#create dont scrape | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peachigummi · 1 year ago

Text

test my luck ꢾ꣒ mattheo riddle.

summary: enemy to lovers! Mattheo and y/n have been each other's biggest haters since year 1, they're in their final year at Hogwarts. Mattheo finally pushes y/n to the edge, with his venomous words and guilt tactics.

pairing: enemy! mattheo x fem ravenclaw! reader

warnings: not for the faint of heart! mature themes/language. mentions of abuse. slow burn? bullying angst!! oh my god angst, but ends with some bittersweet fluff I promise! attempted suicide sorry (after reading this back, i dont mean it to be manipulation or to glorify or romanticize but! shit!! for a plot?)

note: i haven't written anything in literal years, the pov is going to shift a lot so bear with me. i honestly just lost any sense of motivation. but something in me just bloomed. you wont see any hp things on this blog it is my journal and i feel like sharing! maybe a part 2 in the making. if this gets enough response.

word count: 6,828

(slightly not really proofread or fan fact checked? if that's a thing ha)

playlist: should i create..? you know damn well the smiths would be in it! like Bigmouth Strikes Again?? that is mattheo!

reblogs & comments are so appreciated! i hope you enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was the start of your last year of Hogwarts, it was an okay time. You personally didn’t get into too much trouble, you liked to stick by yourself for the most part. You studied hard because your muggle parents were still confused about you being a witch, and what you would get out of it. It was hard to process that information, it was a thing of fairy tales. You had to prove yourself in this new world. That…that was hard when you were constantly looking over your shoulder for Mattheo Riddle.

“What’s a whore doing in my seat?” Speak of the damn devil.

You turned to look at him with a sarcastic smile, “Well hello to you too Mattheo.” You nod at the three other boys that were with him, each of their arms crossed. “Draco. Blaise. Theodore.” You return to look at Mattheo, “you know last time I checked… there are no assigned seats in Potions.” You looked around and the class was still fairly empty.

“Think again and think hard.” Mattheo spoke to you in a cold shallow tone, he barely looked at you. He circled around the table you were at, your eyes following him. He suddenly stopped right behind your chair, yanking it back. There was a loud scrape, the few students that were in the room turned to look at the scene unfolding. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. Mattheo slammed his hand on the side of the table, making you flinch. You hated that you reacted that way. He grabbed the back of your ponytail, forcing your head forward where his hand was, “Look.” M. Riddle. D. Malfoy. B. Zabini. T. Nott. Their names were carved into the side. You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, the one that was still holding onto your ponytail, you tried to pry his icy cold fingers off. It only made him tighten his grip, he bent down to get close to your face, “I suggest you move unless you want me to carve my name onto your face as well.” he spat and finally let go.

“Whatever,” you gathered your books, “this seat sucks anyways. I’ll go hang out with Professor Snape up front.” You rolled your eyes as Draco lit up a cigarette, handing the pack to the boys to share. If you’re going to try and get away with smoking, yeah do it in the back of the class I guess.

“You really like being a teacher’s pet don’t you? That’s why you’ve always got your nose up Snape’s ass.”

“Seriously fuck off! Go continue to lose brain cells with your sorry excuse of friends.” You push the seat back and let it topple over. You mentally slapped yourself, you shouldn’t be feeding into his remarks.

“That’s cute sunshine, I’ll bet you have a hard time standing up for yourself in every aspect of your pathetic life. Do better.” Mattheo smugly said, smoking the cigarette that was in his hand.

You opened your mouth to speak but decided against it, you ended up just flipping him off. He did the same, giving you an annoyed look. You took the seat next to Hermione in the front of the class. Ugh! That Mattheo. “Are you okay?!” She asked, shooting daggers at the group, turning to you again “How can you put up with that? We have to tell someone..” you shook my head and whispered, “it’ll only make things worse. I don’t want to be a snitch. It’s already been six years anyways… how can one more year really change things.”

Blaise laughed, “you like that don’t you mattheo? Isn’t she so cute when she’s angry, you like feisty girls, yeah?”

Draco chuckles, “oh he definitely does, too bad she’s a stupid bitch.” The group laughs together.

You could hear them hollering from the back. You tried to calm yourself down and pay attention to the different measurements of the potions you were being taught. Maybe I could switch this class to a different time. You thought, focusing back to the lesson when Professor Snape mentioned something about needing to be in groups of three for an upcoming project.

Before Snape could assign anyone, Mattheo spoke up, “Sir I’d like to work with Theodore, if that’s permitted.” Snape looked annoyed by his interjection but answered, “No, Theodore will be with Y/N and Draco. Nothing will change. I already made the groups, they will be posted near the storeroom.” He gave Mattheo a dirty look.

You could hear Draco scoff but he didn't say anything. Yet. He kept to himself and his buddies while they continued to smoke and do other things to piss Professor Snape off before the class was finally dismissed. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being in a pair with Mattheo. You still wanted to protest against the group choice, but nothing would come of it. You knew better than to go against Snape’s final word. Theodore wasn’t such a horrible person, he actually can be pretty smart and helpful, if you got him alone. Otherwise when he was with even just one of his buddies, he was just like them - a jerk. It was Draco you won’t be able to stand.

“Don't do anything stupid, Y/L/N, and we might actually do okay in this project.” That was Draco himself, walking over with Theodore.

You ignored his comment, “where should we meet and when?”

“We can use one of the abandoned classrooms. Before the lunch break?” Theodore suggested, handing a note with directions.

“Okay. See you.” You said as bluntly as possible, gathering your book. You went to grab the ingredients your group might need.

“Teachers pet!” Draco yelled after.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Of course you were the first to the abandoned classroom, you had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes before either of them showed. When they did, they didn’t bother to apologize, though you didn’t expect them to. Even with smart comments from both boys, you finished discussing the project and the presentation at a decent hour. It was quiet as you started to collect your things, Draco excused himself earlier to collect a package.

“Y/N, why is it that you hate Mattheo so much?” Theodore broke the silence, carefully watching you wrap the vials carefully. You paused, taken back. “He’s been trying to get a rise out of you since day 1, why?” He continued nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

You quickly grab them out of his hand and put it in your own breast pocket, “don’t smoke around me.”

This made him annoyed, “Hey! I need those! They keep me calm!”

“No you don't, you've been fine this entire time without them. I’m not trying to raise your blood pressure right now. You’re fine.” You give him a good look, maybe he was playing dumb. How could he not know? Theodore and Mattheo were best friends; they must have already talked about this, “I only hate Mattheo because he hates me. It’s all there's to it…” I think.

He lingers for a moment after you answered him, there is something else you haven’t said, “tell me what you think. There’s always some deeper reason for this sort of stuff” He rested his chin on his hand. See this is why I favored Theodore from the rest of his group, but should I still trust him? He could use this information against me. I took the chance.

“Over the years I suspected it was just plainly because I was a mudblood and not some perfect pure-bred like you folk.” You continued to wrap the vials carefully.

Theodore rolled his eyes, “He does have a thing against people with different backgrounds than his own. He thinks everyone in this school should be from a wizarding family. But that’s not the case with you.” He grabbed a vial too, helping me wrap them, “He’s never said anything about your parents or how they’re muggles.” Mattheo would talk about me when I wasn’t around? Why would he do that? You looked into his eyes searching for some joke or underlying lie. There was none I could detect.

You recall the moment aloud when you first laid your eyes on Mattheo, “It was at the train station. Our first year. I remember hugging and kissing my parents goodbye, not wanting to let go of them. I turned around to go on the train and there was a much much smaller Mattheo staring at me with wide beady little eyes that were glossed over with tears. He was cute in that split second - ” You couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Theodore watched you carefully. You straightened your lips, continuing, “ - before he stuck a solid wad of gum in my hair.”

Theodore bellowed, nearly falling backwards in his chair, “Yeah that sounds like him, that’s a classic stunt he’d pull off. There was this one time in year 5 when he stuck gum on the chair of one of the professors before class…I never saw her so mad after she sat down and got up, her chair nearly followed her around!” He tried to settle himself down, “Mattheo always had a thing for doing stuff to people and acting as if it’s all a joke.”

“It’s not a joke when you have to cut your hair super short in order to remove the gum. I felt so naked without my long hair, it was so beautiful! And he made it worse when he made a point to show how ugly I was to everyone in the Great Hall. I even remember you laughing just like you are now.” You pushed his shoulder.

Theodore smirked, “yeah we all laughed, how couldn’t we?! You looked ridiculous before you grew it back out. We used to call you Baldy McEgg-head. You’d get so mad, only making us laugh harder.” At least someone cherished the memory. You rolled your eyes.

It grew quiet again, “have you ever met Mattheo’s parents? Has he ever talked to you about them?”

“No. I’ve never met them. He’s never really talked about his parents or his life outside Hogwarts. I don’t think he’s on great terms with his dad. He always stayed with them during the breaks, and wasn't ever allowed to spend it with us or here at hogwarts. He missed out on a lot of important hang outs. I wished he was there for them” Theodore explained, he sounded disappointed and angry.

“Do…do you think he’s jealous of my home life? The affection I was receiving in front of him at the train station…”

He thinks for a moment, “I suppose it could be a possibility…hard to tell. He doesn’t allow himself to show too much emotion, again, probably has to do with the way he must have been raised.”

You wanted to do more research into Mattheo’s family…but how? “Thanks for this Teddy. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” You finished packing everything into your bag. Before you left you tossed him back his pack of cigarettes, “see you later.”

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You let out a sigh of relief, to be alone once again. Mettheo Riddle, what secrets do you hide? You made your way to the library instead of the Great Hall. After a few hours of searching around the library, you finally find a section of massive thick old leather bound books. You blew on the covers, these books contained a record of all the wizards and witches that had attended Hogwarts. Kind of like a yearbook, but it told you what came of them. Who married who, what did they end up doing after Hogwarts, etc. a rare but quite the gem of a find. “R… R.. R” you whispered, touching the book ends. You look at the bottom of the bookshelf finding the one that contained the last names that began with R. You found it, and you began to look through for the name “Riddle.”

Just as you got to the last name, you felt a wave of shame. You were snooping into somebody’s life. Their history. This is wrong. If Mattheo wanted to talk about his home life, surely he would have. He was hiding something. There were heavy slow footsteps coming around the corner of the aisle. You snapped the book shut holding it behind you and you looked at the section opposite of where you just were. Mattheo, they were his steps, you could tell.

“Of course you’d be in the library doing nerd stuff.” He doesn’t sound happy, but also when is he truly ever?

You looked at him then around yourself, “who me? A nerd for being in the library?” I mean he wasn’t wrong but ..yeah. You still point at him, “Where are you then? Because it seems to be you’re also in the library with…” you fake gasp, “...Me! Making you a nerd too!” You hoped that confused him, you shifted the leather book behind your back. It was getting heavy by the second.

“I’m ditching classes to smoke,” He takes a rip of a cigarette that was nearly at its end, he blows the smoke in your face. “Nerd.”

“Whoop-dee-doo what a stellar insult Mettheo. I’m a ravenclaw. What did you expect? I’d rather be a nerd than a-” You took a step closer to him squinting then widening your eyes in horror, “oh my god Mattheo did you lose a tooth from all that smoking?” He quickly shoved his pinky into his mouth feeling his teeth in a panic. If there was one thing he cared more about than cigarettes it was keeping up with his good looks. Uh did I just describe him as good looking?

He actually laughed once he finished counting his teeth, “They’re perfectly fine. I care about taking care of myself, unlike you. How often do you wash yourself? I doubt you even brush your hair. I did you a favor when you had to cut it off. You have no sense of style, even with a selection of uniforms! Why do you dress like it’s winter all year? You dress like a peasant from the 1820’s”

Okay ouch, that kinda hurt. You’ve been insecure with your body, you always struggled with that. Dressing in sweaters helped hide it. You didn’t know how to respond, maybe he's right. You couldn’t stand up for yourself to save your life. You just shoved his shoulder with your own and walked past him.

Matthew continues to follow you, “did you just shove me you twat?” He snatched the book out of my arms holding it a ways away from you, “If you’re going to do sneaky shit, don’t do it so obviously. Is this a diary or something?” Your eyes widened trying to take it back, but he held it up high above his head easily with one hand.

“Yes! It’s my diary, it’s where I gush about the god almighty perfect Mattheo!” I sarcastically said, still hoping he wouldn’t look at the title of the book. “No stupid! I dont have one, I just got done working on the potions project with your buddies. Hand me back the book.”

“Oh I bet you three had lots of fun. Did you talk about me while you were there? Did you talk about how you can’t take your eyes and mind off of me? You’re clearly obsessed, following me around like a love sick puppy. You pop up wherever I happen to be.”

“Ew no never.” You fought your expression back, did Theodore tell him something? Fuck. “Draco left, it was just Teddy and I. we spent it kissing the whole time. Super carefree. His lips surprisingly didn't taste like cigarettes, they were pretty sweet.”

Mattheo’s smug smirk fades even before you finish your sentence. He hated how you used a nickname for his friend. He despised the thought of you kissing anyone, especially his mates, “fucking liar. THEODORE, not TEDDY, doesn’t like you. He just tolerates you because he has to. He wouldn’t be caught dead kissing you. You’re disgusting and I pity anyone who has the displeasure of touching you in any way other than to harm you.

You hold your hands up, “woah woah woah, whatever makes you sleep peacefully at night. Why else did Teddy take me to an abandoned classroom, it was our chance to get away together especially after Draco conveniently left.” You couldn’t believe you were lying through your teeth, this would forsure come back and bite you in the ass even harder. You haven’t even had your first kiss yet. You haven't even been romantically linked with anyone before.

“Stop fucking calling him Teddy, it’s Theodore!”

“Can you guys get a room or SHUT UP! For Merlin’s Sake” A random student yelled out at us. Slamming their hand on the table. You were embarrassed because you took pride in keeping the library a sacred place to study or relax.

“Piss off. Go find a room of your own instead of listening to us talking. You must be a first year, if you’re still so sensitive to other’s voices in the library.” He continued to raise his voice, “We’ve been like this for years! Blah blah blah!!”

“Stop it Mattheo.” You shove him again, mouthing to the student, I'm very sorry. With the distraction you go and grab the book in Mattheo’s hand but he quickly readjusts his grip.

“You don’t have to apologize for me, sunshine. You should apologize to him for your existence, do everyone a favor will you?” He finally looked down at the title of the book, Who Were They and Where They Now?: Hogwarts. He carefully used a single finger to pry it open to where the fabric bookmark was, immediately seeing his own surname. He gives a manic laugh looking up at your face and slamming the book down to the floor, “you stalker. You are obsessed with me.”

He lunged at you. You took a step back, you hit the shelving. Your heart was beating so fast you thought you would pass out from the red handed guilt.

“What kind of information were you looking to find huh?” He pointed a finger at me, his eyes ice cold. Looking to murder. Your head suddenly hurt, there was a high pitched ringing that wouldn't stop. You went to cover your ears to find some relief but Mattheo grabbed you and shook hard, “what the FUCK did you think you would find? Tell me. Tell me NOW!” You didn’t know what to say he just stared hard at you, his nails digging into your arms. You winced. He began to speak fast and harshly as if he knew, as if you had said something.

“Did you really expect you would find out that I had a happy home? Do you think I’m happy being born in some dingy hovel? Do you think I'm overjoyed to be related to and be abused by my father? He beat me black and blue and hated my existence. My mother just sat there silently watching. She doesn’t care. Would YOU be thrilled knowing that you came from a long line of dark wizards who’ve caused pain and suffering to people for centuries.”

You began to cry, “Mattheo..”

“You honestly think I would be so proud of that to tell everyone?” He scoffed.

“Mattheo you’re hurting me…”

“I. Don’t. Care.” His deep brown eyes didn’t leave yours, “you should have minded your own business. Stupid girl prying into my history. What do you care? Did you think I'd be less of a jerk to you if I had a perfect loving family like yours? ”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry! I .. I.”

“Shut up. You don't get to speak. I don't need you feeling sorry for me, I can handle myself. This is probably the worst you’ll ever experience.”

“Y-You’re right. I’m.. I’m grateful I never had to e-endure that” You were one stuttering mess.

He moves one hand to cup your mouth to shut you up again, “what did i say. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth.” He rose the other up threateningly.

You closed your eyes. Do it Mattheo. Please. I deserve it. I’m sorry I tried to pry. Do it. He was surprised by your offer and looked at you in confusion, his expression didn’t change though. “What kind of sick request is that?” You open your eyes again to meet his. Both of you were in disbelief, did he just-? “Why would you want me to beat you? Because you feel bad for me? I don’t want nor need your sympathy. Trying to act like a saint that's willing to be my punching bag whenever I want.” he scoffed, letting your mouth free, taking a single step back away from you.

“Then why are you so mean to me? Tell me that. When I first laid eyes on you during our first year at the train platform, I thought we would be friends.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing where his fingers had dug into you.

“You’re a prissy annoying know-it-all goody two shoes that thinks she’s better than everyone. You can’t help but chime in whenever you have the chance and show off.”

“So it’s just my existence then huh, nothing else to it?” You felt your own anger finally rise, you wiped your tears off your cheek trying to regain composure.

“Pretty much. You’re unbearable. You are the most unexciting thing I’ve ever encountered.”

“Let me fix that for you.” Your eyes betrayed you and let the gates open, the flood starting to spill once more. Before Mattheo could get another hold of you you quickly shuffled off, dropping your things. Already feeling limp. Just hoping your legs would carry you a bit more.

Mattheo rolls his eyes, “tsk so stupid.” He stood there staring at the place you once were. Thinking about what occurred when he processed what you said, “Y/N! Hey I-..” He began to follow in the direction you went off to.

Your shuffle turned into a run, you just needed privacy. Anything. Your dorm was too far away, so you went into the nearest girls bathroom and into the furthest stall to sob.

Mattheo reaches the hallway, looking to his left and right. Fuck where did she go? He closes his eyes to listen closely. He heard something faint and went with his gut.

You sat down beside the toilet, hitting your head with your fist. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” You heard a familiar giggle, “go away Myrtle. Now’s especially not the time.”

Bathroom, you had to be in the bathroom. He went inside not caring if another girl would see him, “Y/N? You’re in here, I know you are. Look, just come out will you?” Instead Moaning Myrtle came forth.

“Are you looking for me?” she bit her finger looking him up and down, “we don't get that many cute boys in here.” She sighed, still admiring him, “Nevertheless, shame on you. How could someone as delicious as you treat someone so horribly.” She laughed in his face.

“Shut up. I don't need to be lectured by some depressed ghost. Why are you even here. Go away.” He went further inside the bathroom pushing doors in, “actually have you seen a girl come in, Y/N?”

“Yes!” She said excitedly pointing to the last stall, “She’s coming with me and we’ll get to haunt together. It’ll be so fun to not be alone anymore” She broke into another high pitched laugh, clapping her hands with joy.

“What the hell is she on about?” That’s when he noticed broken glass from a mirror. His heart drops, “you’ve got to be kidding me…” He rushed over pushing the final door in, but this one wouldn’t budge. “Y/N. It’s Mattheo..” his heart drops and he pales when he notices blood start to seep out from under the door, you’ve hurt yourself. “Y/N!” He says again louder, “open the door! Open it right fucking now! Y/N!!”

You didn’t want him to see you like this, no one should have to see this. You try to hold the door closed but you were losing your strength to do anything. The blood made it slippery so your hand slid down, “M-m-mattheo haven’t..you said enough?”

Myrtle pointed to the glass, “look how eager she was! Damaging school property to break free” She did a couple spins in the air, “any minute now!”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Mattheo raised his wand and shot a blast at the lock, it broke open and he flung the door open to reveal you laying on the floor. His heart seemed to stop completely. “Shit! Dammit! Y/N!”

The blast frightened you, “No. Mattheo. No.” You could only make out his dark curly haired head. You tried to swat him away before losing consciousness due to blood loss.

Professor Snape rushed in after hearing a blast, “what the bloody hell is going on in here, Mr. Riddle.”

Mattheo looked at him with an angry and panicked expression, “I need her in the infirmary right now.” He said through gritted teeth. He leans over you, grabbing a large bunch of toilet paper and quickly kneels next to you. Applying pressure on your bleeding left wrist.

Snape understood immediately, “Keep the pressure on the wrist, Riddle.” He was able to pick you up easily, but he was not enthusiastic about having your blood staining his robes, “with HASTE Riddle! Follow me!” And off they went to the infirmary. Once there Snape quickly laid you on a bed gently before Madame Pomfrey took over.

She was able to stop and clean the bleeding, while she examined the cut striation she asked both Snape and Mattheo what blood type they were, “The girls lost too much blood, she needs a transfusion.” She began to stitch the wrist, the cut was near vertical to the veins.

Mattheo in a less than a split second looked at Pomfrey, “Am I able to donate for her.” He didn’t say it as a question, he wanted it to be a command.

“As long as you share the same blood type then yes, sweetheart. Please, fresh blood is much better. We can’t wait more time, Ms. Y/L/N is so terribly pale. She can have a seizure any minute if we dont get more blood to her brain” still carefully pulling at threads. His hand was still holding yours.

He nods impatiently, less talking, more action. “I’m AB-” he gulped. One of the rarest blood types in the world, “what type is she?” he began to roll up his sleeve even before Pomfrey was able to respond.

“Goodheavens! Thank Merlin. She’s AB- as well!” She sighs looking up at the ceiling for a split second, calling for a nurse to help set up the transfusion. He took a seat on your left, watching the nurse insert a needle into each of your arms. He didn’t flinch, but he gave her a threatening look when she inserted a needle into your arm, thinking she would bring more pain to you.

Madame Pomfrey stood up, finished. “If it was with a straight razor and not a glass shard, I don’t think i would have been able to-” she let her voice die down after seeing how pale Mattheo began to look too, she shut her mouth as to not worry him more with what the other alternative was. He couldn’t hide his guilt. His eyes were alternating between your face and his blood that was slowly running into your body through a single tubing. He desperately needed it to go faster.

“Is there a chance she would wake up with problems with her veins or her nerves?” He asked.

Pomfrey patted the boy's shoulders, “Let’s hope not, let’s hope they hold. With the basics in place, there’s nothing a little magic can’t help.” This eased him, “Ms. Y/L/N wont wake for a couple of hours. She needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t rip my stitching job or we will go back to square one my boy. Can I trust you?”

“Is that really a necessary question?” He bit his tongue, “Sorry, yes I will watch over her. I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Best she gets a psychiatrist too, but that's a later issue to address. We’ll focus on physical healing for now.” Pomfrey looked at Mattheo curiously, isn’t this one of the trouble-making slytherin boys? She shook her head and walked out to attend to another student.

“Y/N i’m here.” He studies your face, deep with regret and guilt. He holds your right hand tightly, he whispers softly, “it’s okay, you’re going to be alright..”

“Riddle.” Snape was still watching everything from the shadows of the room, “What happened to my best student, why is he in this condition?”

“It’s my fault, Professor…I was making a fool out of myself. I was treating her like hell… it went too far. She must have had a breakdown and she-” he couldn’t bear to describe your condition out loud.

Snape held a hand up to silence him from saying more, “rather than giving you detention for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts. I will need you to attend all the girl’s classes she will be missing in her recovery. She must not fall behind.”

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll do it.”

Snape turned to leave but came back toward the boy and yanked the cigarette box from his uniform pocket, “none of these for you either, especially as you are sharing blood with Y/N. She never liked you smoking.” and off he turned around to change his own robes from the blood.

“Anything for you.” he whispered towards you, “please wake up soon.”

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You looked around in a panic. You were incredibly sore, especially your left wrist. It stung badly. Mattheo had fallen asleep in the chair when he jolted awake to the sound of your movements, “Calm down, relax, you’re in the infirmary. You’re safe.” He couldn’t help but feel like he just lied about it being safe, if he was the cause of this.

“M…m..Mattheo” You began to cry again, “I’m so sorry.” You went to reach out and hug him but flinched. You followed the red transfusion line to him, “oh Mattheo.”

He sat up to lean towards you. He shushes you and wipes your tears with the back of his hand, ‘you need to calm down and take it easy, princess. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you're still weak. This is just to bring your levels up, you’ll start to feel better soon.”

You stared at his beautiful eyes, ones that had held so much hate but there seemed to be no trace of it now. You felt guilty, I acted like a coward. “Myrtle said it was going to be quick and painless. I’m so stupid I couldn’t even do it right.” You felt another wave of tears coming but you tried to choke them down.

“No youre not, you’re not at fault.” He couldn’t help but chuckle cautiously as what he was about to say, “you might be a know-it-all but you just need to have more control with your thoughts. Don’t listen to Moaning Myrtle. Don’t be hard on yourself, you're not stupid. You did nothing wrong.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you were so exhausted. But you needed to get this out before you lost consciousness again. With your good arm you help his hand tightly, looking him in the eyes again to emphasize the point you were going to make, “Mattheo, I really am idiotic. I Am. I did think you had a perfect life, it didn’t cross my mind that you had it any other way. You were always carefree and just let's be honest, acting like you're’ better than everyone else. It was wrong of me to have assumed that.”

He frowns. “Don’t apologize. There’s no way to tell what someone is going through ultimately. I..cope in my own way.” He softly strokes your cheek with this thumb.

If it wasn’t for the pain, you would have thought you were asleep. Dead. Or in purgatory. A realm between realms. No way the mattheo I’ve known my whole life is sitting beside me looking..lovingly at me? You felt horrible. Did I just manipulate him into caring about me? Just hours ago he was mocking and saying nasty things as usual.

Mattheo could see the look of disbelief in your eyes from the way he was behaving, “Y/N. I’m caring for you. No you’re not dreaming or in some other realm. You’re here, with me, thank Merlin. You didn’t manipulate me, you woke me up.”

You sat up too quickly for your own good, your head feeling light “How are you doing that?”

He shook his head, “Another time. I’m really sorry for how I treated you. You think I’m just some asshole, but I'm more than that really. I want to be more than that. No one else has gotten to see the real me.”

“Mattheo, I see you.” Despite your pain, you reach out to cup his face between your hands. For a second, you saw the boy you first laid your eyes on that first year at the train station. The same sad eyes, “I see you.”

He sighed into your touch, it was a soft and innocent gesture he was not used to. He chuckled softly, and gently placed his hands over yours, keeping them there. He didn’t want to lose the touch, “I know you do, and that’s exactly why I'm afraid.”

You couldn’t help but imagine - how different our lives could have been for the last 6 years, if he would have just introduced himself to me. Explained why he looked so pained when I was with my family. “My parents would have welcomed you as their own” you explained your thoughts to him. “I could have protected you. You could have visited me during the holiday breaks. I know saying it will not change the past and what has happened to you. But I see you Matty.”

“yeah..it’s too late to change the past, I should’ve but I didn’t think you’d understand. It doesn’t excuse the way I treated you all these years, Y/N.” His voice got shaky, his eyes starting to water. He was a mess.

“No, don't you start Mattheo please, baby.” You brought him into a hug, again ignoring your throbbing wrist. “Easy now.” you soothed the curls that were behind his neck. They felt so soft.

Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder and held you tightly, softly crying into you. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto your shirt like he was afraid to let go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone treated him like this, it felt so new and overwhelming.

You kissed the top of his head, inhaling - cigarettes. You hated that he smoked but at this moment the smalle was comforting. He let out a deep sigh. You broke the hug only because you scooted over on the bed, and tugged him to lay beside you. We watched you, he looked so tired. He nodded in agreement with a small smile, he carefully laid beside you, making sure to be careful of your condition.

You gave him a reassuring look that wasn’t hurting you. I’m okay. You looked at your arms touching side by side, still connected by the tubing. You couldn't help but laugh, “Matty isn’t it ironic? All this pure-blood and mudblood talk and look” you carefully lifted the tube, “we’re still one and the same foundation.” You smiled at him, helping wipe his tear stained cheeks now. “Thanks for your donation to me.”

He too couldn't help but grin back at you. He couldn’t believe you weren’t pushing him away for how he treated you, or for how vulnerable he was at the moment, “any time, but please actually don’t do that ever again. You made me worried to death..”

“No I won’t. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for him to take.

He took it in his own nodding, “good, you’re stuck with me now.”

With our pinkies still woven, you looked at the size difference. You turned toward his Bambi like eyes, “let's start this over on the right foot. Better late than never? Hi i’m Y/N, [insert some fun facts about yourself].”

Mattheo smiled more widely, blushing his pinky did make yours look kiddish. It was adorable. He gave you a playful look, smirking at you like he usually would, “Nice to meet you there, Y/N. I’m Mattheo, the sexiest guy you’ll meet in Hogwarts.”

There’s my Mattheo. “And you promise to…?” you coaxed him.

He gave your pinky another squeeze, “to try to be nice and kind to you, and avoid bullying you….as well as to not smoke in your presence…you happy?”

You kind of nodded, holding in your laugh, “aaaand…?”

He looked at you, trying to read what you wanted him to say. He gave your pinky another, slightly rougher, squeeze. “And I promise not to throw a wad of gum into your beautiful hair?”

“Bingo. Mr. Riddle, that’s what I was ultimately looking for.” You let go of his pinky, “but it is nice to know the other stuff too.” you waved your hand like it was nothing, but it was my everything. He gave you a sarcastic scoff, he liked that you were still acting like your old self too.

You kissed his cheek and his face went redder than a cherry, you acted shocked “woah did I just make Mattheo, the sexiest guy in Hogwarts BLUSH?!” You slapped your hands against your cheeks in play disbelief, slightly regretting the pain it brought to your arms. He quickly shook his head and blushed even more than originally thought possible, he tried to hide his face away from you, “S-shut up! That’s a lie! I was not blushing, it’s just your imagination.”

You laughed at his reaction, taking his hand in mine once more comparing the hand sizes. You put my head against his shoulder, before dropping your jester attitude. Making him form another pinky promise with you. “Mattheo, I promise to be there for you. I want to protect you. You shouldn’t live in the shadow of your home life, especially not alone. Just as much as I’m stuck with you. You’re stuck with me. That’s my promise to you.”

His heart beat fast, it nearly melted his heart to hear your promise. He let out a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't stop the small tear that rolled down his cheek, he didn’t bother wiping it. He just leaned his head down to rest on your own, “deal…”

There was a pause, before you spoke up again.“I know we just started the year but please, come back home with me this Christmas holiday when it rolls around.” You blinked up at him. You started to feel really sleepy, that was to be your last request and plea for the moment, “I’ll show you how muggles get down to holiday business.”

Mattheo looked down at you and smiled softly, as your eyes were struggling to stay open, “yea sure, i’ll spend the holidays with you” he wasn’t sure how he would, but he would worry about that later.

Many promises were made this day, and you intended to keep each and every single one of them. In many ways, you knew this would still be the same Mattheo you had always known, but it would all be so different now. You managed to break through his extremely guarded shell, the hardest way possible. But it needed to desperately be broken.

You turned Mattheo’s head to look at you, he met your gaze. The corner of his lip curled up as he knew what you were about to do. He let you take the lead, closing his eyes. You kissed his lips slowly, cherishing how it felt. You wanted more of him, but your body was pleading for rest. You hugged his arm and surrendered.

He couldn’t help but touch his lips afterwards with his fingertips. He watched as you gave in to exhaustion, he followed your lead and let out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, “Goodnight princess.” Mattheo fell asleep to the sounds of you breathing and the sound of your heartbeat, they would surely become one of the most blissful lullabies to be heard by him. He intertwined his fingers with yours, he wouldn’t ever let go.

1K notes · View notes

moondemon21 · 6 months ago

Note

Can you do the Tuplar crew reacting to their S/O singing

(This could be their favorite song or just a song of your choosing to pick for this fic )

Hii! :D

I love this idea of the crew reacting to their S/O singing, I honestly not to sure about the song so I going to leave it to your imagination 😋

I want to say that I'm sorry if the characters are a bit off this is my first time doing any tipe of story so I hope you guys like it (and I sorry but I don't feel comfortable writing about Jimmy 🤷🏽‍♀️

Curly

He decide to go to your room because he need to ask you some things, that's when he discovers you singing

He will probably freak out at first

But not in a bad way, he simply stares because he don't know if interrupt you or simply leave or wait until you finish 😭

You end up seeing him in you door like this 🧍‍♂️

You two stare in to each other a few seconds

And you finally start laughing because of the look of his face 😩

He snaps back and start laughing with you, then he start apologising for enter without knocking first

He definitely will tell you how GOOD you sound and start saying a Lot of compliments about your voice

If he knows the song will probably ask you to sing with him

If he dont know the song will probably ask you the name so he could memorise the lyrics and sing with you

And after all of that he will remember that he needs to ask you some questions 😭

Anya

You knew that Anya was tired so you decided to clean the medical bay as a gift for her

Well, it was supposed to be a surprise if Daisuke hadn't fallen and scraped his knees trying to do a little prank on Swansea

When she enter the medical bay trying to find the first aid kit and finds you there cleaning and singing, she can help but laugh a little bit because of your intentions

You didn't know how to react at first, after all the last person you were expecting to see doing a gift for Anya was Anya 😭

You stop the music and start telling her the little surprise you were supposed to give her

She thank you a LOT and ask if you can help her with daisuke

Poor Daisuke was sitting on the couch with his knees bleeding while Swansea scream at him 😞

After all of that you two were back at the medical bay she start telling you that she loves your voice and will ask you to sing more

She will sing with you if you two were alone

And will ask you the name of some songs and create a mix tape that she will put when you two are together

Daisuke

You two were added to the crew in the last moment so you have to share "room" (Which is actually the living room with some mattresses and blankets💀)

You were getting ready for sleep while daisuke complete a tasks that Swansea give him in another room

And how the kitchen was so close you decided to drink a little water before sleeping

You start to sing while waiting for the water to make

And in that moment daisuke just have finish the task and enters the room

You didn't realize that he was in the room until he starts singing with you

You stare at him like this 😶

And he just start laughing at your face 😔

He immediately hugs you while saying how good you sound and how much he loves your voice

Definitely ask you to sing with him more

And he starts showing you more songs that he likes so you two can sing together

He makes a mix tape with songs that both like so you can sing and dance with him

After a while singing with him when you two can't sleep becomes normal

And Swansea screaming at you two to make silents becomes normal as well

Swansea

He tell you to go to the utility room because he need you for some task and wait in there

You wait like 15 minutes for him 😩(according to Swansea it was only 5 minutes😑)

You eventually start singing to pass the time and not get bored

He finally enters and just telling you to shut up and help him

He will act like he is annoyed because of that but in the end he will say that you voice is not so bad

But you have to ask him if he likes your singing because he is not going to tell you otherwise

If you start singing around him more often he will just say something like "is better than the last time" or "you sound better than daisuke" but you know that he means he really likes your voice

#mouthwashing x reader #anya mouthwashing #anya x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #swansea mouthwashing #swansea x reader #X reader #Reader #Mouthwashing #Tulpar crew x reader

207 notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 7 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/puckinghischier/768850052068392960/jacks-side-profile-is-too-pretty-his-nose-is?source=share

SAY IT. dont hold back.

okay…since you asked for it 😌

so basically his nose, right? god his nose.

we all know it’s perfect. perfect size, perfect shape, perfect length. perfect for rubbing against your clit as he eats you out….

it would scrape against the sensitive bud perfectly with each movement of his tongue, the residual movements of his face causing the rounded tip to make contact over and over again.

you’d be a whimpering mess, gasping and moaning each time his nose creates the friction. “god, jack!” you’d scream out when he adjusted his position, nose tapping your clit at full force. “swear, you have the perfect nose for eating me out. god, it’s glorious,” you’d tell him, not caring how weird the statement sounds.

he’d chuckle against your core, pulling back only slightly. “yeah? like my nose, huh? never heard that one in the bedroom before,” he’d joke, diving back in after the words leave his mouth.

“well, you should’ve. swear, feels like heaven. every time you move it just oh-!” you’re interrupted by his intentional movement this time.

“what about…if i just…” he doesn’t finish his statement, moving his face up to find your clit with his ‘perfect’ nose, shaking his head back and forth.

he’d watch you the whole time, your face contorted with pleasure as he fastens the pace of his nose moving from side to side on your clit.

you feel the build of your orgasm approaching. he’s not even using his tongue at this point, his mouth only being used to catch whatever arousal makes its way there through his assault. you’re so stunned with pleasure that the only sounds to be heard are his slurps and squelches of his skin rubbing against yours.

when your hands fly to his hair, pushing his nose further into your core, intensifying the pleasure with the added pressure, he knows you’re close. when he feels your tugs on his brown locks slack, he moves down to lap up the sweet taste of your release. he smirks through your orgasm, enjoying every second of what just took place.

once you come down from your jack-induced high, you lean your head up to see him looking up at you, face glistening with your slick.

“jack….did you just…motorboat my clit with your nose?” you’d ask him, still slightly out of breath.

he’d lick his lips, sitting up fully while wiping his mouth. “well…you said you liked my nose, right?”

240 notes · View notes

secretagentsloveblogs · 9 months ago

Text

god okay but have you considered that

guy and honey who are broke college roommates turned lovers who dont make great money, they've scraped together coins for cheap gas station food and $1 dvd rentals for friday nights indoors. guy brings home dinner frequently because its cheap. honey has the public transportation routes memorized. their car/s is/are old, used and has more than a few problems that they're only fixing with duct tape and a prayer. their furniture is thrifted and upcycled with a little DIY work when manageable, or its handed down to them from friends, coworkers, family, etc. guy and honey who get food stamps and sign up for the programs around the holidays that supply people and families in need with a holiday meal. guy and honey who know plenty of tips and tricks to make their clothing last. guy and honey who are friends with the people at the food banks, pantries and soup kitchens, and who regularly volunteer when they have the time. honey, who has a (very small) veggie garden that sits in their window sill (it grows onions and mint). honey who hasn't bought a new pair of tennis shoes in like 6 years. guy and honey who bought their couch on facebook marketplace for like $20 from a dude in a sketchy alleyway. they collect their plastic bottles and cans to donate at their grocery stores for a bit of extra cash. their walls are mostly bare. they have a small tv on an even smaller shelf in their living room and college dorm era fairy lights hung behind the couch. they have a 14 year old plant that was gifted to them by one of honeys coworkers they consider a 'work mom' and it's one of their most cherished valuables. they eat dinner together at their "table" which is just two tv dinner trays pushed together with salt and pepper in between the trays. and its the mostbeautiful thing to them because it is their home that they created together.

bc i think u should consider it.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #zeeroh speaks #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted guy #redacted honey

295 notes · View notes

aspenmissing · 24 days ago

Note

Hiii! This is my first time asking for a request, hehe. I have fallen in love with your writing ever since Arcane. Im such a hug fan. So I see that you can write resident evil 🙈 I was hoping if you could make Leon and reader are best friend since childhood but never had a chance to confess to each other after their high school. Hahaha, you can add more stuff in the story

Sorry for being awkward, and i dont know what to add. I hope you don't mind. I'm a hug fan of resident evil 🙈

ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅꜱ

ʟᴇᴏɴ ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ? || 3656 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱʟᴏᴡ-ʙᴜʀɴ? ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ!

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ! ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ ꜰᴜʟʟʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!! ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪꜱᴇ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴇᴏɴ

You and Leon first met on a bright summer afternoon when you were both six years old. The neighbourhood park buzzed with the joyful noise of children running, shouting, and playing. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass and sticky lemonade from the nearby stand. You sat alone on the swing, clutching a scruffy stuffed animal that had seen far better days — its fur was matted, and one eye was missing. It was your most treasured companion, and you held it tightly, feeling both comforted and a little shy.

Leon’s eyes found you almost immediately. His wide, earnest gaze was full of curiosity and something gentle — a kindness rare for a kid his age. He approached carefully, as if not to startle you.

“Hi, I’m Leon,” he said, flashing a grin that was all teeth and warmth. “Want me to push you?”

You hesitated for a beat, unsure if strangers could be trusted, but there was something about him that felt safe. You nodded, barely able to believe that this small act — someone wanting to push you on a swing — might be the start of something special.

He jumped onto the swing behind you, and with steady hands, he pushed you higher and higher, the wind rushing past your face. You laughed, a sound bright and light, as you felt yourself soaring — free and unafraid.

From that moment on, Leon was always there. Your days filled with him became your favourite adventures. You discovered you shared a love for all things thrilling and imaginative. Together, you created stories where you were heroes battling dragons in the woods behind your houses, pirates hunting treasure in the tall grass, and astronauts exploring the stars from your backyard.

You both knew every secret hideout and shortcut — the hollow tree where you stashed your treasures, the tiny creek where the water sparkled like diamonds in the sun, and the old abandoned swing set where you dared each other to swing higher and higher, testing your courage.

You scraped your knees and elbows together during races and climbs, the sting softened by Leon’s quick bandages and easy laughter. When either of you fell, there were tears, but you wiped them away for each other, promising “Next time, I’ll catch you.”

Sleepovers were sacred rituals. Under the soft glow of flashlights and tangled blankets, you whispered secrets into the night. Your voices were small and hushed, blending with the quiet sounds of crickets and the rustling leaves outside the window. You talked about your dreams — who you wanted to be when you grew up, what adventures you hoped to have, and the silly fears that sometimes kept you awake.

As you got older and entered elementary school, your friendship blossomed into something almost legendary among your classmates. Teachers would smile knowingly when you both answered questions in unison, or when you passed secret notes full of silly doodles and inside jokes.

You had your own language — nicknames only you understood. Leon was “Bullet” for his lightning-fast reflexes, and you were “Picasso” for the way you could paint whole worlds in your mind and on your canvas, creating beauty out of nothing. You called each other by these names in the hallways, grinning at the confused looks of others who didn’t quite get it.

Leon was the brave one. Always the first to stand up if someone teased you, always quick to jump in when something felt unfair or scary. When thunderstorms rolled in, he’d sit with you until you felt safe enough to sleep. He was the one who’d hold your hand tight if the dark felt too big.

You were the calm one, the thinker. You loved to plan your next adventure or solve puzzles you found in books. When Leon was frustrated or worried, you knew just how to calm him down — a quiet word, a gentle smile, a reminder that together, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

You celebrated birthdays with homemade cakes and endless laughter. Sometimes you would surprise each other with little gifts — a comic book you found at the library, a friendship bracelet woven from colourful threads, or a carefully folded paper airplane with a secret message inside.

Summer breaks were magical. Days stretched endlessly, filled with video games, bike rides, and ice cream runs. You’d stay up late, your rooms lit only by the glow of the TV screen, competing in silly contests and making up stories about your favourite characters.

No matter what happened, you knew that Leon was your person. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your secret keeper.

And beneath all the laughter and shared adventures, there was a quiet feeling neither of you dared to name yet — a feeling that maybe, just maybe, this friendship was something more.

But then came high school, with its sprawling halls and new expectations — a whole new world to navigate, filled with pressures and possibilities that neither of you had quite imagined as kids.

At first, you both still tried to hold onto what you had. You’d meet up after school, stealing moments between classes to laugh and catch up.

“Hey, Bullet,” you’d joke, nudging him as you walked down the hallway.

“Picasso,” he’d grin back, eyes lighting up. “Still painting your own world while the rest of us get lost in the noise?”

You’d laugh, the old comfort settling in like a warm blanket.

But soon, your own worlds began to pull you in different directions.

You found yourself drawn deeper into your art classes, where the chaos of teenage life melted away in the swirl of colours and textures. The quiet hum of the studio became your sanctuary — a place where you could lose yourself for hours, painting dreams on canvas, sketching the people you saw, or just letting your mind wander.

One afternoon, as you packed up your brushes, Leon caught you just outside the art room.

“You’re really talented, you know,” he said quietly, watching you fold your sketchbook. “Have you thought about art school?”

You smiled, a little wistfully. “Maybe. I want a place that feels… mine. Somewhere peaceful.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “I get that. I’m headed somewhere too, but it’s not peaceful.”

Meanwhile, Leon’s focus sharpened in a different way. His days were packed — early morning workouts, late nights at the police academy, drills and training that pushed him harder than ever. There was a fire in him, a fierce dedication fueled by a deep sense of justice and a need to protect the people he cared about.

You admired that determination, watching from afar as he grew stronger, more confident. But with every step he took toward his dreams, he seemed to pull further away.

One evening, you managed to catch him on the phone.

“Hey, Picasso,” he said, voice tired but warm.

“Hey, Bullet. Long day?”

“Yeah… feels like I’m running just to keep up.”

You hesitated, wanting to say more, but only managed, “I miss hanging out.”

“Me too,” he replied softly. “We’ll make time. I promise.”

The little things started to change first. The texts that once came like clockwork — casual invites to hang out, excited commentary about movies or games — slowed to an occasional message.

One night, you stared at your phone after reading his text: “How’ve you been?”

You typed a reply — “Good. Busy with projects. You?” — but hesitated before sending it, the words feeling so small compared to what you really wanted to say.

Phone calls, once full of laughter and long conversations, became less frequent. When you did talk, the silences stretched longer, weighted with all the things left unsaid.

“Do you ever think about… us?” you finally asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause on the other end.

“I do,” Leon admitted. “More than I should.”

You swallowed hard. “Me too.”

And yet, you both held onto the connection you had — however fragile it felt. Neither of you wanted to admit how much distance was growing, afraid that saying it out loud might break the bond forever.

It was like you were two trains running on parallel tracks, close enough to see each other, but never quite close enough to reach out.

There were moments, though, when the old closeness flashed back — a shared smile in the hallway, a random text full of memories, a familiar joke that made your heart skip.

“Remember when you tried to climb that tree and got stuck?”

Leon teased in a text one afternoon.

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “How could I forget? You had to call my mom.”

Those moments were bittersweet reminders of everything you had, and everything slipping away.

You found yourself wondering what might have been — the words you never said, the feelings you never voiced. The quiet “I like you” that hovered just out of reach, trapped behind fear and timing.

Leon probably wondered too, though neither of you ever admitted it.

Still, life pulled you forward, carrying you both toward futures you dreamed of but couldn’t quite share anymore. The years stretched on, and the distance grew, but somewhere deep down, the bond remained — a silent promise that no matter what, you would always have a place in each other’s hearts.

Tonight was one of those rare nights when fate seemed to pull you both back into the same orbit, as if the years and distance between you were suddenly shrinking with the simple ping of a message.

You were sitting alone in your small apartment — a cozy, well-lived-in space tucked above a quiet street — the soft hum of the city filtering through the cracked window. The only light came from your laptop screen, casting a pale glow across the room. The walls were lined with framed certificates and awards you’d earned in college — your art degree, a few recognitions for your work in local exhibitions, and a scholarship plaque that still made you smile quietly to yourself. They were reminders of the dreams you’d been chasing, a testament to the life you’d been building on your own.

A canvas sat propped against one corner, half-finished brush strokes catching the light. A scattered array of paints and pencils spilled from an open box on your desk, mingling with the soft pages of a sketchbook that was worn from constant use. The scent of turpentine and fresh paint filled the air, grounding you in a moment of calm.

Just as you reached for your coffee mug, your phone buzzed sharply on the table, breaking the silence.

You glanced down, eyes widening at the sight of a message from an unknown number:

“Hey Picasso? I’m in your city for a bit. Want to meet up?”

Your heart skipped a beat — the familiar name, the unexpectedness of it all.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you typed back almost immediately:

“Yes. I’d like that.”

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, breath caught somewhere between hope and nerves. The years since you last saw him played back in your mind — the laughter, the stolen secrets, the silence that grew between you.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to bridge the gap.

You set the phone down and stood up, moving over to the window. The city lights twinkled outside, each one a promise of something waiting to be found — maybe even the friendship, or something more, that you and Leon had never quite been able to say aloud.

The café where you agreed to meet was exactly the kind of place you both needed — quiet and warm, a little refuge from the relentless noise and rush of the city outside. It was one of those hidden gems, tucked between a faded bookstore and a narrow florist shop, a place where the streets seemed to slow just enough to catch their breath. The soft amber lights hung from the ceiling like suspended lanterns, casting a gentle glow over the worn wooden tables, each scar and nick on their surfaces a story in itself. Shelves lined the walls, heavy with dog-eared novels, thick volumes on art and philosophy, and clusters of potted plants whose green leaves reached toward the muted light as if seeking warmth from within.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee—deep, dark, and inviting—mingled with the subtle sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla from the baked goods displayed behind the counter. You could almost taste the dense chocolate croissants, the buttery scones, and the flaky puff pastries just from the air alone. Somewhere just beyond your hearing, the soft hum of indie music played, a playlist curated with quiet voices and slow rhythms, wrapping the space in a gentle cocoon of intimacy.

You arrived early, nerves fluttering like a trapped bird in your chest. The café door closed softly behind you, the familiar chime barely audible as you stepped inside, a small, delicate sound that felt like an invitation. Your fingers trembled slightly as they twisted and untwisted the strap of your bag, the motion both grounding and futile in quieting the storm of anticipation that churned inside you. Your eyes darted around the room, drinking in every detail: the flicker of candlelight in glass jars on each table, the steam rising in lazy spirals from half-empty mugs, the soft murmur of quiet conversations weaving like threads in the background.

Usually, the familiar warmth of the café soothed you, wrapping around your nerves like a well-worn blanket. But tonight, your mind raced far ahead—imagining every possible outcome, from the joy of seeing him again to the ache of realizing how much time had passed between you. You caught your reflection in the glass of the window, startling for a moment at the person looking back. The faint lines beneath your eyes spoke of long nights spent hunched over canvases, paint-streaked fingers tracing the edges of dreams. Your hair, pulled back loosely, betrayed the casual effort you put into appearances these days. And then there was the slight curl of a hopeful smile—the kind of smile that had been buried beneath layers of exhaustion and doubt but now, in this soft light, felt ready to bloom again.

Your gaze drifted slowly around the walls, resting on the few prints and certificates you’d carefully hung here. Delicate watercolors, soft and intricate, captured quiet moments—a pale blossom unfurling, a bird frozen in flight, the city skyline caught at dusk. Each piece was a fragment of your journey, small victories from local competitions that had felt like validation in a world that often dismissed dreams like yours. Nearby, the framed diploma from art school gleamed quietly, a reminder of years spent grinding through classes, sacrificing sleep and social life for a future that had always seemed just out of reach. It was a testament to the path you’d chosen—a world far from the chaos and shadows of your childhood, and yet, tonight, somehow, all of it felt tangled together again.

You glanced down at your watch, willing time to do anything but move at its steady pace. You wanted it to speed up and bring him through that door, or slow down and give you a few more moments to steady your racing heart. Your pulse thudded unevenly in your chest—anticipation, anxiety, hope—all tangled into one complicated knot.

And then, finally, the café door swung open with a gentle jingle, and there he was.

Leon Kennedy.

He stepped inside with a confident, purposeful stride, but there was something about the way he moved—hesitant, almost careful—like a man stepping back into a place from his past, wary yet longing. He looked older now, taller, his lean athletic frame unmistakably the same boy who’d once raced through school hallways with you, dodging lockers and laughter. His dark hair was shorter, a little messier, falling casually over his forehead in a way that softened his sharp features. But those eyes—the bright, piercing eyes flecked with gold in the soft afternoon light—were exactly the same. They held that familiar spark you remembered so vividly: warm, alive, and quietly fierce. There was a perfect balance in the way he carried himself, blending the hard edges carved by experience with a lingering boyish charm, like a soldier who hadn’t yet lost his humanity.

You froze for a moment, breath caught tight in your throat, the world narrowing down to just him and the space between you. Then, almost without thinking, you moved forward. The gap closed with a breathless, tight hug—one that squeezed all the years of distance, silence, and uncertainty into a single heartbeat. Your head rested against his shoulder, and you could feel the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, a grounding pulse in the swirl of your emotions.

When you finally pulled apart, his smile was the same crooked, heart-melting grin you’d always adored—the one that made your heart ache and hope all at once.

“Picasso,” he said softly, that nickname only the two of you shared, a secret from your childhood when your art was your sanctuary, a language you’d spoken without words.

“Bullet,” you replied, laughter bubbling up despite the nerves. It was the nickname he’d earned for his lightning-fast reflexes and unyielding spirit, the one that stuck even now.

You both eased into the small wooden chairs at a table near the window. The soft afternoon light caught the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them seem almost alive with a quiet, vibrant emotion. Around you, the café hummed softly with life, but it felt as though the world had slowed down just for this moment — the noise faded into a gentle backdrop, irrelevant compared to the fragile intimacy sitting before you.

For a long stretch of time, you simply looked at each other, words tangled in your throats, caught beneath the weight of all those unspoken years. Memories swirled in your mind like drifting autumn leaves—the childhood games played under the summer sun, the whispered secrets traded beneath starry skies, the moments when you’d been each other’s anchor in stormy seas. The way his laugh had once rung out so freely, the quiet comfort of knowing you had a place in each other’s lives, no matter what.

Leon was the first to break the silence, his voice low but steady, carrying the quiet strength you remembered so well.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” he said, a shy, almost bashful grin tugging at his lips. “Saw your socials… your art. The exhibitions, the awards — Picasso, you’re incredible.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, a warmth flooding through you that had little to do with the café’s soft lighting. Your fingers brushed nervously over the edge of the table, suddenly self-conscious but also proud. To have him see you this way — not as the kid who once painted on scraps of paper in the schoolyard, but as someone who had fought to make their dreams real — it was more moving than you could put into words.

“I never thought you’d notice,” you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“How could I not?” Leon leaned in slightly, eyes shining with something like awe and something deeper, more tender. “It’s like I’m seeing the world through your eyes now — every stroke, every color… I’m proud of you.”

His words settled over you like a gentle fire, melting away the cold edges of doubt and fear that sometimes crept in. You smiled, finally finding your voice again.

“What about you? What’s your story these days? What have you been up to all these years?”

Leon’s expression grew serious, the easy smile slipping away as his jaw tightened just slightly under the weight of the path he’d chosen.

“I’m heading to Arklay County in about a few months,” he said quietly, eyes flicking toward the window as if the words were heavy to say. “Raccoon City, more specifially. I’m going to be a police officer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Raccoon City — a place you’d heard about only in hushed whispers and stories, a city with a shadowed reputation looming like a storm gathering on the horizon.

“That’s… huge, Leon,” you breathed, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something else—worry, maybe? “You’re really doing it.”

He nodded firmly, the set of his shoulders straight and determined. “Yeah. It’s the start of something new. But it’s also scary. A lot of unknowns waiting out there.”

You reached out instinctively and squeezed his hand, wanting to offer comfort and strength even if you couldn’t fully understand what he was about to face.

“You’ve always been the brave one,” you reminded him softly. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Leon looked down at your hand, then back up with a soft, grateful smile—the kind that made you believe in hope again.

“Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

You both leaned back into the moment, the years of silence finally giving way to a conversation that felt like a fresh start—filled with hope, shared memories, and the fragile but powerful possibility of whatever came next.

And in that quiet café, surrounded by the scent of coffee and old books, it felt like the world might just be ready to give you both another chance.

“I missed this,” Leon finally said softly, voice thick with emotion. “Missed you.”

“I did too,” you admitted, warmth pooling in your chest.

The years of silence, the missed chances, the unspoken feelings — it all melted away in that moment.

Leon reached across the table and took your hand in his, fingers curling around yours with a tenderness that made your heart race.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” he said.

You smiled, the slow beat of your heart echoing the hope you both held close.

“No, Leon. Maybe it’s just the beginning.”

#Resident Evil #resident evil fandom #reader insert #leon kennedy x reader

47 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

Text

The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

#pluralistic #moral injury #enshittification #worker power #google #dont be evil #monopoly #sam altman #openai #vocational awe #making a dent in the universe

562 notes · View notes