gave a hesitant knock saying her name again. There was a soft sound from inside and, fearing the worst, he opened the door. When his eyes fell on y/n's form under a bundle of sheets and blankets, he let out a momentary sigh of relief.

He stepped into the semi-dark room and approached the bed saying gently, “y/n, are you alright?” y/n was facing away from him and said, “I’m sorry, Aaron. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be alright.” She spoke so softly that Aaron almost didn’t hear her. There was a sadness in her voice that pulled at his heart, and his concern for her only grew. Hotch sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her upper arm asking, “Honey, would you please look at me. I need to see you.” Hotch needed to know if she was alright. Sluggishly y/n moved from her side and onto her stomach. She turned her face toward Aaron, and he assessed her. It was clear to him right away that she had been crying. Her tear streaks marked her face and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Aaron rested a hand on her cheek and said, “Sweetheart please tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.” y/n sniffled and said, “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” At hearing y/n say this, Aaron turned to face her more directly and sincerely said, “Whatever it is, it’s not stupid to me. I wanna know why you’re sad.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. There was silence as y/n thought about what to say. Finally, she responded with, “I’m just sad, Aaron, and I have no right to be. I have everything I could want. I have a job I like. I’m finally stable in my life. I have you and Jack, and I’m still so fucking sad, over nothing.” While she spoke the tears started falling again.

Aaron listened and his heart ached for the pain y/n was feeling. He brushed his hand down her cheek and then moved his thumb to wipe away the tears falling on her face. Tenderly he said, “Darling, I’m so sorry. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if there’s no reason. And you’re allowed to be sad near me; it’s not embarrassing.” y/n made a small sound as she pressed her forehead to his thigh. Aaron wondered if this was an attempt to hide from him. He looked down at her and asked, “May I hold you, y/n” y/n sniffled but nodded yes to his request. Aaron leaned down and undid the laces of his loafer and kicked them both off with his other foot. He slipped his jacket off and moved to the other side of the bed. He pushed up the covers and lay down. When he was settled a bit, he pulled y/n close to his body. When she was cradled close to him, he could feel her relax. Aaron ran a hand up and down her side as he asked, “Have you felt this way before? Have you spoken to your therapist about these feelings?”

y/n felt better being close to Aaron. She responded to his question saying, “I have sometimes. When the weather starts changing and the days get shorter it can get really bad. I’ve been okay for the last year or so, but now it’s back. I haven’t told my therapist yet. I was going to in our next session. I had kind of hoped that it would just go away, but it hasn’t obviously.” Aaron hummed and moved his hand to her stomach, rubbing soft circles over the flesh there. Next, he asked, “And you’re still taking your medication?” At this, y/n actually chuckled and said, “I have. I know what happens when I stop taking those and it’s not pretty.” Aaron felt a tiny bit better hearing her laugh and make a joke. The feeling in the room lightened slightly. The silence lingered for a few minutes and Aaron broke it saying, “Would you like to stay here for a little bit?” In his arms, y/n sighed and said, “Yes please.” Aaron shifted in the bed so his head was resting near her neck, and he circled his arms around her protectively. He planted a few kisses on the nape of y/n’s neck and then stilled his movements as she quickly fell asleep. Aaron looked her over. He was glad that she found comfort in him. His embrace. He would have to do more research on seasonal depression because although he knew it was a type of depression, he didn’t know much about it. The only person that he maybe knew had issues like that was Spencer, as his younger agent had once told him that he had worse thoughts during the winter. But for now, he would just be there to support y/n. Her health and happiness were paramount to him, and he was going to do everything he could to make her feel alright.

After an hour, Aaron and y/n woke and Aaron thought of something. He asked, “When is the last time you’ve eaten, darling?” The moment it took for her to answer told Aaron what he needed to know. When y/n replied, “It was yesterday at breakfast.” Aaron frowned at the answer and said, “Alright. Well, how about we get some food? We could make something here or I could order something for us?” y/n thought and said, “There’s not much in the fridge. Maybe we could order some _y/c/f_ ?” Aaron replied and said, “Of course, I’ll place the order now.” Aaron pulled out his phone and opened Uber Eats to get the food. After this, they both moved to the living area. Aaron opened some blinds to let some light into the room but chose not to turn on any of the overhead lighting to create a calm environment. He turned on the TV and put on Seinfeld putting the volume on low to give them some ambient noise. y/n sat on the couch and Aaron pulled her into his arms while they waited for the food to arrive. Aaron moved to stroke her hair, and as he started, she cringed slightly. He stopped his movements and asked, “What is it, y/n?”y/n felt the shame rise in her again as she said, “It’s dirty. My hair. I haven’t washed it in three days.” Aaron nodded and said, “It’s okay, y/n. I don’t mind.” y/n softly said, “Okay.” She believed him and rested her head against his chest again. Aaron started gently combing through her hair with his hands. y/n listened to the steady thumping of his heart near her ear, and her hands found a place on his stomach. When he sat, Aaron had a little tummy that hid the muscles of his torso. It was actually one of the favorite parts of his body. They hadn’t been undressed in front of the other yet, but when they were, she looked forward to paying that area extra attention. y/n knew that just being with Aaron wasn’t going to fix her mental health problems. She would have to face the emotions and it might hurt, but it was worth it. For now, Aaron was a balm and a light, and she looked forward to moving forward with him in life. She knew that with Aaron by her side, better days were coming. That the sun would shine a bit brighter than it had before.

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astarionancuntnin · 3 months ago

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The Ways of Worship

summary: this faith was all you've ever known. so when you wake up a morning with the dreadful feeling that you've lost it, you do the one thing that makes sense - confess to your local priest. when he offers his guidance with the promise of making you whole again, you accept without a second thought. your first lesson begins tonight.

rating: E

word count: 4.2k

pairing: priest astarion x religious!reader

cw: 18+. priest+modern AU, smut, power imbalance, so many pet names (child, dear, darling, sweet, precious (little) lamb, one, angel, love), corruption so dubcon, light degradation, punishments (spanking), loss of innocence, groping, fingering, dom(astarion)/sub(reader), losta biblical imagery. full list on ao3.

a/n: none of these thoughts are in the bible

a/n²: inspo songs were BITE MARKS and worship by ari abdul

a/n³: all of the references about the church itself and the reader's experience are taken from my memory directly as i did grow up catholic (i wanted the experience to feel at least somewhat authentic for the introduction) (also, not catholic anymore). does that make it kinda self-indulgent? maybe, but all im saying is that i didnt have a religion kink before writing this piece.

ENJOY YOU DEPRAVED SLUTS

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Your relationship with God has been intricate.

You had always been a diligent follower; you recited your prayers, went to church every Sunday, carried a cross around your neck and had at least three of them in your house, at the top of each room’s entrance, for protection. You were baptised and followed all His learnings as you made it into adulthood, all without so much of a complaint. You were the prime example of a textbook follower.

Albeit, growing up in a catholic household — it was the only truth you knew — it was always one you seemed to have been following blindly. You wanted to believe, wanted to love Him — and most days you thought you did — but today, you woke up with the dreadful realisation that your faith had left you.

You tried to pray and felt like an imposter, everything was out of place; the pictures of you at your First Communion seemed to taunt you, the cross hanging from your neck felt heavier, uncomfortable.

Any remaining feeling regarding your religion felt… off.

You thought of going to mass this Sunday to rectify the situation, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone would just know you didn’t belong, that they would sense you as a traitor amongst real followers.

Even if you managed to drag yourself to church then, it was still days away, it wouldn’t make sense to go after waiting for so long; it would lose its purpose.

You would lose your purpose.

Then again, you couldn’t just sit here with this weight, this guilt that you had forsaken your Lord. You had to fix this, to ask for forgiveness for straying away from the rightful path; the only one you knew.

You eventually find the strenght to push yourself to go church in the following hours.

The impressive stone building that you used to look at with admiration and which once brought you an inner sense of peace, now seemed to look down on you. The chime of the bells resonated through you, as if ringing for your final hour, standing minutes away from your judgement.

As if this house of God knew of your sins — of your doubts — and it wouldn’t make it easy on you to absolve yourself of your mistakes.

Oddly enough, the interior was less daunting than its facade; it felt much, much smaller from the inside, as if the exterior was purposely made to make it seem bigger. It was also surprisingly dark considering the multiple stained glass adorning its walls, the colours from them blending between the aisles. Aside from you, there was only one other person you spotted sitting in the first rows, visibly praying.

Perks of visiting in the middle of the week; people were too busy with their lives to pay a visit to the Lord. If you were to fumble this, there would most likely be no witnesses to your shame. This last part, at least, reassured you a little bit.

You thought the hardest step you had to take was the first one you took into the church, but the second your eyes found the confessional booth, standing next to the last row of benches, your feet were stuck to the ground again; undecided between running away in shame or pushing through that first step in the right direction.

You grunted as the battle in your mind raged on.

What am I even doing, you thought to yourself. There’s probably no one in this booth and I’ll wait hours like a fool only to realise that the priest isn’t in today.

And you would be partially right: no one was inside.

But before you could turn on your heels and cower away, a new presence made itself known in the room.

From the corner of your eye, you spied a man — who you recognized as your priest, Father Astarion.

As he walked along the far end aisle, you noticed his usual attire; he wore his all-black tight robe with the white spot at his collar, along with his crucifix hanging from his neck. The rest of him, though, reflected a perfect contrast from his clothing: His curly hair, which was worn back and styled elegantly, arbored a platinum white colour. Almost as white as his skin — so pale he might’ve passed for a corpse — which really brought out his dark eyes.

So dark, you often found yourself getting lost in them during mass. It wasn't rare that you would miss a part of his preaching and would only be brought back to Earth hearing the commotion around you as people grabbed their things to leave.

He just had a way of moving that entranced you to follow him without a second thought. As if his connection to the Lord was even greater than he let on.

He stood tall as he walked leisurely towards the confessional you were aiming for, and you couldn’t help but admire his form. Given, you couldn’t see much as his well-fitted religious attire covered most of him, but you did notice the defined veins trailing right down to his hand resting in front of his figure, hands that bore long and strong fingers. Ones, you imagined, would feel rough against your skin if they were to—

You blink rapidly, shaking your head as you catch yourself before that thought drifts even further, your face flushed red by what you almost envisioned. What still floats around in your mind.

How could you even consider the caress of someone on you in a place so private? This was a man of God, for crying out loud.

As if the reason for your presence here wasn’t enough, here you were, shamelessly fantasising about the very man who would decide if you were worth repenting. Two sins in one day, really? What was wrong with you?

As Father Astarion steps into his side of the booth, vanishing from your vision, your consciousness comes back to you and breaks your frozen spell. You finally walk towards what would be your side of the confessional, stopping right before the threshold.

Why are you still doubting yourself? You’re already here, and the priest already saw you — he probably walked here for you, knowing your intentions. Just go inside, you’ll feel much better afterwards.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, stepping inside and sitting down before closing the door behind you, now waiting for the shade on the other side to greet you.

Seconds might’ve been minutes at this point, your heart was stuck in your throat, anxious at what was to come. He was in there, was he not? You saw him enter, did he not hear you come in? Were you supposed to knock?

When the partition slides back, leaving only a partial faint light passing through the other side, a warm, deep voice greets you.

“Welcome, my child.”

Oh, and his voice. It was already delightful when it echoed between the walls of the church, but up close it’s as if it rippled through you. Almost enough to make you forget to answer back.

“F— Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

“Tell me, how long has it been since your last confession?”

“A few years. This is my first time since my First Communion, Father,” you answer, your voice softer than usual.

“It is never too late to repent, child. It takes a lot of courage to step into the house of God and ask forgiveness; I commend you for taking the first step in the right direction. Now, what would you like to confess?”

You feel as if you could listen to him talk for hours, his voice soothed you in ways you never experienced before; it quieted down — at least temporarily— the shame that inhabited you.

“I… found myself questioning my faith, Father.”

“And yet here you are, confessing to your priest, at your church.” You think you can hear the smile he bears as he answers you. “It seems to me your faith still lies well alive within you.”

“Yes, the irony isn’t lost on me Father, but…” you sigh, “Doesn’t this make me a sinner? Doubting of His existence, of His word… Am I even worth redeeming?”

“My dear, the fact that you came to me to confess this already shows me you want to believe, our Lord is lenient with His lost souls. Recite your Our Father throughout the week, three times before going to bed, and come to this Sunday's mass.”

“Thank you, Father, I will.”

He doesn’t answer back right away, and it gives you some time to reflect on his answer.

It’s true, if you were a lost cause, you wouldn’t be here begging for the Lord’s forgiveness. You would be taking down the crucifixes in your home, taking down your pictures from your Confirmation, and any other religious signs displaced around your home as you moved away from this life.

Then again, shouldn’t this be what you should be doing? If you doubted your faith in the first place, was this really meant to be your life?

When Father Astarion speaks again, you’re taken back from where your thoughts had drifted.

“Was there anything else weighing on your mind, my child?”

It’s almost as if he had read your mind.

“Yes, actually, I… I must admit this turn of events made me realise I’m not sure I’ve ever, truly believed in the first place… of my own volition.”

“I see.” He pauses briefly, “What did you expect from this confession, my dear?”

You sigh, “I’m not sure… My faith is all I’ve ever known. I don’t know what to do, and now I’m not sure if I’m meant for this life. As if everything I’ve known up to now had been nothing but a lie, and now that the opportunity to move on has made itself possible, I don't even know if I could go for it — if I should.”

You think you see his shadow move from the other side of the confessional, getting closer to the grid. “How does this make you feel?”

“Lost, confused. When I woke up this morning I felt…” you pause, looking for the exact feeling plaguing your mind. “Hollow, as if a part of me had vanished, and I don’t know how to make it right.”

Not a sound from the other side of the partition, and for a moment, you think the man sitting on the other side had been nothing but a fragment of your imagination, taunting you yet again for your drift of faith.

Just as you're about to ask for him, he speaks again.

“Would you like to believe, my child? Would you like me to show you what it means to worship — to devote yourself to a higher entity? To feel whole again?”

His voice had gone an octave lower — as if someone else had replaced the priest who had previously entered the booth — and you felt yourself drawn to it, tempted by the promise of guidance just a few words away.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. Come back here at midnight, I shall teach you the ways of worship.”

Your heart was already pounding in your chest in anticipation.

—

The day couldn’t have felt any longer than it did. Every moment spent between rushing thoughts of what the night would bring, constantly eyeing the clock as the minutes passed by, doubting if you had even heard the priest right, but the second the clock struck midnight, here you were, back at your church.

It stood as a beacon among the dark street, the only building with a light at its porch, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

You didn’t expect the doors to open at first; the church was usually closed at this hour, but as you pulled back on them, the doors opened up to you with a creak. When you stepped back in, your senses were struck with the strong aroma of old wood, burning candles, and incense.

You took a few steps forward, examining your surroundings, and noticing how much darker it had become without the colours spraying from the stained glass. Aside from the few candles lighting the side aisles, only one spotlight remained, right over the altar.

You heard a click behind you and when you turned, nothing — or no one — was to be seen. Just in the event that you might’ve imagined the sound, you went back to the door to try and push it, only for it to remain in place.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

You quickly turn around, startled by Father Astarion's voice greeting you. You can’t see him, and with the echo of the church, his voice felt as if it came from everywhere all at once, almost as if the voice came directly from Heaven.

“Do not be coy, my sweet, little one. Approach the altar.”

How long he had been there, you couldn’t tell, and you didn’t see fit asking — this was his home as much as it was the Lord’s, after all — but he had appeared out of thin air without as much of a sound.

You walk along the main aisle, each step taken with a mix of incertitude and curiosity as you slowly approach him in silence, his person still hidden behind the beam of light.

“I see you already wonderfully apply the concept of obedience, dearest,” he purrs, and you shiver in your white summer dress in response — the nights had been warm but you suddenly find yourself questioning your choice of clothing.

“Are you ready to begin your first lesson?”

There’s this uneasy feeling that inhabits you, telling you to run away from this place, from this man, but you ignore it — he is the voice of reason, and you are but a lost soul looking for guidance.

“Yes, Father,” you find your voice at last, although faint and gentle.

“Come closer, my lost lamb,” he says, more assertively. “Be not afraid, for I will guide you towards the light.”

Your feet move of their own accord as you speak up, “If I may ask, what will be the goal of this lesson?”

“You desire to believe of your own volition, do you not? To be shown the path for you to choose?” You nod. “Then I will show you the reach of our Lord.”

You reach the first step of the altar, where you stop, not daring to approach further.

“Close your eyes, and repeat after me.” And so, you obey, once again. With your eyes closed, you let his voice enrapture you, and you repeat every sentence back to him, both of your voices echoing the prayer between the walls of the church.

Father Astarion,

To you, I deliver my mind,

To mould in His image.

I deliver my body and flesh,

To use in His name.

I deliver my very soul,

To guide me back into His embrace.

I surrender myself to you,

To be reborn anew.

Amen.

“Open your eyes, my little angel.”

Father Astarion had taken a step forward, placing him right under the light that reflected against his platinum hair, creating a halo surrounding him. As he stood right between the statues of the disciples depicted around the altar, he looked like the Lord himself.

All but for one exception.

His eyes.

Not a trick of the light, they were indeed red. A deep, ruby red that shone vividly. In addition to his sharp traits enhanced under the holy light, he looked like a celestial being; an angel.

You step back, unbelieving your eyes fixated on the creature before you, and you remain paralysed. You swear they used to be black–

“I was just like you, little lamb,” he steps towards you. “A lost soul, questioning the Lord’s existence — his word — and I lost my faith. Until I was shown His greatness, and I was guided back into His arms. Redeemed. The Lord has sent me specifically to take care of lost souls like yours. After all, who better to guide you than a fallen angel?”

He stood right in front of you now, his arms open, inviting you in.

“Are you ready to let the Lord enter you — mind, body and soul?”

When the words leave your lips, they're but a whisper.

“Yes, Father.”

The Lord Himself had sent an angel to deliver your punishment; how could you question His power now?

“Good, my little lamb.”

He approaches you, each heavy step taken towards you creating a greater tension in your chest.

“You need only follow my word.” He continues, “Our Lord will absolve you of your sins for as long as you obey.”

He circles behind you and his hands find your bare shoulders, making you gasp at the touch.

They were just as strong as you imagined in your most depraved thoughts, but they were much, much colder.

“You trust me, do you not, my sweet?”

While one of his hands trailed along the side of your shivering arm, he slid a finger under the thin strap of your dress. Your heart beating away in your chest made it only harder to answer back.

“Y– Yes, Father.”

His breath down your neck created a warmth between your legs and a fog in your mind, and when he pushed the strap down your arm, you barely felt it.

When he reached for the zipper in your back and pulled down, you didn’t question it.

When your dress fell down to the floor, revealing your body in its most humble form, you didn't cover yourself back.

“My precious little angel, you are a vision.”

Father Astarion remained behind you where you couldn’t see him as he whispered against your ear, and you wouldn’t move unless he ordered you to. You didn’t want to risk going against his word, not with him so close to you, not with the way his hand had moved to your front and brushed against your breasts ever so lightly, and down your navel. Not with the way his strong fingers felt wrapped around your throat, holding you in place.

When his other hand found your entrance, your knees buckled and a heavy breath left your chest.

“You devilish little thing, you are positively drenched." His raspy voice breathed down your neck, "Has a man ever touched you like this before?"

"No, Father, I- I wouldn't."

"Good girl," he purrs and you can almost feel his lips against your skin. "You keep yourself pure for our Lord, I commend you for your restraint."

His praise had you weak in the knees and warm at your core.

"Have you ever touched yourself?”

“N– No.”

Technically not a lie — you never touched yourself, but on nights where you imagined Father Astarion as close as he was now, it was hard for you to keep your thighs from rubbing together to relieve yourself of the ache that had built up.

“Have you ever thought about a man touching you this way before?”

“I…”

He had to be a mind reader, how else would he have known you were just thinking about this?

Met with your silence, Father Astarion growls in your ear, “Remember that lying is a sin, darling. You wouldn’t want to add another infraction to your holy record, would you?”

You bite your lip, remembering vividly the dreams you had about a priest you knew all too well and how the same fingers entering you now would feel.

“I have, F– Father.”

"Tell me, then, who did you imagine between your legs? Touching you, tasting you...” his tongue traced the side of your ear, earing a breathy moan from you. "Fucking you?"

You can feel your face burning up and your lungs fighting for air, as if Hell had taken place in this very church and the flames of temptation were threatening to swallow you whole for your sins.

“Y— You, Father,” you stutter.

“And you kept this to yourself? You lied to our Lord, to me, by avoiding this confession?” You shut your eyes in shame in answer. “Oh, you are much more depraved than I thought, child. We cannot let this go unpunished.”

You whimper when he removes himself from inside of you and walks back into the spotlight, leaving you with a mess between your legs and a racy heart in your chest.

“If you wish to be absolved, approach the altar.”

His change of tone instilled fear in each of your steps forward, but you advanced nonetheless.

“Bend over,” he ordered.

You do as you're told, hissing as your sinfully warmed up skin gets in contact with the cool marble surface of the altar. You were barely tall enough to fit on the high table, your hands grabbing onto the ledge for balance.

“You will recite the Our Father just as I instructed you, and you will do so without as much as a whine. Am I understood?” You nod. “Speak up, sinner.” “Yes, Father,” you answer, your voice already shaking.

“Good.” His feet push apart your legs, leaving you fully exposed and on your tiptoes, now relying completely on your arms for support. “Proceed.”

You take a deep breath and begin, “Our Father, who art in heaven– AH!”

You jump at the sudden contact of his hand over your sensitive skin.

“Start. Over.”

You gulp. “Our Father, who art in heaven, haa— hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom c– COME!” You scream as you receive this last spank, stronger than the previous one.

He groans, “Again.”

“Please, I can’t—” you sob, the pain from his spanking breaking not only your body, but your spirit.

“Do you enjoy this?” He spanks you again, harder. “The sting of my hand against your skin?” And again. “The tears building up in your eyes?” And again. “Answer!”

“No!” You cry out. “Please, I beg you — mercy, Father please,” you plead, and plead, your voice drowned out by your sobbing.

“This is what you deserve for straying away from the rightful path, little lamb.” You arch your back as his hand grabs onto the base of your hair and pulls back. “Are you not willing to take your punishment, like a good little follower?”

“Please,” you keep begging. “I’ll do anything Father, anything but this, I beg you—”

Your legs shake from the pain, knees buckling, and your arms fighting for dear life to hold on to the altar, which had been warmed up by your skin.

“If you are unwilling to receive your rightful punishment, we will need to reshape your will, little one.”

At last, he releases your hair from his grasp and you collapse to your knees with a cry as both your arms and legs give out.

With your face down panting, you don't even notice one of your hands still desperately holding onto the edge of the altar.

“I can show you a new path,” Father Astarion continues, his voice kinder than before. “One of pleasure and devotion.”

You jump when his hand touches you again, this time with a surprising gentleness that you find yourself leaning into as he strokes your wet cheek.

“Another way for you to repent, so you may be absolved of your sins; by proving your faithfulness to me.”

His thumb wipes away the last tear that fell from your eyes, before lifting your chin up to him.

“You want to be known, to be tasted — I can offer you that. All you need to do is offer yourself to me. Do you wish to be mine, little angel?”

“Yes, Father,” you breathe out. “More than anything in the world.”

He blinks once softly and a smile appears on his thin lips.

“Then you shall be mine, as I shall be yours. For as long as you'll be on your knees for me, God will absolve you of your sins.”

His hand leaves your chin and you watch him as he sucks on the same thumb that erased your tears, before tracing a cross over your forehead with it, and you close your eyes basking in his tender touch.

“You will experience our Lord's presence inside of you in ways you have never experienced before. You will relinquish yourself to me and worship me without second thoughts. You will never feel hollow, ever again, little love.”

When you open your eyes again, the holy light surrounding him almost blinded you with how much brighter it felt now that you were on your knees, under him.

“You will show me the same devotion you would God, as you’ll now refer to me as Lord.” Your Saint, your fallen angel, you Lord; you would worship the very ground he walked on, and spend the rest of your life repenting at his feet, as he was proof of a faith you dared to doubt in the first place.

The words leave your parted lips effortlessly, “Yes, my Lord.”

As he grins, you notice the sharp fangs in the corner of his mouth and finally see him for what he really is.

A wolf in sheep's clothing.

A devil in the house of God.

Your unholy punishment.

One that you accept as he dives his fangs into the crook of your neck, surrendering yourself to him, to be reborn anew.

Amen.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79 @ladycroft5245 @lets-just-daydream @pursuitseternal

#no priest were harmed during the making of this fic #my posts #bg3 #my writing #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldurs gate astarion #priest au #priest astarion #priestarion #bg3 smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion fanfic

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solardick · 1 year ago

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The serpent and the man. Here finds it’s own set of conflict. Dragons themselves being variable in nature from one to the next. Even in there own culture many don’t know that there’s variations of species which have different names. Symbolically speaking there isn’t much difference between a wivern and a dragon. And for all purposes it isnt a well stable distinction which carries through the masses so they are mostly interchangable. Though they range from monsters and heroes, to union and extension. Opposite to the known norm is the militarization of the Japanese/chinese dragons and bridges to some distant plane of being and becoming. But then again the new world loves it’s spectrums.

And theres no much sacred with images. Simply take a look at the horror categorized as adult swim tairing down walls. A collevtive recepticle of all the filth left over.

The image of the man and the serpent becomes unerving in its present placement and perhaps best left to the outskirts as the 28 card not so far off from placing the fool outside of the scene. Whoppy do some fool got promoted. That hissing sound. Or that grumbling sounds of the serpent breathes through it’s nostrils. The breathe of life.

As i continue development,

Ive reached this, with some satisfaction. The moment is calling for some Japanese influence. This is welcomed. There is a mash in influence. The celestial serpent is constellated -But, the majority seem focused of the “dark” serpent, intermingling with the biblical satan. With sins sleeping upon a bed of possessions- this allows for the use of the good dragons from Japanese folk magic. For it absorbs that catch of info. Separates it from the influence of the ouroboros with the power of the waters. It speaks of control and strength. Of honour.

And as i continue development;

It’s satisfying. If that is yet a good thing. I do not know.

There is an issue involving letter Z and Ampersand. That problem is placement. The ampersand is no longer a written member of the alphabet. But when it was it held the 27th place. Even though it isn’t written, it’s still spoken. In the spoken or sung alphabet, it holds place number 26. And yet, is never counted. Which means that currently, the traditional card 21, the world, maybe counted together with either number 26 or 27. And same goes for the cartes des d’ames, ouroboros serpent, leisured from etteila, conveniently holding a club, - which marriages with the rod of Asclepius effortlessly- the ampersand is a marriage between the french and english ands & ets. The symbol itself, besides this, fits the image of a serpent and break of the lemiscate. Food for thought. If one were to “thought”

For the moment i can not fault find on all the 0 cards, save for ambiguity towards the E fool. And even though im satisfied with the A fool. I feel as if it could possibly change. The U I O “fool” cards i am content with. After some insecurity towards O death. Namely having the image of death looking back for verification or how to. In contrast to a horse rider. Trodding over the corpse of her husband. Depending on how you look at it. From an active to a passive figure. Considering it is easily associated to the dreadful mars. Though, just simple contemplation, or the raw present moment now speaks layered messages. Altering both.

Like this, my favourite add in is U. It’s the most amazing one. For descend the 0 into the cup. She’s cradling it. an 0 inside a U? You’d be a fool not to see it. This inside the image of a mother. With children all around her?

waite’s strength card, though it bothered me there was never any card picturing strength as it’s always been pictured. A man. Save for some decks like in, the 1jj swiss deck. One can see how attachment presses beautifully together. Add this as the 21st letter of the alphabet and layer it to the world card. One can play at length here. Or beget. Patterns, add in word play. This a hundred times better than tarot.

Direct communication with the world spirit. Off track from card 21. Though i didn’t want to. Didn’t have much of a choice considering context with the present moment. Anyway, direct contact with the world spirit allows me to modify and colour certain cards. Its the “art” style i was raised on, was mimicking other works. Translating a full to a blank. Image creation, I’ve never had. Or i did at one point save for outer influences. The 0 death card i like this way. For the presence of crows and perfect syncroniscity. Yo the snap of my fingers. Catching the wind. Loved all of it. Meanwhile. In the background. Like it wasn’t all set up that way for a long while. Pillars. If you have them. Hold them. The old strength card bore a woman wearing lion skin breaking pillars…. Still off track, save for if one remembers to layer the cards. Mmn, that’s better. Cheers.

The high priestess card, at the presemt moment become detached from the memory which is found on her lap. She connects the dots when they are called for. Or atleast how i became associated with her. Now, from the mid- 2nd millennium, images which had influence on waites creation. But the imagery, isn’t as intuitive. Its more logos driven. The blessed virgin. Its a guy thing. She is stepping on a serpent. Hard to make out with the low resolution. She’s even more holy than that U. Though she’s not entirely in the picture. She’s further away.

Though it’s a shame, driven worship, well maybe not that far, of the divine image of perfect femininity back-looped for eternity with stupid bs, even smart bs. But it all gets categorized into one card. Yet to be drawn. But deffintaly stupid.

Though, one thing I don’t like, and have kept because of experience is the destruction of the tower. It’s the only action sign found in all the cards. And represents a step behind, a step already taken while every other card is still in motion. Without effect. At the momemt. The destruction of the tower coupled the the “final judgement”. Is a psychological attack aimed at the destabilization of it’s object. For one has to claim ownership of the moment for it to exist. Though the aim is usually taken not of the christ but of the church. And unchaining imaginary chains of oppression. And a tower aint far away from a pillar belonging to a giant. Not a terribly relevant symbol with a lack of med-evil warfare and it’s own signs of oppressions. Ownership here doesn’t plead to heavily on deaf ears. Break downs in language lowers comprehension. If not at all familiar with it.

Unity can not exist without stability.

And here, to see wisdom in the image of the great serpent, the dragon looming heavily above destruction and chaos. It’s presence is eternal. Limitless. The opposite, usually highworded as the light, and justly so. The light is limited always was. Mankind yearns for a promise of infinity. And many are selected to carry forth shaping and impressing lives. While they are dead. And they die impressionably. On a more micro level. The wheel turns a bit. Psychic barriers act as towers. And the serpent slithers down across the board. Here serves temperance. With a need filling unnatural desires. As a dispenser next to the peddler wishing good fortune on bad decisions. Fuel the antisemitic acts of defiance agaisnt intrusions of individual states. Given vessel to travel around. Or it wispers poison in ones ears. Strife.

#dragon #qwerty #tarot #tarotblr

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meeedeee · 3 years ago

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The First Post To The First Slash /Shipping Mailing List

The Date: October 19, 1992 ("it was almost 29 years ago") The Poster: sherrold*

Context: the first pan fandom slash (shipping) mailing list, Virgule-L, was in its infancy. Safe spaces for women to talk about slash online were rare. And most fan fiction was distributed in print fanzines (which is why fanzine reviews like the one Sandy wrote were so important as a single fanzine cost $15-20 or around $30-40 in today's dollars.) Fan run conventions were the only way to meet other groups of fans and mailed letters and phone calls were the tenuous tethers that strung these fan groups together. The mailing list - and the Internet - was about to change...everything. ****************

Well, welcome to my adventure in mailing! I hope to have this set up soon as a 'real' mailing list, with it's own address. Until then, I only know one way for one of you to write to everyone at once. Just reply to a letter from the list, and answer yes, when it asks, 'reply to all'. So far there are 7 of us. I'll let everyone introduce themselves. I am Sandy Hereld,* I write as Alyx (often with a friend who used Alys) the pen name is *not* a secret. I started in "/" fandom in trek, moved to Pros, and now am very crazed about B7. I still love Pros, and like a lot of different fandoms, including Wiseguy, Starsky and Hutch, and Muncle. I helped run a slash con here in town last week, Virgule, and hope to make Escapade** this year (in February, in Santa Barbara--one of the list subscribers co- runs it--memberships still available), but not Revelcon.*** Maybe, if I get a new job, Media West. I've never been there, and I've always wanted to go. I just finished a great Multi-mediazine called Homosapiens Too. It has an interesting variety of fandoms and crossovers; even more important, there wasn't a single story that stunk (though I liked some better than others, of course.) Page count is Pros/Booker 18 pgs (Bodie/Booker) Eroica/Muncle 5 pgs (Eroica/Illya) Batman 4 (Batman/street punk) Nightflyers 6+ (cartoon, from the movie) TNG 5pgs (Beverly/symbiote) B7/TOS trek 5 pgs (Blake/Spock) Dangerous Liaisons 7 pgs (Valmont/Danceny) Damiano 2 pgs (from the R.A. McAvoy books) MUNCLE 2 pgs the usual Star Wars 4 (cartoon, original characters) Pros 4 pgs the usual B7 50 pgs (Blake/Avon) Perhaps I should mention at the there was a contest for most outrageous crossover pairing. My favorites were: The Right Place To Be (Bodie/Booker) by Arcane Annie & Stew--Bodie quits in a huff after an Operation Suzie, and is too embarrassed to go back; Booker has quit somewhat similarly. Seeing how stupid the other's foolish pride looks, they both learn things about playing roles and 'what really matters.' They also have pretty good sex. Do Blond's Really Have More Fun? (Eroica/Illya) by Barbara T. This definitely is set at a time when Solo and Kurykin are having some problems. The crossover is a fascinating one, and it works. (Anyone needing Erioca explained, just e-mail me. It is a pretty new/small fandom, but growing fast.) Brand New Day (Spock/Blake) by Jane Carnell follows immediately after Blake's pod makes planetfall after Star One. A great Blake, and if not a totally convincing Spock, it's close. Worth it for this scene alone. --Blake "What do you like?" "Anal penetration," "Which way round?" Blake inquired. "I am a telepath. It hardly matters. Whichever way pleases you." Valmont (Valmont/Danceny) by Stew -is a romantic, but very plausible retelling of the movie Dangerous Liaisons, all from Danceny's POV. For any that have read the book, you know it is told solely in letters and diary entries, so this collection of Danceny's diaries is very faithful to the original feel. It is also an amazingly concise retelling, squeezing 2 hours into 6 1/2 pgs. Submissive It Ain't (Pros) is basically just a sex story, but one firmly based in the very different personalities of Bodie and Doyle. Nice idea, beautiful sex, slightly weak ending. Puppeteer (Blake/Avon) by Bryn Lantry is a convoluted but beautiful story where: the action is in the emotions, everyone has multiple motives, and no one truly knows their own minds, much less understands their crewmates. A bit alternate, set sometime in the months before Star One but after Blake has already got the idea in mind, this is a wonderful character study of Blake and Avon, with Vila and Cally in strong supporting roles. Not my favorite type of story -- I think I prefer something a bit more straightforward, but undeniably compelling and well written. The other stories weren't dogs either... The Muncle story, Hanging In Time, by Y.J. is a very disturbing portrayal of the hurt-comfort syndrome in Illya, The Batman story will appeal to anyone who liked "The Dark Knight Returns" With All My Symbiotes -Susan Douglas- has some nice female slash. Why Couldn't It Be Me has gotten a certain amount of press as "Biblical slash." It does have two biblical characters in it, but it is just a vigniette, and has no overt slash content. A few caveats: I disliked the art in the first story, and was indifferent to the rest. I had a hard time reading the 2 cartoon sections; I thought the penning needed to be clearer, and the xerox needed to be darker for those sections. With those few quibbles in mind, I recommend the zine highly. It has an interesting collection of stories set in an amazing variety of universes. The editor is joining a growing number of publishers and putting the word count down -- 80,700, with 40,700 of it in Bryn's B7 story. It is available from Manacles Press here in the U.S. at [address removed]. There is no U.S. price on the zine; it says to SASE Manacles Press, and I can't remember whether I paid $15 or $18 at the con. From Australia, it is available from the publisher...[address removed] $12 within Aust, $20 posted overseas airmail. (I assume that's $Aus)”

*Sandy passed away in July 2011 of cancer. One of our final joint projects was going through our emails dating back 20+ years to find fandom history we could share

**Escapade is the longest running slash convention and is still held in Southern California (as of 2021)

*Revelcon is a slash friendly multi-fandom convention held in Texas. As of 2021 it is still running

#fandom history #fandom love #escapadecon #fanzines #Blake's 7 #Star Trek #Star Wars #Eroica #man from uncle #the professionals #book fanfic #feedback #snady

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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30 FAVE BOOKMARKS of 2020

Happy New Year’s Eve-Eve, everyone!!

And welcome to the Last Fic Rec Wednesday of 2020! No one asked for this at all, but I enjoy making unprompted lists for everyone, and I’ve been doing this list since January 2020 :P

I’ve read some FANTASTIC fics this year, and now seems like a good time as any to share with y’all some of those amazing fics I’ve added to List of Love! I had to even whittle it down today to get it to 25 – the number I like as a “top xx” thing, so I am very disheartened that a lot of my bookmarks this year didn’t make the list :( It’s been a long time since I’ve done a “last XX bookmarked fics” list, maybe I’ll do one of those soon.

First off let’s start with 5 honourable mentions of Other Fandom fics, because I spent a lot of my summer indulging in my renewed Rimmster ship so I have a few amazing RD fics y’all should read LOL

FIVE OTHER-FANDOM HONOURABLE MENTIONS

Réveillon by Big_Edies_Sun_Hat (T, 6,431 w., 3 Ch. || GOOD OMENS || Christmas Eve, Angst, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, International Travel, Moments in Time, Historical / Biblical Interpretation) – After a gloomy history with Christmas, Aziraphale shows Crowley how he has learned to seek out the good in it by traveling around the world on Christmas Eve. Highlights include: the Annunciation; potholes; international teleportation; peace and hope; arson; Lupe gets a doll of her very own.

Out With It by Clipped_Ionian_Vowels (T, 10,255 w., 1 Ch. || RED DWARF || Post-Ace, Reclaimed Slurs, Getting Together, Sexuality, Coming Out) – Rimmer finally comes home, hangs up the wig and decides to set the crew 'straight' about one thing; he's not. And neither, it transpires, is Lister.

Standards by Kahvi & Roadsterguy (E, 11,725 w., 2 Ch. || RED DWARF || Hard Light Rimmer, Bickering, Humour, First Time, Over-Protective Kryten, Cranky Rimmer, Exploring Derelicts, Arguing Leads to Awkward Flirting, Showering Together, Intense Orgasms) – Yet another supply raid on a derelict leads Rimmer and Lister to an argument, which in turn leads to... something that's still fairly close to an argument. You get lonely in space, but you do have standards.

speed limits (and how to break them) by darcylindbergh (E, 13,750 w., 4 Ch. || GOOD OMENS || POV Crowley, UST/URT, Mutual Pining, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Crowley’s Anxiety, Gift Giving, Humour, Touching, Awkwardness, Love Confessions, Sussex, Fantasies Become Real, Marriage Proposal, Sensuality, Bottom Crowley) – There is a trick people do with a mint candy and a bottle of cola which results in a small eruption, and something very like it, for much higher stakes than a laugh in a car park, is about to take place in Aziraphale’s back room. Or: what happens when you finally unscrew the cap on a six thousand years of repression, and drop in Valentine’s Day.

Hand in Glove by lizardkid (T, 14,223 w., 1 Ch. || RED DWARF || Post-S9, Internalized Homophobia, Repression, Hurt/Comfort, Lister Whump, Worried Rimmer, Ableist Language, Cuddling) – Lister is mortally wounded in an accident. Rimmer is forced to reassess everything.

------------------

AND NOW: The reason y’all are here! Please know I love EVERYTHING I’ve read and bookmarked, just these ones have really stuck with me and I’ve already re-read a few of these, so yeah, please do enjoy.

Please note that these fics aren’t all necessarily NEW fics for 2020, more like they were new to ME, and ergo, I bookmarked and started reccing them this year! There are a few newer fics, though, so yeah, apologies if you were expecting only new things.

Hope you all have a good New Year’s Day, and I hope this list makes the long weekend a great one until my FIRST Fic Rec Sunday of 2021! I might do two on Sunday just to celebrate the new year, hahah. <3 Love you all!

TOP 25 JOHNLOCK BOOKMARKS OF 2020

SEE ALSO:

Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

Top 25 Bookmarks of 2019

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John's favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) – When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#johnlock fic recs #long post #my fic recs #fic rec wednesday #fave fics #red dwarf fic recs #good omens fic recs

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writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

Text

fakers | alpha!void

word count; 13,813

summary; you just need someone. topretend to be your alpha until you can graduate, and unfortunately, the only applicate candidate is Eli, your best friends void twin.

notes; stick with me, okay? Void’s name is Noah in this, but he goes by ‘E’ or ‘Eli’ for his reputation. He’s Noah Eli Stilinski III, named after his dad’s grandfather since Stiles was named after their mom’s grandfather, just roll with it.

warnings; smut, a/b/o themes throughout, mating, marking, blood play, reference to harassment, reference to cheating.

The minute you took your seat at the lunch table, Scott’s nose was twitching, his eyes flicking to you as he politely tried to ignore the scent but it was hard, and you gave him a small smile in thanks. Your eighteenth birthday had been a curse, in your opinion. Only two months prior had you hit the big number, and you once reasonably diluted omega scent had shot up to incredibly potent, even betas being able to smell it.

By eighteen, most omegas had found an alpha, a relationship to be in and the scent of their mate would cover their own, their body reacting to the affection even if they hadn't been given a mark yet, but not you.

It wasn’t unheard of for omegas to still be single and unmarked at eighteen, it was becoming more and more common as the modern-day evolved, but it still sucked to be a high school senior and have almost every alpha within your vicinity leering at you constantly because their own pheromones decreed that upon sniffling out an omega who was ready for a heat that they should immediately jump on that.

Stiles slung an arm over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple and doing his best to spread his own scent all over you, not that it would help much, he too was an omega, but unlike you, he’d found an alpha. Four weeks before Stiles’ eighteenth birthday, alpha and deputy-in-training Derek Hale had shocked everyone by stepping up and asking Stiles on a date, the two still happily together

He did his best to spread his own scent on you as often as he could, but since your birthday the act had practically become irrelevant. Your friends did the best they could to protect you, shield you from the alphas that often tracked you through the corridors and attempted to convince you to go out with them, but you didn’t want any of them. What you wanted was to graduate, and go to college, and find someone who liked you for you, not because their genetic chemistry told them they did.

“You should get a fake alpha.” Isaac joked, your eyes snapping up to shoot him a false glare but Stiles shrugged beside you, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“I hate to agree with the person who wears scarves in August, but it’s not a bad idea. Find someone who you can trust, and ask them to scent you until graduation.” Your gaze flicked to your best friend, eyes widening as you looked at him and he sipped at the straw fixed through his drink, his own stare unwavering as you studied him for any sense of a joke, your shoulders deflating under his arm.

“Yeah? And which alpha am I supposed to ask? Jackass Whittemore? Or perhaps that one guy over there who’s been undressing me with his eyes since I sat down?” Stiles followed your gaze, flipping off the boy with a protective scowl, a sigh sounding from him. The same sigh bounced all around the table, and Allison snickered, Scott shooting you a pitiful look as his girlfriend opened her mouth to speak:

“Isn’t Stiles’ brother an unbonded alpha?”

Stiles’ jaw clenched at the mention of his brother, and Lydia’s jaw clenched at the mention of her rival for highest GPA and grades. She worked her ass off every day for those grades, she studied and she showed up to every class, even when she was sick. Noah ‘Eli’ Stilinski skipped half of the days, was often put in detention for being caught smoking behind the gym, and got into regular fights.

Lydia hated that he so effortlessly managed to keep up with her and Stiles’ top averages.

Chatter then picked up once again as Lydia made a crude comment about the aforementioned boy, Stiles jumping in to defend his ‘evil twin’ - as Lydia so eloquently called him - and yet even Stiles couldn't help but cringe in the onslaught of bad deeds and acts voiced all around the table. Your mind drifted from the conversations though, a huff on your lips as you balanced your chin on your hand, the chatter becoming background noise as you got lost in your thoughts.

You watched as the blue jeep pulled up, silently cheering to yourself as you noticed two passengers int he vehicle instead of one, and you bounced over to the car, Stiles waving at you spastically with a wide grin as he yanked the key from the ignition, hopping from the car in unison with his brother. Your eyes locked with that of the second Stilinski boy, and he sent you a lopsided smirk, his eyes scanning over you slowly as he rounded the vehicle, slinging his bag up onto his shoulder.

“You smell fuckin’ fantastic today, sweetheart.” He shot you a wink, licking his lips as he walked past you and Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, a scowl on your face as the boy commented on your evident and alluring scent, but you took a deep breath, Stiles asking if you were ready to head inside, but you shook your head.

“I need to talk to your brother for a moment.” The pair stilled, your best friend looking at your cautiously and Noah glanced back over his shoulder, raising a brow at you and his usual cocky smirk was back as you shot him a pleading look, Stiles gasping beside you as he clicked in.

“No! You can’t ask him!”

“I have to!” You hissed, your fingers locking around the other boy’s wrist as you dragged him away, and he let himself be pulled along with a cocky look on his face as he followed after you, and you eventually released him, rubbing your hands together nervously as you avoided his gaze.

When you looked back up, he was watching you carefully, a coy glint in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. “I don’t like when people talk about how good I smell. I don’t like being looked at all the time, I don’t like the attention.” His gaze moved over your face, his brows furrowing a little, and your eyes left his as heat rose to your cheeks. “I need someone to scent me and pretend to be my alpha, just until graduation. I trust you, I’ve known you since we were five, and who else understands the struggle more than someone who’s brother is an omega, y’know?”

You punctuated your words with a little laugh, shaking your head as you tried to steady your racing heart, your body feeling like it was on fire as you stood before the taller boy.

“I mean, it’s not like you want to settle down any time soon anyway, so y-” You cut your words off as you watched his fingers jiggle, his eyes directed over your shoulder, and as you turned to look, you noticed a beta from your English class gigging as she pouted at him, as though you weren’t even there, and your breathless laugh of disappointment was mixed with a scoff as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, never mind. This was a bad idea.”

His eyes snapped back to you as you spoke, his lips parted as you moved your bag back up your shoulder, one of his hands reaching out to grasp at your elbow but you jerked out of his reach. “Wait, what? I’m listening, I swear.”

“You can’t even give me your attention two minutes to have a conversation, Noah, h-”

“Don’t call me that here, someone might hear you.” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at his aversion of his first name. He dubbed it too old-fashioned and biblical for his tastes, choosing to go by his middle name ever since he started high school and you’d never bothered to get into the habit.

“Sorry, Eli.” The word was practically spat from your tongue as you held your hands up, taking another step away from him. “No other alpha would believe you were in a relationship anyway, it was stupid. I’ll find someone else.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, choosing instead to walk away, looping your arm through Stiles’ as you walked into the school alongside him, never once bothering to look back.

The idea only festered in your mind, your embarrassment bubbling over as you thought about the conversation and the failure of the plan lingered in your mind all throughout your first to classes. It wasn’t long until Lydia had pried the information on your dull mood out of you, exactly halfway through first period English to be exact, and she’d given you a glare for bothering to talk to her academic archnemesis for a good five minutes before she caved and comforted you.

The rest of your classes were spent trying to decide between other alphas you could go for. Jackson Whittemore was ruled out immediately, he was a jackass and wouldn’t do anything to help you, and neither would any of the other goons on the lacrosse team. Other than the boys in your friendship group, they were all a bunch of sweaty assholes, and the alphas were the worst of them. The alphas you knew that were nice enough to want to be with were all with a beta and in happy relationships, and Stiles was the only other omega you knew of.

The search seemed to be entirely pointless, your options dwindling back down to none, and despite her attempts to cheer you up as she reapplied a layer of pastel-pink lipgloss in the mirror hung up on the inside of her locker, you were still in a dismal mood, and desperately trying to ignore the burning gaze of the blond boy down the corridor from you. As she closed her locker, she opened her mouth to give you yet another pep talk to help you get through the day, her freshly plumped lips sealing into a thin line as she glowered at an unknown source over your shoulder, and you turned in time to see the boy who had caused your morbid embarrassment of the day coming stalking down the corridors toward you.

His eyes locked with yours, his feet carrying him directly toward you without a sign of dodging or stopping, and your eyes widened as he got closer and closer to you. With heavy hands on your hips, he pushed you backwards and into the metal of the lockers, your body colliding with the cool surface as a surprised squeak left your lips, his nose running along the underside of your jaw, tipping your head to the side as you went pliant under his hold and the front of his body was almost pressed against yours, a wet kiss being placed to your jaw as he nuzzled into your neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your voice was practically squeaked out, and his hand squeezed your hips, before sliding around to sit on your back as he pulled your body flush up to rest against his, his arms snaking around your waist and his cheek rested against the top of your head. You were limp in his arms, shocking filling your body and he chuckled, the sounds rumbling in his chest and you could feel it pressed to your own as he dipped down, lips brushing the shell of your ear and hot breath fanning over your skin. “I said, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m scenting you, sweetheart. You’re not going to find anyone else to play alpha for you until graduation. Might as well be me.” You sighed, your eyes connected with Lydia’s as she wore an equally wide look of shock, and you lifted your arms, your hands holding onto his forearms carefully as you relaxed a little bit, and he rubbed his face into your neck one more time, before pulling back enough to look at you. “Lydia, you are burning holes into the side of my fucking head. Stop staring at me.”

His words were growled out, his eyes locked on yours and you swallowed thickly under his intense gaze, your lips sealed shut but your red-headed friend scoffed, the toes of her heels clicking on the ground in agitation, her retort being shot back without hesitation. “Stop leeching on my best friend and I will.”

He finally turned to look at her, the usual stormy expression he wore was plastered on his face and he rose a solitary brow at her, and she stared him down, unwilling to be the first to cower. “Why don’t you go on ahead, we have things to discuss. I’ll walk (Y/N) here over to the table when we’re finished, she won’t be alone. I swear it.”

Her eyes flicked to you, and you sent her a small nod, which she accepted, snarling at the boy still holding you tightly before she was walking away, her heels clicking on the floors as she left and the Stilinski twin turned back to you with a gleeful grin.

“I’ll make you a deal, hm?” You narrowed your eyes at him, but gave him a lone nod in signal for him to continue with his words, and he nibbled on his lower lip, before jutting his chin out toward you a little as he held his head high. “I’ll act like your alpha until graduation.”

“You will?”

“You’re awfully surprised by my reaction. You did ask me, and you know how hard it is for me to say no to you.” He dipped his head down, taking a low sniff and humming happily under his breath, when you frowned.

“I don’t want you to say yes to this just because I’m an omega and it’s all instinctual for you to want to help me. I want you to say yes because you want to help me.” You mumbled, and he pulled back to look at you, his eyes studying yours carefully.

“I’m not doing it because an omega asked, I’m doing it because you asked. I do want something in return, though.” Your face crumpled as you blushed, pulling away from him a little as you stiffened in his hold, and he shook his head profusely as your mind spun. “No, not what you’re thinking. I’m a little offended at your reaction, but it’s not that.”

“Then what do you want?”

Your voice was cautious and unsure, and his grin dimmed into a small smile, his fingers reaching up to tuck loose hairs behind your ear. “I have a lot of college applications and interview letters. You have to help me apply, and proofread them all.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Your jaw dropped, before a wide smile took over your features and you searched his face for any signs of deceit, his features reading true and you dropped your forehead forwards to rest on his shoulder, a relieved laugh leaving you and you felt his hands smooth along your back reassuringly in slow circles. “I can’t believe that’s all you want. You’ve totally got a deal.”

He chuckled in your ear, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he pulled away, guiding you toward the lunch hall as you both thought over the bargain you had just made.

On your side, you had never felt safer than you did in this moment. Your best friend’s brother had his arm wrapped around you, his scent already lathered over you and for the first time in months, you didn’t have the piercing gaze of desperate alpha’s watching your every move. Unconsciously, you curled into his side a little more, the familiar smell of the boy you’d known ever since going for your first playdate at the house of the boy whose name a five-year-old you couldn't pronounce brought you a much-needed comfort. Noah Stilinski Jr had never treated you as a possession, or belittled you for your omega state. Perhaps it had been because his mother wouldn't allow it, or perhaps it was simply due to having a twin who was the only other omega in your year group, but he treated you with respect, even if he was a player, and it was only three months until graduation; you could survive until then.

On his side, he was holding you protectively close, the long-buried crush he’d held on you since he’d turned twelve and watched you bounce into the joint birthday party he and Stiles had while wearing a pretty and sparkly dress was beginning to poke its head up once again, and he brushed the tip of his nose against your temple, no idea what he was getting himself into, but he wasn’t willing to let any other alphas near you, whether the relationship was real or fake.

The next morning, you were anxiously waiting outside of the school building, Allison on one side of you and Lydia on the other as they chatted between themselves, the nail of your thumb caught anxiously between your teeth as you tried desperately not to bite it off, simply holding it there for reassurance. The scenting you had been given yesterday was superficial and had worn off the second you had changed your clothes and slept overnight, and you knew from experience with Stiles that it was a while before an alphas scent would start to really cling to an omega.

Eyes were back on you, watching you with steely gazes as both boys and girls alike around you watched don carefully, your heart racing as you waited for the blue jeep to pull up. When it finally did, minutes before the bell rang to signal homeroom, the dirt-smeared vehicle pulled up and haphazardly into a parking space. Your anxiety only seemed to spike as you watched both of the identical boys’ exit and make their way toward you. Stiles had a wide grin on his face. Practically bouncing along as his hands grasped onto the straps of his bag, and his brother walked along beside him, face pulled in a neutral expression, his hands clutching a small bundle of material as his own bag hung from one shoulder.

Your eyes were sealed on him, and he allowed the edges of his lips to flicker up in a barely present smile as he approached, his features softening just enough to ease your worries, and Stiles reached your first, his arms wrapping around you in a hug as he greeted you, before quickly moving on to chat to Lydia and Allison, shepherding the girls inside without even a glance over his shoulder as he allowed his brother to talk to you.

He stood closer to you than he ever had before, bar the previous day’s locker encounter, and he still for a moment, his eyes scanning over you, before he was making some form of grunting noise in the back of his throat, his free hand reaching up to take your bag in his hand as he slipped it from your shoulder, offering you the bundle of grey material he was clutching. “Put this on, and wear it until it doesn’t smell like me anymore, and then I’ll give you a new one.”

You took it from him, shaking it out and looking at the pale grey hoodie before you, and his brows raised as he watched you pause, before you were tugging the baggy material over your head, smoothing it down over your shirt, the oversized jumper hanging slightly loose on you, sleeves falling to the middles of your hands and you ran your palms over the front of it, smoothing it down and admiring the softness of it under your hand. Reaching over, your head snapped up when you felt his fingers brush along the back of your neck, scooping your hair out from under the collar so that it could fall freely down your back once again.

He checked his watch, fishing into his back pocket as he deemed the time to be appropriate, before producing a small and battered cardboard packet. Popping a single neatly wrapped roll from within, he balanced it between his lips, the lighter from within the box clicking a few times as he shielded the flame from the breeze before the end took up an orange ember and immediately began to burn down to ashes, glowing brightly when he inhaled. His hand dropped or yours once he had folded the packet back away, lacing your fingers together and pulling you closer to his side, the other hand with two fingers holding the cigarette on either side.

Letting out the deep breath he was holding, smoke curled into the air as he released it slowly, angling his head upwards as not to blow a mouthful of smoke straight into your face, and you were grateful for it, despite how much you may despise it. Instead of complaining, you chose to twist into him, burying your face into his shoulder and scrunching up your nose as the smell that clung to his clothes, knowing he must’ve smoked in the car on the way over here too, but his arm looped around your waist, holding you to him tightly and letting his fingers draw patterns on your back as you stood in silence.

It was odd, being so comfortable with him. You were well aware of his reputation, of all the bad habits he kept up, and perhaps it was just the fact that you were finally getting the physical attention from an alpha that your body screamed at you to get, but you were happy, and it didn’t feel wrong to let your own arms come up to wrap around his waist as you tried to cover yourself with his scent as much as you could.

You were grateful for the bell ringing, and you hadn't realised you were holding your breath as much as you were until you took a deep breath, watching as he dropped the nearly-finished cig to the floor and stomped it out, guiding you toward the building with slow steps. He could almost feel your hesitancy and nerves, choosing to squeeze your side in comfort to let you know that it was okay, and the action let a surprising amount of calm wash over you.

He walked you all the way to your first class, as he peered inside the classroom, glaring daggers at every pair of eyes hat scanned along your body lustful from within. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

“You will?”

He chuckled at your surprise, nodding down at you and shuffling to the side to allow other students to shuffle into the classroom and past the pair of you in the doorway. “I hate cafeteria food, but it’s curly fry day, so it’s not so bad.” He shrugged, dipping his head to press a kiss to your cheek before he was walking away, and you rubbed at the spot with the sleeve of his jumper on your body the moment he was out of sight, and you slipped inside to talk to sit in your usual seat beside Stiles, who offered you a pensive look, your thumbs up reassuring him that the plan was going well.

“I can’t smell you as much, the alphas probably still can but at least it’s not quite as..”

“Strong? Overwhelming? Irritating?” You offered, and he chuckled, leaning back in his seat as Coach Fistock walked into the room, scowling and setting up at the front, a coffee mug all but slammed down onto the desk as he mumbled to himself.

“I wouldn’t say irritating. You smell good, it’s just.. powerful.” He gave you a dazzling grin as you rolled your eyes at him, choosing instead to focus on Coach as he began to command attention with a range of vague insults and shouts into the room. Each of your classes had been a little easier, you’d found, as even when the alpha wasn’t with you, the jumper on your body offered you a little protection as he dulled your natural scent and mixed it with his own. Lunch was rolling around before you knew it, and you were adding an extra portion of curly fries to your tray as you lined up with your best friend, listening to his chatter about movie night and how last night him and his brother had told his dad all about the deal that had been made, so it wouldn’t be weird if anything happened between the two of you when you came over.

“You remember that this is just for the public eye, right?”

Stiles glanced over at you as he paid for his food, nodding at you with an expression on his face that read as ‘duh’, but he shrugged anyway, moving out of the way to let you pay for your own food.

“Yeah, but Dad said it might be a good opportunity to scent, you know? My dad also said he was proud of my brother - I know, I was shocked, too - he said my mum would be proud of him for helping you out, and I swear I heard him sniffle for a second. I called him out on it and he punched me.” That made you laugh, your friend glaring at you as the two of you walked back over to the table where your friends were waiting, and the second twin had stuck to his word, his face appearing in the doorway as he looked around for you, quickly weaving between the tables.

The seat beside you had purposefully been saved empty, and he sunk down into it with a slouch, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he glanced at your meal. “Hungry, sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes at him, pushing a tray of curly fries over to him as you shook your head, snapping the seal on your water bottle and lifting it to your lips, his brows furrowing as he looked at them. “You bought me fries?”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“We already have a deal. You don’t have to butter me up.” He mumbled, but didn’t hesitate in digging into the potato treat, and you followed suit, shaking your head at his words.

“I’m not, I just wanted to buy you some fries.”

He stared at you for a minute, his eyes narrowed on you before his shoulder sagged and his lips flicked up at the corners. “Thank you.” He paused, before leaning in, rubbing his nose along your jaw and running a hand along your back, making sure to be obvious for any onlookers that might see you. He sat quietly as you chatted with your friends, busying himself with his phone, texting and playing games, slipping outside for a while and coming back smelling of fresh smoke and burnt tobacco, before sitting with you for the rest of the lunch break.

Your days rapidly fell into a new routine that involved him, the days turning to weeks and the little things all became easier. Conversations came without effort to the pair of you, and he even made the effort to reach out to some of the others. Around week two, he started to talk and join in with the conversations at lunchtimes, and his number had become one of the most frequented in your texts list. The physical affection had become more natural, and despite how much he scowled about it, he no longer complained when you called him by his real name in public. It came to being after a very snappy “I have known you since we were five, I’m not calling you ‘E’ when your name is Noah!” to which he merely huffed, dropping his shoulders from their defensive position before allowing a small smile to break through.

To almost everyone's surprise, he’d managed to reign in his flirting to a few small comments that were let slip while aimed at you, and as far as you were aware, he hadn't been with anyone else since your agreement had begun. He was showing up to school more, and actually attending his classes, and the stress you had felt had been deeply relieved.

You no longer felt like you were being watched when you walked through the halls, or worried when you walked alone that a particularly brass alpha might make a move. Even when they did, as much as you hated it, Noah would step in at every opportunity he had, leaving you to frown at him and patch him up after he threw the first punch and started a fight, getting himself battered and bruised in your name.

His hand in yours, kisses being pressed to your cheek or forehead, became a staple in your life, and you quickly found yourself missing the touch, seeking it out as soon as you could, in every free moment. His efforts to scent you had become almost instinctual, even when the two of you were alone. You often found yourself with his hands on your shoulders when you sat at the Stilinski dinner table doing your homework with Stiles, or his body pressed up close to yours when he joined you to study.

When your month marker had rolled around, you’d had a hiccup in the fifth week of your agreement, one that had panicked you greatly for the future of your deal. You’d been waiting at your locker today, Stiles bouncing up to you with pure excitement as Noah fidgetted and stood stiff, a moody expression on his face. His hand had found yours and you’d leaned into his side, his body stiff and he didn’t look at you as you did, never returned the attention or made an effort to acknowledge them.

He had walked you to your class, but was still of a bad temper, his response short and gruff, growing in increasing frustration as he merely grunted and gave you one-word answers, and eventually, you had given up. Lunch was almost over when he excused himself from the table, going to swap out his books at his locker and you turned to Stiles, your eyebrows raised. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“He’s in an awful mood! What did you do?” You pressed, and Stiles pouted, sipping at his chocolate milk and frowning at you.

“It wasn’t me! Actually, it sort of was.” Your brows furrowed, and you pinched his arm as you encouraged him to keep speaking, a yelp leaving him as he rubbed at the patch, scowling at you. “I may have let it slip that you hate the smell of his cigarette smoke the other day, and he’s been on the patch since last night.”

Your eyes widened, and Stiles covered himself for the assault he thought to be coming, but your body slumped, eyes wide as you thought about it. Reaching idly for your bag, you swung it up onto your shoulder, abandoning your half-eaten meal as you jogged quickly from the lunch hall. When you found him, he was glaring into his locker, white-knuckled grip on the door making you think it may actually dent.

Placing your hand over his, he jumped in surprise, looking over you once before closing the locker door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be having your lunch?”

“You gave up smoking for me?”

His body went rigid and tense, his lips pursed before he let out something between a sigh and a groan, shaking his head. “Fucking alpha instincts to look after you.” He was irritated by the action, and rubbed at his arm, your eyes closing in on the space as he lifted up his sleeve to show you the white patch stuck to his pale skin, and a smile found its way onto your face.

“You gave up smoking for me.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond, before you were standing up on the tips of your toes and pressing your lips to his cheek, your forehead bumping against his temple and he hummed, his arms wrapping around your middle to hold you as close to him as he could possibly get you. Your face ended up pressed into his neck, your giggle muffled by his skin as he squeezed at you, his hands holding you so you couldn't get away for him.

After that, the weeks rapidly flowed into months, the connection between the two of you only growing. Along the way, the lines between what you were and what you could be had become blurred, the affections you shared had spread to when the two of you were alone, even if you didn’t need to be scented. More and more of your trips to the Stilinski household had been to visit your alpha, as well as your omega best friend, and Stiles was still hanging the time he’d come home from Derek’s to find the two of you curled up together in a nap over your head as blackmail.

His kisses were now placed regularly on your face, his softer side coming out and only showing for you as he peppered you with affections whenever he could. At some point, you had shifted from your usual place between Stiles and the Sheriff on the couch to squeezed onto the lounge chair beside Noah, his arm wrapped around your waist. Stiles had smirked at you each time, until the week that Star Wars had been selected thanks to it being Stiles’ week to choose, and Noah had spent the entire movie mumbling jokes and comments into your ear, which you couldn't help but laugh at. Stiles told you to take the movie seriously, but you just couldn't.

An ever-revolving collection of his hoodies had begun to build up in your bedroom at home, and you regularly found yourself wearing them, just to feel comforted and closer to him. On the rare occasion, he would place a small kiss to your lips. Those times were rare, and the first time you hadn't even realised it had happened until a while later.

You had spent the day helping him write out all his application letters, one by one until they had all been sent off, the darkness having rolled in as the early hours of the morning ticked by, Stiles snoring loudly beside the two of you as he was surrounded by print outs and forms for GWU, the Sheriff walking through the door and staring at the three of you in your hurricane of sleepy yawns and envelopes, papers spread out around you.

He had offered you a lift home, choosing to wait out by the cruiser as you gathered your things and his son walked you to the door. It had been a simple gesture at the time, and neither of you had thought too much about it when his hand had cupped your cheek, his eyes dropping tiredly as he pressed his mouth to yours in a small peck, and you had eagerly returned the action, your body melting into his for only a moment.

At first, it had only happened again when you were alone. When you had been hanging out at his place, the two of you sitting on his bed and watching a movie on his laptop, or when he’d meet you at your lockers between classes when no one else was around. Scott and Allison were the first two to actually see you kiss, you hadn't even realised they were in the area when you had run up to him, waving a letter of invitation to an open day at one of your n his face before wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips meeting his for a split second before you’d caught Allison’s squealing near you.

Isaac had been next, and he was where the truth had really slipped out, because he had spilled the news to Stiles and Lydia, the former of whom had called you as he had dinner with his boyfriend and demanded you tell him whether Isaac was lying or not, and the latter of whom had simply started smirking at you each time it happened. Everyone else finding out had been a slippery slope, the two of you eventually having given up hiding on the occasional times you wanted to kiss the boy protecting you, or when he wanted to kiss you.

Some of the colleges you had helped him apply for had matched your own, and only two months after you had sent off all your applications, the time for open days and stay-overs at your colleges' choices had rolled around. You were nervous, to say the least. You had gone to elementary school, middle school and high school with Stiles, your best friend and your only omega support. The open days had been exciting, the parties thrilling and the people welcoming, and you’d found that even when you were alone, you weren’t looked on as an omega outsider. The fact that you were unmarked seemed to slip by without bother, and it only built up your excitement to go to college, to join the real world and find your place.

Your last college was the one you were looking forward to the most, and you were practically bouncing with joy as you held onto the hand of the alpha Stilinski, both of you having been invited down to this college for the look-around weekend celebration. Stiles had lent you the keys to the jeep, very reluctantly, and you’d driven down together, matching hotel keys tucked into each of your pockets to the room you were sharing, his fingers flexing around yours as he held you tight.

The activities fair was bright and colourful and loud, and you had already gathered a handful of coloured leaflets, most for you and a few for the man beside you, and he simply pressed himself up to you and stood protectively by your side as you socialised and talked to the owners of each booth, letting him place kisses to your temple and the sides of your head as he waited each time.

You had seen almost every stand as you made your way to the end of the rows, your eyes flicking over the last cluster to see if there was anything you were interested in, when you were suddenly jumping in excitement. “That one says ‘omegas’ on it, I want to know what it is!” You left his side, dashing through the crowds quickly and leaving him to follow, his chuckle barely reaching your ears as you disappeared into the swarms of people.

‘Single Omegas & Omega Support Group’

You swiped up a leaflet, flicking through the pages with a wide smile, immediately writing your name down on the ‘interested’ sheet and filling out your details. When you spun around to find your man, he was standing only a few feet behind you, his eyes narrowed on the sign as his hands stuck in his pockets, his once playful expression now twisted and sour, and he didn’t lighten up as you jumped back into his view with a wide grin.

“What’s up with you, grumpy?”

You leaned up to peck his lips, his head turning to the side as your lips met his cheek and you frowned, pulling away and looking at him. “Single omegas support group?”

“No, single omegas and support group.”

“Same thing.” He growled, and you stepped back, your eyes wide as you looked at him and you rose your brows, lifting a hand to rest on his arm but he jerked away from your touch. You couldn't understand his anger, and you swallowed thickly, tucking your collections of brightly coloured pamphlets into your bag, glancing around the two of you as you felt the tension between you build.

“I just figured it would be good for m-”

“Because you’re single?” Your jaw gaped, opening and closing as you tried to find words. You had never put a label on what you were exactly, but it hurt to hear him so quickly jump to that conclusion. In your mind, you were a couple, you had long since passed the time of dancing around your idle affections, choosing to indulge in them together, but apparently, your answer didn’t come fast enough for him as he scoffed, and he stepped away from you. “Right, I see how you feel then. It’s fine, ‘bout time I got my sexual freedom back anyway. Just in time for college.”

With that, he was storming away from you, your eyes watching him go as he slipped into the crowds, not looking back, and you merely shook your head, knowing he’d get over whatever he was hung up on eventually, and you could explain to him why you had actually been interested in the group. Instead, you pulled your itinerary from your pocket, unfolding the piece of paper and checking your schedule, choosing to give him time to cool down as you went about your day and continued with your activities. You figured he’d just catch up with you at some point.

Next up was taking a tour of campus living and sorority houses, and you had loved every second of it. You weren’t overly interested in joining a sorority, but it was nice to meet all the girls there anyway, and it was especially nice to get a real chance to look around the dorms you might be staying in. They were roomy, both the individual, pairs and group ones had a lot of space. Each building had large communal kitchens and dining rooms that were fully decked out, and they weren’t the well-worn and dirty places, but instead clean and stylish, they weren’t destroyed or gross but the sparsely furnished places were somewhere you could actually see yourself living in, and you were sad that the alpha you felt so deeply for wasn’t here with you to look around them.

A sweet girl in a green shirt with the university insignia was standing outside of the building when you left, handing out leaflets and chatting about a welcome party being held at one of the sorority houses, and you took one, smiling politely and stepping aside to check the time on your phone. Your notifications were empty, and you lifted the device to your ear after clicking on his name in your call logs, and it rang for a few beats before being cut off and sent to voicemail, telling you that he was ignoring your calls.

If he wanted to play that game, then fine.

Instead of lingering on the thought, you chose to check the address on the paper, making your way through the large campus and eventually finding where you were supposed to be, music pumping through the air loudly before you’d even finished walking up the front garden of the large house. You had sent him a text a while ago informing that you were going to a party, and where it was, hoping that he would come and meet you. Hours passed by, many drinks being consumed and many conversations being had but you never caught onto his familiar face. The lingering sadness of your argument faded away as you found yourself slightly tipsy, giggling with two omega girls you had found, before piling yourself into a taxi and slurring the address of your hotel to the driver.

The drive was short, or perhaps that was just what your drunken mind had left you believe, but you were soon leaning against the walls of the elevator and watching excitedly as the floors clicked up to your level, joy buzzing through you at the thought of crawling into the large double bed with the man you cared so deeply for, and putting this stupid disagreement behind you.

Your card swiped across the reader beside the frame, the door clicking open for you and the dopey smile soon fell from your face as you took in the sight before you. Naked, hot and sweaty was your alpha, buried deep within another woman, her legs wrapped tightly around her waist and his lips locked on hers as he pounded into her. The door slammed against the wall as you lost your grip on it while stumbling, and his eyes widened as he saw you there, but you were soon enough just backing out of the room, far too tipsy and tired to actually deal with what you were seeing.

So, that’s where your ‘relationship’ stood with him.

The door slammed shut behind you as tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, not bothering to look back as you made your way back down to the lobby to request a second room for yourself. The morning brought a hangover and regret, sadness welling within you and the bed you were sleeping in alone felt cold and unwelcoming, when you should have been in the arms of the boy you had come with, but he’d been fucking another girl in your shared bed.

Eventually, you had dragged yourself from between the sheets, working yourself up to going to the original room to collect your things, and you thanked whatever higher power there was that he was still passed out in the sheets with his latest whore when you arrived, leaving you free to gather your belongings and sneak back to your new room in peace.

A hot shower had barely cleared your thoughts, and your eyes still stung from tears, but at least you were fresh-faced and ready for breakfast. You ate alone, in silence, choosing to text him and tell him in the simplest terms you could muster that you would meet him at the car at eleven for the journey home. Halfway through your food, Stiles had texted you, asking how it went, and you felt nauseated, abandoning your food in favour of calling him, breaking down in tears the second you heard your best friend’s voice over the phone as you spilt everything that had happened to him.

At ten forty-five, you returned to your room, gathering your suitcase and returning the keycard to the desk, thanking the attendee and making your way out to the car. The source of your emotional turmoil was already sitting in the vehicle, radio turned on with low volume as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel, and he made no effort to get out and help you when you loaded your bags into the back. He didn’t greet you when you climbed into the passenger seat, he didn’t even look at you, his jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road and turned the key in the ignition, silence filling the car.

His neck and jaw were littered with dark purple hickies, his hair still messy and he was wearing the same clothes he had been yesterday, the smell of cheap perfume still clinging to him, and you turned away, your body facing the window as your head rested on the door, and you chose to put your earphones in and crank up the music to drown out your feelings, not a single word being spoken between the two of you on the drive home.

Barely two weeks had passed since you had spoken to him, and your heart was aching for him, your body screaming at you to return to your alpha, but he was avoiding you at all costs. He was missing school again, getting plenty of detentions when he did show up, and the smell of him was wearing away.

It was clear that he was no longer your alpha, and others were beginning to approach you again, the freedom and security you had found when you were by his side was slipping away as you once again became timid and scared, nervous about the people surrounding you. Stiles was struggling to keep an eye on you more than ever as graduation closed in and more and more alphas began to desperately proposition you before you went to college, wanting to claim you and make you theirs, their natural instinct being to do so.

He was elated when his letter from GWU had arrived, and you had a small bundle of letters to open, including one to the college that you so desperately dreamed of attending, and he was busily setting up two glasses on the coffee table, takeout menus ready and a stack of movies loaded up for the two of you as he buzzed around, awaiting your arrival.

“What are you moving about so quickly for?”

“I forgot to set up!” Stiles snapped, glancing up at his brother who was dawdling on the stairs, and one lone eyebrow raised as the other stayed solitary.

“Date with Derek?”

“No, (Y/N) is coming over.” He stiffened at that, his glare fixed on his hyperactive brother as he scoffed, and Stiles looked up at him hands on his hips as he paused, an angry expression on his usually joyful face, and he tutted. “I’m not going to stop hanging out with my best friend in my home, just because you fucked up and fucked someone else.”

“Can’t fuck up something that never was!” He retorted, walking the rest of the way down the stairs and taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl Stiles had set out, and the former twin huffed, hands twitching by his side.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Noah.”

“No, I’m not, Mieczysław.” Stiles scowled at the use of his real name, watching his brother retreat back to the stairs, and though he knew it wasn’t his place to step in, he couldn't help but open his mouth, the words pouring out before he could stop them.

“She didn’t like the group because she thinks of herself as single.” His brother paused his ascent of the stairs when he was only two from the stop, and Stiles stood at the base of the stairwell, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m the only omega she’s known for her entire life, and when I went to GWU to check it out, I met this guy from an omega support group who was really nice, and it was an easy way to meet other omegas. She didn’t want advice on being single, she just wanted a chance to meet other omegas. I encouraged her to look for one of those groups too, because she’s going to need new omega friends when I can’t be with her, and you didn’t even give her a chance to explain that before you were hopping into the sheets with someone else.”

The news hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt as though he’d been winded, his body twisting to sit on the tops step as he looked at Stiles, not getting a chance to say anything when the door was suddenly being knocked upon, loud and frantic and Stiles disappeared from his sights to open the door.

“Hey, you made it a-” He paused, the door quickly slamming shut and he leaned down, peaking between the bannisters of the railing to see you clinging onto Stiles, his brother holding a hand to the back of your head as the other wound around your waist. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

When you pulled back you were shaking, and you didn’t notice the other twin lurking at the top of the stairs, too busy blinking back the tears that lined your eyes as you let out a nervous and relieved laugh.

“You smell like cheap beer, weed, and random alphas?” His nose scrunched up as he held you at arm’s length, and the hidden twin could smell it all the way from the top of the stairs, rage twisting in his gut as the word ‘mine’ played on a loop within his mind, unable to stop it from happening as biology took over.

“I was walking over and there was this group of alpha guys, they were sort of drunk and some of them were smoking pot and they just got a little confident, because my scent has been coming back stronger. They made a bunch of comments and came over to me, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so I ran the rest of the way here.” Your words were spoken through deep breaths as you tried to calm both your nerves and your racing heart, and both twins frowned, one filled with concern while the other filled with guilt.

“I should have come and collected you, instead of letting you walk.”

“Hey, what can you do? That’s just the life of an unmarked omega, right?” You joked about it, brushing off the incident as though it was nothing and it only made him feel worse, because he had abandoned you over his own impatience, jumping to conclusions and leaving you to fend for yourself. He watched as Stiles guided you to the living room, letting you put down your belongings as he spoke to you about getting a bath, and you never even noticed when Noah slipped from the house, boiling with rage and practically seething as he walked along, but Stiles did.

Your best friend ran you a bath, making sure to tip far too much scented bubble mix into it to ensure the smell would leave your skin, and he’d left a small pile of clothes out for you on the counter for when you finished as he threw yours into the wash to get them clean for you once again. You were feeling better, you felt fresh and rejuvenated and pure joy was flooding through your veins as the two of you poured over takeout menu options as Indiana Jones played in the background on the tv screen, the door opening and slamming closed shocking you so much you almost fell from the couch.

“You’re wearing my sweater.” You pinche the fabric between your fingers, having grown so accustomed to borrowing clothes from either of the Stilinski boys that you had lost track of which item of clothing belonged to whom, and your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a second, widening as you took in his bloodied knuckles, grazed cheek and a bruised jaw.

“My clothes will be done soon. I’ll give it back in a minute. I didn’t know.” Your voice was scratchy and full of emotion as you spoke, your gaze leaving him when he could only muster a nod in response, before he was taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing upstairs. Your jaw dropped as you turned or his brother, a smirk on his face and you slapped him on the arm for giving you the wrong hoodie, but your eyebrow raised too. “What happened to him?”

“Well, I think - I think - he got in a fight.”

Your face dropped at his sarcasm, and you scowled at him, flicking him on the tip of his adorably sweet nose and his face scrunched up at the action, his tongue flicking out to prod at the tingling tip of his nose, his eyes crossing as he pulled a face at you and the action prompted a giggle from you, but you whined at him as you encouraged him to tell you what happened.

“Fine! Fine. If I’m taking a wild guess here, I’d say that he wasn’t too happy about the fact that you got borderline assaulted by some random alphas on your way over here, and so he headed out and got himself in yet another punch up for your honour.” Stiles paused, glancing at you carefully, before continuing on; “He’s miserable without you, he misses you.”

“Oh.”

Silence sat between the two of you, and you picked at your nails, choosing to snuggle into the couch and watch the movie, ignoring Stiles’ burning gaze on the side of your head, before he snapped, pausing the movie and groaning loudly when five minutes of silence, bar the tv noise, had passed by and you still hadn't budged. “Oh, my God. This is killing me, please just go and talk to him?”

You looked over at him, your jaw hung slack and he fixed you with a stern glare, both of you knowing you wanted to, and eventually you were heaving yourself up from the couch, climbing the stairs slowly as you made your way to the bathroom. He was rifling through a first aid kit when you approached, and you clicked the door shut behind you, leaning back against it, and he swallowed thickly when he glanced up and saw you, pausing his search through the small medkit as he cleared his throat.

“Hey.”

He winced at the sound of his own voice, and you simply nodded, moving toward him and plucking items for the box, well experienced in patching him up after fights by now, and he simply allowed you, choosing to lean back on the counter until he was the same height as you.

“What are you and Stiles doing?”

When he eventually spoke again, you were in the middle of dabbing a fresh ball of disinfectant soaked cotton along his grazed cheek and cleaning it up, your movements pausing, and you dropped your hand to look at him. “We were opening college letters together. He got his from GWU and I got my top choice, y’know, the college we went to look at together.” He frowned at your words, but licked over his lips, nodding and putting on a fake smile as you went back to work.

“And how did it go?”

“We both got in.” You got caught up in your thoughts as you discarded the cotton wool ball, squeezing bruise cream out onto your fingers and holding his face, tilting it to the side so you could smooth the paste across the skin and rub it in gently. “It’s great, actually, it means I’m only a two-hour drive from Stiles, so I won’t be quiet as alone as I would have been at any others, y’know? He’s there if I need someone.”

“You never would have been alone.” His words were whispered, and you paused, silence falling over the two of you as you rubbed healing gel onto the cuts and scrapes on his skin, and you packed away the kit, putting it back in the cupboard once the box was sealed shut and the anticipation was killing him, his mind spinning as he tried to find words to get you to talk to him, to talk about what happened, anything. “You didn’t tell me why you wanted those leaflets.”

Your eyes narrowed on him as his eyes widened, your eyebrows pulled together as your jaw ticked in anger. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, well, you didn’t come back to the room for hours an-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you slept with someone else in our bed? I’m so sorry you were forced to have sex with the hottest whore you could find because I was trying to give you space after you stormed off and ignored my calls and texts.” You were growling at him, his alpha instincts kicking up in both rage and lust at your feisty attitude, and yet he hated the way it was making him feel, because he was further fucking up what he had already fucked up, just because he couldn't find the right words to say. “You couldn’t even wait one night during an argument before needing to get your dick wet again?”

“I thought we were breaking up, or breaking off whatever we were..”

“Couples don't just break up after one fight! No relationship would ever last if they did!” His breath felt punched from his lungs as he stared at you, eyes wide as you huffed, cheeks flushed from your shouting and you ran a hand through your hair, because you had confirmed it for him, and he couldn’t help the smile that was forming on his face.

“We’re a real couple?”

“Well, I thought we were, but then I came back to find you in bed with another chick, so..” You prodded at his chest, and he couldn't find it within himself to be angry because his hands were finding your hips and he was pulling you closer to him, even if your hands did flatten against his chest in a very weak and rapidly abandoned effort to push him away. Your arms ended up crushed between the two of you as he pulled you in close, raising a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your own.

“I want that for us. I want that to be us. I want us to be a real couple.”

You sighed, your anger slipping away as you looked up at him, shaking your head fondly, the word ‘dumbass’ slipping out under your breath, as you leaned in, resting your forehead on his shoulder and laughing under your breath. A muffled voice came through the door, smug even through his warm tone, as he told you he was going to go over to Derek’s for a few hours, and congratulating you for working it out.

Once the front door clicked shut, the sound of the jeep starting up, his fingers found yours, lacing your fingers together, he pulled you from the bathroom, guiding you along the familiar route to his bedroom. Kicking the door shut behind him, he picked up a torn open envelope from the desk and waved it at you, your eyes taking in the logo, flicking back up to him, filled with hope. “I got in, too.”

You jumped into his arms, his arms wrapping around your waist as you squealed, his arms wrapping around your waist as he laughed into your ear, spinning you in a circle before placing you back on the ground, ideas and thoughts already spilling from your mouth. You still had all the brochures for clubs you’d thought he might like, and you were waving excitedly as you told him all about the tours he’d missed, that there were joint dorm rooms, and how maybe the two of you could get one together.

Slipping a hand into your hair and one on your hip, he silenced you, his mouth closed over yours mid-sentence and cutting you off as he pressed a loving and passionate kiss toy our lips, his finger straightening in your hair and on your hip when your lips pressed back to his with just as much vigour. Your arms wrapped around his neck, stabilising you as the depth of the kiss made your legs shake, his tongue tracing the seam of your own and you happily parted them for you, his head tipping to the side to allow himself deeper access to your mouth.

“You’ve never kissed me like that before.” Your words were spoken breathlessly, your eyes still closed, his too, his lips barely brushing against yours as he took a deep breath, and he hummed lowly, the sound rumbling from his chest as he squeezed at your hips. He licked over his lower lip, catching against yours too, and you chased his lips a little, a chuckle on his lips as he gave you a sweet but short kiss, indulging you just enough to gain a little sigh from your lips as you rocked back from standing on your tiptoes to on the flats of your feet. “Why have you never kissed me like that before?”

“It’s not for a lack of wanting to.” He teased, and your hands slipped down from his shoulders to grip at his waist, tugging needily on the edge of his shirt to pull him closer to you, a needy whine on your lips as he indulged you, pressing the front of his body up to yours. “People who are faking it don’t kiss like that.”

“I really wouldn’t have complained.”

“Good to know.” He smirked, dipping back down to once again kiss you, his tongue slipping straight between your lips to toy with your own, your body going pliant in his hold as the slow kiss took your breath away. Your feet were moving beneath you in stumbling steps, until the backs of your legs met the silky fabric of his bedsheets, and you tore your lips away from his, taking a deep breath as you did, lips wet and slightly swollen as you looked between him and the mattress. You’d been on his bed before, laying across it with books and laptops spread out around the two of you. You’d been in his bed before, his arm looped around your waist and your back pressed up to his front as you took a peaceful nap, and yet this context was entirely different.

His hands slipped to your jaw, guiding your face back to his, and his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks as dark eyes stared into yours lovingly. “Tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours.”

You licked your lips, looking down and nodding as you tried to clear your thoughts, your hands tugging the ends of his t-shirt and lifting it up, your hands slipping under the thin fabric to brush over his skin, his muscles tensing under your touch, rippling as your trailed your fingertips from his sides to the happy trail covering the loosely defined abs under his shirt. “First of all, I really want you to take your shirt off.”

He grinned cheekily, his head tipping to the side and he let you push the material up his sides, before he was reaching behind his neck and peeling the top from his body, dropping it to the floor and letting you smooth your hands over the hard planes of his chest. He flexed the muscles under your touch, your lips clamped between your teeth, and his hands found the edges of the jumper that belonged to him, hanging around your mid-thighs and he tugged it up to your waist, catching your eye as he looked for confirmation from you. Lifting your arms up above your head, he dragged the material away from your body, a growl sounding from him as your body lay bare beneath the fabric, his eyes darkening and he skimmed his hands over your sides, a short pant leaving him as he watched your nipples pearl in the cold air, standing taut for him and just begging to be licked at. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“What I want.. like, really want, is to not go to college as an unmarked omega.”

A sound you had never heard him make before rumbled from him, the vibrations of it practically carrying in the air as the deep sound shot straight to your core and your whole body shivered as his face flicked with a range of emotions. It was borderline pornographic; the possessive, aroused and purely desperate noise he had made and your knees buckled under you in submission, his arm catching you around your waist and pulling you in close to him as he used his other hand to tilt your head to the side, allowing him to nip and bite along the flesh of your jaw.

Licking a wet stripe along the skin at the base of your neck, goosebumps coated your skin at the feeling and he took a deep breath, holding your gaze on his once he pulled back. Placing a sloppy and frantic kiss to your lips, he pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you quickly and caging you in on the mattress, the tip of his nose bumping yours. “You’re my omega.”

Everything possessive in him made everything instinctual in you needy, your hips rolling up into his, your breath punched from your lungs and he met your rolls thrust for thrust, his cock hardening in his jeans, a hand on one of your thighs, lifting your leg up so he could slot himself between your legs. “Going to mark you up, make you mine so everyone knows. My pretty little omega, all mine.”

“All yours, alpha. Make me yours.”

Some kind of cross between a whimper and a groan from him was muffled by his lips on yours, and he trailed his kisses along your jaw, sucking and lapping at your skin as he went, ensuring that he was leaving hickies dotted along your flesh as he went, taking his time and holding you softly. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, your back arched up into his mouth, the rough pad of his tongue swirling over it, pleasure jolting through your body at the stimulation, one hand coming up to lace into his hair, tugging a handful into a fist.

Giving the other the same stimulation, his fingers danced over your ribs and sides as he moved down to slip his fingers under the elastic of the large sweatpants on your hips, wet kisses moving along your navel before he paused, blowing cool air streams over the shining trails left on your skin.

“You’re not wearing any panties are you?” He grumbled deep in his throat when you shook your head. “I can fucking smell you, baby, I bet you’re just dripping for me.” Placing a light at the outside of your thighs, your hips lifted for him, feet planted flat on the mattress as he peeled the fabric away, dropping them to the carpet to join your top and his already there. With a hand on each knee, he parted your thigh, inhaling deeply and kissing at the inside of each thigh, fingers massaging your flesh as he worked his way up to your dripping core. “You want my mouth, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Anything for you.” With that, he dragged the tip of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sealing his lips around the bud and sucking harshly, a squeal leaving you as your back arched. He repeated the action, twice, before he was settling more comfortable on the bed, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs to hold you still as he lapped at the delectable taste of your juices sliding from you.

He was taking his time, teasing your entrance and occasionally dipping his tongue into you, his teeth scraping over your clit and your toes curled as he slurped and sucked, your walls squeezing around him as his fingers dug into your skin. Slipping one hand up, he pushed the pad of his tongue down on your clit, rubbing slow and delicate circles into the bud and you tugged at his hair, moans spilling from your lips as the languid stroked of his tongue sparked a fire to start curling on your stomach, a climax slowly beginning to build as your muscles began to tighten.

With a particularly harsh suck, your toes curled, a whimper leaving you, your hips rolling into his face and he picked up his speed and force, your thighs clamping around his head, his hair tickling against the skin and you could feel his sharp jaw moving quickly, before he pried your legs back open as far as he could get them, growling into your pussy as the vibrations shot along your nerves.

Raising one of your own hands to paw at your tits, you tugged on your nipples, groping at the mounds as you dragged yourself into a climax, your back leaving the bed as you rolled your hips into his face, his name leaving your lips in a mantra, body shaking and tensed as your eyes squeezed shut. He continued his ministrations, dragging your orgasm out for as long as he could, until he was pulling back with shiny marks on his chin and a filthy smirk, wiping his chin on the back of his hand before leaning over you and planting a hot and open-mouthed kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself briefly on his tongue.

“You taste fucking delicious.” He whispered the words to you, bumping your noses together and running his hands gently over your body, your own finger catching around his wrists to still his movements and he looked at you curiously, a brow raised. Leaning up, you caught his lips with your own, nibbling on his lower one and he growled, pulling back to give you a mock glare as he took your hands, pinning them to the bed above your head and chasing your mouth, your lips meeting in a rough collision. “Such a pretty girl for me, all flushed and fucked out.”

“I’m not fucked out yet, you’re taking too long.” You retorted, and he huffed, pinching at your side as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, wrapping with your own as they visible played between your quick and needy kisses, your body already building back up as he slipped a hand up to swipe at your core, chuckling at the wetness that was already building.

“I’m trying to be a good alpha and look after my beautiful omega.”

“Well, could you look after your omega by fucking me senseless until I’m screaming?” His jaw dropped, a loud and unashamed moan leaving him at your words, his eyes only getting darker as he gaped at you. Lifting a hand from where it supported him above you, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tugging down your lower lip from a second as he licked at his own and thought about his actions.

“Since when did you have such a filthy fucking mouth on you, sweetheart?” You grinned, shifting just enough to suck the digit between your lips, a breathy sigh leaving him as you swirled your tongue around the pad, sucking lightly and grazing his finger with your teeth, winking at him and his eyes glazed over and went half-lidded as your actions. “I thought you were cute and innocent, huh?”

“I could be dirty just for you.”

“You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.” He mumbled, and you raised a brow, taking one of your hands from the spot he pinned them too and dragging your nails across his torso lightly, before cupping at the prominent bulge in his jeans and squeezing tightly, his hips bucking down onto your palm.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You teased, and he grinned, kissing you quickly before rocking back to kneel between your legs, popping the button on his jeans and tearing the zipper down.

“Tell me how you want it, baby. Tell me what you want from your alpha.” Standing up, he dropped the denim, palming at himself through the black cotton of his boxer-briefs and kicking the restraining material from around his ankles.

“I want it hard, and rough. I want you to fuck me so good that I’m seeing stars, and so I know nobody will ever be as good as you. I want you to mark me, make me yours.” He bit on his lower lip, dropping his boxers and stroking at his length, wandering across the room to snatch a condom from the top drawer of his desk. Tearing the top of the packet open with his teeth, he rolled the rubber along his impressive shaft, his cock bouncing in its stiff position as he made his way over to you.

“Nobody will ever get to know, because you’re all mine, for the rest of your life. You’re mine, baby, my omega.” Rolling his body back over yours, your arms looped around his neck, a quick peck being pressed to your lips before he lined himself up, sinking into you quickly and his jaw dropped as your wet warmth encased him, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“I think that’s just the fact that you have a massive cock.”

His arms shook at your words, a loud laugh leaving him and he fixed you with a loving look as he settled still, the environment around you being somewhere between playful and intense, hot and still relaxed, and you’d never felt more loved. Pulling his mouth down to yours, you kissed him deeply, your walls fluttering around him as you conveyed everything you felt, a sweet noise of approval sounding on his mouth. He returned the gesture enthusiastically, before easing his hips out of you, his mouth open against yours as he gasped at the feeling of your walls trying to pull him back in.

Leaning away, he smirked at you, pushing a hand up over your body as he pressed you back into the mattress, his fingers sealing around your throat just tight enough to excite you, flexing against the column of your throat, the edges of your lips tipping up in a grin, flashing your teeth to him as he rocked his hips back into yours, joint moans leaving the two of you. The pace picked up rapidly, the fingers of his other hand clenching in the sheets as he rammed his cock into you, the breath forced from your lungs with each slam he made into you.

Your walls squeezed around him, cursed hissed out between his teeth as his jaw clenched, a whimper falling from you as you watched the man above you pound you into oblivion. His eyes were locked on yours, a thin sheen of sweat on your skin as your name fell from his lips on repeat, your back arching up and chest rubbing against his as he fucked you.

Hiking a leg up higher onto his waist, he sunk into you further, quickly dropping himself down from his palm to his forearm, his nose bumping against yours, hot breath from his pants washing over your skin and you dipped your tongue from your mouth, licking at his lips teasing and he growled, his mouth slanting over yours as he slowed his pace.

Scooping you up under your shoulder blades, he pulled you back, until he was sitting back on his heels and you were perched in his lap, his pulsing cock buried within you deeper than ever as you sat on his thighs and your hands tightening in his hair, pulling on fistfuls. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your chests pressed together tightly as slick skin slid against slick skin, and his hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold as he bounced you on his cock, your eyes rolling back. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Tight and wet for me.”

Once the pace was set, your legs tightened around him, and you did your best to meet his movements, one of his hands slipping down to palm at your ass, short nails scraping over your skin. Pulling his hand back, he slapped down on your skin roughly, your hips jumping into his and you whimpered, pushing his palm smoothing over the stinging flesh and you pushed back into his hand, a breathless chuckle released against your mouth as he groped at the flesh, repeating the action as your skin burned and flushed red, the sweet sound of his name in a cry leaving you, and he moved across, kissing down your jaw.

Tipping your head back, your hair fell away from your shoulder as you exposed your neck to him, your stomach twisting when he licked over the slightly sweaty patch, scraping his teeth over the place he would mark you. The high inside of you was building, your hips rocking down into his as he assisted you. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

He swallowed thickly, slamming you down onto his cock and holding you there tightly as he bit down onto your skin, your body flashing with heat and pure bliss as you exploded around him, shaking in his arms as you came, your eyes rolling back in your head and the dull and throbbing pain of the bite mark he gave you was overruled by the feeling of pure love coursing through your body. He dropped your bed back to the mattress, an animalistic sound leaving him as he hiked your leg up onto his shoulder, loud shots and grunts spilling from him as he fucked himself into you so quickly that your eyes were rolling back and you were seeing stars.

Licking the pads of two fingers, he dropped them to your swollen clit and rubbed harshly, screams tearing from your lips as you trembled in his hold, your eyes rolled back as you came from a second time, your core flooding his cock with arousal, ecstasy flooding your veins and walls clamping around him. His body dropped down onto yours as he came, thrusting weakly into you to prolong your peaks as much as he could, your body quivering under him as you caught your breath.

Your arms wrapped around him tightly, holding his body to you despite the fact that his weight was crushing you and he made a happy sound, nuzzling into your neck and kissing over the mark on your neck, a deep sigh being let out before he pulled out of you, a groan on his lips as he got up from the bed, tying the condom off and dropping it into the bin before grabbing a handful of tissues, kneeling beside you as he wiped the stray blood from the bite mark on your shoulder.

He trailed a finger around it, a smile on his lips as he looked at you. “You have my mark.”

“Yeah, I do.” He chuckled at your words, and tipped your neck to the side so he could admire his work, and you shuffled backwards up the bed, his body following you, your head finding the pillow as you snuggled into the plush cushions happily.

“You’re perfect, absolutely perfect.” Dropping down beside you, his fingers brushed through your hair, smoothing it away behind your ears and you grinned at him, letting him adjust you carefully as he tucked the covers around you, a giggle on your lips as he fussed over you. “What are you laughing at?”

“You’re in alpha-overdrive.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, scowling at the smile on your lips as you let him fuss over you. “I’ve been suppressing my urge to go ‘alpha-overdrive’ on you for fucking months.” He settled himself under the covers beside you, his arms wrapped tightly around you, a yawn on your lips as you nuzzled into his body.

“I wasn’t complaining, I like it.”

“Good, because I’m going to be looking after you for the rest of our goddamn lives, little omega. I’ll be the best alpha the world has ever fucking seen.” He kissed at your cheek, arm tightening around you more as the two of you laid back, bodies aching and tired but thoroughly satisfied. “So, why don’t you tell me all about those college dorms, hm?”

“You’re going to absolutely love them.”

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series.

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes!

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels.

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying.

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts.

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story.

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations.

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes.

Why Midnight Mass is Mike Flanagan’s Most Personal Work

By Alec Bojalad

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

By Louisa Mellor

Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style.

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible.

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. ��Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3CPaitL

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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jzmn8r · 4 years ago

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Do you want to hear about how Joseph (the sorta step father of Jesus) was a himbo? I don’t really care about your opinion, this is what I’m doing with my Catholic school education here you go:

We all are at least aware of a man named Joseph. He’s pretty much everywhere during Christmas time, in nativity scenes, in paintings, and even in plays. He is known as the (not biological) father of Jesus. (kinda like a step-dad in some weird holy way) Anyways, this man is a himbo. You may be asking yourself right now, what is a himbo? Well a himbo according to Yeehaw42069 on Urban Dictionary, a himbo is “a man who generally is stupid, but tries hard to be a respectful man. Like Fred from Scooby Doo.” But a himbo can also be muscular (this will come into play) This will raise the question of how the hell is Joseph a himbo? He is a biblical figure and the term himbo wasn’t around until the 1980s? That first question I can answer, the second is irrelevant and I just put it in so that the word count can be longer.

Joseph fits the criteria (according to yehaw42069) Let’s start with the “generally stupid” bit. In the first chapter of Matthew about verse 20 something (don’t really feel like looking up actual biblical verses) Mary is found out to be pregnant. (supposedly by the Holy Spirit) Joseph is betrothed to her at this point in time but they were not living together. (at this time in history the term betrothed meant more like our term marriage, rather than like a fiancé(e) or something) Joseph was confused about the whole ordeal, but then an angel came to him in a dream and told him it was true and that he would have a son, name him Jesus, he would save people, all that good stuff. Even though Joseph had a literal prophetic dream about this where an angel, God’s messenger, told him it was true, he still didn’t believe it. That is a trait of the stupid.

Joseph also drinks his respect women juice. He tries his best to be respectful. Also stated in the first chapter of Matthew, it was stated that Joseph wanted to divorce Mary quietly because she committed adultery (essentially not being faithful to your partner in this situation) and he did not want a wife who wasn’t faithful to him. I mean I get it so you can’t blame the guy. This is an important piece of information when I say that he wanted it quiet. Back in the day, (god I sound like an old white man) if you committed adultery, the sentence (if you were caught ofc) would be death by stoning. Now Joseph didn’t want Mary stoned (respecting women) so he wanted to divorce her quietly so that she could live a normal life. Back to that dream he had, he was also instructed to stay with Mary and take her into his home. He did so, again respecting women, and eventually Jesus was born on that somehow “silent” night.

Joseph also fits the strong part of the criteria. He was canonically a carpenter. And being a carpenter, especially without the use of modern tools, means that you have to have quite a bit of muscle. Joseph was also a man back in Ancient Judea so he would’ve done things like care for animals if they had any, carpentry (his canon job), farming if there was any to be done, etc. All jobs listed are hard labor jobs, which doing so makes you strong. So, this man must’ve been strong as hell.

Overall, Joseph fits the criteria for the himbo, strong, dumb, and respects women, therefore he is a himbo.

#Joseph was a himbo #I’m right and I should say it #Bible Joseph #Himbo #jasmine writes essays

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kittensjonsa · 5 years ago

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Trophy Wife

Another day, another detective-lawyer tag team duo Jonsa AU nobody asked for lol. Has this been done before? No idea but for some reason, this was dying to get out of my system, so I just had to -so please bear with it. Or not, up to you (trigger warning below).

Summary: Sansa needs help in bringing down one of the worst criminals of the century - and save her abducted best friend. Jon, a shy elusive private investigator offers a helping hand. Sparks fly when things heat up, while going undercover. *winks*

Rated NC-17 to E for language and content. Major trigger warning for abuse (various). I am neither a lawyer nor a PI so forgive me if I get some of the terms wrong. Part One of (maybe, let’s see) Three. Enjoy! x

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Part One

Eviction. Jon hated that word. He hated hearing it, hated being threatened by it and now there it was, written all over his door on a notice in red capital letters. Fuck you too, he thought as he tore off the paper. I'll say when I'll go. This was not a time for moving houses or looking for a new place. He was busy, there were things to do and places to hide in. If only they could spare him a couple more months, that was all he needed, if the rent he owed was correct in his head. Jon had lived in his car once and he couldn't live through that again.

Besides, he was on a roll. At least, he'd like to think so. Clients were coming in and he had more jobs that he did a year ago. Of course, that was largely due to his success in uncovering the biggest scandal in all of Westeros - involving the Lannisters and a certain pair of twins who had relations with one another, in a biblical sense, or so it seemed. It did not help one bit when the Lannisters were also the family everyone loved to hate, and Jon probably did the country a huge favour when the news went public. Within days, it was reported that any Lannisters who planned to run for government office were rejected, shunned and ridiculed. So much so, that they went into hiding. Good riddance.

You reap what you sow. They had it coming, Jon told himself. And truthfully, he relished every second of it, bringing down the notorious family - such a satisfying accomplishment it was. It was just ironic that a member of the Lannister family had hired him, turning the evidence into a weapon and declaring war against the Lannister legacy. So much for a happy family.

The pay check from the Lannister job was substantial enough and managed to pay his debts that he owed but when it came to maintaining the business, the cash quickly ran out. Furthermore, it did not help that his clients would only pay once they had received proof that their suspicions were right all along, which took some time. Jon hadn't even counted his gas money and meals during stake outs or the electricity bills that soared after spending late nights playing and watching video tapes over and over. Surveillance was a costly, slow and painstaking process but essential, in getting the dough and the job done.

Maybe I'm too nice. Jon wished he had stipulated a clause in his contract that required a deposit before he accepted any assignments. But frail crying wives desperate to get out of loveless marriages were not people he wanted to take advantage of and a lawyer, he was not. If he had a therapist licence, perhaps it would be more useful in bringing in the bucks. Still, through word of mouth, steadily the business grew - apparently, spying on people was a lucrative outfit. Jon couldn't recall earning this much when he worked at his former security firm at Castle Black.

“So, you'll do it?” the gentleman asked, sliding an envelope towards him. Jon opened it and took a peek, in it had a flash drive and a rolled up wad of cash, which looked like a few thousands.

“I would. But you must know that I work best alone,” Jon agreed.

“Oh no. Not for this one. It will be difficult to crack this one without a partner.”

Smart ass. Trying to tell me how to do my job. The cash looks good though. It'll help tide over a couple of things.

“All right. So I need a partner. You have to give me some time to look for one. And that's going to cost you, you know that right?”

The gentleman smiled and drummed his fingers on the dining table. “Oh, I know that. But what if I already have a partner for you? She's ready to work on this with you.”

“She? Whoa.. back up for a second. I didn't say I needed female partner. Besides, this isn't a job for a lady, if what you told me is true.”

“Trust me, she's on board with this a hundred percent. I trust her to do the job, above and beyond.”

Jon was still reluctant. The quick and easy cash advance had come with its own conditions. “Okay. Does she have a name? I'd have to do background checks, you know and all of that, for safety reasons.”

“Of course. All you need on her is on the flash drive in there,” he pointed to the envelope Jon was resting his hands on. “Besides, she's my niece.”

“Your what? And you're okay with her getting involved?”

He nodded and turned his attention back to his newly refilled coffee. Jon couldn't believe his ears. What kind of uncle are you?

“She feels as strongly about this than just about anyone. Maybe more. And she volunteered. I suppose she has her reasons. How can I say no that?”

“Yeah... but we're investigating an alleged sex ring. Are we not? Seems a little inappropriate, don't you think?” Jon whispered as he leaned in, wondering what kind of shenanigans people are up to these days.

Jon watched as he put down his mug and adjusted the glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He didn't strike Jon as a sleazeball, the kind who would sell and pimp anything or anyone to make a buck. He was mysterious yet friendly, sophisticated yet ruggedly worn, as if he had seen enough ills in his lifetime.

“A human trafficking ring, to be exact. We've been trying to go after them for years but they get away with it every time. You know why? Because all evidence pointing to them were ruled inadmissible. Come on, you've read about it in the papers, on the news. Day in, day out we built the case and every time we find something worthwhile, another detail or another statement comes up and render the leads useless.”

It was true. It was all over the media - the Boltons and the Freys accused of allegedly running an illegal sex trade. But to Jon, it seemed that there was all there was to it. People wanting to have a bit of fun at a party isn’t that new or illegal, he thought, even though he depised the Boltons and the Freys as much as the next decent guy on the street. Unless of course, if the ring was made up of abducted girls or worse, minors. That would truly be despicable and one that warranted medieval torture and capital punishment. This is going to be quite the undertaking, Jon suddenly realised.

“Have you considered going to the police... or your client going to the police for help? Instead of a private investigator.”

Jon waited for an answer as both their eyes met, one was smiling and the other was not.

“You don't think the police isn't involved in this? Not investigating, no that. We have reason to believe that members of the police are themselves the perpetrators. I'm talking high ranking officials, son. So, you see why we have to.. approach this in another way.”

“Okay, I see your point. All right then. I'll need to meet this niece of yours, so I can clue her in on how to go about this. Though, I'm not sure how it'll work.”

“I am sure you'll try your best. Believe me, Jon, if we win this case, it'll be the biggest one yet. It's something greater than all of us. It's for the greater good. I can't quite discuss names or details than what I've just told you or who my client is but the money? There's more where that came from. Here's my card, should you need anything.”

Jon looked at the name card. “ Well, you sold me there. We'll be in touch, Mr Stark.”

“Likewise, Jon. Oh, and call me Ben. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Jon watched as Benjen Stark left the diner and into his Mercedes, as he contemplated his next step. This was a big job, and Benjen was right, he probably could not handle it alone. Still, Jon was curious and intrigued, wondering whom his partner was.

Jon jolted up from his bed when the doorbell rang. It was only eight in the morning and Jon did not recall ordering anything that required an early morning delivery. Ugh, what..

Jon stumbled out of bed, clad only in yesterday's jeans and stepping on notes scattered everywhere in his room. His living room wasn't spared either, with boxes of carefully labelled tapes stacked haphazardly in every corner.

“Jon Snow? Hi, I'm Sansa Stark. My uncle.. he spoke with you yesterday..”

Jon rubbed his eyes and squinted at the blurry figure in front of him. His eyes were stubbornly still asleep. Slowly but gradually, in the few minutes that it took for Jon to recover from his sleep-ridden stupor, his vision came round and found himself gazing at a tall redhead standing before him. Whoa.. okay.

“Bad time? I can come back later,” she said, sheepish at the sight of a sleepy half naked man yawning at her.

“No.. wait. You're the niece? Of Benjen?” Jon said, as memories from last night's meeting came to mind.

Sansa nodded. “The very one. He says I'll be working with you. On the case?”

It was way too early to be discussing details about work or anything, really and Jon needed a cup of good strong black coffee to stay awake. Shouldn't have read the file at three in the morning.

“Right. Come on in.” Jon opened the door wider as he led her into the living room. Sansa accepted the invite, albeit with caution as she stepped in, carefully steering clear of the boxes and files around her.

“Pardon the mess, I don't get visitors much. Coffee?” Jon apologized as he helped himself to a cup of chilled coffee from the fridge. It was a norm now, keeping coffee from the night before, to save money. It didn't taste as good as freshly brewed coffee but it woke him nonetheless.

“Uhh.. no thanks. Water's fine.”

Jon watched the lady seated on his couch waiting politely for him to finish. He had gone through the file on her as Benjen had given. Graduated with honours at the top of her class at University of Westeros' Law School. Interned for two years at one of the top firms right after graduation and now a junior partner at Stark, Tully & Reed. Perhaps one of the most fascinating fact was that Sansa Stark had been on the prosecuting team in the 'Lannister vs the people' case. It was no wonder the Starks had come looking for him. He guessed he probably didn't need any further introductions, for now.

“So, how about we start about why you're here, Miss Stark,” Jon said, handing her a glass of tap water.

Sansa thanked him as she took the glass from his hand and set it down on an empty spot on the cluttered coffee table.

“Sansa, please. First of all, I apologize for not letting you know that I was coming. I did call and text yesterday but I suppose you were asleep. It was late anyway. Sorry about that.”

Jon then remembered his phone, which was now likely dead since he forgot to charge it. Oops.

“Oh, did you? Lately been trying to kind of de-plug every once in a while. But yeah, I might have fallen asleep too. Had some notes to go through and kind of forgot about my phone. My bad.”

Sansa smiled and took a small sip of water. “Oh.. that's all right. Anyway, let's start over. I'm Sansa Stark and I'll be working with you. I believe my uncle has filled you in? Pleased to meet you, Mr Jon Snow.” Sansa offered her hand.

Jon returned the handshake with a wary smile. “Pleasure's all mine. And please, Sansa, call me Jon. So, I'm guessing you know what we're working with?”

“I do. I was the one who put it together so I should know more about it than anyone.”

Benjen said he couldn't share details about who the client was and now Jon was curious. Sansa Stark seemed a force to be reckoned with - coming up and putting together a case of this magnitude could either be the ruin or the highlight of her law career.

“I see. Well, I must say I'm impressed. But you do know this can be dangerous work, right? If what your uncle says is true.”

“If it means saving hundreds from a cruel fate then I'm all for it. Besides-”

A loud rumbling growl startled Sansa to a pause mid sentence.

Jon's cheeks reddened, patting his stomach. “Umm..Do you think we could talk about this over breakfast? I.. I had a light dinner yesterday.”

Sansa bit down her lip as tried to stifle her giggle. This man is hilarious. Cute though. She didn't mind at all working alongside him. “Sure. I'm buying.”

Awesome. I don't mind it at all. Nothing more Jon loved than rich people willing to spend. But a cheap greasy diner breakfast with all the works was just what he needed right now. He can think of other fancy things later.

“I hope you don't mind. Not many fancy places around here,” Jon pointed to a booth in the diner, right in a corner where he usually sat every day and night. Grenn, the owner and chef who was also a friend and neighbour, made sure it was always empty and reserved just for him.

Sansa beamed at him, her striking blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. “Are you kidding me? Diners are the best. The only places that helped through mid terms and finals. And man, they were gruelling. I would retreat to a diner and have a chocolate banana milkshake whenever things got a little tough. This.. is nice.”

Jon felt at ease immediately. Something told him he was going to have a great time working the case.

“So, tell me. Why 'Trophy Wife'? I mean, can't you call it what it is?” Jon asked, in between mouthfuls of bacon and French toast.

“Well, it's a code word you know. Human trafficking, sex ring.. these are terms people are not comfortable hearing, especially in public or in an office. Besides, not many people know about it and it is absolutely crucial that it stays that way. Too much information shared with anyone else won’t be good for us. Plus, I think it's also because.. it seems the victims are forced and paraded as wives of these predators. You know, so it seems legit. But that’s just a guess. I know deep down, there's nothing legitimate about it.”

“Good point.” Jon concurred, shoving the last piece of French toast into his mouth.

“You want to hear a story? We actually managed to get hold of a marriage certificate, you know, one that shared a victim's name on it. But get this - it was fake. There was no such church nor was there any minister with that name. It was a bust.”

“Yikes. Okay, so that should be proof enough right? I mean, right there is already fraud.”

Sansa sighed. “Yeah, up until someone accused us of fabricating the marriage certificate. I mean, we couldn't use it at all since it was fake. It definitely derailed the investigation for a while and it was the only promising lead we had. I believe there are still many. Out there. We just have to make sure the case won't go cold.”

Jon had to ask, seeing how fired up Sansa seemed about the whole thing. “Can I ask you something? If you don't mind my asking. Why this? I mean there are so many easier cases out there waiting.. but why this one?”

Sansa looked at him and looked away, turning towards the window.

“Jeyne Poole was twenty five years old when she went missing last year. Next month would be her seventh month missing. Her parents are worried sick and her mom had a stroke because of it. Jeyne was last seen at her place of work and that was it. She just disappeared and dropped from the face of the earth. That's not Jeyne to pull something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon's furrowed brows prompted her further. “She's my age and my best friend, Jon. And no matter what, I have to search for her. Whether she's dead or alive.”

Jon was no stranger to hearing heavily personal details and he thought he could handle all the doom and gloom thrown his way, but this had him a little shaken up.

If he wasn't convinced before, he was sure as hell now. It was a dark treacherous path ahead but Sansa was a woman on a mission. And Jon knew well already, not to get in her way.

“Right. So, what do you need from me?”

It was a quiet walk back to his apartment as the brevity of the situation started to sink in. He may be a mediocre private investigator but a mediocre human being, he was not planning to be. Armed with new information and Sansa's fervour rubbing off on him, Jon was determined to find and annihilate the fuckers, if they really were the Boltons and the Freys, even better. Two less scumbags in the world would be a huge win; they won’t be missed. Sansa and him would be saving, hopefully, not just Jeyne Poole but dozens of vulnerable young women from the very clutches of evil itself.

“I can share the workload with you, if you want. You know, go over the details, help out on surveillance, research all that stuff,” Sansa suggested, as she flipped through the pages of the folder Jon had compiled. It had only a couple of handwritten notes with addresses and names along with documents he printed from the flash drive he was given. He was keen to find some kind of link and honestly, two brains were definitely better than one for it.

“Don't you have a job to attend to? I mean, I don't mind the help but I don't think it's fair that I take you away from what pays your bills. If... you do that sort of thing.”

Sansa shrugged. “One of the perks of living with your parents, I guess, is not paying bills and still having a roof over your head. I've got some money saved and since this is my case, I managed to get an expense budget for it. So, that's covered I guess.”

Jon scoffed. Rich people. “And this expense budget... is from your client?”

“I am not at liberty to say but up to you what to believe. All I know is, what we need for this case, is settled and paid for. Nothing is spared.”

Must be nice being rich.

“Well, you don't say, this client could give us a temporary office to work in, no? I mean, I don't mind doing it out if my house but-”

“You're being evicted in less than two weeks. I know. I had some checks done on you, Jon. Safety reasons, I'm sure you know. But granted, it's not ideal, But I think we may have just the place.. I mean, for the time being. Though.. it's going to take some work and I'll brief you on that soon.” Sansa offered as Jon unlocked his apartment door.

“Okay..that’s a first for me. I mean, if it’s no imposition, I-”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. But hey love to chat but I kinda have to go. Can I take this with me? I'll make you a copy,” Sansa grabbed the folder and walked up to the door, casually glazing over the bit where he was about to be homeless soon. Damn lawyers.

“I was going to pay, you know. It's just that I had to settle other bills first,” Jon explained, though it was futile knowing who he was talking to.

“That's all right. Doesn't make you a bad person. You had priorities, it's understandable. Although if you’re planning on living in your car, I don't think all the boxes in your living room would fit.”

It didn't faze Jon how she had known about him living in his car once upon a hard time and he couldn't agree more. He couldn't exactly afford a storage unit either since the material he had was sensitive and would spell trouble if anything got lost or stolen.

“So, I'll show you the new place? You can come pick up your stuff later this weekend if you want.”

Jon found himself with renewed enthusiasm, relieved that he said yes to the assignment. Whatever tomorrow brings, he'll face it head on, with a swanky new roof over his head.

Bring it on.

#jonsa #jonsa x sansa #jonsa au #jonsa fic #crime fighting jonsa #super sansa #jon is kind of a sidekick but a good one #jon snow is a feminist in my aus #trigger warning: various kinds of abuse #modern jonsa au

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silent-era-of-cinema · 4 years ago

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Ida Estelle Taylor (May 20, 1894 – April 15, 1958) was an American actress, singer, model, and animal rights activist. With "dark-brown, almost black hair and brown eyes," she was regarded as one of the most beautiful silent film stars of the 1920s.

After her stage debut in 1919, Taylor began appearing in small roles in World and Vitagraph films. She achieved her first notable success with While New York Sleeps (1920), in which she played three different roles, including a "vamp." She was a contract player of Fox Film Corporation and, later, Paramount Pictures, but for the majority of her career she freelanced. She became famous and was commended by critics for her portrayals of historical women in important films: Miriam in The Ten Commandments (1923), Mary, Queen of Scots in Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall (1924), and Lucrezia Borgia in Don Juan (1926).

Although she made a successful transition to sound films, she retired from film acting in 1932 and decided to focus entirely on her singing career. She was also active in animal welfare before her death from cancer in 1958. She was posthumously honored in 1960 with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in the motion pictures category.

Ida Estelle Taylor was born on May 20, 1894 in Wilmington, Delaware. Her father, Harry D. Taylor (born 1871), was born in Harrington, Delaware. Her mother, Ida LaBertha "Bertha" Barrett (November 29, 1874 – August 25, 1965), was born in Easton, Pennsylvania, and later worked as a freelance makeup artist. The Taylors had another daughter, Helen (May 19, 1898 – December 22, 1990), who also became an actress. According to the 1900 census, the family lived in a rented house at 805 Washington Street in Wilmington. In 1903, Ida LaBertha was granted a divorce from Harry on the ground of nonsupport; the following year, she married a cooper named Fred T. Krech.[9] Ida LaBertha's third husband was Harry J. Boylan, a vaudevillian.

Taylor was raised by her maternal grandparents, Charles Christopher Barrett and Ida Lauber Barrett. Charles Barrett ran a piano store in Wilmington, and Taylor studied piano. Her childhood ambition was to become a stage actress, but her grandparents initially disapproved of her theatrical aspirations. When she was ten years old she sang the role of "Buttercup" in a benefit performance of the opera H.M.S. Pinafore in Wilmington. She attended high school but dropped out because she refused to apologize after a troublesome classmate caused her to spill ink from her inkwell on the floor. In 1911, she married bank cashier Kenneth M. Peacock. The couple remained together for five years until Taylor decided to become an actress. She soon found work as an artists' model, posing for Howard Pyle, Harvey Dunn, Leslie Thrasher, and other painters and illustrators.

In April 1918, Taylor moved to New York City to study acting at the Sargent Dramatic School. She worked as a hat model for a wholesale millinery store to earn money for her tuition and living expenses. At Sargent Dramatic School, she wrote and performed one-act plays, studied voice inflection and diction, and was noticed by a singing teacher named Mr. Samoiloff who thought her voice was suitable for opera. Samoiloff gave Taylor singing lessons on a contingent basis and, within several months, recommended her to theatrical manager Henry Wilson Savage for a part in the musical Lady Billy. She auditioned for Savage and he offered her work as an understudy to the actress who had the second role in the musical. At the same time, playwright George V. Hobart offered her a role as a "comedy vamp" in his play Come-On, Charlie, and Taylor, who had no experience in stage musicals, preferred the non-musical role and accepted Hobart's offer.

Taylor made her Broadway stage début in George V. Hobart's Come-On, Charlie, which opened on April 8, 1919 at 48th Street Theatre in New York City. The story was about a shoe clerk who has a dream in which he inherits one million dollars and must make another million within six months. It was not a great success and closed after sixteen weeks. Taylor, the only person in the play who wore red beads, was praised by a New York City critic who wrote, "The only point of interest in the show was the girl with the red beads." During the play's run, producer Adolph Klauber saw Taylor's performance and said to the play's leading actress Aimee Lee Dennis: "You know, I think Miss Taylor should go into motion pictures. That's where her greatest future lies. Her dark eyes would screen excellently." Dennis told Taylor what Klauber said, and Taylor began looking for work in films. With the help of J. Gordon Edwards, she got a small role in the film A Broadway Saint (1919). She was hired by the Vitagraph Company for a role with Corinne Griffith in The Tower of Jewels (1920), and also played William Farnum's leading lady in The Adventurer (1920) for the Fox Film Corporation.

One of Taylor's early successes was in 1920 in Fox's While New York Sleeps with Marc McDermott. Charles Brabin directed the film, and Taylor and McDermott play three sets of characters in different time periods. This film was lost for decades, but has been recently discovered and screened at a film festival in Los Angeles. Her next film for Fox, Blind Wives (1920), was based on Edward Knoblock's play My Lady's Dress and reteamed her with director Brabin and co-star McDermott. William Fox then sent her to Fox Film's Hollywood studios to play a supporting role in a Tom Mix film. Just before she boarded the train for Hollywood, Brabin gave her some advice: "Don't think of supporting Mix in that play. Don't play in program pictures. Never play anything but specials. Mr. Fox is about to put on Monte Cristo. You should play the part of Mercedes. Concentrate on that role and when you get to Los Angeles, see that you play it."

Taylor traveled with her mother, her canary bird, and her bull terrier, Winkle. She was excited about playing Mercedes and reread Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo on the train. When she arrived in Hollywood, she reported to Fox Studios and introduced herself to director Emmett J. Flynn, who gave her a copy of the script, but warned her that he already had another actress in mind for the role. Flynn offered her another part in the film, but she insisted on playing Mercedes and after much conversation was cast in the role. John Gilbert played Edmond Dantès in the film, which was eventually titled Monte Cristo (1922). Taylor later said that she, "saw then that he [Gilbert] had every requisite of a splendid actor." The New York Herald critic wrote, "Miss Taylor was as effective in the revenge section of the film as she was in the first or love part of the screened play. Here is a class of face that can stand a close-up without becoming a mere speechless automaton."

Fox also cast her as Gilda Fontaine, a "vamp", in the 1922 remake of the 1915 Fox production A Fool There Was, the film that made Theda Bara a star. Robert E. Sherwood of Life magazine gave it a mixed review and observed: "Times and movies have changed materially since then [1915]. The vamp gave way to the baby vamp some years back, and the latter has now been superseded by the flapper. It was therefore a questionable move on Mr. Fox's part to produce a revised version of A Fool There Was in this advanced age." She played a Russian princess in the film Bavu (1923), a Universal Pictures production with Wallace Beery as the villain and Forrest Stanley as her leading ma

One of her most memorable roles is that of Miriam, the sister of Moses (portrayed by Theodore Roberts), in the biblical prologue of Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1923), one of the most successful films of the silent era. Her performance in the DeMille film was considered a great acting achievement. Taylor's younger sister, Helen, was hired by Sid Grauman to play Miriam in the Egyptian Theatre's onstage prologue to the film.

Despite being ill with arthritis, she won the supporting role of Mary, Queen of Scots in Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall (1924), starring Mary Pickford. "I've since wondered if my long illness did not, in some measure at least, make for realism in registering the suffering of the unhappy and tormented Scotch queen," she told a reporter in 1926.

She played Lucrezia Borgia in Don Juan (1926), Warner Bros.' first feature-length film with synchronized Vitaphone sound effects and musical soundtrack. The film also starred John Barrymore, Mary Astor and Warner Oland. Variety praised her characterization of Lucrezia: "The complete surprise is the performance of Estelle Taylor as Lucretia [sic] Borgia. Her Lucretia is a fine piece of work. She makes it sardonic in treatment, conveying precisely the woman Lucretia is presumed to have been."

She was to have co-starred in a film with Rudolph Valentino, but he died just before production was to begin. One of her last silent films was New York (1927), featuring Ricardo Cortez and Lois Wilson.

In 1928, she and husband Dempsey starred in a Broadway play titled The Big Fight, loosely based around Dempsey's boxing popularity, which ran for 31 performances at the Majestic Theatre.

She made a successful transition to sound films or "talkies." Her first sound film was the comical sketch Pusher in the Face (1929).

Notable sound films in which she appeared include Street Scene (1931), with Sylvia Sidney; the Academy Award for Best Picture-winning Cimarron (1931), with Richard Dix and Irene Dunne; and Call Her Savage (1932), with Clara Bow.

Taylor returned to films in 1944 with a small part in the Jean Renoir drama The Southerner (released in 1945), playing what journalist Erskine Johnson described as "a bar fly with a roving eye. There's a big brawl and she starts throwing beer bottles." Johnson was delighted with Taylor's reappearance in the film industry: "[Interviewing] Estelle was a pleasant surprise. The lady is as beautiful and as vivacious as ever, with the curves still in the right places." The Southerner was her last film.

Taylor married three times, but never had children. In 1911 at aged 17, she married a bank cashier named Kenneth Malcolm Peacock, the son of a prominent Wilmington businessman. They lived together for five years and then separated so she could pursue her acting career in New York. Taylor later claimed the marriage was annulled. In August 1924, the press mentioned Taylor's engagement to boxer and world heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey. In September, Peacock announced he would sue Taylor for divorce on the ground of desertion. He denied he would name Dempsey as co-respondent, saying "If she wants to marry Dempsey, it is all right with me." Taylor was granted a divorce from Peacock on January 9, 1925.

Taylor and Dempsey were married on February 7, 1925 at First Presbyterian Church in San Diego, California. They lived in Los Feliz, Los Angeles. Her marriage to Dempsey ended in divorce in 1931.

Her third husband was theatrical producer Paul Small. Of her last husband and their marriage, she said: "We have been friends and Paul has managed my stage career for five years, so it seemed logical that marriage should work out for us, but I'm afraid I'll have to say that the reason it has not worked out is incompatibility."

In her later years, Taylor devoted her free time to her pets and was known for her work as an animal rights activist. "Whenever the subject of compulsory rabies inoculation or vivisection came up," wrote the United Press, "Miss Taylor was always in the fore to lead the battle against the measure." She was the president and founder of the California Pet Owners' Protective League, an organization that focused on finding homes for pets to prevent them from going to local animal shelters. In 1953, Taylor was appointed to the Los Angeles City Animal Regulation Commission, which she served as vice president.

Taylor died of cancer at her home in Los Angeles on April 15, 1958, at the age of 63. The Los Angeles City Council adjourned that same day "out of respect to her memory." Ex-husband Jack Dempsey said, "I'm very sorry to hear of her death. I didn't know she was that ill. We hadn't seen each other for about 10 years. She was a wonderful person." Her funeral was held on April 17 in Pierce Bros. Hollywood Chapel. She was interred at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, then known as Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery.

She was survived by her mother, Ida "Bertha" Barrett Boylan; her sister, Helen Taylor Clark; and a niece, Frances Iblings. She left an estate of more than $10,000, most of it to her family and $200 for the care and maintenance of her three dogs, which she left to her friend Ella Mae Abrams.

Taylor was known for her dark features and for the sensuality she brought to the films in which she appeared. Journalist Erskine Johnson considered her "the screen's No. 1 oomph girl of the 20s." For her contribution to the motion picture industry, Estelle Taylor was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 1620 Vine Street in Hollywood, California.

#estelle taylor #silent era #silent hollywood #silent movie stars #golden age of hollywood #classic movie stars #1920s hollywood #1930s hollywood #1940s hollywood

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missjanjie · 4 years ago

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Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) | (2/?)

Title: Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) Summary: A sequel to Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa are back at NYU, but with new and improved positions. Brooke’s ready to start her career as a professor when, as fate would have it, she realizes her TA, Jackie, might have the hots for a student named Jan. The couple just might see it as a sign to give two new girls the love story they found in the same place. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~6.1k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox) Rating: E

read on ao3

Jackie stood in the center of her apartment, hands on her hips, and exhaling deeply. She had spent the past few hours cleaning the place from top to bottom. Had it been a bit over the top? Perhaps, but she felt like she would be better off being too thorough than not enough. Maybe it wasn’t the first impression Jan would have of her, but it was one that would count.

She checked the time on her phone – she had finished with ten minutes to spare. Regardless of anything else, she was pretty proud of what she had accomplished, and she probably could put off cleaning for a couple weeks now. Who knew all she needed was just the right bit of motivation? With the time she had left, she poured herself a glass of wine. She earned it. Beyond that, she needed it.

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door and Jackie narrowly avoided spilling what was left of her wine as she set it down on the counter and raced to open the door. “Hey Jan,” she greeted casually, as if she hadn’t nearly tripped over herself to race to the door.

“Hi Jackie,” Jan chirped as she walked in, unaware of what had transpired, nor did she pick up on the fact that Jackie seemed slightly out of breath. “Okay,” she prompted, setting a purple folder on the table, “I’m ready for audition prep 101 with Miss Cox.”

Jackie picked up the folder, hand lingering on the counter while she decided whether or not to grab the glass as well. She settled against it, leading Jan into the living room. “So, how many songs do you have it narrowed down to?”

“I got it down to three,” she replied, waiting for Jackie to open the folder to see the pieces of sheet music as well as a few typed up monologues. “I have a couple tried and true ones, and one that’s a little new to me, but I think it fits the vibe of the show better.”

“Smart thinking,” Jackie praised, looking at the sheet music. “Who are you auditioning for again?”

“I thought it over, and I’m gonna go for Veronica. It’s kind of out of my comfort zone, but that’s what excites me about it, you know? If there was ever a chance to break out of what I usually do, this would be it,” Jan explained. “So, if that narrows it down any further…”

“Oh, it only leaves one option,” Jackie said simply. “‘Everything Else’ is the only one with the right energy, the other ones are too… cute, too lighthearted.” She handed Jan the sheet music.

Jan nodded and took the paper. “I trust you implicitly.”

“At your own risk.” Jackie chuckled. “Will you sing for me? I’d like to hear you go through your number, see if anything needs to be tweaked,” she told her, but she also just really wanted to hear her sing. Jan seemed so bright and confident, she was eager to know where that came from.

And Jan seemed more than willing to oblige. “Of course, I have the music on my phone, if you have a speaker or something that I can plug into.”

Jackie nodded and helped Jan get set up. “I want you to run through the whole thing, that way we can pick out the best section for your sixteen bars,” she explained. She sat down on her couch, looking as Jan stood in front of her, the student taking a few preparatory breaths.

And then Jan started singing, and everything made sense for Jackie - why Jan was in this program, why she exuded such a positive confidence. Her voice was immaculate, it captivated Jackie’s attention even more than their first meeting. And she must have shown her approval, because Jan seemed excited by her expression once she’d finished the song.

“So that was good?” Jan asked, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Perfect, are you sure you even need my help?” Jackie teased. “Here, I’m gonna highlight the bars on the sheet music,” she said, standing up and motioning her over to the dining room table.

Jan moved to stand right behind Jackie, perched up on her tiptoes to rest her chin on her shoulder, hand resting on her waist. “I’m excited about this. I wish you could be in the room or something, like a good luck charm.”

Jackie let out a soft chuckle. “You think I’m a good luck charm?”

She shrugged and smiled. “I dunno, I feel a good energy with you. Like, your presence is warm and calming. It’s a good balance, considering my default is the same as a person that took half a bottle of caffeine pills.”

That brought a slight blush to Jackie’s cheeks. She turned, giving her a hug, one she wanted more than she would ever let on. “Well, that’s very kind of you to say.”

“You smell nice,” Jan observed before Jackie pulled back from the hug.

“Oh, thank you.” Jackie grinned, doing her damndest not to get flustered. “Um, do you want something to drink? I was having a glass of wine myself,” she said, already walking over to her glass.

“I’m not twenty-one, but I won’t tell if you won’t,” she hummed.

Jackie chuckled, pouring Jan a glass as well. “I’m from Canada; it’s eighteen there, so we can play by my rules.” She winked.

Jan’s brow rose as she accepted the glass. “Oh, so you’re the boss here?” she asked as she took a sip.

“This is my house,” she pointed out with a light laugh. “Ergo, my rules.”

“Oh, we’re using our fancy adverbs now. Point taken,” Jan teased, then held her glass up. “Cheers!”

Jackie grinned, clinking their glasses and taking a sip. And for a moment, everything was calm and relaxed, but then there was a sudden, loud crack of thunder that made them both jump. They both looked out the window and saw that rain was pouring down as if it were a storm of biblical proportions.

“Shit, it’s really coming down hard out there,” Jan observed. “Wasn’t even raining when I got here.”

“I can’t let you go back out there,” Jackie shook her head. “You can stay here at least until the rain lets up, I don’t mind if you crash here if it doesn’t,” she offered.

Jan let out a small sigh of relief. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, of course,” she replied, as if she hadn’t been hoping for the offer. “It’ll be fun, we can get wine drunk and watch bad reality TV.”

Jackie started to open her mouth to agree, then paused. “Have you eaten yet? You should definitely have some dinner if you’re going to keep drinking,” she said, setting her glass down so she could go and rifle through her fridge. “I have leftover sushi if you want, or I can make sandwiches or something.”

Something about the naturally kind and doting demeanor Jackie had instantly put Jan at ease. It made her feel warm and comfortable, like they had known each other for years without the awkward pretenses that sometimes came with meeting someone new. “Whatever’s easier. I’m not a picky eater.” She shrugged.

While Jackie decided on the sushi and got that out, Jan was pouring herself another glass of wine, and topped Jackie’s glass off as well. “Thank you,” she hummed when Jackie handed her the plate, setting it on the table and sitting down to eat. “Y’know, everyone always says that sushi never tastes as good on the second day, but like, they’re just snobs. It’s totally just as good. Or maybe my standards are low, whatever.”

Jackie giggled softly as she listened. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol that made Jan ramble like that, or if that was just part of her personality. Either way, she thought it was adorable, and sat next to her as she hung onto her every word. “I think leftovers are underrated as a whole,” she agreed.

“You get me.” Jan beamed, one hand over her heart and the other on Jackie’s shoulder.

She bit down on her lip, not knowing how loud the laugh that nearly escaped would’ve been, and put her hand on top of Jan’s. “I try,” she cooed, then stood up. “Come on, let’s go watch TV,” she said and moved them to the couch, then topped off their glasses.

Jan sat down next to Jackie, as close as she could physically be without sitting on her lap. In her defense, this was always how she’d get after a couple of drinks – touchy-feely, flirty, and yes, even more talkative than normal, as demonstrated by the tangent she went off on about the show they were watching.

And Jackie wasn’t exactly complaining – especially about the touchy-feely part. The alcohol was affecting her as well; the part of her brain that was constantly plagued with overthinking and worry was always the first to go once she started to get tipsy, and neither of them had stopped drinking as they continued half-watching TV.

“God, you’re so pretty,” she said, not realizing it was out loud.

Not that it would’ve been a problem, as Jan just seemed to appreciate the compliment. “Aw, thank you! I think you’re super pretty too.”

“Do you really?”

Jan scoffed. “Of course I do. I thought you were hot since I first saw you,” she said, tossing her ponytail off her shoulder as she picked her glass back up.

“This is news to me,” Jackie admitted as she had more to drink as well.

“That’s why I’m telling you, duh,” she giggled, then turned to better face her. “Your hair is so nice and thick and shiny,” she observed, immediately going to play with it, running her hands through it and twirling pieces around her fingers.

Jackie let out a content sigh as Jan’s fingers wove through her hair. “Careful,” she warned, “this is practically foreplay for me.”

Jan smirked, her arms draping around Jackie’s neck. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but neither of them would’ve been able to say who initiated the kiss, just that one second they weren’t kissing, and the next second they were. They could still taste the wine one each other’s lips as they let the deep, languid kiss continue.

Jackie pulled Jan onto her lap, arms wrapping around her waist. She trailed her lips along Jan’s jaw and down her neck, starting by just kissing and nipping along the expanse of skin before leaving a mark just where her neck met her collarbone. Her hands moved up and down Jan’s body, starting to push up her shirt.

Jan was a bit more direct, swiftly undoing the buttons on Jackie’s blouse and slipping it off her shoulders. Their lips reconnected in another heated kiss, and she gripped Jackie’s hair with one hand while the other pushed her bra up and palmed over her breast.

That gave Jackie enough reason to follow her lead, pulling Jan’s shirt off and pulling her close, their bodies flush up against each other. She unhooked her bra soon after, tossing it aside and letting her hands explore Jan’s bare torso.

The way Jackie’s hands felt against her body sent goosebumps all over Jan’s skin. Jackie’s hands were smooth and warm and made her arch into each touch. She started to grind against Jackie as well, straddling her thigh to better do so.

Jackie was fairly certain that she had never seen anything hotter than Jan grinding on her thigh, or heard anything hotter than the little whimpers and whines she let out. It landed on top of Jan’s sheet music, pushing a couple pages onto the floor, but neither of them noticed in the slightest.

Any sense of control or inhibition that Jan had entered Jackie’s apartment with had long since gone out the window. She tossed her head back, letting out sharp, breathy moans as she continued to grind on Jackie’s thigh with more and more fervor and desire.

Jackie caressed Jan’s body, hands moving up and down her sides, memorizing every curve with her fingertips. She pressed open-mouthed kisses between her breasts, down to her stomach as far as she could reach, eyes flicking up to watch the expression of relaxed pleasure on Jan’s face.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Jan’s voice was higher, more strained, and it wasn’t long before she realized she was chasing the orgasm that was rapidly approaching. Her hips were bucking more erratically and she was grabbing onto Jackie wherever she could.

“That’s it, come for me,” Jackie cooed, kissing and sucking at Jan’s neck as she held her through her orgasm. And once she felt Jan let herself go limp in her arms, she scooped her up and carried her into bed.

They laid in bed quietly, nothing but the sounds of thunder and rain hammering against the windows to be heard. It was calm, but with the distant tinge of anxiety because neither of them knew what to say. What was there to say after that?

Jackie turned to face Jan, hoping the words would come to her. But to her relief, Jan had passed out. And Jackie had to admit, she looked just as beautiful asleep.

------

Jan was the first to wake up the next morning, groggy and disoriented, but not quite hungover. She wasn’t sure how she should feel about waking up topless in Jackie’s bed – guilty? Confused? Stressed? It wasn’t that she regretted it, but she was afraid that it would complicate what was supposed to be a friendship at most.

Time was ticking away before Jackie would wake up, and Jan needed to decide what she wanted to do, and quickly. She pushed herself out of bed and went into the other room to get dressed. As she went back into the bedroom, she noticed that Jackie had personalized stationary on her desk (because of course she did). Jan decided that leaving a note and bailing was the best option - it was more personal than a text and she was still able to avoid confrontation.

Hi Jackie!

Sorry to run out on you like this, I had to get somewhere in a rush. But I had a great time with you last night, and I’ll see you in class on Monday. :)

Jan ♥

Jan wondered if the heart was too much, but decided it would be worse to erase it, so she left it on Jackie’s nightstand and quietly left. And she kept her fast pace, making it back to her dorm in record time. The second she got back to her dorm, she flopped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

“Rough night?” Lemon asked as she casually looked over at her disheveled and distressed roommate. “Not like you to spend it elsewhere.”

“Got caught in the storm, stayed with a friend,” she mumbled as she sat up.

Lemon arched her brow. “You get hickies from your friends often?”

Jan’s eyes widened as she turned to look in the mirror. Sure enough, there were multiple visible bruises littering her neck. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Looks like someone already did.”

“We didn’t have sex!” she insisted, unable to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. “I mean, even by lesbian standards, it wasn’t sex. We weren’t even naked.”

Lemon continued to look at Jan as if she were insisting the Earth was flat. “First of all, as a lesbian, I have no fucking idea what ‘lesbian standards’ are and I don’t want to know. Second, Even if it wasn’t ‘technically’ sex, it was enough to get you all worked up like this.”

Jan groaned and laid on her back. “It just shouldn’t have happened… It was my TA, Lem.”

“Damn, you gonna get some extra credit at least?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know why I tell you things,” she murmured, reaching for her phone. She knew telling Gigi wouldn’t be any easier, but it wasn’t exactly something she would be able to keep as a secret.

And when Jan did meet up with Gigi, she wasn’t dreading the confession any less. They sat in a booth at a nearby diner, placing a brunch order before she decided she needed to just rip the bandage off. “I spent the night with Jackie.”

Gigi nearly spit her coffee out at that. “You did? Why? What happened? Don’t you skip any fucking details, Sport.”

Jan chewed on her lip. “The storm was really bad, so we decided I’d just stay there. Then we had some wine… well, a lot of wine. And we… We didn’t fuck, per sé, but things got very heated.”

“That would explain why you’re wearing a scarf in seventy degree weather.” she nodded as if she were making an astute observation. “So what happened when you guys woke up?”

Jan’s gaze drifted down to the table. “I woke up before she did, left her a note and went back to my dorm while she was asleep.”

Gigi looked at her friend like she was ready to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. But instead she just asked, “Are you fucking stupid?”

To which Jan shrugged and replied, “Maybe.” There was a brief pause as they received their meals. “But can you be specific as to why, though?”

“This was literally a sign that you guys have a connection, at least a physical one. The least you could’ve done is talk to her, how’s she going to take it as anything other than you not being interested, and don’t you try and act like you’re not.”

“I’m not not interested,” Jan conceded. “I just… It shouldn’t have happened like this, you know? I went over there to practice for my audition, not to dry hump her fucking thigh.”

Gigi did her best to listen and be the supportive friend that Jan clearly needed. “Look, you can’t un-fuck up how you handled that,” she started. “We just need to figure out where to go from here.”

Jan nodded in agreement as she picked at her food. Where did she go from here? Her heart said back to Jackie, but her brain said into a coma, ideally.

#jankie #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction #i didnt tag branjie bcs this is a jankie-centric chapter

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