#and i need two letters of recommendation on top of it

[pinkfey]

job insecurity hitting me like a bus at 9:30AM 😟

[arthur-r]

(arthur proofreading help as usual you can ignore if you want but help appreciated!!)

this is what i have for my resume currently is it good enough to submit to a scholarship?

[transtheology]

According to Matson, 39, his “disclosing,” as he describes it, is a moment years in the making. He offered his story as indicative of the often difficult path for trans Catholics, including those seeking life as a religious — a category that includes brothers and nuns.

“I am currently based in the Appalachian mountains of eastern Kentucky,” he wrote in an email to friends and supporters on Sunday. “I live in a hermitage at the top of a wooded hill, which I share with my German Shepherd rescue, Odie, and with the Blessed Sacrament, which was installed in my oratory shortly before Christmas.”

[...] Matson approached a canon lawyer to discuss his options and was told that only two aspects of Catholic life were categorically off the table: marriage and the priesthood. According to Matson, the canon lawyer recommended being upfront about his status as a transgender man in any vocational conversations with church leaders and mentioned the role of a diocesan hermit, which could prove less challenging than enlisting with an existing religious order.

[...] What followed was roughly a decade of searching and no small amount of rejection. Living in the United Kingdom while pursuing a master’s degree, and later a Ph.D. in theology, Matson entered a vocational discernment program and approached the Jesuit order to ask if he could join.

“They said, ‘No, we just don’t see how this would work for us,’ which was crushing, because that’s where I felt called,” Matson said.

[...] “I thought, well, if I can’t find a religious community to sponsor me, maybe what I need is a bishop,” Matson said.

A priest friend recommended different bishops to contact, beginning with Stowe, who was emerging as a leading voice among Catholics calling for a more tolerant approach to LGBTQ+ people. In 2020, Matson sent Stowe a letter, conveying his status as a transgender man, his vision for an artists’ community and his pull to religious life.

Stowe wrote back immediately, expressing his openness.

“It was an enormous relief,” Matson said. “I was in tears. I felt my hope revive.”

[...] Matson vented his frustrations to Stowe and his spiritual director, saying he wanted to speak out. But he said he was advised to first “build a foundation” in religious life for several years.

During that time, Matson had an experience that shook him. Attending a friend’s play in his religious habit, he was approached by a student who identified as trans and nonbinary. After asking if Matson was a monk, the student said they were raised Catholic, but that their parents had rejected their identity, and the student felt like they “don’t have a place in the church anymore.”

Matson responded by saying there were people in the church who would support the student, and Matson prayed with them, asking God to show the student how they are “wonderful the way you’ve made them.” The student, Matson said, grew emotional, thanking the hermit profusely and saying, “No one from the church has ever affirmed me for who I am.”

[...] As for ever leaving Catholicism itself, Matson bristled at the idea, calling the church “my family.” “I’m Catholic,” he said. “I became Catholic after I transitioned because of the Catholic understanding — the sacramental understanding — of the body, of creation, of the desirability of the visible unity of the church and primarily because of the Eucharist.”

At the very least, Matson said, he hopes going public will spark dialogue about his fellow transgender Catholics, a discussion he believes can enhance unity among the body of believers.

“You’ve got to deal with us, because God has called us into this church,” he said. “It’s not your church to kick us out of — this is God’s church, and God has called us and engrafted us into it.”

[sebastianswallows]

— A/N: I saw this post by @ominisallow​​ and was hit by so many soft and tender *★°*feelings*°★* that I had to write it down 😭 sweetest beby snek

— Synopsis: Ominis teaching the main character how to read braille by tenderly placing his hand atop theirs to guide them while reading aloud.

— Wordcount: ~ 800 words of fluff

— Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

“How do you do it?” she asked, after countless minutes of staring at his hands.

“Do what?” said Ominis, fingers not even pausing on the page.

“Read like that,” she said as she scooted closer to him on the floor of the common room, where they sat before the fire. There was just a small and dimming flame left in the late night hours, and there was no one else around but them.

“I suppose the same way you do,” he smiled. “I perceive the symbols on the page and interpret them as letters.”

“You know what I mean,” said the new 5th-year with a tone that carried on it her sardonic smile.

“I don’t, really,” said Ominis serenely. “I have nothing to compare it to, you know.”

He’d stopped reading entirely. By now, he felt her by his side, her shoulder warmth-to-fleshy-warmth with his. Their robes were sprawled over the sofa at their back, and the shirts, white and starched, were paper-thin across their bodies. He only had to straighten his back a little to feel her right against his bony shoulder.

“I mean…” he added quickly, suddenly worried — frantically, irrationally — that he’d hurt her feelings, “I know in theory that you see the words written down and that they have a certain shape and that you need light to do it, but I suppose that’s as strange to me as my manner of reading is to you.”

“So,” she started cautiously, “each of those bumps is a letter?”

“Some are, others are in combination, yes,” he nodded.

Ominis allowed himself a smile at having found something to entice her, she who had learned everything so quickly and uncovered so many mysteries, and hoped she didn’t catch his grin — but she probably did, damned light, damned fireplace heating up his cheeks, damn…

“Can you show me?”

“W-what?”

If his grip had been lighter, he might have dropped the book when he felt that pressure, like a shiver on the page, as she touched it — then the deathly stillness of the book again as she let go of it as if burned.

“I mean — if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to —”

“No, it’s —”

“— to offend or —”

“It’s not, it’s —”

Ominis laughed stupidly at her shyness, at his, and as he turned his head toward where her small voice came from froze at feeling her so close, her little panicked breaths fanning on his lips.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he finished in a quiet voice. “I-I’ll show you, if you want.”

Without asking, his left hand let the book cover fall over his lap as it went in search of hers, feeling in the dark, across her bended knee, over the dip of the skirt between her legs, until it found her hand — dry, cold, a little shaky — and embraced it awkwardly in his own. She let him pull it back toward the book and, with like mind, they leaned into one another all at once to rest the book between them. Ominis took her right hand in his own and felt around her fingers until he caught the index.

“You can do it with one finger,” he whispered, facing ahead into nothing but feeling her cheek so close to his by now, “but it’s easier with two.” He caught the brief chuckle she gave at hearing that and blushed all the way to his ears for some reason.

“So, erm…” she started, fingers faltering on the page beneath his, “what does this say?”

“Oh,” said Ominis, “right, that’s…” He slipped his index between hers and her middle finger to rub it left and right over the text. “That says: A common — and — recommended — charm — for silencing — both beasts — and beings — is —”

“Silencio,”she finished, a smile shining through her voice. “Oh but this is so hard…” she complained, starting over at the top of the page and Ominis, without a thought as to why, letting his hand be carried with hers. “How can you tell which letter is which?”

“You learn it, of course, with practice,” he smiled. “See, this is A, this little dot here…”

“And I guess these must be C…”

“Only these two,” he continued, holding her finger between his own and pressing it into the page, “at the top, here.”

“And this is O?”

“It is. And this…”

They carried on like that, hand in hand, until they’d read the whole page through, and fell more lazily into each other, a sleepy tangle of elbows and knees and soft hair ruffled together, while the fire died and left them both in darkness, smiling with eyes closed while they read — Ominis from the book, her tracing each letter to the cadence of his soft and gentle voice.

[obeymematches]

hey i saw your hc requests were open,is it okay if i ask for the love languages of the brothers?it could also be the the way they show their love if you dont like the first one lol.love your stuff🦓

hiii whatsup it's been a while!

tumblr changed so much since the last time i wrote HCs it is making me upset as I'm trying to edit this post pls bare with it

How can you be sure they love you?

Lucifer:

● He is the most straightforward with his words when it comes to expressing his feelings for you. There are no ambigous expressions, no metaphors, no nothing, just simple "I love you"s, which he isn't afraid to tell you every morning and every night from now on.

● You also receive gifts sent / given by him, though he isn't so good at thinking of new ones so it's usually a boquet of roses, fancy chocolate or some kind of jewellery.

● He hardly ever lets you go anywhere alone from now on! Someone has to be with you at all times. No arguing about it!

● Please don't expect lots of quality time together. Even if your presence is the only peace he gets throughout his entire day. He spends as much time as he can with you but it is out of his control. Sometimes you do get a couple of hours with him, sometimes it's 20 minutes a day. Don't take it personally, of course you are on his mind every day, of course he would spend more time with you if he could. (He's not going to like it if you tell him "if he wanted to, he would")

● Please touch him, he is starving for intimacy. Just make sure you keep it lowkey in front of his brothers & Diavolo. Everyone else is okay to see PDA.

●Appreciates your acts of service and he generously rewards you for it but don't expect him to do the same for you, unless you really struggle with a task.

Mammon:

● You're not going to get no privacy from him. Top #clingiest demon in the world.

● He is very unaware of this, but he keeps touching you, sometimes subtly sometimes not so subtly. (He sits so close to you that your shoulders and legs touch, wraps his arm around your waist whenever he gets the chance, etc.)

● He also gets you rather expensive presents from time to time, where he gets the money for it is a mystery though. (He been working a lot to treat you right okay!!)

● However, he sucks at expressing his feelings with words. 0/10 do not recommend. Good luck and don't give up, evetually he might tell you he is most ardently in love with you.

●Doesn't really do acts if service either. Maybe sometimes.

Leviathan:

● All of a sudden he is much less talkative around you. First you think he just doesn't like you for some reason. You thought it was going fine but... well.

● The situation escalates when he writes you a love letter, telling you everything you wanted/needed to hear. With spoken words he is not so good, fumbles a lot, forgets where he was at, but his letter is on point.

●The best way he lets you know about his feelings is through quality time. He makes sure the emphasis is on quality and not quantity! He can become really funny when he tries to!

● Acts of service happens in game mostly.

Satan:

●Very much into quality time with you! Indoors or outdoors doesn't matter as long as you spend time together.

● Gets nervous from PDA, don't do it often... when no one else sees you he is absolutely mesmerized by your touch though.

● He is one of the best with words; expect poems, books dedicated to you! Also tell him how good if a man he is, loves to hear it!

● Not very much into acts of service, very independent kind of guy and expects the same from his other half.

● He is also not much into gifts. Doesn't believe in money doing the loving instead of the person.

Asmodeus:

● The king of touch and reassuring words! Down for this two anytime and anywhere!

● He appreciates anything you do for/with him but expect PDA and sweet nothings the most.

● Of course if neither of the 2 works for you he can do anything to make sure you feel loved.

● The only one who can make you feel loved to the bone no matter what your love languages are. He doesn't have a weakness regarding these kind of things.

Beelzebub:

● I think he is an acts of service kind of guy. Does the dishes for you, gets you dinner, stuff like this.

● Also likes to be touched but strictly in private! Gets so nervous if anyone sees.

● He tells you he loves you often and isn't afraid to tell you why! Though "I love you" as a full on sentence is a bit rare from him... he puts more effort into it... like "You are the kindest person I know and I love you so much for it."

● He also gets to spend lots of QT with you. Watching a movie, going for a run, he is down for whatever.

● Not much of a gifter himself but truly appreciates if you give him gifts. Might cry a little.

Belphegor:

● You get to spend QT with him most of the time. Also becomes very possesive of you so you get little to no privacy at all.

● He tells you he loves you often but sometimes it sounds a bit.. off? Like he doesn't really mean it?

● Not much of a gifter either... rarely when he knows you'd like something specific he'd get it for you but as I said it's rare of him to do so.

● Big on touching you, however. Like Mammon, he'd be very close to you the entire day. If you move away he is moving with you.

● He barely does acts of service eventhough he lowkey expects you to do some for him.

[55sturn]

✮ SNAP OUT OF IT: CHAPTER 0.01

series masterlist!

pairings: matt sturniolo x fem!reader [eventually, in this chapter, they are not friends]

synopsis: in which y/n receives the news of her life and she feels on top of the world, as if nothing could bring her down, until she meets her dorm mate, rather, until she re-meets him.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, cigarettes, drug usage [weed], alcohol consumption, cocky!matt, flirting, bitchy!reader.

important notes: i’ve been so excited to post this! this is going to be slow burn, and updates will be slow as well while i’m in the process of deciding what i want done with back to december, povs will change regularly between reader’s pov, matt’s pov, and third person pov, each pov is vital to the story and each character’s internal battles throughout the series.

playlist for this series! song below for this chapter below!

READER’S POV

my hands shook as i held the letter that determined whether or not i’d have a chance at landing a job in screenwriting or directing, or literally anything the film industry would give me. landing a spot in this course, was extremely tough. it was only open to twenty five students, and there were thousands of applicants to rifle through each semester. it was a prestigious course, and if you excelled in it, the professor would consider sending out a letter of recommendation to any companies he knew were offering an internship. it was such high demand because the professor had a lot of sway when it came to massive filming and production companies, and would often land one of his students their big break.

but in order to apply, at least three years of training under some sort of local theatre was mandatory, the applicants needed to prove that they understood how screenwriting, production, and set or stage management worked, and there was still more that we needed to cover but those were top three areas of experience this course looked at. each applicant needed to prove that they were completely fit for this course and that they genuinely wanted to pursue a career in this field, and if you didn’t show it well enough, you weren’t even added to the consideration list.

it was a tough spot to land, and i would give anything to land a spot in this course. i had fought tooth and nail throughout all of high school to get grades that proved determination and hard work, the only university i ever had in mind was harvard, and if i didn’t get in, i wouldn’t know what to do with my life.

so here i was, freshly twenty-one, and finally holding the letter that led to the rest of my life, good or bad.

“come on you pussy, open it already.” jocelyn groans, she had been my rock throughout the entire application process. she’s been my best friend since we were six and bonded over having the same pencil case when she moved to boston in first grade. however, she’s been a bit callous to the idea of me being nervous about reading this letter. she was the type that barely scraped in high school, and she had decided pretty early that she didn’t want to go to any college or university. she excelled online and had amounted a huge following.

“joce, i love you but please shut up. this is the most important letter i’ve held in my entire life. i’m scared, what if i don’t get in?”

“please bitch, you’ve worked harder than anyone i know, i’m sure you’re going to get in.”

“thanks joce, but i genuinely don’t trust your judgement after the last guy you hooked up with. so i am going to take a shot and then open it.” i laugh, walking over to the cupboard above the fridge, grabbing the bottle of tequila we had bought in preparation for this very moment. i also grabbed two shot glasses from the mini bar-cart we had beside the fridge of our shared apartment, and began pouring a shot for the both of us.

“oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god!” she gasps from behind me, making quickly turn around, only to see that she held the open letter in her hands.

“what?”

“you fucking got in!” she exclaims, causing goosebumps to rise along my skin as i stand and watch her eyes dart back and forth along the page, reading the words aloud.

“dear miss l/n, i am pleased to inform you that the committee on Film and Visual Studies has voted to offer you a place in the Harvard class of 2025. dude you did it!” she beams, her voice full of pride and excitement, causing tears to well along my waterline as i stare at her.

“oh my fucking god, i did it.” i sob, feeling genuinely accomplished for the first time in my life.

“however it does say that the only available dorm situation is co-ed, since you had applied for on-campus living.”

“that’s fine with me honestly.” i shrug, wiping the tears, unable to rid my face of the smile that resides on it.

“alright, let’s take some shots and then start packing the rest of your shit. i can’t believe i’ll be living without for so long, i can finally walk around naked.” she hums, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as i sigh, my arms winding tightly around her waist.

i let out a loud laugh as i grab the bottle of tequila, followed by the two full shot glasses, sliding jocelyn hers as i stare at her.

“you’re acting as if you don’t already do that.”

“touché, however, here’s to my bitch starting her dream career.”

the next few days blew by in a blur as jocelyn and i finished packing everything i wanted to take. she was going to help take my stuff from boston to cambridge. the eight hour drive was going to be brutal, but it was completely doable, especially know that she’d be along the way. instead of driving sixteen hours total, she was going to spend the first night with me, she also wanted to scope out my dorm mate to make sure they’re not a total freak.

“i can’t believe i leave tomorrow.” i sigh, resting my head on jocelyn’s shoulder, the two of sitting on our balcony while she puffed her joint. jocelyn stifles a laugh before straightening out her expression, and turning to me.

“your mom would be so proud of you.” she says, her face blank as the absurd comment leaves her mouth.

“as fucking if.” i snort, rolling my eyes, taking the joint from her fingers, taking a small hit as she laughs.

“she’d probably ask why it took so long to get a response and then tell you that you didn’t try hard enough and that your acceptance letter was a pity letter.”

“probably.” i whisper, handing the joint back to her as i watch the setting sun, feeling a strong tinge of hurt swelling in my chest at the mention of my mom.

her and i never really had a steady relationship, when i was younger she was never really around, she was a big part of the film industry, quite the requested screenwriter, and was always in high demand which meant she didn’t take time to nurture me.

when she was alive and around more during my high school days after she was forced to retire from the spotlight due to her cancer, she was constantly berating me, the high ninety grades and constant participation in local theatre was never good enough. she always said i wasn’t shooting high enough. but she fell deathly ill my senior year, and that was a rough patch for us. i had snapped and told her that i hope she regrets the way she’s treated my entire life, and that i won’t be found at her deathbed. but when that time came, i was the first one to hold her hand and tell her i love her, but the reply never came from her, she just stared at the wall blankly until her boyfriend showed up and then suddenly she was lively as she could be while dying.

but i’ve moved on from that year, and it took a long time and shit ton of therapy to realize that i was never going to be the daughter she wanted, but my dad and my step-mother, melissa, have been as supportive as they could. they’ve been with melissa’s mom in maine for the last two months, helping her with everything after her husband’s passing.

i sigh again as i look at jocelyn, leaning my head back on her shoulder.

“we should probably head back to bed, we’ve got a long ass drive tomorrow.”

“yeah, wanna eat some ice cream first?”

“sure.”

after our ice cream, we finally crashed, both of us only getting about four hours of sleep after having to wake up at nearly six in the morning. we quickly got dressed, and grabbing the last few bags and boxes that needed to be packed into the car before leaving to grab food and drinks. after that, we finally started on our way to cambridge.

the drive was full of numerous stops, causing to get at the dorms around four in the afternoon.

“alright you stay with the cars while i go to the admissions centre and grab my key and i’ll go unlock the door and then we can start.” i hum in joce’s direction through her open window, grabbing my bag off the front passenger’s seat while jocelyn nods, climbing out, and stretching.

“i hope you get a hot roommate, you need a boyfriend.” she calls out, rolling my eyes, and flipping her off.

“i’m walking away i cant hear you!” i call back, following the signs that direct me toward to admissions office, as i enter i nervously approach the lady at the front.

“hi i’m here to pick up my dorm keys, room 496, y/n l/n.”

“here you go! so you’ll want to turn right, then take two lefts and follow the numbered plaques on the wall to the co-ed section of the dorms! and lastly, welcome to harvard!” the older woman chirps, flashing a warm smile that eases my nerves just the tiniest bit as i begin following the directions that she had called out.

as i reach my door, i fish the key from my pocket, quickly shoving it into the keyhole, wanting to get into my dorm as quick as possible. as i’m about to turn the knob, someone clear their throat from behind me, causing me to turn around. and once i meet the eyes of the person standing behind me, i immediately wish that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“this is my dorm?” he coughs, making my skin crawl at the idea of sharing a dorm for a year with the one person that i genuinely wish didn’t exist in my life.

“there’s no way in hell i’m sharing a dorm with you, matt.”

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @florcult @33sturniolo @greatooglymooglyyy @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby @whatrulookingat11

© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[its-time-to-write]

AH I've been waiting for requests to be open! i love love loveeee your writing!! I've been in dire need (if you feel like writing it lol) of reader comforting jamie after the locker room scene w his dad at wembley.. like maybe instead of roy hugging him the reader swoops in? you do you! thanks!! <3

Listened to 17 Pushing 24 by Sabrina Sterling while writing this. Highly recommend ✌️🥲

i know what i’m doing

Sometimes Jamie wonders if you two are attracted to each other due to your compelling need to take care of everything. 

It certainly was difficult at first, both of you with residual issues due to your upbringing. His as the only son of a single mother, yours as the oldest daughter of a large family. 

Those types of child-caretakers aren’t always compatible. Jamie’s much more lighthearted about the way he tries to control everything, and you’re more serious.

You’d think it would be easier, both of you taking care of each other, except for the small fact that neither of you were capable of accepting help from the other. 

It came to a head one evening when Jamie came home to you crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the tasks you had yet to complete before going to bed. 

“Love, I can help you,” Jamie had said.

“No! It’s my laundry and my responsibility and you already have enough to do without me burdening you even more,” you replied before dissolving into more tears. 

So yeah, it was a whole thing. It involved therapy and everything.

But you’re moving past it. You’re both getting to a point where each of you can receive the same love that you’re giving, however strange it may feel. Jamie even let you stay home from work to take care of him when he was sick a couple weeks ago, something that was pretty much unheard of up to this point.

You’re channeling the need to control things in healthy ways, like having all of AFC Richmond over to Jamie’s giant house for potluck-style family dinners. Or hosting non-video game nights, where FIFA is strictly banned as a form of entertainment. Or themed outings where everyone had to dress as something that shared the first letter of their name and then go see a movie at the local theater. 

Stuff like that. 

You’re the brains, Jamie is the execution. You can see Isaac side-eyeing him a couple times, making mental notes about temporary captains in the event that he can’t play a match. 

Jamie’s gone from Richmond’s resident prick to Richmond’s resident morale-booster.

He comes home one evening with brighter eyes than normal.

“Babe,” he calls before he’s even in the door, “Coach said I can go back to being a prick again.”

“Ted said that?” you ask from your spot on the couch. You’re laying down length-wise with your legs dangling off the end.

“Fuck no,” Jamie replies, “Roy.”

“Oh,” you say as Jamie plops his bags down. You sit up a little so he can have a spot on the couch. He pats his lap so you lay back down, head on his thigh.

“Roy said that Ted fucked me up, so ‘when it’s appropriate’” (he uses air quotes) “I can be a prick to the other team.”

“That’s nice, babe,” you say, “but how do you know when to do that?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach said he’d give me a signal. Don’t know what it is, though.”

You say, “hm,” then lapse into comfortable silence, Jamie’s hand running through your hair.

—

The prick signal worked so much better than you could have thought. It’s the best. You see Jamie go from playing defensively to being completely offensive, screwing with the other team’s heads. You scream and clap as he scores, while Keeley practically throttles you with joy.

Now it’s late after the game, and the lads are all over at Jamie’s. They’re absolutely exhausted, but buzzing with energy. It isn’t until about 1am that they disperse to the various guest bedrooms and pass out on top of each other. You catch a glimpse of Dani cuddling Jan Maas who’s asleep in a starfish position as Colin sneaks in to draw on their faces with sharpie. 

“Don’t tell anyone it was me,” he whispers. You zip your lips and head to the master bedroom and pretty much fall onto the right side of the bed.

Jamie comes in shortly after, saying something about Isaac telling a bedtime story. He burrows under the covers and you quietly shriek because he’s placed his ice-cold hands on your ribcage.

“How are you so cold?” you whisper.

Jamie shrugs sleepily. “Dunno,” he whispers back. “Got ice in my veins, I guess.”

You smile. “You’re tired, aren’t you babe?”

Jamie shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “Nah, ain’t tired. Thinkin’ about our match against Man City.”

He says it casually. Too casually.

You see, both you and Jamie have this thing where the more nonchalantly you say something, the more important it is.

You prop yourself up a bit so you can face him and scratch his head. He sighs and leans in.

“You nervous?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head. “Not to see the team. Lookin’ forward to seeing Pep. It’s just…” he trails off.

You whisper, “Yeah. I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. Don’t forget that. I’m here no matter what.”

Jamie says, “hm,” and then he’s asleep.

—

You’re running. 

You’re running faster than any of the boys on the pitch had run the entire match, and you’re pushing past people in a way that Keeley would later describe as “absolutely fucking feral.”

It happened like this:

The game was over. Richmond lost to Man City.

You were on your way to see Jamie and the rest of the team.

You were, maybe, three floors away? when Rebecca got a text from Ted, showed it to you, and before you knew it you were flying down to the guest locker room to find Jamie.

Of course his dick father would show up to make this day worse. Of course he would.

You’re ducking under security and pushing your way to the locker room in a flurry of motion, then immediately stop.

It’s silent, absolutely silent. 

And so still.

No one moves a muscle as your eyes land on Jamie, clinging to Roy like he’s a lifeline. Roy. Roy Kent, self-proclaimed Jamie-hater and staunch advocate against physical touch.

Jamie’s eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open at the sound of your tentative footsteps. He lets go of Roy for a moment, but only so that you can grab him in the next.

“Right,” says Roy, “Everybody get the fuck out!”

There are no complaints as the lads hurriedly grab their bags and exit the locker room.

Roy nods in your direction before leaving, and Beard mouths, “take your time.” You’re not sure where Ted’s gone off to.

Jamie feels like he’s going to collapse if he stands any longer, crushing you in the strongest grip you’ve ever felt.

“Oi,” you say gently, “let’s sit down, yeah? You don’t have to let go.”

So now you’re on the bench in Jamie’s lap, scratching his head in the way he likes, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Fucking stupid,” he says, voice muffled.

You ask, “What?” because surely that can’t be what he just said.

“I said it’s fucking stupid,” Jamie says, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m a fucking adult. Don’t need to be crying about stupid shit, especially not in front of the lads.”

“Oh, right,” you say before you can stop yourself, “because crying after your dick father tried to swing at you when you set boundaries for the first time ever is a completely unreasonable response.”

Jamie is still in your arms and you cringe. Curse your stupid, logical tongue.

Jamie finally says, “Didn’t think about it like that.” He sighs. “It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing, innit? Him showing up here like that. Didn’t need the lads seeing that.”

You kiss his forehead. 

“The only person it’s embarrassing for is him. Not you. You’re absolutely fine, Jaim. If anything, the boys are going to look at you better for finally understanding the shit you had to grow up with.”

Jamie nods, but you’re not sure if he believes you.

“Jamie,” you say firmly, “It’s not your fault. You handled it the best way it could have been handled. You did a great job.”

Those words seem to do something to Jamie, and his face takes on an expression you’ve never seen before

He asks, “You think so?” in such a forlorn manner than you have the sudden urge to find James Tartt and kick him in the balls with steel-toed shoes. You briefly wonder if Roy and Beard would like to join you.

“Yes,” you reply forcefully, “Yes Jamie. You did a wonderful job in a shitty situation and I’m very, very proud of you.”

Jamie doesn’t reply, just holds you tighter if that’s even possible. He takes a deep shuddering breath, but it’s the first real one he’s taken this entire time. 

“I told you I’m here no matter what,” you say. “Just like all the times you’ve been here for me. Now I’m here for you.”

[regretmedaisy]

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded. 

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.” 

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. 

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her. 

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat. 

She quickly hid the message in her purse and  he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out. 

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him. 

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up. 

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess. 

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened. 

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so. 

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him. 

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage. 

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy? 

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. 

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt. 

Merlin, it was finally happening. 

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features. 

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her. 

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart. 

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back. 

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her. 

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped. 

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips. 

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave. 

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question. 

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her. 

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked. 

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement. 

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands. 

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag. 

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her. 

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them. 

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before. 

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her. 

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae. 

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it. 

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away. 

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple. 

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind. 

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis. 

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again. 

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for. 

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe. 

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table. 

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper. 

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee. 

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.” 

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.” 

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving. 

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[b-o-e]

the plan

Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: you are called dumb by frank lol (he refers to himself as the same GAHSGAH)

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #4 :)

Wally, desperate to get you to pick up on his feelings for you, sits down to try and sort out a plan with his wingmen.

“Okay,”

Frank set his hands on the table top, leaning over it. These were important matters!

“We need to brainstorm here,” he said, eyes roaming between the other two seated at the table. “Things Wally can do that our target might actually pick up on,” he stood at his full height, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed, raising his arm with a smile.

“You don’t have to raise your hand, Eddie.”

“Right,” the mailman smiled sheepishly, hand finding the back on his neck instead. “We can go with the obvious option and have him write a letter or two?” He pitched. 

“That did work on me…” Frank noted, nodding his head as he tapped his finger to his chin. “What do you think of that, Wally?” 

“I've… tried that,” Wally piped in, his cheeks flushing slightly. He wasn’t very proud of his attempt. 

“Oh. You have?” Eddie quirked a brow, puzzled. “I haven’t seen any letters between the two of you recently. Did you deliver it yourself?” 

“...I got shy,” he admitted bashfully.

“Writing a letter made you shy?”

“When I write, I tend to overthink it... When I speak, my words simply flow,” 

“That… actually makes a lot of sense for you in a way,” Frank commented, brow slightly furrowed. He shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track.

“But, what about the smaller things?” Frank then questioned. “You could try to be a little more physical with them?” 

“Yeah, have you tried a hand on their knee when you're sitting with them? Your shoulders close when you're walking together?” Eddie asked. 

“I do that,” Wally sighed. You guys were at the point of touching nearly every second you spent together. He would rest his leg against yours when you sat next to each other, he would rub your arm when consoling you, he would place a hand on your back when moving by or leading you somewhere, among any other thing he possibly could. He did all that!

“Eye contact obviously isn’t an issue,” Eddie giggled to himself.

Wally agreed with that fact. How could it be an issue? Wally couldn’t help but to gaze into your pretty eyes. He often found himself getting lost in them, losing track of the conversation sometimes as well.

“Treating them to something, perhaps? Maybe a sweet treat from Howdy’s?”

“Every Sunday. We’ve made it routine,” He said. He was fairly certain he could name all of your favourite snacks from there by heart, at this point.

“Compliments?”

“Constantly,”

“Hand-holding? Hugs?” 

“Every moment I can find an excuse to.”

“And you already tried a kiss on the cheek..?”

“Yeah…”  Wally deflated, his head resting against the table as nothing came of the interrogation. Was there no hope for him if all these attempts have failed already?

“Huh. They’re just dense, aren't they?” Frank deadpanned.

“Frank!” Eddie scolded.

“What? So were we,” he shrugged.

“Anything I try, they mistake it as me just being friendly,” Wally lifted his head, offering a defeated smile. “Is a friend all I’m meant to be?” He questioned, eyes like those of a kicked down puppy.

“I mean, I don't think so. It’s pretty clear they– ow!”

Frank had stepped on Eddie’s toe under the table, leaving the man pouting.

“It’s pretty clear they think you do these things in a friendly manner, " Frank took over the sentence. 

“How do I make it so that they don’t think of it that way?” Wally asked. 

“Well…” Frank began.

Wally was open to any suggestions at this point. He was done beating around the bush, and ready to face his feelings toward you head on if need be.

Wally had only one question on his mind. How?

hi!!! here is a lil snippet for today B) next is the one I've been most excited for! I hope that you guys enjoyed this lil inside thing for how Wally gets his advice lol.

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

thank you for reading, likes and reblogs are appreciated RAHHH DOPAMINE, and have a great day!!

Posted Sunday, April 30, 2023 at 10:28 AM

[scummy-writes]

Ikemen Prince Envelopes

I have a problem, and apparently it is trying to make the envelopes from these games!

No one asked for this, as per usual this was born out of my want of pritning out my fave letters from the games and keeping them around. I thought for the upcoming holiday, this would be fun to have :) There are envelopes for all 13 charas!

So there are two sets of envelopes this time, with a color taken from the Ikemen Prince japanese website for the emblem along with just a black version. Two different styles as well! One being a box flap that I enjoyed a lot, and another being one as close to the game's envelope style as I could manage! In general, and honesty, these would not exist without @fairy-marshmallow. She helped me find a pattern that was super close to the in-game one!

You can download these here.

Please keep in mind that there may be minor mistakes! More details are below the cut (as well as links to my previous ikevamp ones).

Alright! So this one will be a bit different than the other envelopes, as they're a different style. If we look closely at the in-game ones, we can see they don't have the side flaps visible, so that means they're hidden by an enlongated bottom flap. So when you print them out, you're gonna fold is like this before gluing the bottom flap down.

I recommend using cardstock for these, but that's primarily a personal preference since cardstock does not crumple as easy (but can cause issues folding if you're not careful).

You could use a wax seal on these, but it may cover the emblem a bit when you do.

The top flap is not as big as the in-game one, and, well, that's because it wouldn't fit all on one page without making the envelope itself Very Small. So I had to sacrifice some length to get this to work.

I will admit that I spent a year on and off making these, and there is a minor mistake of the bottom flap maybe being a bit too long.... it may just need to be shaved down a little. Sorry for not fixing it, but I went apeshit trying to get it long enough :') Its just by a few hairs.

Gilbert, Silvio, and Keith have envelopes with this- and I understand that this is clearly a Rhodolite themed envelope. However, they Do stay in the rose palace there so,,, we can pretend they just use what is available and stamp on their emblem when needed (or use a wax seal of it but yaknow,,,,)

If I'm able to ever get a clear image of the Rhodolite crest, as well as the Obsidian, Jade, and Benitoite(?) crest, I'd love to try to make themed envelopes for that separately, but that would depend on how much folks enjoy these and...creativity limits....I know Obsidian would use an all black envelope but that would murder our printers.

I wanted to try and make Ikevil envelopes eventually but :') apparently those are all black, or a very dark grey. So do not count on me doing so. My printer wheezes already, that would end it.

I have a fun set of Ikevamp envelopes here, as well as a version of the envelopes they hold in their 2nd bday gacha card series here. They don't include spoiler characters as these were made years ago.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded!):

@yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lokis-laugh @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @drachonia @keithsandwich @bubblexly @ridiculouslly-ridiculous @portrait-ninja @drewadoodle

Also, I normally write! Here are my masterlists.

Ikepri Masterlist | Ikevamp Masterlist | Ikepri/Ikevamp Discord

[siriuslysirius05]

Not His Son

Look, Tom knew that Bradley —Rooster, these days— wasn’t his son. Hell, he wasn’t even Maverick’s, a fact Bradley made very, very clear when he left that night. Ice remembers it like it was yesterday; Bradley had received a letter from USNA telling him that his application was, for whatever reason, pulled successfully. He’d approached Maverick with the subject, quickly blowing up at his godfather/adopted father once the truth was revealed. Pete Mitchell had pulled Bradley Bradshaw’s Naval Academy application. He left in a fury, shouting awful things that Tom knew Maverick dreamed about every night.

“You aren’t my dad. You never were. I hate you. I wish you died instead!”

Tom also thought of those words often. They were sharp thorns in his heart, haunted his every breath. Bradley was right, they weren’t his parents. And while they might have raised him, Iceman and Maverick were nothing but a heavy, burdened memory Bradley despised.

That didn’t mean they stopped caring. Especially now that Ice was a three star admiral, and Bradley was a full-fledged naval aviator. Hell, he was attending TOPGUN (at Ice’s secret referral). He was a grown man, an independent and strong man. He didn’t need Maverick, he didn’t need Iceman.

It didn’t stop Ice from keeping an eye on him, though. With his admiral status, Ice had the files of every single naval flight officer at his fingertips. Most of the time, Tom used the files to recommend squadrons and put together missions, but…

He still worried about the kid.

In actuality, it wasn’t all that often that Tom checked on Bradley. Every few months, and he usually didn’t tell Maverick the updates with the knowledge that his husband —they’d gotten married without Bradley there, but they did send an invite that went unanswered— would be hurt knowing Bradley was doing well without him. And that wasn’t narcissism or anything on Pete’s part; Bradley was, in all ways but blood, Pete’s kid. He always would be, even if the only surviving Bradshaw never spoke with him again.

It was Bradley’s second week at TOPGUN, and he was doing well. Top of his class, in fact. It brought both joy and a strange feeling to Ice’s chest.

He’d passed Bradley in the hallways of the air base several times in the past weeks, and every time he gave the man a warm smile. One of the other admirals on base, a two star by the callsign of Cyclone, teased him about the sudden appearance and disappearance of warmth on his face every time he was in the same general area as his kid.

Not his kid.

Today was a particularly bad day for Tom. His husband was stationed overseas and had been for the last month and a half, and Ice was missing him dearly. Plus, Ice had nightmares about Hop31 (better known as ‘the accident’ around Maverick, who flinched anytime ‘hop’ and ‘31’ were in the same sentence) and Goose’s death the night before.

Seeing Bradley strutting through base, a funky-pattern Hawaiian shirt on and wearing a pair of aviators, his 70s-pornstache perfectly groomed, was just salt in the wound. His (not) son was a spitting image of Nick Bradshaw, identical even in the walk. Goose always loved to strut and peacock about, showing off whatever shirt he had on.

Tom had tried to approach Bradley, just to say something. Hi. I miss you. Pete misses you. Anything, just to hear the young man’s voice. Would he sound like Goose? Bradley was raised in California, so he didn’t have the southern twang that Goose had, but maybe…

Bradley glared at Ice when he got near, turning and walking away. His friends, who Ice recognized as Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace and Reuben ‘Payback’ Fitch, looked confused as they snapped to attention. Tom sighed, smiling sadly at the kids before turning to walk the other direction.

Later that day, Ice was watching the skies. His mind overlayed memories of Hop31, how *well* it was going, with the planes flying overhead. He knew who was up there right now. He knew that the F/A-18 that just barreled through the sky was none other than Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. Pride and guilt filled his chest, and he was suddenly overcome with emotion. Emotion he didn’t deserve to feel, because Bradley was not his son.

He turned away from the window, eyes wet.

((Story based on the short sketchy drawing I did in an hour or so…the uniform is probably very inaccurate just bear with me please))

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Fernando/Lance

you might enjoy: Canadian Fest, eh - for more Lance content.

If your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

i won't lie to you, anon... I thought we'd agreed on Strollonso as the pairing name. 🤭 my vote still goes to Lando.

i hope you enjoy these ❗️🤍

nsfw: El Dick Plan by @waddlingpenguin | E | 800 Lawrence and Fernando have a misunderstanding at the dinner table. This fic is hilarious - unashamedly unhinged, just as Strollonso should be, and so unbelievably funny. This was one of the first Lance/Fernando fics I read. I think it rearranged my brain a little bit.

'In fact, Lance literally has his foot so far up Fernando’s pant leg that Stoffel is surprised he’s not choking on Canadian toes each time he opens his mouth to talk to the engineers.'

shatter my life apart (see me for somebody else) by @vicsy | M | 1.4k An exploration of Lance and Fernando's relationship. This is a stunning fic. This author has just the most beautiful writing style - it's like poetry, and flows in the most stunning way. This is as much a love letter to Lance as it is to Strollonso - I really, really loved this one.

'Fernando Alonso is a perpetual wildcard and Lance builds his attitude around this little image, prepared for some sort of psychological warfare but it never happens.'

nsfw: victor's spoil by venerat | E | 1.9k Following Fernando's first pole for Aston Martin, Lance is invited to his room - a Winner's Room AU. The vibes here are suitably unhinged/rancid/possessive. If I were to recommend a fic to help someone get Strollonso, to understand the essence of who they are together, I would recommend this one. I love everything this author writes.

'Imagining Fernando with them makes Lance want to chew through wire. Again: fucked up, truly and extensively. He’s just really fucked up about Fernando.'

nsfw: I make two grand an hour by @kritischetheologie | E | 3.1k Lance meets Fernando for the first time at a sponsor event. I adored this fic. It is so funny and well-characterised and hot. One thing that I really love about this author is their ability to weave in detail - you could read their fics over and over again, and still pick up something new each and every time. It just makes for the richest, most delicious stories that draw you in every last time.

'(Lance had almost just said fuck it and gone into banking when he graduated two years ago, like he’d always known he probably would eventually, ever since the day he showed up at St. Andrews and realized that the entire world economy ran on fake numbers on a half-dozen computer screens, but the whole point of trust funds was supposed to be not having to be boring. Who the fuck else was going to make art? Humanity needed him to be living dramatically, falling in love with a thousand beautiful men whose lips he could immortalize in poetry.)'

nsfw: green light, red wine (and i don't feel fine) by @vicsy | E | 9k (wip) Fernando is a crime boss caught in a long-standing feud with Lawrence Stroll - things get complicated when he meets Lance. This fic is fantastic. The vibes are unmatched. This author has such a beautiful, almost melodic writing style, which I love. Also. This is fucking hot. 10/10.

'There aren’t many opportunities Fernando deliberately missed in his life. He wouldn’t be on top if he did. Right next to him, clad in a tight white t-shirt, sits an opportunity for a power move, the one Fernando would take all the way.'

nsfw: silver platter by @wewentcarracing | E | 9.7k Lance and Fernando grow closer, much to Esteban's dismay. This is delicious. Full of unhinged and intense moments. Every word of this is perfection; something I particularly appreciate about this author is their ability to build tension - you won't be able to put this story down once you've started it. Perfection.

'Lance laughs, off-guard and delighted. Fernando has this way of deciding what's true in his own mind and then forcing it into reality with brute strength alone. He's decided that Lance will make it to the podium this year, and so he will. It feels so, so good to hear coming from another driver—any driver, really, but the fact that it’s Fernando. Two-time WDC. Veteran. It doesn't feel like he's being toyed with; it feels real.'

nsfw: Not Even Jail by @baldrmoon | E | 9.9k (wip) Lance is a rookie detective with a new partner - they've met before. This is such a fantastic start to what I know is going to be an incredible story. The world-building here is fantastic. A world away from F1, but with so many of the dynamics and relationships mirrored in a totally new setting that feels very organic and true-to-life. It's just very well done, and I am excited to see what the author does next!

'Lance was charmed almost despite himself. The guy – Fernando, Lance made a mental correction, – smiled, a bit sideways, narrowing his eyes. Lance immediately felt flustered under his intense stare.'

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @kkpwnall! They have eight Stranger Things and Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!

An anonymous nominator recommends the following works by kkpwnall:

driving in your car

love is like ghosts

where's the spark?

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion

KK's works have a consistent feel of genuine, heartfelt, human connection. Whether it’s a big, dramatic scene as the climax of a slow, delicious build-up of tension, or a mundane, slice-of-life tidbit, the characters always feel true to themselves, and their voices are perfectly nailed each and every time. And by that I mean, you can literally hear the dialogues in the characters’ voices—they’re THAT good. KK explores classic Steddie themes in their longfic Driving In Your Car, and they have a handful of wonderful one-shots and two-shots, each and every one of them delving into how much these boys love each other for who they are. In short, KK’s body of work feels like a love letter of the characters. If you love Steve and Eddie, chances are you’ll love their fics. - anonymous

Below the cut, @kkpwnall answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie? 

They’re such a compelling and complementary pairing. Like, it seems like an opposites attract / odd-couple pairing on the surface, but beneath each of their exteriors, they’re so similar. They’re dork4dork, loser4loser, idiot4idiot, they’re both huge nerds but in different ways. They want and need and express affection through physical touch and words of affirmation (I mean, just look at the walking through the forest scene!) Plus they just have this insane chemistry that any time I think “there’s no way they did that, it’s all in my head”, I’ll go back and watch those scenes again, it’s just like “no, this absolutely checks out, they are so into each other from the word go”. And they’re just made for each other! I mean, come on! Matching scars? Nail bat and nail shield? Jock and nerd? They’re two halves of the same coin! What I really love about them too is that they’re both Just Some Guy, they’re silly, goofy, dorky guys! But mostly, I write steddie because it makes me happy and really satisfies part of my brain like nothing else. 

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Other than “Eddie Munson Lives” hahah, I’ll try just about anything written or recommended by a beloved mutual. Mutual pining, fix-it’s, missing scenes, and first kiss fics are top tier for me, and right now I’m really partial to fluffy romcom fics. If it’s got good flirting and banter, it’s got me hooked.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My absolute favorite to write is mutual pining (aka the love is requited, they’re both just being stupid). Miscommunication is a close second, the kind that can’t easily be resolved with just a sticky note on the fridge. Whether it’s mishearing something or misunderstanding something (even the character misunderstanding their own feelings!), I find it super compelling to write. But for a specific scenario, my favorite will always be Steve having a bad time at a party.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

It’s impossible for me to pick just one, so I have to recommend 3 of my friends: Anyway It’s About Old Friends by @fragilecapric0rnn, and wanna be the only one for miles and miles (except for maybe you) by @judasofsuburbia, and everybody else (everybody else looks like they’ve figured it out) by @heybluechild. Anything by these fine folks is just fantastic, they’re all incredible writers and dear friends!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’d really like to write more AU’s! I’ve been tossing around ideas for college-aged+ aus (writing them a little older), 90s aus, a cowboy au… Mostly I’m just excited to keep writing them!

What is your writing process like?

Ahah it’s not much of a process. I write down every idea I have, no matter how small it is. Sometimes it’s a line of dialogue or a moment of a scene, but it all goes into the notes app and percolates in the back of my brain for a while. Eventually that dialogue or scene might coalesce into something bigger on its own, or combine with other snippets, and then ya got yourself a stew!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I really love writing dialogue, it’s my favorite way to get inside their heads, especially trying to balance what they say or don’t say, vs what they actually mean. I also love adding little details to fill out the world and the scene. It might not be necessary, but it feels like it brings everything together for me. And I like treating writing a fic like building a puzzle, trying to figure out just the right way to get all the pieces to fit together so the whole thing really sings.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’m still playing around with what I prefer. With driving in your car, I started out by posting a chapter only when the following chapter was completely written, so I’d always have one in the tank. But that got to feel too much like I was just sitting on chapters for the sake of sitting on them, so I started posting each chapter as I finished it and felt good about it. I don’t do super well with a schedule for posting fics, I’ve got too many deadlines in my life as it is haha.

Which fic are you most proud of?

driving in your car, for sure. It’s my baby, my magnum opus, my kitchen sink fic (it’s got everything). It’s got so much of myself in it, it’s very personal, and very near and dear to my heart.

How did you get the idea for driving in your car?

I wrote a long post about this when the idea was just starting to percolate, but the long and short of it is I wanted to read more fics that reflected my own experiences as an older teen growing up in a suffocating small town, where really the only option you have is to just pile in the car with your friends and drive around aimlessly, because that’s the only way you can get any freedom or privacy. I wanted to see what life was like for the fruity four trying to get back to “normal” while also trying to deal with the fact the world almost ended AGAIN, and all their complicated messy feelings for one another.

What inspired love is like ghosts?

Like many people have guessed / suspected, it’s very much inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved / Watcher Ghost Files, and a loving homage to ghost hunting shows. I’m a huge scaredy cat when it comes to anything horror, but I love a good ghost hunting show. The study room setting is also inspired by the miniscule closet-sized study rooms in the library at the college I went to.

What was your favorite part to write from love is like ghosts?

Parts of their make out scene was the first snippet I wrote and the one that really got the whole ball rolling with that fic, to try to figure out who this Steve and this Eddie are, and what would have to happen lead them to making out that hard in the study room. It was also the first steamy spicy almost-smutty scene I’d written, and it was so fun to learn how to write like that!! I also just love their banter in this fic, they’re both so sassy and ridiculous and completely gone on each other.

How do/did you feel writing where’s the spark??

Ooft this one was a doozy. This is actually the second draft, and the only time so far I’ve all but completely scraped the first draft and rewritten a fic. The first draft leaned really heavily into the loneliness of the holidays, my playlist for it was all of the most maudlin holiday songs, and it really started negatively affecting my mood and mindset. But I got some really great advice and help brainstorming from dear friends, and turned it around into a fic I’m really happy with. The holiday blues are still present, but there’s so much more love there now, and that’s really what the fic is all about.

What was the most difficult part of writing where’s the spark??

Finding that balance of holiday blues and love was really tricky, and I wrote for a lot of characters I hadn’t tried writing before either. From a technical perspective too, it was a big challenge to figure out how to keep the fic moving, and the party moving around Steve when all he wanted to do was wallow.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s so so hard to pick just one, but I love how this line in love is like ghosts turned out: And Steve is dumbstruck, kiss-drunk, half-fucked.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a holiday exchange fic coming out soon (hopefully before the holidays, fingers crossed), and I’m excited to dive into my prompt for lex’s winter fic challenge soon! I’d love to get the last chapter of driving in your car ready to share by the end of January. And there’s a secret [redacted] au I’m co-authoring with a very special friend that I would absolutely love to write in the new year!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just that I love this community so much. I’ve made so many incredible friendships because of this show, and I’m so grateful to be a part of this little corner of the internet. I never shared my writing publicly before finding the steddie community, and I’ve been really overwhelmed and delighted by the response to my writing and art (especially to be nominated to do something like this!! Truly an honor!). I was, at best, a casual Stranger Things fan before season 4. I wasn’t even going to watch it when it came out. But then I saw all the gorgeous fanart and gifs, and started reading headcanons, and had to check it out. I’m so so glad that I did, my life has changed so much for the better.

Thank you to our author, @kkpwnall, and our nominator! See more of @kkpwnall's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Greek Gods - Profile II

"Even the gods themselves need love and yours is the best of all." - Greek Gods.

❝⚡️— lady l: hey! Here I am again, bringing you the second and probably last part of the profile of the Greek gods. Before reading, I want to make some things clear, I didn't make all the Greek gods, if it wouldn't take too long, I made the most important ones. Of the twelve Olympians and some extras, for example, Persephone and Hades are not Olympians, but they are listed. Maybe in the future I can make the minor gods, but there's no plan. If you want to read the first part click here or search one of the tags below. I didn't do it in alphabetical order or the oldest, I ended up leaving it randomly and some got bigger and others smaller.

❝⚡️tw: yandere themes in general, dub-con, implicit non-con, possessive and obsessive behavior. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these themes, I recommend not reading.

❝⚡️word counter: 3k+

MANIPULATOR

Athena is the Greek goddess of wisdom, craftsmanship and strategy in warfare. Daughter of Zeus and Metis.

"Y/N, you know it's not wise to argue with me about this. You're not going to abandon me to these petty mortals. You insult me ​​by asking me to."

Athena is an extremely proud goddess and that is dangerous. Any affront or insult will not be treated lightly. You will be punished and after being punished, you will be drowned in the caresses of the goddess.

She is manipulative, what more could you expect from the goddess of wisdom? Athena is wise, she knows how to manipulate you very well and you won't even know you're being puppeted unless she wants you to know.

Athena will punish you until you learn, but you won't need to be punished many times, the goddess will make sure you learn the first time.

In a platonic way she will be more tolerable with you, but will still be strict. Athena expects no less from her obsessional perfection. You must be perfect for her and she will make you be.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Ynn. How dare you try to leave? I've tried to avoid physically hurting you, but apparently it's the only way you know how to obey. With pain."

Kinks: dom. Athena is definitely a dom, she wants it and will be at the top.

Nicknames: Ynn (imagine it as the initial of her name plus the letter "e", like Lee), princess/prince.

OBSESSIVE

Artemis is the Greek goddess of hunting, chastity and in some versions the moon. Daughter of Zeus and Leto, twin sister of Apollo.

"Do you want to go hunting with me today, dear? It will just be the two of us..."

Artemis is an obsessive and protective yandere. She is strong and decisive, Artemis wants you and she will have it. From a young age, Artemis always knew what he wanted. A group of hunters who, like her, took a vow of chastity. But after meeting you, maybe she'll reconsider.. or not.

Artemis is one of the yandere most likely to be platonically in love with you. The goddess worships you, simply, you were so kind, innocent and intelligent, which immediately attracted the attention of the goddess of hunting. You haven't been corrupted by the evils of the world yet, and she wants you to stay that way.

If she becomes romantically involved with you, there will hardly be sex involved, but she doesn't mean it's not impossible, because it can happen. But due to her oath, the goddess is much more likely to remain platonically in love with you.

Although she is known to be serious and strict, Artemis is kind and tolerant of you. You are one of the few mortals the goddess has affections for, she wants you to remain pure.

If you remain pure and devoted to the goddess of the hunt, Artemis will reward you handsomely.

"Oh, is my little deer hurt? Tell me who hurt you and I promise to make that person regret it."

Kinks: hunting games. You are the prey and she is your predator. It is Artemis' favorite fantasy.

Nicknames: dear, little deer.

CONTROLLER

Apollo is the god of the sun, music, plagues, prophecy, medicine, arts, oracles, truth, disease, healing, poetry, archery, initiator of young people into the world of adults, masculine beauty, perfection, harmony, balance and reason. Son of Zeus and Leto, twin brother of Artemis.

"You can't leave, Y/N. What if you get hurt? I can't risk your safety."

Let's be clear, Apollo is a controlling god and he doesn't accept to receive a "no", none of them accepts in fact, after all they are gods and you are a mere mortal, but Apollo can be worse, I mean, take a good look at Cassandra of Troy.

Apollo wants to control you in every way, when you wake up, when you sleep, what you eat, who you talk to and even your clothes. Everything you do will be scrutinized by the god.

In addition to being controlling, Apollo is quite protective. Not that you can blame him, after all, all of his lovers have tragically died and he doesn't want the same to happen to you.

As the sun god, Apollo is always aware of where you are. God has hell, wherever you are he will be there. He wants you to be by his side all the time, for you to share your thoughts with him whether you want to or not. Privacy is something you will never know after he sets eyes on you.

Apollo is a very jealous god. He gets jealous so easily it's ridiculous. Apollo is jealous when the wind hits his delicate skin, after all, the wind is a god too. He will always be hovering over you.

"What are you about to play a game? Don't worry, my Muse. I won't let anything happen to you."

Kinks: dom, probably a little daddykink (given the power he feels when you call him that).

Nicknames: sunshine, sun, my Muse.

IN LOVE

Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love, beauty and sexuality. In some versions she is the daughter of Zeus and Dione, but the most famous is that she was born from sea foam, after the castration of Uranus.

"Love is the most powerful emotion there is."

Aphrodite is the embodiment of feminine beauty. She is the most beautiful and desired goddess. She wants to be adored by everyone, she is adored by everyone. But what she craves most is your attention, devotion and your love.

The goddess is not afraid to show how much she is in love with you. Why should she? She is the goddess of love! Aphrodite wants you to know in every way possible how much she loves you. You are the person she cares about and loves the most, so you should always have confirmation that she loves you more than anything in the world.

Expect to receive many gifts from the goddess. From dazzling silk dresses, jewelry to decorated handcuffs. She will pamper you infinitely, you are her greatest treasure, nothing could be fairer than that you receive everything from the most expensive and the best. Whatever you ask for you will get, have no doubt that any wish you have, even the simplest, will be fulfilled.

The only thing Aphrodite wants in exchange for all the luxury she will provide you with is your love and devotion. Just for her. You must be completely devoted and loyal to your goddess, otherwise she is more than willing to punish you. Her punishments would be both physical and sexual, she has no fear or any hesitation to cause you physical pain.

If you are disobedient or stubborn, know that you will be insulting her. Aphrodite is known to have a dangerous temper and when she is offended nothing can be done to calm her anger, look at the case of Myrrha and Hippolytus. Nothing and no one could do anything to calm the goddess's fury and it's not like anyone will help you, as she is extremely dangerous and is willing to use Ares or anyone else to destroy an entire country as a way of punishing you. And she won't feel an ounce of guilt about it. She would blame you, saying that those people died because you didn't accept her love.

It goes without saying that Aphrodite is an extremely jealous goddess, bordering on possessiveness. Nobody has the right to touch you. You belong to her and her alone. Anyone who tries to touch you will lose their hands or their life, depending on whether she's feeling merciful.

As long as you remain devoted and accept Aphrodite's love for you, you and everyone around her will be protected. Aphrodite loves you so much and wants to stay with you forever. But remember, Aphrodite was once known as the goddess of war and all is fair in love and war.

"Shall we take a shower together, my love? I promise to get you clean. Are we going to do more than just bathe? Maybe..."

Kinks: literally anything. Aphrodite doesn't have a specific kink, she loves to try anything with you.

Nicknames: my love, my passion and my beautiful.

POSSESSIVE

Ares is the Greek god of war. Son of Zeus and Hera.

"I'll take you with me to the next battle. Shh, don't argue with me. I'm sure you'll like it."

Ares, like his mother, is extremely possessive. It has no other adjective to put in. He sees you as his, as a possession, more like an object to be possessed than a person.

You weren't sure why and how you attracted the attention of the god of war. Maybe it's because you're a peaceful and anti-war person that, in a way, you loathed Ares. It was an affront to him and it infuriated him. You should be punished. Not only did you not pray to him, you tried to dissuade the others from stopping the killing. Ares knew you had to be punished severely and that was exactly what he planned to do.

When he went to meet you, it didn't go the way he had planned. Instead of having to punish, he was stunned. You radiated such a calm and passivity that he was fascinated by you. Ares was instantly fixated on you. He wanted you and he would have you. He would make you the perfect wife/husband, but for that Ares needs to make sure you would support him.

Ares is not a gentle god, quite the opposite. He's gross and rude. There's no kind of gentleness when he touches you. Kisses from him are usually rude and it seems like he's always trying to get you pressed like anything, from a wall to your own arms if there’s nothing else.

However, there are moments, rare but there are, where Ares is affectionate with you. This would be more likely to occur if you are pregnant or if it is your first time. In either case, he would be much more affectionate and try to be as gentle with you as possible. It might not seem like it because of Ares' brutal nature, but he can be soft when he wants to.

Ares loves you. This is a fact. But his love for you is twisted, he won't let you walk away from him. His possessiveness is suffocating and uncontrolled, he would beat anyone to death just because they dared to lay eyes on you. No one would be safe from him, not even you. Be very careful with him, Ares is more than willing to hurt you in any way possible to make you understand that you belong to him.

"I gouged out the eyes of that old bastard who asked you what time it was. What? Don't look at me like that! Did you like his attention?! YOU ARE MINE!"

Kinks: dom, rough sex and BDSM.

Nicknames: flame and sweetsoldier.

WORSHIPER

Hephaestus is the Greek god of the forge, blacksmiths, artisans, sculptors, metals, metallurgy, fire and volcanoes. Son of Zeus and Hera. Although, in some versions, he is just the son of Hera.

"I know I may seem disgusting to you, precious. But I want you to love me as much as I love you."

Hephaestus' biggest problem is his insecurity. Not that you blame him, I mean, his mother threw him off Mount Olympus because she thought he was so ugly and he was cheated on by his wife, so you can expect him to be insecure and somewhat paranoid. He knows he doesn't deserve you, he puts you on a pedestal. As if you were the goddess/god and not him. Hephaestus fears abandonment, he will do anything for you, anything so you don't abandon him or betray him. Ask and you will have.

He would definitely be the god who would spoil you the most. Others would too, but not as much as Hephaestus. He is always making new jewelry or trinkets for you. All made with the greatest dedication and affection.

However, Hephaestus can be quite scary. Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want to scare you, but when the god gets jealous (which happens very easily, given how insecure he is) he can become aggressive and threatening. But when his anger fades, all that's left is guilt. He didn't mean to scare you! He loves you! Why did he keep scaring you?

Hephaestus wouldn't force you to be with him. He'll understand if you want to stay away from him, even if it tears him apart inside. Hephaestus will be content to just watch you from a distance if that's what you want. But if you, for some reason, decide to stay with him, you won't leave his side anymore. Choose very carefully.

''Will you promise to stay with me forever, Y/N? I... I really can't let her go...''

Kinks: somnophilia (I can say that Hephaestus would really love to see you sleeping, a bit bizarre I know, but I just think...).

Nicknames: Precious, my life.

DELIRIOUS

Dionysus is the Greek god of wine, parties, life cycles, insanity, theater, religious rites and intoxication. Son of Zeus and Semele, a mortal princess. He is the only Olympian god born to a mortal. He is sometimes replaced by Hestia in the Greek pantheon.

''Today we are going to participate in a celebration! What do you mean by one more? Hmm... Don't worry, baby dolphin, it's the last party I drag you today!''

Dionysus may seem like an easy god to deal with, but don't be stupid, he is not. He's always shrouded in some kind of drunken haze, he's rarely sober, and when he is, it doesn't mean he'll make it any easier to deal with. Because he isn't. In fact, a sober Dionysus is a lot more work and a pain in the ass than a drunk one.

He is a delusional yandere. A little too obvious for the wine god, but true nonetheless. Dionysus is always wrapped up in his delusional obsession with you and drink. There are only two things he cares about most, you and his precious wine. The order doesn't matter much. He's sober enough to know it's wrong and extremely distorted how he feels about you, but he doesn't care one bit. He is a god and you are a mere mortal. Dionysus is delusional enough to think you're ecstatic that he's fallen in love with you.

He's very dangerous. Never doubt it even one for a moment. The god is always in the presence of his drunken worshipers, they are as obsessed with you as their god is with you. You will never be alone again. If Dionysus is not in your presence, his followers will be. All hovering over you. It would be an understatement to say that you will have almost no privacy.

Dionysus will drag you to all kinds of parties. It doesn't matter if you're the reclusive type of person who hates crowds and noisy places, once you're with him you'll learn to enjoy being the center of attention.

You will be pampered and rewarded by the god if you are not a stubborn person. Dionysus is not a bad option to be trapped, but because he is delusional and is almost always involved in his drink, he will hardly notice your discomfort.

''Here, Y/N-nn, take this grape. Wait! Let me put it in your mouth and then we can enjoy the privacy of our quarters...''

Kinks: exhibitionism and threesome. Dionysus won't mind sharing you with someone (especially since then that person will be dead).

Nicknames: baby dolphin, Y/N-nn (basically your name plus the second letter, like Laa).

STALKER

Hermes is the Greek god of roads and travellers, diplomats, merchants, astronomy, eloquence and initiation. He is considered the messenger of the gods, patron of thieves and the guide of souls to the underworld. Son of Zeus and Maia.

''What do you think about going on a trip? You know, just me and you, to a distant, romantic place. Where no one would ever disturb us.''

Hermes is a stalker, ok, let it be clear to you and everyone else. The god was already chasing you before you even knew, before anyone else knew. It is likely that even moiras were not aware of this. He knows everything about you. Your biggest fears, quirks, your biggest desire and even your darkest secrets. Nothing escapes Hermes' sight. You couldn't hide from him even if you tried, after all, he's the god of the roads, Any way you try to take he'll be there, waiting for you with open arms.

He got to know you in a very unusual way, actually. You were hiking with some friends and ended up getting separated from your group, causing you to get lost and, luckily or unluckily (it's up to you), you ended up meeting Hermes, who provided you with the necessary information. You thanked him and ran off to catch up with your friends, but unknowingly ended up leaving a deeply obsessed Greek god.

After that encounter, the god became thirsty for knowledge for you. He's found out everything he can about you. It was the perfect way to get close to you and he did. You wouldn't even notice Hermes' obsessive behavior as he is quite laid back, but don’t be fool, he can be scary and dangerous if he wants to be. However, luckily for you, this is very rare to happen, but if you end up irritating him too much, you will be punished severely, he will have no mercy.

Hermes is not a jealous or obsessive god. He doesn't demand to have your attention all the time for him, he's also very busy. Hermes is a pretty safe option for falling in love, but like I said, he's a stalker, he'll always have his eye on you. So be very careful what you say or do when he is not ''present''.

''You can run all you want, baby... But you know I'll always catch up with you, don't you?''

Kinks: voyeurism.

Nicknames: baby, sweet, little traveler.

INTENSE

Eros is the Greek god of love and eroticism. In some versions he is the son of Aphrodite and Ares, in others only of Aphrodite and in some he is presented as the son of Chaos, which would make him a primordial god.

''You know you can't resist love, my princess/prince. I don't know why you still try.''

Eros is the embodiment of sexual desire, of everything erotic. His emotions are intense and very powerful, which makes him one of the most dangerous yanderes among all the Greek gods. His anger is not to be treated lightly. His love should not be ignored and he should never, ever, under any circumstances, be neglected.

He loves too much, too much. What he feels for you is the purest love there is in the world, at least that's how he thinks, as it's completely twisted and unhealthy. The god is completely out of control when it comes to his love for you, he is ecstatic, overexcited. He wants you on his side all the time and so it will be.

Eros is very jealous. He is jealous of everything and everyone who approaches you. He doesn't like any of this. You are his and he will use force if necessary to make you understand this.

He is an extremely dangerous god when insulted. He will punish you, but his punishments are mostly sexual, but that doesn't mean he's not willing to leave marks on your delicate skin. If you resist his love, Eros will use his arrows on you. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want a puppet, but if that's what he needs to do to make you love him then so be it. You will love him willingly or by force. It's your choice.

''Stand still, Y/N! If you don't want to love me willingly, then I have to force you. Either way, you will love me.''

Kinks: Eros does not have a specific kink. He's willing to do anything in bed, but to be honest, he likes to be submissive. It's his dirtiest secret, he wants you to master it.

Nicknames: princess/prince, love.

CAREGIVER

Persephone is the Greek goddess of Spring dead, life, grain, nature, destruction, herbs, flowers, fruits and perfumes. She is the Queen of the Underworld. She is the daughter of Zeus and Demeter and the wife of Hades.

''No need to worry, my sweetie. I will be here for you. Ever.''

Persephone is a very kind goddess. She has a reputation for being kind to heroes and that's true. She is one of the kindest and gentle goddesses of all the Greek gods, to the point of being quite naive, although this changes a bit after she becomes the Queen of the Underworld.

The goddess laid her eyes on you after meeting you briefly at one of the Olympian festivities. Before she married Hades. You were a goddess/god, a minor goddess/god, but you had been invited and Persephone couldn't take her eyes off you. But she never tried to talk to you, her mother Demeter was extremely protective and wouldn't let anyone near her, so the goddess didn't dare approach you.

But everything changed after her kidnapping and her marriage to Hades, even after she got married and supposedly fell in love with her husband, you were still on the goddess's mind all the time and now that she was away from her mother, she could have the chance to speak with you. And she did. You were exactly as Persephone had imagined, kind and fun. Rumors about your kindness were true and she fell even more in love with you.

Persephone is a very compassionate goddess, she would never force you into anything or try to hurt you in any way. She loves you too much for that. The goddess would never dare do anything to hurt you. You would be pampered and adored by her. You two would do anything together, she refuses to leave your side. Even when she returns to her husband's side, she will convince you to go to the underworld with her.

Getting stuck with Persephone is not a bad thing. She is kind and calm, she would never try to hurt you and would give you all the affection in the world if you wanted. But you have to stay by her side. And she will go up against anyone who was opposed to her relationship, no matter who.

''What do you say we go for a walk in my garden, Y/N-wer? If you're hungry, I've got some pomegranates here with me.''

Kinks: dom and aftercare. Persephone can be kind and all, but in the bedroom she's the one who dominates.

Nicknames: Y/N-wer (mixture of Y/N with flower) and my goddess/god.

[mercurygray]

The Only One I've Got

This one goes out to the anonymous Fred Friend.

It looked like it was going to be sunny today.

After the long slow slog through December and January's sleets and snows, sunshine would be welcome, even if it was only for a few thin February hours. The weather was pressing in on them just as much as the missions were, and so far 1944 had not had much to recommend it.

(Their director had asked quietly at New Year's if a reassignment would be welcomed, but she didn't really want to go. If she left she'd lose so many good memories.)

"I left the mail on the table," Tatty said, coming in from the front where they usually parked the jeep. "I didn't see what's there."

"Thanks, Tat!" Fred said, brushing the last of the toast crumbs from her fingers and going to look at the pile. Helen, Helen, Mary, Tatty, Helen - and a small square of what looked like cardstock, stamped several times in purple and red with a very serious German word in the upper left corner, and her name, Freda Torvaldsen, written in careful block script in the address.

She must have made a noise, because Helen was suddenly there, and maybe Tatty, too, and she couldn't remember sitting down in the chair, and the rest of the mail had fallen on the floor. Her vision was swimming a little.

She wanted it to be from him. Maybe it wasn't.

"Fred, honey, you need me to read it to you?"

She shook her head, her hands shaking as she tried to turn it over to open it and nearly ripped the thing in two. Tatty took it from her and eased the seal open before she handed it back.

It was dated three months ago - December.

Dear Fred,

I'm hopeful that maybe you've tried to get news about me before now. If not, my new stationery should inform you - I am alive, and a guest of the Germans in a Prisoner of War camp. I'm sorry I haven't written before now. Now that we are settled we are permitted to send three pieces of mail a month and I needed to tell my folks first.

It feels very strange to write your name at the top of a letter. I've never had to write to you before. I'm hopeful that maybe we can keep this up, if you still feel the same way you did several months ago. Quarters here are close and I couldn't keep who I was writing to private. I need to let you know there have been some complaints. Lots of guys from the old outfit are here with me, and many names that you would know. (I'm not listing them, as I think the censor will black them out.) Hopefully you don't hear from them, too.

I just realized I'm using the word hopeful a lot, but it's the only one I've got. Hopefully Yours, John

PS - There are a few guys here who are not getting mail. Can you share my address with Ma Brennan and see if she could write something? It would be nice to share a little of the news from home and let them know that they aren't forgotten.

She read it through three times, vision increasingly blurry, realizing, belatedly, that the pencil was getting on her fingers. Hopefully yours. She held it to her nose and thought she could smell pipe smoke, and it was the best gift she'd ever gotten.

Of course I'm yours. You're the only one I've got.

-

A big thank you to a friend who is asking to remain anonymous for sharing images of what POW mail looked like. Some of it was on pre-printed postcards and some was on a message blank, which is what I'm describing here. The big German word Fred can't read is Kriegsgefangenpost, prisoner of war mail. I also just found a website online that has a ton of pictures of what this looked like.