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moongreenlight · 6 months

Note

I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

#this had me giiiiiiiiiggling and kicking my feet anon thank you #self indulgent dad!simon fluff #picturing him with twin baby girls I’m tearing my hair out holy shit #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #secret wife

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crypticreid · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY ONE

October 1st -- Praise

happy first day of kinktober 🎃🎃🎃🎃!!!

masterlist

summary: You've been secretly hooking up with your coworker Spencer for two months. He notices something about you and wants to try something new. (I personally imagined circa season 10 Reid, but you do you bestie 😘)

warnings: praise, lots of 'good girls', oral [m/f both receiving and giving], light dom behavior, finger sucking, piv, safe sex practices, and a little bit of begging

word count: 3.1k (this one got away from me a little bit oops)

this is adult content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

You had never wanted to be one of those people, a girl with a huge crush on her coworker, but then you’d meet Spencer Reid. A year ago, you’d waved at him instead of shaking his hand when Hotch had introduced the two of you, and you’d felt the first flutter of butterflies. You had tried desperately to ignore your feelings, but the more you got to know him, the harder you fell. And then, about two months ago, you’d become another cliche. The girl who was sneaking around and secretly hooking up with her coworker.

Now you were trying to avoid touching your knee against his as you sat on the plane on the way home from a case. The last time you’d simply accidentally brushed your hand against his, it had been like an electrical shock between the two of you. So it is just easier to avoid touching at all costs while in the presence of your other coworkers.

The words in the book that you’re holding in your hands are absolute gibberish as you can’t focus on anything except the way Spencer’s hands glide over the page of notes he’s re-reading. You've always known he has captivating hands, but now you know intimately just how capable those hands were. This case was long, and before that, Spencer had been at a conference for four days. He hasn’t touched you in almost a week, and you’re becoming impatient. But you both had wisely made the promise that as long as you were on clock, so to say, you were only coworkers and nothing more.

You look up as you hear him say your name.

“Would you mind reading over this? I’m not sure it makes any sense.” He hands you his leather bound notebook. You place your book on your lap and look over into his eyes.

“Me? I really don’t think I’m the person who…”

Spencer interrupts you, “I trust your opinion.” It’s a simple statement, but it sets your skin aflame all the same. To hide your reaction, you focus on reading Spencer’s notes.

“I think it’s great, Spencer. But you’re presenting this to college students, so I think it would be beneficial to use examples they may have heard in the news or at least know ‘cause of the insane amount of Netflix documentaries.” You roll your eyes as you mention the oversaturation of true crime television. But then suddenly you feel self-conscious and hand back his notebook. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s just a small idea.”

“No, it’s insightful. You’re brilliant.” You can feel your skin heat in embarrassment, not comfortable with the compliment. Compliments often make you uneasy and you don’t know why. Well, that’s not entirely true, but you didn’t feel like profiling yourself to better understand this aspect.

Spencer’s eyes observe you, and you watch as his tongue slips out and wets his bottom lip as he thinks. “I mean it.” He emphasizes.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Good girl.” The words glide from Spencer’s mouth almost absent-mindedly and barely audible as he returns to his work. If he notices how much deeper your blush becomes, he doesn’t say anything. And you pretend you didn’t even hear him, or else you might make a fool of yourself.

Several hours later, you’re finally back at your apartment and getting into pajamas. As you pull a tank top over your head, you allow your mind to think about Spencer.

Good girl.

He said it so flippantly, practically under his breath. Did he even mean for you to hear it? Did he know how it would make your heart hammer? You play it over again and again, letting yourself bask in the feeling.

There’s a knock on your door, so you quickly pull on an old pair of yoga pants and race to your door. A brisk glance through your peephole causes that all too familiar heart tremor. Dr. Spencer Reid at your door, as though you’d summoned him with your thoughts.

You swing open the door and let your eyes trail down his body.

“I meant it.” He says immediately.

“What do you mean?” You want to reach for him. He’s still dressed for work, and it takes everything in you not to wrap your fingers around his tie and pull him into your apartment.

“When I called you brilliant.” He replies casually.

“You came all this way to call me brilliant?”

He smirks. “No, I came all this way to do this,” as he talks he steps toward you.

You let a small breath of anticipation escape before he has his hands on either side of your face and is pressing his lips to yours. Your own hands find their way first to grasp at his waist and then around to his back, pulling him impossibly closer to you, desperate for the feel of his body against yours. The harsh sharp lines of him melding into the soft, lush curves of you.

He moves you further into your apartment, shuts your door, and then pushes you up against the cool wood of the door, all without pulling his lips away from yours. Goosebumps spring to life across your skin as your body tries to process the head spinning sensation of the warmth of his body, combining with the chill of the door against your back. His hands are in your hair, possessive and needy, and you moan into his mouth.

You feel the puffs of breath against your mouth as he laughs softly and then pulls away, his hands come to rest between your neck and shoulders. “I’ve missed you.”

A small smile curves your freshly kissed lips. “It’s been like two hours since I saw you.”

“I’ve missed being able to touch you.” He amends. The thumb of his right hand starts to move up and down the skin of your neck, and you wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating. His eyes search your face. “Did you like it when I called you a good girl?”

Your lips part as if to reply, but no words come out.

“Answer me.” He demands softly, his words are never harsh, but they still hold a sense of power.

“Yes. I liked it,” you admit.

He continues to watch you as his mind works, and then he makes a low sound of approval from his throat. “And would you like me to call you a good girl more often?”

Need and want pools low in your belly, but you take a second to wet your lips before answering. You want your voice to come across as strong and sure, so there is no question that you want this. “Yes, please.”

Your head is swimming in the overwhelming sensation of his lips back on yours in a matter of seconds. His hands explore your body, grazing and grasping onto your breasts before settling on your hips. He uses his knee to push your legs apart, and you move without resistance. A guttural moan breaks free from your throat as that same knee connects with the place that has been begging for friction since the moment Spencer put his hands on you.

Spencer breaks away from the kiss. “You’re so beautiful when you moan like that,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses, licks, and nips along your jaw and neck.

Your hips jerk involuntarily, but it instantly causes a wave of pleasure as you slide against him. “Do that again, baby.” You do as you’re told and again and again. His mouth continues across your clavicle, and then lower until his teeth scrape against one of your nipples over the fabric of your tank top. You gasp and push yourself closer to him, but he pulls away.

He lowers himself to the ground as he works to push down your yoga pants. As soon as you step out of them, the pants are thrown across the room, Spencer not bothering to pay attention. All of his attention is on you.

“Look at you, pretty girl.” His thumb traces over the damp spot in your underwear while his other hand travels up your leg, sending zaps of pleasure straight to your core.

“All for me?” His eyes flash up to yours.

“I’m yours,” you answer.

“That’s my good girl.” You twist your hands into his hair when his mouth makes contact with your still clothed pussy, his tongue swiping against you. He only teases you for a second before he can’t take it anymore and pulls down your underwear to be able to taste you without a barrier. The room fills with the obscene sounds of him lapping at your core as he lavishes praises on you in between licking and sucking. “So perfect, so goddamn perfect.”

You throw your head back with a deep moan.

Spencer continues, undisturbed. “Yes. Keep moaning for me. I want your neighbors to hear how good you are for me.” His tongue circles and caresses your clit. “Do you want my fingers inside of you? Tell me.”

“Yes, oh god. Fuck. Spencer.” You can’t think straight. The only thing your brain is capable of is focusing on how good you feel.

Spencer obliges your request and plunges two fingers into you. Your fingers tighten in his hair. “I can’t believe how wet you are. And you’re taking my fingers so good. I bet you’d take my cock even better.” He hooks his fingers and massages against the swollen pressure point inside you.

You lean forward over him, trying to keep your legs steady.

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” You simply nod your head even though he can’t see with his face buried in your pussy. “You’re gonna come all over my face and my fingers because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

Your legs shake, but Spencer uses his free hand to hold onto your hip and hold you steady.

“It’s okay, you can let go. I’ve got you.” His fingers buried deep within you speed up and he focuses all of his attention on the pattern of his tongue against your clit, ramping up the building pleasure that’s threatening to bubble over. “You’ve made such a mess, a beautiful mess. Look at you, so good. So good.”

You clench around him. “Yes, that’s it. I want you to come. Just like that.” You jerk against his fingers and jaw as the pressure cascades and overflows inside you. His name is the only thing you can say in between your moans. “I love when you say my name when you come.” His fingers slow their pace, and his mouth becomes less frantic as he guides you through your orgasm and the small after-shocks.

When he finally pulls away completely, you watch slack-jawed as he takes his two fingers and puts them in his slick mouth, cleaning away traces of you. “Tasting you makes me so hard, I love it.” You lean back against the door with a smile.

“Do you want me to help with that?”

He laughs. “I’m not even close to finishing with you, my beautiful girl.” When he starts to reach for you, you grab onto his tie first and pull him closer. You work on his tie as you kiss his mouth, tasting the remnants of yourself.

In a matter of seconds, you have his tie off and thrown into the abyss, your shaking fingers focusing on unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes watch as you strip him of his shirt and then pull on his belt. But he can’t keep his hands off you, and they create a path over your skin. You undo the clasp, the tingling sound of metal like a beckoning call.

After taking off his belt and letting it drop to the floor, you also head toward the floor onto your knees. Spencer’s hand’s end up in your hair, and your hands travel up his thighs to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Do you see what you do to me? Only you can make me this hard.”

You bite your bottom lip and work to take off his pants and underwear as he kicks off his shoes. Your eyes look up to his eyes, and he smiles at you. “Go on, I know you’re desperate for it.” One hand holds onto the base of him as your tongue circles the pink tip. He lets out a sharp breath at the contact.

You watch his reactions, flicking and teasing his head, gathering the stickiness of his precum on his tongue. Then you circle your lips around him and inch down, your hand sliding up and down on him to meet your mouth. His mouth is wide open as he watches you, the eye contact between the two of you almost overwhelming. Your body doesn’t seem to care that you just had an earth-shattering orgasm because you can feel the steady thrum of need building.

“Are you getting wet again just from sucking me off?” You nod and take him deeper in your mouth, the hand resting on his thigh feels a muscle twitch. “You have the perfect mouth.” His fingers in your hair pull slightly, not enough to cause pain, but just enough to cause you to moan on his dick.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come down that pretty throat.” You moan again, and he makes a low humming noise. “Is that what you want, sweet girl?”

You pull off of him, a string of spit following you, “yes.” You take both hands and twist and stroke up and down him with a smile on your messy lips.

“Open your mouth.” You do as he says, sticking your tongue out flat. He takes his two fingers and sticks them in your mouth, and you instantly start to suck on them, never stopping the motion of your hands. “My perfect, beautiful girl.” He mutters and then pulls his fingers from your mouth. Before you can put your mouth back on him, he’s stepping away and then helping you stand up.

When you’re on your feet, he kisses you slowly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, and you reach down with one hand to continue to stroke him. He breaks the kiss and lightly guides you to turn around and bend over, using your hands to hold yourself up on the door. “You’re so good for me. Stay there.” You look over your shoulder and watch him find his pants to grab a condom. He quickly unwraps it and slides it on before returning to you.

He glides his hands over the back of your thighs and over your ass appreciatively, then squeezes your ass. “Are you going to take all of me?” The whispers tickling the back of your neck as he leans over you toward your ear, you shiver against him.

“Yes.”

He trails a hand down your spine as he pulls away and then helps you to set your legs further apart. You bite your lip, so ready for him, when he squeezes your hips. Both of you moan deeply as he guides himself into you, inching himself in until he’s seated completely. His hands are back on your hips, holding you in place. He leans forward and places a kiss on your back. He whispers in your ear again, “now you’re gonna be a good girl for me, and you’re not gonna come until I tell you you can. Do you understand?”

You nod swiftly.

He presses another kiss. “Words please, sweet girl.”

“I understand.”

He stands fully and slowly starts to pull himself out of you, dragging against every inch of your core. When he’s out fully, he pushes forward, again at that agonizing slow pace. You squirm against him, needing more. “You think you can take all of it, baby?”

“Yes. Yes. Please. Please.”

“You’re so beautiful begging for me.” You think he’s going to continue to tease you, but he doesn't. He starts to move faster and faster, building up a steady rhythm. Your nails scratch against the wood of your door. “That’s it, so good. I only ever feel this good with you. Only you can take my dick like this. You take it so perfect.” He gasps and rambles as he pumps into you.

The base of your spine zaps pleasure through your body and you shake on him.

“Don’t come yet, baby. Not yet. I could spend forever inside you.”

You feel your arms start to get weak, but Spencer holds so tight on you that you know that you’re stable. “I need to –” you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut.

“I know. I know. But you can wait, I know you can. Do you know how I know you can?”

You shake your head.

“Because you’re my good girl.” You press your lips together and moan. “Yeah, and you’re gonna wait until I tell you. And then you’re going to touch that swollen little clit of yours. It’s aching isn’t it.”

“Yes!” You practically shout. “Spencer, please.”

“Beg again.”

“Please. Spencer. Oh god, please. I need it. I need it.”

“Touch your clit, baby.” You cry out as soon as one of your hands makes contact. “You still can’t come, honey.”

You whimper, but try so hard not to give yourself over to the pleasure.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you.”

“Yes, yours all yours. Only yours forever.”

He bites out a harsh moan, and you know he’s trying just as hard as you to keep it together. “You look so pretty.” The words are just rambles, almost imperceptible. “Come for me. Come all over me.”

You do so instantly, Spencer tightens his grip on you to hold you steady as you lose yourself in the feeling. He comes with whimpers and sighs and deep grunts. When he finally stops moving, your legs are gelatinous, so he holds you tight against him, your back against his chest. He pulls out of you and then turns you around in his arms.

“You’re perfect.” He peppers light kisses across your face and lips and neck. “You did so good.” His hands are wrapped around you, both holding you steady but also keeping close to him. “I’m so proud of you.”

Your eyes flutter closed, and he kisses your lips fully. When he pulls away, you open your eyes and look up into his eyes. “Are you okay?” He checks in softly.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He kisses you again chastely. “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Another kiss and his hands massage down your back and your hips, checking to see if you’re sore.

“I’m fine.” You answer before he can ask.

“Did you like that,” he asks earnestly.

“I loved it.”

He smiles brightly and you match it. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #my writing #see you all on friday 😘😈

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oddinarylani · 7 months

Text

'i just wished you cared about me' arranged marriage skz pt. 2.

pt 2: han, felix, seungmin, jeongin.

w: blood in han's, depression in seungmin's.

a/n: thank you for being patient, the long awaited part 2 is finally here, enjoy.

𝓱𝓪𝓷. ↴

he stumbled into your home still laughing, with the voices of his friends still booming behind him. a second later the door is closed behind him and his laughter dies down into something soft. while your ears have perked at the sound, your eyes raising from the printed page of your book, you stay put in your spot on the couch if just adjusting a bit. he slides the beanie from his head, shaking his shiny brown hair out a bit before his eyes wander to your form. “oh!” he grabs his chest, jumping slightly. the reaction brings a small smile to your face, but you quickly force it down. “why are you up? it’s super late.” he wanders to the kitchen, his voice sounding particularly far away now. your eyes roll, you thumb your book to keep your place. “i know you only go out at night, so i figured i’d stay up to see if you wanted to do something. i didn’t know you were going out.” upon your glance, you see the clock reads four twenty-seven am, and you groan, rubbing your eyes. this wasn’t the exchange you were hoping for.

when he re-emerges from the kitchen, your eyes scour his form, noticing the purplish lines that are forming in the tender skin of his under-eyes and the somewhat gaunt appearance of his pale-ish skin. you back straightens, “have you been drinking, jisung?” he’s already walking to your bedroom, but he slows his steps to a halt, turning back to lock eyes with you. “you don’t have to worry about me.”

your eyes trail on his form until he’s disappeared completely into the confines of your bedroom, only then do you sit back though still ever-worried. “of course i do, i’m your wife remember?”

jisung had fought tooth and nail for a nontraditional vampire wedding. he simply refused. it was bad enough your marriage was arranged with little to no say from the both of you on your choice of spouse, but he put his foot down at the idea of a traditional ceremony. you both wore black, surrounded by loved ones yet absent of friends, and you were bound to each other for the rest of your days. your human family was keen on this celebration of conjoining lives, having an option wasn’t an option - so with doubts you moved forward in the marriage - trying desperately hard to make things work.

a lot of your marriage to jisung was learning things about him through subtle cues - if the environment was relaxed enough it was easier to get him talking about his personal life or interests, though this had been an occurrence three times in the now two and a half months you’d been married. lack of communication was common, hence you not knowing he was going out earlier. you quit your job, finding one instead that could accommodate to nights so that you could actually see him on your off days and when you returned from work, this schedule you were still adjusting to - and it was killing you. you begrudgingly talked to his parents more in an attempt to understand his needs as a vampire, to which they let you in on the fact that jisung wasn’t the proudest to carry on the vampiric gene. with it came a lot of shame for him. he always ate in private, hunted in private, and stretched out his eating periods as long as possible. he could still consume human food, but nutrition for vampires was solely obtained by drinking blood. and as of late, you reminded him frequently of his need to eat, that it was important to him and his existence, and it was absolutely necessary.

why’d you do this? you cared for him. you had love in your heart for him. which astounded you that you felt your heart pull at just the sight of him, especially when he looked so sad and was probably starving, because jisung didn’t do much in return. he was hard to talk to, hard to communicate with - you hadn’t a single idea of how he thought of you. did he care for you? did he long to mend your new marriage? it was a guessing game. granted, you absolutely had good days with him. happy times of smiling together, laughing together, going out, exchanging gifts, meeting his friends - but the bad times were killer. and they weighed on your heart something fierce.

a few days had passed since your limited interaction with jisung - you’d seen him a few times in between then and now; before you went to work and after. maybe you hadn’t looked hard enough then, but now. now when you looked at him, you saw it written all over his face.

his cheeks were more sunken in, his eyes tired and droopy and rings of purple circled each eye. was he slimmer too? his wrists looked thinner than usual; and you found your heart breaking at the sight. he was sitting at his desktop, headphones on, eyes lost to the screen before him - every couple of seconds his mouse would click and you could hear cuts of music playing.

“jisung,” you called. when he didn’t reply or look up from his screen, you called again - this time louder. “jisung.”

he looks up with raised brows, a hand coming to lift his headphone off his ear - you see the glint of his gold band in the light of his desk lamp. “did you eat today?” you soften your voice though you’re mostly exhausted, and with it came a bit of irritation. he chews on his cheek and looks back to his screen. “yeah.”

“are you lying.” you plant your hands on your hips, you notice his leg is bouncing and he pulls his sweatshirt, the one you gifted him, over his hands. “n-no.”

you glare at him a moment more before walking out of the study. “i’m fixing you a bag.” his voice calls out behind you, “we’re out.”

you stop yourself just as you’ve made it into the living room, and walk back into the room, you lips tugged to the side as you chew on your cheek. there’s a few options laid out in front of you - and you were stupid to think you wouldn’t do any of them for him. you’re in thought for longer than you’d like to admit, jisung has resorted to toying with his somewhat dried lips as he turns back to his desktop for a moment, his headphones off now as he waits your scolding.

but scolding doesn’t happen, no. instead, you grab an extra chair from across the room and sit down in front of him, shoving your jacket sleeve up your arm with conviction. he sees how tired you are, and hates that you’ve resorted to this for him - in fact it angers him a bit.

you bear your bare wrist to him, looking down at your arm then once more at him.

“drink.”

he pushes himself out from his desk, “i don’t need your help. i can do this stuff on my own.” his voice isn’t overly angry, in reality he was a little soft for that, especially to you. he just seemed,,, tired. and it kind of killed you.

“jisung- just do it.” you shake your arm once, he stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets. his thirst drives the red in his eyes to nearly glow - you know he hasn’t much more self-control before he inevitably gives in. he’s starving. he’s craving it. he’s on the brink of ravaging your arm for christ sakes, and you didn’t for a second doubt that power from him. you understood fully well what he was capable of, you just couldn’t see him like this any longer.

“n-no! i’m not gonna do it. why do you care so much anyway? why are you doing this?”

your eyes close, head tilted to the side as if he’s just struck a nerve - well, he has. and you haven’t the patience for it any longer.

“why do i care? why do i care? i’m giving you my arm to drink from - i’m giving you my goddamn life source because i’m your wife and i don’t want you to fucking die.” you stand up, your presence itself has him taking a step back.

“i’m doing this because i care. and i care because i fucking love you! i try so goddamn hard in this marriage, jisung. because i believe in-in,, in us!” your brows pull together, eyes glossy a bit - the rage in your heart sours into something sadder and you clench your jaw so tight you feel pressure in your teeth to keep from crying.

he’s struck. totally. he watches you with wide eyes, watches the way your expression strikes anger than melts into something like hurt. the way your brow thaws together and glassiness shines in your eyes. he reaches a hand to you, the one that bears your ring and you take your arm from his grasp when he takes your hand.

“i-i,,,” you sigh in defeat, still refusing the urge to cry. “i just w-wish you cared about me.”

when he says your name it feels like it’s the first time he’s ever done so, you pace around yourself for a moment as you quell the urge to cry, running a hand through your hair. you turn, grounded in his voice as he reaches yet again for your hand - which this time you take. “i care about you so much, a-and i’m really sorry that i haven’t been showing that to you.”

you let him hold your hand as tightly as he wants, “god i feel like such an asshole,” he chuckles, though the brim of his eyes are watery. “i didn’t think you’d want much to do with me to be honest.” you feel the shakiness in his fingers and you grasp onto his hand. “especially because i’m a… y’know…”

“but i don’t care about that, jisung. you know i don’t. i don’t give a fuck less what you were if it meant we could just be happy.” he nods, swallowing through his tears. “i-i know and that… that’s why i love you.” he admits.

you shake your head, “don’t just tell me that, jisung-” you look up to him with fierce, watery eyes. “i-i’m not! i would never-” he shakes his head and reaches for your other forearm. “it scares me… a lot i think. that you won’t judge me or hold that against me but that you support me.” in his grasp he brings you a bit closer, his hands now moving from grasping your own to resting on your upper arms and shoulders. “i’m really sorry that i’ve hurt you.. that’s the last thing i wanted to do. i just got really scared and didn’t… know what to do.” he briefly reaches up to smooth your hair with both of his palms before returning them to your upper arms.

“you know what you can do when you’re scared?” you ask him, wiping your own face before settling your arms around his shoulders, your palms wrapping around the back of his neck. at the feeling of your hands, he sets his hands on your waist. “you come to me.”

he nods, “you can come to me too, any time you want. i’ll listen to everything you have to say. and i’ll try to be better.”

you smile, smoothing your hands down his shoulders. “now,” your fingers dig into the sleeve of your jacket, pulling it up and over your wrist. “please drink. i see how hungry you are, and it’s not good not to. you have to take care of yourself.” the thumb of your opposite hand smooths the soft skin beneath his eye, his brows press together and he softly frowns.

his mouth waters at the sight of your skin, glowing and pulsating with a pulse that pumps your blood just beneath your skin. he parts his lips, and for a second you see the sight of his wet fangs just below his top lip. “it’s okay, i know you can stop - i don’t want you to be hungry.”

he gets comfortable, sitting on the surface of your shared bed in the room just next to his study - his hands cradle your wrist, turning the soft flesh over to bare itself to his awaiting teeth. his eyes swim with frenzy, and per your comfort again, he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your skin. your face scrunches up at the feeling of your skin giving way to his fangs, but the feeling of his lips around the wound soothe the ache. soon he’s finished, wiping his mouth with his hand before smoothing his tongue over the wound. “my saliva will heal it over night, don’t worry.”

“it’s okay. how are you feeling? any better?” he tugs you onto the surface of the bed, his gentle fingers grabbing a nearby bandage to delicately wrap around the bite wound. the sun was beginning to rise now, and you were tired beyond belief. “i do. thank you so much.” he smooths your hair from your head, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“i really meant it when i said i was sorry and that i was going to try harder. i can’t imagine how stupid i looked to you, god,” he buries his face in your shoulder, shaking his head as you chuckled. “it’s okay. i didn’t mean to blow up that hard - i just… it all kept building up and i really wanted to talk to you but it never felt right.” your hand comes to rest on his head as he burrows further into you, you can imagine the burn of his cheeks and smile to yourself at the thought.

“well, if we’re going to be married. these are things we have to talk about i guess.” his skin is cool to the touch, you shiver at the feeling. “we can talk about whatever you want too though. like what your favorite color is or why your favorite movie is your favorite movie.”

“i like pink a lot.” he says, his cheek pressed into the pillow next to you. “why is that?” you wonder.

“it looks best on you.”

𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓲𝔁. ↴

oh he was beautiful. maybe not even that; maybe something greater.

you admired him still but frequently lost yourself to the floaty thoughts in your brain - thinking fondly back to your wedding day. he was dressed in opalescent whites of different shades, the hems of his attire glittered in the evening sun - cuts of sunlight beaming fractals down through the trees to paint his face something magnificent. and his wings. your feet carried you along the forest floor, but your eyes were blown into a sweet expression you couldn’t fight. they were transparent if not for their shining and glittering design - fine lines of sunlight itself swirled and cut into fine designs on his wings - you were starstruck in his gaze. you cradled your bouquet, and though it was now your third time meeting felix in person, his worried and saddened expression turned into something peaceful when you looked at him. despite your arguments in efforts to call off your betrothal, now when facing him, you strangely felt as if everything would just work out. he exuded a kind of sweet energy, even just his smile would bring you happiness. you interlock your hands and despite the circumstance, you can’t help but smile soft while reciting your vows, your practiced eye contact now utterly natural and right.

you’d been married to lee felix for two months and ten days - and in those days since accepting your marriage, you’d seen him only a handful of times. well, more than that, honestly, but it was easy to blur the days and times you saw him. it really only felt like you’d had a few conversations with him or shared any moments of true transparency or emotional value. he was dedicated to his job, he was. he protected the forest alongside a large force of fae people’s. regulations in the forest were strict - strong. and he took his job very seriously. he spent nearly every waking moment tangled in the trees, tending to her grasses, or playing with the forest creatures to keep the forest happy and healthy, and while you were more than proud of him of his job and his dedication, your marriage was beginning to weigh heavy on your heart. he was beginning to weigh heavy on your heart.

your job was to nurse saplings and hybrids, you were gone from your home for severely shorter hours than felix was - and while you loved your job all the same as he did his own, you couldn’t help the want for a loving marriage despite the circumstances of it being arranged. you saw him frequently laughing in the trees and vines alongside his colleagues, happily caring for the creatures of the forest with careful and loving hands, and couldn’t help but hope that one day you’d be the one making him smile, making him laugh, and be the fairy behind his loving touch. your heart swells at the very thought - ugh what a lovey he was. pure goodness you assumed. not a bad bone in his body. you just wanted him for yourself, selfishly.

how could your heart not blossom with feeling at the opportunity to be married to him? he was,,, he was so much. words couldn’t describe the ache of affection you yearned from him. the way he lived. it was profound in and of itself.

your arms cradle the sleeping sapling of a mother willow, tender palms wrapped around the baby as they slept soundly. your mind snaps back to reality, your eyes fluttering to the small angel in your arms, and you smile at the sight. “precious.” you admire, putting them back into their warm pot of soil to sleep until the next morning. evening was approaching, it was time for you to leave for the day. you float to your bag, your wings carrying you seamlessly to your things as you gather them and say goodbye to your fellow caretakers, returning home to your high tree top bungalow. your home was comfortably secluded near the top of the tree canopy, neighbors somewhat closeby to still have the comfort of community but to also have a nice peaceful feeling of seclusion in your own home. the lights wrapping around your home had been dimmed, you frown at the sight, concluding felix must not be home.

as you float to the door, softly landing on your feet, you push it open and find the lights are off and evening darkness begins to swallow your home. you sigh softly, pulling your leaf tote off your shoulder to hang it by the door. you pull clips from your hair and pad to your bedroom with your eyes focused comfortably at the floor, thinking no one was home.

that is until you enter your bedroom to see felix standing in the open space just before your bed, lifting his button-down from his head to peak into your closet for night clothes. “oh-” you jump, clutching your chest, face warming at the sight of his bare skin on display. “you scared me, sorry.” his eyes widen for only a moment before he relaxes into a smile, “oh sorry for scaring you, i should’ve left a note for you. i came home early today.” you beam gently, pulling your earrings out to leave your jewelry in a box at your vanity. “it’s okay! i’m glad you’re home. how was today?” you turn to look at him as he speaks.

he takes a sleep shirt from a hanger and begins slipping it on. “ah, the watering hole at the east side of the forest edge began growing fungus - so we had the court mages come down to get rid of it. other than that, it was surprisingly uneventful.” his face contorts into a kind of grimace as he struggles to fit his wings through the back of his shirt - trying desperately hard on his own to flutter them through the back only to get caught. you stand, moving to help him as your vision falls to his back - and you stand behind him to gently tug his wings through the back. “there you go, better?” you ponder with a soft worrisome look, rounding him to get a better look. he smiles and nods, “much, thank you.”

you take a few steps back to sit at the edge of your shared bed, once again getting lost in your head as you stare at his wings. so pretty. moonlight begins to filter in through your bedroom windows and they almost seem to glow. “what’s wrong?” he asks, catching you off guard in your staring match. he’s left his shirt opens as he looks at you, his brow scrunched. “o-oh! nothing! sorry- your wings are just,, really pretty.” you chuckle, hoping to play off any tension or awkwardness. his face flushes a true shade of pink and his gaze falls to the floor, “thank you.” his low voice in gentle in the quiet.

“but,,” he turns back, now stepping closer to you at a slower pace before he sits down in front of you. his gaze is so concerned, and he speaks as though what he has to say is hard. you match his expression, head tilting only a degree or so. “you always kind of have this expression like you’re thinking,, or that you’re getting lost in your head. do you want to talk about it?”

your cheeks flush at his notice and you look down to your hands now folded over your lap. if now was ever the time to bring up issues than you’d have to do it. were you going to drag this process on forever? you hoped not. now was the chance.

“you’re… you’re so wonderful at what you do.” you smile again, because you can’t help but give in around felix, but it’s sadder - and he worries about what’s to come despite your compliment. “you’re so dedicated. and i love seeing you smile and laugh with everything you do. with your colleagues, when you’re caring for the creatures in the forest, or when you’re caring for the plants and trees,” you pause. your lips part because you know what to say, you know exactly what to say because it’s been the only thing you think about during the day. and you simply must say it now or else you’d dig yourself into a hiding hole and never bring it up again. “but i wish,, you cared for me in the way you cared for you job. in the way you care for the forest.” your thumb circles the band on your ring finger absentmindedly. it’s become second nature. when you look down to your hand, and see the band on your finger your eyes begin to water. oh not now, please, i was doing do good.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, actually.” he starts. you lift your watery eyes and his expression melts, his hand coming up to wipe your tears but he stops himself in fear of crossing a line when really that’s all you wanted in the moment. “i..” he swallows and his eyes get lost in focusing on nowhere in particular in the room and that’s when you notice it.

his thumb is playing with his wedding band, his nail tracing the metal and fumbling with it just as you did without noticing.

your lips pull to the side as you try to keep them from trembling. “i wanted to talk to you about how we can become closer. how we can work better as a unit and build our relationship-” when the tears track down your cheeks and you look up at him, he disregards his fear and reaches out shamelessly - his pal meeting your cheek as his thumb swipes wetness from your eyes. you lean into his touch, appreciative of his warmth until it leaves you. his own eyes are a bit watery, but out of shame and guilt. “i feel,, so guilty. for making you feel that way. and i d-don’t ever want to make you feel like that again because i do care for you.” when he looks back up at you, you reach for his hand and rub his band with your thumb. “i care for you a lot.” he chuckles sadly.

“i care for you too. and i want this to work out.” you reason, now holding his left hand with both of yours. he goes quiet for a second as he dips his head and wipes his face. at the sight your heart swells and you feel a smile over take your face. “y’know on our wedding day, i thought, ‘wow i must be the luckiest person ever to be marrying the prettiest fairy in the forest.’” you chuckle, wiping your face until he laughs through his tears. “don’t say that, i’ll cry more!” you chuckle with him and this time you wipe his face with your thumbs when he can’t get past the guilt.

“i p-promise i’ll make it up to you. i’ll show you i care for you and that i can be a husband you deserve.” his gaze lifts with your hand as you thumb over his wet freckles, and he now grabs your hands sacredly.

“let’s work together, yeah?” you look over his face with a more fond expression, watching every small move he makes to wipe his face and try desperately hard to keep the tears off his flustered freckled cheeks. he nods, fiercely. this was a change you already felt oncoming, and as you settled into resting for the night, you laid beside your husband - hands kept to yourself for now as shyness seemed to settle between both of your bodies.

“i know i’ve been distant and consumed in work,, but i’ve been watching you at your job recently.” his nimble fingers pick at the surface of his pillow, pulling a stray thread from it’s place. your brows raise, a soft look of surprise graces your features as you listen. “oh?” he immediately cuts in, “not like that! i just.. wanted to see you at work but.. i didn’t know how to.. reach out.” his gaze is focused elsewhere.

“you can come visit me at work anytime. i think you’d be excellent with the sapling babies - they’d love you.” your teeth show in a genuine smile and he can’t help but think how contagious.

“i couldn’t really think much, except for how stunning you looked doing it.”

you push your face into your pillow, “you can’t say things like that,, i’ll blush.” your hands cover your face, and much to your surprise, he grasps them to pull them from your red cheeks, looking at you solemnly. “it’s true. the sun was hitting you just right and you looked so pretty,, so happy.”

he’s holding your hands again, the current if shyness feels as though he’s melted it away, and you reach out to brush a stray hair from his face, “i am happiest when with them, they bring me a lot of peace.” he beams, his wings flutter a bit behind him on the bed.

“would you want to raise one, one day?” his eyes are wide with the question, as if a great amount of hope rests on his shoulders.

“with you? absolutely.”

𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓶𝓲𝓷. ↴

“there won’t be a wedding.”

you looked up from your coffee, both of your hands wrapped around it’s now cooling porcelain. your heart drops to the lowest part of your stomach at the news, hands steadying for a better grip on your mug. every dream, every hope, all the excitement of the young you, hoping for a beautiful wedding shared with the person you loved, instantly came crashing down in a fury. you swallow, feeling the eternal dread creeping on - up your back and over your shoulders.

“can i ask why?” you look up to your future husband, finding a kind of indifference on his face, that made your heart sink further.

“my family has a last minute trip planned for the weekend we originally scheduled - we talked to your family and decided to cancel it.”

“okay.”

“i’ll make it up to you.”

for the sake of a legitimate marriage, you did stand before each other and repeat vows of no particular meaning to you - and held his hand as you walked back down the aisle in a white sundress. you slept in the same bed but didn’t know the man beside you, you said goodbye to him for his business trips but mostly thoughts of leaving consumed you while he was away (even though your family would have your head for it) you ate beside him but didn’t speak - your outlook on your marriage was bleak to say the least.

your own job consumed you of course, the marriage was for business anyway. but you took severely less trips than seungmin did - and mostly worked from home in your office, conducting meetings, discussing sales goals and the like.

and now, at your age, you came to realize something. that your life wasn’t lived for what you wanted to do or how you wanted to live, but instead was lived out by the expectation of how you were supposed to. who were you even really? and you didn’t have the best example - your parent’s marriage was arranged. and though your mom persevered in saying they were happy, you could easily read between the lines to see they were anything but.

seungmin had his good moments.

he was great at his job, very dedicated. he periodically checked in on you but it felt half-hearted. there were a few times he’d sent flowers to the house while he was away. a lot of empty promises on his part though, saying he would look forward to doing something fun when he returned home, only for his time to be taken again. you’d bury yourself in your work if that was the only thing you could do - eyes filtering over the now dying roses on your desk.

he was gone now on another business trip, he had been now for three days. in truth, you missed him. or maybe you missed the idea of him. the idea of what he could be to you, and what you could be together. it all felt very misty in your brain, a lot of thoughts you couldn’t dwell on for long periods of time as they stopped making sense. you’d try to sort through your feelings, categorize your thoughts, to better understand yourself - but most attempts remained fruitless. your marriage to seungmin was an enigma - with most of your free time spent alone, all you had to do was think of him. it was strange to admit you missed and longed for a man you feel like you don’t know, but your nights were spent planted on your couch, wondering when he’d return.

your days spent in your new home brought a wave of heaviness you haven’t looked in the eye in years. it was dreadful. every waking moment you fought to stay motivated with your job, but a large part of you hadn’t a single care. not for anything. after work, you’d crawl back into bed and sleep until waking, rotting away in your home.

until seungmin came home.

when he unlocked the door and came in with a few small bags by his side, you didn’t raise your head from your pillow, or dare to even wipe your cheeks of the tears cascading down your face - you didn’t care. you didn’t care if he saw, you didn’t care if he had something to say. you only felt the weight.

he comes into the bedroom, and upon looking at you curled up in your shared bed, wetness glistening on your cheeks, his brows furrow. “what’s wrong?”

you shake your head, mumbling something that sounded like “it’s nothing.”

he wasn’t taking that as an answer, not with the way his voice drew out and the way he came to sit on his side of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs. “what’s wrong?” he asks, this time a little softer; even just the way his voice sounded made you want to cry.

you roll to your back, eyes focused nowhere in particular as you muster up something to say. your tears fall into your hairline now, for a moment you feel as though this might be worse than dying. “should we separate?”

“like divorce? no, no we shouldn’t. what’s,, what’s going on?” he almost wants to reach out and touch you but he keeps his hands to himself for now. the news hits him with a kind of weight he wasn’t expecting; he stumbles over the words that first come to his brain, his composure slowly melting away.

“you’re never here, seungmin.” your head lulls to the side to look at him. “i care about you a lot. i just wished you felt the same.” your voice trembles on the breath of a whisper, soon your eyes are focused elsewhere yet again - and your lips shake a bit.

he grasps your hands, and pulls your weight up until you’re resting in his arms. his hold is light - as if he were afraid to touch you but he does anyway. your heart explodes - he holds you because he understands it’s what you need. and you realize, this is the first time he’s ever held you, and you hope to whatever greater source there is in the world, that it isn’t the last.

“i’m sorry.” he pats your back with a gentle hand, and he feels your arms circle him lightly. “i do care for you.”

you sit in his hold comfortably, listening to him as he periodically speaks. “i’m sorry i’m never home. the business has kept me really busy, and, to be honest, i didn’t know what to do.”

you understand more now than ever that, it’s hard for him to speak his emotions. and while it might be awkward, it meant so much more that he was trying. his long sleeve shirt is soft against your palms, you flatten them more, pressing closer to him a bit - hoping it doesn’t make him uncomfortable, but rather it urges him to speak more on his feelings.

“i assumed you’d be unhappy, and honestly, i wouldn’t blame you. i wanted to try to make things work.. i just didn’t know how.”

that was, perhaps, the most words you’d heard from him - and you were beyond happy with his honesty.

“i mean, it wasn’t like our marriage was ideal but i too want to make it work. i believe we can.”

when your bodies separate, and seungmin fumbles with his fingers that peak just past the sleeves of his shirt, you’re both swallowed in a kind of silence, one you wouldn’t label, but one that was loud. “what,, what do you want me to do? to be better?” he asks quietly.

“just talk to me.”

“talk to you? what do you want to talk about?”

“anything.”

for the next few hours, as the moon hung high in the night sky, you sat in your bed and talked. like people did. like married people did.

“when i was 14 i got a bone spur in my ankle from working at an amusement park.” you chuckled, seungmin laughs beside you as well. “how’d you do that?”

“i jumped down onto a platform and i didn’t bend my knees when i landed so,” you mesh your fingers together, “crunch. y’know?” his expression changes to a grimace of sorts, “i broke my elbow playing baseball as a kid.”

“you played baseball?”

“i did.”

𝓳𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷.↴

“before you are five people, you must choose a significant other to marry.” were the words spoken to jeongin - words he was expecting to hear, dreaded ones - evil even in prospect. he was raised for this moment, this was one of many he must complete in his family’s line of work. his choices were limited, but this one seemed impossible. his steps were counted, he rolls through his foot, keeps a sharp gaze so his intentions aren’t questioned, not in front of his father, and he looks between the wide-eyed looks that stare at him with hope. not hope of being chosen, no quite the opposite.

there was only really one option -

you.

you were beautiful, maybe not even that but something he couldn’t label or put a finger on. it stole breath from his lungs as he raised his hand without a second thought, pointing to your slightly hunched composure.

“you.”

it was the first words he ever spoke to you - and you wanted nothing more in that moment for them to be the last. but you knew hope cost very little in your new life. you were unsure of the price over your head for marriage to the son of the leader of the biggest crime ring in the area, but you hoped it hurt his pockets if anything. you were to be married to jeongin now, and that was your life’s purpose. you would part from your family, and move into a house suitable for newly weds, you’d forget everything you loved, everyone you loved, if it meant he was happy.

you were wedded in a small ceremony, only surrounded by your parents and other members of the crime syndicate. your father handed you off your arm to the man that was soon to be your husband, and you took his hands with a grip too easy to slip. he grasps your hands, soon loosening his hold upon feeling your reluctance in your hands. but it isn’t reluctance in just your physical touch with him - but it’s the reluctance in your eyes. the way light doesn’t shine in them or sparkle, and you speak your vows with such shame it kills him.

so he vowed to stay away. if it made you happy.

but you weren’t happy. not really.

was he? he didn’t know.

but even from the start, he felt your sadness when you spoke to him, the light still hadn’t returned to your pretty face, well. there was one thing that made the sparkle gleam in your expression,

painting.

fuck you looked beautiful when you painted. lost in the color - the washes, forgetting your hands were smeared and wet and that your cuticles were crackling with paints to no wits end but you continued, and you would persevere. you’d surround yourself with happiness and feeling only translated and spoken through the mouthpiece of a canvas, and he could sit and watch you forever, just admiring the way you lost yourself in something for a moment that wasn’t your marriage.

“what would make you happier?” he’d asked one day.

you raised your gaze up from the marble of the extending bar of the kitchen counter, your cheek between your teeth. it was a question you weren’t ready for, one that you thought he’d never ask. “i’d like to paint more.” you answered, almost smiling a bit through the dark lines beneath your eyes.

in truth, you could see the good in jeongin. the reluctance to follow in his father’s footsteps, the boyish, happy energy he so little exuded that you only wished to see more of. yes. in truth, jeongin was beautiful. yet he chose to show it so little. you wonder if it was fear, trauma even - but he seemed so far away, so distant.

“okay.” it was simple. and a week later, he showed you to one of the spare bedrooms in your home - canvas’ covered the walls and a desk and stool stood in the middle of the room, an array of different paints grouped in boxes and a great big container of brushes sat on it’s surface. you could’ve cried at the sight, but instead thanked him, a number of times, and began on your next piece.

and after that, he was gone again. all hidden behind stern expressions, his suits and ties and whispers of jobs and missions. you’d lost him again, and damn it all you were tired.

you’d been defeated since you said yes to him, no you’d been tired since you’d found out you were to be married to a stranger. and now, when you felt like things were going somewhere, he was just,, gone. you were sick, sick of feeling this way. feeling like your life had no other meaning than to be strangers, sick of him not talking or trying, just sick.

so you pushed a blade into your first canvas. you cut through the paint, the flesh of it, cut through the hours, the focus, the mess ups and successes, and you kept going. you dragged the blade through the wooden circumference and threw it to the ground with your hair flying behind you.

jeongin came in a moment later to hear the commotion - finding a few of your paintings destroyed, tears running down your cheeks, and your form huddled in the corner of the room with your knees pulled to your chest. you were hysterical - like your filter had diminished and your true thoughts were the only thing capable of leaving your lips.

“i-i-! i-i just wished you cared-!” you yelled.

he grabs your face, holding steady in both of his hands.

and suddenly, the only thing you see is him.

and he was there. there. with his brows pressed together, and his thumbs swiping over your cheeks soft. he was there.

“i’m here- i’m here.” his voice steadies your heart, his presence centers your attention on him and him alone - and despite the pure rage you felt at him - he was the only person you had. and the only one you wanted.

your breathing slows, as do your tears, and you lower your hands, letting them rest on his forearms. “you’re,, here.” you repeat as if he’d disappear.

he nods, his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks. “that’s right. i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere, i promise.” he assures.

he was numbly grounding - he pulled you out of your own head so quick you saw stars and felt whiplash. and now, in steadiness, you grasp his hands from your face and hold onto him tight. “b-but,, why aren’t you ever really here? why don’t you care-” you hiccup.

“because i don’t know how to be.”

you look at him with an expression only capable of melting, and your face contorts sadly again and he tries. “j-just don’t leave. just try, please? i want this to work because it kills me.”

“i won’t leave. i won’t. and i do care. i really do, so much. i’m sorry.”

though you feel like strangers, and he still feels so far away, you stretch your arms outward and you grasp onto his waist - and in a way you weren’t expecting, he wraps his arms around you, and holds you like he’s known you for years. and maybe in some kind of way, he did.

“i believe you but just.. can we talk? can we do fun things married people do? like go on dates and watch stupid movies?” your tears fall gently now, rounding the flesh of your cheeks in a way he thinks is so pretty, so unlike how he understood you before. but now, when you look at him, you feel like you see a man you know. one you can trust.

he nods, vigorously as he pulls you from his arms. “i want that, and i’ll try okay? i promise,” his hands grasp your own, “i promise i care. i really do.”

you nod, now too consumed with teas to speak again, and instead you push your face into your hands and sit back on your legs between his own. he takes a moment to look around the room, finding art even in your destruction.

“your paintings,” he frowns, standing. he picks one up, stretching his arms out to look at it. his expression is sad, genuinely sad, and it kind of surprises you to see that.

“it’s okay.”

he looks to his right to see you, swallowed in a tainted sweatshirt, and he smiles, setting it against the wall in front of him.

“let’s make new ones.”

i have no concept on whether these are good or not, i've been working a lot and i'm actually sick rn but persevered through seungmin's and jeongin's. lmk what y'all think.

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adiraargent · 4 months

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Kiss Me Again - Mattheo Riddle

Request: heyy oh my God I seriously love your work, could you do one where they are best friends but like each other and won't confess but one day they both realise they are in love wc: 4.2k warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing Summary: you and Mattheo have been friends since the beginning of school, the two of you like each other but neither wants to admit it, scared that it would damage your relationship. The two of you decide to take a break from studying and sneak around Hogwarts and then one thing leads to another...

Mattheo Riddle, he had been your best friend for pretty much as long as you can remember. You grew up together, helped eachother threw everything, stuck by each others sides. You were fortunate to have most of your classes together, and even outside of class the two of you hung out.

You had the same friends, got pretty much the same grades and had very similar hobbies... it was rare to see one without the other.

The Hogwarts library stood as a citadel of tranquility, a bastion of wisdom and knowledge amidst the bustling halls of Hogwarts. Right now, you and Mattheo Riddle found yourselves engrossed in your studies, the air thick with the scent of parchment and the soft murmur of whispered incantations.

Seated side by side at a wooden table tucked amidst towering shelves, you and Mattheo immersed yourselves in textbooks and scrolls, the task at hand a mere facade for the unspoken emotions that danced between you.

Mattheo’s voice cut through the silence, "You alright, you've been pretty quiet for a while?"

You shot him a playful glare, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Well we are in the library Mattheo, we're meant to be quiet."

Mattheo rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging on his lips, "yeah well you practically never shut up," a small laugh falling from his lips. This of course earnt him an eye roll, which he caught onto, yet he somehow managed to miss the little sparkle that glinted in your eye as you looked at his smiling face.

You sat there for a while, occasionally bickering or leaning over to ask for help when getting stuck on something, but due to exams coming up in only a few days, the two of you understood that you had to try your best to stay on task. Textbooks sprawled open, parchment filled with notes, and a shared determination to conquer the complexities of magical theory.

"Have you seen this spell?" you queried, pointing to a particularly intricate incantation in your book. You had been looking at it for the past 10 minutes or so, waving your wand around trying to get the right movement, but it seemed no matter how hard you tried, it just wasnt working how you wanted it to.

Mattheo leaned closer, his presence enveloping you in a warmth that sparked an indescribable sensation. You felt the hairs on your arm stick up, a warm feeling flushing in your chest as he leaned over your shoulder. "Ah, that one’s tricky. Let me show you a more efficient way to cast it."

His nearness sent a flutter through your senses, a magnetic pull that threatened to unravel the careful veil hiding the unspoken desires within. He reached over, his hand landing on top of yours and guiding your hand smoothly, "there you are, easy peasy."

"Thanks..." you murmured out, finally taking a breath as he leant back away from you.

As the sun dipped lower, signaling the arrival of evening, you and Mattheo began to gather your belongings. The unspoken feelings simmered beneath the layers of laughter and stolen glances, a silent understanding that bound your hearts in a dance of friendship and concealed affection.

Mattheo broke the tranquil silence, his voice softer than usual. "The library is closing soon, we should continue this in my dorm. You should head back to your dorm and get in something more comfy then come over"

You nodded, a faint smile gracing your lips. "Yeah, ok are the boys in the dorm?"

"Nah Jasper and Theodore are over in Lorenzo's dorm and Draco is with Blaise," Mattheo replied, his gaze holding a depth that hinted at more than mere friendship as he packed his books, "so it'll be just us."

"Cool, see ya soon," you grinned widely, brushing your hair behind your ear unconciously.

After getting changed into something more comfortablein your dorm and a fresh spritz of purfume on you began your walk back to Mattheo's dorm (I'm trying my best to make it so it doesnt matter what house you are in so sorry if it's a little confusing). You couldnt help it as your mind trailed off to Mattheo. You knew you shouldnt be feeling this way, but you couldnt help it... this is wrong, he's my best friend.

He was more than that though, he was an important aspect in your life, and you couldnt imagine life without him.He’s always had your back and stood up for you. He's defended you against teachers and students, he's protected you from the dark horrors that come with being born to Bellatrix Lestrange and Tom Riddle, growing up in Malfoy Manor.

You were well aware of the fact that you've liked him for a while now, just a small girl crush... but lately its only seemed to get worse. You’ve caught yourself staring at him frequently, admiring his brown curls and earthy eyes, you've tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of butterflies that you get every time he laughs, or the tingling sting that you get whenever your skin comes in contact with his.

In the embrace of his hug, you find solace, pressed snugly against the contours of his toned chest. The rhythmic thud of his heartbeat against your skin forms an intimate symphony, a melody that soothes your very core, making you feel inexplicably safe.

His gentle touch, brushing away a stray tendril of hair from your face, sends a wave of warmth coursing through you. It's a tender gesture that beckons you to close your eyes and surrender to the comforting sensation of his fingers against your skin.

As his hand encircles your waist, drawing you nearer, an undeniable sense of belonging washes over you. In that moment, with Mattheos’s touch securing you, it feels like the perfect fit—your bodies in sync, entwined in a moment that feels destined.

The yearning for more intensifies, an undeniable craving for closeness, for the electrifying sensation of his touch. It's a desire that lingers, urging you to lean into the embrace, to savor every shared moment with Mattheo, wishing for an eternity in his arms

Shit I sound crazy you rolled your eyes at yourself, shaking the thoughts off and continuing your walk.

What you didnt know was that Mattheo had felt the same way. You didnt notice how he had started sitting even closer to you now, or the fact that he was constantly trying to come up with ways to inconspicuously touch you. You didnt notice the way he would put his hand on your back and lead you threw the halls when there were lots of people, or how if you were ever close to hitting your head on the corner of a cupboard or desk he would reach over and cover the surface with his hand.

Once you finally get to the door of his dorm, you knock a few times before pushing the door open, walking in to find Mattheo on the bed. "Hey Theo," you grumbled, dropping your bag to the ground and then jumping on the bed next to him with a tired sigh.

"Hey love."

“come on, you've got it, just try it a few more times and it'll be perfect”, Mattheo says from his desk, his chair rolling around to face you where you were lying on his bed, books laying around you.

“I cant do it Theo”, you sigh loudly, throwing your head back dramatically, “it's a stupid spell and I probably wont even use it after we leave school so why the hell do we even have to learn it.”

“Quit whining”, Mattheo replies, laughing whilst shaking his head, "it's not even that hard."

“It's not fair, why does an idiot like you get to be so smart without even trying”, you pout softly, pulling yourself up in a sitting position.

Mattheo's insistence on revisiting the notes for the umpteenth time made you almost desperate. You were tired and this was beginning to get frustrating, you hated it when you werent good at something. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak up. "Please, Theo. I understand that good grades mean everything to you and how pressured you are with all of this, but I'm seriously starting to go out of my mind. I have hardly slept and this is giving me a really bad headache."

His silence made you nervous; you hadn't intended to come across so harshly. Mattheo seemed absorbed in his thoughts, clearly thinking about what to say or do. He understood that you were tired, the two of you, along with much of your grade had been waking up early and going to sleep late for the last few weeks in order to study for the exams. But this was all important, the two of you planned to become Aurors together when you left school, and you needed really good grades for that.

You bit your lip, grappling with your impatience. "Matth-"

A frustrated sigh escaped Mattheo's lips. You felt guilty, you knew why he tried so hard for his grades. He didnt want to turn out like his mother and father and the people around him at home, he wanted to do good. He needed good grades to help him escape.

Meeting his gaze, you found his intense brown eyes locked onto yours. "I apologize. You're right," he admitted, raking his hand through his brunette curls, your eyes went wide in shock, you hadnt actually expected him to agree with you, and you definietly didnt think that the next words would fall out of his lips, "hell it might even be a good idea for me to have a break, i'm tired too-"

Mattheo stood up, shutting his books and then stumbling over to the bed, a goofy smile on his face as he stuck his hand out in your direction. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, not exactly sure where he was going with this. When you said that the two of you needed to take a break, you just thought that the two of you would just chill and talk for a while, maybe lay down for a bit.

"Up ya hop," he beckoned, making a grabby motion with his hands a few times before sticking his open palm closer to your face, "move it or lose it mate," he continues. You raise your brows at him, hesitating before carefully reaching out to take his hand

Should I grab his hand?

"Merlin," Mattheo groaned, rolling his eyes before just grabbing her hand and then tugging her off the bed

"Hey asshole!" you complained, glaring up at him as he tugged you towards the door of his dorm, grabbing a jumper that was hanging over the back of his desk chair.

"Dont blame me, if we sat around here waiting for you to make up your mind then we'd be waiting till christmas," Mattheo complained sarcastically, pulling her down the hall and towards the main part of the common room.

As Mattheo dragged you along, you stumbled to keep up with his brisk pace, shooting him an annoyed glare. "Seriously, where are we going?" you demanded, trying to slow his progress by digging your heels into the floor.

But Mattheo seemed determined, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just trust me," he said with a smirk, not offering any further explanation.

You let out an exasperated sigh but relented, deciding to go along with whatever crazy idea he had in mind. You allowed him to tug you through the common room and out into the crisp evening air of the halls of the castle. It was late at night and since they were in the dungeons, it was freezing. There were no students anywhere, and the teachers were also more than likely in bed.

"Wait, Mattheo, it's freezing out here!" you protested, shivering as a gust of wind swept by, making you regret not grabbing a jacket.

He chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the cold. "Don't worry, I've got you covered," he assured, reaching for the jumper he had grabbed earlier. With a grin, he draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric immediately comforting.

"Thanks," you mumbled, feeling a bit guilty for calling him an asshole just moments ago.

Without missing a beat, Mattheo resumed his course, leading you through the halls. Mattheo glanced around the halls, noticing the dimly lit corners and hidden alcoves. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned in and whispered, "I've heard rumors about secret passages hidden within the castle. Wanna go on a little exploration?"

Your curiosity piqued at the mention of secret passages. Nodding eagerly, you followed Mattheo as he led the way, navigating through the deserted corridors of the castle. Shadows danced on the walls, and the quiet of the night added an eerie yet thrilling atmosphere to your adventure.

Stopping in front of an intricately designed tapestry depicting a hunting scene, Mattheo grinned. "This is it," he whispered excitedly, pulling on a loose thread near the edge of the tapestry.

To your amazement, the tapestry shifted, revealing a concealed entrance behind it. Mattheo gestured for you to follow as he stepped through the hidden doorway. The passage was dimly lit by flickering torches, the air cool and musty.

You trailed behind Mattheo as you ventured deeper into the hidden corridors. The passages twisted and turned, leading you through a labyrinthine network beneath the castle. Dusty tomes and forgotten artifacts lined shelves carved into the stone walls, hinting at the secrets hidden within.

Occasionally, you stumbled upon locked doors or dead ends, but Mattheo's enthusiasm never waned. He seemed to have a natural talent for navigating the hidden passages, leading you further into the mysterious depths of the castle.

After what felt like an exhilarating journey through time and history, you stumbled upon a chamber bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. In the center stood an ancient-looking pedestal with a book resting upon it, emitting a faint shimmer.

"Is that...?" you started, your voice barely a whisper as you glanced at Mattheo, both of you captivated by the enigmatic sight before you.

Mattheo nodded in awe, his eyes reflecting the soft light. "I heard that there used to be this Ancient magic around Hogwarts that only a select few could see and use... apparently a goblin called Ranrok or something tried to gain control of that power but was stopped by a Hogwarts student who could see and use the magic, this is supposed to be her diary or something, there could be some cool stuff in there," he murmured, approaching the pedestal with caution.

You joined him, the book's pages radiating an otherworldly aura. As you reached out to touch it, a distant sound echoed through the chamber—a faint rattling followed by the unmistakable shuffle of footsteps.

Startled, you exchanged a quick glance with Mattheo before hastily retreating back into the hidden passages, leaving the mysterious book untouched. Heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline, you navigated the twisting corridors, making your way back to the safety of the castle's main corridors.

Breathless and exhilarated, you both burst into laughter as you emerged from the hidden entrance, relieved to have escaped without detection.

Caught up in the thrill of your secret exploration, you and Mattheo leaned against the castle wall, trying to catch your breath. The rush of adrenaline and the shared excitement created a bond between you that felt unbreakable.

As you exchanged a knowing glance, the unspoken promise of more adventures lingered in the air, filling you both with a sense of anticipation for the mysteries yet to be unraveled within the castle's hidden passages.

"Students out of bed!" They suddenly hear, their eyes widening at the familiar voice or Filch. They turned their heads to look down the corridor, a small hint of light making its way closer from one of the corners further down

"Oh shit!" Mattheo whispered, grabbing your hand and then yanking you through the halls once again.

"You can run but you cant hide!"

"Ouch Mattheo! You're gonna rip my fucking arm off you pri-"

Mattheo had grabbed you around the waist and thrown you over his shoulder. A small 'hmph' falling from your lips at the rough impact of his shoulder digging into your stomach. "Theo that hurts!" you whisper yell, smaking him softly on the back as he continues to run, Filch on your tail.

Mattheo quickly turns the corner and then pulls you both into a cupboard, slamming the door shut behind you both and putting you on the ground in front of him, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, a few small beads of sweat trickling down his forhead.

Mattheo let out an annoyed groan, "Fuck that was cl-"

You slap your hand over his mouth with one hand, using your free hand to put your finger up to your lips, telling him to shush before leaning your head against the door, trying to listen to whatever was going on outside, praying to god that Filch wasnt going to find you.

The footsteps outside grew louder, the sound of keys jingling and muttering becoming clearer. Filch's voice pierced through the silence, his grumbling indicating his frustration at not finding the mischievous students.

Mattheo's chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to control his breathing, his eyes wide with anticipation and a hint of nervous excitement. You pressed against the door, your heart racing in sync with the rapid beat of footsteps passing by the cupboard's hiding spot.

Silence descended upon the corridor, broken only by the distant echoes of Filch's fading voice as he continued his search elsewhere. Mattheo let out a relieved exhale, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back against the cupboard.

"Phew," he whispered, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You shot him a playful glare, still catching your breath from being carried over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Warn me before you decide to play hero next time," you teased, trying to suppress a giggle.

Mattheo chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sorry about that, had to think fast. You know how Filch is, always lurking around looking for cool kids like me."

"I think you mean dumbasses," you shot back jokingly

"Well you're out here too arent you?" he fired, a raised eyebrow paired with a smirk on his handsome face

"Hush," you grinned.

"Merlin im buggered," Mattheo yawned. Mattheo flashed you a grin, his eyes alight with excitement. "Well, that was fun, wasn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the thrill of the chase mixing with the shared relief at narrowly avoiding getting caught. "Definitely an adventure I won't forget anytime soon," you replied, still catching your breath.

You nodded in agreement, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the near encounter. The adrenaline rush began to fade, you went to open the door, pushing on it, but it didnt seem to budge.

“It won’t open.” You mumbled out, trying to push the door again

“What?” Mattheo asked, his breathing starting to go back to normal

“It won’t open.” you repeated with a frown as you pushed against the door yet again, but the hardwood didn’t budge.

"Yeah right," Mattheo muttered out, going to push the door thinking that maybe you just werent pushing it hard enough, "what the hell..."

“It’s…not so bad. It is probably just jammed or something — do you have your wand?.”

The realization that the door wouldn't budge sent a jolt of unease through both of you. Mattheo reached into his pocket, rummaging around for his wand, but his expression turned to one of dismay.

"Damn it, I left it back in the dorm room," he muttered, a tinge of worry edging into his voice. "But don't worry, its only a few more hours till everyone is up so someone will find us soon, and until then we can just chill or try and get the door open"

"This isn't good," you murmured, trying to keep your tone steady despite the rising worry in your chest.

The night was not supposed to go like this.

Heat sweltered between them, and not only because of the walls encasing them on every side, and the small space plus their added body heat, but the fact that they were so close together.

“Stop moving.” Mattheo mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling, his cheeks pink as he forced himself to look away from her, trying his best to stay calm and not freak out from the close proximity

"Sorry," you muttered, but once again shuffled unconsciously, the nerves taking over you as you grew more and more anxious, you didnt do well with small spaces, you were tired, and you were chest to chest with the boy you cared for more than anyone else

"Y/n." Mattheo grumbled sternly

“I can’t help it!” You responded anxiously. “Im tired and my legs are so sore, theres rat shit on the ground so I cant sit down, and I'm fucking cold Mattheo,” She pounded on the door, no longer caring if they got in trouble from the teachers, she just wanted to get out of there

“Hey, hey, you've just gotta stay calm okay, its alright!” Mattheo said softly, realising just how much she was beginning to freak out.

The cramped space amplified the tension between you, a mix of frustration, anxiety, and the unspoken feelings lingering in the air. Mattheo's attempts to keep the atmosphere calm were admirable, but the situation tested both your patience and composure.

"I know, I know," you muttered, attempting to steady your breathing. "I'm just... I'm not good with this. It's too much."

Mattheo's eyes softened with understanding, his usual mischievous demeanor giving way to a more caring expression. He reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"It's okay. We'll get through this," he said, his voice calming, though the unease lingered in his own words, "im here okay, you're okay."

You looked up at him, gazing into his brown eyes. He gave you a small smile

Damn it, theres that stupid feeling again.

His smile was then replaced with an unreadable expression. "You okay?" you muttered, confused by his atttitude change

Mattheo's eyes lingered on you, an unspoken question reflecting in their depths. "You know, I've been thinking..."

Your heart raced, sensing the weight of his unspoken words. "About what?"

"I uh... nah its stupid," he muttered, shaking his head, looking annoyed with himself

"It isnt stupid Theo, you can tell me, I wont judge you," you smiled softly, giving him a small nod.

He hesitated, "well its about..." his usual confidence faltering as he looked away, his words carrying a raw vulnerability. "About us... about our friendship."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart beating a frantic rhythm. "What about it?"

"We've been dancing around something," Mattheo confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, "something we've both been too scared to acknowledge."

Your breath hitched, the gravity of the moment sinking in as your gazes met, an unspoken understanding passing between you.

"I've been... feeling things," Mattheo admitted, his voice trembling slightly, "things that I've been too afraid to voice."

Your eyes softened, your vulnerability mirroring his own. "I know. Me too."

Even the cupboard seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your shared revelations hanging in the air. In that moment of quiet confession, the unspoken words that had lingered between you for so long found their voice, weaving a tapestry of emotions that had been hidden away.

With hearts laid bare and emotions laid bare, the unspoken became spoken, and the unacknowledged became understood. Love, so long restrained by the fear of losing a cherished friendship, now flowed freely between you, binding you in a bond deeper than friendship.

Your eyes widened slightly as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. "Mattheo..."

Are we moving too fast?

"Can I kiss you?" Mattheo asked softly, a pleading tone in his voice as he anxiously knibbled on the inside of his cheek. His anxiety wasnt soothed as you stared at him with wide eyes, shocked that all of this was actually happening.

He went to pull away, his cheeks flushing in embarassment, "I uh, you know... joking... just jo-"

You cut him off, pushing your lips against his, catching him by surprise. His eyes widened, his breath getting caught in his throat but he quickly regained composure, pulling you against his chest firmly as he kissed you deeper.

The two of you pulls away for a second, wide, giddy grins on your faces as you looked into eachothers eyes for a few seconds before leaning forwards again, your lips moulding together perfectly. The kiss became heated, your hands wrapping around his neck and his hands cupping your face, his thumbs rubbing against your skin softly. You stood up on your tippy toes, leaning into him even more.

You were the first one to pull away, looking up at Mattheo whose eyes remained closed for a few more moments, basking in the taste and feel of your soft lips. You smile widely, his smile matching yours as his eyes flutter open. His left thumb moves from your cheek to your lip, rubbing it softly.

You look up into his eyes and you see it.

Love.

"Kiss me again?" he whispered

"Only if you say please," you joke, leaning forward once more.

Credit to adiraargent. Please do not copy or repost anywhere. Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave a request :p

Wattpad: adira_argent

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itmeblog · 3 months

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It's Black History Month

(Over here in the US of A) So here are some podcasts to check out.

Absolutely no Adventures - a fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends and staying far, far away from the slightest whiff of adventure. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Afflicted - Lovecraft Country meets True Blood in this new series from award-winning producers Tonia Ransom and Jen Zink. In season one, a small East Texas town suffers supernatural disasters caused by a demonic book bound in human flesh…and only hoodoo can save the town from its affliction.

Apollyon - In the early 22nd century, the Apollyon virus wiped out 75% of the world’s population, and now most of the world is governed by the International Conglomerate of Research Scientists. Dr. Theo Ramsey is an ICRS research scientist who may have just discovered an effective vaccine for Apollyon, but the stakes to get the vaccine to the public are higher than she ever imagined.

Between Heartbeats - Tan immersive Urban Fantasy about the hurt, the powerful, and their growth within a broken world. We follow Sundiata, a guilt-ridden time manipulator with a knack for unemployment, and Nadia, a moralistic telepath determined not to lose control, as they balance frayed mental health against an unsympathetic police state. But when a malevolent presence rears is head, their neuroses become the least of their problems. Can our heroes make the most of their abilities before the option is taken from them?

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back - Two passionate Star Wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate argue via Skype after their favorite forum closes down. If you love Star Wars (or call yourself a proud member of any fandom), you’ll love this romantic comedy told via

Harlem Queen - a Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, "gangster" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance.

His Royal Fakin' Highness - What if Ophelia helped Hamlet get his throne back? This modern day, romantic comedy re-imagining of Shakespeare's Hamlet asks just that. As they stage an engagement in the wake of the king's death, these childhood frenemies must decide between duty and love.

InCo (This one's mine :D) - A Sci-Fi story about a disgruntled information seller, a mysterious space boy, and an android doing her best.

Janus Descending - a limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama podcast, follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place.

Lady Lucy - Lady Lucy is an audio drama inspired by Shakespeare's "Dark Lady" Sonnets, 127-154. Between running her brothel, fighting the Church, murdering her friends' abusive husbands, and pretending to be a poet, the last thing Lucy needed back in 1586 was a surprise visit from her former flame... Will Shakespeare.

Liars and Leeches - Tonya Wright felt it all after the tragic murders of her sister and brother-in-law in a random act of gun violence. Struggling to travel outside of her home, she now lives constantly on edge about perceived threats that seem to surround her.

Nightlight - Multi-award winning horror podcast featuring creepy stories with full audio production written by Black writers and performed by Black actors. So scary it’ll make you want to leave your night light on.

Null /Void - a science fiction audio drama about a young woman, Piper Lee, whose life is saved by a mysterious voice named Adelaide. Piper soon uncovers a malicious plot by a monopoly of a tech company and must work with her friends and an unusual ally to help foil their deadly plot.

Out of Ashes - (currently remastering season 1) Follow a group of survivors as they navigate the ruins of modern civilization and battle against demons, ghosts, monsters and the looming threat of extinction from an ancient power.

Small Victories - A recently recovered drug addict tries to start her new lease on life, too bad life has it out for her. This dramatic comedy follows Marisol through the ups and downs of her life.

The Courtship of Mona Mae - In the 1870s, pioneers Mona Mae Christophe and Zekial Montgomery search the American West for Mona Mae's mother, Clara. Mona must recall a past, long forgotten in order to survive, so that she can find her mother, love and create a way of life for herself.

Vega a Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast - In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch…until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet. Hosted by Ivuoma Hall.

Witchever Path - is an anthology series where your decisions effect the story. Our stories are based in America’s NorthEast, featuring characters finding themselves in the thick of the unknown while tackling issues like queer identity, gender, race, and spirituality. Stories often focus on the communities not typically seen in stories taking place in New England, and giving voice to the perspectives of those communities while uniting under some universal themes. And the supernatural happens. A lot.

(All descriptions were taken from websites)

If you want to find more and there are way more there's a directory :D

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munv · 4 months

Text

KAISER acts like your personal little bitch boy in private, and you’re sure about it when he intentionally pisses you off. He was in a interview with you. Considering how you’re a famous model worldwide and dating THE micheal Kaiser? It was bound to happen.

And he had the sheer nerve to say that he “wouldn’t mind any woman being with him”. You don’t even know what the question was. You didn’t have to. Because when you got home you showed him who he belonged to, sending him off to practice with hickeys and bite marks that are nearly impossible to hide.

KAISER is the type of guy to come home and whine to you about all the bullshit that happened today at practice while he lays his head in your lap. You were reading a book and you had to put it aside because he wouldn’t stop whining about how you NEEDED to give him attention.

KAISER let’s you re-dye his blue tips at the end of his hair because no one does it better than his lovingly girlfriend. So when he goes back onto the field his confidence is boosted more than usual.

KAISER who babies you when you’re upset on your period because you were burning yourself with the heating pad, so he became your personal heater. He takes immense pride in this role by the way.

And lastly, the Kaiser who would stay up late at night with you because you were feeling a bit bored and hungry, so you guys made a quick grocery store run at 5AM.

This was in your matching cat hoodies by the way.

#{-muxis writes #x reader #x y/n #headcanons #headcanon #oneshots #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #micheal kaiser #micheal kaiser x reader #kaiser blue lock #micheal Kaiser fluff #blue lock brain rot #Kaiser headcanons #kaiser one shots #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n

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daddyhausen · 6 months

Text

• kinktober day nine : free use — roman reigns •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { kinktober 2023 }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ commission info } | { like my work? buy me a coffee — kofi — dxddyhxusen }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ summary } — for an hour each day roman made a rule that he could use you whenever and however he wanted

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact } dark!roman, cnc, free use, size kink, daddy kink, hair pulling, mild hunt chase, manhandling, spanking, oral sex { male receiving }, facials, cumshot, throatpie, face slapping, outdoor/balcony sex, exhibitionism, sexual humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulges, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, male + female orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex, internal cumshots, vaginal creampie

{ word count } — 1.1k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x roman reigns

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @violetmacher @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles

{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

you felt his looming presence behind you

your bodies seperated by the couch

his eyes burning into the back of your skull

you tried you best to ignore the feeling in a futile attempt to finish the novel you’d been anticipating to read

his hands rested on the back of the couch

you felt his weight dip into the leather,

feeling his breath on the back of your neck

you froze in place

fingers gripped the hardcover sides of the book

staring down at the page, repeatedly re-reading the same

sentence over and over again

“it’s time, baby” roman’s voice low and guttural against your skin

you stood up slowly, keeping your back towards him, avoiding the sultry gaze he was staring you down with.

you gulped thickly feeling his breath tingle against the nape of your neck

you made a break for it, trying to run from him but he was too quick

he reached out, grabbing a fistful of your hair, dragging you back in the process

“not so fast, babygirl. don’t you remember what happened last time you tried to run from me?”

you remembered vividly, it was only a week ago

he had bound you to a chair, left a vibrator buzzing against your clit for a consecutive five hours or so

it felt like it lasted all night

no that you could remember much, you’d lost count after the first two

it was a pleasure you most enjoyed but no one you’d wished to revive anytime too.

you nodded, as much as your head

could muster with how tightly roman gripped your hair

“i’m sorry, daddy…”

you mutter

softly, putting on the most innocent voice you could muster

roman smiled softly, still maintaining his grip on your hair

“i know baby, but daddy still needs to use those pretty little holes of yours”

he picked you up by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder

your body flailing in his arms

trying to free yourself but to no avail

he gave a rough slap to your ass to silence you

you yelped in pain at the sensation

he carried you into up the stairs

at this point you thought he was going to ruin you in the comfort and solace of your bedroom

your throat ran dry as be bypassed your shared bedroom entirely

making his way towards the large, glass sliding doors

leading to your balcony

he propped you down, while a strange and quite comforting gentleness that he was not known to showing during such scenes

he locked the door behind him, ensuring your escape was inevitable

“you got no choice to run now, babygirl.” he mentioned with a twisted smirk.

“now strip for me”

now you certainly did. it want to meet a grizly end from 5 storeys high that’s for sure

yet you froze, body paralyzed by his stare.

“did you not hear me, princess?” he made strides towards you, until his body was firmly pressed against yours.

“i said fucking strip for me”

his grabbed the collar of your shirt, ripping the thin fabric off clean in half

you gasped at the sudden chill of spring air ghosting across your nipples

the buds stiffened against his palms

he did the same with your shorts and panties, the fabric tearing clean from your skin

without a word he pushed you down to your knees

commanding you to keep your position with a simple, silent glare

he stripped himself

unbothered by the lack of privacy the balcony provided

he welcomed the onlookers stares, if there were any

“open wide babygirl”

roman was anything but patient, as if he was gonna actually wait for you to open your mouth

he pressed the tip of his cock to your bottom lip

prying your mouth open with ease

instantly fucking your throat

feeling him deep in the column of your throat

roman’s hands weaved into your hair, lightly massaging your scalp despite him absolutely abusing your throat

“that’s it baby, choke on it”

he began to feel you sputter and gag around his cock

spit dripping down your chin

roman held his cock down your throat,

until your nose prodded at the mount

loving the way your nails clawed at his thighs

beggin for him to let up and allow you so air

he did for a moment, nor before resuming to fucking your throat raw

“take all of it babygirl” roman’s voice grew more gutteral, more desperate as he spilled down your throat

pulling out at the last second so the final spurts of cum coated your lips and cheeks

he said nothing, merely pulling you up by the hair

facing you away from him, angling your body over the balcony

forcing your to look down to the bustling cityscape below

how cars and others movies by without noticed of you

roman’s hands held your waist tightly, ensuring your safety

“everyone is gonna see how much of an easy whore you are”

roman’s hand, still locked in your hair, prying you back against his chest

his hard cock grinding against your ass

“and you’re gonna fucking enjoy yourself”

he pushed past your folds without another word

letting himself revel in the warmth of your cunt

he began to move instantly

without regard for you in that moment

“daddy please…too big…”

your whimpers flooded his ears merely egging him on

feeling his thick cock stretch you out

his cock pushed deep into your cunt, the outline of him prominent in you flesh as he held himself inside you for a moment

“aww baby…i thought you liked my big cock”

“i d-do, daddy” you stammered though a moan

“then stop complaining”

he grabbed your chin, his large palm encapsulating half of your face

“look around princess, the entire city knows who this pathetic cunt belongs to”

“to you, daddy…it belongs to you”

roman smirked against your skin, planting a harsh kiss to your lips

“good girl. now shut the fuck up while i cum in that pretty little cunt of yours”

roman was relentless, his size stretching you with ease

adoring the was the flesh of your plump ass rippled against his hips with the force of his thrusts

his palm met your ass with a series of sickening slaps

all the which made you whimper with a mix of pain and exhilarating pleasure

you tried your best to keep quiet, having to cover you mouth to stop the moans from spilling

he came inside of you in silence and without warning

instantly pulling out, not allowing you to feel the aftershocks of his cock

or the pleasure of orgasm for that matter.

your thighs shook with arousal, weak as you had to stabilise yourself against the railing

roman merely smiled down at the site of your cunt dripping with his seed

“oh princess, we still got fifteen minutes left” he stared you down

“who don’t we go back inside and you can come sit on this cock? how does that sound”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut

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annabelle--cane · 3 months

Note

so I don’t have the knowledge of details that you have (complimentary) but is there anything in the computer code Colin looking into being written in German and Jonah Magnus’ buddy living in the Black Forest and finding that crypt that one time? Or is that Too far a reach?

vibrating at the speed of sound. so there are a couple of floating details around from the podcasts, the arg, and some promotional materials that may point back to germany having particular relevance. some of this is absolutely me going full pepe silvia, but there are enough threads here that I feel like it has to amount to Something.

so. germany.

archives 'verse:

-> point 1: johann von württemberg. while staying with his nephew in the schwartzwald in 1816, albrecht von closen finds an old mausoleum with the inscription "johann von württemberg" over the door, and it is guarded by a man with no eyes who nonetheless seems to be able to see. in a deep chamber well beneath the ground is johann's coffin, and the room is completely lined with books so old that they'd all rotted through and fused together, the marble shelves they're placed on having little carvings of open eyes all along them. the only two objects in a good state are an illuminated manuscript in arabic that had been kept apart from the rest of the books, and a gold coin with an engraving of a young man with flowing hair, the initials "JW," the year 1279, and the words "für die stille" (google translate tells me that’s “for the silence”). albrecht asks around for any information about johann because the name is unfamiliar despite his quite good knowledge about local history and nobles, and someone says they remember him being called "ulrich's bastard," likely referring to ulrich the i or ii, two counts of württemberg from the 1200s. with that information, in the present day jon is able to find some historical records that point to ulrich i having a son out of wedlock in 1255 who was rumored to keep the company of witches.

-> point 2: the von closens. it seems that a servant nicked the coin albrecht found before he could go home with it, and that was probably for the best for albrecht, because that servant Died Badly from what was ruled to be an animal attack. albrecht did take the book with him, however, and presumably went on to show it to jonah magnus. he then must have gone back for the rest of the rotten books at some point, though, because when doctor jonathan fanshawe visits his estate in 1831, albrecht has a full library of recently re-bound books that he tells fanshawe he got from the tomb, and owning them has done terrible beholding-esque things to him. fanshawe, in his capacity as a doctor, says they should return the books for albrecht's health, and they do so, but just as the last book is returned, albrecht dies, and fanshawe realizes that all the books were blank and finds out that jonah arranged to have them all swapped out by the book binder. when fanshawe performs an autopsy on albrecht's body, all of his insides are covered in eyes.

in his statement from 1816, albrecht says he and his wife carla have been unable to conceive, though in 1831 fanshawe mentions that all of albrecht's sons were away at school when he came to visit. not something that's impossible, they could have managed to have children shortly after 1816, but it does make me raise an eyebrow. magically blessed fertility? dimension shenanigans? fanshawe does mention a tree being burned on the von closen estate that feels remarkably similar to the tree on hilltop road.

anyway, wilhelm, albrecht's nephew, has some children, and the family stays in germany for about another century, but one branch eventually moves to england, and their descendants include mary and gerard keay. according to gerry, mary was big into mythologizing about the von closens and really tried to get him to continue her idea of a legacy for the family, but he thought most of what she said was made up.

protocol 'verse:

-> point 3: colin's comment about source code being written in german. nothing much to explain here, just that it's Weird that source code for some Weird bespoke program for the british civil service is written in german, right? Bit Odd.

-> point 4: the usenet forum. okay so I'm an avatar of the idiot and only read up about the arg after it was already over and don't know anything about code and whatnot, but as best as I can understand: on the OIAR's official website, if you try to submit a form, you get an error message, and if you look into the source code for the error then you find Some piece of code with an IP address shaped hole in it, and there's an IP address hidden in an OIAR advertising video, so you put that IP address into the code, do something else (???), and then find yourself at an old defunct usenet forum from the 90s/00s for people who left east germany.

(it is from here that I got too verbose for my own good, so the rest is under a cut)

notable things about the forum: most of it is pretty normal, and, naturally, it was pretty much all in german, massive shoutout to everyone who helped to translate all 21k words of it. there are threads about finding work in various countries, weird cultural idiosyncrasies, resources, reminiscing about berlin, yknow, normal stuff. the mod “SandmannS” (translates to exactly what it looks like) ran the forum with a bit of an iron fist, which I guess makes sense, it’s the kind of forum that attracted people who wanted to say some heinous stuff and he was really serious about not letting anyone solicit personal information, but he was also kind of overzealous about keeping threads on topic and locking any discussions that he thought were “pointless.” he was eventually strongarmed into opening a thread for cat pictures, and that’s as good an opening as any to talk about some of the Weird things about the forum.

one of the cat photos was posted in february 1994 and shows a cat standing in front of the thames, with what looks like the completed o2 arena in full view (great choice of a red flag landmark to include @ whoever chose it. nice big landmark that was called “the millennium dome” when it first opened, a handy reminder that it was made to celebrate the turn of the millennium and construction wouldn't even have started in 1994). several comments across the threads are dated as earlier than the comments they’re replying to, one person references the content of the phantom menace a few months before its release, and several comments were somehow made after the mod locked the forum in dec 2001/jan 2002.

and okay. the forum locking. I’m going to condense this to all hell because this is already [redacted] words long but basically, “einsamernarr” (translation: lonely fool) was an active user of the forum with a big conspiratorial streak, real paranoid about “the government” spying on him, always getting warnings and just dodging getting banned just before going too far, yknow, a Type of Guy. in december 2001, he mentions in a book rec thread that he was trolling through some databases and found a bunch of old records and he can’t tell if they’re fictional or not, but he’d like to share them if he can. about five days later, he starts posting in several threads that he did something really dumb, people are after him, the meetup they were planning is not safe and this forum is being watched, people should look for him if he doesn’t come back within a week, and he’ll try to leave some info behind for them just in case. a few days later, a couple of people post worried messages asking if anyone’s heard from einsamernarr and that they’ve been getting weird cryptic emails about an “institute” from him, and sandmanns says that he did everything he could, but he can’t keep doing this, and he closes the forum.

marina “avatar of the idiot” annabelle--cane showing my face here again, I don’t know how this next part happened, but it’s possible to retrieve the email einsamernarr sent, open it with a password found in colin’s code repository (that’s a whole ‘nother thing), and find inside: 1. some pictures of bonzobucks, 2. a weird pdf of an old german book on alchemy with a lot of symbols and codes in it, and 3. a spreadsheet of the names, ages, and test results of the hundreds of children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was performing psych studies on. which finally brings us to our next, much shorter section.

-> point 5: “gerard kaey” (sic). gerry’s name is on that spreadsheet, which I think is relevant to this conversation given mary’s obsession with the von closen legacy. archives ‘verse mary keay resented the magnus institute for what she felt it stood for comparison to what she felt she stood for; she saw jonah magnus as a thief who stole away her family’s honor, so what might be different about the protocol ‘verse situation? why would mary keay in this universe send her only heir to go get scrutinized by a bunch of self-important academics?

-> point 6: the berlin dead drop. more arg stuff, we’re getting into things that I’m sure probably have more to be said about them than I’m capable of saying, but from some clues in a picture of cookbooks that einsamermarr posted in the cat pictures thread of the usenet forum to annoy the mod, and a voicemail on the OIAR’s telephone line, people found out the date and location of the first irl arg event, and it was for somewhere in berlin. a newspaper covered in alchemical symbols was found in a bookshop, and from that people somehow derived coordinates, and those coordinates lead to the last irl event where a battered old video tape with a video of a creepy ritual was found (note: the tape was too badly damaged, so another copy of the video came from an arg affiliated tumblr account).

-> point 7: klaus.xls. from a floppy disk found in the second irl arg event, klaus.xls is a spreadsheet originally written in german with about 100 dates and times of potentially paranormal sightings. a lot of it is corrupted and unreadable, but there are columns for category, rank, “TSHU,” and notes. translated into english, notes sections that aren’t corrupted say things like “mr. b,” “war people,” “avoid, “unhappy child,” “ink,” “lady m,” “cats lol,” and “I hate witches.”

-> point 8: albertus magnus and the philosopher’s stone. right, this is where I go a bit off the rails, and credit to this post by @misfitmagpie for discovering some of this. first, nearly every official visual we’ve had for tmagp has been covered in alchemy symbols. they’re all over the logo, they’re all over the in-universe OIAR and magnus institute websites, they highlighted hints in the arg, they’re everywhere, and the end goal of alchemy was the pursuit of the mythical philosopher’s stone, a substance that could turn base metals into gold and produce an elixir for eternal life. the tmagp logo/the coat of arms for the OIAR is centered around an upside down alchemical symbol for the philosopher’s stone, a circle in a square in a triangle in a larger circle.

albertus magnus (aka saint albert the great) was a bavarian philosopher and scientist who did some writing on alchemy and has been widely rumored to secretly have been a master alchemist, mainly as a result of a lot of people attaching his name to writings about alchemy that he never touched. some have credited him as discovering the actual philosopher’s stone, and while he never made that claim in any way that survives, he did record that he’d witnessed seeing base metals be turned into gold. something of which to take note is that he didn’t go by the name “magnus” during his life, that was appended to him posthumously, it’s just another way of calling him “the great” with a fancy latin word, but it does kind of remind me of that edmond “reimer” halley -> maxwell rayner thing from mag 140. if you discovered the elixir of life and became immortal, you would probably need to nab a new identity at some point, and if people have already been nicknaming you “albert the great,” well…

anyway, the thing that’s really cemented his potential relevance in my mind is his birth and death dates: c. 1200-1280, lining up perfectly with the time period of johann von württemberg (thought we’d moved on from him, didn’t you?). I know magnus timelines are notoriously a bit unruly, especially the further back into the past we get, but it’s scratching at my brain. besides that, I think it would be a really cool move if the magnus this podcast is named for was a completely different person than the magnus the last podcast was named for.

if albertus magnus isn’t directly relevant then I’ve got another theory about the title that I’ll be posting in a hot minute, but it’s not germany related and this ask is already long enough.

just, to sum up, a lot of protocol content so far has been germany-adjacent, and even if nothing more comes of it I think there are a lot of interesting threads here to speculate about.

#tmagp #answered #anons #tmagp spoilers

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