#i just got refered to one department when that department is the one who told me to speak to the other so

[starfilm]

the worst thing about changing your name is the paperwork and processes u gotta go thru. the best part is your name! worth it but damn

[kazumist]

COULD IF YOU WOULD .ᐟ

✩ — the two times aventurine referred to you as his "work wife" and the one time he seems to have left out the "work" part.

✩ — includes: aventurine x f!reader. fluff (?), crack. cw: ooc!aventurine probably, very messy and i kinda hate this piece LOL. wc: 820. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

✩ — note: trying to write aventurine as his usual self now and not some delusional hc that i have of him yay! (i went through hell and back writing this just to get the dialogue match his way of speaking.) pretend that the ipc holds company dinners btw 🥹.

you don’t really know how it started. but maybe it’s because your co-workers tease you both too much about how you and aventurine act like an “old married couple” due to your constant banter, or maybe it’s because of aventurine’s (annoying) flirtatious remarks towards you.

however with the constant jokes and all, even aventurine got infected because there’s times when he would refer to you as his “work wife” as well. the first was when you were out at a company dinner. working in the same department with aventurine didn’t really help your… predicament, but for some reason, it wasn’t so bad.

“so how are you two love birds doing?” a co-worker asked, clearly drunk from the way they slurred their words and how red their face was slowly getting. aventurine just laughs at them—casually swinging an arm and resting it on the back of your chair. “my work wife here seems to be doing well, right?” he glances at you, a whiskey glass in hand, as he rotates it with his wrist. he was simply met with a glare in return. people wouldn’t care if you responded anyway because they’re too drunk to even remember this in the morning.

the second time was when you two got stuck in an elevator ride. and the worst part? aventurine purposely pressed at least four floors below your destination on the panel just so he could chat with you. “wouldn’t it be a nice idea to ditch work for today?” he asks, his eyes focused on both of your reflections from the elevator’s doors.

“you’re insane.”

“my dearest work wife, you wound me! i was simply asking you out.”

“no one would ever agree if you asked them in that way.” you refused to make eye contact with him.

“if i asked normally, then where’s the fun in that?”

when the elevator hit the current floor, you made your exit despite the floor not being your destination yet. 

of course, he had called or referred to you as his “work wife” many more times than this. however, as for the third one, it was when you were assigned to work with aventurine to dig up some information in a bar of sorts. a bar is quite a dangerous place in general, but you both had no choice but to split up so work would be faster.

that is, until you started being pestered by some stranger at the bartender’s counter.

no matter how many times you told him to go away (in reality, you really wanted him to go fuck off already), he was just being too persistent. but you couldn’t do anything because it would most definitely cause a scene—and you don’t want that. it was starting to suffocate you, how the stranger kept getting closer.

“dear, who is this?” you knew that voice from anywhere. you looked over to your side and saw aventurine next to you, already wrapping his arm around your waist as he looked at the stranger from head to toe. after telling him that you had no idea, you swore you could’ve seen his jaw clench for a quick second. playing along was mandatory with how the situation is turning now, even if aventurine had to pretend that he was actually your partner (well, technically, he is your partner for this assignment).

“who knew that there was actually someone indecent enough to hit on someone’s wife?” it was weird. you always felt icked by how aventurine kept calling you his “work wife." but this time, it was weird. and you hate it.

because you had a revelation that you liked the fact aventurine called you his wife at this very moment.

aventurine has a way with words. he always does; he knows what to say to rile up someone—to provoke them. it was no surprise that the stranger became another one of aventurine’s victims when it came to his provocative terms. yet, it was all over in a blink of an eye because the guy retreated. (you weren’t able to understand what aventurine specifically said to him, but does it really matter at this point?)

“are you alright?” he asks. 

“yeah. thank you.”

“how about we hit the hay for tonight? i managed to gather some information anyway.”

“agree, i was able to catch some as well.”

“really now? we make a great team, don’t we?”

“don’t let it get to your head, aventurine.”

he chuckles. ���i was serious, though.” you look at him, confused. “about…?” aventurine leans to your ear and whispers low: “we could actually get married if you would let me do the honors of asking for your hand.”

thwack!

“ow! hey! i was only kidding! okay maybe i wasn’t but—hey! that actually hurts a lot now!” he yelps as you slap him by the shoulder repeatedly. “you’re insane, i tell you!”

maybe being called aventurine's work wife had its perks after all.

[fandomscombine]

New Kid

Spencer Reid x Reader

BG: It’s your first day at the BAU and meeting the team. The team is surprised with how you’re hitting it off with a certain Doctor but what they don’t know is that a bigger surprise is yet to come.  

A/N: My first Criminal Minds/Spencer Reid Fic! It’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year now and finally tied an ending together. (Are we over a 2-year writing slump? We’ll see!)

Honestly it’s pure season 1/season 2 team fluff crack and chaoticness! Wanted to capture the early seasons team dynamics. Hope you all enjoy!

Fun fact, it’s all the Spencer Reid x Reader fics that kept popping in my recommendations that I started reading and falling in love with Reid prior to starting the show!

WC: 1307

>>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<<

>>>CRIMINAL MINDS MASTERLIST<<<

This is it. Your first day as a Special Agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Growing up reading detective stories and solving mysteries were your favorite pastimes. 

You’re grateful for having a family environment that was supportive of your thirst for knowledge and endless curiosity.

The receptionist has informed you that the team is waiting for you upstairs, ready to give your orientation tour.

"Thanks." You replied, half mildly picking at your nails. In just an elevator ride away, you'd be in the midst of the smartest profilers alive. And nothing goes unnoticed – that you know very well.

A vibration in your pocket breaks your thoughts. A smile slips to your face. 

"Stop picking at your fingers." The voice on the other line says.

"Hello to you dad." You can't help but roll your eyes. "I wasn't even–" You look down at your left hand. Shit. "How'd you even know?" 

"I just do, I watched you grow up for 25 years." 

"Yea yea."

"Hey kid, sorry I couldn’t be there—“

“You’ve got a whole auditorium full of nerds dying to hear your lectures, I understand.” The door in front of you opens and you step inside.

“Thanks kid. I’ll make it up to you. How does an extra large, extra saucy lasagne sound?”

“Oooh yes, don’t forget with extra cheese!” The monitors indicate: 3/F, 4/F, 5/F.  “By the way, you’ve told them right?” As you step out, you spot a group of agents handled near the department entrance. “Anyway I’ll see you later, gotta go. Bye.” Quickly cutting the line off, not wanting to seem unprofessional, chatting on the phone.

“Special Agent y/m/n?” Said the brunette.

You opted to be referred to by your first and Mother’s maiden name, when you first started out. Wanting to stand on your own merits and making a name for yourself.

“That’s me.” 

“Special Agent Greenaway, this is Agent Jareau, and Agent Garcia.” You shake hands with the two agents “Call me JJ” 

But you are quickly engulfed into a hug by the third, which you have to admit took you by surprise.  “You can call me Penelope.-- Opps sorry, just excited to have another female member in the team!” You give her a warm smile, patting her shoulder, “No worries, Penelope. Just caught me off-guard.”

“Come on, let’s meet the rest of the team.” JJ says, leading you all into the bullpen.

“So this would be your desk right here” points Agent Greenaway. “Which is right across from Agent Morgan–”

“Derek, Derek Morgan m’ beautiful lady.” cuts in the man. 

You can’t help but blush from the compliment. “You always flirt with the new kid, huh Derek?” You challenge, playing off his energy. 

“Ignore him,” 

“Cmon’ Elle. It’s all good fun!”

Elle directs you to a hunched figure behind Derek.

“This is our resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid.”  She points to Reid, who is preoccupied with a lego model to have noticed the group. 

“Dr. Reid! I’ve heard so much about you!” Reaching out your hand, to grab his attention. His head instantly shoots up, eager to know the culprit who distracted him from finishing this model of the Delorean and give them a piece of his mind.

“Hey! I was just finishing -.” His voice trails off upon realizing that A. it wasn’t one of his teammates making fun of his legos but instead a face he doesn’t recognize and B. feeling bad on being the reason why your bright smile turned into a frown. “Oh Sorry! Sorry Ms–”

“y/m/n” Your father had shared stories about the team, especially Spencer, his protege. He was the person you were most excited to meet, though with this first interaction - you were discouraged with how it went. Perhaps you shouldn’t have run multiple scenarios on how you’d wow the team with such high standards. 

Dropping your arm, eager to quickly change the subject, you turn to Elle. “ So what cases do we –”

“y/m/n? As in y/f/n y/m/n!?” Spencer exclaims, his eyes wide. Big hand gestures dancing through the air as he raved.  “ The author of ‘The Correlation Between The Probability of Sudden Adult Anger Outburst and Childhood Familial Upbringing.’ ?

You’d had your thesis quoted back to you by professors and peers, but never with such childlike wonder written all-over Spencer’s face, making you blush. “Yes! But how -”

“I’ve read so much about you! Your work, I mean.” Spencer isn’t normally affected by how he’s perceived by others. Spitting out facts in the speed of light is synonymous to his identity and it’s nothing he’s ashamed of. But it's rare to have someone beautiful and intelligent be into the same niche interests that he has. Spencer only has one shot on not coming on as weird and it’s not going well, so he elaborates.  “I got it from Gideon’s pile. I picked it up on a whim but your writing is spectacular! I read through it in 12 mins!”

“Wait, you read through my 250 page dissertation in under 12 mins?” You questioned, looking around the team to check if you’ve misheard. 

“Affirmative. It would have been faster, but I was jotting down some notes.”

“Notes, huh?” Crossing your arms, the paper had gone through multiple reviews from your professors before submission. It should be damn near perfect. “Alright, Doctor Reid. I’m interested, how about you show me your notes over coffee?”

“Actually…” Spencer raised his finger, interjecting. “It might take a bit longer than an hour and I would love to dig into your brain. Perhaps we could go over it at dinner?”

“Name the time and place.” You grabbed the nearest post-it and quickly wrote down your phone number. “Now will you excuse me, I believe I’m late for my introductory meeting with Agent Hotchner.” 

With that you broke away from the make-shift team circle and headed you to Hotch’s office, leaving the team still frozen in their spot.

Derek was the first to speak. “Did pretty boy just ask out the new girl without stuttering and succeed?”

“Good, so everyone else witnessed that too right?” Added Penelope. 

JJ nodded in agreement, too stunned to speak as if it would break the illusion.

“What?” Spencer’s voice cracked. “I simply asked if we could compare notes!”

“No. Technically she initiated it.” Elle clarified.

Shaking his head, Spencer eyes trailed to the now closed Hotch’s door. 

“Yea, to which you effortlessly turned from coffee date to a dinner date!” Exclaimed Derek, earning Spencer a pat on the back. “The boy’s got game!”

“It’s not a date! At least I don’t think it is - I bet she doesn’t see me that way. Nobody does.” Spencer sighs, sulking back down to his seat. Reality catching up to him by the second, erasing any hope that a woman like you would have any romantic interest in a nerd like him. 

“Trust me kid.” Come a voice, effectively cutting Reid’s thoughts. Gideon nonchalantly walks up to the empty desk marked “Agent y/n y/m/n”, moves the box of your belongings to make space for  what seems to be a plastic bag of takeaway. “You're her type.” 

“What?” Spencer asks, more confused than ever. The looks across the team’s face reflect his own reaction. “And how would you know that?” 

“With all due respect, sir.” Added JJ, careful not to overstep. “You haven’t seen y/n and you got all that from her untouched desk?”

“Yea Gideon, we know you’re good but you can’t be that good!”

Gideon brushed off Derek’s brassiness and smirked. Proceeding to head up to his office, finally addressing the group only halfway up the steps. “I know, cause she's my daughter.”

“WHAT?!” exclaimed the BAU team, who once again found themselves frozen by a member of the Gideon family.

[phant0mth1ef]

bakugou x blunt business course reader hcs / let me know if you guys want little drabbles of this!!

- usually business course students wanted to create their own companies, but there were a select few like you and some others that agreed to take on the challenge of trying to market heroes as approachable and attractive!

- he’s known your name since first year due to your placement in the sports’ festival, honestly with your quirk he was surprised you didn’t take the hero track. anyways his nickname for you was “wasted potential business course extra.”

- the first time he actually talked to you was in second year when the teachers had told the hero course students to get more invested with those in the business course, stating that one day they’d be in charge of each and every career.

- was a pain in the ass when he first met you, like he literally sucked and you dreaded every meeting.

“hello… bakugou?” you said skimming down the list of potential heroes you were supposed to meet with.

“yeah, what?” you knew getting people to like him was going to be even harder than getting people to like another client of yours, monoma.

“don’t take that tone with me, i’m basically launching your career.” you typed away on your laptop as the boy sulked in a chair, listening to everything you said.

“as i was saying, marketing yourself in a way similar to best jeanist can have either a good outcome, they’ll approve of you. or a bad outcome, they’ll call you a copycat.”

“tch.” so he ignored your advice and launched his career in a way similar to the pro hero’s and ended up getting insane backlash to the point where you had to step in and try to completely rebrand him.

eventually you got people to start referring to him as the blast hero.

“people are calling me blasty boy.”

“wow. that’s really unfortunate for you! anyways, what’s your height? this company wants to interview you for their tall men friendly jeans.”

- hated meeting with you because of how blunt and honest you were, but also grew to like you because whenever you complimented him, he knew you were genuine.

- would try to blow off meetings just for you to find him and drag him back to the business course meeting rooms, your quirk was something similar to blackwhip so he couldn’t ever really get out of your hold.

- once he realized how popular he was quickly getting thanks to you, he started to actually value the time you’d been putting into making him an admirable hero, but he couldn’t say the same for monoma who, no matter what you did, could not be saved in the publicity department.

- would never thank you, at least not directly.

“i guess this is where we part ways.” you told him at your last meeting before graduation.

“… i guess so. 🧍🏻 thanksorwhatever.” he spoke fast, as if he’d run out of words before leaving.

- even though he said he hated you on countless occasions, he couldn’t deny that he’d begun to miss you when you weren’t around. going so far as to find your contact and call you up once he started his own agency.

“you want me so bad.” you said as you walked in, your briefcase in hand as you shoved the boy to the side, headed up to your new office.

“no i don’t! just need help. s’all!” he was so easy to piss off it was so funny.

- you made him take modeling gigs when his approval ratings were low.

- one time you both went to grab dinner and people assumed you were on a date and you guys just never corrected them and continued to do stuff like that.

- eventually you fell into a routine, and although he never explicitly asked you out, you’d moved into his apartment, did couple things like kiss and stuff, and were always around each other.

- even he thought you were dating until you got interviewed once.

“a boyfriend?… no.” you were so oblivious it was crazy, he had to tell you afterwards that he thought you were his girlfriend.

“WE’RE DATING?” you were completely shocked and he just stood like like a statue.

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?!”

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Jealousy, Jealousy - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer and reader are both BAU agents in a secret relationship and a charity gala has reader tired of hiding.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Trying something different with the first person perspective here! bc of that I did have to use y/n twice so sorry for that lol. This is later seasons but pre-prison Spencer, so he’s a little more sure of himself and in return more dominant without being fully there. I promise I’m working on a few sub!spencer fics right now but I stumbled across this old fic of mine while going through my past works and I was dying to rework it because I wasn’t happy with what it was before lol.

TW: jealousy, angst, kissing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, afab reader, use of “girl” in reference to reader.

Rating: R, 18+ only please!

——

We’d already been here for three hours and I was growing weary watching Spencer make awkward conversation with every person at this charity gala. There were hundreds of people neither of us knew in this room, but bureaucratic duty required the both of us to make small talk with everyone no matter the department. Heaven knows Spencer didn’t have any intention beyond professional with these people, and I certainly didn’t either as it came with the territory of being BAU agents, but somehow I couldn’t help but find the jealous side of me rearing its ugly head with every attractive colleague that looked his way.

I’d kept my distance, allowing him the space he needed to not seem too attached. I knew how important it was that everyone assumed we were both single, interpersonal relationships between agents aren’t exactly looked highly upon here. Still, watching him talk the ear off of another woman had that familiar blossom of insecurity blooming in my chest. No matter how clueless he was, I knew just how many women and men in our professional vicinity would risk a lot to be with Spencer, and they figured that maybe given the right set of circumstances, perhaps they’d have the opportunity. He never gave them that privilege of course, even though we weren’t public with our relationship, we knew what we were, and he never betrayed that trust.

Still, as he was approached by a particularly tall, gorgeous redhead I found myself growing more and more jealous. He said something and she laughed a little too hard, laying her right hand on his bicep and tossing her hair over her shoulder with the other, and the green eyed monster returned, fiercer than ever. A tear slipped down my cheek as I watched, but I quickly wiped it away, fighting to keep my composure.

When he finally broke away from her, I made my way through the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, whispering his name to catch his attention. He turned to me, features softening as he registered my features.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, concern lacing his tone.

“I’m not feeling well, I’m going to head home.” I told him, forcing a reassuring smile so as not to worry him.

“Would you like me to come with?” He whispered, brushing his hand against my arm, just as the redhead had done to him. Such a simple, loving gesture, and the thought of someone who was not me doing it to him made my blood boil. I shook my head, giving him one last look of reassurance before gathering the top of the skirt of my overly detailed gown in my hands and making my way out of the ballroom and ordering an uber.

When I got back to his apartment, I kicked my heels off haphazardly the second the door locked behind me before stumbling to his bedroom. I don’t know why I’d come back to his apartment, I should’ve gone to mine, but I didn’t want to. I was sick of the hiding, the secrecy. I wanted him. I wanted to live with him. I wanted to be with him.

I reached around to the zipper on the back of my dress, roughly pulling it down halfway before it got caught, the expensive fabric bunching under the hardware. I pulled as hard as I could, desperate to get out of the increasingly suffocating garment, but my attempts seemed in vain as the zipper stayed put.

All the emotions I’d been holding in throughout the night boiled to the surface, showing themselves in the form of hot, frustrated tears. I collapsed face first onto the bed, letting the plush bedding consume me as I folded my arms beneath my cheek, feeling the wetness gather against my skin. I let it all out, quiet sobs wracking my body as I groveled in my jealousy, the physical pain of the restrictive fabric only doubling my emotions.

I didn’t know how long I’d been laying there, but his hand on my shoulder broke me out of the jealousy fueled haze I’d been locked in.

“Y/n? Why didn’t you go home? What’s wrong?” His voice sounded fuzzy as I quickly stood to face him, wiping away my tears.

“I don’t want to go back there Spencer, I want here to be home. I’m not home if I’m not with you. I’m so sick of hiding. I want to be yours.” I blurted, too overwhelmed to think about what I was confessing.

“You are mine.” He whispered.

“I don’t believe you.” I responded.

“There’s no one else y/n, you know that.” He continued, but it did little to calm me.

“All those women at the gala, touching you, flirting with you. I don’t want to have to sit back and watch it anymore. I die a little every time I see it.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t-“

“I know! You don’t enjoy any of it, I get that, but they do! They want you, Spencer, and I can’t bare the thought of losing you to one of them.” I confessed, tears welling in my eyes again.

“That won’t happen.” He said, a kind of sureness in his tone.

“How do I know that?” I asked.

“Because you’re the only one I want. You’re the only one that understands me for who I really am. I don’t care about them, not the way I care about you. I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about you.”

“I love you, y/n.” It rolled off his tongue as if they were the truest words he’d ever spoken, and as he placed his hands on my hips I practically melted under his touch.

“I love you too.” I breathed, looking up at him doe-eyed, lip quivering as I held back the tears of contentment fighting to escape my waterline.

“I’m yours.” He whispered, pulling me into him before crashing his lips to mine. I turned to putty in his hands, hanging on his every touch as he pulled away and spun me around, large hand resting on my exposed shoulder as the other worked carefully to untangle my zipper, finally allowing the fabric of the gown to fall from my frame.

His lips met my neck, sucking hungrily against my blushed skin and I brought my hand to rest in his brunette curls, holding him steadily against me. He pressed his hips flush against my lower back, his member growing hard as he marked my neck, drawing his swollen lips over the purple patches forming across the sensitive skin of my neck.

I whimpered as he nipped at my pulse point, nimble fingers undoing my bra before letting it join my gown on the floor, immediately cradling my breasts in his soft grip. I rolled my hips back against him, earning a deep groan as my free hand moved to palm him through his fitted slacks.

“Let me prove how devoted I am to you.” He breathed, spinning me back around before laying me slowly onto the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching as he removed his suit jacket, then undid the buttons of his dress shirt one by one, maintaining eye contact as he undid his belt and dropped his pants and underwear, leaving him bare for me to take in.

He knelt at the edge of the bed, taking my ankles in his grip before parting my legs, placing a soft kiss to the small dip on the inside of my ankle. He looked up at me, his gaze never leaving my face as I watched him plant wet kiss after wet kiss up the expanse of my leg before repeating the action on the other, the intimate act arousing me more and more by the second.

When he finally reached my left upper thigh, he lingered, drawing his tongue over the apex of my thigh to my panties, licking a flat stripe over the soaked panel of fabric, drawing a panting moan from my throat. He locked eyes with me, placing a kiss over my clit before taking the waistband between his teeth and letting it slap back against my hip, earning a whimper from me.

He gripped either side of my hips, taking my underwear in hand before pulling them slowly down my legs and discarding them across the room.

I watched transfixed as he kissed his way up my body, leaving soft magenta marks blooming like peonies over my damp skin, paying special attention to my breasts.

“You’re perfect.” He mumbled, tongue tracing around my nipple as I blushed at his words.

“I want to devour every inch of you.” He continued, taking the stiff peak gently between his teeth and tugging, sending a delicious mix of pain and pleasure to every nerve ending in my chest.

“Then do it.” I gasped, relaxing back into the bed. He hummed against me, flicking his tongue over my breast as his other hand slid between my thighs, cupping my cunt. He dipped his index finger to part my folds, already swollen and sticky and dripping with need. I wanted him, and although this certainly was not the first time we’d had sex, I was finally going to have him, all of him.

“So wet…” He trailed off, dragging his mouth up the expanse of my neck before drawing me into a kiss, deep and warm and full of a fire I’d never felt from him before. It’s like his confession had set something free in him, torn down a wall or two, uncaged the animal of desire within him.

“All for you.” I whimpered, pulling him down into another kiss.

He pressed two fingers in slow, pressured circles against my swollen clit, his full lips swallowing every last one of my needy moans and whimpers. Any other night I would’ve reveled in it, secretly loved the slow burn of his teasing, but I was far too emotional for that tonight, and I couldn’t put up with not having him inside of me anymore.

“I need you.” I whined, rutting my hips up into him.

“What do you want me to do, my love?” He asked. I huffed, knowing the game he was playing.

“Please Spence, I need you inside of me. Fuck me, show me what I mean to you.” I practically moaned as he continued rubbing harsh circles against my clit.

“That’s my girl, always so eager.” He praised, snaking his hands around the back of my thighs and lifting to wrap my legs around his hips.

He rubbed himself slowly through my folds, properly coating his cock with my slick before aligning the head at my slit, ready and inviting him in. He pushed slowly into me, a low groan slipping from his clenched jaw as he savored every inch of my wet heat and I met him with a tight embrace, gasping at the way he filled me.

I’d never felt so connected before, like I could feel him in every fiber of my being and as he was seated fully inside of me I felt whole, like we were made for each other.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss before he pulled almost completely out, pausing before pushing back in, my wetness making it almost embarrassingly easy. He angled his hips upward, knowing how quickly I’d crumble beneath him with the repeated brush of his cock against that soft spot inside of me.

He looked down at me, a certain warmth spreading over his dilated pupils as he halted his hips and opened his kiss-swollen lips to speak.

“It’s only you. Forever.” He purred, pushing the stray hair from my face before kissing my temple and pistoning his hips forward, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

Each roll of his hips against mine had my muscles contracting, pulling him closer in every way, never wanting this to end. His rhythm remained steady as he picked up his pace, driving the pressure building inside of me ever closer to bursting.

I snaked one of my hands into his hair, gripping tight as the other found his bicep, matching my grip. I needed to hold him, to feel him, to know that having him here like this wasn’t all a dream. His groans and pants filled the thickening air, like a melody in my ear, mingling with my own and the almost feral “mine” that ripped from his throat on a particularly hard thrust had me crying out for him, clawing at his arm as he repeated the intensity.

I was close, so close and as I felt his cock twitch inside of me I knew he was too. I locked my ankles around his hips, holding him inside of me as he rolled his hips quickly, head dropping onto my shoulder. The continued stimulation of that spot, the sweet spot inside of me only he could hit became too much, bringing stars to my eyes as I cried out his name, euphoria so strong I couldn’t feel my legs as I dug my nails so hard into his arm that I had surely drawn blood.

“I’m yours.” He groaned, hips faltering as he filled me, my cunt still pulsing around him with every spurt of warm cum.

Everything after that was a blur of being held in his arms, whispered I love you’s, and gentle caresses.

“We’ll go to HR as soon as possible, I don’t care what paperwork they want us to fill out or how much shit we’ll get from Morgan, I want everyone at that gala tonight to know that I love you.” He broke the silence, his words a final cementing comfort.

No more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more secrets. Only the two of us.

——

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[h0neylevi]

Chapter Two

After a major shift, your life has become a series of monotonous routines. Eat, sleep, go to work, repeat. But when you find a man bleeding on the subway with no idea how he got there, things become anything but ordinary.

General content warnings: isekai/parallel universe, modern AU, mentions of blood and canon-typical violence, some light angst, eventual smut.

chapter warnings: brief discussion of human trafficking

word count: 3.2k

“Where did you find him again?”

“On my way home last night on the subway.”

“... And he was–”

“In the full scout uniform, yeah.”

Your friend and fellow nurse, Allie, pauses in the wake of your words, eyes fixed on the door at the other end of the hall where one of the hospital’s doctors took Levi to be examined.

They’ve been back there for over an hour now, and you’re starting to get nervous. If this goes badly, you’re never going to live it down with your coworkers.

“Is he hot?”

Your jaw hangs when Allie’s words register, and you turn back to her with an incredulous look.

“I told you all that and that’s what you take from it?”

She raises her hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, if the universe decided to drop a man into my lap that thought he was Erwin Smith, I would take advantage of the situation.”

That, oddly enough, makes you laugh.

“He isn’t Levi Ackerman,” you say once you’ve calmed down. “He probably just hit his head on the way from a costume party and got confused.”

On the other side of the nurse’s station, Allie groans and gets up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m being realistic,” you defend.

“We see weirder things walk into this hospital every day.”

“I think an anime character come to life would surpass anything we’ve ever seen.”

With a defeated little sigh, she grabs a file and rounds the corner. “Well, whatever he is, I have to get back to work.” She taps the file on your shoulder as she passes. “Have fun with Beyblade. Let me know what Paul says.”

Just as she starts down the corridor, the door at the end of the hall opens and Dr. Paul Holloway exits the exam room. His expression is solemn as he gestures for you to join him.

“Thank you again for doing this on such short notice, Dr. Holloway,” you greet him. “Did you find out anything?”

He looks down for a moment at the clipboard in his hand. “Well, the only thing really to note is that he doesn’t seem to know what year it is or where he is, but all of his tests and scans came back normal. Cognition and reflexes otherwise seem to be just fine.”

He rifles through the pages for a moment before continuing. “There are no drugs in his system, and no significant injuries that I could find that would cause this sort of temporary amnesia, so I would have to refer him out to a specialist if you wanted more answers. But as of now, my only guess could be that maybe he was trafficked and escaped. Possibly in a fugue state for so long that he has no recollection of how he got here.”

You listen intently. That wouldn’t explain the clothes you found him in, but it’s worth considering all the same. Large cities were usually hubs for human trafficking. It’s more likely than Allie’s theory at least.

Dr. Holloway seems to sense your thought process. “He should recover his memories soon, but I would suggest maybe filing a police report. I’m sure he has a family out there somewhere who’s missing him.”

You consider it. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I’ll mention it. Thanks again, Dr. Holloway.”

“Of course.”

You wait quietly as he opens the exam room door again and beckons Levi out.

He’s just as passive as ever when he sees you waiting. With a departing nod, Dr. Holloway continues down the hall to another exam room.

“So,” you begin, “how are you feeling?”

“Like a test subject,” Levi grumbles, falling into step with you. “Four-Eyes would love this place.”

You turn to look at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “So, are you satisfied now? I can go?”

You walk through the nearby exit door on the side of the building and onto the street.

“Well, Dr. Holloway didn’t find anything wrong, so I guess you’re welcome to go wherever you like,” you say. “But I really think you should go to the police. I think something really bad has happened to you, Levi. They might be able to help you.”

While you speak, Levi looks around, studying the cars as they pass and the tall buildings.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he sighs. “I think I’m too far from home to go back.”

The recognition that bleeds through his tone makes you curious. “Do you remember where you’re from?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His mouth twists into a frown. “It’s definitely not around here.”

You want to keep pressing but ultimately decide against it. It isn’t as if it’s any of your business, but you feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. You were the one who found him, and if you have the means to help him get to where he needs to go, you’d be willing to offer. It isn’t as if you’ve got anything else going on in your life, but you can only do so much when he doesn’t want you to pry into his personal life.

“Well...” you trail off, unsure. “I need to get some groceries but once we get back to my place, I can wash your clothes before you leave. That’ll give you some time to decide what you want to do.”

To your surprise, it doesn’t take him long to agree.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

**

The supermarket isn’t far from your apartment, so you get onto the city metro together. It’s a familiar route to you, but it’s clear that Levi isn’t accustomed to the amount of people that cram themselves together into the narrow space at once.

There aren’t any seats when you climb on, so you’re forced to stand together in one of the corner exits. At the very least, Levi remembers to grab onto one of the handrails just before the train starts moving—an action that he still seems to find disgusting despite the necessity.

“What?” you laugh at his pinched expression.

“I think I preferred it the way it was last night,” he remarks, not doing anything to hide his distaste while looking around. “How often do these things get cleaned?”

You blink. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably only when something seriously hazardous happens. Like blood or puke.”

The look on his face only grows.

“Don’t worry. I have sanitizer in my bag. I can give you some when we get off,” you promise. “I never got rid of the habit from covid.”

The way Levi’s brows furrow suggest that he doesn’t know what either of those things are either, but you just shake your head, wordlessly promising to explain later.

Once you’re off the train and back out onto the street, you move to the side to pull the aforementioned bottle out of your bag. Levi watches quietly until you reach and squeeze some of the liquid into his upturned palm.

He lifts it closer to his face. “What is this?”

“It’s sanitizer,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “Just rub it in like this. It kills the germs on your hands that you can get from touching random surfaces.”

He follows your example, albeit a bit more slowly, and you set off again down the street.

The rest of the walk is done mostly in silence. Thankfully, Levi doesn’t seem to mind. He chooses mostly to walk along beside you, occasionally looking up at skyscrapers as you pass them or balk at the occasional interaction on the street. There’s a sense of wonder and curiosity that settles on his face, smoothing out the stern glare that you’ve seen him wear since you first found him on the metro.

It really is like he’s never seen anything like it before, and you wonder again about his history. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything, merely curious as he walks, and he carries himself confidently. Like a soldier…

No, that was Allie influencing your thoughts. There’s no way this man was the Levi Ackerman. Even if he had his hair, his stature, the same sullen expression, and similar mannerisms to ones you’ve seen in the anime. It’s an impossible thought. You’re not even considering it.

“What are you staring at?”

You blink and realize that he’s looking at you now and holy shit, his eyes are even that shade of blue-grey.

You turn forward again just as a crosswalk changes for you to go. “Nothing,” you say quickly. “You just… remind me of someone.”

He doesn’t reply—most likely because he doesn’t care—but you’re grateful that he doesn’t pay it any mind.

But by the time you’ve entered the supermarket and grabbed a cart, your curiosity outweighs your hesitation.

“Can I ask you something?”

Beside you, Levi scans the produce aisle you’re approaching with passive interest. “That depends.”

Ignoring him, you press forward. “Is there some reason you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

You speak and he turns to look at you, his brows furrowed.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to what happened than you’re letting on,” you continue. “And I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“You’re right. It is none of your business.”

The comment stings more than you expect, but you try to quickly brush it off. You don’t know this man, and in a matter of an hour or so he’ll be gone. You’d promised yourself that as long as he was healthy, you wouldn’t meddle.

But after everything you’ve done for him, it still feels unfair to treat you so dismissively. He acts like you’re a nuisance more than the person who cleaned him up and gave him a place to sleep out of the cold.

The ensuing silence is tense. You push your cart forward, suddenly eager to get out as quickly as possible. The faster you get home, the quicker he leaves. If that’s what he wants after everything you’ve done, he can have it.

You’re moving through the selection of deli cheeses when Levi speaks up again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.”

You look around, following his gaze as it skims over the refrigerated walls of pre-packaged meat and cheese.

“What are you talking about? It’s a grocery store.”

He huffs. “That doctor said the year was 2024.”

You change course, leading the way into an aisle of canned goods. “Yeah?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest as he follows along.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m not from here.” He pauses for a moment as you pull some cans from a shelf and place them in your cart. “I’m not from this time.”

You stop for a moment and look at him. On his face is the same look he had the night before, that same sincerity when he told you he’d been looking for some sort of headquarters.

You can’t help it. You chuckle. “You’re talking about time travel.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

You continue down the aisle and turn into the next one. “Levi, there’s never been a recorded instance of time travel…ever. It’s never happened.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “See? You don’t believe me.”

“It isn’t about believing you. It’s impossible.”

But even as you say it, you don’t feel entirely convinced that it’s true.

Improbable, sure. Very unlikely. Insane that you’re even considering it, but the more you think about it, the more the pieces seem to fall into place.

The way you found him, his clothes, the way he looks around at everything like he’s seeing it all for the first time. There’s no indication that he has a serious head injury, so you can’t fall back on that anymore. And the trafficking? Well… You’ve been trained to look for red flags, and nothing about his situation seems to fit with that explanation.

Plus, there are the coins you found in the pockets of his clothes this morning. Copper and silver ones bearing symbols you don’t recognize. The silhouette of a woman in a crown.

You’d looked up every conceivable country that you could think of that might fit the bill and nothing had matched.

There’s no way that what he’s saying is true though, right? If you believe him, you’d have to believe all of it—meaning that he is Levi Ackerman and that the events of Attack on Titan are real.

No, that’s silly. In all of recorded history, there’s never been a single event that coincides with the existence of man-eating titans. Belief in giants is a fringe theory not backed by actual evidence.

But, still. Just to humor him.

“What time are you from then?” you ask.

“854.”

You stop and stare at him. “You realize that’s…over a thousand years ago, right?”

With his mouth in a thin line, Levi nods.

You continue to stare, waiting for a break in his composure. The inevitable laugh that will surely come, marking this entire conversation as a joke, but it never comes.

“You’re serious,” you finally say.

Levi blinks. “You believe me?”

God, what do you believe? “I…” You bring your hands to your face. The middle of the pasta aisle is not the place to be weighing the possibility of time travel. “No,” you finally say. “I mean, I don’t know…can you prove it?”

Levi raises a brow. “How am I supposed to prove it to you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be over a thousand years old.”

“I’m not claiming to be—” he cuts himself off with an irritated sigh. “You’re just as bad as the brats back home.”

Something in your patience finally snaps.

You start walking again, needing space. “You know, you could stand to be a bit nicer to me considering all I’ve done for you.”

For a long moment, there’s only the rattling sound of the cart’s wheels as they roll down the aisle.

“I am grateful,” Levi finally says, surprisingly still following next to you. “But I didn’t ask you to interfere.”

“Well, most people wouldn’t have just left a man to bleed all over the metro. I’m sorry I have basic human decency.”

“Basic human decency would have been pointing me in the direction of the nearest sink,” he points out. “You let me sleep on your couch.”

You turn to glare at him. “I’m sorry, are you complaining right now?”

“I’m saying that I don’t like owing people,” he says.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I would have done the same thing for anyone.”

Levi doesn’t look like he completely believes you, but at least he lets the matter rest. 

He follows you the rest of the way through the store in thoughtful silence.

Left to your own devices, you grab things without thinking, relying on muscle memory to lead you to the items you usually buy. It isn’t as if you deviate much from your favorite meals, so the rest of the process is quick.

By the time you’ve grabbed everything you need, your mood has improved enough that you feel a bit remorseful for doubting him.

Even if it was a weird idea, Levi appeared genuine. Like Dr. Holloway had said, he’d probably regain his memories soon. If he really didn’t remember anything about modern life, he was going to need someone to help him.

Maybe he shouldn’t leave so soon.

It isn’t until you turn around to speak that you realize you’re alone. A quick look around the aisle confirms that Levi’s nowhere to be seen. That’s odd. When had he wandered off?

You begin searching back through the aisles and after a few minutes, you spot him. Standing in front of the long, neat shelves lined with tea and coffee. Something akin to dread settles into your stomach at the sight.

He glances over as you approach and places a box back on the shelf. A beat passes before he clears his throat and says, “I’ve never seen so much tea in one place before.”

“Do you want some?” you ask, glancing at the box he put back—a black tea blend. He doesn’t respond, simply skimming over the labels again with a peculiar glint in his eye.

You don’t wait for an answer and pluck the box off of the shelf. He doesn’t stop you as you place it into your cart.

It’s a truce. An apology and an acknowledgment that you’re helping him all in one.

You turn your cart back around and lead the way toward the front. “I’m all done. Let’s go.”

**

The walk back home isn’t as tense as before, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

You keep watching Levi every chance you get. He appears more thoughtful. His gaze lingers just as it always has on the buildings and the people walking past. Cars, billboards, restaurants, all of it.

It’s got to be overwhelming. Not that you're believing him, but if he believes that he isn’t from this time, it has to be a shock to see so many unfamiliar things at once.

“What are you thinking about?” you finally ask.

His expression remains passive as he takes a deep breath, like he’s grounding himself. “Everything just looks so…”

“Artificial?” you supply when he pauses, but the look on his face tells you he’s confused by the word you use. You try again. “Uh, not natural?”

“I was going to say clean.” His voice goes soft as he looks around again. “The air is clean.”

Not sure how to respond, you turn forward and continue down the street.

It doesn’t take much longer to reach your apartment.

Levi helps carry the bags of groceries upstairs and into your kitchen, where he stands awkwardly as you unload everything into their respective spots. Luna, still curious, climbs onto the table nearby, making Levi scowl.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t shoo her away when he decides to take a seat, and he even goes so far as to let her sniff him as he looks out of the window.

You smile when you hear her chirp. A noise that you know she makes when she feels like she’s being ignored.

“You can pet her, you know?” you look over your shoulder to tell him.

He meets you with a bored look. “I know. I don’t want to.”

As if she can understand him, Luna meows again.

After you put the last item away in your fridge, you move to sit at the table across from him.

“So what are you going to do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he replies, and for the first time, he sounds truly at a loss.

“Well, you’re welcome to keep staying here for a bit longer,” you say, petting Luna when she slinks over to you. “Until we figure something out.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “We,” he repeats.

You meet his gaze evenly. “Look, I don’t know where you came from or how you got here, but you’re here now and you’re still a human being. As long as you’re open to letting me help, I will.”

He seems to think on it for a moment before agreeing. “There are worse things in the world, I suppose.”

And you think that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll get.

[peachyscenes]

nine to five | office workers!enhypen x fem!reader

notes: SMUT!! so mdni and proceed with caution/at your own risk! porn with some plot. you 🫵, my dear reader are in fact the same person for the rest of this piece/mini-series (not sorry lol). enhypen are pervs! like freaky pervs! decelis corp is lowkey highkey a sex service company lol. you must really need this job but it's ok because same. not required, but i encourage you all to read part one to give it love 🫶🫶

a/n: i apologize for how short this might be, i've been busy with school and work, but i really wanted to get this part out. i'm happy with how it turned out, but if anyone has any suggestions, don't hesitate to reach out to me. happy first of the month!!

taglist!: @vixialuvs @chubbypeach2111 @jungwoosbaey

reblogs are appreciated!!

Welcome to Decelis Corporation! As the new member of the creative department, you're tasked with developing new ideas to help promote the company and bring in new investors! Though the creative department is not as big as the other departments, you and your seven teammates are just as capable and incredibly skilled! Though, no one told you just how skilled they were... And unfortunately you made the mistake of not reading the fine print when signing the contract...

All members are welcome to explore the services provided by Decelis! By signing this contract, you are consenting to every and all services at your own expense (refer to the employee handbook for the list of services)! Please note that services outside of office hours will not count as overtime unless a request has been submitted by the team leader!

Thank you for joining Decelis Corporation! We hope to have you for a while!

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII

Part II: Jay, Administrative Assistant

You're on your way to your lunch break when Jay calls you to his desk. Sunoo, who's ready to clock out with you for the hour, looks just as confused as you are. Not because this isn't the first time that you've been called to Jay's desk, but because he always sends someone else to have you at his desk.

"Your report is terrible."

You grimaced at his tone, your shoulders coming up to your ears at how blatantly annoyed he is at you.

It's no secret that Jay does not like you.

You have no idea why. You try not to bother anyone at the office, going to Heeseung for any and all questions. You also meet your deadlines, even going as far as submitting them early. As for your reports, they're almost always viewed by Heeseung before showing the higher-ups.

But Heeseung is out for the week, meaning that Jay was stepping in for him.

"I'll review it after my break, Jay-"

"Jongseong."

"Right, sorry."

You internally cringe at forgetting the most important thing. He absolutely hates when you call him Jay. He made sure to tell you on your first meeting.

You were excited about working at Decelis. After multiple applications and what felt like hundreds of interviews with no results, you finally got a call back, and after a quick 10 minute interview, you were hired on the spot. You had came into the office the following day, dressed to impress and ready to take on anything that came your way.

You didn't expect to quite literally crash into him. His coffee had spilled all over his clothes and the files he was holding.

Jongseong had never been so pissed and while you were busy apologizing profusely, he made sure to tell you exactly what was up.

"If you want to keep your job, I suggest you take your head out of the clouds."

"I really am sorry... I'll pay for your dry cleaning," you look at his I.D. card. "Jay-"

"It's Jongseong to you."

Heeseung had to step in, apologizing to you on his colleague's behalf before immediately taking you away from the man.

You take back your report from his desk, avoiding eye contact as you hurriedly make your way back to Sunoo. He offers you a small awkward smile. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes tell you that he wants to know what happened.

"I just don't get it Sunny. I don't really bother him, y'know?"

You pick at your food, appetite lost after your interaction with Jay. Sunoo can only offer you a squeeze of his hand for comfort.

"I wish I could help you, but he kind of scares me when he's mad." You let out a huff, already dreading to go back to the office. And right you were. You expected Jay to be snappy with you, but you didn't expect him to be harsher than usual.

"I need that report by 5pm today."

"Can you please work more silently?"

"Stop congregating and get back to your desk."

"It's still terrible, revise it again."

Over and over, Jay would bark at you. Whether it's about your report or because you got up to fill your water bottle, he was on you. Your last straw was when you had tripped over his foot. Jake had given you some documents to scan in the printing room. Jay saw you when you were making your way, you didn't pay any mind to it until it happened. You scuffed a bit of his dress shoe, but it could be easily cleaned. Apparently, Jay didn't think so.

"You're such a klutz. You should watch where you're going-"

"You stuck your foot out on purpose." You cut him off. You've had it with him. "You saw me coming and stuck your foot out. If you wanted to pick a fight or get at me for the tiniest shit, then at least admit it instead of doing petty shit like this."

"Watch your tone. I didn't-"

"Stop with your bullshit Jay." You raised your voice at him. "I can't wait until Heeseung comes back." You angrily stomp out of the office to the printing room. As you were scanning through the sheets. You hear the door open. You expected it to be anyone else. You didn't expect Jay to follow you into the printing room.

"You've got some nerve talking to me like that in front of everyone."

You roll your eyes at him and return your attention back to the scanner. You're about to insert another sheet when he harshly takes the stack from your hands.

"What the hell is your problem-!"

What you also didn't expect, was for Jay to kiss you. His grip on your hips was harsh, likely enough to leave a bruise, but the juxtaposition between that and his lips made you dizzy. They were soft, tender on your own. You felt your breath being taken. He kisses you as if he needs you. His pace is slow enough for you to keep up. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on it.

Jay kisses you differently than Heeseung, and admittedly you like kissing Jay more between the two.

He pulls away after what feels like forever. You finally catch your breath. It's shaky, and your hands have a tight grip on his dress shirt. Your lips are swollen, but you feel good. There's a buzz throughout your body, and Jay is there to soothe you as his hands massage your hips.

"You're such a brat, Baby. I know what you and Heeseung did."

Your breath hitches. You try to get away from Jay to avoid the embarrassment but he keeps you in place, between him and the scanner. He smirks down at you before leaning in.

"I don't appreciate your behavior from earlier. How about I teach you a lesson on respect, hm?"

Jay spins you around and starts to grope your ass. You moan lowly, liking the way he handles you body.

"Heeseung said you were a good girl, but you're so bad with me. Why is that?" His hands begin to ghost over the hem of your pencil skirt, groping your outer thighs. "I'm harsh on you because I want you to do better. You're always slacking off Sweetheart."

"Sometimes you're too mean..." you close your eyes, his hands are so warm. You find yourself relaxing and giving into his touches. "You tripped me on purpose earlier-!" You gasp when he smacks your ass. Your skirt stood between his hand and your skin, but you felt it. Your ass burns at his hit, and it's in that moment that you realize just how strong Jay is. You've seen him move things around the office on his own, and you grow wet thinking of how he'd maneuver you.

"I wanted to see if you'd pay attention. Now stay still and take your punishment like a good girl."

He lifts your skirt up and bunches it up around your waist. His hands skim over your pantyhose clad legs and ass and pulls at the material.

"These fucking tights. They make your legs look so sexy baby, but they're kinda in the way right now." You hear a rip, and gasp when his fingers trace your pussy lips from outside your panties. "So wet, do I make you this wet?"

You meekly nod, hissing out when he moves your panties to the side and immediately inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt. You grip onto the edge of the scanner, ignoring its little melody that signals to you that it's done scanning the document. Jay's fingers are thick, while not as long as Heeseung's, they fill your pussy up good. You mewl out when you feel his thumb tease your other hole. You feel a glob of spit land before he takes it and uses it as lube, teasing the tight ring of your ass before pushing it in. You tense up at the intrusion, but Jay shushes you and places a hand on your back to calm you. He pushes his fingers inside of your two holes in and out, double stimulating you.

"Jongseong! Fuck, your fingers feel so good." You feel yourself begin to move your hips in tune with his fingers, helping him reach deeper into you.

Your moans grow higher in pitch, not caring about where you are right now. Besides, you took the time to finally read the employee handbook after your encounter with Heeseung.

"F-faster Jongseong! Please! Wanna come!"

"You wanna come on my fingers baby? But I thought you said you couldn't wait until Heeseung got here." He fakes a pout as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"N-no! You! Want you to make me come." You throw your head back onto his own shoulder, tongue almost out from how good his fingers were.

"Who's better at filling up your cunt, me or Heeseung?"

You let out a whine, too embarrassed to answer because both men make you feel so good. Jay sees your hesitation as your mushed brain tries to come up with an answer. His free hand rounds your body to push past the band on your pantyhose and underwear, reaching your clit and pinching it harshly. You let out a cry at his ministrations.

"Answer me Baby. Or... is it something else?"

You nod, hoping he'd understand you, but Jay once again pinched your clit hard.

"Words, Sweetheart. Use your big girl words."

You grip his forearm, before finally breaking. Tears run down your face, you're not sure if it's from pleasure or embarrassment.

"B-both! You both fill up my pussy so good!" You turn your head towards Jay, and your eyes widen at how predatory he looks. He smirks at you, before moving is fingers at a faster pace. You moan out, head hanging as you feel the buildup of your orgasm.

"Gonna come! I'm gonna come Jongseong!"

And before you could, he stops his fingers and removes them from your holes, ripping you away from your orgasm. You let out a whine.

"No! I was gonna come!"

Instead, Jongseong gently pulls your skirt down back into place, turning you around to face him before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Brats don't get to come until they apologize."

You stare at him, dumbfounded. He simply winks at you as he turns to leave, throwing a message behind him as he walks toward the door.

"I like when you call me Jongseong, especially when you're moaning."

You look away, feeling too shy to look at him. And just as he's about to leave, he leaves you with a final message.

"I'll be sure to inform Heeseung of your little... confession." You look up, confused by his words, when you see it. On his phone, a voice recording of everything that went down.

You feel yourself getting wet at the implications of Jongseong's words.

[dreamcubed]

...ready for it? | mattheo riddle x reader

song; ...ready for it? [taylor swift] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!muggle-born!reader genre; fake dating, s2l, fluff, smut word count; 5,3k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, references to alcohol/drugs/smoking, violence, blood and injury, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering, discrimination (of muggle-borns) summary; following the war, mattheo is suffocated by the association with his father, and decides there is only one way to make people see that he is nothing like him. you, on the other hand, want to prove to people that, in the year you've been in hiding, you have changed from the naïve goody-two-shoes you once were

screaming crying throwing up at how good tortured poets department is

masterlist

"in the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do."

————————————————

The rumours followed Mattheo Riddle like hitmen— praying for his downfall, never leaving him alone, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. To many, it was obvious what he was before even meeting him. Evidently, the son of the Dark Lord was every bit as bad as his father, would fill his shoes now that he was dead, that there would be a Third Wizarding War with Mattheo at the very centre of it. Never mind that he hardly knew his father, that Voldemort had been gone for almost his entire childhood.

After the final demise of the Dark Lord, and Mattheo had elected to return to Hogwarts for the subsidiary eighth year, his reputation built on gossip and assumptions had only gotten worse. It hadn't helped that he now bore the dark mark on his left forearm, and he had tried to explain that his father had forced him to take it, that he would have hurt him in unthinkable ways if he didn't, but no one listened. No one cared. He still had his friends, but his association with them didn't help, as most of them were pure-blooded Slytherins whose families were death eaters.

But without them he would have nothing.

He didn't understand— no one was nearly as mad at Draco for walking over to the Dark Lord at the final battle as they were at him for simply possessing some of his DNA. It made him resent his cousin, but he knew he couldn't blame him. He had been every bit as coerced into the death eater cult as him: threatened with the deaths of them and their families.

Muggle-borns and the majority of the half-bloods avoided him like the plague; even some pure-bloods, who were far more politically correct, looked at him with distaste in their eyes. Mattheo wanted to scream to the whole world that he wasn't his father and didn't give a single fuck about blood purity. But who would listen? They would see that he was screaming and immediately associate his anger with the desire to start a war.

You, on the other hand, also couldn't escape your reputation. Prior to the war, you had been known as a goody-two-shoes, called uptight, boring, a smartass. While in hiding throughout seventh year, you had shed any resemblance you had to such an identity, but despite appearing and acting completely differently now you had returned for the subsidiary eighth year, your peers still treated you like a naïve and overly innocent child. Bullied you, even, in some more extreme cases. They viewed you as socially inept, sexually unaware, scared of alcohol, smoking and drugs.

They wouldn't listen when you told them that you had changed— so, there you found yourself, in a Saturday detention after doing something incredibly stupid to get people to stop seeing you that way. The stupid thing in question? You had let yourself get caught being outside of your house quarters after curfew. It was pathetic, and an admittedly idiotic thing to do just for the sake of changing your reputation, but there you were.

Worst thing was it hadn't even worked.

"I bet she had a panic attack," a Ravenclaw girl had giggled.

"She definitely got on her knees and started begging for the professor to show mercy," a Hufflepuff boy had laughed.

They still saw you as pathetic and helpless: a certified teacher's pet.

"Miss L/N, you'll be serving detention with Mr Riddle today," Professor McGonagall spoke, snapping you out of your self-pitying thoughts, "Your task will be to clean every cauldron here in the potions classroom— by hand, no magic— until they are gleaming."

You glanced over to your right to see that Mattheo Riddle was indeed sat there: he must have snuck in while you were deep in thought. It was just your luck, that your weak attempt would have the worst possible consequences— being stuck in detention with the Dark Lord's son as a muggle-born.

"I will check on you both periodically." The headmistress then departed, but not before saying to you, "I'm disappointed in you, Miss L/N."

Even your professors still saw you as naïve. It made you angry.

Mattheo watched you curiously as you stormed over to the big stack of cauldrons and roughly grabbed one, slamming it down on the floor and grabbing the muggle cleaning supplies left out. You started scrubbing in such an anger-fuelled rigorous manner that he almost forgot that he was supposed to be helping you.

"You gonna help or not?" you snapped.

His eyes widened, and he couldn't stop a smirk from gracing his lips, "Never thought I'd see the day where goody-two-shoes L/N is in detention and yells at me."

"Would people stop fucking saying that?" you said all too loud, "I hate it. I fucking hate it."

"Hate what?" Mattheo asked delicately, standing up and walking over to grab a cauldron from the pile.

"Being called a goody-two-shoes like I'm some kind of child," you scowled, "I'm sick of being treated like I've never even had a sip of alcohol."

This was the first time since before the war that a muggle-born had even entertained having a full conversation with Mattheo, even if you were filled with rage throughout it. Because of that, he decided that he needed to calm you down and make you actually like him— association with a muggle-born could completely transform his reputation.

"I'm sorry," he said delicately, the words foreign to him, "I didn't realise it hurt you so much."

You stopped scrubbing the cauldron to look up at him with shock evident on your face: had the son of Voldemort just apologised to you? He had to be mocking you, there was no way he wasn't. "You're making fun of me," you said cautiously.

"I'm not, I swear," he held his hands up in surrender, "I know all too well what it's like to not be able to escape a reputation."

"Aren't you in here for getting into a fight?" you raised an eyebrow curiously.

He nodded grimly, "Guy wouldn't stop saying I'm exactly like my father."

And that was when your opinion of Mattheo began to soften, and you started to feel bad for assuming he hated muggle-borns simply because of who his father was. But he did have the Dark Mark.

"If you're not like him, why did you get that?" you gestured towards his left arm, which was covered but everyone knew what sat there.

Mattheo drew back, "He was responsible for genocide, do you really think he was beyond threatening me if I didn't take it?" His words were cold, and angry.

"Sorry," you mumbled, regretting asking such a personal question when you hardly knew him.

Silence fell upon you both for a couple minutes as you polished away at the cauldrons.

"For the record, I didn't ever think you'd only had a sip of alcohol."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "No?"

He shrugged, "Everyone gets drunk. I just thought you only did it outside of school."

A small smile crept on to your face, "Thank you, mind telling everyone else that?"

"Sure."

You had said it as a joke— you didn't expect him to be so agreeable. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Oh, God, now I feel so bad."

"Why?" Mattheo asked, finding your muggle-speaking mannerisms endearing.

"Because I believed your reputation."

"You don't anymore?"

You shook your head, "This is the first time someone's ever treated me my age."

He tilted his head curiously, "You know, I think we might be able to help each other's reputations."

"You do?"

"Think about it," he shifted closer to you, "People think I hate muggle-borns, you're a muggle-born. People think you're an innocent goody-two-shoes, I'm known for being quite the opposite."

"So...?"

"We date."

Your brain short circuited and you dropped your cloth into the cauldron, "We... date?"

"Not for real," he clarified, "Just until people's views of us are changed."

You thought it over. It was true: no one would think of Mattheo as like his father if he was willingly in a relationship with a muggle-born, and no real goody-two-shoes would date bad boy Mattheo Riddle.

"Okay," you said, holding out your hand, "Let's do it."

The boy smirked, taking your hand, "Perfect."

***

When you arrived at dinner that evening, after a long few hours of cleaning cauldrons until they glistened, it was hand in hand. He squeezed your palm softly as watchful eyes observed the two of you together, and he even tugged you over to the Slytherin table, making you give him a worried look.

"They'll be civil," he leaned down to whisper in your ear. You nodded nervously.

All of his friends were in silence as they watched you take a seat next to Mattheo, and their jaws almost dropped when he began dishing food on to your plate first. You felt embarrassed under their gaze, but you didn't let it show, thanking Mattheo once your plate was full. He gave you a soft smile that you had never seen grace his face before— not that you had ever been close enough to him to see it.

One of his friends, Blaise Zabini, cleared his throat and broke the silence, "So, uh, are you two a thing?"

"Yeah," your 'boyfriend' replied.

"I didn't even know you were courting," Blaise stated simply, clearly suspicious.

"There's a lot of things you don't know," Mattheo said vaguely, "Can't a man have some secrets?"

Silence fell once more.

"Do any of you have a problem?" he asked, the slightest hint of anger lacing his tone.

They all immediately shook their heads.

"Good."

Despite Mattheo's friends being remarkably docile towards you, you could still feel the stare of other people littered around the room. It was quite a shock, you supposed, as you two were probably the last couple anyone would have expected. Regardless, they should really learn to mind their business— if they did, you wouldn't have to be doing a whole fake dating scheme in the first place.

***

Mattheo walked you to class, held your hand in the corridors, and even carried your books for you wherever you went. Stares continued to follow, but people no longer called you a goody-two-shoes: no, instead when you overheard people ask about you, they said "she's Riddle's girl" instead. You would prefer to be thought of as your own person, but it was certainly a step up from the reputation that you were so sick of. That, and Mattheo had informed you that muggle-borns were no longer avoiding him like the plague, even occasionally nodding at him in the hallways. All around, the plan was working.

No one knew that your dating scheme was fake apart from the two of you, even his friends believed it— and, despite your blood status, they were beginning to warm up to you. Pansy especially, and you were grateful to finally have someone that you could consider a friend.

One chilly Tuesday morning, when Mattheo was walking you to your ancient runes lesson, there was another girl in your class being 'dropped off' by her boyfriend. You both watched as he leaned down to peck her lips before leaving, and you didn't think anything of it until you reached the door and Mattheo leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Taken aback, your ears heated up, and you felt shy as he smirked at you.

"What was that for?" you whispered.

The man before you shrugged, "He did it. Can't have people knowing the truth about us."

"They have no reason to suspect it," you grumbled, but you couldn't deny the butterflies swarming around your stomach.

"Better safe than sorry," he grinned cheekily, "I'll see you later, doll, yeah?"

You nodded, caught off guard when he kissed you yet again.

You were in a daze when you entered the classroom, and you knew that everyone could guess why there was a smile plastered on your face. You felt like a lovesick fool, when you weren't even in love.

***

Mattheo had insisted that people would question the validity of your relationship if you didn't go on Hogsmeade dates together: every Hogwarts couple went on dates to Hogsmeade. You had reminded him that people had no reason to question whether or not your relationship was fake, but he had once again shrugged and said, "Better safe than sorry." Not that you minded, of course, you had always wanted to participate in the Hogsmeade dating tradition. Although, it did make you wonder how long this dating scheme would go on for, as Mattheo's reputation was essentially already completely transformed.

"Can we go in Honeydukes?" you asked as Mattheo, like the gentleman he apparently was, helped you down from the carriage.

"Of course," he smiled, not letting your hand go, "Wherever you want, doll."

Your stomach flipped, but there remained an itching notion in the back of your head. It was fake: it was all fake. He was only being so gentlemanly and caring to prove to the school that not only did he not share his father's views on muggle-borns, but that he could dote on one like it was his life's purpose. All he wanted was to no longer be seen as the devil's incarnate, so he presented himself as an angel. But, when he looked at you with that smirk and that glint in his eyes, it would feel real— just for the briefest moment. No one had ever been romantically interested in you before, maybe that's why you felt his actions deep in your core.

"Hello? Y/N?" his voice snapped you out of your drifting thoughts, and you realised that he was talking to you.

"Hm?"

"Thought I'd lost you there," he chuckled, "C'mon, doll— Honeydukes, remember?"

"Yeah, sorry," you looked down abashedly, and his grip on your hand tightened.

"Sometime this year, if that's okay with you."

***

Mattheo's ring-clad hands left a cool trail against your blazing skin, setting your insides alight as you felt wetness pool at your core. He had his signature smirk settled on his face, the smooth curve of his pink lips sending sparks throughout your body. The hazed look in his dark eyes likely mirrored the one in yours— you were getting desperate, revelling in the way he stared at your tits.

"Please, Matty," you murmured, begging for something, anything.

His sinister chuckle made your senses twitch and tingle. "Please what? What do you want, doll?"

"You," you said thoughtlessly, reaching your hands up to grasp on to his shirt.

"I'm all yours," he whispered, his hand trailing down to the inside of your shorts and panties. When he finally made contact with your slick entrance, your hips bucked up, grateful to have finally received some amount of stimulation. "You're so wet for me."

You hummed as he began tracing circles on your clit, forcing out a moaned, "Only for you."

He applied more pressure, making you grasp on to the bedsheets for dear life, unable to physically comprehend the magic feel of his calloused fingertips. The smirk on his face returned as he watched you writhe beneath him, and you felt your peak approaching faster than you had imagined was possible. Everything about it felt so right, so perfect, so erotic.

"You gonna come for me, angel?" he asked, his eyes locked on to yours.

You nodded.

"Then come."

And just as you felt your muscles begin to tighten and the pleasure begin to climax, the moment was cut short.

***

You were in bed, that much was still the same, but there was no sign of a Slytherin descendant anywhere in your vicinity, and your tits were not out in the open, being enclosed within your large pyjama shirt. You groaned, feeling the pool of wetness between your legs, but being unable to do anything about it due to your shared dormitory situation. Fuck, Mattheo wasn't even your real boyfriend, and you had just had a godly wet dream about him that lit a match in your soul.

How could you face him after picturing him in such an intimate situation? How could you pretend like you were okay with the surface-level falseness of your façade? He was your doom's day: you could feel it. You should never have agreed to a fake relationship, and remained begrudgingly within your outdated reputation.

Reluctantly, you peeled the covers off of your sweating body, and made your way to the showers.

***

Avoiding him was just as impossible as being around him. For one, you couldn't risk people questioning the stability or realness of your relationship. For two, the second you entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he was beckoning you over to where his friends were. And you couldn't very well ignore him when he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

"Hey, doll," he greeted you, pecking your cheek in the process. The very action made the flame burn brighter.

"Hi," you all but squeaked, focusing your attention on taking some waffles.

"We were just discussing the next quidditch game."

"It's a guaranteed win for Slytherin," Zabini smirked, knowing full well that the team that they would be playing against was your house's.

You scrunched up your nose, "I wouldn't be so sure."

"Are you not even gonna wear my jumper during the game?" Mattheo asked, sending yet another sparking bolt straight through your veins. You could feel your body heating up just by being in his presence.

"Against any other house I would, but I have to draw the line somewhere," you said, hoping your voice sounded completely normal and not at all like you craved his naked form. Unfortunately, the appeal of wearing a clothing item that would have his scent woven into its fabric was not helping your case.

"Pity," he grumbled.

Thankfully, Zabini challenging your opinion that Slytherin wasn't guaranteed to win led to a wonderfully distracting argument with the rest of the Slytherin boys. Not only was it a distraction, but it also made you feel as if they saw you as an equal, not just as a muggle-born, but in age and lack of innocence as well. It was a stupid notion, but it was the kind of treatment that you had desired for so long.

"I can't stand this quidditch talk any longer," Pansy finally said, having remained quiet for the majority of the conversation, "Y/N, wanna get away from the men?"

"Please," you murmured, grateful to escape the intoxicating presence of Mattheo.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Pansy shook her head as she stood up, "Anywhere but here. The girls' toilets if it means getting away from you all."

You giggled, going to stand up. You felt Mattheo's hand grasp your wrist, giving way to tingly sensations reminiscent of last night's dream.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course," you nearly stuttered, "We have defence against the dark arts."

He nodded, letting go of your wrist, before saying to Pansy, "Don't keep her too long."

"Calm down, lover boy," she retorted, linking arms with you as you began to walk off.

The last thing you heard from the Slytherin boys was Berkshire saying to Mattheo, "You're pussy-whipped, mate."

Oh, how you wished he was.

***

"I don't know how you managed to lock down prince of the fuckboys Mattheo," Pansy spoke as you both entered the girls' toilets, "And I do see the way he looks at you-"

"The way he looks at me?"

She nodded, "Like you're the only girl in the room— but, please be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

You knew that it was too late for that, as you had caught feelings in a fake relationship, and it was killing you inside that you couldn't tell anyone about it. All you could do was agree with Pansy. "Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it."

"Of course, we're friends," Pansy smiled, "And I love Mattheo dearly as a friend, but I know his history when it comes to romance and sex."

"People change," you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

"That they do," she agreed, "But just be sure of Mattheo's change before you fall madly in love with him."

Somehow you feared it was too late for that.

***

During defence against the dark arts— a theory lesson, unfortunately— you found your seat next to Mattheo as you let Pansy's words mull over you. The anxious pondering that you were in too deep caused you to start nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It was an action that did not go unnoticed by Mattheo, who furrowed his eyebrows at your behaviour. Gently, he placed his hand on your thigh and watched as you froze up at the contact.

Because, little did he know, the simple act of a touch so close to your core sent tingling flashbacks of your dream of him flooding through your veins. Your skin became ablaze with desire, and long gone was the obsessive overthinking about what Pansy had said to you. You sucked in a shallow breath, gripping your quill tightly as you glanced towards Mattheo who was now looking at you with thrice the concern than he was earlier.

"You okay?" he whispered.

You gulped and nodded, but it was clear that he didn't believe you. He squeezed your thigh gently, and you swore that your brain nearly short-circuited— yet you didn't want to push his hand off. This moment was so far removed from the fake external image of your relationship that you temporarily forgot all of your concerns. No one could see where his hand was: it served no purpose towards your reputation as a couple.

Merlin knows you would never be able to recall the content of that lesson.

***

One breezy autumnal afternoon and you were walking down the hallway, hand in hand with Mattheo and giggling about this and that. You had finally pushed Pansy's warning to the very back of your mind, and allowed yourself to almost fully immerse yourself in the moment with your so-called boyfriend. The interlocked nature of your hands felt natural as you paid no mind to bystanders.

That was, until, the unmistakable word of mudblood passed through your ears from the direction of a seventh year Slytherin, who evidently disapproved of your newfound association with the house. It was annoying, really, how your ears always tuned into that word no matter how distracted you were. You paused in your movements and stared at him: you were no longer timid, nor a push-over. Mattheo looked confusedly at you and where you were looking.

"What are you looking at, mudblood?" the seventh year sneered at you, and before you could even say anything, Mattheo's hand had let go of yours.

And he had barrelled right into the boy, throwing merciless punches as his face went stone cold. "Do you wanna say that again, hm?" he spat, landing another solid hit, "Don't ever fucking talk about my girlfriend like that."

You stared in shock at the brawl, feeling a whole wave of mixed emotions— Mattheo was defending you, and by God did he look fucking hot doing it. But, also, you really should break up the fight before he committed manslaughter.

"Mattheo," you said softly, but he didn't hear you, so you said louder and more sternly, "Mattheo."

His movements ceased and he resorted to staring down at the boy who now groaned in pain, covered in blood and already darkening bruises.

"This was a warning," he said carefully, "Next time I won't stop."

You shook your head, grabbing his bicep to pull him off the boy for good and dragging him away. It was lucky there hadn't been a professor around, but they would probably still find out one way or another and Mattheo would get punished. For now, however, he was yours to deal with.

"I can fight my own battles," you bit off, but there wasn't any real malice in your tone.

"I know," he said simply.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, "Thank you, though, for defending me."

"Of course. No one belittles my girl."

Your heart flipped— there was nobody around, there was no reason for him to say that. Deciding to focus your attention in order to ignore the thumping of your heart, you analysed his hands. "We need to get you cleaned up."

"It's just a little blood," he shrugged.

"A little is still too much. C'mon."

You dragged him to the abandoned girls' toilets, where Moaning Myrtle resided, and ran some toilet paper (which had probably been there for decades) under the tap. As you began delicately wiping down the injuries, Mattheo watched you with intrigue, admiring your attention to detail. Little did he know, you were simply trying to stop yourself from replaying the sexiest image you had ever scene in your life inside your head. You felt as if you were about to burst into flames.

Once you were finally done, you chucked the toilet paper into a toilet and re-emerged from the cubicle, making eye contact with the man leaning against the sinks. Moaning Myrtle seemed to be nowhere in sight.

Which was a good thing, because the tension in the air was thick— thicker than blood. You bit your lip as Mattheo's eyes raked down your body and drank you in. Under his gaze, you felt purely animalistic: beauty didn't matter, intelligence didn't matter... all that mattered was skin on skin and bodies becoming one. But, when it became clear no one was going to make a move, you said, "Pansy warned me about you."

"In what way?" he smirked.

"That I shouldn't get in too deep with the prince of fuckboys until I'm sure you've changed."

"And do you think I've changed?"

"What does it matter? We're not actually together."

A flash of hurt coursed through Mattheo at the reminder, but he remained stoic and said, "That's not what I asked, is it?"

You stared at him blankly.

"Do you think I've changed?" he repeated.

You said nothing.

"Because I think I've changed," he stepped closer to you, "So, I'll ask you one more time, do you think I've changed?"

"Yes," you replied feebly.

"My friends think I've changed," he continued, "They think I'm pussy-whipped."

You felt bold for the briefest moment, and asked, "Are you?"

He shrugged, leaning his face down until it was inches from yours, "I don't know yet. Guess we'll have to find out."

And then his lips were on yours in a passionate frenzy. None of those pecks he had given you in greeting and goodbye: no, this was a real kiss, one that had the fire in your heart dancing erratically. You pulled away, breathless, to see that Mattheo was looking at you with hazy dark eyes.

"Was that real?" you asked.

"Well, it happened, didn't it?"

You shook your head, "I mean, was it real?"

A smirk tugged on his lips, "No one was here to see, sweetheart."

And that was all the confirmation you needed to kiss him again, sliding your tongue along his lips as he grabbed your ass, squeezing and groaning. You felt electric, alive— transcendent. His mouth moved from your lips, to along your jaw, to your neck. He sucked and licked in a way that had you letting out a gasp, melting under his touch.

"You're my nicotine," he mumbled, slipping a hand under your skirt and pushing you back against the wall.

You moaned as his fingers glided over your clit.

"You like that, doll?"

Helplessly, you nodded, your legs buckling as he applied more pressure and more vigour.

"Mhm, that's my girl," he murmured, bringing you quicker to your release than you had ever been able to manage yourself.

"Fuck, Matty, I'm gonna come," you gasped out, hips bucking up as you leaned against the tiled wall.

He chuckled as you rode out your high, the slickness of your pussy creating a squelching sound throughout the acoustics of the massive vacant toilets.

"I hate it when my friends call me that," he muttered, pulling his fingers out from under your skirt.

Your ears heated up even more— if that was possible— and you quickly rushed out a, "Sorry."

"Don't be," he kissed your lips softly, "I like it when you say it."

Your lips curved into a shy smile.

"Do you mind if we deal with a certain problem?" he asked, gesturing to the tent in his trousers that had more slick leaking from you at the sight of.

"Of course," you said slyly, a new wave of confidence rushing over you. Slowly, you walked around him and sauntered over to the sinks, pulling your tights and panties down as you leaned forward and lifted up your skirt.

"Fuck," you heard him curse, "You really have changed."

And then he was behind you, as suggested by the sound of a zipper so close to you, and the fact you could see him in the mirror. You watched as he pulled out his dick, which was thick and long, making your mouth water as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, not sure if he could take any answer but 'yes'.

You bobbed your head, "Fuck me, Matty."

"As you wish, doll." And then he was inside you, filling you to the brim and making you feel as if you were finally whole.

"Fuck," you gasped, clutching the edge of the sink as he began thrusting, your eyes tightly shut.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes, making eye contact with him in the looking glass. Sweat was gathered on his brow, and his hands were tightly on your hips— you felt so close to him, in such a real and authentic way that had your soul burning.

One of his hands moved, retreating out of your view, but you knew exactly where it went when you felt a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. He rubbed circles that had you seeing stars, your moans and curses pushing Mattheo close to the edge along with the pure ecstasy of how you felt around him. He didn't think he had ever been so vocal during sex before, but with you, everything felt brand new. Finally, Mattheo felt like he belonged somewhere, felt like he was nothing like his father— but he had no place in his thoughts at that moment. Instead, he focused on you and the clothed curves of your body, until he was about to explode.

"Can I come inside you?" he panted.

In a sex haze, you moaned, "Yes."

And then his release hit, the throbbing of his dick pushing you to your second orgasm as his movements became sloppy. Eventually, once your highs had been ridden through, he stopped moving, the only sounds remaining being the ones of heavy breathing. When he had pulled out, and you had both cleaned up and done up your clothes, you gave him a teasing smile.

"Are we real now?"

He chuckled, "This was never fake. Not to me."

"Well, then, boyfriend," you smirked, "Better scurry on and get me a Plan B potion."

He pressed a kiss to your lips, "Yes, ma'am."

And he took your hand in his.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 10/04/2024 —> 25/04/2024 published; 25/04/2024 edited; —/—/——

[writingtraumaforever]

Courtship: Chapter 2

Notes: Here we go! Chapter 2! And ohhh boy, this is gonna be fun.

Summary: Shadow has been researching the courting rituals of the hedgehog. Sonic unknowingly initiates said rituals.

Chapter Select: Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Link to my AO3!

Start:

They’ve been meeting up for months now. 

Since the night Shadow and Sonic planned to meet at the Green Hills sign, they haven’t stopped scheduling rendezvouses. At the end of each of their races, the person deemed the winner— which is often argued over for far too long— chooses the next meeting spot and time.

Sonic picks the police department rooftop once, Shadow picks the rooftop of the ‘Bean Hill Zone’–previously known as Mean Bean, Sonic picks the back alley of the arcade, Shadow picks the mountaintop right past the town limits. Every spot had to be out of sight and discreet, Shadow having obvious anxiety over being seen or recognized. It kind of hurt Sonic’s heart seeing Shadow feel so… hated. 

Typically, their races would end with them arguing the winner and then picking their next spot before leaving. But they recently began to grow into more of a hangout afterwards. Shadow would stick around rather than rushing off or disappearing. He never seemed thrilled about being around Sonic, but he didn’t seem disgusted by the fact, either. So Sonic sees it as progress.

Honestly, Shadow isn’t half bad when he’s not trying to destroy the planet.

He’s kind of quiet. Very quiet, actually. But when he does talk, he has a lot of interesting things to say. Like stuff about the stars and constellations and patterns in the solar system and how they varied from others. He always seemed attentive when Sonic spoke about earth, too. He’d listen when Sonic would go on and on about his favorite locations around the world, about how chili dogs are man’s greatest creation, and how the Olympics had turned him down three times now to being a competitor–which he thought was discriminatory. 

He was also kind of funny! Which shocked Sonic, honestly. He didn’t really laugh. Ever. But he’d drop the most deadpan, dry humor jokes that always threw Sonic off and had him cackling which usually resulted in Shadow giving a tiny smirk and hum of humor, seeming proud of his joke. He got better with time, too. Seeming to pick up on pop culture references Sonic would teach him and use those to his advantage.

One time he told Sonic to check ebay for a life, and Sonic didn’t know what to do with that.

Speaking of pop culture, Sonic let Shadow borrow his old MP3 player! It was loaded with all sorts of good beats and genres. Shadow didn’t seem to like it at first, finding the headphones overwhelming in his ears. But Sonic told him he could play them through the speaker instead, and ever since, Sonic catches him humming tunes he recognizes now and then..

Once he swears he heard him humming ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift, but he’ll never dare to ask or judge.

They take walks when they hangout, mostly. Slowing down to just trot through the woods or hike along the mountains and end somewhere that seems like a good enough view to chill. They don’t do this on purpose. It just sort of flows that way.

And while Shadow’s personality is a bit difficult to navigate at times.. Sonic enjoys his company. A lot. Maybe a little too much.

For a long while, he kept this a secret from his family under the guise that he was simply going out for a run. But when he stayed out a little too late one night and didn’t get home until 3 AM, Maddie and Tom were absolutely rampant with worry and demanded he be truthful with them. So he told them. Maddie seemed a bit shocked but open. Tom?? Tom seemed.. reluctant is a weak word for it..

‘I forbid you from seeing him anymore!’

‘Forbid me?? Like a disney villain??’

‘What he means is that we expect you to be more honest with us about who you’re hanging out with, but we trust your judgment.’

‘No. No, I mean forbid. It’s forbidden. It’s a rule. I just made it. Forbid.’

‘Thomas..’

‘Ow! Stop pinching my arm!’

‘This is so unfair! You haven’t even given him a chance, yet!’

‘I don’t need to give him a chance! Last I saw that little psycho, he had me pinned to the floor with a gun to my head declaring it justice!’

‘He was confused! He had been brainwashed into believing that revenge is what his sister wanted as her dying wish!’

‘Oh that poor baby..’

‘Baby!? Maddie– did you not hear what I just said???’

‘I know, Tom. I was there. And while it was traumatizing, I think Sonic is right. He deserves a chance. Knuckles had been manipulated and nearly annihilated Sonic when we first met him, too. And look at him now.’

‘..Okay, fine. A chance is one thing, but why does does that chance have to be one we give??’

‘Because he doesn’t have anyone else!... He’s lonely. And he doesn’t say it, but I think he’s scared a lot. He lost his family.. I think he just needs a friend. You can’t take me away from him.. I’m all he has.’

‘....Okay. Okay, I’m crazy for this, but okay. You can.. keep seeing Shadow.’

‘Ugh. Stop saying it like that. You make it sound like we’re dating–’

‘But I want to meet him, first. Man-to-hedgehog. He has to earn my trust and approval. Prove he’s changed.’

‘...Sure! Yeah, he’ll totally be down for that!’

“I am totally not down for that.”

“Whaaaat?? Come on, Shads–”

“Don’t call me that.” “--You gotta meet my folks, or they’ll like- forever be up my case.”

“I fail to see how that’s my problem.” “It’s your problem because that’ll make us hanging out wayyy more difficult. And you can act like that doesn’t bother you all you want, but I so know it does.”

Sonic is waltzing along the railing of a bridge in the woods, Shadow walking alongside him close enough to grab him if Sonic falls–not that Shadow cares.

He doesn’t.

Wobbling in his steps, Sonic continues when Shadow’s only response is a grunt, “What’ll it hurt?? It’s just my parents, they’re not gonna bite.”

“I don’t fear them..,” Shadow scoffs, arms crossed tight as he glares at Sonic, “I simply don’t need their approval.”

“Don’t think of it as approval. Think of it as.. Just getting to know new people! Mom definitely just wants to talk to you. Dad may have.. other intentions, but he’s harmless. Promise.”

“Anyone deemed the Lord of Donuts has to be harmless.” “Exactly! So what do ya say??”

Shadow doesn’t answer, just stops when Sonic hops down to land in front of him with that stupid grin. Shadow huffs a bit, looking off to the side rather than at Sonic. He can see how much this means to him in those big, bright emerald eyes, and it’s tiresome.

He’s never questioned why Sonic cares for these people when they aren’t his real family. He’s never questioned why Sonic stays with them despite not needing to to survive..

He knows for a fact he’d still be with Maria if given the chance..

No, this isn’t a matter of why Sonic cares so much about his family’s opinion. He’s been intrigued and honestly a bit refreshed seeing another hedgehog with a human family..

No, it’s why Sonic cares about their opinion of him that gets Shadow bothered.

Why does he need to be involved??

Though, he has his suspicions..

He’s been reading up on the courting rituals of hedgehogs. He was raised with humans, so he isn’t quite familiar with this part of his DNA’s customs. But from what the earth books have told him, and while Sonic isn’t the same as an earth hedgehog, it’s all he’s got to go off of.

And hedgehog’s pursue their potential mate. Challenge them. Chase them. Then they circle them to feel out their mate.. See if there’s a chance for matching with them..

All things Sonic seems to have done with Shadow.

Then there’s snorting. Where the pursuer will snort at their mate and see if they’ll snort back. Sonic often snorts when he’s joking with Shadow.. And Shadow has joked back in return..

And as far as human customs go when pursuing a mate… meeting one’s parents is definitely part of it. It’s often thought of as a more serious step, in fact.

Shadow has had his suspicions all along of what Sonic’s intentions were in searching him out and very persistently sticking around. This just confirms it.

And Shadow… Shadow has been enabling such courting rituals. He’s been participating. He’s agreed to numerous meetings with this hedgehog. He’s enjoyed their conversations and time together, and he’s not looking for them to end. He’s, in all aspects of the word, reciprocated Sonic’s advances.

So to turn Sonic down now?? It would be cruel, wouldn’t it?? And Shadow isn’t even sure he wants to turn Sonic down. He isn’t ready for any sort of relationship, absolutely not. He still has a lot of trauma he needs to work through, but having Sonic as a companion through it.. doesn’t sound horrible. He’d prefer it, actually. He thinks.

He can’t lose Sonic. He does know that.

And if meeting Sonic’s family formerly will allow them to continue this courting dance they’ve been partaking in to see where it goes, then so be it.

“Very well.”

Sonic blinks, “Wait- what?”

“I accept your invitation to meet your family.”

Sonic immediately grins, his tail wagging practically as fast as the hedgehog runs, “You mean it?” “Why would I say something I didn’t mean??” “Oh, thank you, Shadow!” Sonic jumps up and down excitedly, and Shadow can’t help but smile a tiny smile at the sight of his excitement, “You won’t regret it.” “We’ll see..”

And so Sonic went home to let his family know they’d be having a guest for dinner the upcoming Friday. Maddie seemed nervous-excited, immediately going on about how she’s going to cook up this fantastic dinner for him. Tom seems a on guard about this, but he’s also agreed to go into it with an open mind.

It’s his brothers Sonic really has to worry about.

“So.. why is Shadow coming over again??” Tails asks, spinning around in his chair with a tiny gadget and screwdriver in hand. Sonic has no idea what he’s working on, and he’s learned not to ask since he won’t understand ha;f the explanation anyway.

“Because he needs friends. And we can be those friends,” Sonic assures with a thumbs up.

“But.. he tried to destroy the world,” Tails argues with a knit in his brow, tilting his head at Sonic.

“And he broke my hand! My glorious hand..,” Knuckles adds, holding his fist up dramatically. 

Sonic sighs at this, rolling his eyes, “Yes, I know. And he’s sorry for those things.”

“I have not heard an apology from him,” the echidna huffs, arms crossed disapprovingly.

“That’s because you haven’t seen him since it happened,” Sonic replies, looking between this two misfit brothers, “Look. I know we all have history with him–” “Bad history.” “He scares me.” “Anyway, I also know we all can relate to him, huh??” Tails and Knuckles exchange unsure glances before Sonic is quickly moving to Tails, “Tails, buddy, you’ve felt out of place and alone in the world before! You know how awful it is.. How it can be hard to navigate the right direction without someone to guide you..” “That’s.. true..,” Tails agrees before giggling when Sonic ruffles the fur on his head. 

Sonic then dashes to Knuckles, throwing an arm around him and shaking him roughly, “And you, Knucklehead–”

Knuckles punches Sonic in the chest, making Sonic stumble back with a chuckle.

“I am nothing like that fiend–” “Know what it’s like to have something horrible rip you from your family and be manipulated into hurting others as a way to seek justice for them..”

Knuckles goes silent at that, opening his mouth only to close it again with a thoughtful hum.

“...I suppose that’s true,” Knuckles nods, seeming won over by Sonic’s point.

“Exactly! You too have fallen victim to a Robotnik before– we all have in some way. Everyone makes mistakes, right?? We just gotta recognize those mistakes and grow from them.. So what makes Shadow any different??”

Knuckles and Tails are both quiet a long moment, looking at Sonic, then down, then each other..

Both slowly smile, Knuckles speaking as he looks back to Sonic,

“Very well. We shall allow our rival one trial. But if he fails, I will not hesitate to destroy him before he has a chance to destroy our tribe again..” “Fair enough,” Sonic nods with a grin, looking to Tails who nods in agreement.

“I trust you, Sonic. If you say Shadow has changed, then he’s changed,” the kit beams confidently, full loyalty in his big brother. Though, his smile grows a bit nervous, “But just.. Maybe he can prove he’s changed from a distance?” “Sure thing, buddy! I’ll be between you two at all times if it’ll make you feel better.” “Much, thanks,” Tails breathes in relief.

Sonic grins at this, “Good. Glad we’ve all come to an agreement then. Wachowski bros gotta stick together, right??” “Yeah! Team Heroes!” Tails grins, putting his fist out only for Sonic to fist bump him with a, “Red, Blue and Yellow!?” to which Knuckles then joins the group fist bump with a unanimous, “Hello!”

They all laugh amongst each other for a moment.. Only for Sonic get dead serious once they get quiet again and add,

“Okay. Now we gotta talk about you guys not embarrassing me.”

[venus-haze]

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable. 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly. 

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse. 

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with. 

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door. 

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

��I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible. 

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre. 

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom. 

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him. 

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back. 

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper. 

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth. 

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest. 

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit. 

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control. 

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised. 

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

[natbelovasblog]

Stalker.

PAIRINGS: AOS!Natasha Romanoff x CCTV!Fem Reader.

SUMMARY: While your Coworkers relish in their lunch breaks-you take to watching the security cameras. But while watching over live footage you see something, or rather someone, in the corner of the camera. Who are they and why are they here?

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, Budapest references??, and a slightly agitated Katness Barton.

A/N: I had gotten this idea from a day dream, and decided to write it out at 2:30/3am. :). It was going to be a series.. but I’m too inconsistent for that.. so.. if anyone wants to actually write a whole or short series on it, be my guest, but tag me bc I wanna read it!

I had visions of it being like flirty nat, and playing hard to get reader, so nat keeps stalking and popping up everywhere trying to get her to go on a date with her, then she finally does so nat will leave her alone and the rest is history.

… anyways. Hope you enjoy. AOS means agents of SHEILD.

“I’ve got eyes on the target” A slight Russian accent was heard through the comms.

“You act like we’re in a movie” The archer spoke up.

“Shut up Barton, I’m doing my job” Natasha vocalized her annoyance. She’d only been with the man for 7 days, but even with it being that short, he was still a pain in her ass.

“We’ve got movement! I’m going in. Cover me.” The spy was already gone before Barton could even speak.

“Nat, you can’t just run off like that! There’s a woman in there. Who knows how many more. We should’ve sat back and waited longer!” Clint had told her, climbing higher up the tree to get a good look in the building.

“Oh please, they don’t even know they’ve got a weaponized system in the building! There’s probably only 3 security guards and I’m sure they would’ve already seen us with how slow you walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the concern.” The red head rolled her eyes. Knocking on the door before taking down 2 security guards with her widow bites, after they’d basically invited her in.

“2 down, 1 too go” She spoke just before halting her steps. Peeking into the door on her right.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Clint’s voice appeared in her ear. Wondering why the recently departed widow had stopped

“Another one…A woman.” She paused. “Do you think she knows about the weapons?” She continued.

“Well it’s not like you can walk in there and talk to her about it, I’d say no. Take her out and let’s get this done, I have a dinner party to get too.” The archer replied. He had climbed down from the tree and slowly walked his way towards the 2 big double doors.

-

Your head snapped towards the cameras when you heard the alarm go off. Checking each one of them to see nothing but a glimpse of red hair and an arrow.

Sprinting down the hall, you’d reached the break room, opening the doors to see if one of your coworkers had set the alarm off. Only to find them all on the floor and one of them bleeding throughout their nose.

Quickly dialing security, you told them you needed backup.

-

“You idiot! Who doesn’t check the doors before going into a building, with a million dollar weaponized security system?!” Natasha was pissed. They’d waiting in a stupid vent for 7 days, an entire week to steal the systems hard drive. All for Clint to try and open the doors at 12am. Setting off all the alarms.

“In my defense, there was no more people to let me in since you’d knocked them all out. And I couldn’t get the other one to let me in because you were too busy drooling all over her.” Clint threw his arrows back into the vent, settling down just in time to watch the security guards rush past them.

“I wasn’t drooling over her, I just thought maybe she knew something. She didn’t even look like a security guard.” Natasha thinks back to when she’d seen you twirl around in the spinny chair.

“Oh let me guess, she looked like a princess?” The Barton man whispered.

Yeah..

Yeah, she did.

-

“I saw a flash of red hair, and then what looked like an arrow.. I don’t know if it was an arrow tho.. I mean. Who carry’s around arrows anymore?” You questioned out loud to your boss.

“The boy, Katness Everdeen from the avengers does!” Mike, a coworker had joked. Making the others laugh.

“This isn’t a time to joke. It’s serious. Someone tried to get into the building and your joking around? Are you fucking kidding me?” Your boss, Chris yelled. Making the others stop laughing.

“Come on man, clearly no one got inside the building, if they did. We’d have seen. We do have some of the best security cameras.” Mike stood up, trying to calm Chris down.

“Whatever, get back to work. See if you can find anything” Chris walked out.

“We’ve check the cameras over and over again. We didn’t see anything!” Jake, another coworker yelled out the door.

“Check again!” Chris replied.

You did feel a presence watching you.. but maybe that was just your imagination.. right? I mean Mike was right. There was absolutely nothing on the cameras. Maybe you just needed some sleep.

[carpenterswife]

ALL MY GHOSTS (iii)

series masterlist

- summary: With Jenny now on board too, the four of you begin to investigate the strange-happenings occurring to you, behind Beau’s back. As things get weirder, you’re forced to finally tell your friends the truth of your past.

- word count: 2421

- warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of abortion, panic attack, dissociation.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

As it turns out, hiding an entire investigation was harder than you thought — which was honestly no shocker. Though Beau still remained blissfully ignorant to your endeavours, Jenny had, very quickly, caught onto the fact something was going on, when you excused yourself from work for the 10th time to pick up a phone call.

As you hung up, Jenny cornered you, arms crossed. You took a step back, surprised by her sudden appearance. But, before you could question her, she spoke, voice hard. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“What—?”

“You’re keeping something from me.“ Jenny interrupted, not letting you spit out some useless lie. Her brows raised. “Cassie knows. I know she does. I wanna help.” You knew that you couldn’t get away with not telling her — she was determined to figure out what you were hiding, and Jenny knew you far too well to believe any lie that fell from your lips.

So, you sighed, shoulders deflated, resigning yourself to spill it with Jenny. “You can’t…” your eyes trailed over her shoulder to Beau’s office. “You can’t tell him.”

Jenny didn’t have to turn around to know who you were referring to. “I won’t.” She assured you, speaking much more softly than she previously had been. “Now, what is it?”

“It’s just… like, strange things happening.”

“The flowers?” Your brows raised in confusion. Jenny nodded once, watching you carefully. “Beau told me. He said you were scared?”

“Yeah, well, I had a bad feeling.” You sighed, fiddling with your phone case. You hesitated before speaking again, wondering if you really wanted more people to know about this. Jenny’s sharp look made you start talking again. “It’s not just the flowers.” You mumbled. “My doorbell camera keeps telling me there’s movement outside my apartment, and— and I‘ve gotten, like, 15 mystery phone calls already today with no one talking.”

A best of silence fell over you, as Jenny considered your words. “That doesn’t sound like the ‘nothing’ you’ve been telling Beau about.” You hesitated to reply to Jenny. She frowned, now more concerned. “Why aren’t you telling him? He could help. The entire department could help — and will, if you just tell them.”

“No, Beau’s got too much to worry about already.” You immediately shot down that idea immediately. Jenny’s face flooded with disappointment. “He’s got that— that murder, and the drug cartel. And Carla and Emily to worry about.”

Jenny sighed. “Beau would help you in the drop of a hat.” You bit down on your tongue. You knew she was right. And that was the worst part about it; that Beau would do anything to protect you. “All of that? It’d mean fucking nothing to him if you were in any sort of danger. You’ve gotta tell him.”

“No. Cassie and Denise are handling it.”

She let out another sigh, shaking her head in disappointment. “Okay.” She relented with your idea begrudgingly. “Let me help, too, then.” You opened your mouth to argue. “Or I’ll tell Beau.”

You immediately groaned, rubbing your forehead. “Fine.” You agreed, sighing heavily. “Just… don’t tell him.” You sent her a pleading look, and then walked away, brushing past her as you returned to Beau’s office, where he was going over a file with Pop. Jenny was right on your heel, the pair of you entering his office together.

With a glance up at you, Beau grinned. “There you two are. Was wonderin’ where y’all wandered off to.” He chucked down a file on the table in your direction. “Need you two on this case. That okay?”

Shrugging, you reached over to grab the case file. Flipping it one, your hands stiffened.

Why did Beau always stick you with domestic abuse cases?

You bit your tongue, hard enough for it to sting and burn. Your eyes jumped up to Jenny, who had been closely watching your reaction. Sighing, your attention returned to Beau. “Yeah.” You agreed, hiding your reluctance pretty well. “We’ve got it, boss.”

He patted his desk and beamed. “Thanks, ladies. Pop ‘n’ I are dealin’ with that burglary on 5th. You wan’ a ride?”

“Nah.” You shook your head. “We’ll take my car. I need gas, anyway.” You slapped the file on Jenny’s arm shoulder, indicating for her to get going. With one last smile in Beau’s direction, you left with Jenny, fiddling with the corner of the file as you went.

“You okay?”

You nodded at Jenny. “All good.” You strode out of the police station with your heart hammering in your chest.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Like you’d expected, the domestic abuse case had left you shaken up. Jenny had pulled you out of the case halfway through, when she’d noticed your pale and terrified expression, sending you back to the station and calling in extra units to cover for you.

10 years ago, you’d been a normal girl. Then came Jack. And your entire life had been altered. He’d ripped apart any remaining innocence you’d had left in you.

He’d taken everything from you.

He’d taken things from you you couldn’t even predict.

And the blood on your hands made your body ache.

You sat at your desk, toying with a pen, staring blankly down at the paperwork on your desk. The words seemed to blur together, turning into a dark blob in your vision.

Your pen tapped incessantly onto the wood of the desk.

And then a hand snatched it from you. “Stop that.” Beau held your pen away from you, eyes narrowed as he stared down at you. “What’s up wit’ you? Jenny said you freaked on the case. You’re meant t’be helpin’ her.”

“Sorry.” You ran a hand down your face with a heavy sigh. “Rough day.”

He stared for a moment, then nodded. “Mmm, I get’ya.” Beau dropped your pen back onto the desk. He pushed his hand through his hair, flashing you a reassuring smile. “You good? You ain’t hidin’ nothin’ from me?”

Your head tilted, and you smiled at him. “I’m good.” Came your instinctive reply.

“Mm, okay.” He nodded, clearly not believing you. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment. “Need a ride?” He held up his car keys, brows raised as he jangled them.

You hummed, considering it, flipped your file closed. “Sure.” You agreed, tucking the file into your draw and locking it.

Beau lit up with your acceptance. He grabbed your jacket and hung it over his arm, making you smile fondly. “You get anythin’ on that murder case yet?”

“Not really.” You got to your feet, following Beau away from your desk. “I was thinking, through, you should check out the new girlfriend of the ex boyfriend.” He looked at you questioningly. You smiled sheepishly, raising your shoulders into a shrug. “Just a suggestion. She might’ve been jealous of her guy’s ex girl. The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head; doesn’t take much strength.”

He pressed his lips together and nod. “Huh.” He muttered, thinking it over. “Yeah. I’ll check that out.” He held open the door of the station, grinning at you as you exited.

“That’s all I got, though.”

He chuckled. “It’s more than I got. Good work.” Patting your shoulder, he led you over to his truck, yanking open the passenger seat. Once he’d ensured you were in safely, he shut the door, rounding the truck to get into the drivers seat. “Home?”

“No, no, Cassie and Denise.” You plopped your bag down by your feet. “I have some stuff to talk to them about.”

Starting his truck, Beau glanced at you. There was suspicion in his eyes. After a few beats, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He agreed playfully, making you laugh softly. He pulled out of the parking lot, his hand on the gear stick drawing your attention far too much. “So, you wan’ talk ‘bout what made you freak on the case today?”

You shifted in your chair, crossing your arms defensively. “Not really.”

Beau cracked a smile, amused at your attitude. “Y’should know by now I ain’t taking that answer.” He glanced at you for a moment, sighing deeply. “Talk to me, honey. What’s going on wit’ you, huh?”

“Nothing, Beau.” You attempted to lie to him again.

Unimpressed, he pressed his lips together. “You’ve always been a shit liar.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Listen, if ya don’t wanna tell me, I get it. I ain’t gon’ push.” He reassured you, voice now far gentler. “But I’m gettin’ worried now. This ain’t the first time you’ve shut down on a case.”

You closed your eyes and gathered yourself. Beau had always been good at not pushing your boundaries, which was something you’d always greatly appreciated.

But it was times like these you wished he’d push a bit harder. You wanted to tell him — Beau was the one person you wanted to tell about your past. You wanted to spill every detail, and have him hold you to his chest as he comforted you. You just couldn’t find the words in your mouth.

“I’m okay.” You said instead, trying to sound reassuring. “Just having a rough time lately.” You tapped your fingers on his arm in an attempt to convince him.

It didn’t work — of course it fucking didn’t. Beau was like a mind reader when it came to you. “You know I don’t believe you, right?” He asked, soft.

Biting your cheek, you nodded.

“Okay.” He smiled warmly in your direction, his eyes still dark with worry. “I ain’t gon’ push. Just… come to me, yeah? If you need me. Come to me.”

“Always, Beau.”

He cracked a smile, relaxing a smidge. “Good. I’m always gon’ protect you, darlin’. Always.”

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Cassie didn’t have much good news to deliver you. Your case was posted up on boards hidden away in her office in the back, just in case Beau turned up with no warning and took a peek. Jenny had been helping them dig deeper, using the department’s resources to be more efficient.

Yet, they’d turned up with little to nothing.

Except one thing.

“We weren’t able to track the calls. Or the details of the person who delivered the flowers.” Cassie explained, leant back against the wall. You nodded, looking between the three women delivering your fate.

“But, Beau introduced a new system at the station last month.” Jenny began explaining. Your hopes rose a little. “When your mystery admirer delivered the flowers, he had to give a deputy his name.”

You almost sighed in relief. “Okay..?” At least that was something. A name. You could work with a name.

Cassie flipped through a paper. “He said his name was Jack.”She looked up at you, brows raised. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

Cold washed over you. The ground tilted under your feet. Jesus, were you going to pass out or vomit? You couldn’t tell.

“He said he was your boyfriend— Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were falling until Cassie and Jenny lunged forward to steady you. The world seemed to fade to a dark blur, the name echoing in your brain like a gunshot. They were speaking, but the sound was muffled like you were underwater.

The next few minutes passed in a sort of haze. You weren’t aware of anything, really.

At some point, they’d sat you in a chair and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, crouching in front of you. They were trying to ground you, hands holding on, squeezing and talking in gentle voices, trying to ground you. Denise returned from the back room with a mug of tea, handing it to you, as you took it in autopilot.

“Hey, there you are.” Cassie sighed in relief as she saw the daze in your eyes float away. “What happened? You scared us.” Your lack of a response seemed to worry her further.

The three women exchanged a look.

You knew what they wanted to ask. Who was Jack? Why did you freeze up like a damn idiot when his name was mentioned? They were trying to be respectful, by not asking, but, hell, you’d always hated being treated like you were glass.

You sipped the scalding hot tea. “He’s my ex-fiancé.” Their attention shot to you immediately. You tapped your nails on the mug, listening to the clink through the silence. “I dated him for four years in New York. We lived together.” They all looked equally parts concerned. Your breath was stuck in your throat. You released it all with your next words. “He was abusive.”

The room seemed to shoot down 20 degrees.

“Oh, Jesus.” Jenny whispered, realisation hitting her. “How bad?” You just nodded. That was enough. It was bad.

“I got pregnant.” Your voice caught in your throat, muscles tense. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it. I didn’t— I couldn’t keep the baby. I couldn’t raise a child in that place.” You whispered quietly, head shaking. Your hands trembled, making you tighten your hold on the mug of tea. “I kept it from him, got an abortion. When he found out… Jesus, I thought I was gonna die.”

Cassie, silent, pulled you in for a tight hug. She cradled you close to her chest, sighing sadly. “You think it’s him?”

You clung onto your friend tightly. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” You wished it wasn’t him. You really, really hoped it wasn’t, and that it was just some freak coincidence. But it was such a Jack to do. To travel half way cross-country in some crazed attempt to reclaim your love.

“Okay, this is part where we tell Beau.”

Frustrated, you sighed. “I’m not telling Beau.” You argued firmly.

“Why not?” Cassie asked gently. She pulled back from the hug to look at your face, her brows knitted together in concern. “He can protect you, much better than we can.”

“He’ll worry—“

“Good.” Jenny put a reassuring hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “You need protection from this asshole. And Beau can do that.”

For a moment, you considered it. Beau protecting you did seem like a good idea. And you knew he would, without a moment of hesitation. Beau would drop everything to protect you, and he’d made that abundantly clear.

But still.

“No.” You shook your head, not backing down on your decision. They sighed, evidently disappointed. “We’ll deal with it. We don’t need him.”

You did need him. You’d never needed Beau more.

“Okay.” Cassie agreed reluctantly. “We’ll deal with it.”

God, you were so fucked.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

taglist: @yvonneeeee @deans-spinster-witch @fanfic-n-tabulous @dwonfilm

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not supporting my friend’s relationship?

(@aita mod I pinky promise that this is not an “aita for thinking/feeling something” submission, I’m just a long winded mf)

Okay this is admittedly stupid stupid dumb but it’s bothering the hell out of me so here we go. I (26X) have a friend (23NB) who recently got into a nice, stable(?) relationship after a string of messy short-term ones. They’ve been dating for ~2 months now, and the guy (early 30s?M) seems really nice and genuine. My friend is very happy and gushes about him constantly, which makes sense because the relationship is fairly new and their most recent previous relationships were with people who weren’t very open or communicative at all. I feel like the only valid reason I could possibly have to not like this dude is the age gap, which is more of a personal ick as I’m not really comfortable with dating anyone more than 5 years older/younger than me. They’re both adults and it’s their love life, so whatever.

The thing is, I just…do not share their enthusiasm for this guy. At all. He seems like a cool guy, but the fact that he’s dating my friend just isn’t jiving in my brain for whatever reason. I’m getting an inexplicable weird vibe. When I see a picture of them doing cute couple shit on instagram or wherever, my reaction isn’t “that’s adorable, I’m so happy for [friendname]!” or even “I’m glad they’re happy!” It’s more like “eugh, why are they doing that? I don’t want to see this.” This isn’t a normal reaction for me at all. I’m usually very supportive of my friends’ relationships as long as there are no obvious red flags. The only reason I can think of as to why I might be reacting this way is that an acquaintance of mine was pushing me to get with this same guy a couple years ago for NO REASON, and I was absolutely not interested, so it might be leftover discomfort from that. I don’t (consciously?) hold that against him though, that was 100% my acquaintance’s strange bullshit. I’m mostly into women and fem dudes, so there’s no latent attraction to my (masc leaning) friend or their bf involved either.

Here’s the part where I might be the asshole: because of my weird uncomfortable reaction to seeing this dude and my friend together, I haven’t been liking or commenting on posts/messages/etc about them being together or how wonderful this guy is. Social media interaction/validation is a big thing for them, and eventually they noticed that I wasn’t interacting with anything pertaining to their relationship. I don’t think I was obvious about it or anything, just operating on the “if you don’t have anything nice to say…” principle. Regardless, they asked me about it, and I went completely deer-in-the-headlights. I ended up saying something like “I just didn’t have anything to say about those posts, it’s not really my business” but I could tell they weren’t convinced. They asked me what I thought of the guy and I told them he seemed nice but I didn’t know him that well. I think that just made them more suspicious because I’ve been working for the same company as the guy for about 3 years now, but it is technically true. After my first few months I got transferred to a different department and haven’t seen him since.

They looked really disappointed and asked me if I could try to be a little more supportive of their relationship online, reminding me that this is “the first nice person [they’ve] dated in years” and that they “went through hell to find him.” (I think they were referring to their most recent breakups and exaggerating hardcore. They were messy, but I’ve heard every little detail about those relationships from them and they sounded like they ended due to plain old incompatibility/lack of interest. I would only call one of their recent exes “not a nice person.”) They ended the conversation by telling me that they trusted me and my approval was really important to them, which made me feel like shit, but it didn’t really make me see the relationship in a different light or anything. l definitely FEEL like an asshole, because even after they talked to me about it I have no plans to lie and act super into their boyfriend when I’m not. I realize how petty all of this sounds, but it’s obviously affecting my friend a lot, or else they wouldn’t have spoken to me about it in person. It just feels like I’d be an even worse friend if I started regularly lying to them about what I think of their relationship, even though I don’t have a valid reason for feeling the way I do. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[euphoniumpets]

From another world | Sebastian Sallow x Reader x Ominis Gaunt [ 01/?]

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x reader x Ominis Gaunt

Summary: You woke up feeling disoriented, wondered where, how and why you came across in a city. That's when you sawthat the city and Professor Fig was real and in front of you and that's how you knew that you were in the Harry Potter world. You didn't know why, but you knew that you had one goal in your mind and that was to stop Sebastian Sallow from murdering his uncle and give him a second chance in life. And perhaps it was the reason why you ended up there to stop more than one life.

A/N: hi! yes, so, i was in a hiatus for a while before and now i am brain rotting over sebastian sallow and ominis gaunt from hogwarts legacy. these boys deserve more love and i'm ready to give it to them. this story is an AU where the reader is from our world but get transported into the game. I placed the reader in Hufflepuff but you can imagine your own house as well! Taglist is open if anyone want to be tagged in further chapters! just comment down below or send in my inbox!

Warnings: smut can come across further in the series, some sexual references, violence, blood and gore.

CHAPTERS: one - two

All you knew that you woke up and felt disoriented. You heard your mother's voice coming downstairs and calling your name to wake up. You thought it was your real mother before you had woken up, got changed, and then walked downstairs. Your first reaction was that you were shocked.

But not because you didn't recognise your real mother, but the way she used her wand in her hand and used magic. You almost passed out and thought it wasn't real until when she said that you were almost too late for the carrige that would take you to Hogwarts.

You didn't question it, since your mother would think that you had loosen your mind and before you knew it, you were waiting outside for the carriage and Professor Fig would accompany you to Hogwarts.

It felt real. Almost too real and it made you shudder with fear, knowing how things and event would turn out if you didn't act quickly.

You waited with your bags in front of your apartment and saw a carriage approaching you. Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized who it was. You recognized professor Fig and you knew he was not from your world.

''This is impossible....'' You whispered to yourself. ''I must be dreaming,'' You muttered as he approached you. ''Ah! it appears we are almost ready to depart,'' You heard him speak to you and you almost wanted to approach your soon to be mentor a hug. He was one of your favorites person in the game and you knew that he was soon going do die.

You took in your surroundings and you knew that scenario. It was the beginning of the game you knew very well and you knew that your journey to Hogwarts was not going to be a pleasant one. ''It's a pity we didn't have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting,'' He spoke.

''I persume you've been practising the spells we worked on?'' He asked you. You nodded. ''I have, professor,'' You lied. You actually didn't know if you had practised with the spells since everything felt unknown at the moment.

''Well, I'm quite sure I've never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand,'' He complimented. You glanced at your wand in your hand and remembered that scene very well. ''You'll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own,''

''Thank you, Professor Fig, I appreciate your working with me before the term begin-'' You were about to say before you noticed a familiar figure that had apparated in front of the two of you.

You felt your stomach turn into a twist.

''Oh! Eleazar!'' Mr. Osric exclaimed when he saw Professor Fig. ''George, glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us,'' Professor Fig told him. ''I've apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this,'' Mr. Osric informed and chuckled.

''Though, I confess I may have miscalculated slightly on my first try, gave quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West end,''

''It's been much too long, when I recieved your owl, I must say I-''

''Best not to speak here, Elzear,hm?'' He stopped him before he could finish his sentence. ''Of course, why don't we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term and a Sorting Hat to get to,'' Professor Fig replied and looked between you and Mr. Osric.

''Wonderful idea, as long as your young charge here doesn't mind me tagging along,'' Mr. Osric asked you. ''Not at all, sir,'' You told him.

''After you,'' Professor spoke and gestured towards you. You entered into the carriage as the two of them followed after. You knew that Mr. Osric would die on your way towards Hogwarts and the dragon and about the portkey would be on your hands. You decided not to stop it since all you knew that it felt like a dream, that you were still dreaming, but you still felt like his blood was on your hands.

Mr. Osric and Professor Fig began to catch up and you looked out from the window to spot the dragon. It was all too foggy and you couldn't see anything so it was pointless to keep an eye. Your eyes drifted back when you noticed that Mr. Osric had asked about you.

''A new student,'' Professor told him. ''Y/N L/N, pleasure to meet you, sir,'' You introduced yourself with a smile. ''New?'' Mr. Osric asked with a surprised expression. ''Yes, sir, I'm starting school as a fifth-year,'' You explained.

''How extraordinary,'' He spoke. ''It is indeed, none of the faculty has ever heard of anyone being admitted to Hogwarts so late,'' Professor Fig informed.

''Nor have I,''

''Of course, as the other fifth-years will have been honing their magical skills for four years now, the Headmaster asked if I could get our new student up to speed a bit before the terms begins,'' Professor Fig told Mr. Osric.

''Well, you couldn't have asked for a better mentor, Professor Fig is not only an exceptional teacher, he is also a remarkably intuitive - and gifted - wizard,'' Mr. Osric spoke with a glint in his eyes. You smiled softly when you heard Professor Fig's friend complimented him.

He was indeed, you thought.

''Mr. Osric is prone to flattery, I daresay it's one of the reasons he's risen so far at the Ministry,'' Professor Fig spoke.

''Have you seen this?'' Mr. Odric asked and pulled out a newspaper in front of you. You noticed the person and knew who it was. The goblin rebellion and Ranrok. You felt a slight anger when you saw his face appear in front of you, knowing why he must be stopped.

''I have, opinions differ as to how great a threat Ranrok really is,'' Professor Fig spoke. ''Although, I've yet to convince my colleagues at the Ministry, I believe he is a significant threat,''

''And it was your wife, Eleazar, who alerted me to his activities months ago'' Mr. Osric informed. ''Miriam, how?''

''She wrote to me about Ranrok before she died, wondering what the Ministry knew about his activities,'' Mr. Osric explained with a sympathetic expression. ''Before I could respond, I recieved this, it was the last thing she sent me, Eleazar,'' He replied and pulled something out of his pocket.

It caught your attention since you recognised the portkey in his hands and the symbol but also the strange glow. The glow was exactly like from the games would show up. ''It came via her owl, but with no correspondence, I can only assume-''

''That she had to get rid of it quickly to keep it safe,'' Professor Fig spoke as Mr. Osric handed the objec in his hands. ''Persumably from Ranrok,'' Mr. Osric said.

''I cannot open it, whatever magic protects this is powerful indeed,'' He spoke. ''It looks liek goblin metal,'' Professor Fig spoke as he examined the Portkey.

''That symbol-''

''What's that glow?'' You spoke. ''I don't see a glow,''

''Neither does I,'' You looked between the two men as Professor Fig handed you over the Portkey. The lid suddenly opened up and revealed a key. ''Merlin's beard, how did you-?''

You were about to grab the key before Professor Fig stopped you.

''Wait! We don't know what-'' Professor Fig spoke and grabbed the Portkey. The dragon suddenly attacked the carrige and split it in half and Mr. Osric was long gone before that. It felt too real, but how brains play a trick on us. You knew that would happen and you tried not to panic.

''Hang on!'' Professor Fig yelled. You suddenly flew out of the carriage and you saw the key flying beneath. You tried to get to the key before it could fall. ''Grab my hand!'' Professor Fig shouted as you grabbed his hand tightly and before you knew it, you apparated.

The next thing you knew, you felt like you were going to throw up.

You realized you were in the cave of the beginning in the game and I knew how this was going to be further.

-

After finding Professor Fig and defeating the Pensives, you found yourself back at Hogwarts. ''Are you alright?'' He asked you with concern. ''I've never seen so powerful a goblin, he seemed totally unaffected by my magic,''

''It seems like we're back where we're supposed to be,'' You spoke and looked at your surroundings. You spotted the familiar castle up ahead and that brought you a smile on your face.

''You're right,'' Professor Fig chuckled. ''It seems those who set up the pensive, the locket, and the path to both wanted someone with your ability, to end up here,''

''Come, we have a sorting ceremony to get to,'' He spoke. You followed after him and towards to Hogwarts.

As you walked inside of the familiar corridors that you had seen in the movies and in the game, you couldn't help but gasp in surprise when you saw the hallways.

''Remarkable, isn't it?'' You heard Professor Fig question next to you as you took in the castle. It was every harry potter fan that had wished for ever since to see the real castle in front of their eyes.

You watched as you stood at the entrance to the great hall as you saw Professor Fig facing you. ''Oh good, we haven't missed the Sorting ceremony,'' He spoke with a relieved voice after he peeked through the doors. ''I'm no expert, but-'' Professor Fig stated before he used his wand to change your clothes into the same first year clothing that they had in the movies before they got sorted into their houses.

''That seems more appropiate, now, I need to study this locket as soon as I can, but first I must contact the Ministry, they need to know what happened to George and be warned of Ranrok, for the moment, I ask that you keep all that's happened this evening between you and me,''

''Of course,'' You told him.

''Thank you,''

''Ready for the Sorting Ceremony?'' He asked and looked at you with excitement, ''Yes,'' You spoke. Professor Fig opened the door to the great hall and you saw the other students gathered around as well by their houses at the dinner table.

You spotted your headmaster, Black and Professor Weasley with the Sorting Hat in her hand. Headmaster Black noticed Professor Fig at the door.

You heard Professor Fig mutter something about Black before he approached the two of you. ''Fig,'' He spoke and you rose your eyebrow towards the man.

You understood why the other Professor didn't like their headmaster that much.

''Nice of you to join us, the Sorting Sediment is over,'' He replied.

''There were complications,'' Fig replied. ''Complications?'' Black repeated and looked at him. ''It seems the goblin is-''

''Goblins! No time for rumors, Fig, and I'm rapidly losing whatever patience I had left,'' Black spoke before his eyes drifted towards to you.

''If you're lucky, we might still be able to get you sorted this evening,'' He spoke and walked back to the great hall. ''I'll be in touch,'' Professor Fig spoke as you nodded before walking inside. You couldn't help but look marvelled at the sight.

It was just like the movies when Harry, Hermione, and Ron had walked for the first time and the ceiling was written in the stars. You looked at your surroundings, spotting a familiar Slytherin brunette boy who talked with a blonde one. You thought it must've been Ominis and Sebastian.

As you walked down, Sebastian could feel someone was watching him and noticed your eyes on him. While you locked your eyes with him, you sent a small smile before turning back to the Sorting Hat.

''Professor Weasley!'' Headmaster Black called after her. ''We've one more to be sorted,''

''Welcome, you're just in time, have a seat,'' She spoke as you sat on the chair in the middle. You took a deep breath when you felt the hat on top of your head.

You were nervous and always wondered in what house you belonged to. Sure, you've taking dozens of quizzes and even in your game got you placed in Hufflepuff. ''Ah yes,'' You heard a voice inside of your head.

''A bit older than the others aren't you? You come here with preferences and preconceptions, certian expectations,'' The sorting hat told you.

''I know where to put you, better be Hufflepuff!'' You smiled as you felt the hat was removed from your head. You wondered how this was going to be and you knew that this was just all a dream before you were going back to the real world.

At least that what you hoped.

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part one

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Masterlist

If there was one thing you’d learned in your almost thirty years of life, it was that nothing was ever easy. You’d grown accustomed to things falling apart, no matter how hard you tried to keep it all together. The only thing you were ever able to keep together was your family.

You grew up in Georgia with your parents and your older brother, Rick. Your mother was a homemaker, always around to support you through your childhood. Your father had run the family farm for many years, only selling it a few years ago when he got sick. His own father had fought in the war before you were born, something you had heard little about in your lifetime. He didn’t like to talk about it with you, besides once when you were eight years old. It wasn’t much of a shock when your brother decided to become a deputy for the local sheriff's department. Rick always wanted to rush in and save anyone he could, a trait that seemed to pass from generation to generation. Hell, you were a nurse yourself. As much as Rick’s heroics scared you, you always told yourself that, like your grandfather, he would be okay. That was until his best friend and partner, Shane Walsh, showed up at your front door one afternoon.

You opened the front door of your apartment, Shane standing in front of you with two deputies standing slightly behind him. The look on Shane’s face and the way he spoke your name told you everything.

“Is he dead?” You asked. 

Shane frowned. “He’s in surgery right now. I just dropped off Lori and Carl at the hospital.”

“What happened?”

“There was a chase. We were told there were only two men in the car, but-“ he trailed off. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood in the doorway, trying to process the emotions that were rushing over you like waves crashing the shore. You knew this was a possibility, a risk of the job, but you’d never really let yourself accept that. Finally, your mind shifted to Carl, his son. 

“How is Carl handling it?” You asked. “Is he okay?”

Shane nodded. “You know him, always hopeful. He’s stronger than any of us.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile among the tears you felt racing down your cheek. Shane was right; Carl had a way to make even the hardest of moments a little easier.

“I should get to the hospital, keep Lori company.” You responded.

“I’ll drive you.” 

You nodded, grabbing your keys from the table by your front door.

With you working at the hospital, you spent all of your time there, waiting for your brother to wake up from his coma. You were constantly sending updates to Lori, who you tried to convince to go home and have a proper rest each night. It wasn’t like there was much to update her on though, only really the fact that he was still alive. The more time that passed, the more you began to lose hope.

As if Rick being in a coma wasn’t hard enough to handle, it would only be less than a week until the entire world fell apart.

You had left the hospital for the first time that night, realizing how badly you needed a proper sleep. With the influx of flu cases, you were past the point of exhaustion. Knowing how bad the city was at the moment, you decided to spend the night at Rick and Lori’s house; It was closer to the hospital anyways.

The next morning you awoke to the sound of movement in the kitchen. Checking the clock, you realized it was already eleven.

You pulled yourself from the couch, making your way into the kitchen to find Lori who was making coffee.

You greeted her with a smile, sitting down at the table. 

“He still hasn’t woken up…” Lori mumbled, pouring two cups of coffee. She headed over to the table, sitting down beside you and offering you one of the cups.

“He will,” You spoke, squeezing her hand. “Rick is a fighter. He’ll wake up, I know it.”

Lori tried to muster a smile. “Every morning, every time I pick him up from school, Carl asks me if his daddy is awake yet. Every time I tell him no, I feel like I’m breaking his heart even more.”

It was hard for you to find the words to say to Lori. You weren’t a parent and you had no idea how you would handle the father of your child being where Rick is. All you could do is listen to Lori and try to reassure her, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed what you were saying.

Rick had always been the strong one; the one who kept it together and let the rest of you lean on him. Now, it was your turn to be the strong one and you finally realized just how much you did need your big brother. How were you going to keep it together if he was gone?

The question plaguing your mind would be answered sooner than you could have ever expected. Carl was already home from school and you were just about to leave for your shift when Shane came rushing through the front door.

He was freaking out, speaking of things you didn’t understand. 

“This illness, whatever it is, is getting worse. It’s not safe here anymore. We have to leave, now.”

Shane urged you all to go with him, saying there was a safe zone in the city. When Lori had asked about Rick, after sending Carl to grab some clothes, Shane’s face fell.

“He’s gone,” Shane spoke. “I went to the hospital first and he’s gone. I’m sorry.”

You’d barely had a moment to process the loss of your brother, Shane rushing you and Lori to collect your things and load up his car. All you had was the clothes on your back, having been in a constant loop of washing the same clothes for the last week. Lori had packed up all the photo albums, a sentimentality you’d always appreciated in her.

The four of you made your way towards the city, the sky falling dark before you got anywhere close. Traffic wasn’t moving, cars lined up as far as your eyes could see. Many people were outside their cars, chatting with those around them. 

That is how you met Carol Peletier, her husband Ed, and their daughter Sophia. Carol was a quiet and sweet woman, offering Carl food soon after you’d met. Her husband, on the other hand, was the complete opposite; cold and controlling. Seeing the way Ed was around his wife, you were reminded of the many women you’d treated in the ER. It made your blood boil, but you tried to keep it contained. 

Shane and Lori had wandered off for a bit, wanting to see if they could see the entrance to the city; if they were actually letting anyone in. You stayed behind to keep an eye on Carl.

As you stood outside the car, your eyes fixed on the city ahead, you felt a pit begin to build in your stomach. Fighter jets flew over your head on their way towards the city. Before you knew it, the ground began to rumble as fire and explosions lit the night sky.

They were bombing the city.

Shane and Lori quickly returned, Shane having a new plan and inviting Carol, Ed and Sophia along. The drive towards the Quarry was quiet, each of you silently taking in the events of the night.

Your brother was dead.

Society had fallen into disrepair.

It felt as though you were living a nightmare, one you couldn’t force yourself to wake up from. Now, all you had left was Shane, Lori and Carl and you would do anything to keep them safe.

Before you knew it, a month had gone by. Over time more people had joined you at the Quarry, and it started to feel like a little community. The dead rarely traveled up here, which almost made you forget what was happening in the world.

A small group has gone into the city for supplies, a dangerous task considering the streets were filled with the dead. It had been almost a full day since they left, and everyone was beginning to panic, especially one of the girls’ sister Amy. You had gotten a radio call from one of them earlier that morning, saying they were stuck in a building surrounded by the dead. As much as you wanted to believe they’d find a way out, your hope was slowly dying.

For a moment your mind drifted to your brother, wondering what he would do in this situation. You knew he’d be leaving this camp, heading for the city to at least try to save them. Shane was against that, and you weren’t about to fight him on that. As much as you felt for the others, your only concern was your family and they were safe at camp.

The sound of an alarm blaring in the distance caught everyone’s attention, sending most of you rushing towards the main road leading to camp.

You, however, ran towards the RV, an older man standing up there using a pair of binoculars. “Dale, you see what that is?”

The man remained quiet, continuing to stare into the binoculars.

Shane came to your side. “Talk to me, Dale.”

“I can’t tell yet.” He finally responded.

“Is it them? Are they back?” Amy asked, an obvious hopefulness in her voice.

“I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?”

Dale shrugged. “A stolen car is my guess.”

You waited a few minutes before a red Charger sped into the camp. A young man, Glenn, hopped out of the passenger seat, smiling ear to ear.

“Hey,”

“Holy crap,” Dale grumbled. “Turn that thing off!”

“I don’t know how.” Glenn confessed.

Shane headed over to the car. “Pop the hood please.”

Amy rushed over as well, clinging to Glenn. “My sister Andrea-“

“Pop the damn hood!” Shane snapped.

“Alright, alright!” Glenn responded, popping the hood.

“Is she okay? Is Andrea alright?”

Glenn nodded. “She’s okay.”

The alarm stopped, Shane stepping back from the vehicle and taking a deep breath.

“She’s coming back?”

“Yes.”

Amy continued. “Why isn’t she with you?”

Glenn sighed. “She’s okay. Everybody is. Well, Merle not so much.”

Merle Dixon. The current bane of your existence. He was so much of what you hated about humanity, personified in one single person.

Shane marched over to Glenn. “Are you crazy, driving this wailing bastard up here? Are you trying to draw every walker for miles?”

Dale shook his head. “I think we’re okay.”

“You call being stupid okay?”

“Well, the alarm was echoing all over these hills. Hard to pinpoint the source. I'm not arguing. I'm just saying.” Dale responded before turning to Glenn. “It wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?”

“I’m sorry.” Glenn nodded. “I got a cool car though.”

You nodded, folding your arms across your chest. “It is pretty sweet.”

“See?” Glenn chuckled.

As everyone began to welcome Glenn back, a truck slowly pulled in behind the Charger. Andrea was the first to hop out, her legs shaking as her feet hit the ground.

“Amy.” She called out.

“Andrea!” Amy cheered, rushing over to her sister and pulling her into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrea replied, pulling away and holding her sister's face in her hands. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Next a man named Morales hopped out, his wife and kids running over to greet him.

Dale smiled. “I thought we had lost you folks for sure.”

“How’d y’all get out of there anyway?”

“New guy,” Morales replied. “He got us out.”

“New guy?” You asked.

“Yeah, crazy dude just got into town.” Morales nodded before looking back at the truck. “Helicopter boy! Come say hello.”

Your eyes drifted to Amy and Andrea, still holding one another as Amy continued to ask if Andrea was okay. They made you think of your brother. You would give just about anything to see him again; to be able to hug him and know he was okay.

“Oh my god.”

Your eyes widened, the voice all too familiar. You slowly turned your head, your jaw just about falling to the ground.

“Rick?”

“Dad!” Carl's voice rang out as he ran towards his father.

Rick took his son in his arms, falling to his knees. “Carl.” He choked, tears falling down his cheeks.

Lori ran over, joining the hug and burying her head in her husband's neck. You watched on, frozen in disbelief. 

The hug was over and Rick turned his attention to you, his eyes still full of tears.

He called your name, his voice breaking. 

You finally allowed yourself to breathe again, all feeling in your body springing back to life. How was this possible? Shane had told you he was dead.

Pushing your confusion aside, you walked towards your brother, pulling him into a hug.

“I thought you were dead.” You whispered in his ear, your voice breaking.

The two of you pulled away from each other and Rick smiled softly. “You think I’d want to miss all of this?”

You chuckled, a tear falling down your cheek. 

Shane soon caught your eye, standing behind the hood of one of the cars. You expected him to be smiling and laughing like everyone else, but instead, his face was the same as it had been the night he told you Rick had been shot.

----

AN: Thank you for reading this first chapter, I really hope you all enjoyed it! If you'd like to request to be tagged in future chapters, you can do so here. Please be sure to like and reblog <3

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hi RTA!

I saw a couple of asks stating (I'm generalizing here) that the bullying case might not be as bad as THE VICTIMS of said bullying said, and that everyone working for KP is useless.

Now, the hurt bullyig causes is not to me measured but what the bully did, not entirely. The most important reference you have is the one being bullied: the consequences of said bullying on them is what tell syou how bad was it. My bulies thought it was fun. I took 20 years to be able to love myself. You would not tell a victim of sexual assault that it is not rape just because nothing was done to serve them justice, or the perpetrator got away. That victim is still thinking about it. truste me. Bullying is very much the same.

Sure, sending you an email at 5 am is not bullying. It is considered bullying when you get mad because they did not answer the email outside of their work hours, tell them off in front of others and insult them. I am sure none of this was done in private or with measured, grown up words.

On a (uthopian, almost) healthy work enviroment, you are allowed to send an email at 5am if that is the time you do so. But it is the recipients right to ignore until they start their work day. I am using the email thing as an example. Mind you, that recipient read the email as soon as they got up and grabbed their phone, assessed the request, and determined if it was urgent or not. Most likely, it could wait. Probably most of what Meghan sent on those emails were things that could wait, or that required some sort of approval or whatever, but it did not mean they were not qualified for their job. Is reads mostly as that Meghan was not qualified for her job.

One more thing: when the bullying claims made it to Clarence, they were not ignored just becasue they were not as bad as the media (AND THE VICTIMS) said it was. It was boxed because of optics. Yes, optics. Charles was as always covering for Harry. Also, Charles and his team were on thin ice, knowing what we now know was happenning behind close doors with Meghan, Harry and their antics and treatment of the family, and I assure you, the possibility of the word "racism" being uttered at any time you were to rein Meghan or harry's attitude, was the biggest worry that family, that COMPANY, had. Becasue they had the conversations as a team, as an institution, the moment a biracial women joined their ranks. Optics. It was all about optics and the public's agility to get offended.

The insides of such a big machinery like the BRF are a mistery for most people. Sure, we guess and use our professional/personal knowledge to theorize. But some know more than others about some things, some know more about the players and some can read between the lines of a very well crafted media piece.

Sorry for the rant. Two clients got mad at me today because someone else did not do their job and I can't wait for it to be Friday.

Thanks for sharing!

The issue re Meghan's bullying of staff is that unless you've been through it yourself, you don't get it. I think that's the divide. For people who haven't had to deal with their own workplace bullies, they scoff and say "toughen up, this is what you signed up for" but for everyone who has been in those shoes, we say "what the hell's wrong with you all, no one deserves to be treated like this."

What Meghan did was far worse than 5am emails and screaming "you're incompetent" when someone didn't answer her phone call at 9pm. She undermined her staff's confidence. She made people cry at work. She threw them under the bus when she was caught redhanded breaking protocol. She played favorites. And that's just the stuff we know about. There's a whole other list of things she did that we don't know about - like the actual specific things she said to or accused of her staff.

I had a bad bully boss once. I was my department's star performer. I had customers who'd specifically request me for their projects and when told I wasn't available, they'd say "that's okay, we'll wait." I was the youngest person to receive my agency's highest award by at least 20 years and I won 'Employee of the Month' once a year. I was put on projects that had Congressional oversight and Pentagon clients. I worked with grumpy IT guys who would fight to be on my team and I worked with internal clients who said they slept easy when I was on their projects because they never had to worry about anything. I'm not telling you this to toot my own horn. I'm telling you this so that you understand I know my shit and I had a proven track record of success.

This woman, this bad bully boss, accused me of being incompetent. She told lies about me to other people in the agency. She would throw me under the bus for things she didn't do and got caught for it. She'd scrutinize my work products for 'gotcha' mistakes and complain to other managers that I didn't do my job. When it came time to performance reviews, she'd rate me at 2-Minimally Acceptable and every time I complained to HR, they investigated and forced her to rate me at 4 or 5 (exceeds expectations or outstanding). I once left work a few minutes early for a medical appointment after putting in months' of overtime on my project and arriving half an hour early to work that day to compensate for a slightly-earlier departure and she wrote me up for a formal disciplinary action accusing me of time fraud that her boss just laughed and shredded when he pulled up my time card because I was actually underreporting my overtime. She would scream at me for issues I had nothing to do with and withhold my PTO.

To say this woman "undermined my confidence" is grossly understating what she did to me. She undermined my confidence so badly that I lost my self-esteem and didn't think I was good at my job despite all these awards - she had me convinced I was getting them because it looked good for their diversity and inclusivity metrics if the deaf girl got a prize. If I went a week without crying in my car on the drive home, it was a good week and at one point, it was so bad that the IT guys who worked in the windowless basement and didn't have any feelings other than irascibile grumpiness were the ones trying to boost up my self-esteem.

That boss was so awful to me that when she finally left, it took my new boss about five months to deprogram my nerves to be called into his office without having a nervous breakdown and another year for me to actually believe him (and everyone else) when he praised me for my work that he actually meant it and he wasn't playing 'gotcha games.'

But you know what my team members would say, my fellow project managers? They'd say "I don't know what she's on about. [Name Redacted] is always nice to me and rates me Outstanding." or they'd say "I love [Name Redacted] - she always brings us bagels when she comes in late!" Do you know what everyone outside of my department, who didn't witness how she treated me personally or didn't see me falling apart would say? "[Name Redacted] is just doing her job. It's not that bad."

Reader, when the grumpy IT guys who don't like people are the ones cheering you up, it is really bad.

But my point is, until you've dreaded footsteps coming down the hall, you've spent Sunday night with your stomach in twists, you can't relax on vacation, or you break out in a cold sweat when you see their name on caller ID or email preview, you're not going to get what it was like for the Sussex Survivors Club. Until you've had employees or friends falling apart in your offices, your hands are tied because of red tape, and no one's listening to your concerns and all you have is your anger and process, you won't understand what it was like for Jason or William and you won't understand why William and Kate sometimes treat their staff gently or, to paraphrase other anons, tuck them in and sing them to sleep.

It doesn't matter what industry you're in. You can even be in the same office - heck, even the same team or the same friend group - and not be under attack the way someone else is by your boss or another colleague or your friend or your parent. Until it happens to you, you just won't understand how disappointingly this has been handled by the Clarence House and you won't understand how maddening and victim-shaming the "it's not that bad" commentary is.

I'm okay now. I've come a long way from that boss. Strangely, the COVID lockdowns and having to work from home 40/5 really helped me heal the most from her damage. I still have a bit of imposter syndrome but I'm working through it with an even kinder boss and an amazing therapist.